SEVEN CITADELS
PART FOUR
THE SEVENTH GATE
Seven Citadels novels by Geraldine Harris
Prince of the Godborn
The Children of the Wind
The Dead Kingdom
The Seventh Gate
SEVEN CITADELS
PART FOUR
THE SEVENTH GATE
GERALDINE HARRIS
SPEAKING VOLUMES, LLC
NAPLES, FLORIDA
2012
SEVEN CITADELS
THE SEVENTH GATE
Copyright © 1983 by GERALDINE HARRIS
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.
ISBN 978-1-61232-049-6
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
THE STORY SO FAR
The beginning of the story Seven Citadels is told in Prince of the Godborn. In the east of Zindar lies the great Galkian Empire ruled by the Godborn; the descendants of Zeldin, the Gentle God and his human consort, Imarko. Galkis is under attack from the barbarians along its borders and is weakened by intrigue and strife amongst the Godborn.
An alliance between the barbarians of the Five Kingdoms and the Brigands of Fangmere brings a new crisis and the High Priest Izeldon sees an ancient prophesy of an imprisoned Saviour as the only hope for Galkis. He asks Prince Kerish-lo-Taan, a son of the Emperor by a slave-girl from Erandachu, to go out into Zindar and search for this Promised Saviour. Izeldon reveals that the only way to free the Saviour is to win the seven keys to the gates of his prison, but each key is guarded by an immortal sorcerer. The Emperor insists that the impulsive Kerish shares his quest with his sensible half-brother, Lord Forollkin.
The two young men survive a Brigand attack as they cross the Sea of Az to visit Elmandis of Ellerinonn, the first of the sorcerers. Elmandis proves to be a philosopher-king ruling a gentle people dedicated to bringing peace and beauty to Zindar. He sees Kerish's coming as a disaster, because a sorcerer who gives up his key loses immortality. Kerish has to face a grim ordeal and use all his powers of argument to persuade the noble Elmandis to surrender the first key.
The second sorcerer is Ellandellore, the estranged younger brother of Elmandis, whose domain is Cheransee, the Isle of Illusions. Ellandellore is a crazed child who cannot be persuaded by reason to give up the key that has trapped him in eternal childhood. Kerish plays a nightmare game with Ellandellore to trick him out of his key and barely escapes with his life. Elmandis can now help his brother to grow up at last. He tells Kerish to look for the third sorcerer far north in the Ultimate Mountains and sends them on their way with a mysterious travelling companion, the ugly and insolent Gidjabolgo.
In The Children of the Wind Kerish, Forollkin and Gidjabolgo the Forgite buy a passage north, through the marshes of Lan-Pin-Fria, on the ship of a Merchant-Hunter. After a dangerous journey, during which Kerish acquires the marsh-cat, Lilahnee, the travelers reach the Forbidden Hill. In spite of warnings to go no further, they cross the hill and discover a strange ruined city, before being overwhelmed by a snowstorm.
The travelers wake in Tir-Zulmar, the mountain citadel of the third sorcerer, to find that the first two keys have been stolen. Kerish confronts the third sorcerer and discovers that she is a woman from the island of Gannoth. The sorceress Sendaaka tells Kerish how she quarreled with and left her husband, Saroc, the fourth sorcerer, and about the tragic death of their only daughter. The two sorcerers can never be re-united unless one of them gives up their key. Kerish persuades Sendaaka to lend him her key and return the first two keys. He promises to convince Saroc to give up his key and ask Sendaaka's forgiveness, without revealing that she has already yielded her key. If he fails, Kerish will have to return Sendaaka's key and his quest will be over. To reach the citadel of Saroc, which lies in the Queendom of Seld, the companions will have to cross the plains of Erandachu. Sendaaka warns them that they are bound to meet the Erandachi, the Children of the Wind, who worship her as their “Mountain Goddess”.
Halfway across the plains, the travelers are captured by the Sheyasa tribe, whose chieftain, Tayeb, proves to be Kerish's uncle. They are welcomed into the tribe by Tayeb's daughter, Gwerath, a priestess of the Mountain Goddess, who takes an immediate liking to Forollkin. Tayeb wants Kerish and Forollkin to help him against his enemies within the tribe and forbids them to leave. Forollkin's skill and courage win him an honored place as a warrior, but Kerish is made a priest of the Mountain Goddess and Gidjabolgo a slave.
Kerish is eager to attract Gwerath's attention and jealous of Forollkin's status as a warrior. The tension between the two brothers, which has been mounting throughout their journey, erupts when Kerish wins the right to be a warrior by fighting Forollkin. He nearly kills his brother, but Forollkin forgives him and their resolve to escape from the Sheyasa is strengthened. The escape is only possible with Gwerath's help and they are forced to take her with them. Arriving in Seld, the four travelers encounter its ruler, Queen Pellameera. They are told about the horrors of Saroc's citadel and Kerish learns that his father is dead. The quest is now more urgent than ever.
The story continues in The Dead Kingdom, in which Kerish and his companions cross the Red Waste to reach Tir-Tonar, the citadel of Saroc. They are attacked by monstrous guardians and Lilahnee is killed, but they force their way into the citadel. After a perilous journey through a maze filled with nightmare creatures, they reach the fourth sorcerer and Kerish persuades him to give up his key for Sendaaka's sake. Saroc tells the Prince that the fifth key is to be found in the Dead Kingdom of Roac and the sixth on the island of Silnarnin. Shubeyash, the sorcerer king of Roac, has destroyed his whole realm by using powers stolen from the ruined city beyond the Forbidden Hill, but though his body is dead, his spirit is chained to Zindar as long as he holds a key. Kerish and his companions must travel to the island of Gannoth to ask its ruler the secret of entering the Dead Kingdom. When Saroc has handed over the fourth key, he destroys his citadel and journeys north to be re-united with his wife.
After a brief stay at the court of Seld, where Kerish survives an assassination attempt plotted by his stepmother Rimoka, the travelers sail to Gannoth and are made welcome by Hemcoth, its gentle Prince. Acting as an oracle, Hemcoth tells them that they can only sail the Dead Waters which surround Roac in a boat made from the blue wood which drifts across the Great Ocean from another continent. While the boat is being built, Hemcoth shows his guests the Cave of Pictures, whose walls are carved with scenes telling the story of the first humans in Zindar. Many of the scenes are damaged but it is clear that humans came from across the Great Ocean and that Zindar was originally inhabited by mysterious winged creatures.
When their boat, the Starflower, is ready, the travelers sail through the Dead Waters to Roac and enter its capital, Tir-Roac. The long dead citizens of Tir-Roac are given illusory life by the power of King Shubeyash, but the Prince sees them as they really are. As the travelers are drawn towards the palace, Kerish senses the torment of Shubeyash. In the grim confrontation that follows it is the Prince's compassion which defeats the sorcerer. Shubeyash yields his key and submits to death, but in the conflict Kerish's right hand has been crippled.
Leaving Roac, the travelers sail on to Silnarnin and the citadel of Tir-Melidon. There they meet
the sorcerer, Vethnar, whose citadel is one vast library and whose ambition is to collect and classify all knowledge. Vethnar refuses to give up his key, but he is delighted to entertain the four travelers. The others enjoy exploring Silnarnin, but Kerish is deeply unhappy. He is jealous of the growing love between Forollkin and Gwerath, depressed at his failure to win Vethnar's key and increasingly uncertain whether his quest can justify the suffering it has caused. Then Gidjabolgo hints at how Vethnar can be persuaded and gives the Prince new courage. Kerish shows the sorcerer that in spite of his immortality he can never achieve his ambition. Vethnar reluctantly gives up the sixth key and tells Kerish that to win the seventh key he must go back to Galkis and enter the Forbidden jungle of Jenze; the domain of the sorceress Tebreega.
The Prince and his companions sail the Starflower into the Sea of Az, where they are captured by the ruthless Brigands of Fangmere. The story is concluded in The Seventh Gate.
Chapter 1
The Book of the Emperors: Sorrows
And Zeldin spoke to Imarko his bride, saying, “Even behind you lies Her shadow, for the children of day are born of night. Not all my love for you can dispel that shadow; only your love for me can cleanse it away.”
But she wept when she beheld the shadow and would not be comforted.
The blue boat was slow to catch fire. As silently as they had gutted the Starflower of its contents, the white-haired men fetched more torches to thrust beneath the blue timbers. When the wood finally caught and flared up the air was infused by a curious fragrance. Even the Brigands of Fangmere paused as they sorted through the plundered goods and tilted their heads as if they were trying to recall a sweet, elusive memory.
A sharp command from their captain sent the Brigands back to their task and the fragrance was smothered by a richer smell as the chest of Kolgorn spices was thrown on the fire. The Brigands were only keeping things that could easily be reduced to precious stones and metals. One of the prisoners winced as the jeweled cover was ripped from his copy of The Book of the Emperors and the pages were tossed in the flames.
Of the clothes, only a single, gaudy dress was spared. Looping the dress over his arm, one of the Brigands strode towards the silver-haired girl. She was kneeling beside an unconscious man trying, with bound hands, to wipe the blood from his forehead. The Brigand took her by the shoulders and dragged her towards the first of the ships of Fangmere, past a group of warriors who were just coming ashore from the second.
“Where are you taking her?”
Kerish's Zindaric met with no response. In spite of his struggles, one Brigand was enough to hold him helpless as Gwerath was dragged aboard the ship. His furious pleas were ignored, while the captain pondered the value of the Gannothan charts and his men burned poems from Ellerinonn and robes from Seld.
Gidjabolgo knelt in Gwerath's place and Forollkin coughed and groaned as he slowly came round. One of the Brigands darted forward to check his bonds.
“Leave him alone! Surely you can see he's in no state to threaten you?”
Again Kerish was ignored.
“Save your breath,” hissed Gidjabolgo. “It won't warm their wits, or their hearts.”
“They understand Zindaric, but think it an insult to Idaala to speak it.”
The words were in Low Galkian, with the harsh accent of the Jorgan Islands. Kerish turned towards the speaker and saw a small, swarthy man, hunching his shoulders to hide the collar of a slave.
“Don't worry about the girl. They're forbidden to touch women while they're outside Fangmere. Anything unusual fetches a good price at the slave-block, so they'll treat her well.”
The captain of the second ship struck the slave a sharp blow and the man hastily changed to Zindaric.
“I've told them you're Galkians, so you needn't deny it, but now I see your face. . .” The interpreter frowned at the Prince as if there was something he ought to remember and couldn't.
Kerish was watching one of the Brigands as he approached the fire, carrying the zildar.
“That instrument belongs to Gidjabolgo here. He's a skilled musician and worth more with it than without. Tell them so.”
The interpreter had no need to speak. The first captain gestured swiftly to the Brigand and the zildar was put aside.
“Gidjabolgo comes from Forgin,” continued Kerish. “The Men of Fangmere are not at war with the Merchants of Forg, surely . . .”
“Nor are they at peace with any man,” answered the interpreter, with a crooked smile.
The sails had caught now. Forollkin choked in the acrid smoke and opened his eyes. “Fire . . . what are they doing?”
“Burning the Starflower.” Kerish knelt by his brother and used his sleeve to wipe away the blood and sweat trickling down Forollkin's pale face.
The Brigands had boarded the Starflower before the travelers were awake. Forollkin had hardly struck a blow in the cramped cabin before he was felled.
“Where is Gwerath?” Forollkin struggled to sit up and Kerish helped him, one-handed.
“They took the lady away to stow her with the valuable cargo,” said Gidjabolgo. “We, it seems, are not so desirable.”
“They have a Galkian slave with them, who says they won't harm her,” added Kerish.
Forollkin made a painful effort to turn his head. The Galkian stood meekly beside the two captains, who were talking agitatedly and glancing at the Prince.
Kerish remembered the first time he had seen a Brigand of Fangmere, rushing towards him across the deck of the Zeloka. He remembered the cloaks, stiff with blood, the hair too white even for the midday sun to tinge with color, the pale eyes drained of everything but the need to kill. How quietly they moved now about the beach, destroying treasures that had no meaning for them. To Kerish, they felt a world away; no word or gesture or prayer could cross so huge a distance, nor could imagination, and perhaps that explained their cruelty.
About twenty men were now on the beach. At an order from the captains, they squatted down at the edge of the waves, thrusting their axes into the sand. Down the gang-plank from the second ship came an old man, still cloaked and armed like a warrior. His gnarled hands were cupped about a chalice of translucent crystal, carved like a half-open flower. The captains moved towards their prisoners and the men began a low chant. Ignoring Gidjabolgo, the first captain paced slowly round the Galkians. Suddenly he darted forward, seized Kerish's face and stared for a moment into his eyes. Then the captain fell back and spoke to his interpreter.
“What is it they want of us?” demanded Kerish.
The interpreter would not look at them.
“Speak! What does your master say, slave?”
Tossing up his head in anger, the man was caught by the Prince's eyes and answered as if he could not help himself. “They are choosing one of you to fill Idaala's chalice with fresh blood. You resisted capture and after combat, sacrifice must be made. But there is something about you that disturbs them . . .”
Kerish looked again at the chalice, the first beautiful thing he had seen among the men of Fangmere. A chalice carved with the Bloodflower of Idaala, waiting to be stained to its true crimson. The second captain drew a crude knife of rippled stone. The first continued his pacing.
The hairs on Forollkin's neck prickled and he had thought, `Oh Zeldin, not me,' before he realized what his safety would mean.
The captain stopped again in front of Kerish and spoke softly.
“He asks,” said the interpreter, “whether your hand was injured in combat or by accident.”
“Neither. Tell him a god touched it.”
“They have no word for god . . .” began the interpreter but the captain gestured impatiently to show that he had understood. He stared for a moment longer at Kerish and then murmured something to the other captain.
The interpreter scuttled backwards and called out from the water's edge, “They have chosen you.”
Four men closed on Forollkin and Gidjabolgo to drag them aboard the first ship. Kerish's a
rms were pinioned and his hair was seized to tilt back his head. The second captain tested the edge of his blade.
`Zeldin, Imarko!' They were the only words Kerish's mind would form as the captains moved towards him and the chanting soared. Almost at once the syllables seemed senseless. Perhaps no such words as Zeldin and Imarko had ever existed. If they did, they meant nothing at all, or more than he could understand.
The second captain whispered something and his face was stricken with awe. Kerish did not see. His eyes were closed. Shock masked the pain of the first stroke, but not the agony of the second.
*****
In a corner of the hold, Forollkin and Gidjabolgo were shackled side by side. Their hands were unbound but they could not stand up straight or crawl for more than a few feet in any direction. As their eyes adjusted to the dim light they saw other prisoners crouched in the filthy straw. Two had the plaited hair and swarthy faces of Jorgan Islanders but the third wore the tattered livery of a captain of the Galkis. This man questioned them at once.
“You are Galkian? Didn't you know that the Footsteps are no longer safe? We heard the noise from the beach and saw the girl taken past. Were there only the three of you?”
“No! My brother. . . my brother. They've chosen him for sacrifice.”
“What will they do to him?” demanded Gidjabolgo.
“It will be quick,” said the Galkian gently. “They cut the throat with one slash and drain off all the blood. I saw it done to one of my own men.”
Forollkin stared at him for a moment and then flung forward, tugging desperately at his chains. The Galkian prisoner gripped his shoulders. “Be still. You'll only hurt yourself to no purpose. He's dead by now. Pray to Zeldin for his soul's swift flight.”
“Pray!” snarled Gidjabolgo. “I would not even grace the gods by cursing them.”
The Seventh Gate (The Seven Citadels ) Page 1
