Wrath of a Mad God (34 page)

Pug saw that none of the other Deathknights, including Valko, were rushing forward to help but instead were all watching with rapt attention as the two titanic figures battled. Each blow was answered and the sound of it was as if a mad god of blacksmiths worked steel on a massive anvil.

For minutes Bek and the TeKarana struck back and forth, evenly matched, as each blow was received and answered, each thrust met with a block or riposte, and no injury was given or taken. For what seemed a long time to Pug, the room was silent except for the sound of the two combatants, as metal rang upon metal and grunts of exertion punctuated gasping intakes of breath.

Then the balance shifted. Bek was in rapture as he fought, each strike seeming to empower him and make him stronger, while by contrast the TeKarana’s breath became more labored and he began to slow. The first sign of the inevitable was a strike to the TeKarana’s upper left arm as Bek’s sword cut through his orange armor as if it were paper.

“Impossible!” said Hirea.

“No,” said Nakor, quietly. “Watch and you will see something remarkable.”

Valko stood beside Pug, holding his sword, and Pug could see the conflict in the young Dasati lord’s face. Pug realized that Valko had assumed that he was the prophesied one, the warrior
destined to destroy the TeKarana and prepare the way for the Godkiller, not this human warrior in the guise of a Dasati.

Now the TeKarana swung wildly and overextended himself, and Bek leveled him with a backhanded blow, the metal-clad gauntlet of his left hand striking him squarely on the side of the head. The TeKarana’s helm went flying and this was the first time that any who were not of his inner circle had seen his face since he gained the throne.

He looked…ordinary. His build was massive and powerful, but there was nothing in the face of the Ruler of the Twelve Worlds that spoke of any special quality. His expression was dazed from the blow to his head, his nose ran orange blood, and he blinked furiously, as if trying to will his vision into focus as he held himself up on all fours, defenseless. Bek took one step forward and kicked the Dasati full in the face, sending broken teeth and more blood flying to splatter the floor.

The TeKarana was stunned, but not incapacitated: he rolled away from danger, then came to his feet with a belt knife in his hand. He made a menacing feint with it and reached for his sword with his free hand, and Bek swung down hard, causing sparks to fly when his blade struck the stone. The TeKarana barely withdrew his hand in time.

“It’s over,” said Martuch.

“Not yet,” said Nakor.

Bek laughed, and it was a harsh, chilling sound that filled those listening with the madness of battle. Even Pug felt the desire to grab a weapon and join the struggle, as alien a feeling as he had ever experienced. He looked at Magnus and saw that his son felt the same way. He nodded to him once and both magicians incanted a quick spell which freed their minds of intruding thoughts and emotions.

Bek stepped back, indicating to the TeKarana that he could pick up his sword. This small measure of fair play was a gesture so alien to the Dasati that it took a few seconds for comprehension to dawn on the TeKarana. But once he saw he was not being taunted, he reached out with surprising speed and picked up his blade. He kept it moving in a looping circle and suddenly swung it down toward Bek’s head. Bek blocked it easily, holding his
long sword in one hand, then struck the TeKarana hard on the point of the jaw with his free hand. The battered warrior’s knees went wobbly but he held tightly to his sword. His legs trembled and he began to fall to his knees, but Bek reached out with his left hand, seizing the TeKarana’s right wrist, and prevented his collapse. Bek crushed the TeKarana’s wrist and the sword fell from fingers gone suddenly limp. Slowly Bek let him down, until he knelt, defenseless, before the large warrior.

Bek released his hold and the defeated warrior fell backward, his right hand useless. The pain had made his eyes go vacant for an instant. Instead of stepping forward and killing the TeKarana, Bek turned his back, and walked toward Valko.

The TeKarana shook his head, regaining his wits. He looked at the retreating back of the huge warrior, frowned, then reached down to retrieve his weapon with his uninjured hand. Gripping his sword tightly, he struggled to his feet, his target the exposed back and neck of his opponent.

Bek stood motionless, then looked down at Valko and said, “Kill him.”

The TeKarana raised his sword and just as the blade came fully upright, Valko stepped past Bek and ran his sword point into the TeKarana’s throat. With a wrenching twist that almost decapitated the Ruler of the Twelve Worlds, he yanked free his blade.

“What just happened?” asked Magnus.

Hirea said, “Bek just gave Valko an empire.”

Valko looked at those in the room, his expression indicating that he was just as confused as everyone else as to what had happened and why, but he understood the gravity of the moment. He stopped, picked up the fallen TeKarana’s ornamental sword, and walked slowly to the throne.

Less than a minute later a company of Talnoy guards raced into the chamber to find hundreds of Deathknights of the White kneeling before the throne, upon which sat a young Dasati lord. At his feet lay the prone body of the former TeKarana.

As the first Talnoy hesitated, Juwon, in the robes of a high priest of the Brotherhood of His Darkness, cried out, “Valko! TeKarana!”

Such was the Dasati way that the Talnoy instantly bent a
knee in the presence of their new ruler. No question was asked, and no protest was sounded, for in the order of Dasati life he who kills his liege becomes ruler. Valko was now supreme ruler of the Twelve Worlds.

Pug softly asked Martuch, “How long will this last?”

The old Deathknight shrugged. “Who can say? If it is as you suggested, and the Dark One cares no more for this realm as he flees, then as long as Valko can keep his head on his shoulders. Many will see him as a youth, ripe for killing, and many will die to keep him on that throne.” He indicated the general direction of the Dark Temple and said, “But if the Dark One needs a pet ruler on the throne, then it will last only for as long as the Dark One is busy. Once word reaches him that a rogue Deathknight has deposed his favorite, every Temple Deathknight in the Empire will be heading here to kill him. They will obey the Dark One’s Deathpriests before they obey the TeKarana. Even if we can defeat the Dark One, we may have a civil war; the only question is, will it be a long one or a short one.”

“Short one?” asked Pug.

“The only friendly Deathknights not at the Great Muster and invading the human world are those of us here. If the Dark One orders his forces to attack us, it’s a very short civil war.”

Pug reckoned there were roughly a thousand Deathknights, including the newly arrived Talnoy guards in the chamber.

“There are perhaps a few more palace guards scattered around who would bend a knee to Valko, but the Dark One still has perhaps twenty thousand Deathknights in the city and another five thousand at the Black Temple,” Martuch finished.

Magnus looked at Bek, who stood almost motionless, his expression rapt and distant, as if seeing something in the air. Then he turned to Nakor and said, “What has happened to him?”

“He’s come home,” said Nakor. The little gambler looked around the chamber as Deathknights of the White and the TeKarana’s Talnoy guard stood uneasily side by side, awaiting the first command from their new ruler. He then looked to where Valko sat, also looking uncertain, and said, “Valko’s young, but he will start a change here that may take centuries. Eventually
these people will find their way back to where they should have been had the Dark One not come to this realm.”

Pug said, “Nakor, you have knowledge we lack, obviously. We shall soon face an army of Deathknights loyal to the Dark One and our forces are exhausted.” Pug looked his old friend in the eyes. “There have been times over the years when I knew you were holding back, not telling me everything, and I merely thought it was your way, but now, for the sake of all we’ve sacrificed and all we’ve hoped to gain, we need to know what you know.”

Nakor laughed. “That, Pug, is impossible. But you do deserve the truth.” To Magnus he said, “Can you take us to the Dark One?”

“Yes,” said Magnus. “I remember that overlook, where the TeKarana and his court watch the ceremonies.”

To Valko, Nakor said, “Ruler of the Twelve Worlds, my time here is almost at an end. You must endure and lead your people into a new era.” He pointed to Bek. “He will remain with you a while longer, but soon he must go about his own business.” Now he moved to stand before Bek. “Goodbye, Ralan Bek,” he said quietly.

“Goodbye, Nakor.”

“You know what you must do?”

“I do,” said the massive youngster. With a grin as wide as Nakor’s he said, “I finally know what it is I am supposed to know.” He looked down at his diminutive companion and asked,

“And you know what you must do?”

“Yes,” said Nakor. He reached up and standing on tiptoes he put his hand over Bek’s eyes. The young man stood motionless for a moment, then his head jerked back as if he had been struck and he stood blinking for a moment. Then he smiled. “Thank you, little human,” he said with obvious joy. He looked around.

“I will protect this boy until the others get here.”

“Good,” said Nakor. “Fare you well, Ralan Bek.”

“And fare you well, Nakor the Isalani.”

Nakor said, “Martuch, Hirea: guide the lad.”

“Others?” asked Pug.

“You will see, soon enough,” he said to Pug. To Magnus, Nakor said, “Come, the three of us have much to do and little time. Let us go to the Dark One’s pit.”

Magnus obliged and Pug and Nakor felt the sense of dislocation, almost a faint jerking feeling as they left one place and arrived at another. Suddenly the three of them were standing before the TeKarana’s throne on the observation platform witnessing a scene of madness beyond their experience.

Thousands of Dasati were falling from above, some bouncing off the rock face, others falling directly into the burning sea of orange energy and green flame. Others landed on the bloated thing that was the Dark God and a few pitiful wretches were still living when they landed. One or another was picked up by the Dark One’s magic and carried screaming toward his massive maw. The featureless head was without distinction, yet the two burning red eyes regarded its next victim. While no mouth could be seen, the victim would vanish into the face of the Dark One, who would swallow the Dasati whole.

“This is unnecessary,” said Nakor. “The creature can suck life energy with a touch. The eating is…theatrics.”

“Terror is a tool of the Dread,” said Pug. Turning to look at Nakor, he said, “Why are we here? We may be noticed at any moment, and even the three of us cannot best a thousand Deathpriests, or that thing in the pit if it reaches out to us.”

The gallery beyond where they stood and the rim of the pit above as well as a dozen openings at various levels of the cavern were thronged with Deathpriests and temple Deathknights.

“We’re waiting,” said Nakor. “We’re waiting for the Godkiller, and when he arrives, we must each carry out our appointed tasks.”

“Nakor,” asked Magnus softly, “what are you not saying?”

The little gambler sat. “I’m tired, Magnus. Your father has understood for quite a long time that I am not entirely what I seem, but he’s had the consummate good grace to let me play the fool when it served my purpose and not ask too many questions.”

“You’ve always been a good friend and staunch ally,” said Pug.

Nakor let out a sigh. “My time is almost over here, and it is fitting that you should know the truth.” He looked from Pug to Magnus. “You will inherit a burden from your father, and it is a heavy one, but I think you will be equal to that task. Now, I need a moment of time with your father, alone if you don’t mind.”

Magnus nodded and moved away to give them some privacy.

To Pug, Nakor said, “You must make good your promise and suffer your trials, my friend, but if you are resolute, all will come to pass as it must. You will, in the end, save our world and help restore a much-needed balance.”

Pug looked hard at Nakor. “Do you speak of—”

“No one knows of your arrangement with the Death Goddess, Pug, except she and you.”

“But you do,” Pug whispered. “How is that possible? Even Miranda doesn’t know.”

“Nor can she, or any other mortal,” said Nakor.

“Who
are
you?” Pug asked.

“That,” said Nakor, “is a very long story.” Then he grinned his familiar grin and said, “All in good time. Now we must wait.” Looking over at the horrific scene in the heart of the pit, he said,

“I hope our wait is short. This place is no fun.”

Men screamed in pain and shock as the Black Mount suddenly expanded in a single gigantic spasm. Where it had been half a mile away one moment, the next it loomed over the command center, mere yards from Alenburga’s headquarters. Miranda managed to get a defensive shield up but it was already too late.

The screaming stopped as abruptly as it had started. The men who had been positioned before the commander’s observation point on the ground below the hill had, it appeared, been bisected by the arrival of the sphere. Blood and body parts rimmed the edge of the sphere.

Miranda cried, “We must pull back!”

Stunned by the sight of the Black Mount, General Alenburga now ordered, “Withdraw!” To the four young captains who waited to carry out his instructions he said, “Head south. There’s a knoll near a stream that feeds into the river. Grab as many maps as you can carry and take them there.” To Kaspar and Erik he said, “Gentlemen, it’s time to go.” To Miranda he said, “Madam, if you and your magical friends can shed any light on this development, sooner is better than later.”

The commanders of the Tsurani army made an orderly, but hurried, departure.

Miranda felt confident that the sphere wouldn’t expand again for a while, but her curiosity was piqued. She closed her eyes while others around her beat a hasty retreat, and sent her mind forward.