Free The Last Book Of Swords : Shieldbreaker’s Story by Saberhagen Fred Page A

fanatical ally and worshipper.
           More, he felt confident that his demons would be largely unopposed—because Prince Mark was absent.
     
     

 
    Chapter Five
     
           For a long time, for years even before his first attack on the palace at Sarykam, Vilkata had been grimly aware of the fact that strong magical powers (quite apart from Prince Mark’s special talent) were continuously on sentinel duty there. These protective forces, ordinarily quite adequate to keep demons and other malign entities at a distance, were primarily under the control of old Karel, who was Princess Kristin’s uncle, and also one of the most formidable magicians on Earth. The Dark King was not sure but that that old man might not be his equal—assuming, of course, that the Mindsword was left out of the calculation.
           But even without counting the Mindsword, the powers now at Vilkata’s command were far greater than ordinary. When the new attack fell on the palace and the surrounding city, Karel’s sentinels, human and otherwise, were able to give the inhabitants only a belated warning, and could delay the giant attacking demons only briefly.
           This first line of Tasavaltan opposition was swept out of the way in a matter of moments.
           Within moments after the first of his demons went bursting into the palace, Vilkata also personally entered the royal residence, determined to descend as quickly as possible into the lower regions, where he knew the armory was located, and where Prince Mark’s collection of Swords was ordinarily stored. Within moments he was moving quickly downstairs, the Sword of Glory drawn cheering and roaring in his hand.
           Around the invader and in advance of him there spread a murmur of mingled joy and sorrow, voiced by first one, then a dozen, then a hundred human throats. These were the voices of servants, guards, palace inhabitants of every station, all of them taken unawares, in their beds or awake, each converted in an instant into a fanatical servant and worshipper of the Dark King. Most of those falling under the Mindsword’s influence were in other rooms or corridors than those through which Vilkata passed, and they failed to witness their new Master’s arrival or his first passage.
           Even those who had not yet seen the invader or his Sword knew exactly the name and titles of the man they were suddenly constrained to worship, and could have marshalled arguments to demonstrate that their sudden change of heart in favor of Vilkata was perfectly rational and honorable. Their joy was at his glory, their poignant sorrow at their own blind failure to acknowledge him for so long, until their lives were transformed by this moment of transcendent revelation.
           The sharpest outcries came, naturally enough, from those few people who happened actually to encounter their new Master, Mindsword held before him like a bright slice of light, in his first swift passage through the palace. Trusted servants and old family retainers, who moments earlier would rather have died than betray their Prince and Princess, were bewitched into wretches stumbling and stammering in their eagerness to repent of these feelings. Their yells of joyous shock brought out from their rooms of sleep or work a steadily growing throng of new converts, men and women nightshirted or wrapped in blankets, all eager to adore Vilkata.
           The invading wizard pushed his way through these where they were in a position to impede his progress. He proceeded rapidly on foot through torchlit or darkened hallways—Old World lamps were far too rare for common use.
           The Dark King had now been rejoined in his progress by a close bodyguard of demons, these latter worked up and raging with fear and hatred of their enemy the Prince.
           After having made doubly sure that Mark himself was absent from the palace, they lashed out at surrogate victims, even