Blackhand (18 page)

It was his questioner from Huk’s fortress. The man who had torn his fingernails out. The merchant of agony.

For an instant, human fear touched him. He had not seen the man since his capture years ago. Now the sight of him made Quintel react with animal reflex. Here was the face of pain. The feeling was enough to leave Quintel feeling off balance, even stunned. Why was this man in Jura?

The questioner stopped his horse in front of the guards and dismounted. The gate captain approached him, bearing the warlord’s head. The two men conversed and the captain handed the inquisitor the severed trophy. He examined it then walked over to the cell door.

“Hello, young prince,” he said with a voice like a winter forest. “I see you remember me. Who could have guessed we would meet again? And under such circumstances.”

Quintel said nothing. He looked at the man’s soul, it was strangled gray with flecks of excruciating red. It also bore a violet hint of something Quintel recognized in his own heart — regret.

“Once I was your torturer,” the questioner continued. “But today, it seems, I am your savior.”

He turned to the guards who all looked to him for the judgment.

“The prince speaks the truth,” he said so all could hear. “This is the head of Warlord Huk!”

The guards’ reaction was mixed. The gate captain was self-satisfied, a few others were indifferent, and a handful exchanged coins from wagers won and lost.

The questioner turned back toward Quintel.

“I do hope your sister is as merciful as the warlord,” he said. “I am quite interested in hearing your tale of escape and,” he held Huk’s head up beside his own, “assassination.”

“I am sure your own story is as fascinating,” Quintel said, any trace of primitive fear in him was gone. “What led you from Huk’s torture chamber to the heart of the Abanshi kingdom?”

The questioner saw that there was no fear within Quintel, of himself or the queen.  His voice became softer.

“I would say that my tale could wait, but since your own time on this earth is under question, I will tell you,” he began. “My mother was an Abanshi. As a teenager she was captured during a raid from the east. I was a product of her subsequent rape. Although she lived among the Forestlanders, she kept her Abanshi spirit alive and passed their values on to me. When I was old enough, I established contact with my people and set out to become a spy in Huk’s court. It took me years to attain my position as his questioner. But its proximity to the heart of his strategies has proved invaluable to our people. It also allowed me to mislead him with false information.”

Quintel knew the grim man had shared this story many times before and found enjoyment in its telling

“Now, young prince, while you can, impart your own tale,” the questioner said.

Quintel thought for a moment. How could he put his experience into words?

“My life was a series of planned events that led me to Huk’s fortress,” he said. “There, I was prepared to merge with the god known as Yuul so that the deity might enter the world and defeat Sirian Ru. When I reached a point of readiness, I escaped with my mentor and fled to the Desert of Salt where I joined with Yuul, to become…” Quintel stopped. He looked at the second spirit within his breast. It was separate from him. Other.

“To become what?” the questioner asked, skeptical but transfixed.

Quintel met his eyes.

“I do not know.”

One of the guards, who sat cross-legged on the ground, jumped up and shouted: “The queen approaches!”

At the edge of the square, a dozen mounted warriors in full battle dress thundered toward them. In the center of the group, a gray mare bore a rider dressed in the royal Abanshi colors of blue and silver. A sweptback helmet topped the rider’s head.  As they grew near, Quintel made out the features of the rider. Although he had never spoken to her, he recognized her face from the day they executed Aran. It was, indeed, his half-sister, Aul. Below the brow of her helmet, she carried a hard stare and kept her eyes locked on the cell door where Quintel stood. She was not happy.

Quintel let his vision pierce deeper into her being. Her lifelight was sharp, crystalline, honed by experience. At its core, a red flame of focused intent burned brightly. Confidence wreathed her head. It was almost the same lifelight that he had seen in Huk, but even more intense. It blazed with ambition, determination and certainty. Her strength was compelling. It was the soul of a leader.

Aul dismounted before her horse had halted. The warriors and guards had fallen to their knees. Even the questioner dropped to all fours. Quintel could not take his eyes from her. She approached the cell door with long strides, her shoulders back.

“Give me one reason not to kill you now,” were her first words to him.

Quintel allowed himself to marvel at her strength for another moment, then he answered.

“The power of a god flows through my limbs,” he said. “I have joined with Yuul to become something more than a man. I do not know how, but in some way, I will help you bring death to Ru.”

Aul processed his statement.

“What?” she finally said.

“Your majesty,” the questioner offered from his low position. “He has brought you the head of Warlord Huk as penitence.”

The questioner lifted the head for her examination. She took the object, studied it for a moment and tossed it over her shoulder. Locking eyes with her younger brother, she seemed to be seeing him the way he saw her, soul and all.

“You’re mad.”

Quintel did not respond, but kept his gaze bound with hers. He wanted her to know that he was quite sane. He wanted her to see it in his eyes.

And slowly, she did. The longer their eyes met, the more the flame in her heart calmed. Quintel watched as her emotions changed and shifted like swirling liquid. He saw rage and the impulse to kill him soften to mere doubt. After another moment a new tide moved through the pool of her thoughts. Opportunism. Her mind sought to find advantage in Quintel’s surprise return.

Her eyes broke from his and scanned him from foot to head.

“Where are his boots?” she asked the huddle of kneeling warriors.

“He had none when he arrived,” the captain of the gate offered, feeling it was his place to answer the question.

“I left them in Huk’s castle,” Quintel said.

Again he saw her mind change course. He could not hear her thoughts verbatim, but he could tell she was measuring the task of walking from Huk’s fortress, across hostile terrain and arriving unscathed at the Iron Gate… on foot… without boots. Her thoughts solidified into a decision.

“Bring my brother food and wine,” Aul began. “Give him new garments… and a pair of boots. But leave him where he is for now.”

She stepped closer to the cell door. “I’ll keep you here until I decide what to do with you.”

Quintel replied with a slight bow of his head. The discomfort of the cell did not trouble him. He didn’t even desire the food and wine she had summoned. He searched his memory. When was the last time he had eaten?

Aul turned, walked back and mounted her horse in one smooth motion.

“You will be hearing from me again, little brother,” she said without sentiment. She turned her horse and kicked its haunches to send it into a gallop. Her squad of bodyguards followed close behind.

“Stick Huk’s head on a pole!” she called back as her horse thundered across the field. Then she was gone.

Chapter 22

His guards dropped to a pair of men. After the others left, the two set up a modest camp and fell into an evening of complaining about their duties and gambling. At nightfall, a groomsman from the palace brought Quintel a set of clean clothes, a pair of leather boots and a basket of food and drink, as Aul had commanded.

Quintel exchanged his torn clothing for the new garments, which were those of a common warrior. Aul was making sure he knew his place. The black boots fit loosely and came to his knee.

He set the basket of food and small bottle of wine beside the door and did not touch them.Nothing remained for him to do except wait. Quintel knew that he would be released as soon as Aul thought of a proper use for him. He saw the decision in her mind as she left. She had no intention of executing him. At least not yet.

Quintel walked to the back of his dark cell. Now was the time to explore the limits of his powers. He had nowhere to go for a while. Standing with his thumbs hooked in his belt, he let his mind spill forth.

It passed through the wall of his cell and moved into the night sky. Below him the humanity of Jura glowed from open windows and doors, illuminating the shadowed streets. He had explored the city earlier and now moved into the mountainous countryside.

His mind soared like a falcon, but the effort took all of his will. The ground below was a landscaped of sparkling energy speeding beneath him.

Following the mountains, he left the boundaries of the Abanshi kingdom behind and took his attention to the north. His awareness moved across the earth like the searching fingers of a blind man. He could see Ru’s web of influence tying the sky and earth together. He could see it in the bubble of atmosphere that clung to the flat wedge of the world. His sight reached into the far distance, and he saw cities and villages pepper its convex surface with volcanic eruptions of human life. But he could not see the thing he sought most.

Where was Siyer?

Quintel had an idea of where the old man should be and took his mind there without fortune. Moving his attention toward the west he searched the hidden passes that wound through the mountains toward Vaer. He picked through these secret crannies, looking for any trace of his friend and mentor.

At last he found it -- a tiny speck moving in the depths of a fissure much farther west than Quintel had anticipated. The being’s light was so controlled Quintel had almost missed it.

Reeling in the thousand braids of his consciousness, he brought them to
focus on the glimmer of light that was his friend. As he descended upon the point, he could see Siyer trudging his way across the floor of the fissure. His body was weary but his soul brimmed with determination. And fear.  As Quintel descended into the crevice, Siyer sensed him.

The old man ceased his advance and looked around, feeling the warm breath of his friend's consciousness.

“Boy?” he said with a smile upon his soul. “Can your eyes see me? Can you reach so far and be so aware?”

“I can,” Quintel said to himself in his empty cell. Hundreds of miles away, Siyer felt the words upon the wind. Quintel's guards also heard him speak and ceased their game of dice to see what was happening. The senior of the two sentries walked over to the cell door to observe the unique inmate.

“Where are you?” Siyer spoke into the emptiness.

Quintel knew he could only communicate basic ideas over such distance. He wanted to tell Siyer his entire story. He wanted to talk to his friend about his journey back to the Abanshi, about his grief over killing Huk. He wanted Siyer to be with him now. He could have none of those things, so he dropped a single word into the night.

“Home.”

Quintel saw Siyer shake his head in disbelief. The old man’s lifelight danced.

“You must have been traveling with the speed of a sparrow to cover such a distance in so short a time.”

As the ethereal exchange developed, Quintel's guard watched him through the barred rectangular window of the cell door.

“What's he doing?” asked the younger of the pair.

“Nothing,” the senior guard said as he squinted to see into the darkness of the cell. “Just standing there talking to himself.”

The second guard shook his head. “Ah, he's crazy as ferret.”

Although he was aware of the judgments his overseers cast upon him, Quintel ignored the exchange and continued his disembodied conversation with Siyer. His frustration came from his limits to communicate. Unable to say all the things he wished, he cut to the heart of the issue.

“Abanshi. They know,” he whispered.

Siyer heard and understood. Quintel sensed the change as his friend went into a state of calculation. His light realigned and turned upon itself, tabulating the effect of the new development.

“Of course,” he said. “The Abanshi would surely have spies among Huk's ranks. But our problems have not subsided. Yuul has warned me of another threat upon the horizon. One much worse than the Thogs.”

Quintel could not believe such news. What could be worse than that horde? Again, a single word found its way across the leagues between them.

“What?”

Siyer was silent and Quintel could see he was gathering a number of thoughts, trying to put them into a concise package. It was difficult for Quintel to hold his mind still for so long. He swam against a constant current of existence, treading the waters of Sirian Ru's reality. The currents wanted to sweep him down a stream of a thousand perceptions.

Just as Siyer's mouth opened to share his thoughts, a scream ripped through the ethereal stratum, piercing, wretched, racked with pain. It shred Quintel's concentration and he felt fear jump into Siyer's heart, turning his lifelight red and jagged.