Читать книгу The Diamond Warriors - David Zindell, David Zindell - Страница 8

Lord Harsha and Joshu rode out early the next morning. Along with my companions, I whiled away the hours resting and reading and eating the good, hearty foods that Behira prepared for us. As promised, I took her aside and tried to reason with her. I reminded her that Valari ways were different from those of the Sarni, and that the Valari women have never marched into battle. A sword, I told her, would always be a man’s weapon, while a woman made better use of her soul. And I had need of her father’s sword and all his concentration on the task at hand. I asked her to give her word that she would not anger her father by openly decrying marriage or refusing to wed. If she helped me in this way, I said, I would help her in whatever way I could. We clasped hands to seal our agreement. And then she went off to ask Atara to teach her how to work her great horn bow and fire off her steel-tipped arrows.

We waited all that day, and a little longer. The following morning, just before noon, Lord Harsha returned at the head of fifteen knights whose great horses pounded the little dirt lane into powder. All had accoutered themselves for war: they bore long, double-bladed kalamas and triangular shields and wore suits of splendid diamond armor. I recognized most of them from the charges emblazoned on their surcoats. Sar Shivalad bore a red eagle as his emblem, while Sar Viku Aradam’s surcoat showed three white roses on a blue field. I stood with my friends outside Lord Harsha’s house watching them canter up to us in clouds of dust. As they calmed their mounts and the dust cleared, a sharp-faced man called Sar Zandru pointed at me and called out: ‘It is the Elahad! He lives – as Lord Harsha has said.’

He and the other knights dismounted, then bowed their heads to me. They came up to clasp my hand and present themselves, where presentations were needed. I knew some of these knights quite well: Sar Shivalad, with his fierce eyes and great cleft nose, and Kanshar, Siraj the Younger, Ianaru of Mir and Jurald Evar. Others had familiar faces: Sar Yardru, Sar Barshar and Vijay Iskaldar. Sar Jessu and I had practiced at swords when we were children running around the battlements of my father’s castle; I had last seen him at the Culhadosh Commons leading his warriors into the gap in our lines that might have destroyed the whole army – and Mesh along with it. For his great valor and even greater deed, he should have been rewarded with a ring showing four brilliant diamonds instead of the three of a master knight. But only a Valari king has the power to make a knight into a lord.

‘Valashu Elahad,’ he said, stepping up to me and squeezing my hand. He was a stocky man whose lively eyes looked out from beneath the bushiest black eyebrows I had ever seen. ‘Forgive me for pledging to Lord Avijan, for I would rather have given my oath to you – as we all would.’

‘There is nothing to forgive,’ I said, returning his clasp. I brought his hand up before my eyes. ‘I only wish I could have given you the ring you deserve.’

When I praised him for saving Mesh from defeat in the Great Battle, he told me, ‘But I only fought as everyone did. It was you who had the foresight and courage to let the gap remain open until our enemy was trapped inside. You have a genius for war, Lord Valashu. I have told this to all who would listen.’

‘And you have the heart of a lion,’ I told him, looking at the red lion emblazoned on his white surcoat and shield. ‘I shall call you “Jessu the Lion-Heart,” since I cannot yet call you “Lord Jessu.”’

He smiled as he bowed his head to me. The other knights approved of this honor, for they drew out their kalamas and clanged their steel pommels against their shields. And they called out, ‘Jessu the Lion-Heart! Jessu the Lion-Heart!’

I looked around for Joshu Kadar, but could not see him. When I asked Lord Harsha about this, he told me, ‘The lad has gone off to retrieve his armor and his warhorse, and should meet up here soon.’

He told me that he had preserved my armor, and Maram’s too, and he led the way inside his house up to his room. There, from within a great, locked chest, he drew out three suits of armor reinforced with steel along the shoulders and studded with bright diamonds. After we, too, had accoutered ourselves, Lord Harsha handed me my old surcoat, folded neatly and emblazoned with a great silver swan and seven silver stars. He said to me, ‘You’ll want to wait, I suppose, to wear this?’

‘No,’ I said taking it from him. I pulled it over my head so that the surcoat’s black silk fell down to my knees, with the swan centered over my heart. ‘I am tired of skulking about in secret, as you said. I will go forth beneath my family’s arms.’

Lord Harsha smiled at this. At the very bottom of the chest, he found a great banner also showing my emblem. He said to me, ‘There is no force that can molest us between here and Lord Avijan’s castle, and so why not ride as the Elahad you are? In any case, the news that you have returned will spread through all Mesh soon enough.’

When we went back outside, we found that Joshu Kadar had arrived decked out in heavy armor and bearing on his shield the great white wolf of the Kadars. It came time to say goodbye to Behira, for she would be staying home in order to milk the cows and hoe the fields – and, I guessed, to take up one of Lord Harsha’s swords and practice the ancient forms out in the yard, since there would be no one looking over her shoulder in disapproval of such an unwomanly act.

‘Farewell,’ Behira said to Maram, standing by his horse with him and clasping his hand. She gave him a blueberry tart that she had baked that morning. ‘This will sustain you on at least the first leg of your new adventure.’

‘I pray that it will be my last adventure,’ he said, squeezing her hand. ‘Just as I pray that someday you will be my wife.’

Behira smiled nicely at this as if she wanted to believe him. She had little gifts as well for Joshu Kadar and her father, and for the children. Master Juwain and Liljana had brought our horses and remounts out from the barn into the yard. Atara sat on top of Fire, while Daj climbed up onto a bay named Brownie and Estrella rode a white gelding we called Snow. They formed up behind Lord Harsha and the fifteen knights – now seventeen counting Joshu Kadar and Maram. Lord Harsha insisted that I take my place at the head of the knights, and so I did. Then, in two columns, we set out down the road.

We had fine weather for travel, with a warm, westerly wind and blue skies full of puffy white clouds. Bees buzzed in the wildflowers growing along the barley and wheat fields, and crows cawed in the cherry orchards. After turning past a farm belonging to a widow named Jereva and her two crippled sons, we made our way east toward Mount Eluru and the white-capped peaks of the Culhadosh range that shone in the distance. The ground rose steadily into a hillier country, and after six or seven miles, the farms began giving way to more orchards, pastures full of sheep and cattle, and patches of forest. The road, like every other in Mesh, had been made of the best paving stones and kept in good repair. Our horses’ hooves drummed against it in a clacking, rhythmic pace, and we made good distance without too much work. Twenty-four miles it was from Lord Harsha’s farm to Lord Avijan’s castle, straight through the heartland of what had once been my father’s realm. And at nearly every house or field that we passed, men, women and children paused in their labors to watch us pound down the road.

At the edge of a pear orchard, a hoary warrior raised his hand to point at my father’s banner streaming in the breeze as he called out to his grandson: ‘Look – the swan and stars of the Elahad!’

He was too old and infirm to do more than wish us well, but we came across other warriors who wanted to take part in our expedition. Those who owned warhorses – and whom Lord Harsha or the other knights could vouch for – I asked to join us. By the time the sun began dropping toward the mountains behind us, we numbered thirty-three strong.

About eight miles from Lord Avijan’s castle, we turned onto a much narrower road leading north. This took us through a band of pasture with the Lake of the Ten Thousand Swans to our left and the steep slopes of Mount Eluru rising almost straight up to the right. In one place, only a strip of grass ten yards wide separated the sacred mountain’s granite walls from the icy blue waters of the lake. Lord Avijan’s ancestors had built the Avijan castle farther up through the pass in a cleft between two spurs of Mount Eluru’s northern buttress. In all the world, I could think of few castles harder to reach or possessing such great natural defenses.

We approached the castle up a very steep and rocky slope that would have daunted any attacking army. A shield wall, fronted with a moat and protected by many high towers, surrounded the castle’s yards and shops, with the great keep rising up like a stone block beneath the much greater mass of Mount Eluru behind it.

Lord Avijan, followed by a retinue of twenty knights, met us on the drawbridge that was lowered over black waters. He had decked himself out in full armor, and sat upon a huge gray stallion. His blue surcoat showed a golden boar. He was a tall man with a long, serious face that reminded me of a wolfhound. At twenty-six years of age, he was young to be a lord, but my father had found few men in Mesh so skilled at leading a great many knights in wild but well-organized charges of steel-clad horses.

‘Lord Elahad!’ he called out to me in a strong, stately voice. ‘Welcome home to Mesh – and to my home. My castle is yours for as long as you need it. And my warriors and knights are yours to command, for as you must have been told, they have taken oaths to me, and it is my command that they should support you in becoming king.’

This, I thought, was Lord Avijan’s way of apologizing for a thing that he had no need to apologize for. A proud and intelligent man with little vanity, he came from a long and honored line of warriors. His grandfather had married my great-grandfather’s youngest sister, and so we counted ourselves as kin. This distant tie of blood, however, formed no basis for his claim on Mesh’s throne. That came from his skill at arms, his coolness of head on the battlefield and his good judgment off it – and the way he inspired courage and loyalty in the men whom he led.

‘Thank you, Lord Avijan,’ I told him. I nudged Altaru closer to him so that I could clasp his hand. ‘But it is my wish that you release your warriors from their oaths. I would have them follow me, or not, according to their hearts. And then, if it is my fate to become king, they may make their oaths to me.’

Lord Avijan bowed his head at this, and then so did the knights lined up in the tunnel of the tower behind him. They drew out their kalamas to salute me, then struck them against their shields in a great noise of steel against steel. And one of them – a knight I recognized as Tavish the Bold – cried out: ‘You will become king, and we will follow you to the end of all battles, oaths or no oaths!’

Lord Avijan then invited all of us to a feast. After we had ridden into the castle and given our horses to the care of the stableboys, we settled into whatever rooms or quarters that Lord Avijan had appointed for us. Half an hour later, we gathered in Lord Avijan’s great hall, on the first floor of the keep. Many long tables laden with roasted joints of meat and hot breads filled this large space; many stands of candles had been set out to light it, and hundreds of little, flickering flames cast their fire into the air. The great wood beams high above us were blackened with generations of soot. A hundred knights and warriors joined us there, for word of my arrival had gone ahead of me. Many of these tall, powerful men I had known since my childhood. I paid my respects to a master knight named Sar Yulmar, and to Sar Vikan, whom I had led into battle at the Culhadosh Commons. Also to Lord Sharad, a very tall and lean man with hair as gray as steel, who had taken command of Asaru’s battalion after my brother had been killed. He had gained great renown at the Battle of Red Mountain against Waas, and fourteen years before that, at the Diamond River, where the Ishkans had practically murdered my grandfather. Despite his years, he had a gallant manner and didn’t mind taking risks in the heat of battle.

We all filled our bellies with good food that night, and then it came time to fill our souls with good conversation. We might have hoped for many rounds of toasts, entertaining stories told and minstrels singing out the great, ancient tales. But as Lord Avijan’s grooms went around filling and refilling the warriors’ cups with thick, black beer, our talk turned toward serious matters. Soon it became clear that our gathering would be less a celebration than a council of war.

After Lord Avijan’s young children had been sent off to bed, he and I came down off the dais at the front of the room where we had taken the table of honor. I insisted that all present should be honored equally that night, and so near the center of the hall I found a table littered with empty cups and spilled beer, and I leaned back against it. Lord Avijan, Lord Harsha and others gathered around informally, sitting on tables or the long benches nearby – or standing all crowded-in close. Atara sat on one side of me as if she were my queen, while Maram pressed his huge body up against my other side. Master Juwain and my other companions took their places at the other end of the table. More than a few of the warriors looking on must have thought it strange that we included Daj and Estrella in our discussion, but that was because they did not know these two remarkable children.

‘Let me say, first and last,’ I told the warriors gathered around me, ‘that you do me a great honor in coming forth for me after all that has happened – and in such perilous times. I will never forget this, and no matter what befalls, I will stand by you to my last breath.’

‘You will stand as king – that is what will befall!’ Sar Vikan barked out. He, himself, stood a good few inches shorter than most Valari, but what he lacked in height he made up in the power of his thickly muscled body. His square-cut face seemed animated with a rage of restlessness streaming through him. ‘When Lord Tanu and Lord Tomavar hear that you have returned, they will surely step aside.’

‘They will not step aside!’ Lord Sharad said. He leaned against the table opposite me, and pulled at one of the battle ribbons tied to his long, gray hair. ‘Let us, at least, be clear about that.’

‘Then we will make them step aside!’ Sar Vikan snapped as he grasped the hilt of his sword. ‘Just as we will make known the truth about Valashu Elahad – at last. Who, hearing this, will try to hold his warriors to oaths made under false knowledge and great duress?’

‘Well, lad, it is one thing to hear the truth,’ Lord Harsha said, ‘and another to take it to heart. Here’s the truth that I know: Lord Tanu has hardened his heart to the plight of our kingdom, and Lord Tomavar has lost his altogether – and his head!’

Although he had not spoken with humorous intent, his words caused the fierce warriors standing around us to laugh. But any levity soon gave way to more serious passions as Lord Avijan said, ‘If we allow it, Lord Tanu and Lord Tomavar will tear the realm apart – that has been obvious from the first. But we must not allow it!’

‘But our choices,’ protested Sar Jessu, who was sitting next to him, ‘are growing fewer. And things between Lord Tomavar and Lord Tanu are only growing worse.’

‘Truly, they are,’ Lord Avijan said. ‘And all over mere matters of marriage.’

These ‘mere’ matters, it seemed, had fairly exploded with pure vitriol. The first, and ostensibly the most trivial, concerned a brooch. Lord Tanu’s cousin, Manamar Tanu, was the father of Vareva, whom Lord Tanu had arranged to marry to Lord Tomavar in order to strengthen the bonds between these two prominent families. Now that more than a year had passed since Vareva’s abduction, according to our law, Manamar had declared Vareva dead. He had asked Lord Tomavar for the return of a beautiful diamond brooch that his wife, Dalia, had given to Vareva as a wedding gift. Manamar held that the marriage agreement called for the return of this brooch should Vareva either die or produce no issue. The brooch, he said, had passed down in Dalia’s family for generations, and Dalia now wished to give it to her second daughter, Ursa. But Lord Tomavar claimed that the law was vague concerning such declarations of decease, and said that in any case his beloved Vareva could not be dead. The brooch, he said, was dear to him, and he would not surrender it unless Manamar Tanu took it from him by the victor’s right in battle.

‘Lord Tomavar challenged Sar Manamar to a duel!’ Lord Avijan said. ‘In effect, he did. For the time being, Lord Tanu has forbidden Sar Manamar to go up against Lord Tomavar. But if he wishes for a cause of war, he has only to let his cousin impale himself on Lord Tomavar’s sword.’

‘And that, I fear,’ Lord Harsha said, ‘would be the result of such a duel. I was there at the tournament in Nar twenty years ago when Lord Tomavar won a third at the sword.’

‘Twenty years ago!’ Joshu Kadar called out from behind me.

‘Don’t let Lord Tomavar’s age fool you, lad. We old wolves might get longer in the tooth with the years, but some of us get longer in the reach of our swords, too. I’ve seen Lord Tomavar’s kalama at work, and there are few knights in all of Mesh who could stand up to him.’

Here he looked at me, and so did Lord Avijan and everyone else. In Nar, only two years before, I had won a first at the sword and had been declared the tournament’s champion.

‘A brooch,’ I said, ‘a simple brooch.’

It seemed the most foolish thing in the world that two families could tear themselves apart over a piece of jewelry – and take a whole kingdom along with it.

‘Well,’ Lord Harsha said, ‘it is a diamond brooch, said to be made of the finest Ice Mountain bluestars – haven’t we Valari always fought each other over diamonds?’

‘That we have,’ Lord Avijan said sadly. ‘But Meshians have never fought Meshians.’

‘And now Zenshar Tanu is dead – just two weeks ago on Moonday,’ Sar Jessu put in. ‘And so who can see a chance for peace?’

This was the second matrimonial matter that Lord Avijan had spoken of. Some years before, Sar Zenshar Tanu, Lord Tanu’s youngest nephew, had married Lord Tomavar’s niece, a headstrong young woman named Raya. During the Great Battle, Sar Zenshar had taken an arrow through his leg. Although the arrow had been successfully drawn and Raya had cared for him with great devotion, the wound had festered and had poisoned his blood. Sar Zenshar, to the horror of all, had taken a whole year rotting, withering and dying. After the funeral, as Zenshar had neither father nor brothers, Lord Tanu had taken charge of Raya and her children. But Raya had declared that she would not live under the command of a man who had become her uncle’s enemy. And so in the middle of the night, she put her children onto the backs of swift horses and fled through the Lake Country and the Sawash River Valley to Pushku, where Lord Tomavar had his estates. And so she had broken the final chain that linked the two families together.

‘The whole Tanu clan,’ Sar Jessu said, ‘is outraged over what they are calling the abduction of Zenshar’s children. They’ve put out the word to their smithies, and are refusing to sell swords to anyone who would follow Lord Tomavar.’

The best swords in the world, of course, have always been forged in Godhra, and every Meshian warrior aspires to wield one and invest it with his very soul.

‘And worse,’ Sar Jessu went on, ‘the Tanus have pressured the armorers not to sell to the Tomavar clan. The Tomavars have no diamond mines of their own, or so the Tomavars whine, and so how can they make their own armor?’

‘Diamonds, always diamonds,’ Lord Harsha muttered. ‘It’s been scarcely two years since we nearly went to war with the Ishkans over Mount Korukel’s diamond mines.’

‘But Valashu Elahad,’ Joshu Kadar said to him, ‘returned with the Lightstone and cooled the Ishkans’ blood!’

At this, Sar Shivalad and Sar Viku Aradam and other knights gazed at me as if they were looking for something within me. I felt the whole room practically roiling with strong passions: wonder, doubt, elation and dread.

Lord Avijan bowed his head to me, then said, ‘The Elahad did return, it’s true, but now that the Lord of Lies has regained the Lightstone, the Ishkans’ blood is rising again. Already they have taken a part of Anjo, and have defeated Taron in battle.’

And this, as he was too kind to say, had been the inevitable result of my failure in Tria to unite the Valari against Morjin.

But I must never, I told myself, fail again.

‘Pfahh – the Ishkans!’ Sar Vikan called out to Lord Avijan. ‘You think about them too much.’

‘King Hadaru,’ Lord Avijan reminded him, ‘remains a merciless man – and a cunning one.’

‘Yes, but he has been wounded, and some say the wound rots him to his death.’

‘Some do say that,’ Lord Avijan admitted. ‘But I would not hold my breath waiting for the Ishkan bear to die.’

The story he now told angered everyone, and saddened them, too, for it was only a continuation of the ancient tragedy of our people. After the conclave in Tria where I had slain Ravik Kirriland before thousands, the Valari kings had lost faith in me – and in themselves. Seeing no hope for peace, they had fallen back upon war. Old grievances had festered, and new ambitions fired their blood. In the course of only a few months, Athar had attacked Lagash, while King Waray of Taron had begun plotting against Ishka and King Hadaru. King Waray had tried to help the duchies and baronies of Anjo unite against Ishka – with the secret agenda of trying to make Anjo a client state and so strengthening Taron. But King Hadaru had sniffed out King Waray’s plans, and had marched the strongest army in the Nine Kingdoms into Taron. He defeated King Waray at the Battle of the Broken Tree, where a lance had pierced him. As punishment he had not only annexed part of Anjo but was now demanding that King Waray surrender up territory as well – either that or a huge weight of diamonds in blood payment for the warriors that King Hadaru had lost.

‘But has King Hadaru,’ I said to Lord Avijan, ‘made any move toward Mesh?’

‘Not yet,’ Lord Avijan said. ‘Surely he waits for us to weaken ourselves first.’

‘It is a pity,’ Sar Vikan said, ‘that we didn’t make war upon the Ishkans on the Raaswash. Then we might have weakened them.’

I felt many pairs of eyes searching for something in my eyes, weighing and testing. And I said to Sar Vikan, ‘No, that is not the war we must fight.’

‘But what of Waas, then?’ Lord Avijan asked me. ‘There bodes a war that we might not be able to avoid.’

I turned toward the hall’s eastern window, now dark and full of stars. In that direction only twenty-five miles away across the Culhadosh River lay Waas, where I had fought in my first battle at the Red Mountain. King Sandarkan, as Lord Avijan now told us, burned to avenge the defeat that my father had dealt him. He said that there were signs that King Sandarkan might be planning to lead the Waashians in an attack against Kaash.

‘If they do,’ Lord Harsha said, ‘we must aid them. It is a matter of honor.’

How could I disagree with him? King Talanu Solaru of Kaash was my uncle, and Kaash was Mesh’s ancient ally, and so how could ties of blood and honor be ignored?

‘We cannot march to Kaash’s aid,’ Lord Avijan said, ‘if we are busy fighting ourselves. Surely King Sandarkan is counting on this. Surely he will defeat the Kaashans, for they are too few, and then he will annex the Arjan Land and extract a promise from King Talanu that Kaash won’t come to our aid if Waas then attacks us.’

Joshu Kadar slapped his hand against his sword’s scabbard and said, ‘But we defeated Waas handily once, and can again!’

Lord Harsha sighed at this and said, ‘Little good that will do us, lad, for we’ll only weaken ourselves further, and then King Hadaru will surely lead the Ishkans here.’

‘Or else,’ Lord Avijan said, ‘Waas won’t attack alone but will ally with the Ishkans to put an end to Mesh once and for all.’

‘At least,’ Lord Sharad added, nodding his head at me, ‘that is our best assessment of matters as they now stand.’

For a few moments no one spoke, and the hall fell quiet. Everyone knew that, from more than one direction, Mesh faced the threat of defeat. And everyone looked to me to find a way to escape such a fate.

‘When you left Mesh last year,’ Lord Avijan said to me, ‘you could not have known how things would fall out. But you should not have left.’

I stood away from the table behind me to ease the stiffness in my legs. Then I looked out at the knights and warriors standing around me, and said, ‘My apologies, but I had to. There are things you don’t know about. But now you must be told.’

With everyone pressing in closer, I drew in a deep breath and wondered just how much I should divulge to them? I thought I might do best to conjure up some plan by which we Meshians might prevail against the more familiar enemies: the Ishkans and the Waashians, the Sarni tribes in their hordes of horse warriors – even ourselves. And so save ourselves. But I had vowed never to lie again, and more, to tell the truth so far as it could be told. Were my fellow warriors strong enough, I wondered, to hold the most terrible of truths within their hearts? In the end, either one trusted in men, or did not.

‘For thousands of years,’ I said to them, ‘Mesh has had enemies. And where necessary we defeated them – all except one. And his name is Morjin.’

‘But we defeated him at the Sarburn!’ Sar Vikan called out.

‘Three thousand years ago we did,’ Lord Avijan said. ‘With the help of all the Valari kingdoms.’

‘And at the Culhadosh Commons!’ Sar Jessu cried out to me. ‘Upon your lead, we crushed an army that outnumbered us four to one!’

His words caused most of the warriors present to cry out and strike their swords’ pommels against the tables in great drumming of steel against wood. Then I held up my hand and said to them, ‘Those were great victories, it is true, won by the most valorous of warriors. But they were not defeats, as the Red Dragon must be defeated. He has other armies, and greater than the ones we faced. What good does it do to strike off a serpent’s head if two more grow back in its place?’

I told them then of our journey to Hesperu and of our triumphant quest to find the Maitreya. A great light, I said, we had found in the far west, but along the way we had endured great darkness, too. Morjin had wrought horrors everywhere – and now was planning to work the greatest of evils: to loose the Dark One upon Ea. I feared that this doom would prove too great a terror for many of the warriors staring at me to contemplate. Who really wanted to believe, or could believe, that the whole world – and the very universe itself – might be destroyed down to the last grain of sand?

‘As always,’ I said to them, ‘Morjin remains the true enemy’

My words gave the warriors pause. All through Lord Avijan’s great hall, I saw brave men looking at each other in a dreadful silence.

‘For now,’ I continued, ‘the man called Bemossed, who must be the Maitreya, keeps Morjin from using the Lightstone to free the Dark One. But he needs our help, as we need his.’

At this, a white-haired warrior named Lord Noldashan turned to me and said, ‘You appear to know things that it seems would be hard for any man to know. May it be asked how you have come by such knowledge?’

‘Only through great suffering!’ Maram called out from beside me. ‘And through great fortune, if that is the right word.’

Because it pained me to think of the torture that I had led Maram to endure in the Red Desert, and in other places, I laid my hand on his knee and squeezed it. And then I said to Lord Noldashan, and the others: ‘It was Kane who told me about the Dark One named Angra Mainyu. And I do not doubt his word, for much of what he related is hinted at in the last three books of the Saganom Elu.’

‘An old book,’ Lord Sharad said with a smile. ‘Almost as old as Lord Noldashan – and myself.’

But Lord Noldashan, it seemed, could not be moved from his intense seriousness. He nodded at Master Juwain, and called out in his raspy voice: ‘The Brotherhood teaches that much of what is written in the Valkariad and the Trian Prophecies can be taken in different ways. And even more so with the Eschaton. How, then, should we take this doom that Lord Valashu’s companion has told of? This Kane is a mysterious man – and an outlander, as we should not forget.’

‘He is the greatest warrior I have ever known!’ Lord Sharad called back. ‘I was there when he slew the Ikurians beneath the Mare’s Hill, and I have never seen a sword worked so!’

‘Lord Sharad tells true,’ Sar Vikan said. ‘I fought near Sar Kane, and when his blood is up, he seems less a man than an angel of battle.’

Upon these words, I struggled to keep my face still and my gaze fixed straight ahead. I hoped my companions, too, would keep the secret of Kane’s otherworldly origins.

‘Man or angel,’ Lord Noldashan said, ‘Sar Kane might well have come by his knowledge through great quests, with a true heart, and yet have learned things that are not true.’

‘They are true!’ I suddenly called out. The force of my voice seemed to strike Lord Noldashan and others as with the blow of a war hammer. I fought to control myself. In some dark room of Lord Avijan’s castle, I sensed, perhaps even in the great hall itself, the Ahrim waited for me – and perhaps for everyone. ‘Angra Mainyu still dwells on Damoom, and he turns his dark gaze on Ea. But even if he were only legend, there is still Morjin. He exists, as we all know. And so do his armies.’

The men standing around me considered this. Then Lord Sharad looked at me and said, ‘I think I have to believe what Kane has told, though I am loath to. But why hasn’t Kane returned with you from your last quest to tell us himself?’

‘Because,’ I said, ‘he has gone into Galda.’

‘Galda! But why?’

‘Because,’ I told him, ‘we heard that Morjin might have gone there.’

And this, I said, was a consequence of our battle with Morjin and his creatures in Hesperu. I explained more about the worst of the enemies that we had faced on our quest: the three droghuls that Morjin had sent to destroy my companions and me. As with any ghul made from a man, I said, Morjin seized the droghuls’ minds and caused them to work his will, as if they were puppets being pulled by strings. But the droghuls were particularly deadly, for Morjin had made these dreadful beings from his own flesh, in his likeness, and had imbued them with a part of his power. After we – actually young Daj – had slain the third of the droghuls, a rumor had shot across the world that Morjin himself had been slain. And so Morjin had been compelled to come out of the stone city of Argattha to show himself and prove that he still lived. He had gone through the Dragon Kingdoms one by one, finally leading an army from Karabuk into Galda, where brave knights had revolted against Morjin upon the false news of his death.

‘Kane,’ I told Lord Sharad, ‘went down into Galda so that he might take part in the rebellion.’

‘You mean,’ Lord Harsha said with a distasteful look, ‘he went to put an arrow into Morjin’s back, if he can.’

I smiled sadly at this. ‘Kane would be more likely to use a knife. But, yes, he went to Galda to slay Morjin – if he can. And if Morjin is really there.’

‘And if he is not?’ Lord Avijan asked me.

‘Wherever Morjin is,’ I said, ‘his plans will go ahead unless we do kill him. What happened in Hesperu has delayed him, but no more. Already, it is said, he has ordered a great fleet up from Sunguru and Hesperu to attack Eanna. If it takes him a hundred years, he will conquer Ea’s free lands one by one until he has the Nine Kingdoms surrounded. But it will not take him a hundred years.’

As I paused to take a sip of beer, a half dozen speculations and arguments broke out among the warriors standing around me. The hall filled with the stridor of angry and confused voices. And then Lord Avijan turned to Maram and asked, ‘You are from Delu – will the Delians fight if the Red Dragon attacks them?’

‘Will we fight?’ Maram called out. ‘Of course we will! Ah, that is, a few knights and diehards will fight, while my father tries to make terms. He is no fool, and he’ll no more want to stand isolated against the Red Dragon than would any other king – even, I might add, King Hadaru or King Waray, or any of the Valari kings.’

Here he glanced at me as if wishing that I would proclaim that Mesh would never go alone against the Red Dragon. But I looked down into my beer and said nothing.

‘And what of the Sarni tribes?’ Lord Avijan asked, turning toward Atara. ‘Has the Manslayer had news of her people?’

Next to me, Atara nodded her head at this, and her white blindfold moved up and down like a signal banner. ‘The Kurmak will never make terms with Morjin, so long as Sajagax is chief – and I think my grandfather still has a good few years left to him. He will call for the other tribes to ride with him in battle, if battle there must be. The Niuriu might join with him. Perhaps the Danladi, too, and the central Urtuk. I cannot say about the Adirii, for their clans are divided. But I believe that the Manslayers will decide for Sajagax, should the Red Dragon ever attack him.’

She did not add that the fierce women warriors of the Manslayer Society, who came from all the tribes, favored making Atara their Chiefess, and Atara would certainly lead them in aid of Sajagax, if she could.

Now Master Juwain let out a long sigh as he clamped his gnarly hands around his beer mug – filled with apple cider. And he said, ‘There are other ways of opposing the Red Dragon than through war.’

While the warriors listened with the great reverence they held for Masters of the Brotherhood, Master Juwain told them of much the same plan for the peaceful defeat of Morjin that he had put forth two days before in the wood where we had fought the Ahrim.

‘The Maitreya,’ he said, ‘will light a fire in men’s hearts that the Red Dragon cannot put out. In the end it will consume him.’

‘This is our hope,’ I added. ‘But the Maitreya must first live long enough to pass on this flame.’

‘The Maitreya!’ Sar Jessu cried out, looking at me. ‘Always, the Maitreya! Once, we believed that you were the great Shining One.’

At this, a hundred warriors stared straight at me. I, too, had shared in their delusion. In truth, I had engendered it.

‘We believed,’ Sar Jessu went on, ‘that the Maitreya would lead us to victory. But now we don’t want to believe in miracles – it is enough to believe in you!

Again, the warriors around me struck their swords against the wooden tables.

Then Lord Harsha’s single eye swept around the hall as he regarded the warriors sternly. And he reminded them, ‘The Shining One will come forth, as has been promised in the Trian Prophecies and the Progressions. Is he, then, the man Bemossed that Lord Elahad has told of? I would like to believe he is. But whoever he is, flame or no, we must look to our own swords for our defense, as we always have!’

So saying, he whipped free his long, shining kalama, and saluted me. Lord Avijan inclined his head to him, and said, ‘That is my thought, too. But what, indeed, is the best course for defending Mesh?’

‘There is only one course for us,’ Sar Jessu called out. ‘And it is as Lord Valashu has said: we must stop Morjin!’

‘But stop him how?’ Sar Shivalad said, turning his great, cleft nose toward Lord Harsha. ‘That is the question we must decide.’

‘That it is, lad,’ Lord Harsha said. ‘And here I’m in agreement with Master Juwain. Let us make Mesh strong again, as it was in the reign of King Shamesh. Then let us remember that we have destroyed or thrown back every army that tried to invade our land – even Morjin’s.’

‘But what of the Lightstone?’ Sar Shivalad asked him.

And Lord Noldashan broke in, crying out, ‘Let Morjin keep it! It is a cursed thing, and it nearly destroyed our land!’

His vehemence stunned me, and I looked from Lord Noldashan to his son, Sar Jonavar, beside him. He was a tall, well-made knight, perhaps a few years older than I, and he stood gripping his gauntleted hand around the hilt of his sword as he looked at me in great turmoil.

‘No, it is just the opposite,’ I said to Lord Noldashan. ‘The Lightstone holds marvels and miracles. In the hands of the Maitreya –’

‘It nearly destroyed you!’ Lord Noldashan shouted. ‘Do not dream of leading us on impossible expeditions to win it back!’

‘Do not,’ Lord Sharad said, moving closer to Lord Noldashan, ‘speak to Lord Valashu so. Remember why you’ve come here!’

‘To make Valashu Elahad King of Mesh!’ Lord Noldashan said. ‘Not to follow him on a fool’s mission!’

‘I would follow him to the end of the earth!’ Lord Sharad cried out.

‘And I!’ Lord Jessu said.

‘And I!’ Joshu Kadar said.

‘So would I,’ Sar Vikan said, drawing his sword, ‘if it meant a chance to put this through Morjin’s neck! I would think that Lord Noldashan, of all knights, would want his vengeance!’

As Lord Noldashan faced Sar Vikan and moved his hand onto his sword’s hilt, I remembered that Lord Noldashan had a second son, Televar, whom I did not see anywhere in the hall.

‘Peace, honored knight!’ I said to Lord Noldashan as I held up my hand. ‘Let us sit together and drink our beer – and cool our heads!’

‘Peace!’ Lord Noldashan cried out. ‘Have you truly returned to bring peace, Lord Elahad? Or only to bring more blood, as you did a year ago when you practically called down the Red Dragon upon us?’

‘Do not speak to Lord Valashu so!’ Lord Sharad said again. ‘Remember yourself, Lord Knight!’

‘I remember,’ Lord Noldashan said with a rising anger, ‘whole streams on the Culhadosh Commons running red with our warriors’ blood!’

‘Pfahh, blood!’ Sar Vikan spat out. ‘When has a true warrior been afraid of spilling it?’

The moment that these words left Sar Vikan’s mouth, his face tightened in horror, as if he could not believe that he had spoken them. But it was too late. Quick as a bird, Lord Noldashan drew his sword five inches from its scabbard before Lord Avijan and others closed in and managed to clamp their hands around Lord Noldashan’s arm.

‘This warrior,’ Lord Noldashan said to Sar Vikan as he struggled against those who held him, ‘would not be afraid to see your blood spilled here!’

His challenge filled my belly with a sickness as if I had eaten splinters of iron. As other warriors came up to restrain Sar Vikan from drawing his sword and setting off an inescapable duel, I felt many people looking at me. Maram and Master Juwain – and my other companions, too – were clearly distressed to witness things falling out so badly. I felt them wondering what I wondered: why had we returned to Mesh at all if we could not even keep my own countrymen from killing each other?

‘Stop!’ I called out to Lord Noldashan and Sar Vikan. ‘Let go of your swords! We are all one people here!’

My voice fell upon them with the force of a battering ram, stunning them into motionlessness. But it did not, I sensed, touch their hearts.

Lord Avijan finally let go of Lord Noldashan, and he said to me, ‘Lord Noldashan has cause for grieving and grievance, and few men more. And he raises an important question, Lord Elahad: is it your purpose to go against Morjin or to protect Mesh?’

‘But they are the same thing!’ I called out. ‘Mesh will never be safe so long as Morjin draws breath!’

I looked around the hall at the tens of warriors weighing my words. The older ones such as Lord Noldashan and Lord Harsha, had grown to manhood in an era when the Sarni and the other Valari kingdoms posed the greatest threat to Mesh. They held a more cautious sentiment, shared by such prominent warriors as Lord Tanu: that Mesh had repelled Morjin once, and could again if we had to. They believed that the Dragon, as with bears, would be likely to leave us alone if we left him alone. Although they would fight like angels of battle, to use Lord Sharad’s words, if Morjin did try to invade our land again, they had no liking to march out of Mesh to make war against him. Others, such as Lord Avijan, desired vengeance for Morjin’s desecration of Mesh and believed that he must somehow be defeated, though they, too, feared to seek him out and bring him to battle. A smaller number of men – and these were mostly younger knights such as Joshu Kadar, Sar Shivalad and their friends – burned with the fever of our generation to annihilate Morjin from the face of the earth and make the world anew.

‘Morjin,’ I finally said to Lord Avijan, and to everyone, ‘must be destroyed. How that is to be remains unclear. But until he is destroyed, we will never bring peace to the world.’

‘You’ Lord Noldashan said to me, ‘if we follow you, will bring only death.’

I could tell from the grave faces of such prominent warriors as Lord Kanshar and Sar Juladar, even Lord Harsha, that many of the men gathered in the hall feared that Lord Noldashan had spoken truly – as I feared it even more. But I must, I thought, at all costs hide my disquiet. The gazes of a hundred warriors burned into me, and I thought that I must gaze right back at them, bravely and boldly, and betray not the slightest doubt or hesitation. Every moment that I stood among them, in field, forest or a great lord’s castle, with my every word or gesture, I must surround myself as with a gleaming shield of invincibility. How, I wondered, was this possible? How had my father ever managed to last a single day as king?

Lord Noldashan stared straight at me, and continued his indictment: ‘You would bring death, I think, Lord Elahad. Even as you brought it to Tria – and so destroyed all hope of an alliance of the Valari. And without an alliance, how could you ever hope to destroy the Red Dragon?’

In Tria, I thought, we had been so close to uniting. The Valari kings had nearly had the very stars within their grasp. But in the end, I had failed them.

‘How many of our warriors fell at the Great Battle?’ Lord Noldashan went on. ‘How many of our women and children died at the Red Dragon’s command?’

From somewhere in the hall I caught a sense of the great darkness that pulled me always down. Again, I saw my mother and grandmother nailed to planks of wood. And again, I saw a great grassland covered with tens of thousands of broken and bleeding bodies.

‘How many, Lord Elahad?’ Lord Noldashan asked me. ‘How many of our people must die for your impossible dream?’

I tried to speak then, but I could not, and so I took a sip of beer to moisten my bone-dry throat. Then I looked at Sar Jonavar standing in close to his father, and I said to Lord Noldashan, ‘You had another son, didn’t you? Did he fall at the Commons?’

‘He fell before the Great Battle,’ Lord Noldashan told me. ‘If that is the right word. For in truth, Morjin’s men crucified him.’

Many standing in the hall knew the story that Lord Noldashan now told me: that when Morjin’s army had invaded and laid waste the Lake Country, Lord Noldashan’s two sons had been out on a hunting trip in the mountains to the north. After waiting as long as he could for them to come home, Lord Noldashan finally rode off to join the gathering of the warriors. But Televar and Sar Jonavar had never received my father’s call to arms. They returned to find that Morjin’s army had swept through the Lake Country, and that Morjin’s men were about to burn their farm to the ground. The two brothers then fell mad. In the ensuing battle, Morjin’s soldiers captured both of them – along with Lord Noldashan’s wife and two daughters. They crucified all of them, and left them for the vultures. Two days later, after Morjin’s army had moved on, a neighbor had found Lord Noldashan’s family nailed to crosses. Miraculously, Sar Jonavar still lived. The neighbor then summoned help to pull Sar Jonavar down from his cross and tend his wounds until Lord Noldashan could return.

As Lord Noldashan finished recounting this terrible story, his raspy voice choked up almost to a whisper. I did not know what to say to him. I did not want to look at him just then.

‘Once they called you the Maitreya,’ he said to me. ‘But can you bring back the dead? Can you keep my remaining son from joining the rest of my family?’

He doubts, I thought, feeling my heart moving inside me like a frightened rabbit, because I doubt – and that is the curse of the valarda. But how can I not doubt?

How could I, I wondered, ever defeat Morjin if I first must accomplish an impossible thing? The most dreadful thing in all the world that I could not quite bring myself to see?

I finally managed to make myself face Lord Noldashan. In the anguish filling up his moist, black eyes, I saw my own life. Then a brightness blazed within me again. In truth, it had never gone out. I remembered how, in Hesperu, in the most terrible of moments, Bemossed had clasped my hand in his and looked deep inside me as if he could behold the brightest light in all the universe.

‘You have spoken of the dead,’ I said to Lord Noldashan. ‘And we have walked with the dead, you and I.’

I looked around at the hall’s stone walls, hung with banners and shields and the heads of various animals that Lord Avijan and his family had hunted: lions, boars and elks with great racks of antlers spreading out like the limbs of a tree. Above an arch of one of the corridors giving out onto the hall, Lord Avijan had mounted the head of a white bear. It looked exactly like the beast whose will Morjin had seized and sent to murder Maram, Master Juwain and me in the pass between Mount Korukel and Mount Raaskel: the great ghul of a bear that I had killed with my old sword.

‘There are the dead, and there are the truly dead,’ I told Lord Noldashan. ‘When Morjin would have turned me into a ghul, the man I call the Maitreya gave me his hand and pulled me back into life. There, I found my mother and grandmother – my brothers, too. And my father, the King.’

I stepped over to him and his son, and I felt his whole being wincing inside even as his back stiffened and he stared at me.

‘So long as we don’t forget,’ I said to him, ‘so long as we live, truly and deeply, with passion, they cannot really die. And neither can we.’

I laid my hand on the gauntlet covering Sar Jonavar’s hand, and eased it off. A circle of reddish scar marred the back of his hand and his palm, which seemed slightly misshapen, as if the bones had been pushed apart. I grasped his hand then, gently, and I felt something warm and bright pass from me into him, and from him into me. He looked at me with tears in his eyes as he said, ‘My apologies for not fighting with you at the Commons. The greatest battle of our time, and I missed it.’

Then I removed his other gauntlet so that he wouldn’t have to hide his shame, which was really no shame at all.

‘Sometimes,’ I said to him, ‘the greatest battle is just to go on living.’

At this, he clasped his other hand around my arm and smiled at me.

I felt the blaze that burned inside me grow even brighter. I looked at the men gathered around me: Lord Harsha, Lord Avijan, Lord Sharad, Sar Jessu and Sar Shivalad and all the others. And they looked at me.

They are afraid, I thought. The greatest warriors in the world, and they are afraid.

I could feel how their dread of Morjin tormented their very bodies and souls. And then, for the first time in my life, I opened my heart to these grave men whom I had always revered. I moved over to Lord Sharad and set my hand upon his chest, where I could feel the hurt of his old wound where an Ishkan lance had once pierced him. I touched Sar Viku Aradam’s shoulder, which I sensed must have been split open, perhaps by an axe or a sword. And then on to grasp the stump below Vishtar Atanu’s elbow and rest my hand on Araj Kharashan’s mangled jaw. And so it went as I walked around the hall to honor other warriors and knights, Sar Barshan and Sar Vikan and Siraj Evar, touching my hand to heads and arms and faces and nearly every other part of a man’s body that could be torn or cut or crushed.

I drew strength from my friends, looking on: from Liljana, who had gazed into the horror of Morjin’s mind, and now could not smile; from Estrella, who could not speak; from Maram, who had been burned to a blackened, oozing crisp in the hell of the Red Desert. And from Atara, who could not look at me with her eyes, but somehow communicated all her wild joy of life despite the most terrible of mutilations.

Then my fear suddenly went away. I knew with an utter certainty of blood and breath that I had something to give these warriors who had come here to honor me. The light inside me flared so hot and brilliant that my heart hurt, and I could not hold it. I did not want to hold it within anymore, but only to pass it on, through my hand as I pressed it against the side of Sar Yardru’s wounded neck, and through my eyes as I looked into old Sar Jurald’s eyes, still haunted by the deaths of his sons at the Culhadosh Commons. And with this splendid light came the promise of brotherhood: that we would never fail each other and would fight side by side to the end of all battles. And that there was no wound or anguish so great that we could not help each other to bear it. And most of all, that we would always remind each other where we had come from and who we were meant to be.

That was the miracle of the valarda: how my love for these noble warriors could pass from me like a flame and set afire something bright and inextinguishable in them. At last, I returned to where Lord Noldashan stood, staring at me. I pressed my hand to his, and felt it come alive with an incendiary heat.

‘I am sorry,’ I told him, ‘for your family.’

For a long time he stood looking at me as if wondering if he could bring himself to say anything. His eyes seemed like bright black jewels melting in the light of some impossibly bright sun. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision, and his breath rasped out: ‘And I am sorry for yours. I should not have said what I said. You are not to blame for what Morjin did to our land. In truth, it is as Sar Jessu has told, that without you, the battle would have been lost. I know this in my heart.’

I squeezed his hand, hard, and held on tightly to keep myself from weeping. I did not succeed. Through the blur of water filling my eyes, I saw Lord Noldashan gazing at me with a terrible, sweet sadness, and so it was with Lord Harsha and Lord Avijan and many others. But within them, too, burned a great dream.

‘You are not to blame for Morjin’s deeds,’ Lord Avijan affirmed, inclining his head to me. ‘As for your own deeds, we shall honor them in the telling and retelling, down to our grandchildren’s grandchildren – and beyond, when our descendants know of Morjin only by the tale of how we Valari vanquished him, leaving to legend only his evil name.’

Sar Vikan then came forward and said to Lord Noldashan, ‘Well, sir, I am certainly to blame for what I said to you. I wish I could unsay it. But I since I cannot, I will ask your forgiveness.’

‘And that you shall have,’ Lord Noldashan said, clasping his hand. ‘As I hope I shall have yours for forgetting that we are brothers in arms.’

At this, Lord Harsha called out his approval, and so did Sar Jessu and dozens of other warriors.

Then Lord Noldashan turned back to me as he laid his arm around Sar Jonavar’s shoulders. ‘Despite my misgivings, I came here tonight because my son has great hope for you. And because I loved your father and Lord Asaru. An oath, too, I gave to Lord Avijan, but he has released me from it. What, then, should I now do?’

‘Only what you must do,’ I told him.

Lord Noldashan continued gazing into my eyes, and then said, ‘My head speaks one thing to me, and my heart another. It is the right of a warrior to stand for one who would be king – or not to stand. But once this one is king, no one may gainsay him.’

I felt something vast and deep move inside Lord Noldashan. Then he glanced at Lord Sharad, before looking back to me and smiling grimly. ‘Very well, then, Lord Elahad, I will follow you past the very end of the earth, to the stars or hell, if that is our fate.’

As he bowed deeply to me, a hundred warriors drummed the hilts of their swords against the tables. Then Lord Avijan stepped forward, and held up his hand. He called for fresh pots of beer to be brought up from his cellar. When everyone’s cup had been filled anew, he raised his cup and cried out: ‘To Lord Valashu Elahad, heir of the Elahads, Guardian of the Lightstone, and the next king of Mesh!’

I sipped my thick, black beer, and I found it sweet and bitter and good. I smiled as Alphanderry came forth and everyone hailed this strange minstrel. Tomorrow, I thought, we must meet in council again to lay our plans for my gaining my father’s throne – and for Morjin’s eventual defeat. But now we had a few moments for camaraderie and cups clinked together, and singing songs of glory and hope far into the night.