Shards of a Broken Crown (64 page)

“King
Fadawah!” said the man with an anger that didn’t mask his
fear.

Nakor said,
“Your claim to that title seems to be at the root of our
dispute.”

Fadawah’s
eyes drifted to Tomas, and he said, “What is that?”

Tomas said, “I
am Tomas, Warleader of Elvandar.”

The being to
Fadawah’s left smiled. His features were cruel and evil,
despite being stunningly beautiful, and twice as terrifying for that
beauty: a high brow framed in golden ringlets, a straight regal nose.
The mouth was full, sensual, and the eyes were a pale blue. His body
looked powerful, heavily muscled, and there was an aura of danger
about him even as he sat motionless.

He spoke and the
room rang with despair upon every word. “The Valheru!” he
said. The creature stepped forward and said, “Stand aside, Your
Majesty.”

Fadawah stood up
and moved behind the other man, who silently watched the exchange.

Crossing to
stand before Tomas, the entity was his equal in stature. The
creature’s voice boomed out in laughter. “Long have I
ached to face one of the Dragon Host,” he said. Suddenly he
lashed out with his bare fist, striking Tomas’s shield. Tomas
flew back across the room, and the dozens of guards who had stood
motionless erupted into action.

Miranda reacted
before either Nakor or Pug. She spun full circle, her hand held palm
downward, and spoke a word of power: a diamond of energy flew from
her hand, shrieking through the air to strike the wall behind one of
the warriors. It ricocheted off the wall and struck another warrior
in the back. Like the finest blade slicing butter, it cut the man in
half. Across the room it flew, as Miranda shouted to Tomas, “Stay
down!”

Pug ignored
Miranda’s destructive energy blade and turned to face the
monster. Pug made a single motion, both hands circling like an
open-handed fighting monk’s. But rather than striking a blow,
he pulled both hands back before his chest and shouted a word. A
single blast of energy came from both his hands, invisible but
parting the air like a thousand fists. The winged creature was
physically picked up and slammed back into the throne. Fadawah and
the man with the silver collar both jumped away, to avoid being
struck by the thing’s wing.

Nakor ran
forward, as if to attack, but rather than strike with his staff, he
confronted the being. “What are you?” he demanded.

Laughing as it
stood, the creature pushed Nakor aside, as if he was too trivial a
being to warrant violence. “I am the One Who Was Called!”

“Who are
you?” Nakor repeated, sitting on the floor.

Leaning over,
his beautiful face mere inches from Nakor, he said, “I am
Zaltais of the Eternal Despair.”

Nakor shouted,
“Tomas! You must vanquish him.”

With a gesture
of his finger, Zaltais seemed to lift Nakor up and propel him in an
arc across the hall, letting the old Isalani gambler slam into the
wall. Nakor slumped to the floor.

Tomas lay below
the flashing mystic blade that Miranda had cast, as it rebounded from
wall to wall, carving through those warriors still standing.

Pug held his
hand palm-out toward Zaltais, and an explosion of energy slammed into
the winged being, propelling him backward into the throne one more
time.

The mystic
weapon that Miranda had cast faded suddenly, and Tomas leaped to his
feet. The dozen remaining warriors surrounded him, and he struck out
with his sword. Possessed by senses beyond human, he moved to avoid
every blow. His golden sword, not wielded in battle since the
Riftwar, struck out, and each blow took a limb or a head.

Miranda ran past
the struggle in the middle of the room to see how Nakor fared. The
ancient gambler lay stunned. Miranda couldn’t tell how serious
his injuries were.

Pug advanced on
Zaltais, who sat with eyes blinking a moment, as if stunned, then his
eyes focused and he grinned. Pug felt only hopelessness on seeing
that smile.

‘ i
underestimated you, Pug of Crydee, Milamber of the Assembly! You are
no Macros the Black, but you are a power! Too bad you’re not
worthy of your mentor’s legacy!”

Pug faltered a
moment, suddenly unsure of his next act. That hesitation cost him as
Zaltais flicked his hand and sent coils of black energy snaking
toward Pug. They struck, and each time they hit, Pug felt pain unlike
any he had known; beyond the pain of flesh ripped by cruel fangs,
each bite made him doubt his own ability. He hesitated, then fell
back.

“Pug!”
shouted Miranda, seeing her husband retreating.

Tomas swung his
golden sword and killed the last of the warriors as Nakor started to
rouse.

As Pug fell
back, Tomas leaped past him, and the golden sword swung down. Zaltais
raised his arm, taking Tomas’s blade on a golden bracer upon
his wrist. The blade showered golden sparks and Tomas overbalanced,
leaving himself open to a blow from the winged creature. Zaltais
leveled a backhand strike with his right fist, slamming into Tomas’s
face, and the warrior in white-and-gold staggered from the blow.

In thirty years
Tomas had never faced a creature of this power. Not since facing the
combined mind of the Valheru had Tomas known such doubt. Even the
demon Jakan seemed a trivial test compared to this creature.

Tomas fell to
the floor and tasted blood on his lips. “What are you?”

“I?”
said Zaltais. “I am an Angel of the Seventh Circle! I am an
agent of the Gods!”

Nakor stood up
and said, “Get back! He is not what he seems! He is a creature
of lies and misdirection!” Nakor shook off Miranda’s hand
as she tried to steady him. The old man hurried over to the bloody
bodies that littered the floor, and said, “These are dead
because this thing convinced them their only hope was to do as he bid
and he treated them thusly. He will deceive and mislead, and raise
doubts that will strike to the root of your being. If you listen to
him, he will eventually convince you to serve him.”

Tomas rose up,
the blood from his lip dripping onto his breastplate, where it ran
off, without stain. “I will never serve this creature,”
he said.

“First
he’ll make you doubt your ability. Then he will make you doubt
your purpose. Then he’ll make you doubt your place in the
universe. Then he’ll convince you where that place is!”

The
self-proclaimed Angel from Hell said, “You talk too much, old
man!” He withdrew the black coils that had struck Pug and
pointed his hand at Nakor. A blinding flash of white-hot energy
flared, and Nakor leaped aside as it shot across the hall. It shot
out the doorway as Miranda also leaped aside.

Tomas jumped to
his feet, drawing back his sword, and struck down at the crown of the
creature’s head. Zaltais pulled away, so the tip of the blade
struck him in the face. He reeled back, screaming in rage and pain. A
red gash cut him from crown to chin. As if the muscles below his skin
were pushing outward, the crack down his face widened, then split,
runnning down his throat to his chest and stomach, and he shrieked,
an inhuman sound.

It was a keening
sound, and it made Pug’s teeth ache as if they were being
ground together. Pug saw the red gash splitting Zaltais from crown to
groin. Like a pea pod being cracked open, Zaltais’s skin and
wings fell away.

The thing that
emerged from within that shell looked like a giant praying mantis,
with a black chitinous exterior, and large diaphanous wings.

“That is
no more its true shape than the last!” shouted Nakor from his
position on the floor. “You cannot kill it. You can only hold
it. You must confine it and return it to that pit outside.”

“And that
you will never do,” said the thing that was now Zaltais. It
buzzed an angry sound and the wings blurred as it launched itself
from the dais. Tomas lashed out again with his sword and sheared
through one of the wings.

Zaltais slammed
hard into the stones and Nakor stood up, moving back as Miranda came
forward incanting a spell. Pug also was attempting a spell.

Nakor hurried
around the confrontation now in the center of the room. He didn’t
want to get in the way. He looked over to where General Fadawah
stood, his own sword at the ready as if he sought to join in the
fight on the side of his infernal servant. The other man crouched
down beside the throne and Nakor approached them, his staff ready if
he needed to defend himself.

Miranda and
Pug’s spells were completed within seconds of one another.
Crimson bands materialized around the insect and clamped down hard
upon it. It chittered in rage and pain. Then Pug’s spell
manifested, a nimbus of white light which caused Zaltais to go limp.
It crashed to the stones.

“Quickly!”
shouted Nakor. “Take it back to the pit and cast it in. Then
seal the pit.”

“How?”
asked Miranda.

“Any way
you can think of!” Turning to face Fadawah and his companion,
Nakor said, “I’ll take care of these two.”

Tomas picked up
the imprisoned creature, while Pug cast a backward glance at Nakor.
Miranda said, “Go, now!”

Nakor advanced
on Fadawah, his staff before him, while the General stood poised with
his sword. “I don’t need demons from hell to best an old
fool like you,” sneered the leader of the invading army. “I
was killing better men than you when I was a boy.”

“No
doubt,” said Nakor, “but you’ll find that for my
obvious shortcomings, I’m still very difficult to kill.”
He glanced at the man beside Fadawah. “Ask your companion
there; he knows.”

“What?”
asked Fadawah, glancing to his left at Kahil.

That slight
distraction was all Nakor needed. Lightning-swift, his staff shot
forward, the butt striking Fadawah’s sword hand with a
knuckle-crushing blow. The sword fell from fingers gone numb and the
General fell back, knocking over Kahil.

Fadawah tried to
pull out a belt dagger with his left hand, but Nakor smashed it with
his staff, and the General cried out in pain, as he now held out two
useless hands.

Nakor’s
staff shot out a third time, and the General’s kneecap
shattered. He fell, crying in agony as Nakor said, “For too
many crimes to measure, beyond what the Emerald Queen and the demon
Jakan forced you to do, you have earned death. I shall be merciful
and spare you the suffering you deserve.” Suddenly the staff
shot forward again, striking the now helpless Fadawah in the center
of his forehead. Nakor heard the man’s skull crack. The
self-styled King of the Bitter Sea’s eyes rolled up into his
head and he died.

Nakor moved
around Fadawah’s body and knelt next to the man who crouched
next to the throne. He was a thin man, his cheekbones the most
prominent feature of his face. “Hello, my love,” said
Nakor.

“You
recognize me?” he whispered.

“Always,”
said Nakor. “Who are you in this body?”

“I am
Kahil, Captain of Intelligence.”

“The power
behind the throne, eh?” said Nakor. “So this is where you
went when the demon took your place?”

“No,
before,” said Kahil. “I sensed something wrong with that
body when I wore the Emerald Crown. My powers were being subverted .
. . in any event, Kahil had been with Fadawah before and was trusted.
He was clever, but he was greedy. It took little for me to take over
this body.

For a while the
Emerald Queen was nearly mindless, but no one seemed to notice. Then
that damned demon showed up and ate it.” Kahil shrugged. “I
was the only one who could see through the illusion and knew a demon
ruled in my place. I bided my time, knowing eventually I would have a
chance to rule again.”

“There
have been things working beyond your most ambitious dreams. Do you
now realize what a dangerous game you played?”

Weakly, the man
said, “Yes, Nakor.” Then a light came into his eyes and
he said, “But I can’t help myself.”

Nakor stood and
helped Kahil to his feet. “What of Fadawah?”

“Mad. His
mind was totally gone. I thought to build a weapon, an engine of
magic that would create an army of the dead—there were so many
of them lying around—and it did that, but it also brought
Zaltais out of the pit. I did not expect that. Fadawah could control
it, at least for a while, and I could not. I was, I believe the
expression is, ‘caught between a rock and a hard place.’
I was ready to dispose of Fadawah once the Kingdom was defeated and I
held all of Yabon, but with Zaltais around, I couldn’t quite
get to that point.”

“You
always failed to anticipate consequences, Jorma.”

“Kahil,
please.”

“How do
you like being a man this time?”

“It’s
occasionally useful. But I miss my last body. It was by far the most
beautiful.” Looking at Nakor, the being who had once been
Nakor’s wife, the Lady Clovis, and the Emerald Queen said,
“You’ve used that body for a very long time now.”

“I like
it,” said Nakor. “It was the one I was born with. I just
change my name every once in awhile.” He pointed to the door
through which his companions left. “Did you see your daughter?”

“That was
Miranda?” said Kahil. “My gods!”

Nakor grinned.
“The other was her husband.”

“Do I have
grandchildren?”

“Not yet.”
Nakor lost his smile. “You know, you’ve gone so far down
an evil road I barely remember what it was you once were. A vain
girl, but no worse than some. But you have spent far too much time
with dark powers. You do not even know what it was you did, do you?
You have no idea who really controls your destiny.”

“I control
my destiny!”

“Oh, you
vain woman. You are no more than a pitiful tool of a power far more
than you can begin to imagine. He gained your soul so long ago that
you can never be saved. You can only go to him for whatever torment
he has in store for a failed minion. You know what I have to do?”