Girrolf held to a course that skirted the mists. Though it was now late evening, the mist seemed to glow as if lit by a sun no one could see. Syrus heard the mutterings of the crew, and while they were superstitious and confused, he was heartened that none were fearful. If anything, he sensed their rage at what had befallen their land. All along the coast the mist hovered and threatened to swallow them. Valda watched through narrowed eyes, and wherever she heard a curse or oath she was quick to follow it with one of her own.
"These monsters bleed, my warriors, however hard it might be to wound them. We will grind their faces into the earth and watch their lifeblood drain away."
When at last it came time to steer into the mist, no one spoke. Girrolf knew their destination and guided their ship into the old docks where the first Norddalr had stood before the war of the trolls. Syrus did not worry for it, but held his tongue unless he curse them all with arrogance. This mist, he surmised, was not to keep them out but must be an extension of the mists that hemmed in and confounded the Tsal for all these centuries.
Once within, the air cooled as it would for any mist, and visibility fell such that the prow and stern of the ship were mere smudges. Girrolf's shadow worked the tiller, but he ordered one of his men to stand in the prow and guide him. Their voices were flattened out in the mist, but soon they were pulling up to the beaches where ruined docks still remained untouched from the war over a year ago.
"An expert landing," Valda offered. "Now the hardest part yet. I would not ask this of you lightly."
"My queen," Girrolf said, coming to her at the center of the deck. "Not a man here has volunteered who is unwilling to die. We will face whatever lies ahead as true sons of Valahur."
Valda lowered her head. "Your bravery humbles me. But what I ask is even more difficult, and I wonder if it is in your powers to do this."
Girrolf gave his gusty laugh and several of the other crew, now stowing their oars and rubbing their shoulders, joined him. "Whatever is in the power of men to do, I can do it. I know my sword-brothers can as well."
"You must remain with this ship," Valda said, now meeting Girrolf's eyes with resolve. "This is our only means of escape, and these Tsal employ slaves by the hundreds. They cannot be allowed to capture this ship, or we might be dooming all of Valahur."
Girrolf's laugh cut off. "You want us to remain behind? You are going alone into danger?"
"Syrus will be with me."
Syrus did not appreciate the condescending scan Girrolf gave him. He was dismissed as insufficient with less time than it takes a fisherman to throw a dogfish back into the sea. "You need warriors at your side, my queen."
"I need warriors guarding my rear, and preserving the one way off this island. Syrus must come with me to find whatever it is that will stop these creatures. Then we have to get that away from here, and this ship and its crew are all that stand between success or failure. I told you it would be difficult to do as I ask, but this is my command for you."
"At least take a few of us."
Valda shook her head. "You will need every man to defend this ship, if it comes to that. Now do not delay me with arguments, brave Girrolf. I fear before this night is done you will have plenty of chances to show your skill at arms."
Girrolf and his crew conceded, and soon Valda and Syrus were hiking the ruined roads into what had once been the wooden fortress of Norddalr. The mist that had surrounded the island did not encroach on the land, but the heavy darkness weighed on it, sucking color from everything. Both he and Valda did not speak as they journeyed overland toward the mountain path that would take them to the stone fortress. Syrus found himself searching the distance for his cliff-side temple to Fieyar, and was gladdened to see it still standing. At this distance it was a dark square against a gray sky of angry clouds and thick mist. He had dreamed of returning to its comfort all the time he had been trapped in Tsaldalr, but now looking at it he could not call it home.
Nothing about the land seemed familiar. Small, black lizards darted across the dirt road as they drew closer to the mountains. No such lizards had ever been seen here before, at least not in these numbers. They scuttled beneath rocks and into cracks at their approach. No birds called, and the trees they would have nested in seemed to sag in defeat. Even the evergreens had dropped many of their needles.
Valda scanned the landscape with wide eyes. Syrus did not dare speak into the quiet, fearing it would be as a loud as a shout in this desolate landscape. When they came to the pass that led into Norddalr, Syrus spotted movement ahead. He pulled Valda aside to shelter behind rocks. A skull rested there with them, a relic from the troll war a year before. Syrus watched groups of strange creatures amble down the road. They were squat, no taller than a young child, and wide-shouldered. They wore rags that seemed assembled from old clothing, but where their flesh showed it was all red. As they passed, Syrus glimpsed their faces before ducking down. A wide black stripe bisected the red skin of their faces, and their features seemed distorted and misshapen.
As they passed, their voices were a whining gibber. Once they disappeared down the path, Valda leaned close to his ear.
"Those are their slaves, and I think they were once our people. The Tsal alter them somehow. Lethos and I saw them aboard their ship."
"Their flesh-crafting is what offended the gods most," Syrus said. "And now I see why. We must be more cautious from here on."
Valda nodded, and as Syrus moved to step back on the path, she grabbed his arm. Her blue eyes were clear and commanding and met his squarely.
"Whatever happens, you must retrieve what you've come to find and then escape with it. You cannot linger behind for me no matter how desperate the situation."
"And leave Valahur to your brother? If that is to pass, we may as well lie down before the Tsal now and save ourselves the struggle."
"I want your word on it. You are sworn to the service of Fieyar, the goddess of duty? Then by your goddess, swear you will do as I have asked."
Syrus was always reluctant to invoke the gods in any oath, particularly when it was his goddess. She was a strict ruler and expected her followers to carry out their commitments even if it meant their own deaths. He stared at Valda and saw she would not be persuaded. When he nodded agreement, she shook her head. "Speak it aloud."
He sighed and sat back against the cold rock. "I swear I will escape with whatever is needed to destroy the beacon, even if it means I must abandon you."
She smiled and patted his shoulder, then they returned to the track.
They encountered nothing else on the way into Norddalr. Syrus was amazed at the destruction, but had anticipated it based on what Valda had shared of her story. The highest tower loomed over them, and Syrus struggled to imagine anyone falling from such a height and surviving. Danir must have had his hand upon her as Grimwold had said. No guards were stationed, and the whole stone fortress seemed a cold and empty shell of what it had been only a short time ago.
"You lead the way from here," Syrus said.
The passages within echoed with the slightest footsteps. Valda had lit a candle stored in the main guardhouse, and held it aloft as they threaded the halls. Whatever radiance that would have burned Grimwold and Lethos had no effect upon them. Syrus only felt a coldness that reached to his bones and scented a faintly rotten stench in the air. When they came to the library, Syrus could not help but imagine Eldegris standing behind the table at the center, arms folded at his back. Now it was a darkened room with a door hanging open as if no one had cared to close it.
Valda's candle was hardly enough, so Syrus lit one that he carried and then touched the flames to a lamp still filled with oil. Soon he was scanning books, running his fingers over them as if he could read them better by touch.
"Close the door," he said. "We don't want our light to draw attention."
"I don't think anyone is here," Valda said.
"There were not many to begin with, and Grimwold had halved their numbers already. They are pr
obably spread thin, which would be a blessing."
Valda tried to help, but after pulling out a few books she surrendered. "I don't know what I'm looking for."
"Neither do I, but it hasn't stopped me from trying."
Every fascinating topic he could imagine was here. He was sorry that he had lived for so long in proximity to this knowledge but never had a chance to study it. Yet however incredible the topic, he had to pass it by unless it concerned the Order of Phyros or the Tsal. He pulled several books to the table that looked promising. Valda began to leaf through them, looking for diagrams or illustrations that might reveal something.
Then, behind a three-volume history of ancient Ageos, Syrus saw a gleam of metal on the shelf. He reached in and pulled out a long ceremonial dagger. The metal of the blade gleamed as if freshly oiled and the grip and hilt were done in ornate, flowery whorls that resembled the buds of plants. Syrus touched the edge with his thumb and he drew a thin burning line of blood.
"Now that is nothing I've ever seen before," Valda said. She reached out for the blade, and Syrus handed it to her. "It was just sitting there?"
"As if placed where I might find it," Syrus said. "Maybe your father wanted you to find it."
"Or you," Valda said, returning it to its place on the bookshelf.
Never did Syrus think searching old books could be so nerve-racking, yet his heart throbbed and sweat rolled off his brow. Every tome he pulled down seemed to lead somewhere else. Language primers, books of history, treaties on mathematics, and books on medicine lined the walls, nothing that would have been of any value to the warriors of Valahur. Some books were ancient and others were new. He guessed the newer ones would have nothing of importance and so passed those to Valda to review. The older texts required more care, and the sweat dripping from his head threatened to ruin the pages.
While he was scanning these texts, he was aware of Valda moving around him. He paid her no mind, intent on his task, then he heard a loud pop. He jerked around, heart in his throat, and Valda was standing frozen in front of a bookshelf. In one hand was the dagger they had found, and her other braced against the bookshelf.
"The dagger fits into an opening back here," she said. "A compartment has opened up."
Syrus rushed to her side, and found the dagger sticking like a key in a lock against the back wall. A square section of wooden shelf backing had come loose, but she had not lifted it aside. With a nod from him, she did so. Syrus held up a candle.
A thick leather-bound book sat hidden in the space. A smile came to his lips, for if nothing else this was proof of what Eldegris had wanted to leave to him.
"Are you sure it's not trapped?" Valda asked.
"Let's find out." He grabbed a random book and tried to shove it into the hole. When nothing happened, he reached in with both hands and extracted the book. It was new, smelling of fresh leather.
Syrus carried it to the table and pulled a candle close. Both he and Valda leaned over it as Syrus opened to the title page. In neat, precise script was the title of the book: "The Final Days of the Order of Phyros and the Coming of the Tsal."
The author signed his name, "Eldegris, High King of Valahur."
"This is what we came for," Syrus said in a whisper. "Everything he has written here plus what I retrieved from Tsaldalr will put together the entire story."
The book was thick, and as he flicked through the pages he noticed many at the end of the book were blank. Had Eldegris intended to write more before he died? If so, what had he to say that was now forever lost?
"Put this into my pack," Syrus said. He had worn an empty pack for just this reason. He could carry this oversized book on his back and then gather the rest in his arms. The weight of it as Valda slid it into the sack yanked Syrus upright. "Now replace the lid and the books, in case Avulash should come back here."
When it was completed, they shared a glance. Valda was so unlike her brother. In her eyes he saw no fear, only an icy determination. He could follow someone like this, but never a weakling like Thorgis. Syrus gathered the other books into his arms, still unable to take everything he wanted.
"I will go first," she said, and drew her sword. It seemed small and useless for what they faced, but the blade rang as it exited the sheath and gave Syrus some grim hope of cutting a way out if they were trapped.
They padded back down the halls, their candles providing a guttering light barely enough to show two steps ahead. When they reached the exit to the courtyard where Eldegris was killed, they had still met nothing. Valda paused at the doors, blowing out her candle.
"There was a patrol of those slaves," she whispered. "They might be returning now. We must be careful."
Syrus nodded, his mouth all full of cotton. He still forced the quip from his lips, if even just to lighten his own mood. "Careful? I'm ready to sprint for the ship and row like mad."
Valda didn't smile, but continued to scan the wreckage of the courtyard. At last she started out, and Syrus followed.
The walls filled with the dark, squat bodies of the slaves. They scrambled up, their red and black faces leering down at them. The cracks in the shattered curtain walls filled with them, all as silent as ghosts. Syrus guessed nearly a hundred of these strange things hemmed them into the courtyard.
"Dog shit," Valda hissed through her clenched teeth. "They were toying with us."
"That I was," answered a mocking, sibilant voice. Syrus looked up to the walls, and a man just like the Tsal that had hunted him through Tsaldalr appeared among his slaves. He wore the same armor and had the same cruel beauty, though Syrus now knew that up close it would dissolve to something cold and inhuman.
"If you've a mind to kill me," Valda shouted up to him, "I'll remind you that you've failed twice already."
"No distractions now, my queen." The Tsal put one foot on the edge of the wall and leaned on his knee. Syrus knew this must be the captain of the white ark, Avulash. "I've known you've returned since you entered the mists. While I may not see beyond them, anything that enters is revealed to my sight. You came seeking knowledge. A desperate plan, indeed, if you dared rob me in my own home."
Syrus clutched the books harder to his chest. Eldegris's book on his back now weighed like a stone tablet.
"But here is my offer to you, my queen" Avulash continued. "I am more interested in your companions than you. You are a small fish. Yet, even small fish have their uses--as chum, for instance. I will let your book-thieving companion return to those Manifested with a message from me. I have their queen in my custody, and if they wish her to live then they will surrender to me. If they do that, then I will take all my people and retreat from this land."
"You can't trust what he says," Syrus whispered. Avulash laughed at the comment, stunning Syrus into silence.
"Can anyone's words be trusted? The Manifested will be a gift for my king. I might be able to persuade him to give preference to your people, such is the value of that gift. Surely trading two lives for the benefit of many is a worthy trade?"
Valda turned to Syrus, giving the faintest glance at the book sagging on his back. She nodded, and Syrus knew he had to accept her choice. He had given his word.
"Syrus will be allowed safe travel back?"
"If not, then how will my message be received?" Avulash stepped back and put both hands on his hips. "Your ship and crew awaits you. They've no idea what has happened. Walk down to the shore, board your ship, and deliver my message. The queen will be my guest while I await the arrival of the two Manifested. If they do not appear to me in three days, I will kill her and continue to collect slaves as I have. It is a poorer gift for my king than the Manifested, but it will serve."
"I agree," Valda said, her voice barely audible. Yet Avulash clapped his hands in pleasure.
"Drop the books you carry," Avulash said. "Then return to your ship. I will watch you go, and nothing will befall you where I can see you."
Syrus placed them all on the ground and faced Valda to say his farewell
. In that instant, his heart sank and his head grew hot. He had shown his pack to Avulash.
"Leave the pack as well," he said. "You think I did not know you wore it?"
The book slid to the ground with a soft clop on the hard earth. Syrus stared at the pack for a long moment before turning back toward the road to the shore, alone and in defeat.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Lethos rushed after Grimwold, who sprinted across the open fields toward the giant that had burst from the edge of the forest. The monster stood as tall as the highest pine tree, its body contorted as if the parts had only been roughly joined. It was naked and its flesh showed a vile gray covered with wiry hair. It was bald, though it had a shaggy beard wagging from its chin. Lethos noticed a passing similarity to Grimwold in the shape of its features. The wind had gusted hard enough to blow dead leaves and debris into the air, but its roar drowned out any sound as it lumbered ahead.
The giant tore up another pine tree and held it like a club in both hands. Clods of dirt sprinkled from the tangle of roots as it whirled the tree overhead. The last tree it had hurled like a spear, and three dead people lay beneath it while the others had scampered away.
"It feels like you," Grimwold called back as he ran. "I can sense a connection to it."
"And it looks like you," Lethos called back. "Avulash used our blood to make this."
They both outstripped Blund's warriors who were rushing out to greet the beast. Blund was at the front, sword and shield ready. Lethos wished he could warn off Blund and his warriors, for he doubted their weapons would prevail against Tsal sorcery. Yet he knew their code would not allow retreat, and he could not he deny them their right to defend their homes. Blund shouted a war cry that his men echoed.
"Let's bring this bastard to his knees," Grimwold said as he halted in the field.
The giant's dark eyes were wide with excitement as it scanned the layout before it. It clacked its teeth together as it seemed to consider where next to spread mayhem. It slammed the tree into the ground, shaking the earth as it did, and plodded forward at Grimwold. Lethos arrived right behind him as the giant's first steps shuddered the ground.
The Children of Urdis (Grimwold and Lethos Book 2) Page 30
