She gradually began to recognize the other slain females. One had been left alive in a cage hung over the pit. Horribly, she'd begun to gnaw at her own body in her starvation; a finger protruded from her black, swollen lips. Her body was not yet been invaded by the lichen, but gremlin-like rodents had stripped away the skin on her legs before the mutant spiders took the rest of the corpse to nest in.
"These are the women who helped me," she choked. "Why did he kill them?"
Morgan, too, seemed appalled by the carnage. "Conserving his resources, fewer mouths to feed. I see no men. He must have needed strength to undertake his pilgrimage." He glanced around. "He could not plan to return here. Whatever he is seeking, he means to find it."
Julienne took several panting breaths to keep from being ill. "That son-of-a-bitch needs to die."
She gingerly made a wide berth around the impaled woman's body. She took care to avoid the slick pools of slime sneaking up out of the cold pit. She was trying to be brave and barely succeeded.
His answer was short, abrupt. "This time he will."
To avoid further questions, he quickly crossed the dungeon and found the entrance leading back into the tunnels on the opposite side. Lichen glowed from within, coating the walls. Torches once burning there had been completely snuffed out. When all the warmth was gone, the lichen had ceased to grow and was beginning to die.
I'm not cut out for this place, she thought. The adventure was beginning to wear thin. She did not like the dungeon. Being there reminded her too much of what her own fate might have been if the Jansi had decided to torture her further instead of putting her in the charnel room.
I have to go, she decided. Morgan warned me I would not like what I saw, but I came anyway. Let's get this over with as quickly as possible.
She had to rush down the narrow opening to find Morgan, barely arriving in time to see him disappear into one of the dark chambers.
Hovering at the doorway, Julienne looked around. By the light on her uplifted palm she could see she was in a place more horrifying than the dungeon. She stepped inside. Fascinated, despite the repulsive ooze covering the altar's surface, she approached it.
Immediately, she drew back, hesitated then moved closer. She could see the outline of a small body under the covering of plant life. Patches of a pink nightgown patterned with blue teddy bears wearing sleeping caps peeked out through gaps in the moss. The hand not covered by the lichen was porcelain white, tiny and delicate.
Her gaze went to the crusted athame the sorcerer had used on his small victim. Horror cramped her insides and sent the tang of acrid bile to the back of her throat.
This child was his last sacrifice here. It was the death of innocence. Instead of sacrificing an animal, Xavier gave his Master human blood.
Carefully balancing her orb of light in one hand, she reached out with the other, her fingers hovering over the blade before she made up her mind to pick it up. Wiping it clean on her shirt, she glanced at Morgan. He was intently studying the surface of the giant wheel and did not notice.
Good. She bit her lip. He didn't see me. She carefully slid the cold blade into the sash around her waist, tucking it behind so her cloak would cover it. If I get the chance, she silently swore, I'll use it on Xavier.
"Bring the light here," he said. "I want to see this closer."
"What is it?" She walked over to the great wheel, lifting her hand so that orb could provide better illumination. In its center, she discerned the three-dimensional carving of a dragon devouring its own tail. "Ouroborous?"
"Yes." He indicated the strange lettering burned across astrological signs carved into the face of the wheel. "This is most interesting."
Julienne looked closely at what he indicated. Though the letters the blood coagulated in were blurred they formed words that could be read by one who knew the older languages of witchcraft. She could not, for even her grandmother's knowledge had not extended this far. Morgan's apparently did.
"Ula'dh," he read aloud. He nodded in thought. "Now I know what Duk-cho meant when he said 'the center of eternity.'" He turned away from the wheel.
He had not previously noticed the still, small form on the altar. Julienne watched his features harden. His eyes went narrow, black and glittering.
"Goaill aile!"
A gust of wind pushed through the chamber, gathering force and heat as it swept the orb of light away from her keep. Blinding in its intensity, a huge circle of pure white light began to form, surrounding the altar. The horrid plant quivered with new life as the radiance fell upon it.
Suddenly, the sphere burst into flames, spreading out like a giant mouth and devouring the lichen-covered body. The child's corpse was immediately reduced to ashes.
As though in a trance, Morgan spread both hands, palms out, before his body and turned to the wheel. It began to shake, the wood slowly cracking and splitting as the heat directed at the center of the obscene dragon expanded outward. The carving suddenly roared, bursting apart at the seams as flames blasted from its mouth.
The Wheel of the Work screeched in agony. The demon spirits trapped inside howled and cursed, an unholy, blood-chilling crescendo of unearthly wails as one and all were consumed by the purging flames.
"Destroy it all!" he rasped. "I will bring this accursed place to the ground!"
A hard slap across his face brought him from the depth of the devastation he was determined to inflict.
"Stop it!" Julienne's hand was raised for a second blow. Her own psychic ability divined he had gone deep into the darkness of his own mind, where the black being in his own self dwelled, and bade destruction to come forth. "Wherever you are, come out of it!"
Swaying, Morgan dropped to his knees, raised hands spread, his head down, eyes closed. A vein in his temple throbbed, and he pressed shaking fingers to his flesh to still the torrent of emptiness it ushered in. There was a dark space in his mind, an emptiness from the rush of mental energy he'd loosened.
He opened his eyes. Blankly, he looked at the damage.
"What have I done?" The chamber around him was in total ruins, the altar and wheel utterly demolished.
She let her hand drop, giving a weak smile. She was trembling, half from fear, half from experiencing the power of his unbridled rage.
"You never said you could do that!"
He slowly stood up, rubbing his cheek. "It has been a long time since I called this part of my power out." He was shaking, too, stunned at how easily he had lost control of his temper.
"You frighten me," she breathed. "I never know what to expect from you."
He ran a distracted hand through his thick hair, ruffling his bangs away from his pale forehead. "I can control it."
"That wasn't very good control, though I can't blame you for it." She gave him a hard look. "I want to know exactly what you can do."
He answered slowly, giving careful weight to each word. "Move things around, start a few fires." He hastened to add, "It is not an ability I relish. It takes too much energy and…"
"And what?"
He pressed the heels of his hands to his temples again. "It brings on the headaches," he finally admitted. "The more I use it, the worse the pain."
"Then don't use it."
"I will if I have to," he said stubbornly.
"Can we go?" she asked, eager to leave this place of foul sorcery.
"There is one more place I wish to see." Squaring his shoulders, he walked back into the tunnels. He was determined to go forward at any cost until he found what he was seeking.
Though she only wanted to get out of this hateful place, Julienne followed at a slower pace, reluctant to walk into an unlit place. A few steps behind, she entered the huge recess where Xavier stored his grimoires. The lichen had not yet infiltrated this deeply into the tunnels.
Foregoing further conjuration, Morgan set a fire in the hearth, dragging sections of wood into it until he had gathered enough to start a good blaze. Three grown people could have stood within the he
arth's depths and spread their arms comfortably. Water seeped from the stone walls, hissing when the flames ate up the droplets. In a short time the chamber was a steam room.
The fire's pale light revealed shelf after shelf of manuscripts lining a single wall. Decay ate the damp leather bindings, and the pages themselves were moldering. The rot sent up an unpleasant odor.
Morgan took one of the manuscripts down and began to flip through its pages. At a glance, he could tell the book was useless. The delicate parchment was saturated with water, the writing forever lost, the ink smeared to blots and stains.
"Damn!" He flung the entire mass into the hearth. The wet parchment began to smolder. "They are all ruined."
"What are you needing?"
"Clues as to why Xavier should want to go to Ula'dh. It is a forgotten city in the center of the underworld. There is nothing there."
"What was it before?"
"In the past, Ula'dh was a prosperous civilization. Now, it is desolate, a shell of what once was. That's why it is sometimes called 'the edge of eternity.' I should have thought of it when Duk-cho said as much."
"Obviously, he was clueing you in. What would attract Xavier to such a place?"
"How the hell should I know?" Agitated, he returned to the shelves of manuscripts and continued digging.
"There must be some clue," she reasoned.
Circling the room, she toyed with the charm around her neck. She recalled her lover at work over his own altar. It was then she'd learned mysterious forces were loose in the universe, moving beneath the fabric of everyday reality like invisible currents. She shivered. She was a part of the invisible world now.
A battered wooden table drew her attention. Walking closer to it, she could see the petrified body of a small creature hunched beside a massive candelabrum. A long time ago its red candles had burnt down to stubs. "What's this?"
"Where?"
"This dead thing," she said, pointing to the carcass.
He came to the table. "It is the remains of a homunculus."
"A what?"
"A homunculus is an extension of a conjurer's own mind, sort of an extra set of eyes and ears," he explained.
She poked the carcass with a curious finger and let out a squeal as it collapsed into nothing more than a few bits of dried leaves and animal parts.
An inadvertent smile came to Morgan's lips as he swiped the leaves away. A sheaf of rotting papers was stacked near the dead beast.
"What do have we here?" He began to carefully separate the fragile pages, as if he feared the fraying parchment might disintegrate. Silence ensued as he read the scrawled passages.
"I do not believe my eyes," he murmured. "Can Xavier have truly found them?"
"What?"
"The scrolls of Cachaen."
Chapter Thirty-Six
Two headless eunuchs lay still and cold. Azoroath had done the killing, sneaking up on the men as they slept and swinging the sharp blade of the machete in a deadly arc.
Xavier viewed the scene impassively. He had not slept last night, but he was not tired. He had consumed only water this morning--his thoughts of the night before had dulled his appetite. He had added to his drink a liberal dose of Duk-cho's potion.
The ingredients worked quickly on his sluggish system. Alertness restored his mind, and a new energy pulsed through his body with every beat of his heart. With only four eunuchs remaining, the water would last four more days. In three days, he would kill two more of his slaves; and the water would hopefully last the remainder of the journey. When he arrived at the borders of Ula'dh, he would dispose of the last two.
He and Azoroath would go alone to the tomb of Erabris.
"They are done, Lord. Do we go?"
"Yes," he said. "Only a few more days now."
Without being prompted, the remaining eunuchs took up the burdens of the slain. There was no expression on their thin faces. They knew they would be next.
For them, it was a relief to know freedom was near.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Lynar was home, seeing for the first time in many years the lush forest of his birth. He breathed deeply, inhaling the pungent odors of the trees, the grass and the flowers. How fresh and bright they all appeared to his weary eyes. Perhaps if he begged forgiveness, he would be allowed to stay. He thought he could better control his thieving habit.
As Julienne trailed behind the elf, her own eyes were wide. She studied with interest the small, neat cottages the elves built. How similar they were to dollhouses with their thatched roofs and shuttered windows. Standing among them, she felt like a giant.
Morgan followed at a slower pace, last in line. His hand was on the strap of his crossbow. It was not loaded--for a stranger to bear a weapon was a crime in Danarra, a loaded one even more so.
Lynar led the way into an open clearing. The sky above the trees was not blue but a shining, luminous white. Crystals grew in clumps from the rock ceiling of the underworld. For twelve hours a day they glowed bright, granting light and warmth to the forest and its inhabitants. In the dark hours, the crystals rested, recharged by the goodwill and prayers of the Danarrans. It was a symbiotic phenomenon, for one could not exist without the other.
Taking it from his bag of tricks, Lynar put his pipe to his lips and blew a few notes of greeting. He paused, then repeated the sounds.
Slowly, the shutters of the houses came open. Doors were flung wide, and the Danarran people emerged. More than one dropped from the limbs of the trees or crawled out from beneath the bushes.
Like Lynar, they dressed in leather and beads. Ribbons adorned their white hair. Their golden eyes were sharp. The males came first, their slings drawn. The smaller females stayed behind.
Lynar blew more notes. "No harm!" he said. "The humans come in peace!"
An ancient elf marched forth with great ceremony, aided by two attendants. He was Enock, the oldest Danarran and their leader, and he was dressed in the traditional robes befitting his position. His long white hair was bedecked with all colors of beads and ribbons, for he was grandfather of the tribe.
"Lynar, why come you here?" he asked. "You are banished."
"I have not come to beg forgiveness," Lynar said guiltily, changing his plan to ask to remain. "I have come with my people to ask for passage through Danarra."
The old elf looked first to Julienne. He sensed no trouble in the female. But the man--he appeared familiar.
"Your people bring weapons. It is forbidden of visitors."
"He is no threat!" Lynar reassured him hastily.
Enock pointed. "Bring him. We will talk."
Lynar edged over to Morgan. "Will you come? Enock wishes to see you closer. It will be up to him to decide if passage is granted or not. Do not bring your crossbow."
Morgan considered. Though they could pass through the Danarran lands by force if they so decided, they had come to ask permission as a peace-keeping measure, showing respect for the inhabitants. He slid the crossbow off his shoulder and tossed it to the ground.
The Danarrans eyed the weapon suspiciously. A few raised their slings. Just in case. All eyes followed when the assassin crossed to Enock. He knelt down on one knee, coming to the aged elf's height.
"I know of you, Lethe."
"I do not deny your words."
"Why come you here? We have no involvement with thy dark wars."
"I ask passage be granted."
"To Ual'dh?"
"Yes. We are on a journey."
"The Gidrans warned us you might come for the evil one who is passing through their lands," Enock said.
"They have given Xavier passage? At what cost?"
"His life, if he fails the crossing in a fortnight. He is days into his journey."
Morgan calculated in his mind. If he traveled constantly without stopping, he would be able to reach Ual'dh in half that time. Such an endeavor through the untamed parts of the forest would be demanding. He would have the advantage of needing only water. Food he could
naturally forego, and sleep he could do without for nearly a month.
"I wish to be granted passage through Danarra to Ual'dh. I have reasons to stop Xavier from finding what he seeks there."
"He looks for the old knowledge. He must beware."
"Then the writings are more than legend?"
Enock nodded.
"Yes. The tomb of the brotherhood is sacred. It should not be violated by outsiders."
"And you have known all along?"
"Through the millennia we have known, and we have guarded its secrets. Now the evil one would defile that."
"I will stop Xavier if I can."
Enock searched Morgan's face. "Though all know of the war, I am one of the few of the elvish people to have witnessed the great devastation. The carnage sickened my peace-loving soul. I cannot fathom the hunger to be a god, nor would I dare seek the forbidden. I fear those who would, but I know we must give way to the seekers of empty illusions. Do you seek the power the scrolls offer for yourself?"
"No, I do not."
"Then you may have passage," Enock acquiesced. "But I warn you to have care. The secrets of the gods are not for the eyes of men. Do not become tempted yourself."
* * *
Morgan sat on blankets the elves had graciously provided for their guests. He stared into the fire.
The long grass made a comfortable cushion. The night was absolutely still. No wind stirred the trees and no crickets chirped.
On the morrow, I will depart for Ual'dh.
He glanced at Julienne. She lay beside him, dozing quietly. He had not yet gotten around to telling her that it would be best if he went on alone. She would not be happy with the decision.
The elves had held a banquet in their honor. Because of his adventures, Lynar was forgiven his sins of the past and voted back into his tribe as a scout. Only a few Danarrans were granted this status--Enock had been one in his own youth and recognized the value of an inquisitive mind and bold personality.
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