"Before", Chapter 10: The Sword of Vengeance

[Scott of Hyperborea]

"Before" or "Romance of the Three Duchies"
Chapter Ten: The Sword of Vengeance
Chapter Ten Soundtrack: [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YWohILPyoOU0]So tell the people - the future starts today![/url]


Our horses slogged through the Crestfall Downs, then grew more confident as we reached the broad sun-drenched coastal plain the Riverrunners called the Lywind. As the last few marshes faded against the northern horizon, we picked up speed and flew into the land of Modan-Lach, beachhead of the old So Saran colonization of Benacia and heartland of the empire of Riverrun. Just east of its center, a few leagues inland from the Gulf of Khaz, stood the proud city of Riverrun. Its own people called it by the vulgate Saran term Riverrun-amlodd , or "Capital of Riverrun", which led to the surprising mistranslation Riverrun Hamlet for a city of tens of thousands and spectacular walls and palaces. It was towards this capital that we now rode, along with, it seemed, all the rest of Sxiro.

In Lywind, all the talk was of the Goldenmoon army, which had preceded us by only a few days. The people thanked the name of Ikol, God of Peace, that the Mercajas' legions had been in too much of a hurry to do any serious damage or pillaging, but they were uneasy. Like Rain and Cloud, they were patriotic Riverrunners, and the thought that a foreigner might rule them as God-Emperor - let alone one of the notorious Mercajas - was anathema to them. There was talk that Duke Daniel E'lipov had raised an army to defend the capital, and that his brother Baron Rennard was marching in from his holdings in the far west with ten thousand men. But, said others, although Rennard had planned to arrive in time to contest the Hill and claim the God-Emperor's throne, had been delayed by an ambush of Goldenmoon-paid mercenaries near the port city of Sarasxism, and would never make it. These doubters sighed, and said that Goldenmoon would control all of Sxiro within the week.

We reached the city just as time was running out, on the morning of the very day when the great event was fated to occur. As we neared Riverrun-amlodd itself, crossing the great Gorantagh bridge across the River Pamirjan, our pace slowed as the roads became choked with people of all nationality and description. Riverrunners from the plains around, dark-eyed Goldenmoonmen coming as pilgrims behind the warriors, giant Elw, mysterious sharp-eared people from the Eluin forests, lavender-skinned folk from the far north, dark-skinned Amarri from the westernmost edge of Baron Rennard's domains, proud-looking fiery-eyed So Sarans from the south. Each of them had the same question: "Have you heard? Today, the God-Emperor, descended from Mors himself, will reveal himself on a hill outside the city. And in times to come, we can tell our children: I was there at the Hill of Destiny when the Son of Mors came down to us."

As the fields gave way to streets and alleys, the tide of people became so great that we abandoned our horses, preferring to make it further on foot. On ground level, we heard more of the news. Baron Na'Ami Mercaja of Ran, general of the Goldenmoon forces, had arrived here yesterday morning with a force that Duke Daniel could not hope to match. The Duke had retreated Riverrun's men inside the city walls. This had suited Na'Ami just fine: instead of laying siege, he had gone straight to the Hill of Destiny, a few hundred meters outside the city, and set up a security cordon. No contender for the throne could set foot on the hillside without passing through Goldenmoon infantry three ranks deep.

The anticipation in the voices of the Goldenmoon pilgrims was matched only by the despair in the voices of the more numerous Riverrunners. Baron Rennard, they said, was still a day's march from the capital. He would never make it by midday, when the prophecy was to be realized. And Daniel, Riverrun's other contender, was besieged inside his citadel with only a small army. We could see it in the distance, about a quarter the size of the sprawling extramural settlements, and it was surrounded by a line of Goldenmoon warriors.

In hushed tones so as to not raise suspicion among our fellow pilgrims, our company debated its options. Pupil wanted to head west, in the hopes of finding Baron Rennard. Even if he was a little late, Pupil reasoned, by holding the Landssword he would still be able to press his claim as well as Na'Ami; after all, they had each fulfilled half of the prophecy. Besides, whether or not he won in the end, Rennard would pay well enough to make the quest worth our while.

Quercia suggested selling the damn sword to Na'Ami. Sure, we didn't like the guy. Sure, he'd sold us out to the demon fish. But it hadn't been anything personal, business was business, the prophecy would get fulfilled as written, and we would all be stupendously rich. I believe the others might have agreed, if it hadn't been for what had happened in Cerce. Pupil and Rain blamed Goldenmoon for the deaths of Cloud and Once, and Red's anger was still smoldering over his own ordeal. among the demons, which he still steadfastly refused to describe to us. Quercia's proposal was soundly rejected, with a few dirty looks shot her way for even mentioning it.

It was Rain who suggested trying to break into the Riverrun Citadel and sell the sword to Duke Daniel. I had trouble following his argument at first, but after a while it began to make an odd sort of sense. The prophecy, he said, was given by the gods and would be fulfilled, come what may. That meant that someone holding the Landssword would be standing on that hill at midday today. If we tried to fight the prophecy by waiting days to meet Rennard in the west, it would only mean that fate would find some way to see us captured, get the sword to Na'Ami, and fulfill the prophecy as intended. But if we gave the sword to Daniel this morning, well, Na'Ami couldn't very well break into the Riverrun citadel to get it. So fate would have to find some way to give Daniel the martial victory he needed to break onto the Hill of Destiny and bring his new sword there.

"You're wise for your age," said Red, when Rain had finished explaining. "Cloud lives on in you."

That left only the issue of how to get past the Goldenmoon siege into the center of Riverrun. Quercia had the answer.

"Riverrun City was my first home in Sxiro, right after Narjone and I left the Isles," she told us. "Narjone was always making hairbreadth escapes from tecnomaezji...well, except the time when she didn't. She used the city sewer systems. We can too."

"The sewer systems?" I said, and groaned. "Could we be any more stereotypical? Come on, surely people here don't actually have big, navigable sewer systems that they helpfully leave unguarded."

"Of course we do," said Quercia, and she looked at me like I was crazy. "Fact, if I remember right, the nearest entrance is..." She looked to the left, where a fairly ghastly temple to some sort of tree demon stood deserted by the thronging crowds. In front of it was a small open lot. Quercia headed over and revealed a tunnel. "Everyone in," she said.

The sewers were not pleasant, but we who had braved the tunnels of Cerce-upon-Dolor could muster no fear at them. Quercia did the trick with her hair again, lighting our way forward, and led us confidently in the direction of the citadel.

We had gone about two blocks when the inevitable Goldenmoon forces guarding the sewers ambushed our party.

Though we were caught flat-footed, Red recovered instantly and parried, saving his life. Quercia reflexively shot a wall of fire at our assailants, but there seemed to be a tecnomaezj with them counteracting her magic. Between flashes of magic fire, I assessed the foe. There were at least twenty five of them. If Once had still been with us, we might have had a chance. As it was, we were outnumbered and trapped.

Quercia seemed to have the same assessment. In between spells, she turned to Rain and I. "Same invisibility thing as before," she said. "You two grab the Landssword, bring it to Daniel. We'll keep them busy while you run. I'll grant you a see-in-the-dark spell while I'm at it. Remember, no speaking above a whisper, no fighting. Got it?"

I nodded. Rain slipped beside Pupil, who was fighting for his life against three Goldenmoon infantrymen and grabbed the Landssword from his belt. "Lock hands," said Quercia. "Get ready." And: "Now".

Just as last time, nothing changed. There was no odd feeling, no flash of light. One second I could see my legs by the light of Quercia's burning hair, and the next I couldn't. Rain and I were invisible. Our user pointed in the direction we had been going. "Second right, then third left," she said. "You'll end up right in the middle of the citadel." Then a well-aimed sword stroke slapped her on the shoulder, and she staggered backward. I didn't wait to see what happened next. I grabbed Rain and ran, right through the ranks of the Goldenmoonmen, distracted as they were by the heat of battle. Not even their tecnomaezj seemed to realize that anything was amiss. As we left the area illuminated by the flash of magics, I silently thanked Lumina, Sxirothe goddess of light, that Quercia's dark vision spell seemed to be working.

Second right. Was that the second right after this one, or the second right including this one? There was no time to worry. We ran down the indicated corridor, all Goldenmoon resistance seemingly behind us. The sewers wound and turned and stank, and thirty times I asked myself silently whether Quercia's dark vision spell might not be starting to wear off. We passed one tunnel leading left, then another, and finally the third. Here we allowed ourselves the luxury of walking, slowing ourselves down and gasping for breath, only now regaining the presence of mind to be amazed that the disorientation of running while invisible hadn't cost us our balance earlier.

After about twenty minutes walking down our tunnel, Rain asked in a whisper exactly what had been gnawing at me for some time.

"Sun, are we lost?"

The thought was too horrible to contemplate. Either we had miscounted, or Quercia had given us the wrong directions. Either way, the time until midday was ticking, and we had no idea where the citadel was. Absent any other options, we kept walking, until the sewer tunnel branched in two ahead of us. One passage led left, the other right. I couldn't see Rain, but I wondered whether he looked as miserable as I did.

"The prophecy," he whispered. "We have the Landssword. The God-Emperor can't reveal himself without the Landssword. So it's destined that we'll get the sword to the God-Emperor in time. We'll just pick a path, and it'll be the one leading to Daniel's palace."

"Or to capture at the hands of Na'Ami," I deliberately did NOT say, but in any case, we trusted to the heavens for luck and turned right, leading to a passage very much like the last.

As the morning grew later and later, we grew more and more exasperated as we forged forward through sewer tunnels not only all alike, but apparently devoid of any accessible entrances or exits. The smell was getting worse as the morning wore on, and now I was pretty sure Quercia's dark vision spell really was beginning to fade. How long did the invisibility last, anyway? Hadn't she said two to three hours? We couldn't have spent that long down here, right?

We were so absorbed in our despair and self-pity that we almost missed it when the demon fish reared up from the muck ahead of us. Cloud had told me, long ago, that demon fishes lived in the sewer systems of some of Sxiro's largest cities, but the memory had faded almost to nothing, and in any case it did nothing to mute the thrill of terror that filled my body. Rain screamed, and instantly the spell was broken and he appeared in front of me, covered in muck.

Things had gone from bad to worse: the fish hadn't realized we were there before Rain's outburst, but now it certainly did. I looked at my hands and found them as ethereal as ever - apparently only Rain's half of the spell had been lost. I weighed the option of fighting the demon fish. I would lose invisibility the moment I drew my sword, but it could save Rain's life. The sewer fish looked much smaller than the proud healthy specimens we had seen in Cerce, but it would still be a difficult fight. I decided to try the other tack. I grabbed Rain's hand, tugged at it, and ran.

So once again, Rain and I found ourselves running through the sewers of Riverrun, from wherever to god-knows-where, only this time with a hungry demon of Balgurd behind us and no Quercia to save our behinds when the going got rough. Our hope, I decided, lay in losing the fish, and to this end I dragged Rain through as many turns and branch-points as I could find, until I no longer felt the cold breath of the demon fish on my skin behind me. Then behind the last turn, there was a glimmer of light. We had found an exit!

The sewer here was very, very old, and its walls were a cyclopean sandstone. Looking at them, I began to doubt that this had originally been a sewer at all. It seemed to be some very, very old structure that had been pushed below ground level as the city rose and whose entrances had connected to a sewer system from a later era. The legends of the ancient So Sarans who had built the city came to mind as Rain and I climbed up a pile of debris toward the daylight. Ancient brickwork, I thought. Perhaps the sort of ancient defenses upon which a citadel might be built? What if, by blind luck, we had stumbled on the exit to Duke Daniel's citadel after all. Could it be there was something to what Rain was saying about the prophecy?

But when Rain and I finally adjusted our eyes to the dazzling sunlight, it was no citadel that we saw. We were atop a small, grassy hill strewn with ruins and old masonry of the same type as the chamber we had just left. A giant brick, as tall again as a man, stood half buried in the ground before us. And all around the hill, on every side, were tens of thousands of people.

Even in Airosamente, the greatest city in the world, I had never seen this many people gathered together in one place. All the pilgrims who had been crossing the bridges of Riverrun this morning had come to this spot, kneeling in prayer. In front of them stood three lines of heavily armored Goldenmoon infantry, holding them back with swords and lances, skewering the more enthusiastic pilgrims who came too close.

Aside from ourselves, there was only one man on the hill. His gold-plated armor bore the green-and-gold crest of Goldenmoon, and he had made a platform for himself out of one of the blocks of masonry. There he stood, a dazzling gold crown upon his head. In his right hand, he held a beautiful sword, covered in gems and runes, and in case the message hadn't gone through, in large glaringly visible letters it had its name on the blade: LANDSSWORD. His arms bulged with strength, but his eyes had a cool, calculating look that scared me half to death. I realized that the man was Na'Ami Mercaja at about the same time I realized that we had just gotten ourselves into the worst sort of trouble. We'd gone out of the frying pan into the fire. We'd left the sewers for the Hill of Destiny.

Na'Ami was speaking, and some sort of natural acoustics of the spot made his words resonate all around the hillside and reverberate onto the waiting masses below.

"...enemies of Goldenmoon quake in their boots," he was saying. "Let Rennard, the so-called "Just", look from the west and tremble. Let Duke Daniel cower in his citadel. Let the Musicans take to their boats and flee. For today, we are no longer content to be supreme only among men. Today, here at the spot the prophet named, the gods themselves must acknowledge our supremacy. The other claimants to the throne have been laid low. Not many here today may have wanted my victory, but in a few minutes, when the sun stands at the top of the sky, every one of you will have to acknowledge it."

"Rain," I whispered to the boy who still held my hand, "we have to run. Back into the sewers. It's only a minute or two until noon. If Na'Ami sees you, he'll take the Landssword, the entire prophecy gets fulfilled, and everything is lost."

Rain stood, as if in a trance, watching the Goldenmoon baron orate to the throngs of pilgrims.

"Rain!" I whispered as loud as I could, squeezing his hand. "Na'Ami's one of the greatest warriors in Sxiro, and he's in full armor! If he sees you, you're dead and he's got the Landssword. For the love of Mors, we're going back in the sewers!". And I began to pull him back.

Don't get me wrong. I didn't want to go back in there with the stink and the darkness and the demon fish any more than he did. But in these past few months, I'd come to love Sxiro. It was a strange land, but it was a beautiful one, and its magic, its tecnomaezji, its gods, its traditions, all exerted a pull on me I couldn't deny. It had become home, and I wasn't about to let these Mercaja bastards take it over, just like that. Not without a fight, at least.

"No," said Rain, and I jumped and let go of his arm. There was something new in his tone. He didn't sound boyish at all. He sounded like he'd grown about ten years in that moment, and his eyes radiated steely determination.

"Rain?" I asked.

"What Pupil said about Once," he said. "That the gods have all these complicated plans, and they spend endless lifetimes preparing for them, and setting up prophecies and fates and the like, but in the end, it always comes down to people and their choices "

"What?" I asked.

"I'm not going to run away from this place. I've been running away from it my whole life, really, longer than you can guess. But that ends now. The time for prophecy is over. It's midday and I've chosen."

And before I could say a word, he jumped onto the block of masonry we'd been hiding behind, and Na'Ami Mercaja's head, along with those of ten thousand pilgrims, turned his way.

"Howdy!" he yelled, and the acoustics of the place magnified it and sent the echoes every which way..

He looked so strange, there, among all the shiny infantry, and Na'Ami with his golden armor. He was covered in the mud and ooze of the sewers. His clothes had the tatters of the long road to Lodersmotrik and back again, and his body had the scars of Cerce. He looked almost like a street urchin, a young, wretched orphan child of Riverrun. But not quite. There was something strong in him, something of the boy who had passed through the trials and tribulations of the place where the fates converged and been found worthy, something of the boy I loved. He looked....he looked like, beneath all the dirt and wounds, he was somehow supposed to be there.

"Who the HELL are you?" roared Na'Ami Mercaja.

"They call me Rain," said Rain. Then, "You killed my friend. You sold us out to the demon fish, and they killed him. I won't forgive you."

"Get OUT!" said Na'Ami. "No one's supposed to be here! I won't have my coronation day marred by your blood. But mark my words, I'll kill you if you don't start running NOW."

"They call me Rain," Rain continued, "but my full name is Rainor Me'Jiliad, son of Neglai Me'Jiliad, scion of So-Sara. I stand upon the Hill of Destiny at midday; I hold the Landssword. I am God-Emperor of Sxiro."

Then he drew the Landssword from its scabbard. It caught the rays of the noonday sun, and it shone. The shimmer of its steel was the shimmer of the sun on the Eluin waters, the green of the inset emeralds the green of the Goldenmoon hills, the curve of its blade the meander of the many steams of Riverrun. Everything that was good and pure and wonderful and fascinating about Sxiro shone in that sword in that instant, and in its reflected glow, Rain no longer looked like a street urchin covered in mud. He looked like a godling, a child of the line of Mors and Vivantia, scion of So Sara, prince of the ancient line. For a moment, the power and glory of an entire continent concentrated in an unbearable instant there on the hilltop. And then the sun moved in its course, and the spell was broken, and the world was only the world again.

For a second, nobody moved. Then Na'Ami raised his sword, the one with "LANDSSWORD" written on it in big letters, and charged at Rain.

Rain did a desperate counter that parried the blow, but he was driven back and off balance. Na'Ami pressed him harder and harder, until his back was to one of the huge sandstone blocks.

"I guess your reign ends here, God-Emperor" said Na'Ami. "But don't worry. I'm sure I can find someone to take over."

"The prophecy says," said Rain, and his totally calm voice was reflected back at the myriads of pilgrims, "that in my time of need, the air itself will take the form of those who love me, and I will not fall."

"Well," said Na'Ami as he raised his sword, "the air better start doing that right about now, because -"

"Done, and done!" I said, and the second half of Quercia's invisibility spell was broken, and I appeared there, atop the masonry, and leapt into Na'Ami's blow, parrying it inches from Rain's neck and knocking the Goldenmoonman off balance. Na'Ami recovered quickly, and we sized each other up, there on the Hill of Destiny.

"This is who the gods send against me?" asked Na'Ami. "A girl?"

"That," I said, "will cost you." And I lunged at Na'Ami, who only barely jumped out of the way. Our blades crossed once, twice, three times in rapid succession. We were certainly giving the spectators a good show. Then Na'Ami put his full force behind an attack, and knocked my sword from my hands. He grabbed it from the ground before I could retake it.

Rain tossed the Landssword to me, and I attacked with it, making a nice cut in Na'Ami's left arm. Na'Ami stumbled for a second, but then he started smiling.

"Ha! Fraud!" shouted Na'Ami, with mingled glee and desperation. "Fraud! The prophecy says that the true Landssword will never draw a drop of blood! It was false magic! All a glamour!" He inspected his own would-be Landssword as if viewing it with new respect.

Something came into me there, through the cracks and empty places where Quercia had sucked out my dreams, and in a voice not entirely my own, I replied to Na'Ami. "This isn't the Landssword," I said.

The baron seemed confused at being validated so quickly.

"I mean, this was the Landssword, a few minutes ago. But the Landssword was just a tool. It was just a bauble, to impress people, to prove the God-Emperor when he appeared. The Landssword's job is done now. The Landssword is done. It was a ceremonial sword anyway, useless in real battle. But the time for ceremonies is over.

"Today, this is a different sword. Today, this is the sword that slits the throats of the tyrants and petty warlords who kept Sxiro divided for so long. Today, this is the Sword of Vengeance!"

And even as I spoke, the tiny drop of Na'Ami's blood on the Landssword seemed to grow, until it covered the whole weapon. And each place the blood spread, the sword changed. The gems and filigree melted back into the hilt, the blade grew thicker and began to curve, the metal clouded and darkened. In a few seconds, what had been the Landssword was a wicked black scimitar, a sword forged to kill. And I wondered how I could ever have thought that the bright and airy thing we had carried back from Lodermotsrik was the blade of the the death god. This was Mors' sword in its true form, the arm of the god on earth, the bringer of death.

And with a single, perfectly executed stroke, it lopped off the head of Na'Ami Mercaja, Baron of Ran, brother of the Duke of Goldenmoon. And then there was only me, and Rain, and tens of thousands of pilgrims in an ecstasy of shouts and cheers.

"SXIRO!" they chanted, the old cry. Then: "RAIN!” Then, “SXIRO! RAIN! SXIRO! RAIN! SXIRO! RAIN!"

And thus was born an Empire.

Happy birthday, everyone. An epilogue will be posted in a few days.

[Andreas the Wise]

A marvellous and not fully expected conclusion. You have done Sxiro (sorry, Shireroth) a great honour, Scott.