Read Online Shadowgod by Michael Cobley - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Cobley
Tags: Fantasy
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his head and the woman stepped forward to place a seashell amulet around his neck. Tauric straightened and handed her a coronet woven of flowers, then the two men came forward, one giving him an iron lantern, the other a polished bull’s horn.
Yasgur frowned. Many signs and tokens were sacred to the Mogaun, and he knew that the iron lamp was a symbol of the Lord of Twilight while the bull’s horn was that of Orrohn, Lord of the Forest. The seashell, too, was familiar but beyond recollection for the moment. Not for the first time this afternoon, he wished he had ignored the palace advisors and brought Atroc with him.
Led by the three Keepers, and followed by his retinue, Tauric walked towards the stairs that rose in two flights to the great balcony. Red, yellow and blue petals lay like a fall of leaves over everything and very long, thin banners of a fine, gauzy material had unfurled slowly from the ceiling and were floating and undulating on the warm updrafts rising from the still-cheering crowds.
The small procession finally reached the foot of the podium where Tauric bowed to Abbess Halimer and gave her the bull’s horn, then bowed to Yasgur and gave him the iron lamp. The young man’s metal arms shone in the rich golden light of a hundred torches and Yasgur stared at the lamp in surprise for a moment, then remembered his next part in the ritual and went down on one knee. The female Keeper placed the Flower Crown on his head, and when he stood it was Tauric’s turn to kneel at the foot of the podium. All the Keepers moved to the rear of the balcony as two smaller figures stepped forward, a boy and a girl aged about ten, who climbed nervously up to the throne on which a large wooden crown lay. It looked dark and finely grained and had the dull sheen of something that had been through many hands over many years.
By now the noise of the crowds had diminished to a subdued rhythmic chant as the children carefully carried the crown between them down the steps. Tauric’s face was calm, almost serene as he bowed to each in turn, and when he straightened Yasgur noticed a small pendant protruding from the buttoned seam of his dark brown velvet doublet. It was only visible for a moment before it slipped back inside but Yasgur saw that it was a rearing horse cast in bronze.
Then the children were lowering the wooden crown onto Tauric’s head to an accompanying mass roar from the crowd. As the young heir turned to face the exulting thousands, Yasgur reflected wryly that in sixteen years they had never once cheered like that for him.
Tauric stepped up to the balustrade of the great balcony and raised his arms, one metal, one flesh and bone. Flanked by blazing pole-cressets and framed by heraldic banners, Tauric truly had the bearing of a monarch. After a moment or two the clamour subsided and he began to speak. This was the cue for Yasgur and the Abbess, and the others, to retreat to the shadowy rear of the balcony. Once there, Yasgur slipped between the dark, heavy drapes and emerged into a long, low chamber.
He was passing the Flower Crown and the iron lamp to an Earthmother priestess when there was a touch on his shoulder. It was Ghazrek, his friend and First Captain, looking sombre as he bowed smartly.
“My Prince - Lord Commander Yarram has returned unexpectedly. He has disturbing news.”
Yasgur snorted. “Disturbing enough to bother me with, eh? Why isn’t he at the palace, talking to Mazaret’s second?”
“It is do to with Mazaret, my Prince.”
Ghazrek’s face was grave, which made Yasgur stop and consider.
“Very well. Take me to him.”
In a small room off the main state conclave chamber, Yarram was standing by an arched window, peering through meshwork shutters at the city outside. As he turned, Yasgur could see the strain etched in his features, as well as the dust and grime that marred his clothing.
Yarram bowed. “Milord Regent.”
“Lord Commander,” Yasgur said. “What brings you back to
Yasgur frowned. Many signs and tokens were sacred to the Mogaun, and he knew that the iron lamp was a symbol of the Lord of Twilight while the bull’s horn was that of Orrohn, Lord of the Forest. The seashell, too, was familiar but beyond recollection for the moment. Not for the first time this afternoon, he wished he had ignored the palace advisors and brought Atroc with him.
Led by the three Keepers, and followed by his retinue, Tauric walked towards the stairs that rose in two flights to the great balcony. Red, yellow and blue petals lay like a fall of leaves over everything and very long, thin banners of a fine, gauzy material had unfurled slowly from the ceiling and were floating and undulating on the warm updrafts rising from the still-cheering crowds.
The small procession finally reached the foot of the podium where Tauric bowed to Abbess Halimer and gave her the bull’s horn, then bowed to Yasgur and gave him the iron lamp. The young man’s metal arms shone in the rich golden light of a hundred torches and Yasgur stared at the lamp in surprise for a moment, then remembered his next part in the ritual and went down on one knee. The female Keeper placed the Flower Crown on his head, and when he stood it was Tauric’s turn to kneel at the foot of the podium. All the Keepers moved to the rear of the balcony as two smaller figures stepped forward, a boy and a girl aged about ten, who climbed nervously up to the throne on which a large wooden crown lay. It looked dark and finely grained and had the dull sheen of something that had been through many hands over many years.
By now the noise of the crowds had diminished to a subdued rhythmic chant as the children carefully carried the crown between them down the steps. Tauric’s face was calm, almost serene as he bowed to each in turn, and when he straightened Yasgur noticed a small pendant protruding from the buttoned seam of his dark brown velvet doublet. It was only visible for a moment before it slipped back inside but Yasgur saw that it was a rearing horse cast in bronze.
Then the children were lowering the wooden crown onto Tauric’s head to an accompanying mass roar from the crowd. As the young heir turned to face the exulting thousands, Yasgur reflected wryly that in sixteen years they had never once cheered like that for him.
Tauric stepped up to the balustrade of the great balcony and raised his arms, one metal, one flesh and bone. Flanked by blazing pole-cressets and framed by heraldic banners, Tauric truly had the bearing of a monarch. After a moment or two the clamour subsided and he began to speak. This was the cue for Yasgur and the Abbess, and the others, to retreat to the shadowy rear of the balcony. Once there, Yasgur slipped between the dark, heavy drapes and emerged into a long, low chamber.
He was passing the Flower Crown and the iron lamp to an Earthmother priestess when there was a touch on his shoulder. It was Ghazrek, his friend and First Captain, looking sombre as he bowed smartly.
“My Prince - Lord Commander Yarram has returned unexpectedly. He has disturbing news.”
Yasgur snorted. “Disturbing enough to bother me with, eh? Why isn’t he at the palace, talking to Mazaret’s second?”
“It is do to with Mazaret, my Prince.”
Ghazrek’s face was grave, which made Yasgur stop and consider.
“Very well. Take me to him.”
In a small room off the main state conclave chamber, Yarram was standing by an arched window, peering through meshwork shutters at the city outside. As he turned, Yasgur could see the strain etched in his features, as well as the dust and grime that marred his clothing.
Yarram bowed. “Milord Regent.”
“Lord Commander,” Yasgur said. “What brings you back to
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