Kingshelm (Renegade Druid Cycle Book 1) (18 page)

“One must rule himself before he can rule an empire,” Primus Bergammon said. “And he must defend himself from the horrors of the Astral Realm before he can defend his empire from the Terrors from Beyond the Beyond. And these are surely coming, for the Chaos Moon approaches.”
 

A woman’s voice softly emerged from the darkness, chanting in a language the Emperor did not understand. The chanting rose in volume and intensity, and a torch bathed the room in a faint, ruddy light. Mithrandrates was surrounded by robed figures holding unlit torches. Hoods concealed their features. The torch passed its fire to one of the torchbearers, and he—or she—or it—passed the flame to the ghostly figure next to it.
 

And now I am surrounded by fire.
The whispering, mocking winds were returning.
 

“All is Fire, and Light and Darkness,” the woman said from beyond the wall of flame. “There is none but these, and we are of the Light.”
 

“We are of the Light,” the men and women intoned in unison.
 

Ask them why you are here.

“Why am I here?” The flames were now pulsing with Mithrandrates’ heartbeat, and the dagger was tracing strange designs in the air a few feet in front of him. The hilt of the dagger dragged the Primus’ hand along with it.
 

“
Astarte desgamma darute calas a sanaa
,” the Primus muttered.
 

“There is light within you, and you will learn to wield it,” the woman beyond the torches said. “But first we must plunge you into true darkness. There is no other way.”
 

Where has the dagger fucked off to? Where are the humble bards when the song is fire?

“None of this is happening,” the hippogriff said. It stood in the circle of torches where the Primus once was and spread its wings in glory. Pure white light and the smell of cold, fresh air washed over Mithrandrates. A small man with pointed ears and a bright red cap sat astride the beautiful, terrible beast.
 

“They’re trying to kill you in the subtlest way possible,” the tiny man said reasonably. “They will drive you insane and let you do the dirty work for them.”
 

The ropes binding Mithrandrates to the cross turned into luminous blue snakes and writhed and bit at his arms. He gently pulled them away from the cross—he was afraid to harm the delicate, beautiful creatures that were filling his body with venom—and walked toward the hippogriff.
 

And the thousand snakes are makers upon my sea. Gibber now in the tides with the wandering snow.
 

“I will drive you crazy, for the snakes are mine,” the little man said, leaning low to stare menacingly into the Emperor’s face. The attempt looked ridiculous, and the Emperor laughed long and loud.
 

Mithrandrates stepped back and placed a hand on the hippogriff’s feathered head, inches away from the sword-sharp beak. He began to cry. “Mother…mother…”

“I will take you to her,” the hippogriff said. He took flight with a leap and snatched the Emperor and the glowing snakes in his front claws.

They flew through darkness, then through pure light, then nothing. “The Void,” said the little man, still riding on the hippogriff. “They will try to convince you that profound wisdom lies here. It will be one of the final lies your captors tell you in a desperate attempt to push you into madness. For if your mind is whole enough to understand the words, they will not have yet finished their work.”

One of the snakes disengaged his fangs from the Emperor’s chest long enough to say his peace. “It could be true. There may yet be powers beyond your understanding within your grasp.”
 

The tiny man handed Mithrandrates a large gold coin. They were standing on top of a tower overlooking the world—the little man, Mithrandrates and the hippogriff. The Emperor wore a golden crown made of writhing golden serpents and held a snake-headed staff in his hand. He looked down and beheld the world. The rising sun bathed the ground below in an etherial golden-orange light and scattered rays through the boiling clouds. “Leave the coin under your pillow with this side up,” he said, showing him. An eye with rays shooting in all directions stared at him from the coin. “It’s the only way to be sure. Or you can forget any of this happened and fling it out your window.”
 

The sky tore open with a flash and a peal of thunder. A black void ringed with fire and bursts of purple lighting gaped in the northern sky. A single red glowing eye appeared, slit-pupiled like that of a beast, then another and another. Hundreds of glowing eyes dotted the blackness like bulbous, glowing stars. Suddenly, oily black tentacles spewed out of the chasm in the sky and grasped for the golden lands below.
 

“Go ahead,” the serpent-headed staff said to the Emperor in a mocking tone. “Feel the power rising in you. You alone can stop this.”
 

Mithrandrates opened his free hand. Fire and light blazed in a sphere dancing at his fingertips. The Emperor hurled the glowing etherial missile at the mass of tentacles in the sky. It streaked toward the black hole in the sky with a trail of fire and burst into a flash of pure light when it found its mark.
 

The void was gone.

Mama…

“She’s right here,” the hippogriff said, batting the air with his wings. “In the fury of the storm, the calm morning breeze, the eternal dance of the glittering stars above.”

“You don’t believe any of this shit, do you?” the snake-headed staff said to Mithrandrates. “You are more of a simpleton than I thought!”
 

“They were kind enough to give you a choice,” the hippogriff said and took to the air. “It is the most precious treasure of all.”

The tiny man looked up at Mithrandrates and shook his head solemnly, then sighed as if he knew Mithrandrates’ most intimate, shameful secret and was disappointed. “No horse, no wife, no mustache,” he said.
 

“My Emperor!” Lady Madeline said, shaking him awake. “The sun is up, and you are still asleep!”

Mithrandrates stretched and reached under his pillow. He felt something cold and round in the palm of his hand.
No need to frighten the girl
, he thought.
But I am definitely being fucked with.
He yawned and left the coin where it was.
 

“I must have needed the rest,” the Emperor said and put his arm around Lady Madeline. “The pell will just have to strike itself today. Unless, of course, I can find a human deserving of my sword before I break my fast.”
 

Primus Bergammon welcomed the Emperor into his lavish apartments in the Five-Sided Temple with unaffected warmth and hospitality.
 

“Come, Mithrandrates, sit! Sit!” the Primus said, scuttling toward a gold-trimmed table with its decanter of wine and two ornate cups. “Let me pour you some refreshment. This is the best the Temple has to offer.”
 

Mithrandrates raised an eyebrow. “Am I a dog? Or a peasant? I see you find no need to address me by my title. And yes, perhaps a draught of wine will cool my anger. It will not, however, blunt my vengeance.”
 

The Primus served Mithrandrates a glass of the wine and poured some for himself. He sat on a plush couch across from the Emperor and took a sip. “In here, you are a candidate for admission into the College of the Illuminated, not an emperor. And I am your sponsor, not the Primus of the Temple of Mahurin. I assume you have many questions, and I shall answer them as truthfully and fully as is prudent at this stage of your initiation.”
 

Mithrandrates took a sip of his wine and leaned back in his couch. “Indeed. My first question is, what makes you think I seek admission into your secret society? Which, by the way, I did not realize existed until just now.”

“That is an easy question,” the older man said. “First, I and the greater parts of both of our guard details are still alive. Second, the coin you received is missing from your apartments. I suspect it is on your person and you that intend to place it in my hand with the Illuminated Eye facing up, indicating your intention to continue with your initiation.”
 

Mithrandrates clenched his jaw and tried to conceal the stinging humiliation he felt at having been kidnapped from his own chambers and drugged. “If the charges I can levy against you were read before the crowds, you and half the Temple Guards could be flayed alive in front of your own churches without so much as a show trial.”
 

The Emperor reached under his mantle and withdrew the coin. He placed it into Bergammon’s waiting hand with the eye facing up. “I am deeply curious to learn why you would take such a risk to recruit me into your society.”
 

The Primus took the coin and placed it into a hidden pouch in his flowing white robes. “You are also curious to discover who has infiltrated your backfield. If that is the only reason you are interested in joining us, so be it. In point of fact, it matters not a whit what brings a candidate to us. His initial conceptions and expectations will be absolutely wrong, anyway. What matters is the knowledge the candidate gains, and the powers he discovers within himself, when he diligently follows the course of instruction we give him.”

“But to your first question,” the Primus continued. “The Grand Council of the Illuminated took unprecedented risks to begin your initiation without your consent because the Empire is entering a time of grave turmoil. Indeed, all of Fentress will suffer a new era fraught with catastrophes as the Chaos Moon approaches. Whoever still thrives beyond the Sunless Sea will need to take their own precautions as they see fit. It is beyond our power and purview to interfere in their affairs—yet. But as for us, we must unify the Empire, the Temple and the College of the Illuminated under a single banner if we are to weather the coming upheaval.”
 

Mithrandrates scoffed. “In other words, it’s easier to recruit me than to eliminate me.”
 

“No, actually,” the Primus said. “Both options require years of planning, but in the end it’s easier to kill an emperor than to convert him. However, our order sees the potential for great power within you, and not just the temporal power you already wield. Within you, we believe, is a great store of
vir
, the very essence of existence. The essence of magic, Emperor Mithrandrates. It would be a terrible waste to kill you off like some common autocrat when you have the potential to be so much more.”
 

“But magic is gone from this world,” Mithrandrates said, doubt creeping into his mind but not his voice. “What feeble power the Empire and the Temple of Mahurin retained after the Cataclysm was turned against the sorcerers and their towers…” He trailed off and stroked his beard.
 

“Shall I finish your thought for you?”

Mithrandrates sighed. “No. Just because the sorcerers’ power was broken here doesn’t mean it was destroyed across the Sunless Sea. And a secret society that can snatch an emperor out of his own bed can harbor secrets beyond the dreams of the common folk.”
 

“We can’t suppress the power of magic when the Chaos Moon approaches Fentress—the
vir
becomes too strong and untamed,”
 
Bergammon said. “So we must ensure that, at the very least,
vir
is controlled by those who have been properly trained in its use—
illuminated
, if you will—for it is certain that the power of
vir
will manifest in those who have no business fooling with it. And that’s not half of the tribulations we will face in the coming years. One only needs to reread the more lurid and bloody chapters of the ‘Annals of the Empire’ to realize what havoc the Chaos Moon wreaks upon our world.”
 

“This business about the return of the Chaos Moon was not merely a hallucination, then?” Mithrandrates asked. “What else did I see in my torpor that was indeed real?”

“At this point in your studies, do not worry about interpreting your dreams,” Bergammon said. The primus rose and took a leather-bound journal from one of the tables in the sumptuous room. “Focus instead on recording them as faithfully as you can.”
 

The Primus handed Mithrandrates the journal. “Write down every dream as soon as you wake up. As you advance in your studies, you will begin writing down coincidences you notice and strange thoughts that come to you unbidden. Show this to no one other than your tutor in the magical arts—not even me. Most of what you write will be gibberish, but a tiny kernel will contain true insight that will help you advance in your knowledge and power.”
 

“Who is to be my tutor in this arcane knowledge?”

“A trusted confidant of yours,” Bergammon said. “The Order will provide you with study material, and your tutor will test your knowledge and help guide you through the techniques that candidates are required to master before they advance to higher and higher grades in the Order.”
 

Mithrandrates rose to take his leave. “I am mildly flattered that you see so much potential in me. It is a shame—a not insignificant part of me wants your head on a pike.”
 

The Primus rose as well. “Good. Further proof that our faith in you is not misplaced. You would be a fool not to suspect us of some degree of chicanery. And a good many men in your position have indeed been fools.”

When the Emperor returned to his quarters, he found a small, thin book on the table in his study. He smiled and shook his head when he read the first page: “All affirmations are true in some sense, false in some sense, meaningless in some sense, true and false in some sense, true and meaningless in some sense, false and meaningless in some sense, and true and false and meaningless in some sense.”
 

He tossed the book down onto the table. “This is asinine,” he muttered to himself.