The Last King's Amulet Part 23

Larner couldn't have been more surprised when I took his hand off.

I had reacted instinctively and so had he. My instinct just had a better result than his.

At the end of the hall I had opened the door and stepped through without pause, my reactions on a hair trigger. Larner had his hands full, a plate of bacon and eggs in one hand and a jug of beer in the other. He'd dropped the plate as I swung at him and instinctively raised his arm to ward off the blow, crying out in surprise as he did so. By pure chance the edge of the sword had struck his wrist and neatly taken off his hand. A glint of azure flashed from the stone he no longer, strictly speaking, wore. I ran him through, feeling partly guilty and partly angry with myself for feeling that way. He was my enemy and had no right to my sympathy.

Engrossed in the ugly task of s.n.a.t.c.hing the blade free of his gut, trying not to be too aware of his face as I did it, I was still aware of a shout of alarm. I didn't imagine I would go unnoticed and so was not in any way surprised. I had decided not to react to the enemy, but to make them react to me. I acted on pure instinct with no rigid plan, intent on fluidity to counter their inertia.

I s.n.a.t.c.hed up Larner's severed hand and ran, picking a direction at random. There were stairs so I took them. Booted feet hammered on the marble floor as two barbarians gave chase. They had cried out an alarm, but were not where I was or where I was heading. Anyone with a weapon who heard the alarm would move in the direction it had come from. But I wasn't there any more. I was on the move. If I could shake them, lose them, then I would be free to act as I wished.

I glanced at the hand I held, briefly a.s.sessing the azure stone set in a gold ring that still graced the index finger. Maybe six carats. Enough candlepower to cast the spell Jocasta had taught me with some strength. All to the good. We would see. Make no plans. Be creative.

At the top of the stairs was a landing. There were men on the stairs behind me so I didn't pause for more than a glance left and right, then dropped my sword, pulled the ring from the finger, turned, attuned it, pointed the stone and let loose with whatever it was Jocasta had given me. A great gush of boiling oil spewed from the ring and drenched their upper bodies, as though I had thrown a bucket of the stuff from the head of the stair.

Shocked and disgusted, thrilled with fear and horror at their fate, I kept enough presence of mind despite their incoherent screaming, to slip the ring on my finger, grab my sword and end their pain. It was an ugly business and I tried to hold thought at bay as their bodies slid gracelessly down the stairs. I turned my back on them and moved.

In the heat of battle I had killed my first man, followed by many others. I had not counted. I had not thought. And the memories had never fully come back to me. I had not tried to remember, in all honesty. I don't like to think of myself as a man who kills people.

This was different. I was near as dammit sober. The memory of the two men covered in boiling oil and screaming, part in excruciating pain and part in unbelieving horror, tried to fill my mind and hold my attention. I couldn't let it but the memory was a distraction, flas.h.i.+ng in to my mind's eye at every pause in thought.

Keep moving, I admonished myself. Don't stop to think. Be creative. I opened the next door I came to and stepped inside. The shutters were open, light streaming into the room. A naked man lay on the bed, asleep, the covers on the floor in a heap. I paced across the room and killed him. He didn't even wake. One less enemy is one less enemy, I thought. Glancing around I picked out a couple of items that might be useful. He had been a barbarian soldier and had weapons and armor to hand. The only thing that fit me was a belt. I accessed his sword and decided it was as good as mine and came with the advantage of a scabbard. It was the work of moments to buckle the belt, discarding the b.l.o.o.d.y blade. I would keep the new one. I checked his clothes and found a few coins. They were mine now, if I ever needed them.

Now what? The ring. I smiled ruefully. The illusion ring that Jocasta had made for me; I took it from my pocket and slipped it on. There. Now I was someone else to the world and could move freely.

Time to go. Back the way I came? Don't think, I admonished myself. Act!

There was a lot of noise ahead of me but I didn't pause, instead I hurried up. Grinning, I brought a few words of Gedurian to mind, using the Alendi dialect that Meran had taught me. By the time I was back at the head of the stairs, with several barbarians in sight, I was practically thinking in the language.

Two men were at the top of the stairs, looking down. One glanced my way for just a moment before looking back.

"What happens?" I demanded.

He looked my way again and gestured that I look. "The demon cooked himself dinner."

Steaming gently, covered in oil, stinking of cooked flesh, skin red where it wasn't cracked and oozing or covered in blood from the thrusts of my sword, lay the two men I had doused in hot oil. I snorted in disgust. "Didn't stay to eat though."

The two gave uneasy snorting laughs. At the bottom of the stairs another barbarian was looking up. "Want to help us move them?" Behind him half a dozen men were in the hall, milling nervously. If there had been less I would have shoved these two down the stairs and gone on from there, but ten seemed more than I could take.

"You got plenty of help."

I was about to move away and find easier prey when Sapphire struck in the hall below. I saw him moving, calm and deadly, short blade flas.h.i.+ng in a killing stroke, the mortally injured man grunting even as Sapphire moved on. Two were down before anyone noticed he was there and I twitched out of my reverie, stepped around behind them and shoved my two companions down the stairs. Why had I hesitated? The time for acquiring facts was over, the time to think was past. Now was the time to act, I berated myself. So act.

Sliding my new sword out of its scabbard I descended the stairs, lopping the arm from the first man I reached; he had caught the banister, arrested his fall and got to his feet just as I struck. Kicking him away so that he fell before me, I carried on down. As chance would have it the second had fallen into the roasted bodies of his dead compatriots, and filled with disgust at their touch had stood, his back to the top of the stairs, only to be struck from his feet by his falling companion, blood spraying from the stump of his arm in measured steady arcs.

Measured and steady, that was the way Sapphire moved, calm and calculating, aware of everything around him and moving in complete control of the situation, as though he knew what everyone was going to do. The calm concentration he displayed on his face told the story clear. He was in complete control of himself, doing what needed to be done in the simplest most expedient fas.h.i.+on he knew. He could have been digging a ditch, I thought, and tried to adopt his att.i.tude as I moved to dispatch the two tangled men; they were panicked, defensive, trying to get clear, even the one who was surely bleeding to death. By the time I got to the bottom of the stairs there was nothing more to do. Sapphire looked all about, never still but showing no sign of urgency.

"What happened to the plan?"

"I changed my mind. Confound the enemy with chaos and disorder." I said.

He nodded. "Down."

I ducked into a squat before I could stop myself and he smiled at me. "Don't lose that att.i.tude," he said.

"Down it is. Head for the throne room."

"Eleven less?" He was doing a quick head count.

"Fourteen," I told him.

"Good," he walked away, making for the head of the stairs down to the next level.

As I followed I ran through the route to the audience chamber in my mind. Where Kukran Epthel doubtless awaited us, ready or unprepared made no difference to me at the moment. It wasn't so far and I knew the way.

It is strange how people react. We entered the public rooms of the building having had only one other encounter that took no time at all. Here the common people were about their business, waiting to see those would would decided their fate, no matter what reason had brought them here. They stood in small groups or alone, a magistrate or two moved among them, questioning and directing them. The normal day to day business of any administrative building. They totally ignored us; not that they didn't see, or turn their heads to follow our movement, not that they were unaware, it's just that they didn't do anything. One or two, I noted, began moving away. Others looked round hurriedly for guidance or for someone else to act. One or two ran. There were those who tugged a neighbor's sleeve and pointed us out. But the rest just watched us pa.s.s. Not my business, they seemed to be thinking, not my problem. They moved away where we pa.s.sed too close but otherwise seemed like sheep watching a sheepdog; fascinated but not feeling the need to react just yet.

The drawing of steel and a cry to halt came from behind me; I turned and looked, saw he was not close enough to be a threat and moved on. I felt like Sapphire's shadow, going to do what needed doing or die doing it. The same voice gave an alert and then the sound of running footsteps as he came after us. I turned, generated Jocasta's spell form and covered him in burning oil. The screams made people act; they screamed and ran in all directions, pet.i.tioners and administrators alike. They all ran away from us in an expanding circle and we ignored them in our turn and moved on, fast but not panicked. Purposeful.

The alarm was spreading, being returned all around us, more from outside in the courtyard than inside the building. It wouldn't be long before we had problems. The carpeted corridor ahead of us lead to the audience chamber that Kukran Epthel used and we moved down it fast, heading for the two guards who stood outside the door that was our target.

Sapphire moved as though he knew what each man was going to do before he did it. Down to one knee and thrust to the groin, weapon clear and up and moving past the dying man before he had finished falling to his knees. Duck under a wild swing, turning on one heel and sword up under the ribs of the second, twist and tug free as the man hunched over the fatal wound. A look behind us and then turn and continue. I didn't glance back. He knew what was behind me and so did I, I could hear them coming, feet pounding on marble. Suddenly muted by carpet, the enemy pounded on toward us and I turned and raised the stone to spray hot death once more. It didn't happen. Gatren was among them, and had countered my spell. Behind him and around him were a half dozen men and more in the chamber behind.

Meran was among them.

We never made it to the door; the barbarians were coming too fast and we had to stop and fight as they reached us. Meran took two from behind and then it became chaotic.

Meran fought like a barbarian. Posing, shouting, intimidating. He was one of them and it showed. He needed to work himself up to attack and so did they. By comparison Sapphire was just killing people. It was what he was doing and nothing else. A barbarian shouted and lunged and Sapphire killed him. Another screamed and charged and died. There was no emotion in Sapphire as he fought. He was aware, each movement sure and controlled, every action certain. His face was expressionless, focused, concentrating on the job in hand. And me; I was fighting for my life and a.n.a.lyzing the difference between my companions. Insanity comes in many forms.

Gatren was an additional concern. He was trying to cast and I had to counter him, even though I had no idea what spells he might have learned, I knew for sure I didn't want to find out right now. His problem was his own men and the chaos of the fray. Mine was that I had to watch him and defend myself at the same time. A gap would open and he would stab out with his fist clenched, I would do the same, countering whatever ugly spell he was attempting. The numbers of his own allies hindered him; they were intent on us and not thinking to get out of his way so he could cast clean. His attention was focused on me, the inhibitor of his magic. And I was focused on him for the same reason. I could not spray hot oil everywhere while he was countering my spells and he could not do whatever he was doing while I was countering his. Meanwhile his men were dying.

I blocked a blow with my blade and stepped in with a short chop to the throat which ended in his eyes as he ducked in turn. Stepping aside I countered Gatren's spell and then thrust my blade into the staggering barbarian's floating ribs. Leaping back as his fellow stop-thrust for my chest. Sapphire continued to move through them calmly, each blow deadly, constantly moving, totally aware and focused on what he was doing and oddly calm as he killed and maimed. We were winning, and then something hit me a blow to the back of the head and I was suddenly on my hands and knees staring dully at the carpet. I moved, unthinking, half falling to my left, weight on one hip, legs tucked up and slashed wildly at whatever hit me. The blade made no contact and the world spun around me. I think I must have been struck again but I have no recollection of that.

The wrinkled face of Lentro swam before my eyes.

That seemed both odd and normal at the same time, yet I couldn't think why it should seem either one. I took a deep breath and moved slightly. Nothing seemed to hurt, which was a blessing.

I sat up with a jerk, causing Lentro to start. He leaped to his feet and moved away. Behind him I could see the throne of Kukran Epthel, the cadaver himself sitting upon it, watching me. I ignored him and looked round. The audience chamber was as I remembered it. I didn't count the zombies, but noted the addition of six guards who lined the back wall either side of the throne. They were brawny, competent looking men in mail armor that I recognized as having been looted off our n.o.ble dead. One wore mine, including the belt that made his form s.h.i.+mmer slightly. My swords were at his belt, his hand resting idly on the longer blade. I turned my head further. Sapphire was bound hand and foot, yet managed to look relaxed, sitting nearby and looking at me. The smile was gone from his face, his expression was neutral and his eyes as cold as ever.

"What happened?"

"We failed," he said.

Beyond him I could see Meran. Like me he was not bound. He stood glaring about, clenching and unclenching his hands. He locked eyes with me and raised an eyebrow. I shook my head and climbed to my feet.

Lentro moved further away. I checked my fingers and found they was bare of rings, my tattoo had gone and my hands were my own.

"Sumto, I thought you had decided to obey me."

"You were wrong," I said mildly. My heart hammered in my chest as I wondered what further outrages they would now heap upon me. Living death? I looked at the eight zombies that lined the walls, noting this time the wealthy dress style of Gerrian chieftains. Those who had not accepted his incitement to rise against us, no doubt. No wonder their people had capitulated; suddenly led by whichever man had been chosen to take the position made so drastically vacant.

"In the long run I am never wrong. I can wait. You will serve me. They all do in the end. One way or another.

"All slaves together? I don't think so."

"Those who obey me are not called slaves."

"Called slaves or not, everyone who obeys you is a slave so long as you wear the last king's amulet." I had finally remembered where I had seen the symbol of the amulet he wore. In a book, of course, a history of our own people, telling the story of the last true king. The last king of the city had had it made, soaking a stone into its metal to fuel the power that it embodied. Obedience, it demanded. It murmured the concept unceasingly, day and night to all who saw it; 'obey me.'

He locked his dull dead gaze on mine and said nothing.

Lentro looked round, taking in the amulet and frowning slightly. His eyes narrowed as he craned slightly forward the better to see.

"Don't you recognize it Lentro? Our ancestors killed him for making it. As soon as they saw its properties in action and knew it for what it was they resisted and slew him. He was the last true king of the city and now we have none, save in name to honor better men."

"Be quiet," Kukran spoke in the same unmoved tones, not raising his voice one iota, but I recognized his unease.

"Why? Were it not true you would not fear it said. Where did you come by it? The histories say it was destroyed but I guess the histories lie. Histories are always dubious, written by the victor. Did you know that we have a practice of inviting parallel works from the vanquished? We keep them in the public libraries where everyone can read them. Don't we Lentro?"

"Yes," he answered, his attention still focused on the amulet.

A small black-skinned figure appeared behind Sapphire and cut his bonds. Taking the knife and moving as though he had all the time in world, Sapphire brought his arms forward, the small knife in one hand and cut viciously at the ropes that bound his ankles. Swords rang from their sheaths at once and a voice I recognized said a word I did not. "Bogani'iodya," it could have been. Dubaku was pointing at Kukran Epthel. I stood frozen for a moment, aware and ready to move but not yet committed.

Kukran Epthel did not seem surprised. "Will you never give up?" he asked, and raised one weary hand holding the ten carat stone. The spirit Dubaku had called manifested and wrapped itself around him, instantly he burst into flames. "What?" He looked at his hands and arms, calmly. "Douse me," he said as he turned to the frozen guard to his left. "Bring a tapestry and smother the flames." The guard sprang to obey after only a moment's shocked hesitation.

Sapphire was on his feet and moving, taking advantage of the momentary distraction that had held the guards in thrall. They moved to meet him but it was already too late for the first whose initial step was his last. Sapphire's knife slashed across his throat so deep I thought I saw a flash of bone before the blood gushed out of the wound. Spinning away, the dead guard's sword now in his hand, Sapphire attacked his next target calmly. It was only then that I moved, unarmed as I was, heading after the guard who was intent on bringing down a tapestry. I tackled him from behind, hitting him hard so that we bounced off the wall together and fell to the ground.

A thunderous concussion shook the room but no one seemed to react to it and I certainly didn't have time.

"Douse me!" Kukran Epthel commanded again. "You," I had no idea who he meant and cared less. The barbarian I grappled was turning in my grip despite the fact that I had my arm across his throat and was trying desperately to make my fist meet my own shoulder as I attempted to choke the life out of him. He was stronger than me. It was that simple. With my left hand I sought a weapon, scrabbling about his waist as I quested for a knife but he had me there too, one big hand gripping my wrist and pus.h.i.+ng my hand away. I'd locked my legs about him, my ankles crossed and his right arm trapped beneath my leg. At least he couldn't get to a weapon himself. He got his elbow on the ground for leverage and started to sit up, taking me with him.

Light streamed suddenly into the room as one of the drapes was ripped bodily from the wall. At that moment a thin black skinned fist and arm nipped around me, the fist held a small knife that glinted with wicked sharpness as it moved. The barbarian I was desperately resisting stiffened and arched his back, then twitched and writhed in my arms. Dubaku flitted away as I pushed my burden off me, glancing around to see what might threaten, even as I dragged his sword free of its sheath.

Another mighty concussion shook the building. I ignored it as best I could. It wasn't in the room with me.

"All of you, kill them!" Kukran Epthel cried. He had finally risen to his feet and begun to move across the room, purposefully heading to the windows where one of the eight zombies stood holding a heavy drape in both hands. It was shuffling backwards, dragging it across the floor as its master came to meet it. It had not reacted immediately, I noted. Resistance to the command or simply a consequence of its nature? I shelved the thought as I continued to glance around the room, taking in the details that would dictate my next actions.

Sapphire seemed briefly held at bay by the three hulking guards, but one went down even in that brief glance and I stopped worrying about him, my gaze continuing to traverse the room. The doors had been flung open and in the center of the room Meran faced a guard; the other who had been standing outside lay writhing nearby.

I came to my feet, gaze flitting back past Sapphire and his two opponents. I met Lentro's eyes for a moment. They were wide and horrified. I had no time for that. He knew what had been done to his mind and I knew that he knew. Kukran Epthel wore the last King's Amulet. No matter what happened here I knew Lentro would spread the word amongst those of us who had survived. Even if we died here, Kukran Epthel would fall at their hands. We do not suffer a tyrant to live, and only a tyrant would use such a tool as the amulet.

Kukran Epthel had taken the drape and enfolded himself in it. The stink of smoke had filled the room unnoticed. I made a decision and moved. Fast but controlled, I crossed the room to Kukran. He clearly reasoned the fire was out and was slowly and clumsily trying to work his way free of the enshrouding drapery. I moved with controlled energy, emulating Sapphire. His hands found the edge of the drape and pushed it up. The drape was large and heavy, he adjusted and pushed upward again. I picked my moment, stepped and chopped hard at his wrist. The burned hand sprang free and spun through the air. I followed it. There was no sense hacking at a corpse and the undead had begun to move. The hand landed by the window and I was aware as I s.n.a.t.c.hed it up that the courtyard below was a maelstrom of activity. Snagging the desiccated hand I looked down, stepped up and taking in the chaos outside in a glance, still moving forward. Hundreds of citizens of the town had taken up arms and stormed the building, overwhelming the barbarians who opposed them.

"Out!" I shouted the word only once, sure that what I did next would attract attention even if my shout did not.

Still moving, body tensed, I hurled myself at the window. It shattered and I fell.

I hoped, in the brief moment I had free, that none of the shards of gla.s.s was so big as to impale me when I landed. Gla.s.s fell with me and I twisted in the air, trying to land on my feet. It was not a long drop, less than twelve feet, but it still knocked the wind out of me when I hit the hard paves, gla.s.s raining down with me. I rolled at once to my feet, slightly doubled over as I struggled to breathe. It wasn't happening. I was cut but nothing hurt too badly. There was some pain and I saw one fair sized shard sticking out of my arm. I would have yanked it free but I had a sword in one hand and a hand in the other. I cursed myself, still heaving for air, when I realized that I had jumped through the window with a sword in my hand. Sharp as gla.s.s and far more deadly. Moving slowly, I crabbed away, turning round once as I did so and straightening painfully. Several townsmen were moving toward me, holding a variety of weapons. I held up the desiccated hand and croaked something that sounded like nothing but was intended, for some reason, to be "it's me," as though they would know who I was. I dropped the sword and they hesitated. Good enough. Unceremoniously I ripped the ten carat ring off the dry finger and pushed it home on mine. Touching the stone I quickly harmonized with it. Now it was mine and I felt on firmer ground. Also, I was getting my wind back.

Covered in blood, Sapphire landed between me and my hostile allies, rolled effortlessly and came to his feet. He was covered in blood and I saw it pulsing from a wound in his arm. Taken aback, the townsmen froze and now I could talk.

"I am Sumto Merian Ichatha Cerulian, patron of the city! This is my servant, Sapphire. Now dress his wound!" So saying I turned away with all the inborn arrogance of my kind and looked up at the broken window. Meran had his back to the window and was swinging his blade this way and that with silent desperation. "Jump, dammit!" I commanded him and he obeyed, stepping backward and launching himself awkwardly into s.p.a.ce. He landed badly and I heard something break. I helped him to his feet, he nodded and grimaced with the pain, keeping one foot off the ground. "Leg," he said, succinctly.

"Pity we should run then, isn't it?" I looked up, picking men from the crowd. "You and you, carry him out of here!"

I turned again and came face to face with Sapphire, tying off a tight binding to stop the blood flowing. He wasn't paying any attention to that though, his eyes locked on mine as cold as ever I had seen them. "Look, I like you, so I'm not going to kill you, but don't ever call me your servant again, okay?"

I nodded once. It was a fact he was stating, nothing more or less, and so deserved to be acknowledged as such.

"Jocasta," it didn't exactly follow his train of thought but he accepted it. "She must be inside."

The courtyard was filled with milling townsmen, upwards of three hundred of them, some wounded and some tending the wounded; others looting bodies and many carrying booty out of the buildings that surrounded the courtyard on three sides. Two areas were little more than rubble and I guessed that the ma.s.sive concussions I had heard from inside the audience chamber were responsible. Jocasta must have taken them down. There were also two archways that led elsewhere; I didn't waste much time on them as I dodged my way through the throng, Sapphire with me.

We moved as fast as we could; no one got in our way but most were about their own tasks and unaware of us unless we actually barged into them or pa.s.sed so close in front of them that they reacted. Most moved fast and away from us when they saw us coming. I guess we looked like we meant business.

Just as we hit the bottom of the steps Jocasta and Dubaku appeared at the top. She stumbled but didn't fall, looking straight at me as she came forward, her expression puzzled. "No," I used the word as flat denial of what I knew was true. Something had hit her, just at the moment she walked through the doorway. She began to fall. I bounded up the steps, putting everything I had into the effort but I was way too far away and far too slow. She fell to her knees, catching herself with her hands out in front of her, hair spreading like a mask over her face. Something small and black seemed to be resting on her back, stark against the cream colored cloth of the s.h.i.+rt she wore and I knew it was a crossbow flight, I knew it long before I was close enough to see it clearly. "No."

Dubaku was at her side, one hand stark black against the cream s.h.i.+rt as he gripped her arm. He saw the bolt. Looked back through the doorway. Pointed with his other hand and said something low and intense that I didn't catch. I was only peripherally aware of him. All my attention was on Jocasta and the tufted end of the quarrel sticking out of her back. I fell to my knees on the steps before her, pushed back her hair tenderly and gently lifted her head so that I could see her eyes; they were dull and unaware. I glanced up and met Dubaku's gaze. Expressionless as always. "Help her," I begged him.

"The arrow has to come out. The lady cannot heal around it."

I looked back at the tuft of the quarrel, all that was showing. Imagined gripping it, which would be hard enough, and pulling it out; imagined the damage it would do her and shook my head. It would kill her for sure and I said so.

"Then she will die, Sumto. The lady cannot heal around it, and even then she may die. The lady's powers are limited." I knew why he didn't use the lady's name; to name her was to call her. "And she may not come. Sometimes they do not answer."

"Sumto," Sapphire was suddenly kneeling at my side, or maybe I just became aware of him when he spoke. I looked at him, followed his jerked gaze back into the building. There was no one in sight; no one living. But in the distance I could hear sounds of conflict, and they were getting louder. I shook my head.

"Listen," he hissed, turning his head. I did, and I heard it. From the city, a roar of voices raised in anger. "It isn't over. We should go. All we can do here we have done."

"What? And leave her?"

"No. But what must be done must be done." Slowly, as though afraid of startling me, he reached out and with extreme care gripped the end of the quarrel. "I can pull it free very fast." he looked up and met Dubaku's eyes. "Are you ready?"

"No!" I reared slightly and reached for his arm. Jocasta was beginning to pant, her body trembling in shock. I could smell fresh urine. She was dying, was seconds away from dying.

"Don't touch me, you will hurt her. There is no choice, Sumto, and no time to pretend there might be one. We do this now or she dies. If we don't do this now she dies."

I nodded once, a spastic jerk that took every ounce of control I had.