Sword of Caledor (11 page)

‘Our family wants me to enter the great tournament,’ he said. Captain Joyelle nodded. Teclis’s expression suddenly changed. He understood now. He smiled at Tyrion.

‘It is a very great honour,’ he said.

‘I am fully aware of that fact,’ said Tyrion. His sour expression must have told his listeners that he was less than thrilled by the honour implied. Teclis’s eyes narrowed. Captain Joyelle looked slightly embarrassed.

‘I was instructed to bring you this news and to take you home to Lothern. Lady Malene told me you would eventually find your way back to Skeggi.’

It was the only possible place they could get a ship out of this part of Lustria so it was a fair bet. Not that Lady Malene was incapable of locating them by magic if she wanted to. She was a mighty sorceress.

‘Fortunately,’ said Teclis. ‘Our business in the jungles of Lustria is concluded and we have found what we came for.’

‘You have found it?’ Captain Joyelle asked.

Tyrion drew Sunfang with a theatrical flourish. Fires danced along the length of the blade. Captain Joyelle’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. All of her officers looked stunned. As well they might, thought Tyrion. They had just come face-to-face with one of the great legends of the first and mightiest kings of the elves.

‘Is that…’ asked Captain Joyelle.

‘It is Sunfang,’ said Teclis. He could not keep his satisfaction from showing in his voice. ‘The sword of Aenarion, forged by Caledor Dragontamer himself at Vaul’s Anvil in the dawn ages of the world.’

‘I never thought that in my lifetime this blade would be recovered,’ said Joyelle. ‘You have brought us some happiness in this time of great distress, Prince Tyrion. May Isha bless you.’

Teclis’s sour expression showed that he understood what was going on. He was used to the fact that his brother would get the credit for any of their joint ventures. Tyrion wondered if he really cared about it all that much. He supposed that it might get annoying, but there was nothing either of them could do about it. It seemed sometimes as if there was a conspiracy among the elves to ignore any of the achievements of his brother and heap praise upon him. There were times when Tyrion felt very guilty about that.

He did not have time to feel that way now. There were other things he needed to consider.

Morathi strode into her son’s audience chamber aware that all eyes were upon her. The courtiers stared. The assembled warlords of the great Houses looked at her with lust. She kept her face impassive, giving no clue to her inner turmoil.

When she had heard the stories she had left the Chaos horde and her own army and taken the fastest ship she could find back to Naggaroth. She needed to know whether the tales her spies had brought were true and one glance was enough to tell her that they were.

Morathi stared at the daemon that looked like a girl and found that it was as bad as she had feared. She could not quite believe what her son had done. She did not know whether to be proud or angry so she settled for both. Malekith had bound a Keeper of Secrets to his will. It was a feat of astonishing boldness. Such creatures were treacherous and powerful beyond belief and could turn on their summoners with fatal consequences in the space of a heartbeat.

And yet, he had done it.

The daemon was there and appeared to be under control, standing amid a crowd of dark elves who had no idea of how close death hovered.

The infernal thing was well bound by those strange alien shackles and yet Morathi still did not feel entirely secure. It was like being in the same room with a chained lion. The beast might not be able to get free, but you still would not want to put your hand into its mouth. Morathi glanced around at the elves present.

‘Beloved son, I would have words with you in private.’ All eyes moved from her to Malekith. She could see the druchii present were afraid and rightly so. None of them wished to offend her, but disobeying her son would be instantly fatal.

Malekith nodded. The elves began to filter out of the chamber, leaving mother, son and bound daemon alone. Morathi looked at the daemon and then at Malekith. She kept her anger under control, not a thing she would normally have any cause to do, but it was always counter-productive to rage at her son. He only became more icy and controlled.

‘What have you done?’ she asked eventually.

Malekith merely loomed over her. The armour gave him awesome presence. He seemed less like a living being than the daemon he had bound. He said nothing. It was obvious he was going to force her hand.

‘You have bound a greater daemon of Slaanesh to your service. Do you know what that means?’

‘It means I have found the key to unlock the defences of Ulthuan.’

‘Maybe. It also means you have acquired the eternal enmity of an infernal being.’

Malekith surprised her by laughing. ‘I had that anyway. This is the creature that had sworn to wipe out the line of Aenarion. That is what makes this so amusing.’

‘You find this amusing?’

‘N’Kari, Chosen of Slaanesh, meet my mother, Morathi, consort of Aenarion. The two of you should be friends. You have much in common.’

The daemon and the sorceress exchanged looks. Malekith’s metallic laughter grew louder and colder. It was worse even than she had imagined. This was the creature that had led the Rape of Ulthuan, who had twice been beaten by Aenarion, who had every reason to hate her son and work his undoing.

‘You will destroy us all,’ said Morathi.

‘I think, dearest mother, that is your plan, not mine.’

Morathi gave Malekith a searching look. How much did he really know? How much had he guessed? The fact that he had bound this abomination showed one thing. He had come a very long way as a wizard. He was to be numbered among the greatest mages, living or unliving, since these days one had to take into account certain undead abominations when making the calculation.

The daemon merely looked at them and smiled. She guessed that Malekith might be doing the same beneath his metal mask but she could not be certain.

‘Oh yes, mother, I know of your schemes. I just wanted you to know that I will not allow them.’

‘You will not… allow them!’ Her anger showed in her voice this time. At once she knew it was a mistake but she could not help herself. Her pride and her fear had both been aroused. Any other living thing in the world would have cowered before her unveiled wrath. The metal monster her son had become just stood there impassive as a statue. ‘Who are you to forbid me to do anything?’

‘I am your king. I think you forget that sometimes. I am the absolute and unchallenged ruler of Naggaroth and soon of the whole elven world.’

Morathi wanted to rage, but something about the confidence that gleamed in his voice gave her pause. ‘And when did you propose to tell me how this will be accomplished,’ she said.

‘In good time, mother, although I am sure you can work it out for yourself given your undoubted knowledge and your gift of foresight. Or your spies will tell you. I just want to make sure there are no misunderstandings between us.’

‘I am sure I do not know what you mean?’

‘Let us say that if I find you have been disturbing the pattern of Caledor’s work, I will give you to my pet here as a plaything. You would like that, wouldn’t you, N’Kari?’

The bound daemon smiled and nodded.

‘You will have to forgive her for not being more conversational,’ Malekith said. ‘I have forbidden her to speak until I am convinced she will be civil.’

Rage and fear warred within Morathi but she let neither show on her face. The fact that her son knew or had guessed her plans made no difference to her determination to carry them out. It would only make the process more difficult and the stakes higher. She smiled a genuine smile this time. This only made things more interesting.

‘Return to your barbarian army, mother, and see that it carries out its duties well.’

‘Of course, beloved son. How could I do otherwise?’

‘Soon the invasion of Ulthuan begins. You will be queen once more in Ulthuan.’

And more than queen, my son, Morathi thought. The daemon smiled as if it understood what was going through her mind.

Chapter Nine

‘
So what now?’ Teclis asked.

Tyrion stared off into the distance. The sea stretched as far as the horizon, black, oily, reflecting the moon and the night sky. Already Tyrion felt better for being out of the jungle. He was wearing clean clothes for the first time in months. He was not being eaten alive by mosquitoes as he slept. He had eaten shipboard rations and even though it was very basic by most standards, it was food that he liked. He could hear elvish being spoken all around him, and he was reassured to be once more surrounded by his own people.

For the first time in a very long time he felt like he could go to sleep securely, and not have to fear waking in some terrible peril. And of course, because this was the case, for the first time in months he was having difficulty sleeping.

It did not surprise him to find his brother upon the deck. Teclis was a night person. He liked to be awake and studying while others slept. It was a habit he had acquired in their youth when he had difficulty falling asleep because of his numerous illnesses. It had never left him, even now after he had used alchemy to acquire almost normal health.

He was glad that Teclis was awake. He felt the need to talk to someone about what troubled him and his brother was one of the few people that he could do that with, even though they were no longer as close as they had once been when they were children.

‘I could not sleep,’ said Tyrion.

‘That is strange,’ said Teclis. ‘Normally by now you would be lying there snoring, keeping the rest of us awake. Do you miss the jungle? Is the alarming absence of danger getting on your nerves?’

‘Something like that,’ said Tyrion. ‘I have been thinking about the future.’

‘I know how thinking always disturbs you. I am not surprised that you cannot sleep. My advice to you is give up on that. Thinking is not something that suits you. Doing is more your style.’ Normally Tyrion would not have minded his brother’s teasing but right now he was not in the mood for it.

‘I am serious,’ he said. ‘I am not sure that I like being summoned home in order to be put forward as a candidate in some political contest.’

He spoke softly so that no one might hear them. He did not want word of his doubts getting back to the ruler of House Emeraldsea, at least not until he was certain that he wanted them to.

‘Would it be so bad being the champion of the Everqueen?’ Teclis asked. ‘It is a great honour. One of the greatest that any elf could ever aspire to.’

Tyrion considered his words carefully. He had rarely even hinted at his secret ambitions to anyone, even his brother, over the past century. He was not sure that he wanted to do so even now. His grandfather had been the only elf he ever really talked to about them, and Lord Emeraldsea had shared them. ‘I know. It’s just that I am not sure it is an honour I want. I have been thinking about other things.’

Teclis raised an eyebrow. ‘Such as?’

‘You remember when we were young, you dreamed of being a great wizard. I dreamed of being a great warrior. I wanted to be a hero.’

‘You
are
a hero,’ said Teclis. For once he sounded serious. There was no mockery in his voice. Tyrion was surprised and rather touched.

‘That was the dream of a boy,’ said Tyrion ‘I have other dreams now. I want to lead armies. I want to do something to help our people in this world.’

‘You want to write your name in the history books,’ said Teclis.

‘Not just that.’

‘You have… political ambitions? You have set your sights on the Phoenix Throne?’

‘What if I have?’ Tyrion asked.

‘I am not judging you, brother,’ said Teclis. ‘I thought you were happy to be a simple warrior. I had not dreamed that you aimed so high.’

‘Neither did I, not really. And I’m not even sure about them myself. I would just like to keep my options open.’

‘And you think that becoming the champion of the Everqueen would limit you in some way.’

‘You know it would! The champion must be at the Everqueen’s side. The only time he can ever leave it is when she dispatches him on a mission. Being the champion of the Everqueen is to be nothing more than a glorified lackey. That is not what I imagined my life would be like.’

‘Then don’t do it. You don’t have to. You don’t even have to enter the lists if you don’t want to.’

‘You’re being very naive, brother. House Emeraldsea has made an investment in us. They want to see it repaid.’

‘I am astonished to hear myself say this but I think you are being too cynical. You are an ornament to the House. You add a certain lustre to their name just by existing. You are a hero of the blood of Aenarion. Without you they would be known only as the wealthiest merchants in Lothern.’

For such a clever elf, Teclis could be astonishingly naive when it came to politics. ‘Our beloved relatives are playing a very long and deep game. Like all the great Houses, they seek power not just prestige. You and I are counters in that game, pieces on a board. They want us where we will be most useful.’

Teclis steepled his fingers and smiled coldly. ‘And you think you would not be useful as Phoenix King.’

‘I have never said I want to be Phoenix King.’

‘You have all the qualifications. You have the looks, the charisma, the intelligence, the reputation…’

‘The gold? The political support?’

‘So you
do
want to be Phoenix King.’

‘What male elf does not?’

‘I, for one.’

‘You are a special case. You love nothing more than magic.’

‘There are many other special cases.’

‘Look, brother. I do not know whether I want to be Phoenix King, or whether I have what it takes to be one. I do know that in order to become Phoenix King, you need a lot of powerful political allies and a lot of money. A good deal of horse-trading goes into the making of our ruler. If I wanted to be Phoenix King, I would need the support of Emeraldsea, and a great deal more.’

‘I understand.’

‘I will never get that support if I alienate Lady Emeraldsea now.’

‘I understand that also. What I don’t understand is why you think she would not want you to be Phoenix King.’

‘I don’t think that. What I think is that Finubar is young and already a powerful ally of our kin. He is not likely to die any time soon. And in the meantime I think she would prefer to have a definite hold on the Everqueen than a warrior who might never become Phoenix King many centuries hence.’

Teclis nodded slightly, as if he was finally seeing the point. ‘A bird in the hand beats a Phoenix in the future.’

‘Yes.’

‘It does not matter.’

‘I can assure you it does.’

‘Your life will be long, Tyrion. You can’t predict how things will turn out.’

‘I can predict that if I do not do what is asked of me now then Malene will never support me, nor will any of her successors.’

‘Then do what she asks, go to the tournament and lose.’ Tyrion looked at his brother in wonder. Was it possible that even after all these years Teclis did not understand him?

Teclis smiled again. ‘No, you could not do that, could you? You have never liked to lose at anything. Is that what is really bothering you? The possibility that here is a competition you might not win.’ The mockery had returned to his voice.

Tyrion shook his head. ‘The thing that bothers me is the possibility that I might win.’

Teclis lay on the deck and stared up at the stars. The gentle rise and fall of the ship helped him relax. He remembered how, long ago, he had been plagued by seasickness and what a torment that had been. Now, like most of the other ailments, it was just a memory. It was odd how things that had dominated his life for so long could just vanish, leaving behind only strange dream-like recollections.

Of course, yesterday he and his brother had been in the jungles of Lustria. Now they were aboard the
Eagle of Lothern
scudding across the ocean. The jungle was the dream now, the ocean the reality.

Strange thoughts raced through his head. What was time? How did it work? What is this process that keeps us moving inexorably into the future at the same rate every day? Is it true that gods and daemons live outside time and are aware of multiple selves, in all places, at all times? Is that how their prophets are sometimes given glimpses of the future?

He considered Tyrion. To most people his brother always seemed the very epitome of the devil-may-care warrior, living life to the fullest now, because tomorrow he might be dead. Teclis knew his twin was cleverer than that, and much more thoughtful.

Did Tyrion really aspire to the Phoenix Throne or was this about something different entirely? Was he simply afraid of being tied down, of assuming responsibility? Teclis doubted it was the latter. Tyrion had commanded troops in the field. He was not frightened by that sort of responsibility at all. Perhaps it was the loss of freedom of action that he feared, of being drawn into the web of social entanglements that all elves eventually found themselves ensnared in.

Both he and Tyrion owed House Emeraldsea a debt. Their kindred had aided them, supported them, paid for their education, given them their start in life. Lady Malene had seen to it that Teclis had gotten the best training at the White Tower. Both of them were aware that one day those debts would be called in and need to be repaid, his own as much as Tyrion’s.

Teclis was not troubled by that. When the time came he would worry about it. Right now he had other things to think of. Perhaps that was Tyrion’s problem. He could lose himself only in action, in doing. When he was not, he fretted. His was not a nature suited to being at rest. He craved action, distraction.

Perhaps his brother was not really suited to be Phoenix King because of that. The elves did not need another war-seeking ruler. The thought seemed disloyal but it haunted Teclis for the rest of the night.

‘
I would like to look at that sword,’ Teclis said. He had entered his brother’s cabin in the dawn light. Tyrion was already awake, lying on the bunk, staring at the ceiling.

Tyrion shrugged, unfastened the sword-belt and passed it over to him. He did not seem particularly self-conscious about disarming himself in the way most warriors would. Teclis supposed it was because his brother trusted him, and also because he had no doubts he could get the weapon back if it was needed.

Teclis pulled the blade from its scabbard. For a moment, it felt as heavy to him as it really was. He had managed to restore his health by the use of alchemy but he would never be strong. He could feel Sunfang straining his fingers and his wrist. Only for a moment though, then the blade glistened, glowing as if flames were trapped within the metal, and it felt light enough even for him. Teclis smiled with pleasure.

‘So it works for you too,’ said Tyrion.

‘Of course,’ Teclis replied. ‘Very useful.’

‘It takes some getting used to,’ said Tyrion. ‘The weight and balance seems to adjust as you wield it. It’s like a living thing.’

Teclis swept the sword through the air. It left a glowing trail behind it, faintly visible even without use of his magesight. He smiled with pure pleasure.

‘Careful,’ said Tyrion. ‘I don’t want you taking my head off accidentally.’

‘It might make you smarter,’ said Teclis.

‘Think of the pain it would cause the ladies of Ulthuan.’

Teclis would have responded but he was too busy concentrating on the sword. The enchantments designed to make it easy to wield were only one part of the complex web of magic pinned in place by the runes on the blade.

There were other spells present, fascinatingly complex ones which hinted at great power. Filled with curiosity, he extended his thoughts and activated one. A jet of flame blasted from the point of the blade. Only Tyrion’s lightning reflexes kept him out of the way. He sprang to one side and the flame hit the porthole setting it to glowing.

Panicked, Teclis sought to bring it under control. The jet of flame set the bedding alight before he managed to douse the fire blazing from the point of the blade.

Tyrion threw the porthole open, picked the burning blankets up and cast them through the window. He blew on his slightly burned hands. His face was sooty, his jerkin singed.

‘How much is House Silverbright paying you for my assassination?’ Tyrion asked. ‘Tell me, I will double it.’

It was a line from a melodrama popular in the theatres of Ulthuan when they had left. He was smiling as he said it.

Teclis was anything but amused. He was embarrassed and frightened by what he had done. He could easily have hurt his twin, possibly injuring him permanently. ‘I am so sorry,’ he said. ‘I did not mean to do that.’

Tyrion grinned. ‘If I thought you had, you would not be holding that blade. Nor would you be conscious.’

He did not say it as a threat, simply as a statement of fact. Teclis knew that it was exactly the case as well.

Tyrion spoke more softly now. ‘Learn a lesson. I saw that look of concentration come over your face, the one you get when you are lost in the contemplation of the wonders of magic and I knew you were about to do something extremely stupid. When the point of the sword started glowing I was certain of it. Was that you or the sword that did the trick with the flame, by the way?’