First Comes The One Who Wanders (63 page)

Joshuas rubbed his head, which was pounding from the constant noise inside it. He could see how people lost their way in this place. The sadness constantly barraged your brain. The hopelessness ate away at you. Fear, that you might end up like the souls locked inside these chambers, the fear that maybe this was all that was in store for a person when he died.

Again, Joshuas found himself wondering why these spirits were here. There was a reason, and it probably wasn’t a happy story, he decided. Were these souls, who were people once, deserving of the fate that had befallen them? Or were they in need of a champion to rescue them as Preterlandis was in need of its champion?

He squared his shoulders. The thought of a champion had brought Brenth to mind. While he was here, doing Cephom’s bidding, the champion Leilas had named was fighting a losing battle alone. It was a heavy burden for such a young man, alone. Joshuas smiled to himself. There he was, judging these worthy people not on merit, but simply by their age. Obviously, Jovan thought them capable, despite their youth.

Walking back to Ariel’s chamber, as he called it, Joshuas opened the saddlebag and found some food and a bottle of beer. Leaning against the wall, he chewed the tasteless bread and washed it down with cheap beer. He felt a ripple in the sadness, as if those inside his head were remembering the simple pleasure of eating.

Sadness washed over him and he considered having another beer. It would be easy to sit here and get lost in the memories and the sadness being here had evoked. But he’d spent too long in that pursuit. He told himself he wasn’t going to indulge in that brand of forgetfulness anymore when he’d started for Dirth to warn the school of Jayram’s attack. Closing the saddlebag with a twinge of regret, he went back to the puzzle of the door.

"So, Ariel," he said, after another unsuccessful attempt to open the door. "What's the secret to your door?"

He heard a click when he spoke the crafter’s name. Pushing on the door, it swung open easily. Joshuas grimaced as he collected his belongings and stepped through the door. All he had to do was find the names of all the fallen crafters and survive collecting their gift to the forces of light. It was as simple as that. He found himself in a short hallway that opened into a smaller chamber. He walked to the end of the hallway and found himself facing a brick wall with a small opening, face high. Looking through the opening, Joshuas saw the woman in the relief, lying unconscious on a stone table. A black arrow, with strange carvings covering the shaft, protruded from her chest. Joshuas could see the slight rise and fall of her chest.

He’d never seen this crafter before and never heard stories about her. Yet, the relief depicted her as a valiant warrior. How long had she lain here in this prison? And how long had Rengailai been planning this war? How foolish were they to believe they could do anything to affect the outcome? The voices grew louder, more insistent in his head, temporarily distracting him from his musings. Sorrow and futility washed over him and almost rendered him incapable of movement. Struggling against the urge to give into the feelings, Joshuas raised his sword in defiance. His focus became less clouded at the gesture. Renewing his resolve and keeping his task in his mind, he began tearing down the wall between himself and the fallen warrior.

Somehow, the balance would be restored and goodness and light would return to Preterlandis. He kept repeating those words as he worked. Keeping an eye out for the creatures that were supposed to be guarding Ariel, he stepped over the lowered wall and stood beside her.

"Save as many as you can." Joshuas frowned as he remembered Cephom’s words. Pulling the arrow from her chest wasn’t going to save this woman and he was no healer. The reality that he might end up killing some of these people by removing the arrow from their chest hit him as he stood mesmerized by this woman’s beauty. Killing her was not an option he'd even consider. But how did he get ten unconscious crafters out of the Echoes? And once he did, what did he do with them?

Fumbling in his herb bag, he found some willowwick then he grabbed the arrow and pulled. Quickly, he put the willowwick on the wound. He would have sworn he heard the woman moan, but he knew that was impossible. Placing the arrow in his quiver, he picked up the woman and threw her over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure where the ghouls were, but he was fairly certain he'd meet them soon enough. By the time he reached the main chamber, he had a plan.

The voices in his head had increased their wailing when he pulled the arrow from Ariel’s chest. He ground his teeth in frustration. They were about to drive him to distraction. Yet, there was something about them. If he had more time he might be able to understand it. Shaking his head to try to clear his thoughts, he started through the chambers. He stopped wherever there was a door and studied the relief. At the fifth door, he found what he was hoping to discover. The relief depicted a healer, the arrow protruding from his chest.

Ariel hadn’t stirred or made any noise. Joshuas laid his ear against her chest to ascertain if her heart was still beating and checked to make certain she was still breathing. When he was satisfied she was still stable, he set her by the door. Then closing his eyes, he calmed his thoughts and did his best to listen to the voices. He needed a name. The intensity of the voices rose at his actions. Slowly, out of the noise, a name began to sound.

Rising from the floor, Joshuas picked up his unconscious cargo and stood before the door. Squaring his shoulders, he spoke. "Trion," he said, loudly and clearly. He heard the telltale click and pushed on the door. Smiling grimly, he headed for the back wall. Laying Ariel down where he could keep an eye on her, he looked through the opening in the wall. This crafter was laid out in the same manner as Ariel had been. Taking out his knife, Joshuas began the tedious task of tearing down the wall. Halfway through the task, it occurred to him there must be some kind of entrance to these cells if the ghouls came to feed the prisoners. He didn’t stop to figure the puzzle out this time. Continuing to dismantle the wall, he soon was standing next to the healer.

Pulling the arrow out of Trion’s chest, he slipped it into his quiver, then stood back and waited. The remarkable thing about healers, whether they were crafters or not, was that they could heal themselves, given the proper circumstances. Joshuas hoped that pulling the arrow out was all that was needed to allow Trion to begin healing. It was rare to be both a crafter and a true healer, but it did happen. If he believed the mural, this crafter was also a great healer.

Once Trion was back, then perhaps they could bring the others back. From the reliefs, it appeared as though these ten crafters could be great leaders in their fight against the Dredracians. Joshuas didn’t know how long it might take for Trion to awaken. He made himself comfortable, his sword on his knees, and tried to rest while he waited.

It was hard to hear over the voices in his mind, but he sat up when he thought he heard feet shuffling against the floor. The pitch of the voices grew higher and more intense. Joshuas was on his feet, sword at the ready. The ghouls attacked silently and fiercely. Joshuas was hard pressed to keep them at bay. They pulled back and regrouped after the first rush. Several lay dead on the floor. Joshuas stood at the ready, waiting for the next attack. There were more ghouls here than he could kill, before they wounded or killed him. But he would take as many as he could with him.

The ghouls began the second attack, but many of them ran off in differing directions away from the fight. Joshuas had to wonder what they were planning, but he didn’t have much time to pursue the matter. This attack didn’t end until all the ghouls lay dead at his feet. He was bleeding profusely from several deep gashes. He quickly said a spell to ward off the paralyzing effects of a wound inflicted by a ghoul. He wasn’t certain any had managed to scratch or bite him, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. Turning in a full circle, he waited for the next attack. The ghouls who ran away after the initial attack were still out there. Joshuas had a bad feeling about what they might be doing when they didn’t return. But he needed to sit down and tend to his wounds while they were affording him the opportunity. Cutting some strips off his cloak, he wrapped the worst of the cuts. Then he found some food and washed it down with the beer. He knew he'd need to rest to truly recover, but he was afraid the ghouls might attack again while he slept.

After a few moments of rest, he crawled over to check on Ariel and Trion. They seemed to have been left alone during the conflict. Trion’s color was beginning to return. Ariel was still unconscious, but stable.

Joshuas was beginning to worry about why the ghouls hadn’t returned. He'd invaded their territory, released their prisoners and killed several of their group. What was more important than taking care of this threat to their prison?

"The arrows, you idiot," Joshuas said out loud. They had gone after the arrows. Once they had them, they'd be gone. Struggling to his feet, Joshuas started after the ghouls. But he was too late. Every door he came to was open. The cell, where the crafter lay, was ajar and the arrow removed. Joshuas had only managed to secure two of the arrows made by Rengailai.

Disgusted with his stupidity, Joshuas started back for Trion’s cell. When he returned, he slumped to the floor. He wasn’t sure how this arrow business worked. Could two arrows kill all the masters, if he didn’t lose them? Or did the writing on the shaft of the arrow dedicate that arrow to a certain master? He couldn’t read the writing on the shafts. It was written in runes that he hadn’t run across before.

He could always try to track the ghouls, although the likelihood of finding them was small. If he did go, what would happen to these crafters? Joshuas banged his head against the wall in frustration. He knew he wouldn’t leave until he was certain these crafters were safe. Knowing now, that he wouldn’t encounter any more ghouls, Joshuas wrapped his cloak tightly around his body and dozed.

"My lady," a voice called out in anguish. Joshuas opened his eyes to see Trion kneeling next to Ariel’s limp form. "What have they done to you?" He reached out and touched her wounds, assessing them. Then he placed his hand on her chest and began to chant. Joshuas could feel the power of the old words spoken by this healer. He lay back against the wall and closed his eyes, knowing Ariel was in capable hands.

He awoke to the sound of chanting, but this time Trion was tending to his wounds. "I’ll be fine in a couple of days," Joshuas protested. "There are others who need your help more than me."

"It will take but a moment longer," said Trion, not moving. "Then we'll see to the others." His song was soon done and he rose to his feet. "I'm Trion, King’s healer. This is Ariel, Solein’s Warrior. Are you from Solea?" He asked taking in Joshuas’ apparel.

"I’m Joshuas Greyanson, Sky crafter," replied Joshuas, rising to his feet. "King’s healer? Which king?"

"There is only one king," replied Trion.

"King Ley?" asked Joshuas, wondering how long these people had been imprisoned here.

"King Lehric," said Trion, giving him an assessing stare. "I thought you said you were from Solea."

"King Lehric is king over Solea?"

"All of Preterlandis, but he resides in Solea," replied Trion, looking at Joshuas as if he were crazy. The golden lady at his side had the same expression on her face.

"You'll have to forgive me," said Joshuas. "We lost a great deal of knowledge during the Crafter Wars. My history wasn’t the best even before the wars." Joshuas laughed at himself. "I haven't heard of your King Lehric. But perhaps some of the elves remember him."

"Crafter Wars?" asked Ariel. "The balance would be destroyed if the crafters went to war."

"That was averted by Greyan. But much was lost because of the treaty he authored.

"The destruction of the balance couldn’t be averted by a treaty," remarked Ariel, exchanging a glance with Trion. Both of them frowned.

"But this is a discussion for another time, I think," said Trion. "You said there were others who needed my help." The red-headed healer waited for Joshuas to lead the way.

Joshuas led them to the main chamber hall. Ariel and Trion both stopped and cocked their heads. The voices had been such a constant over the last days, it hadn’t occurred to him these two might have trouble dealing with them. Actually, he doubted these two had trouble with much of anything.

"Such poor souls," said Ariel, sadly. "Why don’t you help them to their rest?"

Joshuas marveled at these people who could understand the voices in the Echoes, who lived long before the Crafter’s War. "I'm not the person for that job, my lady," he replied. "I'm but a warrior."

"Surely even a warrior can hear these people’s pleas," she said.

Joshuas shook his head. "Very few can understand these lost souls."

Ariel raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. "It's not so easy to help these souls, my lady," said Trion. He paused for a moment as if listening. "But perhaps someone will come to give them rest."

Ariel turned to Trion. "If we can’t save them, then let’s find those we can help."

Joshuas led them to the first open door and into the open cell. Trion stepped up to the table where the crafter lay and placed his hand on the man’s chest. Closing his eyes, he stood silent for several minutes then shook his head. "He's gone. There is nothing left to do but sing the death song for him."

"We'll do that for him," said Joshuas. "But let’s see if any of the others can be saved."