Martyr (The Martyr Trilogy) (31 page)

Working
my way along the ledge to my left, skirting the sphere, I came to a place where
the ledge was notably wider, a stony extension jutting ever-so-slightly
out over the abyss.  Reaching that spot, I backed myself against
the wall, then pushed off and performed the closest approximation of a running
jump that I could manage with such a short runway.  Luckily I didn't take
the time to think about how I would get back, or I might have lost the nerve
altogether.  It was farther than it had seemed.  As elongated
microseconds passed, I thought I was going to fall short and plunge into the frigid
cauldron below, but I managed to catch hold of a handful of vines on the
underside of the sphere and arrest my descent.  When my heart
rate had returned to normal, I began to climb.  The vines offered
ample purchase, but it was still a formidable ascent; by the time I reached the
top I was thoroughly spent.  I bent, palms on my knees, panting, then
stood and surveyed the view.  I noted the location of the cleft from
which I had emerged, of the springboard from which I had leapt.  I
couldn't see the mist from here.  It felt as though I stood on top of
a tiny world of my own making.  But this was Chaer-Ul's world, I knew.
 
I pronounced his name, "Chaer-Ul! " 
Nothing happened.  I tried again.  "Chaer-Ul, I am
here!  Why don't you answer?"
 
After a moment's pause came the thunder,  "You said nothing
that required an answer."  At the sound of his voice, a thousand
hidden buds blossomed simultaneously into colorful bloom all over the surface
of the sphere. 
 
"I said your name," I countered.
 
"And it pleased me," he replied.
 
I was definitely not in the mood for his little games, but I dared not show my
frustration; Maya's life was on the line.  "How can I defeat Magus?"
I asked.
 
"That's not what you want to know," he said. 
 
He was right.  "Can I save Maya?" I asked.
 
"Now that's more like it," he said.  "Yes."
 
"How?" I asked, slightly irritated.  "How can I save
Maya?"
 
"What are you willing to do?"
 
"Anything!" I shouted.  "I would do anything to save
her!"
 
"Would you indeed?  Even give your own life?"
 
"Without a second's hesitation," I said truthfully.
 
"So," he said.  "And what about taking hers?"
 
"Of course I...uh...what?" I stammered, completely bewildered.
 
"If I asked it, would you let Maya die?" he clarified.
 
"How could I...why would you ask...how could that possibly help her?"
 
"You didn't ask how to help her," he rumbled calmly.  "You
asked how to save her."
 
"And that would save her - letting her die?" I asked in disbelief.
 
"I know what you are willing to do for her," Chaer-Ul said. 
"I seek to know what you would do for me."
 
"You can't ask that of me!  This doesn't make any sense," I
screamed. 
 
"I see...so you wouldn't do it...if that were what I asked of you?"
 
"I can't...I don't see...," I mumbled.
 
"Would you let Maya die?" he asked once more.
 
"If that is the question...then...no.  No! "
 
"I see.  You're not yet ready," he said.  Let’s hope
her faith is sufficient."
 
Then it was silent.  Chaer-Ul was gone.  And somehow I had the
feeling that I had just failed the final test.  I called out to him again,
pleading for him to return, prepared to beg for Maya’s life, as if I had
anything with which to bargain.  It was all in vain.  No answer came.  After a
time I called out to Reya and Kuro as well, but I knew the sound would never
reach their ears.  Now I was trapped in this place, unable to even go after
her, unable to fight, unable to do anything.  I dropped to my knees, raised my
hands, palms upward, and wept to the sky.  Tears of frustration turned to tears
of anger, at last to tears of despair.
 
A tepid breeze began to blow, softly at first, rising to become a temperate
wind that buffeted my body, threatening to dislodge me from my lofty perch at
the top of the world.  The strangeness of shifting shadows before me
compelled me to look to the heavens, where clouds were speeding across the sky
as if in fast-forward.  The wind persisted, howling and raging around
the walls of the canyon, lifting the mist and carrying it up the sides of the
bowl, around and around the globe like Saturn’s rings.  At last the wind began
to push the sun itself, hurrying it toward its resting place beyond the
westward mountains.  Had I fallen asleep?  Was I dreaming once
more?  Night's veil cast itself over the dome of the sky, as stars,
scattered by an unseen sower, found their places in the firmament, burning more
brightly than I could remember.  I could see the light from those stars,
and their beams curved toward me, becoming something almost tangible, like
sinewy threads.  I reached out to touch them, and the silken filaments of
light danced on my fingertips before twisting together into two brilliant
vortices, one suspended over each of my palms.  Then, unexpectedly, the two
points of light pierced my hands painlessly, their seemingly infinite wiry
tails wiggling in the air until their entire substance disappeared beneath my
skin. 

Was
this a vision?  Instantly I felt my strength renewed, and something else:
tracings of light spreading to define all the borders of my armor, my weapons
becoming infused with it, saturated, so that they seemed almost to be made of
only light.  Then I felt a pervading warmth in my shoulders and
back.  A moment later the threads emerged there, bursting from the skin of
my back, boring through my armor, and dividing again and again to form
hundreds of fine, luminous tendrils that offered no resistance to touch,
yet billowed and fluttered behind me as if moved by the wind. 
Turning my head, I saw these innumerable threads stretching out behind me
almost to the rim of the great bowl.  I watched as they allowed the wind
to fill them, taking the form of a pair of vast, radiant wings. 
Before I could wonder why this was happening, a powerful gust
caught the wings and carried me skyward.  Fear found no place to
dwell; I knew that these wings would carry me wherever I determined
to go. 
 
I stood high above the earth and surveyed the world below.  By the
light of a waxing moon I could see the dam and the place where it was
damaged.  Beyond that, the lake, and the diminutive shapes of tents
along its shore.  Through the trees I saw the hill where the chopper
sat.  And to the south and east, the still-smoldering and partially
flooded city.  I wasn’t dreaming.  I thought about landing in the
clearing before the dam entrance, at the edge of the forest, and my wings took
me there.  As I landed, the wings folded themselves upon my back like
a luminous cloak.  There were few people outside when I set
down, but these few rapidly swelled to a few dozen and more as excited
whispers were exchanged and one person after another hastened away to wake a
sleeping friend or loved one.  Slowly the masses edged forward, those best
known to me edging past the others to verify the reports.  Kuro was
first, all but shoving people aside to get to me, awe apparent on his
well-lined face.  Upon reaching me he dropped to his knees, head bowed
low, and placed his weapon on the ground before me.  Knox slipped in
from behind him and did the same.  Reya, smiling broadly, stepped forward
and followed suit.  Next came Jager, Kaire and Charr.  Doog stepped from
somewhere in the back and followed their example. 

Then
a hush fell over those gathered as Corvus strode up through the crowd.  He
stopped next to those bowed down and looked down at them, one by one.  He made
a small huffing sound that I took to be derision.  Then he proceeded farther,
walking right up to me.  He paced in a slow circle around me, scrutinizing the
places where light emanated from my armor, my weapons, and my wings.  When he
completed his circle he turned to face me, almost nose-to-nose.  It was all I
could do not to react, confronted so directly with his horribly scarred visage,
that vacant, probing eye.  He glared into my eyes for a long moment, then
suddenly dropped to his knees, laying his sword at my feet.  After Corvus paid
homage, the entire assembled multitude did the same as one.  No one moved or
made a sound for what seemed an eternity.  I began to wonder if I should say
something, but as I thought over what I might say, there came a soft, rustling
sound from deep within the shadows of the forest.

One
after another, puurr-deer emerged from the trees and took up positions around
me until there were seven all told, forming a circle, their heads pointing
inwardly.  Then, as if in response to a silent signal, they all stretched out
their front legs and bowed their heads low to the ground, eyes closed.  The
moment this action was completed my wings unfurled, arching high over the deer
and men, showering them all with purest light.  When this occurred, the deer
began to change.  At first it looked like a trick of shadows in the shimmering
light, but soon it could not be denied.  Their massive antlers grew smaller,
many points merging into a few.  A row of heavy scales started to appear on the
upper surfaces of their snouts, cascading over the tops of their heads and all
the way down their spines.  When it reached their rumps, their thin tails
swelled and grew into thick, muscular appendages that whipped about behind them
in sinuous undulations.  The scales completed their course, covering the upper
part of the tails all the way to their tufted ends.  The legs bulged with a
thickening of muscle, fur overgrowing to form thick, wavy shocks over their
hooves.  The middle sets of legs then withdrew from the ground and folded back
along their bodies, expanding and flattening to form the roots of what appeared
to be vestigial wings.  Their faces changed as well, subtly, as several pairs
of oversized fangs overgrew the dimensions of their elongated mouths.  Finally,
and also simultaneously, they all appeared to be engulfed by tongues of
blue-white flame, which circled their bodies constantly, licked off the tufts
on their legs and tails, and ignited the wings, forming fiery plumage that
moved and acted as real wings.  A few characteristics remained very deer-like
through the changes: the snowy-white fur evident under the scales and between
the flames, their pointed hooves, and the knowing, liquid-gold orbs of their
eyes.

When
their transformation was complete, my own wings reassumed their tendrilly form,
and individual threads stretched out over the heads of those gathered near. 
One of these alighted on Kuro’s head, and without ever looking up or opening
his eyes, he stood.  Similarly, threads fell upon the heads of Charr, Jager,
and Knox, who likewise stood.  Lastly, a thread touched upon the head of
Corvus, who joined those standing.  These five, knowing without asking, opened
their eyes and walked to five of the puurr-deer, or whatever it was they had
become, and silently mounted them.  When all of this was done I too mounted one
of the creatures.  When I did, Kuro asked me, “Who is to ride the other one?” 

“I
don’t know,” I said.

“Perhaps
we should choose someone,” Reya said from her place before the people.

“No,”
I said.  “The choice is of Chaer-Ul.”  Then I spoke pointedly to Reya. 
“Assemble the army and be at the ready.  I’ll send you a sign.” 

“What
happens now?” Charr asked.

“We’re
going to get Maya back,” I said, “And end this war once and for all!”  With
that my mount launched itself into the sky on wings of flame, the others close
behind. Far below, we could still hear the shouts and cheers of a few hundred
people whose hopes now soared with us.

28

 The
first thing we saw, of course, was the tops of the ancient skyscrapers,
outlined against the sky as they had been in the vision of Maya.  But now in
full daylight, having flown through the night, other features of the landscape
made themselves known as well.  Most striking was some sort of high wall or
barrier that skirted the city in an arc several miles in diameter, presumably
encircling it all around.  Thankful for winged transport, I goaded my mount
forward over the wall, and directed my companions to follow my lead.  My beast
displayed an uncharacteristic reluctance to obey, huffing and kicking at the
air under its feet.  We were all afraid, of course; why should it be any
different with these creatures, who had seen the fate of some of their own kind
at Magus’ hand, and knew all too well the depths of cruelty that he was willing
to plumb.  I spurred my ride onward once more, and this time it complied, but
with great uncertainty, head held low and twitching back and forth as it went. 
I stole a glance downward to confirm that we were almost directly over the wall
now.  Before I could right myself again I felt a clapping blow and my vision
went suddenly black.  I regained my senses only a second later, and as my eyes
came to focus I could see a reflection of the city pulsing in liquid rhythm. 
My eyes cast about, seeking the true form that cast this wavering shadow.  But
it was no shadow.  The air itself shimmered, giving evidence of a powerful
magical field surrounding the city.  I looked to my comrades, who hovered to
the sides, having apparently seen my blunder in time to avoid a similar fate. 
I had been a fool to think Magus’ defenses would be so readily thwarted. 

I
directed my mount to retreat to a safer distance, and began to study our
situation.  The height of the shield could not be known, and we could not risk
a second trial – the first had nearly knocked me out.  I examined the wall far
below, turned to follow it toward the south.  The other riders cautiously
followed.  After flying for some distance an irregularity became visible, a
possible breach in the wall’s contour.  As we came to a position more nearly
above it, it was clear: there was a disruption of the wall in a place where
another major highway led straight into the heart of the city.  I signaled the
others, and one by one we circled lower, until it could be seen that the
opening was not barred.  To my surprise there was no indication of any sort of
guard or other defensive measures at or around the opening.  It seemed as
though this were the way Magus intended us to go – an open invitation.  Fine. 
We’d play by his rules, for now.

I
examined the area beyond the wall.  Here all human structures had been reduced
to rubble; a war-ravaged wasteland reminiscent of pictures I had seen of towns
bombed during the second world war.  Yet as far as the eye could see, nothing
stirred.  No dark armies marched, no treaded steel crawled over the pitted
landscape.  It occurred to me that the same magic that prevented our progress
by air might also enchant the eyes, portraying a scene of desolation where in
fact thousands of enemies lay in wait just beyond the wall.  As far as I was
concerned it mattered not; Maya was almost certainly inside those walls, and I
was prepared to lay waste to Magus’ thousands of thousands if need be to reach
her.  My weapons and armor glowed with untold power, imbuing me with certainty
that I could manage whatever Magus had in store.

I
signaled the others to follow my lead, and began a slow, gliding descent,
finally landing a few hundred paces before the opening.  The riderless creature
fell in behind the others.  We remained on our mounts, prodding them into a
measured trot until we stood in the shadow of the great barrier wall.  Now I
could see the substance of the wall, and a chill seized me.  It was composed of
human remains.  Not simply piled, but actually built, using some sort of
mortar.  I could see also that several large placards had been placed among the
bodies, clearly meant to be viewed by the visitor, written in letters of no
language I had ever seen.  Corvus was beside me.  “Can you understand it?” I
asked him.

Corvus
stared at the writing for a moment, then grunted, a sound that indicated
revulsion at the content of the message.  “Yes,” he said.  “Essentially, it
translates, ‘Behold the handiwork of god’.”

Looking
again, I saw that not all of the remains were skeletal.  More recent dead were
fitted in among them, and composed a sizeable portion of the wall’s substance. 
“These aren’t only those killed by the plague,” I said.  “Some of these were
killed subsequently by Magus’ men.”

“I
know,” said Corvus.  “Magus places responsibility for these deaths at
Chaer-Ul’s feet as well.”

“Magus
decided to butcher thousands more than those already claimed by the plague,” I
said.  “How is that Chaer-Ul’s fault?”

Charr
answered.  “He tells his people they are acting pre-emptively, that Chaer-Ul is
amassing armies to exterminate those who would be free of his dominion.  It’s a
message that tickles the ears of those who are already looking for a reason to
fight.”

“Do
you think he actually believes that,” I asked, “Or is it just what he tells his
men to gain their obedience?”

Charr
shook her head.  “I don’t really know.  His mind is twisted, having given it
over to the control of those…beings.  I suppose it’s possible he believes his
own lies as well as theirs.”

We
pushed forward, passing between the foul walls of death that towered over us on
either side.  I half-expected them to crumble and come down on us in a horrific
avalanche, revealing living soldiers hidden within.  But no such thing
happened.  We traversed the plain of rubble, and still no attack came.  Every
so often we came to another sign, stuck in the ground beside the road or lashed
to a rusty billboard from times forgotten.  Often they were decorated with more
corpses, grimly posed or dangling from frayed and knotted cords.  Corvus would
translate.  One said, “Who thinks for you?”  Another read, “Let the wise man
consider: god had a beginning.”  And a little farther along, “Every beginning
has an end.”  Kuro groaned.  We passed another sign reading, “God destroyed the
world in seven days.”  And a short distance later, “Let us create it anew.” 
Then we walked for a time without seeing any signs.  When at last something came
into view, it was a banner spread over the road we traveled, lynched cadavers
hanging at regular intervals so that their gnarled toes tried to scrape our
heads as we passed underneath.  The banner read, “Are we not gods?” 

A
long time passed without further incident.  At last we came to an intersection
of roads.  In its center was a roundabout, encircling a small, overgrown patch
of turf.  Rising out of the tangled mass of vines and saplings a statue had
been erected.  It appeared to be of recent design, though the stone pedestal
upon which it stood may well have been original.  The figure was roughly made,
but clearly represented a cloaked person holding his hands aloft.  There was a
worn plaque at its feet.  Knox approached the statue, bent and blew on the
plaque to clear the dust that obscured its message.  As he did, red flames
burst from the palms of the figure, burning high into the sky before settling
back to the height of a torch flame above each hand.  The sudden conflagration
sent Knox stumbling back, almost falling over the undergrowth at the base of
the pedestal.  Upon regaining his composure, he pointed to the plaque, where
letters now glowed in the same fiery red.  Magic, as it turned out, not natural
fire.  Corvus was already pushing past him to read aloud, “In this place, what
you may become is limited only by you.”

“Wow,”
I said, “He really went all out with the propaganda campaign.”

“It’s
interesting…,” mused Jager, “…that despite this promise of infinite potential,
Magus seems to be the only one who has become more than a foot soldier.”

“And
the only one wielding god-like power,” I added.

"Magus
has grown unspeakably arrogant,” Charr said.  "He sees Chaer-Ul as a
usurper and a fraud.  That's because he assumes him to be the same kind of
being as his dark whisperers, different only in that he was able to attain a
greater degree of power.  He believes…that Chaer-Ul was once a man."

“A
man…,” I repeated distractedly.  Then, “The spirits that Magus speaks to – they
were once men?” I asked.

“We
think so,” she replied.  “But we believe Chaer-Ul is something else entirely. 
Both Magus and I begin with the same facts about Chaer-Ul.  The difference lies
in how we choose to interpret those facts.”   

“But
how can you be sure your interpretation is correct?” I asked.  “How do you know
Chaer-Ul isn't just letting you see what he wants you to see, and deliberately
concealing the rest?"

"Oh,
I am certain he is," Charr answered. "And is that any different from
what you do?  What we all must do?  How much do you ever really know someone,
or let someone know you?  What Chaer-Ul has allowed me to see is good; I choose
to believe that for the most part that which remains hidden resembles the part
I've seen.”

The
discussion intrigued me, and I’d have liked to pursue it further, but something
else was starting to concern me.  We had now traveled well beyond the statue
and deep into the wasteland that stood between us and the city.  Yet strangely,
it didn’t appear as though we had gotten any closer to the city itself.  I
looked back, and the statue was barely visible as a tiny peg on the horizon. 
The wall of corpses could no longer be seen.  Clearly we had covered a lot of
ground, yet the skyline hadn’t changed.  Was it an optical illusion?  I was
struck with a sudden sense of unease.  I put out my hand to stay the others,
and my wings resumed their form.  I didn’t want to expose my mount to danger,
in case there were another shield, or other unseen threat.  Slowly I rose until
I was high above the ground, then cautiously advanced.  From this height I
could see both the wall far behind and the concentration of towering buildings
ahead.  It was true; we had come a long way, but were not ostensibly closer to
our goal.  I glided onward, and as if by instinct several glowing tendrils
separated from my wings and probed ahead of me, feeling for invisible hazards
as I flew.  Still seeing no change in the scene before me, I flew faster,
accelerating until I was a virtual blur, a luminous comet streaking across the
sky.  My peripheral vision told me that aspects of the landscape were peeling
away behind me, but when I stole a glance at the earth directly below, I was
shocked to see my team, sitting in place upon their mounts, exactly where I had
left them.  This was no mirage; it was more of Magus’ sorcery.  I allowed
myself to descend, alighting upon my mount once more.

Immediately
I turned about to face my comrades, who had witnessed my unsuccessful attempt. 
“We’re going to need another strategy,” I said. 

“What
did you have in mind?” Jager asked.

“Well,”
I said, “If I couldn’t get anywhere flying, I doubt we’d have any better luck
on the deer.  Is it deer?  I don’t really know what else to call them, now that
they’ve changed.”

“Kirin,”
said Kuro.  “They’re kirin.”

“You’ve
seen them like this before?” I asked, surprised.

“No,
but there were old stories and songs that spoke of them,” he said

 “Oh…OK…kirin,”
I said.  “In any case, we can’t proceed by air, or by land.  We couldn’t get
past the shield before either, until we figured out where Magus wanted us to
go.  He holds all the cards right now, so it seems we’re just going to have to
wait until he plays his next hand.”

“I
don’t like it,” said Corvus, an edge of panic in his voice that I hadn’t heard
before.  “We’re just walking into his web.  We may as well have just waited for
him to come back and wipe us all out at the dam.”

“I
know it looks that way,” I said, “and I’m sure Magus thinks he is in control,
but he’s not.”  Corvus looked skeptical.  The others shared his expression. 
“You have to trust me.  No matter how bad it gets, we must persevere.  I don’t
know how we’re going to do it, but Magus is going down.  This ends today!”  The
words didn’t sound like my own, and then I realized they weren’t – they were
the last words of Tal-Makai.  I shook off a chill at the thought.  I really
hoped I knew what I was doing.

Kuro
started to speak, and I held up a hand to silence him.  “Did you feel that?” I
asked.

“Feel
wha-,” Knox started, but then we were all shaken by a violent rumbling.  It
passed, and then it came again, stronger.  Were we not all seated on such
massively stable beasts, we’d have been thrown to the ground.  And it was a
good thing we weren’t, for soon small fissures began to appear in the earth at
our feet, and then to spread, outward in every direction across the plain.  As
the shaking continued the cracks raced toward the periphery of the barren
landscape, then grew wider.  Now trails of black smoke issued from between
them, first in a few places, and then more, and more, until the entire expanse
of the plain was punctuated by thousands of wavering columns of smoke like
blades of scorched grass.