Chris Northern - The Last King's Amulet

As I sat and sipped from the leather jack I had found, the shakes slowly went away, the sweats stopped and the more I came back to myself the more sitting here and doing nothing became unacceptable to me. Dubaku squatted a couple of yards away and watched me drink without expression or comment.

What was Sheo doing? I was sure, on reflection, that he was an ally. Lentro must have told him about the last king's amulet, and when he had put me in prison he must have had a plan. Later, Kerral had come for Tahal, and now Tahal had the ten carat stone that Sheo had deliberately left with me. He had expected me to do something, to play some part in some plan of his. And Kerral also? And what plan? A plan to destroy Kukran Epthel? But Sheo knew me, he knew I didn't have much magic, leaving me the stone made no sense unless he wanted Tahal to have it. I ran through the spells Tahal had told me he had, with which we had planned to make an escape when the opportunity presented itself. When the time had come Tahal had not acted. So he must be an enemy, Turned by Kukran Epthel? Unaware of the last king's amulet? Certainly I had not told him about it. I shook my head, irritated at myself; no, he had not met Kukran, had been confused when I mentioned the lich. Still, he had cooperated for a time with the other Necromancer, and maybe had been placed in the cell to pump me for information. The thought irritated me. I hadn't questioned his legitimacy for a moment. Maybe I had given the ten carat stone to an enemy. That burned and brought me to my feet. Dubaku looked up at me as I paced between barrels of ale that demanded my attention.

“You have a plan?”

It was Kerral that had thrown Sapphire in the cell, not Sheo. Were they allies? Did Kerral leave some tool with Sapphire? Something to aid me, expecting that I would find it? Just knowing that would tell me a lot.

I bent to Sapphire's unconscious form and began searching him swiftly but gently. I found what I was looking for in his boots; lock-picks, a small but wickedly sharp knife, and the ring that gave the wearer the look of a barbarian. I slipped it on and Dubaku blinked, once, like a shout of shocked surprise from any other man. So they were co-conspirators! Sheo and Kerral. They had expected me to find these, to use them. When? Were they waiting for me before they acted? Was I to be a trigger? The details didn't matter. I had to act or their plan could collapse and I had to trust that their plan had a good purpose and reason even though the army was here and the war almost over.

I could stay here, wait it out, do nothing. The thought barely registered. There was no way I could do that. I needed to be doing something, needed to act, to succeed at something, and this is what was in front of me. Find Kukran Epthel. Kill him, or help kill him.

“I'm going,” I said. Out of the vaults. Yes. But then what? What would they expect me to do?

Seek out and destroy Kukran Epthel. That, at least, is what I would do. In the chaos of the attack I would take him down, somehow, and utterly destroy him and the amulet.

Dubaku had wanted to accompany me, but I had argued against it. Sapphire was helpless and needed someone to hide him and protect him. Striding boldly through the vault I couldn't help wondering if he were invisible and following.

“Jocasta asked me to help you,” Dubaku had said.

“So help me. Keep my friend safe while I do what I need to do.”

He had shaken his head once. “No.”

I came to the stairs and headed up. There were no guards at all. Perhaps there never were or perhaps the imminent attack had pulled everyone to the walls. It didn't matter. I was inside the stronghold so I would begin my search here, I decided. Turning right at the top of the stairs I moved briskly on, looking like I belonged, like I had business here, and like I didn't want to be interrupted. I was surprised by how many people glanced at me in passing and ignored me.

“Where is Kukran Epthel?” I demanded of one fellow who also looked busy.

“With the warlord,” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder and I nodded as though I knew exactly what he meant and moved on briskly about my business.

Warlord. Yes, well, the barbarians had many clans and clan chieftains. In time of war there was a vote and a warlord was chosen. So, it made sense that Kukran Epthel would be with him, in the thick of things. They were all obedient to him, after all, enthralled unknowingly by an ancient amulet.

“Where is the warlord?” I barked at the next man I passed.

“Heading for the walls!” The fellow was in a rush and tossed the remark over his shoulder.

So, out of the stronghold, I decided. Which way was that?

Dubaku had argued further, and I had argued back. “He is helpless, I am not!”

I could not ask anyone the way out. True, I smelled of beer but I wasn't drunk and didn't think I would get away with it no matter how drunk I had been. Who wouldn't know the way out? It would just attract the wrong kind of attention. Instead, and simply, I took a straight line till I hit an easily recognized outer wall and began walking around the stronghold.

“He is not my responsibility. You are, at Jocasta's request.”

“And why do you obey her above me? Your mercenary unit was under my command and I have not released you yet.”

He had simply looked at me. It was true, but it was also true that all of his company were dead, and it was true that that was my fault. Still, he didn't answer and I knew I had him. I had nodded firmly, as though it were agreed and settled and then set off without waiting for him to verbally accept my authority. Good enough was good enough; no sense rubbing his nose in it. I had the illusion ring, the stone in my forehead, a set of lock-picks and a small but very sharp knife. I doubted it would be enough but the battle would begin soon and it would just have to do. I had to come out of this mess with something; a hero, not a pauper.

I came to the gate, at last. It was open and busy.

Getting out wasn't a problem. I just acted as I had been, a busy man with no time to waste on formalities. Everyone else was acting the same way, so I fit right in.

I was going to need a horse.

It was dawn, the sky pale, shadows long, fires of various sizes burning high, and people were up and on the move everywhere I looked. I hadn't taken more than a few paces from the keep, nor yet asked where the warlord might be found, when the first concussion rang out.

The attack had started.

I was going to need a horse fast. There were none nearby so I started moving. Every man in sight was armed and heading for the walls. I didn't doubt there were enough of them to man the walls entire. The Eyrie was huge but also crowded. Horses were few and far between, and I had gone a hundred yards before I saw three together, saddled and standing outside a tent, reins pegged to the ground, waiting for three men who were at that moment coming out of the tent, armed and armored.

Three of them, one of me, and I had just a small knife and no armor. No. I angled away and kept moving, heading roughly for the gate and passing through camps and around fenced-in pastures as necessary. If I'd needed a cow or a bull life would have been easier.

More concussions sounded. I couldn't see much; dawn and dusk are the worst times of day to see clearly; add in the fires, shadows and kaleidoscopic movement of people and cattle and it was a wonder I could make sense of anything.

This is chaos, I thought, and grinned, suddenly lighthearted. Sow the seeds!

I snatched up the next torch I saw and started setting fire to tents as I moved. Not all of them, not waiting to see the result, just moving on and setting fire to things as I searched for a horse and someone to bludgeon into telling me where the warlord was. More concussions sounded as I moved and from seemingly all around a great roar went up as several thousand men shouted at once.