Dragonfire (12 page)

They spent the day exploring and planning.

“How will you begin, Dahl?” Catryn asked. “How does one start being a king?”

“Truly, I have no idea,” Dahl answered. “I suppose
the Protector would have told me,” he began, then stopped. At the memory of the Protector, all delight faded. He should have been here. Should have been by his side.

“Well, you won’t lack for finances, anyway, if what we have seen so far is any example,” Sele the Plump, ever practical, said, looking around at the gold-encrusted furniture, the shimmering hangings on the walls.

“Everything in here has been taken from my people,” Dahl snapped. “It will all be returned. All except what is rightfully the king’s own property.”

“Of course,” the Sele answered. It looked vaguely offended at Dahl’s tone of voice for an instant, then turned its attention back to its second bowl of oats. “I will help you make order out of this, if you like.”

“I’m sorry, I spoke rudely,” Dahl answered quickly. “I would welcome your help.”

While Dahl and the Sele made an inventory of the vast riches contained within the castle, Bruhn took it upon himself to speak with the slaves, ascertaining who wished to stay and who wished to leave. To those who would return home, he gave ample provisions. Catryn did the same with the servants of the castle. They met again to share an evening meal.

“Truly, this place could be a paradise,” Catryn exclaimed when she joined the others.

“It will be,” Dahl answered. There was a certain grimness to his voice that contrasted sharply with the excitement in hers.

Dahl knew he would not sleep that night. His mind was too full of everything that had happened. He should have felt exultant—he had won! Taun was his, and he was the rightful king again. But he missed the Protector. Missed him with a continuing, hollow anguish that he knew would never go away. He did not feel easy, either. Always, he felt the darkness deep within him. It was as if it were biding its time—waiting.

Finally, in the small hours just before dawn, he gave up the attempt to sleep, and returned to the throne room. To his surprise, the Sele was already there.

“We do not sleep overmuch,” Sele the Plump explained. “Also, I thought you might be abroad early and might like some company.” He held another bowl of grain and was munching contentedly. “I took the liberty of helping myself to some oats from the kitchen. I hope you do not mind?”

“Not at all,” Dahl replied. “I am about to do the same. But not oats,” he added quickly. “Unless I can find a way to cook them.”

Just then Catryn entered. “I could not sleep,” she said. “It seems I am in good company.”

Dahl did not answer her. He had caught sight again of the door behind the throne. It drew him
even more strongly than it had the night before. He walked over and pulled it open. At his feet, a narrow staircase fell away into darkness.

A rustle behind him made him look around. Servants, aghast at not having been called, were hovering at the other end of the room. Guards appeared, looking even more confused.

“A torch,” Dahl called. “I must have a torch.” One of the servants sprang to do his bidding.

Dahl took it, then set one foot on the top stair.

“What is it, Dahl?” Catryn asked. “What is down there? Do you know?”

“Wait here for me,” was his only reply. “I must go by myself.” There was a reason he needed to descend here alone. He knew not what it was, but it was a compulsion that could not be denied.

He reached the bottom of the steps and raised the torch high. He was in a small cell. In the corner was a straw pallet with a bowl of filthy water beside it. Stretched out on the pallet was a body. As Dahl drew near to it, it moved, groaned, then raised itself to a sitting position. It was the living skeleton of a man, gray-haired and gray-bearded. Blind white eyes turned toward Dahl.

“Have you come to torment me again, then?” The voice was the croak of a dead man.

“Who are you?” Dahl whispered, but even as the words left his lips, he knew the answer.
Launan.
The Usurper’s uncle.
His
uncle. He who had been
responsible for all the evil that had fallen upon Taun in the last seventeen years.

“You know well who I am,” the feeble voice replied. “Why does it amuse you to torture me so?”

Rage stirred deep within Dahl.

“It was you,” he said. “You, who put the imposter in my place. You, who worked with the powers of evil to destroy this world.
My
world!”

“Dahl? Is it Dahl? Have you finally come?” The man’s face turned to Dahl blankly. “Did you kill him, then?”

“No.” Dahl’s voice was harsh. “I did not. I righted the wrong that you did so long ago.”

“You joined with him?” The words came out cracked and dry—disbelieving.

“I did.”

“How?”

“By accepting him. By accepting all that he was. All that I now am as well.”

“I did not think it possible.” Tears began to stream from the sightless eyes. “When the evil ones split your soul into halves, I did not think you could ever be made whole again.”

Dahl looked at the creature lying in the dirt before him. How could this man ever have had such power? How could he have done it?

As if reading his mind, his uncle wavered on. “I had been warned,” he said, “by the one who always came to me in the dark. The night before the chris
tening, he appeared. ‘There will be a storm,’ he said. ‘The very walls of the castle will fall down around you. When it subsides, look for the baby king. You will find him. When you do…When you do…’” Spittle dribbled from the old man’s mouth, mixing with the tears that flowed freely now. He choked, and seemed unable to go on.

Dahl recoiled in disgust, but greater than the disgust was his need finally to know all. “Tell me!” he cried. “Tell me what you did!”

The blind eyes stared into nothing. Was he dead? Dahl’s heart sank. Then Launan shuddered and began to speak again.

“I found you. I found you and lifted you up to the dark one. He touched you with his own black fire, and then, instead of one, you were two. There were two babies. I held one, all twisted and screaming with pain and hate. The other one, pale and silent, I left to die in the rubble. But you did not die, did you, Dahl? You did not die…”

“No, I did not,” Dahl answered. He stared at the figure of his uncle and felt a hatred such as he had never known before in his life rise within him. A hatred so intense and so complete that it glutted him. This was the other half of his soul speaking within him. The evil that was a part of him now and for evermore.

An execution,
roared a voice in his mind.
A public execution. Show the people of Taun that you have
won. Show them what the revenge of Dahl, King of Taun, is like!

Dahl whipped around, away from the unseeing eyes, and took the steps back up to the great hall, stumbling and almost falling in his haste.

“Dahl! What is it? What is down there?” Catryn grabbed his arm to steady him as he emerged, blinking, into the light of the hall.

“Launan!” he burst out.

“Alive? The Launan of whom my parents spoke? He is still alive?” Bruhn exclaimed.

“Dead, he will be,” Dahl said. “He created a monster, he murdered a world. He will die tomorrow. Publicly, where all can see.”

He called to the guards at the door.

“That man down there. Bring him up. Bring him before me.”

They hurried to obey, seeing something they knew well in Dahl’s eyes. Within moments, they had dragged Launan up and thrown his body on the floor in front of Dahl. Dahl strode over to stand above him.

“You will die, Uncle,” he said, his voice as cold as ice. “Tomorrow. I will hang you myself at the castle gate and all the people of Daunus will have a holiday to come and dance beneath your dangling corpse!”

“Dahl!” Catryn cried.

He flung off her arm. “Leave me,” he said. He could do it. He had the power. He had only to say the word. The blood roared behind his eyes. An
unbearable pressure sent a stab of pain through his head…Then he felt, rather than saw, the eyes of the Sele upon him.

“This is not the way, Dahl,” the Sele said to him. Whether it spoke aloud or not, Dahl could not tell.

He shuddered. He fought down the black tide within him. Gradually, the roaring subsided. The room steadied again.

This, then, was how it was to be. This was the battle he would wage for the rest of his life. He took a deep, painful breath.

“No,” he said. “I will not kill him. He will be banished to the farthest corner of this world. He and any others who do not wish to live in the new Taun. He will be given supplies for the journey. What happens to him after that is none of my concern.”

“Let us hope so,” said Bruhn.

“Remove him.” Dahl gestured to one of the guards. “See that he is fed and clothed. Pass the word that he is to be banished, and, with him, any of you who will not follow my ways.”

The guard saluted Dahl, but his eyes were angry. He motioned to his comrade, and together they carried the old man out of the room. They did not return.

At first no one noticed the huge, rangy brown dog that appeared at the door. Then it trotted purposefully toward Dahl and sat in front of him. Time itself seemed to stop.

The dog’s form began to waver. The hall pulsated with silence as the animal’s shape blurred, elongated, then finally settled into the figure of a man. A man with long brown hair and dark eyes, a cloak flowing from his shoulders.

Dahl gasped. “Protector! But you are dead—I saw with my own eyes!”

“You saw a hawk destroyed, Dahl,” the Protector said. “But I cannot die. Not yet. The body I chose to wear was killed. My spirit survived, but the price I had to pay was high. I was not able to return until now.” He took a step forward.

Dahl ran to meet him. In an instant he had ceased being Dahl, King of Taun, and was again Dahl, stableboy in an alien world.

The Protector held out his hands. “You have done well, Dahl of Taun. You have done all that was asked of you and more. You have saved your world and earned the right to be its king. You have also earned your place among us.”

There was something in his tone that brought Dahl up short.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean that you have earned the highest gift we can bestow upon you. You will be as we are—
immortal, and with powers you can only dream of. I will be your guide and teacher through yet another journey. This time, a journey of learning.”

Dahl stared at him. To be as the Elders were, as the Protector was? To have such powers! To be immortal! For a moment he was overcome with the thought of it. The temptation was irresistible.

Then he looked deep within himself. Was this what he really wanted? For the first time in his life, Dahl felt whole. He felt complete. It was enough. This was what he was meant to be. This, and no more.

“I want this not,” he said.

The Protector’s eyes narrowed in surprise.

“Do not reject this without careful consideration, Dahl,” he said.

“I have no need to consider. I know who I am and who I wish to be. I am Dahl, ruler of Taun. It is enough. I want nothing else.”

The Protector looked steadily at him. “It will be as you say…” he began.

“Give it to me, then!” The words rang out, echoing in the hall.

Dahl and the Protector turned toward Catryn, startled.

“I, too, have earned that gift and I would have it! You made me a promise, Protector,” she challenged.

“So I did,” the Protector acknowledged.

It seemed as if a fire, barely contained, flamed within Catryn. Her eyes were alight.

“My mother was burned as a witch. Since I have come to this world I have felt her presence strongly within me, and I have feared it, but no more. I feel the whisperings of magic within me and I would learn how to use it. My mother used her powers for evil; I would use my powers to fight that dark force.”

She took a step toward the Protector.

“You said there must be a balance between good and evil, Protector. Dahl has found his, now I must create mine. I must atone for the evil my mother did. Your promise, Protector. I hold you to it!”

The Protector looked at Catryn. “Are you certain you wish this? The way will be hard. You cannot begin to imagine how hard. And you, too, will face the same battle that Dahl will face within himself every moment of his life. Perhaps for you it will be an even greater battle.”

“I wish it. Dahl will need me. Taun will need me.”

“Then it shall be so.” The Protector laid his hand on Catryn’s blazing hair. “While Dahl rebuilds a world, you will learn what the Elders and I can teach you. When you are ready, you will return. Dahl will have need of you, of that I am certain.”

“Catryn! I cannot do this alone!” Dahl exclaimed. He reached out to her. This he had not expected. A sudden pain shot through him. Were things always to be this difficult?

“You can, Dahl,” Catryn said. “And I will come back.” She took his hand in her own and raised it to her cheek. “I promise.”

“You will not be alone, Dahl.” The Sele, again.

“I will come back, Dahl,” Catryn repeated, the words no more than a whisper.

Dahl’s fingers caressed her cheek, traced the outline of her eyebrows. It was as if he were committing them to memory. Her eyes, he knew, would be with him all of his life. “I will be waiting,” he said.

Then he pivoted away. “I have much work to do, my friends,” he said to Bruhn and to Sele the Plump.

Bruhn’s face was pale, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at the Protector, but his voice was steady as he answered.

“We are here,” he said.

“So we are, and so we will be,” the Sele echoed.

The brand on Dahl’s face throbbed with a sudden, intense pain. He reached to touch it, then stayed his hand. It was a part of him. He could bear it.