lastkingsamazon (50 page)

#

It wasn't much of a plan, but it was the only one I had.

Sheo and Kerral had not let me keep the ten carat stone and Sapphire keep his few tools for no reason. They must be allies. They must expect us to escape, somehow. They must expect me to come here and now, to attack Kukran Epthel. They must have a plan, and that plan must surely be enough to keep me alive. Our soldiers were close and getting closer. The enemy barbarians were about to break. And I was attacking the only sure enemy I saw among the knot of enemy men. Kukran Epthel.

I recklessly rode the horse right into them and threw myself from the saddle, arms spread, hitting the lich square and bearing him to the ground. Around me all hell broke loose. Magic flared and flashed, near-invisible light followed by fire and lightning and hot oil, some of which landed on my back and made me howl. It didn't make me change my mind. Fire. He had burned and would burn more. The bonfire was close. He wasn't heavy. He struggled. I had landed hard, winded and one arm wrenched. Bruised and battered I still wrapped my arms around him and hauled him toward the fire. He twisted in my arms, speaking calmly, his struggles slow and thoughtful. “Unhand me,” he said.

The banality of it almost made me laugh. I had him off the ground, his dry weight as much as a ten year old child. He smelled musty and damp, like mushrooms and mold.

“
You will not live,” he said.

I ignored him, carried him the short distance I had planned, turned on my heel and threw him into the fire.

My companions were covering me, spraying magic in every direction. Suddenly they were allies. Suddenly they were helping. Why had they waited? I glanced back at them. There was no threat to me there; the bodyguard of the warlord had turned and attacked the small knot of men who suddenly defended the raised ground. The warlord was dying, writhing on the ground, covered in hot oil and screaming the desperate howl of a man in agony that won't stop. I heard it clearly even above the roar of battle.

Glancing back I was nearly enveloped in flames as Kukran Epthel staggered into me, his robes burning. His face, I saw then, had had the flesh stripped from one cheek by a sword blow, one ear missing. His eyes were fixed on me as he gripped me, hugging his burning body to me.

“
You will serve me as a spirit,” he said.

I could almost hear his thought process slowly developing the idea. He could call a spirit to kill me and I knew he would at any moment, just as soon as he decided which one and recalled its name. The flames burned me but I didn't care.

“
No, I won't,” I told him and picking him up, hugging is burning robes to me. I bore him backwards, tripping and throwing both of us into the fire. I didn't have much time. I knew that what I did was madness, but Lentro was close by. I kept my eyes closed and held my breath as I sought his head with both hands, dragging them free of the burning wood and rising up as best I could. I was burning. I didn't have much time. I gripped his head as I had seen Sapphire do and wrenched it. I was not sure for a moment if the pop I heard was his neck breaking or a branch snapping under our weight where we struggled in the fire. Then I felt his head move and twisted it right around as far as I could, and not able to take the pain any more, I threw myself away, rolling over and over out of the fire. My clothes were on fire and I was covered in pain the like of which I had never guessed at. “Douse me!” I shouted.

I struggled to my feet, stripping the burning clothes from my body desperately. Eyes still closed, not daring to open them. Still holding my breath, but I would have to breathe soon. “Douse me!” I shouted again. And mercifully someone did, water shocked me with its icy cold, knocking me to my knees. I opened my eyes. I was facing the fire. Stunned with the pain. Shivering. I couldn't move.

Kukran did not die readily. He kept moving despite his grotesquely broken neck. He struggled among the burning branches, thrashing deep in the heart of the fire. Achieving nothing, he paused and moved again, dragging wood to him as he tried and failed to drag himself free. There was no desperation in his movement, only detached determination. The robes he had worn were already gone and the flesh of him burned with blue and green flames, hissing fiercely, popping and spitting now and again. I watched, determined that he would not get out, seeing that there was no chance of it. Covered in burns, moaning softly from the pain that built to levels I would not have imagined possible, I nonetheless knelt unmoving and watched Kukran's end. He died in stages as less and less of his body functioned. I watched his burning hand sticking out of the fire, close by, scrabbling still, trying to drag the useless body out of the fire. Someone healed me as I watched the hand twitch and twitch and finally, burning out, become still.

I raised my hands before my eyes, seeing the burns but feeling little pain. I touched my face, the nerves of my hands working enough to tell me of the crisp remains of hair turning to dust under them. I ran them over my face and neck. Everything still hurt, my whole body stung but it felt like it was not going to worsen, it felt like the healthy pain of healing flesh, and at least I wouldn't have to shave. I moved away from the flames, the heat hurt my tender flesh. Someone helped me and I glanced to see Larner at my side, helping me to my feet. As soon as I was had my balance he nipped away and brought a cloak back for me. I took a look around. The battle was turning into a rout.

“
We couldn't attack him...” Larner started to explain. I locked eyes with him and he faltered, looked away, glanced down. “Best stay with us,” he said.

I shook my head. No. The resistance was faltering, the fight more or less over. There were probably more of our men inside the walls than enemy. The warlord's banner was in the dirt. Among the group on the knoll one figure knelt as prisoner; it was the other Necromancer. Kerral was using a flag to signal to our troops. I didn't much care about any of it.

“
I'm going for a beer, and the gods help anyone who tries to stop me.”

He didn't say a word. I fetched my horse, hurt myself as I climbed into the saddle and rode back the way I had come. No one bothered me. Everyone I saw was busy surrendering or running for the keep. The rising sun was bright in my eyes, making me squint and frown. The heat of it hurt more than a little, making me angry. I wanted somewhere shady and cool, somewhere with beer.

#

I took a sip of beer.

The keep had surrendered to me. I had taken off the illusion ring and tucked it into the pocket of my cloak. God knows what I looked like, fresh burns healing, skin flaking, bald and with burned hair falling off me. I had slipped painfully off the horse at the bridge and confronted the guards as soon as those ahead of me had gotten out of my way, crossing the bridge, panicked and fleeing for some illusion of safety.

“
I am Sumto Merian Ichatha Cerulian, patron of the city, and if you want anyone in there to survive you will place yourselves under my protection.”

They didn't have to think about it. That the battle was lost was apparent even from here. The barbarians forget what we are capable of until we remind them every few generations. The guards were reminded. They started talking but I wasn't interested.

“
Put some white flags on the walls. Throw your weapons in a pile, there,” I pointed. It was only a symbol but these things are important. “Tell any solders who come here that you are under my protection. I'll be in the vaults. Get out of my way.”

Now, I took another sip of beer. It tasted good.

Sapphire and Dubaku were where I had left them. Dubaku watched over Sapphire, who slept on, oblivious. "Will he live?"

"Yes," Dubaku said.

Good. I had some questions for him, when he woke, but it would just have to wait until then.

A city soldier walked past, glanced in, met my gaze and moved on. There were plenty of people striding about the vaults, glancing in as they passed, and they almost all passed. But not everyone ignored me. Kerral had sought me out, stood in the doorway and said a few words before going away again. As Lentro had started to say, they could not attack Kukran. The amulet inhibited them. That wasn't in the history books and I had silently resolved to do some research and write a more accurate history. I decided I would also write one telling of my experiences and the end of the thing. I only asked him one question. Where was the amulet now? He told me that Hettar had destroyed it. There were witnesses. “We all watched him do it, there was no mistake.”

“
We will not suffer a tyrant to live.”

He had nodded and we had held each others gaze for a long moment, and then he left, leaving much unsaid. Maybe another day we would talk; maybe not. However that went, our friendship would never be the same.

I drank. Dubaku watched me. Sapphire slept. A slave found me, bringing fresh clothes. He didn't say much. Nor did I. I had no idea who sent him. I didn't much care to know. He left to find some food for me and I put on the fresh clothes, feeling little better for it. Then I drank some more and wallowed in self pity for a while. I might have achieved much but I had gained nothing. Maybe, if people reported favorably, I might get away with not being exiled. I had failed to rescue Tahal, though he was free, and damned if I knew now whose side he had been on or much cared. I had still lost my first command. Had raised troops without authority. Was still a drunk. - now more so than ever; addicted for life, probably.

Later, another slave sought me out with a letter from Jocasta

I sipped my beer and read the letter. It was brief.

My Dearest Sumto,

My brother and sister are in the camp and I cannot be rid of them. My reputation, of course, is ruined and they are furious with me. I am afraid they are going to be difficult. So long as I share their name I will not be free. I have heard conflicting accounts but understand that you are alive and well. I am very relieved. Give up on nothing you desire. All things can be yours if you are willing to fight for them.

Jocasta

I noted she had signed only her first name and thought about that for a while. Maybe, one day, I would have something to offer her. But that day was not today.

I took another swig, tucked the letter away to think about later, and went back to brooding. I'd lost my armor and weapons. My father would not be pleased about that. But they had to be around somewhere, and like my one carat signet ring, it might be found and returned to me. I couldn't remember who had it; Sheo, or one of the others. The one on my forehead would stay, of course. No getting rid of it. And with it there would always be people who would be able to find me. It occurred to me that if they were friends that might be useful, but it applied equally to enemies.

An old soldier walked into the room, glanced at us, clearly taking in Dubaku, squatting on the floor, and the inert figure of Sapphire and myself, drunk and leaning against a barrel from which I was even then pulling another draft. He shrugged, clearly deciding he had taken drink in worse company, then hunted out a drinking jack and poured himself a beer.

“
This is my beer,” I told him.

“
I'll buy it from you,” he grinned, pulling out a coin and tossing it into my lap. I let it lay there. “Not a bad haul,” he said, perching on a barrel.

Loot. I didn't know if I would actually get any. After all, I had not been with the army that had actually taken the Eyrie. But, the stronghold had surrendered to me. I could argue a case, and would when the time came. I wouldn't give up. “How much?”

He started reeling off figures he had obviously pre-calculated. “Commander in chief, one million. Commanders, half a million. Command staff and mages two hundred thousand. Equestes and First centurions a hundred thousand. Centurions fifty thousand. Infantry five thousand.” He made a gesture with his hand and shrugged lightly. “Roughly,” he grinned a gap-toothed grin and winked. “That'll buy us some beer, eh laddie?”

Hell, even if I only got five thousand it was better than nothing. And for what? Less than a month of my life? I can do that, I thought, raising the beer to my lips and taking a big gulp. After all it couldn't always be this hard, could it? March a bit, fight a battle, take some loot. It almost seemed easy. Maybe I'd just renounce my status as patron and join up. To hell with my family, to hell with everything. Yes, I decided, knowing, that's what I would do. I would write to my father, telling him, and to the council of patrons, telling them. Then I would be free to find my own way. I knew I was drunk, knew would change my mind later, but for now was happy enough with the decision and didn't worry about it.