The Dragons of Argonath (40 page)

Lessis had to be satisfied with this. Things were moving in the right direction at least. Commander Urmin's maneuvering at Avery Woods had bought them a little time. Once Tregor reinforced Urmin, the legion force would be just about big enough to handle the Aubinans on the open field. More dragons would help tip the balance.

After a discussion of supply problems and solutions, the meeting came to an end. Ewilra said a blessing and closed the great book. They rose and filed out through the vestry into the dusty hall that led up to the steps.

The generals went ahead, wrapped in their cloaks. Axnuld and Ewilra followed, leaving Lessis and Glanwys to bring up the rear. Upstairs, in the main rotunda of the temple, the soft singing from the chapel brought balm to the spirit.

It did not last long, however. A man in the brown uniform of the watch stepped up to Glanwys and presented a message scroll.

Glanwys read the scroll and took Lessis by the elbow. Wordlessly she handed it across. Lagadalen had been attacked in the street and abducted along with Eilsa Ranar-daughter, heir of Clan Wattel.

Lessis felt her heart skip a beat while a cold shiver passed down her spine.

This was his work. She had sensed that ghostly presence, watching her, ever since she had returned to the city through the Black Mirror. Her visits to Lagdalen had been observed.

She cursed herself for an inexcusable lapse in security methods. She should have taken much greater caution in contacting her young friend. Lessis had to wonder if she was still up to the demands of the job. Maybe she was just too old.

And, of course, the enemy knew that Lessis would follow the trail they would leave for her. And at the end of it, they would be waiting. Ribela had warned her. Neither Mach Ingbok nor Heruta the Great were a threat as great as this one, and already he had shown them why.

There was no rain in Aubinas that night, although the rest of Marneri was soaking. In the forest of the Running Deer, across the river from Wexenne's great house, there was a gathering around a bonfire. A mound had been thrown up behind the blaze. Armed men ringed it, and kept the onlookers gathered in a crowd in front of the fire.

The sky was threatening, with massive clouds in the east, but overhead the stars shone brightly.

Wexenne arrived deliberately late, and made his way through the crowd of Aubinan notables to the edge of the line of guards. He noticed, with a slight thrill of unease, that these guards were clad in legion uniform and wore legion issue weapons. They were, in fact, prisoners from General Cerius's command that had been captured at Redhill.

Their faces were set like stone, their eyes blank. After what he'd seen the Great One do to Porteous, Wexenne understood that to the Lord Lapsor, men were as plastic as clay.

Wexenne noticed a single, massive figure, brooding at the rear of the mound, hidden in shadow. Wexenne tried to catch the attention of the brooding one, but his wave was not acknowledged, and the guards did not respond to his attempts to speak to them. To make a fuss was only to risk much greater humiliation.

Chewing his lip thoughtfully Wexenne shifted his weight and turned back into the crowd. Lapsor had asked him to set up this ceremony. This was to be the coming out of the Great One in public. He would introduce himself to one hundred picked men of Aubinas. Wexenne had invited all the top families and many had responded. Not just from Nellin, either, for there were men here from Belland and even from the uphill counties. After this, the legend of Lapsor would be firmly established in Aubinas.

Wexenne knew what was coming, for he had seen it before when the Great One had first come to him. Wexenne had thought him a djinn, or a demon at first. Only gradually had he learned more.

From the beginning Wexenne's fear of this sorcerous creature had been balanced by his raging greed. Such a djinn might be most useful in the struggle with Marneri. And so it had proved, except that the djinn, or demon, or whatever it was, was showing itself to be quite unruly. Wexenne was starting to wonder just who was using whom.

He almost bumped into Porteous Glaves, who seized him by the elbow.

"Ah, Wexenne, this is a most propitious night, don't you think?"

There was a mad glare of fanaticism in Porteous's eyes.

"Most propitious. I think we are going to witness great events."

"Yes, Wexenne, I think you are right about that. The Great One will reveal himself. Our struggle can only take on new strength."

"Indeed," Wexenne mused on the difference between the new dynamic Porteous and the old one. His friend had changed from a frightened old rascal to a bellicose bore.

Porteous had seen someone behind his back. Wexenne turned and found the Baron of Nellin himself, Curmilious of Paukh, with his retinue around him.

"Baron," said Wexenne, with a well-executed courtier's bow.

"Wexenne. They promised us fireworks, that's why most of them are here."

"Well, old friend, I think I can safely say you won't be disappointed on that score."

"What, fireworks?"

"Indeed. It will be spectacular."

Curmilious was a fleshy fellow in his forties now. He wore his grey hair long around his shoulders and dressed in costume more befitting a youth of half his age. Still, he was far from stupid.

"So what is this wight you've been keeping in your cellar? I have heard the most outrageous stories."

"He is far more than some common wight or pixie. You will be surprised, I think, dear Baron."

"Is it true, though?"

"Is what true?"

What outlandish rumors had ridden out of the house now?

"That he buggers children and drinks their blood."

There had been a number of missing children in Nellin, and several of them had died unpleasant deaths in that chamber underneath Deer Lodge. Wexenne had accepted it. He didn't like it, but the demon demanded a few children to experiment upon, and if it was necessary to secure the monster's service to the cause, then so be it. A few young martyrs to the cause would have to be created.

"He has no sexual interests, Baron, and I don't think he drinks their blood."

Curmilious's eyes popped.

"What, no sexual interest? A capon!"

"Hardly that, but the question can not be answered in such simple terms."

The second part of Wexenne's original answer had now filtered through, and Curmilious gave a gasp and took another long look at Wexenne.

"What does he do with them, then?"

"Don't ask, you would not like to know." Wexenne clapped Curmilious on the shoulder. "Don't worry, much will become clear to you very shortly."

There came a sudden hush. Wexenne looked up and saw the tall figure of Lapsor on the top of the mound, lit up from below by the bonfire. He stood there unmoving, a tall, massively built figure of a man, with inhuman features on a face shaped like a shovel.

They stood there in silence. A voice spoke up, Graams of Belland, trying to be jocular.

"Hullo! What's your name, then?"

The figure ignored him and continued to stand there staring down at them. Graams fell silent. Nobody else spoke.

After a full minute of silence the figure raised its hands and spread out its arms.

"
Aah wahn, aah wahn, gasht thrankulu kunj
…" he cried in a huge voice that seemed to echo off the sky itself and crackle in their ears.

The hair on their heads rose. A wind blew up that rattled the trees.

"By the Hand, Wexenne, this is very good. You've got something here!" Curmilious Paukh was enjoying the show.

The guards began throwing more wood and bundles of rushes onto the fire. Quickly it blazed up high. The figure atop the mound became hard to see in the smoke and flame.

More guards marched a naked man to the top of the mound. His arms were bound tightly behind him. They thrust him forward until he stood beside Lapsor. Compared to the lord, the man seemed a mere stripling.

Lapsor spread his arms wide once again.

"Welcome my friends. I am to be known among you as the Lord Lapsor." His voice was huge and smooth, warm and rich. "Lapsor is a name that invokes a mighty river. I would like to be a mighty river for you. I will raise such a torrent that we will drown your enemies in our flood. I will help you to achieve your great dream. Aubinas shall be independent! Free Aubinas!"

From their throats it came unbidden, "Free Aubinas!"

"Free Aubinas!" his single shout seemed almost as loud as their combined cry. They responded with a roar. "Free Aubinas!"

The fire was piled high, the blaze grew fierce. The heat at the top of the mound was considerable. The tall figure did not flinch. When the man beside it tried to step back, Lapsor seized him with one great hand and held him still.

The other hand was raised high, and the great voice bellowed more words of ancient sorcery. Then with a suddenness that shocked them, Lapsor reached down and lifted the man off the ground, swung him up over his shoulders and held him, wriggling, high above.

"Tshagga avrot!"

He dropped the man into the center of the roaring fire.

The man's screams of agony were almost lost in the roar of shock and disbelief among the Aubinans.

Then their cries subsided to horrified hisses, while the man in the fire screamed and struggled to escape the flames. He had fallen into the center of the blaze and was instantly burned over most of his skin. His legs had sunk deep into the coals, and one foot was caught there. He thrashed. His piteous shrieks failed. He flung one leg up and fell back, and was consumed.

And then came an enormous flash of light that seemed to implode the center of the fire. With a gigantic sucking sound, the blaze went out. A cold wind blew over their shoulders and tore the ashes and cinders into a cloud that blew back over the mound. A thin whistling shriek ripped through the air and was gone.

They looked up. The figure on the mound raised its hands to the sky.

He had sacrificed a man right before them, and not one of them had lifted a finger to save him. Curmilious Paukh turned to Wexenne with astonished eyes, but voices were raised in the crowd. Men pointed upward.

Black clouds, huge and ominous, had ridden in from the east. The figure on the mound emitted a great cry and raised a clenched fist to the sky.

Now came a green flash that enveloped him, and a bright spark shot from his fist straight up into the leading edge of the cloud. The cloud flickered for a moment and then came on, floating overhead and blotting out the stars. Vast and black and spread to the horizon, it crept up until all the stars were gone.

Abruptly lightning erupted from the cloud and struck down to the mound with jagged ferocity while the thunderclap drove men almost to their knees. Gaping in awe, their ears ringing, they stared through slitted eyes at the fierce blue glow that shone from the figure on the mound. He was lit up, as if he was on fire within, and burning with energies never seen before.

Curmilious Paukh could barely see for the spots before his eyes, but he could see enough to know that the figure on the mound had absorbed that lightning bolt and still stood there, unharmed. Except that he glowed. It was truly an amazing show of fireworks. Wexenne had been correct on that score.

Lapsor raised a hand, and the light grew brighter still, until an orb of light slowly formed in the air above his hand. When it had reached the size of a man's head, it floated away to hover over the men, suspended like a pearl lit up with lightning fire. Stark shadows were thrown back to the trees at the edge of the clearing.

Curmilious Paukh found Wexenne grinning at him.

"Quite a show, I think you'll agree."

"Astonishing."

And then the clouds spoke, or seemed to. They looked up in wonder as they heard "Free Aubinas!" bellowed from the sky. The voice echoed like that of a God from horizon to horizon, as loud as the mightiest thunder.

The echoes faded away. The ball of light had vanished. Stunned, eyes watering, ears ringing, the assembled notables of Aubinas stared up at the figure on the mound. The fire blazed up again, refreshed by the guards, and red flames mounted quickly into the air. He turned, came down from the mound, and walked among them, exchanging handclasps here and there, allowing them to pay him homage.

"Free Aubinas!" he shouted, and they shouted it back in their joy and amazement.

Somehow Wexenne found himself gathered into the small group allowed to walk close with Lapsor. The meeting had turned into a coronation of sorts. Lapsor was filled with this great energy of attraction. The men had met their master.

Lapsor paused to bid the greater group farewell from the edge of the clearing, then he turned into the trees and told Wexenne and several others:

"Come, I have something you must see."

They followed him through the trees, and across the stream at the old stone bridge. Beyond and across the meadows lay Deer Lodge. However, long before they reached the big house, they turned into a gully hidden in a copse. There at the bottom was an astonishing sight. A cut in the ground had been made, and huge gates stood open in front of a tunnel forty feet across. It was guarded by six of the captured legionaries.

Lapsor indicated that they would enter the tunnel.

Wexenne gaped. The tunnel was twenty feet high and opened into the bank on which stood his house. The gates were of solid timber. Above the tunnel were lintel stones and a grating covering a smaller passage. How such an enormous undertaking had been completed so quickly and with such secrecy was beyond his comprehension. Anger boiled over.

"Who dug this without my permission?" he snapped.

Lapsor smiled indulgently. "I found that I needed my own entrance to the little cellar you have provided for me.

You aren't suggesting that I need ask your permission every time I have to go in or out? Every time I wish to stand in the light of the moon, most sacred of all lights to me, I must come and ask permission of you?"

Wexenne felt his position slipping badly. This was not quite the way he had imagined things would be arranged.