by William King
“Are you sure we are on the right path?” Kormak asked.
“We are heading for that gap in the mountains. There is a road that leads up from there to Xanadar. It’s not something I could ever forget, believe me.”
“I am surprised your people have never come this far into the null,” Kormak said to Ahexotl.
“We believe the place cursed. Our patron told us to shun this place, lest we wake what slept there.”
“So you have legends about it.”
“Xayal thought those mountains a place best avoided and he was powerful even by the standards of the Old Ones.”
“And yet he is no longer with us.”
“He was betrayed by the Blighted Ones. Their treachery allowed his accursed brother Xothak to enter into his living palace and kill him.”
Kormak had heard variations of this story all his life. He had seen it played out in many places. Helgard was but the latest example. The followers of Shadow were everywhere, waiting. The Eldrim had no monopoly on harbouring such traitors. There were plenty within the Kingdoms of the Sun. There seemed to be more each year.
“Xothak and Xayal were brothers?” Kormak asked, filing the information in his memory in case he the opportunity arose to carry it back to Mount Aethelas.
Ahexotl nodded. “They were close kin in the way of the Old Ones, before Xothak allowed himself to be possessed by the Shadow. After he murdered Xayal, our people were forced to flee into the deepest wastelands during his long ascendancy. The Blighted Ones hunted us until Xothak was overthrown by the worshippers of the Sun, then we hunted them.”
Kormak felt a surge of interest. Here were echoes of that ages old conflict given voice by one who was not Solari. “They fought here?”
“You see the evidence all around you. Some of the ruins were said to be theirs. The war engines too.”
Kormak thought of the shattered buildings he had passed and the burned-out war machines. He suspected Ahexotl’s people were wrong. The wreckage looked like things he had seen in the Graveyard of Angels, relics of a long-ago war between by the titans of the Elder World.
Whatever was the truth, it seemed his entire world had been scorched by the fires of that ancient conflict, and they lived with the consequences of it yet. Humanity and all the other former servitor races were merely rats scuttling through the ruins left by beings infinitely their superiors.
If the Elder Races were so wise and powerful, how was it that humanity was still here and they were gone? Even that bitter thought was depressing in its own way.
“I have seen such things before,” Kormak said. “Half a world away.”
“The gods made war in those days,” said Ahexotl, in the same way as a Sunlander might say it rained yesterday. It was simply an incontrovertible fact. “They raced across the sky in chariots of light, rode dragons into battle, and smashed cities with their weapons.”
“So scripture tells us,” said Kormak.
“The world is a much larger place than my people think,” said Ahexotl. “So much is clear even from the conversations we have had.”
“I am surprised your people never left the wastelands.”
“Some did. Most were never heard from again. A few came back with stories of being mistaken for demons. This place is ours. It is sacred. It is our home.”
He sounded sincere but there was a strange undertone to his talk.
“Why did you come with us?” Kormak asked. He sensed now was the time to ask that question, that he would get a candid answer.
“Nexali has sacrificed many of my people to her Shadow God. Many of them were my kin. I want her dead, and more to the point, I want to see her dead. Ideally, I will kill her myself.”
There was real venom in his voice, and real hatred. Kormak said nothing. He had found that when he did that people would often talk just to fill the silence. This time was no different. “Something has changed. The Blighted Ones shun this place as much as we do. For them to spend so many of their people attacking you and then to flee here tells me that something is afoot. If Nexali wants whatever is hidden within those mountains, then it is best that she does not get it.”
“On this we agree,” said Kormak, wondering whether Ahexotl had any plans for acquiring the treasures of lost Xanadar for himself.
* * *
Ahead of Balthazar great cliffs of white stone rose like the walls of a titanic city, sparkling in the light of the sinking sun. He knew this place from the description the mercenary had given back in Maial. A road of sorts ran from the desert, flanked by huge rails of metal. Boulders of whitish stuff emerged from the nearby sand. They were white, crystalline, and shimmered in the light. This was wraithstone, and these were perhaps the largest deposits to be found on the planet.
Wraithstone could absorb the power of the blight. It could filter out all the evil energies attracted to sorcery. It was used in protective amulets by the Order of the Dawn, and by many wizards. He could exchange chunks of it for twice its weight in gold. The Blighted Ones avoided it as if it were poison. Given the Shadow-infected nature of their armour, that was not surprising. Perhaps, to them, it was poison.
At any other time, the sight of so much potential wealth would have excited him but now he was merely impatient to reach his goal. As they walked, they passed desiccated corpses, garbed in the armour of Siderean mercenaries. As he inspected the mutilated bodies, Balthazar felt his excitement grow. These must be the remains of the soldiers of which Anders had spoken. It seemed the mercenary had told truth.
“Best be wary,” Balthazar said. “We may soon encounter guardians.”
Nexali gestured. The Blighted Ones looked more alert. The spines of their armour bristled. The cowls of their symbs covered their faces.
“We are almost there, aren’t we?” Nexali asked.
“Yes,” Balthazar said. “If we follow this road, we should come to a gap in the ring of white stone surrounding Xanadar.”
“Do you think the presence of wraithstone is by design?” Nexali asked.
It was a good question. Balthazar paused to consider it. Perhaps the wraithstone ring was another layer of defences around the place where the Old Ones were imprisoned. He thought about what that could mean.
Had someone created mountains of wraithstone?
And if they had, had they placed it here to contain something inside? It was an astonishing thought. It spoke of the power that only the Elder Races possessed. But then they had been beings who had reshaped the entire world in their image, entire species too.
“I think you are right,” Balthazar said.
“We had better hope that whoever did this is not still alive within those mountain walls,” Nexali said.
The thought had never occurred to Balthazar. Was it possible that whoever had raised the wraithstone ring was still alive? He doubted it. Beings of such power would have been heard from before now. They would have imposed their will on the world as they had in ancient days.
“I do not think so,” Balthazar said. “And even if they are, there’s nothing we can do about it except carry on. I’m not about to give up now. Are you?”
She shook her head and gestured for her people to follow. The cowl of her symb slithered into place over her features, making them unreadable once more. Balthazar allowed his to do the same. He found it reassuring now. He was becoming used to seeing the world mediated through his armour’s senses.
Ahead of the desert of sand and ash faded away. It looked as if the wraithstone ring was part of an island of rock rising from the sea of sand. The road became more solid under their feet as it sloped upwards. Ahead of them lay a pass flanked by two metallic towers.
As Balthazar passed between them, he felt as if he had descended into the warm bath of aether. He invoked a spell, gesturing with one arm. His fingers left a glowing trail behind them. There was no doubt that the power had returned. If anything, it was more intense here than it had been in the land beyond the desert. It was stronger here than anywhere else he
had ever been, even in the heart of a blight. He smiled. He felt whole once more.
Nexali retracted her cowl, and stared at him, then, sensing what he did, she too began to smile. “We are out of the null.”
“Yes,” said Balthazar. “Magic works here.”
“The air is curdled with power.” Nexali frowned. “The aether has a strange feel. There are undertones of Shadow and of something else the like of which I have never felt before. Magic has been worked here, and not by anything remotely human.”
Balthazar nodded. When he concentrated, he could sense that too. There was something about the feel of magic here that was not quite right. It went beyond simply the intensity of it. There was a sensation that he could not quite put his finger on. If he had to, he would have said that there was a sense of mighty spells having been worked, and perhaps still working.
“Magic is being cast within these mountains,” he said. “And you’re right, not by anything I have ever sensed the like of.”
“The power here is so strong. Do you think the null might act like a dam, keeping all the energy here penned up so that it grows more and more concentrated?”
She was quick, Balthazar thought, and she might well be right. There was something odd about this place. He sensed danger within. Yet, he must go on. He invoked the power once more just to prove that he could. He was tempted to cloak himself in shadows and test his strength but that felt wrong. If there was something here, he did not want to lay down any challenge to it until he was certain of victory.
Anders stories of metal monsters flowed into his mind. Standing here at the terminus of his long journey, they suddenly seemed all too real. He thought of the corpses they had passed on the way in. Something had killed them. Fear warred with exultation.
There were more coffins here, like the one that had contained Vorkhul. It was his mission to set whatever was in them free, and yet he suddenly felt reluctant to do so. With the Old Ones unleashed in the service of Shadow, his own role might diminish. He might become a servant to them albeit a favoured one. He did not want that.
All the unease he had felt in the desert came flooding back. He had been manipulated by Xothak. All manner of subtle compulsions had been laid upon his brain. The lack of magic in the null had held them in abeyance but now they had returned. He wondered if he would even be able to think like this once he was deep within Xanadar or whether he would forget all his doubts.
He felt the buzz of mindspeech all around him. Nexali reached out a hand towards him. Come. You must see this.
He moved back in the direction she had indicated. One of her bodyguards who had been bringing up the rear stood there. Looking back down the road, he could see what the fuss was about. A small army of sand people was emerging from the desert, all garbed in the greenish armour of the Emerald Swarm. In their midst was a wagon, and rising on it, he could see the bandaged head of his greatest enemy. The Guardian Kormak had managed to follow him even here.
“Your storm was not as effective as we had hoped,” said Balthazar. He cursed the sloth and fear of the Blighted Ones. Their reluctance to press on had given his foes a chance to overhaul them.
“Your pursuer is every bit as lucky as you claimed,” she countered.
“We must go on,” Balthazar said. “We must find what we came for before they find and kill us.”
It looked as if he would have no choice but to enter the lost city, no matter what doubts or misgivings he might have.
* * *
“Wraithstone,” said Kormak looking at the boulder. The sinking sun cast long shadows. It was going to be dark in a couple of hours.
“And look at those tracks,” said Anders. He pointed to the monstrous prints surrounding the boulder. “Guess what made those?”
Kormak nodded towards the sandfolk. The prints almost exactly matched those that symbiotic armour left in the sand.
“You think we’re going to find Balthazar and the Blighted Ones waiting for us in the city.”
Kormak nodded. Zamara said, “Just as well we have allies.”
“I don’t suppose it’s possible that the monsters that attacked my party would have killed Balthazar and his new friends,” Anders said. “No. That would be too easy. They’ve probably joined him and are waiting for us.”
“There’s only one way we’re going to find out,” said Rhiana. Kormak took his dagger and began to chip pieces of wraithstone from the boulder.
“What are you doing?” Zamara asked.
“Each of you take a piece. Wear it next to your skin. If there’s blight in there, it will protect you until it crumbles.”
“That’s wraithstone,” Zamara said, a question in his voice.
“Yes. There’s more in this boulder than I have seen anywhere except the Graveyard of Angels and even there it was only found in small crystals.”
“It looks like those mountains are made from it,” said Zamara.
“Yes,” Kormak said. “Or at least coated in it.”
“Isn’t wraithstone worth as much as gold,” said Zamara?
“More,” said Kormak. “To those who have a use for it.”
“A man who claimed this area in the name of King-Emperor Aemon would be very rich.”
“Perhaps not. The only folk interested in wraithstone are sorcerers and people like my order.”
Zamara saw the point. “Even this boulder would saturate that market for a year.”
“Yes,” said Rhiana, “but there’s enough here to provide an amulet for everybody in the Kingdoms of the Sun.”
“That’s a whole new market.”
Kormak saw a look of cupidity appear on their faces. All of them were thinking of way to get rich. He could not blame them for that but it was not the reason they had come here.
“This is something we can discuss after we’ve dealt with Balthazar and his friends. I doubt they would be prepared to let us just wander off with it anyway.”
One by one, his companions tore their thoughts away from the prospect of riches and back to the present. Each of them took the wraithstone.
“How are we going to carry this next to our skin?” Anders asked.
“You could always hold it in our hand, if you need to,” Kormak said. “Keep it though. You might need it. And if you don’t, you can always sell it when we get home.”
As they got ready to move out, he saw the others chipping away at the boulder and storing the flakes in their backpacks. There was no chance of them suffering from any shortage of wraithstone on their travels.
Anders saw Kormak staring at him. “If only we had known what this stuff was the last time I came here. We could have left here wealthy men and never had to enter the accursed city.”
“You would have gone in anyway,” Kormak said. “Just in case there was an even bigger reward inside.”
Anders gave a rueful smile. “You’re probably right.”
The Emerald Swarm advanced upslope, leaving the sands of the desert behind. They walked on the smooth, flat surface of the ancient road.
“Is this the way you came?” Kormak asked Anders.
The mercenary nodded. “We fought our way out along this route too. Ran the carts down here. You can see the wheel scrapes we made.”
He gestured upwards. “We’ll be seeing bodies soon.”
He did not sound happy about that prospect.
Chapter Fourteen
They found the first of the corpses. The skin was leathery and desiccated and might have belonged to a mummy. Leather armour enswathed it. A short stabbing sword lay close at hand. A half full quiver of crossbow bolts spilled out onto the ground. There was no sign of the weapon itself.
The sandfolk moved closer to inspect it. Kormak looked closely. Broken bones emerged from the leathery skin. In areas, it had been slashed as by a sword.
“Hayrik and Chubb. That’s all that’s left of them now, and they were both good lads. The metal monsters did that,” Anders said. His voice was quiet and bleak.
“
Some of the skin looks scorched,” Kormak said.
“One of the monsters had a burning gaze. It did not use it often.”
“Such sorcery takes power,” Kormak said. “Energy gets depleted and must be restored.”
“Let’s hope we don’t encounter it today,” said Zamara.
“Best to be ready in case we do,” said Kormak.
“How can you be ready for something that burns you by looking at you?”
“Try not to be where it glances,” Kormak said. “Better yet try not to be seen.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” said Zamara. The Admiral had shrunk within himself, Kormak noticed. Without soldiers to command, he seemed more cautious, smaller, and less assertive. Maybe he was just nervous. They all were, even the sand people. They did not like this place any more than he did.
* * *
The road passed between two huge orichalcum towers then over the brow of the hill. Beneath them lay a great circular crater in the wraithstone ring. Glittering in the sun stood a massive golden structure. It was a five-pointed star, like an elder sign. From its centre rose a titanic tower. In its nearest side lay an enormous gate. The building shimmered in the sun as if clad in reflective metal.
The sandfolk stopped as much awestruck as Kormak’s companions.
“Is that gold?” Zamara asked.
Anders shook his head. “It looks like it, but it’s not. It also looks different from the last time I was here.”
“How so?” Kormak asked.
“Cleaner. Brighter. It’s as if it has come alive again.”
“That does not sound so good,” Rhiana said. She looked puzzled for a moment and then said, “There is magic here. I can sense it.”
“Your mindspeech has returned?” Kormak asked. When she nodded, he felt a surge of unease. Without the use of magic, they would have a huge numerical advantage over Balthazar. Now the mage might be able to use sorcery once more to balance that out. Nexali’s presence meant there were two very powerful magic users down there. Remembering the storm, and the things that Balthazar had summoned, Kormak thought that might prove a deadly combination.
