Soul of Skulls (Book 6) (34 page)

Then he walked into the shadows, making for Barellion’s northern gate. 

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The Gate of Bishops faced north, towards the Bannered Forest and the River of Lords. A troop of militiamen guarded the gates, and dispersed at Malaric’s command. They glared at him with fear and loathing. 

But they left without violence, and Malaric opened the gate by himself. 

He strode through the opened gates and onto the road leading north. The countryside beyond looked peaceful. Forests and pastures and the occasional village. 

And in a few days over the Aegonar tide would wash over it.

Gray mist swirled a dozen yards before him, and Malaric felt the surge of magical force. The mist rose into a sheet ten yards high and ten wide, and through it Malaric glimpsed a distant field filled with tents and carts.

And thousands upon thousands of Aegonar.

The first Aegonar marched through the mistgate a moment later. They ignored Malaric and strode for the Gate of Bishops, taking it for themselves. More and more Aegonar came through, and Malaric saw the bronze helms of ulfhednar amongst them.

Then the mistgate rippled, and Skalatan and Agantyr appeared.

The Aegonar High King was huge, head and shoulders taller than Malaric. His face looked as if it had been hammered from granite, and his black eyes regarded Malaric with amused contempt. His armor had been gilded, and a diadem fashioned in the shape of a golden serpent rested upon his gray-streaked red hair. 

“So, Herald,” said Agantyr, his voice a rumble. “This is the traitor Prince you have promised me?”

“It is, noble High King,” said Skalatan. His head swayed back and forth within his cowl. “I give you Malaric Chalsain, Prince of Barellion, who has agreed to become your vassal.”

“Good,” said Agantyr. “Come, my servant. I wish to see the splendors of my new city.”

Rage blazed within Malaric…but he forced himself to swallow it, and led the Aegonar High King to Barellion. 

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Skalatan brought over four thousand Aegonar warriors and ulfhednar through the mistgate before it collapsed, and the warriors took control of the city with ease. A few militiamen tried to make a fight of it, but the Aegonar killed them, and the citizens of Barellion locked themselves within their homes. 

Which was just as well. There was no one to witness Malaric’s humiliation in the square below the Prince’s Keep.

He knelt before Agantyr and offered up his sword to the High King.

“I, Malaric Chalsain, Prince of Barellion,” said Malaric, “do pledge fealty, loyalty, and obedience to Agantyr, High King of the Aegonar, Anointed of Sepharivaim, and Lord of Greycoast, Knightreach, and the Aegonath Isles. In the name of Sepharivaim, I swear to defend you against your foes and serve you to my last breath.”

It was just as well he cared nothing for Sepharivaim, given that he planned to betray the Aegonar after they killed Hugh for him. 

“And I, Agantyr, High King of the Aegonar and the Anointed of Sepharivaim,” said Agantyr, taking the sword, “do accept you, Malaric Chalsain, as my vassal. I will protect you from your foes and defend your lands. Receive from my hand,” the hard lips curled in a mocking smile, “the city of Barellion, to use for your support and maintenance.” 

“I thank you,” said Malaric, keeping the fury from his face, “my King.”

“Rise,” said Agantyr to his newest vassal. 

Malaric rose, and Agantyr handed him back the sword.

“Come,” said Agantyr. “We will inspect our defenses, and prepare for your brother’s arrival. When his host lays siege to the walls, we shall hold them off…and then Earl Ryntald will arrive with the rest of my forces and smash them. Give commands for…”

An Agantyr warrior sprinted into the plaza, face grim.

“No need to wait for Hugh Chalsain’s army, High King,” said Skalatan. “I suspect is it here.”

Chapter 31 – Unmasked

Gerald took a deep breath and adjusted his cloak.

In the next few minutes, he was either going to save Knightreach or he was going to die. 

The vassals and knights of Lord Malden Roland filled the Hall of Triumph, speaking in low, frightened voices. The officers of the Justiciar Order stood near the dais, and unlike the nobles, did not look afraid.

If anything, they looked…younger.

Especially those who bore black daggers identical to the ones Malden and Caldarus carried. 

If it came to a fight, Gerald intended to strike down Caldarus. 

But only after he dealt with Ataranur, or Lucan Mandragon, or whatever was really behind that steel mask.

The object of the nobles’ fear stood before the dais. A dozen runedead stood there, motionless as statues, symbols of green fire upon their pale foreheads. Lord Malden sat upon his chair atop the dais, his hair like gleaming gold, his skin smooth and unlined, his blue eyes bright and clear.

He looked younger than Gerald. 

“They will obey me without question?” said Lord Malden.

“Yes, my lord,” said the man calling himself Ataranur. “Caraster bound them with his dark spells, but he is slain. You are the rightful lord of Knightcastle, my lord, so the runedead will submit to you. And you, Grand Master, for the justice of your righteous mission.”

Gerald stopped besides his brother Tobias and Lord Adalar, both of whom looked at the undead things with disgust. 

“My lord,” said Lord Agravain. “Can we remove these…creatures from the Hall of Triumph? Surely they are unclean, and their…scent may carry plague.” 

“Be silent, Agravain,” said Malden with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“Think of what we can do with an army of invincible warriors,” said Caldarus. Like Malden, he looked like a vigorous man of twenty, his body heavy with muscle, his skin smooth and clear. “You could march at their head and conquer the neighboring lands – Greycoast, the High Plain, the Stormvales, even the Grim Marches. You could make yourself King over the entire realm.” Caldarus’s hands curled into fists. “And with this host, the Justiciars can destroy the San-keth and the worshippers of the Elderborn gods. We could purge every last hint of evil from the entire world.”

His hand strayed to his black dagger as he spoke. 

The thought of Caldarus commanding the runedead was almost as bad as Caraster. Gerald had heard of the Justiciars’ recent atrocities, the rampages they had carried out in the villages of Knightreach. Hundreds of people had been dragged from their homes, accused of supporting Caraster or worshipping the serpent god, and then put to death with those black daggers. 

But why? Why such wanton carnage?

“In a few days,” said Lord Malden, rising from his seat, “we shall march. With the Justiciars at our side, we will go from village to village and town to town, purging the land of the wicked. The other lords shall acknowledge Knightcastle as their liege or perish. Soon…”

Gerald had to stop this madness.

His father kept speaking, and Gerald moved. He strode up the dais, and his father’s speech faltered in surprise. Gerald stepped forward, seized Ataranur’s steel mask, and ripped it away.

The cowl fell back, and Gerald found himself looking at the pitiless black eyes and gaunt, pale face of Lucan Mandragon. A black diadem fashioned in the shape of a dragon encircled his brow, its claws cradling a glowing green emerald. Gerald recognized the Banurdem, the diadem of Old Dracaryl that Corvad had worn. 

A stunned silence fell over the Hall.

“So,” said Lucan, voice quiet. “You were always brave, Sir Gerald.”

Malden stared at Lucan, blinking.

“What is this?” said Malden at last.

“Do you not see, Father?” said Gerald, stepping past Lucan so the entire Hall could see the wizard’s face. “He has been lying to you for weeks! He is no more High Elderborn than I am. This is Lucan Mandragon, the architect of the Great Rising, the son of your most hated enemy…and you have been following his counsel.” 

Malden said nothing, his face pale, while Caldarus scowled. 

Lucan said nothing and did not move. 

“Everything he has done has been a deception,” said Gerald. “It was his spells that raised the runedead, not the wrath of the gods or the sins of men. His every word to you has been a lie.”

He looked at Lucan, expecting the wizard to argue or unleash a spell, but Lucan said nothing. He didn’t even blink.

A cold chill spread through Gerald.

He didn’t think Lucan was breathing. 

“Father, Grand Master, you must act,” said Gerald, pointing at Lucan. “Everything we have suffered since the Great Rising, everything we have lost, was his doing. Now he has tried to beguile you with lies. You must have him imprisoned, or banish him from Knightreach forever.” 

No one spoke. Gerald looked at his father, at Lucan, and then back at his father. If it came to a fight, Lucan could probably reduce Knightcastle to a heap of smoking rubble. But Lucan must require Malden’s and Caldarus’s willing cooperation for something. Else he wouldn’t have bothered with subterfuge.

Malden stared at Lucan, a muscle trembling in his temple.

“Father,” said Gerald. “Think of what you have done. You attacked a servant. You beat Mother, and you never raised a hand against a woman before in your life. You sent the Justiciars to murder people under your protection. This…this is not you. Turn aside from whatever lies Lucan has told you. It is not too late.”

Malden looked at Gerald, opened his mouth, closed it again.

“I healed you,” said Lucan. 

Malden flinched.

Lucan stepped towards Malden. “When I first came to you, my lord Malden, you were a sick old man. Now you are young and strong again. When I came to Knightcastle, Caraster was ready to destroy you. And now Caraster is slain, and his runedead await your command.” His eyes turned towards Caldarus. "And you, Grand Master. The Great Rising had brought the Justiciars to the verge of collapse. Now you have regained your youth and vigor, and the Justiciars are strong again. The other lords laughed at your and ignored your righteous mission to rid the world of evil. Will they laugh at you now? Will they ignore you?"

"No," said Caldarus, smiling. "They will not."

"You deceived me," said Malden. "And you healed me..." He closed his eyes and swallowed. "A servant. You must have killed a servant. That's how you healed me." 

"Yes," said Lucan. "I deny it not. I did what I have always done."

"And what is that?" said Gerald. "Deception? Murder?"

"I acted for the greater good," said Lucan. "Have I not?" He pointed at Malden. "You are restored. Knightreach is safe. And..."

"And all those villagers you commanded the Justiciars to kill?" said Gerald. 

"They were evil," said Lucan. "Followers of Caraster. Worshippers of the San-keth. Hidden Demonsouled, even. Knightreach is cleansed of their presence." 

"What proof did you have?" said Gerald.

"The suspicion of a Justiciar," said Caldarus, "if proof enough." 

"I did deceive you, my lord," said Lucan. “I knew how much you hated my father and his crimes. You would not listen to me, no matter how much I wished to aid you, because I was the son of Richard Mandragon. But Richard Mandragon is dead, my lord...and you are not. And you will never die. You shall be immortal, and rule over Knightreach, perhaps the entire realm, for all time." He spread his gloved hands. "If that is not enough, then say the word and I shall depart." 

Utter silence fell. Gerald stared at his father. Surely Malden's reason would reassert itself. Surely he would not continue to listen to Lucan's lies. 

"A lord," said Malden at last, "must do what is necessary. I think, Lucan Mandragon, that you understand that."

Lucan inclined his head to Lord Malden.

"Father!" said Gerald. "This is madness, utter madness. You..."

"Silence!" said Malden, and the fury returned to his face. "I have had enough of your constant impudence." He started to draw his sword. "You will..."

"No!" roared Tobias. He drew his sword and stood between Malden and Gerald, and every other man in the hall drew his blade. "I will not allow this!"

"Do not defy me!" bellowed Malden.

"Gerald has shamed me with his courage!" said Tobias. "He was willing to confront you when I was not. Lucan Mandragon's dark magic has corrupted you...but he is not the only one who can do what is necessary!"

Tobias spun, frantic shouting echoing off the walls, and for an awful moment Gerald was sure that his brother would cut down his father...

But Tobias wheeled and drove his blade into Lucan Mandragon’s chest with one smooth motion. 

Lucan rocked from the blow, but his expression did not change.

He didn't even blink. 

Tobias stared at Lucan, waiting for the wizard to fall.

Lucan sighed, gripped Tobias's wrists, and stepped back. The blade pulled from his chest with a wet sound, but there was no blood on the weapon. Lucan showed no sign of pain, or even of discomfort. 

"What kind of devil are you?" said Tobias.

"I'm sorry, my lord Tobias," said Lucan, "but I can only be slain once." 

"Take him!" said Adalar, drawing his sword. "For the honor of Knightcastle! Kill the wizard!" 

"I command you to stop this!" roared Malden, but no one heeded him. 

A dozen lords drew their weapons and charged Lucan, and Tobias raised his sword for another strike.

Lucan waved his hand.

Invisible force seized the attacking lords and slammed them to the floor. Gerald reached for his sword, hoping to take Lucan by surprise. But the cold black eyes shifted towards him, and Gerald froze. 

"Clearly, my lord," said Lucan, looking up at Malden, "many of your vassals cannot appreciate the wisdom of your new course. Or…perhaps wish to avenge their fallen master Caraster."

"That is absurd!" shouted Gerald. "We fought against Caraster, not..."

"Silence!" said Malden. "Is this how you repay me, my lords? For years I have defended you, and you plot my murder? Enough! I sentence you all to die. Take them to the dungeons."

"My men, Lord Malden," said Caldarus, "would be honored to serve."

"Take them," said Malden. 

"Father," said Gerald, but Malden ignored him. 

Justiciar sergeants took him, Tobias, Adalar, and the other lords, and led them to the dungeons to wait for death.