Mitchell Graham - [Fifth Ring 03] - The Ancient Legacy(V1.0)

by Mitchell Graham

  The sailor who was arguing finally succeeded in pulling

  the satchel away and a small wooden box fell out, hitting the ground with a thud.

  An expression of panic appeared on the priest's face. He reached down, snatched up the box and started running.

  "Stop that man," shouted Fikes.

  Mathew and four sailors gave chase. The priest ran like he was possessed and only came to a stop when the edge of the hill loomed in front of him. They were at the steep­est part of the plateau, with the ocean a good two hundred feet below them. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks could be heard. Wild-eyed, the priest looked around for a means of escape.

  Mathew took a moment to catch his breath and held up his hands in a placating gesture.

  "Father, my name is Thaddeus Lane. I am an officer onboard the Daedalus, that ship in the harbor. I regret what has happened, but I assure you no harm will come to you. I give you my word."

  The moment he took a step forward, the priest took a step back. The priest glanced over his shoulder at the rocks below.

  "What's he carrying there?" asked one of the men be­hind Mathew.

  "Quiet, men."

  Clearly the small box of polished wood was of great importance to the priest; so much so that Mathew could tell he was thinking about jumping to his death to protect it. One look at the man's face was enough to convince him.

  "Father," Mathew said, "this is not worth dying over. I don't know what happened to the temple, and I'm truly sorry for it, but—"

  "Sorry? You come here as invaders and thieves, attack a house of God, then apologize for murdering your vic­tims. Your sorrow is touching, young man, but my faith in miracles is already stretched to the limit."

  "I'll bet he's got black powder in that box, Mr. Lane," a sailor said.

  The rest of the men took a step backward.

  "Stay where you are," Mathew snapped.

  Elton Fikes and several other sailors reached them a few seconds later. "What goes on here, Lane?" Fikes asked.

  "I was telling this gentleman that we mean him no harm. Father, this is my senior officer, Elton Fikes."

  The priest looked from Mathew to Fikes and said nothing.

  "He's trying to steal black powder, Mr. Fikes," some­one said.

  "Place the box on the ground and step away from it please, Father," Mathew said.

  But the priest made no move to comply. He took an­other step back.

  "He could be stealing treasure, Mr. Fikes," Pilcher said.

  "Hold your tongue," Mathew shot back. "If we require your opinion, we'll ask—"

  Mathew never got a chance to finish his sentence for without warning, the priest spun around and faced the ocean. He was clearly preparing to jump, and would have done so had not the hilt of a knife suddenly appeared be­tween his shoulder blades. His back arched and the box fell to the ground. The priest staggered sideways, one hand reaching out for it. Too late Mathew lunged to catch him. Without a sound he toppled over the edge of the cliff.

  Fikes dashed to the ledge and looked down. The priest's broken body lay on the rocks below.

  "Dear God. Who threw that knife?" Fikes said, round­ing on the men.

  " 'Twas me, Mr. Fikes," Pilcher replied. "I was just do­ing me duty to prevent him from escaping with any trea­sure, like the captain told us."

  It was all Mathew could do not to knock the man down. But that was exactly what the captain had said.

  Fikes rubbed his face with his hands. "Well, you've

  done your duty. Now gather the rest of the men and make ready to return to the ship."

  "But ain't we gonna see—"

  "One more word out of you, Pilcher, and you'll find yourself lashed to the ship's wheel. Now get out of my sight."

  Pilcher shrugged. He and the other men began walking back to what was left of the temple. Mathew waited until they were gone and picked up the box.

  "What have we got there, Thaddeus?" Fikes asked.

  Mathew tried the lid and found it locked. "I don't know."

  "This was so important a man was willing to die for it?" Fikes said.

  "It's a lockbox of some sort," Mathew said, turning one of the dials. He moved the box back and forth gently. "There's something inside."

  "Can you open it?"

  Mathew shook his head. "I've seen one of these before. The Vargothans use them to send messages. There's prob­ably a vial of acid attached to the lid. Unless we open the locks in the right order, it will break and destroy what-ever's in there, assuming it hasn't done so already."

  Fikes frowned. "I suppose we should bring it to the captain and let him decide what to do."

  "I suppose."

  Mathew and his senior officer started back down the hill together.

  2

  Corrato, Capital of Nyngary

  Eldar d'Elso sat with his daughter on the balcony that overlooked the palace's formal gardens. The sound of water could be heard coming from a magnificent foun­tain two stories beneath them. The fountain was a du­plicate of the one Karas Duren had built shortly before his death. Despite the cost, Eldar had installed it at his daughter's request. Though she seemed quite taken with it, such things had never particularly interested him. His own leanings were more toward books and poetry, but he had a tendency to be indulgent where his only child was concerned.

  The king watched Teanna as she stared down at the fountain. So much like her mother, he thought.

  A pang of sadness touched him. Eldar smiled and con­tinued to study her. His daughter was two inches taller than he was.

  His wife and her insane brother, Karas, had wanted to unite the world under their banner, and they might well have succeeded had it not been for an Elgarian farm boy named Mathew Lewin. Now they were all dead.

  A terrible waste, Eldar thought, not for the first time. "You haven't touched your eggs," he said.

  "I'm not very hungry, Father."

  "But you'll need your strength if you're going riding with Remy this morning."

  Teanna made a face at the mention of Remy's name.

  She took a deep breath and let it out. "I guess so," she added with little enthusiasm.

  The king noted the tone in her voice and looked at his daughter more closely. Crown Prince of Sibuyan, Remy Chambertin was the fifth suitor to seek Teanna's favor in the last three years. The Sibuyan not only had a strong economy, they were a significant military presence. A marriage into their family would cement relations be­tween the two countries and ensure the defense of Nyn-gary's northern border. Remy was a polite and charming young fellow, but Teanna had shown as little interest in his advances as those of his predecessors.

  Twenty-three hardly qualified her as an old maid, but the king felt that it was high time his daughter got on with her life. It had taken her nearly a year to recover from the knife wound she'd received in Sennia. According to the physicians, it was a miracle she survived at all. The rose gold ring on her right hand had a great deal to do with that, of course. Eldar didn't understand the rings, nor how they accessed the Ancients' machine buried deep under the sur­face of the world, but he accepted their reality as a fact.

  With Marsa, Karas, and the Lewin boy dead, his daughter was the only one alive who could now use it, giv­ing her access to unimaginable power. She could bring en­tire cities crashing down with just a thought, if she chose. Strangely, after her trip to Sennia, Teanna had pulled more into herself. She was an observer of things, reserved in her speech, and generally gave little indication as to what she was thinking.

  Eldar stood up, came around the table and held out his hand. He led Teanna into the drawing room, away from the distraction of the fountain, and they sat down on the couch together.

  "Why don't you tell me what's bothering you," he said.

  "It's nothing."

  Eldar lifted one eyebrow and waited. Teanna met his eyes for a moment and then glanced away. She curled her legs under her and rested her head on her father's chest. Neither spoke.


  "I've been thinking about Mathew lately," she finally said.

  "Ah."

  "I had a dream about him the other night. Do you find that odd?"

  "A little," Eldar replied, giving her shoulders a squeeze. "He's been dead for some time now."

  "I know. It just feels different."

  "Feels different?"

  "When Uncle Karas died there was a finality. I knew it the moment it happened. I've never had the same feeling where Mathew was concerned."

  "But wasn't the young man killed during the fighting in Sennia?"

  "I thought so at the time, but I've never been com­pletely sure. They never found his body, you know."

  "I was under the impression that an Elgarian constable identified the remains," Eldar said.

  "Cousin Eric was never positive about it either."

  "Are you thinking that he might still be alive?"

  Teanna shook her head. "I don't know. It's difficult to explain. It's just a feeling I get.. . but it's been growing stronger, I even had a dream about it last night."

  "Do you want to talk about it?"

  For a moment it looked as if Teanna was going to say something, but then changed her mind. "No, not right now. Do you mind, Father?"

  "Of course not. It's just that you're my only daughter and I don't like to see you upset. I'll be here if you need me."

  Teanna hugged him. "Promise. Promise you'll always be here, Father."

  Eldar smiled and kissed the top of her head. "You have my word as the king on it. Am I correct that you had feel­ings for this boy?"

  Several seconds passed before he got a response.

  "I was a lot younger then. You do a lot of silly things when you're young. It's just that we were unique ... the only two people in the world who had these." Teanna lifted her hand higher, until sunlight angling in from the balcony reflected off the ring's surface.

  "That's true. But he killed your mother and uncle. It would be difficult to put that aside, even if he were alive. Do you find yourself thinking about him often?"

  "Yes," Teanna said. "I know everyone in the family wants me to marry, and I will one day, but I want it to be someone I love and . . ."

  "Respect, perhaps?"

  Teanna looked up at her father and nodded.

  "Well, respect is an important part of any relationship," Eldar conceded. "A partner is certainly preferable to a millstone. I take it none of the young men who've called on you in the past have met your expectations?"

  Teanna shook her head slightly.

  "Remy seems quite nice," Eldar said. "He's a hand­some man and—"

  "He has the brains of a doorknob."

  The king pulled his head back a few inches. "A door­knob?"

  "A doorknob," Teanna answered morosely.

  Eldar d'Elso considered that for a moment. "Well. .. we certainly wouldn't want a doorknob for a son-in-law. I imagine we'll just have to keep our eyes open for a suit­able candidate. There's certainly no rush. You still have a few good years left," he teased, poking Teanna in the ribs with his knuckle.

  "What if I just stay here with you forever?"

  "Forever is a long time. I'll send word to Remy that you're indisposed today. Will you join me for dinner later?"

  The question was innocuous, but they both knew what the king was referring to. Over the last two years, and more so in recent weeks, Teanna had been spending more and more time in the underground town the Ancients had built. She had taken him there twice, but the Ancients' power source frightened him. His ancestors had failed to avoid their own destruction, despite unlimited power and knowledge at their disposal. What if whatever killed them were still there?

  "No," Teanna said, drawing him back to the present. "I think I'll have something in my room and read for a while."

  The corridors of the palace were lined with the portraits of Teanna's ancestors, and they watched the young princess solemnly as she walked by. Most days she barely spared them a glance. Dating back nearly two thousand years to the first Orlock war, they represented an unbroken line of succession on her father's side of the family. Her mother's people were descended from the Durens who had ruled Alor Satar for almost two centuries. For some reason, Teanna chose that day to stop in front of the painting of a middle-aged man named Tiglath d'Elso. His blue eyes were a family feature. They reminded her of Mathew's, but recollection made her uncomfortable, and she pushed it from her mind. She remembered her father once telling her that Tiglath had led the Eastern forces at the battle of Amon Plain when the Orlocks had finally been driven back. The following day a band of the creatures captured Tiglath as he was returning to the palace. He was never heard from again.

  Teanna studied his face and could see her father as well as her grandfather there. Strange how some things never change, she thought. The jaw and cheekbones were the same, and of course there were the eyes. She stared at the portrait for several seconds before continuing down the hall.

  How her uncle Karas had ever thought to make a bar­gain with the creatures was beyond her. In one breath he

  had managed to accomplish what they could not do for three millennia—all for the purpose of destroying Elgaria. In return for their cooperation, he had given them the lower third of the country.

  The creatures now walked freely abroad, no longer con­fined to their caves and underground caverns. She consid­ered it a blessing that they had stayed put. In the last few years there had been no reports of attacks of any kind. In fact, there had been no word at all about what they were up to, and that made her nervous. Sending a spy into their midst was out of the question, even if someone had been willing to go. A human would be recognized immedi­ately ... and Orlocks were cannibals. They were also far more intelligent and complex than either of her cousins, Eric and Armand, believed. One thing Teanna had learned was not to underestimate her enemies.

  She could still recall the two giant statues that guarded the second entrance to the Emerald Cavern.

  Orlocks and humans together?

  It was incredible, given the enmity between the races, but the evidence she'd found in the old buildings all pointed to the same thing. She searched for the answer over the years, but had been unable to find out why, or even when, the schism had taken place. Records from that time period were notoriously scarce, which complicated the task.

  Teanna had studied the old books and exhausted the re­sources available in Nyngary. Ultimately, she turned to the more extensive library in Rocoi where she had seen the first reference to the Ancients' underground town. The day it had happened was still vivid in her mind.

  After the funeral ceremony for her uncle Kyne was over, she had decided to take a walk through the extensive grounds at Karas Duren's palace. Her thoughts drifted to the Ancients and what a town under the earth must have been like. A number of books referred to it, but there were no pictures. She recalled sighing and wishing she could see what the town actually looked like. Suddenly, and without warning, a white light enveloped her and she felt herself being sucked into a tunnel-like vacuum. It took all her willpower not to scream.

  One moment she was sitting by the banks of a lake, and the next she was standing in the middle of a three-thousand-year-old town. At first she was in shock. It was like no place she'd ever been, or imagined could exist. The roads were wide and paved perfectly smooth. A yellow stripe ran down their middle. All around the square every blade of grass was green and cut to precisely the same height. They were perfect—almost. When she bent down to examine the grass, she pulled her hand back in surprise. It was not a liv­ing thing at all, but something made of a substance she'd never felt before.

  She knew it was important that she calm herself and think clearly. Once she did so, she deduced that it was her own thoughts, channeled by the ring, that had triggered the transportation. Consequently, she ought to be able to return home the same way. A few cautious experiments in moving back and forth from one side of the square to the other proved her theory correct, and in
the future, she re­solved to be more careful about letting her mind wander.

  Content that she was in no danger, Teanna had begun exploring. Hours passed as she came across one astonish­ing discovery after another—coaches with no horses to pull them; lights that went on when you entered a room; a building with a room containing a whole wall of clocklike things, except they weren't clocks at all. Each one had a single hand and a succession of numbers along the inner perimeter of its face. She had no idea what they repre­sented. Then there were the homes—row after row of them containing the most unusual furniture. It was aston­ishing that any of the pieces had survived the passing of the ages, but they had. High up on the walls inside the homes, fresh air passed through small grill-like openings,

  and unbelievably, water ran from sink faucets when you lifted the levers up.

  It was obvious that the Ancients had abandoned the town abruptly; she was certain of that. Kitchen tables still had place settings on them, and a number of homes had odd two-wheeled contraptions with seats that lay on their sides in the front yards. It was like stepping "through a magic doorway into the past. Teanna strolled around, look­ing in the shop windows at the strange clothes her ancestors wore. Two of the manikins had dresses so short, her mouth dropped open in surprise the first time she saw them.

  It was all so fascinating she could easily have spent a week there exploring and learning. But then she met the Guardian.

  3

  On Board the Daedalus

  Mathew lay on his back considering the odd box. After he brought it on board, the captain looked at it for a moment, tried the lid a few times, then handed it back, telling him to see if he could figure out a way to open it. Mathew had seen lockboxes before, but never one with four separate dials. More confusing was that the priest had been prepared to throw himself off a cliff in order to pre­vent it falling into their hands.

  He put the box down, got up, and walked to the gun port that served as his window. The cabin was slightly more than ten feet square, and he shared it with a large black cannon, a twenty-pounder. As a room, it left a great deal to be desired, but he was grateful for a place of his own. Privacy on a ship was a rare commodity, and during those times when they were in action, both his cot and the small desk were pushed to one side so that a three-man crew could work the gun.