Demon King (70 page)

I went for what must have been King Bairan’s tent, and there were two men, big men, bigger even than Svalbard, coming. I blocked the first’s slash, but the second man’s lunge cut me along the ribs.

Svalbard slashed, and the man’s head bounced free, then Svalbard turned to me, his expression that of a child, wondering why he hurt, what had struck him, and I saw he no longer had an arm, but a stub that sprayed blood.

He fell, and there was only Domina Bikaner and myself, and there were many men around us, and all wore the brown of Maisir.

Bikaner killed two more, and then an arrow grew from his chest, and he shouted and fell.

An instant later hot pain took me from behind, and I stumbled. But there was a Maisirian still alive in front of me, and just behind him I knew I would see King Bairan, and take him with me.

But my sword was far too heavy to lift, and the pain was fire roaring over me, and I stumbled, feeling another sword bite into my side.

Then there was nothing at all.

I didn’t regain consciousness for several weeks, and by then the war was over. When I fell, most of our army had either been killed or was trying to surrender. Few officers, especially anyone with real authority, were permitted to live. All tribunes, all generals, died at Cambiaso.

All but two.

Cyrillos Linerges fought to the very last, until there were no more than a handful of his bodyguards around his standard. Then everyone was down. But when the Maisirians looked for the dead tribune, to loot his corpse, there was no Linerges to be found.

Later the story came that he’d somehow escaped the battlefield, made his way to the Latane River, and from there out of Numantia, to a foreign land, where he lives to this day. Good. There should be at least one of us able to tell of the demon king’s rise and fall.

Tenedos survived. I’d hit him harder than I’d thought, for when the Chare Brethren found and untied him, he was in deep shock, unable to remember any spells whatsoever. He didn’t return to normal until the battle was over and he was a prisoner. Why the first Maisirian to encounter his most hated enemy didn’t put him to the sword I’ll never know. But he was taken, and the War Magicians made sure he was kept from attempting any magic.

When I returned from my sweet dreams of death and nothingness, I found King Bairan standing over my bed.

He stared for a long time, saying nothing. I stared back.

He nodded once and was gone. That was the last I saw of him.

Surprisingly, the peace terms he dictated were extraordinarily liberal. What he’d vowed turned out to be true: He
was
content with his own kingdom, and wished nothing to do with Numantia. Not being a fool, however, he made sure we could never threaten him again.

He went to Nicias and visited the treasuries. His words were simple: “They are mine.” In addition, he levied penalties against every city and every province in the country, enough to bankrupt Numantia. There were few protests, especially after he said any argument and he’d loose his army with orders to make all Numantia as desolate as Urey.

He confirmed Barthou and Scopas as lawful rulers of Numantia, knowing neither had military ambitions, although he required them to make obeisance to him.

To make sure there’d be no threat from the north, he created a new title — guardian of the peace — and named the traitor Herne to the post, with orders to suppress any nationalist aggression and report frequently to Jarrah.

Herne was authorized to raise a unit as large as two Guard Corps, to be headquartered in Nicias. Of course there were more than enough bullies to fill its ranks who cared little about treason and wished legitimacy from a uniform.

King Bairan ordered that the Numantian Army was never to reform, on pain of immediate invasion. The largest forces permitted to bear arms, beside Herne’s Guardians, were local police forces and border patrols.

The Chare Brethren were also dissolved.

Bairan considered Tenedos’s sisters, decided they were no threat, and mercifully allowed them to return to their childhood home of Palmeras.

As for myself and the emperor:

King Bairan said he would take no measures against us, leaving “proper punishment” to Numantia’s new rulers. Actually, as someone explained to me, he was canny enough not to make a martyr of either of us. Neither Barthou nor Scopas could decide what to do, ditherers now as they had been with the Rule of Ten, and so we were exiled.

The Emperor Tenedos was sent to an island not that many leagues distant from Palmeras.

I was sent many miles to the east, to a tiny islet a week’s sail from the Latane River’s mouth.

Escape was impossible, even if I’d wanted it, even if there’d been somewhere to go.

The Tovieti must have rejoiced — their two greatest enemies had been destroyed by another. But perhaps our destruction rendered them pointless, for I’ve heard nothing of the cult since.

Sullen time ground past — a year, then more. I recovered my strength, exercised, read, thought about the years with the Emperor Tenedos.

I wondered what would happen to me, assumed I’d either die in decent obscurity or, more likely, be assassinated at some appropriate time.

Then word came:

The emperor was dead. How he died, no one would or could tell me. I assume he was murdered, and so think my own death near.

I will welcome it, for I realize that, even though I intended nothing but good, I brought the greatest evil possible to my beloved country. Perhaps I made small recompense for my crimes when I stopped the emperor from his last, mad attempt to tear apart the world as he fell.

I felt and feel no guilt for what I did, no sense that I violated my oath, for isn’t it the duty of an officer to keep his ruler from destroying himself or his land?

Duty, honor flow both up and down.

The emperor never learned this, never knew it. But he
was
the emperor.

Sometimes I think woefully that it would have been better, easier, if I’d been an hour late, years and years ago, arriving at that battlefield in Sulem Pass. Would that we’d both died before we sacrificed Numantia on the altar of Maisir.

But then I would never have met Marán, never have known her love, or that of Amiel and Alegria.

I slowly realized one truth. It may be good to have lived, but it is better to have never lived at all.

Perhaps, when I finally come face-to-face with Saionji, I can beg a boon — for after all I sent uncounted thousands, perhaps millions, into her embrace — and she will free me from the Wheel.

But I’m being foolish, feeling childishly sorry for myself, and Saionji shall have other lives, other deaths, harsh punishment waiting.

So I continue with the drab life of a prisoner.

All I want is the embrace of my last friend.

Death.

All has changed.

All is chaos.

This morning, I sighted a fast courier boat, the same one that had brought the news of the emperor’s death. This time there was no bunting, no banners.

The message it carried was even more shocking than the first.

Laish Tenedos is alive. Alive and free.

He’d prepared a clever spell or potion in his island prison that gave him the semblance of death, enough to fool chirurgeons and the sorcerers set to guard him.

His dying request was to be carried to his native island of Palmeras and his family permitted to hold funeral rites. This was granted, provided no stone was raised to his memory, no memorial built as a rallying point for malcontents.

Somehow the coffin vanished, and Tenedos reappeared in his native town, alive as ever.

At first no one believed it wasn’t a ghost, or an impostor. The Peace Guardian detachment on Palmeras sent soldiers and their most skilled wizard to investigate and end the nonsense.

The wizard died horribly, as did the soldiers.

The man claiming to be Tenedos vanished.

A week later, he reappeared on the mainland, in the capital of Hermonassa Province.

He cast certain spells, said certain words, and there was no more foolishness about him being an impostor.

Hermonassa revolted against Barthou and Scopas, and declared for Tenedos. Two Guard Corps were sent to Hermonassa, and they also mutinied and swore the old imperial oath to Tenedos.

No one on my prison isle knew what to make of it, but I noted with cold amusement that my warders began calling me sir.

The day passed in a haze of bewilderment and questions.

At nightfall I stood on the gray stone battlements, not feeling the cold wind and rain batter my face.

The emperor still lived.

I know he will summon me, whether to punish me or use me once more to retake his empire.

The oath I swore rings through my mind:

We Hold True.