“Is…something the matter?” Anarchos asked. Somehow, the priest had sensed they’d stopped and raised another quizzical eyebrow at Eva.
“N-no,” Eva said, trying to regain her composure. “It’s just a lot to take in. Your temple is truly a magnificent structure.”
The governor’s face split into a wide, proud smile. “Indeed, it is one of the last surviving monuments of the Ancient World. I would be happy to give you a tour, once your friend is taken care of. But please, no more delays!”
Inside the temple, they came first to a large, spacious chamber with plenty of room for the gryphons. At the other end of the room, the base of the stone slab served as an entire wall with a small altar raised before it. Everywhere Eva looked, she saw various rune carvings, some letters she knew but most in an unknown script. She was relieved to find no more golem-like statues, lifeless and bronzed or not. Eva looked at Sigrid to see if she was studying the carved letters but the dark-haired girl’s hawk-like expression focused on the men carrying Ivan, one hand resting on a long knife at her belt.
The governor and his procession walked past the altar almost as if it wasn’t there, however, and continued around the left side of the stone slab deeper into the temple. Eva wondered why he hadn’t asked them to leave the gryphons behind but the passage ahead left plenty of room for the creatures to traverse without problem. From the outside, Eva hadn’t understood the depth of the temple — coming from the south, the gigantic, rune-covered stone made it impossible to see behind. Now inside, it seemed to carry on forever.
A motley collection of braziers, burning and smoking, lit their way. There were lanterns as well — a few cracked and flickering from the crystal within such as were found inside the Gyr. Once again, Eva felt an overwhelming sense of lost grandeur, felt the shadow of time in the spaces between the weakened lights.
They emerged into a hall with a long balcony on one side. A large chamber loomed below them on the left. Here, many priests like the one who had visited their camp, both male, and female, were daubed in white paint, naked to the waist. All had many piercings in their face, and the same painted runes on their exposed skin. They huddled near the walls and it took a moment for Eva to realize they were studying miniature lines of script carved into the stone. The back side of the giant stone slab made up the southern wall in the room and the scope and skill of its rune made the others the priests examined look like a child’s scratchings. None of the painted people looked away from the runes as Anarchos led their group past.
A couple of turns brought them back outside into a sort of arboretum surrounded by walls. Unlike the rest of the landscape outside the Mother of Cities, thick green grass carpeted the ground, as well as vibrant flowers and a wide variety of trees, some with long, thick, spear-shaped leaves Eva had never seen before. Another fountain, similar to the one out in the courtyard but in better condition, bubbled in the center of the flora. A steady stream of clear water gushed from it, producing a peaceful, soothing sound as it lapped against the stone of the basin.
Surrounded by high, thick walls that looked in much better repair then the rest of the city structures, the garden stretched into a long causeway about the length of two bowshots. Along the stone walkway, Eva saw a number of smaller buildings within the walls of the temple grounds, all of which appeared devoid of inhabitants. At the far end, the path led up yet another set of steps to a separate building within the walls that looked like a smaller version of the temple.
“Your creatures are welcome to stay out here,” Anarchos said, pausing to gesture around the garden while the others bearing Ivan continued toward the smaller building down the way. “None will bother them, you have my word. All I ask is that they remain on the ground so as to not frighten the people. We will continue into my private chambers to take care of your friend.”
Eva hesitated. She was unwilling to leave the gryphons alone, but the only armed people she’d seen were the governor’s men and women. Their party seemed to be the only ones in the garden as well. Sensing they were about to be left behind, Fury, Sven, and Belarus cried out in protest, tails snapping behind them as they rustled their wings and the hair on their backs rose in alarm. Sigrid made to stay with them but Eva shook her head, hoping the governor hadn’t noticed. She didn’t want to say it out loud but she wanted Sigrid with them in case something went wrong. Although her unease had abated, a lingering caution dogged the back of her mind.
“We’ll just be down there,” Eva told Fury, as she smoothed his ruffled feathers and bristled fur. “Don’t worry boy, you’re safe here.”
The red gryphon shot her a look that said he no more believed they were safe than she did. Even so, he shook his head and sat down on his haunches. Eva hurried to catch up to the priest before Fury changed his mind.
They walked between rune-inscribed columns into the building across the garden from the temple. A smaller replica of the temple’s enormous stone slab jutted up out of the middle of the main chamber and the guards laid Ivan down at its foot before retreating to either wall, where they assumed a stance as motionless as the bronze golem statues.
Eva, Sigrid, and Chel gathered around Ivan, but the high priest waved them back a few paces. With careful hands, he lifted aside the cloaks swaddling Ivan and frowned when he saw the stained strips of cloth on the boy’s arm. Holding the arm in the air, the man unwound the makeshift bandages from around the wound and tossed them aside, careful not to touch the blood and infection. Eva fought back the urge to retch as the stench of the cut wafted over them, stronger than ever.
The priest drew his nose within a finger’s breadth from the wound and sniffed. How he could take in the overpowering stench of rot, Eva didn’t know. “Belgari,” he hissed, turning his head to spit as if the smell were poison in his mouth. “Maelar.”
Eva recognized the second word — the painted priest on the plains had mentioned it when he saw Ivan’s wound.
“Bel-what?” Sigrid asked. She looked at Eva who shrugged as well.
“Belgari,” Anarchos repeated. “The Unwritten — the people of the steppe, enemies of the Ancestors. Their weapons have maelar, blood magics that poison and infect the Inscribed like your friend, prevent them from using the runes to defend or heal themselves. Death, after all, always conquers life.”
Eva looked down at Ivan’s pale features and noticed how gaunt his skin was against the bones of his face, stretched and thin. Angry red and black lines ran down the veins in his arms and up across shoulder, hungry claws stretching for head and heart.
“Can you help him?”
The priest pursed his lips, the rings in his brows and nose bunching together. “The poison can be drawn from the wound, but it is a difficult process — very dangerous. He may not survive.”
Eva bit her lip, feeling guiltier than ever for what she’d done to her friend. She couldn’t bear the sight of him wasting away before her eyes. Searching for support, Eva turned to Chel and Sigrid but both girls’ faces made it plain that Eva would have to be the one to decide.
“If I do nothing, he will most assuredly die.”
“Very well,” Eva said. She looked as the rune scars across the man’s body. “Can your rune magic help him?”
“No!”
The governor spoke with such force that Eva jumped backward and Sigrid reached for a knife. When he saw their reactions, his sudden burst of fire faded away. “No, neither do any in the Mother of Cities. Not anymore, at least. But that does not mean we are not learned in the ways of the Ancestors. I believe I can heal your friend.”
From deep within his robes, Anarchos withdrew a talisman similar to the one Eva had passed on to him from the painted man: two equal lengths of rod crossing one another with a dark stone in the middle. At the man’s touch, the stone flared to life with dark orange light. Eva gasped. Just like her necklace, Anarchos’ talisman was a Wonder. Beneath her shirt, Eva felt the stone on her mother’s necklace pulse with warmth, although it emitted no telltale light that
would have revealed it to the governor and his guard.
“Whatever happens, do not touch him,” Anarchos said to them. “The poison of the blood magic can claim another host when it is being expelled.”
Eva nodded, mouth dry.
The man raised the Wonder and waved it above Ivan. At first, Eva thought they were random motions but the closer she watched she realized Anarchos drew out rune letters in the air. Each time he completed a character, Ivan tensed and arched his back, groaning and thrashing his head side to side. The priest ignored Ivan’s reaction and continued drawing symbols, lips racing in a muttered and undecipherable language. The longer he went, the more extreme Anarchos’ motions became, his face twisting into a grimace from the efforts.
Ivan’s thrashings worsened and it was all Eva could do not to rush to his side and hold him down. At the same time, some of the red, grey and black lines seemed to retreat back toward the cut itself. When the priest slumped backward, Ivan remained unconscious.
“Well, that didn’t work,” Sigrid said.
Eva shot her a scowl but said nothing as she felt hope seep from her.
“This is a powerful wound,” Anarchos said, panting for air. “I am not sure my telesma is powerful enough to combat the blood magic.”
Eva fingered her necklace chain hidden beneath her shirt. Half of her said to keep it hidden at all costs, although she couldn’t say why. On the other hand, she realized her Wonder stone, combined with the priest’s, might be Ivan’s only chance. Another glance at her friend made up Eva’s mind. His head lolled to the side and his breathing grew shallow. Eva knew then that nothing would compare to the blame she would feel if he died.
“Is there anything I can do?”
She pulled the Wonder out of her tunic and the pale stone burst to life in an array of golden, blue and pink light. The governor-priest’s eyes went wide and she heard the guard against the walls gasp as the stone’s light continued to grow, far outshining Anarchos’ talisman. The man wiped a shaking hand across his perspiring forehead and continued to stare at the stone despite its brightness.
“Are you learned in the use of the telesma?”
“I-I’m not sure what you mean,” Eva said. “But I’ll try.”
The priest motioned for Eva to kneel beside him then took the hand holding the Wonder stone and guided it over Ivan. “Remember, you must not touch him! Hold it like so, while I attempt the drawing once more.”
Eva swallowed hard and nodded. Anarchos began chanting and moving his telesma above Ivan’s chest while Eva tried to hold her Wonder steady. Ivan shuddered as soon as the priest began, then sat upright so fast Eva barely had time to move her arm out of the way. The priest chanted louder and louder, shooting Eva a look of encouragement when she faltered.
Ivan’s eyes snapped open and he twisted his head around like a feral beast that didn’t recognize any of his surroundings. As soon as he’d jerked up, however, he fell back on the ground and Eva almost forgot not to touch her friend, pulling back just before she reached for his head to keep it from hitting the stone floor. Ivan slobbered out nonsense, frothing and spitting in an unintelligible tongue. Eva wanted to close her eyes and plug her ears — anything to get the horrible sounds and sights out of her mind. But she forced herself to watch. Forced herself to witness what her actions had done to her friend. At last, when Eva didn’t think she, let alone Ivan, could bear anymore, Anarchos pressed his talisman hard onto Ivan’s chest.
Ivan went still, his skin as sunken and gray as a corpse. For several moments, he drew no breath. Eva’s heart sank into impossible depths. They’d waited too long.
But then Ivan sucked in a long, deep gasp and then another. He started coughing and Anarchos rolled him on his side as he heaved up black sludge. When he’d expelled the last of dark ooze, the priest helped him sit up.
“Wha —”
The Scrawl’s eyes rolled back into his head and Anarchos lowered him to the ground, clear of the putrid black puddle beside them. “He will be fine now, but needs plenty of rest.”
Eva’s jaw ached and she realized she’d been clenching her jaw during the entire healing. She worked her mouth around and tucked her Wonder back into her shirt with a clammy, shaking hand. “Thank you,” she said. “How can we repay you for your service?”
Anarchos stood and motioned for his guards to gather Ivan once more then wiped his hand on his robes as if he’d done nothing more than a simple chore. For a moment, a hungry look passed over his face and Eva feared his answer, but then the priest smiled. “Please, think nothing of it. What is the purpose of a healer if not to heal? I have quarters you may stay in while your friend rests for a day or two.”
Eva ignored Chel’s angry face and she smiled back at the man. “Thank you, that would be much appreciated.”
“Good, very good.” Anarchos clapped his hands and from out of some side passage nearby, a small girl with a shaved head appeared. “You will be given a place of honor in the garden houses where your creatures may remain close by your sides. I will send for you later to join me at the table and to check on your friend. For now, please try to rest. Your sorrows are over — you are welcome in the Mother of Cities for as long as you wish.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ivan grew stronger in small increments over the next few days until at last Eva knew the Scrawl was going to be alright. He soon returned to his old self but refused to talk about what he remembered from the days of delirium following the fight with the Hippiriot horsemen. From what Eva could gather, the dreams and delusions had been almost as bad as the pain from the wound itself. When he recovered enough to understand where they were, it was all they could do to keep him in bed until he was strong enough to walk.
“I can’t believe the Mother of Cities is real,” he said, shaking his head. When they told him about the temple he grew even more excited. “This could be one of the oldest places of rune lore in all of Altaris! I’ve got see it all.”
Anarchos visited often and, although he remained kind and courteous to all of them, seemed to have a special interest in Ivan. Most of his questions revolved around rune magic and the priest asked very little about their journey or purpose in traveling so far east.
“I have something special prepared for you tomorrow,” Anarchos told them once Ivan was able to rise from his bed and walk on this own. “It has been a long time since a rune master walked the streets of the Mother of Cities and never have we been blessed with a visit from gryphon riders. We shall hold a feast in your honor!”
True to his promise, Anarchos sent temple acolytes — more young children — to assist them in preparing for the feast. They took them first to the bathhouse beneath the temple, the bubbling, warm water reminding Eva of the hot spring within the caverns of the Gyr. The children seemed enthralled by the presence of the outsiders, even if they couldn’t speak a word of the western tongue.
After refreshing themselves, Ivan, Eva, Sigrid, and Chel found new clothes laid out for them in their separate chambers. The women were given soft cream-colored tunics and pants while Ivan had a maroon robe like Anarchos. As soon as they were ready, a small boy escorted them to the feast.
Instead of going back into the temple, the acolyte led them down the parkway and up the small hill to the smaller building across the garden. Inside, they passed the stone slab where Anarchos had healed Ivan. Glancing down at the floor, Eva recalled Ivan’s thrashing and a shudder ran through her, despite the warm weather. They passed down a winding hall until the soft murmur of voices echoed through the stone passage. When they reached the feast hall an exotic sight greeted them.
Hundreds of dishes covered a long wooden table stretching the entire length of the room, surrounded by milling people, talking, laughing and eating. Like everything in the Mother of Cities, there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to their dress. Some were clad in plain, roughspun clothes, while others wore extravagant outfits, bedecked in jewelry and body paint. Strange music from instruments Eva couldn’t na
me floated over the assembly.
Ignoring the other guests, the young boy led them to the head of the table where Anarchos was seated. As they passed the other guests, many halted their conversations to watch them and Eva grew uncomfortable feeling dozens of eyes on her. When Anarchos saw them, however, he broke into a wide smile and spread his arms in greeting.
“Welcome, my friends! It is so good to see you. Please, be seated. I have reserved chairs of honor for you.”
Standing, the governor bowed before each of them and directed Ivan to the seat closest to him. Eva sat down and glanced at Sigrid and Chel. The Juarag-Vo girl stared around in shock, wide-eyed. Eva doubted she’d ever been in such confined spaces with so many people before. Sigrid, on the other hand, had eyes for nothing but the food and was already heaping her plate with anything she could reach.
“I am curious to know, what draws four young people like yourselves eastward?” Anarchos asked. “We seldom see anyone aside from our nomadic brethren and have never had visitors from across the mountains.”
Everyone looked at Eva, unsure how to answer. She glanced down at the table, hoping to find inspiration in the corn, melons, and plates of meat.
“Scouting,” she answered, hoping the pause hadn’t been too long. “The Juarag are moving west, we think because of invasion.”
Anarchos nodded. “I have heard tales of the ferocity of the cat raiders to the south. It surprises me that any would dare invade their hunting lands.”
“Not someone,” Ivan said. “Something — giant iron golems.”
The governor raised his eyebrows. “Automatons?”
Ivan nodded. “The very same. We don’t know where they came from or what their motives are, except that they kill all in their path.
Anarchos sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin, as if in a sudden deep thought. “Long have I studied the ways of the Ancestors, and yet it is only a brief glimpse into the might of their culture. Even so, it is known that these automatons brought about their destruction.”
Windswept: Gryphon Riders Book Two (Gryphon Riders Trilogy 2) Page 10
