The Hidden Relic (The Evermen Saga, Book Two) (15 page)

Killian thought again about how he had first found out he was different. The templars had taken him, just another orphan and thief, and given him the strange liquid. They had been amazed at his body's lack of response, although at the time Killian hadn't known it was death or addiction they were expecting.

There was one templar in particular, leading them, a man who was knowledgeable about the relics and their powers. A templar who valued knowledge above all else, with a fanaticism Killian could only now appreciate.

Zavros.

Killian decided he needed to pay Templar Zavros a visit.

~

Z
AVROS
stood silently regarding the destruction of the refinery, deep in the bowels of Stonewater, at the foot of the great shaft that ran the height of the mountain.

The explosion had blown outwards, opening a seam into the open air through which the intruder had probably escaped. Saryah met her end here; they had found her broken body in the rubble. Zavros had thought nothing in this world could kill Saryah.

Like Melovar Aspen, High Templar Saryah took too much of the elixir, but it affected her differently. It took both of their humanity, but where Melovar became senseless to pain, whether his own or another's, Saryah responded more physically.

At any rate, she was dead now, and Zavros would never be able to study her further.

Zavros wondered about himself. Some of the prisoners had called him inhuman; that, and names much worse. Zavros wasn't inhuman; it was simply that he knew the truth: nothing was more important than knowledge.

Knowledge had led to the foundation of this great civilisation. Knowledge separated people from the beasts, and knowledge lasted forever. It grew like a mighty tree, passing from generation to generation like a seed that became a stem, a trunk that branched and took it in unexpected directions. A mathematical novelty could become a weapon of war; a sundial could improve crop rotation. Even so-called lore paled beside the wonders of the physical universe. Zavros shared the Primate's vision for a world that had thrown off the shackles of magic. A world of libraries and universities, where the mysteries of the heavens were unravelled, and people were given the same opportunity to learn, rather than follow some archaic system of enchantment academies and builders' guilds.

Zavros wanted to know why blood could fill a human with life, yet take away the blood and he would die. Why did a babe die if it was never held — something Zavros had tested himself? Why did a man's temperament change when he was wounded in the head? And if more of his brain was taken out, how is it he could sometimes talk, but not move his hands, or move his hands but not talk?

As for lore, why was essence a poison, the deadliest poison imaginable, yet a substance that could fill objects with life? Did no one ask? And how could elixir rejuvenate a man's vitality and heal his wounds? What strange fluid now flowed through the Primate's veins?

Zavros burned to find out. Any more experiments though would require more essence. Essence that Moragon needed for the war effort. Essence he did not have.

"Destroyed." Zavros sighed, looking at where the refinery used to be. "Completely destroyed."

"Good to hear," a voice said. "That was my objective."

Before Zavros could react, a hand curled around his neck, twisting him and shoving him back against the wall.

Zavros looked through his oculars, down the length of his nose at the blue eyes that blazed in front of him. "You," Zavros said. "The one who is unharmed by essence." He nodded, looking pleased, even in the position he was in. "Ah, it all makes sense."

"I'm glad you remember me," Killian said. "I would say it's good to see you, Zavros, but I would be lying. Tell me, I want to know. How many did you kill before you got the elixir right?"

"Killian… Killian," Zavros tut-tutted, "what lies have you been listening to? Once we were friends, and you shared our vision for the world."

"Not any more," Killian said. "I stole for the Primate… I even killed for your cause. Not any more. Answer my question. How many have you used for your experiments? How many died for the knowledge?"

Zavros shrugged. "I keep only the statistics that are of interest to me. I can tell you percentages, but numbers?"

"I should kill you now," Killian said.

"Why don't you?" Zavros asked, raising an eyebrow. He sneered, even as he felt the grip around his throat tighten. Zavros wasn't an old man but Killian was strong, with the lean body of a dancer or an acrobat. Zavros was no fighter.

"There's something I want from you first," Killian said.

Zavros tried to laugh, but with the squeeze on his neck it came out more like a choke. "Why should I tell you anything? I have no fear of death."

Killian snatched the oculars from Zavros's face and threw them to the ground. Zavros blinked and tried to focus on the man in front of him.

Killian pulled something out of a pocket; a small white stone, vaguely cube-shaped and drawn over with black squiggles.

"What's that?" Zavros asked.

"It's one of the devices that caused the destruction you see here."

"Do your worst."

"Your library isn't far from here; just two floors up, isn't it?"

Zavros felt a chill. Knowledge was forever, and could last beyond the lifespan of any man, but books could be destroyed, and the knowledge could be destroyed with them.

"You wouldn't." Zavros knew the fear was written across his face.

"Why wouldn't I?" Killian said. "Tell me what I need to know."

"No."

Killian's shoulders moved with what Zavros's blurred vision said was a shrug. "You've seen what this can do. I'll go activate this now in your library, and then we can see what effect pain has on one such as you."

"What do you want to know?" Zavros stalled.

"The Pinnacle... What happened there? Did you find anything? Anything… or anyone?"

"What are you looking for?" Zavros was surprised. Killian had admitted to destroying the machines but evidently someone else was responsible for the Pinnacle. The Primate would be interested to know about this.

"Just tell me what you know."

"The light guarded a building, but it was destroyed, in an explosion like the one here. We found some runes on the blocks of stone and a mad pilgrim in the rubble. That's all."

Zavros felt he hadn't given away anything compromising. His mind worked furiously. What was Killian looking for? Killian must know about the book. This young man had information the Primate needed.

"You know, don't you?" Zavros said. "About the book. You're looking for it. Tell me, Killian. Tell me how to unlock its secret."

Killian's hand closed tighter around Zavros's neck. He hesitated, and then shook Zavros harder. "Of course I know about the book. Where is it?"

"Where do you think it is? The Primate has it," Zavros said, "but you'll never find him, he's left Stonewater and won't be back for a long time."

The sound of footsteps clattering against the stone made Killian's voice grow urgent. "And the pilgrim? Where's he?"

"The crazed old man?" Zavros's eyebrows shot up. "He has something to do with this?" Zavros suddenly laughed. "We've been keeping him in the dungeons in Salvation, but he's dead now. The Primate sent for him before he left, asking for him to be sent to the interrogation room. No one ever leaves the interrogation room alive, not once the Primate's had his way with them."

As the approaching footsteps echoed through the vaulted cavern, growing louder, Killian pushed Zavros away from him. Zavros immediately dropped to the ground, fumbling until he found his oculars and placed them back on his nose.

Killian was gone.

~

K
ILLIAN
was both furious and filled with fear. Evrin had been in the dungeons in Salvation, right under his nose this whole time. The lightly-secured gaol for drunks and thieves was the last place Killian would have thought to look for the man who could change his appearance with a few spoken words, or create objects as powerful as the destructive cubes.

The cube he'd fabricated and threatened Zavros with was so false that only Zavros, half-blind and with a templar's ignorance of runes, could have believed it was anything else. While Zavros might have knowledge, when it came to lore the man knew little, particularly compared with someone like Ella or Evrin.

The conversation with Zavros has filled him with confusion, but with the templar's slip he'd managed to learn something about what had actually happened.

Evrin had gone to the Pinnacle to find and destroy this book, and the chamber along with it. Something had gone wrong, and he'd been captured, but the templars thought he was just another pilgrim. Whatever the book was, it hadn't been destroyed, and was now in the Primate's possession.

And now the Primate had tortured the old man. Had Evrin divulged? Did the Primate now have the knowledge that Killian himself longed for? Could Killian have done anything to change Evrin's fate?

Killian ran towards Salvation, to the only place where Evrin might have left him a message. He would need to find Evrin's cell. Surely the old man had left him something?

When Killian arrived at the dungeons in Salvation, he stopped in shock. The gaol, where he himself had been held so many times in his youth, was a smoking ruin. Charred bodies sat hunched inside the remnants of cells, prisoners who would now never leave. Two of the bodies closer to the front must have been guards; one had a key ring at his belt, and the other had bits of white cloth still attached to the red flesh that had been his back.

A solitary guard in white crouched, staring at one of the corpses.

"What happened?" Killian asked.

The guard looked up with eyes that were reddened, perhaps by the acrid smoke. "The Primate called for a prisoner, an old man, but the prisoner had escaped. The Primate was angry. He ordered that the dungeon be sealed, with all guards and prisoners still inside. They tossed in prismatic orbs." He gestured to the two bodies in front of him. "One of them is my brother. I'm just having a hard time figuring out which."

"I'm sorry," Killian said.

Evrin had escaped.

But where had he gone?

15

T
IME
passed, and in the warmer lands winter gave way to spring. Daylight lasted longer, spirits grew lighter, and a new generation of young animals and wild flowers filled the air with the exuberance of youth.

In Altura's capital, Sarostar, the ferryboats again travelled the Sarsen, taking a new year of students to classes at the Academy of Enchanters. A ferryman named Fergus looked up at the azure sky and smiled, happy to be busy; his children had grown tired of old apples.

In Ralanast, capital of Halaran, the cruellest winter in a hundred years was finally over, and now it was time to count the toll of the dead. The legionnaires and regulars of the Black Army felt angry eyes on their backs, as young men and scarred veterans hatched plans for liberation, and for vengeance.

In rust-coloured Petrya a soldier on patrol saw a great dust storm rise in the east, in the direction of the trade town of Torlac. It wasn't the time for sandstorms, and they never travelled this far north. The soldier wiped his eyes and shrugged.

In Vezna's capital, Rosarva, spring was normally a time for growth — new plants sprouting, trees becoming saplings, and a thriving living city that was unrivalled anywhere in the world. This spring, however, the cultivators shook their heads and cursed their young High Lord, Dimitri Corizon. They remembered the days when his father, Vladimir, had ensured their neutrality in every conflict. Some began to speak of a change in leadership.

In the cooler lands: Torakon, Loua Louna, Aynar and Tingara, the change of seasons meant little. In Torakon families missed their fathers and sons, for the Black Army still requisitioned builders for walls and fences, turrets and fortresses, at every corner of the world. In Loua Louna the artificers waited, idle and frustrated; essence had stopped coming long ago, and their workshops were silent and still. In Aynar the templars watched each other; a colleague's careless word could mean instant promotion. In Tingara the commanders and legionnaires felt proud to be ruling the world, while the common people struggled through life in the same way they always had.

~

T
HERE
was one place where the passage of the seasons meant nearly nothing at all. The days were a little longer, but it was still cold. It was always cold.

Primate Melovar Aspen pulled the white fur-lined robe closer around his body. He felt the chill, yet in a way, he found the climate of the icy north quite pleasant. The pain of his burned skin subsided somewhat, and he felt he was able to think more clearly. It was good to be away from the lands of the empire, even for a short time.

He'd been travelling for several weeks, time he had spent examining the book and gaining a further understanding of its contents, however incomplete. He frowned when he remembered the pilgrim. He had left explicit orders about the old man. With the pilgrim's escape, Melovar would never know if there was something locked up in his mad head that could solve his problem.

What was this powerful relic of the Evermen? What form did it take? Where was it? Why were the diagrams such strange shapes?

Melovar doubted the Akari would know either, and he would have to get through the coming encounter with the information he had.

The carriage bumped and jostled, and Melovar cursed when the bouncing tore at his skin, undoubtedly breaking it in places that would crack and bleed anew. He hoped the Akari were worth it.

Drudges pulled the carriage over the long-abandoned road that stretched from Aynar through Seranthia and far into the icy north, where few men dared to go. An age ago, this road had linked Akari lands with Tingara, but since the exile it hadn't been used at all, and was in poor condition, to say the least. Fortunately, once they were far enough north, snow covered the road, and as the men in front forged ahead, packing it down, it was only the occasional stone or ditch that impeded their progress.