The Sons of Hull (10 page)

Corfe jumped at Amarian’s sharp question. He had heard nothing in his increasingly drowsy state. But whatever it was could leave them alone for half a night.

“Get up, slave!” Amarian jerked him to his feet. “Pack up our things. We must move quickly.” But the wind was beginning to circle around them, sweeping the air into a cyclone of fallen leaves and dust. The fire died and only the central lunos illuminated the two men. From the woods could be heard a strange groaning as the cyclone directed them through the trees and toward a slight clearing. Then it was gone and all that could be heard was the labored breathing of a dying animal.

It was a yemain—a lithe creature hunted for food and hide. Obviously, some hunter had declined to track down his prey, for here she was, wounded and alone. As the two watched, she struggled to rise, only to fall back upon down.

Corfe reached for his knife to put her out of her misery, but Amarian stayed his hand. Quietly, he knelt beside the creature. At the movement, the yemain raised her head and looked at him. To Corfe’s amazement, it spoke.

“You are Amarian?”

“Yes.” The Advocate evinced no surprise at this strange situation.

“You are called the Darkness of the World. Yet I die, and as I die, so shall your efforts to keep Kynell’s chosen from his fate.
The brothers will fight as enemies and one will die
.”

Before he could respond, the yemain’s head fell back, and her breathing stopped. Hissing under his breath, Amarian rose and pointed to his servant. “Skin this creature. I want to eat its flesh and burn its hide. Then we leave. There will be no rest until we find Vancien.”

__________

Lascombe. Finally!

The days of Sirin’s surly company were fast coming to an end and Vancien could not have been more thrilled. The munkke-trophe had his moments, but by and large he was a very disagreeable character. The young man planned to part ways with the creature at the city gates, but to his surprise, Sirin objected.

“You are young and stupid. You will get lost in such a city. Why did you want to come here anyway?”

Vancien could not believe what he was hearing. “I thought you’ve been trying to get rid of me all of this time!”

Sirin shook his head and rolled his beady red eyes. “Once I let you out of my sight, you will go get drunk or killed or something dreadful. Not that I care. But I’d prefer not to have that on my conscience. Come. I will take you to the palace and deposit you with the rest of the lost boys.”

“And if I don’t come?”

“Then I will call the city guard and have them escort you to prison as a thief.”

“I’ve never laid a hand on your belongings.”

“You have stolen and wasted my time. I have a cousin in the guard. He could take care of you.”

While Vancien pondered the image of a munkke-trophe city guard, Sirin shoved him past the large gateway and into the city. Then he disappeared, lost in the crowd. Vancien pushed forward, but the city was populated by giants compared to the thigh-high primate. Then there was a voice at his elbow.

“See? See what I mean? Useless. Now this time keep track of me.”

It was hard to watch for Sirin and still keep an eye open to the magnificence of the capital city. Everywhere Vancien looked, giant buildings loomed, street performers danced, and living art mingled delightfully with static pieces. Occasionally, he would see a seemingly familiar face and his heart would sink into sober memory. But the brilliance of Lascombe was persistent, and he found it impossible to dwell in such darkness.

Twice he lost Sirin, and twice he was subjected to a condescending rebuke. After the second humiliating instance, he closed his vision to everything but the munkke-trophe. He consequently bumped into several people, provoking apologetic smiles as well as impatient shoves.

Rounding one corner, he bumped into a priest. Telenar’s response was more distracted than annoyed.

“Watch where you’re going, boy.”

Vancien nodded and continued on, while Telenar shook his head. Crowds of people, he thought, and not one of them was right. He sighed, dangerously close to hopelessness. Tomorrow was his last day of the search, thanks to the king. Not that he would stop looking, of course. But now he would be forced to look among young, battle-eager soldiers, and he knew in his heart that the Advocate would not be found there.
Dear Kynell
, he prayed as he picked up his pace,
please let me find him. Please. I don’t want to fail you.

Vancien found the cousin of Sirin just as surly as Sirin himself. When he tried to explain his unusual situation, (Sirin had mysteriously disappeared into a pub after dropping him off with the guard) the munkke-trophe only asked again, “You’re looking for whom?”

“A man—a friend of Advisor Naffinar’s. I don’t remember his name.”

“The Advisor has many friends, boy. You’d better pick one.”

The turn of phrase shook Vancien unexpectedly. “H-had, sir.”

“What? Speak clearly before I throw you out.”

“He, uh, he
had
many friends, sir. Naffinar was my uncle and he died on the journey here.”

“You mean you killed him?”

“What?! You don’t even know Naffinar, and you’re accusing me of his murder?”

The guard had crueler streak than his cousin. He pushed Vancien lightly with the butt of his spear. “I know he had money. Come now, your purse is probably bursting with his treasure.”

With a strangled shout, Vancien threw himself at the little soldier. But the munkke-trophe, who was expecting such an attack, easily swept him off of his feet and leveled the spear at his throat.

“Attacking the king’s guard is a capital crime, boy,” he growled.

“Guard!”

The munkke-trophe, still holding his prey, snapped to attention. “Yes, sir!”

Chiyo’s tone was impatient. “What do you think you’re doing? Attacking a citizen?”

“’Tis no citizen, sir. He’s just a wanderer and he attacked me first. I had to defend myself.”

Chiyo knew this guard’s history and he didn’t trust him. “Does this guard speak the truth, young man?”

Vancien’s nod was almost imperceptible.

With an eye on both, Chiyo considered the situation. He disliked munkke-trophes, and this one in particular had a bad habit of picking fights. On the other hand, the boy had just confessed to the attack. “What did you say to him, Wark?”

Before Wark could reply, Vancien jumped in. “He wrongfully accused me, sir! He said I killed my Uncle Naffinar, when I didn’t, and I was only trying to . .”

“Silence!” The soldier’s hand shot up even as his eyes grew wide. “Did you say Advisor Naffinar was dead?”

Again, Vancien nodded.

“And how do you know of this?”

“I am—
was
his nephew, sir. We were coming here, when a Sentry attacked us outside of the Eyestone Glade. My uncle, instructor, and groom were all slaughtered. I only survived because the Destrariae saved me.”

Chiyo’s amazement was overpowered by a soldier’s need to keep important information quiet. “You talk too much. Wark, hand him over to me and forget this incident. Go find your cousin—yes, I saw Sirin in town—and make sure he doesn’t offend any shopkeepers.”

With a slight grumble, Wark saluted and departed. Chiyo waited until he was completely out of hearing range before he addressed his young prisoner.

“What’s your name?”

“Vancien pa Hull, sir.”

“You shouldn’t have attacked a guard, son. No matter what he said to you.”

Burning with shame and anger, Vancien only looked at the ground as Chiyo continued. “If I didn’t know Wark’s history, you’d be on your way to prison by now. But enough of this. I am very sorry to hear of Naffinar’s death. He was a good man.”

Vancien raised his head. “You knew Naffinar well?”

Chiyo managed a laugh. “Everybody knows Naffinar, Vancien pa Hull. Come with me. There’s someone who knew Naffinar better than most and I’m sure he would like to meet his nephew.”

As they pushed through the streets, Vancien pondered this turn of events with gratitude. He had already forgotten his comment on the Destrariae, but Chiyo had not. Indeed, it was all he could do to suppress the sudden hope that burst upon him as they made their way toward Telenar’s chambers.

__________

“Come in.”

Telenar was just seating himself as two figures entered. They said nothing as they approached the desk, but the recognition was instant.

“Telenar,” the first said. “Have you been expecting us?”

Telenar felt his mouth go dry as excitement gripped him. “I think I have.”

“I hope I haven’t arrived too late. The boy is not here.”

The presence of Obsidian was overwhelming, but Telenar fought back his fear. “I trust in Kynell, Dark One. I do not fear you.”

Despite his exhaustion, Corfe watched in fascination as his master’s eyes flashed. “You should, priest. Kynell’s protection does not extend beyond the boy. But you’re jumping to conclusions. I’m not here to kill you.”

As comforting as those words may have seemed, Telenar’s confidence weakened. “Then what do you want?”

“That’s a good question, Patronius
.
I mean, after all these cycles, your search has failed miserably. I wouldn’t possibly want to use you for bait.”

A knock sounded at the door as Amarian retreated into the shadows. “Or would I?”

Before Telenar could respond, the door opened and Chiyo entered with Vancien in tow.

“Telenar, I have someone for you to—Telenar?” He stopped, puzzled by his friend’s alarm. As Telenar opened his mouth to speak, the door slammed behind them. The newcomers whirled around, suddenly conscious of other presences in the room.

“Chiyo, get that boy out of here,” Telenar whispered hoarsely.

“Shut up, priest.” Amarian spat, sliding out from behind the door and toward his brother. “Recognize me, Vance?”

Vancien shook his head at first. “No, I don't think so.” Then he looked more closely. He didn’t remember much of his brother, but after he had disappeared, Hull had commissioned an artist in town to draw up a likeness to help in the search for him. That likeness had hung up next to the fireplace for Vancien’s entire childhood. “Amarian?”

Amarian smiled warmly, a change Telenar did not fail to notice. “You
do
remember me!”

“But what are you doing here? I thought you had died—or something.”

“You know him?” Telenar demanded.

Without taking his eye off Amarian, Vancien answered. “Of course. He’s my brother.”

Amarian’s tone became even more affectionate and earnest. “I’m sorry to startle you. I didn’t want you to run away before we had a chance to talk. Obviously, I didn’t drown in the creek like all those fools said. Papa knew better.”

“But where were you all those cycles? Why didn’t you come back home?”

Amarian rolled his shoulders, warming to his tale. “I had some other things I had to attend to. I wanted to be there next to you, but I wasn’t allowed.” At this point, genuine grief flickered across his face. “But all that’s over now. I came to find you.”

Chiyo had already drawn his sword. Now he stepped forward menacingly. “I don’t know who you are, but it’s time for you to leave.”

Amarian lazily drew out a small knife. “Come on, then.”

Both Telenar and Vancien shouted for him to stop, but Chiyo had already committed himself to the attack. Amarian didn’t even bother to raise his own weapon; Chiyo’s blade struck true into his chest, but it bounced off as if it were made of rubber. Chiyo, on the other hand, dropped the weapon as if he’d been bitten by a snake. He moaned, crashing to his knees and clutching his hands.

“You should know better than to try to kill an Advocate,” Amarian snapped. “Stand back!”

Telenar, who was rushing to help his friend, stopped instantly.

But Vancien was outraged. “What are you doing, ‘Ian? You could have injured that man.”

“He’ll be all right,” Amarian soothed. “I don’t want to cause anybody any more harm. But they want to turn you against me, Vance. Me, your own brother!” He stopped, almost daring Telenar to speak. The priest held his tongue. “You know I’m the only one left for you.”

Torn, Vancien’s gaze moved to Chiyo and Telenar, then to Amarian, then back again. “I don’t think,” he responded, avoiding that last comment, “that you are all you seem to be.”

Amarian nodded. “You always were bright. You’re right: there’s more to me than what you see. I have power, Vance. Power greater than you can imagine. And the gods have desired me to share it with you.”

Vancien felt a cold ache stirring in his chest. As it grew in intensity, he was reminded sharply of the Destrariae. What was it the legend said? Once you survived them, they never left you? He shook his head, angry that the horrible things could intrude at a time like this.

“Where have you been all this time?”

“The gods pulled me away; they called me to their service. I cannot tell you more right now.”

“Why do you keep saying gods? There’s only one god.”

Amarian’s reply was cool. “There are two. You know that.”

Now he was on solid ground. “There is only one for me, ‘Ian. I do not recognize the authority of Obsidian.”

His brother’s loving guise began to slip as his loyalty took hold. “Then you’re a fool, Vancien. Zyreio’s power cannot be matched.”

Vancien’s gaze was level. “It can and it will be.” Then his voice softened. “Maybe you can stay with me. You can serve Kynell. He is worthy of it. It’d be nice to have a family again.”

If he had wanted to upset his brother, he could not have chosen better words. Amarian’s face darkened as he stepped forward. He would end this now. “You are naïve, Vance! I would sooner die than serve your god.”

Amarian reached out his hand just as Vancien felt the familiar ice burst from him. Both immediately fell to the ground with a groan, one clutching his arm and the other clutching his chest. For a moment, everything was quiet—even the moans of the combatants were muffled. Then Amarian staggered to his feet, pale with rage or possibly even fear. Vancien was still lying prone on the floor, struggling to catch his breath. Amarian cast him a furious glance then stormed out of the room, leaving Corfe to scamble out in his wake.