by Jeff Wheeler
Erasmus reached them, his expression wary. “Words are slippery things, Rike.”
“They are indeed, Preachán. I was taught by the order that the Druidecht magic was a myth, a superstition. If that is not true, it puts in question the other things I’ve been taught. I am your willing prisoner right now. I hope to earn your trust to be included in your mission. Perhaps our two sides need not war any longer.”
Annon smiled sardonically. “We’ll see.” He looked at the others. “The day is getting late, but we should go farther and then make camp. Onward.”
Their heavy boots began shuffling deeper into the fringe of mountains.
They sat around a small campfire in a cave made from fallen boulders. The enormous stones shielded the light and hid them from anyone passing by the foothills below. Scrub and rock littered the land, a boneyard of granite and fissures. They had seen many lizards along the way, some quite large. Serpents slithered away from them, unused to disruption by mankind in the inhospitable terrain. The shelter was large enough to provide cover for them. The ground was powdery dust.
Annon stared into the fire, reaching out through his talisman for spirits in the area. It was not the type of creatures he was used to in Wayland, but they responded to him immediately, coming in the form of moths and dragonflies as his companions ate their rations in silence, faces haggard from the arduous walk.
Greetings, Druidecht. May we be of service to you?
It was an oddly formal greeting, but it pleased Annon that they were not harsh or distrustful.
The Aeduan sitting next to me is a Rike from Kenatos. I would appreciate it if he fell asleep quickly.
He felt the throb of anger in their emotions. Shall we poison his food, master? The Rikes are enemies. They poison these mountains.
No—just sleep.
A colorful moth appeared from the shadows behind Lukias, hovering above his head. Fine trailers of dust came from its wings, sprinkling down on the Rike’s head. Lukias was eating a hard biscuit, chewing it determinedly and Annon watched as his eyes grew heavy. He rubbed them, shaking his head in distraction. His eyes began to droop and the crust of biscuit dropped from his hand. Without a word, he stretched out on the ground and fell into a deep slumber.
Erasmus and Khiara stared at Lukias in confusion.
Annon smiled at them and nodded. “He will sleep all night,” he said. “I wanted to speak freely with you.”
Erasmus rubbed his mouth. “I recall a very similar feeling when we reached Canton Vaud and your friend, Reeder. Did I fall asleep that quickly as well?”
Nizeera padded into the firelight, returning from her hunt with a hare in her jaws. She nestled down deeper into the cave and started to pick at her meal.
Annon nodded. “Give me your prediction, Erasmus. Will Lukias betray us?”
“A one in ten chance that he will not,” came the definitive reply. “I’m glad you asked, because I was beginning to worry about your judgment, young man. You speak too freely.”
Annon scratched at an itch on his wrist. “It’s a difficult balance when he has a ring himself. I believe he is not lying deliberately. But his devotion to and knowledge of the Arch-Rike may continue to be useful to us. You say he’ll betray us. When?”
Erasmus took out a handful of nuts from his pack and started munching on them. “Not at the entrance of Basilides. He would wait until we were inside. Lost, perhaps. When we no longer have the upper hand in his confinement. He is adept at soothing fears. I do not trust him at all. Nor should you.”
Annon nodded and gazed into the fire in the ring of stones. He stared at the variety of colors, at the whip-like tongues of flame leaping out from the brush they had gathered to feed it. “What of you, Khiara. What is your assessment?”
She shrugged, saying nothing.
“Please, Khiara. I would hear you as well.”
“It is difficult to understand his motives in helping us,” she replied softly, looking down at her lap. “I have spent time studying the ways of the Rikes of Seithrall. The prince and I—” She fell suddenly silent, not speaking for a moment. “There are many troubling aspects to their religion. They are skilled in argument and logic. They are students of the mind. The man we have been walking with has tried too hard to calm our concerns about him. That troubles me. He does not act like a man disillusioned by his training.”
Annon sighed, concurring with both of their observations. “How long will he…live?” Annon asked her, glancing at her face. “How much time was he given when he was revived?”
She did not look up. “A fortnight. His heart will stop again before that time is through.”
Erasmus shivered. “Reminds me of a Romani proverb. It’s bad manners to talk about ropes in the house of a man whose father was hanged. You are sure he will die? He seems hale.”
Khiara nodded. “His borrowed time came at a cost.”
Shifting to get more comfortable, Annon glanced over at Nizeera. What are your thoughts? He asked her.
She snagged a thread of flesh in her teeth and yanked hard. I wondered when you would ask me.
I value your instincts. What do you say?
She ignored him for several moments, digging into the flesh while holding it still with her claws. Why else did you wish to bring him?
You know that already. To understand the thinking of my enemy.
Her head came up, her luminous eyes fixing his. Blood dribbled from her chin. And what have you learned about your enemy so far?
Annon thought the words that summoned fire and then began bathing his hands over the flames in the fire ring. Erasmus and Khiara watched him, transfixed.
“Nizeera asks what I’ve learned about the enemy so far. I want to make sure you understand my thinking as well. To see if I have any holes in my logic.” He scooped up a thread of flame, using his mind to twist it into a sphere, which floated above his hand like a bubble. “The Arch-Rike is a tyrant, but a clever one. If he enslaved the people with the threat of bonds or prison, they would revolt against him. If he taxed them excessively, they would scorn him and rebel. He enslaves the kingdoms through ideas. People will always serve a cause higher than themselves.” He chuckled softly. “It is the same principle Tyrus uses. We seek to end the Plague. The Arch-Rike seeks to preserve knowledge. Both are noble causes. Both are ideals. If the Plague ends, then there will be nothing to rally the minds of the people. The Arch-Rike would lose his power.”
Annon swallowed, staring at the swirling flames. “The Arch-Rike has taken up an ideal set hundreds of years ago and has made it his own. He is a cunning man. He is wise. But just as a bubble can be pricked by a touch, so can an idea be punctured and vanish.” He let the bubble of fire unravel and disappear. “I have the feeling that the dangers we face ahead will challenge our minds more than anything else.” He fixed Erasmus with his gaze and then Khiara. “What we learn there may challenge our beliefs or assumptions. What we face there may make us doubt ourselves and our cause. This may prove as difficult a challenge mentally as facing the Scourgelands will test us physically. We are entering the lair of a man who has most of the known world under his thrall. To be honest, I’m terrified.”
Annon removed his hands from the fire and brushed them together. The flames were as warm as bathwater. “I rely on you all to help me see through the illusions the Arch-Rike may use to protect his secrets. We must rely on each other. We will probably need to move quickly and think quickly. There is a reason Tyrus chose us to face Basilides. I feel lucky to have you all with me.”
He looked over at Nizeera, who continued to stare at him. Well said, Druidecht. You are truly our leader.
“Having been a student of history for most of my life, I will venture a prediction. At some future period, not very distant as measured by centuries, the civilized races will almost certainly replace the savage races throughout the world.”
—Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
The day remained overcast, the gray of the sky blending
in with the crushed rock filling the mountains. By midday, Annon and the others reached a river spilling from the mountains and flowing south to join the lake waters of Kenatos. The river was full of boulders and churning foam, making passage by boat impossible as well as reckless. The river was wide and full of flat rocks, worn smooth by the constant rush of water. Crossing it would be treacherous.
Lukias halted the group and pointed to shrubs farther up the river. “This is the road.” A narrow trail followed the river north, and it was overgrown with shrubs and boulders. They would have missed it completely.
“Does it cross the river eventually?” Annon asked him.
Lukias shook his head. “No, but it is guarded by several threats. We must be cautious.”
“What threats, Lukias?” Annon asked.
“I cannot divulge what the protections are nor the information you need to bypass them. As we draw nearer, they will test your resolve to enter Basilides. If you succeed, it will be by your own merits.”
As they started up the steep incline toward the patchwork of shrubs blocking sight of the road, Annon began to feel a nervous warning in the pit of his stomach. He glanced around for the appearance of spirits, but saw none in the area. The place was devoid of life.
They crossed the hedge barrier and started up the shattered shale road, their boots crunching softly as they plodded along. As soon as they crossed the first bend, a feeling of intense dread struck Annon.
In the center of the small makeshift path was a waist-high stone boulder with a bronze disc mounted inside it, facing them. The bronze work was sculpted into the image of a face with a grim-set mouth and stern look. The eyes were vacant of pupils and knifed through Annon with shards of fear. Nizeera growled in warning, pausing at his side.
The feelings were terrible and real. Lukias continued to walk forward, but the rest had halted, staring in dread at the bronze work. He paused and turned back to them. “It is only fear,” he said with a gentle voice. “Walk on…if you can.”
It reminded Annon of the Fear Liath and his muscles constricted, holding him in place. He rallied his courage and put a foot forward. Then another. Khiara followed him but Erasmus was rooted in place, staring vacantly. His lips moved but his words were inaudible.
Annon could sense the waves of fear pounding against his own mind and realized that the Preachán was lost in the struggle. “Khiara, take his hand. Erasmus, close your eyes.”
Khiara took his hand and pulled him after her. His legs shuffled slowly but soon he was walking, staring down at the broken rocks at his feet. Annon approached the strange marker, staring into the void-like eyes, steeling himself against them. “Is this a trap?” he asked Lukias, feeling the ring on his finger and focusing on the answer.
“It is here to keep away trespassers. That is all. Come.”
They walked past the bronze work and the feeling immediately left them.
Erasmus twisted his neck and stared back at the rear side of the boulder. “You were right, Annon. It affects the mind most of all. I could only think of a thousand things that might be hiding up ahead. I couldn’t move my legs.”
Khiara patted his hand and released it, moving ahead down the way. The trail followed along the edge of the churning river. It began to grow colder as they ascended into the mountains, crunching on loose gravel as they walked. In some places, the path grew narrow as the side of the cliff was eaten away, spilling down into the river below. The defiles were dangerous but not too difficult to cross. Nizeera stayed close to Lukias, her tail lashing back and forth as if ready to pounce.
Farther up the road, another bronze work sculpture met them. This one did not radiate a feeling of fear. It looked similar to the one farther behind. As they approached it, the mouth of the sculptured face began to move. It spoke.
“This road is forbidden,” it said in a wintry voice that was neither male nor female. “What is the seventh seal of the Ruby Goddess?”
Khiara stepped forward. “The Grave,” she answered.
Lukias turned and looked at her in surprise and respect. “You know our lore surprisingly well, Vaettir. If you had not answered it properly, then the sculpture would have discharged energy into you that would have stopped your heart beating.”
She said nothing in response. The bronze work fell silent. The group progressed up the road. Long before they reached the end of it, the sun started to set, draping shadows through the pass as they wound their way up the shattered rock, maneuvering past boulders and trying to follow the path of the river. Lukias insisted they proceed. Clouds began roiling in the sky, bringing with it a faint drizzle that turned heavier and began pattering down on the rocks, promising a squall before dawn.
Annon hugged himself for warmth, focusing on the hard march and the pace Lukias set.
“Will we rest at all tonight?” Erasmus asked impatiently.
“We are almost to the summit of this pass,” the Rike answered. “You will see the advantage we gain by darkness soon. Farther.”
Khiara said nothing but matched him stride for stride. Annon felt the presence of inquisitive spirits in the air, curiously reaching out to him with their minds. He tried to encourage conversation, but none of them responded. They flitted away in the darkness, timid as bats. He wondered if the black robes they wore had daunted the spirits. The light rain turned into flaky snow. He shivered.
It was nearing midnight when they reached the top of the pass, which opened into a vast intermountain valley. There was a lake ahead, the waters shimmering in the darkness, black as a void and full of crushed rock around the edges. A shrine made of white marble rose from the side of the road near the placid waters of the lake, forming the headwaters that became the river they had followed. The shrine was a series of four arches, each capped with a turret. The road there was surrounded by boulders blocking the way. A fetid smell lingered in the air, rising up from the foul waters below. This was unexpected for the waters along the river had not contained such a scent.
The path began to descend toward the shrine before winding around one side of the lake. As they approached, the smell grew stronger. The place reeked of decay. Erasmus stumbled on the wet stones and went down. He grumbled a curse and rose, patting his backside. The way down was treacherous and slow. They all had to be careful.
The outline of the shrine grew brighter as the moon appeared through a gap in the clouds at last. The snow turned into a slushy rain. The lake looked black.
“Is this Basilides?” Annon asked in a whisper.
“No,” Lukias responded. “That is on the other side of the lake. This is a place we can rest until dawn. There are no servants here. It is a hostel only.”
As they neared the floor of the valley and the structure, Annon heard a sibilant hissing, two threads bouncing off the rocks at odd angles. The voices he heard amidst the shushing noise were in his mind. It was impossible to determine the source.
Yes, I smell them too. Delightful to have visitors tonight.
Quite delightful. Vaettir blood as well. Delicious.
One is a Preachán, though. Tainted. You may eat that one.
A pity. We will do riddles for the Vaettir girl though?
Riddles will do.
“Hold a moment,” Annon warned the others, listening to the discussion with growing horror. He did not want to alert the creatures that he knew their thoughts, but he feared they were blundering into a trap. They were some sort of spirit creatures. He dared not speak to Nizeera in his mind, lest they overhear him.
The sibilant hissing grew louder, making the others halt.
“Where is it coming from?” Erasmus asked. “Sounds like air passing through a vent. Is this crater volcanic?”
The voices spoke audibly this time. “Welcome to Basilides,” said one.
“What questions do you have for the oracle?”
“I love questions.”
“Quiet now, I am talking to them. You have journeyed a great distance. What are your questions?”
/> It was a trap. Annon knew it in his blood. Lukias stepped forward. “I am Lukias of Kenatos. We seek—”
His words were interrupted when an enormous reptilian head swooped down from a nearby boulder and swallowed him whole.
Annon stared in shock and horror. One moment Lukias had been standing there, just a few paces ahead. He could see the creatures now, their enormous lizard-like bodies a mix of white with black splotches. They blended in perfectly amidst the rock and snow. There were two of them, both perched on boulders on each side of the path heading to the shrine, as large as wagons with enormous bulging tails. They had held perfectly still, their eyes lidded shut. The one who ate Lukias flicked out a long fat tongue across the ridge of his mouth.
“What are your questions?” the other one hissed, more insistent this time.
Pyricanthas. Sericanthas. Thas. Annon’s hands began to glow blue, bringing a rush of warmth into the frigid mountaintop.
The voices switched to his mind.
He’s so polite!
Yes, he’s a Druidecht. They’re very polite before we eat them.
Bhikhu are polite too. I thought this one was supposed to be a boy.
I don’t like Bhikhu. They taste like grass.
The cat is yours though. You can have her.
That is very kind of you.
“Nizeera!” Annon warned, but she had heard the voices as well and launched herself away.
The second lizard-creature lunged for her. Annon stepped forward, sending out a blast of fire into the massive head. The flames enveloped it in a wash of color and scorching heat. The creature snapped its jaws at Nizeera, but the cat had bounded out of its reach, hissing in fury. The flames swirled from Annon’s hands but did nothing to the creature.
You did not think we would be set as guardians against your coming and not be protected?
