“How many?” hissed Darven.
The wolf turned back to eye the Guard leader, “Difficult to say, but at least a hundred I’d guess…”
Darven’s eyes flickered across to Aran, his expression clearly saying, impossible odds!
“If this is the way to go, then we need to see if we can safely get past,” Aran whispered.
“The others should wait here, however the wolves, myself and the other Warriormages need to go on.”
Darven nodded his agreement.
*
It took a good while to convince Alissa and the others to wait behind, but finally they saw the sense in Aran’s argument, and at last fell silent, unhappy in the splitting of the group. For twenty minutes or more they waited, ears strained for every tiny sound until after a while they could hear nothing but their own breathing.
“They’ve been gone too long,” worried Hela, “Someone ought to go in after them.”
“No,” replied Alissa firmly, “It would be crazy to divide the group any further. They will come back; it’s just a matter of being patient.”
“I agree,” Drayden said quietly, “Besides, Aran gave us all strict instructions to wait here, I’m certain that they…” his voice faded away as his sharp ears picked up a quiet and distant sound.
“Hush,” he hissed, “I can hear something…”
The group fell silent until all around grew deathly quiet. Distantly they could hear an irregular quick clicking sound, like something scraping the hard and unyielding surface of the white granite floor.
“Any idea?” asked Genn, nervously turning around.
Kunek suddenly gave a wide smile of relief, “I’m certain it’s the wolves’ claws on the floor. My guess is that the others have stopped and the wolves are still scouting on ahead.”
He shook his head in amazement, “This place is so quiet and tomb-like that you can catch every last little sound.”
*
“Did you find it?” Alissa asked hurriedly when the others finally returned.
Aran shook his head, “I’m sorry it took so long, but we had to range quite a way to make certain the node was not on this level.”
“Halffang mentioned humans…” Uhmar questioned, “Did you find them?”
Aran turned to the guardsman and nodded, “Aye, we found some of them. However, they all seem asleep.”
“Asleep! Are you certain?” Mage Genn was shocked.
“Aye…” Darven replied agreeing, “Further off down the corridor are row upon row of rooms filled with plain granite slabs, and upon each slab is lying a fully armoured, yet sleeping warrior.”
“And deeper inside are seemingly endless rooms, containing disturbingly empty slabs,” added Aran, “Which means that pretty well all of these warriors are awake, and presumably away from the fortress…”
His eyes narrowed as he considered the odds, “I don’t know what keeps these warriors in their unnatural sleep, but I think it would be healthy for us to look elsewhere for the node.”
“I thought them dead,” Bennek interjected, “If you watch closely and at length, you see their chests rise and fall, but their breathing is too slow for sleep yet if they were dead they would not be drawing breath.”
“What are their ages?” asked the Scout suddenly.
Gunthred looked across at the Thakurian, “They are all young men and women of no more than eighteen or nineteen summers, yet each is clothed like a lord, and attired in the finest armour the like of which I’ve never seen before.”
“The gHulam,” breathed the Scout, “Like the White Fortress, they too sleep. The cycle cannot yet have turned.”
“Beyond the rooms is a great central hall with carvings and runes heavy upon the walls and supporting pillars,” interrupted Darven coldly, “Unlike the rest of this place, it has shown some evidence of use. There are swords and other weapons scattered about, granite bench seats, and half-empty jugs of water and stale wine, and metal trays with the remainder of half-eaten stale food upon them.”
“You tasted them?” Genn said astounded, “You’re a brave man Wolf Leader.”
Darven ginned, and shook his head, “I’ve been to enough taverns and alehouses to recognise the stench of stale wine when I come across it; this lot’s been out in the air at least a week.”
“A weapons training hall,” mused Aran, “Like the yard at Andur’s keep but at least five times as big.”
“We should get out of here;” Sage Ash said nervously, “Obviously the node is not in this part of the fortress. I advise we return to the apse.”
“Aye,” agreed Trenny, “I for one would not like to be in this place if these warriors suddenly decided it was high time they woke up.”
*
“So now where?” exclaimed Hela, her face showing deep weariness, “The upper levels are a danger to us. The left hand corridor turns us about so much that we end up back here, in Andur’s name I am heartily sick of this place.”
“There is another way we have not tried,” said Bini quietly. “The central doorway beckons.”
Aran nodded, “Aye, I was about to suggest that way too.”
Alissa looked quizzically at her betrothed, “Didn’t we determine that it just leads to the stables.”
Aran glanced in the direction of the Scout, “We were told some words and thus we surmised a meaning from them, however I would like to see for myself where it leads.”
“Fair enough,” agreed Alissa, “Since we have exhausted all other routes, and our only other option would mean a deliberate and systematic exploration of this place…”
“Which we don’t have time for,” added Trenny tiredly as he massaged his aching leg.
“Then it is agreed,” Aran said addressing the group, “We try the central doorway?”
“The scents are less stale here than elsewhere,” barked Halffang, “It is probably the most promising route of all.”
*
Within moments of passing under the central doorway’s lintel, the group felt certain that the white granite corridor was inclined very slightly downwards. The descent was hardly noticeable, just a faint impression that this area was totally unlike the rest of the empty fortress.
“Stables aren’t normally situated underground…” was Darven’s only comment, as he and Bini exchanged worried glances.
The plainsman raised his eyebrows, “No horse alive would care to be kept in such a place.”
“Perhaps it’s not horses we’ll come across,” Aran replied generally, “Just remember that we came here expressly to find the Warleader. My guess is that once we find her, we’ll find the node as well…by the Goddess, now what!”
Aran had stopped dead, confronted by a shimmering grey-gold barrier which effectively blocked the way down the corridor. Nervously eyeing one another, they gazed at the barrier which resembled the surface of a large, slightly curved soap bubble. In fact the skin of the barrier was so much like a tenuous, shimmering bubble that Jede put out his hand to see if it would burst at his touch. Before he had got within a hairsbreadth of the incandescent barrier, when suddenly and with a shocked cry he withdrew his hand, defensively cradling the appendage under his armpit.
“It burns,” he explained finally, shamefacedly.
Jede carefully withdrew and stared at his hand, horrified he realised that the skin was immediately red and blistered with large angry, raised welts.
“Let me see…” Genn offered, stepping forward when he saw the lines of pain on the guardman’s face.
Gently he held Jede’s injured hand, and passed his thumb across the angry burns. The redness eased a little but did not go away. Frowning he passed his thumb across the burns again, but nothing happened. His face tight with worry, Genn turned to the other mages, drawing them all away from the shimmering bubble-like barrier.
“What’s the matter?”
Genn turned to Darven, “I want you to transform into that eagle now.”
The High Earthmage looked askance, “What? H
ere, now?”
The Healermage nodded firmly, “I may be wrong but I think there’s something wrong with the magepower here.”
Drayden shrugged, and concentrating intensely, briefly shook himself.
“Nothing,” Trenny whispered, “Try again Drayden…you are the strongest of all of us.”
The Earthmage frowned in puzzlement, and tried to transform again, lines of strain and concentration etched deeply into his face.
“Nothing,” echoed Theaua, her own face grey, “What in Andur’s name is this place? And what has happened to the magepower?”
“It’s the node that’s causing this,” said Sage Ash bleakly, “Or rather what the Warleader has done with it….”
Aran spun around, irritated with the Sage’s vague generalisations. “Then tell us! Are all affected?”
The Sage nodded unhappily, “I guess that anyone with an Ability will not be able to pass this point. Somehow the nodal power has been channelled here to create this barrier. The closer a mage goes to it, the more certain it is that their magepower will be turned against them and be burnt.”
Aran frowned, “Like in a Scanning…but this time with actual burns?”
The Sage nodded, “The Ability is turned against the mage.” He glanced across at Uhmar and Kunek, “I suspect that being non-mages those two will be the only ones able to safely pass through this barrier.”
Kunek jumped back, “There’s no way I’m going through!” he stated bluntly. “I don’t care what anyone says, does Sage Ash really know we won’t be burnt.”
“He doesn’t,” said Aran turning tiredly away. “He’s only guessing. It’s all right no-one is forcing you to go through.”
“I’ll go…” said Uhmar stoutly, “If only to see if the Sage is right.”
He cast a withering glance at Kunek, “I volunteered for this trip. So far I’ve walked for weeks through the bleakest landscape and the worst weather I’ve ever known, and not seen much action. If I can do something for the group, then my journey won’t be for nothing.”
Aran held out his hand and clasped the other on the shoulder, “Then ride a safe road, and May the Goddess and Andur’s name protect you,” he said formally, and then staring hard into the other’s eyes, whispered “If you do not return, your name will be remembered with honour.”
Uhmar inclined his head, “Sire…I am an Andurian Guardsman, before that name was given to us we were known as the King’s Guard. If you cannot go on, then the fight must still be carried through to the enemy. I am willing to carry that fight.”
Aran nodded and let Uhmar draw away.
Ash drew the guardsman aside, “I believe that the Warleader is somehow linked to the node. If you can distract her attention, just only for a moment or two then this barrier will fail and we all can pass through.”
Uhmar nodded, “I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’ll go,” Kunek growled angrily, his face grey. “Can’t let the Wolves reap all the honour, besides,” and he glanced at the barrier with a mocking smile, “I know plenty of ways of distracting a woman.”
“You do this of your own free will?” Aran asked bleakly, “For I doubt there will be a happy end to it…”
“Aye, rather this way than dying a lingering death in my dotage,” Kunek replied shortly, not meeting his king’s eyes.
*
As predicted by Sage Ash, the two guardsmen passed through the barrier unscathed, and without any appreciable difficulty. As they passed through, the barrier had curled around them like the skin of a bubble, snapping back as they came out the other side. From a safe distance the mages inspected the incandescent skin of the barrier it looked unmarked and undamaged by the passage of the two men.
“How do you feel?” asked Mage Genn, his voice sounding as if it had been softened by distance.
“Fine,” Uhmar called back, “We’re going on now.”
“Andur’s luck is with you both!” called out Darven at their retreating backs.
*
“So what was the real reason you decided to come through?” asked Uhmar as soon as they were out of earshot of the others, “And don’t give me that rubbish about honour.”
Kunek shrugged, “You’re right, it wasn’t my choice.” He frowned at the featureless white walls, “I can’t explain it…I was standing at the very back of the group, and then suddenly I felt like I was being pushed forward…” He paused, “Then I heard a voice.”
Uhmar was incredulous, “So you’re hearing voices now! Was it anyone in particular or just a general voice?”
Kunek glanced across at the other guardsman, “The voice had a body too.”
“Who, what was it?”
Kunek’s face fell, “When the shade of Warleader Andur kicks you forward, and growls into your ear that you’re a shirking coward not fit to be a guardsman…what damned choice does a man have?”
Uhmar paused, astonished, “You saw the shade of Warleader Andur!”
Kunek bowed his head, “Aye…he faded before the rest of you noticed.”
He looked up and his face was grim, “Halffang and the other wolves were the only other ones to see him, and they just looked on whilst grinning that particularly unnerving grin that wolves have perfected so well.”
Uhmar chuckled, “I’m only glad that I made the decision to come through. The last thing I need is that kind of supernatural ‘encouragement’.”
“So what do we do if we find the node?” asked Kunek at last.
“We wing it I guess,” replied Uhmar wryly.
*
The white granite corridor continued its gradual descent into the bowels of the fortress until almost as suddenly the walls of the corridor abruptly changed from smooth white granite, to the rough hewn stone of the Trident range.
“I guess that we’ve just passed beyond the walls of Erie,” muttered Uhmar.
“Then the node isn’t in the fortress?” questioned Kunek.
“Evidently not,” the other replied, “Although I would lay an even bet that the only access to it is.”
“Your bet might be realised soon enough,” whispered Kunek, “There’s light up ahead.”
*
Chapter 8—The History
When the scattered forces of the Serat lost the battles of the Great Uprising and fled to the western mountains, they had not been thinking of establishing a new civilisation. For the first winter they eked out a precarious existence in the milder parts of the range, whilst they licked their wounds and counted their losses. That first winter was a hard one, even by Trident Range standards, and many of the more weakened survivors froze to death. Those that the winter did not take grew tough and lean, and their minds hardened and strengthened to cope with the daily adversity.
Eventually warmer weather came, and with it a new determination to build their nation anew. Soon they had decided the location of the new city, and started to lay its foundations and walls. Bitter too had been the memory of their Shaming, and the Gathering of Nine, acting under advice from the Priest Caste, made a proclamation that the Serat nation was no more. Immediately the Matriarchs were symbolically cast down, and all were told that their people would be called Thakur, or Dispossessed.
Immediately the proclamation was made, the very finest from the Makers Caste were taken aside and given explicit orders to create a new foundation for the Serat nation, should it ever rise again. The planned citadel would be built on a mountainside located in the very heart of the range. Situated two days ride from the new city of Thakur and constructed from the white granite and marble that was being extracted from the new mines, the White Fortress took almost two hundred years to complete. Built on three levels, the ground floor comprised a labyrinth of state rooms for each of the matriarchs, plus other rooms and halls with connecting corridors, all of which was designed to provide a secure location for the infant Serat government. The second level was primarily accommodation for the elite gHulam warriors, plus a great training and banqueting hall at its very heart
. The topmost level comprised the kitchens, stores and great lead lined rainwater collection tanks. The Makers looked at the plans for the Serat Citadel and nodded, they knew what had to be done. This new citadel was an exact copy of the great Citadels which had, for millennium, been built in the Home Lands. Then they looked again at the plans and scratched their heads, there was a minor deviation from the ancient design that seemed to have no use or purpose.
‘Do not question us,’ the Priests had replied coldly to the Maker’s queries, ‘For this has a far deeper purpose than you could ever understand.’
The Makers gravely bowed their heads in acquiescence, and without further question had constructed a long and sloping tunnel from the central apse which ended out beyond and below the walls, almost opening out where thousands of years before, the side of the mountain had fallen away in a great earthquake. Under instructions they mined out a great domed round chamber at the very end of the tunnel.
As soon as the last rock had been removed, the Priests had arrived from Thakur City, and with an imperious gesture of their hands, waved the Makers away. Sworn to silence, the knowledge of the strange tunnel and domed chamber died with the original Makers, and its secret existence became known only to the Most Sacred of the Priest Caste, and the highest ranked of the Warrior Caste. Over the next hundred years the young warriors of the next gHulam were gathered, trained and armoured, and then held changeless in the Long Sleep until the cycles turned for the next Serat rise.
*
Chapter 9—The Reckoning
“I told you there was light up ahead…” breathed Kunek in wonderment.
“I was expecting daylight,” replied Uhmar softly, “Not this…”
“Aye,” mused the other guardsman, “I don’t think anyone suspected this.”
*
As soon as they had noticed the increased brightness at the far end of the tunnel, the two guardsmen had cautiously moved forward. Both had been fully expecting to spring concealed traps, and perhaps run into ambushes, however the way had remained deceptively clear, and the two men walked with their hands resting on the pommels of their swords, and their senses keen, alert to any danger. Their heartbeat sounded loud and fast in their ears, and nervous anxiety threw a sheen of fear across their brow. Then, when they finally reached the end of the tunnel and the hidden source of the mysterious light was finally revealed, their worst fears were realised. For a moment they stood and gaped in amazement, but as their eyes grew used to the curling vortices of ice-cold light streaming up from the floor, and espied the mystery it had shrouded, Kunek had reflectively grabbed Uhmar’s arm to drag him back into the sheltering darkness of the tunnel, but it was too late. The men had been seen…
Warriormage: Book Three of the 'Riothamus' trilogy Page 23
