Lord of Lies

my ehest nearly breaking against my glittering armor and knocking the breath from me. Master Juwain, to my right, held up the akashic crystal as he might a shield. One of King Kiritan a men drove his mailed fist into his arm, knocking the crystal from his hand. It struck the floor and shattered into pieces. The light died from each shard one by one. Then Baltasar and my Guardians pushed through the throng to protect me — and the Lightstone. As two of King Kiritan's men closed in on Kane to be met with the fury of his flashing sword, King Kiritan fell upon me with his sword. I could scarcely breathe, and so I was slow to draw my own. And in my moment of debility, he struck at me with a terrible savagery. Baltasar cried out, 'Val!' even as he jumped in front of me to intercept him. But he was off-balance, and King Kiritan's sword slid past bis kalama. The force of the thrust split apart the diamonds encrusting Baltasar's armor as the sword drove deep into Baltasar's chest. So quick and shocking was this death-blow that Baltasar did not even scream. I screamed, however in agony and hatred as I finally freed my sword. I rammed the silver blade past Baltasar's shoulder; it ripped through the golden lion of King Kiritan's tunic and struck straight through his heart. He died cursing me with his hateful eyes. He fell to the floor along with Baltasar. his sword still lodged in Baltasar's bleeding body.

'The King is dead!' someone called out. 'The Elahad has slain the King!'

'Murderer!' Someone else called out. 'Slay the king slayer and all his murdering kind!'

Kane had now succeeded in hacking apart the shields of his two adversaries; in a moment more, he would knock aside their spears and cut them down. My knights had fallen against King Kiritan's guards with a desperate wrath and a deafening clanging of steel against steel. Near the round table, the Valari kings and their retinues stood ready to bring battle into the hall — and war into Alonia. Just then the strong, steady voice of Count Dario called out to everyone: 'Hold! Put down your swords! The King is dead, and let there he no more killing here today!'

'The King is dead' men and women from the mob shouted. And then a hundred more joined them in their mournful cry: 'The King is dead! The King is dead!'

Nearly everyone froze then as they eyed those around them with a terrible tension like that of a drawn bow. Count Dario, a brave man. stood up straight and made his way from the Narmada table past King Hadaru and King Kurshan. He turned his red-bearded face toward King Mohan aa he laid his hand on the blade of King Mohan's sword. 'Peace.' he said to him. 'Let us not make war with each other.'

Seeing this, Belur Narmada shouted out: 'The King is dead! And so Count Dario must be King!'

'By what right!' Duke Parran shouted back Baron Maruth and Duke Ashvar joined him in outrage, and Count Muar called out- 'Count Dario has no claim upon the throne!'

Count Dario nodded his head toward these great lords, and he said, 'It may be that my claim is not strong enough, but I shall be regent until a new king is crowned. Does anyone dispute me?'

Even as he said this, a new company of guards a hundred strong led by a young Narmada lord, burst through the halls great southern doors. They wore the blue and gold livery of the royal house and brandished heavy spears. They marched straight down the aisle toward Count Dario and stood by his sides. And then Count Muar and Baron Marian reluctantly sheathed their swords.

Accompanied by a dozen of these men, Count Dario strode toward me. On the floor beneath me lay the corpse of the man that I had thought was King Kiritan. There, too, lay Baltasar's still warm body. Lord Raasharu knelt beside him stroking his hair as he cried out, 'My son! My son! My beautiful son!'

Now Count Dario stared down at the man that I had slain, and to eyes widened in horror. So it was with Duke Parran and King Kirttan scribes and chamberlains, and everyone else gathered close to us. And myself, for in death, Noman's face could not hold the shape of King Kiritan's countenance. I watched with dread as the skin and bones beneath seemed to ripple like bubbling tar and transform into a face that I hated more than any other. The lines of the jaw and cheekbones were fine almost delicate, and would have made for a beautiful being but for the sagging, grayish flesh mottled with broken blood vessels. The eyes, red as blood, were still open and stared up at the great noth

ingness. They were the eyes, I thought, of Morjin.

'That,' Kane said, pointing down a, him, 'is how I was sure Ravik was not Noman. In death, a Skakaman's face return to that of his master.'

'More sorcery!' Belur Narmada shouted, crowding in closer He motioned toward Kane, Master Juwain and me. 'These men are all sorcerers!'

But his kinsman, Count Dario, was not so easily persuaded that we were workers of the black arts. He listened patiently as Kane explained about the Skakaman and his kind that Morjin had summoned to earth. He pressed his lips together in grim silence as Kane said, 'So, this Noman must have entered the palace yesterday and contrived a way to murder and mime King Kiritan. Likely your king's body will never be found.'

Hearing this, Atara, who was standing next to me, bowed down her head and began sobbing beneath her blindfold. And Queen Daryana came up to her daughter and held her against her bosom. She herself, however, shed no tears for her murdered husband and king. 'So,' Kane growled, kicking his boot into the cheek of the man who had killed King Kiritan, 'likely we'll never know the shape of this thing's true face, for the Skakaman is truly a man with no face.'

At this, Maram and Sunjay Naviru and Lord Harsha — and many others — looked at me. The dread in their eyes recalled the last part of Kasandra's prophecy: that a man with no face would show me my own.

Now King Waray, accompanied by King Hadaru and King Mohan and all the Valari kings, pushed past the men and women crowding around the tables and stepped up to me. His proud, eagle's nose pointed straight toward me as he regarded me with his flashing eyes. And he called out to me in his nasal voice, made firm with rectitude and resolve: 'It's clear that this thing called Noman tried to trap you. Therefore all his words and questions must be suspect. Even so, one question must be asked, and it is upon me to ask it: Are you the

Maitreya?'

There was still hope in him, I saw to my amazement wavering like a candle flame on a windy night. And in my uncle, Prince Viromar, and in many others, this mysterious will of life that things should move toward the good. Once more the hall fell quiet as everyone gazed at me. I could hear Atara and Lansar Raasharu weeping softly, and the blood rushing in my ears, but little else. King Theodor Jardan and King Tal, with the huge King Aryaman and Sajagax, drew in close, along with King Hanniban, King Kaiman and King Marshayk. They joined the Valari kings, and a thousand others, in waiting for me to speak.

I looked down at my sword then. The blood from my bitten hand caked the black jade hilt and the diamonds set into it. But Noman's heart-blood would not cling to the bright blade. In its gleaming silus-tria I beheld my tormented face — and my fate. An alliance of Ea's free Kingdoms, I saw, still might be forged. If I could not lead it in light, even love, then I could compel others to follow me through awe, fear and hate. I could throw down Morjin and make the world safe for a new and better age.

I am he, I thought. I am he.

'No!' I whispered to myself, loathing what I saw in my shining sword, 'no, no, no, no!'

I looked down at Ravik's dead body. Once I remembered, Morjin had prophesied that I would use my sacred gift of valarda to slay in fury, and so I had. How easy it was, I thought, to turn away from all that was bright and beautiful and be cast alone into darkness.

'Valashu Elahad,' King Hadaru said to me, 'King Waray is right: the question must be asked, and the truth must be told. Are you the Maitreya?'

The truth must be told!

I slammed my sword back into its sheath. I licked my bloody lips; I gulped in a huge breath. And then I cried out, 'No, I am not the Maitreya! I am Morjin! I am Angra Mainyu!'

For a long few seconds, no one spoke. No one dared to look at me. I could feel everyone contemplating me in horror and mystification. Then Lansar Raasharu stood up before me. His cheeks were streaked with tears. He grasped my arm as he pointed down at Baltasar and cried out, 'My son did not die in vain! You are the Maitreya! You mustn't deny it!'

'No, Lansar,' I said gently. 'I am not'

Lord Raasharu's dark eyes fell as black and bottomless as the deep hole of hatred that had opened inside him. He hated Morjin, I sensed, even more than I did for stealing his son away from life. For a moment, it seemed, he even hated me. Although he tried to hold his plain, noble face stern and still, as befit a Valari lord, he was mad with grief. And he said to me, 'Do you remember the third part of that witch s prophecy? That a ghul would undo all your dreams? I won't let the Dragon fulfill this!'