Read Online Shadowkings by Michael Cobley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Cobley
Tags: Fantasy
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warlords, who sliced his left arm to ribbons," Mazaret said, keeping back what he'd been told about Byrnak and the mirrorchild. "Suviel tried to save it, but the damage is too great."
Gilly cursed. "Beasts, some of them. Worse than beasts." He looked thoughtful. "How would the people regard a crippled Emperor? Would they follow him, do you think?"
"They followed Orosiada," Mazaret said.
"That was nearly two thousand years ago."
Mazaret shrugged. "For the moment I am more concerned with what Volyn and the Hunter's Children are going to say at the War Council later."
"That's at noon, I believe..."
"Yes, and I would thank you to speak with Abbess Halimer before it starts," he said dryly. "I've no wish to have to send the procurals out to find you..."
Gilly glanced to one side. "We have company."
Mazaret turned to see a staff runner approaching, pale yellow overshirt and trews flapping as he ran. The boy came to a halt a few feet away and saluted, open hand against opposite shoulder.
"Yes, lad."
"My Lord Commander, there is a visitor to see you at the Temple."
"Who is it?"
"I do not know, my Lord. The Rul told me to say only that it was someone of importance."
What is Rul Dagash up to? Mazaret wondered as he stood. "Will you join me?" he asked Gilly. "Or are you going to stay and finish the wine?"
The trader grinned, put the bottle to his mouth and uncorked it with his teeth.
Mazaret shook his head. "There could be only one answer, eh? All right, lad - let's be on our way."
* * *
It was a short walk back round the lake. As he followed the runner Mazaret looked across at the town, remembering how it was when he and the ragged remnants of the Order arrived here sixteen years ago. Then there had been only a decrepit Skyhorse shrine by the small lake, along with the tumbled, mossy stones of a few abandoned huts. Now there were barracks, cabins, stables, barns, a forge, a tavern, a mill and a bakery. And the Temple.
The Temple of the Earthmother was a large, single-storey building situated on a slight rise overlooking the town. It had a flattened dome at its centre and a slender tower at each corner. Within its confines were cells, and chambers as well as a library, the main armoury, a school, the healer's chamber, and the chapel with the sacred Tabernacle of Ash. As well as the fighting yards, the temple grounds included an orchard, a vegetable plot, and a burial garden. Mazaret's regard lingered on the gravestones and plinths clustered around a nearby copse of aging trees. His wife and three children lay buried there, along with several close friends and scores of brave knights. Although many had perished during the long, desperate flight from the terrible defeat at Arengia sixteen years ago, it was not till they reached Krusivel that others began to die from a contagion loosed by the Mogaun shamen. Perfect recollection brought back to him how the ghastly fever had taken hold of his loved ones and burned them from within, melting their flesh away, filling their eyes and minds with horror, destroying their memory of him before finally freeing their souls from agony.
With time the raging grief had ebbed to a dulled sorrow but he could still remember when the last of his family, little Talve, had died and how he had uttered a cry of anguish and ran out into the night, stumbling among the trees and bushy undergrowth, losing himself. At some point he had staggered, scratched and bleeding, out of the dense forest and found himself beside a deep pool into which a waterfall poured with an embracing, rushing sound. Madness was upon him and, filling his tunic and his pockets with stones, he threw himself into the pool. There had been a blinding pain in his head and he had known no more till waking on his back, lying on the rocks behind the waterfall with sunlight shining down through the spray. Then out of the hissing cascade had come a voice:
"Death is not for you, son of my daughters. Much has been lost, yet the fight is
Gilly cursed. "Beasts, some of them. Worse than beasts." He looked thoughtful. "How would the people regard a crippled Emperor? Would they follow him, do you think?"
"They followed Orosiada," Mazaret said.
"That was nearly two thousand years ago."
Mazaret shrugged. "For the moment I am more concerned with what Volyn and the Hunter's Children are going to say at the War Council later."
"That's at noon, I believe..."
"Yes, and I would thank you to speak with Abbess Halimer before it starts," he said dryly. "I've no wish to have to send the procurals out to find you..."
Gilly glanced to one side. "We have company."
Mazaret turned to see a staff runner approaching, pale yellow overshirt and trews flapping as he ran. The boy came to a halt a few feet away and saluted, open hand against opposite shoulder.
"Yes, lad."
"My Lord Commander, there is a visitor to see you at the Temple."
"Who is it?"
"I do not know, my Lord. The Rul told me to say only that it was someone of importance."
What is Rul Dagash up to? Mazaret wondered as he stood. "Will you join me?" he asked Gilly. "Or are you going to stay and finish the wine?"
The trader grinned, put the bottle to his mouth and uncorked it with his teeth.
Mazaret shook his head. "There could be only one answer, eh? All right, lad - let's be on our way."
* * *
It was a short walk back round the lake. As he followed the runner Mazaret looked across at the town, remembering how it was when he and the ragged remnants of the Order arrived here sixteen years ago. Then there had been only a decrepit Skyhorse shrine by the small lake, along with the tumbled, mossy stones of a few abandoned huts. Now there were barracks, cabins, stables, barns, a forge, a tavern, a mill and a bakery. And the Temple.
The Temple of the Earthmother was a large, single-storey building situated on a slight rise overlooking the town. It had a flattened dome at its centre and a slender tower at each corner. Within its confines were cells, and chambers as well as a library, the main armoury, a school, the healer's chamber, and the chapel with the sacred Tabernacle of Ash. As well as the fighting yards, the temple grounds included an orchard, a vegetable plot, and a burial garden. Mazaret's regard lingered on the gravestones and plinths clustered around a nearby copse of aging trees. His wife and three children lay buried there, along with several close friends and scores of brave knights. Although many had perished during the long, desperate flight from the terrible defeat at Arengia sixteen years ago, it was not till they reached Krusivel that others began to die from a contagion loosed by the Mogaun shamen. Perfect recollection brought back to him how the ghastly fever had taken hold of his loved ones and burned them from within, melting their flesh away, filling their eyes and minds with horror, destroying their memory of him before finally freeing their souls from agony.
With time the raging grief had ebbed to a dulled sorrow but he could still remember when the last of his family, little Talve, had died and how he had uttered a cry of anguish and ran out into the night, stumbling among the trees and bushy undergrowth, losing himself. At some point he had staggered, scratched and bleeding, out of the dense forest and found himself beside a deep pool into which a waterfall poured with an embracing, rushing sound. Madness was upon him and, filling his tunic and his pockets with stones, he threw himself into the pool. There had been a blinding pain in his head and he had known no more till waking on his back, lying on the rocks behind the waterfall with sunlight shining down through the spray. Then out of the hissing cascade had come a voice:
"Death is not for you, son of my daughters. Much has been lost, yet the fight is
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