The Dreamtrails: The Obernewtyn Chronicles

by Isobelle Carmody

  I hesitated but could not resist going on, for I wanted to hear what was being said and get some idea of how many Herders there were. If I was truly fortunate, they would not be banded, and I could learn everything we needed to know from them. I walked very carefully now, anxious that I might alert the speakers to my approach. Even so, I stumbled several times, because the ramped earth that had leveled the tunnel higher up had given way to undulating stone.

  Finally, I stopped to remove my boots and tuck them under my arm, knowing that I could move more stealthily without them. I was very aware, too, that the speakers might suddenly decide to come along the tunnel. In that case, I would have no choice but to fly back to the cloister like a fox with hounds on its tail.

  The flow of air grew stronger, and there was a tantalizingly familiar scent in it. The air smelled of the sea!

  My mind raced, for though by my reckoning I had been moving constantly in the direction of the coast, I did not think I could have reached the cliffs. Then a thought struck me. At several places along this part of the coast, narrow inlets opened up and the sea flowed in. What if this tunnel opened into one of them? It was an intriguing idea, but even if a shipmaster could maneuver his vessel along such a narrow channel at high tide and manage to disgorge Herder warriors in a tunnel opening, how would the ship turn to leave?

  I was so intent on my thoughts that I tripped and fell sideways, stifling a cry and throwing out my hands, but there was nothing to catch ahold of. I landed with a sickening crunch.

  I OPENED MY eyes to pitchy blackness. Both hands were pressed against my body, and when I tried to move, pain lanced through my head. At first I thought I had been captured and tied up, but there were no bindings about my wrists or body. I could not move because there was stone all about me. Swallowing hard, I told myself I must have fallen sideways into a crevice running off from the tunnel, and now I was wedged there. I felt about with my fingers and toes and butted my head gently forward, trying to get an idea of the space into which I had fallen, but to my dismay, the movement caused me to slip farther down into the crack.

  Suppressing panic, I lay completely still, willing myself to calmness. I felt extraordinarily weary, which meant that my body had been draining my energy to repair whatever damage I had done in the fall.

  Ruthlessly, I quashed fear and imagination and commanded myself to think, for only I could get myself out of the predicament into which I had literally fallen. Using my fingertips and toes, I began very slowly and carefully to ease myself back up the crack. Only because I had fallen sideways into the cleft instead of headfirst did I notice the play of light against the stone as I inched myself upward. I froze and saw that the light was growing stronger, which could only mean that someone was coming along the tunnel with a lantern.

  I kept my eyes fixed on the crack, for if it was Wenda, I would have only one chance to call out softly and stop her from blundering into whatever lay at the end of the tunnel. Then I became aware of the thud of feet; not just the feet of one person, but of many people marching in time. Surely that could mean only one thing: The invasion was under way!

  At least I am not a captive, I told myself, fighting a wave of despair. Once the marchers had passed, I would have to go in the opposite direction to warn the others. But what of Wenda?

  The light grew brighter, and now I could feel the vibration of the marchers’ boots through the stone. Soon they were passing the opening: an endless line of grim-faced, shaven-headed Herders in dark gray robes moving up the tunnel toward the cloister. Save for the color of their attire, they looked no different from any other Herders, except they were more powerful-looking, and I seemed to feel their relentless purpose. These must be the warrior priests Noviny had described. No wonder Malik had looked at me in triumph. He had known that the invasion force was on the verge of arriving.

  I willed the column to end so I could renew my efforts to escape the crack, praying that Wenda would hear the thud of the Herders’ feet if she was coming along the tunnel.

  By the time the last warrior had passed, my whole body ached with tension, but I did not move until the light had faded completely, and even then I lay for a time listening.

  Finally, I gathered my courage and strength and began moving myself carefully back up the crevice. Once I managed to get one arm free, it was easier, though I muttered a curse at the realization that I must have dropped my boots into the crack when I fell.

  Back in the tunnel I took a deep breath, considered a moment, and then set off in the same direction as before, for I reasoned that I would sooner or later reach the tunnel’s end. The only trouble was that the tunnel was still angling down.

  After a time, I heard someone speak again and froze. He sounded quite near, and a faint light showed ahead. These things and the draft suggested I was right about the tunnel ending in steps or a shaft that led to the surface. Elated to think I might be able to escape the tunnel in time to warn the others, for the marchers could not possible have reached the cloister yet, I hastened my steps.

  Suddenly, the tunnel curved into a large cavern. I stopped dead, unable to see into the cavern properly because of the angle at which the tunnel entered it. There were chinks of fire or lantern light high up, and I decided to climb the inner wall that separated the end of the tunnel from the cavern to see what was there.

  The cavern was enormous, with the same undulating stone floor and walls as the tunnel, and the light came from a small fire built in a pit. From the blackened patches in other places, it looked as if there had been many fires lit. This and the number of bedrolls strewn about made it clear that the invaders had been here for some time. The warrior priests I had seen must have come ashore and hidden here.

  The sole occupants now, however, were two inner-circle Herder priests, each sitting on either side of the fire. One was elderly and wore the golden armband of an inner-cadre priest. This made him the likely commander, so why had he remained here when the warrior priests had marched up to the cloister? Unfortunately, both priests were banded, as the marchers had been, so I could not probe them.

  A gust of sea-scented air blew through the small hole in the stone wall I clung to, and I could actually hear the muted boom of waves, and I thought again that the tunnel must lead to one of the inlets.

  The lesser of the priests began to speak. “Salamander said he wants as little killing or maiming as possible because it is a waste.”

  “What Salamander wants is irrelevant,” said the senior priest coldly. “The One feels that a high number of deaths is desirable, both as a lesson and to cut down the corrupted population, which has accepted the dominion of freaks and Luddamned mutants. Once the Land is stabilized, we will breed a people without such undesirable tendencies as courage, inquisitiveness, and aggression. Far better to have a population born to obedience. The idea is to have a population that knows nothing but slavery and reveres its masters as superior beings that rule by Lud’s will.”

  The two were silent awhile; then the younger spoke again. “What is the relationship between Salamander and Ariel? I have always wondered.”

  “It is my understanding that they met over the sale of the rabble left after the firestorm that destroyed Henry Druid’s secret settlement. During that exchange, Ariel suggested to Salamander that he might serve himself in serving us.”

  “Salamander must be wealthy beyond the dreams of ordinary men, and yet he is ever greedy for more slaves to sell. And his greed is matched by the greed of those who rule the Red Land for slaves to work their mines.”

  “Only after he began to serve the Faction did Salamander acquire real power and wealth. The One says that this is a sign he is doing as Lud requires.”

  “Even so, it seems strange to me that, despite the new ships he has purchased, he continues to master the Black Ship,” said the younger priest.

  The older man shrugged. “The Black Ship is unique, both in its ability to attack other ships at sea and its capacity to carry men. It is because he agreed to
take part in this invasion that we were able to bring as many Hedra as we have. His Black Ship alone took double the number of the other two ships.”

  Crouched precariously upon the high stone ledge, I frowned. Surely far more men than I had seen marching along the tunnel would have fit on three ships, especially if one of them was Salamander’s Black Ship. But if that was so, then where were they?

  “… his price was the rebels and their supporters alive and saleable,” the younger priest was pointing out. “Which is why he desires as few deaths as possible.”

  “He will have slaves aplenty after this day’s work, regardless of how many are killed in the invasion,” the older priest said indifferently.

  The pair was silent for a time, and the younger priest said, “I am told that those who rule the Red Land are heathens who do not believe in Lud. I have wondered sometimes whether it can please Lud that we enable Salamander to send them so many slaves.”

  “The purifying flame will sear the Red Land someday. Lud will suffer no unbelievers. But Ariel has been to the Red Land, and he assures the One that his influence is strong there. When the time is right and Lud wills it, Ariel will open the way for the Faction.”

  “What do you suppose motivates him? Ariel, I mean,” the younger priest asked, now adding wood to the fire. “There are times when his words make me doubt his faith.”

  “That had troubled me on occasion, as it has others among our brethren. But though he is high-handed and arrogant, Ariel has served us well. He, after all, proposed allowing the rebels to overtake the Council in this part of the Land in order to lessen the power of the Councilmen. And he suggested that this Malik would be willing to open a way for our invasion. Even these were his ideas and his invention,” added the priest, tapping at the demon band about his neck with a grimace. “I wish he would find some way to protect us from the taint, but at least we need wear them only on land.”

  “Is it true that he also suggested building a force of our own warriors who would be pure in mind and body? Who would fight not for glory or gain, but for Lud?”

  “Yes, the creation of the Hedra was his idea, and it so pleased the One that he agreed to let Ariel build his own dwelling on Norseland. It is a pity he won such decisive favor with the One.”

  The younger priest frowned. “I do not understand.”

  “Well, Ariel has great influence with the One, and there are times when we have been glad of it. But there are also times when Ariel makes speeches to the One about Lud and retribution and the Herders being chosen to rule the world, which render the One … very excitable. And when the One is excitable, there is almost always blood. Sometimes the bloodletting is less than convenient. More than once, good informants have been rent limb from limb because the One required them to be purified immediately.”

  “I heard that the One wanted every single man, woman, and child in the Land slain,” said the younger priest, lowering his voice as if the words shocked even him.

  “The One is very pure. How should he not be when he is so dear to Lud and knows his grief at the waywardness of his children? But on this occasion, Lud, in his infinite wisdom, prompted Ariel to offer words to the One that stayed his hand.”

  “Are you saying that Ariel influenced the One?” asked the younger priest, sounding shocked.

  “Of course not,” snapped the older. “Naturally, being the chosen first of Lud, the One is incapable of being influenced by lesser beings. Say rather that Ariel is the instrument of Lud, and for this reason, you must take care never to speak against him. Even some of the questions you have asked me might be cause enough for the One to become … excitable. Remember what happened to the last priest who questioned Ariel’s motives? They say he died screaming, driven mad by Lud for his blasphemy.”

  “All who displease Lud die screaming and raving,” the younger priest said piously.

  “It is one thing for slaves and novices to be put to death,” the older man said querulously, “and quite another for inner-circle priests to suffer the same rough end. The priest who died was as I am, an inner-circle Nine, for Lud’s sake! And his death meant a host of others had to be put to death, because they had sworn loyalty to him. It was an unnecessary violence.…”

  “It is rumored that the One offered to make Ariel a Nine, and he refused. He told the One that Lud desired him to serve the Faction as an outsider, until such time as the Herders had dominion over the world.”

  The older priest said nothing, and the younger priest glanced at him, then leaned forward to gaze moodily into the fire. I sat back on my heels. The exchange between the priests was fascinating, but I could not sit up here forever like a roosting pigeon when anything might be transpiring above us.

  I readied myself to climb back down, but a movement caught my eye. It had come from the shadowed end of the cavern, and I gaped to see a man emerge from the darkness. He was tall and lean and swatched in a hooded black cloak that made it impossible to tell if he was a warrior priest or an ordinary priest. But when he reached the two by the fire, he pushed the hood back. I saw that, instead of being shaven, his head was entirely covered in a loose black cloth similar to that worn by the nomadic Sadorians when they travel across the blazing white heart of their desert land, only he also wore black bandages about his face, concealing all but fierce yellow eyes.

  Salamander.

  If I had not been holding my breath, I would surely have gasped aloud, so great was my surprise, for seldom did anyone see the infamous slaver so close, let alone so far from the sea and his Black Ship. I wondered what he hid so carefully under all those layers of black, since a simple mask would have disguised his identity well enough. It took only a moment to confirm that he wore a demon band.

  “Where is Malik?” Salamander asked. His voice was deep and smooth, but the words were distinct despite being slightly muffled by the cloth over his face.

  “He has not come. I think we must assume that something has gone wrong,” the older priest said.

  “It matters not,” said Salamander. “If he has been exposed, Ariel has made sure the rebels will get nothing out of him. When one of the freaks attempts to read Malik’s mind, it will collapse, taking the intruder’s mind with it.”

  “And if they torture him physically?” the younger priest inquired.

  “He will not be tortured,” said the other priest with a sneering laugh. “The boy chieftain does not approve of torturing prisoners.”

  “Then we proceed with the next stage of the invasion?” Salamander asked.

  “Yes,” the older priest said. “The Hedra will soon be in place in the cloister.”

  “We must leave at once,” Salamander said decisively.

  The priests gathered up their cloaks and slung cloth bags over their shoulders while Salamander took up a resin torch, lit it, and then kicked the fire apart. When the priests announced themselves ready, he turned without hesitation and began to walk back the way he had come.

  They disappeared into the shadows at the far end of the cavern, taking the lantern light with them, and I realized that I had been right. There was a way to the surface from this end of the tunnel! Fortunately, there was a faint glow from the embers of the fire, and I climbed down from my ledge and hurried after the three men, picking my way around bedrolls and other obstacles.

  Thinking of what I had overheard, I realized that if Rushton and the others had not ridden into Saithwold when they had, I would have coerced Malik and died. Was that why Maryon had sent the others after me? Instead, another coercer would die trying to probe him. Surely that would make Dardelan realize something was wrong and send a force of fighters to Saithwold.

  I had reached the shadows now and saw another tunnel leading off the chamber. It was dark and had a dank smell that made me gag, but there was light ahead. I went toward it carefully, because I did not want to stumble into Salamander and the priests. Gradually, the drumming of the waves grew louder and the briny reek of the sea stronger.

  At the end of
the tunnel, I peeped out. What I saw took my breath away.

  Before me was a cavern many times larger than the one where the priests had sat, but instead of being floored in stone, there was a vast pool of water that reflected a great opening in the side of the cavern. Daylight flowed through it, and I could see the sea washing against the stony spikes that edged the opening. But I could not see the sky, only a long, sun-streaked stretch of cliff wall, which told me that I was looking into one of the narrows. But the truly astonishing thing—the impossible thing—was that three greatships were floating on the cavern lake, one of them as large as the giant Sadorian spicewood vessels. Its black hull told me it was the infamous Black Ship mastered by Salamander.

  He and the two priests had reached the edge of the lake, where a ship boat had been pulled onto the steeply sloping stone shore. As I watched the three men climb into it, my head rang with the strangeness of what I was seeing, for how had the ships got into the cavern? Obviously the sea would flow into the cavern at high tide, but a ship could not possibly pass through the stone spikes.

  But then I saw that this was not quite true. There was one section where there were no stone spikes, but it was barely the width of the Black Ship.

  The ship boat had almost reached the Black Ship, and I was struck again by its similarity to Sadorian ships. But there were many additional constructions on the Black Ship’s deck, not to mention the great ugly bulb of wood and metal spikes protruding from the prow, which must be used as a battering ram.

  So absorbed was I in my examination of the ship, I did not immediately notice how many people stood on its deck, and when I did, I looked at the other ships and saw that it was the same. At least as many gray-clad warriors stood upon the three ships as I had seen marching up the tunnel. Doubtless the rest were to be set down on the beach where Malik had received the crates from the Herders, or divided among all three beach accesses to the Land in Saithwold province. The Faction had left nothing to chance.