The Heir (Fall of the Swords Book 3) (15 page)

“Yes, Lord Emperor,” Aged Oak said.

“Walk with the Infinite, Lord General,” Flying Arrow said, sitting back.

One by one, lowest to highest, each noble made his or her obeisance and backed from the audience hall.

As the last one retreated through the double doors, Flying Arrow relaxed. Not wanting to betray that his illness was worse than it appeared, the Emperor turned on the audience hall dampers. Only then did he let his frustration, anger and fear express themselves. Spasmodic convulsions racked his body.

The most debilitating was his fear.

Of the two possible results, Flying Arrow didn't know which to fear the most. If the Heir succeeded in taking the heads of Scowling Tiger and two more bandit leaders, nothing would to stop him from turning his boundless capacity to kill on Emparia Castle and Flying Arrow. However, if the Heir died trying to assassinate Scowling Tiger, Flying Arrow would have to summon the identical twin, whom he had placed in Lofty Lion's care almost sixteen years before. The Eastern Armed Forces would then have to retrieve the Heir Sword from whoever usurped it, probably with a full-scale assault on the empty northern lands. Neither alternative appealed to Flying Arrow.

He rose whence he had writhed, his heart laboring, his mind racing, his arm aching. Straightening his robes, he left the audience hall through the rear door and ascended toward the Imperial Suite. Thence, he entered the long spiral stairwell. At the top was the castle spire, the only place on the entire castle not protected by electrical shielding.

Flying Arrow then prepared his mind for the effort of contacting his son's foster-father. Without the focus and amplification circuits built into the Imperial Sword, Flying Arrow wouldn't have been able to send the psychic summons, his talents meager.

Flying Arrow wondered what Lofty Lion had done with the boy.

T
he mighty oak stands on the edge of the castle plain. Several hundred acres of broken granite boulder, the castle plain has no two surfaces canted at the same angle, some blocks treacherous for their instability. Once Lofty Lion's castle had towered over the land. Now, the detritus spreads across it, a field of sterile stone reaching as far as the eye can see.—
The Political Geography
, by Guarding Bear.

* * *

The previous ten days had passed like a whirlwind for Seeking Sword.

Of the original twelve bandits who had gone north, only four remained. Between masterless bandits and Imperial Warriors, the surviving four considered themselves fortunate not to have lost their heads. Each day and sometimes twice a day, the party clashed with one or the other. Across the central plains of the northern lands, bandit and Empire seemed to be waging a full-scale war. Everyone, Seeking Sword included, had sustained some injury. The other eight bandits had died.

Thank the Infinite, we still have Searching Owl and Magic Finger, Seeking Sword thought. Without both sectathon and medacor, we couldn't survive much longer here.

The day before, Seeking Sword and Flashing Blade left camp to hunt the evening meal. Five masterless bandits had ambushed them, mistaking the bronze-haired young man for the Heir. He wondered why no one, including him, had thought of disguises. The fight had been vicious. In the melee, both had received injuries, Flashing Blade a long, shallow cut down his left arm, and Seeking Sword a deep gash on his calf that nearly hobbled him. The pyrathon had got them back to camp, where Magic Finger first treated Flashing Blade.

Growing weak from loss of blood, Seeking Sword told the approaching medacor, “Your talent won't work, Lord.”

Shrugging, Magic Finger tried anyway.

To Seeking Sword's surprise, his wound had healed.

A day later, while eating, Seeking Sword ruminated on the unbelievable—that for the first time in his life someone's talent had worked on him. …

The effects
were
benign, the boy thought. Does this mean I'm also vulnerable to psychic attack? He didn't know, but did need to find out urgently. The young man looked across the fire at the pyrathon. “Lord Blade, I want you to help me with something. If you'll come with me …?”

Flashing Blade, who always exuded a faint burn smell but never looked burned, shrugged and stood. He signaled to the two men remaining at the fire.

Leading the way, Seeking Sword explained what he wanted and why. The oak of great shade that had disgorged his sword ten years before was an easy walk from their camp. Seeking Sword had visited the tree twice already since the group had come north.

“I've seen how no one's talent affects you,” Flashing Blade said. “I can't imagine what that's like—not to worry about some Wizard's manipulation, about having your thoughts intercepted, about checking your shields all the time, about defending yourself against someone's talent. I'd really enjoy being in your moccasins, Lord Sword.”

Seeking Sword stepped between two granite blocks protruding from the rubble. “I've thought about that a few times. My inability to imagine
having
a talent is comparable to your inability to imagine
not
having a talent. Having one seems as much a responsibility as a luxury.” I still feel like a bird unable to fly amidst a flock never needing to land.

They walked on in silence, picking their way slowly through the field, no two surfaces canted at the same angle.

“We could have tried this anywhere, Lord Sword.”

“You're right, Lord Blade.” Not sure why he wanted to be near the tree, Seeking Sword felt it draw him. “In some ways the tree is sacred to me, as you've probably guessed. For me it's a manifestation of the Infinite. You might even say my life began at this tree.”

When the other didn't elaborate, Flashing Blade said, “Sounds like you have a story to tell.”

Seeking Sword smiled. “One day perhaps, I'll feel comfortable telling that story. I'd be honor—”

Dropping behind a block, Seeking Sword pulled the pyrathon with him. “Two Arrow Warriors are near the tree,” he whispered. In the dark, Seeking Sword had discerned them from almost two hundred paces. “Two of them. Two of us. Shall we take a pair of heads?”

Flashing Blade shook his head. “Others are surely nearby.”

Nodding, Seeking Sword said, “I'd like to find out why they're here.”

“Well, let's walk up and ask them.” Flashing Blade grinned.

“Maybe we can sneak up and listen?”

They looked at each other and nodded. Comfortable in the wild, they made sounds natural to the night, giving the quarry no sign of their approach. If either warrior was a sectathon, they had already detected the two bandits.

Snatches of conversation and occasional laughter drifted to them as they got closer. One warrior was blond with large hands. The other was old, burly and had a shock of unruly gray hair. The two bandits stopped at thirty paces, not wanting to betray themselves. No moon shone. Consulting his companion in a whisper, Seeking Sword decided to get even closer. Flashing Blade stayed behind, muttering something about the stupidity of youth.

Seeking Sword got close enough to hear nearly all their conversation.

“…In my imbecility that I couldn't do if everyone knew I have all my faculties. Our goal here tonight, Lord Hand, is one of those. You're the only person who knows about my statues—that they're living beings captured in rock, and that the process is reversible. While trapped in living rock, they also see everything that happens around them.”

“You mean they're
spies
, Lord Bear?”

The older man smiled. “It's one of my secret resources that I want you to pass along to Flaming Arrow.”

“Yes, Lord Bear, gratefully. When do you want me to tell him?”

Guarding
Bear? Seeking Sword wondered. I thought he was insane!

“When I die, Healing Hand. Tomorrow, the Lord Heir removes Scowling Tiger's head, and Aged Oak begins the siege of Seat.” The older man sighed. “The Imperial executioner took my brother's head thirty years ago, Lord Hand. My mate, Infinite keep her, found me a reason to live. Vengeance is poor motivation, requiring a constant hate. Nothing else would work. She and the two Wizards tried nearly everything else while putting my mind back together. Even after they discovered that I'd live for revenge, they worked on my mind for another six months before they restored me to normal. Vengeance is why I lived when my brother died. Vengeance is why I lived when my mate died. Vengeance upon the man who betrayed my brother is why I'm alive now. When Flaming Arrow takes the head of my brother's betrayer tomorrow, there's a good chance I'll die.”

“Spying Eagle or I could help you—”

Guarding Bear interrupted. “Healing Hand, my friend, I've had a long and glorious life. I've shat upon the faces of Emperors and left a mountain of skulls behind me. I've been an Emperor if not in name then surely in power. I've carved myself a place in history. For the next hundred generations, they'll regard me as the greatest general of all time. I've done everything a man could do, except what we
all
must do: Die. Presumably, I'll do that tomorrow.”

The two Arrow Warriors were silent.

Seeking Sword thanked the Infinite for this chance to hear the legendary Guarding Bear. To feel the charisma of his person, to know something about the General directly from the bear's mouth.

“Would you accept my help in dying, Lord Bear?” Healing Hand asked.

“I'm Guarding Bear!” he protested, as if that meant something. “If I can't die without help, I should do something else.” Both warriors laughed. “Thank you for the offer, Lord Hand. No, I'd like to join the Infinite unassisted. Before I do, however, I have a story to tell.”

“If I may ask, Lord Bear, why here and not another place?”

“This tree, Lord Hand, this tree.” Guarding Bear slapped the trunk, looking up into its spreading branches.

Seeking Sword remembered how the tree had disgorged the sword he wore.

“Five years before I was born, Smoking Arrow and Lofty Lion had just succeeded their fathers. Your grandfather, Assuaging Comfort, was the Eastern Imperial Medacor and Skulking Hawk was the Northern Sorcerer. Unfortunately, your grandfather couldn't balance ambition and duty. He envied the Lord Emperor Arrow his Imperial Sword. With a similar talisman, he thought he might achieve the power and fame he so desired. Skulking Hawk was a man of soaring ambition as well—and without morals. He trafficked in talismans. If he had found opportunity, he'd have duplicated or surpassed an Imperial Sword.

“Here, at this tree, or near here, the two men conspired to create a talisman suitable for an Imperial Medacor. Soothing Spirit, Assuaging Comfort's assistant, was also present, apparently at the orders of his superior. I don't have all the details of what happened, Lord Hand, just bits and pieces I've gleaned over the years and quite a lot I've had to synthesize.

“They decided to install the circuits into a sword, probably as a perverse joke. A medacor has little use for the taking of life. As the two men completed the talisman, the Emperor Lofty Lion struck, blasting the place apart with the Northern Imperial Sword. The Medacor and the Sorcerer died, but the Lord Spirit lived. Everyone thought the blast destroyed the Medacor Sword, since no one found it in the wreckage.

“Years and years later, when I was laying siege to Lofty Lion's castle, someone brought a prisoner to me. When I questioned her privately, she spun a strange tale. As a girl, she saw the explosion and watched this tree swallow something long, thin and shiny. She wasn't sure the object was debris from the explosion. The object was spinning so fast she couldn't see what it was.

“The Lord Spirit gave me the final clue about two years ago. Do you remember? He was telling us about a sword.”

Healing hand nodded. “With self-preservation circuits so advanced that it concealed itself from everyone but the person to whom it belonged.

“You remember then. With all the other information I have, I think
that
that sword is inside
this
tree. I brought you here, Lord Hand, because if you're not worthy to wield it, no one is.”

“Thank you, Lord Bear. You overestimate my talents.”

“I disagree—I
might
underestimate your ambition. Beware, Lord, your grandfather was so ambitious, Smoking Arrow denied your father the position of Imperial Medacor.” Guarding Bear looked up into the branches. “Now, I wonder how to get the Medacor Sword out of the tree.”

“Let me try, Lord Bear.” Stepping to the tree, Healing Hand placed his large palms on the trunk.

A deafening crack split the night. The tree opened as it had for Icy Wind. Into the medacor's hand leaped a sword that glowed. Lovingly, Healing Hand examined the blade, which appeared to brighten.

“The tree!” Guarding Bear said. The two warriors backed away. It wasn't the sword that glowed, but the tree that burned.

Later, Seeking Sword struggled to understand what motivated him. Thanking the Infinite that he
wasn't
wearing a disguise, he stepped toward the two Imperial Warriors, sworn enemies of all bandits in the northern lands.

“Lord Bear! Lord Hand! That fire will attract every bandit within twenty miles! Get out of here!”

Both men spun at the sound of his voice. Both grew pale at the approaching specter. “Lord Heir?! What about Scowling Tiger?!” Guarding Bear sounded panicky.

“I'll take his head tomorrow, Lord,” Seeking Sword replied, stepping closer. “Lord Hand, tell the Lord Oak to proceed with everything as planned.” He stopped five feet from the pair, looking the General in the eye. “Have you recovered from your madness, Grandfather? Whether you have or not, I love you, Guarding Bear!”

They stepped toward each other and embraced.

Seeking Sword pulled away, faking a wistful smile. “Now, go on, Lords, both of you. I have to return to the fortress.”

Guarding Bear smiled. A single tear trickled his weathered cheek. The two men bowed to him. Seeking Sword remembered to nod—as befitted an Heir. Healing Hand waved at him with a large hand, and both warriors turned to leave.

The bandit turned and started southward, the other two men going north, toward Seat. As soon as the two Imperial Warriors were out of sight, Seeking Sword doubled back and found Flashing Blade.

The pyrathon scowled at him but said nothing. Feeling distinctly disquieted, Seeking Sword volunteered nothing as they returned to camp.

“A tree is burning not too far away,” Flashing Blade told the other two men. “We'd better move to a safer spot.”

The four bandits packed quickly. A mile southwest of their original camp, they found a defensible defile and set up camp again.

Looking toward the glow of burning oak, Seeking Sword felt sad to see such a majestic tree reach the end of its life.

Suddenly, flames sprouted around him but didn't burn.

Behind him, Flashing Blade stared at him maliciously, the other two men watching. “I won't take your head because the Lord General Tiger charged me with your safety. The Lord General, or whoever commands upon our return, will hear of your treason.”

“Treason?” Puzzled, Seeking Sword frowned. “What treason?”

“Consorting with known enemies is treason. Lord Owl, Lord Finger, hear my testament. The Lord Sword could have easily killed Guarding Bear and Healing Hand. Instead, he let them live. He talked with them, and even embraced the General as a son might a father. Both sworn enemies of our liege lord Scowling Tiger, and the Lord Sword walked away, even
told
them to go! That's treason, Lord Sword. If anything happens to me, Lords Owl and Finger, I charge you both to speak of this to our liege lord, and to advocate for Seeking Sword's execution.”

“Friend turning on friend saddens me, Lord Blade,” Seeking Sword replied. “What you say happened is true, but I did nothing treasonous. Has anyone ever beaten Guarding Bear in a duel? How can I help my liege lord if I'm dead, eh? Didn't I prove by doing as I did that I resemble the Heir Flaming Arrow? Who'd recognize the Heir more readily than those two men? Both have known Flaming Arrow all his life! How did Guarding Bear address me, Lord Blade? How?” he demanded.