Samual (68 page)

Others knew it too. Sam could hear the elves cheering through the Window as they looked on. No doubt they thought it was a greater blow than it was.

“Bastard!” The Dragon cursed him. “May Crodan take your soul!”

“You follow the Mountain God?” Sam was happy to talk. Especially now. Partly because he was curious. But also because he knew the longer he kept his enemy talking the more blood he would be losing and the slower he would get.

“I am first shaman!” The Dragon spat on the ground once more. Then he tried a half lunge, dodging towards him but staying just out of reach of Sam's blade, hoping to get him to swing at him and lose position. Sam wasn't that ill-trained though and he guessed the tactic. He held his position, the sword between them and watched as a trickle of red emerged from underneath the Dragon's breast plate and ran down his leg. And if he was leaking that much blood outside his armour it had to be much worse inside.

“Not very priestly are you?” Sam goaded him a little.

“Spoken by a wizard!” The Dragon let his temper loose and tried a feint, dancing to one side and seeming to strike with the axe in his left hand before swapping sides. He wanted to get Sam's sword following him the wrong way so he could slip past it. But Sam was too well trained for that. He'd seen the Dragon's feet move and expected the attack. And that gave him just enough time to punch the tip of his sword through the Dragon's shoulder.

“And a knight.” Sam smiled happily as the Dragon leapt back, startled and bleeding from another wound. He smiled some more at the Dragon's look of pain.

Unfortunately it was his off hand that he'd hit and the Dragon responded by hurling his other axe with his good hand at Sam. This time Sam couldn't quite avoid the blow. And though it bounced off his breast plate, it had been thrown with all the speed and strength a desperate and frightened troll blood could muster. It was enough to buckle the plate and knock him back a couple of steps. Enough to make Ryshal scream in terror.

“And a witless servant of the elves' puny Goddess.”

“I follow the All Father.” Sam felt the need to correct him even though he had no issue with the Goddess. “And now you only have one axe!”

“Really? You returned the phoenix to the world – the Goddess' blessed symbol and pet. And you were protected by dragons, the children of Draco, Lord of the Skies, and the Goddess' companion. At what point did you think that the All Father stood by you?”

“At this point.”

Sam flinched a little as a new voice came from the side, as did the Dragon. And then he shifted his gaze just enough to see the beggar standing there. And the shocking thing was that he knew the voice. He even knew the face.

“Heri?” It was him he slowly realised. But he didn't look very much like himself. He had a full beard that by the looks of it hadn't been attended to with a comb or brush in months. His hair was long and unkempt. The skin of his face had been burnt by the sun. And he was painfully gaunt, his arms showing skin stretched over bone. Sam almost couldn't believe it was his brother.

Unfortunately he'd taken his eyes off the Dragon, and by the time he returned them to his enemy, an axe was already flying at his head. Sam knew then that he was dead even as he belatedly tried to dodge. But he didn't die. Instead the axe stopped in mid-air for no reason before falling to the ground between them, while back in new Shavarra Ryshal's terrified scream slowly died away.

“That is the name of this vessel.”

Heri lowered his hand, a small shoot in it, and Sam guessed that he was the reason the axe had been stopped. But he couldn't understand how or why it had happened. Heri had no magic and he wanted him dead. Didn't he?

“But you servant of Crodan, have annoyed me for the last time.” Heri turned to the Dragon who was finally looking frightened. But he wasn't moving.

“Five thousand years ago your predecessor tried to destroy the world as your Lord tried to usurp his brothers and sisters. He was stopped by them. And he swore to do better in future. He swore to me! Now despite his word given to me, he has tried again through you, and again he has been stopped. I will not allow this to happen a third time.”

Whoever “I” was, clearly wasn't Heri, Sam realised. If nothing else Heri wasn't five thousand years old or claiming to be a vessel. And what was a vessel?

“Tell your deceitful Lord this as he runs away and hides from me while he licks his wounds. No more! Draco's workshops are now sealed forever from his servants. And his ugly little offspring race may no longer retain his grace. That gift is taken from them, and the ability to bestow it is taken from Crodan. They will return to the beasts they were. He will have no more followers.”

“But –.”

The Dragon's words were cut off with a scream as in the space of a heartbeat he was transformed into burning white light. A column of it that reached for the skies. It was so bright that it forced Sam to close his eyes, cover them with an arm and then turn away. Even then it was painful. He could actually see the bones of his arm in front of him.

Mercifully it ended quickly, though even afterwards he couldn't see anything but brilliant reds and greens for ages. But though he was blinded, Sam knew he was safe. The Dragon was gone. Presumably dead. Which meant that the First Shaman was supposed to give the message to his master in the afterlife. Was that possible?

And Heri was obviously no longer Heri.

But was he the All Father? That Sam couldn't quite believe. After all it was Heri. He had never believed in the gods and he would never willingly serve one. And the king of gods? Here, with him? That couldn't possibly be true. Sam thought about asking, but stopped. Somehow it didn't seem right to ask – and he wasn't sure he wanted the answers. So he stood there in silence and waited – wondering what happened next.

“You did well little one. Though I did have to step in a couple of times. I will see that my servants tell your story with pride.”

With that he was gone in another flash of light, and whether he was the All Father or Heri, Sam didn't know. In any case he still couldn't see anything except impossibly vibrant colours everywhere. But he heard a popping sound and somehow knew he had left.

In time he heard cheering. Laughter and applause. It was loud and uncontrolled and growing all the time in volume as more and more joined in. And despite everything Sam wanted to join with them. Because he knew it could only mean that the war was over. But he could barely see anything at all and the soldier in him knew he could never give in to emotion when there might be an enemy about. So he contained his emotions and did his best to search the warehouse for any trace of the Dragon or his steel wolves.

It felt like years passed before his vision returned to normal and the cheering and applause died away so that he could hear again. And when it was finally as it should be Sam knew enough to finally believe it was over. Enough to sheath his sword. There was no sign of the Dragon. No sign of his half-brother either. The roof was missing too when he looked up. Completely gone. What little of it had been left had vanished along with most of the top story of the building. Now there weren't even half burnt beams connecting the walls together. The Dragon's funeral pyre had apparently turned them to ash.

It was over! The duel, the battle and even the war. The Dragon had been defeated. A god had been defeated!

It took Sam some time to let that understanding wash over him. To let it sink in. And all the time he stood there, staring, hunting for any sign of either Heri or the Dragon. Because it just didn't seem right that they could be gone. They never left. They were always somewhere, making trouble and spreading misery. That was the curse they were. And yet in time he knew that simple fact for the truth. They were gone.

Which left him standing there, wondering what to do.

He wasn't alone in that of course. As the noise from the window slowly died away he could hear the elders starting to discuss things among themselves. Asking questions. Though not the questions he cared about. They wanted to know how the All Father had somehow ended up being involved in this mess. They were elves after all. It should have been the Goddess who had saved them as far as they were concerned. And the dragons were the children of Draco, Lord of the Skies and companion to the Goddess. The All Father was a human god.

Sam though didn't care. Really he was just thankful that there was nothing left to do. It was over. He could go home. To his wife. And to their child yet to be born.

And he realised, he could do one thing more. He could stop being the Fire Angel. But then he suddenly understood, he never had been. That had been something of the gods. They had granted him the extra magic. Made him into a wizard far more powerful than he was. And he didn't know why. Especially when at the end he had defeated the Dragon with an artefact he suspected they had provided, his less powerful earth magic, and his trusty sword. But perhaps it had been necessary to have the Fire Angel walk the land to bring the people hope? To frighten their enemies. And ultimately to rebirth the phoenix. Now those things were done. And it being over, the gods had taken the magic back. He was no longer the Fire Angel. He might not even be a master of fire magic.

But that was a good thing. Partly because he had never wanted to be the Fire Angel, and now that the Dragon was defeated, he had no need to be him either. But mostly because what he wanted to be was a simple husband and father. And if losing a little magic was the price for that, he would have paid it gladly a thousand times over.

Heri would never have understood such a thing. For whatever reason he craved power. And now Sam understood, he was somewhere paying the price for giving in to that craving. Meanwhile Sam intended to be rewarded. And there was only one thing he wanted.

“Ryshal, aylin mi elle.” He called to Ryshal and after several attempts finally managed to attract her attention. Things were still somewhat loud on the other side of the window as the elders lost themselves in their conversations. It took her some time to squeeze her way through the elders as they discussed the events of the day at somewhat loud volumes and with arms waving. In fact he thought, they looked distinctly unelven.

“My beloved?” She couldn't stop smiling as she stared at him, and though there were tears running down her cheeks they were only of joy. And though it was unmanly, Sam had tears in his eyes too.

There were so many things he wanted to say to her. Things of his heart and soul. And he almost did. But in the end he was a king's son, and there were people listening to everything he said. He had to always control his tongue. So he limited himself to the only thing that mattered. To what he had promised his wife. And a promise he was going to keep.

“Boil some water for the tea please. I'm coming home. I just have to go and find my riding moose!”

Heri was annoyed when he unexpectedly found himself standing on the edge of a lake. Partly because he had no idea where was. But mostly because of what had happened before he had been brought here.

He had had his brother there in front of him. He had had a knife in his hands. And it would have been so easy while Samual was distracted by the Dragon to simply step up behind him and plunge a knife in his back. But he hadn't. He'd wanted to. He'd begged for the chance. But no matter what he hadn't been able to. He had been impotent.

And then as if that wasn't bad enough he'd saved his miserable half-brother's life! That axe would have cleaved Samual's skull in two. All he had had to do was let it. But he couldn't. Instead he had raised the shoot and stopped it. How could he have done that?! Samual had to die!

But when he heard the bone crunching snap of jaws behind him, he knew that he had bigger problems. That damned snap wolf was still with him. Still guarding him. And when he turned to look at it, he knew he was still on the menu. The beast might be controlled in some way, but it still thought of him as a meal.

How could any god be so cruel to him? And the All Father of all gods! He had paid for the upkeep of his temple in Fall Keep. He'd accepted the holidays the temple demanded on behalf of his people. He had even banned some of those temples that the All Father's priests found objectionable. And this was how he rewarded him? Saving Samual and bringing him here to some worthless lake in the wilds? The miserable worm ridden piece of dung!

“Wild root tea?”

Heri spun as the man's voice came from behind him, startling him. And then when he saw him he stopped dead, forgetting his anger at the All Father in his disbelief. He'd recognised the voice. But he hadn't considered who the voice belonged to until he saw the face. And that accursed beard! When he did though Heri didn't know what to think.

“You're dead!” Eventually the words slipped out of him. He couldn't stop them. But he knew they were true. He'd poisoned the wizard himself.

“What, a little sand scorpion poison?” Augrim chuckled quietly as he sat beside a fire checking on the progress of a kettle as it boiled. “You really thought that would harm me?”

Heri's anger flowed at the wizard's mockery. How dare he speak to him like that! And before he even thought about it a curse found his tongue. But he couldn't speak it. The words just wouldn't make it out of his mouth.

“No bad language now!” Augrim's annoying smile grew broader. “That's not allowed.”

Unexpectedly the wizard reached out an arm in welcome, but not to Heri. Instead he welcomed the wolf to him, and when it came he started running his fingers through the fur on the top of its head. The wolf actually seemed to like that. So much so that it collapsed down on to the ground to let him continue.

“Now come, sit.” Augrim indicated a flat rock beside him. “From what I understand you've had a difficult day and a little tea will help.”

Despite not really wanting to Heri did as the wizard said, taking the proffered seat and accepting the mug of tea. He had to remember that Augrim was a wizard. He had power. Power over a snap wolf for a start. And Augrim was right, the tea did help a little. It was strong but still palatable, and the heady aroma returned a little life to his tired brain. It let him start thinking about things again. To start asking questions.

“Where are we?”

“Where we need to be of course,” Augrim answered him cryptically.

Heri resisted yelling at him. The man was annoying. But he had always been that. And he suspected that the words wouldn't make it out of his mouth. Besides it probably didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was his freedom. He had been cursed by a damned elf wizard. And Augrim was a wizard. What one could do surely another could undo?

“You know I have been cursed?”

“Cursed?” Augrim raised an eyebrow. “I had not heard. But I would think it very unlikely. You are usually the one doing the cursing.”

It was hard not to leap at the wizard for his gall. To reach out, put his hands around the wizard's throat and strangle him. How dare he speak to him like that! As though he was some common beggar! But somehow Heri restrained himself even though he could feel the anger boiling in his blood. But here he was in the company of his former, not so dead wizard. He had to seize the opportunity. He had a chance to free himself. Finally something was going his way!

“A geas was placed on me. I need it removed.”

“Remove a geas?” Augrim looked surprised. “What geas?”

“One that compels me to do things I do not want to do. One that the poxy Alder loving elves had placed on me. I want it gone.”

“Oh that!” Augrim chuckled some more. “That is no geas. A geas is what wizards do. And that is not of any wizard. It is of the All Father's servants. A blessing and a prayer for obedience. It may not be undone by any save the All Father himself. And he would not do that. Not after you betrayed him.”

“Betrayed him? What betrayal?” That at least Heri was sure he hadn't done. It was the All Father who had betrayed him.

“Have you forgotten already?” Augrim stared curiously at him as he absent-mindedly stroked his beard. “When you destroyed the city you destroyed his temple and killed some of his followers. He did not take kindly to that.”

“That was an accident!” Heri defended himself instinctively.

“But then you went further,” Augrim continued. “You made a compact with the Dragon. The All Father is the king of gods. And the God of Kings. As such he rules over both kings and gods. When you sided with the high priest of Crodan the Mountain against your own people, he found that offensive. That it should be done by one who claimed to have faith in his teachings was more so. A king slaughtering his own people while claiming to serve the All Father! He could not let those crimes pass.”

“So he had his servants prepared a potion of divine will and you were given it.”

“It was a potion from the Goddess' accursed elven priests,” Heri corrected him, not even sure why he bothered. The wizard didn't seem at all concerned by his plight. Was he no longer interested in gold? Because though Heri had nothing he would pretend to offer him a fortune. Then kill him – properly this time.

“Her priests did prepare a potion for you to stop you murdering people, but that was not sufficient for the All Father. Not when you had betrayed him and murdered his servants. When you had betrayed your duties as king – and done it in his name. Not when you looked to be intent on continuing to do so. And not when you interfered in his plans by trying to kill his servant – the Fire Angel. And so you were given a different potion instead. One that will ensure that you spend the rest of your life atoning for your crimes, not merely incapable of committing more.”

The rest of his life? That did not sound good. But could it be true? Heri didn't know. It could be he supposed. Elves were a tricky people as he was beginning to realise. But regardless it didn't matter. He just wanted it gone. He certainly didn't want this to endure for the rest of his life.

“So what? They're only priests! You're a wizard. You have some knowledge of these things. I have gold and I want to be rid of this curse.” Heri put it plainly.

“But even if I could remove the All Father's blessing, why would I?” Augrim looked up at him from the fire and smiled easily. “After all I was the one who swapped the potions and made sure you got the right one.”

Heri sat there for a heartbeat, stunned beyond measure, unable to believe he had just heard what he had. Then he screamed with fury, threw the cup aside and leapt on the smiling wizard with arms outstretched.

Or he tried to. But he couldn't. No muscle so much as twitched as he willed them to act. Nor did a scream make it out of his mouth. Not even a small one. Though he was tried to do all those things he could do nothing. He just ended up sitting there quietly. The cup of tea didn't so much as shake in his hands. And Augrim ignored him completely, choosing instead to concentrate on scratching the back of the snap wolf's head.

It was a long time before Heri found some calm again. A long time spent just sitting there with the tea in his hands, filled with hate. But eventually he had to accept that he could do neither of those things. That he had to obey if he wanted to have any free will.  Even ask a question.

“Why? Why would you do that? Didn't I reward you well for your services?”

“Because my Lord commanded it of course.” Augrim shrugged as if it was obvious. And maybe it was to him.

“And perhaps I too owe you a small apology. For deceiving you when I came into your employ. You see I am not a wizard. I have no magic at all. I am the High Priest for the All Father. He grants me whatever magic and knowledge he deems I need.”

“But then you did try to murder me, so I think that evens things out!”

The All Father had had his High Priest working for him as a magical advisor? Heri tried to find a reason for that and failed. Though really he didn't want a reason. He wanted blood! But he couldn't have blood and the only way he could even get answers was by being calm. And he needed answers. He needed to know what sort of trouble he was in. So eventually he managed to restrain his temper enough that he was able to ask why.

“Someone had to bring you all those ancient treasures. They had to be ready, waiting for when the time was right for them to be used.” Augrim smiled some more. “After all did you really imagine that any simple wizard could just find them? Or if he did that he would ever give them to you?”

“The gold was welcome though. My Lord's servants made good use of it.”

The rage flared once more in Heri's heart and he would have leapt on him and strangled him with his bare hands all over again if he could have. But he couldn't. He couldn't even scream. And no more could he pray for the gods to strike the vile wretch down. Not when he would be praying to the All Father to strike down his own servant. Which left him sitting there, helpless and filled with rage and trying to keep a measure of calm. He was beginning to understand that it was the only way he was going to be able to do anything. Even ask a question.

“The All Father wanted me to have all those artefacts? Why?”

“No. He wanted them all kept together in a safe place for when they were needed. They were never to be yours. You were just their keeper.”

“I see.” Actually he did see. He had been used as a storekeeper. But it made him angry to realise he had been used. He was a king not a peon!

“Maybe some, but not all.”

Augrim offered Heri another cup of the tea and Heri let him refill it. The tea was good and it was calming. He needed to be calm. He needed to listen. And he needed the damned snap wolf to remain calm. Somehow he suspected that it would take it amiss if he started yelling at Augrim.

“The All Father has now restored a little more of the world to rights. Crodan the Mountain has been punished once again for trying to usurp the other gods. Now he has no people, no followers, no High Priest and little power. It will be a hundred thousand years at least before he can even think to challenge the others. And a million before he forgets how easily he was tricked.”

“He thought the All Father's servant was coming to destroy his servant. That it would be yet another five thousand years before another Dragon was born to serve him – if even then. He thought that if his servant took the largest of Draco's workshops, he would be able to build a bigger army, faster. So fast that the Fire Angel could not win. Instead he had his servant walk into a trap.”

“The Goddess was most grievously hurt the last time Crodan tried to take the throne of the gods, and so she has had a fraction more of her power restored to her. And her symbol the phoenix now flies among the mountains. She will grow in strength once more and in time the scars of the last war such as the Dead Belly Wastes will be healed.”

“Draco's ancient workshops have been returned to him, forever beyond the ability of Crodan's followers to seize – now that he has no followers.”

“The Fire Angel has been seen once more and the legends of his mighty battles will soon become the songs of the bards and the tales of history. They will bring hope to future generations – and a little faith.”