The Hidden Relic (The Evermen Saga, Book Two)

by James Maxwell

  Up ahead she could see the crater's rim, the opposite side forming a long, curving escarpment, and the near side where the ground dropped away in a steep cliff in front of them. She still wasn't close enough to see the lake at the crater's base.

  Torlac had sprouted at a cleft in the rim. It was a town that wagons could pass through on their way to the Halapusa Ferry, or where the goods of far-off merchants could be purchased and taken down to the tiered city by Petryans, allowing the foreign merchants to return home.

  Torlac was now in the possession of Raj Hazara.

  The signs of the great battle that must have been fought for its possession were everywhere, visible long before the walls of the town itself. The red earth was scorched and blackened by fire, and wooden boards covered ditches that were lined with spikes. The dead had been taken away, either to be burned or buried, but Ella still caught a terrible stench on the wind, the kind of smell that took an eternity to be dispelled.

  Overriding the scent of corruption, the burnt odour of blackened wood and smouldering earth came through strongest. Ella looked with concern at Shani; her friend's eyes were red, but whether from emotion or the smoke, Ella wasn't certain.

  "What are you thinking?" Ella asked. "Are you all right?"

  Shani turned her head. "To be honest? I don't know. I want to see my people freed, not conquered. I am no traitor."

  Ashnar looked at Shani curiously.

  "We'll speak to the prince," Ella said.

  She thought again about the time she'd seen Ilathor lead an attack against a rival tribe, Tarn Fasala. When Ilathor led his men to victory, and his enemy surrendered, he hadn't given them quarter. He'd butchered them to a man.

  "I'm sure he wants them to be free also." Ella said, nodding, but inwardly she wondered. How sure was she, really?

  The road descended and then levelled out. Desert warriors riding past gazed at their strange party with curiosity. Jehral moaned, and Ella prayed he would get the attention of a healer soon.

  The walls of Torlac loomed ahead. As they approached, Ella saw that the once-formidable gate was in splinters, their escort barely giving the gate a glance as the desert men took them through.

  The streets of Torlac were arranged in a neat grid, with the central street from the main gate built wide to allow wagons to pass in both directions. The town had escaped the battle mostly unscathed, leading Ella to believe the Hazarans' plan of attack must have relied largely on stealth. With their rediscovered lore enabling them to confuse the eyes, Ella's intuition told her the theory was probably correct.

  With their swarthy skin, drab clothing and red, flat-topped hats, the Petryans were easily distinguishable from the darker Hazarans. Ella saw a Petryan carrying a broom shy away when a rider's path took the rider close to him. Ella hoped the Hazarans were being held in check and wondered what the prince's plans were. She hadn't seen a single woman among the desert warriors who guarded the gates and patrolled the streets — the Hazarans certainly didn't look like they were here to stay.

  Still, the Petryan common-folk who walked the streets seemed to have recovered somewhat from the battle — either that, or they were still in shock. Ella was heartened to see some old Petryans smoking redleaf from long-stemmed pipes and veiled local women buying fruit and vegetables from one of the numerous markets. Whatever the tides of war, life went on.

  Ella again looked at Shani, but her friend's expression was inscrutable.

  Ashnar and his men led the three travellers from the market district through several wide streets to an expansive square. In the centre of the square, a great marble statue of a man had been toppled down. Ella raised an inquiring eyebrow at Shani.

  "High Lord Haptut Alwar," Shani said.

  Jehral moaned and shifted in his saddle, Ella again reached out to steady him. "He needs help," Ella said, frowning at Ashnar.

  "No!" Jehral said, although his words were obviously an effort. "I need to see the prince."

  A square, red-brick building opened its gates onto the square. From somewhere within the brick walls, a tall tower rose high above to dominate the square and the rest of the town. A dozen Hazarans stood guard, casually leaning on their scimitars.

  "It's the old barracks — the biggest building in Torlac," Ashnar said, almost apologetically, looking at Jehral.

  White-faced, Jehral straightened in his saddle, looking at Ashnar but not replying.

  As they pulled up outside the gates Ella looked down at the guards from the height of her horse. Her eyes widened as she recognised a Hazaran: one of Prince Ilathor's men, a thick-set warrior who had taken an instant disliking to her.

  "Rashine," Ashnar said, "look who it is."

  Rashine looked them over, his eyes catching on Jehral. "Jehral!" He then saw Ella and frowned, before returning to Jehral. "What are you doing here?"

  Jehral smiled weakly. "Salute, Rashine. Take us to Prince Ilathor. Please."

  Rashine looked at Ella and Shani, finally tilting his head at Ashnar, who nodded.

  "Jehral of Tarn Teharan, I will leave you here," said Ashnar.

  "Thank you, Ashnar of Tarn Bohta," Jehral said.

  Ella looked on with consternation as Jehral kicked his feet out of the stirrups, slipping off the side of his horse and wincing as he hit the ground.

  "This is madness, Jehral," Shani said.

  "Come on," Jehral said.

  "You heard him," Rashine growled. He prodded Ella in the back as he and three other guards formed a barrier around them. Ella glared at him.

  Jehral, Ella, and Shani were led into the massive building. It was more functional than beautiful, with sharp angles and bare walls. Dark-skinned men walked by in small groups, heads clustered together and wicked scimitars at their sides, and the sound of crashing steel could be heard echoing through the stone.

  They were taken up a wide set of stairs, and Ella's concern grew when she saw how slowly Jehral took each step. Rashine and the other warriors ignored Jehral's plight — the proud man who was the prince's right hand would never accept assistance.

  A second, narrower staircase took them higher still, and soon even Ella was feeling exhausted. Finally the staircase opened onto a landing, where two more guards stood outside a heavy wooden door. Ella realised they must be at the top of the tower.

  "The prince cannot be disturbed," one of the guards said, holding up his hand.

  Jehral sucked in his breath, and then with a bellow that Ella would never have expected him to be capable of, Jehral shouted.

  "It's Jehral, Prince Ilathor of Tarn Teharan. You left me with the women at Agira Lahsa, but by the Lord of Fire, you'll see me now."

  "Jehral?" the voice came through the door. "Enter and be welcome, my friend."

  The desert warriors exchanged crooked smiles and one of the guards opened the door.

  Prince Ilathor Shanti, son of the Kalif and war leader of the Hazaran desert tribes, stood looking out the open window of the chamber he'd chosen, high above the streets of Torlac, in the town's tallest structure. Ella followed his gaze, realising he was staring into the distance at the steaming waters of Lake Halapusa and the Petryan capital of Tlaxor centred at its heart. From every turret of the tiered city below, the teardrop and flame raj hada of Petrya flew tall and proud. The Petryans were far from conquered.

  The prince turned as they approached, his lips curved in the charismatic smile Ella remembered so well.

  He had been beardless before, but he had grown a thin beard, sculpted to follow the contours of his face and meeting his upper lip in two lines on either side of his chin. Ella was surprised to find she liked it. Prince Ilathor's near-black hair was very long, past his shoulders, held back with a golden clasp, and his dark skin was smooth and unblemished. He wore an earring of gold and amber in his left ear, and around his neck was a golden chain from which hung a curved turquoise triangle.

  The black clothing of the Hazarans sat snugly around the prince's broad shoulders, but it was the yellow sash around his wai
st that caught Ella's attention. The raj hada in its centre was made of moulded yellow gold, the desert rose of Raj Hazara etched into the gold.

  Jehral entered first, the two women flanking him on either side. Jehral bowed, somewhat clumsily for the usually graceful warrior. Ella — and Shani, she was surprised to see — followed suit.

  "My prince," Jehral said. "I have been to far-off lands, but now I have returned."

  "Jehral," Prince Ilathor said warmly, coming forward and clasping the man's left hand between both of his. "I never doubted you."

  "Yet you left without me," Jehral said, his eyes accusing.

  "I am sorry, my friend. Binding the tribes together is no easy feat. The reconstruction of Agira Lahsa is well underway and we rediscover more of our lore every day. The men were growing restless, and I could wait no longer. In my position, Jehral, would you not do the same?"

  Jehral bowed his head. "I do not think to presume, my prince."

  The prince smiled. "We missed you at the fight; rest assured of that, my friend."

  Ella exchanged glances with Shani, and then, without quite realising she'd done it, she cleared her throat.

  "And I see you brought me my desert rose," the prince said, smiling and directing his attention to Ella.

  "She…" Jehral said. "She…"

  Jehral stumbled, and then, before any of them could react, fell to the floor.

  Prince Ilathor looked at Ella for the first time. "What have you done to him?" he demanded, his eyes blazing. "He is wounded. Can you not see?"

  Ella felt the colour rise to her cheeks. "Prince Ilathor —" she began.

  "Guards!" the prince called. The door to the room opened. "Take Jehral to the infirmary. Give him the best possible care, understood?"

  "Yes, at once, my prince," the guard said.

  "Then find these two some chambers. Close by. Don't let either of them out of your sight."

  "Understood, my prince."

  "If he has come to harm," the prince said to Ella, "I will hold you directly responsible."

  "I…" Ella tried again.

  Ella and Shani were surrounded by guards, and before Ella could say another word, they were led away.

  Shani's parting words followed her.

  "That went well," her friend said.

  25

  PERHAPS the mixed reception was a blessing, for Ella was travel-stained and exhausted. Her next meeting with the prince was to be later in the evening, at dinner, which gave her time to rest, then bathe, and then rest again.

  The chambers she'd been given were surprisingly spacious, with a deep bath in an adjoining room where scalding hot water from the volcanic lake was piped directly in. Fresh towels and linens were stacked in a neat pile, and with joy Ella discovered that the chest at the foot of the bed was filled with clean clothing.

  The next time she met with the prince, she planned for things to go quite differently.

  For some reason Ella found herself spending an inordinate amount of time in front of the silver mirror. She washed her body and hair with soap that smelled like jasmine, afterwards combing her pale blonde hair until it shone. She tried on the garments one after another, finally settling on a sleeveless dress of cornflower blue.

  Ella suddenly stopped herself. What was she doing?

  She was meeting with a powerful leader. She was representing her people, and the things she spoke about with the prince could have a great impact on the world.

  Was it anything else?

  No. Of course not.

  With that resolved, Ella settled her silver pendant on its chain between her breasts. Was the dress cut too low? Of course not.

  She wondered how many people would be at the dinner. Probably at least twenty, she thought. Jehral would be there, if he was well enough, and certainly Shani, and the leaders of the other tarns. She hoped that she would be seated close enough to the prince that she could explain how Jehral had been wounded, and that she'd had nothing to do with his insistence to see the prince immediately.

  Ella looked into the silver mirror. Her green eyes sparkled back.

  When the summons came, she was ready.

  ~

  ELLA was once more led to the room at the top of the tower. It was a small room to seat so many, she thought.

  The door was open, and with a gesture the guard indicated Ella should enter. Feeling apprehensive, she stepped through the portal, noticing this time that the floor was lined with soft carpets, thick and luxurious. Maps were pinned to the wall, and a desk rested in the corner, but even more incongruous than the carpets, a table had been placed in the centre of the room.

  Two chairs sat at the table. Only two chairs. A nightlamp on the table had been activated at the lowest setting, and a wine bottle stood with two glasses. Ella's heart skipped a beat.

  The prince again leaned at the window, looking out at the starry sky. Ella walked over to stand by his side, and as she looked out, the night-time view caused her to gasp.

  A full moon shimmered over the surface of Lake Halapusa, its light broken into ethereal ripples as it was dispersed by the steam rising off the water. By night, the city of Tlaxor below was even more spectacular, with lights piled up one on top of the other like the berries of some magical tree. Above the lake, the rim of the crater formed a jagged line that stretched as far as the eye could see to the left and right, and above it all the stars sparkled like pinpricks in a curtain.

  "You will have your own great city soon," Ella said.

  "That is true," said the prince, still looking out. "Different, however, to this."

  "All places are different," Ella said.

  "Is your city, Sarostar, like this?"

  "No, Your Highness. It's a beautiful city, a place I love, but nothing like this."

  "So Jehral has told me," the prince nodded.

  "About Jehral…" Ella said.

  The prince cut her off with a chopping motion of his hand. "We have spoken at length. You saved his life, Enchantress Ella. Normally I would grant you any wish for doing that, any wish in my power to grant. However you lied to me. You gave me a false name, you stole my essence, and you left my people when I still needed you."

  "My people needed me too!"

  "Then why did you not plead your case with me? I would have let you go. Why did you not tell me the truth?"

  Ella tried to answer, but no words would come out. "I… I don't know," she finally said. "I'm sorry."

  "Thank you, Ella, for saving my friend's life. There is no debt between us," the prince said.

  He turned away from the vista below, looking at Ella for the first time. The soft light from the table shone from Ella's hair, caressing her pale skin with its glow.

  The prince hadn't spoken for some time. Ella looked up at his face.

  There was a fire in his eyes, a hunger she had never seen before. Ilathor reached down and without seeking her permission he ran his fingers through the ends of her hair, holding it up. "Like spun gold," he whispered to himself; she could only just hear it.

  Ella took a slight step back, even though part of her screamed, telling her to move forward. The prince's hand fell down.

  "Now that there is no debt between us, could you explain to me why you've taken me from my home, against my will? If you'd explained your case and said you needed me, I might have come."

  "When last I saw you, you fled without a word. I opened my heart to you, back in the desert, and your response was to leave. Can you blame me for being unsure of you? Can you fault me for wanting to ask your help in person?"

  "My homeland…" Ella began.

  Ilathor held up a hand. "When I heard of the woman who saved her people at the Bridge of Sutanesta I asked Jehral to discover the truth, and if you were alive, to do whatever it took to bring you here. I am sorry if your journey here was not easy, but I need you, Ella, and it is for more than my own desire that you're here, sincere as it is. Once more, lives depend on your actions."

  "What is it you want me to d
o?"

  Prince Ilathor looked out the window at the tiered city below. It was a long time before he spoke. "I need you to build the bridge," he finally said, turning to Ella.

  "I don't understand," Ella said.

  "I brought you here so you can build me the bridge that you built for your people after the Bridge of Sutanesta was destroyed. A bridge of light, I have heard it called. Only you can do such a thing. We have been waiting here for an eternity. The ferry has been destroyed so we cannot cross Lake Halapusa, and the lack of supplies is having no effect on the Petryans. I need you to build me a bridge across the lake."

  "I see," Ella said. "I understand now." She shook her head slowly. "Prince Ilathor, you could have saved yourself some trouble, and Jehral a lot of effort. The bridge I built spanned a distance one hundred times smaller than what you need. It isn't possible."

  "Please, I beg you to try," Prince Ilathor said.

  Ella thought for a moment. She owed Ilathor a debt, for it was his essence that had allowed her to save the refugees and Miro's army at the Bridge of Sutanesta.

  "There might be another way," Ella said, frowning.

  "Anything, Ella. Anything you can do to help us take the tiered city."

  Ella thought about Shani, anxious to free her people, and Miro, desperate to secure his southern border. By helping the prince she would be helping to hasten the end of the war. "I have an idea," she said. "I'll give it some thought. Give me time."

  The prince smiled. "That is all I ask. Come," he gestured, "let us drink wine together, and you can tell me who Ella is, so I may separate her from the woman, Evora, you said you were."

  He led her to the table, seating Ella before seating himself. He poured the wine slowly, the thick, red liquid dark and fragrant, igniting Ella's senses before she'd even tasted it.

  "Salute, I greet you." The prince held up his glass.

  "Salute," Ella said, echoing him, not sure if this was the correct response.