Skull Gate (20 page)

“But it was a true vision,” Onokratos insisted, “a visitation from the leveler of all."

To meet Gath's price, though, he needed more than the simple acumen his life as a small businessman had required of him. He needed the special knowledge that only a few special books contained, that only a select few individuals could teach him. He resumed his travels alone, sought out the wise elders of the villages for miles around. Some saw through the lies he told to gain such knowledge and turned him away. Others not so perceptive embraced him as a student, taught him the secrets of Element and Ether. He learned fast, always leaving his teachers and moving on when they could teach him no more. Yet, every night he took a few moments to stare toward Korkyra and to remember Kalynda.

Years passed. Onokratos sought out ancient libraries and rare books in all the civilized nations, learning mysteries, vile esotery. Even he knew that his soul hovered on the brink of damnation.

“Who's to say if I went too far?” He paused, looked thoughtfully at Frost, and sighed. “I both laughed and cried when, after all my wanderings and studies, I learned of a large private library not all that far from this very manor in nearby Endymia.” He shrugged as he wiped his eyes yet again. “I'd heard of Thogrin Sin'tell, of course. I knew he was related to the royal family. But of his collection I knew nothing."

So Onokratos journeyed to Endymia, to Thogrin's castle, and presented himself as a common prestidigitator, an entertainer. Thogrin Sin'tell lived alone with only his retainers for companionship. Any new diversion was welcome, and the baron invited Onokratos to stay awhile as a guest. As the days went by it proved easy to win the nobleman's friendship, an accomplishment made easier with a few simple, subtle spells.

Though the library was impressive, it offered none of the knowledge Onokratos thirsted for. Still, the trip was not wasted. It was Thogrin who opened his eyes, and convinced him that the purest, most uncorrupted soul in the kingdom must belong to Korkyra's young queen. Did a monarch not rule by divine right? And would not a spark of godly divinity burn in Aki's soul because she ruled? It couldn't be coincidence that Aki and Kalynda were the same age, born in the same year and month. She
must
be Gath's intended ransom. It was so plain.

“We made our plans, Thogrin Sin'tell and I. Oh, he was a great schemer. On the first night of the Homed Moon, with Thogrin's help, I raised the demon, Gel, and commanded him to steal the little queen.” He looked up and their eyes locked. His grief was gone, and his anger. A hard calmness shone in his unwavering gaze. “When Aki was ours, I brought her to this manor, to this place where Kalynda lay entombed. Wasting not a moment, I called the thousand-named, and he came and ripped the spirit from Aki's living body, leaving only the husk, the shell,
the animal essence
."

Frost was wrong. Grief had not yet left Onokratos. She felt the saw-edge of his pain. Indeed, she perceived that he had chosen his words and flung them at her with blunt force to shock her, to make her feel like pain.

And she did hurt. The knowledge stabbed her to the heart, that Aki's soul writhed in the cold grasp of the chaos lord. Again, she wanted to lash out and smash the frail figure hunched before her, no matter his age. He was to blame; the fault was his, Aki's bestial ravings still echoed in the dark corners of her mind, the smells of the little queen's prison filled her nostrils.

Her breath hissed through clenched teeth. “And in return for your efforts you won, not your true daughter, but another
animal
.” She sneered. “Again I call you a fool! The dark deceiver kept his promise exactly as he spoke it in your dream. Kalynda walks the earth again! But it's only the soulless flesh. Gath still possesses her spirit. And without the soul the flesh exists only on its primal instincts. Now she and Aki are two alike: human in shape only."

“Gath betrayed me!” he shouted furiously.

“Stupid old man!” Her temper exploded. She slammed fists against the table between them; then, seizing its edge, she flung it aside, grabbed his lapels, slapped him twice rapidly, and propelled him forcefully into his chair so that it nearly toppled backward. “You think the gods are common alley merchants that you can bargain with, coin for goods, in equal value? You pitiful pawn! They move us about for amusement like pieces in the Game of Kings, at whim or fancy.” She spat at his feet. “You flattered yourself you were a player when you were never more than a piece on the gameboard."

His face reddened where her blows had stung. He clenched his fists, the veins stood out on his hands, throbbed on his temples. “You don't know so much as you think, spiteful witch!” He jumped up, went to a shelf in a corner, and lifted a bundle. In better light she saw that he held a bedroll.

He flung it at her feet. “Spare me your arrogant displays! You don't even know the company you keep! Look to yourself before you play haughty with me or call me fool!” He pointed accusingly. “Look at it, if you dare!"

She touched the bundle with a booted toe. She recognized it now as Kimon's bedroll. The blanket had a distinctively embroidered border she couldn't mistake. She looked at her host again as suspicion ate wormholes in her sudden resolution. Was he trying to trick her? His eyes burned with a queer, furious light as he drew himself stiffly erect and pointed again at the bundle.

Cautiously, she bent and untied the thin leather thongs that bound it at either end. She could feel something hidden in the cloth as she worked. Something hard, long, and flat. She unrolled the blanket, and the candle fire glittered on a beautifully crafted blade, a fine short sword.

“He's been right at your side,” Onokratos taunted. He barked a harsh laugh. “No doubt waiting for another chance to murder your precious child-queen."

Her jaw dropped. The assassin she'd fought in Aki's chamber had used such a weapon. Only Onokratos was mistaken.
It wasn't Aki he'd come to kill!

“Liar!” she shouted. Her senses reeled. She'd given her body to Kimon, her trust, maybe her love. He'd had a dozen opportunities to slay her if he was the assassin. “Not Kimon!"

He loomed over her, merciless, as she kneeled over the blade. “Yes, Kimon!” He shook his fists. “I took that from his horse myself, and other tools of his despicable trade.” He touched his temples. “Why, if you had any sensitivity at all, you could just touch that steel and hear the screams of all the murders that have been done with it.” He glared, eyes burning with the light of reflected flames. “Your Kimon was hired to murder a child, your charge, and you've led him right to her. How dare you scorn me for trying to save my daughter? Look to yourself!"

She picked up the sword, ran a finger along its keen edge. If she was still the witch he called her, she might sense just what he claimed, know the weapon's history just be holding it, know the truth. But she had no power, now, and the sword was silent in her hand. She had only the old man's word.

“Liar!” she hissed. Onokratos only grinned. “Liar!” she screamed again, rising. He backed away, but the grin remained, twisted, erupted into mocking laughter. Her grip tightened on the hilt until her knuckles turned white and bloodless. She struggled for control even as she raised the blade. “I don't believe you! I won't!” She smashed the sword down, taking a slice from the lip of the overturned table. He could stop her; he had the power. She didn't care. She raised the sword again and advanced.

But the blade caught the candles' gleaming, and in its bright flash, she suddenly recalled in detail both exquisite and agonizing, that night in Mirashai when she had seen it do that before. It had flashed in a beam of moonlight, and she had followed its wielder into darkness away from Aki's side. Frost hesitated and stared at the weapon in her hand. Could she desert Aki again by risking herself in intemperate battle with this wizard? Gods of Esgaria, what could she do?

“Get out!” she raged. She turned the cold point of the blade from his heart and thrust it at the door instead. “Get out, or I'll kill you, I swear! Leave me alone!"

He puffed himself up, tensed as if he might respond to her challenge. Then a cruel smile split his face, and he moved toward the threshold, never taking his eyes from her. “All right,” he agreed, his voice under control again. “We both can use a rest and some time to think.” He indicated the wooden bed frame. “That's as comfortable as anything I can offer. I'll wake you in the morning.” He took one of the several candles, then closed the door gently as he left her.

She ran to it, jerked it open, fearing he might have locked her in. Already he was some distance down the corridor, holding his small light like a shield against the gloom. He turned into a branching passage and was gone. She slammed the door.

A low shudder began at the center of her being and spread through her. Her hands trembled. She bit her lip to still her chattering teeth. Yet it was not fear alone that caused the trembling, but anger, frustration, indecision.

Her gaze fell on the shining length of steel that blossomed from her fist.

Kimon had appeared from the shadows and saved her a nasty clubbing in Shadamas. He'd fought beside her to rescue Oona. He'd stayed with her afterward, rode hard, shared food. Why should she believe Onokratos, a monster who'd damned an innocent child like Aki to an unthinkable fate?

She examined the sword, weighed it in her hand. It was keen-edged, balanced to perfection, a professional's weapon. Kimon could be a professional. She'd observed his technique in Shadamas.
But was he an assassin?
She kicked at the blanket on the floor. That was certainly Kimon's.
But was the blade?
Onokratos could be lying for some purpose. He could have planted it in the bedroll.
But why
? To create doubt, dissension?
Again, why
? Aki's chamber had been dark that night. She recalled her attacker. He'd been little more than a shadow, but she tried to focus on her impressions. The size and height could be right, but...

A shout ripped from her, as she flung the sword. It hurtled across the room. The point bit deeply into the wall. For a moment, the haft was a vibrating blur that made a soft, short humming.

Hot tears streaked her face. She hugged herself and sank down on the bed frame. It creaked with the intensity of her sobbing.

After a while, when there were no tears left, she tried, prayed, to slip into the blissful oblivion of sleep. It wouldn't come. Numb with misery and uncertainty, she finally sat up.

Onokratos's book lay forgotten on the floor. There was enough light to read by, though most of the candles had burned to stubs. She opened the tome, scanned a few pages, and barked a short laugh. A grimoire, very basic, full of inaccuracies and ineffective spells. She'd read it as a child at her mother's knee, or a copy of it. More likely, this very book.

She sank back in the room's only chair and sighed. Sorcerer and wizard. Onokratos had learned too much too fast. He possessed power, but no wisdom; courage, but not good judgment. To strike a bargain with chaos...

She sighed again.

What was she going to do about Kimon?

 

 

 

 

Chapter Ten

 

A gentle shaking woke her. Her neck throbbed with a dull pain; her back felt stiff. One arm tingled from loss of feeling where her head rested on it. She opened her eyes slowly ... to gaze directly into Onokratos's eyes.

She didn't flinch or look away. She'd had time to think; sleep had calmed her.
Eyes are windows to the soul
, her mother had taught her. She peered long and deeply, seeking for his soul, if he had one, searching for some insight into this strange old man, unable to ignore the expression of almost fatherly tenderness as he leaned over her. What she saw brought only confusion.

“I don't believe what you said about Kimon,” she said.

“I spoke out of anger last night,” he answered. “It's not important.” He turned to the table; he must have set it upright while she'd slept. There was a bottle of wine and two earthen cups. He poured careful measures. “That chair wasn't very comfortable, was it?” He smiled, passed her one of the vessels. “I should apologize for the lack of luxuries. I've never entertained guests here before."

She rose slowly from the hard chair and stretched, feeling joints pop, cramped muscles ease, sensation return gradually to her limbs. If only the ache in her neck would fade...

“I'd like to see my friends."

“Kimon and the old soldier?” He regarded her over the rim of his cup. “Of course. They're waiting for us at breakfast.” That smile flashed briefly again. “You're not prisoners here."

She sipped the cup of wine he offered her. It was sweet and very good, not a Korkyran vintage, though she couldn't place its origin. Mention of breakfast made her realize how hungry she was. But her host seemed in no hurry; he held the bottle to refill her cup.

“What are we, if not prisoners?"

“Guests, as I said,” he responded, setting the bottle aside. “I only acted at the gate to defend myself. You were understandably irate.” He winked. “That's behind us now I hope. We have business to discuss."

She arched an eyebrow. “Oh?"

He nodded. “I want to save Kalynda, and you want to rescue Aki. I think I can assume she's no good to you or her people in her present condition. So, let's work together for both children."

She felt her temper surge and forced it back down with another sip of wine. “You're responsible for Aki's condition,” she reminded him pointedly.

He dismissed that with a wave of his arm. “To help my daughter I'd sacrifice ten like Aki, or a hundred. I'll not pretend otherwise. I love my daughter that much. I nearly sacrificed you."

She set her cup aside and covered it with her hand when he offered again to replenish it. “Two nights ago on the forest edge,” she said. “The fireball. That was you?"

“Gel,” he answered bluntly, “acting on my orders. You were able to negate his power, and you knew how to waken your friends from the doom-sleep into which he cast them. That demonstrates to me that you have some small measure of power and knowledge yourself. So, we may be able to help each other."