Angus Wells - The God Wars 01 (79 page)

 
          
"We
shall," said Bracht, supping
chiysse.
"We have safe passage
now—we bring the book out of Tezin-dar, Yssym guides us back and Tekkan brings
us to Vanu. We cannot rail."

 
          
"We
must
not fail," Katya said.

 
          
"No,"
Calandryll smiled, although a doubt still lingered in the hindermost recesses
of his mind.

 
          
He
pushed it back, listening to the strange Syfalheen song, the voices rising
birdlike, in unison, then individual singers taking a verse, sometimes the
whole village joining in.

 
          
"They
sing of you," Yssym informed him. "The song is very old ... Not sung
until now because True Ones not come until now ... Syfalheen happy now ...
Listen, they sing of Watcher now ... of me."

 
          
Had
his piscine features been capable of human expression, Calandryll felt sure he
beamed proudly. He set a hand to the halfling's shoulder, smiling, and said,
"You have our thanks, Yssym."

 
          
Yssym
ducked his head, setting his own webbed hand on Calandryll's. "You True
Ones," he said. "Syfalheen promise Old Ones we bring you to Tezin-dar
when you come ... This good day."

 
          
"And
a better when we've the book," said Calandryll.

 
          
"Tomorrow,"
Yssym promised. "Tomorrow you take road ... Tezin-dar at end ... Old Ones
await you there."

 
          
The
festivities continued throughout the day, more
than
one of the Vanu folk succumbing to the deceptive
smoothness of the
chrysse,
though the three who were to go on limited
themselves, unwilling to face the road to Tezin-dar sore-headed. Torches were
lit as darkness fell and it seemed the Syfalheen were bent on celebrating
through the night, for their music could still be heard as Calandryll, with
Bracht and Katya, returned to their quarters. They found their own clothes set
out there, beside their weapons, and as the rising sun shone through the
interlaced vines of the roof, they dressed, buckling on their swords.

 
          
Outside,
they found the village reassembled, Yssym waiting with the elders by the
rotunda. They broke their fast, though after the excesses of the previous night
few had much appetite, and they were soon ready to depart

 
          
Katya
bade farewell to her people, and each of them came to Calandryll and Bracht,
clasping their hands and speaking in the Vanu tongue. "They wish you
well," Katya translated, "and say they will await us here."

 
          
Yssym
handed them each a pack containing food, and a canteen of fresh water. "I
not go farther," he said. "Elders take you to road . .. You follow ..
. Not go off road! ... Road safe."

 
          
They
took his hand and turned to follow the elders, the village forming two lines
between which they walked' the Syfalheen calling their own farewells, those
fading slowly behind them as they passed out of the confines of the yard into
the gardenlike fields beyond, the elders marching in their customary silence.

 
          
Their
way went due north, the sun still low on their right, shining out of a sky
empty of all cloud and bright as polished steel. For all their venerability,
the syfaba maintained a steady pace, the silver tips of their staffs clicking
busily on the ancient stone of the roadway so that it was little time before
they came to the tumbled walls defining the perimeter of the village. They
passed beneath another arch, this standing still, a great curve of weathered
blocks hanging black against the sky, deep holes on the inward faces showing
where hinges had tom loose. A cistern was dug nearby and Calandryll saw that
the ancient gates formed its roof, two huge metal slabs, each thick as a man's
waist, unmarked by time. He wondered what force had thrust them in, and thought
that someday he should return to this strange haven of tranquility and write
down the history of Yssym's people.

 
          
Someday—on
this more pressing urgencies called him on.

 
          
Past
the arch were orchards and fields, more of the strange beasts, that watched
placidly as the travelers strode purposefully by, the road arrow straight. Had
Orwen come this way, ne wondered, taking the chart from his satchel as he
walked. The map showed only swamp here, and he wondered if the Syfalheen had
guided the chartist around their village, or whether he had come to Tezin-dar
by a different route. He realized that an elder had slowed, matching pace and
staring at the map.

 
          
"Ah-when,"
said the halfling, and barked brief laughter, gesturing for Calandryll to
refold the chart, then pointing ahead, saying, "Tezin-dar ...
Tezin-dar."

 
          
"The
map amuses them," murmured Bracht as the elder rejoined his fellows,
speaking low, his words met with further laughter.

 
          
"They
know Orwen's name," Calandryll said. "But why did they laugh?"

 
          
No
answer was forthcoming and they continued after the syfaba, who showed no sign
of halting, even when the sun stood overhead, as though, the ones they had so
long awaited arrived, they sought now to dispense their promise as swiftly they
might.

 
          
Indeed,
they did not slow their brisk pace until late in the afternoon, when the ridge
of the dike surrounding the Syfalheen's haven bulked from the land ahead. The
road ended there, spanned by the mound of earth, the ancient flagstones
disappearing beneath the more recent structure, the smell of the swamp wafting
on the breeze. The elders gathered up the skirts of their robes and proceeded
to climb the dike wall, beckoning Calandryll and his companions after.

 
          
They
reached the summit and halted. Before them lay a wide expanse of reeds,
brackish water visible among the thick stands, and no sign of a path; beyond
the reeds, hazed by distance, stood a grey line of mangroves. Calandryll
frowned, confused. Bracht said, "Ahrd! Yssym promised us a road to
Tezin-dar."

 
          
"Tezin-dar!"
The elder who had spoken before touched Calandryll's sleeve, nodding
enthusiastically. "Tezin- dar!"

 
          
He
pointed with his staff to the outer foot of the dike, shadowed now by the
lowering sun. Calandryll stared, searching the reed beds for sign of the road;
finding none.

 
          
The
elders began to descend the dike, scrambling unceremoniously down the steep side
until they stood among the reeds, the hems of their robes darkened by the water
there. The three joined them. The wall of earth curved here, turning to run
more north than west, and consequently in deep shadow.

 
          
"Something
stands there." Katya pointed, eyes narrowed as she peered toward the
rampart. "I cannot make it out."

 
          
"Whatever,
they've not brought us to any road," grunted Bracht, a hint of suspicion
in his voice now, hand touching instinctively to the falchion's hilt. "Do
they intend to send us back into the swamps, guideless?"

 
          
"I
think not," Calandryll said. "Look."

 
          
The
elders waded resolutely toward the pool of darkness Katya had indicated,
thrusting through the reeds, their bare feet making soft sucking sounds in the
spongy ground. They halted, waving the others onward: Calandryll moved to join
them, Bracht and Katya close behind.

 
          
The
elders were formed in a semicircle before the darkest patch of shadow, staring
with an odd reverence into the gloom there. Calandryll looked past them and saw
a shallow cave, the shape of ancient stones dim within the recess. There were
three, he saw, thick basalt pillars standing upright, a lintel stone across
them, all mounded round with soil, the wall of the dike a greyness beyond: a
blank-faced barrier leading nowhere.

 
          
"Do
they show us some monument?" asked Bracht.

 
          
"Or
the way?" Katya wondered.

 
          
"I
see no road," the Kem returned.

 
          
"Perhaps
this is it," she said, "a magical road
"         -

 
          
"How
so?" Bracht demanded. "Even be it a portal, it faces the wrong
way."

 
          
How
better to conceal it?" asked Calandryll, turning to the elders, brows
raised in silent question.

 
          
The
Syfalheen parted then, two to one side, two to the other, the fifth beckoning
them forward, pointing with his staff to the monument, indicating that they
should approach. Calandryll glanced at his companions, shrugged, and stepped
forward.

 
          
The
elder raised a hand, halting him, gesturing for Bracht and Katya to stand
level. Bracht stepped to his right, Katya to his left; the elders moved closer,
clasping them each upon the shoulder, as they had done when they emerged from
the crypt. Then the five syfaba eat turned toward the stones, lifting their
staffs high as th< commenced a singsong chanting, low at first but risii in
pitch and volume as the setting sun painted the si red and the upper level of
the dike was briefly illumine fiery. Calandryll heard an answering hum and
cocked h head, at first not sure from where it came, realizing th the stones
themselves sung. He saw light flicker insi( the portal; for an instant thought
he saw a wide, golu- flagged road stretching away between stately trees, the
hint of proud city walls all gold and silver and crimson. Then the staffs
pressed upon their backs, urging them forward. The light died, leaving a
darkness solid as the earth. The staffs pressed harder: he took another step,
heard Bracht grunt as soil touched his outflung hands, damp and swamp-scented,
the air vibrating.

 
          
Then
the pressure was gone, both that of the staffs against his back and that of the
earth upon his face. There was a moment of—he was not sure what: cold,
certainly, intense, striking bone deep so that it seemed the very marrow
cringed; of floating, or falling, as if he dropped through unimaginable
distance in a darkness that was simultaneously impenetrable and lit with the
swirling lights of a million stars; of unbeing. He thought his lungs must burst
for want of air, and then he breathed again, and stood on solid ground,
gasping. For all his experience of magic he was still hard put to believe the
evidence of his eyes.

 
         
They
stood upon a road of smooth stone slabs, lit golden by a sun that no longer
westered to its setting but hung only a little way above the eastern horizon, a
new day replacing the old. Wide as to permit two broad wagons to pass abreast,
with space between for walkers, was that road, though no ruts gave evidence of
such traffic, the slabs pristine, set so close and dressed so skillfully their
juncture was such that a hair might not have passed between them. It ran level
and straight to the north, if such direction had meaning here, that horizon
mist- shrouded, the air there sparkling as if sun shone on droplets of
moisture, to either side the swamp, an expanse of reeds and pools of brown
water, stirred by a gentle breeze so that the rustling was a soft song of
welcome. He turned, seeing Bracht and Katya staring about with awestruck eyes,
and found he faced a dike—or that he had just gone through, he was no longer
sure—grey walled, the stones within it, dark entrance to the earth. Of the
elders there was no sign; nor of the Syfalheen fields.

 
          
“I
believe," he said slowly, his voice soft with wonder, "that we are on
the road to Tezin-dar."

           
Katya said, "Little wonder that
city is a legend." Bracht shouldered his pack and nodded: "So, let us
go on."

           
They began to march.

           
Time and distance were different
here, subject to different laws it seemed, for the sun remained stationary above
them even when the muscles of their legs told them they had walked long enough
that evening should have fallen, while the mist-shrouded horizon was no closer,
and when Calandryll looked back, the dike and the stones were no longer
visible, lost behind a curtain of the same sparkling fog as lay before them. It
was an eerie sensation, as if they traversed some limbo, doomed to march
forever beneath the unrelenting sun, trapped between that place they had left
and that they hoped to gain, the road a
mandala
looping eternally back on itself among the unchanging reed beds.

 
          
It
was quiet, the only sounds the rustling of the wind and the steady drumming of
their boots. There were no insects, nor any birds, nor sign of dragons or other
predators. No odor rose from the reed beds, nor clouds disturbed the impassive
sky: in time such absences grew oppressive, weighing down on them so that,
despite they were three and sworn to their purpose, they felt lonely, forsaken.
And yet, Calandryll told nimself, Tezin-dar lay ahead. Must, for they had
passed the judgment of the Old One and the syfaba had brought them to the gate.
Perhaps, then, this was a further testing, a design intended to deter the
fainthearted and send them back, scuttling for the safety of that passage
through the stones to a more familiar world.

 
          
And
as he thought it—as if in confirmation—a building showed ahead.

 
          
It
had not, he was certain, been there moments before, unless distance was
distorted beyond comprehension in this odd landscape. He looked to his
companions, frowning.

 
          
“Nor
did I see it," Bracht said, “but there it is."

 
          
"And
hopefully offering rest," said Katya. "I grow weary of this
interminable march."

 
          
“Perhaps,"
the Kern chuckled, “it has a stable, and three horses waiting for us. Ahrd, but
what I'd give for a good horse now."

 
          
"Perhaps
it marks the boundaries of Tezin-dar," said Calandryll.

 
          
Bracht
grinned and said, “We shall know soon enough—we've no other place to go save
back."

 
          
They
strode toward the building, its outlines growing more distinct as they
approached.

 
          
It
appeared a single massive slab of rose-tinted stone, spanning the road like
some overlarge gatehouse, its roof flat, a door facing them with windows to
either side, those faced with some glasslike substance that glittered in the
sun, tricking sight to deny examination of the interior. The door was metal, a
single sheet, silvery and black at the same time, its hinges hidden. There was
no indication of latch or handle or any other means by which it might be
opened: Calandryll set a hand to the thing and pushed.

 
          
The
door swung silently inward, revealing a hall whose interior dimensions
contradicted the external. The floor was a geometric patterning of blue and
white, the walls unadorned save by the veining of the marble that faced them,
the ceiling vaulted, smooth and blue. A second door and two windows stood in
the farther wall, and to either side were two more doors. Calandryll entered,
followed by Bract and Katya. The door swung shut behind them, and when Bracht
tried it, it refused to open again.

 
          
"It
would appear," he murmured, "that there is no turning back."

 
          
"Would
you now?" asked Katya.

 
          
"No,"
he said, "though I'd lief know I might."

 
          
"Too
late," Calandryll said, and crossed the empty chamber to peer out the
farther windows.

 
          
He
saw swampland beyond, no longer the reed beds but a gloomy vista of mangroves,
all hung with insect-crawling moss and trailing vines, the livid tentacles of
the fleshconsuming growths wavering among them. Night had fallen there, though
a backward glance told him that-day still ruled where they had come from, and
he saw the road continuing on through the trees, lapped by moonlit water in
which the shapes of dragons moved. The door between these windows had a great
ring of silver metal set to one side, and when he tested it, the door came
readily open, admitting a sour gust of swamp-stinking air. He pushed it shut
and turned to his companions.

 
          
"Night
mles out there and I think we had best spend it here."

 
          
"Amen
to that," Bracht agreed. "Perhaps this place has beds to offer."

 
          
"Safety,
at least," said Katya, joining Calandryll by the wmdows, "I've seen
no dragons so large as those."

 
          
"Yssym
said the road was safe," Calandryll offered. "We must hope he spoke
the tmth."

 
          
"Tomorrow's
worries," said Bracht. "Come—I'd see what other wonders we may
find."

 
          
Unwilling
to separate, they set to investigating their strange refuge.

 
          
One
door—this with latches—granted ingress to a corridor off which were revealed
sleeping quarters: three chambers with open, arched entrances, a bed in each,
laid with fresh linen, and windows that, when Calandryll peered out, afforded
view over a landscape of undulating meadows and copses, a stream winding
moonlit between. It reminded him of the countryside about Secca for all he knew
it must be the product of magic, and he said as much.

 
          
"I
see the plains of Cuan na'For," Bracht said, and whooped excitement.
"Look! Do you see those horses?"

 
          
"I
see the hills of Vanu," said Katya, wistfully. "I see the peaks all
capped with snow and the rivers tumbling down."

 
          
"We
see what the Old Ones wish to show us, I think," Calandryll suggested.
"We stand in a magical place and I think they seek to welcome us."

 
          
"With
food, I hope," Bracht said, turning almost reluctantly from the window.

 
          
"And
baths, perhaps," Katya added. "Shall we find out?"

 
          
They
left the sleeping chambers and crossed the hall to the second door. This led
them to a bathhouse, where a pool steamed, another filled with cool water, and
marble benches bore soap and towels; beyond was a dining chamber, windowless,
but softly lit by candles, containing a circular table and three chairs, the
table set with a meal, and wine, three crystal goblets.

 
          
"Three
and three and three," Bracht murmured, "And yet no sign of servants,
nor any other folk."

 
          
"We
are expected," said Katya.

 
          
"Long
expected," said Calandryll.

 
          
"And
hungry," said Bracht. "Let us eat."

 
          
They
dropped their packs and loosed their swordbelts, though those they put close to
hand, settling themselves about the table. Bracht poured out a little wine and
sniffed it, suspiciously; sipped a little, no less cautiously. "It appears
untainted," he declared.

 
          
Do
you think to find it poisoned?" Calandryll grinned. "I doubt whoever
built such a place as this need stoop to such subterfuge."

 
          
"Likely
not," the freesword admitted, and helped himself to meat and bread, the
both somehow warm, as if fresh from the oven.

 
          
"I
think this must be some manner of way station," Katya suggested, "and
marks a boundary of some kind."

 
          
"It
surely marks the boundary of night and day," Calandryll agreed, "and
whoever travels the road must enter here or turn back. And once entered, it
would appear impossible to turn back."

 
          
"At
least the builders send us onward with full stomachs," Bracht said.
"For which I thank them."

 
          
He
raised his goblet in a toast, and the others, laughing, joined him.

 
          
"To
the Old Ones."

 
          
"To
a safe return."

 
          
"To
the destruction of the Arcanum."

 
          
Calandryll
was not sure, but it seemed the candles burned a little brighter then and he
thought he heard a murmur of soft, approving laughter, as if the place itself
voiced support of their quest. Certainly he experienced a sense of well-being,
a satisfaction at having come thus far, and excitement at the nearing
culmination of their journey. Or rather, he told himself, its first part, for
they must still bring the Arcanum back to the waiting Tekkan and sail for Vanu.
But that now seemed the lesser burden, the hardest part near done with the
legendary city within reach along that strange road. He sighed contentedly, and
the sigh became a yawn: he pushed his plate away, replete, and aimounced his
intention of retiring.

 
          
"Aye,"
said Bracht. "For all I've no inkling how far we walked today, I'd find my
bed."

 
          
Katya
nodded agreement and they went back across the hall to the sleeping chambers.
Calandryll had thought some small friction might arise then, if Bracht pursued
his suit with the woman, but the Kem merely bade her a polite good night and
entered his own quarters. Calandryll wondered if Katya's face registered
disappointment. He went to his own bed, leaning for a moment on the sill to
stare out through the window, once again seeing the
familiar
landscape, though now, beyond the woodland he
thought he discerned the ramparts of a city, like white- walled Secca seen from
afar. He was pleased that he felt no melancholy, no nostalgia for his lost
home, and stripped off his clothing, climbing gratefully between the cool
sheets.