The Scrivener's Tale #2

THIRTY-SIX

Cassien had looked at Ham, who’d given him a sad but reassuring nod. ‘We will tempt him, I promise. Go now, I will watch over you.’
Ham leaned down and kissed his cheek. ‘I’ve opened the link. We’re all connected.’
Cassien closed his eyes. Gabe?
Let’s do this, he heard his elder brother say in his mind.
Romaine?
Here, Cassien, she said, and he knew she used Ham as a channel. For a moment he felt a twinge of jealousy that it was Ham who could speak to his wolf, but he let the petty thought go, as he also let go of his body.
I love you. Look after Ham. He’ll need the forest.
I know, she replied and then the link he felt with her became blurred as his link with Gabe intensified.
It’s time, Cassien. Come into the Void now.
His spirit soared; he didn’t know how to do what was being asked of him but he trusted Fynch. He hovered in the familiar weightlessness of his roaming magic and let his senses reach out.
Now! he heard Gabe call and felt himself being dragged at speed. Colours, sounds, even smells hurtled by him in a dazzling rush of images. He was disoriented, nauseated … as though the roaming sickness was already attacking him, but he told himself he was imagining it.
In this form he felt no pain, no raging emotions, no … His thoughts halted. No pain? No raging emotions? Is that what Fynch had set up all along? He had made him immune in the flesh to most of the other weaknesses of man, so that he would be ready for this moment. Cassien didn’t need to ponder it to know this notion was true. He didn’t even feel sad for himself.
Cassien could now feel a soft breeze; he could smell a familiar and not unpleasant aroma of slightly damp earth overlaid by a drifting scent of bitter almond, which he recognised as the sap of the colincal tree. Suddenly, the sense of movement stopped and his surrounds snapped into sharp focus.
The forest! How could it be?
Gabe?
Hamelyn’s idea, came the answer, but not from Gabe. It was Romaine who spoke as she padded into the clearing where he stood.
I have my body?
Your younger brother is extremely clever … and cunning, she said. Meanwhile, your elder brother is an extraordinary talent.
Gabe created this?
Yes. Hamelyn worked out how to let him see the forest through my eyes. He only needed to view it once and he has re-created it.
But where is the Void?
You’re in it, Cassien. You see, Hamelyn reasoned that the Void, according to what Gabe told him, is an emptiness so dark, so mind-numbing that persuading Cyricus to revisit was a near impossible task. Fynch was counting on his arrogance and the Triad’s persuasiveness, but Gabe has been touched by the demon and he agreed with Ham that Cyricus was having far too much fun to want to return to the Void and risk entrapment. He’s too clever.
Why will he come then?
Hamelyn believes he can still be tricked, but we have to be cleverer than he can imagine us to be. Your brother feels that Cyricus will not consider that anyone has a more cunning mind than himself, so Hamelyn is counting on him making presumptions. If he doesn’t see the Void — as he knows it — he will not for a heartbeat suspect that we have access to it or have re-created the forest in the Void.
Cassien was dumbstruck momentarily. Romaine waited, sensing that he was considering everything that she’d just revealed.
You look real enough to touch, he said in wonder.
I am. That’s the point. Gabe’s brilliant skill at re-creating means that I am ‘real enough’ when here. And so are you.
I know, he said, awe in his tone.
Gabe has reproduced you to perfection. Wherever you roam, this image moves with you.
Can Gabe hear me?
Yes, but I doubt he’s listening. It is taking almost all of his mind power to maintain this. Your brothers must bring Cyricus to us.
Does Fynch know about this magical forest?
No. Cassien, you realise Fynch is dying?
He waited a moment to permit what he already knew — but had allowed himself to deny — to resonate. Yes.
We can’t fail him.
We won’t.
Fynch might have believed Hamelyn’s idea to be too daring, too risk-laden. But Hamelyn insisted that unless we take the more daring path, the real risk is that we fail to entice Cyricus out of his mortal body at all.
I agree.
I won’t ask if you’re ready. You have been ready for a long time, Cassien.
Bring Cyricus to me, he growled.
And Romaine winked out of existence from the Void that masqueraded as the Great Forest.
Ham watched Wentzl approach the monastery walls.
‘It’s now or never, your majesties. Are you sure, King Tamas?’
‘Tamas, don’t!’ Florentyna pleaded.
‘Florentyna, everyone is putting their life on the line. There’s no point in me cowering here, waiting to be cut down later rather than sooner, hiding behind monks. I’m a king. I lead.’
‘You speak as if we’re already dead,’ she said, angry tears flowing. She dashed them away. ‘Whose idea was this?’
‘Mine, your majesty,’ Ham said, looking contrite. ‘I feel it’s the only way.’
‘Listen to me, my queen. It’s easier to accept death than to fear it. If I don’t fear it, I will find more courage. Let me go. Let me play my part.’
‘Now, your majesty, if you’re ever going to do it,’ Ham warned, his eyes imploring. ‘We can’t let him in.’
Tamas kissed Florentyna’s hands holding them to his lips for a few moments. Then he turned to Ham and hugged the boy. ‘Brave lad. Now it’s my turn.’ He didn’t wait for them to say more, but hurried away down the stairs.
‘Your majesty,’ Hamelyn said. ‘Please go with Brother Hoolyn.’ When she began to protest, he frowned. ‘This is for you, Queen Florentyna, for your people, for the empire. Please let us help you.’
She bit back on her words. Nodded. ‘Lead the way, Brother Hoolyn.’
He shooed her down the narrow stone staircase to a secret place. Hamelyn hoped keeping her out of sight might buy some time. He hung out the window, just in time to see King Tamas burst from the monastery.
‘Cyricus!’ Tamas yelled, feeling himself possessed with a fury he had never experienced previously.
‘Tamas!’ the demon said in Wentzl’s amused voice. ‘What fun. Do you plan to cross swords with me?’
‘I wasn’t planning on asking you to dance.’
Wentzl’s face erupted with glee. ‘Excellent, your majesty. Should I be frightened? I can’t be bothered to search your man’s memories. You probably know about Myrren’s magic by now, don’t you?’ He didn’t wait for Tamas to answer. ‘Her magic was so clever that whenever a body was possessed it handed over its knowledge too. Sadly, that’s not happening easily for me. Having tampered with the magic, I think it’s punishing me. I do not have access to Wentzl’s former knowledge unless I hunt for it.’ Cyricus drew Wentzl’s sword with a flourish. ‘That said,’ he continued conversationally, ‘I’m sure, as your right-hand military man, his skills would be second nature and will occur without me having to think too hard. You should also know that I have had some previous experience with sword —’
Tamas gave a growl of boredom, lunging at Wentzl, who managed to block the hammering blow just in time. ‘You talk too much, Cyricus. Wentzl was a man who kept his thoughts to himself. I suggest you shut his mouth and get on with trying to kill me, because I know I can kill you in his body … just like I killed Aphra.’ He grinned maliciously.
Wentzl looked shaken. ‘Don’t threaten me, Tamas. You are nothing!’
‘You look unnerved, Cyricus. You hadn’t counted on having the fight brought to you, had you? Now your servant is dead, you are alone. I won’t let you get to her, you need to know that.’
Cyricus laughed. ‘I will feast on your body when this is done.’
‘When this is done, Cyricus, you will feel Wentzl bleeding out from the wounds I plan to inflict. And you will die in the body of a Ciprean soldier.’ Tamas laughed. ‘A nobody,’ he added, knowing Wentzl would forgive him the insult.
Cyricus roared his anger, swung with Wentzl’s sword and the fight was on in earnest.
In the tower, Ham stole a glance at the slumped figure of Cassien. He wondered what his brother had thought of his surprise in the Void. He also wondered what Cassien would think of his idea to throw Tamas into the fray. He would know soon enough; it was simple, but fraught with danger. The king had to best Wentzl. Then Ham was going to be the one who would lure the demon — give him the choice of certain death or a chance to fight a different sort of battle.
Time was slipping away. Cassien’s body would cool inwardly and no longer accept him back if they left it too long. Even blankets wouldn’t help, although he had considered it briefly.
He shifted his attention to the fight. Tamas had been doing well; clearly, he was the better swordsman and obviously far too modest because he’d never mentioned his ability. But he was the elder man by a decade. In Captain Wentzl’s body, Cyricus was stronger, faster. Tamas looked to be wearying.
He watched the king feint and strike. He caught Wentzl a slashing blow on his fighting arm and Wentzl shrieked with pain. Blood flowed easily. Good, that would slow him … in fact, that was the way to win this fight. Ham checked again on Cassien and then took the risk, hurtling down the staircase two at a time until he rushed out into the main yard, emerging from the shadow of the cloisters.
‘Your majesty,’ he yelled.
‘Busy right now, Ham,’ Tamas yelled back, blocking and swinging, missing a nasty hack at his calf, dancing out of the way just in time.
‘Wound him, your majesty. Make him bleed any way you can.’
‘Who in the devil’s bright blood is this, Tamas? You take advice from a boy now?’
‘You should too, Cyricus,’ Ham said, beginning the ruse, ‘because I would advise you to give up this mortal body.’
Tamas, not yet bleeding, but visibly slowing, sneaked in a crushing blow that damaged Wentzl’s shoulder.
‘You’ll pay for that, Tamas,’ Cyricus groaned, but Ham could see that the king had gone into the fighting trance that Ham had heard spoken of when he looked after swordfighters in Orkyld. He’d had it explained by several different men as they talked of the curious ‘space’ they fell into when fighting. You go within yourself, one had said, in order to stay focused and not be distracted. Another had likened it to wearing blinkers: You are simply not aware of anything around you, other than your opponent’s blade and where the weight of his body is shifting. And that’s how Tamas looked now. Completely absorbed and dedicating himself to parrying the sudden flurry of blows that his younger, stronger opponent was pressing. Tamas was holding, twisting and turning his sword with skill and courage to ensure the flat of the blade met the blows and deflected them, although his shoulders were likely burning by now. In fact, Ham could see he raised his hands slightly lower with each parry. Time was getting away. Was it already too late?
Even so Ham urged him again.
‘Make him bleed, sire!’
‘Shut up!’ Cyricus roared, turning his blade on Ham, which was a foolish error, for Tamas — in his ‘space’ — saw the opening and took his chance. Like a viper striking, he moved, throwing his last reserve of energy into a hacking motion that brought the keen edge of the Ciprean sword into Wentzl’s unprotected side. Wentzl staggered, still facing Ham.
And Ham cheered inwardly. He’s ready, Gabe. Ham opened a new link — they came easily now. Cyricus, do you know that Wentzl is already dying?
Shut your filthy mouth, boy. How are you speaking this way to me? Wentzl’s body crumpled to his knees.
The king doesn’t know, Ham continued, as if unoffended by the demon’s insult, and what you don’t know either, is that I am on your side.
What? Wentzl’s expression was a mask of pain and confusion as he doubled over, but Cyricus sounded strong if perplexed. What are you talking about?
Ham cut a glance at Tamas and nodded. The king staggered back in fatigue. He had sustained one wound to the body, but although it bled, it did not look life threatening. Ham’s peripheral vision told him that Florentyna and Brother Hoolyn were making for the king but he had eyes now only for Wentzl. He turned his mind back to Cyricus.
Cyricus! I can save you.
The demon laughed in Ham’s mind, cruel and mocking.
Trust me, he continued calmly, we can do this together.
Cyricus raised Wentzl’s head. The gaze was fading, but Ham knew the demon inside was as strong as ever.
Your host is failing, but you needn’t die.
I won’t die. I can remain dormant.
Not if they burn the corpse, Ham followed up quickly.
Ah, now he had the demon’s attention.
They don’t cremate in Morgravia, Cyricus sneered.
They do in Cipres. Tamas will ensure the captain’s body is accorded full honours. Besides, no Morgravian will protest; they’re not taking chances with this one. Wentzl is going on a pyre.
The silence that followed his reveal was loud and horror-filled.
Still Cyricus rallied. That doesn’t mean I’m finished. I can move through the spirit world again. But I’m interested. You said you could save me? His amused tone belied the way the body he inhabited was crumpling in on itself, wheezing to its death as blood bubbled around a sucking wound.
I can.
Why?
You tell me.
Power?
Yes. Power. Wealth. Lands. Women. I am an orphan, Cyricus. I have known only poverty. I have no skills but this curious talent to engage in mindspeak with other sentients. I have no magic, other than my mind. But I am clever. I see opportunities that people see as dead ends.
Cyricus actually laughed. How old are you?
Far older than I appear, Ham said lightly, but not masking the truth. You’ll need to make a decision now, Cyricus, for Wentzl’s body is not going to last beyond another fifty heartbeats.
I know what I must offer you, boy, but what are you offering me? You speak of saving me. How?
It was the moment.
Like this, Ham said and opening up his mind he drew Cyricus in and showed him a vision of the forest. I can take you here.
How?
Magic.
You don’t have any.
I told you I had some, not as much as you. Use me. Harness what I’m showing you, take yourself to the forest.
Where is this forest?
No ordinary place, my lord. In Morgravia and Briavel, it is known as the Wild, he lied.
Another deafening silence.
They both heard the roar. It was Tamas again, hauling himself back to his feet, and brandishing his sword.
‘Not finished yet, Cyricus. Let me help you on your way, demon!’
Choose, my lord. The Wild is a place of fierce magic.
I know of it, Cyricus snarled, but Ham could hear the hunger in his voice. Tell me again, who are you?
I am … Myrren, my lord, once known as the Witch Myrren of Morgravia.
Myr— he stopped and Wentzl coughed.
Ham glanced up at Tamas and shook his head, to stay his hand a moment longer. Tamas obeyed making a show of finding it difficult to raise his heavy sword, muttering and growling obscenities.
Myrren, Cyricus repeated. It’s not possible.
It is. I will explain how later. I walk in the form of this young boy now, but tomorrow I can be Florentyna. I can be your queen. I can be anyone I want to be.
You died! I watched it happen.
Ham shook his head and gave a sly smile. People believe what they see. My spirit escaped and hid. My magic made a mess of Morgravia and Briavel for a while, didn’t it? But I got bored. Centuries have passed. You’ve livened things up a bit, Cyricus. I’d like to join your vengeful mission. But, Ham made a show of looking at the wound again, a dozen heartbeats and you’ll never know what you’ve missed. Ham intensified the image and the forest glowed dark and green. And that’s only one entrance to the Wild, Cyricus. You should see it on the other side. He paused, took a breath — this would be his last chance. He didn’t think he could stop Tamas now even if he begged.
The king’s towering figure stood over Wentzl and the Ciprean blade was being raised for the final time.
‘Die, Cyricus!’ Tamas growled, animal-like.
Cyricus! Ham urged. Let go!
Tamas brought the sovereign sword of Cipres down onto the neck of his beloved captain and severed the man’s head from his body.