‘We must not sleep,’ Taropat said with great effort, but already Shan was unconscious beside him, and Tayven was blinking so slowly it was clear he would not be awake for much longer. Taropat reached for his brother’s hand. ‘We mustc waitc watchc not sleep.’
We will sleep, Merlan thought, and it seemed as if he spoke the words aloud. Perhaps it will be the eternal sleep. No one has come here and returned to speak of it. No one.
Chapter Twenty-Four: The Crown of Silence
Tayven was awoken by a sound that had ebbed to silence by the time he opened his eyes. Slowly, he raised himself on the rock. His companions still slept beside him and the perfect cerulean blue of Pancanara dreamed on undisturbed in the light of dawn. He could not remember falling asleep, and his slumber had been unbroken by dreams. His body ached from the previous day’s climb, but now the air did not seem so difficult to breathe. He felt neither hungry nor tired, but completely alert. Even his unbooted foot didn’t hurt that much, despite the fact he’d had to travel such rough ground. Had there been a sound? He felt a vibration shudder through his right hand and up his arm. Uncurling his fingers, he was surprised to see the blue pearl nestling in his palm. It had been in his back-pack when he’d gone to sleep. Had he slept-walked to retrieve it? The sound came again: a strange tonal hum that was almost a human voice. Tayven closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the experience of the sound. There were no words to it, but in his mind, it seemed to say, ‘Follow me.’
Tayven opened his eyes and the vibration ceased. The stillness of the atmosphere was a palpable force that pushed itself into his body. It was a drug stealing through his veins, conjuring euphoria. He hardly dared breathe, because the sound of it was too loud, a brute human intrusion into this sacred place. Was the air above the crown of peaks shimmering? He squinted up, sure that something moved just beyond his perception. Silvery ribbons flashed at the corner of his eye. A sense of presence was building up. The others must wake up. He reached out and touched Taropat’s shoulder, whispered his name, but Taropat only mumbled in his sleep and did not stir. Tayven shifted into a crouch, staring out over the water. Another sound came suddenly: a low, thrumming bass note, followed by a soft ripple of higher tones. The sounds seemed to emanate from the air around him and the pearl shivered in his grasp, as if in response. If this was music, it could only be the spiritual symphony of the mountains themselves. The shimmering above the peaks was clearer now, as if the air was dancing.
A ball of light suddenly shot out from the mountain opposite and hung poised over the water. Presently, it was joined by another, and another, until over a dozen spinning spheres of radiance created a living constellation above the lake. The others had to see this. Tayven had to wake them. Still, he dared not speak higher than a whisper. ‘Merlan, Shan, Taropatc’ He shook each of them in turn, urging them to open their eyes. Merlan was the easiest to rouse. He looked into Tayven’s face, who put a finger to his lips and murmured. ‘We have companyc’
Merlan turned onto his side, muttered, ‘By Madragore, what is that?’
Taropat woke and physically jumped when he saw the spheres. ‘Earth lights!’ he hissed.
‘What are they?’ said Shan, pushing hair from his eyes.
‘Manifestations of the earth’s energy, its intelligence, its power to create,’ Taropat said.
‘Something’s coming,’ Tayven said. ‘Can you feel it?’ The air was electric now, as if invisible lightning struck all around them. Tayven noticed the hairs on his arms were standing up.
It seemed that once the spheres knew they had the attention of the humans upon the rock, they began to put on a display. At first, they moved lazily around one another and the almost inaudible tones in the air became louder. The music was slow, stately, but gradually built in speed and intensity. The spheres danced with greater wildness, spinning around one another in complicated patterns.
‘It’s as if they are alive,’ Shan said. ‘Are they elden? Where’s the music coming from?’
‘Don’t ask, just experience,’ Taropat said shortly. He got to his feet.
Abruptly as it began, the dance ended and the spheres dropped like stones into the lake, causing barely a ripple. For some moments, all was still. Tayven and his companions looked at one another, speechless. Tayven longed to ask questions, but could not bring himself to speak, and sensed the others felt the same. Eventually, Shan opened his mouth and Taropat raised a hand quickly to silence him. Simultaneously, the rock beneath them began to shake. Taropat was flung to his knees. There was no music now, only a thunderous crashing sound, as if the mountains were breaking apart. Tendrils of steam rose from the lake, whose surface had become agitated, and the air was filled with an acrid mineral stench. Tayven feared that the volcano was coming back to life and that presently magma would erupt from the lake. They would die beneath a deadly hail of ash and molten stone. The lake was angry. Something was wrong. Should they have said or done something to the earth lights? He reached out and grabbed Taropat’s arm. Taropat pulled him close against his body.
Suddenly, a bright light flared in front of Tayven’s eyes. It emanated from Taropat’s right hand. Instinctively, Tayven knew Taropat held the Dragon’s Eye. He looked into Taropat’s face and saw that his mouth was gaping wide in a scream that was smothered by the cacophony around them. Two burning white rays lanced out from the artefact into Taropat’s eyes, which had begun to film over. What was happening? Tayven heard his own name being shouted aloud, then realised it was only in his head. The Dragon’s Breath was calling to him. The moment he realised this, a pulse of pain ripped through his body, emanating from his hand, which held the blue pearl. It was how he imagined being struck by lightning would feel. The Dragon’s Breath roared with power, a sound that might dissolve his brain with its vibrations. Every fibre of his body shuddered to its resonance. He feared he would break apart. Doubt swept through him. It must have been vanity, after all. He was not worthy of the gift and, as punishment, the Dragon would kill them.
Do not decry yourself, whispered a voice in his mind. The gift of the pearl is within you. What need do you have for the bauble that represents its power? Do you not see? Do you not understand? The Dragon must know you accept its gift.
Yes, he could understand. A final sacrifice. Tayven tried to stand, desperate to reach the waters of the lake, but could not raise his body. It felt as if his bones were fragmenting within his skin. Every muscle and sinew sizzled at the searing frequency of the pearl’s vibration. He had to crawl, slowly, tortuously, like a baby learning to use its limbs. He was no longer aware of his companions. All that existed was the smoking, bubbling surface of the lake that drew him to itself. At the water’s edge, he struggled to his knees.
‘Dragon, hear me!’ he cried. ‘I am your servant. The pearl is yours. I return it to you. It is my sacrifice.’ With a shoulder-wrenching arc, Tayven threw the pearl into the air. It soared out over the lake, where it skimmed across the surface three times, before plunging into the roiling water. At once, the destructive vibrations ceased within his mind and body. For a moment, he knelt beside the water, gasping, his hands upon his thighs. His ears were filled with the hiss of boiling steam. He lumbered to his feet and turned to his companions. Other sounds crashed back into his awareness. He could hear a frantic voice, terrible cries of pain. Merlan was standing over Shan, who lay upon the rock, his body writhing into contortions, his face a mask of agony. He clawed at his chest. Tayven could smell burning meat.
‘The Claw!’ Merlan cried, seeing Tayven coming towards him. ‘It’s burning into his skin. He won’t let me touch it.’
‘Take him to the water,’ Tayven shouted. ‘Shan must relinquish the Claw, Merlan. He must return it to the Dragon. Make him throw it into the lake.’
‘I’ll do what I can. See to Taropat.’
Tayven could see Taropat kneeling upon the rock some distance away. He was motionless, acidic beams of light still pouring out of the Eye towards his face.
Tayven squatted down and attempted to wrench the Eye from Taropat’s grasp, but it was as if his fingers had turned to iron. ‘Taropat, can you hear me?’ he cried, shaking the man’s shoulders. ‘You must let go of the Eye. The Dragon demands it back.’ He tried again to prise Taropat’s fingers away from the dazzling artefact, but a piercing screech from behind him distracted his attention. He turned in time to witness Shan throw the Claw into the air, the torn cord dangling from his blackened neck. The artefact spun through the steam above the lake, and splashed into the hungry water amid a roar of flame and sparks. Shan slumped to the ground, his hands dangling in the water. A ragged scream close to Tayven’s ear forced him to attend once more to Taropat. The man was shaking his head from side to side. ‘Merlan!’ he cried. ‘Brother, do not forsake me!’
Merlan came running to Taropat’s side. Even though Tayven had been unable to move Taropat’s fingers, Merlan pulled the Eye from his brother’s grasp. At once, its cruel glare faded away. Merlan cupped it gingerly in both hands.
‘Taropat, you must relinquish the Eye,’ Tayven shouted. The roar and crash of splintering rock and foaming water made it almost impossible for him to be heard. ‘Speak now! Make your sacrifice.’
Taropat, his head hanging, only uttered a groan.
‘Go to the lake, Khas,’ Merlan said. ‘We’ll help you. Once you are there, I’ll give you the Eye again. You must throw it into the water. Tell the dragon you return it.’
His words appeared to penetrate Taropat’s mind. As Tayven had done before, he began to crawl forward on his hands and knees. Then, he reared up and began to strike the air with floundering arms, all the while uttering stark cries. His hair fell back from his face.
‘By Madragore,’ Merlan cried, ‘he’s blind, Tayven. Blind!’
Taropat threw back his head and roared at the sky. Tayven could see his eyes now, milky white, dead orbs. Without thinking, Tayven began to drag Taropat to the lake’s edge, ignoring the glancing blows from the flailing arms. Taropat half fell into the water, his white eyes rolling madly.
‘Give me the Eye, Merlan!’ Tayven shouted.
Merlan handed it to him. Behind him, Shan had got to his feet and stood watching the others, an expression of horror and revulsion on his face. Tayven pressed the Eye into Taropat’s hands. ‘Speak. Make the sacrifice. We are here with you.’
Taropat gripped the Eye firmly. His voice was a ragged croak. ‘I give you my magician’s sight. That is my sacrifice. Now give me the Crown!’
‘No!’ Tayven cried. ‘Throw it, Khaster. Throw it. Relinquish it.’
‘The Crown!’ roared Taropat, spittle frothing from the corners of his mouth.
Merlan pushed Tayven aside and ripped the Eye from his brother’s hands. He ran into the lake a few paces. Water seethed around his ankles, a black and eager element. ‘Take this unto yourself!’ he cried and hurled the Eye across the lake. When it reached the centre, there was a stark flash of light and the waters came immediately to rest. The roaring sounds subsided, until all that could be heard was the sound of ragged breathing.
‘Is it over?’ Shan murmured.
‘Seems to be,’ Merlan answered. He knelt next to Tayven beside his brother, put a hand on Taropat’s shoulder.
Taropat raised his face. His eyes were still blind. ‘The Crown,’ he gasped. ‘Where is it? Do any of you have it?’
‘No,’ Tayven said. His throat was constricted with sorrow. Taropat hadn’t been able to make the sacrifice. He had paid for his pride with his eyes.
Taropat drew in his breath, slowly, painfully, but before he could speak the rock beneath them began to shake once more.
‘No,’ said Shan. ‘Not again. What must we do now? Has he ruined it all? Has he, Tayven?’
‘I don’t know,’ Tayven replied. He could barely keep to his knees.
‘Perhaps we should try and get out of here,’ Merlan said. ‘Let’s carry him, Tay.’
‘I don’t know,’ Tayven said. ‘I really don’t know.’
‘We can’t wait,’ Merlan argued. ‘We can’tc’
The rock suddenly gave a violent jolt and the group was thrown away from each other.
Rolling over onto his stomach and coming to rest at the edge of the water, Tayven saw that the surface of the lake had began to surge once more. The noise of grinding stone was again deafening. Taropat was lying nearby. Tayven saw his mouth moving, but could not hear the words. The ground was shaking so violently, all they could do was lie still and grip the rock, hope the tremor would pass. Merlan and Shan managed to crawl to Tayven’s side. They drew Taropat to them and clung together.
Was this how their quest must end, in death? Was this the secret of Pancanara? Perhaps Merlan had been right at Malarena after all. Tayven closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the rock. His teeth were vibrating in his skull. He felt he should pray, but to what? Let it be quick, then, without pain. He felt Merlan’s fingers digging agonisingly into the soft flesh above his shoulders, heard him shout close to his ear. He could not hear the words, but his tone made Tayven lift his head.
Something was rising from the lake. Something immense. A mountain. A mountain of crystal. It rose slowly, inexorably, water cascading from its flanks. Were they dreaming? Was this real? The physical sensations did not feel like a dream. Tayven shook off the hold of his companions and scrambled to his feet. Only then did he realise that the earth tremor had diminished. The air was filled with a mighty roar and a hot wind coming off the lake made it difficult for him to keep his eyes open. But he had to see. Even if death followed, his last sight would be of something extraordinary and wondrous. The roaring sound died away and the last crashing waterfalls fell back into the lake. Tayven stared in disbelief at the edifice that dominated the centre of Pancanara. Not a mountain, but a fabulous city. He saw minarets and towers rising high towards the pulsing sky. They caught the rays of the rising sun, which was reflected with blinding brilliance. Tayven’s ears were filled with the music of an unearthly chorus, as if a company of angels sang amid the towers. He could see them now, undulating spectral shapes that clung to the spires of crystal. He turned to the others, pointed wordlessly.
‘I know this place,’ Shan said, his eyes strangely unfocused. ‘It is the city of Sinaclara’s shining angel.’
A glittering causeway had appeared, leading up to the coruscating walls. Tayven saw the phantom inhabitants beckoning him, calling out to him with their siren song. He could see them more clearly now: women, with long elfin faces, slanting eyes and waving silver hair. He stepped forward, unable to disobey the summons of their voices.
Taropat reached out and gripped his arm. ‘Don’t leave me. What’s happening? What can you see?’
‘The city of angels,’ Tayven said. ‘If Shan is right.’
‘Sinaclara told me of it,’ Shan said. ‘She said it was the cradle of our civilisation. I’ve seen it in dreams.’
Taropat uttered a sob, pawed at his blind eyes.
‘There are no dragons here, brother,’ Merlan said. ‘Come, take my arm. Come with us to the city.’
‘No!’ Taropat cried. ‘I cannot see it. It might be a trick to lure us to our deaths. I cannot guide you. We have failed.’
‘It’s all right,’ Shan said, putting an arm around Taropat’s shoulders. ‘We will be your guides now.’
‘Yes,’ Tayven said. ‘We must see this through to the end, all of us together.’
‘Climb onto my back, master,’ Shan said. ‘I will carry you there.’
Tears, whether of emotion or merely a physical reaction to his pain, slid down Taropat’s face. But he allowed Merlan and Tayven to hoist him onto Shan’s back. Shan began to wade into the water. Tayven stepped off the rock behind him. He half expected to be able to walk across the lake’s surface, but after a few steps, the bottom fell away beneath him and he sank. Strangely, he was not afraid. An unnatural blue light surrounded him. He began to swim, and found his body moved quickly
through the mineral-soaked water. His companions were beside him and the siren song was a line reeling them in.
There was solid ground beneath his feet now. He was walking upwards, out of the lake, along the shining causeway to the city. There was no gate, but a portcullis of crystal spears was raised to allow them ingress. Tayven was first beneath it. Beyond was a wide ceremonial way leading upwards. The buildings around him were indistinct. Sometimes, they looked like natural rock formations, at other times like splendid palaces and temples. The song that surrounded him was so high-pitched, he felt it would melt his brain. Yet he was driven to walk forward. Something was approaching, a tall glowing shape. It glided like a ghost and was surrounded by immense wings. The brilliance of the light bleached all colour from the scene, but as the figure drew closer Tayven saw that it was male and that his wings were white peacocks’ tails. His hair was the darkest purple, the colour of night-blooming, poisonous flowers. Valraven, he thought, but then behind him he heard Shan cry, ‘Azcaranoth! The peacock angel.’
The figure held a glowing object in its white attenuated hands. This he appeared to be offering to the city’s visitors. Tayven fell to his knees. The great angel hovered over him, his face terrible and beautiful.
A voice thundered out from him, although his mouth did not move. ‘Who summons the etheric form of Kharsanara, city of the Elderahan?’
‘Seekers, lord,’ Tayven said. ‘We have undertaken the quest of the lakes. Our sacrifices summoned you. We seek the lesson of the Crown of Silence.’
Sparks of indigo light spat from the angel’s eyes. ‘I am the father of humanity, reviled and worshipped in equal measure. It is I who gives knowledge to the world, that which breaks the endless sleep of the human soul. If it is my knowledge you seek, then speak now in truth.’ The angel’s form was in constant motion, as if he was made of light or fluid.
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