Emperor of Ansalon (d-3)

by Douglas Niles

  Ariakas stood, and again his memory drifted back to the tower … to the lady. He missed her still, though not so much as he had during the long, bleak trek to Sanc shy;tion. While climbing among the peaks, he had recalled each detail of her perfect body . . . every smell, every nuance of each meal she had served. Gradually the memories had faded into a sort of gentle background, pleasant to recall but irrelevant to the matters at hand.

  Now, when he saw that great temple on the mountain shy;side, staring down at him like some gargantuan dragon regarding an ant, the full force of the Dark Queen's will stormed within him. He knew an awful sense of failure, of abject unworthiness to serve her. Ariakas staggered backward, falling against the brittle branches of a with shy;ered yew. Cursing the sharp pain, he bit back his com shy;plaints, bowing to the rekindled awe he felt before the Queen of Darkness.

  As if it had lain dormant like these steaming volca shy;noes, the full force of her will swept through him. He would serve her! He already bore the talisman, the white-bladed sword, and now he would go to her temple and take up service in her name. What kind of greeting to expect, he didn't know, but that concern meant less than nothing. All thoughts of freedom vanished. The desires of his goddess now known to him, he left his house, hurrying through the streets of Sanction to reach her temple.

  With sunset, the city came to life around him. Streets that had been empty an hour earlier thronged with people, and he pushed his way through crowds to ap shy;proach the great stone bridge in the city center. He wore his sword visibly. Since the huge blade was too long to wear at his waist, it rested in a scabbard strapped to his back, with the two-handed hilt jutting upward over his left shoulder. The sight of the weapon encouraged even armed men to give way.

  Tavern keepers threw open their doors and numerous customers quickly gathered, further blocking the streets where Ariakas tried to pass. Most of these hearty social-izers seemed to be seasoned mercenaries like himself. Curious, he wondered who they served. He had seen no standard of any army posted around the city, and as a free trade center Sanction had little need for its own mili shy;tia. The uncommon number of men-at-arms, he pre shy;sumed, were drawn to the city by its numerous exotic delights, and the great value of imported coins.

  The road opened into the Fireplaza, where the crowd thinned. Ariakas looked across the broad courtyard, intrigued by the strange monument at the far end: three stone ships, appearing to float some distance off the ground. It had caught his eye before, but he had yet to find out what it was. Now, however, he was too intent on reaching the temple to detour for a closer inspection.

  As Ariakas climbed the gentle lower slope of the mountain, the activity of the streets fell away behind him. He moved over a broad, flat shoulder of the massif. It was an empty space, but his soldier's mind suggested that it would be a perfect site to marshal a huge army. The location, he noted, offered the protection of the lava rivers to the east, south, and west.

  Even this broad plateau fell behind, and the twin entrances to the temple loomed overhead, resembling even more the nostrils of some great, half-submerged reptile. The roadway opened onto a broad plaza below the arched temple entrances. Ariakas was alone as he walked across the wide, smoothly paved yard. Before him, the entrances yawned ink-black, but orange lamp shy;light gleamed overhead from the two great windows that served as the 'eyes' of the colossal beast. He had the feeling that something watched him from within those sinister chambers, though he could see no silhouette, nor sign of movement. He knew beyond doubt-this was where he belonged. Youthlike vigor infused him, and unconsciously the pace of his walking increased.

  Pure darkness screened each of the twin approaches, like a film of ink laid across the air itself. Quickly he advanced to the left arch. Passing through, Ariakas was swallowed by utter blackness, and immediately embraced by a sense of warmth. Breezes wafted against his face, and he realized that some vent in the bowels of the volcano brought hot air swelling upward, creating this comfortable warmth.

  "Lord Ariakas … welcome to the Temple of Luerkhi-sis." The female voice, spoken with a pleasant, adoles shy;cent tone, reached his ears through the impenetrable blackness.

  "Who is that?" the warrior demanded, surprised that anyone could be so close without his sensing her pres shy;ence.

  He took another step forward and suddenly emerged into light. A huge chamber opened around him, and though he had passed through no physical obstacle the boundary between the darkened anteroom and this brightly lit chamber broke as clearly as if it had been a velvet curtain.

  The girl who had welcomed him knelt and bowed deeply at his feet. He guessed her to be no more than fourteen, yet she carried herself with the serenity of a well-trained priestess. Her long hair was black and dili shy;gently combed. She wore a silken dress of deep blue, and carefully kept her eyes lowered from his as she stood. Ariakas noticed that a white leather collar encircled her slender neck.

  All around spread a huge chamber, rectangular in shape, occupied by many small pockets of conversing people. The vast hall stretched for a length of at least two hundred feet, and was half that in width. Dozens of oil lanterns hung from wall sconces, creating the bright light that washed every corner of the marble walls-except for the magical screening darkness of the entryways.

  He noticed other young priests and priestesses in the hall. Some gathered around gray-haired elders, males and females both. Others sat in solitary and silent medi shy;tation, surrounded by a wide circle of emptiness on the floor. The priests young and old wore a variety of gar shy;ments, including trousers, robes, and skirts. Many of these garments were white, but he saw others of red, green, black, and blue. These priests also wore collars, mostly of white, though the tutors more often displayed leather bands of black or blue.

  "If it pleases my lord to accompany me … ?" the young priestess said humbly, gesturing to the far side of the large hall.

  The girl led him through an open doorway, and he fol shy;lowed her down a long, marble-walled hall. He watched her walk, noting in particular the way her tiny feet glided across the floor-as if she didn't so much walk as skate. Soon she reached an open doorway, from which bright lamplight spilled. She bowed again, then grace shy;fully retreated, gesturing for him to enter.

  Ariakas stepped to the doorway and peered within, not at all certain what to expect. He found the fact that this girl had known his name profoundly unsettling. Now, apparently, she knew right where to take him, and that made him wonder if he were walking into some kind of trap. Instead, he saw a welcoming smile on the face of an elder priest seated beyond a great marble slab of a desk. The fellow rose and came toward Ariakas, bowing politely-but without the obeisance shown by the girl.

  The priest regarded the warrior with intense, search shy;ing eyes of dark brown. Long and full brown hair grayed at his temples and swept back from his face. He had a swelling belly and a careworn face, creased not so much by age as by maturity. In his hand he carried a short wooden object, more decorative than a club-perhaps a scepter, thought Ariakas. At the tip of the shaft was a metal star with five points-one tine in each of the five colors he'd observed in the temple. A striped silken mantle framed the priesf s robe of shimmering black. He, too, wore a collar around his neck, though the band was crimson in color.

  "My Lord Ariakas, welcome! Welcome to our temple! We have long been expecting you, but now that you are here the occasion transcends mere words! I trust your journey to Sanction was, er, without major mishap? One could can hardly expect to call it 'pleasant,' I suppose."

  The bombardment of words took the warrior by sur shy;prise, but he saw nothing beyond honest welcome in the man's round, guileless face.

  "Forgive me," the fellow continued. "I am Wryllish Parkane, High Priest of the temple. I will personally see to the majority of your studies … though of course you will have the freedom of all the specialists, as need arises. We have a personal chamber ready for you, beyond the audience hall, where you entered. Perhaps you would like to freshen up a
bit before I give you a tour of the temple?"

  Stubbornly Ariakas shook his head, stunned by the extent of the priesf s knowledge, and his plans. He felt a sudden reluctance to immerse himself in his new role, though he knew it was too late to change his mind. "That won't be necessary," declared Ariakas, determined to retrieve some momentum. "I have quarters in the city where I will live, and I came here from there. As to the tour, however, I'm ready for that as soon as we can begin."

  "Of course-of course!" If the high priest were dis shy;tressed by Ariakas's news, he gave no indication. Instead, he hurried around the huge desk and placed a firm hand on the warrior's arm.

  Ariakas's sense of reluctance gave way to a certain sat shy;isfaction. Obviously, he was not to be treated as some kind of apprentice or lackey. They had expected him- and Takhisis herself had told him that he would sit at her right! Smiling tightly, the warrior allowed the priest to escort him from the room.

  In the hallway the young priestess awaited further commands, her posture rigid, her eyes still downcast. "That will be all, Heraleel," commanded the high priest. "You may await me in my chambers."

  "Yes, Lord Patriarch," replied the girl before gliding silently away.

  Wryllish noticed the warrior's gaze, and chortled softly. "We have numerous young apprentices," he said. "I will be certain to have one appointed to you-imme shy;diately."

  Hashes of memory came to Ariakas of the warmth he had shared with the lady in the tower. The memories vanished, replaced by a yearning ache that brought real temptation. Then he recalled the Dark Queen's words and her warning-any such liaison would cost the young woman her life within the year. "Not at the pre shy;sent," he said quietly.

  "Now, these are the chambers of our novices," explained Wryllish Parkane, leading Ariakas past a long row of open, well-lighted chambers. In the first they saw a number of young men learning the art of swordplay and parry from a grizzled veteran. Several pairs of youths banged away at each other with mock savagery while a group of students formed a circle around the thunder-voiced teacher.

  "They show skill," Ariakas admitted, watching the subtle use of feint and misdirection.

  "Ours is a faith that does not disdain the use of force wielded righteously," Wryllish explained. "Some faiths of the ancient gods disdain bloodletting weapons. . . . Our mistress takes a more practical approach."

  "I respect practicality," Ariakas remarked.

  The patriarch nodded. "Indeed, before the crowning of our queen it will be necessary for a great host to take up arms in her name." Here the priest looked at Ariakas shrewdly, as if measuring his worth for a role in that master scheme. The warrior, in turn, recalled the masses of leaderless men in Sanction-could they be marshaled to the Dark Queen's banner?

  "This is our unarmed combat training," Wryllish Par-kane next declared. They had come to an arenalike chamber where a slender woman spoke sternly to sev shy;eral younger students. Barefoot, she wore a blue collar and a silken blouse and trousers. The gauzy material outlined her supple, muscular body.

  Abruptly she swung her foot upward, lashing at one student's face before lunging forward to seize another by the crotch and neck. With a quick flip, she threw the struggling young man across the platform.

  "Very impressive," Ariakas observed.

  "Lyrelee is one of the best instructors we have. The temple is fortunate she chose to become a priestess."

  They moved through many long corridors, past other rooms, some light, some dark. Ariakas heard sounds of intense, sometimes confrontational, conversation. Some noises were unintelligible, while others-groans and cries-suggested activities causing either pain or ecstasy.

  Eventually Parkane led Ariakas to a high arch. A pair of green-collared men-at-arms, each dressed in red livery and carrying swords and shields of immaculate steel, flanked the opening. Just beyond, a wide stone stairway descended into the depths below the temple. The two guards snapped their weapons to attention and stepped back as the priest and warrior approached.

  "But here, milord-here is where you see the true glory of our mistress's plan!" whispered Wryllish, his voice cracking with excitement. "These are the Sanctified Cata shy;combs. Only the most trusted of her servants are allowed here-those of the blue or red collars. Of course, some shy;times we have brought prisoners here as well, but they haven't emerged."

  "Why me, then? I wear no collar," the warrior pointed out as they passed the sentries and started down the stairs.

  "Why, my lord," the priest said, surprised. "Of course you are the natural exception to this rule.

  Ariakas nodded, as if the response were expected. His stony features in fact masked fierce elation that he would have the freedom of the entire temple. He felt tingling anticipation as they descended toward the catacombs. The two guards were the only watchmen he'd seen, and given the deserted appearance of the dark stairway, he decided that these passages must be a well-kept secret to the outside world.

  "Tell me," Ariakas pressed as they descended beyond earshot of the two guards. "How did you know I was coming? That I would be here tonight?"

  Wryllish shrugged modestly. "We didn't know it would be tonight… but as to your eventual arrival, she told me, of course." "Do you speak to her?"

  "Oh, no-not while I'm awake. But often she comes to me in my dreams, and regarding you she was quite specific. I am to train you in the highest calling of the priesthood, though I am assured that as a warrior you are already eminently capable."

  "I am a warrior!" Ariakas growled. "I never gave any thought to becoming a priest, and I don't plan to now!"

  Wryllish Parkane looked at him in some surprise. "Indeed? But thaf s not what I… well, no matter. Come along down here, won't you?"

  The priest's assumptions, if anything, made Ariakas even more curious, so he continued to follow him down the straight, seemingly interminable stairway. The torches in the wall were very far apart, and darkness filled the gaps between them. Ariakas was about to sug shy;gest they take one of the brands with them when the priest astonished him by muttering a few indistinguish shy;able words, causing a bright light to flare into life atop his short scepter. The metal star glowed with a cool but surprisingly extensive illumination.

  "The power of our mistress is a wondrous thing," noted the long-haired priest. His strides increased in tempo as the long subterranean corridor continued.

  Ariakas kept pace easily, trying to take note of their surroundings as they advanced. He saw several yawn shy;ing cave-mouths branching to the right and left from the main passage, all of them utterly dark and lifeless. In several cases he felt certain-based on dust and spider-webs-that the passages led to completely unvisited regions below the temple.

  Still, perhaps it was only the priest's light that made their current path seem different. Ariakas noticed several chambers outlined in stalactites and stalagmites-nat shy;ural caves in the ancient limestone bed of the Khalkists. The newer lava and basalt of the Lords of Doom fre shy;quently overlapped and buried the bedrock, but in places the two surfaces met. The temple of Luerkhisis was obviously one such juncture.

  "Tell me," inquired the high priest conversationally. "What do you know of dragons?"

  "Dragons?" Ariakas pondered the surprising ques shy;tion. "As much as anyone else, I suppose. They were the scourge of Krynn in the Age of Might, until they were bested by humans and the knights in the great dragon war. That was some thirteen centuries ago, and they've been gone from Krynn ever since."

  "That is the common perception," noted Wryllish vaguely. "You, of course, have never seen one?"

  "As I said," Ariakas retorted, somewhat sharply, "there have been no dragons for more than a thousand years-how could I have seen one?"

  "Quite. As a matter of fact, I haven't seen one either." The priest stopped suddenly, and turned to face Ariakas. Wryllish scrutinized the warrior, an expression of reflec shy;tive curiosity on his face. "Tell me, Lord Ariakas-have you ever seen the birth of rain in the clouds overhead?"

  "
Of course not!" snapped the warrior, irritated with the ludicrous question.

  "Ah!" declared Wryllish, ignoring his companion's agitation. "But that does not mean such a birth does not take place, does it?"

  "How should I know? The rain falls on the ground- that's good enough for me!"

  "Of course … of course. But my point is this: does the fact of your not having seen something constitute evi shy;dence that that thing does not exist?"

  "In that case, no. If you're speaking about dragons, however, I would say that the combined experience of the population of Krynn would give some basis for mak shy;ing the assumption that they don't exist." In spite of him shy;self, Ariakas found himself enjoying the verbal sparring. The priest, he noted, reflected on his response seriously before beginning his reply.

  "Even in that case, dispute is possible," Wryllish ven shy;tured. "For in our discussion thus far we have neglected the matter of faith."

  "Faith? In dragons?" Ariakas countered.

  "Faith in our goddess," the priest corrected gently. "And if it is the will of Takhisis that we believe in drag shy;ons, then how can one who has faith in the goddess not believe, implicitly, in dragons?"

  "Has the goddess made this claim-that dragons exist?" demanded Ariakas.

  "No-not in so many words," replied the serene cleric. "Yet, I suspect that soon she will."

  "You suspect?" Ariakas was unable to keep the scorn from his voice. "But you don't know-have not been told this?"

  "I leave it at this," said Wryllish, enjoying the sight of the warrior's agitation. "I believe this is the will of our mistress: Before many more years have passed, dragons will once again be known and feared upon Krynn. And when they return, they will do so not as a scourge, nor a menace… they will come as our allies!"

  "Some would call you mad," the warrior said bluntly. "Is that the way of this temple-the insistence that some extinct lizards are going to return and bring us to glory?"