Mask of Dragons (19 page)

He saw a pair of soliphages moving their way up an otherwise empty street, heading in the direction of the citadel. His hand wanted to grasp Talon’s hilt, but the soliphages seemed uninterested in their surroundings. 

Basjun took them to a large building on the far side of the square. It was ringed in makeshift wooden structures, surrounded by scaffolds like mushrooms growing around a tree stump. As they approached, the smell of strong beer and cooking food came to Mazael’s nose, and the laughter and rumble of raucous conversation. 

“The Guesthouse,” said Basjun, ducking beneath one of the scaffolds. A large pair of double doors stood there, revealing a long stone hall with a lofty roof supported by thick stone pillars. Round tables stood scattered throughout the hall, ringed in short cushioned stools. Skuldari men and women sat at the tables, eating and drinking, while serving women carried trays of food and drink. A plank bar ran the length of one wall, and behind the bar stood a stocky, scowling man in a leather apron, watching everything with cold eyes. 

The man’s expression softened as Basjun approached, though he looked over Romaria and Timothy and Sigaldra with wary eyes. 

“Master Hirune,” said Basjun.

“Basjun,” said Hirune. “Thought you would have been drafted into one chieftain or another’s warband by now. Though it looks like you’ve joined the retinue of the priests, may the goddess rise in glory.” He reached into a pocket of his apron and tossed something over the bar. Crouch hopped up and caught it in his jaws. 

“All glory to the goddess,” said Basjun. “These priestesses and priests are friends of my father.” 

“Are they?” said Hirune. His frown deepened further. “Your father has many friends in Skuldar, but I didn’t know he was honored with friends among the servants of the goddess.”

“These are friends of my father’s,” said Basjun, lowering his voice further, “from outside the borders of Skuldar.” 

Hirune stared at him for a moment, and then blinked.

“Ah,” he said. “Lad, we’d better talk.” 

###

Adalar followed Hirune and Mazael and the others to the cellar below the common room. 

The cellar, like the common room above, seemed larger than human scale, with columns of massive stones supporting the ceiling above. Adalar wondered if the ancient Skuldari had built the city themselves, or if they had found it and claimed it after the original inhabitants had departed. Whatever the original purpose of this room, Hirune used it for storage. Casks of beer rested against one wall, while sacks of grain stood heaped against another.

“Better watch the door,” said Hirune.

“Crouch,” said Basjun. The ugly dog grasped his master’s intent, and climbed the stairs to stare at the door to the common room, his tail wagging back and forth.

“I shall keep watch as well, my lord,” said Timothy. “I can sound the alarm if someone approaches from the other side of the door.”

“Do it,” said Mazael, and Timothy climbed the steps.

“My lord, then?” said Hirune. “Suppose that means you’re in charge? The women and the man in the black cloak do a good job, but if you watch them for long enough, it’s plain they’re not Skuldari.”

“Aye,” said Mazael. “My name is Mazael, and this is my wife Romaria. I am a lord of some lands outside of Skuldar’s borders, and this is my vassal Sigaldra. The Prophetess of Skuldar kidnapped Sigaldra’s younger sister and brought her to Armalast, and so we have come to kidnap her back. And, if possible, to kill the Prophetess in the process.” 

Hirune stared at Mazael. The man’s leathery face gave away little, but Adalar thought he seemed incredulous.

“I see,” he said at last.

“It is the truth, sir,” said Basjun. “My father vouches for Lady Romaria. She saved his life from bandits years ago, during her travels.” 

“I see,” said Hirune again, rubbing his jaw. “Well…if the priests caught me with a cellar full of outlanders, we all would be executed, so I may as well be honest with you. And if you do manage to rid us of the Prophetess, you shall have done us a great service.”

“She is here, then?” said Mazael.

“Aye, I saw her enter into the city,” said Hirune. “I feared she would stop at the Guesthouse, but she went to the citadel at once. Likely she wanted to meet with that rat Basracus as soon as possible.”

“Who was with her?” said Mazael.

“A dozen messengers – ah, soliphages, I think you outlanders call them,” said Hirune. “The Champion as well. And an outlander girl with yellow hair – pretty little thing.” He glanced at Sigaldra. “Suppose that was your sister, madam.” 

Sigaldra gave a sharp nod. Adalar watched her for a moment. Since their conversation, she had spoken little to him, but she had not spoken very much to anyone. Something seemed to have broken within her at the soliphage’s cave, as if after so many years of struggle she had at last despaired of the future. He wished he could do something for her, something to snap her out of it. 

But he had lived with that kind of despair himself, hadn’t he? In some ways, he still did. 

“Then our best option,” said Mazael, “is to kidnap the girl and escape Armalast for the Grim Marches.” He looked at Hirune. “The Prophetess needs the girl, Hirune. I don’t know why, but she has some mad plan to summon Marazadra and enslave all the world to the giant damned spider. Yet she cannot do it without the girl.” 

“So you kidnap the girl, and her plan fails?” said Hirune.

“Aye,” said Mazael. “And if possible, we kill the Prophetess.” 

Hirune offered a sour smile. “You’re not the first to try, you know. Many chieftains have tried to rid Skuldar of the blight of the Prophetess. All of them are dead. She is a powerful wizard, and unafraid to use her power.”

Mazael grinned back. “She would not be the first powerful wizard I have slain.” 

He looked so confident of victory. Adalar wondered if Mazael ever suffered doubts, if he had even known a period of despair. If he did, he kept it well-hidden. Maybe that was how he had kept the lords of the Grim Marches and the Tervingi headmen under his control. 

Or perhaps a man like Mazael Cravenlock did not trouble himself with doubts. 

“You’re either reckless or a madman,” said Hirune.

Romaria shrugged. “There’s no reason he cannot be both.”

“Can you help us?” said Mazael. “Danel said the secret church had many friends in Armalast. One way or another, I intend to rescue the girl and get out of Skuldar. But if you can help us, all the better.” 

“You ask us to take a grave risk,” said Hirune. “The secret church has so far remained a secret. Yet I know the Prophetess and the high king suspect our existence. Basracus regularly rails against spies and apostates. Should he learn that we are real, he will kill us all, or the Prophetess shall feed us to the soliphages.”

“Then give the risk to us,” said Mazael. “We shall strike on your behalf, but our enemies will never realize you helped us. The Prophetess knows that I will come for her sooner or later. When I find her, she will focus upon that. Not upon a ‘secret church’ that may or may not exist.” 

Hirune frowned, drumming his fingers against his leg. 

“You, girl,” he said at last to Sigaldra. “You might follow this Lord Mazael, but it’s your sister the Prophetess took. Do you really think that he can get her back?”

Sigaldra opened her mouth, closed it again. For a moment she stared at Mazael, and then looked back at Hirune. 

“I do not know,” she said in a quiet voice. “No one can see the outcome of a battle. All ends in death, regardless of what we do. But I shall try.”

Silence answered her.

“Inspiring,” said Earnachar at last. 

“Very well,” said Hirune. “If you see fit to risk your lives in this madness, far be it from me to stop you. Hearken, then. The secret church has existed in Skuldar for a long time, and for years we have seen the worship of Marazadra fade away. Then the Prophetess came with all her power. The soliphages obeyed her, and she installed Basracus as the high king of Skuldar.” 

Mazael nodded. “Danel said much the same.”

“Before he became high king,” said Hirune, “Basracus was only the chieftain of Armalast. Before he became chieftain of Armalast, his father was a member of the secret church, and attended our liturgies. He therefore entrusted us with many of his secrets. Secrets which Basracus never learned, since he murdered his father to become chieftain of Armalast.”

“Secrets,” said Mazael, “such as a hidden way into the citadel?”

Hirune smiled. “Ah. You understand. Yes. Basracus’s father entrusted us with the knowledge of a hidden way in and out of the citadel. You see, there are many catacombs and caverns hidden beneath Armalast. The soliphages keep their lairs in some of them.” Sigaldra shuddered at that. “Others open on the mountain slope north of here, leading to the pass to the Dragon’s Gate. One such passage is a hidden escape tunnel to the citadel.” He shrugged. “We had hoped to use it to avenge our fallen brother, but then the Prophetess came. Basracus is always guarded by soliphages, and the Prophetess is often with him. We cannot stand against their power.”

“We can,” said Mazael. “We’ve killed soliphages before, and if we get close enough, we can kill the Prophetess.”

“Can you?” said Hirune. “She may not even be human. For all I know, she does not even bleed.”

“She bleeds,” said Adalar, speaking for the first time since they had entered the cellar. “I know she does because I saw it myself. I shot her with a crossbow before she fled to Skuldar. If I had been able to line up another shot, I could have killed her. She is powerful, but beneath that power she is still flesh and blood. Still as mortal as anyone in this room.” 

He felt Sigaldra staring at him, but did not look back.

“Well, if you are willing to take the risk, I shall show you the secret entrance,” said Hirune. “Gods know there is no risk to me.”

“Because if we fail, the Prophetess will kill us all and your secrets will die with us?” said Mazael.

“You guess correctly,” said Hirune. “I suggest that your best chance of striking is tomorrow night. Tomorrow morning, the Prophetess will address the faithful in the courtyard of the citadel. After that, she will withdraw into the inner chambers to confer with Basracus.”

“How do you know that, sir?” said Earnachar.

“Because that has always been her custom,” said Hirune. “If Basracus really is her puppet as I suspect, then she must make sure the strings are still tied around his arms and legs. Once that is done, if she follows her usual pattern she will depart on one of her errands. But tomorrow night, she will be alone with Basracus in the inner chambers of the citadel, save for the Champion and one or two soliphages. If this child is so important to her, she will be nearby…and that is your best chance to take her and kill the Prophetess.” 

“All right,” said Mazael. “We shall put yourselves in your hands, Hirune. Thank you for the danger you are undertaking upon our behalf.”

“If you rid us of the Prophetess,” said Hirune, “it shall be well worth the risk. Without her, the other chieftains would tear down Basracus in a second.” 

“One more question,” said Mazael. “Have you ever encountered someone who called herself Mother Volaria?” 

Hirune’s face went very still. 

“You are outlanders,” said Hirune. “Where did you hear that name?”

“Outside of Volmaya,” said Mazael. “Before we met Danel and Basjun. We met an old woman who called herself Mother Volaria. She knew more about our task than I would like, and she vanished without a trace. Damned if I could figure out how she did it.” 

“A children’s story,” said Basjun. 

“She is,” said Hirune, “but only because she often appears to children.”

“You’ve seen her, then?” said Adalar, intrigued. He still could not figure out how that strange old woman had disappeared. Neither Romaria nor Timothy thought she had used magic, which meant she was either a trickster of superb cunning, or a wizard of such power that she could mask her traces from Romaria’s Sight. 

“A long time ago,” said Hirune. “My family was from western Skuldar, not far from the Krago Hills. I was tending my father’s goats, and I fell into a crevice and broke my leg. I thought I would die of thirst before anyone found me, but Mother Volaria came to me. She said she would ask me a question, and if she liked the answer I would live, but if she disliked the answer or if I lied to her, she would let me die.” 

“What was the question?” said Mazael. 

“Why I had gone into the crevice after the goats,” said Hirune. 

Adalar blinked. He expected some sort of mystical riddle, or perhaps some puzzle. 

“What was the answer, then?” said Mazael. “Presumably she liked the answer, since you are still alive.” 

Hirune shrugged. “I told her the truth. It had been a hard winter, and food was scarce. My mother would often go without food so my brothers and my father could eat. She was sick so often…if we lost the goat, she would have to go without food for even longer.” 

“I like that answer, too,” said Romaria. 

“She carried me out of the crevice and back to my village,” said Hirune. “After…I told no one of what had happened. Who would believe me? Over the years I met a few others who claimed that Mother Volaria had spoken to them, but I never knew if they were telling the truth or not. To hear outlanders speak of her so openly…it is a strange thing, which I suppose loosened my tongue. Few will speak of her, for it is said that her fury is as terrible as her mercy is kind.” 

In that sense, Adalar supposed, Mother Volaria sounded a great deal like Mazael. 

Mazael grunted. The answer had not pleased him. It was another mystery. 

“If she intended you harm,” said Hirune, “I doubt you could have stopped her. It is said that her power is great and her knowledge vast.”

“Perhaps,” said Mazael. “So long as she stays out of our way when we come for the Prophetess, well and good. For tomorrow, one way or another, we will settle with the Prophetess and her servants.” 

Chapter 10: Citadel of the Goddess

That night, Mazael could not sleep.