The Legend of Asahiel: Book 03 - The Divine Talisman (30 page)

“Come,” bade the man standing at the table’s head—King Thelin, Allion presumed.

Troy marched forward, seeming to favor his left leg. “Your Majesty, lords of Kuuria, I present to you Allion, lord regent of Alson, and Marisha, betrothed of that land’s former king.”

Allion winced. Even now, when it no longer mattered, he felt a twinge of guilt at how his relationship with Marisha had unfolded.

He was given no time to dwell on it.

“To our Imperial Council, I bid you welcome,” Thelin intoned, with only the slightest hint of courtesy. This council had been dealing with grim matters, Allion decided, and his own arrival had done nothing to brighten their somber mood. “Sit with us, if you please.”

His firm tone made it a demand. Allion took Marisha’s arm and led her forward. He glanced at Troy, who motioned to the nearest pair of empty seats. Allion sat Marisha in one before sitting himself down beside her. Troy assumed the attendant’s position behind them.

“Your riders tell of Atharvan’s fall,” Thelin said gravely. “We would hear of it from your lips, and of the journey that has brought you here.”

Allion glanced at Marisha, who nodded. He wasn’t certain why he was being tasked with this. Before this moment, he had never met this king, nor any of the Kuurian Empire’s lesser lords. Nor did they seem disposed toward formal introductions now. Nevertheless, he cleared his throat, drank gratefully from the cup and flagon of ale passed down to him, and, with a weary sigh, granted the king’s request.

He began from the moment of his separation from Nevik, pausing to see if Thelin had some word to offer on the state of the baron or those from Alson he had traveled south to join. Thelin only stared at him pointedly, jaw locked, mouth set. So he proceeded to tell of his first reunion with Corathel outside Atharvan, of their early attempts to scatter the Illychar horde awaiting them, of the royal decision to evacuate, Torin’s later arrival, the city’s downfall, and their harrowing escape. He told of how, with minimal rest and with families unaccustomed to such toil, they had cheated death for nearly two weeks while traversing some seventy-five leagues, preserved not by speed or stealth, but the sheer size of their throng—the determination of three hundred thousand souls not to be taken by the smaller packs of predators that had struck occasionally and otherwise eyed them hungrily. He finished by sharing with his listeners what few tidings their scouts had concerning Leaven, and of the sweeping enemy force that was or would be en route—to the west, perhaps, or here to the south. When neither Thelin nor any of his councilors responded, he went on to express how grateful they were for Souaris’s welcome, and vowed to serve in whatever manner necessary, to the betterment of all.

Still he met with only frozen silence. He sat back in his stone chair, wishing for some sort of padding, wondering what else the king expected him to share. Marisha sandwiched his nearest hand between her own, and turned her soulful blue eyes upon him, offering what comfort she could.

“There you have it,” Thelin declared at last. “The worst of what we have been hearing confirmed. And from the mouth of the dragon-slayer himself. Borne out, judging by her silence, by the daughter of Darinor—the man whose treachery might have claimed us all, were it not for this pair’s help in unmasking him. Is this not so?”

Marisha had grown taut—indignant, perhaps, or pained. Allion felt it in her grip, and heard it in her icy reply. “We have been forthright from the beginning. All you’ve heard from us is true.”

“As you understand it.”

“As it is,” Allion growled. He didn’t care where he was, or who these people were. He’d endured enough already without having to tolerate their derision of the woman he loved.

“That was not a slight, lord regent, but a reminder, to us all, that we have only now begun to gain the true measure of our enemy. The moment your father was exposed,” Thelin explained to Marisha, “everything we thought we knew was cast in doubt.” He turned to the others, his nation’s lords and councilors. “And yet, we have seen enough to suggest that most of what Darinor told us concerning this enemy was true. That, along with what we have all just heard, would seem to end any renewed debate.”

What debate?
Allion wanted to cry out. “With Your Majesty’s forgiveness, perhaps we can be of greater help if you were to share with us the matter before this grand council.”

Thelin, who had remained standing throughout Allion’s long narration, leaned back from where his fists had been planted against the table, and claimed his seat. “This war has ended,” he said stolidly. “The enemy has won.”

Allion glanced round the table, seeking some further hint from those assembled. Marisha was more direct. “What are you saying?” she asked.

“I’ve proposed an exodus. The Imperial Council has agreed. The time has come to abandon Souaris.”

Allion gaped. “You mean, surrender without a fight and—”

“I mean preserve the lives of those we yet can,” Thelin snapped. “While I guarantee you that my people, at least, would sooner die than abandon their homes, I will not allow that to happen, not if there is a chance to survive elsewhere.”

“You cannot possibly—”

“You forget yourself, lord regent. I count you friend, though we have never met, for the valor you have shown, and your close knowledge of these affairs. But do not discount my own, or presume to tell me what I cannot do.”

The hunter had heard it whispered that Thelin had been the past few months in mourning, overcome with grief at the loss of his young heirs. From
the tone of the king’s letters, received during Allion’s time as regent, those rumors bore at least some truth. Weakened, they suggested of the monarch, a shell of his former self.

Allion saw none of that here. Whatever had happened within these walls had evidently put the fire of battle back in King Thelin. Not such a terrible occurrence, then. But if he had already capitulated, what did it matter?

Trying to think of another approach, Allion asked, “Where would you go?”

“Overseas. Wherever the fastest winds will take us. If there are gods who preside still over this earth, the Illysp will find no way to follow.”

“Your Majesty—”

“The city is fallen, Allion. I feared the possibility, but your tale tells me it is true.”

Before the hunter could regain his tongue, Marisha spoke the words upon it. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither did we, when the fighting began. Our attention was focused outward as always, to an enemy upon the horizon, an enemy foolish enough to spend its strength against our walls.” The muscles in the king’s neck tightened.

“The foolishness this time was ours. While we burrowed amid our mountain tunnels, making room for the countless thousands come to shelter here, our invisible foe was doing the same, exploring for itself our vast underground network. There it came upon our catacombs, the vaults and crypts of the veterans of this city’s wars—kings and generals, heroes and champions, some of whom had lain in stately rest for more than five centuries.”

Allion stiffened in his chair while the blood drained out of him, knowing already the remainder of Thelin’s gruesome tale.

But a fever had overtaken the king, and he pressed forward, relentless. “They came back!” he growled. “Even without organs that you and I consider vital, an army of our preserved dead emerged from those dry and frigid depths, composed of warriors, legends, from throughout our famed history. Some of the oldest corpses, fortunately, were too far gone to be of any use. But thousands more rose up against us, including countless slain in our recent war against the Demon Queen. Tell me, could you find the strength to slay your own father and desecrate his remains?”

Thelin had lunged forward in his chair, palms gripping the white granite until his knuckles appeared to be part of the sculpted armrests. His maddened eyes glared at Allion from across the table, while a dreadful silence engulfed the room.

At last, the king sat back. “As you saw, the pyres rage even now. They will do so for days to come. All passageways to our remaining tombs have been sealed, though none can guarantee for how long. The battle was won, though you cannot begin to fathom the cost.” He shook his head. “We do not have it in us to weather another such attack.”

The others remained silent, cowed even. Allion was not truly surprised. Thelin’s was the only voice that mattered. The Imperial Council would have crowned him their new emperor weeks ago, had he allowed it. And likely,
these lords and barons were far more terrified than their king by the events unfolding around them. If Thelin had decided it was time to go, then none of those here would offer true challenge.

Yet Allion could not bring himself to accept what he was hearing. “Your people’s legacy is here, upon this land, within the walls of this gallant city. After all you have suffered and achieved, how can you now admit defeat?”

Thelin sighed. “I’ve been asking the same question now for weeks—of my queen, of my countrymen, of myself. Thousands had to perish needlessly before I understood. These piles of mortar and timber and stone, these are not our legacy. The pride and spirit of our people is. Given a chance, we will cultivate new lands, build new homes, and that part of our legacy will endure. Remain here, and there is nothing but the inevitable loss of our own souls to this vile infestation.”

“The Illychar are mortal,” Marisha argued. “Their coils can be destroyed.”

A few murmurs arose, but Thelin’s signal quickly silenced them. “But can we do so fast enough? With what you’ve seen, my lady, can we truly hope to halt their spread? Suppose we could. What of the Illysp who sow the seeds? Henceforth, will every back-alley cutthroat take the time to immolate his victims? Or will the plague rise up anew? And pray tell, what happens to those possessed, our loved ones, after they are mutilated and burned? What cause is there to believe the Ceilhigh will bless and keep their blackened souls?”

Allion looked toward the windows, to the stain of fire and smoke risen from the very heart of this city, and was reminded of the swirling ash, the choking stench, the stinging eyes, all of which afflicted him to a lesser degree even here, within the thick walls of this perfumed chamber. Those blazes would seem to underscore the king’s arguments. The Illychar needed not half their current strength to camp outside and wait for the city’s inhabitants to starve. And the Illysp, who seemed to pass as they willed, would never truly be contained. The Sword had been lost, and with it, any hope of locking these foes away, even if they
could
be rounded up and driven back into their hole. In his search for the Vandari, Torin had claimed to have found a dead end. On what ground had Allion planted his stubborn hopes?

Thelin was shaking his head, his pale skin and grizzled stubble matching the color of his gray-and-white doublet. “I’ve denied it for as long as I can. Should I deny it any longer, our fate will be that of Atharvan. And where Souaris falls, no other city can stand. On the morrow, or next month, or a year hence, all will belong to the Illysp, along with the souls of any who must needs cling to these cursed shores.”

“And what makes you think you can escape?” Allion asked dejectedly.

“Will you truly leave it to the gods to determine whether the Illysp will follow?” Even as he said it, however, he looked to Marisha, who placed her hand upon his arm, gripping it with a sudden hope.

“They won’t,” she breathed.

“You know this?” someone asked.

“We know nothing for certain,” Allion cautioned, still staring at Marisha. But he, too, remembered now the talk they’d had upon that lakeshore, so many weeks ago. “Though Darinor did claim that they fear the sea.” He turned toward Thelin. “He had us believe that this is why the Finlorians fled, and he did not deny that we might find similar resort.”

“Darinor was the enemy,” the unknown lord reminded them, a brutish fellow with pinched eye and tangled yellow beard.

“It matters not,” Thelin asserted. “It is our best hope—a chance, at least, to begin anew.”

Allion recognized now the spirit behind this notion. It was not a retreat, but their first true counter. Until now, every move they had made had been at Darinor’s insistence, or in response to their own fear. The hundreds of thousands come to gather here had not done so to fight, but to hunker behind protective walls. The idea of an exodus, of setting sail across a treacherous sea, was Thelin’s way of fighting back at long last, of choosing the most likely front and having the courage to attack it in full force.

Nevertheless, it remained a desperate maneuver, the logistics of which screamed folly.

“It would take a fleet of ships, ten thousand or more—”

“Word has already been sent to the coastal cities in the south,” Thelin responded flatly. “I have assurances from Wingport’s governor that all will be made ready, should the final order be given. The capacity will be found,” he vowed, “if it means I myself am the last to leave.”

Allion had heard too many declarations of hollow bravery to pay that one much notice. “So it may be. What of those to the north? Will my own countrymen be left to rot?”

“A good number of yours are already here,” Thelin reminded him, showing little reaction to the rebuke. “As for those at Krynwall and elsewhere throughout Alson, word of the possible exodus was issued to your General Rogun the moment we sent our first feelers south.”

The hunter snorted. “Rogun? He’ll never believe it.”

“Your Baron Nevik said the same,” Thelin replied with a wan smile. “Which is why he set forth with my courier to personally assure the general that what I’ve told you this day is true: that all, even the proud Souari, have decided to seek our futures elsewhere. Rogun will follow our lead and guide your people safely overseas, else see them slaughtered.”

Allion ground his teeth. “I don’t suppose there’s been any word on how the baron of Drakmar fares.”

Thelin shook his head. “It is too soon to tell.”

The hunter wished to say more, but found his frustration withering beneath the king’s incontestable glare. “The decision is already made, then?”