The Hidden City (53 page)

‘We need those pillars for landmarks anyway,' Talen added, ‘and they're a lot brighter when the sun first comes up.'

‘That's
if
that bright spot we've been following really comes from those pillars,' Kalten said dubiously.

‘They got us here, didn't they? This
has
to be what Ogerajin called “the Plain of Bones”, doesn't it? I had my own doubts at first. Ogerajin was raving so much of the time that I was sure that he'd garbled at least some of the directions, but he hasn't led us astray yet.'

‘We still haven't seen the city, Talen,' Kalten reminded him, ‘so I'd sort of hold off on composing the letter of thanks.'

‘I've got all the money I'll ever need, Orden,' Krager said expansively, leaning back in his chair and looking out through the window at the buildings and the harbor of the port city of Delo. He took another drink of wine.

‘I wouldn't go around announcing that, Krager,' the burly Orden advised. ‘Particularly not here on the waterfront.'

‘I've hired some bodyguards, Orden. Can you ask around and find out if there's a fast ship leaving for Zenga in Cammoria in the next week or so?'

‘Why would anybody want to go to Zenga?'

‘I grew up there, and I'm homesick,' Krager replied
with a shrug. ‘Besides, I'd sort of like to grind a few faces – all the people who said that I'd come to no good end while I was growing up.'

‘Did you happen to come across a fellow named Ezek while you were in Natayos?' Orden asked. ‘I think he's a Deiran.'

‘The name rings a bell. I think he was working for the fellow who ran the tavern.'

‘I sent him down there,' Orden explained, ‘him and the other two – Col and Shallag. They were going to see if they could join Narstil's band of outlaws.'

‘They may have, but they were working in the tavern when I left.'

‘It's none of my business, but if you were doing so well in Natayos, why did you leave?'

‘Instincts, Orden,' Krager replied owlishly. I get this cold little feeling at the base of my skull, and I know that it's time to run. Have you ever heard of a man named Sparhawk?'

‘You mean Prince Sparhawk? Everybody's heard of him. He's got quite a reputation.'

‘Oh, yes. That he does. Anyway, Sparhawk's been looking for an opportunity to kill me for twenty years or so, and that's the sort of thing that puts a very fine edge on a man's instincts.' Krager took another long drink.

‘You might want to give some thought to drying out for a while,' Orden advised, looking meaningfully at Krager's tankard of Arcian red. ‘I run a tavern, and I've learned to recognize the signs. Your liver's starting to go on you, my friend. Your eyeballs are turning yellow.'

‘I'll cut down once I get out to sea.'

‘I think you'll have to do more than just cut down, Krager. You're going to have to give it up entirely if you want to go on living. Believe me, you
don't
want to die the way most drunkards do. I knew one once who
screamed for three straight weeks before he finally died. It was awful.'

‘There's nothing wrong with my liver,' Krager said truculently. ‘It's just the funny light in here. When I get out to sea, I'll space out my drinks. I'll be all right.' His face had a haunted expression, however, and the mere mention of giving up strong drink had set his hands to trembling violently.

Orden shrugged. He
had
tried to warn the man. ‘It's up to you, Krager,' he said. ‘I'll ask around and see if I can find a ship that'll get you out of Prince Sparhawk's reach.'

‘Soon, Orden. Soon.' Krager held out his tankard. ‘In the meantime, why don't we have another?'

Ekrasios and his party of Delphae reached Norenja late in the afternoon on a murky day when heavy clouds hung low over the treetops and there was not a breath of air moving. Ekrasios took his boyhood friend, Adras, and crept forward through the tangle of brush and vines to the edge of the clearing to survey the ruin.

‘Thinkest thou that they will offer resistance?' Adras asked quietly.

‘That is difficult to predict,' Ekrasios replied. ‘Anakha and his companions have advised that these rebels are poorly trained. Methinks their response to our sudden appearance will depend on the character of their officers. Better that we leave them a clear path to the surrounding forest. Should we encircle them, desperation will impel them to fight.'

Adras nodded. ‘They have made some effort to repair the gates,' he said, pointing at the entrance to the city.

‘The gates will pose no problem. I will instruct thee and our companions in the spell which doth modify the curse of Edaemus. Those newly-made gates are constructed
of wood, and wood is as susceptible to decay as is flesh.' He looked up at the dirty grey clouds. ‘Canst thou make any estimate as to the time of day?'

‘No more than two hours until dusk,' Adras replied.

‘Let us proceed then. We must find yet another gate to provide means of escape for those whom we would confront this night.'

‘And if there be none other?'

‘Then those who would escape must find their own way. I am reluctant to unleash the full force of the curse of Edaemus. Should necessity compel me to it, however, I will not shrink from that stern duty. Should they flee, well and good. Should they choose to stay and fight, we will do what we must. I do assure thee, Adras, that when tomorrow's sun rises, none living shall remain within the walls of Norenja.'

‘Good God!' Berit exclaimed, peering over the edge of the dry gully at the huge soldiers in close-fitting armor running westward across the sun-baked gravel. ‘They're
monsters!'

‘Keep your voice down,' Khalad cautioned. ‘There's no way of knowing how good their ears are.'

The strange, bestial soldiers were larger than Atans, and their burnished steel breastplates fit their torsos snugly, outlining each muscle. They wore helmets adorned with fanciful horns or wings, and the visors of those helmets were individualized, evidently forged to fit each warrior's face. They ran westward in a sort of ragged formation, and their hoarse gasping was clearly audible even at this distance.

‘Where are they going?' Berit demanded. ‘The border's off in the other direction.'

‘That one who's trailing along behind the others has a broken-off javelin sticking out of him,' Khalad replied. ‘I'd say that means that they've come up against
Tikume's Peloi. They've already been to the border, and now they're coming back.'

‘Back to where?' Berit was baffled. ‘Where can they go? They can't breathe here.'

Khalad cautiously poked his head above the rim of the gully and squinted out across the rocky desert. ‘They seem to be going toward that cluster of hills about a mile to the west.' He paused. ‘Just how curious are we feeling today, Berit?'

‘What have you got in mind?'

‘This gully comes down out of those hills, and if we follow it and keep our heads down, they won't see us. Why don't we drift off toward the west? I've got a strong feeling that we might find out something important if we tag along behind those fellows.'

Berit shrugged. ‘Why not?'

‘That's really not a very logical answer, Berit. I can think of a half-dozen reasons why not.' Khalad squinted at the panting soldiers lurching across the desert. ‘Let's do it anyway, though. For some reason, I think we should.'

They slid back down into the gully and led their horses along the dry watercourse toward the west.

They moved quietly along the bottom of the wash for about a quarter of an hour. ‘Are they still out there?' Berit whispered.

‘I'll look.' Khalad carefully climbed back up the steep bank to the rim of the gully and eased his head up far enough to look. Then he slid back down again. ‘They're still staggering toward the hills,' he reported. ‘This gully starts getting shallower on up ahead. Let's leave the horses here.'

They crept along, crouched over to stay out of sight, and as the gully started to run uphill, they found that they were forced to crawl on their hands and knees.

Khalad raised up slightly to look again. ‘They seem
to be swinging around behind that other hill,' he said quietly. ‘Let's slip up to the top of this ridge and see what's back there.'

The two of them crawled out of the now-shallow wash and slanted their way up to the ridge-line to a point from which they could see what lay behind the hill Khalad had pointed out.

It was a kind of shallow basin nestled down among the three hills that heaved up out of the surrounding desert. The basin was empty. ‘Where did they go?' Berit whispered.

‘That basin was the place they were making for,' Khalad insisted with a puzzled frown. ‘Wait. Here comes that one with the javelin in his belly.'

They watched the wounded soldier stumble into the basin, half-falling and rising again to drag himself along. He raised his masked face and bellowed something.

Khalad and Berit waited tensely.

Then two other soldiers emerged from a narrow opening in the side of one of the hills, descended to the floor of the basin, and half-dragged their injured comrade back up the hill and on into the mouth of the cave.

‘That answers that,' Khalad said. “They ran across miles of open desert to get to that cave.'

‘Why? What good will it do them?'

‘I haven't got a clue, Berit, but I still think it's important.' Khalad stood up. ‘Let's go back to where we left the horses. We can still cover a few more miles before the sun goes down.'

Ekrasios crouched at the edge of the forest waiting for the torches inside the walls of Norenja to burn down and for the sounds of human activity to subside. The events at Panem-Dea had confirmed the assessment of these rebels Lord Vanion had given him at Sarna. Given the slightest opportunity, these poorly-trained soldiers
would flee, and that suited Ekrasios very well. He was still somewhat reluctant to unleash the curse of Edaemus, and people who ran away did not have to be destroyed.

Adras returned, ghosting back to the edge of the jungle through the night mist. ‘All is in readiness, Ekrasios,' he reported quietly. ‘The gates will crumble at the merest touch.'

‘Let us then proceed,' Ekrasios replied, standing up and relaxing the rigid control that dimmed his inner light. ‘Let us pray that all within yon walls may flee.'

‘And if they do not?'

‘Then they must surely die. Our promise to Anakha binds us. We
will
empty yon ruin – in one fashion or the other.'

‘It's not so bad here,' Kalten said as they dismounted. ‘The bones are older, for one thing,' Necessity had compelled them to camp in the hideous boneyard the previous night, and they were all eager to reach the end of the horror.

Sparhawk grunted, looking across the intervening stretch of desert at the fractured basalt cliff that seemed to mark the eastern edge of the Forbidden Mountains. The sun had just come up above the eastern horizon, and its brilliant light reflected back from the pair of quartz-laced peaks rearing up out of the rusty black mountains just to the west.

‘Why are we stopping here?' Mirtai asked. That cliff's still a quarter of a mile away.'

‘I think we're supposed to line up on those two peaks,' Sparhawk replied. ‘Talen, can you remember Ogerajin's exact words?'

‘Let's see.' The boy frowned in concentration. Then he nodded shortly. ‘I've got it now,' he said.

‘How do you do that?' Bevier asked him curiously.

Talen shrugged. ‘There's a trick to it. You don't think about the words. You just concentrate on where you were when you heard them.' He lifted his face slightly, closed his eyes, and began to recite. ‘Beyond the Plain of Bones wilt thou come to the Gates of Illusion behind which lies concealed the Hidden City of Cyrga. The eye of mortal man cannot perceive those gates. Stark they stand as a fractured wall at the verge of the Forbidden Mountains to bar thy way. Bend thine eye, however, upon Cyrgon's two white pillars and direct thy steps toward the emptiness which doth lie between them. Trust not the evidence which thine eye doth present unto thee, for the solid-seeming wall is as mist and will not bar thy way.'

‘That didn't even sound like your own voice,' Bevier said.

‘That's part of the trick,' Talen explained. ‘That was Ogerajin's voice – sort of.'

‘All right then,' Sparhawk said. ‘Let's see if he really knew what he was talking about.' He squinted at the two brilliant points of reflected light. ‘There are the pillars,' He took a few steps to the right and shook his head. ‘From here they merge into one light.' Then he walked to the left. ‘It does the same thing here.' Then he went back to his original location. ‘This is the spot,' he said with a certain amount of excitement. ‘Those two peaks are very close together. If you move a few feet either way, you can't even see that gap between them. Unless you're really looking for it, you could miss it altogether.'

‘Oh, that's just fine, Talen,' Kalten said sarcastically. ‘If we go any closer, the cliff will block off our view of the peaks.'

Talen rolled his eyes upward.

‘What?' Kalten asked.

‘Just start walking toward the cliff, Kalten. Sparhawk
can stand here and keep his eyes on the gap. He'll tell you whether to go to the right or the left.'

‘Oh.' Kalten looked around at the others. ‘Don't make an issue of it,' he told them. Then he started off toward the cliff.

‘Veer to the right,' Sparhawk told him.

Kalten nodded and changed direction.

‘Too far. Back to the left a little.'

The blond Pandion continued toward the cliff, altering his direction in response to Sparhawk's shouted commands. When he reached the cliff, he went along slapping his hands on the face of the rock. Then he drew his heavy dagger, stuck it into the ground, and started back.