The Dark Lord

Gazzah, a hundred miles away, to share a cup among three men. The legionaries mock us from atop their wall and everywhere my scouts go, the Romans are waiting.' The king waved a flat, broad hand, indicating the horizon from south to north. 'Their wall runs from vast bogs of cane, mud and crocodiles to the sea... an enormous work. The Roman fleet is waiting on the blue water and I will not chance risking our fleet, or my men, on a sea attack behind the wall. We cannot go around to the south, for the footing is poor for our horses, the sand deeper, then the land a poisonous morass...'

'Then you do need my help,' the sorcerer interrupted, smug. 'You wish me to open a way forward, as I did at Constantinople?'

'Yes,' Shahr-Baraz said in a level tone. 'Can you summon the worms of G'harne to consume the Romans? Break down their rampart, shatter their gates?' The king's voice became contemplative, curious. He seemed to loom over the sorcerer. 'Have you a second Axumite box? Holding pearls of an unusual hue?'

The Queen, standing quietly a few yards away, froze, barely even breathing. She stilled her mind as well, thinking of things far away and long ago, pleasant and innocuous. Only in the faintest whisper, at the back of her mind, well disguised behind remembered chatter and gossip, did she shudder in fear. What did he say? That was one of the forbidden names! The words slipped away from her memory, bubbles of oil rising in dark water.

Dahak raised a hand, a muttered curse under his breath. The crawling, leprous radiance on his skin vanished, plunging them into complete darkness. Even the stars were faint and cast no light on the sand. 'Be quiet!' The words were a low hiss. 'Where did you hear that name?'

'From you.' Even in low tones, the Boar's voice was a hoarse shout. 'You were careless, I think, to tell me so much.'

'I was.' Dahak moved in the darkness and the Queen gained the impression he was drawing something, some figure or diagram, on the sand with his staff. 'The old ones are not a toy to be brought out at a king's whim. Even I—and my power is great, O King—will not tempt them a second time.'

Rumbling laughter answered and the clink and rattle of metal on metal. 'A single throw of the bones, then? So be it. Are your dead men in the Roman camp?'

'No,' Dahak said, grudgingly. Despite her best intent, the Queen's ears pricked up and she listened intently, eyes closed, barely breathing. 'They cannot be everywhere... and the Roman magi are thick as flies, crawling about in their hive, long noses in everything. They are alert and fearful. I do not want to risk the Sixteen so openly.'

'Can you send some in, even one alone? They will not mind death, or pain, if caught.' Shahr-Baraz seemed ghoulishly pleased at the prospect. 'I thought there were several in the delta already?'

'They are busy on other, more important, errands.' The sorcerer sounded irritated. He was still concentrating on the lights in the west. 'What is this? The Egyptian priests are binding a pattern into the stone and earth. They think they can keep out my dreams!'

Silence followed. The Queen could hear Shahr-Baraz breathing. Finally, the king stirred. 'Do they know you are here?'

'No...' Dahak did not sound convinced. 'Perhaps. They are not blind. They can feel me, as I feel them— buzzing gnats, a racket of crickets, the mindless chatter of the small... I can taste their fear.'

'It is time to reveal yourself.' Shahr-Baraz's voice was firm and the words a command.

The Queen heard a sharp intake of breath and two pale points of light gleamed in the darkness as the sorcerer turned towards the king. She clutched her cloak tighter, trying to keep out the chill seeping from the air. Frost began to form on the wool.

'You...' The sorcerer's voice was thick, barely intelligible. 'You are not the master here!'

'We must break through the Roman lines,' Shahr-Baraz said, ignoring the venom in the sorcerer's voice. 'We cannot go around. We cannot remain here, slowly dying of thirst. Now, you have pressed me to strike against Rome. You were eager to go forward. If we do not attack within the next few days, I will turn around and return to Persia.'

The Queen, heart beating like a drum, flattened herself onto the sand, quiet as a mouse.

'Ssss!' Dahak sputtered, then mastered himself. As the Queen watched, frost crystallized on the sand; tiny white flakes drifting from the sky. Her breath made a white haze in the air. 'Where is the Boar's cunning now? You wish to charge ahead, to impale yourself on their spears? We must go around! Find a way!'

'We cannot,' Shahr-Baraz said, perfectly calm. 'Our fleet, though strong, does not have enough stowage for all of our men and horses. If we attack by sea, then we go ashore with a fraction of our strength... and the Romans will close upon us with all of theirs. I will not waste an army, even one composed of barbarians and mercenaries.'

'The south, then. My powers will find us a path through the sand!'

The Queen quelled herself again, stilling a wild urge to cry out, or run. The sorcerer's tone verged on something like fear. What horror could strike caution into that black heart? Wild speculation churned in the Queen's mind, but thought was dangerous, and she focused, again, on inconsequential matters.

'Can your powers draw water from the sand?' Shahr-Baraz was curious again. 'Each step we take from the sea and our barges means water, food, fodder must be carried for leagues across the desert... all exposed to Roman attack while we toil slowly through the wasteland.' The King of Kings sighed, and the Queen felt his attention turn upon her for a moment. She remained still. It seemed, for a moment, as if he was going to speak to her. He turned back to the sorcerer. 'Can you?'

Dahak did not answer. The cold grew. The Queen began to shiver uncontrollably. At last the sorcerer said, 'I cannot. But I will not reveal myself to the enemy, not yet. It is too dangerous!'

'Why?' Even with such a short utterance, the Queen could hear the hint of a mocking smile in the king's voice. She began to wonder why he'd taken such a long walk, in darkness, with the two of them. She squeezed her eyes shut, expecting some brilliant flare of destruction to light the rolling dunes. 'You have been very wary, sorcerer, since we captured Constantinople. Furtive, even.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean,' Shahr-Baraz said in a musing tone, 'you once feared to cross the narrow strait before Constantinople, demanding a bridge of saplings, layered with earth. Yet you later rushed to board a ship, the Queen's ship, to be carried across to Chalcedon—without a single precaution. I know full well you can summon powers and servants to carry you great distances in the blink of an eye—yet you hide in your wagon, surrounded by the army, moving at a snail's pace across the land. Indeed, you have abstained from your usual violence, your usual hunger.' Shahr-Baraz paused and now the Queen knew he was laughing at the sorcerer. 'Who are you hiding from, old snake?'

There was no answer, only a crack of frozen cloth as the sorcerer settled on his haunches, squatting on the ground like a common tailor. The Queen did not move—indeed, now she wondered if she could move, so cold had her limbs become. After a minute there was a muted, soft muttering. The Queen realized the sorcerer was arguing with himself.

Something touched her shoulder and she started. Shahr-Baraz loomed over her. 'You're freezing,' he said quietly, mustache white with frost rime. The Queen could see the stars around his head, burning very cold and bright, like a crown. 'Here...' He lifted her gently, powerful arms making light work of her thin frame. The Queen felt faint, her head throbbing. The king folded her in his cloak, and she swallowed a gasp, feeling the warmth of his body—hot as a furnace, it seemed—against her frigid hands. Curling herself up, the Queen pressed against his chest. The cloak folded around her.

'You are rash,' Dahak said, rising up from the sand. His voice was brittle in the darkness, bottled fury straining against a tight leash. 'Endless torments await those who have displeased me... your shell, stripped of will and thought, will serve as well as this living body! I thought you a wiser man, Baraz, a wiser man...'

'Huh.' The king lifted his beard at the sorcerer. 'I have listened to Khadames and his stories of your plans and plots, your secret fortress in the east, your ever-growing strength. You are strong, but I see you are afraid of something. Something you found, something you saw, in the Roman city. I will tell you now, sorcerer, I am not afraid. Of you, or what you fear.' Shahr-Baraz stopped, waited a beat of his heart, then said, 'We must attack or leave. You must choose.'