David Dalglish - Dawn of Swords

“Let us hope it does not come to that.”

“Let us hope. Also, I recognize no authority but yours. We will bow to no king.”

“Even if I decree it?”

“Be that as it may…no.”

Without another word, Ashhur bent down, kissed his fingertips, and touched the sand beneath which Bessus was buried. The ground seemed to moan under his feet. The god offered Bardiya a final look- Was it disapproval or calculation? — before he turned and walked away, disappearing over the same dune from which he had appeared. The sunlight seemed to capture his image, leaving a blackened blur on the precipice long after the deity had departed.

Bardiya stood there, his only companions the Black Spire and the spirits of the dead, and stared toward the east, toward Safeway, toward Haven. He knew in his heart that all he’d told his god was true, but it didn’t matter. He had just stood before his deity and dared to pretend he knew more about his god’s teachings than the god himself did. He felt fear crawl up his spine, and he fought it down. This was a test, he told himself. A test of his faith. A test of his understanding. Ashhur’s apparent disappointment was only a way of forcing Bardiya to prove his faithfulness.

Because the other possibility, of fulfilling his vow and disobeying one of his god’s orders, was even more terrifying.

Night had fallen, which filled Geris with fear. Chilled to the bone, he slumped in the back of the carriage as it lumbered up the rough-hewn Gods’ Road. Ben Maryll lay beside him, peacefully snoring away. Geris both envied and hated him for it. The caravan had left Safeway more than two weeks ago, after Ashhur-with ample input from Ahaesarus and Judarius, surely-had decided that the lordship would be brought to a close and a king would be named. Ben had been excited by the news, and Geris felt he should be too, but his original nightmare had begun to return each night, and it just wouldn’t let him be.

The carriage hit a bump, vaulting him off the rough wooden slats. On landing, he jarred his elbow and let out a pained cry. The curtain at the front of the carriage was swept aside, and Ahaesarus poked his head through.

“What’s going on, boy?” the Warden asked. His blond hair looked like the tendrils of a phantasm in the eerie moonlight that seeped through the carriage’s thin canvas covering. “Why did you yelp?”

Geris rubbed his sore arm. “It’s nothing,” he replied. “Just hurt myself when the cart jostled.”

“Very well,” said Ahaesarus. “You shouldn’t be awake. Close your eyes and get some sleep. You won’t have that chance tomorrow, once we arrive in Mordeina.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ahaesarus disappeared back into the front of the carriage, taking his ghost-like halo of hair with him. Geris wrapped himself in his blanket once more, shivered against the cold, and closed his eyes. He wished he were in the carriage with his parents. They were traveling in a separate carriage along with his brothers and sisters. Mother always had a way of comforting him when he felt restless or frightened. She would gather him to her ample bosom, sing a sweet lullaby to him, and gently rock him until he drifted off. She smelled so lovely, like rosemary and sage with a dash of mint. He longed to be in her lap right then.

It was with her in mind that he finally fell asleep.

That sleep was far from peaceful, however. The nightmare returned, the demon chasing him through the shadows once again. He bolted through an empty forest, plunged into a freezing river, climbed a rocky slope, but still he could not lose the beast. His terror reached its apex. The backdrop of the dream rushed all around him, flashes of red and black, green and brown, mixing and twirling, spiraling all around him. He knelt down and screamed and screamed until his lungs burned, his head filled with nothing but his own wailing. That was when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

Geris leapt up, the scream dying in his throat. The world had stopped spinning, and he found himself standing atop a weather-beaten crest, staring down at the twinkling fires that dotted the town below. The giant stone Ashhur stood before him, benevolent in gray, the moon dancing off his smooth, granite flesh. The stone god smiled, and the gravel that made up his cheeks grinded as it shifted. He noticed that the star carved into his chest, the symbol of Celestia, had been rubbed away so that it was barely visible. This made him smile.

The demon hissed behind him, then roared like a lion underwater. Geris jumped forward, wrapping his arms around the legs of the stone god. A stiff, cold hand brushed through his hair.

“Fear not, my child,” stone Ashhur said. “He does not wish to harm you.”

“He doesn’t?”

“No.”

Geris watched the demon stalk up the side of the cliff, like blackness within blackness, ringlets of shadow pluming from its thickly rendered form. It sat down across from him, gathering solidity with each passing moment. Before long the blackness had faded away like the shed skin of a snake, disappearing into the atmosphere with a barely detectable whoosh . Revealed beneath was a lion with yellow fur whose eyes shone with familiar, golden intensity.

“Sit,” stone Ashhur said, and Geris did. The stone god took a seat beside him.

“Why are you here?” Geris asked the demon. The lion dipped its head forward, staring at him intently. It seemed to blink in and out of reality, fading into a smoky apparition one instant, then returning to solidity the next. Thin wisps of shadow still thrashed around behind it.

“You are in grave danger,” the lion said.

Geris looked at stone Ashhur. “Is that true?”

The god’s granite visage nodded.

“What kind of danger?” he asked, turning back to the lion.

“The darkness follows you, for all is not as it seems. The family collapses from within. Witchcraft spoils the will of mere mortals, leaving dust in its wake.”

Geris shook his head. “You’re not making sense.”

“My messenger speaks the truth,” said stone Ashhur’s gritty voice. “He always has.”

“He does?” asked Geris, confused. “Then why is he always chasing me?”

“I chase you because you run,” the lion answered. “If you had stopped to listen, you would have known the truth sooner.”

It was all too much for him to take.

“Please,” he whispered. “Leave me alone. I just want to sleep.”

“There is no sleep for the Chosen One,” said the lion.

“Chosen one? Me?”

“Yes, you. The future king of humanity, the champion of its people.”

“But…I’m not special. It was Martin who was special. I’m just…me.”

“But you are special,” said stone Ashhur. “Those who aren’t special do not receive portentous visions.”

“Yours is the most important role to play,” said the lion. “The fate of Paradise lies in your hands.”

The lion inched forward and sprawled out in front of him, its body shifting this way and that, becoming transparent, solidifying again. Geris stared at it, unable to form words.

“The family collapses from within,” the lion said once more.

“I don’t understand,” said Geris, frustration bringing an edge to his dream voice.

The lion sighed. “The lordship is not what it seems to be. There are two enemies in your midst, a witch and an imposter, unleashed upon this land by the lord of darkness who tries to control me. The witch is a whisperer of falsehoods. She thinks me her pet, a thing set upon this land to do her bidding, but I lurk in the shadows, the thing on the doorstep that is heard but never seen. I bow to none but my creator.”

“But you’re bowing now.”