Blackhand (19 page)

Siyer looked to the east.

“No.”

Quintel lost buoyancy and his mind spun out of the crevice and into the sky, a child's kite lost on a violent wind. He turned eastward and saw a wedge of blackness cleave the horizon. The dark wedge soared from Ru's land faster than any creature born of the world and Quintel knew it was from a place beyond the earth.

Out of control, he tumbled back toward his cell, the world a jumble of glass mountains and liquid sky. Through the chaos, he glimpsed something else — a black tide moving toward the west, an ocean of gray light rolling toward the Iron Gate. Ru's army was already on the borders of the kingdom.

His perceptions struck his body like a falling boulder and he became whole again.

He cried out in pain and fell to the hard floor of his prison.

“Ah, curse and bile!” the senior guard barked. “Now he's sick!”

“Don't believe it,” the younger guard came from behind his counterpart to see what was happening. “It may be some kind of trick.”

Quintel pushed himself up on his hands and knees, his soul loose from its housing. He clenched his teeth forcing himself to regain control. Something had entered the world, something horrific. And Ru's armies were already upon them.

Fighting his spiritual agony, he managed to stand and face the door.

“You must tell Aul,” he squeezed through the pain. “Ru's armies are here.”

The guards stared at him as they would any lunatic, with pity and revulsion. They were more concerned with the burden of their duty than what the crazy bastard prince was saying.

“And there is something else,” Quintel fell against the door, holding himself up against the weight of his knowledge. “Something
horrible has entered the struggle.”

Again, he felt his human side fall into fear and confusion. He felt as if he were a boy again, back in the confines of Huk's fortress. Helpless, blind. He could not see the light of the guards' souls. Only their grimaces of disbelieve and disgust.

“Quickly,” Quintel clutched his midsection, but it was reflexive. The pain came from a place beyond his organic form. “The East is here.”

“What?” the older guard said. “He's babbling like a bird.”

Concentrating, Quintel regained control and stood up straight. His godlike vision returned and his awareness spread beyond the walls of the jail. His mind crossed the open square and perceived an approaching messenger.

“A young messenger bears a command,” Quintel said to the guards. He closed his eyes and looked deeper into the approaching boy's thoughts. “Aul summons me.”

At that moment a voice called from across the field.

“Jailers!” the boy shouted as he hurried toward them. “Queen Aul commands an audience with her brother. Immediately!”

The guards looked at each other.

“How did he know the boy’s message?” the younger asked.

The older guard ignored the question and unlocked the cell door. “Step back,” he said to Quintel. “We're taking you to Queen Aul. She'll know what do with all this rambling.”

Chapter 23

Aul's castle was carved from the peak of a hollowed mountain. Its massive architecture melted into the natural lines of the terrain, making it hard to tell where the mountain stopped and the castle began. More than a thousand years ago, the Abanshi had set to work on the structure, gutting the mountaintop, and reshaping its exterior with hard, disciplined lines. Seven towers formed the body of the gigantic dwelling. The towers were a symbol of the seven tribes that united hundreds of years ago to form the kingdom. No enemy had ever penetrated far enough to see them. Stone walls ringed the mountain’s base like ripples on the surface of a pond.

The guards escorted Quintel from his cell to the outermost castle wall. In the process, they scaled a dozen angling staircases and unraveled a knot of winding avenues.

At the castle gate, a line of guards clothed in decorative armor greeted them. Quintel sensed their judgment of him. All they saw was a traitor. He scanned the group of men. They had aged, but he remembered all of them from his childhood.

“We'll take him from here,” said the highest ranking of the sentries.

“Be careful,” warned the older of his cell guards. “Don't judge him by his looks. He's got something strange about him.”

Four of the men surrounded Quintel and marched him through the remaining gates. Bowmen looked down from their perches upon the high walls. Quintel knew his presence was more a relief from their routine than any threat. Their lifelight even showed a level of disappointment at his humble appearance. He could hear it in their hearts as if the words were spoken. How could this be the man who killed Warlord Huk?

At the palace step, with its gigantic oaken front doors before him, a deluge of memories crashed upon Quintel from every corner. The flood drowned him. There were the steps where he once played as a child; there was the field where he flew his first kite; that was the garden where he stole tomatoes from the vine; those were the stables where Aran taught him to ride. The images changed so quickly they became a blur of feelings, smells and textures. They blinded his divine vision. He clenched his teeth and stumbled, a note of pain escaping his throat. He was reliving all the moments of his life before the exile in a single second. They burned.

One of the guards clutched Quintel's arm to keep him from falling.

“Easy boy,” the man said. “You'd be wise to hide your fear from Queen Aul.”

With those words, the assault of human memory faded, and the world returned to its transparent reality. He saw as a god again. He had heard something in the guard's voice that caught his attention, something he'd missed before. Something he now sensed clearly in all the soundless voices scattered across the kingdom.

They feared Aul, respected her, but more than anything else, they loved her. The Abanshi loved their queen. Aul had been a good leader to them. Prosperity, security, honor — she had maintained all of these for her small, but powerful, kingdom. Her subjects trusted her. They knew she would lead them to victory against the carnivorous god. They had faith in her.

How had he not seen that? How had he missed the feeling in the light that glowed within the hearts of her subjects? He allowed the awareness to pour into him from all over the land. He continued walking without showing any sign of the knowledge that swelled within him. The feeling gave him an anchor to latch his powers upon. For the first time, he felt somewhat comfortable with his far reaching abilities.

The two doors yawned upon their hinges and allowed him inside the place he had once called home. The damp scent of ancient dust and mortared stone wafted from the parted doors and threatened another onslaught of recollection. He pushed the sensation aside and felt himself take a step away from his past.

The guards led him inside and steered him to a broad hall. This was the casual area of greeting in the castle, reserved for the reception of visiting chieftains and family members. The selection was a good sign. Aul was acknowledging his bloodline.

As they approached the hall, Quintel sensed Aul's presence through the walls and saw the light of two other people in the room. The flicker of their existence was familiar but he did know why until the guard opened the door.

Across the wide room, sitting in heavy wooden chairs, were Quarel and Ana, his other siblings. Quarel was the oldest legitimate son of King Tilon. His political worth must have been insignificant for Aul to have allowed him to live. He was much fatter than the last time Quintel had seen him.At Aran’s execution. His face had the blotched puffiness of a man familiar with wine. His light was pale, a yellow candle smothered beneath layers of boredom and indulgence.

Ana was the youngest daughter of the dead king. Quintel recognized himself within her angular face, wide set eyes and thick mane of hair. Her golden light showed calculation and patience, education and intelligence.

Quintel was amazed at the difference between the souls of his two siblings. Where Quarel ebbed languor, Ana showed restlessness. Where Quarel was pocked with resignation, Ana displayed thorns of will.

On the other side of the room, Aul reclined upon a long couch. She was no longer in armor and wore a draping of supple red robes. A goblet of wine filled her hand.

“Do you see him now, my doubting lords?” Aul said to the two. “Our bastard brother has fulfilled his retribution and returned a hero.”

“I'm seeing him, Aul,” Quarel said. “But I am still having trouble believing.”

“It is him,” Ana said. “He's older of course, but he hasn't changed that much.”

“Of course, it's him,” Aul said, standing and walking toward Quintel. “And the head he ported was truly Huk's.”

She stood before him and searched his face for any clue to his thoughts.

“So tell us, brother. Tell us the bizarre tale that must follow you to this moment. How did you come to arrive here without a horse, or even a pair of boots? What did you say at the jail? That you'd been possessed by a god?”

Quintel saw beyond Aul's display of doubt. She was looking for a plot behind his presence. She suspected a conspiracy of some kind. Her soul palpitated as she tried to search for the sequence of questions that would trip him up and expose his real intentions. The movement of her lifelight reminded him of strategies from the Game.

“I am not possessed,” Quintel said. His words were slow and measured. Since the attack of memory, he felt even more distant from his human side. He was pushing it away, shunning its limits. As he spoke, he felt like his voice was coming from a faraway place. “A few months ago, I escaped from Huk's fortress. A man of the Vaer took me to a place beyond any map, a divine garden few humans have ever seen. There, I fulfilled a destiny that was set in motion before I was born. In the culmination of a thousand intertwined strategies, I merged with the god known as Yuul.”

Quintel saw no need to share more detail than that.

The three stared at him, stricken by silence. For a second their souls all wore the same blank face. Quarel was the first to react.

“Woo hoo!” he exclaimed in wordless disbelief. “You merged with… what? Aul, he's insane. You've brought a madman into our midst!”

Ana contributed her own theory. “No, he's some kind of fanatic. Yuul is the warrior god of the Vaerians. There is a cult that revolves around him. Quintel has obviously been influenced by them.”

Quintel saw that Aul hadn't formed any of her own comforting conclusions.

“Then how did he kill Huk?” The queen asked, somewhat agitated that her brother and sister couldn't produce better theories. “And how did he cross the mountains in a few days, without supplies or access to the tunnels?”

Aul emptied her cup with one long drink and banged it down hard on a near table.

“And why is he here now?”

Ana and Quarel didn't say anything else. They would not allow themselves to believe Quintel's story. Yet even as they struggled to build their denials, Quintel could see sparks of belief. The possibility of his story being true needled their emotions and singed the edges of their intellects. What if he weren’t mad?

“So paint me a picture, lost brother found,” Aul lobbed the words at him. “What was it like, this merging? Did you and the god walk as one? Did Yuul inject you with special knowledge and power? Did he offer you the secrets of the universe? Or did it happen the way a man merges with a woman? A mating?”

Aul was growing impatient. Quintel realized the time of proof had come. He had to warn her about Ru’s approaching army. His sanity must not be in question. He had explained what happened and now it was time to show them. He would leap to the ceiling and crawl across it like a reptile. He would dart along the walls as if they were flat ground. He would give them an acrobatic display that would strip away all disbelief.

“We have passed the point of discussion,” Quintel said. “You must believe what I am about to tell you, so allow me to show you who I am.”

He took a step forward to begin his circus of proof and then he felt it: A weight in the distance, an echoing canyon of despair and pain, an infinity of misery. He froze where he stood and stared at the wall across the room.

Aul looked at the others. “Yes? Well? Show us then,” she said.

The weight moved across the far away sky, and all the wind in Quintel's lungs emptied beneath the pressure of its advance. It carried the mass of a continent.

“It is a mountain,” Quintel said.

“What did he say?” Quarel sneered at the lunatic before him.

Quintel's perceptions spilled from his body and emptied across the land, crossing the thousands of miles between himself and the mountain in seconds.

Shiny, black, heavy.

Evil.

“It has a mind!” His empty body shouted back at the hall of Aul's castle. Then he fell face first to the stone floor.

Quintel was not aware this happened. His eyes and consciousness were focused on the gravity of pure malice that sped across the sky.

What was it?

As his mind overlooked the landscape of peaks and forest that spread before him, he saw that the evil weight had a decided direction. The thing knew where it was going. Quintel looked ahead to find its destination.

That's when he saw Siyer. The old man had made it beyond the rifts of the shattered lands and was moving across the open plateau that emptied into the land of Vaer. Siyer had not yet noticed the living mountain. His lifelight danced in human anticipation of his homecoming. His soul was that of an excited child. Quintel would have smiled at the display if his heart had not been inflamed by terror.

He descended toward his old friend with all the strength he could muster and shouted a warning.

“Siyer! Beware!”

Several things happened at once. Siyer heard the warning, ceased his internal celebration and turned to see what was happening. At that moment the being fell upon him. It ignored the presence of Quintel's mind and closed on Siyer. When it brushed his awareness, Quintel saw the entity was only a mountain upon the spiritual world. In the dimension of mass and matter, it was a monster with claws, teeth and scales.

“Siyer!” Quintel screamed as the first blow fell. He lost control of his extended consciousness and it exploded, blanketing hundreds of miles in all directions, an egg dropped upon a stone floor. The jolt was more than his physical being could withstand. He was blind to what happened next. Blobs of lifelight shouted at him from a thousand different points. Information overran his mind. His body convulsed upon the stone floor without control.

“He’s completely mad!” Quarel laughed.

Aul stood over him and looked down. Quintel sensed her attention, but was too overwhelmed to discern her judgment. He was a swirling fire of thoughts and feelings.

“Get him out of here,” Aul called to the guards outside the door. Four of them entered promptly. “Take him to the guest quarters. The one without windows. Put a guard on the door.”

Quintel felt them lift him from the floor, but his legs would not respond and the guards had to drag him out the room. Far away, he felt the lopsided battle rage. He sensed the blows of the evil blotch coming down on Siyer, again and again and again. In broken glimpses, he could see the flicker of Siyer's lifelight, dancing with a foe he could never defeat. It was the dance of a mouse and a viper.

They took him up a series of stairs and placed him on a soft bed. He did not notice his surroundings enough to appreciate the improvement over his cell. His mind splashed across the world in all directions. He lay on the bed and shook. Sleep would never again free him.

Quintel watched the battle through a hail of conflicting perceptions. Images exploded and dissolved in his mind before he realized what he was seeing.  Here was a family ending their day. Here was a solider preparing for battle. Here was a merchant afraid of tomorrow. Here was a mother afraid for her children. There was Siyer, fighting for his life.

To the east, he saw the black rush of the Thog army... closing on the Iron Gate… not exhausted by the hostile landscape... hungry for the taste of human marrow. In flashes, he saw the black-hearted creatures swarming over the terrain, building bridges with their own bodies so their kindred could cross the gaping fissures that had stopped a hundred armies before them.