Shadowgod (44 page)

“Now, watch.”

The Earthmother made a small gesture, and power rippled all around her as the wall of vines parted to form a dark, oval opening as tall as the goddess herself. Glittering ripples raced across the dimness within then dissolved away to reveal a view of a gloomy chamber lit by two large candles. On a table were several items, a book and two caskets which suddenly became transparent and glasslike, revealing their contents. Suviel made a small sound in recognition.

“The Crystal Eye and the Motherseed.”

“The prizes which the Shadowkings, especially Byrnak, desire above almost everything else,” the Earthmother answered. “Possession of these talismans would give them the power to deal with the Lord of Twilight once and for all, but I shall not permit that for I will have my revenge!”

The goddess' anger shivered through the moist air and the surroundings seemed to become subdued and dimmer. She made another powerful yet tiny movement of her hand, and the scene changed. The chamber shivered into a gleaming swirl which then coalesced into a view of a paved courtyard with an open gateway looking out at a wide expanse of water beneath a cloudy sky. In the foreground was a stocky, bald man in the brown robes of a monk and two others in military garb, red cloaks, identical silvered breastplates and elaborate gold masks. Familiarity was fitful – the masked men were officers of the Jefren Theocracy, but was that not the waters of the Sea of Birrdaelin in the distance? Had the Theocracy come so far, then? The bald man, though, was Coireg Mazaret. From the memories available to her, she knew the name and little else, yet it seemed to imply something more, something which remained elusive.

A few yards away from Mazaret stood a line of five figures, five hooded men dressed like riders or scouts. The first approached Mazaret, went down on one knee and pushed back his hood….Suviel felt a surge of recognition and shock which she firmly quelled. It was Gilly Cordale.

The features, however, were chalk-white and the eyes pale. A suspicion formed in her mind as Mazaret exchanged a few words with him then presented a bone-handled dagger in a curved sheath. The man took the weapon, stood and without backward glance walked to the open gateway and stepped out of sight. The next man came up to Mazaret, knelt and bared his head, which was identical to the first.

They were rivenshades, sorcerous doubles depending on part of someone else's spiritual essence for a kind of half-life. From her memories Suviel knew that this had been done to her, robbing her of all that she had been. The Crystal Eye had restored most of it, before she died…

“Even the enemy's own servants unknowingly further my purpose,” the Earthmother said as the dagger bestowal was repeated for the rest of the rivenshades who followed the first out of the gate.

“What are they going to do?” Suviel said.

“They are being sent forth as assassins,” the goddess said. “Deadly blades in whose hilts are wells of poison baneful enough to kill any living thing, however strong and vital – when the Shadowkings' bodies die, the fragments of the Lord of Twilight will be free. The Acolytes secretly allied themselves with the Jefren Theocracy when it became clear that Byrnak and the others wanted to keep the Lord of Twilight under lock and key, as it were, and this is the outcome of their pact. They may prove to be useful if other strategies fail…”

The Earthmother's fingers twitched. Once more the scene rippled and swirled, reforming to show a dark, stone chamber. Small lamps burned on chest-high stands in all four corners, illuminating the large iron casket that hung on chains from the shadowed ceiling. Below it, emerald radiance burned in the patterns chiselled into the dungeon's flagstones, intricate symbols whose every curve and hook spoke of an ancient power. Yellow lamplight and green iridescence swam across the glyph-crowded surface of the long canister and tinged the grimacing bearded face staring out from the opening at the top of canister.

“Ystregul,” the Earthmother said. “The first of the Shadowkings to be driven mad by his fragment of the Lord of Twilight. As you can see, he is constrained and guarded by a plethora of spells and traps. Although I could step into that room this very instant, my mere presence would set every alarum in Trevada shrieking.

“Therefore, Suviel, I shall send you to a less sensitive area in Trevada from whence you will find a way into the passage beneath the Basilica, enter that chamber and release him.”

Thus making it easier for an assassin to reach him?
Suviel wondered.
Certainly, it would make it easier for him to attack me…

But she bowed her head before the goddess, hoping only for an early return to the tranquility of nothingness.

“Divine Mother, I am yours to command. When shall I begin this task?”

“Soon, Suviel. Very soon.”

* * *

With his feet planted on ice-free projections and his good hand gripping a crack in the rock, Tavo paused for breath. He was getting close to the top of the cliff face now, he was certain. It had been a long and tortuous climb during which he had fallen twice, endured wind-driven rain, hail and snow, and was almost discovered by that turncoat bitch, Nerek. That was several hours ago when she and a couple of those dog-mages had appeared on the stone bridge that linked the mainland city battlements to the two sheer rock islets whose fortified watchtowers guarded the approach to the harbour. As they gazed down from either side of the bridge, Tavo had lain flat and utterly still while driving all vestiges of the Wellsource from his being. After a time he had peered out to see the bridge empty once more. With a prayer of thanks to the Prince of Dusk, he had continued upwards…

Feeling a little recovered, Tavo moved the fingers of his good hand up the narrow rock fissure to where it ran horizontally, then with one foot braced on a knee-high ridge he pushed himself higher. His other hand was all but useless, broken last night in a fall that had left him in stunned agony on a ledge two-thirds of the way down. He had used the Wellsource then to fuse all the bones into a clenched fist so that he was free to use that lower arm or elbow as leverage. There was still a lot of pain from the wrenched and torn muscles, but it merged with the pain from all the other wounds he had suffered in the last few days, not least the burns he received in that cursed college. Then there were the slow distortions of skin and bone brought on by the combined use of Wellsource and Lesser Power. This had all left his body feeling like a sack of torment that he was slowly hauling up the sheer rock.

The cliff face was like a huge, insane pattern carved into the stone by the weather, a vertical maze of ledges, holes, jutting protrusions and cracks. In spring and summer it was also home to thousands of birds whose decaying nests and excrement still littered every shelf and hollow, thus as he climbed he acquired a stinking encrustation of filth. He cursed it with every upward step, every foot– and hand-hold that took his weight and did not crumble. The light was failing as the sun dipped towards the horizon, but he had been in bone-chilling shadow for most of the day and only the heat of the Wellsource in his veins kept the frostbite from eating his extremities.

Then, with the sky dark grey and turbulent, the vertical face turned into a steep slope dotted with hardy bloodspine bushes. Carefully he crawled up it, still using any holds he could find, progressing doggedly onward and upward as the incline grew steadily shallower till at last Tavo was lying on flat, snow-covered ground. To his right loomed the massive walls of Besh-Darok, its parapets and towers lit by watchfires. Part of him wanted to get up and dance and shriek his defiance, and mock them for letting him slip through their grasp. But he put aside the urge and crawled away from the walls to seek cover behind a snow-laden clump of hogthorn bushes. Now that he was concealed he could employ the Wellsource in a way that was impossible in the city. He opened himself to it, felt its ardour, the pushing force of its need to be used rushing through him...its intensity almost overwhelmed him in his weakened state and his body trembled as he struggled to shape its power to his own needs. Finally he had what he needed, an eye that would let him see the nearest allies and servants of Gorla or Keshada. Sitting upright, he trained it to the southwest, peering through a curious mist made of the distance. Almost at once he spotted an outlying tower of the long growing wall, and a moment later a presence there became aware of his regard. Recognising him instantly as a servant of the Shadowkings it offered to send help, and he gratefully accepted.

As he quenched the Wellsource within him, he sat back, breathing heavily.

Soon, my masters, soon you will know the truth, that the third talisman lies not within Besh-Darok but at the bottom of the Wilderan Sea!

Have little to gain more,
Be empty to receive,
Become broken to remain whole,
Be nowhere to be everywhere.

—Shaman proverb

At the dark, mirror-calm pool near the clearing where every witchhorse's trail began, Tauric sat on a smooth rock by the water's edge, disconsolately tossing fragments of dry twig and watching the widening ripples. Behind him, Ghazrek was finishing off another tray of delicacies – for the Mogaun officer it had been less than half a day since their escape from the temple at Nimas, while Tauric had spent almost a week visiting many of the witchhorses in the cocooned illusions of their innerlands. But hardly any were inclined to hear his plea for help and not one showed the slightest shred of concern or understanding.

Strangely, the spirit of the Fathertree within him seemed quite satisfied and suggested that Tauric return to rest by the pool while it pondered on all that they had seen. Tauric felt that rest was the last thing he needed – he had experienced no tiredness at all – but agreed nevertheless. He had hoped that relaxing and clearing his thoughts would help him to think the situation through for himself, but instead he ended up brooding over the mistakes he had made, the naïve trust he had placed in those who turned out to be enemies. Indeed, was it not possible that he was making the same mistake again?

You are entirely justified in posing such a question
, said the Fathertree.
In my own defense, I can only point out that I have not and will not coerce you against your will – if I cannot persuade you, that will be an end to it
.

How could I know if you've tampered with my…judgement, making me favour your suggestions?

You could not, but I swear to you by the Sacred Void that your mind is your own, unchanged by my hand
.

I see
, he said, scattering his last few twig fragments across the pool.
Well, then – have you mulled over all that we've witnessed and reached any conclusions?

Yes, and yes. First we have to go over to Shondareth and ask him how to create an innerland.

Tauric was startled.
Are you sure?

All will become clear very soon, and there will be no danger or risk. I just need you to trust me.

He laughed quietly.
Very well
, he thought, then looked around and saw the witchhorse cropping berries back at the clearing. As he stood, Ghazrek glanced at him.

“That's it, majesty,” he said. “Don't give up. Rub their noses in it if you have to…”
Tauric smiled and nodded then strode across to Shondareth and asked the agreed question. The witchhorse gave him a piercing stare.

“So, you concede the futility of your quest. Are you seeking to join this community of inner peace?”

Tauric gave a shrug. “I cannot be sure until I know what it entails, and what it demands of me.”

“The innerland is a quality of this sanctuary, provided by the Sacred Void,” Shondareth said. “It will give to you all that you demand. To claim your own domain simply make a new path through the forest you see around this place. The foliage can be tough here and there but once you force your way through you'll reach a place full of shadows and mist – whatever you can imagine will be created there for you.”

With that, he turned and walked off into the trees along a nearby track and was soon lost to sight.

Tauric hunted along the edge of the tangled, enclosing wood and found a stretch of unbroken undergrowth with some bushes beyond. The spirit of the Fathertree approved so he strode forth through the high grass and weeds, pushing past the bushes which proved to be well-armed with tiny thorns. After a substantial patch of this, which left him with a multitude of scratches, he emerged in an open area made dark by the encroaching cover of massive trees. In the shadows, mist drifted and forms were uncertain.

“This must be the place,” he muttered. A shiver passed through him and at once the hazy dark swirled and a tall figure took shape, outline blurred but its features suddenly very clear. The face of Byrnak glared at him for a second before melting back into the spectral dimness.

It would seem that we need to exercise some care and attention, and be quite specific about our creations…

To his left the misty darkness suddenly rushed away and he was gazing across barren, sodden fields to the high walls of a city by the sea. Shanty towns clustered next to the walls or spread along the main roads in and out. As Tauric watched, gouts of smoke began to rise from the hovels crammed closest to the gates.

This is the city of Choraya in Honjir where the refugees were evicted on Byrnak's orders. Ten thousand died in the fires and another 90,000 fled along the road east into Roharka. Starvation and disease claimed many more…

Tauric stood watching in numb horror as scene after scene of wrecked civilisation was laid out around him, landscapes merging into one and other like a tapestry of destruction. Here was the burning city of Tobrosa, its vast outpouring of smoke spreading east to the Rukangs; close by was the Yularian capital of Rauthaz with Gunderlek's ragged banners fluttering from the keep as eaterbeasts hunted his men through the streets; there, the desolate, snow-deadened shell of Nimas, and further on a string of Anghatani villages going up in flames as their inhabitants were led away in chains.