Dawn of Swords (73 page)

Jacob fingered the crystal in his pocket, the gift from his dead love. He’d been so close to giving it all up. Everything he’d done, every measured step to bring about the great future humankind deserved; he would have tossed it all away if it would have brought Brienna back to him. Ashhur had called him a hypocrite, and he’d been right. He had been overwhelmed by sorrow, and if the god had managed to bring life back from death, Jacob had been prepared to forsake everything he’d been working toward.
But no. No life. Instead, Ashhur had caved to his demands and brought him back a corpse. And then, as if to mock him, Ashhur had scattered her body as ashes, denying him the chance to say good-bye, the chance to bury her with his own hands and place a stone above her final resting place. Her remains floated on the wind, and with them floated every last doubt Jacob had in betraying Ashhur.

Everything else had come together so perfectly: the death of Bessus Gorgoros, and the elves’ isolation of Ker; the coercing of Deacon Coldmine, through Clovis, to place the innocents in the temple, leading to the temple’s destruction and Ashhur’s fit of rage; the brother gods coming to blows, which had proven that they could not defeat each other in single combat. Despite his losses, Jacob had still won.

And no matter what the cost, there were still secrets to learn, a hidden power over death that he was certain Ashhur had knowingly denied him. Time and space could still bend to his will, for he walked at the side of a god. Perhaps, just perhaps, Brienna might return to his arms.…

They came on the hub at the southern end of the city, and Jacob, Karak, and Clovis separated from the rest of their convoy, curling northeast around the fountain upon which stood a giant statue of the deity. Jacob could tell by the look on Clovis’s face that the man did not understand why they were heading away from the Castle of the Lion, but he kept his protests silent. Instead he stared at Jacob as if he were a strange creature from a different dimension. The revelation that the First Man had been his secret Whisperer had changed him, and his usual arrogance was slowly ebbing away, leaving behind a desperate sycophant. The constant adoring looks and unrelenting questions were beginning to wear on Jacob, and he longed for a return to the quiet and tranquility he had been awarded during their walk. He realized right then why he had secretly given the man the dragonglass pendant in the first place, why he had
spoken to him in dreams and whispers rather than approaching him outright.

The Tower Keep came into view, its abominable, fist-like apex catching the light of the stars above in its many windows. Jacob felt a surge of pride; this edifice, despite its ugliness, had been his design. He had chosen its structure and location with exactitude. It was a shame that Karak had decided the ruling class of Neldar required a more lavish assembly, ceasing construction on the Tower Keep after only the residential tower and throne room had been completed. That had been enough, however, for the throne room was the only room of importance in any building in all of Veldaren. It was also where the next step of Jacob’s plan would take place.

Captain Malcolm Gregorian met them outside the front entrance of the Keep. Jacob had never laid eyes on the man before, though his survival of the Final Judges had made him a legendary figure. He certainly looked the part, what with the ugly scar that marred his face and his stalwart posture. He looked like a man who would do anything,
could
do anything, in the name of his god—the type of man who would prove quite useful in the times ahead.

Gregorian held open the massive door and then kneeled to Karak, his head bowed low.

“My Lord,” he said. “I humbly welcome you home.”

Karak said not a word but ducked through the entryway and disappeared inside. The Captain looked up, nodding at Clovis as the Highest limped on by. His gaze settled on Jacob, and the man’s eyes widened as he slowly rose to his feet.

“Jacob Eveningstar,” he said, extending his hand. “It is an honor. I have heard much of you.”

“And I, you,” Jacob replied. “Is everything in order?”

Gregorian nodded. “I received your letter two days past. There was much clutter, and I had to clear it away to make the room as you requested.”

“Excellent. You’re a good man, Malcolm. I’m sure Karak will reward you greatly for the duty you provide.”

“He has rewarded me enough already,” he replied, his eyes hard, his head dipped low. “I require nothing else but the glory of his blessing.”

“That, you will receive, my brother in faith. That, you will receive.”

Jacob walked through the doors and entered the wide antechamber. Gregorian moved past him, heading for the stairs that led to the tower’s upper levels. Jacob gave his arm a gentle squeeze and then strolled across the empty space, heading for the room at the far end of the structure.

There Karak and Clovis awaited him. The space was rectangular and enormous, stretching two hundred feet in either direction beneath a ceiling that stood four stories high. Various statues of Karak had been shoved along the walls, some finished, some not. Jacob marveled at the sight of them all: life-sized, exact likenesses of the eastern deity, carved out of sandstone, onyx, topaz, ivory, and marble, pounded out of great metal sheets, pressed out of clay. The attention to detail was astounding, and if he were not so angry that this sacred room had been reduced to an artist’s studio, he would have called Ibis Mori down right then and there to congratulate him on his accomplishments.

Jacob walked through the center of the room, past the haunted, leering eyes of Karak’s many lifeless copies, and came to a stop before the slightly raised platform upon which the king’s throne should have sat. He stared at the massive portrait on the wall, which depicted Ashhur, Karak, and Celestia together, and then walked up and removed it. He placed it far away, where it would not be damaged by the coming events, and then turned to face his god.

“We are ready,” he said.

“Are you certain you are adequately prepared?” asked Karak.

“I am. This is a delicate procedure, however, one that requires certain elements that I am currently lacking. My steward Roland
was to act as my apprentice in this regard, but I misjudged his strength. Now I require a new one, unfortunately.”

He glared at Clovis. The silver-haired man, Highest of Karak, fell back, a hand on his chest.

“What is it?” he asked, his usually patronizing tone starting to crack.

Jacob stepped up to him, grabbing him by the collar of his black tunic. He pulled Clovis close to him, under the gaze of their god, loving the way the Highest’s eyes bulged from their sockets.

“You stupid, arrogant whelp,” Jacob growled. “Your ego got the better of you. Does Karak even know that you sent your insane son to try to raise the demons himself? I thought not. Do you know what your actions wrought?”

Clovis shook his head, his body quavering. Jacob turned, addressing his god.

“Uther kidnapped commoners from Drake to use in the ritual of resurrection. He caused a panic in the town, and do you know what they have now? A whole legion of spellcasters who are learning the craft to
defend themselves
, and from a powerful caster at that.” He turned back to Clovis. “Do you know the problems that has caused our Lord? Do you know the potential hazards your forces will face, now that your enemies are learning to hurtle fire, earth, and ice with their bare hands? You’ve killed thousands with your eagerness, Clovis, for these people will not to be easily conquered. Your son, you miserable wretch—your son killed my love and trapped me in the mountains. That you live at all is only out of Karak’s mercy.”

“But…but…I did not know you were the Whisperer!” shouted Clovis in reply.

“So much you didn’t know,” Jacob said, releasing the man and letting him stumble backward. “Yet that never once stopped you. Because of your actions, you have sealed your fate. You are to assist me in the ritual.
You
are to take Roland’s place.”

“You will,” Karak echoed.

Clovis dropped to a knee. “Anything, Jacob. Anything, my Lord. My body and mind are yours.”

“Of course,” Jacob said. He shouted, “Captain, bring in the blasphemers!” and turned his attention to the wall where the painting had sat.

A deep murmur echoed through the vast room as Gregorian entered, dragging Ibis, Adeline, and Ulric Mori behind him. The three were bound and wore tattered rags, their bodies worked over and displaying many bruises and cuts. Thessaly Crestwell was also present, the last member of the court who was not dead or dishonored.

Ibis and Ulric glared at Jacob, while Adeline cackled through the rag stuffed in her mouth. Captain Gregorian had informed Karak in a letter that father and son had stormed into the castle after learning of Soleh’s and Vulfram’s deaths, shouting curses against king, god, and realm. Ulric had even put his sword through a palace guard in his anger, before being restrained and thrown in the dungeon. Adeline was dragged there with them, having followed her family into the castle, cackling and throwing rotten eggs as she went. Jacob took this as welcome news; he had planned to use a few of the many men who had been wasting away in the dungeon for tributes. Having the three Moris instead was an unexpected bonus.

Ulric struggled against his restraints, then spit a wad of phlegm in the direction of his god. Karak glared back at him, his glowing eyes growing in brightness.

Jacob began pacing along the raised platform as the Captain dragged the captives toward him. Ignoring Adeline’s ranting, he removed his journal from his rucksack, set it atop a temporary podium that had been erected on the dais, and addressed Clovis once more.

“Despite everything,
Highest
, I must say that Uther’s missteps were not without benefit. I don’t know how he found out what he did, but he learned ancient words and phrases I had never heard of
before, and I believe they may be the key to unlocking the demon kings from their prison.”

“The demons,” Karak said, a bit of life returning to his eyes. The whole journey back to Veldaren he’d appeared distracted, but it finally felt as if he was standing in the same room as them. “Are you certain I need their aid?”

“I watched your battle,” Jacob said. “There is a reason you left before either of you found victory: because you knew there would never
be
a victor. You are too evenly matched. We will need armies, magic, and power beyond measure if we are to tip the balance in your favor. And most important of all…Celestia has not made her presence known.” Jacob met his god’s eyes, saw the smoldering anger in them. “You know she loves Ashhur far more than you. We must have power, power so great that even the goddess will be forced to tremble.”

“And they will obey you?”

Jacob smiled, his confidence overflowing.

“They will have no choice in the matter.”

Karak nodded, and Jacob cleared his throat. He stared at the pages before him, line after line written in his own hand, chronicling the history of the world and the magic of the unknown. He looked up at Clovis.

“Your son attempted to raise these demons,” said Jacob. “But his errors were twofold. His first mistake was the location. The inscriptions on Neyvar Kardious’s tomb were written in the first Elven tongue. The loose translation was ‘the very spot where Celestia cast the demons out.’ However, I have come to learn that the old language contains many words that have developed double meanings over the centuries.
Mu’tarch
does indeed mean demon, though in a different context it can also mean ‘god.’ The most common translation for
tragnar
is ‘to cast out,’ though I have found that in the early texts it often means ‘to bring forth.’ That changes the entire phrase to ‘the very spot where Celestia brought the gods forth.’
That coincides with the words written on the Neyvar’s tomb: ‘In the place of eternal cold, where the rocks on the earth have been sewn shut and not a blade of grass will grow, where the eternal have wandered, where the air is thick with the musk of creation and dreams of darkness prevail.’”

Clovis gasped. Karak narrowed his eyes.

“That’s right. The place where Karak and Ashhur stepped into Dezrel is the area where the wall between the realities is thinnest. And where did that occur?”

He looked at Karak. The god dipped his head.

“Right beneath your feet,” he said.

“Indeed,” said Jacob. “Uther’s second mistake was one of ignorance. For him to think he held even a scrap of the power required to enslave one of the demons is laughable. No matter how many corpses he sacrificed, no matter how much blood he splattered, he was doomed to fail from the start.”

Pulling out a scrap of chalk, Jacob drew a triangle on the floor just behind the throne, inscribing runes he’d found in the darkest corners of the elven caves. When finished, he returned to the podium, grabbed his journal, and then offered his hand to Karak.

“I will need your power,” he said. “Are you willing to give it?”

Karak met his eye, pausing, deciding. “How can you be sure the demon will follow your bidding?” he asked.

“I am the greatest of your creations, my Lord. I have lived ten years longer than any human in Dezrel, and have learned much. You aided by instilling in me the knowledge of ages when I was created. I know what I must do; I know how to control the beast. You must believe that.”

“I do, as much as I believe my brother will never surrender to me, and his resistance will devastate this land. You may have what you ask for.”

The god’s hand engulfed his own.

Jacob took in a deep breath, feeling his nervousness and excitement start to overwhelm him. Fingers caressing his journal, he began to speak, uttering words foreign to him, whose pronunciations he had no way of knowing. Nonetheless they rolled off his tongue so fluently, it was as if someone else were controlling his functions. He felt the deity’s power roar through him, the fabric of creation contained within a malleable physical shell. It filled his mind with a swirl of brilliant light and the deepest darkness. He threw his head back, now virtually screaming out the words, and then it happened.