Many Hidden Rooms (Cerah of Quadar Book 2)

by S. J. Varengo

  Chapter 14

  A Toast to Yelso Bopalus

  “What in the Next Plane is that?” Slurr asked as he and Yarren approached the southern coast of Niliph. Although they were still several miles offshore, a flaming symbol could clearly be seen hanging in the air above the harbor of Roo.

  Yarren laughed. “I believe your wife has pinned a note on the wall for us, as it were. That is, of course, a rune.”

  “Of course,” said Slurr, who could not read the arcane writing used by the wizards.

  “It’s a message to tell us that the army has moved on. It says, ‘To Oz Qanoti,’” Yarren explained as they flew toward the fire that danced above the docks. As he spoke the words, the rune flared brighter for an instant, then was gone. “Apparently, she cast the spell to make it burn until we read it.”

  “Well, that’s better than just arriving to an empty city,” said Slurr, who was eager to set down on land that was not frozen, though he did not relish walking on abandoned streets. Knowing what Surok had done to the people of Niliph both enraged and saddened the young man.

  Yarren piloted Valosa toward the large open area just past the docks, an area that should have been bustling with people, next to a harbor that should have been lined with ships. Instead there was only eerie silence, punctuated by occasional gusts of wind that seemed to amplify the already deafening silence further still.

  Cerah had directed some of the army to gather the slain citizens and instructed another portion to construct several massive pyres, large enough to accommodate the entire population of the city of Roo. The fire had burned for two full days, and when at last it had died out, steady winds began to blow, scattering the ashes. Although they did not know it, the same wind now ruffled the collars of the wizard and the general.

  Once the bodies were gone, the scavenger surilla birds, the only lifeform remaining on the continent, had also flown off, leaving nothing to generate sound but the waves and the breeze.

  “This is most unsettling,” said Yarren as they walked through the harbor center, toward the empty streets.

  “I do not like this at all, Yarren.”

  “Nor do I. But we must resist the urge to give in to fear. Practicality dictates that we tarry here for at least a day. Valosa carried us non-stop from the Frozen South, and he is exhausted. And you are still in no condition to push yourself. You look far better than when I found you in the snow beast’s cold storage, but you are not your old self yet.”

  “I admit that the thought of sleeping in a bed, as opposed to slumped over on your match-mate’s back as I’ve done for the past three days, sounds very appealing. And I’m sure there are no shortage of beds for us to choose from. But it seems wrong to do so. I don’t know if I can eat any food we might find either. It feels like stealing.”

  “I would rather pay some innkeeper too much for a substandard room than to have my pick of the finest homes as we do now. But the dead have all been sent on to the Next Plane. I’m sure the Chosen One arranged a fitting funeral for them. We should not punish ourselves for the sins of Surok and his vile brood.”

  “You’re right, of course,” said Slurr. “Let’s see what food we might find, then get a good night’s sleep. But I don’t want to stay any longer than this one night. Will the remainder of this day, followed by a full night of rest, be sufficient for Valosa? Can he carry us to Oz Qanoti tomorrow?”

  “Val is hale and willing. He fed well before we touched down, and there is plenty of water for him to drink. He will be ready to make the flight in the morning.”

  “Good. Let’s see what sustenance remains, then,” the general said.

  As they passed through the wide streets of Roo, they saw that it must have been a delightful place when it was full of life. Many quaint shops lined the boulevard, all with colorfully shingled roofs. Large glass windows still displayed the wares that had once been for sale. Here was a dress shop, here a seller of leather goods. Under a wooden sign that said, “Krando,” was a display of cheeses.

  “Cheese will not have spoiled since the army left,” said Yarren approaching the door to the shop. “Indeed, it’s better when aged.”

  “I’m sure Krando will not object if we sample his goods. Seeing it spread out like this reminds me of how hungry I am,” said Slurr.

  They found the door unlocked, and they entered. The fragrance of the cheese was enticing, and it almost masked the smell of dereliction. But as soon as they selected their food, Yarren and Slurr quickly exited. The absence of anyone to tend these boutiques had already allowed dust to settle and the air to stagnate. A wine shop farther down the avenue was also immediately quit after each man selected a bottle.

  As they walked down the street, Valosa ambled along behind them, keeping his sharp eyes peeled for any trace of danger. Although there was no one left alive in Roo, they could not dispel the feeling that there might be eyes watching them. Valosa was ready to trumpet out a warning should anything inauspicious be spotted.

  After making one additional stop, securing some dried meat that was hanging by twine from a rack behind a counter, they found a small area of grass, in which had been erected a statue of a prominent citizen from the past, who had no doubt greeted all his kinsmen at the gates of the Next Plane when they arrived en masse, far too soon. As they spread their meal on a clean cloth from one of the saddlebags that Valosa carried on his neck, they took a moment to pay tribute to the slaughtered people through whose city they were passing.

  As they opened the wine, they offered a toast to Yelso Bopalus, as the name at the base of the stone likeness read. The food was very good. For the past three days, all that they had eaten had been snow beast meat, which kept them alive, but was not at all something either hoped ever to taste again. The cheese and dried meat was a wonderful alternative, and the wine went down quite easily. In fact, after they had finished their meal they backtracked to the shop and selected two more bottles each.

  “I do not wish to dishonor our comrades who are probably approaching Oz Qanoti by now, but I feel as though we have earned this,” said Yarren.

  “Yarren, you are my friend, and you saved my life. For that I will ever be grateful. But we have earned nothing. At least not yet. I am glad to be able to drink some wine with you, and maybe slough off some of the suffering that we’ve been through since leaving Melsa. But our discomfort, great as it was, is nothing in comparison to what the people of this city suffered. When we rejoin the army, when we track down Surok and wipe his filth from Quadar, then perhaps we will have earned something.”

  “Of course, you’re absolutely right, general. I meant no disrespect.”

  Slurr smiled and raised his bottle, clinking against the one Yarren held. “That doesn’t mean I will enjoy this any less,” he said. “It is very good wine.”

  “A toast,” said Yarren, “To Russa, the most beautiful wizard ever to be born on the fair isle of Melsa.”

  “And to Cerah of Quadar, the Chosen One, and the kindest, most wonderful wife a husband ever had!”

  The two friends sat in the ever-growing shadow of Yelso Bopalus and enjoyed both the taste and the effect of the wine. Neither men drank very often, although Slurr had developed something of a palate for ale during the journey from Kamara, and the alcohol quickly went to their heads. By the time the sun had set, both were ready to find some place to sleep. They walked, a little unsteadily, out of the commercial district and eventually came to a residential area. As they looked down the street at all the empty houses lining it, they noticed another patch of grass in the distance, above which a lantern burned. It was the only light they’d seen since arriving, aside from the flaming runes. A stately old tree grew in the center of the plot, and the lantern cast its light upon it. Slurr and Yarren approached the broad brattlewood and saw a grisly sight.

  For there, affixed to the tree by arrows and a broken-off spear, was the headless body of a Silestran. Apparently, at least one of Surok’s fiends had met its death at the hands of the overrun defen
ders of Niliph. Nailed above it was a sign, which looked like it had been lettered in the black blood of the dead Silestran. The words on it were written in the common tongue, and Slurr read it aloud.

  “So too for all that would align with the Anger of Pilka.”

  The grim spectacle seared itself into Slurr’s mind. It was his third sight of Silestra. The first had been during their trek through the forest as they fled from Kamara, the second had been the assassins they had killed on Melsa. Each time, his hatred of the dark creatures had grown. In a gesture uncharacteristic of his gentle nature, and no doubt more than a little influenced by the wine, Slurr spit on the monster’s corpse, then walked past it, continuing down the street until he could no longer see the tree or the beast that was stuck to it.

  “This house will do as well as any,” Yarren said, indicating a small bungalow. It was painted white, and it had green shutters around the windows. As with every other door they had tried, the entrance to the house was unlocked.

  They entered quietly, as though not wishing to disturb the spirits of the people who had once dwelt there. The interior was dark, and Yarren tapped his staff on the floor. Its tip began to shine, and it illuminated a cozy room which contained several comfortable looking chairs. On the walls hung several portraits: a man and woman, as well as two separate pictures of children, both pretty little girls. The sight of them brought a lump to Slurr’s throat. Yarren saw his friend’s eyes misting.

  “Come on, Slurr. Don’t torture yourself anymore tonight. Let’s find some beds. Valosa is curled up in the front yard, and he won’t let anything happen to us while we sleep. Not that there is anything left to bother us.”

  They walked out of the parlor and found two bedrooms, one with a large bed that made Slurr think of his and Cerah’s cottage on Melsa, and another, smaller room with two narrow beds. They chose these.

  As soon as his body settled onto the mattress, Slurr felt his muscles relax, probably for the first time in weeks. His head was quite misty from the drink, but in his mind, he clearly saw Cerah’s face. He didn’t know if he was already beginning to dream of her or if this was a projection, sent as a reassuring gift from his wife as she headed to another continent, ready to bring the battle to Surok and his scum. He smiled as he looked into her eyes and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

  The dragon flight had not lessened its pace one iota as it tore through the night, with Cerah and Tressida at its head. They headed west, having already flown far enough to the north to be on the same latitude as Oz Qanoti. Now, as they soared below a layer of cloud cover, they felt the warmth of Vellus as it began to rise behind them. It would be an hour or so before the sun rose far enough into the sky that the clouds obscured it, and the red rays of dawn danced on the water far below them.

  As she flew toward the temperate continent, Cerah thought again of her husband, whose touch she craved so desperately. She was fully committed to the conflict that she knew awaited, if not on Oz Qanoti, then elsewhere on Quadar. But pressing on without her Rock near her meant she was fighting without the love that made her “more complete still.” Her heart ached as she thought of him. The Greater Spark continually assured her that Slurr was alive, and Russa had told her of the message that Yarren had projected to her indicating they were coming. Still, she wished that Slurr’s mind was not so shut off to her. Although she had tried repeatedly while they were together on Melsa, she had never been able to divine his thoughts. Kern had also told her that he had difficulty reaching Slurr mentally, either to see into his mind, or to project his thoughts to the young man.

  Still, since learning that he’d been lost in the foothills of Mount Opatta, Cerah had repeatedly attempted to project to him. Remembering how difficult reaching him was when they were together, she knew that only the simplest impression had any chance of reaching him across these many miles. So, each time she’d reached out to him, she’d sent only the image of her face. If she could make him see her in his mind, it might buttress his spirit and help him to find his way back to her. She’d done it again during the night-long flight, and when she did she’d felt a tingle trickle through her body. The feeling reminded her a little of the first time she drank a tankard of ale at The Rusted Blade in Palmantra. Odd, she thought. I’ve never felt that when reaching out to Slurr before. I’ve never felt anything, if I’m being honest. I wonder what it could mean.

  As they flew, Cerah could feel the strain on Tressida. The bond between match-mates was a strong one, even between the dragons who could not communicate with their riders as Tress could to her. A wizard can feel things that his dragon is feeling and vice versa. So Cerah was sure that all of the riders knew that their match-mates were struggling to maintain the pace she had set.

  “I know this is hard on you, Tress my love,” she said to the golden dragon. “I’m asking you, and the rest of the flight, to shave almost an entire day of travel off of this last leg. Even though the ships sailed for almost a full day without us, they will not reach the port of Kal Berea until many hours after we have arrived. Am I placing the dragons in danger by driving them so?”

  “They will require a good deal of rest when we arrive, but they will get their riders there safely. Neither are the riderless being pushed beyond their capabilities. I have sent a mental impression of great urgency to all the dragons who fly behind you, Cerah. They will not fail you.”

  “Oh, how I adore you, my queen,” Cerah said, as the emotions welled within her at Tressida’s words. The great golden dragon always did everything in her power to lessen the burden that Cerah felt. Tressida knew that being the long-promised savior of Quadar was an outrageous cloak to place upon the shoulders of anyone, let alone a teenaged girl who a year before had not even believed in the existence of wizards. Cerah had learned to nurture the Greater Spark and was now a formidable foe to any who would threaten the Green Lands. She alone, the prophesy said, would be able to defeat Surok.

  But Tressida felt it each time Cerah’s assurance waned. She heard the thoughts of self-recrimination with which Cerah flagellated herself. So she found every opportunity to pour love upon her, to remind her how mighty she was and how wise she had become. She reminded her that wizard and human alike followed her into the jaws of death and did so calling, “Hail the Chosen One!” And for the most part, Cerah stayed strong.

  Still, there were times when her heart ached so that keeping Cerah on course was as difficult as had been this breakneck flight through the dark of the long night.

  Just as the early sunshine faded, with Vellus climbing above the endless ceiling of clouds, Tressida spotted the outline of Oz Qanoti. She began her descent, and the hundreds of dragons behind her followed.

  Although the scouts Cerah had sent out while she led the cleanup of Roo had reported seeing the same other-worldly weather that had been seen in the direction of Niliph as they had approached from the southern ice sheet—which all now assumed was a harbinger of Surok’s approach—there was no trace of the boiling black vapors now. The clouds that stretched from horizon to horizon were thick and gray, but perfectly natural in every aspect.

  They landed near the city of Kal Berea about forty-five minutes after Tressida had first made out the shoreline of the continent. Within minutes, the young wizard Kerval, flanked by his match-mate, green Lopotha, and followed by a large contingent of the armed warriors who had been assigned to the defense of Oz Qanoti, ran to where the flight had settled.

  “Well met, Cerah of Quadar,” Kerval called as he reached her, a little out of breath.

  “Well met, Kerval of Melsa. It is good to see you and so many warriors here to greet us. Is all still well in Kal Berea?” she asked.

  “Neither Surok, nor his vile force, have been seen,” the auburn-haired wizard said. “However, when Lista and I first approached the continent, scouting it as you’d ordered, we saw the same evil skies that hung over Niliph. There was no mistaking it. Just the sight of it chilled my soul.”

  As they were speaking, Lista, tall
and brown-eyed, also approached. His mighty red match-mate, Urien, chirped respectfully as he came alongside Tressida.

  “Well met, Lista. What do you make of the evil squall you spotted when you first arrived?”

  “Of course, my heart sank upon seeing it. I shall never forget what we found when we landed at Roo. Seeing those swirling clouds again made me sure a similar sight would greet us in Kal Berea. When we landed and were greeted by citizens and warriors alike, I rejoiced. But I was still very perplexed. I am of the opinion that Surok has passed this way but has not chosen to attack. Yet. For whatever reason, he appears to be waiting.”

  Parnasus approached Cerah, his ancient face grim with apprehension. “I have a theory, though I hesitate to speak it.”

  “Please, Elder,” said Cerah, “I need your wisdom and guidance now more than ever. What are you thinking?”

  Parnasus drew in a deep breath, then let it out in a sharp puff. “I think that Surok attacked Niliph because of its geography. It was the closest target, and he wanted to make a very definite statement. To you, Cerah. He wanted to mock you for your misjudgment of his readiness, to answer the brash challenge that you had issued to him the night the Sarquahn died.”

  The guilt that Cerah still carried regarding her decision to commit such a large portion of her army to the assault on Surok’s lair was never far from the surface. Now as the First-Elder spoke, it welled up in her again. She fought the urge to hang her head and blinked back the tears that so wanted to be shed. Parnasus continued.

  “Now that he has delivered his message, I believe his strategy has changed. I believe he may be dividing his forces to attack multiple fronts. That his evil squall was seen near Oz Qanoti does not mean that was his destination. I am more inclined to believe he may have mustered his forces nearby, then sent divisions off to other places. Oz Qanoti, Jenoobia, and Illyria are all in relatively close proximity to one another. Dividing his army into three, if your father’s estimate of his force’s total size is even close to being accurate, would still present much more of a challenge than the forces left to defend those continents could handle. Both Kern and I remember the armies he sent out before he could walk among them. They were formidable.”