Mage Prime (Book 2) (11 page)

They moved in stately procession across the gleaming temple floor. Ghian’s mind was buzzing. Now bathed and clad in a simple brown robe he tried to clear his thoughts and comprehend everything that was happening. It was a few moments before he realised that the stunning priestess Andra had taken his hand. The amber glow bathing the intricately carved walls began gradually to dim. Almost total darkness now enveloped the vast concourse across which they made their solemn progress. Suddenly the light flared outward and upward to coalesce in a glorious nimbus above and around a massively ornate altar. They approached it alone. The priestess released Ghian’s hand then stepped quickly back and sank to her knees, lowering her head until her forehead touched the black marbled floor. Held fast by some incomprehensible force, Ghian found himself unable to take another step. He tried to cry out but no sound came. Totally enveloped by the glow emanating from the altar, he closed his eyes tightly. With his arms raised to shield his face he held perfectly still, his whole body tense as he waited for what he felt would be certain death in whatever form it might take.

As he stood he became aware of a tantalisingly familiar voice entering his mind. “Have no fear. For century upon century many have tried, and many have been tried. All have failed. But the time is now come. You are the one foretold. With you lies our destiny. It is to you that power shall be given, to you the secrets shown. You will come to no harm. Our destinies are irrevocably linked and the prophecies must be fulfilled.”

The voice became silent and Ghian let his arms fall to his sides. The mellow persuasive tones echoed inside his brain. He tried to place the voice but recognition eluded him like smoke in the wind. Attempting to open his eyes, he found them held shut by a force beyond his comprehension. His resolve began to waver. The familiar tones of the voice repeated their message and Ghian felt a new strength welling up within him. Almost overcome by a fervent desire to give himself over completely to whatever force it was that held him, he fought against it. His mind became a swirling maelstrom of vivid images of the life he once had, and the one he was inexorably approaching. He stood swaying on his feet, time passing un-noticed. The battle raging within him rose to ever greater heights until he could no longer withstand the pressure. Arms raised high he thrust his body forward as an almost inhuman scream escaped from his throat.

The forces which had invaded him released their hold. With a sighing moan he crumpled and sank to the floor, shaken and trembling. His mind confused, his body drained, he felt battered and storm-ravaged. Incapable of coherent thought, he fought against the ague-like tremors which gripped his weakened limbs. His rapidly pounding heart forced blood through his brain with a deafening roar, while uncontrollable waves of pain and anguish racked his body. Fists clenched, eyes tightly closed, he remained on the black floor, foetally curled and oblivious to the passage of time. During the hours which passed, the roaring storm in his brain subsided to little more than a murmur. As sheer mental and physical exhaustion overcame him, the trembling in his limbs subsided. He slept.

* * *

Bright light surrounded him. Casting no shadows, it robbed him of any sense of depth or perspective. He pushed himself to his feet and turned a complete circle on the spot as he tried to look around. All his jangled senses could register were the light and the floor beneath his feet. He felt angry and alone. Unable to remember how he came to be here, he somehow knew that this was only a beginning, that he was destined for greater things. By degrees the light which surrounded him softened and dimmed. A number of figures moved quickly towards him, some robed in crimson and black, others in deep blue. His memory gave a lurch. Details of everything which had gone before flooded into his brain, reminding him that it was in this awful place he was to receive more than he had ever dreamed of. Power, knowledge, riches were all within his grasp. He emerged from his reverie with a start. Resplendent in finely woven robes of crimson and black held closely round her body, the priestess Andra stood before him.

Her voice conveying no vestige of concern or emotion, she addressed Ghian as an equal. “Lord Ghian. All that has yet occurred has taken place as foretold. Events are following their pre-destined course. It is now time to take you among us and instruct you, as once we were instructed. The time will soon come when you must leave us to receive further knowledge and powers which are forbidden to we who simply serve. Please accompany us. Your trial is over and the journey has truly begun. The one who was foretold is now with us. We honour and salute you.”

Ghian’s dark eyes glinted as the group of priests and acolytes bowed their heads and repeated the last phrase in unison. “We honour and salute you.”

Although his body still felt weakened and frayed by his ordeal, thoughts of power and mastery of the dark and secret arts raced through his mind. Almost gleefully, he allowed himself to be surrounded and led toward the deep shadows which once again obscured the far reaches of the vast temple.

He turned to one of the priests who walked beside him. “Is there any likelihood of getting something to eat and drink? Oh! And a bath would be good.”

The priest averted his eyes and gave no answer. It was the crimson robed Andra who replied. “Lord Ghian. All your physical and material needs and comforts will be met in a very short while. Although these others are also here to serve, I am your guardian and tutor. Speak, therefore only to me, and to the great god through me.”

A protest died on Ghian’s lips as Andra flicked a dismissive hand towards their small retinue. “They can hear nothing. I have stopped their ears. They will be restored when it is time for them to resume their normal duties and studies. Until then it is better that they remain in ignorance.”

Frowning, Ghian looked askance at the priestess. “It wasn’t one of them that spoke to me, then?”

Andra gave a short contemptuous laugh and continued to stride forward, her head high. As if struck by a sudden realisation, she gave an involuntary gasp as her step faltered. She stopped, her eyes wide, and whirled round to look back at the now dark and silent altar.

Drawing close to Ghian she looked into his face, her voice hoarse with excitement. “You have heard a voice? Describe to me what you heard.”

Ghian stared at her, but try as he might he was unable to remember the words or to describe clearly the sound of the voice. He only knew that he felt an over-whelming sense of triumph. Even as his memory struggled to re-conjure the moment, Andra’s eyes went flat and her mood altered abruptly.

Her words were like steel on stone. “There will be a proper time for triumph. There is much to be accomplished before that time comes.”

Turning on her heel, she strode towards a vast pillar-framed portal which yawned in the wall before them, Ghian, the priests and priestesses hurrying in her wake. As they drew nearer to the portal Ghian could see inscribed on the massive lintel and pillars the same symbols and characters he had seen in the underground chamber where he and Miqhal had sheltered from the Qibli. Shreds of something connected with the desert warrior dodged and flitted through his brain. His mind snatched at the fleeting images in a vain attempt to form a memory. Reluctantly allowing the elusive images to drift away, Ghian paused to gaze up at the lintel far above his head. His eyes traced the curved and angular script, a strange truth clawing at his brain, holding him motionless where he stood. He found he was able to make some small sense of the supposedly long-forgotten language flowing in a mesmerising golden stream of sinuous curves around brutally contrasting geometric forms. Three lines of the alien script snaked across the lintel. Reading right to left Ghian began softly to mouth some of the words. His voice became increasingly more audible as he attempted to master the pronunciation. He had reached the last symbol of the first line when Andra placed gently restraining fingers across his mouth. In a sudden surge of anger he grasped her wrist, his dark eyes flashing. Unperturbed, she locked her gaze on his.

He heard her calm persuasive voice enter his mind. “It is not yet time for the words to be spoken aloud. One person alone is destined to bring down the curse which lies within this writing. The who and the when have yet to be revealed. Come now, there is much to see and do. Many other formidable writings will be yours to read as and when you will.”

She lowered her hand from his mouth as Ghian released his cruel grip on her wrist. Wrapping her robe closely around herself again, she made a slow half bow to the group of priests and acolytes who stood quietly by. With one accord they dropped to one knee in front of Ghian and bowed their heads. Seeing them kneeling before him, he felt his lip begin to quiver, a whole gamut of emotions surging through him. He studied their shoulders and hooded heads for a long moment before turning sharply away.

The single word rode out on a snarl. “Go!”

In a soft sigh of robes they rose, before hurrying noiselessly away through a hidden recess in a far wall. If Ghian saw them again, he didn’t recognise them.

The room was large, windowless and sumptuously furnished. Intricately worked tapestries in dark, strong colours hung on the walls. Rich leather upholstered furniture sat aesthetically placed on thick wool rugs. He was beginning to feel much better. A bath had been prepared for him, fresh towels laid beside it, and new clothing. Andra had made quite sure he was left alone to his ablutions, and he luxuriated in the hot water and aromatic oils. He had decided not to shave. His face was now quite thickly covered with a dark growth of beard, and its effect pleased him. Against the paleness of his face it made him appear stern and unapproachable. It was an image he would strive to cultivate further.

Amongst the clothing laid out for him was a long undershirt of a fine soft black material. It felt cool and comfortable against his skin. Tilting the polished silver mirror he studied how the shirt fitted. It suited him well. He felt a pang of regret that it would be totally hidden beneath the long black hooded robe which lay across the chair beside him. He picked up the robe, smoothing his hand over its soft smooth texture, admiring its fine weave and warm lightness. He lifted it to put it on over his head. Something in the fabric caught his eye. Turning the robe towards the light he saw, black on black within the fabric, three groups of three symbols. Spaced one beneath the other, they began just below the left shoulder. In an attempt to study them more closely, he turned the robe this way and that. With each movement the symbols seemed to flicker and change, while at certain angles they could not be seen at all. Despite all his efforts he was not able to see any one of them in its entirety, much less begin to understand their meaning. Frustration welling up inside him, he began pacing the room, twisting the robe in his hands, racking his brain for an answer. Suddenly he ceased his pacing. As if struck by some profound notion, he contemplated the crumpled robe. A thin smile twisted his cruel mouth as he began to smooth out the creases.

He addressed his mirror image. “A great destiny has been handed to you, virtually on a plate. Don’t trouble your mind over such a trifling thing. It probably means nothing.”“

The thought pleased him, and he grinned at himself in the mirror. Dropping the robe over his head, he slid his arms into the full, cuffed sleeves. Round his narrow waist he tied a long thick cord of braided black silk finished at each end with a tasselled knot of incredible intricacy. Lastly, he pushed his feet into calf length boots of soft black leather. With the mirror tilted at various angles, he studied as much of his new image as it would allow. He peered into the long oval of polished silver but could see nothing of the elusive symbols. Neither could he feel them when he stroked his fingers over the place where he knew them to be. Any further thoughts of their significance flew away as a gentle knock sounded on the door. He opened it to find Andra standing there, the soft deep folds of her crimson and black robe shimmering in the soft lighting.

She stepped past him into the room. An appreciative gleam in her dark eyes she turned and looked him up and down. “Lord Ghian. You wear them well. I thank Zo’ad that he has allowed this to come to pass in my own lifetime. Come with me now. A meal has been prepared for us. After we have eaten I will show you to the place which is to become your home.”

The priestess moved closer to him. He could feel the heat of her body through his robe as her long slim fingers caressed the smooth black fabric. Her voice was husky, pregnant with suggestion. “Everything has been provided. You will want for nothing. If you are ready, I will lead the way.”

Now, four years later, the embittered Ghian looked out across the moon-washed desert, with nothing more to sate his hunger than emotive memories.

At the crest of a lightly wooded sunlit hill, Karryl stood with Dhoum looking down into a wide valley, which nestled at the feet of a chain of snow-capped, violet-hued, mountains. In the bottom of the valley was a city, laid out like a great wheel, its spokes defined by clusters of domed white buildings shining softly in the gentle sunlight. Beside them a rippling stream bubbled and chattered its way to a tumbling waterfall, its melodious harmonics mingling with the low hum of jewel-like insects hovering among clusters of sweetly perfumed blossoms. Hardly able to believe what he was seeing, Karryl sat down on the soft, yielding turf and stared wide-eyed at the panorama spread out below him.

With a soft rustling of robes, Dhoum crouched down beside him. “So, Master Karryl, here we are. Impressive isn’t it?”

The young magician turned and looked into the shining amber eyes of the sleek-haired Grrybhñnös. “That hardly seems the right word. Where are we anyway? Does anybody even know we’re here?”

Dhoum pensively stroked his golden throat-patch as he pointed with his other hand. “A guide will be sent shortly. The ones down there are aware of our presence.”

Karryl turned his gaze in the direction of Dhoum’s pointing four-jointed finger. Caught by a brief sparkle, his eye was drawn to a large building standing in solitary splendour at the wheel’s hub. He scrambled to his feet and shielded his eyes with his hands. Sunlight was glinting on something which had emerged from the building, its form becoming more distinct as it floated swiftly and silently through the air towards them. Within two paces of where they were standing it stopped, an iridescent sphere hovering barely a hand-span above the ground.

A twinkle in his dark brown amber-flecked eyes, Dhoum shot Karryl a sideways glance. “Transport’s arrived.”

Karryl stood rooted to the spot, staring at the shining object. “What do we do? Ride on it?”

Dhoum chuckled and began to amble towards the sphere. “No. In it.” He turned and beckoned. “Come on. You’ll see.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Karryl stepped forward. As if aware of his presence, the shimmering globe began to expand, rainbow colours swirling across its opaque surface. Gradually the spectrum of colour faded away, leaving a perfect softly glowing white orb, its diameter a little larger than Karryl was tall. Dhoum paused beside it for a moment, then to Karryl’s surprise, hopped lightly into it and out of sight.

His voice rumbled from inside the sphere. “Walk straight in. Can’t hurt you.” Suspecting that he might just be dreaming, Karryl reached out a hand in an attempt to touch the shining surface. His hand went straight through. He let out a startled yelp as Dhoum caught hold of his wrist and pulled him inside to sprawl in a heap on the smooth, pleasantly warm floor. About to struggle himself upright, Karryl’s heart skipped a beat as he found he could see clearly through the outer shell. Slowly the shining sphere rose into the air. As it gathered speed, he watched in awe as the ground rushed away from him, the tops of the trees passing swiftly by below.

Not daring to move any other part of his body, he gradually turned his head and looked wide-eyed at Dhoum. “Is this sort of thing considered normal for … wherever we are?”

He felt sure that under all that hair, Dhoum was grinning at him. “Quite normal. Safe, reliable, clean.”

After pushing himself into a sitting position, Karryl wrapped his arms round his knees and began to look about, his former misgivings yielding to fascination as the sphere gradually slowed to drift silently down into the valley and over the neat clusters of domed buildings.

As they neared the tall central structure Dhoum waved his hand around him. “Don’t be fooled by all this peace and serenity. Down there is a very busy community, each doing their bit to make sure things run smoothly.”

Karryl peered down. “Well, if they’re that busy, why didn’t we just materialise somewhere in the city? It would have saved them having to send this… this… ball to fetch us.”

Now a glowing deep amber, Dhoum’s round eyes glinted as he held up a finger. “Ah! Good point! Trouble with that is, our kind of magic doesn’t work down here. Once you set foot outside the sphere, you’re no longer a magician. To their way of thinking you’re still a novice.”

Before Karryl could reply, their unique transport stopped to hover outside one of many arched portals opening off the central building’s upper storey.

Dhoum shook his robe and smoothed his scaly fingers over the sleek russet hair of his head and face. “We’ve arrived.”

Very slowly, Karryl stood up. Fully expecting the spherical vehicle to shake or wobble, he was greatly relieved when it maintained perfect stability. His confidence greatly restored he dared to look down, and was rewarded with a bird’s-eye view and his first glimpse of the inhabitants of this extraordinary city. Intrigued, he watched the people moving about below him, going about their business in groups of two or three, sometimes more. All wore robes of white or a rich deep purple, and seemed to glide rather than walk along the clean, wide streets. A group of three, one in white, two in purple, stopped almost directly beneath the sphere and looked upwards. A feeling of intense well-being flooded through Karryl, and he found himself unable to suppress a wide smile. The little group looked away and moved towards the building, disappearing through what he assumed could only be the entrance. The feeling of well-being dissipated only a little, and he turned to find Dhoum’s round amber eyes regarding him.

A sudden thought struck him. “Those people down there. They looked up as if they could see me, but you can’t see in here from outside, can you?”

By now he was well accustomed to Dhoum’s little mannerisms. He recognised the ripple of sleek russet hair as a smile. The stocky Grrybhñnös gestured towards the scene below. “To these people this sphere is quite transparent. There are times when they have no need of eyes in order to see.” He pointed towards the building. “Now, time to go. Ready?”

It was only then that Karryl noticed the wide, flat shimmering path which now stretched from the building to the sphere. Appearing to have no solid substance, it seemed no more than a film of light suspended in mid-air.

Karryl’s brow furrowed as he gestured towards it. “Are we supposed to walk on that?”

Dhoum ambled off through the wall of the sphere and stood waiting on the path. He beckoned to Karryl. “It’s quite safe. Come on.”

Remembering the broad ribbon of blue light which he and Symon had walked on in Xatchiqlan, Karryl shrugged, but he could feel his heart pounding as he gingerly followed Dhoum onto the path. It felt solid and steady beneath his feet, and a couple of quick paces brought him under the arched portal to stand beside Dhoum. They watched as the softly glowing white sphere grew steadily smaller, iridescent rainbow hues shimmering across its surface, before it sped away round the building and out of sight.

They stepped into a wide bright corridor floored with intricate white and purple mosaics. Looking up, Karryl saw clear blue sky. He realised then, that the dome of the building was constructed of the same amazing material as the sphere. He wanted to explore further, but Dhoum twitched his sleeve as they approached a large glistening door-sized panel, recessed slightly into the wall. After briefly placing two of his four fingers on a small circular plate fixed on the wall beside it, Dhoum stepped back. The panel quivered then vanished, revealing a circular shaft, its walls shining with a cool blue light. Karryl tiptoed to the edge and peered down. Far below, he could just make out a floor, similar to the one on which he now stood. Before he could do anything to stop him, Dhoum had jumped into the shaft. To Karryl’s total astonishment the Grrybhñnös remained suspended in mid-air in front of him.

The young magician stepped back and looked around, his expression doubtful. “Are there any stairs?”

Giving one of his surprisingly deep rumbling chuckles, Dhoum beckoned Karryl into the shaft. “No stairs. Only way down. Come on. Best foot forward.”

The feeling of well-being which Karryl had experienced in the sphere had by now completely dissipated, and he began wondering whether, in a situation like this, he actually had a ‘best foot’. Feeling slightly silly, he grasped Dhoum’s outstretched hand. The Grrybhñnös pulled, and Karryl found himself standing on nothing as Dhoum placed two fingers on another plate on the shaft wall. With a shimmer, the door panel reappeared, closing access to the shaft, and the two occupants started moving sedately downwards. Suddenly realising he was still gripping Dhoum’s hand, Karryl gave his companion an embarrassed half smile as he pulled his own away. He rode the rest of the way down with his hands clasped firmly behind his back. Without the slightest jar or jolt they alighted on the base of the shaft, as another panel in front of them shimmered and vanished. The pair stepped out into a broad circular concourse. Sunlight shone through wide archways onto the elaborate mosaics of the floor, where small groups of men and women were engaged in quiet discussion. From a point directly opposite, a man and woman in purple and another man in white approached them.

Dhoum seemed to stare at them for a long moment before turning to Karryl. “Have to leave you now. Done my bit. See you later though.”

Giving one of his rare slow blinks, he turned to his right and set off in his rolling amble towards one of the far archways. No-one in the vast concourse appeared to take any notice, so Karryl assumed Dhoum must be no stranger to them. He watched his fellow traveller until he was out of sight then turned his attention to the small group heading with an unhurried grace towards him. They stopped to speak to two other white-robed figures, giving Karryl a few extra moments to observe, and to collect his thoughts. Trying not to be too obvious, he studied the people gathered in their little groups, most of them in earnest conversation, their voices never rising above a low murmur. Without exception, they were all very tall, easily matching him for height. Fair-skinned, their hair colour ranged from silvery-white through various shades of blonde to a naturally golden-tinted russet. Karryl felt very conspicuous as it occurred to him how noticeable his own thick black hair must be.

The purple robed man left his two companions to their conversation and approached Karryl, a smile of welcome on his finely chiselled face. His eyes were a startlingly bright blue and Karryl guessed his age as about forty, but it was hard to tell. As the man held out his long slender hand Karryl noticed that on his middle finger he wore a wide gold ring set with a large amethyst cabouchon.

His handshake was firm and warm. “Welcome Karryl to our city. I trust your journey here was comfortable?”

Karryl’s dark eyes met the other’s startling blue. “Thank you. Yes it was, once I’d got over the initial shock. It’s certainly a different way to travel.”

The other laughed softly. “I’m sure you’ll soon get used to it. I am Solen, by the way. My colleagues and I will set you on your way to join Master Symon if you are ready.”

As if on cue, Solen’s two companions finished their conversation. They came to join them and Solen made the introductions. “Karryl, I would like you to meet my sister Janar, and my colleague Tukrin.”

As they shook hands Karryl noticed that each of them wore a ring identical to Solen’s, and he found himself wondering about their significance as Solen led them out through an archway in the opposite direction to that which Dhoum had taken. At the end of a long wide cloister, a broad flight of white stone stairs led upwards, following the curve of the building. The light, airy mosaic-floored corridor to which they led continued to follow the curve, the warm grey stone of the wall punctuated by a series of painted doors, some white, some purple. Solen stopped outside a white painted door. Just above centre was a small metallic purple plaque bearing a half dozen curiously formed characters. Karryl took them to be letters and as he scrutinised them, they seemed to move, weaving around and through each other. Just as he felt he had a grasp on their meaning, Solen opened the door with a pass of his hand, and gestured for Karryl to precede him into the room beyond.

The whole panorama of the city was spread out in front of him, the view barely obstructed by wide unglazed window openings. He hurried forward, resting his arms on the deep windowsill as he took in the magnificent sight.

While Janar and Tukrin arranged chairs upholstered in soft white leather, Solen joined him at the window. “What do you think of our fair city of Torgaard?”

Karryl continued to gaze, left and right, up and down. “It’s quite breathtaking, but why do all the buildings have domed roofs?”

Solen smiled, as if the question was one he had often heard before. “The simplest reason there can be; because we like them.”

Karryl straightened up and folded his arms. “I rather think I do too. But where are we? Dhoum brought me here to see Master Symon, but he didn’t actually say where ‘here’ is.”

Janar moved to stand beside him, her long white-blonde hair cascading in soft waves over her shoulders and down her slender straight back. There was a twinkle in her light blue eyes as she spoke.

Her voice was soft, clear and easy to listen to. “That is because our dear friend Dhoum doesn’t know where ‘here’ is. Although we have taught him how to get here, he only knows it as Torgaard, as will you. You see, Dhoum has not only brought you to a new location. He has also brought you to another world.”

Karryl swallowed hard, his brain assimilating the amazing implications of what Janar had just told him. He stood pondering for a few moments, letting his gaze drift out to the far distance where a bluish haze hinted at mountains far beyond the city.