The War of the Moonstone: an Epic Fantasy (36 page)

While dinner was being prepared, the
worthies gathered in the royal study where they smoked cigars and drank wine,
and after the manservant Hanslib informed Raugst that dinner was ready, the
nobles relocated to the feasting hall. Dinner began as a somber affair, and
Raugst missed the gaiety of the celebration beyond the wall. For, as most of
the nobles present were those he had persuaded to help him slay the King,
conversation was minimal. Few seemed to feel comfortable engaging His Majesty
verbally, and Lord Ulea for his part was apparently brooding on the war to come
and did not offer many comments of his own.

Thus Raugst was forced to provide
entertainment, and he regaled the gathering with fanciful tales of his supposed
life along the Feslan-Aragst border.

“ . . . and I saw it there, upon
the ridge, its eyes gleaming, fangs bared. And I knew it was the thing that had
been preying on Father’s goats. So I crept up on it with my bow and arrow, I a
young lad of sixteen summers but quite an excellent marksman by then, and came
around at it from the rear. Oh, it was a long, black, slinky thing, and drool
ran from its mouth. It was nearer the pens now. It didn’t seem to see me. And
so I crept—closer, closer.” Raugst paused, looking around. All eyes were on
him, even the King’s. “I could tell it was a thing of Oslog. It was beast of
nightmare, no natural wolf, and there was a red glint in its eye. The strange
thing was that it was also so beautiful, and graceful. I couldn’t help but
think it moved more like a cat than a wolf. So slinky and poised. The moonlight
shining on its slick black fur.

“Well, no matter. I wasn’t going to
let such a beast eat Father’s goats. We needed the food. So I came up on it,
careful to keep downwind, and took aim. I looked down the shaft of that arrow,
my hands fair to trembling, for I knew that if I missed I wouldn’t have time
for a second shot before the thing would be upon me. And so I aimed. Right at
its heart.

“But then, curse the gods, at that
exact moment the wind shifted! That wolf, it lifted its twitching nose and
turned to look
right at me
.” Several
of his guests gasped. “Well, that shocked me so bad I could barely shoot. I
steeled my spine and was ready to let fly, when all of sudden—” He leaned
forward and lowered his voice dramatically “—when all of a sudden it
spoke
.”

Muttering greeted this.

“Aye,” said Raugst, grinning
tightly, “it spoke.”

“What did it say?” asked the King. His
eyes were wide, and he was leaning forward.

Raugst arched his eyebrows. “It
said, ‘Well, are you going to shoot me, or not?’” Nervous laughs arose, and
Raugst let them run their course. “I said, ‘Why, sure I am. Just stand up a
little straighter. Move to the right a bit. And . . . hold still.’” More
laughs. Raugst smiled. “But then, to my utter astonishment, that wolf, that
slinky, black wolf, well, it seemed its blackness turned to smoke, and its
shape
seemed to change. I was so shocked
I let fly an arrow, right into the ground. The thing was busy changin’, though,
so I, fingers tremblin’, drew another and took aim.

“The goats were mewling, and the
wind was screaming, and the thing, the thing that had been a wolf . . . the
smoke had cleared, if there had been smoke, and now that wolf was no wolf at
all. It was, to my great surprise, a beautiful woman.” There were chuckles and
grins. “Oh, she was like a goddess, hair like shadow, long and black and shiny
under the moon, and eyes, violet eyes, I’ll never forget ‘em. They burned right
into me. Oh, and ‘o course, she was naked as the day she was born.” He bit his
lower lip and shook his head. “Friends, I tell you she was a creature to die
for. Long legs, high, full breasts, flat stomach, those lusty eyes, shadowy
hair streamin’ in the wind . . .”

“Well, what happened?” the King
demanded again.

“Now
that’s
the interesting part. See, she speaks again, and she says,
‘You don’t have to
shoot
me, you
know. There are other things that we could be doing.’ Now, I look at her, and I
look at the goats, and I say, ‘What are you suggesting?’ And she says, ‘Let me
take a goat and I’ll show you pleasures you can’t dream of.’ Well, I look down
the shaft of my arrow. I’ve got her heart dead center, just above one of those
perfect breasts. And again I look at her, and I look at the goats, and back at
her. Then I throw down that bow and stand up and say, ‘I guess you might be
worth a goat or two.’”

The whole table laughed heartily at
this, the King most of all. Raugst knew he had the King’s trust then. Good.

“So, what happened afterward?” Lord
Ulea asked, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Oh, she took a goat, just like she
said. And I let her. She’d upheld her end of the bargain by then. Shown me
pleasures I can’t even describe. The next day when Father found out, I got a
whipping, sure enough, a whipping I’ll never forget, but I grinned all the way
through it.”

“I’ll just bet you did!” said one
of the men.

“Did you ever see her again?” asked
the King.

Raugst nodded. “Several times. She’d
come slinkin’ around, wanting a goat, and we’d strike our bargain, same as the
first. And I will say that though I didn’t eat so well that year I was never
dissatisfied for a moment.”

The King made a toast to beautiful
women. They all drank.

Raugst, sipping his wine, looked
across at the King and sighed inwardly. It was a shame what would happen. He
was actually beginning to like the man.

Dessert was served, then coffee,
and talk went on more casually. The King relaxed, as had been Raugst’s
intention. He wanted the King good and asleep when the time came.

Finally the meal broke up and each
of Raugst’s guests went to their rooms. For three hours Raugst waited tensely
in his chambers—plenty of time, he hoped, for the King to fall into deep sleep
and for his Royal Guards to become drowsy. What had they to fear, after all,
here in the castle before battle had even started?

Only then, after three full hours,
did Raugst send out Hanslib to give the signal.

Raugst and his conspirators
gathered in the oak-paneled study. The night was dark and cold, and wind
shrieked around the castle, its screams sending shivers up and down Raugst’s
spine. He could tell his fellow conspirators felt it too, the tension. He’d
brought a tray with him, silver and covered with a red silk cloth, and set it
upon the mahogany table. All the conspirators stared avidly at it and its
concealed contents, and he saw excitement mix with dread in their faces.

“Now’s the time,” he told them
quietly. “Are you ready?”

Tight nods greeted him from drawn,
pale faces.

“Then let us see what’s under this
cloth.” He tore the silk away, revealing a dozen gleaming silver knives, each a
foot and a half long. The conspirators let out a collective breath.

Raugst selected a weapon, finding
the metal cold but smooth in his grip, the weight perfectly balanced.

Slowly, Lord Evergard followed his
example. The duke stared at his blade, swore, and nodded to Raugst. It was easy
after that, and soon everyone had picked out a gleaming silver instrument of
regicide.

“Excellent,” said Raugst. “Now to
business.”

Holding his blade at his side, he
quit the study. The others, silent and ashen, followed at his heels. He led
them down one quiet, carpeted hall and then another. Candles in niches at
regular but infrequent intervals gave just enough light to see by. At last they
arrived at the juncture leading to the corridor where the King’s suite lay.

“Wait here,” Raugst told his
conspirators, and moved around the corner. Two members of the Royal Guard,
though stifling yawns, stood vigil to either side of a stout wooden door—the
suite of the King. They carried naked steel in their hands.

Raugst, his knife in the waistband
at his back, approached them, smiling. Seeing him, they straightened.

“Gentlemen,” he said, careful to
keep his voice soft, for he knew the soldiers would not want to wake their lord,
“have you truly been awake all this time?” He yawned, feigning sleepiness.

“What are you doing up so late, if
I may ask, my lord?” asked one of the guards.

Raugst shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep.
Battle comes. My city might be razed to the ground. So I put on some clothes
and went for a walk. A shame that everyone else is asleep. I was hoping for a
game of cards. I don’t suppose you . . . but never mind, you’re on duty. I
wouldn’t want you to find yourself in trouble with the King on my account . .
.”

The soldiers glanced at each other,
then to him. “I think we had better not, my lord. Still, we appreciate the
offer.”

Raugst nodded, as though he had
expected this, and clapped one on the shoulder. He had come to stand beside
him, so that they were facing the same direction and the second soldier was on
the far side. Now Raugst yanked his blade free and plunged it into the gut of
the soldier whose shoulder he had grabbed, using that purchase to shove the man
deeper onto the weapon. Hot blood trickled over his fingers. The man gasped and
doubled over.

The other soldier leapt back, brandishing
his sword. “My lord!”

Raugst yanked his blade free, and
blood spurted from his victim’s wound. He released his hold on the man, and the
soldier toppled to his knees, then sprawled fully on the ground, where he
twitched and bled all over the expensive carpet. Raugst tried not to glance
down at him, tried not to feel the swell of remorse that rose unwanted in him,
but it came regardless.

He didn’t let that hinder him.

He sprang forward, batting the other
soldier’s blade away with his own. Even as he moved, Raugst changed his free
hand into a claw. Pain coursed up his arm as he felt the bones shifting,
changing, jerking, but then his claw was ripping out the soldier’s throat.

Blood sprayed Raugst full in the
face, and he drank it up. The man, clutching his wound, fell to the floor, his
mouth working but saying nothing. His feet kicked. Raugst knelt over and ran
him through the heart, giving him a clean death.

A hand grasped his ankle. Turning,
he saw the first soldier he had stabbed clutching at him with one hand and
holding in his guts with the other. A wave of pity and self-loathing rose in
Raugst. Snarling, he kicked the man onto his other side and plunged his blade
straight into the soldier’s heart. The man stopped moving.

Sweating, Raugst staggered back
from the bodies, watching as their blood spread across the carpet. He shuddered
and swore. Why did this disturb him so much? He’d done worse before. Much
worse. For the thousandth time, he cursed Niara and her kiss.

When he got his breathing under
control, he shifted his claw back into a hand—it had become easier with
practice—and returned to the conspirators. They gaped at his bloody appearance,
and he met their gazes grimly.

“The way is clear. Now come.”

Obviously frightened—at him as much
as the task ahead of them—they followed him down the corridor until they stood
over the still-warm bodies.

“Dear Omkar,” whispered Lord
Evergard, blanching. “I never thought . . . they never . . . it was
him
. . .”

Raugst put a finger to his lips. It
was still possible the King was asleep. Chagrined, Evergard nodded.

Raugst moved around the bodies,
withdrew his master key, and inserted it into the keyhole of the large oaken
door. A twist of his wrist, a shove of his palm and the door heaved open. Darkness
like a demon’s mouth gaped where it had been. Raugst glanced over his
shoulders, met the eyes of his fellows, saw the depth of their resolve, and
moved inside. It was black. Not a single candle had been lit. Blindly he
fumbled about in the foyer, felt a couch, a candelabra, an incense burner . . .

His eyes adjusted, and he made out
the dim archway ahead. Moved through it, pulling out his still-dripping knife. The
others followed wordlessly. It was a grim procession that entered the massive
guest bedroom that housed the King. They stole like ghosts to the giant,
four-posted, canopied bed, knives glittering like fangs in the corpse-light
that filtered in through the heavy drapes. Like carrion-speckled vultures, they
gathered over the King, and Raugst looked down on the large, restful form that
stretched under the burgundy blanket and cream-colored sheets.

The King’s eyes were open.

Raugst stifled a gasp.

Those loathsome eyes scrutinized
the assassins and at last came to rest on Raugst. Raugst felt a sinking in his
belly.

“And so,” said the King, thick
white teeth flashing through the part in his beard, “it is you, after all.”

Raugst forced himself to meet King
Ulea’s eyes. “Yes, my lord.”

The King grunted. “I am clearly not
your lord,
traitor
.” He struggled to
sit up in bed, but Raugst shoved him back down with his left hand.

“You won’t be going anywhere,”
Raugst said

The King glared. “When I heard
voices, I wondered, and then the creak of the door . . . but
you
. . .” He sighed. “Can I ask why? Is
it just power you want?”

Raugst saw what the King was doing
and respected it. Still, he could not let the King take control of the
situation. He raised his blade to the light. The others had clearly been
unnerved by finding the King awake, and several had drawn fearfully away. But
at Raugst’s gesture, they returned to the bed and raised their own blades,
though more than one shook in its wielder’s hands.

The King’s face darkened with rage.

“No,” Raugst told him, answering
him. “It is to save your kingdom.”

The King snorted.

“We found out about your dealings
with Vrulug,” Duke Evergard started. Even in the darkness, Raugst could see
that anger flushed his face. “You were going to betray the kingdom!”