Nightlord: Shadows (119 page)

“Who sent you?” I demanded.

“Sent me? I was in the dungeon… I don’t know how I got here.”

“Don’t lie to me!” I snapped, but I could see he was telling the truth. He believed what he was saying.

“I’m not lying. I just don’t… I wasn’t here. I was in a dungeon, on a table, and there was a dark thing that touched me, and it was cold…”

“Yes? And then what?”

“There was something cold
inside
me,” he said, shuddering. “It was so cold, and I couldn’t keep awake. I fell asleep, I think, even though I was afraid I was freezing to death, but I couldn’t care, it was so cold… and there was something moving inside me, making me even colder.”

I nodded. Someone had summoned a Thing from beyond the edge of the world, one without a physical form, and sent it into this poor guy’s body.

Keria! That black mist that burst from her! That’s what that was; a Thing that inhabited her, possibly controlled her! It might even have destroyed her in the process of leaving her flesh—that dark-looking fire-effect that consumed her. Was that deliberate, to keep her from being free, or from talking to me, or just a result of the Thing leaving her?

And the assassin who stabbed me; he was possessed by a Thing, as well.

Even I can see a pattern, here.

That magician, Rakal, was the professional demon-summoner. I wanted to talk to him at some length. He had a lot to answer for. I might not feel justified in venting on this poor sucker in my tendrils, but Rakal was another story.

I had a flashback to Tobias. This was different; trying to kill Amber or Tianna makes it
personal
. Rakal was asking to die. I was in a mood to oblige him.

“Where were you?” I demanded, just as the itching, tingling feeling of a sunrise started.

“It was a dungeon, with candles and strange—”

“No! What city?” I asked, shaking the ghost a trifle.

“City?”

“Yes. What city were you in? Whose dungeon?”

“It was the magician’s dungeon,” he said, and I wanted to slap him. “It was in the city of Shaen. I was a soldier when Byrne attacked, and I was captured when they forced their entry—”

“Yes, fine, great, thanks. Temple of the Grey Lady is that way,” I suggested, pointing. “Get going.”

“Am I dead?” he asked. Just my luck, the guy was too confused even to get help. Well, I didn’t have time to escort him, but I did have time to eat him. I gulped him down in a hurry and he vanished into me. Then I ducked into the nearest quasi-intact building to hide from the sunrise.

I cleaned up and came out of the shack that had sheltered me from the dawn. After a brief walk, I found Amber, Tianna, and Bronze. They had relocated to the now-empty area that had once been the equivalent of skid row. Wise, I thought; there wasn’t anything there for Amber’s new fire-flesh to burn. It also allowed Amber to address people from the vantage of Bronze’s broad rump. They remembered to bring my stuff; I decided to stand in the back and wait while Amber talked to the crowd.

Bronze likes Amber, I think. Either that, or she’s very understanding about my father-ish tendencies toward her.

Amber explained what happened to the gathered crowd. She went on about the wrath of the Lady of Flame at having her priestess killed, and then pointed at me.

“But my father is a Lord of Night,” she said, “and he decided that I should not die.”

A lane opened up like Moses pointing at the Red Sea. Wild, wide eyes stared at me for seconds, then people rippled downward to one knee, heads bowed, hands raised to hide their eyes.

I wondered what the gesture meant. I guess I haven’t eaten enough modern locals to know. Maybe they just didn’t want to embarrass me by staring.

I headed down the lane and rejoined my ladies.

“Father? Did you find the ghost?”

“I did. He was possessed by a demonic Thing, I think,” I told her. I also started getting dressed. “My guess is that the magician Rakal is responsible, at the behest of Byrne.” I gestured at the bowing crowd. “What’s going on?”

“Gods made themselves manifest, last night,” she said, quietly. “They are frightened and in awe.”

“Can’t say I blame them,” I muttered. “I’ll talk to the stone about putting your house back together while it’s building the city hall. How do you feel?”

“Aside from being a trifle incorporeal—I have more substance than a normal flame, but I am not solid—and all that seems to entail, I feel… I suppose a bit…” she made circling gestures with her hands, leaving faint trails of light. “Feverish?” she guessed. “Everything seems distant. Loose. Like I am watching myself do things. As though I’m not really here.”

“Yeah, I mentioned there might be some bad connections. I’ll look at you again as soon as I can and see if I can figure out where I went wrong.”

“I think I am pleased. I cannot tell.”

“Hmm. That sounds like another symptom. If you notice any others, let me know.”

“How? The mirror is destroyed.”

“Crap. Okay, I’ll get you another one. Have you had a chance to see how Mochara is taking this?”

“Scorched, but not seriously damaged,” Amber told me. “There is mostly exhaustion and some injuries, with a bit of property damage immediately adjacent. A few fires spread, but they were quenched by buckets and by Tianna. The buildings will be rebuilt. The burns will heal. I will see to it, if I last so long.”

“Please do. But I need Bronze; I have to get back to the mountain.”

“Of course. You have a war to plan.”

“Possibly. That’s one of the things I need to discuss with my council, and maybe my knights.”

Amber stepped off Bronze and drifted downward, about like a person sinking in water.

“Go, Father. I will tend to these matters.”

I helped Tianna down and held her for a moment, still wrapped in my cloak.

“You did a fantastic job,” I told her. “Thank you. You helped me help your mother, and then you did what everyone in Mochara needed you to do. Best of all, you helped people without anyone needing to tell you. I’m very proud of you.”

She stood very straight within my cloak and looked proud of herself.

“Thank you, Grandpa,” she said, very seriously. I kissed the top of her head and sprang aboard Bronze.

“Hold what you’ve got,” I told them. “I’ll be back.”

We shot toward Karvalen.

Most of the time, Bronze loves to run and I enjoy it with her. She hits her stride and the road rolls under us like a ribbon stretching into the infinite future. I sit there, feeling the wind in my face and hair, listening to the bell-like thunder of her hooves and the windchime-wire tinkling of her mane. It’s good.

Not today.

Today, I have time to think. During the incident with the pillar of fire, I didn’t have time to think. All I had time for was act and react, find the problem, solve the problem. It was purely a matter of doing whatever was in front of me at the time.

Now I can feel the limp, unmoving body of my granddaughter in my arms.

Now I can see the energy bleeding out of my daughter’s soul.

My fingers can recall the way in through the hole in the back of Amber’s skull.

My lips can recall breathing into Tianna.

Not long ago, an army tried to kill me and to kill Bronze. It offended me instantly that Bronze was harmed. But Bronze is big and powerful; she’s capable of taking care of herself. Most of the time, the thought of doing battle with her would probably justify some preparatory measures. When I saw her hurt, I was instantly angry, but it cooled down over time. It erupted like fire, burned brightly, and dimmed to the glow of coals.

This anger is growing. It is too vast to come upon me all at once. The rage is rolling in, wave after wave of it, like the tide. It is a cold and dark thing, colder and darker than the depths of the ocean I recently visited. And it rises, ever higher. Soon, it will spill like water when the dam breaks, pouring relentlessly upon everything in its path, sweeping away anything that does not scramble to avoid it.

I’m not trying to divert it. I’m not even trying to contain it. In some measure, I welcome it. It reminds me that I have things that matter to me, people that I love. That I can love people enough to have this kind of all-encompassing fury seems… right.

I once thought that, while I used to be human, I’m not a human being anymore. But that seems unreasonable. I keep thinking like a human being. I keep loving like a human being. And, as much as I can love, I can also hate. That, too, seems right and proper. What would I be if I could not love? And, what is there that has the capacity for love but does not have the capacity for hate? It seems a good thing, to me.

Less so, for others.

As we approached Karvalen, I saw a camp of the plains-people, which reminded me they wanted me for something.

Damn. If I don’t deal with it now, I never will.

Problem, Boss?

Not exactly, yes, and maybe.

Nice to know some things never change, Boss.

You’re not helping.

Bronze cornered to the right at the south bridge and carried me over to their encampment. People rushed out to greet me. That is, they hurried out, dropped to their knees, and pressed their foreheads into the grass. Hunting dogs eyed us with considerable mistrust, but their handlers barked commands to sit down and be quiet. Everyone else was paying attention to us without looking at us.

I should have expected that. As it was, it just annoyed me further, which I did not need.

“You,” I said, and Bronze nudged him gently with a hoof. “On your feet. Look at me. Why are you here and what do you want?”

He got to his feet quickly and kept his eyes fixed on the ground.

“Dark One, it is my elder that brings us here.” The word he used was
herahu
, pronounced hee-ra-hoo, with the accent on the first syllable. Literally, it meant “the eldest of my family,” but also meant “chief of my tribe,” or something similar. Maybe “clan leader” comes closest.

“Show me.”

He led me to one of the dome-tent-things they used and went back to kneeling at me by the flap. Grumbling, I slid out of the saddle and hit the ground. Tossing aside the flap, I went inside.

The old man looked up as I entered. He sat by a bundle of furs that contained a child, probably about two years old. It took me a second glance to determine the kid was still alive.

“Dark One,” he began, but I cut him off.

“You’ve come here because the kid is ill and you want him to live, right?”

“Yes,” he said, simply.

I cast my spells and looked the kid over. It wasn’t a disease and he wasn’t wounded. Frowning, I examined him more closely, checking his vital organs and looking for anything out of place. Eventually, I found it; it was his heart. More specifically, it was a heart valve. Every beat of his heart pumped some blood, but the valve didn’t close properly, so it lost a lot of pressure. His heart had to work twice as hard just to achieve a normal level of blood flow, to say nothing of any other problems the defect might cause.

I took a look at my own heart valves, then compared both of them to the elder’s. The fundamental design was the same; the kid’s just had a loose flap. After another spell to reach inside him without actually opening him up, there followed a little manipulation, a little stretching, and a bit of stiffening. After that, it seemed to form an adequate seal. Blood went in, came out, and didn’t have any backflow. I finished by telling his body that
this
was the right shape and tying navigation points into the surrounding tissue; I didn’t want him developing heart-valve problems again in the course of growing up.

“There. Fixed. Anything else?”

“Fixed?” the elder replied.

“He’s better. Look at him. His color is improved and he’s breathing easier. He’ll be fine in a day or two.”

“But will he run?”

“He’ll run. He’ll do everything a boy should do. That’s what I mean by ‘fixed’.”

“Thank you, Dark One,” he said, going facedown. “My family thanks—”

“And I appreciate your thanks,” I told him, “but I’m in kind of a hurry to start a war and destroy evildoers. I’ve got no time for niceties, and I’m sorry about that; you’ve caught me in a bad mood on a damned busy day. You’re very welcome, I’m glad I could help, and may you live long and prosper. Have a nice day, and I’ve got to run. Pleasure meeting you. Farewell.”

I didn’t give him a chance to kowtow further; I left the tent and hit the saddle again. I almost made it out of the camp before spotting a man with a missing arm.

“You,” I said, pointing. “What happened to your arm? And stand up when you answer!”

He stood up from where he had flung himself and told me how a
dazhu
hunt had resulted in a trampling, along with the amputation.

“Come with me; you’re getting your arm back.”

He was prepared to run. I was in too much of a hurry, so I dragged him aboard Bronze. He yelped, but gritted his teeth and endured the ride.

I forgot she gets hotter than most people can take. Oops. Well, he was going to be lying in a magical Hospital Bed of Regeneration anyway…

Breakfast was served along with a side of politics.

“As a result,” I finished, “I believe Rakal is serving Byrne, and that the attempts on my life, the attacks by Vathula, the invasion by the coastal cities, and even this last attempt to assassinate Amber are all the doing of Byrne.”

I looked around the table. People nodded, looked at each other, nodded more. Kelvin broke the silence.

“When do we leave, my King?”

“Leave?”

“I presume we will march on Byrne. I would like to gather supplies and prepare for the march. I would also like to know if this is a punitive war, or if our goal is conquest.”

I put my elbows on the table and rubbed my temples.

“Kelvin, do you recall what I said when I knighted everyone?”

“I do, my King. I will remember it until I have been dead a year.”

“As will we all,” Seldar said. Torvil and Kammen nodded, silently. Everyone else just sat quietly, listening.

“I want you to be better than me,” I reminded him. “When I do something terrible, because, as King, it needs to be done, I need you guys to remind me that it
is
a terrible thing. And to tell me if it was
right
to do something terrible.

“A war is a terrible thing,” I continued. “If we go to war, men, women, and children will die. Men will die on the field; women and children will starve, homeless and alone. Some of our own men will die, despite all the training, all the magic, and I love them too much to allow that if there is any way to avoid it.

“What I want to do is go to Byrne, find this Prince Parrin, and unscrew his head. I still might. But that’s part of why I have a council of advisors. What
should
be done? Is this
worth
all the horrors of war? Or should I respond in kind and simply try to kill the man responsible? Discuss this amongst yourselves; I’m going to go build a bridge. I’ll be back within the hour.”

I stood up and went to do that without waiting for anyone to say anything. It was a relatively quick trip, all things considered. I used the gate to go to the southern bank of the Averill, up against the Eastrange; there was a nice niche that would serve adequately. It wasn’t ideal, but it beat the hell out of forcing my gate to appear in both places at once. I brought with me both my bridge-seed and Sir Sedrick. The bridge could grow northward over the river while Sedrick rode south.

Getting him, his horses, his squire, and all that gear through the gate was more expensive in terms of power than I expected. Pack trains don’t move quickly. On the other hand, I had also expected Brother Terrany to accompany him. Once we were through I asked him about it.

“Brother Terrany has other goals,” Sir Sedrick informed me. “He is quite content to preach his gospels to the people of Karvalen, unopposed by other sects.”

“Oh,
really
?” I asked. “I ought to pay more attention to him.”

“Perhaps, Your Majesty, but allow me to offer a reassurance. He does not seek power; it is against the way of his order.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed. They are the priests of the law. Terrany is quite pleased to have found a kingdom without laws, for it their fondest wish to create them.”

“He’s making laws?” I asked, frowning.

“Not so much, Your Majesty, as he is attempting to codify the customs and traditions of your people. For example, you are aware that married women wear their hair in a special head-garment?”