The Seedbearing Prince: Part I (42 page)

“My apologies, First Sword of the High.” Dayn
bowed deeply. This one looked to be the sort who liked that sort of
thing. “I was just leaving. There’s no need for―”

The Aran rounded on him and jabbed a finger
in Dayn’s chest. Gorhaj easily stood a head shorter than Dayn―one
of the tallest people he had seen yet on Ara―but the force of it
actually caused him to step back.

“Know your place,
Shardian,”
Gorhaj
sneered.

“My place?” Dayn's hands clenched into fists.
Shard's Pledge is probably keeping this whole world alive, and
this arrogant
―

Suddenly, Soong appeared by Dayn’s side,
placing a hand on his arm. “I don't know why you’re here,” she
whispered fiercely, “but think about what you’re doing! The Marshal
would have you beaten!”

Gorhaj's eyes narrowed in amused contempt.
“You couldn’t dance a rope with me for ten seconds, farmer.” He
pulled Soong back from Dayn. “Do you wish to see?” The wind snapped
his crimson cloak aside. His free hand drifted to the sword at his
hip. “I’ll even give you time to whittle a branch.”

Soong shook her head urgently at Dayn. Two
Aran men joined the worried dancers, and somehow Dayn knew they did
not mean to keep the peace.
I must not tarnish what the Ring
wants me to do,
he reminded himself reluctantly.

Dayn took a deep breath, letting the air
stretch his chest and raise his shoulders. Gorhaj's eyes narrowed
hopefully, but Dayn just stood there and held his calm.

“A good decision, farmer,” he snarled, still
holding Soong’s wrist. “Stay away from my sister!”

Gorhaj dragged her off through the crowd, his
two bootlickers snickering as they followed. The dancers took their
leave also, with sympathetic looks. Nnendi went so far as to put a
hand on his shoulder before departing. “You're not the first one
he’s chased off,” she murmured. “A thousand blessings on your
Pledge, Shardian.”

Dayn sighed, realizing the surrounding Arans
were politely avoiding him.
I really need to listen to the
Ringmen more,
he thought, watching Soong and her brother
quarrel. She stopped to look back at Dayn, but Gorhaj yanked her
along, gesturing angrily with his free hand as they went. Arans
parted to either side as though the siblings' bickering was a
common occurrence.

Only one man remained where he stood. Soong
nearly collided with him as Gorhaj swept past. The man hunched
over, concealing his true height, and wore a black cloak so heavy
the echoing wind barely stirred it. Dayn felt fear slide over him
like a stream of rancid water. The nearby people shrank from the
man as he straightened, realizing something was horribly wrong.

“Voidwalker,” Dayn whispered.
Peace, how
did he get past the guards?
Most of the Arans in the thinning
crowd were gossiping in small clusters, completely unaware of the
danger in their midst.

The voidwalker unfurled his arms from beneath
his cloak. The mottled fingers contorted in front of his chest,
curling so the tendons stood out on the back of each hand.

A wave of nausea wracked Dayn. He felt a
sudden impulse to run screaming, yet his feet were rooted to the
ground. The echoing wind swept through the split again, strong
enough to whip at his clothes.

Those claw-like hands clenched into fists.
The voidwalker focused on the movement, like someone intent on
stoking a flame. His hands slowly spread open. The effects were
immediate.

“My eyes...they won't stop crawling in my
eyes!” A man with auburn dreadlocks collapsed in a writhing ball to
Dayn's right. His robes were blown to disarray, obscuring his face.
The winds chose that moment to die down, and Dayn saw that nothing
crawled on him at all.

“Peace, someone help me!” Another young man
cried out, sitting next to a slumped over merchant. “My uncle’s
stopped breathing!”

People began to run blindly for the splits as
panic boiled through the plaza, never looking for the source of
their fear. The voidwalker's hands continued to expand. The Arans
began to scream in earnest, bounding and running away in terror.
Fear emanated from the voidwalker like a roiling, evil mist.

He advanced toward Dayn. The creature easily
stood taller than Joam. He seemed to drink the fear Dayn knew shone
in his eyes. As people fled the plaza in droves, Dayn stood alone,
unable to run.

“Ro'Halan,” the voidwalker hissed. The wind
gusted, blowing more of the creature's strange vapor into Dayn's
face. He smelled like rotting meat soaked in brine.

The voidwalker turned with a snarl as Nassir
hurled himself into the brute from a full pace away. They crashed
to the ground in a clatter of armor on stone. Dayn felt a great
pressure lift from him as the voidwalker’s aura subsided. He was
free for the moment.

***

Sidestepping an Olende courtier screaming at
the top of her lungs, Lurec watched the growing madness unfold
before him. Moments like these were why he seldom set foot outside
his study. He had immediately recognized the voidwalker's presence
when it first appeared, and mentally rehearsed the fortification
exercises every Preceptor knew in his sleep. Still his knees
trembled, but he was not ashamed of that.
My mind is
clear―otherwise I would be halfway to the palace myself, ready to
hide under the nearest bed!

Nassir's charge had broken the voidwalker's
thrall. The Defender had followed the boy over to save him from
embarrassment with Shir Hun’s daughter, but inexplicably dashed off
before interfering. Lurec had no idea where the man had stowed his
sword, but he was too grateful to care.

The remaining Aran gentry surged out of the
plaza in every direction, leaving Dayn and Nassir to face the
voidwalker alone. Thankfully most of the common folk in the
amphitheatre above had made their way back to the splits as soon as
the dance ended. Lurec stared at the Shardian. Dayn should be
driven mad or dead like the other figures crumpled on the redstone,
but there he stood. Something about that tugged at Lurec’s
awareness, but he shoved it away for the moment.
Clear
thoughts.

The Defender backed away from the voidwalker
and drew his sword. His focus did not waver as he held the massive
sickmetal blade, point down.

“I know of you, degenerate. My fallen
brothers cry for your blood.”

“As mine cry for yours.”

The heavy cloak fell to a pile around the
voidwalker’s feet. The brute’s chest and legs were covered by a
sinuous, unbroken material that glistened in the deepening
twilight. Rippling muscle bulged under the pale skin exposed at the
shoulders.

Strangest of all, the voidwalker’s exposed
flesh exuded a fine steam. The echoing wind pulled the ensuing
cloud from him in waves, along with a nauseating smell.

Without warning, the voidwalker lunged.
Nassir pivoted smoothly. His sword rang out loudly on the
voidwalker's back, throwing them both off balance. The voidwalker
recovered and gathered himself, a sneer twisting his face. The two
circled each other slowly as the echoing winds swirled and
subsided, gusting ever stronger.

The Echowind Split sounded with shouts as
over twenty Aran guards poured into the plaza. Half of them bounded
down from the upper amphitheatre, the others barreled up the split
past a handful of gentry stragglers, swords drawn. Lurec sagged in
relief, but the voidwalker’s focus never left Nassir.

The brute’s fists trembled before his chest,
as though his wrists were bound by an invisible shackle. He
expanded his hands slowly, just as before, only now Lurec
understood. He shouted urgently at the charging swordsmen. “Beware
the voidwalker’s thrall! Don’t give in to it!”

His words were worthless. The thrall slammed
into the Arans like a wall made of madness instead of bricks. Lurec
shivered as the effect pounded on the fortress of his mind. Six of
the swordsmen dropped dead in mid-bound. Their swords went sliding
across the redstone. Another seven fell to their knees, screaming
and holding their heads as if their skulls would split open. Fear
broke those who kept their feet, after more than half of their
force was lost before even joining the fight. They turned and fled
the split.

Lurec willed himself forward, though every
ounce of his logic begged that he should run. He inched closer to
where Dayn stood riveted as the voidwalker closed in on Nassir. The
Shardian jumped, spinning to look down at him with wild eyes.

“Dayn, we need to leave this to him!” Lurec
said urgently.

“I won’t run like a coward! Not again.”
Haunted memory flitted through the boy's eyes. His hands clenched
unconsciously―he actually wanted to fight!

The voidwalker rushed Nassir again. The
Defender feinted a dodge, then brought his sword down on the
brute's bare shoulder. Dark, viscous blood spilled out of the gash,
only to crust over in seconds. The voidwalker regarded the wound in
surprise.

The Defender smiled. “Sickmetal cuts through
your rotten Thar’Kuri hide so easily.”

Lurec looked around helplessly. No one else
remained in the plaza save a few still forms trampled during the
voidwalker's appearance. Only the Defender separated them from the
voidwalker. “Think, lad. We must see the Seed safe!”

Nassir's next thrust glanced off the strange
armor again. The voidwalker struck with a flying elbow in Nassir's
chest that exploded in a spray of sparks. The Defender rolled with
the blow and sprang to his feet on the voidwalker's left, slashing
again. The brute twisted his body. Nassir's sword clanged off the
covering.

“Lurec! Take the boy and go! Rouse the
guards!”

“Dayn, we must do as he says.” That finally
broke the boy’s trance. They turned to run. Before they had gone
two steps, a second voidwalker stepped out of the split, blocking
their path to the palace.

“I’m here for you, Shardian.”

“No.” Dayn’s voice cracked with fear.
“Moridos.”

“Peace protect us.” Lurec stood paralyzed as
Moridos advanced. The voidwalker paid no mind to the convulsing
swordsmen at his feet. He looked even taller than the first
voidwalker, older somehow. Nassir’s sword still rang out behind
them. Against two, the Defender would be hopelessly outmatched.

“The Seed is all that matters!” hissed Lurec.
“By the Ring, Shardian, bound!”

Fighting down the greatest terror of his
life, Lurec stepped between Moridos and Dayn.

“What are you doing?” Dayn’s voice came
behind him. “Stop!”

“Go to the palace, now!” Lurec possessed no
weapons save his own trembling fists.
I can still raise the
call.
“Help us! Murder in the plaza!”

Another gust of wind blew the steam from
Moridos. He moved forward faster than Lurec could react.

“Preceptor!”

Lurec felt bare rock scrape his face. He lay
sprawled among the redstone benches. Dazed, he slowly realized
Moridos had swatted him aside like an insect. Pain lanced along his
back as he watched the scene unfold through a cloud of pain.

Nassir attacked more forcefully, intent on
avoiding his foe’s grasp. The voidwalker’s thrall did not affect
the Defender. He moved alarmingly fast for his size, and easily
slapped away Nassir's sword. Dark, brackish blood appeared on his
hands as they clashed.

Where in peace's reach are the rest of the
Aran guards?
Terrified shouts floated back from the distant
split, barely audible.

“This way, in the plaza!” Dayn shouted. The
echoing wind pulled his words away. “For the sand!”

Lurec willed his lips to move. “Dayn, you
must run.” Something sticky touched his face, and he could hardly
raise himself from where he lay.

Dayn gathered himself and sprang into a bound
as Moridos charged. He caught Dayn by the ankle and slammed him
viciously back to the ground.

“Shardian!” Nassir shouted, but the second
voidwalker allowed him no opening to help.

“Fight back!” Moridos roared. Rage contorted
his face. Dayn rolled pitifully on his side, struggling for air.
“My brother did not lose his life to a groveling worm!”

He kicked Dayn savagely. The boy slammed into
the redstone cliff and slid into a heap at its base, motionless.
The voidwalker’s fingers clawed the air in a tearing motion. Dayn
gave a piteous wail. His head twisted back and forth as the
voidwalker’s thrall engulfed him. Moridos spat in disgust and
turned toward the Defender.

Nassir fought as though no help would come.
He twisted his torso, whipping his sword toward the first
voidwalker’s head in a deadly downward arc. The voidwalker did not
even flinch. With a loud
clap,
he caught the blade just
inches from his face. He tore it from Nassir's grip with bloody
hands.

The Thar'Kuri grimaced over the weapon a
moment, then sent it sailing. Lurec’s stomach sank as he watched
the sword land in the commoners' amphitheater far above them.

The voidwalker lunged again, quick as a
viper, to tear out Nassir's throat. The Defender dodged, but a
sickening pop filled the plaza. Nassir's left arm dropped uselessly
in the voidwalker's grasp. The voidwalker flung him head first to
crash into a redstone wall of the split. Sheath lit the air, and
Nassir slumped to the ground in a limp heap of armor.

“Moridos. Help me tear this Defender in
half!”

“No. This one first. The boy.”

Impossibly, Nassir regained his feet. “We’re
not so weak as you think, Thar'Kuri.” Blood stained his teeth.

“You are shadows of men. Shadows of shadows.”
The voidwalker faded within his own cloud of foul steam before a
new gust blew it away. His eyes teemed with loathing as he spoke.
“Your broken existence cries for a merciful end. Your every breath
is a curse on our world, the true world.”

Lurec's blood ran cold at the words.