By Blood Betrayed (The Kingsblood Chronicles) (12 page)

“Bring me closer to the men,” Lian said to the gryphon, who shrugged its shoulders and unfurled its great wings, directing its fall toward the remaining pockets of resistance.

Lian pulled his hood back, allowing his features to be seen in the light cast by the burning towers and the castle’s many magical lights. As the gryphon pulled out of the plummeting dive, he shouted, “Long live King Evan! Long live Dunshor!”

The loyalist soldiers closest to him, their features grim and determined, heard the cry and some of them recognized him, for they began calling his name. Soon, all of the warriors on the walls were shouting, “Lian! Lian!” and cheering. The ones not immediately engaged waved energetically at the already-receding form of their prince.

They had doubtless thought that the entire royal family was slain, but they now fought with a renewed vigor. They would not be dying in vain after all, for at least one of their charges had escaped. Who knew how many of the king’s family had gotten away?

One of Rishak’s mages pitched a ball of fire at the prince, but the gryphon dodged it with contemptuous ease. A second mage struck out with a lightning bolt, but the gryphon dove suddenly, turning its body to shield its passenger from the strike. Lian’s hair stood on end from the discharge passing through the creature’s body, but that was all he felt of the attack.

Lord Grey intoned a song of power, a complex and high-pitched melody which echoed around them, as if the gryphon was somehow flying within a small chamber. Around them, images of the gryphon-borne prince shot off in dozens of directions. The skull’s speaking voice was a smooth baritone, but he sang each of the high notes with a clear intonation that resounded with power. Some of the images turned back toward the castle walls, and where they passed, the shadows themselves appeared to animate and advance upon the duke’s soldiers. The spell sent chills up and down Lian’s spine, but he didn’t have much time to dwell on it.

The gryphon changed course rapidly several times, mirrored by several of the illusions. There were a few more spells in pursuit, but none got close to the real escapees.

Lord Grey sang a second song, this one almost whispered in long, silibant phrases. The gryphon vanished from under Lian, who found he could no longer see himself, either. “Just an invisibility, Highness,” Lord Grey said when he was finished.

“I don’t believe you mentioned that you were a spellcaster,” Lian said, shaking his head. Even his witchsight-enhanced eyes couldn’t pierce the invisibility illusion.

“Yes, I believe that I did,” Lord Grey said with amusement. “I told you that I was one, as a matter of fact.”

“I meant that you didn’t mention that you could still cast spells,” Lian responded wearily. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been fleeing, but it felt like centuries.

“Where do you want to go?” asked the gryphon. “One plassse iss the ssame ass another to me.”

“Northeast, toward Greythorn. Maybe I can locate a ship there to take me far from here,” replied Lian. Greythorn, a kingdom formerly part of the Theocracy, was largely uninhabited. It was also on the opposite side of Dunshor from his uncle’s lands, so there was less likelihood of encountering Rishak’s forces there.

He could feel the gryphon move its head, but instead of northeast, it changed course to the west. Before Lian could object, it said, “I trusst Lord Grrey’ss magicss, but it iss sstill better to lay a falsse trail.”

They flew for nearly an hour in the westward direction, coming upon a herd of small cattle as the predawn light was breaking. The gryphon shrieked out a call as it descended low enough to seize one. The cow, which had been asleep, probably weighed nearly four hundred pounds, but the gryphon flew back up to its former altitude easily. It ate in flight, somehow keeping blood from splattering on its rider. It dropped chunks of cow as it ate.

“Clever, Gilaeshar. How do you track a flying predator?” Lord Grey asked rhetorically.

When it had finished its meal, they landed at a small pond where it drank deeply. It instructed Lian to dismount and gather water if he needed it. Gilaeshar then dove, riderless, into the pond. Its invisible form emerged, leaving a large and spreading red stain behind in the pond. In a mighty display, it shook the moisture from its feathers as well as it could. Lian was thankful, from where he waited, leaning on a tree, that it had come out of the water on the opposite bank.

It returned to the prince, and he mounted by feel, since the cloak of invisibility was still effective. It took flight, again in the western direction, but now it banked around to the northeast.

“They will know that gryphonss can fly for dayss,” it said. “They will search the wesstern ssities for you.”

“Thank you,” said Lian, who was growing very, very tired.

It didn’t respond, rather soared higher. It settled on a northeasterly heading, and flew tirelessly.

Lian wanted to stay awake, but Gem said, “Get some rest, son. You’ve earned it this day.” The gryphon flinched slightly at the sword’s words, but made no other reaction to Gem’s voice. It was accustomed to unusual riders and the strange magics they bore.

Lord Grey added, “Indeed. Gil will wake you if there is need, if the sword cannot.”

Lian shook his head, and said, “No, I need to stay alert. I’ll just rest my eyes for a bit.” He laid his head on the soft feathered neck of the gryphon, who was chuckling softly.

Before he had even fully adjusted his balance, he was fast asleep.

Chapter Six

“Truesilver, what the elves call
lashthirin
, can be found mingled within veins of mundane silver. It cannot be chemically separated from the base silver, but there are several alchemical and magical means of isolating it. In long ages past, knowledge of this process was rare and jealously guarded among mortalkind. Like the secret of forging elven steel,
penalirin
, the secret has gradually spread far and wide.

“Silver is purified as much as possible by conventional physical and alchemical methods, and then the Truesilver is worked, or in some cases Called, out of the base ore. This process leaves behind the mundane silver and a material byproduct known as
vesharin
, or Blacksilver. This material has poisonous properties similar to antimony, and is also tremendously venomous to the silver-afflicted. Blacksilver is also called Werebane.”

-- Lord Smith Severn, to the gathered apprentices of the king’s armorers

As Lian slept on the gryphon’s back, Gem pondered their options. Mages in the employ of the duke would not long be misled by the great beast’s ruse, and would soon be homing in on Lian, armed with hairs and flakes of old skin from the prince’s room.

Crossing the Eastern Sea would not stop the hunters, and given that many of them would be mages, wouldn’t necessarily even hinder them. There were ways of confounding sympathetic spells, but it would be days before she’d recover sufficiently to perform them. Lord Grey, if he could be trusted, was certainly capable of such things, but Gem had not forgotten Elowyn’s warning about the spirit of the skull.

Adrienne had been acquainted with witches in several of the villages they passed above, but there was no prudent means to bring Lian into contact with one of them, and no guarantee that the witch wouldn’t sell out to the duke. Gem knew that the reward offered for Lian would be high indeed.

Besides, they had been
Adrienne’s
friends, and their reception of her son and his magic sword was by no means certain.

The lands and castles of those noblemen who were loyal to their prince weren’t safe, either. Even if Rishak were willing to play by the rules and merely lay siege, no single nobleman could field a force capable of withstanding Rishak’s standing army. As grand duke, he had commanded an army nearly equal to the king’s own.

Quite a mistake, as it turns out
, she thought to herself bitterly. Evan’s trust in his half-brother had been foolhardy, but only in hindsight. Evidently, no one had foreseen his capacity for this degree of powerlust and treachery.

The northern wastelands might provide some protection, for there were regions in the wintry wilds where magic was unstable, where Lian might possibly evade magical pursuit.

She sighed aloud, softly so as not to wake her charge.

“You are troubled about pursuers, are you not?” Lord Grey spoke, as softly as her sigh.

“Not merely pursuers, but quite frankly, present company,” she replied. “No offense to either you or your winged friend, but I am not happy to have fallen in with you.”

Lord Grey said, “I understand, completely. My appearance alone doesn’t exactly project trustworthiness. A black skull that talks and possesses both knowledge and power in the field of necromancy is not the most reassuring of companions.

“However, I assure you that I do not intend the boy harm. The elf, now, that was a different matter. He attempted to force his will on me, and I retaliated,” he said. She could imagine his shrug.

“Of course, I have only your word on that,” she replied, “but so far I admit you have helped us a great deal. What is it that you want from my prince? Freedom from your binding?”

He chuckled before answering, “Oh, yes, that would be a fine thing, but a little beyond your boy’s talents, I fear. No, at the moment I’m content to share my talents with someone who didn’t attempt to compel my obedience at first meeting. That’s quite a change for me.”

“You can be compelled, then?” she asked flatly.

“Oh, yes. You’d have soon guessed that in any event, of course. Naveh wouldn’t have allowed a being like me who was free-willed anywhere near her sanctum, would she?” he asked rhetorically. Naveh the necromant had been reknowned for her unabridging paranoia.

“Is Naveh she who bound you?” she asked, not really expecting an answer.

He surprised her by giving her one, however. “No, I date from much further back than she does. She was nearly my equal, by her end. It was
such
a pity when that sun priest burned her into ashes.” His tone was laced with sarcasm.

“I don’t exactly miss her, you understand,” he finished.

“You make it difficult to trust you,” Gem observed. “Is that deliberate?”

He laughed aloud, then replied more quietly. “No, just the mannerisms of a few centuries, I suppose. I’m accustomed to suspicion, anyhow.

“However, I would like to address some of your concerns,” he said. “I believe you are most troubled by the thought of magical pursuers. I can reassure you on that score.”

“Pardon me?” Gem said, puzzled.

The skull chuckled again. “The Key of Firavon is many things, Lady Sword. While it is true that Elowyn instructed Lian to bring it along to delay pursuit through the Tower, I think that you will find that it is far more valuable than you imagined.

“In its small form it is a potent scrying block. I would surmise that even the dragon’s eye we left behind won’t be able to pierce its veil. Even in its larger form, the Key is impossible to find magically, which is why it lay undiscovered for so many years.”

“I assumed that the Banemetal embedded in the walls of the chamber --” Gem began, but was interrupted by the skull.

“True, it’s difficult to penetrate
kaiieilirinelda
’s deadening, but those of great power and skill can do so. No, it was the Key that caused the chamber to be so difficult to locate, for the searchers for the Key over the years have been powerful indeed. Lian will be shielded from the magics available to your grand duke quite easily, I should think.”

Gem was amazed. “What else can it do?”

“A great many things, Lady Sword. It is a potent scrying device, able to look across dimension as well as distance. I’ve read an account that Firavon had unlocked the means to look across time as well. If that is true, I’m quite certain that he would have bound that enchantment into his Key.

“However, these things can only be accomplished when it’s in the largest form, such as it was when you found it. There is an intermediate size, roughly a foot in diameter, which affords it the capabilities of a moderately powerful crystal ball. The disadvantage, of course, is that its clairvoyance prevention decreases proportionately with its increase in size.”

“But you said that it was nearly impossible to detect in the chamber, and it was in its largest size, was it not?” asked the sword.

“Yes, it is still quite undetectable in its own right, but the veil it creates is negligible when it is expanded. It is my opinion that the scrying chamber remained undiscovered for as long as it did both because of the Key’s effects, as well as the fact that those who knew of it were dead and beyond the reach of necromancy to interrogate. It probably would have been safe for Lian to remain in there for months, aside from the food issue,” added Lord Grey.

“I had to assume that if we knew about it, others did,” she responded. “I presume that you didn’t mention this before because of time pressure?”

“I fear, Lady Sword, that to enumerate my motivations would require far more time than we have.”

The gryphon, who had been flying silently for some time, turned its head to look at Lord Grey’s sack. “It would have been nissse had you told usss thisss earlier, Greylord. The meal wasss good, but I didn’t need to take ssuch precautionsss,” it said, referring to the detour.

“Your deception may prove useful yet, Gilaeshar,” Lord Grey said. “One of Rishak’s men may send a tracking beast after us, and one such as that will not be hindered by the Key. Incidentally, I have a couple of recommendations concerning the Key. First, I suggest that Lian hide its presence from anyone we meet, and second, that he choose a name for the bauble other than ‘Firavon’s Key.’ The mere mention of the Artificer-King’s name would be enough to have every artifact hunter in the district after him.

“And we are, I’m sure, in agreement that he doesn’t need any complications added to his other woes.”