By Blood Betrayed (The Kingsblood Chronicles) (28 page)

However, the value of all the rest of the loot combined paled in comparison to that of the two small ingots of
lashthirin
which Lyrial had hoarded. Each small lump weighed only a few ounces, but the pair of Truesilver pieces held a value of over a thousand pieces of gold. It was enough money to hire and equip an entire company of soldiers and have enough left over to pay their wages through their first year. In the silver-based economy to which Lian was accustomed, it was an incredible fortune.

The third pile contained items that Lord Grey and Gem identified as being magical. Lord Grey singled out a small copper ring set with what appeared to be a fine ruby, and identified it as a likely magical trap or curse.

“The ruby is a fake, but a very good one,” he said. “Furthermore, the magic of the ring is woven in upon itself, rendering it difficult to discern its purpose.” The skull recommended burying the ring.

The other magical gewgaws were a lizard’s egg which was as hard as stone, a rib bone which Lord Grey speculated came from an infant, a small vial of a black oily liquid, and a second vial of a glowing green watery liquid.

“I need to ponder these things carefully, Alan,” said the necromancer. “Place them in the sack with me, and I’ll try to get a good look at their magic. And before you ask, it would have to be quite a curse to affect me. My bindings are sometimes a blessing.”

The other saddlebag contained Lian’s battered pack in its entirety, including the two fine teardrop-shaped pearls woven into the lining, and even his shortsword. Of the crossbow and bolts, there was no sign. Lian guessed that Lyrial was planning to examine his things carefully after he had captured the prince.

Weariness was beginning to overtake Lian, and he thought perhaps Lord Grey’s potion was wearing off. As if the necromancer was reading his mind, he said, “You look worn out, Alan. That curative you drank would have exhausted its usefulness, I should think. Let us find shelter and you need to eat a good meal and get some sleep. All of the remaining Companions combined won’t be able to gain entry to this ‘bakery’ once I’m done with it, so you may rest easy.”

Lian nodded, gathering the loot while Snog carefully buried the ring. They left the necromancer’s “junk” behind, and made their way to the bakery. Snog said that he felt fine, so he’d go round up something small and tasty. Lian, tired and sore from his exertions, expressed his gratitude to the little goblin, and settled down to rest. He remembered Snog’s departure, but dozed during the goblin’s absence. Gem’s warning that someone was approaching woke him, but he relaxed when Snog announced himself.

Snog returned carrying a small pig, which he had found rooting around the edge of the forest. He had already dressed it (and eaten its heart and liver, he confessed) and now he used one of his older knives to quarter it and place it upon the sheet the vampire had used to cook the rabbits.

Lian dozed again while the pig was roasting, and later awoke to a well-prepared meal. “I used some o’ yer spices, milord,” Snog said, adding, “with yer Lady Sword’s leave, o’course.” Lord Grey’s appellation for Gem seemed to be sticking.

Lian ate ravenously, and fell back into a deep slumber, haunted by nightmares of the Tower and of the fate of his family. Despite the night terrors, he slept soundly through the remainder of the night and most of the day. The sun was fairly low in the west when he finally sat up and stretched. Snog opened one eye from his doze, then closed it again, without even interrupting his snoring.

Lian had a headache, which he attributed to sleeping for too long, but otherwise he felt fine. He had worried that the numbness in his left shoulder might return, but there was no sign of it. He slipped outside to relieve himself, after checking to make sure that he was still alone.

He saw a hawk lazily circling over the city, well out of the range of his goblin-made crossbow. No matter. There was still pig meat to spare, kept hot in the oven. It would be dry but unspoiled. Lian’s own crossbow hadn’t been among the things they’d found in Lyrial’s saddlebags, and he lamented its loss. It had a slightly weaker draw, but it fired lighter, longer quarrels with a much greater range.

He went back inside, judging that there was perhaps twenty minutes until sunset. Snog roused more fully this time, and said, “I’ll be joinin’ ye in a fast minute, milord.” The goblin got up and stretched, popping joints all over his body. He went outside, returning in time to see Lian slicing up some of the pig.

“Wish we had time to preserve this,” Lian said, “but I’ve still got trail rations in my pack. I hope that the blackrobe didn’t poison them.”

“Unlikely,” Lord Grey said, keeping vigil from atop the ovens. “He would never have expected you to defeat him, Alan.”

Lian nodded. “I concur, which is why I’m not tossing my recovered equipment into the junk pile. What should we do with his spellbooks?”

“If you don’t mind the weight, Alan, I would like the chance to peruse them. One never knows what secrets a fellow practitioner might have gleaned from the universe.”

Lian nodded assent, retrieving his gear and tying the short sword’s belt around his waist.

The goblin and the prince had a meal of pork, still tasty despite the fact that it was somewhat dry. They ate their fill, and Lian tossed the remains out the window, leaving meat and bones alike for the scavengers.

Lian gathered his equipment, and placed Lord Grey back into his sack. “I’ll find something better to carry you in, sir,” he promised.

“This is better than a silver, or even a gilded cage, I assure you,” the necromancer with a touch of sardonicism.

Lord Grey continued, “Our guests are approaching. Go outside to meet them, and I’ll leave the wards on this structure intact, just in case.”

Lian nodded, and motioned Snog to follow him outside. Dusk had deepened into true night, with only the dark Dalzana in the sky as yet. Neither of them needed light to see by, however, and they easily spotted Saul and Teg approaching along a city street. Saul waved in greeting, and Teg shouted hello.

As they came closer, Lian noticed Teg becoming uncomfortable, shying away from the side of the street where the bakery was located. Saul gave the building a single look and then seemed to ignore it.

The wardings are making themselves felt
, Lian said to Gem.

You know I don’t like the skull, son
, she replied.
I have to admit, though, that I’m glad he put the warding up. We’re in the vampire’s territory, and a refuge of any kind might become a necessity.

Lian agreed, but advanced to greet the two vampires.

“How are you, Teg?” he asked, extending his hand to the ogre.

Teg grasped his hand gently, long accustomed to treating the smaller folk gingerly, and said, “I be fine. Things is be changed, but Saul be teachin’ me. Snarl like me, but I no talk to him no more.”

Saul took the ogre’s other hand reassuringly and said, “Vampires are never psionic, as far as I’ve been able to determine. But there are compensations.

“We have much to discuss, Highness.”

Lian said, “We do, indeed. Again, sir, I thank you for your assistance against Lyrial and his servants. Your wolves, at least, suffered a heavy toll during the battle.”

“They did, indeed. But there will be more wolves,” the vampire replied. “I had my reasons for helping you, and if you are rested enough to hear my tale, I’ll explain a couple of them.” With a hard glance at the bakery and its wards, he motioned them to a grouping of stone benches which had remained intact under the fallen eaves of another building.

Teg sat on the ground with his legs crossed, leaning on a crumbling wall. His expression was one Lian associated with children and storytellers. The vampire, the prince, and the goblin sat down on the benches, Saul dragging his around to face Teg and the others. Snog had a pipe ready to light, and did so, but Lian noticed that his hand hovered near the enchanted dagger at all times.

“First, Lian Evanson, you must tell me how you have come to be so far from home.”

Lian steeled himself, and began to speak of the events of the previous days. Saul stopped him when he described the assassin in his room.

“The queen, and the king?” he demanded, his eyes tinted suddenly red in the night. “What of the rest of your family?”

“All slain,” Lian replied sorrowfully, as his hand unconsciously moved to Gem’s hilt. “It has been revealed to me that I am the last of Evan’s line.”

Saul rose and stalked away a few yards. “You are sure of it?” His voice was cold and emotionless, and his body belied nothing of the sudden upset he’d revealed.

“I did not see their bodies, Saul,” Lian said, rising in readiness, for he was not sure how to interpret Saul’s reaction. “But I am certain of it, yes.”

The vampire ignored Lian and Snog, who partly drew his dagger. Teg scrambled to his feet in confusion. Lian could see the tension in the ranger’s frame, and knew that Saul was on the verge of violence. But when he turned back to them, his eyes were the clear brown they’d been when they first met, and all trace of the terrible rage had disappeared.

“My apologies, Lian,” Saul said. “I did not mean to alarm you. I knew your parents, you see, and their death was unexpected.”

He sighed and said, “I need to tell you the whole of it, not because it is something you must know, but because it is something I must tell. Will you listen to my tale? It involves your parents and the days of the rebellion.”

Lian released Gem’s hilt and sat back down, motioning Snog to relax. “I would be honored, Saul, though I must be on my way soon. The battle here will attract those who follow me, sooner or later.”

Saul nodded. “Yes. It is best you move on soon in any event.” He didn’t explain his meaning, rather sat back down to begin his tale.

“First of all, my name was not originally Saul,” the vampire began. “My birth name is Kolos Agathi, and I am King of Greythorn.”

Chapter Fifteen

“The God of Death has many faces, for death comes to mortals in many forms. Some cults of the Deathlord are an integral part of society, such as the Southron Empire’s Sword Cult. Others are vile and evil, bringing destruction to all those near them. The Fangs of the Serpent, known throughout the western kingdoms and, recently, in the Empire of the East, are an example of the latter.”

-- “Life and Death” a secular text on the gods, author unknown
but believed to be the same sage who wrote “Day and Night”

 “I can see that this is at odds with the history you have been taught, no?” the ranger asked.

Lian could only nod in amazement.

“Saul” nodded his head before continuing, “I first met your father at Mola. He came ashore with a small party, and we met in secret. His spies had informed him, accurately, that I was dissatisfied with the treatment of my lands and my people by the Theocracy, and he hoped that Greythorn would throw its lot in with the rebellion.

“Indeed, I had chafed for decades at the Theocracy’s yoke. Their taxation increased annually, and they had begun to demand even more than coin and goods. Long tradition here in my kingdom condemned criminals to a particular fate. Condemned criminals become a meal for the vampires of Greythorn. It was an effective deterrent, I always felt,” the vampire said.

“The Theocracy demanded that half of the condemned criminals be transferred to them, as part of the kingdom’s tithe to the government. I held that off for many years by increasing the tribute we paid, but their ambassador was becoming more and more insistent. I didn’t wish to turn even a condemned man over to the summoners and necromancers of the Theocracy.

“I always considered the fate of the condemned here to be relatively merciful, and without any taint upon the spirit of the victim,” he said by way of explanation, “though it was quite terrifying to most of them.”

He clenched his jaw muscles slightly. “It was obvious, based on what my spies reported from the lands closer to Dunshor, that this ‘tax’ of men was going to be broadened gradually. Dunshor’s interior was by that time nearly drained of human resources, according to my spies, and I didn’t wish that fate to befall my kingdom.”

He looked up at Lian’s face. “When Evan Kolvanson arrived with his plans to overthrow the mages, I welcomed his intentions with open arms. It was risky, yes, to ally with the rebellion, but I preferred a desperate war over the slow draining of my people.”

The vampire settled back, leaning on Teg’s knee. “I agreed to allow the rebellion to use Greythorn as a staging area for the war. Evan would land his troops at Mola and make his way through the pass, supported by my own troops. The mages of Dunshor assumed that Evan’s fleet would be forced to make an opposed landing, either at Fendar Port where the Theocracy’s troops would have ample time to counterstrike, or north of the Villas Swamp where they’d have to subdue the local barbarian tribes.

“Since the barbarian chiefs were generally loyal to the great mages, the Theocracy was certain that the landing would be at Fendar. After all, only a madman would try to invade a land ruled by vampires,” he said, smiling.

“All went well at first. I dispatched two of the Companions to assist Evan’s landing and to escort him through the forest. Shaidrak, the best mage of my brood, created a temporary stone bridge over the Villas River, so the army wouldn’t have to waste a day fording it. And when the vanguard of the army arrived at Greythorn City, I provided them with the field southwest of the city to encamp.” Saul/Kolos gestured in the direction of the battlefield where the bastion birds and crows still feasted.

“The first evening the van was here at the city, I invited the officers to a dinner at the castle, and that was my downfall,” he said, eyes downcast, “for it was that night that I met Adrienne dú Norit.”

Lian blinked and said, “My mother?”

The vampire nodded, without meeting Lian’s gaze. “Yes, the very same, Highness. As soon as I saw her, I knew that I had to have her, to recruit her into my brood as the eleventh Companion.