Nightlord: Sunset (78 page)

The old fool summoned him for no purpose; all that was gained was more time for the nightlord to rise to power.  There was no business here worthy of the notice of the Hand; there could be no other business so important.  All that mattered was the hunting of the evil that had slipped into the world.

He held a reddish, forked instrument in his hand.  Two-tined, needle-sharp, it hummed with an almost-quiescent power.  It hungered.  Or, more properly, the jewel pendant, hung down inside his vestments next to his heart… that hungered, and waited for the flow of life from its brother enchantment.

If the resources of the Hand—which was only a fraction of the Church—were insufficient to comb the entire kingdom, then he would have more.  As much more as there was to have.  Enough to return to the old days, when the lords of light walked the land and smote evil wherever they found it.  Enough to unite the world again in the Empire of the Sun and destroy all that was foul and unclean.

The path lay through darkness.  But did the sun not journey through night before the glorious dawn?  Yes, yes of course…

His hand opened the door of the chamber.  His robes rustled slightly as he entered.  He stood over the bedside of the sleeping patriarch, the two-tined fork humming in anticipation.

Beneath his vestments, a pulse of dark light, like a heartbeat, intensified and quickened.

The points of the metal found the pulse in the old man’s neck.  The old man’s eyes opened wide, startled, terrified, then glazed in death.  Blood poured from the wound only to be absorbed, sponge-like, by the dark metal.  Life flowed from his veins, conducted along the tines like current in a wire.

The jewel pendant received the power of a life and pulsed all the more strongly.  This power it lent to its wearer, giving him strength.  Now… now there would be even greater demons, greater tools, summoned for the uses of the light.  And if they did not suffice, there would be more sacrifices, more martyrs to the Lord of Light, and even greater tools would bow down and serve!

And now there would be the new Patriarch.  The Church would spread its benevolent rule over all the lands once more.

The laughter that came from his throat startled even him.

When I woke, I realized the wagon had stopped.

I hate weird dreams.  And I hate being a psychic or oracle or prophet or whatever the hell you call it.  I didn’t feel rested; I felt wiped out and tired.  Worse, I felt dirty; I had either touched the mind of a madman or I had some pretty twisted thinking in my own mental basement.  Either way, I wanted a shower.

I could hear people doing things outside, talking, someone playing an instrument, and a brief laugh.  So I struggled to sit up, checked my shoulder bandage—no bleeding I could find—and took a few deep breaths.  They sent twinges through my shoulder and I found I was wishing for something alive to tie to it so it would heal faster.

I managed to get to my feet.  It hurt, but I wasn’t lightheaded or dizzy.  Good enough.  I tried raising my right hand and found I could—if I just bent my elbow.  Raising my whole arm was a
very
bad idea.  I let it hang.  Shada left some clothes laid out for me; nice, if colorful.  I got into them easily enough,
but buckling on Firebrand was tricky.

You could let me sit, boss.

“No, I couldn’t.”

It’s okay.  I wouldn’t mind.

“I would.  If I want you and you aren’t there, I’ll be unhappy.”

Well… so would I.  Okay.  But you want me on the right side, don’t you?  For a left-handed draw?

Damn.  “Yes.  Thanks.”  I switched sides and fiddled with it until I got the belt right, then stepped outside.

It was early afternoon; either they weren’t in a hurry, or they’d found a place they liked.  Several cooking fires were going, washing hung out to dry—mostly bright colors; they seem to love them—and the various animals were being tended and brushed and cared for.  Bronze was standing next to the door when I stuck my head out.

“Hello, old girl.  How are things?”

She nudged me, quite gently, in my good shoulder.  Her ears twitched and she shook her mane. 

She says she was worried about you, boss,
Firebrand said. 

“Thanks, Firebrand.”  I rubbed her between the eyes.  “I’ll be fine.”  She nodded at me and looked to my right.  I looked, too.

People were watching.  Not
staring
, but watching me.  Children were still playing, women were still turning and stirring and tending, the guy with the thing like a violin was still playing… but absolutely no one made eye contact. 

It wasn’t so much they were watching, but that they were paying attention.  Casually.

I wasn’t sure I liked it.  But if I were in a wagon with a wasp, I’d want to know where it was.  I guess they felt the same way.

“Excuse me?” I called.  Several people did look at me then; it was only polite, I suppose.  “I could use a little help in finding a stout walking stick.  Anyone?”

One of the men rose the shade of a wagon and approached me.  He made a sweeping, theatrical bow.  It was nicely impressive; he was tall and graceful.

“I am Alivinus, and I would be most pleased to be of aid to you.  Shall I fetch you a stick, or will you wish to select it for yourself?”

“I would be pleased to accompany you,” I replied.  More quietly I added, “Especially if we might also find a convenient hole in the ground.”

“Ah, yes.  Of course.  This way,” he replied, gesturing for me to precede him.  I walked in the direction indicated and he fell into step beside me; I went slow and took it easy.  Every step was a small, dull pain in my shoulder, even though I walked lightly.  He led me out of sight to a sort of latrine, obviously a new one, and I did my business there.  Back the other way and we came across a stream; I drank and rested and washed my face a little.

“Have you a preference?” he asked, eyeing the nearby trees.

“Something stout enough to walk with.”

“You’ll be using it as a wizard’s staff?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” I answered, remembering the dryad-gift.  “I have one, somewhere, and I’ll find it sooner or later.  Right now I just want a walking stick.  Without making any forest spirits angrier with me.”

“Well said, well said.  But I recall a lengthy limb, new-fallen; not a staff in length, but longer than a mere cane.  Will that serve you?”

“I think so, yes; let’s go look at it.”

“And shall I find a sling for that arm?” he asked.

“That might be a good thing,” I admitted; my shoulder was aching something awful.

We went back to the camp proper and he rummaged in the firewood for a moment.  A few quick strokes with his knife and I had a serviceable-if-short staff.  And Utai.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, glaring at me.  “You should still be in bed, resting.”

“I needed to get up for a while,” I answered.  “Besides, if I’d stayed there, I would have missed meeting this fine gentleman.”  Alivinus grinned at Utai.

Utai, flustered, took my good arm and tried to lead me away.  “You should still have stayed where you were.”

I held my ground.  “But Alivinus was going to get me a sling for my arm,” I complained.  “And besides—I can smell the food.  And I’m
hungry.
”

That stopped her.  Maybe it was the idea of a wounded man needing food, or maybe it was the idea of me being hungry now and getting hungrier… later.

“Oh, very well.  Alivinus, fetch a sling for that arm of his and I shall bring him food.”  He grinned and turned his head to wink at me, then strolled off.  Utai watched him go for a moment, glared momentarily at me, then went off to find me something to eat.  I, for my part, sat down on a convenient keg of something and rested.

Or tried to.  With my guardians gone, a trio of children appeared before me as though they’d sprung out of the ground.  Two boys and a girl, spread out between eight and ten years or so.

“Utai says you’re a wizard,” said the girl.

“—and a nightlord,” said the first boy.

“—but nobody’s suppose to say anything about it, ’cause you’re a guest,” added the second.

I looked them over.  If there was mischief in them, it was honest and without malice.  I could live with that.

“I am known as Halar,” I answered.  “And yes, I am a wizard and a nightlord.  And I don’t mind if you call me a nightlord, as long as you don’t let anyone else know about it.  Who are you?”

“I am Anni,” said the girl, pronouncing it
ann-EE,
and bobbed a curtsey.

“I am Andel,” said the first boy, and bowed.

“I am Aramon,” said the second boy, the youngest of the lot.  He bowed, then asked, “Can you do magic?”

“He’s a wizard,” scolded Anni.  “Of course he can do magic!”

“But I want to
see
,” Aramon replied.

“He’s tired, you lackwit,” Andel answered.  “It’s not polite to press.”

“I’m just hurt a little, not really tired,” I interjected.  “I could do a few simple things, if you like.”

This was met with unanimous approval, but Anni and Andel tried to be casual about it.

“Well,” Anni mused, “if you
want
to, I suppose.”

I chuckled.  She’d break hearts and slit purses when she was older.

“I feel like it.  Can you find me a rock about the size of your clasped hands?”  I no sooner asked than the trio disappeared with all the speed and energy of children.  Was I ever really that young and energetic?  How did I get so old?

In a trice, they were back, each with their own rock.  I accepted Anni’s and looked it over; it was smooth and rounded and still wet.  Andel’s was rough, while Aramon had apparently wrenched his right out of the ground.

“Well, Round Rock, what do you think?” I asked, weaving spells tendrils into it.

“I think I’m a superior rock,” it replied, in a piping, little-girl voice.  “I’m all rounded and smooth, although I’d rather still be in the river.”

Mouths dropped open.

“I see.  Well, Anni will be happy to help you with that.  Andel?”  I handed the round rock back to Anni and accepted Andel’s rock, addressing it. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Eh.  I’m a rock.  What do you want?  I was lying there, minding my own business, thinking rock thoughts, and this young gentleman snatches me up and off I go to see
you
.  What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m very sorry.  Shall I chuck you into the forest?”

“If you’d be so kind.”

I lofted the rock, left-handed, hard, up over the treetops.  The movement gave me a twinge in my bad shoulder, but it was worth it.  There was a faint, diminishing “WHEEEEeeeeee!!” as it vanished into the distance.

Three pairs of eyes looked pretty wide, too.  I took Aramon’s dug-up stone and examined it.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” it asked back.  “I had the good sense to be in the ground, but this kid still digs me up and hauls me over here.”

“Maybe we could put you in the stream?” I hazarded.

“Eeew!” said Anni’s rock; she almost dropped it.  “He’s
filthy!
” it protested.

“And you’re so round, you’re practically
worked
,” replied Aramon’s.  Anni’s rock gasped in shock and outrage.

“Hush, the both of you.”  I handed Aramon back his rock.  “Make sure this one winds up well downstream from Anni’s.  I don’t think they get along.”

Aramon nodded frantically, accepting his rock with considerable care.

“I’m not going to bite you, kid.”

Aramon dropped the rock.  Andel picked it up for him.

“All right,” I said, “go put them down where they belong.  I’ll be here.”  They dashed off, wordlessly, obviously amazed.  I was pretty pleased, myself.  Making a stone speak isn’t that hard, not really; it just vibrates, like the speaker in a stereo.  Reshaping rocks into mouths that speak—that would be a lot harder.  But just vibrating to make sound?  No problem.

Utai came back with a bowl and a wooden spoon; I accepted these and set the bowl on my lap to eat.  She hovered for a bit, as though she wanted to feed me, but I managed fine.  Eventually, she sat down next to the keg, her skirts billowing around her like a washed-out and scrambled rainbow.  The food was okay; I’m not as partial to onion as the cook, though.

Alivinus returned before I was halfway through the bowl; Utai took charge of the cloth he’d found and shooed him off.  She tied my right arm up in a very good sling.  The arm was out of my way, or mostly, and unlikely to swing and bump and be a nuisance.  I thanked her and went back to eating; I was hungrier than I’d thought.

When I finished, she took back the bowl and spoon, saying, “Will you have more?  There is enough and then some for you.”

“I’m fine for now, thanks.  I don’t suppose that anyone has found, ah, game?  For later?”

She shook her head.  “Not yet.  But we will slaughter something for you, if you need it.  Tonight.”