Mask of Swords (22 page)

“Why was he hiring mercenaries for you?” said Mazael.

Earnachar looked to the side for a moment, but they were still alone. “I feared my thains and bondsmen would not be enough to hold Banner Hill.”

“To hold Banner Hill from what?” said Mazael. “The Jutai?”

“Among others,” said Earnachar.

“I just came from Greatheart Keep,” said Mazael. “The Jutai are no threat to Banner Hill.”

“The Skuldari,” said Earnachar. “They have been active of late.”

“The Skuldari only just started launching raids upon the Grim Marches,” said Mazael. “Agaric and whoever else you sent to gather mercenaries must have been busy for months. You’ve been planning something for a long time, Earnachar. What is it?” 

“You killed Agaric, I assume,” said Earnachar. “Can you not guess what I fear?”

“Tell me,” said Mazael.

Again Earnachar looked around. Mazael followed his gaze, but they were still alone between the two groups of horsemen, the setting sun throwing long black shadows. 

“Who do you keep looking for?” said Mazael.

“You would not believe me if I told you,” said Earnachar.

“Try me,” said Mazael. 

Earnachar sighed. “Spiders.” 

“Soliphages, you mean?” said Mazael.

“Yes,” said Earnachar. “They can turn invisible, you know.” He hesitated. “Tell me. When you killed Agaric and his men, did you notice anything…unusual?”

“Unusual?” said Mazael. “Such as the spider wrapped around his heart?” 

“You saw it, then,” said Earnachar. “Do you know what it is?”

“I have my suspicions,” said Mazael.

“They are a lesser form of soliphage,” said Earnachar. “Heart spiders, they are called. Once it enters a victim, it takes over his will and mind. The soliphages give commands, and the victim thinks the commands are his own idea and performs them cheerfully.” 

“I thought as much,” said Mazael. “How did you find out about them?”

Earnachar’s smile was grim. “One of my thains was infected, and tried to place a heart spider within me. Alas, he forgot that Earnachar son of Balnachar always keeps a weapon near at hand, and I slew both him and his vile spider. I stabbed him in the heart, and I saw the spider trying escape through the wound. I realized that a vile conspiracy was afoot. I took a few of the infected men and interrogated them, and learned the details of their plot.”

“And what was their plot?” said Mazael. He was not sure what to make of Earnachar’s tale. It was possible that the headman was telling the truth, albeit a truth slanted to put his actions in the best possible light. It was also possible he had eagerly allied himself with the Prophetess, the Skuldari, and the soliphages, decided that he had gotten in too deep, and now wanted to side with Mazael against his former allies.

Or perhaps he was talking to Mazael for another reason. He didn’t have a spider within him, else Romaria would have seen it. Earnachar’s will was still his own, which meant he was acting for his own self-serving reasons, whatever those happened to be. 

“To conquer the Grim Marches in the name of their goddess,” said Earnachar.

“What is the name of their goddess?” said Mazael.

“Marazadra,” said Earnachar. “The great spider. The Skuldari believe that the soliphages are her handmaidens, her angels, her messengers. The valgasts apparently worship her as well. The valgasts think she shall slay the world, and they shall feast upon the carrion that is left, maggots that they are.”

“And this Prophetess,” said Mazael, “she is a priestess of this goddess?”

“She is Marazadra’s high priestess,” said Earnachar, “her emissary and her apostle. Evidently she grants the Prophetess visions, and the woman has tremendously potent magical powers. Normally, the Skuldari and the valgasts would never cooperate, and the soliphages would never deign to work among mortals. The Prophetess has unified them and brought them to the Grim Marches.”

“She tried to recruit you, I take it?” said Mazael. 

“Ah,” said Earnachar. “Yes. That. She promised the destruction of the Jutai…and that the Tervingi would reign supreme in the Grim Marches, with the liege lords of the other lands as our vassals.”

“With you as Marazadra’s viceroy, I presume?” said Mazael. “Perhaps with my head upon a stick, hmm?” 

Earnachar actually managed to look embarrassed. “Well…your fate was not mentioned.”

A flicker of anger went through Mazael. “It was just assumed.” 

Earnachar scowled. “I will not deny that it was a tempting offer. I would have preferred that the Tervingi go their own way upon arriving at the Grim Marches, but…I am a realist. A pragmatist.”

“Just as Tervingar of old was wise in his judgments and shrewd in his counsels,” said Mazael.

Earnachar evidently missed the sarcasm, because he bobbed his head with agreement. “Yes, exactly. I realized that the Prophetess regarded us only as tools, and would discard us the moment she no longer had a use for us. Just as the Urdmoloch discarded Lucan Mandragon on the final day of the Runedead War.”

“So you decided to play along until you had a chance to contact me and betray the Prophetess,” said Mazael, “thereby saving the Grim Marches.”

Earnachar nodded. “You grasp my purpose entirely, hrould.”

“I’m sure.” 

They stared at each other for moment. Earnachar was lying, Mazael was certain, but the headman was also afraid. Likely he realized his danger, and had decided to betray the Prophetess and side with Mazael. It was a polite fiction, but so many of the arrangements among the lords and knights of the realm were based upon polite fictions. 

“Very well, then,” said Mazael. “What is the next step in this conspiracy?”

“Greatheart Keep,” said Earnachar. “The Prophetess promised it to me, but she doesn’t care about the village, the keep, or the Jutai. She just wants something within it.”

“What?” said Mazael. “There’s nothing valuable there. The Jutai have little wealth among them. All they have is their land and their animals.” Which Earnachar wanted to steal. “Why does this mad sorceress want something from within Greatheart Keep?”

“I misspoke,” said Earnachar. “She doesn’t want something, she wants someone. Liane.”

“Liane?” said Mazael. For a moment he could not place the name, and then he remembered. “That’s…Sigaldra’s sister, isn’t it?”

“The only family the bitter little bitch has in the world,” said Earnachar. “Quite fair to look upon, but as insane as she is lovely. She has uncontrollable visions that throw her into wild seizures.”

“Why would the Prophetess want her?” said Mazael, though he realized the reason even as Earnachar answered. 

Liane had the Sight. 

“Her visions are apparently true visions,” said Earnachar. “The Prophetess is looking for something, and she thinks that Liane’s visions will lead her to it.”

“Do you happen to know what the Prophetess seeks?” said Mazael.

“We have not yet reached that phase of her plans,” said Earnachar.

“Ah,” said Mazael. “She didn’t trust you enough to tell you.”

Earnachar grunted. 

“Given that you’re betraying her to me, that was a wise decision upon her part,” said Mazael.

Earnachar’s frown turned sour. “Indeed.”

“So the Prophetess and her minions are moving upon Greatheart Keep,” said Mazael. “When can we expect their attack?”

“Within a few days,” said Earnachar. “A large band of Skuldari warriors are north of us, and the Prophetess and several soliphages are with them, and a group of valgasts are moving through the tunnels of the underworld south of here. My horsethains are to keep any messengers from departing Greatheart Keep to summon aid. The Skuldari will besiege the village and keep the Jutai from escaping while the valgasts dig a tunnel beneath the walls. Once they breach the walls, the Skuldari and the soliphages will kill every last one of the Jutai, and the Prophetess will take Liane.” 

“I can see how that plan would appeal to you,” said Mazael, “given how it would rid you of the Jutai.”

Earnachar shrugged. “That would be a fine outcome. But I would prefer not to have a soliphage drink my life force once the Prophetess has no further need of me.” 

“Very well,” said Mazael. He would deal with Earnachar later, once the threat to Greatheart Keep had been defeated. 

Earnachar looked around once again.

###

Adalar waited.

Mazael and Earnachar continued their discussion, speaking in low voices. Even from this distance, Adalar could tell that Mazael was angry. Of course, Mazael was often angry, but the focus of his rage was on Earnachar. Adalar’s hand curled around the haft of his war hammer, the pre-battle tension drumming through him with every beat of his heart.

Pre-battle? Mazael was a liege lord meeting with a vassal. Yet when that vassal was as ambitious and slippery as Earnachar, the gods only knew what was going to happen.

Yet no one had drawn weapons yet, and no blood had been shed. Perhaps Earnachar would see reason and side with his lawful lord against the Skuldari. 

Romaria looked back and forth, the short horse bow resting across her saddle, her fingers drumming against it. She looked as tense as Mazael, her pale face pulled into a frown. 

“My lady?” said Adalar. “Is everything all right?”

“No, it’s not,” said Romaria, her voice distant. “I’m missing something. All those ripples. What are they?” She shook her head. “I wish Riothamus were here.”

“I think we all wish that, my lady,” said Adalar. He had seen the Guardian of the Tervingi wield mighty magic. Such power would have been welcome against the soliphage at Castyard. 

“Or Timothy,” said Romaria. “If there was magic he would be able to detect it, to dispel it.” 

“A spell?” said Adalar, alarmed. “You…think Earnachar has a spell on him?”

“Not that I can see,” said Romaria. “Or any other others. Yet those ripples…” She made a frustrated sound and bounced her fist off the side of her leg. 

“The soliphages can cast spells,” said Adalar, thinking. “The Prophetess, too, if all the tales we’ve heard are true.” 

“Then you think Earnachar has set a trap for us?” said Wesson. 

“Or that he is hiding something?” said Adalar.

“The man is an ambitious liar,” said Romaria. “Of course he is hiding something.” She fell silent, closing her eyes, and then they opened wide with alarm. “Hiding!”

In one smooth motion she raised her bow, drew back the string, and released an arrow. 

Adalar let out a startled curse, wondering if she had decided to simply shoot Earnachar, or if she had loosed the arrow into the horsethains. Shooting either would start a battle, and he reached for his hammer. But the arrow had been aimed at neither Earnachar nor his men.

The arrow came to a stop in midair, a few yards from where Mazael and Earnachar sat upon their horses. It quivered as if it had struck something. 

Something invisible.

“Mazael!” shouted Romaria. “They’re everywhere. It’s a trap! It’s…”

Earnachar grinned, the air around him blurring. A score of figures in ragged black robes appeared around him, and in their cowls Adalar caught a glimpse of armored red faces and glowing white eyes.

Soliphages.

###

“You treacherous rat!” roared Mazael, yanking Talon from its scabbard. Earnachar quailed back, his eyes wide as he fumbled for his sword. “I’ll…”

“No,” said a woman’s voice. It was soft and quiet, yet it somehow cut through the chaos.

A woman in a hooded black robe appeared from nothingness. She reached up to draw back her cowl, revealing a pale face with large green eyes and red hair that hung loose around her face and neck. 

“Who are you?” said Mazael, pointing Talon at her.

“I am merely the messenger,” said the woman, her serenity unwavering. She looked at the revealed soliphages. “Kill them all.”

The soliphages surged towards Mazael’s men, and he spurred his horse towards the red-haired woman, the woman he was sure was the Prophetess. 

She gestured, and hellish light exploded from the ground. 

A sigil of fiery light appeared on the earth, filling the space between the horsethains and the knights. It did not effect the soliphages, who charged over the sigil’s glowing lines without hesitation. Neither Earnachar nor the Prophetess seemed troubled.

But pain exploded through Mazael, agonizing, crippling pain. Every muscle in his body went rigid at once, and his horse screamed and bolted forward. He fell backwards from the saddle, landing hard upon the ground, and everything went black.

Chapter 12: Prophecy

For a long time Mazael hovered at the edge of consciousness.

He heard screams, shouting, the clash of steel upon steel, the cries of men and horses as they fought and died. The drumbeats of hooves fleeing in all directions, and Tervingi horsethains shouting in triumph. He struggled to stand, struggled to fight. His men needed him. Earnachar had betrayed him, and those sworn to Mazael needed his protection.

But he could not move through the burning light that filled his mind, and darkness swallowed him.

Fragmented dreams flittered through his reeling thoughts. The Old Demon, laughing. Romaria falling before the altar in Castle Cravenlock’s chapel in a flash of blood-colored light. The Malrags sweeping across the Grim Marches in a tide of blood, and Lucan Mandragon standing in the glow of his terrible spells, the Glamdaigyr burning in his hands. 

Slowly his thoughts and dreams settled.

Eventually his mind was clear enough that he could think again, and his eyes opened.

He was in a large tent, a pavilion, the only light coming from a steel brazier in the corner. His armor and weapons were gone. He was sitting propped against something rough – a boulder, he thought – and heavy iron manacles bound his wrists and ankles. 

He did not feel at well. His limbs felt sluggish and heavy, and there was a burning pain in his heart and his stomach. It felt as if he had been poisoned. 

Perhaps one of the soliphages had bitten him.

His eyes focused further, and he saw Rigoric standing near the entrance to the tent, staring down at him.