Even under the oppressive fear that now gripped them in the underground chamber, the Mederros were reluctant to lay down their arms. For many years these men had lived by their weapons and the remaining shreds of their courage would last only as long as they held onto their swords. While they hesitated, Rasscu stepped forward clear of the throng, torch in hand, and walked steadily towards the pair in front. He came to a halt a few paces in front of the table.
"We meet again, Behenna. One defeat not enough for you?"
The ex-monk replied harshly. "Yes, let us contend again where there is no magic knife to aid you and no abject monks praying desperately for your success. Here the weapon of power is mine."
He lifted a long slim sword from the stone slab in front of him. "It is called The Singer. The thief whose bones lie under this slab stole it from us a long time ago and hid it. Dawnbringer he called it. He brought it with him when he crawled in here to die like a rat and put spells on the place to shield it from us. But not from you, fool that he was, not from you." He laughed harshly. "Dawnbringer." The word was loaded with scorn. "None of you will see another dawn. The Singer will entertain you instead and sing you a song of pain."
The blade glittered black in the torchlight and emitted a shrill keening sound.
"Your little knife in Kramenti was for self-sacrifice. This sword is dedicated to sacrifice of a different kind. And here," he waved at the darkness on all sides, "in the halls of the dead it is we who have dominion. Feel the despair of the millions who lie around you, bound for all eternity to our service, and be afraid."
He raised the needle point of the sounding blade and came swiftly round the table, quivering with eagerness. His black robe swirled with the movement, revealing the emblem of three entwined serpents which ran right round it. The fearsome heads seemed to writhe at his breast and their eyes sparked red in the torchlight.
"Wait." Kulkin spoke. Or rather, thought Caldar, who found himself trapped in a kind of stasis, a helpless witness to what was happening, it now sounded curiously like someone else using Kulkin's mouth. He had been scared of Kulkin before, but the power behind this voice was terrifying. "Better this one swears allegiance. Let the sword drink other blood."
Reluctantly Behenna lowered the point. "Swear then. What is it to be? Willing service or join the dead? Make haste to choose, the blade is thirsty."
Rasscu spoke out clearly, though his voice sounded thin after the thunderous force of his enemies. "My allegiance is already given for life or for death. Come, Behenna, do you think to scare children with your boasts and your whining sword?"
Behenna stepped forward again, his body taut with rage, and this time Kulkin did not check him. Caldar saw to his relief that at least his friend had taken a sword and was not attempting to stand defenceless again in front of his opponent.
There was a sudden clash of steel, the movements of the blades impossible to follow in the half-light as they flickered to and fro. Experienced swordsman though he was, the Tesserit was driven back. There was a ferocious hunger behind Behenna's frenzied attack, which was sustained far beyond the limits of normal human endurance. At last, as Rasscu tired, the inevitable happened and the black blade touched his thigh. He dropped his hand onto the wound with a gasp of pain, while his opponent stepped back with a satisfied smile.
"Ah, that was good. The Singer feeds on blood." It was true, the whining note of the sword had risen to a higher pitch. "Hurts, doesn't it? No scorpion can deliver such pain. Let me prove it to you again."
"Caldar." The youth felt an indescribable relief. It was Idressin's voice. He was still unable to move and could not look round, but the sound came right in his ear. "Caldar, you must help him."
"I can't, Idressin. I can't move and I don't know what else I can do. Now you're here, can't you help? Behenna's going to torture Rass to death. Quickly, quickly,...ah!" The terrible sword had lanced into the Tesserit's left arm and made him reel with pain.
"I'm not there, Caldar, this time it's up to you. You cannot draw back from this contest; being a passive observer's not enough."
"I'll do whatever you say. But help us, help me, quickly."
"Stop panicking." The tutor's voice was firm, but it was fading alarmingly “..yourself. Remember everything you've le….. must see what's really … Kulkin is summoning energy …. the dead….. back to the earth…. the amulet …" and he was gone.
At once Caldar became calmer. He had no idea what ‘the earth’ had to do with the amulet, but the few words from Idressin had steadied him. Putting on one side all his concern for his friend and all his fears of this dread chamber, he gave himself totally to the search for the intense awareness which he knew lay somewhere deep within him. As soon as he touched this magical space, he became aware of innumerable streams of force which criss-crossed the chamber and focussed in the dark figure of Kulkin. And from Kulkin a great band of darkness, seething with power, projected towards and enveloped Behenna.
With no idea of what he should do, Caldar simply tried to interrupt the flashing streams of force and was overwhelmed by what ensued. The fear and despair, felt by hundreds of people as they died, suddenly crystallised inside him like a boiling storm and his composure and awareness were blown away in an instant. He noticed in that brief moment that Kulkin had staggered and Behenna fallen to his knees, only to bound up again with renewed strength as Caldar lost control.
Patiently he started again and once more penetrated to the core of his own being. The lines of force were myriad now and pulsated faster than ever. Kulkin was afraid and was summoning more power to finish things quickly. This time Caldar took hold of just a few of the lines nearest to him and drew them in. The feeling was the same as before, but he could contain it. And then miraculously he found that he didn't need to contain it; he could let it flow into him and out again into the earth. That was what Idressin had been trying to tell him! He was momentarily aware of the earth as a vast reservoir of power, untroubled by the greatest forces he could pour into it, and then he truly set to work.
As fast as Kulkin projected the forces towards Behenna, Caldar drew them into himself and fed them harmlessly into the ground. Kulkin's efforts grew to a furious pace and then almost ceased. Instead of a blur of human misery, Caldar found himself intercepting tragic emotions one by one: a mother who had killed her child in a moment of madness and then herself in remorse: a peasant who had starved to death along with his whole family: a man wrongly accused as a thief by his neighbours and hung. The grief and pain passing through him felt as though they were cutting his insides to bloody shreds, but the youth drew them all in and committed them to the earth.
Behenna now was in no better case than Rasscu. The Tesserit was bleeding from half a dozen wounds, and the poisoned blade had so cramped his body with pain that he could hardly stay upright. His rival had suddenly lost the power which had sustained him and the true cost of his furious attacks weighed him down to his knees.
All at once Kulkin hissed in triumph. His summons had ranged wider and wider through the catacombs and at last he had found what he was seeking. Caldar noticed a presence enter the chamber behind the combatants, a deeper blackness impenetrable even to his seeing eye. He reached out towards it and was repelled by a wave of icy malevolence, which threatened to drown him also. Watching Behenna rise to his feet and pick up his venomous sword, he was hard put to it not to let his own efforts crumble in despair.
He had gone as far as he could go and it was not enough, not nearly enough. The evil presence behind Kulkin spread vast black wings from wall to wall and its hatred stung the very air. But while Caldar watched hopelessly as Behenna advanced again, his hand went unbidden to the Hamna amulet. And help came in a form that he would never have expected.
In front Behenna raised his sword for a final thrust at his helpless rival and paused in amazement as a small blue light appeared at the tip of his blade. As he watched, the light spread down until it reached the hilt and then he screamed. The sword burned in his hand and he could
not let go. In vain he tried to fling it from him and in vain he turned in sobbing entreaty to Kulkin. The sword burned and Behenna burned. His clothes caught fire and the flesh melted from his bones; hotter and hotter blazed the consuming blue flames until nothing remained except a pile of dusty ashes and the glowing sword.
"Sherem Sherem Zteftim Deshtal," a great soft voice whispered, like a gust of wind. Blue lines appeared on the floor of the chamber behind Kulkin, three concentric circles which enclosed the dark presence there and began to draw in tighter and tighter towards their centre. The blackness inside the circles seethed and boiled, but could not escape, until in the end it appeared to collapse in upon itself and shrank out of sight as the inner circle closed entirely; at the same moment Kulkin's form faded and disappeared.
Now the blue light vanished from the floor and reappeared at Caldar's breast. The amulet began to glow, but this time the light was so intense that it lit up the whole chamber.
"And what of the dead?" To his own surprise Caldar found himself addressing the source of the light, as if it was a person.
"What do you wish for them?" the great voice whispered in his mind.
"Peace." Caldar remembered all too well the tide of anguish which had flowed through him.
"That is not possible. But I will put them to rest again."
A serene silence spread out like a widening ripple on a pond, flowing far beyond the confines of the chamber, and the frightening tension which had filled the catacombs ebbed away. A collective sigh ran through the ranks of the Mederros as they watched Caldar with the blazing amulet on his chest go forward to raise Rasscu to his feet. Perhaps the nightmare was over.
"Can you heal him?" Caldar asked.
"No. But I will remove the poison. Tell him to put his hand on my amulet."
The Tesserit, still wracked with pain, did as he was bid, and at once the stabbing fingers of the poison withdrew, leaving him bleeding and sore, but erect. Then the voice spoke to him aloud in a giant whisper that echoed from wall to wall.
"Show me the Talisman."
When the grey pebble lay exposed on Rasscu's palm, it continued, "Keep it well, my son. I too was the Guardian of this Talisman, and I promise you that in the years to come you will rejoice, even though the cares of the world be upon your shoulders. Now take up the sword."
Without explanation the Tesserit knew it was Behenna's sword that was meant. It still glowed with blue flame, but came cool and easy into his hand and slid smoothly into the old scabbard at his side.
"It is well. Dawnbringer has been reforged once again from darkness to be a fire and a terror to the Guardian's enemies. Draw it only in the service of the Talisman and it will never fail you."
"Now, Caldar, even though you know me not...," the voice began inside the youth.
"You are Barda Repo, the Radorpa," Caldar announced silently, not understanding how the knowledge came to him. "And this is your amulet."
There was a short pause, then the resounding whisper resumed.
"You see true. Barda Repo. Yes, that was one of my names and that was my amulet. Maybe our long wait has not been in vain and you will be able to restore what we could not. You cannot avoid the struggles and the pain to come, youth, and I would not wish them away for you, even had I the power to do so. But my help you shall have. Remember this day. This is the place of my burial and in the years ahead you will travel far from here. Yet even in distant lands, when you are sinking, there are those of us who will come to your aid if you call. Guard the amulet well. It has many virtues."
To the evident consternation of the Mederros, who had been astonished and fearful observers of the events in the chamber, the blue light faded and vanished. The ensuing gloom seemed to be hardly touched by the torches and they kept close together in a nervous outward facing throng. Shockingly loud in the stillness, footsteps sounded running and stumbling in the darkness. Then a voice called out wildly. It was Ferem, unhurt, but scared almost out of his wits. He burrowed deep among his comrades, touching and hugging them in ecstasy at his safe return.
Meanwhile Caldar made sure his friend could walk, then turned to Sammar, who stood eyeing the pair of them apprehensively. The rebel leader clearly wanted to ask what to do next; but after the things he had just witnessed his grudging respect for both of them had turned to awe.
"It's alright now, Sammar, I can see the way right through. It must be Barda's doing. I'll lead off as soon as you're ready; I can't wait to get out in the daylight."
The Mederro hesitated, then swung away without replying and got his men moving.
Rasscu's wounds hurt savagely, but so overwhelmed was he by their encounter with Barda Repo that for much of the time the pain seemed quite remote. He limped along at Caldar's side, followed at a few paces by Sammar with a strained face and a drawn sword. The Mederros behind were in no better case, crowding as close to the leaders as possible and keeping a fearful watch on the bone-filled alcoves they were passing.
Caldar made no mistakes. Twenty minutes from the chamber they encountered the lookouts in the tunnels behind Ollus' band of Mederros and Sammar let his men press forward into the growing daylight near the entrance. Amid the confusion involved in finding space for the newcomers Tariska searched out her friends.
"What happened in the catacombs, Caldar?" she began at once. "Idressin was describing something really nightmarish in there, then all of a sudden . . ." She broke off and her eyes widened in shock when she noticed the Tesserit.
"Rass," she exclaimed in dismay. "What's happened to you? That arm looks terrible. And your side. Idressin said you were in a fight, but..." Her eyes lifted from his blood-soaked clothes and she faltered to a stop at the pain in his face. "The Mederros have made up some rope stretchers, but I don't think they've got anything for this, not even bandages. Can you do anything for him, Caldar? Or shall I ask Idressin?"
"Get Idressin, Tikka. I'll try, but it's real hit and miss."
While the girl darted off to find the tutor, he turned his attention to his wounded friend. When it came to this kind of controlled use of power, Caldar knew that he was floundering. Things sometimes seemed to work out right for him, but he had no idea how or why, except that when it happened he had been the instrument of a power far exceeding his own. So did he in fact have any power himself, could he do anything at all on his own? There was no way to answer that, so he simply got on with the job.
"Sit down, Rass. The least I can do is have a look at you."
Having asked which was the sharpest hurt, the youth put his hands gently on Rasscu's left arm and closed his eyes to focus his own energies. He felt rather foolish, but that was a small price to pay if there was a chance of easing his friend's pain. There was no sense of healing, no feedback of feeling as with the farmer, just a vague warmth under his hands. After a while, he gave up and opened his eyes to apologise for his impotence. The Tesserit was smiling at him quizzically.
"Like that doctor said a few days ago, you could make a fortune at this game." The patient disengaged his arm and flexed it with increasing confidence. "I've still got a hole in my arm, but the pain's mostly gone. Oh hell, I've started it bleeding again, I'll have to watch that. Look, if you could do that again for where he stuck me in the leg here, I'll be in much better shape when we have to move."
Caldar had barely touched Rasscu's thigh, when Tariska returned.
"I couldn't catch Idressin," she reported. "Piddur says that he's headed off up one of the tunnels with fifty men to create a diversion for the rest of us. Berin's gone too. The Mederros are getting ready to break out and Sammar's so busy organising everybody I didn't get a chance to talk to him."
Caldar sat back. "Looks like we’re out of time, Rass. That's the best I can do."
When the Tesserit tried a few steps and signalled success, the youth shook his head in surprise. “Don’t know how it works, but I'll give it a try on some of the other casualties."
"I'll come with you," Tariska said at once. "I feel as though
I've barely seen you since you left For Dendak."
The Deddi Gorge
There proved to be little time. Caldar was just stepping over to look at the other wounded men, when the word was passed down the passage that they had to be ready to leave at a moment's notice. Apparently Idressin and his band had emerged from the catacombs by another exit in the graveyard above and drawn off most of the troops guarding the main entrance. A sally from the front had just routed the remainder. Scouts were even now checking that their route towards the mountains was clear and the main body would be moving out at any moment.
The call came almost at once, and both of them decided to stay with the wounded and make themselves useful on the march. Tariska begged what little water she could from the other Mederros and went constantly up and down the line sharing it out to the most needy, while for his part Caldar took his turn at carrying the crude litters. The rebels were moving very fast and it was exhausting work for the bearers who lagged further and further behind. And whenever it was not his turn to carry, the youth walked alongside one stretcher or another doing his best to relieve the pain of the occupants. An hour out from the catacombs they came up to Idressin's band waiting for them below an isolated hill.
"How does it look?" Sammar called out as he arrived. He gestured at the scouts on the hilltop.
"Bad," came the tutor's discouraging reply. "They're after us in real force now, thousands by the scouts' signals and more coming into view all the time. Someone's taking our escape very seriously indeed."
"I can't believe how fast they're pushing this pursuit," Sammar commented, squatting wearily on his haunches. "This isn't the army I'm used to dealing with. How close?"
"Less than a mile. And beyond this hill we've another two or three miles of open ground to cross before we reach the gorge. They'll catch us before that, the rate the stretchers are moving. Or are you going to leave them behind?"
" No, they'd be better off dead than captured. We'll just have to slow the bastards down. What's the back of the hill like?"
The Tears of Sisme Page 76
