Cradle of Darkness Page 10

  With a trembling hand he cut a few choice flakes into a porcelain crucible, and struck a flintlock device, lighting a candle beneath it. He had heard the Easterners experimented with eye drops. Such an extreme practice sent a shudder through Nalin, however. He may be an addict but he wasn’t that far gone.

  He inhaled the potent vapours, which immediately filled him with a sense of well-being and euphoria.

  “Aaah,” he said out loud, “this must be what Exthallos is like.” He was evoking the ancient Kaldoran belief in a utopian afterlife. He himself doubted its existence, but if one could experience a little paradise on Varchal then what was the harm? The fact that he now partook of his narcotic at least three times a day lay at the back of his mind like a lurking ogre. Yet here in the privacy of his little sanctuary the ogre slept and presented only a dim, latent threat.

  Following a period of time that might have been half an hour or more — Nalin couldn’t tell as he lost track of time — he picked the ripe jarva leaves and hung them on racks facing the twin suns. Sol-Ar was suspended prominently in a violet sky while his sister Sol drifted, detained and diminished further to the west. The advent of the Black Hallows had wrought many changes in the last few days, and Nalin wondered if Sol-Ar might irradiate his leaves with some unpredictable determinant too. Such a thing was a concern, and he would have to monitor his product closely over the next few weeks. There were a handful of expendable stonegrabes grateful for a free supply who would jump at the chance of acting as subjects for his trials. That said, his most sensitive guinea pig had recently succumbed to a mysterious illness; a symptom of Sol-Ar’s influence — who could tell? Yet even by a Kaldoran’s grim standards his end was particularly traumatic. “Neck constricted and choked as if by some invisible beast,” Jashkin the physician had pronounced. The stonegrabe had been given a hasty but dignified cremation during Nalin’s recent visit to Regev, but his passing was not easily forgotten.

  The suns were still only at the start of their daily journey when Nalin returned to Castle Cuscosa. He had a tolerance to their light peculiar amongst the Kaldorans. Nonetheless he found their intense rays as they rose to their zenith quite irritating. His agenda for the afternoon was to visit the subterranean workshops and inspect his minions’ progress with a spear-throwing machine. First, however, he intended to eavesdrop on a planned meeting between Etezora and her council. This was a regular function of his and was his main source of intelligence when reporting back to Magthrum.

  He entered his chamber on the first floor of the castle and locked the door behind him. A bookcase lined the far wall, and he removed a dusty book entitled ‘History of the embattled kingdoms.’ It was a thorough, scholarly work but incredibly dry and boring, therefore very unlikely to be inspected. Behind the volume was a lever, which he depressed. The adjacent bookcase slid aside smoothly on counterweights to reveal a passage beyond.

  He lit a torch and proceeded up the constricted tunnel. There were advantages to being responsible for building the castle extensions, and such clandestine conduits were but one. A shame he had to arrange the untimely deaths of his builder-collaborators, but secrecy carried its consequences. A few minutes later he came to a cul-de-sac. On the dead-end wall was a metal plate, which he silently swung to the side to reveal a peephole. On the other side of the wall hung an antiquated gargoyle, the eyes of which gave a commanding view of the Cuscosian throne room. In addition, its ears funnelled and amplified the sound from the chamber giving Nalin complete surveillance of all that occurred in that privileged place. If his espionage activities were discovered it would mean certain death. But if nothing else, Nalin was exemplary at covering his tracks.

  ~ ~ ~

  Etezora sat on the imperial throne grooming her pet salix, Cuticous, with a thistle-brush. The creature had little by way of hair, but the brush served to stimulate its carapace and elicited a purring that all but Etezora found revolting. Its three-span segmented body curled around her left forearm while its fifteen-eyed, bulbous head lifted in response to the Queen’s affectations.

  “Must you pet that beast during our meetings?” Eétor said, a look of distaste on his face.

  “Listen to what my brother is saying about you,” Etezora said in a fawning voice. “Beast indeed. You’re just an adorable little bundle, aren’t you?” She puckered her lips at Cuticous, but there was a purple fire in her eyes as she observed Eétor.

  “It’s distracting, that’s all, and we have important matters to discuss,” her brother continued.

  “I find his presence clarifies my thinking,” Etezora said and picked up a sliver of cured dragon meat, chewing on the succulent morsel with relish.

  Zodarin stood to one side in the shadows. Etezora had ordered the blinds to be drawn as the sunlight irritated her sensitive eyes. But even the gloom could not hide the fact that Zodarin looked drawn, the grey crescents under his eyes more pronounced than usual.

  What keeps you up at night, sorcerer? She thought.

  The wizard’s presence, as always, was indispensable. He had a way of seeing through the fog of politics that dominated the Cuscosan council meetings and offered sage advice — albeit on a limited basis. Etezora suspected he could offer more, but for some reason remained mute on all but the most serious of considerations. Perhaps he considered certain matters beneath him. Whatever, he came across as aloof and Etezora found her respect for him had diminished with time. He spends too long in his precious Dreamworld, she thought. Still, best not to ignore him. Eétor seems to value his company, and that in itself is reason to keep him under close observation. I must ask Tuh-Ma to post one of his creature informants on the wizard.

  “This attack by the Dragon Riders is a disturbing development,” Tratis spoke up. As third in line to the throne, Etezora’s younger brother was keen to exert his authority and contributed more vigorously to the councils of late.

  A pity he may never see the day he ascends to the throne, Etezora reflected. But let him flex his muscles for the time being. She remained quiet, waiting for others amongst the council to air their views.

  “I suspect Tayem has reached her breaking point,” Eétor said. “It was only a matter of time, and the latest exactment was especially punitive.”

  “You object to our change of policy, Eétor?” Phindrath, the youngest sibling said. “I seem to remember you gave your consent to the increase in numbers.” Her squeaky voice grated on Etezora but she bore it with stoicism. She had to at least give the impression she was consulting with the council. Then she would act according to her will, anyway.

  “Indeed I did.” Eétor responded. “I’m simply observing an eventuality we should have prepared for.”

  “I understand surveillance of the Dragonians’ activity is your domain, brother,” Etezora said, feeding Cuticous a piece of dragon meat.

  Eétor shifted uncomfortably. “Tayem has stepped up the guard on her palace, and my usual spies have found it hard to gain entry.”

  “You’re always good at offering excuses,” Etezora said. “Still, what has transpired has occurred, and I believe it is time to scale up our response accordingly.”

  “What are you thinking of?” Tratis asked.

  Etezora smiled, her eyes glinting. She paused before replying, noting how her view of the world had become tinged with different colours since her absorption of the Hallows energy. People seemed to carry different auras according to their mood. As yet, she couldn’t fully decipher their meaning, but perhaps Zodarin could help. Tratis’s aura was an emerald colour. Jealousy perhaps? A sense of wanting to control events yet being impotent to do so?

  “Our troops are at a strength that far exceeds anything we have built up in the last hundred sols,” she said, “and our armouries are bolstered with an unprecedented stockpile of weapons and engines. It is time to remove the briar-thorn of the Dragon Riders once and for all.

  Zodarin coughed. “If I may venture an opinion,” the sorcerer said.

  At last, the lanky pale-face contr
ibutes, Etezora thought.

  “The reports we received of the attack. There are aspects I would question.”

  “It was a blatant assault on our people and our authority,” Tratis said. “What is there to question?”

  Zodarin gave the man one of his lop-sided smiles. “It just seems a bit … clumsy.”

  “The Dragon Riders are not known for their subtlety,” Phindrath said.

  “But they’re not stupid,” Zodarin replied.” What would they hope to gain from such an attack?”

  “Why, revenge of course.” Phindrath said.

  Zodarin winced. “It’s too haphazard and, as Eétor said, we had no forewarning from our intelligence sources.”

  “But the evidence at the Crossings — ”

  “Easily manufactured.”

  “You think the Dragon Riders were set up? Who would gain from such subterfuge?”

  “You only need look to the Kaldoran Mountains,” Eétor said.

  “The Kaldorans?” Tratis interjected. “Those stone encrusted imbeciles couldn’t mount a chicken fight, never mind a full-on ambush.”

  “We know very little of their capabilities, actually,” Eétor said.

  “Nalin tells me they are pre-occupied with internal strife and finding provisions to feed their starving population,” Etezora put in.

  “I don’t trust that stonegrabe,” Tratis said.

  “You ought not to be so prejudiced,” Etezora responded.

  “That’s rich, coming from you.”

  “Tratis, Tratis,” Eétor said, “our sister is playing with you.”

  Tratis scowled. “Your behaviour is unbecoming, Sister. What has come over you this last week?”

  “Still your tongue!” Etezora’s eyes flared again, and she had to make a conscious effort to restrain that which surged within. “It is a full sol before you accede to the throne. Until then, you will refer to me as your Majesty.”

  Tratis accepted the scolding and growled an apology.

  “It is irrelevant anyway,” Etezora said. “We have planned an invasion for many months now. I see no need to delay any longer.”

  “You wish for Dieol to mobilise the troops?” Eétor asked.

  “I have already told him to make preparations.”

  “You did what?” Phindrath blurted out. “You presume too much.”

  “Am I not Queen?” Etezora said, and this time an audible crackle of energy sparked like a halo around her head.

  “What is that ..?” Phindrath said, her squeak elevating to a higher pitch. She held her hand to her throat and wheezed in her next breath of air.

  “Majesty, please,” Zodarin said, staring at his Queen with an inscrutable smile.

  With great effort, the baleful purple ire in Etezora’s eyes subsided. Phindrath leaned forward, gasping and choking.

  “Is this what comes of your baptism in the Hallows?” Tratis said, rising to his feet. “You would exert this uncontrolled power on members of your own family?”

  Zodarin placed a placating hand on Tratis’s arm. “Settle yourself, Tratis. I’m sure our Queen meant no affront. Did you?” He turned to face Etezora again.

  Despite herself, Etezora sat back on her throne. The wizard had a way of disconcerting even the most powerful. His days are still numbered, she thought. The Hallows power grows daily within me. Soon, even he will fall under my will.

  Eétor chose that moment to lead the discussion. “If you are determined to invoke war, your Majesty … then so be it; but in view of this attack, we must prioritise securing the north-eastern route. Nothing should interrupt the flow of ore from Bagshot Defile. Nor should it prevent our opening the new mine.”

  “I agree. Order your Praetorian Guard to take charge of the supply routes. We need to treble the numbers given the threat level.”

  “Use my own elite soldiers? It is a frivolous use of this resource!” Eétor was about to press the point further, but then saw the intensifying of colour in the Queen’s eyes and appeared to think better of it. “I would suggest … oh, very well. But only until the latest conscripts become available.”

  Etezora placed Cuticous on a cushion, clapped her hands and stood. “It is decided, then. My brothers and sisters, the time has come. House Cuscosa may be very recent in its ascent, but the kingdom we are building will last through the ages. It is time to expand our empire and bring the primitive hordes to heel. Within weeks we will be celebrating a new era.”

  Etezora was impressed with her pronouncement and saw that it stirred a resolve amongst the council — albeit a reluctant one. They do not grasp my vision for greatness, she thought. Which is why I must extend my reign — once the expansion is complete and my rivals subdued.

  She watched with satisfaction as the council members stood in deference to her authority. They each had their duties to perform and, though the decision to embark on a war came sooner than they expected, they would welcome the rewards coming their way.

  ~ ~ ~

  Nalin slid the cover back over his peephole and drew in a deep breath.

  War? This is an unexpected development. Magthrum wanted to stir up trouble between the Dragonians and Cuscosians, but it sounds like Etezora’s expansionist plans know no bounds. This could mean the downfall of Kaldora itself.

  He hurried down the tunnel back to his room, resolved to inform Magthrum. Etezora’s appearance and conduct in the meeting dominated his thoughts. She had always been an imposing leader, but what he had seen terrified him. She wields a power most fell, he thought. Are there other Cuscosians under this influence? He also remembered Magthrum’s demeanour when he had visited Regev — the Fellchief possessed a dark resolve and fire he hadn’t witnessed before. This too frightened him.

  There wasn’t time to travel to the mountains again. He would have to use swifter means. Taking a small sheaf of parchment and a quill, he scribbled a note, blew on the ink and rolled it up. Beyond the main courtyard was the Royal Aviary. It took only a few minutes to reach the squat building, and he quickly found the cage he sought.

  “Speedwill,” he said to the imposing bird behind the wooden bars, “I have need of your wings.” The bird resembled a swift, only twice the size and jet-black in colour. It uttered a high-pitched ‘tseep’ noise and shuffled along its perch, accepting Nalin’s hand.

  “Here,” he continued, “take this straight to Magthrum. Do not dally on the way. He must receive it by nightfall.”

  Nalin looked over his shoulder, ensuring no prying eyes observed his activity, then took the bird outside and released it. The mountain swift was the fastest beast in the air, more fleet than a falcon on a horizontal flightpath. He was confident Speedwill would deliver his explosive news promptly. Magthrum would need to call his war council. In the meantime, Nalin resolved to step up his own plans.

  He returned to his chamber and brewed himself a pot of sweetleaf tea. He needed something to calm his nerves. As he supped the soporific brew, the next course of action coalesced in his mind. Time for my minions to knuckle down, he thought.

  It would be a long day and night, and only the jarva would see him through.

  14

  Colour me darkly

  “Tell me again,” Tayem said to Mahren.

  “I already explained as fully as I can,” her sister replied.

  They were stood in the dragon pens, Tayem watching morosely as the dragons that returned from the ill-fated sortie writhed and groaned in torment. Cistre as ever, had placed herself in close proximity — within sight but beyond earshot of the sisters.

  “I need you to speak from the dragons’ point of view,” Tayem continued. “It is one thing to recount a military report, but you possess the confidence of the kirith-a, they tell you their secrets. I would hear their pain.”

  Mahren regarded her Queen and noted her voice did not carry the Black Hallows invective so prevalent in the previous evening’s emergency council meeting. That had seen her raging at the affront reported to her, calling for Cuscosian heads to roll.<
br />
  “Very well,” she said. “We arrived at the appointed place ahead of time. I should have noticed matters were awry when our dragons grew restless on the approach. It was as if they sensed something was amiss.”

  “You said the Cuscosians were nowhere in sight?”

  “Yes. It was as if they had abandoned the wagons and left in haste.”

  “This lends weight to what Disconsolin said last night. Word must have got out to the Cuscosians, forewarning them. It can be the only explanation. I hope his investigations yield the identity of our spy. But I interrupted you. Please continue.”

  Mahren was distracted for a moment by Jaestrum rolling over on his side again. His scales were raised, and dust covered him as a result of his contortions, as if he found it impossible to adopt a comfortable position. “We reconnoitred the area, suspicious there might be hostile presences close at hand; but we did not find any. There weren’t even any travellers on the main highway save for a couple of farmers carrying hay.”

  “Was it you who allowed the dragons to feed?” Tayem said.

  “No. I was the one who spied out the road. It was Aedrellipe who gave permission. You must understand the meat-trade was three days late. Our beasts were starved from the Cuscosian’s tardiness and they devoured the Cuscosian cattle in a matter of minutes.”

  “And you let Jaestrum join the feeding upon your return?”

  “How could I not?”

  “Despite your suspicions?”

  “If you are looking for blame, sister, then understand that I accept full responsibility. But there is such a thing as over-stating the case.”