Mask of Swords (38 page)

The wizard followed Mazael from the dais. Earnachar started to snarl a threat, but Mazael pinched his nose shut and wrenched his jaw open. A small part of his mind, actually a rather large part, wanted to crush the man’s skull. Instead he held the struggling headman in place as Timothy poured a vile-smelling potion down his throat. Mazael stepped back, and Earnachar started coughing. 

“Are you trying to poison me?” said Earnachar. “This is dishonorable! This is…this is…”

He started gagging, then choking, and then heaved forward with such force that he ripped free of the armsmen. Earnachar landed on his hands and knees, still coughing. His eyes bulged and his face turned red, and he started gagging. 

Mazael gave him a sharp blow between the shoulders.

The heart spider burst from his mouth and landed upon the flagstones with a wet splat. The ugly little creature went into a spastic dance, and before it could escape, Mazael brought his boot down upon it. 

The crunching noise echoed through the hall, and Earnachar flopped onto his back with a groan. 

“Now,” said Mazael when Earnachar had caught his breath, “I suppose you are ready to talk.”

“Where is my sister?” said Sigaldra, stepping forward. Her hand hovered near the hilt of her sword. Mazael would have to keep her from killing Earnachar until the Tervingi headman had told them everything useful. After that, he hadn’t yet decided if he was going to let Sigaldra kill Earnachar. “Where did your damned Prophetess take my sister?”

“What?” said Earnachar, staggering to his feet. “Hrould? What…what the devil am I doing here?” He shook his head. “I have such a headache. How much did I drink?”

“Do not play dumb with me, you blithering fool!” said Sigaldra. “Where is my sister?”

“You,” said Earnachar, swaying a bit on his feet. “The Jutai whore. Why…”

Sigaldra did not scream, did not curse. Her face went utterly flat, and she drew her sword and stepped forward, drawing back the blade to stab. Earnachar scowled and reached for his weapons, but he did not have any.

Mazael had expected this, and he caught Sigaldra’s wrist. 

“Let me go,” she said, her voice as flat and empty as her face. 

“Not until he tells us what he knows,” said Mazael.

“He doesn’t need his fingers to talk,” said Sigaldra. 

“Lady Sigaldra,” said Adalar, stepping to her side. To Mazael’s surprise, a flicker went over Sigaldra's face and she stopped straining against him. “I will help you find your sister, I swear. But we don’t know where to look for her. He might know.”

The tension went out of Sigaldra’s arm, and Mazael released her. 

“I had,” said Earnachar, shaking his head, “the most peculiar dream.”

“Did that dream happen to involve a sorceress calling herself the Prophetess forcing a spider down your throat?” said Mazael. 

Earnachar blinked. “How…how did you…”

Mazael pointed at the crushed spider upon the floor, and Earnachar blanched. 

“That’s not…that’s not…that’s not possible,” said Earnachar. “It was a dream, it was…”

“If it was a dream,” snapped Sigaldra, “then how did you get here, hmm? Did you sleepwalk all the way from Banner Hill?” 

“I don’t know,” said Earnachar. For the first time that Mazael could remember, he saw doubt upon Earnachar’s face. “I remember…I remember everything, but it was a dream.”

“No,” said Mazael. “It wasn’t. If you want to leave Greatheart Keep alive, I suggest you start talking.” 

“You are threatening me?” said Earnachar, some of his bluster returning.

“In the past few days,” said Mazael, “you threatened one of my vassals, disobeyed my commands by allowing an orcragar into the Grim Marches, kidnapped me, and broke the peace of the Grim Marches by waging war against the Jutai. I am not threatening you. I am merely stating facts. Whether or not I execute you depends on what you tell me next.”

“Then it wasn’t a dream?” said Earnachar, growing horror on his face. “I…truly did all those things?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Mazael. 

“Gods and ancestors,” said Earnachar. “Surely you can see that I am not at fault? The blame lies with the Prophetess and her lies. You…”

Sigaldra’s hand twitched towards her sword again. 

“I suggest,” said Mazael, “that you start at the beginning. When did you meet the Prophetess?”

“A few months past,” said Earnachar. “She came to Banner Hill with that masked orcragar. I thought about simply killing them and claiming the bounty you offered for any orcragars, but…”

“But the Prophetess,” said Mazael, “had a tongue dripping with fine promises, is that it?”

Earnachar shifted a bit. “Yes. You see, hrould, you had made a mistake.”

“And what mistake is that?” said Mazael. 

“You should never have settled the Jutai at Greatheart Keep,” said Earnachar. “Not so close to the Tervingi. The Tervingi are a thriving and growing people, and…well, what are the Jutai? Cripples and dying old men, led by a crazed termagant. The Tervingi people need room to grow, and Greatheart Keep holds fertile lands. You should have put the Jutai near the Burning Hills or the Great Mountains, some dead land where they could die off in peace and not disturb the rest of us.”

“Such pretty words,” said Sigaldra, “to justify oath breaking and murder.” 

“Let me guess,” said Mazael. “You realized that the Prophetess was a madwoman, but you also realized that she had power. You decided to turn her over to me…but only after she had helped you claim Greatheart Keep and drive out the Jutai.”

“That is preposterous slander,” said Earnachar. “I am the victim of her machinations as well.”

“It’s not slander,” said Mazael, “if it’s true.”

Earnachar sighed. “Perhaps…there may be a kernel of truth to it.”

“What went wrong?” said Mazael.

“The Prophetess promised me power and glory,” said Earnachar, “but I am not a fool.” Sigaldra let out a derisive laugh, and this time Earnachar did glare at her. “It was soon clear to me that the Prophetess simply wanted Liane of the Jutai for whatever reason. The simplest way to claim her was to marry her, of course, but I had no interest in wedding a Jutai woman, and neither did any of my men. This displeased the Prophetess, so I commanded Agaric to go to Castle Cravenlock and warn you of her.”

“Instead,” said Mazael, “the Prophetess gave you a heart spider.”

“And most of my chief thains,” said Earnachar. “After that…well, you know what happened. The Prophetess summoned the valgasts and the soliphages to her side, and…it seemed like a good idea to do what she commanded. The influence of that damned spider, I suppose.” He waved a hand at Sigaldra. “A lot of bloodshed could have been avoided if she had simply surrendered her sister.” 

“And if you had not been such a fool,” said Sigaldra.

Earnachar scowled. “Will you allow this woman to address me so, hrould?”

“Why not?” said Mazael. “You were a fool to listen to the Prophetess.” He moved forward, and Earnachar flinched back a step. “Now. The Prophetess obviously had a plan. She came here to take Liane. What did she intend to do after that?”

“I am not entirely sure,” said Earnachar. His lip curled with disgust. “She did not confide her plans in me. She merely commanded, and the spider ensured that I obeyed. But I know where she is going next, and what she intends to do. I know why she took Liane.”

“Why?” said Mazael.

“She needs Liane to find something called the Mask of Marazadra,” said Earnachar. 

“Do you happen to know what that is?” said Mazael.

“No,” said Earnachar. “Some magical relic like the mask upon Rigoric, I suppose – she called his mask the Mask of the Champion.”

“Do you know where the Mask of Marazadra is?” said Mazael.

“I do not,” said Earnachar, “but I know where she is going next, as I said. The Prophetess is going to Armalast.” 

The name meant nothing to Mazael, but Romaria stirred. 

“I know the place,” she said. “A town in eastern Skuldar. It’s one of the few towns the Skuldari allow outlanders to visit.” 

“What does the Prophetess intend to do there?” said Mazael.

Earnachar shrugged. “She did not say. I overhead some of her conversations with the soliphages. Evidently the priests of Marazadra rule in Armalast, and she intends to get something from them before searching for the Mask of Marazadra.” 

“Very well,” said Mazael.

“I have told you all that I know,” said Earnachar. “What are you going to do with me?”

Mazael considered. He wanted to kill Earnachar, but the Tervingi headman had not been completely responsible for his own actions. He had always been ambitious and unscrupulous, but he had not acted on those impulses until the heart spider had sunk its claws into him. Still, he had cooperated with the Prophetess, which had started this entire mess. Earnachar might have claimed he would have sided with Mazael against the Prophetess eventually, but if the Prophetess had been triumphant, Mazael had no doubt that Earnachar would have switched sides.

Of course, the same thing could be said of half of Mazael’s vassals. 

For that matter, Earnachar had the support and friendship of a great many Tervingi thains and headmen. If the Skuldari were planning to invade the Grim Marches, Mazael needed their help.

“The Prophetess forced you to attack Greatheart Keep against your will,” said Mazael. Sigaldra stirred, her glare turning towards him. “She tried to place a heart spider in me, so I know their power, and I see no way you could have resisted it. But you invited her into your home, even knowing my law against orcragars. You willingly trafficked with a wielder of dark magic…and by ancient tradition, the Guardian protects the Tervingi from dark magic. So the Guardian of the Tervingi shall decide your fate.” 

Earnachar swallowed, but managed a nod. Riothamus would likely not kill him. The Guardian of the Tervingi was a merciful man…but sometimes, Mazael had found, the mercy of a righteous man was more terrifying than the vengeance of an evil one. 

The armsmen led Earnachar from the hall.

“You should have killed him,” said Sigaldra, her tone bitter.

“Probably,” said Mazael. “But there is a war coming. This is just the beginning. Perhaps Earnachar’s punishment will be to die in battle defending Greatheart Keep from the dark powers with whom he allied himself.” 

“Then you are sure that war is coming?” said Sigaldra.

“Entirely,” said Mazael. “The Skuldari are stirring, and I suspect the Prophetess has stirred them up.”

“And what of my sister?” said Sigaldra. There was no pain on her face or in her voice, only tired despair. “Shall we abandon her to the Prophetess?” 

“The Prophetess has declared war upon the Grim Marches,” said Mazael. “We have not defended the Grim Marches from Malrags, runedead, and the Justiciars only to have the worshipper of a dead spider plunge us into ruin. I am going to stop her, and if I can, I will get your sister back.”

Sigaldra stared at him for a long time, and then at last nodded.

###

Greatheart Keep had survived the battle, but now it prepared for war. 

Sigaldra stood atop the keep and watched the activity in the village. Mazael had sent out the call to war, and the lords and knights and armsmen and thains of the Grim Marches would assemble and march to the west in preparation for a campaign. A hundred Jutai would accompany him as he rode west, all that Greatheart Keep could spare from the repairs and the planting. Sigaldra himself would lead them. She was the holdmistress of Greatheart Keep, and she would shoulder the responsibilities that should have belonged to the headman.

She shivered. 

Responsibilities she had already failed. 

Her sister was gone. Sigaldra would have wept, but she had shed the last of her tears long before she had ever come to the Grim Marches. All she had left was a sorrow that had hardened to something like a frozen knife in her heart, a constant weariness…and rage.

Plenty of rage. 

She vowed to make the Prophetess pay, to rescue Liane, or die trying.

The trapdoor atop the tower creaked, and Sigaldra turned with a scowl. She had wanted to be alone, if only for a moment, but she could never escape her duties. 

Yet when the trapdoor opened, it was not duty that appeared, but Adalar Greatheart. 

“Lady Sigaldra?” he said. He still wore armor, though only chain mail, and had washed the grime and blood of battle from his face. 

“Lord Adalar,” said Sigaldra. 

“Ulfarna told me you were here,” said Adalar. “I wished to speak with you of two matters.”

“Of course,” said Sigaldra. 

“First, I would like to apologize,” said Adalar.

Of everything he could have said, she had not expected that.

“Why?” she said at last. 

“I was too slow,” said Adalar. “I should have followed you to the keep at once. If I had come sooner, perhaps I could have stopped the Prophetess. Or if my aim had been better…”

“No,” said Sigaldra, shaking her head. “No. You owe me no apology. You saved my life. The Prophetess would have slain me and departed, and if you had not intervened, no one would have known what had happened to Liane.” She hesitated. “And you fought with valor during the siege. Like one of the great Jutai champions of old. Without your help, Greatheart Keep might have fallen to the foe.” 

Adalar grimaced. “You are too kind.”

Sigaldra managed a tired laugh. “I have many flaws, but a honeyed tongue is not one of them. So when I tell you something, I mean it.” She shook her head. “You fought…you fought as well as my father and brothers did, in our final stand against the Malrags.”

“Thank you,” said Adalar. 

“I suppose you shall leave now,” said Sigaldra, “and return to Castle Dominus? You have laid your father to rest, and done rather more besides.”

“No,” said Adalar. “That is the second matter I wish to discuss.” He looked at her. “I told you I would help you save Liane. With your permission, I would like to accompany the Jutai as the host of the Grim Marches rides against the Skuldari.”

Again Sigaldra was surprised. “Why?” 

“Because,” said Adalar. He stared at the village for a moment. “Because the Prophetess reminds me of Lucan Mandragon, and I fear she might work some evil as dire as the Great Rising.”