Soul of Skulls (Book 6) (26 page)

Riothamus shook his head. "I'm fine."

"I thought you were having a seizure," said Mazael.

"Not quite," said Riothamus. "The Sight came upon me. I had a vision."

"What did you see?" said Molly.

"Malaric," said Riothamus. "I have sought him with the Sight, but I haven't been able to find him. He...did something, I think, cast a spell of sufficient power that the Sight found him."

"What was he doing?" said Mazael. "Was he with the San-keth archpriest?"

"No," said Riothamus. "He...summoned something, a spirit creature of tremendous power. And again I saw that burning skull."

"Does it represent something?" said Molly.

"No," said Riothamus. "I think it's real."

"A burning skull?" said Mazael. "Some sort of magical relic?"

"Almost certainly," said Riothamus. "But I cannot guess its purpose or powers."

"Are you all right?" said Molly.

"Yes," said Riothamus, straightening in the saddle. "But if he casts that spell again, the Sight will find him. And then I will know more."

###

The Lady of Blades filled most of the tower room.

Her burning white eyes focused upon him, narrowed with contempt and hatred. The steel blades of her wings brushed the ceiling and the walls, digging narrow grooves in the wooden shelves. Corvad's skull rested in her right hand. She could have closed her fist and crushed it to splinters.

Yet she did not. She could not.

"Malaric the bastard," said the Lady. The tower study reverberated with the eerie echo of her voice. "I see you are stained with the blood of your kin."

"They deserved it," said Malaric. "Every last one of them. They kept me from what was rightfully mine."

"Spirits have no kin," said the Lady of Blades, her wings digging splinters from the shelves. "Yet mortal kinslayers are the blackest of criminals..."

"Silence," said Malaric. "When I want a lecture on morality from the likes of you, I will ask for it. Place the skull upon the plinth."

The Lady sneered, but obeyed.

"These are my instructions to you," said Malaric. "You will watch over this chamber, night and day, without ceasing. You may do so from the spirit realm if you wish, but you will never cease your vigilance." Of course, spirits could divide their attention in the way mortals could not, so Malaric doubted his command would challenge the Lady overmuch. "Should anyone set foot upon the stairs leading to this chamber, save for myself, you will appear and kill the intruder. Should anyone other than myself enter this chamber, you will appear and kill the intruder. Show neither mercy nor hesitation."

"Then I am to be your guard dog?" said the Lady. 

"Precisely," said Malaric.

The skull had been safe enough in the spirit world with the Lady, but there was the risk that another wizard would summon her and claim the skull. But Corvad's skull would be safe enough here. The chamber atop the Study Tower was the most defensible location in the castle, and Malaric would cast layer upon layer of spells over the tower, spells of warding and alarm. If anyone set foot on the stairs leading from the narrow bridge, Malaric would know at once...and his wards would either burn the intruder to ashes, or the Lady would rip him to shreds. 

And with the skull safe here, Malaric had a free hand to crush his enemies. 

"Foolish of you," said the Lady, "to bind your soul tightly to the skull's magic. For the skull itself is so vulnerable. If it were to shatter, the effects would be...unpleasant."

Malaric laughed. "Trying to daunt me, spirit? All men have weaknesses. Even me. But here, the skull shall be well-guarded. For you will defend it vigorously, will you not?"

"Yes," hissed the Lady, her eerie voice hard with loathing. "But you will regret this, Malaric."

"No," said Malaric. "I don't think I will." He pointed the caethweisyr at her. "You are dismissed. Keep vigilant watch over the skull, and remember my orders."

The spirit glared at him, and then vanished in a swirl of grey mist. Malaric turned and began casting spells, one after another. The sigils he had cut into the sides of the skull flared crimson as he drew upon the captured Demonsouled power to augment and strengthen his spells.

He laid warding spell after warding spell upon the plinth, the floor, the door, and even the stairs themselves. Once such an effort would have exhausted him. But the dark fire of the Demonsouled power flowed through him, fueling his magic. 

When he had finished hundreds of pulsing crimson sigils covered the walls and floor and ceiling, illuminating the study with a hellish glow. Malaric closed the door behind him and descended the stairs. 

His spells had rendered the Study Tower all but impervious to magical and physical attack. A skilled wizard could, of course, unravel the wards, given enough time. But the Lady of Blades would tear apart any wizard that attempted it, and Malaric doubted that even Lucan Mandragon himself could fend off the Lady of Blades while dealing with Demonsouled-empowered wards. 

In the meantime, Malaric had more work to do if he wanted to keep Barellion.

He strode into the shadows and made for the great hall, intending to gather his vassals, march forth, and crush the Aegonar utterly.

Chapter 25 - The Golden Knight

Riothamus steered his mount over the River of Lords' shallow fords and onto the far bank. 

"Welcome," announced Molly, "to Greycoast." 

Riothamus frowned. "I don't see a coast."

This region of Greycoast looked little different from the Stormvales. The wooded hills stood around them, silent and cool, topped here and there with villages. Though the road on the western side of the River of Lords was in better repair. 

Molly laughed. "The ocean is another two hundred miles to the west."

Mazael glanced back at them, the compass in his left hand. "Traditionally the lords east of the River of Lords swear to Lord Stormcrest, and the lords west of the river swear to the Prince in Barellion. Though they've fought back and forth over the centuries." He scratched his beard. "There's a village a few miles west of here, a place called Monk's Rest. We'll buy supplies there and ask for news."

Riothamus nodded. They had encountered a few other travelers on the road, and they bore rumors of warfare in Barellion. Both Mazael and Molly were certain that Malaric would try to use his newfound powers to seize Barellion for himself. 

"Come," said Mazael, and they rode on.

###

Mazael gazed at the compass in his left hand. His head and chest still hurt, but he did not care.

Not while they drew ever closer to the San-keth archpriest.

The hills grew lower as they traveled, cultivated fields covering most of the landscape. Barellion was a more orderly land than the Stormvales, and the Princes ruled with a firm hand. Yet many of the fields were untended, and several had been burned. 

Had Malaric started a civil war already? 

A few hours later they came to Monk's Rest.

Or, at least, what remained of Monk's Rest. 

The village had been burned. Most of the houses and barns had been reduced to charred timbers, a stone chimney poking up here and there from the ashes. A small pyramid of rotting heads stood outside the village. All the heads belonged to men, which meant the attackers had carried the women and children into captivity. 

"This happened less than a fortnight ago," said Molly. "Gods, do you think Malaric did this?"

"Perhaps," said Mazael, pointing. "Look."

The stone walls of a burned church stood on the edge of the square. The church's thick oak doors had survived the conflagration, and a crude, stylized serpent had been carved into the wood. 

The sign of the San-keth. 

"Perhaps he's allied himself even more closely with the San-keth," said Riothamus.

Mazael grunted. "Perhaps, but that would be a fool's move. If Malaric allied openly with the San-keth, every lord in Barellion would turn on him. Besides, the San-keth prefer to play in the shadows, not attack directly."

"Then who did this?" said Riothamus, glaring at the pyramid of rotting heads.

"I don't know," said Mazael. "But if we find the men who did this, they'll regret it sorely." 

He led them from the village, glancing at the compass and Timothy's map of Greycoast. To judge from the needle, the San-keth archpriest was somewhere north of Barellion. 

Mazael rode on, looking at the glowing needle every few moments. He didn't know who had destroyed Monk's Rest, or why. 

But if they tried to stop him, he would cut them down.

###

An hour west of Monk's Rest, Mazael saw a dozen men on the road. 

He reined up, frowning. 

"Travelers?" said Riothamus.

"If so, they're well armed," said Mazael, noting the sunlight glinting off steel armor and axes. 

"What the devil?" said Molly. "Father, those men are Aegonar."

"Aegonar?" said Mazael. "This far from the sea? That's...unlikely." 

He had fought the Aegonar a few times during his wanderings. They dwelled in a distant land across the western sea. From time to time they raided Knightreach and Greycoast and Travia, hoping for loot and plunder and slaves. Sometimes the Aegonar pirates were successful, and sometimes the local lords destroyed them. 

But these Aegonar were a long way from the sea. 

"They see us," said Molly. The Aegonar spread out in a line, blocking the road. 

"We could ride around them easily," said Riothamus. "The countryside here is mostly open fields."

"Or we could just ride through them," said Molly.

Mazael's Demonsouled blood liked that idea.

Mazael slipped the compass into its belt pouch, flexing his sword hand. "Let's see what they want before we kill them." 

He walked his horse forward. The Aegonar blocked the road, grinning at him. They wore shirts of steel scales and spiked helms upon their heads. Every man bore a round wooden shield and carried a heavy axe or a broadsword. 

Mazael stopped his horse a dozen paces away and stared at them.

One of the Aegonar stepped forward and spoke in a growling voice. "We are the Aegonar, the chosen of Sepharivaim." 

Mazael shared a surprised look with Molly. The Aegonar did not worship the Amathavian gods, but they did not follow Sepharivaim either. They worshipped a strange set of gods - a one-eyed old man, a warrior with a hammer, a one-handed swordsman, and other peculiar figures. 

"Then," said Riothamus, "you are San-keth proselytes?"

The Aegonar spat. "Bah! The followers of the serpent god in this land are as feeble as old women. The Aegonar are the chosen of Sepharivaim, and our High King is his anointed. We shall bring the world under the sway of Sepharivaim." He pointed his sword at Mazael. "Swear now to Sepharivaim, if you wish to keep your life."

"When you lost your damned boat and found your way here," said Mazael, "did you drink a too much seawater? Because you must be mad if you think I will pray to your wretched serpent god."

Molly snickered, and the Aegonar's face went red with fury.

"Then you will both perish!" said the Aegonar, lifting his broadsword, "and we will keep the woman as our thrall."

"Unlikely," said Mazael. He reached for his sword, his Demonsouled rage boiling up, and remembered Riothamus's cautions. "I will give you one chance. Run away and..."

"Kill them!" roared the Aegonar.

Oh, well.

Mazael yanked Lion from its sheath and kicked his spurs into his mount. The horse surged forward, and the Aegonar leader howled and ran at Mazael, sword raised, but Mazael was faster. Lion blurred, and the Aegonar collapsed, the left side of his helmet a bloody crater. 

Darkness flickered, and Molly appeared behind the charging Aegonar. Her blades flashed, and one of the warriors fell dead. She cut the throat of another warrior before the others realized their peril and turned to face her. 

Their delay let Mazael crash his horse into the Aegonar line. One of the men went down beneath his mount's steel-shod hooves, and he swung Lion in a high arc, killing another Aegonar. Molly moved with speed, disappearing in a swirl of darkness, only to reappear in the midst of the Aegonar, her sword and dagger dealing death.

The remaining Aegonar turned to flee. Riothamus lifted his staff, a blaze of golden light flaring in its sigils, and the ground beneath the Aegonar rippled. The earth turned to mud beneath their feet, making them trip and stumble. Most of the men fled, but one sank to his knees in the mud, unable to escape.

"Good trick," said Molly, breathing hard. 

"Thank you," said Riothamus, the glow fading from his staff.

Mazael dropped from his saddle and walked towards the Aegonar, the Demonsouled rage thundering in his head. He reached the edge of the mud, and the Aegonar glared at him, raising his axe to hew at Mazael's leg.

Mazael's boot met the Aegonar's wrist with a crunch of bone. The warrior bellowed in pain, and the axe sank into the mud with a wet plop. 

"You," said Mazael, "are going to answer some questions."

###

As it happened, the warrior proved more than happy to answer Mazael's questions. 

Molly listened as the Aegonar warrior boasted to Mazael. The Aegonar, the warrior claimed, had turned to the worship of the San-keth, converted by the Heralds of Sepharivaim. At the command of the serpent god, they sailed from their homeland to conquer the world in the name of Sepharivaim. Their High King, Agantyr, would smash the Prince of Barellion, and the High Priest Korvager and his seidjars (apparently some sort of wizard-priests) would shatter the walls of Barellion with their arts.

"All men will worship great Sepharivaim," said the Aegonar, sneering. "But all shall serve the Aegonar, for we are the chosen of the serpent god. And those who deny the serpent god shall be our slaves forevermore." He spat in the mud. "Slay me if you will, golden warrior, but you shall be overcome in..."

"Yes, shut up," said Mazael, turning away from the Aegonar. "We are leaving.  That mud should dry out eventually. Leave us in peace and you shall live. Follow us and die. The choice is yours." 

He climbed into the saddle and steered his horse back to the road. Molly followed him, Riothamus riding at her side. 

"Well?" she said.

Mazael looked back at her. "Well what?"

"What are we going to do about the Aegonar?" said Molly. 

"Avoid them, if we can," said Mazael. "They're not our concern. We're here to find that archpriest." 

"That may not be possible," said Riothamus. "These 'Heralds' of Sepharivaim sound like San-keth clerics. The archpriest may well be among them."

Mazael rode in silence for a moment, head bowed.

"Clever of the San-keth, isn't it?" he said at last. "Their proselytes are despised in this realm. But if they found some barbarian nation and converted it gradually, over the course of centuries, they would have an entire nation of devoted followers. Followers they could use as they pleased."

Molly scowled. "A curious coincidence. Malaric of Barellion tries to kill you with the venom of an archpriest...and a few weeks later an army of serpent-worshipping Aegonar arrive in Greycoast." 

"Perhaps he hopes to use the Aegonar to seize the throne of Barellion for himself," said Riothamus.

"If so, he is an even bigger fool than I thought," said Mazael. "If that fellow in the mud is typical of the Aegonar, they're not the sort to be easily ruled." 

"Malaric is that big a fool," said Molly. "I knew him when he took refuge with the Skulls. He will not scruple at anything, if he thinks it will gain him power. He would ally himself with the Aegonar if he thought it would gain him the throne of Barellion."

"Aye," said Mazael. He drew out the compass and gazed at the glowing needle. Molly watched her father think. She had seen him do this before, in the moment before battle, drawing up his thoughts before he issued commands to his vassals and knights. 

At last he closed his eyes, nodded to himself, and put the compass away.

"The Aegonar," said Mazael, "are simply another obstacle. These are Prince Everard Chalsain's lands. He's a crusty old tyrant, but he's a capable commander, and he can deal with the Aegonar. Greycoast is his responsibility, but Romaria is mine. We will find the archpriest, even if he is in the heart of the Aegonar host. If possible, we'll avoid the Aegonar. But if they get in our way, then we'll have to fight." 

"Well," said Molly, "what are we waiting for?"

They rode on.

###

That afternoon they came to the village of Eben's Hold, and Mazael realized they might not be able to avoid fighting.

The village swarmed with Aegonar warriors. At least two hundred of them, and they had taken over the fortified manor house at the village's heart. They had also constructed wooden watchtowers at either end of the village, and Aegonar manned the towers, keeping watch over the village's peasants. 

Peasants that were still alive.

Unlike Monk's Rest, Eben's Hold had not been destroyed. Mazael saw men and women working in the fields, while others went about their tasks in the village. They worked with their heads down, scurrying like mice around the Aegonar...but they were still alive. 

"Seidjar," said Riothamus.

Mazael, Riothamus, and Molly crouched atop a hill overlooking the village, hidden from sight by the hill's trees and boulders. They had left their horses on the far side of the hill, and crept up the slopes to spy upon the Aegonar.

"Where?" said Mazael. 

Riothamus pointed. Mazael saw a pair of men standing at the edge of the village, their heads shaved, bronze diadems on their heads and bronze rings encircling their arms. 

"Both of them possess magic," said Riothamus. "And a fair amount of it, too. Enough to make a fight of it." 

"Why didn't the Aegonar destroy the village?" said Molly.

"They must have surrendered," said Mazael. 

"Ragnachar did the same," said Riothamus, "when the Tervingi still lived in the middle lands. When he attacked a hold, if the inhabitants submitted, he spared their lives and properties, though they had to pay heavy tribute. If they defied him, he destroyed the village, slew the men, and took the women and children into slavery." 

"Speaking of slaves, they've got prisoners," said Mazael.

In a meadow south of the village, several hundred men sat on the ground, guarded by a score of Aegonar warriors. A large pile of weapons and armor lay heaped nearby. A seidjar stood at the edge of the prisoners, watching a grey-haired man in a black coat.

"The one in the black coat is a wizard," said Riothamus. "That seidjar is keeping him from working a spell." 

Mazael nodded. He scratched his jaw, thinking.

"We could go around them," said Molly.

"I doubt it," said Mazael. "Whoever commands those Aegonar has the wit to send out patrols. We can't get past them without a fight. And even if we get past them, we'll only run into more Aegonar. More than we can fight on our own." 

They had seen evidence of a massive Aegonar host - roads churned into mud beneath marching boots, razed villages, fields plucked bare of crops to feed an army. The warrior trapped in the mud had not been boasting. The Aegonar had come to Greycoast, and they had come to conquer.