Hawkmoon: The Jewel in the Skull (67 page)

"It would seem, then, that he did meet resistance, Immortal Ruler...?"

"Aye. He should have reported back a week or more ago. We are concerned."

"You think he is dead, Noble Emperor?"

"We should like to discover that—and also discover who slew him if that is the case. Baron Meliadus. We wish to entrust you with the second expedition."

At first Meliadus was filled with fury. Meliadus play second to that fat buffoon Trott! Meliadus waste time questing about on the coasts of a continent in the hope of discovering Trott's droppings! He would have none of it! He would attack the Throne Globe now, if that senile fool above him would not be sure to have him cut down in an instant. He swallowed his temper and a new scheme began to form in his skull.

"I am honoured, King of All!" he said with mock humility. "Do I choose my crews?"

"If you wish."

"Then I'll take men who I can be sure of. Members of the Order of the Wolf and the Order of the Vulture."

"But these are not sailors. They are not even marines!"

"The Vultures have sailors among them, Emperor of the World, and those are the men I will select."

"As you say, Baron Meliadus."

Meliadus was astonished to discover Trott had sailed to Amarehk. It made him even more resentful—Huon had entrusted the Court of Sussex with an assignment rightfully his. Another score to settle, he told himself.

He was glad now that he had bided his time and accepted—or appeared to have accepted—the king's orders.

His opportunity, in fact, seemed to have been handed to him by the creature he now considered to be his arch enemy after Hawkmoon.

Meliadus pretended to think for a moment. "If you believe the Vultures to be untrustworthy, Monarch of Space and Time, then may I suggest I take with me their chief...?"

"Their chief? Asrovak Mikosevaar is dead—killed by Hawkmoon!"

"But his widow inherited the Constabulary ..."

"Flana! A woman!"

"Aye, Great Emperor. She will control them."

"I would not have thought that the Countess of Kanbery could control a rabbit, she is so vague, but if that is your wish, my lord, then so be it."

For a further hour they discussed the details of the plan and the king gave Meliadus all possible information relating to Trott's first expedition.

Then Meliadus left, his hidden eyes full of triumph.

OVERLOOKED BY THE turreted city of Deau-Vere, flanked on three sides by quays of scarlet stone, the small fleet lay at anchor in a livid sea. On the wide roofs of the buildings stood thousands of ornithopters, fanci-fully fashioned to resemble birds and mythical beasts, their wings folded; and in the streets below their pilots swaggered in masks of Crow and Owl, mingling with the sailors in their Fish and Sea Serpent helms and the infantry and cavalry—Pig, Skull, Hound, Goat and Bull—who were preparing to cross the Channel not by ship but by the famed Silver Bridge Across The Sea which could be seen on the other side of the city, its great curve disappearing into the distance, all delicate and shining and loaded constantly with traffic coming to and from the Continent.

The men-o'-war in the harbour were crowded with soldiers clad in Wolf and Vulture helms and armed to the teeth with swords, spears, bows, quivers of arrows and flame lances and the flagship bore the banners both of the Grand Constable of the Order of the Wolf and of the Grand Constable of the Order of Vulture which had once been simply the Vulture Legion but which had been raised to the status of an Order by King Huon, for the fighting it had done in Europe and to honour the death of its bloodthirsty chieftain Asrovak Mikosevaar.

The ships themselves were remarkable in that they had no sails but were instead mounted with huge pad-dlewheels at their sterns. They were built of a mixture of wood and metal—the wood ornately carved and the metal wrought in baroque designs. There were panels in their sides, each carrying an intricate painting depicting some earlier sea victory for Granbretan. Gilded figure-heads decorated the forward parts of the ships, representing the terrifying ancient gods of Granbretan—Jhone, Jhorg, Phowl, Rhunga, who were said to have ruled the land before the Tragic Millennium—Chirshil, the Howling God; Bjrin Adass, the Singing God; Jeajee Blad, the Groaning God; Jh'Im Slas, the Weeping God and Aral Vilsn, the Roaring God, Supreme God, father of Skvese and Blansacredid the gods of Doom and Chaos.

The Aral Vilsn was the flagship and on the flagship's bridge stood the brooding figure of Baron Meliadus, beside him Countess Flana Mikosevaar. Below the bridge, in Wolf and Vulture masks, the captains of the ships began to assemble, having been summoned to the flagship by Meliadus.

They looked up expectantly as Meliadus cleared his throat.

"You are doubtless wondering about our destination gentlemen—and wondering, too, about the nature of these strange ships we sail in. The ships are no mystery—they are equipped with engines similar to those powering our ornithopters, and are the invention of that genius of Granbretan, Baron Kalan of Vitall. They can bear us swifter than sail across continents of water and do not need to wait on the will of the wind. As to our destination, that I will reveal in private. This ship is the Aral Vilsn, named after the supreme god of ancient Granbretan, who made this nation into what she is today. Her sister ships are the Skvese and the Blansacredid, which are the old words for Doom and for Chaos. But they are also the sons of Aral Vilsn and represent the glory of Granbretan, the old dark glory, the gloomy glory, the bloody and terrible glory of our land. A glory of which I am sure you are all rightly proud." Meliadus paused. "Would you see it lost, gentlemen?"

The answer roared back. No! No! By Aral Vilsn, by Skvese and Blansacredid—No! NO!"

"And would you do anything to make sure that Granbretan retained her black might and her lunatic glory?"

"AYE! AYE! AYE!"

"And would you all unite with me in an insane adventure such as those embarked upon by Aral Vilsn and his peers?"

"AYE! Tell us what is it! Tell us!"

"You would not shrink from it? You would follow it through to the end?"

"AYE!" shouted more than a score of voices.

"Then follow me to my cabin and I will detail the plan. But be warned, once you have entered that cabin, you will have to follow me forever. Any who holds back will not leave the cabin alive."

Then Meliadus swung down from the bridge and strode into his cabin below it. He was followed by every one of the captains who stood before him and every one of them was to leave the cabin alive.

Baron Meliadus stood before them, his dark cabin lighted only by a dim lamp. There were maps on his table, but he did not consult them. He spoke in a low, vibrant voice to his men.

"I shall not waste time further, gentlemen, but will tell you at once the nature of this adventure. We are embarking upon treason ..." He cleared his throat. "We are about to rebel against our hereditary ruler, Huon the King Emperor."

There were many gasps from around the cabin as the Wolf and Vulture masks stared intently at Baron Meliadus.

"King Huon is insane," Meliadus told them quickly.

"It is not personal ambition drives me to this scheme, but a love for our nation. Huon is mad—his two thousand years of life, has clouded his brain rather than given him wisdom. He is trying to make us expand too rapidly. This expedition, for instance, was to go to Amarehk to see if the land could be conquered, while we have barely crushed the whole Middle East and there are still parts of Muskovia that are not entirely ours."

"And you would rule in Huon's place, eh, baron?" a Vulture captain suggested cynically.

Meliadus shook his head. "Not at all. Flana Mikosevaar would be your Queen. Vulture and Wolf would take the place of the Mantis in the royal favour. Yours would be the supreme Orders..."

"But the Vultures are a mercenary Order," a Wolf captain pointed out.

Meliadus shrugged. "They have proved loyal to Granbretan. And it could be argued that many of our own Orders are moribund, that fresh blood is needed in the Dark Empire."

Another Vulture captain spoke thoughtfully. "So Flana would be our Queen Empress—and you, baron?"

"Regent and Consort. I shall marry Flana and aid her rule."

"You would be the King Emperor in all but name," said the same Vulture captain.

"I would be powerful, it is true—but Flana is of the Royal blood, not I. She is your Queen Empress by right of ancestry. I shall be merely Supreme Warlord and leave the other affairs of state to her—for war's my life, gentlemen, and I seek only to improve the manner in which our wars are conducted."

The captains seemed satisfied.

Meliadus continued: "So instead of sailing to Amarehk on the morning tide, we sail around the coast a little, biding our time, then make for the Tayme estuary, sailing upriver to Londra and arriving in the heart of the city before anyone can guess our intent."

"But Huon is well-protected. His palace is impossible to storm. There will be legions in the city loyal to him, surely," said another Wolf captain.

"We will have allies in the city. Many of the legions will be with us. Taragorm is on our side and he is hereditary commander of several thousand warriors since his cousin's death. The Order of the Ferret is a small one, to be sure, but it has many legions in Londra, while other legions are in Europe, defending our possessions.

All the nobles likely to remain loyal to Huon are abroad at this moment. It is a perfect time to strike. Baron Kalan is also with us—he can aid us with new weapons and his Serpents to operate them. If we achieve a swift victory—or at least make quick gains—then it is likely that many others will join us, for few will discover love for King Huon once Flana is on the throne."

"I feel a loyalty for King Huon ..." admitted a Wolf captain. "It is bred into us."

"And so is a loyalty to the spirit of Aral Vilsn—to all that Granbretan stands for. Is that not a loyalty even more deeply bred into us?"

The captain deliberated for a moment before nodding. "Aye—you are right. With a new ruler of the blood royal on the throne, then perhaps our whole greatness will come to us."

"Oh, it will, it will!" promised Meliadus fiercely, his black eyes gleaming from his snarling helm.

IN THE GREAT hall of Castle Brass Yisselda, Count Brass's daughter, wept and wept.

She wept for joy, hardly able to believe that the man before her was her husband whom she loved with such passion, hardly daring to touch him lest he prove a phantom. Hawkmoon laughed and strode forward, put-ting his arms around her and kissing at her tears. Then she, too, began to laugh, her face becoming radiant.

"Oh, Dorian! Dorian! We feared you killed in Granbretan!"

Hawkmoon grinned. "Considering everything, Granbretan was the safest place we saw in our travels! Is that not so, D'Averc?"

D'Averc coughed into his kerchief. "Aye—and maybe the healthiest, too."

The thin and kindly-faced Bowgentle shook his head in mild astonishment. "But how did you return from Amarekh in that dimension to the Kamarg in this?"

Hawkmoon shrugged his shoulders. "Ask me not, Sir Bowgentle. The Great Good Ones brought us here, that is all I know. The journey was swift, taking but a few minutes."

"The Great Good Ones! Never heard of 'em!" Count Brass spoke gruffly, stroking his red moustachios and trying to hide the tears in his eyes. "Spirits of some sort, eh?"

"Aye of some sort, father." Hawkmoon stretched out his hand to his father-in-law. "You are looking well, Count Brass. Your hair's as red as ever."

"That's not a sign of youth," Count Brass complained.

"That's rust! I'm rotting here while you enjoy yourself chasing about the world."

Oladahn, the little son of a giantess of the Bulgar Mountains, stepped shyly forward. "I'm glad to see you back, friend Hawkmoon. And in good health, it seems."

He grinned, offering Hawkmoon a goblet of wine.

"Here—drink this as a welcome cup!"

Hawkmoon smiled back and accepted the goblet, quaffing it in a single draft. "Thanks, friend Oladahn.

How's it with you?"

"Boring. We are all bored—and afraid you would not return."

"Well, I am back and I think I have enough stories of my adventures to dispel your boredom for a few hours.

And I have news of a mission for us all which will bring you relief from the inactivity you have been suffering."

"Tell us!" Count Brass roared. "For all our sakes—tell us at once!"

Hawkmoon laughed easily. "Aye—but give me a moment to look at my wife." He turned and stared into Yisselda's eyes and he saw that they were now perturbed.

"What is it, Yisselda?"

"I see something in your manner," said she. "Something that tells me, my lord, that you are soon to risk your life again."

"Perhaps."

"If it must be, then it must be." She took a deep breath and smiled at him. "But it will not be tonight, I hope."

"Nor for several nights. We have many plans to make."

"Aye," she said softly, glancing at the stones of the hall. "And I have much to tell you."

Count Brass stepped forward gesturing to the far end of the hall where the servants were laying the table with food. "Let's eat. We have saved our best for this home-coming."

Later as they sat with full bellies by the fire and Bowgentle had finished recounting now Tozer had suddenly vanished, Hawkmoon showed them the Sword of the Dawn and the Runestaff, which he drew from his shirt. At once the hall was illuminated with whirling flames making patterns in the air and the strange bitter-sweet scent filled the hall.

The others looked at the thing in silent awe until Hawkmoon replaced it. "That is our standard, my friends. That is what we now serve when we go out to fight the whole Dark Empire."

Oladahn scratched at the fur on his face. "The whole Dark Empire, eh?"

Hawkmoon smiled gently. "Aye."

"Are there not several million warriors on the side of Granbretan?" Bowgentle asked innocently.