Wulfston's odyssey se-6 Read online

  Wulfston's odyssey

  ( Savage Empire - 6 )

  Jean Lorrah

  Jean Lorrah

  Wulfston's Odyssey

  Chapter One

  Wulfston, Lord Adept of the Savage Empire, stared out at the strange ship approaching his coastline, several miles from the harbor. A merchant vessel by the look of her-so why did he see a one-vessel invasion fleet threatening his shores? A chill that owed nothing to the cool summer evening ran down his spine as the sunset’s crimson painted the ship with shades of blood.

  Gulls shrieked their disapproval at a boat being lowered from the anchored ship, the figures boarding it putting the vessels size into perspective. Even from Wulfston’s hilltop vantage point, it appeared huge and imposing.

  The bay stallion Wulfston rode whinnied nervously and stamped the ground, snorting a challenge. The Lord Adept patted the beast’s massive neck. “Easy, boy. We’ll go down and see why these Visitors’ are sneaking ashore.”

  Urging Storm down the hillside, Wulfston caught from the corner of his eye the flashes of the watchers’

  message from a distant peak, reporting to his castle the arrival of the strange ship. He knew they would also report that the Lord of the Land was riding to investigate.

  He let Storm choose the path and pace down to the beach. By the time they arrived, the boat was nearing shore. Wulfston counted eight people in it, two rowing, the others staring at him, whispering, pointing-

  Cautiously, he braced his Adept powers, ready to call a greeting as soon as they were close enough to hear.

  A fist of energy seized his heart!

  Intense pain shot down his left arm. He realized, They’re Adepts! and shoved away the assault with his own powers. Or at least one of them is. But why are they attacking?

  Storm neighed and reared as fire bolts exploded around them. Wulfston leaped from the saddle into a fighting stance, deflecting the bolts sent to consume him. Ignoring pain, he concentrated on the people clambering from the boat. A wave of his hand and three of them collapsed, asleep on the sand.

  Two others fanned out in opposite directions to divide his attention, splashing through the shallow surf.

  Wulfston dropped the one on the left and was turning toward the other when he realized they were diversions.

  A lightning bolt shot from the sky, searing the air about him. He deflected most of its ferocity, but was enveloped in blinding light and Storm’s screams.

  His vision cleared while his nostrils flared at the smell of burning meat. Fighting nausea, he concentrated his anger on the tall man standing in the boat. With one urge of fury, he knocked his opponent out of the vessel, into an oncoming wave. A glance to the right dropped the other man unconscious.

  Such steady use of his powers was weakening the Lord Adept, but he dared not stop until he had subdued them all. He charged the boat, staggering as the waves pounded at his knees, gambling that he was safe from those watching from the ship.

  A veiled woman and a small boy huddled in the bottom of the boat, shaking with fear. Wulfston stared into the woman’s eyes, forgetting everything-

  He whirled at the sound of hoofbeats on the sand.

  Lenardo and Julia pulled rein on their horses.

  Lenardo’s face reflected the grimness Wulfston felt. “Are you all right?” the Lord Reader asked.

  Wulfston almost laughed at the question. If anyone could tell instantly whether someone was injured, it was Lenardo.

  However, he replied, “Yes, I’m all right,” surprised at the weariness in his tone. “But-”

  Storm. The corpse was still smoldering. He shook his head at the senseless loss, and looked around at his captives. The man he had knocked into the water floated face down. He had to be pulled out before he drowned.

  Lenardo swung from his horse and, with the ease of an active man in the prime of life, pushed past Wulfston’s weakened efforts to drag the man ashore. Wulfston didn’t have to ask if his attacker was alive; Lenardo would Read his condition and take appropriate action.

  But Lenardo was demanding of Wulfston, “Why did you come out here to face these people alone?”

  “I didn’t,” Wulfston replied tersely, insistently helping to drag the man ashore by his soggy cloak.

  “Well, you must have had some reason to leave a celebration at your own castle and go riding this far south! I should have been Reading-”

  “I was… restless,” Wulfston replied slowly, analyzing his memories. “Something… drew me to this place, to these people.”

  “But why did they attack you?” Lenardo’s daughter demanded.

  “I don’t know, Julia. I don’t even know who they are.”

  “You don’t?” the girl asked in a puzzled tone. “But Wulfston, they’re all black-just like you!”

  That fact had not escaped Wulfston’s notice, but its significance had. The strange chill touched him again, stronger than before. Why would a shipload of people come, possibly all the way from Africa, to attack the only black Lord Adept in all the Savage Empire?

  The answers had to wait until the next day. Some of Wulfston’s guards and servants took the unexpected visitors back to his castle, fed them, healed those who had been injured, and put them all in guest rooms under heavy Adept guard.

  Other guards rowed Wulfston and Lenardo to the merchant ship. Speaking in the tongue called Traders Common, Wulfston ordered the Nubian captain and crew to move the ship up the coast into the harbor known as Dragon’s Mouth. Having witnessed the Lord Adept’s powers, they moved quickly to comply.

  Interrogating the captain revealed little; the eight who had come ashore were the only passengers, and the tall man named Sukuru-the one Wulfston had knocked into the surf-had hired the ship for this journey, his intentions never stated.

  A nod from Lenardo was all the assurance Wulfston needed that the captain was telling the truth.

  The moon was high when the two lords finally returned to Castle Blackwolf. Word of the brief battle had already reached everyone there, so the cook had a lavish meal waiting for the Lord of the Land by the time he sat down in the banquet hall.

  Though he had eaten dinner a few hours before, the heavy use of his powers made Wulfston feel like a starving man as he rapidly consumed enough food for three.

  To eat his meal in peace, he had to fend off a dozen people who wanted to fuss over him.

  He succeeded with all but his sister Aradia.

  “But why did you go out there in the first place?” she demanded, sitting opposite him at the table.

  He looked at her testily. “Aradia, why do you ask when you know I don’t have the answer? Don’t give me that innocent look. I know you and Lenardo were in contact with each other! For the last time, I don’t know why I went riding along the cliffs, leaving a celebration I’m supposed to be hosting. Now, will you please leave me alone?”

  Her look of puzzled hurt made him regret his harsh words. What is wrong with me? he asked himself.

  “I’m sorry,” he sighed, reaching across the table to touch her hand. “I guess I’m more upset than I want to admit. Especially losing Storm like that.”

  She nodded in sympathy. Horses were still a rare and precious commodity in the Savage Empire, making the loss of such a fine stallion particularly acute.

  She asked gently, “Do you think that it’s possible that you might have… Read that that ship was there?”

  He shook his head. “If I could sense a strange ship several miles away-which neither Lenardo nor Julia did until they started following me-then I should be able to pick up someone’s thoughts nearby. But nothing has changed for me. I don’t know what drew me into that confrontation, but it wasn’t Reading.

  I’m still your mind-b
lind little brother,” he said, forcing a chuckle.

  Aradia returned his smile, then finally left him alone. As he watched her leave, Wulfston once again examined feelings he could not define.

  For several months now, he had been plagued by dark moods and feelings of emptiness. His duties as a Lord Adept were no longer satisfying. He had decided he missed the camaraderie of the other ruling Adepts and Readers in the alliance. So when he had received the news that Aradia and Lenardo were expecting their first child, he had grasped the excuse to invite them for a celebration.

  But the arrival of his friends and relatives had not eased his frustration. Indeed, he had begun to crave solitude before they had finished their first meal together! Hence the ride along the cliffs.

  Was his feeling jealousy? After all, Aradia’s Adept powers hadn’t prevented her from learning to Read-the one goal in life he could not seem to achieve. Ironically, Wulfston had been the first of their group to theorize that Reading and Adept powers were the same, which Lenardo and Aradia later confirmed by gaining each other’s talents. There was no reason in the world why Wulfston couldn’t Read, but try as he would, he couldn’t.

  Another pressure was that he had neither wife nor heir.

  His people were beginning to express concern as their lord approached the prime of life and the peak of his powers. If he was to produce an heir, now was the time to do it, while his powers were still growing.

  Lenardo would soon have two heirs, his adopted daughter Julia and his own child by Aradia. Wulfston wanted to feel joy at Lenardo’s good fortune, but his words of congratulation rang hollow.

  In a castle full of family and friends, with servants to respond to his slightest whim, the Lord of the Land felt totally alone.

  The next day, under guard of minor Adepts, the “visitors” from the ship were brought before Wulfston in his audience chamber.

  Wulfston rarely sat on his throne, but his father Nerius had carefully taught both his son and his daughter the techniques of rule. Pomp and ceremony seemed to come more naturally to Aradia, but Wulfston felt the appropriateness of his position this day.

  For several long moments he said nothing to those who had attacked him, letting them stare at the Lord of the Land and the people flanking him: Lenardo and Aradia seated in places of honor to his right, Julia and Rolf, Wulfston’s Reader, to his left. Readers and Adepts all, a formidable assembly.

  Sukuru was the group’s leader, though he lacked the bearing of a Lord Adept. Authority did not sit well upon his gaunt frame, and his ebony skin seemed to blanch under Wulfston’s gaze.

  It was apparent that Sukuru was badly shaken by his encounter. At first Wulfston assumed it was because he had been so easily defeated. It turned out, however, that the newcomers had not expected to find the Lord of the Land on the cliffs, wrapped in a plain woolen cloak. Rather, when they saw another black man they feared he had been sent by their enemies to thwart their expedition.

  “For it is well known even unto our lands,” Sukuru explained, speaking Trader’s Common with a heavy accent, “that the most excellent Lord of the Black Wolf is a great and noble ruler. We thought to find you as you are now, most gracious lord, crowned in gold and seated upon a throne. Because of our enemies, we approached by stealth, rather than have our ship enter your harbor. Please forgive us for your injuries, and the death of your beautiful steed-”

  “You are forgiven,” Wulfston said impatiently. “Tell me why you’ve come here.”

  “Most excellent lord,” Sukuru explained, “we have traveled over vast distances to implore your help. The lands of Africa are held in the grip of a powerful witch queen named Z’Nelia. From her throne in Johara she spins her webs of power, ensnaring all who live there. Those who dare speak out or rebel against her harsh rule or insane proclamations are condemned to death-or to slavery.

  “We who have come seeking your help represent many tribes and peoples who share a dream of freedom-freedom from Z Nelia’s tyranny. But we lack the power to depose her. Besides her own formidable powers, she has many followers with powers of their own, as well as a huge and powerful army.”

  “But why would you come so far to seek my help?” Wulfston asked.

  “Word of your exploits has reached our lands,” the emissary replied. “There is a song which tells of your battle against the armies of the Black Dragon, how you defeated him in single combat.”

  Wulfston heard Julia smother a snicker, and knew his other friends found this exaggeration equally amusing. Indeed, he had difficulty restraining his own laughter- and realized that it felt good, the first spontaneous laughter he had enjoyed in some time.

  “That song,” he explained when he could reply with dignity to match the man’s sincerity, “was created by a bard seeking favor in my court. East of here, in the city of Zendi, you would hear a much different version, celebrating the exploits of my sister and her husband.” He gestured toward Aradia and Lenardo, enjoying the puzzled look that crossed Sukuru’s face when Wulfston identified the pale blond Aradia as his sister. “In truth, it took our combined powers and those of many others to defeat Drakonius.”

  “Nevertheless,” Sukuru pressed on, “yu are tne most powerful ruler in these lands. Is that not so?”

  “No,” Wulfston replied patiently, “that is not so. Our alliance is so powerful because it is precisely that: an alliance. Lenardo, Aradia, Lilith, Torio, Melissa-there are many of us.”

  “Then you are… merely a vassal to some higher lord?” Sukuru asked.

  “No,” Wulfston said firmly. “We are allies. And if your Z’Nelia is so powerful, the only way to defeat her is to join your powers with those of others who oppose her. Surely, if she is as evil as you claim, you will easily find others to support you. Why come to our lands seeking a champion?”

  “You do not understand our situation, lord,” Sukuru replied. “Let Chulaika explain.”

  He gestured to the young woman Wulfston had found in the boat. She came forward hesitantly, her little boy clinging to his mother’s skirts. Chulaika was wrapped in veils, only her eyes visible, her lower face obscured by a soft dark cloth that rippled with her breath.

  “Most powerful Lord,” she murmured, her voice trembling, “our people are oppressed, our men taken into slavery, our children threatened. Many of our young people that have shown strong powers have been killed- murdered by Z’Nelia because they might oppose her rule. Please, Lord Wulfston, come to our aid. Only a great lord like yourself can help us.” ‹ There was something compelling about Chulaika’s eyes. Wulfston was able to break his gaze from hers only when

  Sukuru said, “You are a Son of Africa, Lord. Surely you will not refuse to help your own people?”

  “My own people,” said Wulfston, “are right here. I was not born in your land, but in the Aventine Empire, where my parents were proud to have earned citizenship.” He did not add that they had been killed by their fellow citizens when their son exhibited forbidden powers.

  “My people,” he continued, “are still recovering from the suffering Drakonius caused them, still learning to trust our alliance, still building a new life upon the ruins of the old. I will consult with my allies to determine what help we can offer. But you must understand that I cannot leave my lands unattended to go adventuring in yours.” Yet he had to admit, once he had so abruptly dismissed the petitioners, that perhaps his shortness was caused by temptation.

  It was the conflict with Drakonius that had first brought Wulfston out of Aradia’s shadow. Furthermore, in the days of conflict decisions had been easy: they fought Drakonius, they fought the would-be usurpers who had tried to attack their alliance after his defeat, and they fought the invading Aventines. The right thing to do had been so clear then.

  Nowadays it seemed he dealt only with arguments over boundaries, or charges and countercharges in business disputes. And the ever-present question o?his heir.

  Wulfston decided to talk to Lenardo, who had become as close as a brother in the days when
they had learned to work together against their common enemies. Somehow the Master Reader, who was hardly five years older than Wulfston, seemed to have the wisdom of the ages.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Lenardo asked when they were alone. “You’re so braced for defense that I can’t even Read your feelings.”

  “I couldn’t get the truth out of those people,” Wulfston replied, going to the other problem on his mind.

  “Under all that bowing and scraping-”

  “They were appealing to your ego,” said Lenardo. “When that didn’t work, Sukuru attacked your pride.”

  “Oh, I got the insult, all right. Sukuru is not the clever diplomat he thinks he is.”

  “Agreed.” Lenardo looked at him expectantly.

  Finally Wulfston said, “Did you-? I know your Reader’s Code prevented you from probing them deeply, but surely you got some surface impressions?”

  Lenardo frowned, staring at his hands. On his left glittered the ring which symbolized his marriage to Aradia, their two emblems, wolf and dragon, intertwined.

  Wulfston had had the matching rings made by the finest goldsmith in his lands, as his wedding gift to his sister and her husband. While it symbolized specifically the marriage of these two, it was also emblematic of their entire alliance: neither beast could be separated from the other without breaking the ring, just as no member of their alliance dared fail the rest without endangering the existence of the Savage Empire.

  Finally Lenardo said, “I think you got the same impression I did, Wulfston: our uninvited guests were telling the truth. As far as it went.”

  “Meaning I didn’t ask the right question.”

  “Meaning they didn’t answer it. They were very open and forthright about what they wanted you to do, but highly evasive the moment you asked why.” The Reader frowned, rubbing his neatly bearded chin as if deciding whether to confide what he had learned in a way Readers considered unscrupulous. Then he fixed dark eyes on Wulfston and said, “I wonder how much they really know? The description of Z’Nelia, for example, sounds so much like Portia-”