Robert Scott - The Larion Senators (Eldarn Sequence, Book 3)

A Gollancz eBook

Copyright Robert Scott 2007 All rights reserved.

The right of Robert Scott to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

First published in Great Britain in 2007 by

Gollancz

The Orion Publishing Group Ltd

Orion House

5 Upper Saint Martins Lane

London, WC2H 9EA

An Hachette UK Company

This eBook first published in 2010 by Gollancz.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978 0 575 08707 1

All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

www.orionbooks.co.uk

The Hickory Staff
Lesseks Key

When Jay Gordon died in November 2005, this book was a stack of scribbled notes and character sketches all dangling from a brittle skeleton of plot questions left unanswered at the end of Lesseks Key. Over the past eighteen months, Jo Fletcher and I have endeavoured to stay as true to those early notes as possible, wrapping up Steven and Marks adventures in Eldarn without jeopardising that original version or losing sight of Jays hopes for Act III. For readers unfamiliar with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS), it is a cruel disease, and it robbed Jay of everything but his imagination. Even in his last days, he was thinking of Steven, Mark, Garec and Brexan, picturing them in their struggle to free the people of Eldarn. The Larion Senators is a story Jay dreamed of telling for most of his life: a traditional, epic fantasy tale like so many he had read and loved. He was a computer programmer by trade, but a reader and a fantasy junkie at heart. The Eldarn books are a testament to Jays enthusiasm for this genre.

I owe thanks to many people who helped bring the Eldarn story to a close. Gillian Redfearn, Simon Spanton, Ian Drury and others at Victor Gollancz and Orion Books who made it possible for Jo to drag, heave and haul these manuscripts through the editorial and production phases, somehow meeting deadlines despite my incurable need to take one last look at the proofs, again and again. Thanks to Taryn, Gena & Ian and Pam, for combing early chapters for inconsistencies or loose threads. And thanks, as ever, to Uncle G. for correcting my math and to Deena & Kat for reminding me of so many things about calculus I had sublimated years ago.

I owe a debt of gratitude to Kage, Mom and Dad, Susan Gordon, Aunt Burma, the administrators and teachers at Bull Run, and especially Aunt Chrissy for taking on the mantle of US marketing and sales direct from the trunk of her car. Thanks to Steve Van Bakel for taking a risk on my short fiction, and to Sam and Hadley who were patient while Dad was typing.

Finally, thanks again to Jo Fletcher, who championed this project from the beginning and made the Eldarn Sequence possible.

For Kage, Hadley and Sam,
with all my love.

Second Age, First Era, Twinmoon 2,829

Lessek paused long enough to cough up a mouthful of viscous phlegm; he spat into the mud beside the tower wall and wiped his face dry. They were coming; he could feel them close behind him now. His side burned with a runners stitch, a pain he hadnt felt in almost a thousand Twinmoons. The Larion brother mumbled a spell, coughed again and waited its taking too long for the sting to fade. His feet were bleeding, his boots forgotten in his bedchamber; his hands and face were marked with a cobweb of glass and bramble scratches, and his fever had returned.

Flu. Influenza. Thats what Francesco Antonelli had called it, an infection: a sinister and calculating virus, and to date the Larion Senates most reprehensible if inadvertent contribution to Eldarni culture. He didnt know which of them had contracted it, or who had brought it back, but that was irrelevant. It was here.

And thousands had died.

Tonight, they were coming; it was time to atone.

The first pursuers appeared as shadows from around the southwest corner of the keep. They had no torches, yet they were visible enough in the backlighting of the southern Twinmoon. The full Twinmoon was still a night or two away, but the winds had picked up noticeably since Lessek had gone to bed an aven earlier. The Larion founder used the howling gale and crashing surf to mask his retreat. He supposed he could kill them, conjure some spell to eviscerate the entire mob, but that would do nothing to exonerate him, or to redeem the Larion brotherhood in the eyes of their true appraisers: the Eldarni people. His only real choice was to flee, to reach the tower and to escape back to Italy for a cure. Besides, his own brother was with them, and Evete was there, too. He wouldnt risk either of them.

Just run, he thought. Its not far now.

Magic quieted the ache in Lesseks side and he ran for the north tower. The spiral stairs would be cold and unforgiving this evening but with the tribesmen, Harbach, that meddlesome businessman, and Gaorg and dont forget Evete, how could she side with them? running him to ground, Lessek used another incantation to quicken his stride, lowered his head and sprinted the last fifty paces to the tower entrance. I hope they havent posted a guard.

He shouted the spell to unlock the wooden door and watched through the half-light as it swung open to welcome him, the master of the house.

Metal hinges. Do you see that, Harbach? The rest of you? Metal hinges. I brought back metallurgy unlike anything youd ever seen and what did you do? You forged weapons. Selfish bastards.

For the tenth time since leaping through the window of his bedchamber, Lessek thanked the gods of the Northern Forest that he had remembered to take the keystone. It had been lying on the nightstand, beside a basin of cold water and a stump of paraffin taper. Picking it up had been second nature; hed been half asleep, still lost in the heady slumber that accompanied his weakening symptoms, for he had been getting better, no question. Lessek patted the pocket of his nightshirt and felt it there, irregular and nondescript: a rock.

Ill take it with me, he thought, that, and the book. Theyll be begging for me to return. Antonelli will know what to do; Ill find him. Hell be in Roma, his civitate Dei.

He made it across the threshold, spinning around when an alarm, faint behind his fever, clamoured in his head. Arrow! He cast quickly, flailing with one hand as he incinerated the shaft in midair. The spell was a simple one, slow, but effective; he hoped he wouldnt be forced to summon anything of consequence before escaping across the Fold. The mob behind him had grown to perhaps twenty or twenty-five. There were senators with them, too. A handful carried torches, and sporadic light fell over the group, illuminating some while masking others in darkness. It left his pursuers, his friends, colleagues and family, looking nefarious and deformed.