Darkstone - An Evil Reborn (Book 4) (15 page)

Chapter Twelve

~

T
he fires faintly lit up his assailant’s face.
Vish sighed with disappointment as he plunged his dagger into the chest of Fourth Mesyrat. The boy’s unexpected strength ebbed until he dropped the garrote.

Vish felt awful, worse than when his brothers had attacked him. He had trained with Mesyrat. “Why?” he said.

“They said they’d kill my uncle and aunt. My only relatives!” His voice was little more than a whisper. Vish knew he had struck a mortal blow.

“Who!  Who sent you?”

“Sorcerer’s Tower.” Mesyrat’s eyes lost their focus and his body relaxed.

He shook his head in dismay. Now he’d have to teach another how to make a sling, but that thought hid his real concern. He had killed someone he knew well. He had eaten and slept out in the open with Mesyrat. Why hadn’t the boy tried then? Vish would never know, but he felt fortunate that he had endured the discomfort of his chain mail choker. The thing had saved his life, but his neck hurt too much to leave it on for now.

What had he done to earn the sorcerers’ anger? First, his father and brothers and now the most powerful force outside of the Emperor attacked him. What were his real chances for survival?

Vish would have to worry about it later. He’d have to leave the body where it was, but he still spent a few minutes covering the Fourth’s body with dirt as best as he could. There was no sense leaving it as an easy discovery.

Vish made the dust swirl to cover up his tracks as he left for his horse. He saw Mesyrat’s tied up next to his. The boy must have tracked him all the way from the battle site.

He looked out at the faint glow on the horizon from the Cuminee camp. So why did the shaman’s do such a disgusting ritual? What did they do with the heart and the blood? Vish looked off into the North. He had a Cuminee warrior to find. Perhaps the exile might have some answers.

~

The stress of the day and the night began to wear on Vish, as he pressed onward in the dark. Mesyrat’s betrayal stunned him. The Sorcerer’s Tower had contracted for the assassination and planted the Fourth in the army. Had someone told them of his exploits using magic on the expedition that had killed so many heirs?

He couldn’t think of another explanation unless someone had gotten to Peleor. Vish ran his hand through his hair and then he clutched his neck. Preparation. His worry about being attacked with a garrote had saved his life. Vish didn’t see his survival as luck, at all, but preparation. At least he wouldn’t have to be as concerned about someone killing him from behind as much as a huge Cuminee warrior killing him from the direction he headed.

A small pinpoint of light disturbed the blanket of darkness that Vish picked his way through. The warrior must have set up camp. Perhaps the man didn’t fear anyone following him. Vish continued towards the light until he decided he was far enough away to thwart detection, but close enough to pick up the man’s trail in the morning.

He dismounted and drew a long line in the dirt pointed in the direction of the light. He tied his horses up to a bush and took off their gear before he quickly sunk into sleep.

Morning had just begun to erase the night when something woke Vish. He yawned and then jerked to his right. The Cuminee warrior sat on a rock, sharpening his sword and grinned. He looked bigger in person. The man continued to work on his weapon.

Vish extended his hand towards the plainsman. “I come in peace. I saw them throw you out of the camp and wondered why.” Could the man even understand Vish’s words?

The warrior laughed. “If you had wanted me dead, you could have killed me in my sleep last night, like I could have just done.” He folded his arms after he put his sword on his lap. “Why did you follow me?”

Vish took a drink out of his skin and offered some to the Cuminee, who took a large swallow.

“We are at peace while we talk, if we share food or drink. It’s a Cuminee custom.” The man gulped down about half of the skin. “Why did you follow me?”

The warrior’s accent wasn’t so bad when he wasn’t yelling a hundred paces away.

“With your tribe camping for the night, they’d never catch up to the Dakkoran soldiers, so after the shamans refused to let you ride after them, I wanted to know why.” The warrior laughed again and shook his head. It made him seem less of a savage, for some reason. “We’ve always thought that you warriors desecrated our dead. I learned differently, yesterday,” Vish said.

“It is a lousy secret. I will not kill you for it. The shamans force us to do the killing and the Cuminee nobility pay them to force us. It is not a happy way to live. The Sorcerer’s Tower in Baku buys the enchanted blood and hearts.” He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Only the Cuminee shamans know the spell that preserves. They will not share it with the Baku sorcerers. Your Tower uses the foul stuff for nefarious purposes, I’m sure. Our shamans like the arrangement. It keeps them in trinkets, furs and, with those, they get the pick of our women.”

Vish thought about what he had heard. The Sorcerer’s Tower had suddenly become a larger, more menacing entity. Before, he just feared the Sorcerer’s Tower for intimidating him as a little boy. Now he shivered at the thought of what kind of abominable spells would require fresh blood and human hearts. What perversion!

“What would you rather be doing? Attacking Dakkoran soldiers directly?”

“I wanted to avenge my brothers’ deaths. It makes no sense to fight and not win. Does it?” the warrior asked.

Vish shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense to fight at all.”

The warrior nodded. “My name is Polymeer, former leader of the Slago tribe, as of last night. The shamans have more power than I thought.” He raised his right hand in salute.

“Vishan Daryaku, Scout, Second Class.” He did the same. It seemed to be the right thing to do. “What do we do now?”

“I’m hungry. Let us break our fast together and then talk some more.”

Vish nodded and rummaged through Mesyrat’s supplies. He found what he wanted. He arranged some rocks and bits of wood and conjured up a fire.

Polymeer backed up, skidding off of the rock and falling in a heap.

“You are a shaman!”

Vish held up both his hands and smiled. “Some Dakkoran shamans are actually nice people. I’m one of them.” He put a pot on the fire and pulled water out of the air. “It’s convenient to have me around, see?”

Polymeer looked sideways at Vish. “I see. We are friends?”

Vish nodded. “We are right now. Let’s keep it that way.”

As he cooked, Vishan let Polymeer do all of the talking. It seemed like the man needed to explain what led up to his expulsion.

“So I am banished by the shamans. They don’t do it often, but once I am dismissed as leader, I am expected to go away and die or something. Most head south and end up as guards for the Silk Lords.”

“Is that what you want to do?” Vishan said.

“No, I have not decided.”

“Come with me to Baku.” Vishan ladled out the gruel spiced with dried fruit into two bowls. “I have some resources there and can find some appropriate employment for you. Perhaps a place in the Dakkoran army as a scout, but not down here in Peshakan.”

“Fight against the enemy?” Polymeer furrowed his brow.

“Are settlers your enemy? Don’t the shaman’s drive you across the border? We aren’t your enemy. They are,” Vish said.

“I will think on it.”

~

After traveling back to the outpost with Polymeer, Vish could write a book on the Cuminee and might consider doing it after he returned to Baku. The Dakkoran army needed to kill the Cuminee shamans. He had learned that the men were no longer interested in healing the members of the tribes and, with all of their wealth, they treated the rest of the Cuminee plains people as slaves.

The Cuminee kept to their culture on the South side of the border. Vish had no illusions that they lived a rather brutal existence, but without the shaman’s seeking the blood and hearts of Dakkoran settlers, the Cuminee would be more content to follow the herd animals through the grassy plains that lay some distance south of the border.

The shamans had harvested Cuminee for the first time in Polymeer’s experience that night and that was what really got the warrior upset with the shamans.

Vish talked Polymeer into joining him in his return to the outpost. He even tied up Polymeer’s hands before the outpost came into sight, to keep the soldiers from shooting an arrow through the barbarian’s impressive physique.

“I’m glad you made it back alive. We lost one of our scouts,” Sergeant Vaka said. “Did you see him?”

“Mesyrat?” Vish rubbed at the remaining signs of the garrote on his multi-layered neck protection. He just shook his head. “I did have to kill an assassin sent from Baku’s Sorcerers Tower. That was a shock and a nasty business.”

Vaka nodded and shot Vish a nasty look. “So this hulk is a prisoner?” Bishyar had walked up.

“Not really,” Vish said. “Captain Bishyar.” Vishan made a salute. “The Cuminee made camp where they crossed your path. I have more to say on that, but while they did, they expelled Polymeer from their tribe. He’s on his own and I decided to send him to Baku.”

“That’s a lot of authority for a Second to take on,” Bishyar said.

“It is, but I want you to talk to him, Captain. He has an interesting story that some people would like to hear and others would kill to keep him from telling. It’s your decision, after all. But I think you’ll agree.”

“Is he a dangerous savage?” Vaka asked.

Vish untied his bonds. “No, although I haven’t seen the man drunk.” He grinned along with Polymeer.

“Then, you will bunk with the barbarian in the same barracks you shared with your brothers. He is your responsibility to guard until I’ve properly evaluated him. Is that acceptable to you?”

Vish said, “It is.” He didn’t know if he’d been chastised by his actions or not.

“It is to me, also,” Polymeer said. “I have ears and speak Dakkoran, too.”

~~~

Chapter Thirteen

~

T
he Emperor’s study looked the same and smelled the same
as it had long ago when Shalil made Vishan confront Astyran and Baron Fenakyr. He stood at parade rest waiting for his father to sweep through the door like he did that last time. Vish took an opportunity to observe his father’s study through older eyes.

The books and scrolls still lined three of the walls. He looked out of the wall of windows and counted the roofs of the Imperial Compound until he identified Princess Yalla’s house. He had been told to report directly to the Emperor once they arrived. He looked forward and dreaded seeing his mother again after the session with his father.

Shalil would still want to hear everything directly. Vish swallowed and cleared his throat in the empty room. His stomach flopped with anxiety. The view of his childhood home didn’t calm him, since he would have to ask how his little brothers had died. It wouldn’t be a joyous occasion.

The door opened and Emperor Shalil Daryaku walked in. Today he wore a black shirt and black trousers. Only black stockings covered his feet. “At ease, Scout, First Class,” the Emperor said with half of a smile on his face. “Sit.” 

Vish looked around for a suitable chair.

“Over by the fireplace,” Shalil said as he sat in one of the two large chairs facing each other in front of the empty hearth. “Now tell me your story from when you arrived at Peshakan until you brought back your rather large souvenir. I’ve gotten a briefing from Lystan and a dispatch from Captain Bishyar, but you probably realize that I’d like to hear from your own lips how you survived at Peshakan.”

Vishan hesitated, but sat on the front of the seat while his father leaned back and crossed his legs.

“Go on,”

A bit of sweat began to bead on Vishan’s upper lip. He wiped it off and proceeded to relate the story. As he came to the arrival of his brothers, the Emperor came forward, his eyes intent on Vish’s words. He had to look at his father as he reported, but it took all of his will to do so.

“Didn’t you question the suitability of the patrol?”

Vishan shook his head. “I do what I’m told and go where I’m ordered, Father. It never occurred to me that the Captain was out of order.”

“You did the right thing. What about your brothers?”

“The ones that hadn’t served at the outpost joked around a lot and thought it a novelty. The others knew more of what to expect.”

“And you?” the Emperor asked.

“It seemed to be common knowledge that eight sons of the Emperor going out on a patrol meant that some weren’t coming back. The men even took bets.” Vishan related the patrol in as much detail as he could. He even talked about using his power to save the rest of the detachment.

Shalil nodded his head. “It happened to me, long ago. Except only one of us didn’t return. We took a patrol of thirty men and four brothers. Your grandfather wasn’t quite as prolific as me. The youngest was found at the bottom of a well.” The Emperor peered at Vishan. “For your information, I didn’t kill him.”

The claim surprised Vishan. The Emperor didn’t have to admit anything. It seemed the prospect of a winnowing of heirs was an eternal condition.

“I killed Teshyr after he helped the attackers kill Parvenu and Kartor and I’d do it again, given the circumstances. So many innocents died so he could move up the list.”

“What list?” the Emperor said.

“Your list of heirs. The one who ends up on top when you die or abdicate becomes Emperor.”

Shalil gave a grim smile. “Only a son that deserves to rule will succeed me. Of your group, only Daryan’s loss was important to me. Astyran always moved with stupidity and his clumsiness doomed him. Leshyam’s attempt made Astyran look like a skilled assassin. Parvenu and Kartor should have returned with you. Who knows what went through Teshyr’s mind.”

“He hired the attackers. How did he know the patrol would consist of your sons?” Vishan asked. He wondered how his father would have classified him, if he had not returned.

“I sent a command to Captain Bishyar to send you all out on patrol. I wanted to see what happened.”

“This was a trap?”

“It was an opportunity to see how my sons reacted to adversity and to make sure with whom they were aligned. I’m not pleased that so many didn’t survive, especially Daryan, as I’ve said. Your survival, for some reason, didn’t surprise me. I’m releasing you from the army, however, so you won’t be returning to Peshakan.

“I’d like you to work on some other projects I have in mind. See your mother, but I want you to find rooms in the Palace. You might begin to think about marriage.” The Emperor rose and Vish scrambled to his feet.

“I’m not finished, Your Highness,” Vish said, as delicately as he could.

Shalil smiled and sat back down. “More? Is it about your new friend?”

Vishan shook his head. “No, Father, there was another assassination attempt by a fellow soldier, planted at Peshakan for the purpose of killing me. I know who sponsored this one.”

“Is that why Bishyar sent you back home on leave?”

Vishan nodded. “The Sorcerer’s Tower sponsored the killer. I learned that the sorcerers buy spelled human blood and hearts from the Cuminee shamans. It’s the only reason there are border incursions. The Cuminee plainsmen would rather stick to their grasslands.”

His father leaned forward and gripped the arms of his chair. “This from your captive?”

Vish nodded. “From Polymeer, former leader of the Slago clan, yes. He’s no captive. He joined me voluntarily. I’d like it if you could find him a post as a scout, maybe in Serytar, far from the Cuminee border. Once the shamans expel a leader, they are in permanent exile. I might write a book on Cuminee plainsmen. I think they are misunderstood.”

“They’re savages,” Shalil snorted.

“Cultured savages, but they are not animals.”

The Emperor waved his hand. “It will be done. Tell me more about the attempted assassination?”

“The assassin that I killed lived long enough to tell me that he was hired by the Sorcerer’s Tower. They threatened to kill his remaining relatives if he didn’t kill me. Mesyrat infiltrated into the scouts.”

The Emperor’s brows furrowed. “The Tower, eh? They know about your power?”

“I’m sure they did when I was eight years old.”

“Thank you for persisting to tell your story. I’m unaware of any kind of blood magic performed by the Tower. Be certain I will investigate. The scholars that you met in Peshakan will give you further instruction until the right time occurs for your next assignment. Your information appears that rooms in the palace are even more important for your safety right now.” The Emperor rose from his chair, Vishan scrambled to his feet. “Dismissed, Scout, First Class.”

Vishan saluted his father and walked towards the door.

“Do you still have the dagger?”

Vishan turned to the Emperor and lifted up his coat, showing the dagger’s handle showing from the small of his back.

Shalil laughed. “I thought that was why you didn’t sit back.” He waved Vishan out of the room. “Close the door behind you.”

After Vishan reached the bottom floor, he breathed a sigh of relief. The guards had never searched him. He would always carry some item in preparation of the unforeseen. He didn’t wear a chain mail shirt in the palace, but he knew he could carry that particular weapon in the presence of his father, but he wondered why the Emperor hadn’t asked him about the extent of his power other than to casually acknowledge it.

~

“I’m sorry about your older brothers, Vish,” Peleor said. “And your little brothers…” he shook his head, “A tragedy. I liked both of them.  They were more like you.”

“My mother has aged more than the time I’ve been gone. I think the poisoning, and it was poison, not insect bites, hit her pretty hard. We went to their graves and stood in silence. She still weeps for them. At least they could be buried in the Imperial City. As for my other half brothers, I am a bit sad for a few of them. The Emperor seemed to have regretted the loss of Daryan more than the others. He was the third in line and the only one who was mildly decent to me. He’s buried in an unmarked grave on a farm close to the Cuminee border.”

Vish took a pull on the ale. Peleor had met him at a commoner’s alehouse and that suited Vishan just fine once he had found some less conspicuous clothing. The candles flickered from circular chandeliers pulled up towards the ceiling on black chains. The generous-sized room had mostly full tables.

“I actually have just moved into a suite of rooms at the Palace. They aren’t even close to the Emperor’s wing and are only one story from ground level. I have a sitting room that’s set up more like my bedroom at my mother’s house, except a bit bigger and furnished with a large table and chairs and one comfortable reading chair close to the window. I moved all of my books there. I don’t know how often I’ll be able to sneak away to meet you.”

Peleor laughed and took a swig of his wine. “If the Emperor wants to know where you are, he’ll find out. I wouldn’t even bother to even sneak out. Just come and go as you please. I know the proprietor here and you can rent out a room so you can continue your studies in solitude, if you’ve a mind.” He leaned down and put a box of scrolls on the table. “I’ve got some reading for you. There’s a paper with my soon-to-be new address. Just send a message. I think if we can meet every week for a couple of hours, you’ll have more than enough to keep you busy learning new things.”

“I appreciate that.” Vish beamed and lifted his metal goblet and clinked it with Peleor’s. He took a drink and then put his goblet down. “How do you think the Tower knew where I was and that I’ve grown in power? Did you tell them?” He looked into his friend’s eyes.

“I might have,” Peleor said. His friend looked away, pursed his lips and shrugged his shoulders. “I haven’t hidden the fact I know you and have shown you a few tricks.” Vish could see his friend had become more anxious. “I have a few friends in the Tower that I speak to from time to time. They have asked about you and I’ve told them a little.”

Vish shook his head in dismay. “That would be enough. It wouldn’t be difficult for them to know I was sent to Peshakan. You might have told them that as well.”

Peleor drained his wine. “I did. I didn’t mean to, Vish, really. It was all just idle talk, nothing specific.”

A little information in the hands of the wrong person was obviously all it took to initiate an elaborate assassination attempt. At this point, he didn’t know if Mesyrat’s story was truth or fiction. He didn’t know what Peleor might have said, but as he reflected on Peleor’s pleas, Vishan didn’t think Peleor had intentionally given information to the Tower. Still it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared for anything the first few sessions with his sorcery mentor.

~

Vishan withstood three months, a full season, of lesson after lesson from the four scholars who had tutored his brothers at Peshakan. The one-on-one sessions had been tiring, but Vish had to admit he learned a great deal.

The scholars added even more to his burgeoning library as they visited him. He toyed with his book about the Cuminee, but Polymeer had been posted to the north of Serytar with a unit of the Imperial Guard, next to the Bomai border, so Vishan had lost his primary source.

His visits to Peleor had increased to twice a week in the evenings and he felt more secure as time went on. Both of them now practiced spells over and over again. The ice spell that he used on Teshyr in the dark could have been disaster and Peleor told him that luck had saved the day. Vish could have so easily missed with the spell.

Vishan’s studies both inside the palace and outside began to exhaust him. He had no problem learning, but the tension of living in the Imperial Palace seemed to eat away at him. He didn’t like moving up among his brothers and after his sessions with his instructors, he had less and less of a desire to manage the massive empire that his father did.

A knock on his door woke Vishan from a nap in his reading chair. He had no scholars scheduled for the morning. He had tried to read a battle history, but the drowsiness easily overcame the dryness of the subject matter.

“Message for you, sir,” the guard said.

Vish rubbed the sleep from his eyes and unfolded the paper, dismissing the guard. He closed the door as he began to read. What was his father thinking!  He was instructed to travel to Hustafal, the center of Baron Fenakyr’s domain. That was it. No reason for the trip, nothing other than to show up at the Baron’s doorstep. Vishan had no desire to see the Baron in any capacity. His father signed the orders, so he had no ability to refuse them.