Shadow of a Dark Queen Read Free

bitterly. The young warrior said nothing. “You are Ja-shahan,” pronounced Jarwa, officially naming him heir to the throne. The youth had joined his father but ten days before, riding out to his father’s camp accompanied by his personal retinue. He was but eighteen years of age, barely more than a year from the training grounds and a veteran of only three battles since coming to the front. Jarwa realized that his youngest son was a stranger, having been only a crawling infant when he had left to bring Ahsart to her knees. “Who rides to your left?” he asked.
    Jatuk said, “Monis, birth companion.” He indicated a calm-looking young man who already bore a proud scar along his left arm.
    Jarwa nodded. “He shall be your Shieldbearer.” To Monis he said, “Remember, it is your duty to guard your lord with your life; more: it is your duty to guard his honor. No one will stand closer to Jatuk than you, not mate, not child, not Loremaster. Always speak truth, even when he wishes not to hear it.”
    To Jatuk he added, “He is your shield; always heed his wisdom, for to ignore your Shieldbearer is to ride into battle with an arm tied to your side, blind in one eye, deaf in one ear.”
    Jatuk nodded. Monis was now granted the highest honor given to one not born of the ruling family; he could speak his mind without fear of retribution.
    Monis saluted, his balled right fist striking his left shoulder. “Sha-shahan!” he said, then looked at the ground, the sign of complete deference and respect.
    â€œWho guards your table?”
    Jatuk said, “Chiga, birth companion.”
    Jarwa approved. Selected from the same birth crèche, these three would know one another as they knew themselves, a stronger tie than any other. To the named warrior Jatuk said, “You shall give up your arms and armor and you shall remain behind.”
    The honor was mixed with bitterness, for the honor of being Cupbearer was high, but giving up the call to battle was difficult for any warrior.
    â€œProtect your lord from the stealthy hand, and from the cunning word whispered over too much drink by false friends.”
    Chiga saluted. Like Monis, he was now free to speak to his lord without fear of punishment, for in being Cupbearer he was pledged to protect Jatuk in all ways as much as the warrior who rode on the Ja-shahan’s shield side.
    Jarwa turned to another figure, his Loremaster surrounded by several acolytes. “Who among your company is most gifted?”
    The Loremaster said, “Shadu. He remembers everything.”
    Jarwa addressed the young warrior priest. “Thentake the tablets and the relics, for you are now chief keeper of the faith. You will be Loremaster to the People.” The acolyte’s eyes widened as his master handed the ancient tablets, large sheaves of parchment kept between board covers, and written upon with ink nearly faded white with age. But more, he was given the responsibility to remember the lore, the interpretations, and the traditions, a thousands words in memory for each word drawn in ink by an ancient hand.
    Jarwa said, “Those who have served with me from the first, this is my final charge to you. Soon the foe comes a last time. We will not survive. Sing your death songs loudly and know that your names will live in the memory of your children, upon a distant world under an alien sky. I know not if their songs can carry across the void to keep the memory of the Heavenly Horde alive, or if they will begin a new Heavenly Horde upon this alien world, but as the demons come, let every warrior know that the flesh of our flesh shall endure safely in a distant land.”
    Whatever the Sha-shahan might feel was hidden behind a mask as he said, Jatuk, attend me. The rest of you, to your appointed places.” To the snake priest he said, “Go to the place where you work your magic, and know that should you play my people false, my shade