“Canrad will be able to control the people then,” Gar-don said. “They, like my father, and myself, were perfectly happy with our peace treaty. Only an insane being wants war. The people only follow Canrad because they fear him. All uprisings have been destroyed, or the participants have gone into hiding. After today, they might as well never have existed, for he will control anyone and everyone with his new powers. He will not be able to be defeated.”
“But you don’t actually know how he will do that?” I asked.
“I have only heard of the legend,” Gar-don said. “The power of the spirits, the demons of the trees. Exactly what they are capable of, I do not know. Our people have always feared the talisman, and knowing now that it will be united, no one will resist him. It would be useless.”
There was a clatter of sound in the hallway. Gar-don stood weakly, and said, “It seems we are about to find out the exactness of the talisman’s power.”
They came for us, unlocking our cell, entering quickly. To be sure of our compliance there was a horde of them with long spikes and strong nets and an angry attitude. I managed to hit one with my fist, knocking him to the floor in a swirl of dust and feathers. Jerrel kicked another. Gar-don tried to fight, but he was as weak as a dove. They netted the three of us, bagged us, kicked us awhile, then hauled us away like trapped vermin being taken to a lake to be drowned.
We were brought to a large throne room, that like the overall stronghold was made of stone and was combined with the natural strength of trees and limbs and leaves. Enormous branches jutted out of the walls high above our heads, and perched on them like a murder of ravens were bird-men and bird-women—the first females I had seen of that race. An occasional feather drifted down from above, coasted in the light.
Above that perch on which the bird-people were seated was a tight canopy of leaves, so thick and layered it would have taken an army of strong warriors many days to hack their way through it; actually, I’m not even sure they could do it in years.
They brought us in and held us close to the floor in our nets. We could see through the gaps in the netting. Besides the bird-people on the limbs above, the throne room was packed with others, some of them warriors, many of them nobles, and some citizens. We were the spectacle, and all of the bird-people had been summoned to witness whatever ceremony was at hand. I assumed it would not be a parade in our honor.
On a dais was a throne and on the throne was a large winged man who looked as if an ancient human being, fat of body, thin of legs, with a head like a warped melon, had been mated to a condor and a buzzard, all of him swathed over with warts and scars and age. A golden cloak draped his shoulders, and except for half the talisman on a chain around his neck, he wore nothing else. His eyes were dark and the color of old, dried pinesap. This, of course, was King Canrad.
Tordo stood near the throne, one hand on its back support. There were guards on either side of King Canrad and Tordo. The room was full of warriors as well.
Canrad nodded at Tordo. Tordo stepped to the center of the dais, removed his half of the talisman from his neck, and lifted it up with both hands. Sunlight coming through an open gap behind the king glittered across the talisman like sunlight on a trout’s back.
“What say you?” said the king.
The crowed cheered. It sounded like the sort of cheers we Buffalo Soldiers used to give the lieutenant when he rode by on horseback. A white man who led us like we couldn’t lead ourselves, as if our color tainted our intelligence. It was a cheer, but it came from the mouth, not the soul.
The king said, “The old order is here. Gar-don, son of the former king, who was not worthy and shall not be named is also here. He will see how a true king shows his power.”
“It is you who is not worthy,” Gar-don called out from his netted position on the floor.
“Strike him,” said the king. One of the warriors stepped forward and brought the staff of his spear sharply across Gar-don’s back. Gar-don grunted.
“We also have among us the daughter of King Ran of the Sheldan,” said the king. “A rather inferior race in my opinion. Add a black man-thing that I can not define, nor can anyone else, and we have three enemies of the throne. The gods will welcome their deaths. They will be the first to die by the power of the talisman. I will call up all the demons of the trees, and they will render these worthless creatures into wet rags.”
“I know your law,” Jerrel said, pushing herself to her knees under the net. “I ask my right to challenge you, or your second. If I win, our lives will be spared.”
“I am too old to be challenged,” said the king. “I have no intention of sullying myself with a duel. Nor will I sully one of my men. Why should I? You have the right by our law to make a challenge, and I, as king, have the right to refuse. I refuse. Be silent.”
King Canrad leaned forward on his throne. I could almost hear his bones creak. His wings trembled slightly. He looked like a gargoyle rocking on its ledge. He said to Tordo, “Bring me the power.”
Tordo hesitated, then moved toward him. King Canrad held out his hand. “Give it to me.”
Tordo held his half of the talisman forward with his left hand, and as the King reached to take it, Tordo sprang forward, snatched at the talisman around the king’s neck, yanked it loose of its chain.
Links of chain clattered on the floor as Tordo slammed the two pieces of the talisman together with a loud click. He lifted it above his head with a smile. He yelled out a series of words, an incantation. I understood the words, but not their jumbled purpose.
And then the spell was finished, and …
… Well, nothing. It was as quiet in the throne room as a mouse in house slippers. From somewhere in the crowd there was a cough, as if someone had a mouthful of feathers, which considering who was in the room, could have actually been the case.
Tordo’s gleeful expression died slowly. He said a word that didn’t translate, but I had an idea what it meant. He turned slowly and looked over his shoulder. He had gone from a potential wizard of the trees to a fool with two connected pieces of jewelry.
The guards hustled up from the bottom of the dais, their spears raised, ready to stick Tordo.
“No,” said the king. “Give me the talisman first.”
One of the warriors tugged it from Tordo’s hands, removed his sword as well, gave the talisman to the king. The king held it in his hands. He looked at it the way a fisherman might look at his catch, realizing it had appeared much larger underwater. “It is useless. It is a lie.” He lifted his eyes to Tordo. “I will make your death a long one.”
While they were so engaged, and all eyes were on them, I lifted an edge of the net, crawled out from under it and seized one of the bird-men. I drew his sword from its sheath and shoved him back. I sprang toward the dais. A warrior stepped in front of me, but I jabbed quickly and the sharp blade went through his eye and down he went.
With my newfound abilities renewed, I leaped easily to the dais and put my sword to the king’s throat.
The guards on either side of the throne started toward me.
I said to the king, “Give the order to free the lady and Gar-don, or I will run this through your throat.”
The king’s body shook. “Free them,” he said.
The net was lifted. The warriors around them parted. I noticed there was a rearranging of soldiers, some shifted out of one group and into another. It was a good sign. They were showing their division.
I said, “Those who wish the king well, fear the point of my sword. Those who wish him ill, perhaps you would enjoy my sword thrust. We shall see which is more popular.”
There was a slight murmur.
By this time Jerrel and Gar-don had joined me on the dais. They stood near me and the king. Jerrel picked up the pike of the guard I had killed. Tordo hadn’t moved; he feared to move.