Empire of the Worm by Jack Conner Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jack Conner
passageways.”
“With time, we’ll catch them.”
He said it with more confidence
than he felt. That night, as he lay in bed with Alyssa, he muttered, half to
himself, “What have I done?”
She heard. Her eyes glistening, she
said, “It’s my fault, Davi.”
“Nonsense.”
“ I asked you to save me. I shouldn’t have. I was selfish, I see that
now. I was just so scared, and confused.”
“I was the selfish one. I didn’t
want to lose you. I still don’t.” He sighed and kissed her cheek. “But placing
blame won’t help us.”
“What will?”
He didn’t answer, and an
uncomfortable silence passed between them.
“I think I’ll go check on Hariban,”
she said.
When he was alone, he closed his
eyes and tried to sleep, but it proved elusive, and the shadows around him seemed
to swell. They felt cold, unnatural, and fingers of dread scratched at his
throat. Then, out of the darkness at the foot of his bed, something moved
forward into the light. Davril gasped.
The shadowy figure wore Davril’s
father’s face, swimming palely in the gloom.
“Father . . . is that you ?”
In answer, the dead emperor yanked
the ceremonial dagger Davril had slain him with from his chest and hurled it at
the young emperor. Davril just barely dodged in time.
“Father, forgive me!”
“Never!” The rough, strained voice
seemed to come from a half-rotted throat, but it was intelligible. The
apparition lunged forward, hands outstretched to throttle. Davril reached for the
dagger, closed his hand about it, and slashed it through the onrushing form—but
his father was no more.
Davril lit all the lanterns and
candles in the room and searched all about. He ordered the Palace combed
thoroughly, though his guards and servants muttered darkly. Even Alyssa looked
at him with troubled eyes. They found nothing. Yet, unlike the red mists, the
dagger did not vanish with the sunrise.
The Asqrit compound, located on the rocky beach to the
southwest, encircled verdant grounds filled with gardens and gazebos, and in
the midst of it all rose the fabled Light-House, splendid and ancient. At its
top a strange red light burned at night, letting ships know where the shore lay.
It served another function, too,
though Davril had only read about it. Supposedly, during attack from the sea,
the priests of Asqrit would intensify the beam at the top of the Light-House so
that its lance of illumination would actually burn enemy ships. Some said this was
done with mirrors, or lenses that harnessed the light of the sun; some said it
had never really happened but was a myth fabricated by the priests for their
own glorification; and still others (most notably the priests) maintained the
light was divinely caused, that Asqrit Himself, the Great Phoenix, personally
directed His might, through the abilities of the priests, to destroy Qazradan’s
enemies.
Whatever the case, Davril had
always dreamed of ascending to the highest chamber and viewing for himself
whatever apparatus caused the lethal beam of light, but unfortunately the priests
only allowed members of their order to view the miracle.
Occasionally they would admit an
emperor, however. Davril had several times asked his father if he’d seen the
chamber at the top of the House of Light, and the Emperor had merely winked and
said, “The Jewel of the Sun, my boy. The Jewel of the Sun.” Whether he’d said
this in jest or not, Davril didn’t know.
But if he had told the truth . . .
In any event, Davril stared up at
the tower as he rode through the gateway and into the lush grounds of the
compound. The Order of the Golden Plumage maintained an admirable garden, and
he could not resist plucking one of the ripe red apples that grew in profusion as
he made his way along. He bit into it, savoring the sweet juices, and smiled as
priests admitted him into the ground floor of the Light-House. Great windows
flooded the immense chapel in radiance, and as Davril’s eyes
“With time, we’ll catch them.”
He said it with more confidence
than he felt. That night, as he lay in bed with Alyssa, he muttered, half to
himself, “What have I done?”
She heard. Her eyes glistening, she
said, “It’s my fault, Davi.”
“Nonsense.”
“ I asked you to save me. I shouldn’t have. I was selfish, I see that
now. I was just so scared, and confused.”
“I was the selfish one. I didn’t
want to lose you. I still don’t.” He sighed and kissed her cheek. “But placing
blame won’t help us.”
“What will?”
He didn’t answer, and an
uncomfortable silence passed between them.
“I think I’ll go check on Hariban,”
she said.
When he was alone, he closed his
eyes and tried to sleep, but it proved elusive, and the shadows around him seemed
to swell. They felt cold, unnatural, and fingers of dread scratched at his
throat. Then, out of the darkness at the foot of his bed, something moved
forward into the light. Davril gasped.
The shadowy figure wore Davril’s
father’s face, swimming palely in the gloom.
“Father . . . is that you ?”
In answer, the dead emperor yanked
the ceremonial dagger Davril had slain him with from his chest and hurled it at
the young emperor. Davril just barely dodged in time.
“Father, forgive me!”
“Never!” The rough, strained voice
seemed to come from a half-rotted throat, but it was intelligible. The
apparition lunged forward, hands outstretched to throttle. Davril reached for the
dagger, closed his hand about it, and slashed it through the onrushing form—but
his father was no more.
Davril lit all the lanterns and
candles in the room and searched all about. He ordered the Palace combed
thoroughly, though his guards and servants muttered darkly. Even Alyssa looked
at him with troubled eyes. They found nothing. Yet, unlike the red mists, the
dagger did not vanish with the sunrise.
The Asqrit compound, located on the rocky beach to the
southwest, encircled verdant grounds filled with gardens and gazebos, and in
the midst of it all rose the fabled Light-House, splendid and ancient. At its
top a strange red light burned at night, letting ships know where the shore lay.
It served another function, too,
though Davril had only read about it. Supposedly, during attack from the sea,
the priests of Asqrit would intensify the beam at the top of the Light-House so
that its lance of illumination would actually burn enemy ships. Some said this was
done with mirrors, or lenses that harnessed the light of the sun; some said it
had never really happened but was a myth fabricated by the priests for their
own glorification; and still others (most notably the priests) maintained the
light was divinely caused, that Asqrit Himself, the Great Phoenix, personally
directed His might, through the abilities of the priests, to destroy Qazradan’s
enemies.
Whatever the case, Davril had
always dreamed of ascending to the highest chamber and viewing for himself
whatever apparatus caused the lethal beam of light, but unfortunately the priests
only allowed members of their order to view the miracle.
Occasionally they would admit an
emperor, however. Davril had several times asked his father if he’d seen the
chamber at the top of the House of Light, and the Emperor had merely winked and
said, “The Jewel of the Sun, my boy. The Jewel of the Sun.” Whether he’d said
this in jest or not, Davril didn’t know.
But if he had told the truth . . .
In any event, Davril stared up at
the tower as he rode through the gateway and into the lush grounds of the
compound. The Order of the Golden Plumage maintained an admirable garden, and
he could not resist plucking one of the ripe red apples that grew in profusion as
he made his way along. He bit into it, savoring the sweet juices, and smiled as
priests admitted him into the ground floor of the Light-House. Great windows
flooded the immense chapel in radiance, and as Davril’s eyes