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

by Mitchell Graham

  Cautiously the priest poked his head around the corner and looked down the tunnel. It ran in a straight line for better than three hundred yards until it disappeared in the shadows.

  "Orlocks," he whispered.

  Ceta gasped and put her hand over her mouth, and Collin gently slid his sword out of its scabbard.

  "How many?" Collin whispered. In answer, Father Thomas shook his head and drew his sword.

  Mathew's mind was working furiously. Along the way they had passed a number of other tunnels. He touched the priest on the shoulder and pointed back down the corridor they had just come from. "Everyone take off your boots and follow me," he whispered.

  With the others following, Mathew led them past two intersections and eventually came to a third one that an­gled off to the right. Collin grabbed him by the arm. "That way leads back to the Red Tower, Mat." "I know."

  They came out in the basement where they had origi­nally taken shelter from the storm. The rain was still com­ing down, though nowhere near as heavy as it had been during the first two days. Thanks to the ramp, a large pud­dle now covered most of the floor. There eveiyone stopped to put their boots back on while Collin checked the open­ing. He returned a moment later.

  "The street's crawling with Orlocks," he said. Mathew felt his heart sink. "Is there any chance we can—"

  Collin was shaking his head before he had finished his sentence. "There are too many."

  Mathew looked at his friend, then at Father Thomas, Lara, and Ceta in turn.

  Without you, our son won't have a chance to grow up. Lara's words echoed in his mind. Up ... He looked at the stairway in the corner of the room. Up .. .

  "Collin, take point," he said. "We'll have to cross the entrance one at a time."

  Once Collin was in position, he held up a hand for them to wait. A moment later he waved Ceta across. Lara followed her, then Father Thomas.

  So far so good, Mathew thought. He crouched at the side of the entrance and waited for a group of Orlocks to pass by. A hand signal to Collin set him in motion. Once he was there they headed for the stairs.

  Everyone was out of breath and their faces covered with grime by the time they reached the roof. Collin was the last one up the steps.

  "Trouble," he gasped, pointing down the staircase. Father Thomas and Mathew glanced at each other then threw themselves at the door and bolted it. Less than a minute passed before the Orlocks started pounding on it.

  "What are we going to do?" Ceta asked. She went to the edge of the roof and looked down.

  Mathew already knew the answer. The lifts were out of the question. They would only take them back to the Or­locks. He had no idea if what he had in mind was going to work, but it was the only chance they had. The hinges on the door were already weakening; it wasn't going to hold much longer. Thud after thud reverberated in the silence as the creatures hammered against it. "Follow me," he said.

  He stopped when they reached the structure's six doors and quickly explained what he remembered about the An­cients' machine.

  Father Thomas grasped the concept at once. "Are you sure it will work, my son?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the rooftop door.

  "I don't know if it will work at all. We'll find out in the next few seconds."

  "You find out," Collin said. "I'm not getting in there. I'll buy you as much time as I can."

  "We all go or we all stay," Mathew told him. The two locked eyes before Collin cursed under his breath and sheathed his sword. As before, the crystal door slid open when Mathew drew close. The rooftop door fi­nally gave way, falling with a loud crash.

  "Each of you stand on one of these disks," Mathew said, pointing at the floor.

  "There!" the first Orlock shouted. It started running to­ward them with an awkward loping stride. Five more of the creatures followed.

  After a second's delay, the red glow behind the sign ap­peared and the doors closed with a soft hiss. The creatures began pounding on it. Through the crystal their faces seemed even more distorted and misshapen than ever. Lara reached out and took hold of Mathew's hand. "Devondale," Mathew said out loud. Nothing happened.

  Collin and Father Thomas turned to look at him. "Corrato," Mathew said next, as a crack appeared in the door.

  A second later one of the creatures thrust his sword through the opening. It stopped just short of Collin's stom­ach. Collin looked down at the blade and sucked in a breath. "I really wish you'd hurry with whatever you're doing," he said over his shoulder.

  The answer occurred to Mathew a moment later. He had said as much himself the day before. In all likelihood the machine had been created long before Devondale and most cities and towns of the modern world ever existed. There was only one place he was certain of. "Henderson."

  For the second time in less than a minute Collin Miller's eyes went wide and he began to yell. It was diffi­cult later for Mathew to describe exactly what sound his friend had made, but it was similar to how someone might sound if they had just jumped off a very tall cliff. A smoky white light enveloped them and a hum came from what seemed everywhere at the same time. The light abruptly went black and he felt himself being drawn into a long twisting tunnel. Shapes and colors rushed past him at in­credible speed and he felt a dropping feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had the feeling of tremendous speed, and of wind on his face.

  All at once the darkness was gone, as was the room They were in the middle of a small park. Collin still yelling, jumped nearly a foot when Mathew touched his

  shoulder.

  "Where are we?" Lara whispered.

  "This is the town of Henderson," Mathew replied.

  45

  Anderon

  Delain was sitting at his desk speaking with two of his generals when Teanna, Gawl, and James entered the room. On the wall behind them was a map of Elgaria. A number of pins were stuck in various places along the bor­ders and around the major cities. One glance was enough to tell Gawl they represented enemy troops.

  It was obvious from Delain's reaction that he had been advised of their presence.

  "Your Grace," Delain said, getting up to embrace Gawl.

  "My liege," Gawl responded, returning the hug.

  Delain greeted James in a similar fashion before he turned to Teanna.

  "My lady," he said, bowing. 'To what do we owe the unexpected pleasure of your visit?"

  "It would be better if all four of us could speak in pri­vate," Teanna said.

  Delain nodded to the men with him, and they both left the room. As soon as the door closed he turned back to Gawl.

  "What the hell is going on? They told me three drunken magicians were swimming in the Memorial Fountain pre­tending to be Gawl, James of Mirdan, and Teanna d'Elso. If I didn't recognize you with my own eyes—"

  "Teanna's the only magician," Gawl said, helping him­self to a glass of wine from a bottle on the table. "Though I can't say much for her aim."

  "Excuse me?"

  "The fountain was an accident," Teanna explained. "It's been years since I've been here, and I just got the im­age fixed in my mind. I'm sorry if I caused a fuss."

  "You're sorry if you caused a fuss. Fine. Now would one of you please explain what this is about? The last time I checked," he said to Teanna, "we were supposed to be enemies."

  "We're here to stop you from launching an attack against the Vargothans," James told him.

  "And the Orlocks," Gawl added.

  "And the Orlocks," James echoed.

  "Am I supposed to be friends with them, too? Perhaps we could all sit down and have dinner together."

  Teanna spoke up, quickly explaining about Coribar's in­volvement and the alliance it had formed with Vargoth and the creatures. Delain's face grew somber and he sat on the edge of his desk and listened to her. When she got to the part about how many Orlocks were arrayed against them, he glanced at Gawl, then at James. Both nodded in affirmation.

  "All right, I understand," Delain said, when she was through, "but that doesn't exp
lain why you are here, High­ness."

  "Teanna will."

  Gawl listened to the princess's explanation for a sec­ond time and had to give her credit for courage. He knew that apologizing was no easy thing for someone of her disposition. Part of him wanted to trust her, and part of him would never be fully convinced. Still, she had re­sponded to their test without hesitation, even though her method left a lot to be desired. The trick now would be to convince Delain.

  "I can't fault you for wanting to save your people," De-lain said. "But you'll understand that trusting what you say is somewhat difficult for me. Your family were the ones who sold my country to the Orlocks, and now you would like us to help you rescind that bargain. Why should I be­lieve you?"

  Teanna's answer about giving the ring to Mathew Lewin surprised him,

  "What makes you think he's alive?" Delain asked.

  "It's not a matter of my thinking it. This is a fact—like the sun coming up in the east. An affinity exists between ring holders," she explained. "Under certain circum­stances it's possible to feel the other's mind."

  "But how, if he no longer has his ring?"

  "That part I don't understand. Perhaps there is a resid­ual effect from wearing them. Perhaps Mathew is differ­ent. I only know that he still lives and that between the two of us we might be able to stop Shakira, Coribar, and the Vargothans. Alor Satar cannot win by itself. My father thinks that wouldn't be such a bad thing, but I believe if the link in the chain breaks . .."

  Delain held her gaze for a time. "You tried to kill Mathew Lewin once before, how do I know you won't fin­ish the job the first chance you get?"

  What Teanna did next surprised everyone in the room. She pulled the ring off her finger and tossed it to Delain. "You can give it back to me once you're satisfied I'm not lying."

  Delain stared at the rose gold in his palm and hefted it a few times. "Heavy," he said, half to himself. "This is the second time I've held one of these. It might have been bet­ter if they had never been created at all."

  "We can debate that later," said Teanna. "At the mo­ment, there are a million Orlocks moving on Alor Satar. Next, they'll turn toward Elgaria, or perhaps Cincar, or Nyngary, or Bajan, it doesn't make a difference. Coribar is moving its fleet from the south. Mathew and I could stop them."

  "We're far from defenseless," Delain pointed out.

  She responded by taking a deep breath. "I assume you're talking about the cannons. Eric and Armand also have them and so does Vargoth, so the field is even. My cousins used the weapons at a place called Epps Crossing and recently lost. What they didn't have—and what you don't have—are a million men to repel Shakira's attack. Vargoth and Coribar soldiers raise that number even higher."

  Delain looked at James, who lifted his eyebrows in reply.

  "Let me ask you a question," Gawl said. "Couldn't you simply destroy their forces?"

  "Possibly," she answered, "but it's not as simple as that. Using the power drains you; the body needs time to re­cover. Shakira is not going to sit by while I attack her army. I'll have no choice but to deal with her first. If I'm successful, there's a reasonable chance I'll be powerless to do anything about her followers for several days, and by then it would be too late. That's why we need Mathew."

  Their discussion went on for the better part of two hours, and in the end Delain asked her if she would ex­cuse them so that he, Gawl, and James could speak in private. She inclined her head and they stepped into the next room.

  Each scenario the three men considered was as dismal as the next, as far as Gawl could see. If they were able to convince Bajan to join them, their number would still come to less than seven hundred thousand.

  "We're in trouble," he said.

  "Mankind is in trouble," James corrected.

  When they reentered the room, Teanna was seated in a chair by the fire, reading. She looked up, closed the book, and put it on her lap. Without saying a word, Delain tossed the ring back to her. She caught it in midair.

  "What makes you think your cousins will go along with an alliance?"

  "They have no other choice," Teanna said, slipping the ring back on. She closed her eyes for a second and waited until the shiver passed. "It's a matter of survival now. Eric and Armand are no fools."

  Delain shook his head. "This is very difficult. We've been at odds with them so long. Trust doesn't come easily."

  "The most important thing is getting Mathew's ring back to him. Where is he?"

  "Unfortunately, I don't know," said Delain. "He and Si-ward Thomas left for Nyngary over a week ago. We've had no word since."

  One of Teanna's eyebrows arched at the mention of Si-ward Thomas's name. "I assume they went there to get the ring."

  "Correct. They should already be in Corrato."

  "That's a shame."

  "What?"

  "I'd tell you to ask Bryan Oakes for your money back, but he's dead."

  Delain and James exchanged glances.

  "That was my doing," said James.

  "Both our doings," Delain corrected.

  Teanna looked from one to the other, and they met her gaze without flinching. She understood why they had con­spired to have her killed. She also knew that it was time to put old hatreds aside. This was easier to say than do, but there had to be a starting point.

  She nodded. "I assume we'll have no more Bryan Oakeses," she said. "I've given my word and I'll keep it. I expect you to do the same."

  46

  Henderson

  Nothing appeared to have changed since the last time he had been here. Nothing moved and there were no sounds. Mathew looked up and could see clouds, moving against what seemed to be a blue sky, except he knew it wasn't a sky at all. If you stared at it long enough, you would eventually realize it was a giant dome.

  A sharp intake of breath from Ceta told him she had just discovered the sky wasn't real.

  "I've told all of you what happened to me after the bat­tle of Ardon Field," he said. "This is where Teanna took me. We sat at that cafe over there."

  Lara made a sound under her breath that he ignored.

  "What made' you pick this place, my son?" asked Fa­ther Thomas.

  "It was the only place I thought the machine would rec­ognize. That's why the other names didn't work when I said them. They were built after the machine."

  "Fine. How do we get out of here?" asked Collin.

  "Uh.. . actually, I'm not sure," said Mathew. "We need to pick someplace the machine knows. Do you know any, Father? Any places or buildings that survived from the ancient time and still have the same names?"

  Father Thomas frowned. "Hmm, nothing comes to mind. Give me a while to think about it. I'm sure there must be a good many of them."

  "Well, find one soon," said Collin. "This place gives me the creeps."

  "Will you look at that?" Lara said. They turned to see what she was staring at. In a dress shop directly across the way, two female manikins were in the window. They both wore dresses so short, they had nearly made Mathew blush the first time he'd seen them. Collin's eyes opened wider and he let out a low whistle. "I have got to see this closer," said Lara. "Me, too," said Ceta.

  Both women crossed the street, followed by Collin and Father Thomas. Mathew sighed and went to join them, but paused partway there to stare at the single white line painted down the middle of the street. A series of dashes ran parallel to it, creating four separate lanes. The surface felt odd under his feet, and he bent down to examine it more closely. The material was smooth and black and it was unlike any of the ancient roads he had come into con­tact with. Out of curiosity, he tested it with the point of his dagger and found that he was able to pry a bit up.

  "What in the world is this stuff?" he asked no one in particular.

  He was about to mention it to the others when he no­ticed a shadow on the ground. A man was calmly standing there, watching him, a pleasant smile on his face. He was oddly dressed.

  "Asphalt," the man said. "Excuse me?"
/>
  "The surface of this road is constructed of asphalt." "Oh, well thank you. You startled me." "My apologies," replied the Guardian. "It's taken you a long time to get here." "I beg your pardon?"

  "I said, it's taken you a long time to get here. Shall I in­crease the volume of my voice?"

  "No, I heard you. How could you possibly know about me?"

  "Because I've been sending you messages for nearly four years now, Mathew."

  Mathew blinked. "I haven't gotten any messages from you. I don't even know who you are. How do you know my name?"

  "It's my job to know things and to facilitate the transfer of information."

  The conversation finally caught the others' attention, and they came back to join them.

  "Who's this?" asked Father Thomas.

  "Well, I don't know exactly. I just looked up and he was standing here."

  "Indeed?" said the priest. "Perhaps we should all intro­duce ourselves. I am—"

  "Father Siward Thomas of Devondale, Elgaria. Behind you are Collin Miller, Lara Palmer, and Ceta Woodall."

  "Lewin," Lara corrected. "May I ask how you know who we are, sir?"

  The Guardian didn't answer immediately. Instead he tilted his head to one side, and his face appeared to go blank for a moment. "Ah, I understand ... the ceremony of marriage. A legal state. You were referring to your last names. In marital relationships, it is customary for fe­males to assume the male's last name."

  Lara, Ceta, Father Thomas, and Collin all exchanged puzzled glances.

  "Something like that," Lara answered, "but you haven't told us how you know who we are."

  "Or your name," Ceta added. "Do you live in this place?"

  "This is my place. I am the Guardian. It is my job to know things and to facilitate the transfer of information."

  "Yes, you said that before," Mathew told him.

  "And the answer is equally true at this moment."

  "All right, it's your business to know things," Mathew said. "Apparently you know a great deal more than I do. But what about these messages you've been sending me. I haven't—"

  "He hasn't received any message from you," Collin said, finishing the sentence.