Angus Wells - The God Wars 01 (14 page)

 
          
"Would
my father not show it you?" Varent's attitude was so casual Calandryll
found his confidence returning, the shock of the man's abrupt appearance
abating; a degree of suspicion rising.

 
          
"I
doubt he knows its whereabouts," came the answer. "And the ambassador
of another city—even one now allied with Secca—is unlikely to obtain permission
to roam at will through her archives. Who knows what secrets he might
find?"

 
          
"What
map?" Calandryll demanded.

 
          
"It
is an ancient chart," smiled Varent. "A thing of no consequence to
anyone save historians. Or wizards."

 
          
Calandryll's
suspicion must have showed on his face, because the man chuckled again and
said, "I do not ask you to betray your home city, my friend. The map is of
no value to Secca, save as an antiquity. And I thirds neither your father or
your brother place much importance on such matters. No, this chart will not be
missed, nor damage Secca with its removal. Quite the opposite, in fact."
He raised a hand as Calandryll opened his mouth to speak. "Hear me out and
then decide whether or not you wish to aid me. If not—well, I shall have to ask
the Domm if I may inspect the archives, and when he refuses, I shall depart
empty-handed. And you will remain here, to become a priest."

 
          
It
was sufficient bait Calandryll was instantly alert. Varent smiled, nodding.

 
          
"Yes,
I know what fate awaits you and I offer to help you escape it. Further, I can
offer you the protection of Aldarin should you choose to aid me." He
glanced at the discarded book. "I see that you were reading of the Chai-
paku. You fear Tobias might employ the Brotherhood against you? I can offer a
measure of protection from them, too. Aid me and you'll be far from their
clutches. Now, will you hear me out?"

 
          
Calandryll
nodded, eager now: surely Varent must be the one Reba had foretold.

 
          
"Good."
The ambassador nodded, leaning forward with elbows on knees, the goblet cupped
between his hands. The bantering tone left his voice and his eyes fixed with a
hypnotic intensity on Calandryll's face. "As a scholar you are doubtless
familiar with the gospels. Have you read Rassen? Excellent—you will understand
all the better. As that somewhat dull scribe puts it, the gods of our
world—Dera, Burash, Brann, and the rest—are relative newcomers. Before them
were the brother gods, Tham and Balatur, and before them, the first of all the
gods—Yl and Kyta.

 
          
"As
Rassen has it, Tham and Balatur were the children of Kyta and Yl—if gods have
children, which I rather doubt; but no matter, my personal beliefs are not
important now—and were worshipped when the world was young. As seems to be the
way with both gods and men, they grew vain in their supremacy, and rivalry
mounted between them." He shrugged, smiling, as if these notions amused
him. "But you know all this; you know that Tham envied his brother god and
fell upon
him,
that warring bringing chaos to all creation, leading the
First Gods to intervene when Tham proved victorious, condemning both victor and
vanquished to oblivion."

 
          
He
paused, studying Calandryll as if expecting an answer of some kind. Calandryll
nodded: all this was common knowledge to any scholar or historian.

 
          
"Well,"
said Varent, serious again, "there is a war- lock—his name is
Azumandias—who seeks to raise the Mad God Tham."

 
          
He
paused, as if the very thought was terrifying, his eves burning darkly as he
stared at the dumbstruck youth, the enormity of the idea harshening his
aquiline features. When he spoke again his voice was ominously low.

 
          
"Think
of it, Calandryll—the Mad God raised! We speak of the world's ending—insanity
combined with godly power! Even insane, Tham is mightier than any of the new
gods, though I doubt his successors would accept their inevitable relegation.
More likely, they would oppose Tham. And such a conflict would undoubtedly
destroy the world.

 
          
"Azumandias
himself is mad, of course—he thinks to control the god with his gramaryes, but
he will succeed only in unleashing cataclysm. Unless he is stopped."

 
          
He
broke off, shaking his head. Calandryll sat bemused, the concept so vast, so
awesome he was robbed of speech. He waited for Varent to continue, wondering
what part he had to play.

 
          
"There
is, however, hope," the ambassador continued. "Azumandias has secured
those spells necessary to raise the Mad God, but not the means of locating his
resting place.

 
          
"I,
though, know how they may be found.

 
          
"It
was Azumandias taught me the magical art: I was a willing pupil until he sought
to suborn me to his purpose, but when I discovered the full extent of his ambi-
- tion I knew that I must oppose him. I had learned sufficient of his design
that I was able to commence my own researches, and thus I discovered the means
by which he may be thwarted."

           
"The chart?" whispered
Calandryll.

 
          
"No,
although it is vital to our purpose," Varent said; Calandryll noticed the
plural. "It is not so easy—the chart, studied in conjunction with my own
documents, reveals the key to Azumandias's defeat. When Yl and Kyta banished
their children, they hid them well, binding them with spells. Azumandias has
discovered the spells, but not the tombs. There is a book—the Arcanum—that
reveals the locations. It is hidden in Tezin-dar."

 
          
"Tezin-dar?"
Calandryll could only gape.

 
          
"Indeed;
in Tezin-dar," said Varent.

 
          
"But
Tezin-dar is a fable," Calandryll objected. "The Arcanum is a fable.
They are no more than legends. Medith denies their existence; even Rassen
doubts their reality."

 
          
"It
is real," Varent said firmly. "Tezin-dar lies somewhere in Gessyth,
deep in the swamplands. Perhaps the least accessible place in the world, but it
does exist."

 
          
"And
the chart shows where," Calandryll said.

 
          
Varent
nodded solemnly and raised his goblet in a toast. "You are quick: I like
that. That is one reason I approached you—you have the wit to comprehend."

 
          
"But
surely, if all this is true, you need only inform my father," Calandryll
suggested. "He could not deny you access, knowing this."

 
          
"Your
father is a man of this world," Varent returned. "Do you think he would
believe me? Or would he suspect some deep plot on the part of Aldarin? Some
maneuver to advantage my city at cost to Secca?"

 
          
It
was true; Calandryll nodded.

 
          
"Besides,"
Varent added, "even if the Domm did believe me—granted me access to the
archives—he would hardly leave the rest to me. He is a warrior, a man of
action. His response would be to send an expeditionary force to Gessyth,
probably led by your brother. And that would alert Azumandias, whose own
response would certainly be to employ magic against us. For the same reason, I
dare not reveal what I have learned to any in Aldarin. Azumandias has occult
spies abroad, and should he suspect I know so much, I should be dead within the
hour. No, my friend, force of arms is not the answer here."

 
          
"What
then?" asked Calandryll, his voice hushed.

 
          
"The
Arcanum must be destroyed," said Varent. "Before Azumandias gains its
knowledge, it must be destroyed. But cunning is required. Quick minds and
scholarly knowledge will prevail where armies may not. This is a task for one
or two, no more. The book must be found and destroyed before Azumandias learns
of it.

 
          
"Now—do
you aid me? Or leave the field to Azumandias?"

           
CALANDRYLL Stared at
Varent, his thoughts in turmoil. He did not doubt that the ambassador spoke the
truth, but that truth was of terrifying magnitude. A crazed magician bent on
raising the Mad God? Surely that must mean cataclysm, the destruction of the
world. And Varent sought his help. His alone....

 
          
You
must cross the water to find what you seek, though men say it does not exist
... There is a teacher.. . You will travel far and see things no southern man
has seen ... Reba's words came back to him.... You will seek that which cannot
he had and find disappointment. ...

           
That much was already true: Nadama
was lost to him, and only disappointment lay ahead in Secca. Surely Varent was
the teacher. Surely this was the quest the spaewife had described. He nodded
solemnly.

 
          
“What
would you have me do?"

 
          
"I
knew you were the man!" Varent beamed. "I want you to find me the
chart."

 
          
Disappointment:
was that all?

 
          
"I
am confined to my chambers," he replied, that knowledge dampening his
enthusiasm.

 
          
"I'll
speak on your behalf—seek to mollify your father. After
all,
I
am
an honored guest. Then, when you're released, find the map and bring it to
me."

 
          
"How
shall I recognize it?" Calandryll asked.

 
          
"It
was drawn in the time of Thomus, by Orwen
_;
it is marked with both
the seal of the Domm and the sign of the mapmaker. The Domm's seal you surely
know. Or- wen's sign looks thus ..."

 
          
Varent
raised a hand, forefinger extended, and traced a shape in the air between them.
Silvery brilliance, like moonlight spun in a web, sparked from his fingertip,
inscribing a design that hung, glowing, before Calandryll's face.

 
          
"You
will remember it?" asked Varent, and when Calandryll nodded, closed his
fist, the glittering tracery extinguishing.

 
          
"Then
what?" asked Calandryll.

 
          
Surely
he had a larger part to play?

 
          
"Then,"
said Varent, rekindling his optimism, "I'll return favor for favor, as I
promised. Come to my chambers the day I leave and I'll take you with me."

 
          
"To
Aldarin?"

 
          
Only
that far?

 
          
"I'd
ask more of you." Varent's eyes twinkled as he spoke, full of promises.
"I cannot depart Aldarin, for fear Azumandias would discover my absence
and set hounds on my trail. That would be disastrous. No, my friend, what I ask
of you is a great thing, an awesome duty. You are familiar with the Old
Tongue—you are one of the few men able to recognize the Arcanum. I want you to
go to Tezin-dar."

 
          
You
will travel far... see things no southern man has seen.

           
It was the prophecy! It had to be!

 
          
"Yes!"
he said eagerly.

 
          
"There
will be danger," Varent warned.

 
          
Calandryll
shrugged, dismissing such concern. Then thought of the spaewife's words
again....
One will come after, also to be trusted. ...

 
          
"Might
I not hire a bodyguard?" he wondered.

 
          
"An
excellent idea," agreed Varent. "You know of one? A trustworthy
man?"

 
          
Bracht
had saved him, and the Kem was unemployed.

 
          
"There
is a man called Bracht," he said, "a Kem free-sword."

 
          
"Your
rescuer?" Varent's lips pursed in thought; he nodded. "Kerns are
dependable. Where is he to be found?"

 
          
Calandryll
frowned. What was the
inn
called? "He has a room in a house on the
edge of the Merchants Quarter. At the sign of the Wayfarer, I think."

 
          
"I
shall make inquiries," promised Varent, and eyed Calandryll wamingly:
"But he can know nothing of our true purpose, lest he alert Azumandias.
Let him think you flee Secca on some erudite mission. He will accept
that?"

 
          
"I
think so," said Calandryll.

 
          
"Good,
I shall seek him out," Varent murmured. "And now, perhaps I should
leave you, lest someone discover us together. Remember: secrecy is our best
defense against Azumandias's glamours."

 
          
He
rose, draping his dark cloak about his shoulders, then extended his hand, taking
Calandryll's.

 
          
"Praise
Dera I met you, Calandryll. Together we'll defeat Azumandias."

 
          
Calandryll
returned his grip, smiling. It was gratifying to be treated as a man.
"Yes," he said firmly.

 
          
Varent
nodded and turned to the window. Calandryll stepped close as he went onto the
balcony. The wind rustled the night-black folds of the cape and the man
shimmered, and was gone, leaving behind that faint odor of almonds.

 
          
Calandryll
stood for long moments staring at the empty balcony, then closed the window,
smiling. The first step was taken, the quest begun. He would escape the
priesthood. He would show his father, show Tobias, that he was no boy, but a
man now, with his own destiny to follow. He would return a hero. And what would
Nadama think of him then?

 
          
He
was too excited to contemplate sleep and flung himself into a chair, reaching
for the fallen book, turning urgently to those pages in which Medith discussed
the gods:

 
          
In
the beginning, before this world was formed, there were the First Gods, and
they were Yl and Kyta, the All-Powerful. They dwelt within the Void, formless
until it pleased them to assume shape and substance, becoming male and female.
It also pleased them to shape this world, and the sun and the moon, the stars
and all things that lie in the heavens and the waters and on the earth. Thus
was the Void filled and no longer an empty place.

           
Because they had taken male and
female form Yl and Kyta joined, and from their union came children, lesser than
their parents, yet themselves gods, and they walked upon the world.

           
These children of the First Gods
were the brothers. Tham and Balatur, and their form was perfect.

           
The Children of the First Gods grew
and felt the power they possessed, asking of their progenitors that they be
given worshippers, that their power ana their godhood be known. So it was that
Yl and Kyta took earth and water and from that stuff shaped humankind to please
their children, as fond parents seek to grant their offspring playthings, for
such are men to the gods. And in this way were men created and set within the
world, which was a fecund place were none wanted for food or drink or shelter,
knowing only the ways of paradise, and they worshipped the brother gods in the
ways demanded by Tham and Balatur.

           
But in time the Children of the
First Gods waxed prideful and sought to create beings of their own making, but
that was a power possessed of Yl and Kyta jealously and none others, and the
creatures thus shaped were strange and malformed, and hideous to the eyes of
men.

           
Now the First Gods saw that the
beings of their children's shaping could not live with men and banished them to
the lonely places of the world that they might offer no harm to men, nor offend
with their ugliness and their unhuman ways. And this Balatur accepted, seeing
that his parents were wise, but Tham was angered and determined that he would
do as he wished, turning his face from the guidance of his parents and seeking to
create as had the First Gods, which is their right alone.

           
But Yl and Kyta took such power from
him
and from Balatur that they could no longer fashion the changeling
things and Tham's anger waxed until it became a madness and he sought to
persuade his brother to his cause, but Balatur would have no truck, and then
did Tham become lost in his madness and fell upon his brother in terrible fury.
And Balatur must then defend himself, or fall before his brother and see all
the folk of the world ground down beneath the heel of Tham. In that time were
mountains destroyed and chasms cleft where none had been before, and seas
boiled dry, while others filled the land.

           
Then did Yl and Kyta once more
intervene, coming between their children that they should not utterly destroy
the world and all the creatures therein, seeking to pledge peace between them.
But Tham was gone into madness and would not listen to the words of the First
Gods, and a great sadness fell upon Yl and Kyta, for they perceived that their
child was lost to them. Yet they could not find it in their hearts to slay
their child and they feared that did they bind the one brother, then might the
other take his place, for they saw that their children held overmuch power, and
that is a thing that corrupts when one alone holds all.

           
They debated long, and with much
pain agreed a course whereby they set upon the brother gods a mighty glamour
that sent them down into sleep, and they were entombed in hidden places and
their resting places set about with spells that they should not again wake but
languish in the oblivion of limbo. And then the world knew peace again, and men
multiplied and wandered the ways of the world, but godless.

           
Then did Yl and Kyta see that men
need gods, and from their dreaming shaped those newcome deities who are the
Lesser Gods.

           
And those gods are Dera, whose
fruitful bounty blesses Lysse; and Horul, who is both horse and man and revered
by the folk of the Jesseryn Plain; and Burash, the Lord of the Waters, who is
worshiped in Kandahar,- Ahrd, the Holy Tree, which the people of Kem hold in
awe,- and the Iron God, Brann, whose blood is said to fill the mountains of Eyl
with precious iron.

           
Then did Yl and Kyta, mourning, go
into the Forbidden Lands, where only gods may dwell. But ere they left for that
place they caused to be written down a memorial to their lost children,
recording those hidden places where they lay, and that tome they set in a
secret place, guarded, and it is the book named the Arcanum.

           
Calandryll yawned, the close-scribed
words blurring, and set the book aside. He had never thought much on such matters,
and deemed the Arcanum a legend, like the lost city of
Tezin-dar
: but now Varent's words lent fresh light to
the ancient scriptures and he shuddered at the thought that Azumandias might
find the book and raise the Mad God. It was a terrifying notion.

 
          
A
second yawn stretched his jaws wide and he rose, stretching, feeling the dull
ache of his healing ribs, and glanced at the window. Outside, the night was
black, the moon no longer visible. He yawned again, exhaustion overcoming
excitement, and tugged off his clothes, clambering gratefully beneath the
sheets, where, within moments, he was sleeping soundly.