by Simon Hawke
“I cannot believe my eyes,” said Sorak, staring at the hoard with fascination. “Is all this real?”
“Yes, it is real,” said Kara. “Gathered over the years from all over the city and placed here by the undead, who were driven by some vague instinct left over from their days among the living, when they came to Bodach seeking riches, and found instead an eternal living death. Each night, if there is no prey within the city for them to pursue, they shamble through the ruined buildings and the cellars and the storehouses, seeking the wealth they once came here to find. An old chest of jewels in the residence of some long-dead aristocrat, a ceremonial golden dagger in a dusty council chamber, found by some animated corpse and polished lovingly, then brought here and dumped with all the rest. Bit by bit, the horde accumulates. It is much larger now than when first I came.”
“But… why do they bring it here?” asked Sorak.
Kara shrugged. “I cannot say. The undead are not rational creatures. Their minds, if they have not rotted away, are incapable of coherent thought. They are like simple beasts, driven by hunger and by instincts they cannot truly understand. If they were not so horrifying and so dangerous, they would be pathetic.”
“And the Breastplate of Argentum is somewhere among all this?” said Sorak, aghast. “How could we ever find it?”
“It was not here when I first came to Bodach,” Kara said. “Of course, I was not searching for it then, but for something else entirely. However, when I found this precious horde, I detected nothing magical within it. Since then, they may have found the talisman and brought it here. They would not know what it was. To the undead, it would merely be a breastplate made of silver. But if it is here, at least it will not be near the bottom of the pile.”
“But even so, finding it among all this would take forever!” said Ryana with a sinking feeling as she realized the sheer impossibility of searching through all the treasure piled before them. “And we have only hours until nightfall!” The task seemed utterly impossible and hopeless. “We shall never find it if it lies buried among all this!”
“Perhaps not,” said Kara. “But this had to be the first place for us to look. If there is now a magical talisman within this horde, I shall know it in a moment. But I can detect only the aura of its magic. I cannot be absolutely certain it is the talisman we seek. Still, it would have enormous power, and that should help identify it.”
She closed her eyes and held her hands out toward the treasure horde, palms facing down. Sorak and Ryana held their breath as Kara slowly moved her hands in a gradual, sweeping motion.
“Yes,” she said, after a moment. “There is something… something very strong…”
“Where?” asked Sorak, scanning the pile anxiously.
A moment,” Kara said, trying to localize the aura she was picking up. She opened her eyes. “There,” she said, pointing. “At the far end of the pool, near the righthand corner.”
Sorak and Ryana ran to the area she indicated and stared down at the pile of treasure in the nearly drained pool. “I do not see anything that looks the way it was described,” said Sorak. “Can you pinpoint the location more precisely?”
Kara came over to them. “I will try,” she said. She closed her eyes and held her hands out once again. “There,” she said, pointing to an area roughly four feet out from the side of the pool.
Sorak started to lower himself over the side, but. Ryana stopped him. “No, not like that,” she said. “It would take forever to sort through it all by hand, and you may cut yourself on something in the pile. It would be much better if we used the Way.”
“Of course,” he said with a grimace. “How stupid of me. In my enthusiasm, I simply was not thinking.”
They both stood beside the pool. Ryana closed her eyes and concentrated as Sorak slipped back and allowed the Guardian to come forth. Kara stood by, concentrating on the magical aura of the talisman to help guide them in their efforts.
For a moment, nothing happened, and then several of the objects on top of the pile of treasure shifted slightly with a clinking sound. Then they rose up into the air, as if something had forced them up from underneath, and the next moment, it was as if another fountain had suddenly been turned on, an invisible fountain that spewed pieces of the treasure horde up into the air, flying outward from the spot Kara had indicated and landing atop the treasure pile several feet away.
As the Guardian and Ryana combined their telekinetic powers, jewels and coins seemed to erupt into the air, sparkling in the firelight from the braziers. Necklaces and rings and bracelets made of gold and silver and studded with precious stones flew up and landed a short distance away, raining down upon the pile of treasure with metallic, clinking sounds. As bits and pieces of the treasure horde were thrown up into the air, Sorak, Ryana, and Kara watched for the glint of silver breastplate made of chain mail.
Sorak was reminded of the exercises they had done as children back at the villichi convent, lifting objects into the air with the power of their minds and holding them there for as long as they could, juggling balls and making them describe graceful arabesques in midair. As a boy, he had found those exercises difficult, frustrating, and pointless, and could never move so much as one little ball with the power of his mind, no matter how hard he concentrated. He would exert himself until his face turned red and sweat started to break out on his forehead, all to no avail, only to execute the exercise successfully the moment he gave up. He had not known then that it was not he but the Guardian who was doing it, that he himself had no psionic powers, but that others of the tribe did. He had not yet known about the tribe then. All he knew back then was that there were periods when he seemed to black out, often to awaken somewhere else, with no memory of what he had been doing or how he got there. With the help of Varanna, High Mistress of the villichi sisterhood, he had discovered the truth about his other personalities, and she had helped him forge a link with them so that they could all work together instead of competing for control of the same body. The Guardian, as the strong, maternal, balancing force among, them, had worked together with Varanna to help the tribe find a sense of unity and cohesiveness.
Now, all Sorak had to do was slip back slightly so that he was still aware of what was: going on but watching, with no real control over his body, as the Guardian came to the fore and brought her strong psionic powers into play. With Ryana adding her ability to the Guardian’s, object after precious object sailed up into the air, as if some indefatigable invisible worker were throwing up shovelfuls of treasure that spun, glittering, through the air. Precious coins that had not been minted in any Athasian city for countless generations because of the rarity of metals pattered down by the dozens like gold and silver rain drops. Daggers made of elven steel, a long and complex forging process that had been forgotten for several thousand years, came up from the shining horde and fell again, to be buried once more under hammered gold tiaras and silver girdles, intricately worked pieces of ceremonial armor. All gave testimony to an age when Athas had been a very different world. It glowed as it came up from the pile, its glow was not immediately perceptible, merely a faint, blue aura that could have been nothing more than a trick of the firelight from the braziers. But now, as it floated in midair above the treasure horde, they could see that it was, indeed, glowing with some inner power of its world, indeed, abundant in the natural resources that had provided the metals and the gems for the construction of these ornaments by master craftsmen, whose descendants saw such materials only rarely, in the form of ancient, cherished heirlooms handed down through the generations among the old families of the wealthy aristocracy.
A depression began to form in the area of the pool that they were excavating in this unique manner. Bits of treasure started sliding down into it, only to be thrown up again and hurled aside. The tinkling and chinking of metallic objects made a strange, ethereal sound as it continued, like some giant, many-stranded wind chime being blown about. And then Kara cried out, “There!”
On
e by one, the pieces of treasure filling the air fell to the surface of the pile until only one object remained, held up by the power of the Guardian’s psionic talent. And among the other objects making up the treasure horde, this one looked dull and ordinary except for one thing that set it apart from all the other pieces they had seen.
It was a breastplate made of small, intricate links of gleaming, silver chain mail, not really a proper breastplate at all, since no metal plate was used. It seemed a peculiar and impractical piece since it was designed in such a fashion that it covered only the chest, leaving the back, arms, and shoulders unprotected. It looked like ceremonial armor, the wearer’s back remaining comfortably bare beneath a light cape or cloak. The breastplate was constructed to be fastened around the neck and waist, covering only the front part of the upper torso from the waist to the collarbone. But there own.
“The Breastplate of Argentum,” Kara said softly. “I have heard of it in legends, but I had never truly thought to see it for myself.”
The talisman floated over to Sorak, guided by the Guardian, and she then slipped back as he came to the fore once again. The glowing talisman dropped into his waiting hands. It was heavier than it looked.
“What is its purpose?” Sorak asked, staring down at it. “What is the nature of its spell?”
“Put it on,” said Kara with a smile.
Sorak glanced up at her uncertainly, then did as she had told him. He fastened it around his neck, then again at the waist, feeling the weight of it… and something else, as well. As he put it on, his chest began to tingle strangely, as if with hundreds of tiny, minute pinpricks. It was not painful, but it felt similar to the sensation he’d experienced when he sat too long in one position and his legs would fall asleep.
The sensation spread quickly to his arms and legs, and the blue glow grew brighter for an instant, flaring briefly, then subsiding as it seemed to fade into him. And when blue glow of the talisman faded from sight… so did he.
“Sorak!” Ryana cried out with alarm. It had happened quickly. Just a brief flaring of the blue glow, and then he faded away, completely disappearing from sight.
“What is it?” his disembodied voice asked, speaking from where he had stood a moment earlier, and apparently still stood, though Ryana could not see a thing. It was as if he wasn’t even there.
“Sorak?” asked Ryana, straining to catch some glimpse of him. She could tell from the sound of his voice that he stood right in front of her, but she saw absolutely nothing.
“What?” he asked again. “What’s wrong, Ryana? You seem alarmed. What is the matter?”
She stretched her hand out tentatively until she felt it come in contact with his face, and then she jerked it back again.
“What are you doing?” he asked irritably. And then, realizing that something was wrong from the expression on her face, he nervously added, “Has something happened to me?”
“You’re… you’re not there!” she said with astonishment.
“What are you talking about? Of course, I am here. I am standing right in front of you! Can’t you see me?”
“No,” she said, in a small, frightened voice. “You have become invisible!”
For a moment, he was silent. He raised his hand up in front of his face. He could see it clearly, but apparently, Ryana could not see a thing. He stepped around quietly behind her. She continued staring at the spot where he had stood a moment earlier. He tapped her on the shoulder. She gasped and spun around, her gaze searching for him in vain.
“You really cannot see me?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Kara?” he asked. “Can you see me?”
“I can hear you,” she replied, her senses being sharper than any human’s. “I can hear the faint fall of your footsteps, and in the stillness, I can hear your breathing. But I cannot see you. No one can, Sorak, not so long as you wear the Breastplate of Argentum.”
“A talisman of invisibility!” said Sorak with wonder. He tiptoed around behind Ryana and once again tapped her on the shoulder. She jerked around, startled.
“Stop that!” she said. “Where are you?” He chuckled. “This is fun,” he said. “Well, I don’t think it’s very funny,” she replied, irritably. “Take it off!”
“Not yet,” he said, and Ryana heard the soft fall of his footsteps as he moved around her. “This is a strange and wondrous experience! I feel no different, save for a momentary, curious tingling sensation that I felt when I first put it on. I see everything clearly, just as before. I look down at my legs, and I can still see them. I hold my hand up before my face, and I can see it, too. But you and Kara see nothing? Not even the faintest disturbance in the air?”
Ryana shook her head. “No, not a thing,” she said. “And it is most unsettling. I wish that you would take it off.”
“What about the undead, Kara?” Sorak asked. “Would I be invisible to them, as well?”
“Most of the undead no longer have eyes,” said Kara, “yet still they ‘see,’ in a manner of speaking. They would sense your presence. Unfortunately, the Breastplate of Argentum would not safeguard you from them.”
“Pity,” Sorak said. “Does it do anything else?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Kara replied. “But it is imbued with an ancient, eldritch power that perhaps the Sage would use in some other way. I cannot tell. I am a pyreen and a druid, not a sorceress. Only the Sage could tell you what use he would make of its enchantment.”
“Where is the Sage?” Ryana asked her. “Do you know? Can’t you tell us? Is he near?”
“No,” said Kara. “He is very far away. But in another sense, he is nearer than you think.”
Ryana sighed with exasperation. “Do you never reply with anything but riddles, my lady?”
Kara smiled. “Sometimes,” she said. “And speaking of time, we had best be on our way if we do not wish Valsavis to find us.”
“He has already found you,” came a familiar voice, echoing through the chamber.
Kara and Ryana turned quickly to see Valsavis step into the room, his sword drawn.
“Did you really think you could leave me behind so easily?” he said. “And did you truly believe you could mislead me by leaving your flying platform in plain sight on the other side of the city? Or did you forget that a roc can spy its prey from a great distance, hundreds of feet above the—” and then his words caught in his throat as he saw the treasure horde spread out before him in the pool. “Gith’s blood!” he swore.
Ryana gazed at him impassively from the other end of the chamber. “Yes, Valsavis,” she said. “You have found the fabled, lost treasure of Bodach. And you are more than welcome to it. It should make you rich beyond your wildest dreams. Richer than any aristocrat, wealthier even than any sorcerer-king, including Nibenay, your master. Though, of course, how you will transport it may prove something of a problem.”
As she spoke, Sorak, still wearing the enchanted talisman, quietly began to circle around the pool.
“Where is the elfling?” Valsavis said, recovering from his astonishment. “Who?” asked Ryana innocently. Valsavis glanced quickly around the chamber. “He is here somewhere,” he said. “If you think to trick me, then—” and suddenly he paused, listening intently.
Sorak glanced down at his feet and silently cursed. His foot had struck a bracelet that had landed on the lip of the pool and knocked it in. It fell into the treasure pile with a clinking sound.
“Are you jumping at shadows now, Valsavis?” asked Ryana, seeking to distract him. She could not tell where Sorak was, but she could guess what he was doing.
“Sorak!” Valsavis called out. “I know you’re there! I heard you moving! Come out where I can see you!” Sorak did not reply. He continued moving toward Valsavis, placing his feet softly and carefully.
“Why do you hide, Sorak?” asked Valsavis, his gaze sweeping the chamber. “What do you have to fear from me? You are a master of
the Way, with a magic sword no other weapon can withstand. And I… I am only one old man, with no talismans or magic weapons. No psionic powers. Am I such a threat to you?”
“Not you, Valsavis, but your master, the Shadow King,” said Ryana, hoping to draw his attention and cover up any sounds Sorak might make.
Valsavis felt a tingling on his left hand as the eyelid of the ring opened.
Kara frowned and quickly held out her hand toward him. “Nibenay is here!” she said with alarm.
“I can sense his presence!”
Sorak slowly drew his sword. And as he did so, Ryana gasped involuntarily. Sorak was still unseen, but Galdra’s magic blade was clearly visible. The magic of the Breastplate of Argentum did not affect the enchanted elven steel. And Sorak did not know it.
Valsavis saw the blade approaching, apparently floating toward him of its own accord, and quickly turned to face it, his eyes growing wide with surprise. At once, he took a fighting stance.
“Sorak!” Ryana called out. “Your blade! He can see it!”
Startled, Sorak stopped, still about eight or nine feet from the mercenary.
“So,” Valsavis said, “that is the power of the talisman. It confers invisibility.” He snorted with derision. “Were you so afraid to face me that you had to approach by stealth?”
Sorak reached behind him with his left hand and unfastened the breastplate, first at the waist, then at the neck. It fell to the ground at his feet, rendering him visible once more. “Very well,” he said. “Now you see me. The next move is yours, Valsavis.”
