Jepaul Page 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  They were ushered into the audience chamber of the Cynas who sat in solitary state, emtori of all levels moving noiselessly about to ensure his comfort, and the small group was surrounded by Varen as they were announced. The city Varen respectfully withdrew to the door. Jamir, casually turning his head, had a cruel smile of anticipation twisting his lips. The Doms heard the very low, muttered growl from Javen which made Sapphire, close to him, rest a firm hand on his shoulder, the Dom aware how rigid the man was.

  “In time, man,” the Dom murmured.

  Javen gave an imperceptible nod and immediately relaxed. Jamir peremptorily beckoned Knellen and watched as the Varen, head respectfully bent, stopped close to him, down on one knee.

  “You insubordinate reprobate, Knellen. You know, clearly, what faces you, Varen?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even though you return, and with one who was a boy, you flagrantly disobeyed me.”

  “So it seems, Master,” answered Knellen, rising but still with slightly bent head.

  “How can this be? You answer to me, the Red Council and the writhling. Where is it? It should be within you.” Knellen stayed silent and still. “Answer me! Ah, Varen, you will pay, believe me, you will pay for your insolence.”

  Knellen lifted his head, his strange eyes meeting full and holding with Jamir's. That was the first shock for the Cynas. The other was the return stare - Varen never directly met the eyes of other than their own kind. Jamir gave a choked gasp of sheer surprise. The eyes that looked into his were such as he'd never seen, cold, very beady and unusually bright, the pupils constantly dilating, an odd colour and utterly alien.

  “Where's the writhling?”

  “Dead.”

  “And you?”

  “As you see me.”

  “Who did this?” Jamir's voice was full of thwarted anger and threat.

  “You should ask one of my companions,” responded Knellen. “You know him.”

  “Do I indeed?” snarled Jamir, now rising and taking a step forward. Menace vibrated in his voice, but also curiosity. “Who is it?”

  Knellen gestured behind him. Quon strolled casually forward.

  “I helped the Varen with the writhling. Such an evil act, Jamir - despicable too! Is that the only way you can get anyone to do anything for you? Poor fool!”

  Molten fury sounded in Jamir's voice now.

  “Disrespectful, doddery old man!” he raged.

  Quon tilted his head, drew himself up and took two steps closer to the Cynas.

  “We meet again, Jamir. Don't you remember me? Well, well, and I told you I wouldn't forget you and what you've done.”

  Jamir swung round to stare hard at him and his face whitened, flushed and paled again.

  “You! You impudent old dog. You're exiled from Castelus on pain of death.” He turned again, this time to the Varen guards, “Take him!”

  “I think not,” said a quiet, deep voice.

  Jamir gestured to the Varen but they weren't looking at him but at a very tall man who simply waved them back. They looked uncertainly from him to a Varen they sensed was so changed from any of their kind they were troubled by him. Clearly, Knellen was quite unafraid of them. They sensed no sweat of any emotion. For those raised to scent emotion then hunt their prey by following it, this was unsettling.

  Jamir strode across the audience chamber, his eyes, once light, now dark, hollow pools. He confronted Jepaul, his head arrogantly tilted back to survey the younger man.

  “And who are you to give orders in Castelus?”

  “I'm Jepaul, Cynas,” came the chiding answer.

  “So?” Jamir continued to eye this very assured figure that stared down at him, the man's eyes with an odd light to them. “You don't answer me.”

  “I'm the boy, Cynas. I'm Jepaul. Don't you remember what was done to me? Where's your Red Council? They answer to me.”

  Jamir had taken a few steps back as Jepaul spoke, his hand up as if to ward off something he feared and didn't understand.

  “You can't be,” he rasped hoarsely.

  “You mustn't be angry with Knellen, Cynas. He befriended me and my mentor so he is as one with us. He doesn't answer to you. Nor does my mentor. I wouldn't let you hurt them, you know.”

  Jepaul spoke conversationally but there was a note of finality to his voice not lost on Jamir or the watchful Varen.

  “I assure you, Jamir, this is the boy,” contradicted Quon. “He's grown a lot since you saw him so many syns ago. Look at the eyes. Have the Nedru taken away so much you can no longer remember? There's always a price to pay, Jamir.”

  Knellen tilted his head to the right.

  “The Red Council are on their way, Quon. I sense them. They're nearly here,” he murmured. He stayed motionless. “Caution, Dom.”

  “And you'll pay it, you offensive old man. I took your insolence once but not now. You've come back, old fool you are. Your end won't be an easy one, I can promise you that.”

  The audience room doors opened, there was a swish of cloaks and the Red Council moved, as one, gliding towards Jamir. Quon made a small, unexpected little gesture and at that instant the Red Council found they could neither go forward nor back.

  “Let us pass!” they hissed sibilantly.

  Jepaul advanced to them and halted directly in front of them.

  “Look at me!” he instructed. “Tell me who I am.”

  The Red Council now turned, again as one, their robes rustling, their heads, hidden under the cowls, moving from side to side. There was a long silence then a sudden laugh from Jepaul.

  “No, no, you can't do that to me now.” There was a pause. “Nor that.”

  The others could hear hissing breaths from the Red Council and agitated rustling under robes. Jepaul walked straight among them, the man towering over them.

  “Who am I?”

  “The Progenitor come back to lead us,” came an exhalation as robes twitched.

  “The Progenitor's line,” corrected Jepaul, a note of mockery to his deep voice. “And how do you think the Progenitor would react to your abuse of him, do you think?”

  Again there was agitated swirling of robes as hands came from them to touch Jepaul's clothing. He ignored them but Quon saw the revulsion on his face and in his eyes, though the upright figure was motionless and unresponsive.

  “You were but a child, an emtori, and one who should never show a trace of gift. You were an abomination.”

  “Even though I was the last of Merilyn's line?”

  “Even so.”

  “You betrayed the one who brought you here, the Progenitor himself, by trying to destroy his line. Do you believe you are masters here? Have you arrogated such powers to yourselves?”

  “We answer you,” breathed the Red Council. “We acknowledge your power. You have grown from the child.”

  “And you'll answer for that, Nedru.”

  The Doms glanced quickly at one another, clearly startled by Jepaul's deliberate frontal attack so soon.

  “We serve you,” wheezed the united voices in exculpatory tones.

  “And Jamir?”

  “He answers to us.”

  “And you will answer to me, yes?”

  “You are of the Progenitor's line.”

  Jepaul's voice became very low but unmistakably threatening.

  “You answer to me! And I expect obedience from you. Do you need a show of my ability to make you do so? Have you so easily forgotten what I can do? Your assumed powerbase here is a most fragile thing. So, I ask again - who do you serve, Nedru, and to whom do you answer?”

  A reedy, whistling noise came from the Red Council, almost like a wailing moan from a distance.

  “We serve the Progenitor through his line and answer to him. What is it you ask of us?”

  “Where is the Mythlin, the Utmost Varen?'“

  “Back in his home state,” came the answer.

  “And where is the Keeper of the Key? I want it.”

 
“Don't answer him!” exploded Jamir, stumbling forward. Jepaul ignored him.

  “Control your puppet,” he admonished the Red Council. “You've absorbed so much of him you should have no trouble doing so.”

  The Red Council swung round to confront Jamir. One simply touched him. The Cynas took a staggering step back, his face blanched and a white mark where the hand had tapped him. The Red Council spoke again.

  “The Keeper gave the key away.”

  “Why?”

  There was silence. The Red Council whispered among themselves before only one hissing voice answered.

  “To open the gates.”

  “You suggest he did so willingly. I doubt that, but let it pass. Have you opened them?”

  “Not much. The gates stay shut but we manage to open them on and off to let us come and go a little.”

  “To Sh’Bane?”

  There was more agitated rustling.

  “Yes. We obey him.”

  “Sh'Bane answers to me. Do you understand?” Cowled heads nodded. “There are certain things I require of you. You will obey me implicitly or you will regret it.”

  “We will,” came the combined sibilant response.

  The Companions felt their skin crawl at the sound.

  “You will continue to control your puppet. I do not want him to be a nuisance. You will deal with him at the appropriate time.”

  The Doms looked at one another and Quon felt Jamir's fear. He could almost smell it. Jepaul faced Jamir who recoiled from him, stumbled and had to right himself.

  “You will answer to me, Cynas. You wanted me here, so here I am.” Jepaul turned back to the Red Council. “Who holds the key?”

  Again there was an ominous silence, then another faint sigh before the one wheezed as before.

  “Harnath, Patron of Ciquan and Patriarch of Arrain-Toh, but he, too, answers to your servants, his Red Council.”

  The Doms and Companions heard the sharp inward drawn breath from Javen.

  “You will remain here, Nedru. I will go to Arrain-Toh. You'll hear from me again, not too far distantly. You'll be called so you can once more fully re-establish yourselves on Shalah but in your true forms. You may rule as you once did.”

  “Ahh!” came the sibilant hiss.

  “Your instruments of control, the city Varen, will accompany me. You do not need them and I prefer to have them with me should I counter opposition to my will.”

  There was a murmuring and rustling from the Red Council, then the single voice.

  “Do you wish them all implanted with a writhling?”

  Jepaul's face remained stony.

  “There is no need with me. They'll find it best to obey me without hesitation.”

  There was almost a breathless laugh from the hooded group at that before the heads bobbed up and down, then from side to side.

  “Is there anything else?”

  “No. Leave now.”

  Jepaul stood back. The Red Council drew back from where they'd encircled him and glided silently and swiftly across the floor. The Varen also drew back, eying Jepaul with awe mixed with an apprehension unusual in their kind. Jepaul gestured to Knellen.

  “You'll be responsible for them, won't you?” Knellen nodded. “Speak to them and let them see your eyes,” suggested Jepaul, the sternness of his features relaxing slightly.

  Knellen crossed the audience chamber and stood four-square in front of the Varen, all very large men who stared at him as he raised his head and his eyes scanned each Varen in turn. There was a collective gasp.

  “You know I'm Knellen.” Heads nodded. “I am more. You served the Red Council and the Cynas. Now you serve the one whom they serve and to whom you will owe unstinting and unquestioned obedience, as I do. Do you understand?”

  Knellen saw unaccustomed signs of anxiety and stress about the men. He could smell it too. One had the courage to speak out.

  “What is his name?”

  “He answers to Master. At no time do you address him directly unless he initiates conversation with you. You will answer him promptly and truthfully, whatever the question, nor will you query an order or hesitate to carry it out. You'd be most unwise to do so. Is this also understood?” Nods answered him. “You will take your orders from me. Remain where you are.”

  Knellen crossed to the Doms and Companions, an almost amused glint in his eyes. Sapphire put an arm on his shoulder.

  “A masterful performance, Knellen.”

  Knellen shrugged and turned his head to Jepaul who was now looking tired, the fire gone from his eyes, his features rather drawn and he seemed to be withdrawn, as if the effort he'd put forth had drained him. He was close to Belika and Quon.

  “What now, Quon? Jepaul?” asked Ebon calmly.

  Quon glanced again at Jepaul.

  “We leave. Jepaul needs rest.” Quon turned to Jamir who stood uncertainly but belligerent still, the lower lip still pouting with resentment. “You wanted us here, Jamir. We came. We now leave. The boy has answered you, I answer you and Knellen has answered you also. There's nothing here for us, nor would you be wise to try to hold us here. You are nothing, Jamir, nothing. You will answer for other things in time, but for now we leave you with your masters.”

  Jamir went to speak then thought better of it. He glowered at Quon before he finally uttered,

  “Leave as you will. We will hunt you down whatever you may think, old man, and I'll avenge the insult.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Get out, all of you. Not my Castelan Varen!”

  Quon looked across to Knellen. Knellen approached the Cynas now seated and able to look down at the big Varen.

  “You had a writhling put in me, Cynas. You'd do the same to other Varen if we left them with you simply to ensure they lost free will. I care for my kind, something I shouldn't do, so I can only attribute such a change of mindset to who I now am. I'm not the Varen you knew, nor will I let you mistreat others.”

  Jamir gave a frustrated exclamation and signalled to the group of Varen at the door who advanced with military precision and stood erect, emotionless, at the foot of the steps.

  “You owe your allegiance to me, Varens all.”

  As one the Varen turned and strode across to the waiting Knellen. All heard Jamir's infuriated snarl as they began to file quietly from the audience chamber. Nobody dared to stop them.

 

  Outside Castelus, some distance from the city, the large body of Varen gathered from their barracks, were spoken to by Knellen. He pointed out that he had saved them from the insertion of writhlings which brought expressions compound of gratitude, real fear and utter revulsion. In exchange he told them he expected unquestioning obedience and allegiance, and he made each Varen kneel before him and take an oath of fealty, duty and submission that superseded one once uttered to the Cynas, the Mythlin and the Red Council. It was a powerful symbol of surrender each Varen fully comprehended and accepted. They became, through this ritual, actually bonded to Knellen for the duration of their lives. The Doms realised, somewhat entertained, that in time Knellen would have much farther-reaching power than ever the Mythlin currently enjoyed. This was only the start. They sensed the irony.

  Knellen had the Varen set up camp. They were exceptionally well equipped because Knellen insisted they be before they left Castelus. The Doms and the Companions just camped as they always did but away from the Varen who set up beyond them. Saracen was troubled that having so many Varen around them, armed to the teeth, was worrying. He muttered about betrayal. It took the Doms time to reassure all the Companions that Knellen knew what he was doing and had proved himself again and again. Anxiety remained but it was muted.

  It was Jepaul who concerned the Doms. After all had eaten they clustered about him as he lounged back in Belika's arms, still very pale and self-absorbed. They spoke quietly to him, encouragingly and with considerable respect. After a while Jepaul's colour improved and he spoke, but still with something of an effort.

  “Quon, they tried so hard to touch
me. I sensed the anti-spirit so very strongly.”

  “We felt it, young one.” Quon touched Jepaul affectionately. “It was your first confrontation with their kind. We were there for you had you shown you wanted us with you.”

  “I know,” whispered Jepaul, hauling himself upright. His voice was stronger. He looked round the group. “I didn't want them to know of you all, not yet. We need time.”

  “It was a gamble,” conceded Wind Dancer thoughtfully. “But, Jepaul, you have given us the time we need. If we can keep the Red Councils on edge and uncertain through who they think you are, we can move more freely and faster.”

  “The key,” murmured Sapphire. “We so badly need to find it. We have the book which someone ignorant so foolishly threw away, so of course the gates won't open easily and only on and off. Whoever took the key didn't recognise the significance of its holder.”

  “Thankfully,” added Ebon. “We have had little going for us for a very long time but our union and having the Ariel makes a huge difference, as does Jepaul's deception - as long as it lasts.”

  “Sh'Bane will see through it fairly quickly,” warned Wind Dancer, “if he’s around.”

  “But not, we hope, before we find Harnath,” said an icy voice.

  Heads turned to Javen who stood a little apart with the Companions, and Jepaul glanced up with a less strained smile.

  “We will,” he assured Javen.

  “I still counsel patience,” cautioned Sapphire. He, too, looked at Javen. “You are the one who has most to do with Harnath, my good man, and so you shall. Your time draws nearer.”

  “Will we find Varen awaiting us?” asked Quon, craning round so he could look up at Knellen.

  “Assuredly. The Red Councils will be aware now, won't they?” The Doms nodded. “Then I expect,” came the added cold rejoinder, “the Varen we meet may well have writhlings inserted. It will be done to ensure they don't go the way of Jamir's Varen, even though they are answerable to the Red Councils and, through that, answerable to Jepaul. Any who escaped insertion may respond to us. I hope, for their sakes, they do. The others won't and will fight implacably till death - the writhlings will see to that.”

  Everyone looked briefly at the others and a collective shiver shook the little group. Knellen didn't need to say more. But privately, the Doms wondered about Sh’Bane because none of them had sensed him or his Riders for quite some time. The menacing remote presence that dogged them for so long was no longer around. They had to guess Sh’Bane had withdrawn but the reason he may have had for doing so wasn’t known to them.

 

  The further from Castelus they rode the colder the weather became. Now a large band of fully armed men and a woman, the travellers felt deeply chilled in the morning and shivered on going to rest at night. Quon suffered the most even though he wrapped rugs round him so all you could see of him were his nose and his eyes. He grumbled quietly to himself. Around the fire one night Quon turned to Javen who whittled a stick absently into an abstract shape.

  “Javen, do we head for Ciquan or Arrain-Toh?”

  “If my guess about him is right, Dom, Harnath will be holding court at Arrain-Toh. He had it made into a fortress guarded by the Red Council with the Varen and it will be chock full of assorted harems. Harnath likes to enjoy sessions with slave girls and women, especially,” he added, “if they’re unwilling or reluctant and especially if they’re virginal. He likes forced seduction because he says rape adds spice to the occasion and his rapes are never singular. Those he’s chosen are prepared and held ready for his delectation one after the other. He always seemed to me to be insatiable.”

  “Like the Mythlin with the candemaran,” growled Knellen. “Is that what they sold themselves for? Unquenchable lust?”

  “Harnath doesn’t use emtori?” questioned Jepaul.

  “Oh yes,” came the reply. “But they’re dispensable after use. They’re lower than the slave harem women, are usually only young girls, some even children still, and Harnath has them disposed of as soon as he’s deflowered them. It’s his notion of enjoyment.”

  “Charming fellow,” observed Ebon, his lip curling with distaste.

  “It’s not the only delights he indulges in,” answered Javen, his brow dark and expression brooding. “The Red Council encourage his excesses. The more extreme his pleasures the more hold they have over him. Like Jamir and the Mythlin, I have to wonder how much there is of the Harnath I knew.”

  “That was bad enough,” murmured Quon. Javen flicked him a glance, his lips tightened and he fell silent. “We head for Arrain-Toh,” Quon then observed into the rather ominous silence. “Can you direct us by the shortest way there, Javen?”

  “Aye, Dom. We’re on the right path now.”

  “How long before we sight the city?”

  “In a week we’ll be close enough for you to see it. The fortress stands out and is most distinctive.”

  “Your home, “murmured Jepaul.

  Javen turned his head, his eyes forbidding and showing no emotion whatsoever. They looked like obsidian.

  “No, young one. I was banished long ago, the moment Harnath took to me. Exile isn’t just physical.”

  “No,” acknowledged Jepaul. He drew closer to Javen, a hand extended. “I truly believe it may be home to you again, even if it’s only for visits.”

  Javen took the hand briefly in his.

  “Time will tell, young one. Time will tell.”

 

  Ten days later, true to Javen’s word, as he led them through often rugged, unforgiving terrain that opened to pasturage, woodlands and orchards, the travellers sighted Arrain-Toh in the distance. The way forward saw them cross cultivated land bounded by wildlands heavily wooded in a way that had all watchful and alert for possible ambush. The roads through it were once well kept but were now neglected and broken in parts. It gave off a melancholy air that had the riders relieved when they came to open glades where sun gave warmth and a lifting of oppression.

  Javen was right. Arrain-Toh was heavily fortified. The closer the travellers got they could see armed men defended it, striding along its walls and back again. The gates were huge. The travellers paused, still a distance away, while they pondered their next move. Discussion was intense. Eventually a decision drew near.

  “We want Harnath himself to answer questions, don’t we?”

  All eyes turned to Jepaul. There were nods.

  “He apparently has the key,” agreed Saracen.

  “Then our objective in coming here is not only to get the key but also to find who allowed Harnath to get it.”

  “That person may not be in Arrain-Toh, Jepaul,” cautioned Dancer.

  “True,” conceded Jepaul, “but we’ll find out soon enough from Harnath.”

  “We’ll proceed as I’ve outlined though,” warned Knellen. He stared hard at the Doms. “We do not want to unnecessarily alert or antagonise until it suits us.”

  He got a grin from Jepaul and nods from the others.

  “Are we all agreed then?” demanded Quon, stiffly mounting his horse again.

  “We are, Dom,” murmured Belika. She turned to Javen. “It’ll be hard for you. We know that. Can you?”

  “I’ve waited long, long syns, Belika. I’ll not act other than as agreed, I promise you.” Javen got a warm smile from those about him as he followed Quon in remounting and settling himself in the saddle. “Let’s see if we can gain entry.”