Yu Yu felt stronger when he awoke, his bruised body refreshed. Kysumu was sitting cross-legged beside him, eyes closed and deep in a meditation trance. Yu Yu sat up and stared out over the white ranks of the ghostly army.
Leaving Kysumu, he strolled among the clay figures, looking at faces, seeking out Qin Chong. But he was nowhere to be found. At last Yu Yu came upon the broken figures. Kneeling, he pieced together what he could of the heads. As he half completed the task, a second sadness touched him. In his hands he held the features of the Riaj-nor who had befriended him in his dreams. “What do I do now?” he whispered. “I am here.” There was no answer. Yu Yu placed the broken pieces on the ground and sat back. Kysumu should have been the pria-shath. He was a trained Rajnee.
Yu Yu moved back to Kysumu and waited for the trance to end. Within minutes Kysumu opened his eyes. “Are you feeling stronger?” asked the swordsman.
“Yes,” Yu Yu answered miserably.
“Did Qin Chong come to you in your sleep?”
“No.”
“Do you have any idea what to do now?”
“No, I don’t!” snapped Yu Yu. “I don’t know how statues can help us.”
Pushing himself to his feet, he walked away from the swordsman, anxious to avoid further questioning. Yu Yu had never felt so useless. He wandered around the walls, coming at last to the ledge scattered with golden ornaments. In his mind’s eye he saw the warriors lining up there, placing their trinkets on the rock. He picked up a small golden ring, then let it drop. In his vision he had seen warriors march into the depths of the hill. Now there were only statues. Where, then, were the warriors? Had they been covered with clay? The broken head of Qin Chong’s statue had been hollow, and there were no bones or scraps of hair within it, so that seemed unlikely. What, then, was the purpose behind these statues?
Yu Yu strained at the thought until his head hurt. “You must wake the Men of Clay,” Qin Chong had told him.
“Wake up!” bellowed Yu Yu.
“What are you shouting for?” Kysumu called out.
Yu Yu did not reply. Unable to think of an answer, he turned back to the ledge. His gaze fell upon a threaded rod of gold some four inches long. Beside it was a circular stand with a hole at the center. Yu Yu picked up the stand and inserted the rod into the hole, screwing it tight. The top of the rod was hooked like a shepherd’s crook.
“What are you doing?” asked Kysumu, coming alongside.
“Nothing,” said Yu Yu. “Amusing myself. Something should hang from this hook.”
“We have more important matters to decide,” said Kysumu.
“I know.” Yu Yu continued to probe among the ornaments, finally finding a small golden bell with a ring at the crest. “This is it,” he said, carefully hooking the bell to the rod. “Pretty.”
“Yes, it is pretty,” Kysumu said with a sigh.
Yu Yu flicked the bell. A small chime sounded. The bell continued to swing, and the next chime was louder than the first. The sound began to reverberate through the domed hall, growing louder and louder. The rock wall began to vibrate, ornaments tumbling from it. Kysumu tried to say something, but Yu Yu could not hear him. Yu Yu’s ears were beginning to hurt, and he covered them with his hands.
Dust fell from the domed ceiling, and cracks appeared in the walls. The bell was now booming louder than thunder. Yu Yu felt sick. He staggered back from the ledge and fell to his knees. Kysumu also had covered his ears and was squatting down, a look of intense pain on his features.
The clay statues were trembling now. Yu Yu saw tiny cracks appear in the nearest figure, spreading out like a spider’s web. And still the terrible tolling of the bell continued. Pain roared inside Yu Yu’s head.
And he passed out.
13
KYSUMU ROLLED TO his knees. Blood was dripping from his nose. The noise was so incredible now that it had transcended mere sound. Everything hurt: ears, eyes, fingertips, belly. Every joint pulsed with pain. Kysumu forced himself to his feet and fell against the ledge, where the bell was still vibrating. Reaching out, the swordsman closed his hand around the tiny object. Instantly the tolling ceased. Kysumu staggered, then fell. He could scarcely breathe. Dust was everywhere, like a fog. Lifting the collar of his robe, he held it over his mouth. His ears were still ringing, his hands trembling.
Only then did he see the shining lights gleaming through the cracks that crisscrossed the statues. He blinked and tried to focus. It was as if the sun itself were trapped within the clay. The cracks of light widened, clay falling away. As the dust settled, Kysumu saw that most of the statues were now bathed in golden light. The domed hall blazed with brightness. Kysumu closed his eyes against the painful brilliance, and where only moments before he had covered his ears, now he held his hands over his face. He waited for a few heartbeats, then opened his fingers. Light still blazed against his closed lids, and he waited again. Finally the brilliance faded. Kysumu let fall his hands and opened his eyes.
The Men of Clay were gone. Standing in the hall were several hundred living, breathing Riaj-nor.
Kysumu rose and approached them. They waited in silence. He bowed deeply. “I am Kysumu,” he said in formal Chaitze. “Is Qin Chong among you?”
A young man stepped forward. He was wearing a full-length tunic of silver satin, his sword thrust into a black silk sash around his waist. He removed his helm and neglected to bow to Kysumu. “Qin Chong did not survive the transformation.” Kysumu looked into the man’s eyes. The pupils were black slits surrounded by gold. In that moment Kysumu felt as if he had been stabbed through the soul. His heart sank. These were not men at all. They were creatures just like the Kriaz-nor.
“I am Ren Tang,” said the warrior. “Are you the pria-shath?”
“No,” said Kysumu, turning away. “The bell rendered him unconscious.”
Ren Tang strode to where Yu Yu lay. Other warriors gathered in silence around him. Then Ren Tang nudged Yu Yu with his foot. “Behold the great one, the pria-shath,” he said. “We have crossed the centuries to aid a human monkey in a wolfskin.” Some of the men chuckled. Kysumu knelt beside Yu Yu and saw that he, too, had bled from the nose. He rolled him to his back. Yu Yu groaned. Kysumu hauled him to a seated position.
“I feel sick,” muttered Yu Yu. He opened his eyes, then jerked as he saw the warriors milling around. He swore loudly.
“You did it, Yu Yu,” said Kysumu. “You brought the Men of Clay back to life.”
“It takes no great intellect to ring a bell,” sneered Ren Tang.
“I spoke with Qin Chong,” said Kysumu, his voice cold. “He was a man of great power and strength. He also understood courtesy and the need for good manners.”
Ren Tang’s feral eyes locked onto Kysumu’s gaze. “Firstly, human, Qin Chong was not a man. He was, as we are, Riaj-nor. Second, I care nothing for your opinions. We drew lots to see which of us would fight for you humans when the gateway spell began to fail. It is enough that we will fight for you. Do not expect more.”
“It is not important,” said Yu Yu, climbing to his feet. “I don’t care whether they treat me with respect. Qin Chong sent them here to fight. So let them fight.” He looked into Ren Tang’s eyes. “Do you know who you are supposed to fight and where?”
“You are the pria-shath,” said Ren Tang, contempt in his voice. “We await your orders.”
“Very well,” said Yu Yu. “First, why don’t you take some of your fighters and go outside. There were some enemy warriors out there earlier.”
Ren Tang put on his helmet and tied it below his chin. Taking several of the warriors with him, he strode down the tunnel, returning moments later. “We cannot get out,” he said. “The stone door will not budge.”
“Is that right, buttock brain?” said Yu Yu. “One simple order and already you fail.” For a moment Ren Tang stood stock-still, then his sword flashed into the air, the point hovering over Yu Yu’s throat.
“You dare insult me?”
“What ins
ult?” snarled Yu Yu. “You wait thousands of years, and your first act is to draw your sword against the only person who can lead you out of this tomb. What animal did they join you with, a goat?”
Ren Tang snarled. The sword lanced forward. Kysumu’s blade blocked it.
A low growl came from Ren Tang, and his eyes glittered in the lantern light. “You cannot beat me, human,” he said. “I could cut out your heart before you could move.”
“Show me,” Kysumu said quietly.
Another warrior stepped from the ranks. “Enough of this,” he said. “Ren Tang, put away your sword. You, too, human.” He was taller than most of the Riaj-nor and slightly round-shouldered. His armor was the same as that of the others, with an ornate helm and a torso guard of gold coins, but his ankle-length tunic was of heavy crimson silk. “I am Song Xiu,” he said, offering a respectful bow to both Kysumu and Yu Yu. He looked at Ren Tang, who stepped back, sheathing his sword.
“Why are you so angry?” Yu Yu asked Ren Tang.
The warrior swung away from him and walked back into the ranks of the Riaj-nor. Song Xiu spoke for him. “He is angry because yesterday we won a great victory. After all the years of struggle and suffering. We thought that it was over and that we would have a chance to know peace. To rest and lie in the sunshine. To send for the pleasure girls and rut and get drunk. It was a glorious day. But then the black wizard told us the spell would one day falter, and Qin Chong asked all the Riaj-nor to draw lots to see which of us would leave the world we knew and enter the long sleep. Now we are here to fight again and die for a cause that is not our own. Ren Tang is not alone in feeling angry, human. We agreed only because Qin Chong said he would lead us. But he is dead. He fought his way across two continents, facing and overcoming dangers you could not possibly imagine, only to die from a rock fall inside a hollow hill. You expect us to be less than angry?”
Yu Yu shrugged. “You didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be here. But we are here. So let’s leave this place. I need to breathe fresh air.”
Yu Yu strode along the tunnel to the rock door and stretched out his hand. Instead of passing through it, his fingers touched solid rock. “Oh, it just gets better,” muttered Yu Yu. He kicked the stone. Cracks flowed across it. The door shivered and broke, collapsing to the overhang and falling to the trail below. Yu Yu gave a proud grin and swung to Kysumu. “Nobody told me how to do that,” he said. “I just did it myself! Good, hey?” Then he stepped out into the light and climbed down. Kysumu followed him, then the Riaj-nor. The warriors milled around, turning their faces up to the sunlight. Two of them approached the body of the dead Kriaz-nor. One knelt down and dipped his finger in the gaping wound at the warrior’s neck. Lifting his hand, he licked blood from the finger. “Recent kill,” he said. Peeling a strip of flesh from the body, he put it in his mouth and chewed on it. Then he spit it out. “Tastes of fear,” he said.
Kysumu walked away from the group and stood staring into the distance. Yu Yu joined him. “Are you all right, Rajnee?”
“Look at them, Yu Yu. All my life I have dreamed of being as great as these. And what are they? Part animal, part man—and as vile as those we fight against. I thought to find great heroes. Instead …” his voice trailed away.
“They are here,” said Yu Yu. “They endured a spell that left them … dead … for centuries so that they could protect a new generation. Doesn’t that make them heroes?”
“How could you understand?” snapped Kysumu.
“Being a ditchdigger, you mean?”
“No, no,” said Kysumu, reaching out and gripping Yu Yu’s shoulder. “There is no dishonor in that. What I meant was that all my life I have denied myself pleasure. No fine foods, strong drink, women, gambling. I possess nothing but my robes, my sword, and my sandals. I did this because I believed in the order of the Rajnee. My life had a noble purpose. But it has all been based on a falsehood. To win that war our ancestors merely duplicated the enemy. No honor, no holding to principles. What does that make of my life?”
“You have honor and principles,” said Yu Yu. “You are a great man. It doesn’t matter about the past. You are who you are regardless of it. When I first began to dig trenches, they told us the foundations needed to be four feet deep. When the first earthquake hit, all our new buildings crumbled. The foundations should have been six feet deep, you see. All that digging just to make an unsafe house. But it didn’t make me a bad digger. I was a great digger. A legend among diggers,” he added.
At that moment Song Xiu and Ren Tang approached them. “What are your orders, pria-shath?” asked the crimson-clad Song Xiu.
“Do you know how to make the gateway stay closed?” asked Yu Yu.
“Of course. The spell was cast using the power of Riaj-nor blades,” said Song Xiu. “We must assemble at the gateway and hold our swords against it.”
“That is all we have to do?” asked Yu Yu, astonished. “Just walk up to the gateway and tap it with a sword? We could have done that!”
“It will take more than two,” said Ren Tang.
“How many?” asked Kysumu.
Song Xiu shrugged. “Ten, twenty, all of them. I do not know. But it will all be for nothing if the gateway is fully open. We must reach it before that event, while it is still blue.”
“Blue?” queried Yu Yu.
“I watched the first spell cast,” said Song Xiu. “It began with what appeared to be white lightning searing across the opening. Then the color deepened, becoming at first pale blue like a winter sky, then darker. At the last it was silver, like a sword blade. Then the light faded, the silver turned to gray, and we were standing before a wall of solid rock. After the Men of Clay were chosen, we were told that as the spell degrades, it will flow through the colors in reverse. If it reaches white, the spell is finished. If we can restore it to silver, the gateway will seal itself.”
“Then we’d better get started,” said Yu Yu.
Eldicar Manushan felt sick. The communion had been more painful than usual, but then, it had been prolonged almost beyond endurance. Yet it was Deresh Karany’s torture of Matze Chai that had turned his stomach. The old man had been far tougher than anyone could have expected, considering his effete lifestyle. The boils sprouting on his flesh and the open, cancerous wounds had failed to break him. Blinding head pain had weakened his resolve, with the fat maggots chewing on his wounds bringing him even closer to the edge. But it was the leprosy that finally had sent him spinning into Deresh Karany’s control. The old man was fastidious to the point of obsession. The thought of his own skin decaying and falling away had been too much for him.
“It was good that you gave him those extra twenty years, Eldicar. He would not have survived the pain without the gift.”
“Indeed not, my lord.”
“You seem to be suffering.”
“The communion is always painful.”
“So, do you think there is anything more to be learned from the merchant?”
“I believe not, my lord.”
“Still, it is enough. The Gray Man is an assassin once known as Waylander. It is almost amusing. Niallad has lived his whole life in fear of meeting this man, and now he is traveling with him.”
Eldicar’s head felt as if it would burst. He sagged against the cellar wall.
“You must try to be tougher, Eldicar. Take note of the wonderful display shown by the Chiatze. Very well, I will let you go.”
Freedom from pain made Eldicar cry aloud. He sank to his knees. The cellar was cold. Eldicar sat down, resting his back against the wall. Tied to a chair close by was the unconscious Matze Chai. He was naked, his body a mass of festering sores, his skin showing the white blotches of leprosy. Maggots crawled on his bony thighs.
I wanted to be a healer, thought Eldicar. With a sigh he pushed himself to his feet and walked to the door. He glanced back at the dying man. There was no one there, except for himself and the prisoner, no guard outside the unlocked door. Deresh Karany had evinced no further
interest in the man. Turning back, Eldicar moved to Matze Chai’s side. Taking a deep breath, he laid his hands on the merchant’s blood-encrusted face. Deresh Karany’s spells were powerful, and destroying the leprosy was the hardest task. It was deep rooted. Eldicar worked silently, his mind focused. First he killed the maggots and healed the boils. The merchant groaned and began to wake. Eldicar placed him in a deep sleep and then began to work. Concentrating all his power into his hands, Eldicar pulsed life-giving energy into Matze’s veins. Eyes closed, he sought out all pockets of the disease, slowly eradicating them.
Why are you doing this? he asked himself. There was no rational answer. Perhaps, he thought, it will add one fragrant lily to the rancid lake of my life. Stepping back, he gazed down at the sleeping man. Matze’s skin gleamed with health. “You did not come out of this too badly, Matze Chai,” he said. “You still have your twenty years.”
Pulling shut the door behind him, Eldicar climbed the stone stairs to the first level and moved through to the Oak Room. Beric was sitting by the far window. Lord Aric was lounging on a couch nearby. “Where is Panagyn?” asked Eldicar.
“He is preparing to ride out in search of the Gray Man,” said Aric. “I think he is looking forward to the hunt. Did you learn anything from the slant-eye?”
“Yes. The Gray Man is an assassin called Waylander.”
“I have heard of him,” said Aric. “I wish you’d let me observe the torture.”
“Why?” Eldicar asked wearily.
“It would have been amusing, and I am bored.”
“I am sorry to hear that, my friend,” said Eldicar. “Perhaps you should visit Lady Lalitia.”
“Aye, I think I will,” said Aric, his mood momentarily brightening.
The small group had made camp in a wooded hollow close to the crest of a hill overlooking the Eiden Plain. Waylander was standing alone, staring out over the ruins of Kuan Hador. Behind him the priestess Ustarte was sleeping. Emrin and Niallad were skinning three hares Keeva had killed that morning.
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