His eyes turned slowly to regard me. Recognition shone in them.
“You!” he croaked, barely able to form the words. A black tongue darted out, licking cracked and broken lips. “You brought this punishment upon us!”
“No…” I whispered.
The other heads on the other poles began to open their eyes, too. Ilrich, Lanar, Harellen—one by one they began to call my name: “Obere… Obere… Obere…”
Voice growing stronger, King Elnar said, “You fled your oath of allegiance. You abandoned us in our hour of need. Know, then, our doom, for you shall share it!”
“I thought the hell-creatures would leave,” I told him. “They were looking for me, not you.”
“Traitor!” he said. “You betrayed us all!”
And the other heads began to shout, “Traitor! Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!”
“No!” I said. “Listen to me! It’s not true!”
“Hell-creatures!” King Elnar began to scream. “He’s here! He’s here! Come and get him! Come and get the traitor!”
“Quiet!” I said, voice sharp. “Don’t call them—”
“Help!” one of the other heads shouted. “Hell-creatures! Come help us! Lieutenant Obere is here!”
I cried, “Shut up!”
Another called, “This is the one you want, not us! Help! Help!”
“Come and get him!” shouted the rest of the heads. “Come and get him!”
I tried everything to quiet them—explanations, reasoning, orders. Nothing worked. They just wouldn’t stop shouting for the hell-creatures to come and get me.
They were no longer men, but bewitched things, I finally told myself. The people I had known would never have betrayed me this way… not the king I had sworn to serve till my dying breath, not my brothers-in-arms… not one of them.
Raising my boot, I knocked over King Elnar’s pole. His head did not roll free. I bent to pry it off, but then I discovered it was not stuck on top of the pole, but had somehow become a part of it… flesh and wood grown together in a horrible mingling of the two.
“Liege-killer!” the heads shouted.
“Traitor!”
“Murderer!”
“Assassin!”
“Hell-creatures—help us!”
I pulled the pole free from the ground. A little more than four feet from end to end, it only weighed twenty pounds or so. I raised it easily over my head and smashed the head-part on the nearest stone with all my strength.
King Elnar’s face shattered, but instead of bone and brains, a pulpy green mass and what looked like sap sprayed out. It smelled like fresh-cut lumber.
Half sobbing, I smashed it again and again until the head was completely gone. Then I used the pole to smash the other heads, too. All the time they screeched their insults and called on the hell-creatures for help.
They couldn’t help it, I told myself. They were no longer the people I had known.
Finally it was done. Alone again, I stood there, listening to the wind moan softly through the battlefield, the smell of fresh wood mingling with the carrion stench. Rain pattered down harder. Darkness began to fall. Lightning flickered overhead.
Turning, still dragging the pole, I looked toward Kingstown. Perhaps I could find answers there… or a way back to Juniper. I needed time to rest and think and gather my wits.
Then I heard the one sound I feared most: distant hoofbeats. A lot of them. Hell-creatures? Answering the heads’ frantic calls?
I didn’t doubt it. The hell-creatures must have left the heads to watch for my return. And they had betrayed me as soon as I arrived.
Desperately, I looked around. There was no one left alive to help me here, and no place to make a stand. I might hide among the fallen bodies for a time, but a search would find me soon enough, and I didn’t look forward to a night spent lying motionless in cold mud.
I snatched up a fallen sword, only to discover it was chipped and bent in the middle. The second one I grabbed was broken. Damn Dworkin and his no-swords-in-the-workshop rule! If I’d had my own blade, I might have stood a chance.
With darkness falling rapidly now and rain drumming incessantly, I didn’t have time to hunt for a weapon I could use. With the hell-creatures approaching, I had to find cover, and fast. In my current condition, I didn’t think I’d last two minutes against any determined attack.
I ran toward Kingstown. Perhaps it still stood. Perhaps the remains of King Elnar’s army had rallied there and still held it. Though I knew the chances were slim, it seemed my only remaining option.
At the very least, I might find a place to hide until morning.
Kingstown was a burnt-out ruin.
When I topped the small hill overlooking the town, tongues of lightning showed nothing but blackened rubble. Not a single building remained. Here and there stone chimneys still stood, marking the passing of this place like gravestones. I would find no help here. Oberon…
A distant voice seemed to be calling my name. I gazed around me in surprise. “Who’s there?”
Aber. Think of me. Reach out with your thoughts. I tried to picture him in my mind. As I concentrated, an image of him grew before me, wavered, and became real.
“It is you!” I gasped. Perhaps my situation wasn’t as desperate as I’d thought.
“Yes. Dad said he… lost you, somehow. I thought I’d try your Trump. Where are you now? What happened?”
“I’m cold, wet, and tired. Can you get me back home?”
He hesitated only a second. “Sure.”
“Thanks.”
He reached out his hand toward me, and I did the same toward him. Our fingers touched somewhere in the middle. He gripped my wrist firmly and pulled me forward. I took a step—
—and found myself standing in a room lined with tapestries of dancers, jugglers, and scenes of merriment. An oil lamp hung from the ceiling, spreading a warm yellow light. A rack of swords, a cluttered writing table, a high canopied bed, and two plain wooden chairs completed the furnishings.
I glanced behind me, but another wall stood there now, this one lined with shelves full of books, scrolls, shells, rocks, and other odds and ends such as anyone might accumulate over the years. Ilerium, Kingstown, and the hell-creatures had vanished.
“Is this—?” I began.