The Iron Palace (34 page)

Those words caused Froan to recall the visitation from his father’s spirit. Furthermore, they piqued his curiosity. His revulsion faded as growing expectation replaced it. “Who sent you?”

“The holiest of my order and yer father’s most devoted servant. He is the Most Holy Gorm, and he has sent forth priests to comb the world for his lord’s son, who was stolen upon his conception. Your realm awaits ye. A great destiny awaits ye also, for all the world knows yer name.”

“And it’s neither Shadow nor Froan?”

“Nay, yer lordship. May I kiss yer hand?”

Intrigued, Froan extended it.

“ ’Tis my everlasting honor to be the first to call ye Lord Bahl.”

Froan appreciated the gravity of the announcement by its effect on Moli and Captain Wuulf. The captain, though stern and battle hardened, appeared completely stunned. Moli’s face had gone perfectly white, and for the first time, she regarded him with a hint of fear. What surprised him most was that neither Moli nor the captain seemed to doubt the priest’s declaration. It was as though its truth was so evident that, once revealed, it couldn’t be denied. Froan, too, believed the priest whose announcement fit so perfectly with what the spirit had said. Nevertheless, he asked, “What makes you name me thus?”

“My devotion to god. Ye, of all men, are most graced by the Devourer. I felt its strength within ye and was drawn to it. Cannot ye easily sway others to yer will? Don’t they die readily for ye? Such power is unique to yer line, and it always passes from father to son. ’Tis what makes ye my rightful lord.”

I’m Lord Bahl!
thought Froan, recalling with amusement that his mother had said the man was merely a myth. The priest’s revelation was the realization of all his fondest hopes and dreams: He wasn’t the son of a lowly goatherd. He was someone grand and mighty. The concept was intoxicating, and Froan enthusiastically embraced it. Summoning a newfound sense of gravity, he spoke. “Rise, priest. What is your name?”

As the priest stood, Froan wondered why he had ever found him repellent. Once on his feet, the man bowed low. “I’m Stregg, yer lordship.”

“As I rejoice in this day, so shall you,” said Froan. He turned to Captain Wuulf. “Order the cooks to prepare the finest feast they can and bring it here. Then join me in the festivities. There’s a man in your troop named Bog Rat. Bring him with you.”

“Is he the one who now calls himself Telk?”

“Yes, the very one.” As Wuulf departed, Froan turned again to Stregg. “So tell me more about my realm.”

“ ’Tis called Bahland, my lord, and it lies many days journey to the south and west. The seat of your domain is the Iron Palace, a grand and mighty edifice on the seacoast. There, your army awaits you, for ’tis foretold that ye’ll ride forth to conquer all the world.”

Froan turned to Moli and beamed. “Everything I told you shall come to pass. Soon, you’ll be living in a palace!”

Moli smiled, but there was no gladness in her eyes. Froan didn’t notice, for he had already turned to Stregg to ply him with questions about his palace, his realm, his army, and his destiny.

M
OLI FELT
ignored while the two men talked as they waited for the feast to arrive. The priest was a total stranger, and her lover was becoming one. Moli didn’t even know what to call him—Shadow or Lord Bahl. She feared it would be Lord Bahl.
Ah called him “dearest” jus’ afore tha priest came
, she thought. Moli wondered if she’d ever do so again. Somehow, it no longer seemed appropriate.

Like everyone raised in the Empty Lands, Moli knew the name of Bahl. For generations, his lordship’s armies had pillaged the countryside. They had given the Empty Lands their name by eradicating towns and villages, their folk, and hope. No one distinguished one Lord Bahl from another, for they all seemed identical—deadly tyrants without a shred of mercy or restraint.

As Moli reflected upon Lord Bahl’s legendary harshness,
she felt it was overwhelming her tender Shadow. The part of him that she loved seemed to be falling away. To her thinking, it was as if Lord Bahl had always been within him, like a seed beneath soil. The priest’s revelation was the water that had caused it to sprout. Nor was the change merely a matter of conception: it appeared physical as well.

Shadow’s eyes, which always had softened when they gazed at her, remained sharp and cold. In fact, Moli had never seen them so cold before. Though she wondered if it might be only her imagination, his eyes appeared to have grown paler. The alteration made the black pupils all the more piercing. Shadow’s voice had become harder also. A certain haughtiness had crept into it, and he spoke to the fawning priest as if he were speaking from a throne and not a crude wooden bench. Lastly, the chill that always clung to him had intensified. It caused Moli to put more wood on the fire and to shiver at the thought of lying naked beneath so icy a man.

While Moli had those dismal reflections, Shadow’s attention was directed elsewhere. In effect, she was invisible. “So tell me,” he said to the priest, “is my palace truly made of iron?”

“Its towers and outer walls are covered with thick plates of it, my lord. Yer subjects keep it oiled, so ’tis black and shiny.”

“And you say the place is large?”

“It has no rival in this world. Not even the emperor in Bremven can boast of so grand a dwelling. Many hundreds of huts this size could fit in its great hall.”

“It sounds like a fitting abode,” said Shadow. “And you’ve seen this place?”

“Aye, yer lordship. I was there recently for an audience with the Most Holy One.”

“Speak of this man.”

“His name is Gorm. He’s a wise and loyal counselor who’s skilled in the magic arts.”

“A sorcerer?”

“Nay, a holy one. He’s head of my order, and his powers come from the grace of god.”

“You mean the Devourer.”

“Aye, the mighty one who has guided ye. Ye know its strength.”

“Yes, I know it, though I called it by another name. When I was little, I named it my shadow.”

The priest smiled. “And then ye were its namesake for a while. How prophetic.”

Even when Stregg smiled, Moli could detect no humanity in his hatchet face. Likewise, his oily voice was cold even when his words were courteous. Already, she detested the man and instinctively saw him as her enemy. Moli could tell that he wanted to drive her out. While he did nothing overt, he didn’t include her in his conversation or even acknowledge her presence. Instead, all his attention was on her man, who seemed thoroughly pleased by it.

Just then, the captain returned with Bog Rat. Moli remembered the tall fensman as Shadow’s companion and friend. That was when the pair first joined the pirate band. After Shadow took over, she saw little of Bog Rat, who had become one of Captain Wuulf’s men. Moli didn’t even know that he had a different name, and she was surprised that he was included in the feast. Unlike his captain, who had regained his composure, he seemed dumbfounded by the turn of events.

Shadow grinned at the sight of him. “Telk! Didn’t I say that I was destined for great things?”

“Froan, they say ya’re Lord Bahl now.” Moli noted fear in Telk’s voice.

“I was always Lord Bahl, only Mam hid the truth from me. But all has been revealed. Now aren’t you pleased you came with me?”

“Aye,” said Telk without enthusiasm.

“Henceforth, should we call ye Lord Bahl?” asked Captain Wuulf.

“Of course,” replied Shadow. “Or ‘my lord’ or ‘your lordship.’ Now, when will the feast be ready?”

“Soon, my lord. ’Tisn’t palace fare, but at least there’ll be wine.” A knock was heard. “That should be the wine now.”

“Enter,” said Shadow.

A soldier opened the door and brought in a small wine cask. He was followed by a second soldier bearing two goblets and some wooden bowls. It was obvious by the soldiers’ uneasy manner that the news of their commander’s true identity had spread. The cask was opened, and the drinking vessels were filled. Naturally, Shadow was served first. Moli noted that the soldier’s hand trembled as he presented the goblet. The man then held out the remaining goblet to her, only to spill half its contents when Shadow commanded him to give it to the priest instead.

Moli gulped her wine from a wooden bowl that night. No one noticed how much she drank. Shadow and the priest seemed oblivious of all the others. Telk appeared withdrawn, miserable, and perhaps a little mad. When Moli gazed at Captain Wuulf, he seemed to be weighing his change of fortune. He drank sparingly, said little, and closely watched Shadow and the priest.
He wants ta see if there’s a place fer him
, thought Moli. She could sympathize with his plight. Lord Bahl already had an army. Moli knew little of such things, but she imagined it was full of captains who owned proper armor and had finer backgrounds.

Moli thought that her prospects were even bleaker than the captain’s. As Lord Bahl, Shadow would have his pick of women. Moli doubted he would choose a whore with missing teeth and a peasant’s sun-darkened complexion and work-calloused hands. Moreover, Moli sensed that her lover was beginning to forsake human feelings altogether. It was just an impression, but her instincts were seldom wrong.

When the roast mutton, boiled roots, and grain porridge had been consumed and the wine cask was empty, Shadow rose. “Captain,” he said, “tomorrow we will alter course and head for Bahland. Why conquer a realm when one awaits us?”

“As ye command, my lord.”

“Have the men ready to march at dawn.”

“Aye, yer lordship.”

“Priest Stregg,” said Shadow, “this hut is a lowly place but warmer than sleeping on the ground. Stay here tonight.”

Stregg bowed. “Ye honor me, my lord. But I don’t wish to intrude upon yer privacy.”

Shadow smiled. “Privacy means naught in the field, so don’t decline this honor. Besides, my woman’s a pirate wench and used to tupping in front of others.”

The march began shortly after dawn, and though it headed southwest, in many ways it seemed little different from previous marches. Shadow and Captain Wuulf rode on horse back at the head of a small column of soldiers. To the front and the sides were the men Shadow had inflamed, roving like foraging ants. Ragged, ill armed, and mostly mad, they wrought most of the destruction. Whether the band of soldiers and hapless peasants were Shadow’s men bent on conquest or Lord Bahl’s men heading homeward, they still needed to live off the land. Thus they pillaged everything in their path.

The canvas sides of Moli’s wagon were raised, and even though the vehicle brought up the rear, she noted changes in the march. For one, the soldiers seemed grimmer. Moli suspected that was because their prospects had diminished. None of them could expect to grow rich on booty; that would go to Lord Bahl’s coffers. Also, it was apparent that Shadow had withdrawn his order that she be shielded from
gruesome sights. His men’s victims were left in view; whereas before, the soldiers had whisked them away before the wagon passed. Finally, the wagon was no longer her sanctuary. To her dismay, Shadow had offered Stregg a place in it. She was relieved that the priest had declined to ride, saying he preferred to march with the men. Moli occasionally spotted him talking to the soldiers. She had no idea what he was saying, but the conversations didn’t appear casual.

Early in the afternoon, Moli looked ahead and saw that the road would soon pass between wooded hills. The sight of them set her heart pounding, for all day she had been looking for an opportunity to escape. Moli felt it was her only hope. She no longer believed that she had a future with Shadow, although she doubted that he would release her. While Moli thought a part of him still cared for her, that part was rapidly fading. Shadow might need her, but Lord Bahl didn’t. Every tale she’d ever heard served up this warning: Lord Bahl was never stayed by sentiment. When she became useless to him, he’d destroy her.

Moli crawled under the coverlet to dress in her most practical clothes. She would have preferred peasant garb, but all she had was finery. In the end, she chose a sky-blue cloak of lightweight wool, and an equally thin wool shift. For footwear, she had to settle for dainty slippers. She remained under the coverlet after she dressed, peeking out occasionally to gauge the wagon’s progress. At last, it entered the trees.

As Moli had hoped, the lane was narrow and hemmed by scrub and undergrowth. The men afoot were ahead, and the wagons dropped behind as their drivers struggled to guide their teams through the difficult way. Since the horses had her driver’s full attention, Moli was able to gather a body-shaped mound of clothes and pillows beneath the coverlet. That done, she crawled to the wagon’s rear, dropped over its end, and dove into the surrounding bushes.
Afterward, she anxiously listened for some sign that her departure had been noted. If someone spotted her, she planned to say she was tending to a female problem—that usually silenced men, even soldiers.

The ploy proved unnecessary. The sounds of wagon wheels, hoofbeats, and marching feet gradually faded into silence. Moli was alone. She was also free for the first time since the pirates took her. As a dishonored woman, she could never return home, even if she knew the way. Therefore, Moli was well aware of the risk she was taking. She was lost in a desolate land. She had no food or water and was inadequately dressed. Nevertheless, she hoped to find a refuge. With luck, she might even become a wife, for the world was full of needy men.

T
OWARD THE
middle of the afternoon, Lord Bahl’s forces encountered an obstacle. Upon rounding a curve, the men discovered that a stream had cut a gully across the road. Captain Wuulf rode up to it for a closer look. Gazing down the lane, he could see that the trees thinned in the distance and the way ahead was clear, but that didn’t solve his immediate problem. He paused to study the terrain awhile, then rode back to Lord Bahl. “Yer lordship,” he said, “the gully is no barrier to men or horses, but we can’t drive a wagon across its gap.” Wuulf watched his commander’s face redden, and for the first time, it frightened him.

“So we must turn around and waste a day!”