The Heir (Fall of the Swords Book 3) (27 page)

“We lost twenty-five hundred, Lord.”

“Ouch! Just this camp?”

“Yes, Lord, thirty-five hundred in both attacks. Seven thousand Stag Raiders but only four thousand Gale Raiders got their final shafting. A pity so few, eh?”

“Tough people, these Westerners. Did I get the head?”

“Of course, Lord.”

“Wasn't sure, hallucinating those last hours.” Flaming Arrow closed his eyes and couldn't think of any other questions.

* * *

When he opened them the tent was brighter and Probing Gaze sat where Scratching Wolf had been. “Did I get the head?”

“Yes, Lord!” the sectathon said. “Number five!”

Flaming Arrow smiled. “Did it hurt, Lord Gaze, when they cooked it?”

The gaze of Probing Gaze probed the face of the Heir. “Are you still delirious?”

“Did it hurt, Lord Gaze, when they ate it?”

“Cooked
what
? Ate
what
?”

“Your leg!”

The sectathon burst into laughter and wiggled the stump in the Heir's face.

When their laughter subsided, Flaming Arrow asked, “Medacor around?”

“She just left, Lord.”

He climbed out of bed. Dizziness struck him and sent him to a knee. He fought it off and climbed to his feet. Probing Gaze just watched with amusement, unable to assist him. “Sorry they didn't find your leg.”

Probing Gaze shrugged. “I'll have a new one grown.”

“Have you sent all the heads to Emparia Castle?”

“Yes, Lord Heir, as instructed. Why do you ask?”

“One last request, honorable assistant. Lay down on that bed, Lord Gaze, your back to the door.” Flaming Arrow lifted the blanket as the sectathon stretched out, and covered him completely, making sure no blond strands were visible. The Heir found his sword. “Stay there until I've had a fair chance to get away, my friend.”

“You're insane, Lord. Infinite be with you anyway.”

“And with you, Lord Gaze.” Lifting the rear skirt of the tent, he slipped out, then pulled his hood far forward. Taking his bearings, he headed southeast, toward Emparia City. He slipped past the sentries easily, knowing they watched for people approaching, not for those leaving.

Traveling parallel to the main path, he loped comfortably along, feeling a curious kind of freedom. By slipping out of camp, he had avoided needless ritual and ceremony. By fulfilling his requirements, he had completed his rite of passage into adulthood. Both were freeing.

His head still felt filled with muck. Ghosts threatened to dance at the edges of vision again. His strength hadn't fully returned and his legs wanted to turn to rubber. The sun hovered at mid-afternoon. He guessed he had slept twelve or so hours, but knew he really needed thirty six.

All of no consequence for this opportunity to be just a man.

He slowed to a walk and took in the scenery. On a whim he strayed farther from the path, into denser wood. Skirting a dead-fall, he came upon a pleasant glade. Standing in the center, he looked up into sky so blue and spun himself round. Laughing and picking himself up from the ground, he did it again, feeling a childlike wonder at the trees surrounding him, the grass under him, the sky above him.

As if his passage into adulthood enhanced a desire to be just a child.

Trying to recall if he had ever played like this by himself, he sat cross-legged and tugged at summer-browned blades of grass.

A presence sent him rolling to a knee, his sword out.

White, tan and black stripes made the beast almost indistinguishable against the background. Staring at him was a tiger.

Flaming Arrow sheathed his weapon, knowing it useless against the beast, and settled himself into the grass.

“It's a pleasant day to die.”

The cat lowered herself to the grass and rolled onto her back, all four paws in the air.

The Heir gauged the distance, then dismissed the idea, knowing he couldn't cover twenty paces faster than the animal could roll to her feet again. Why was she on her back, though? Just then he heard the tiger's sub-vocal purr.

He laughed, thinking the animal's actions incomprehensible.

Then it occurred to him the cat wanted him to pet her.

Why not? He unfastened his sword and stood to show he didn't have a weapon. He never thought the animal might not understand such a gesture. Stepping slowly but steadily toward the supine cat, Flaming Arrow knelt five feet away and extended a tentative hand. The tiger purred louder.

Not quite believing this was happening, the Heir stroked and scratched the big, dangerous cat. Tigers not being indigenous to the area, and domesticated tigers being indigenous only to the Imperial Jaguar Menagerie, Flaming Arrow knew the cat belonged to Purring Tiger. The situation seemed incomprehensible. Why the animal would allow him to do this was so far beyond logic and reason that he couldn't have said the world was round any longer.

Unless the cat didn't think him a threat.

Curious, he rose slowly and retrieved his sword. The cat watched him with large yellow eyes but evinced no alarm when he returned with the weapon. Easing himself to the grass, he scratched the animal awhile. Then, a hand on hilt and one on sheath, he drew the sword slowly in full sight of the tiger.

The animal purred crazily on.

He placed razor-sharp edge across furry throat.

Still the cat continued to purr.

“I wish I could talk to you,” he said.

Sighing and sheathing the blade, Flaming Arrow wondered why he hadn't cut her throat, caressing the animal. He realized he had responded as many people would if an enemy refused to put up a defense. His response had nothing to do with the belief that life was sacred. Rather, it was simply that to kill someone defenseless was without honor and without challenge; it was execution.

Nodding to himself, the Heir mockingly bowed to the animal.

The cat rolled away from him and onto her feet, regarded him with those riveting yellow eyes and disappeared into the forest.

As if she had come here to teach him that lesson!

Wonder upon him, he stood and walked toward the road, paying little attention to the woods around him. He stepped onto the main road from between two thick bushes, and bumped into Spying Eagle.

“Infinite be with you, Lord Heir,” the Sorcerer said, as if the road were a castle corridor.

Then his arms were full of affectionate, loving woman. Rippling Water had come as well. Behind them were twenty Imperial Warriors, the orderly ranks facing north, apparently to escort him home.

When she finally loosened her embrace, he hooked his arms around Spying Eagle's neck and drew them both near. “I
did
it. I killed all
five
of those scum-eating bandits!”

They shared in his laughter. The glow in their faces was but a reflection of the joy radiating from his. He soon discovered that, indeed, they had come to bring him home. After they had reversed themselves on the road, they set off toward Emparia Castle, one warrior dispatched to inform Scratching Wolf.

“You'll never believe what just happened to me,” Flaming Arrow said, Rippling Water under one arm and his hand on Spying Eagle's shoulder. After they begged him to tell and assured him they would believe anything he said, he told them about the tiger. They scoffed. No amount of persuasion on his part would change their minds.

“By the way, congratulations on your new position, Lord Sorcerer,” Flaming Arrow said.

“I couldn't have done it without your help, Lord,” Spying Eagle replied.

Rippling Water asked over their laughter, “Why didn't you take Exploding Illusion's head right there, eh?”

“I didn't want to get the floor bloody,” he replied. At their roar of laughter, he winced and wished he had said something else. He vowed to answer differently if asked again.

Spying Eagle suddenly stopped. Flaming Arrow bounced off him. The Sorcerer cocked his head to the side, oblivious to the collision. A smile then split his face. “Good news, Lord Heir! The Lord Emperor just regained consciousness!”

Relief spread through him. Truly glad, because he knew he wasn't ready to be Emperor, he asked, “Anything further, Lord Sorcerer?”

Spying Eagle frowned. “Sinistral hemiplegia. The stroke completely paralyzed his left side, Lord. That's all Aged Oak is publicizing. We'll find out more when we arrive at the castle, I'm sure.”

They walked along in silence, each trying to comprehend what living half-paralyzed would be like, each failing. Better to be completely dead than to live half-dead, thought the Heir. He knew having an experienced, half-paralyzed Emperor better than having a fully functioning, inexperienced one.

As a distraction, Rippling Water began to tell him of the bear that now belonged to her father. She described the animal in detail, especially its vast amount of flatulence. Soon she had them laughing hilariously.

Part of Flaming Arrow's mind still dwelt on his father.

Silently he committed himself to making Flying Arrow whole again.

T
he central stairwell of the fortress was once the main vent of the volcano. The stairs themselves jutted only a quarter of the way across the spout, leaving a twenty-foot hole that extended straight down into the mountain. The top sealed, the platform made by the stone cap was the place Scowling Tiger often haunted. It was where he died.—
The Political Geography
, by Guarding Bear.

* * *

“The Matriarch asks that you keep quiet about the sword for a little longer,” Fawning Elk said.

“How odd,” Leaping Elk replied, “My brother asked the same.”

She and her mate sat in the central room of their new suite high in the Tiger Fortress, near noon on the day after Howling Gale's and Bucking Stag's heads had rolled. True to Leaping Elk's prescient dream, the Elk Raiders as a whole had joined the Tiger Raiders.

Just the day before, near dawn, the morning gray and cold, her daughter Frosty Elk awoke, screaming and sweating. “Bucking Stag's dead!” she told her mother.

Fawning Elk felt the words resonate with her own latent prescience. Leaping Elk hadn't returned from the Tiger Fortress—probably still reveling with the other bandits—so she ordered the whole band to prepare to abandon the caves. She delegated the packing of her own household to her twelve-year old daughter and then supervised the packing of other families. In thirty rushed minutes, the band had packed. She led them from the caves, from the place that had been her home for nearly sixteen years.

That afternoon, five hundred thirty-two Elk Raiders reached the Tiger Fortress as a thousand masterless Stag Raiders descended upon them. Somehow, all the Elk Raiders squeezed into the ravine, repulsing the first attack. Before the Stag Raiders had launched a second, Raging River opened the fortress doors to them. The warriors manning the twin towers repulsed the rogue bandits.

All night and into the next day, she and Leaping Elk had been securing temporary or permanent lodging within the fortress for the other families, Raging River helping them with the extensive logistics.

Seeking Sword and Purring Tiger were conspicuously absent.

His eyes rimmed red from lack of sleep, Leaping Elk frowned toward her. “When did you have time to receive a messenger from the Matriarch?” he asked, speaking the language of the south.

“The night before we left the caves, Lord.” Biting her lip, she looked directly at him. “What sword does she mean?”

He shook his head. “Better that you don't know. In fact, I wish
I
didn't.”

She heard conflict and indecision in his voice, so she changed the topic. “You'll be serving the Lord Sword now. Many years have passed since you were subject to another's will.”

“I've always tried to be of service to my brother—never subservient though. I can't help serve the Infinite. During the brief time he was a member of my band, what I knew about his sword was mine to reveal at my discretion. Now, everything has changed. Now that I'm a member of
his
band, I have an obligation to tell him. My brother and the Matriarch have asked me not to. I don't know what to do. I just don't know.”

She saw his distracted gaze and the weight upon his spirit and knew he hadn't heard even his own words. She was sure he hadn't wanted her to know Seeking Sword's weapon was somehow special. Knowing she could do nothing but support him in his decision, she moved closer to him and put her arms around him. “You'll do what's best, my love, as you've always done.”

There was a knock upon the door.

“They want to see us now,” he said, his shoulders slumping further.

She rose and walked to the stout oaken door framed in stone. She had lived so long with doorways hewn from naked rock and covered with tapestries that she didn't know if she would ever become accustomed to anything else. First she tugged on the door, then remembered to unlatch it.

In the corridor stood Slithering Snake.

“Lady Elk, Infinite be with you, you look as beautiful as ever.”

“You're lying as usual, Lord Snake, Infinite bless your gilded tongue,” she replied, bowing and gesturing him to enter. “The children have been asking after their Uncle Snake of late. We've all seen so little of you, we wondered if perhaps you'd repatriated yourself.” She grinned, liking him as always, the two of them of an age and both natives of the Caven Hills.

“Little chance of
that
, Lady Elk,” he said, chuckling and stepping into the room. “How are the little scamps, eh? I hope the move didn't upset them unduly. I forgive your maligning me with that jest about repatriation. We both know if they offered I'd tell them to put it so deep in their back passages it chokes them.”

* * *

Normally he's so taciturn, little given to a lot of speech, Leaping Elk thought. The black bandit had often seen Slithering Snake become voluble when around Fawning Elk.

The sectathon greeted Leaping Elk and bowed to him. The two men exchanged pleasantries until a polite amount of time had passed. “I've come with an invitation from the Lord Sword and Lady Tiger, who request the presence of the Lord and Lady Elk at the Lair,” Slithering Snake said.

The mates exchanged a glance. “One moment, Lord Sword, while I check on the children,” Fawning Elk said, standing.

As she left the room, Leaping Elk thought, Now is as good a time as any. He stepped over to the younger man. “I want to ask a promise of you, my friend.” Grateful that the sectathon was fluent in the language of the south, the old Southerner continued, “This year I turn seventy. Infinite knows how long I'll live. When I die, though, I want you to take the Lady Elk to mate.”

“Yes, Lord,” Slithering Snake said, smiling. “It's an honor that you'd ask. It'd be more of an honor if she agreed.”

“Good. I think she will,” Leaping Elk said, stepping back, immensely relieved. “Thank you, my friend.”

Fawning Elk returned. “Frosty Elk asked me to convey her greetings and says, 'Please, oh please come visit soon?' ”

“I will, Lady, I promise,” the sectathon said.

Together they entered the corridor, talking about the internal political structure of the Tiger Raiders. Slithering Snake led them upward on the central stairwell.

Leaping Elk stepped to the edge and looked over, into the twenty-foot wide hole that seemed bottomless. Shaking his head, he resumed the ascent.

A muted crash of stone and a fine veil of dust dropped from the underside of the mountain cap. Slithering Snake leaned out over the gaping hole and looked upward. “Construction of some type,” he said, shrugging and resuming the ascent.

Thrice around the gentle stairwell they spiraled upward.

The two guards stepped aside without hesitation to let the three bandits enter the Lair. The audience hall was empty, but for a pair of guards at the base of a staircase. One caught their attention and gestured up the stairs.

Ascending, Leaping Elk noticed the dusty, chalky taste of the air. Then he saw the new obelisk at the head of the stairs—it appeared to be a large monument—which almost blocked the view to the south, the direction Scowling Tiger had so often gazed. He gained the upper landing and looked around for more changes. Two stone masons, probably chemathonic and levithonic Wizards, were modifying the northern edge of the mountain cap. Nearby, watching them, was Seeking Sword.

* * *

The Bandit saw them and a happy smile lit his face. He rushed over to greet them, not giving them time to bow. He hugged Fawning Elk affectionately and clasped Leaping Elk's shoulders warmly, looking them both over. “I'm sorry I didn't come to see you earlier, my friends. Forgive me,” he said mockingly.

“What you here do, Sword Lord, eh?”

“Look! Come and look!” he replied, leading them over to the northern edge of the mountain cap. The low balustrade encircling the cap was gone on that side, the flat ending precipitously. It looked as if the masons were widening and extending the cap. “No, not at the stone, at the land!”

The land from this summit spread out before them, only a few low hills between the fortress and the vast plains to the north. Like a thread, the north-south road meandered into the distance, looking nothing like the straight, monotonous road it was. Far in the distance was a pale smudge, the plain where only the rubble of Lofty Lion's castle remained. Rising nearby was a plume of smoke from the ruins of Seat.

“It's beautiful, eh? What we can
do
with that land! All ours!” The Bandit looked over at the mates and grinned. “I love it up here!” Then he turned to the stone masons. “Your work's done for the day. We'll resume tomorrow at first light, eh?”

The pair looked puzzled and shrugged at each other. The woman said, “We'll be here, Lord Sword. Infinite be with you.”

“And with you.” He returned their obeisances with a nod, then turned to the trio. “We'll have the conference up here. Best place for it!” The two stone masons descended the staircase.

Leaping Elk laughed. “Why you north look want, Sword Lord? Tiger Scowling Lord always south look, eh?”

The Bandit laughed too and shook his head. “South was the wrong direction to look, Leaping Elk.” He stepped past them to the stone staircase and bellowed down to the guards, “Conference in five minutes!”

A muted “Yes, Lord” was audible from below.

“I don't want to look south, Leaping Elk. What do I need from them but a silly piece of metal, eh? They can keep it for now. There's our future!” With a lunge of his left arm and upper torso, Seeking Sword pointed northward, as if he were about to project his whole body out over the land. He walked to the edge of the precipice, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, his gaze on the distant horizon.

Behind the Southerner, people ascended stairs.

Seeking Sword greeted each of them from the edge of precipice while servants arranged cushions in a small circle on the northern half of the flat mountain cap. His back to the view, the Bandit supervised the placement of cushions and distribution of condiments. Other bandit nobles arrived, exchanged greetings with each other and mixed amongst themselves. Other than greet each with the minimum of politeness, Seeking Sword held himself aloof from the rest, glancing northward repeatedly, as if unable to see enough of the landscape.

“Lords, Ladies,” the Bandit said, finally giving his guests his full attention. “Thank you for being here. Please have a seat.” He watched with the indulgence of a god as the most important personages in the Tiger Raiders arranged themselves in a circle. When only he remained standing, he stepped away from the precipice and stood behind the only empty cushion, his back to the empty northern lands.

“I've asked you all here today for what I hope will be a most auspicious beginning. We all know each other here,” Seeking Sword said, pausing. “Look around, each of you, and remember.”

Leaping Elk, Purring Tiger, Raging River, Fawning Elk, Melding Mind, Easing Comfort, Flashing Blade, Slithering Snake, and Seeking Sword.

“
This
is the Imperial Ruling Council of the Northern Empire!”

Smiles lit many faces. Some faces looked puzzled.

“All of you,” the Bandit said, “are important to this Empire in more ways than one.” It's not enough to tell them, he thought, looking at each person, fixing each with his gaze for three to five seconds, honoring each. “All of you are strong in the arts of government. This Empire will need all of you, and many more like you, in the months and years to come. We've lost much in such a short time. Some of us have even lost our homes. We haven't lost our dignity, our honor, our willingness to fight. We bandits built an Empire. Since we didn't possess a ridiculous piece of metal with a few electrical circuits, what we built the Eastern Empire destroyed. We can build it again. Already we've begun, and we can protect what we build—with or with
out
the Imperial Sword! It happens to be easier with, however.

“I have a plan to
get
that Sword!”

He took a moment to let that sink in, watching them. Seeking Sword saw doubt on some of the faces. Good! he thought, knowing his plan might self-destruct if executed with single minded fanaticism. With doubts raised and questions posed, his plan had a chance to work.

For now the Bandit had to bind these men and women irrevocably to him. “Before I tell you my plan, I want to clarify a few matters.

“With all due respect to the Lord General Scowling Tiger, whom I revered and honored, I'd be doing myself and my Empire a disservice not to acknowledge and correct the mistakes, few though they be, of my mate's father.” He smiled at Purring Tiger. “Forgive me, my love, for my next words.”

Seeking Sword looked around to include them all. “First, I am not Scowling Tiger. He was a cautious General. I'm neither cautious nor a general. He allowed habit to settle into his actions. He's dead because of it. I'm neither habitual nor dead. Scowling Tiger commanded this place. I don't. The Lady Purring Tiger commands the fortress. If I tell you something, it's because my mouth is speaking her words.

“Second, because each of you has been of direct service to me in the past or will be of direct service to the Northern Empire in the future, I want to create a special position for valued advisors like you. Whether you're an active member of the Imperial Ruling Council or a lowly dung-shoveller in the bowels of the mountain, this new position is yours for life or for as long as you choose to occupy it.

“Lord Raging River, you were the Lord Tiger's vassal for sixty years. Please explain the responsibilities and privileges.”

“Yes, Lord,” Raging River said, a gust tousling his iron-gray hair, his small frame looking insignificant beside the larger, huskier frame of Seeking Sword. “I always wore my sword in the Lord Tiger's presence—always. His safety was my responsibility. Infinite blast me, I failed!” The old retainer dropped his gaze to the stone beneath them, looking as if he might fall on his knife right there. “Forgive me, Lord. Anyway, I tasted his food for poison when no servants were around to do so. I shined his leathers and washed his clothes and scrubbed his back. I'd have licked his balls if he'd have asked.