City of Sorcerers (7 page)

he suggested.

Just then, a shout from one end of the mound drew everyone's attention, and Athlone and Ordan hurried down to see what had been found.

Sayyed, Rafnir, Koshyn, and several other men were clustered around a large hole they had dug into the slope of the eastern end. "I think we found the entrance,"

Sayyed shouted.

All the men dropped what they were doing and gathered close by to watch as the dirt was carefully removed from a large area around the initial hole. When they were finished, the workers stood back to show what they had discovered.

Three stone steps were laid into the ground down to a doorway into the burial chamber. The entrance was of stone with two carved stone pillars to either side of a narrow stone door. There were no handles, handholds, finger holes, or latches of any kind on the door and nothing to indicate who lay within. The stone on the door was perfectly blank.

"That's odd," remarked Ordan. The old priest leaned forward until his wispy white beard was inches away from a dirt-encrusted pillar. "Give me your dagger," he said to no one in particular and stuck out his hand. Lord Athlone obliged him by handing over his own polished blade.

Quickly and carefully Ordan began to scrape and scratch away the soil clinging to the stone. In just a few moments he had cleaned off several tunic markings cut into both pillars and two small, intricately inscribed marble tiles inset on both sides of the doorframe. "Interesting," he muttered.

"What? What is it?" clamored the men around him.

The old priest ignored them and, with sharp blue eyes, studied the marks. At his request, several other priests joined him to examine the carvings, but finally they all shook their heads in frustration.

Ordan jabbed a finger at the markings. "These-here and here," he said to the crowded clansmen, "are too old for us to read. I believe they are Clan. They look similar to old tunic signs once used for the gods. But we have lost the knowledge to understand them."

Lord Athlone, craning his neck to look over the priests' shoulders, saw the doorframe and felt a jab of recognition. "I know what those two tiles are," he exclaimed.

Ordan moved aside so the chieftain could step in and take a closer look.

Athlone pointed to the marble panels. "They're magic wards. This door has been sealed by magic."

"Heresy," one of the priests muttered under his breath.

In spite of his longevity as a holy man, Ordan was one of the few priests in the clans who had an open mind regarding magic. Unlike most of his counterparts, he was willing to consider the possibility that magic was a gift of the gods, not an evil mutation of their powers. Therefore, he did not flinch away from the doorway as did two of the other priests or cross his fingers in a sign against evil. Instead he put his fingertips along the almost invisible seam of the door and looked fascinated. "Is it possible to break the seal?" he asked Athlone.

The sorcerer-chieftain considered the tiles for a moment or two. "Probably.

They've been weakened by age. But should we? I've never heard of a burial chamber sealed with magic wards. "

"Neither have I. On the other hand, this appears to date back to the days before the downfall of the sorcerers. We know so little of that time. Perhaps it was accepted to seal some tombs with magic."

Athlone touched the cool, damp stone with a finger. "Well, I'm willing to try to open it if you are."

Ordan's thin lips pulled into a rare smile. "My curiosity has gotten the best of me.

Break the seals, magic-wielder."

Hastily the men backed up several paces to give Lord Athlone more room. The chief stretched out both arms and placed his fingertips on the wards. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the magic around him. He knew the power permeated the natural world. Magic was in the rocks, the earth, the living plants, and it was in the souls of those born with the talent to wield its energy. As he drew magic from the earth at his feet, he felt the energy flow through him, as natural and comforting as his own blood.

He wished he had a diamond splinter such as Gabria's to help him intensify his spell, but the splinters were emblems of an older age and only one had been found since the destruction of Moy Tura. He would have to rely on his own strength.

Visualizing exactly what he wanted to do, he focused his spell down through his fingertips and sent a powerful, explosive jolt of magic into the tiles. The wards were stronger than he expected. Old, worn, and eroded as they were, they had been constructed by a master sorcerer and their power was still potent. Athlone had to send a second, more powerful burst into them before the marble finally cracked and the tiles shattered to dust.

The chieftain leaned against the frame, breathing heavily. “Are you all right?"

Koshyn asked at his side.

"Yes." He pushed himself upright. "But if they hadn't been so old and worn, I would never have broken through. Someone wanted to make sure this body was not disturbed."

Well, let's go see what's in there," someone yelled eagerly, and the men shouted their agreement.

Still weary, Athlone stood aside and let Savaron step in to put his shoulder to the stone door. Together, Koshyn and Savaron heaved against the entrance until the stone groaned and creaked and a black crack appeared along the right hand edge.

* * * * *

Under the tree in the Khulinin camp, Lady Gabria lunged to her feet and screamed a terrible cry of anguish.

"Mother!" Kelene shouted in horror, hobbling to her side as the sorceress buried her face in her hands. The children clustered around, clamoring with fear and confusion. The white cat took off like a streak, and Demira neighed a nervous challenge. White-faced, Tam tried to calm the young ones while Kelene and Nara gathered close to Gabria.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Tam cried over the uproar.

Gabria was sweating and lightheaded and shuddering uncontrollably. She clasped Kelene's arm with one hand and Nara's leg with the other, too upset to speak.

Kelene responded. "I don't know!" She stared at her mother's stricken face and felt her heart twist. Kelene knew she had pushed aside her love for Gabria many times in the past few years, but, behind the facade she showed to the world, that love had never waned. Now she was horrified by the pain she saw in Gabria's eyes. "Mother, please! What's the matter?" she cried.

Gabria could only shake her head. She gasped for breath and held tighter to Kelene's arm.

Frustrated, Kelene looked to Tam, but she was still distracted by the frightened children. The girl steadied her shaking legs. There was one way to get a partial answer, if she wanted to do it. Kelene had always been sensitive by touch to other people's emotions. She didn't know why she had the ability, and she had never told anyone about it. It was usually something she regarded as painful and a nuisance. This time-, though, fear for her mother overcame her reluctance, and she laid her other hand over her mother's. Opening her mind to her mother's feelings, she concentrated on the touch of her skin against Gabria's. The results were immediate.

"She's not ill. She's terrified," Kelene cried to Tam.

"Terrified of what? Gabria, is this like yesterday? Or the day before?" Tam demanded.

Kelene was surprised. "What are you talking about?"

"Your mother had a vision two days ago, then a strange experience during the race yesterday. Was this the same thing, Gabria?"

The sorceress finally nodded. "Only worse. Much worse.

For just a moment I felt a hatred so strong. . . so malevolent. . . . O Mother of All, what was it?" she moaned.

"I don't know, but I think you'd better lie down. The moment Athlone and Sayyed get back, we have to tell them," Tam insisted. "You're not going to keep it to yourself for a day or two like you did the vision."

Gabria drew a long, ragged breath to steady her voice and let go of Kelene and Nara. "Yes, we'll tell them. But. . . I don't want to lie down. The feeling is passing."

She smiled reassuringly at the children around her. "Why don't we go on with the story? It will take all our minds off this for a while."

Kelene and Tam eyed her with some disbelief, but Gabria composed herself.

Although her face was pale and there was a tremor in her hands, she took up the tale of Valorian where she had left it. The children settled back down, looking relieved.

Tam shook her head and went to search for her cat.

Only Kelene could not relax. She had never sensed a fear like her mother's before; its intensity had left her badly shaken. If it had touched her so deeply, how must it have affected Gabria? She hoped when her father returned they could discover the cause of these strange attacks. Her mother did not deserve such terror.

* * * * *

The men pushed harder, and the door slowly ground open to a shoulder's width.

"Stop there," Ordan ordered. "Let the air within freshen before we open the door fully." When they all tried to peer into the interior, they could see nothing beyond the small patch of light in the entrance. The darkness beyond the portal was complete.

Overcome perhaps by the silence of the tomb and the closeness of death, the men fell quiet, their eyes riveted on the empty opening. For a long while no one moved.

Then Ordan slowly raised his arms to the sky and began a chanted prayer to Sorh. The rest of the priests joined him until the canyon sang with their voices.

When their last words died into the early evening, the men stirred and muttered among themselves, feeling slightly better now that they had appeased Lord Sorh.

"Open it now," Ordan commanded.

Savaron and Koshyn obliged, and the stone door swung fully open. Several torches were passed around, then Ordan stepped into the burial chamber. The other priests and several chieftains slowly filed in after him until the narrow space within was full. By the flickering light of the torches, they stared around the room in surprise.

The chamber was built in the older clan tradition of stone walls, dirt floor, and a shallow timbered ceiling. The walls were dirty and stained with moisture, and a heavy smell of mold and rot permeated the air. Those who were expecting to find a large trove of objects were disappointed, for the room was virtually empty. There was only a single stone sarcophagus sitting on a platform in the center of the chamber and a pitifully small pile of personal items lying on the platform. There were no weapons, no bags of salt or dishes for food, no trappings befitting a chieftain-nothing to reveal who lay within the coffin. The clansmen looked in every deep shadow and dark corner and found only dust.

"What's in there?" one man shouted from outside. There were still quite a few waiting for their turn to come in.

"Not much,” replied Lord Terod. Disappointed, he and several more men went out to make room for others. One by one, the men filed through to look at the results of their work. Some were interested in the chamber; others were disappointed at the lack of things to see.

"It's as if whoever buried this man didn't like him," remarked Savaron.

Ordan turned from studying the sarcophagus. "Why do you say that?" he asked, his voice sharp with interest.

The Khulinin warrior picked up a small comb from the pile on the platform.

"There's so little here. A respected chieftain or priest is always buried with his belongings. It looks like this man was given only a few grudging tokens."

"An interesting observation, young man. Tell me what else you notice."

"The walls have been painted," Rafnir spoke up. He held a torch up close to one wall. "Most of it has flaked off, but you can still see bits of color through the dust and mildew. I think it's red."

"What do you make of all this?" Athlone asked Ordan.

"Precious little. I've never seen anything like this. The red paint on the walls indicates this was probably a priest of Sorh, but there are no items of his office, no staff, no prayer scrolls, no jars of incense. Your son is likely right---this man was thoroughly disliked." He peered around at the walls and went on. "What I want to know is why he was buried out here in this empty, forsaken canyon? Why is his grave unmarked and forgotten? Why has his identity been so carefully hidden?"

"We could open the sarcophagus," Rafnir suggested. "Maybe there is a name on the coffin or some writing that could help us."

Ordan nodded. "Do it. Carefully. I do not want to disturb the body."

Savaron, Rafnir, and two others stepped forward, lifted the heavy slab off the top of the stone box, and gently set it on the ground by the platform.

"Good gods!" exclaimed Athlone. "Why did they do that?"

Inside the sarcophagus lay a large, full-length wooden coffin. Its lid was nailed with heavy iron spikes and chained with thick bronze links at both ends. On top of the wood lid was carved a string of ten runic letters similar to the ones on the doorframe.

One of the young men tried to shove the chain off one end of the coffin. To his dismay, the chain was also nailed in place. He started to yank hard at the bronze links.

"No, stop!" Ordan commanded. But he was too late. The man pulled with such strength that the coffin slid toward him and slammed against the stone. The wooden lid, rotten and weakened by time and moisture, cracked at one end.

"There is no need to open the coffin," Ordan said harshly. "It is best left alone."

The young man looked guilty. "Why? Don't you want to know who's in it?"

The old priest shook his head. "No. Any man sealed in his tomb with magic and nailed in his coffin is best left undisturbed."

"I agree," Athlone said, staring at the chained box.

The men glanced at one another and saw the same uneasy look on all their faces.

"I want this mound sealed shut again. Rebury it. There is nothing here for us,"

said Ordan.

Savaron glanced outside. "That will take hours and it's almost dark. Could it wait until morning?"

Ordan nodded his assent and silently left the burial chamber. The rest of the men hurried after him into the open air. The meadow was filling with darkness by that time; a few stars twinkled in the evening sky. While the men brought their horses and mounted, Savaron and Rafnir closed the stone door.