Shadowkings (41 page)

And before she could say more, he released his mental hold on the Spiritwing canto. All its elements drifted apart in his mind, and the dim passageway faded from sight as his awareness toppled backwards through oceans of shadow, skies veiled in glittering black, deserts paved with snatching thorns...

He breathed in sharply, and blinked. All the night's smells, sounds and appearances came at him in a single leap. The tree against his back, the wet grass his hand lay upon, the sweetness of cracked seedcases, the darkness and a light sea-breeze, tang of salt...

Shouts came from nearby, a general hubbub of voices along with the creak of wagons. For an instant, Bardow thought the camp was under attack then he noticed one of Mazaret's commanders, Yarram, hurrying along the ridge towards the gully path. Bardow called out to him while struggling to his feet.

"Ser Bardow," the knight said as he approached. "Have you taken ill?"

"I appreciate your concern, captain, but I am in good health. I have just woken from a doze to all this activity - what is happening?"

"The tents are being struck, ser. Word has come that Adranoth's leaders have released all the boats and their crews, and even offered help with provisioning."

Yarram looked as openly bemused as Bardow felt. "What caused such a change of heart?"

Yarram rubbed his chin. "I do not know for certain, but it is said that half way through a feast earlier, the mage Medwin played a harp and sang a song of such surpassing valour and defiance that the town fathers were shamed into giving up their claims. Whatever the truth, we were ordered to break camp a short while ago.

"Now, ser, if you will pardon my haste, I must attend to my troops and mounts."

"By all means."

He gave a slight bow and as he left, Bardow allowed himself a wry grin. Medwin the bard - who would have thought that he harboured such a talent?

Then he remembered the volunteer mages he was supposed to have met by now, and with a sigh hurried along the ridge path. How much calming and flattery and persuasion will this take? he wondered morosely.

Then he laughed.
Maybe I could sing them a song
....

Where the air is black,
Where frost burns and fire freezes,
Where the walls are cracked by screams,
Where hate drips from fang and talon.

—
The Lair Of Monsters
, 2, iv, Trad.

"Who am I?"

Suviel struggled with Nerek's weight as the woman's legs buckled. Keeping her own panic under control, she half-carried Nerek over to the wall and eased her down into a sitting position.

"Please tell me - who am I?...."

In the engulfing gloom of the gallery Suviel could not quite see her companion's face but she knew that those features were twisting and altering. She had witnessed several of these transitions, where the two personas inhabiting the body fought to gain the upper hand, and she was almost thankful for the darkness.

Since speaking with Bardow a hour or two ago, the possibility of capture had haunted her, causing her to stay on the move, searching for a way through these ruined galleries. From memory she knew that some passages led to other collegiates and seminaries, such as the Cloister of Songs (being a school of History) or the Forge (a hall of debating), and then directly into the High Basilica itself.

All I have to do is get through this maze without being trapped by the Acolytes or their servants, without even attracting their attention, then slip into the Basilica and unnoticed spirit the Eye away.

Ah yes, and keep Nerek safely with me
.

She rubbed her tired eyes. It was a mad, hopeless strategy but it was better than having no strategy at all.

She waited only a few more minutes before coaxing Nerek up on her feet again. The woman made weak noises of protest but allowed herself to be led away along a cold, high-walled corridor whose ceiling had been supported by slender columns, several of which lay toppled. The spectral radiance of the starry night slipped in through holes in the ceiling, serving to reveal the outlines of great carven faces on the walls, whose eyes were closed in tranquil smiles.

Presently, the corridor began to descend in a series of broad, shallow steps and Suviel knew that they would soon be near the entrance to the Forge. Thus far they had encountered no enemies and detected no evidence of anyone abroad in these broken galleries. Suviel had, however, sensed something in the air, a faint bitterness like refined minerals, the kind that Bardow occasionally employed in his spells. Perhaps it was just the smell of wrecked masonry and the old dust they were disturbing as they trudged along.

Roughly a dozen paces short of the foot of the steps was a place where part of the wall had either collapsed outwards or been torn away, leaving a tall, jagged gap which gave a breathtaking view of the lands west of Trevada. By night, the dense forests of Anghatan were a black cloak stretching north and south, and westward as far as the Druandag mountains. In the impenetrable darkness beyond was, she knew, the great inland sea of Birrdaelin, and beyond that the hilly domains of Jefren.

Sadness born of longing for what was past welled up in her. How beautiful it looked under the stars. She could not help recalling sweeter, happier times, summers spent in Jefren with her friends, Pelorn and Cavaxes, exploring ancient Nightbear tunnels in the southern hills, and paying respectful visits to the more hospitable of the witchhorse tribes.

Now brigands and bands of Mogaun roamed the hills and the witchhorses were no more, wiped out to the last by order of the Acolytes.

"I hate this place - why did you bring me here?"

At the sound of that petulant voice, Suviel's heart sank. It was Falin who had won out.

"To keep you from harm," she said turning away from the gap. Her companion stood by the opposite wall, head bowed, one hand pressed to the stomach as if in discomfort, the other raised to the face.

"It is you they would harm," was the reply in a voice growing louder. "I am faithful to my master, who is also their master!"

Suviel crossed the passage in two swift steps and grabbed Falin/Nerek by the arm.

"Keep your voice down!" she hissed. "Don't make me use a spell on you."

The other turned his head slightly to glance at her. Starlight glinted in an eye full of malice.

"I hate this place...and I hate
you
!"

Without warning he lashed out with both hands, shoving her backwards. Suviel tried to turn as she fell and her left hand and hip struck the stone floor first. She gasped at the pain but bit back a savage oath as she scrambled to her feet in time to see a wildly-running slender form reach the bottom of the steps and bolt out of sight.

"Curse him for a fool!" she muttered, then dashed after him.

From the bottom step all her surroundings were swallowed by an inky darkness. Suviel paused a moment, then moved over to the wall and followed it round. This had been a students meeting hall of sorts, with a higher floor reached by spiral stairs, and she recalled that there were several exits at both levels. Then she heard a noise, a scraping footfall, and she froze. A cold stone silence reigned in the blackness. Calming herself, she focussed her awareness and reached out, striving for vision. At first there was nothing, then she began to distinguish tenuous outlines, the contours of pillars, seating alcoves, and doorways that were no more than shades of darkness amid the darkness.

And there was movement, a figure stepping through an archway over on the right. She hurried as quietly as she could across the chamber and followed.

She felt her way along a passage till it turned left into a stretch where the murk was broken by a meagre illumination. The walls and the high arched ceiling were marred by patches of glistening lichen which gave off a faint grey glow. But it was sufficient to reveal the corridor ahead and Suviel had just started along it when a cry of horror came from the shadow-veiled far end. Falin/Nerek appeared at a panicky run, saw Suviel, stumbled to a halt and darted up a side passage. Suviel lunged after him.

When a pair of half-open doors loomed before her she realised that this was one of the ways to the Forge, the great debating hall. There was another fearful cry from within and as she slipped between the doors she could smell the same bitter odour from before, only stronger and more acrid.

The Forge was a great oval chamber nearly one hundred yards across at its widest, with steep, surrounding tiers of seats and benches and heavy balconies which jutted out over the lower floor. Three podiums on broad plinths were arranged around the centre, one each for the opposing debaters and the third for the adjudicator. Falin was crouched whimpering at the foot of one of the plinths and staring off into the shadows. At the sound of Suviel's approaching footsteps he jerked round, looked at her for an instant then flung out a trembling, pointing hand.

"Kill her! She's the enemy..." Glancing back at the shadows he began shaking his head desperately. "No, not me, her! She wants to destroy you! - I only want to help..."

Every instinct Suviel possessed shrieked retreat, but when she turned she found herself staring at a hulking shape so black it merged with the lightless murk beneath the balcony. Ice-blue eyes gazed pitilessly down at her from an indistinct head, and an unanswerable fear made her back away in Falin's direction. The eyes moved after her a little way, as if examining her, and a sepulchral voice rang in her mind.

A mage, brothers and sisters. A mage
!

A sussurus of eager malice came from all sides. Looking up at the tiers of seating, Suviel saw masses of shadowy forms shift in the darkness and hundreds of eyes regarding her.

Our guest is a mage
, the voice continued.
Be welcome, mortal, and behold
.

The amorphous shape before her suddenly gleamed with spreading light, metallic greens, blues, purples. It resolved into scaly haunches, a heavy torso that was two, three times the size of the biggest ox Suviel had ever seen, a long fanlike tail, and wings folded along the upper flanks. A thick neck curved up to the head, wide blunt-snouted jaws parted to reveal a double-row of tearing teeth. A single horn grew up from behind the head, pointing forward over the eyes, and two similar protrusions jutted beneath the lower jaw, except these looked corroded, their tips broken and split.

We know you. We have not forgotted the sweetness of mage-flesh
, the creature said as others emerged from the shadows, monstrous forms brightening.
Do you know us?

Suviel knew. These were the nighthunters, the Acolytes' most feared servants. It was said that many years before the Mogaun invasion, the Acolytes had delved into the deepest, darkest pits of the earth and captured a multitude of vile beasts, survivors from a long-gone age. With this seed-stock, they bred new monsters for war and terror.

Hundreds of them, now revealed, watched her restlessly from the looming tiers of the chamber and from atop the podiums, an assembly of fanged menace. Suviel had come to a halt at the centre of the floor and could now see an alcove set into the seating directly above a broad entrance. Dark ruby light came from the too-red flames which burned and flickered around a carven figure seated there in a high-backed throne of stone.

An image of the Lord of us all, a shrine that burns with the force of our relentless devotion
.

Down on the floor, the nighthunters began pacing round, circling Suviel and Falin who lay curled up, keening quietly to himself. And other voices spoke in Suviel's mind, heavy and intrusive.

Suviel stood with one hand pressed against her head as the voices drove into her thoughts. Then her fear changed and became anger, her raised hand she clenched into a fist and lowered to her waist as she glared straight at the nighthunter who had spoken to her first. When there was no hope of reprieve or rescue, all that was left was defiance, loud defiance.

"When you are defeated, as you will be," she began, "my voice will rejoice from the Void, and when you are broken and dead, my spirit will dance on your bones." With the toe of her boot she scraped a line in the dust on the floor and backed away till she was near Falin. "Now, enough talking - unless you intend to brag me to death."

The creature parted its jaws in a semblance of a grin and its voice sounded in her head once more.
My claw-name is Avorst. Prepare to die
.

As Avorst drew back his head, Suviel let the Cadence thought-canto she had readied unfold from her thoughts. The nighthunter made a deep coughing sound, its head jerked forward and from the broken-off horns beneath its jaws twin streams of dazzling flame jetted forth.

Suviel flinched as they struck the shield of her spell. Dense flames raged against the Cadence barrier, rivulets and tendrils clawing for purchase, but it held. Suviel could feel heat in her face and the thudding of her heart from the strain. Perspiration tingled on her scalp and neck, yet her mouth was dry.

As the fiery onslaught died away Avorst looked closely at her for a moment before launching another assault, then a third and a fourth. After each, the monster paused to examine Suviel who, by the fourth attack, was remaining upright by sheer force of will. Beside her Falin crouched with hands pressed tightly against his eyes. I had hoped that this spell would be enough to save us, she thought. Sadly, it seems not...

Just then, Avorst gestured to the other nighthunters as they circled - three paused, turned their heads towards Suviel and unleashed their fire. As the barrier was engulfed Suviel felt her last strength start to drain away, feeding the Cadence thought-canto. Her legs gave way and she fell to her knees, and harsh words rang in her mind.