"A few," Duren agreed, taking a sip of the wine she had brought him as a present.
Despite his efforts over the years, the loamy soil of Alor Satar had never been able to produce anything other than mediocre wines. Nyngary, on the other hand, farther south, was known throughout the world for possessing vintages of unmatched quality, particularly the potent dark green that was Duren's favorite. On those occasions that she visited, which were infrequent at best, she always remembered to bring a case of it with her.
When the messenger had arrived from Alor Satar, bearing the news of her oldest brother's death, Marsa had raised an eyebrow and read the note without reaction. She then handed it back, and said, 'Tell Karas I will come," and went back to pruning her roses. An hour later she sent a note to her daughter, informing her of her uncle's death and instructing her to pack for their trip.
It had taken them three days to reach Rocoi. On arrival, she found things much as they had been when she was a child. The streets and boulevards of the capital were still wide and clean, though they seemed somehow smaller than she remembered. There were a few more statues and fountains, evidence of her brother's penchant for art. Otherwise the palace remained much the same as when she had left to marry Eldar d'Elso, the king of Nyngary.
Immediately after Kyne Duren's funeral, Karas asked her to go for a walk with him. This in itself was unusual—her brother was not given to idle pursuits. Marsa assumed he wanted to review the deployment of their troops and finalize plans for the attack on the West.
Her husband had discussed the proposed campaign with her when Karas first presented it several months before. She was not surprised that he'd turned to her. It was typical of the man—he was paralyzed by indecision, and elected to defer his answer until giving the matter further study. Had she not exercised her influence over him, which came quite easily, the king would have gone right on thinking until he was old and gray.
Marsa knew her brother far too well to believe he would repeat the same mistake he'd made twenty-eight years ago. She had been quite young then, only a child herself, but she remembered everything as if it were only yesterday. If Karas had decided to take on the West again, she knew that he would not have reached such a decision lightly—or without the certainty that he would emerge victorious. Their minds were a great deal alike in that re-
gard. Her grandfather's passion burned as brightly in her breast as it did in her brother's.
They walked across the tiled courtyard into the new wing of the palace and he began to unfold his story about discovering the ancient library. He told her of the knowledge he had gained from the books there, and of the great crystal that seemed to reach forever into the depths of the earth. She'd listened and absorbed all he said with little comment. Duren even took her to the library and showed her the books themselves, and the amazing white lights that came on when they sensed movement in the room. It was impressive, but her instincts told her that he was holding something back. She decided to bide her time and wait. Marsa d'Elso was very good at waiting.
She noticed the odd rose gold ring immediately. Karas absently twisted it back and forth when he spoke. Initially she attributed it merely to his fondness for jewelry.
After they left the library, her brother appeared to be struggling with himself to tell her the real reason he'd invited her. They walked together around the lake, eventually coming to a flight of stone stairs that led to the top of a small hill. In the distance she could see the reddish walls of Karas's palace and the balcony of the apartments that she shared with her daughter.
A narrow path led away from the steps and into the trees. It was just wide enough for them to walk in single file. Ahead of them was a clearing, which Marsa recognized immediately. From where they stood, the palace was completely out of sight, shielded by the trees and undergrowth. She'd seen that much of the ground under her feet was blackened, as if there had been a fire recently, but kept the observation to herself. In the clearing, someone had set out a table and two chairs. At the far end of it stood a miniature house, abandoned long ago. Her father had built it for her to play in as a child. She eyed it impassively. No particular emotions or fond memories drifted back to her. She simply hadn't thought of it in years. When her use for the house was over, it was gone from her mind.
She turned back to her brother, waiting calmly for an explanation. Instead, he walked to one of the chairs and sat down, indicating for her to join him. That was when she noticed the small box on the table. It was finely crafted, made of rich burled wood. Duren opened the box, revealing three rings the same color as the one he wore.
Then he began to talk about his own ring. He told her of the ability the Ancients possessed to create things using their minds alone. He explained how their last war almost destroyed the planet and plunged mankind into darkness. She knew about the war, of course—everybody did. It was common knowledge. Relics of the Ancients' great buildings and roads existed in her own country, just as they did in Alor Satar. Finally, he told her about the eight rose gold rings the Ancients created at the very end, in the hope of averting disaster. That fact she didn't know.
While her brother spoke, he permitted a rare display of emotion to show on his sharp features. The hooded eyes suddenly seemed animated and alive, with an intensity that she could only remember seeing on one or two other occasions.
"Marsa," he said, reaching out to hold her hand. "I know what I have just told you is difficult to accept, but believe me, every word is the truth."
She looked at him, unsure about what to say. The story was fantastic.
"Perhaps a demonstration then," he added. "Observe."
Duren swiveled in his chair and pointed to the little house across the clearing, and it exploded. Bits of wood and glass flew everywhere. A few splinters reached them, but she didn't flinch, or even react. Her face remained impassive. Marsa d'Elso considered what she had just witnessed.
There was potential here, she decided.
"Observe," her brother said again, pointing at a large beech tree about fifty yards to their right.
Marsa felt a faint movement of the ground under her feet, which gradually increased in intensity. Suddenly, the earth began to shift, accompanied by a deep tearing
sound. The branches of the tree seemed to shudder. The shuddering spread to the trunk itself, and the tree slowly began to topple over. It was both fascinating and terrifying at the same time. The tree hit the ground with a loud crash. When silence returned to the clearing, she found her heart was pounding rapidly.
She was also aware that her brother was watching her. "That was your doing, Karas?"
"I told you that it would be difficult to accept," he said, putting his hand on top of hers.
It was an odd gesture, coming from him, more planned than spontaneous, she thought. Searching her memory, she was unable to recall any overt signs of affection from him other than formal kisses on the cheek when ceremony dictated it.
Her breathing returned to normal, and she leaned forward on the table and said, "Why have you shown me this?"
"Because you are my sister, and I need someone that I can trust. I cannot be all places at all times. If we are to defeat the West this time, the war will be fought on several fronts. There are limitations as to how far I can reach. And our present allies will require, shall we say, reinforcement and sufficient motivation to bring events to a rapid conclusion. I have such power and ability that hasn't been seen in this world for three millennia," he whispered intently. "We can make the dream come true."
"And you think these other rings possess the same power?" she asked, looking into the box on the table.
"That, my dear sister, is what I propose to find out," he replied. "They will not work on just anyone. I have learned that much already. None of these," he said, indicating the rings in the box, "have ever been able to work for me. I've tested all three with my sons, Armand and Eric. Both are intelligent, competent men, but neither demonstrated an
y ability with them, or even the slightest reaction."
A silence followed while Marsa digested what he told her. Then she picked up the box and examined the rings more closely. Being careful not to touch them, she moved the box slightly in one direction and then the other. Sunlight filtering through the leaves reflected off the rose gold, seeming to deepen its color.
After a moment, she put the box back on the table and picked up the first ring. Nothing about it seemed the slightest bit remarkable, except for the weight. With a quick glance at Duren's hand to verify which finger he wore his own ring on, she slipped it on the corresponding finger on her own hand.
They waited.
Duren's eyes met her own, searching them for some indication that a connection was made.
Nothing.
She pressed her lips together, took the ring off, and replaced it with the next one. Once again she felt nothing.
"What am I supposed to feel?" Marsa asked as she took the last ring out of the box.
"With me, there is a brief shiver that courses through my arm and then disappears almost immediately. One of the ancient books says that it's a normal reaction. Sometimes a slight headache follows, but—"
Duren's words froze in his mouth. Immediately after putting the ring on her finger, Marsa's expression changed. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth opened in surprise.
In his excitement Duren stood up, knocking his chair over backward. "You felt it, didn't you?"
She rose as well, but more slowly and deliberately, and then suddenly she threw her arms around him. And for the first time in their lives, they hugged each other out of genuine affection.
"Yes, yes, I definitely felt something when I put it on. It was like ... I don't know. Like when your arm goes to sleep after you lean on it too long. But it only lasted for a second."
Even as she spoke, she began to worry that the effect had simply come and gone in that fleeting second.
"What happens now? What am I supposed to feel?" she asked him.
"Nothing," he whispered, watching her carefully. "That's the way it works—at least with me. Just that brief tingling, and then it's gone. We need to test it, Marsa— carefully ... very carefully. It takes a little time to learn how to control it. The first time I succeeded in accomplishing anything, I blew up a chair."
"I take it you weren't trying to blow the chair up, then?" she asked looking at the surrounding area.
"I'm quite serious, Marsa. The ring may not be a good match for you, and the results can be unpredictable at times."
"What do you mean, 'a good match'?" she'd asked, turning back to him.
"Theixsoks'are not clear, and much of it is still obsure to me. In the beginning, every man and woman in the world possessed a ring of their own. But then, for some reason, the Ancients began to destroy them, leaving only eight special rings—this was what they called them. Each was made for one person, and for one person only."
"Then how is it possible for us to use them?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I don't have the answer to that, sister. I only know that they can be used, or at least one of them can. I've been searching the volumes for almost a year. It has something to do with the energies our brains produce, but beyond that, I cannot say. The important thing is that after three thousand years, I've somehow made it work again. I believe this was meant to be a part of my destiny—of our family's destiny."
There was a long pause before Marsa spoke. "Why now?" she asked.
Duren knew what she was asking. He leaned back in his chair and looked away rather than meeting her eyes.
"I have been thinking," he said quietly. "What will people say of me when I am gone? That I was a philosopher? A poet? A conqueror? Such men have lived before, and all that remains of them is dust and broken statues. I grow increasingly aware there are rather less days ahead of me than behind. By itself, one would think this fact alone a sufficient cause for a man to reevaluate his life. To see that what he created has meaning—endures, if you will. I wish to leave a legacy to my sons and to you, my sister."
Marsa nodded slowly, her brother's meaning plain to her. Part of what he'd said was true, of course, but she had an incredible memory for details, just as her grandfather did. Even if Karas didn't remember their conversations years before, when she was still living at the palace, she did. What her brother wanted was to somehow best his father, even though he'd been dead for nearly forty years. Gabrel was never able to conquer the West. That would be Karas's measure of success. Interesting, she thought.
"I want to try," she said. "Tell me what to do."
He paused and took a deep breath. "All right, I don't think we need to blow anything up just yet." He smiled. "Let us start small. I want you to concentrate on an object . .. say, this chair over here. Form a picture of it in your mind and think about making it move. Just see the chair moving—nothing more."
Marsa didn't hesitate. Following her brother's instructions, she looked at the chair and closed her eyes, keeping the image vividly in her mind. Then she imagined the chair rising above the ground.
Karas Duren's sharp intake of breath caused her to open her eyes. Hanging between them was the chair, miraculously suspended, as though by an invisible rope. Her mouth fell open. Exultation and a rush of power filled her unlike anything she had ever experienced. She formed a picture of the table in her mind, and it suddenly lifted off the ground as well. Duren watched in open admiration as his sister manipulated the two objects. She moved them around each other and then up, all the way to the treetops, before bringing them back down again.
"Tell me what else I can do," she said excitedly. "I want to know everything."
Her brother held up his hand and said, "Slowly, Marsa ... slowly. This is not something to rush into. You have much to learn."
For three days she and Duren worked together, refining her newly found skills. In doing so, they both learned something. While wearing the rings, each became aware of the other's presence, even when a considerable distance separated them.
On the morning of her second day, she decided to go riding with her daughter and a small escort into the rolling hills surrounding Rocoi. After stopping in a small village called Loring for their midday meal, she suddenly felt her brother in her mind. In no way that she could explain, she knew that he was seated in the library in a high-backed chair. The chair was made of red velvet and black wood, and he was reading one of the ancient texts. For a moment it was though she could see the book through his eyes. She saw the writing on the pages and the dust that clung to the binding. At the same time she felt his presence, she was certain he felt her as well. It was as vivid as if he were standing in front of her. She could see his head come up when the contact was made. By way of experiment, Marsa removed the ring, and the link was immediately broken.
In her apartment's private dining room that evening, they discussed what had happened over dinner. Duren confirmed that he felt her presence as well, and even described the precise section of the village she was in when it happened.
"I felt the exact second you took off your ring," he said. "It was as if there was a sudden emptiness. I knew you were still alive, of course, but it was as if you were somehow gone. I find it difficult to articulate."
"What do you think it means, Karas?"
"I don't know. Perhaps it means that there is a greater affinity between family members." He shrugged. "Perhaps nothing."
She put her fork down and stared out of the balcony window. She could see the lights from Rocoi in the distance casting an orange glow against the sky. A minute passed and then another before she spoke.
"You told me that you sent the Orlocks after the fifth ring, but that they have had no success in finding either it or the person who now has it, is that correct?"
A brief look of annoyance passed over her brother's face, but was gone as quickly as it came. "Yes."
"And you believe this ring presents a danger to you— to us—if the ow
ner learns of its powers?"
"I have told you this much already."
Marsa Duren d'Elso turned to face him and leaned back in her chair. "What do we know of him?"
"His name is Mathew Lewin, a country boy from a small town in Elgaria. He is tall, perhaps seventeen years old, and intelligent, or so my spies have told me. His father was recently killed .. . murdered, to be precise. In turn, Lewin killed the one responsible for his father's death."
"Really?" she asked.
"With his bare hands—choked him to death."
"Hmm."
"What does that mean?"
"If he used his bare hands, then either he knows nothing about the ring or he's unable to use it," she replied. "Why has he not been taken already?"
"Because he fled his village to avoid the law. The El-garians have always been quite punctilious about then-laws. The Orlock who returned last week followed them to a river town called Elberton. The creature was the only one who came back. The boy and his companions managed to kill fifteen of their party."
"What? How is that possible? How many are with him?"
"He travels with a priest, a girl, and perhaps two or
three others. The report was not clear." Duren waved his hand impatiently. "I'm afraid I had the surviving Orlock killed before he had an opportunity to be more specific. At any rate, others are following now."
"But I don't see how a boy could possibly—"
"Before the creature died, he told me about an explosion in a stable that killed the last three of his companions," Duren interrupted, speaking quietly. "So it seems he can use the ring."
"But how—"
"I do not know. I only know the ring presents a danger. Each of the rings are dangerous if they can be matched to someone with the ability to use them. It may even be possible for them to work with others. You should understand that by now."
"But we don't even know if any of the others still exist," she said.
"True. But we know about this one ... and I mean to have it." Duren leaned forward, his dark eyes suddenly as hard as agate. "Between the two of us, we will crush the West into dust."
Mitchell Graham - [Fifth Ring 01] - The Fifth Ring (v1.0) Page 28
