Chapter 13

 

“Well, that was certainly an interesting evening,” Guillermo declared the next morning, when everyone had assembled outside the Headless troll. He’d reappeared the moment everyone had emerged from the building. A few were nursing headaches, but nothing serious. Blake had managed to drink enough water to keep the worst of it at bay. And, as usual, Blagan was chipper and cheerful and making jokes at everyone’s expense.

“It certainly was,” Blagan answered Guillermo. “Thanks for startin’ that brawl, by the way! Made my night!” He actually shook Guillermo’s bony hand.

“Enough jokes, you horrible little dwarf. We might all die today!” Kyanne growled at him.

He favoured Kyanne with a crooked-tooth smile. “Aye, maybe so, but it’s been one hell of a ride, hasn’t it?”

She didn’t know how to respond to that and simply sniffed disdainfully. But truthfully his confidence gave her courage. She had never met anyone so ridiculously upbeat. In her society everyone was always so serious and austere. Everything was formalised and ritualised. No-one laughed or even smiled unless they were gloating over the death of an enemy or the conquest of a city. No wonder she had run away to seek her own fortune. She shifted to her usual place at the back of the group, deferring to Guillermo who was now in charge.

The little blonde mage rubbed his hands. “Follow me to the Emperor’s palace, and don’t do anything to attract attention to the group. Watch where you’re going, keep together and don’t make any sudden moves. We must be completely unobtrusive. Let other parties receive all the attention.” He moved into the middle of the group. “As soon as we reach the main square I will have to dispel my illusion. Keep me surrounded,” He lifted his hood up over his head, shadowing his youthful appearance.

“I still don’t believe you started that bar fight,” Blake muttered at him.

“I didn’t,” Guillermo insisted. “It was that overweight oaf Bariel. All he had to do was apologise. I don’t understand his issue.”

“Sorry is the hardest word,” said Blake as they started moving off across the cobbles.

“Well, it’s no problem for me,” grumbled Guillermo. “I just don’t understand the misplaced pride of people these days. He could have saved everyone a lot of trouble.” He gestured to one side, where the hung-over, probably concussed, Bariel was crouched beside a ditch, heaving up either his breakfast or last night’s dinner – no-one wanted to know which.

They little group moved off. Realising that Guillermo was the only one wearing a cowl the other party members raised their hoods too, ensuing they were all similarly covered. The light-hearted conversation continued for a while, but as they neared the grand market place, which was already bustling with activity, it eased. Because it was tribute day a festive atmosphere pervaded the place. Flags and banners fluttered in the breeze, depicting bones and skulls. Bizarrely, a carnival had set up; a collection of red and black tents with some zombie clowns and jugglers performing for the interested crowds. A skeletal tight-rope walker in a bright pink leotard balanced precariously high above, and another zombie stalked along on two metre high stilts. Or they could have been his own legs. Who could tell in this bizarre place?

Sue could only stare. “Now I’ve seen everything!”

“Just when you thought clowns couldn’t possibly get any creepier!” muttered Kiara.

“Do we have the time to check it out?” asked Damon hopefully.

“We’d best get in line now,” Guillermo suggested. As soon as they’d entered the market he’d shed his illusion, and now his red gemstone eyes glowed balefully from within the deep shadows of his cowl. “It could take us all day to get inside otherwise.”

Blagan groaned at the thought of waiting in a long boring queue. “Alright. Any way to push to the front?”

“Not without attracting attention.” The castle guards tend to notice queue-jumpers and if they’re in a good mood, they send them to the back of the line.”

“What if they’re in a bad mood?” asked Blake, and wished he hadn’t.

“They’re knocked out of the queue altogether. Usually by one of those massive battle hammers. Those giant guards are not known for their sense of humour.” Guillermo pushed his way through the people and stalls towards the main thoroughfare to the castle gates.

The line was already several hundred people long. Blake realised those at the front must have camped here the entire night; they were packing up their belongings and bedrolls. He shuddered at the thought and was glad he’d spent it in the Headless Troll.

They quickly joined the line and more people showed up behind them. Because the tribute was so expensive, most of the petitioners were wealthy individuals dressed in their finest glittering garments. Thieves like Kyanne and Damocles itched to do a little pick-pocketing, but kept their light fingers to themselves. They knew that would probably be frowned upon here.

But there were some poorer-looking people who’d tried to dress up but still managed to look painfully patched and shabby. They must have saved up their entire lives for this moment. “What do people actually ask the Emperor for?” Sue whispered to Guillermo.

“Oh, many things. Fame, more wealth, more fortune. A lot of people actually want the gift of true undeath.” The lich gestured towards a very finely dressed, but very old man, stooped almost double between two tall armoured guards.

Sue shuddered at the thought.

“But there are those who want to live again.” Guillermo gestured to a beautiful vampire lord with long, shimmering hair. He stared ahead with cold, dead eyes. “He for one looks like he has tired of his unlife and wishes to be human once more.”

“Can the Emperor do all these things?”

“Some. He can certainly create undead. But I doubt he can reverse the process. Or if he could, I doubt he’d want to. All his gifts come with a price.”

“Yeah, ten thousand truesilver guineas,” grumbled Blagan.

“No, more than that. For example if you request the Emperor for true undeath he might grant it, but turn you incorporeal in the process.” He gestured to the ever-present shadows, wraiths and ghosts that circled overhead. “Powerful creatures, but unable to interact with the real world. If you ask for wealth he might give you a chest of gold, but each time you pull out a coin it burns you like acid. A wish for fame will be granted and you will suddenly be wanted in over fifty countries for murder. He has a very warped sense of humour. A request for land will result in an impressive acreage – on top of an inaccessible mountain.”

“So why the heck do people still visit him?” Sue gasped.

“Because people are always hopeful fools.”

Somewhere a clock rang the hour. “It’s nine o’clock – time for the gates to open,” declared Guillermo.

Up ahead, at the tall wall comprised entirely of bodies, the two massive guards armed with their telegraph-pole weapons stepped aside. The bone gates creaked open, seemingly of their own accord – and a red cobblestoned path leading to the Emperor’s castle was revealed.

The line began to shuffle forward. Everyone knew to behave, and there was no jostling or shoving. Most people kept their gazes fixed ahead. No-one spoke, and the evil red gaze from the soldiers at the gates swept over everyone, searching for active enchantments. For a while the line moved smoothly. Then suddenly the massive soldiers crossed their enormous weapons with a thunderous clack right in front of the bent old man and his minders.

“Remove your spell!” bellowed one of the armoured mountains.

“But … but it’s what’s keeping me moving,” protested the ancient fellow.

“Remove it or leave the line!”

The old man touched something at his throat, and suddenly crumpled to his knees. His minders picked him up by his arms and held him up. His legs dangled uselessly beneath him.

“Now you may proceed.”

Holding the old man between them, the minders shuffled into the castle grounds.

“That was a bit harsh,” muttered Sue.

“No active enchantments – that’s the rule,” Guillermo hissed. “Even beneficial ones.”

Everyone – except Guillermo – held their breath as they passed by the giants in their bone-coloured armour. Although their evil red eyes swept over them, they said nothing and let the little group through the gates. The Emperor’s palace loomed up ahead, even more horrifying than its surrounding wall.

The entire structure looked like it had been made from dead things. The walls were tombstones inscribed with the names of everyone who had died in the Empire, and been turned into architecture. The roof was made from thousands upon thousands of interlocked thigh bones. The window frames were made from spines and the shutters from arm bones. Dead trees with long, gnarly branches like witch-fingers had been twisted together to form a giant entry arch. Embedded within the branches were leering skulls from every conceivable creature, including a dragon, perched at the very apex of the arch. All the skulls had gleaming red eyes and were very much active, chattering, laughing and snarling. But from this distance no-one could hear what they were saying.

“Oh my God…” The adventurers all experienced a flare of bowel-twisting terror at the aura of fear radiating from the place. The images in the sourcebook simply had not done it justice.

Guillermo turned. “Relax – the aura is not strong enough to turn you away. The Emperor doesn’t want that. He just wants you cowed and humble.”

Blagan glowered. He wasn’t about to be cowed and humble for anyone. He straightened and faced the awful building. Now they knew their fear wasn’t natural, they were able to proceed, shuffling along after the slow-moving individuals in front of them.

Then the first people reached the palace’s giant skull-encrusted doors and the line stopped. Two more giant guards in bone coloured armour, armed with massive battle hammers, stood on either side. Slowly the doors creaked inwards, revealing darkness. The guards crossed their weapons with a clack before the first group could proceed.

“One at a time!” one of the warriors thundered, in a voice that reached everyone in the queue.

Blake gulped. “Oh oh.”

“Oh oh indeed,” Sue muttered. She turned to Guillermo. “Is this a problem?”

“An old tactic, designed to weaken and steal morale. But remember that the Emperor’s goal is to see people and grant their wishes. He wants us inside. He will not hurt us. Humiliate us, reduce us to gibbering wrecks in pools of our own bodily fluids, but not actually harm.”

“Oh goodie,” muttered Blake. Kiara looked positively horrified. Blake took her hand and squeezed it.

Damon and Damocles exchanged worried glances. Then they both thought at the same time – what the hell – and held hands too.

“This wasn’t in the book,” Sue muttered.

Aelfstan held his hand to her. She stared at it for a few seconds, and then took his fingers.

Kyanne glanced at Blagan, wondering if he wanted to hold her hand. He looked up at her. “I don’t hold anyone’s hand,” he growled. But he did move a little closer to her. She smiled, glad it was hidden within the shadows of her hood.

The individuals making up groups were allowed in at thirty second intervals. Then about ten minutes passed before the next party could step up.

The line shuffled slowly forward, and the minutes turned into hours. It was fortunate the sky overhead was dark otherwise everyone would have baked in the sun. At this rate Guillermo and his group wouldn’t get into the castle until mid-afternoon. At lunch time Aelfstan tried to conjure up some food and drink for the group, but for some reason he couldn’t do it. His prayers went unanswered.

“I can’t do it here on the Emperor’s grounds. His powers are so strong they’re blocking mine.”

“No matter Aelf. We’ll just have some of our trail rations.” Blagan started rummaging through his pack for his food. Soon he was gnawing on a piece of his primordial jerky.

Everyone gobbled down a portion of their rations, and someone handed a selection to Aelfstan. He took it with a grimace.

“You’d better eat it,” growled Blake. “I doubt the Emperor’s going to put out a spread!”

No-one particularly felt like eating so close to that huge, ominous palace, but they would need their strength for the upcoming confrontation. By now they could hear the skulls adorning the palace, their whispers, mutters, insane giggles and above all – the constant stream of insults. An endless stream of invective designed to demean and belittle.

“Hey, old codger! Yeah, you, bein’ held up by yer big buddies there! You proud of what yer wealth bought ya? Look at you! Pathetic! Goin’ to ask the Emperor for a new adult nappy then?” There was howl of laughter as the old man was brought up the stairs to the guards.

“One at a time!” The weapons were crossed with the mighty smack.

“But – but he can’t walk any more!” protested one of the old fellow’s minders.

“One at a time!”

Miserably the men were forced to lower the old man onto the floor, laying him on his belly. He started to pull himself along with his arms. The weapons were uncrossed, and he dragged himself into the gloom.

Sue actually wiped tears from her eyes. “That was horrible! How could they do such a thing to that sick old fellow?”

“Hey, crybaby! Going to petition the Emperor for a backbone?” screeched a skull.

With a sickening lurch in her guts, Sue realised the skull was talking about her. She clenched her hands into fists. “At least I’m not just an obnoxious head stuck in a wall! Why don’t you ask the Emperor for a body?” she yelled.

About twenty assorted skulls all hooted with laughter.

“Ooooh, that hurt! Look at me! I’m going to cry!” The skull made sniffling noises.

“Oh nicely done, Sue,” grumbled Guillermo. “They’ll really have it in for us now!”

“Look at that bunch of milksops! Look at those skinny mages they’ve got with them! I doubt either of those emaciated spell-chuckers could work up a decent fireball between them! Hey girlie! Did you break up a telescope for those enormous lenses of yours?”

Kiara cringed and pulled the hood of her cloak even lower.

“Look at that hairball dwarf! He looks like something a giant cat coughed up!” There was a howl of laughter. Blagan fingered the hilt of his axe. Kyanne grabbed his arm.

“Hey! Storm priest! Nice robes! What’s the little mirror for? Admiring yourself?”

Aelfstan clenched his teeth together.

Fortunately the group were now only a few people from the front, and when the group did not rise to the insulting skulls’ bait again, they directed their attention to an even more amusing group behind them.

“Hey, Princess! A word of warning! Don’t ask the Emperor to help you shed ten pounds of unsightly fat – he’ll cut your head off!”

“Whew,” muttered Blake. But he spoke too soon. The last fellow in front of him went in and the battle-hammer hafts were crossed in his face with a loud clack. He was next. He gulped and strained to see past them into the darkness. But whatever lay beyond was hidden, as though concealed behind a curtain of inky blackness.

“How many in your group?” boomed one of the guards.

“Um – er eight,” Blake stammered.

“Nine,” Blagan corrected quickly.

“Nine,” said Blake, hoping he just hadn’t condemned Guillermo.

But the gate guards were probably used to nervous, stammering adventurers by now, and uncrossed their weapons. “The first may enter.”

Blake glanced at Blagan. The dwarf shrugged and stepped forward. The darkness in front of him looked solid, but when he stretched out a hand he felt nothing. He took another step – and disappeared. One second he was there – the next – gone.

Blake gulped as the weapons were crossed again. He glanced at Kiara. “I’ll be alright,” he told her in a whisper. “We’ve been through so much crap on this trip already – what’s a little more?”

She nodded. “I know and I don’t care. I just want to go home.”

The weapons were uncrossed. “Next!”

One by one the adventurers entered the Emperor’s castle.

 

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