Shadowgod (60 page)

"When we're guiding our horses through those sombre hills, I'll be thinking the same of you," she said. "Pursuing the Earthmother through this realm of evil, fighting off whatever horrors the Grey Lord sends against you…I fear what you will have to face."

"Are we going to die, then, you and I?" he said, turning to face her.

"I do not know, but it seems likely." Then she shrugged. "Yet the future is unwritten and much may happen in the time that is left to us. We are not alone in this struggle."

Mazaret knew she was speaking of the spirit of the Fathertree, and heard the weary hope in her voice. Moved by the wish to give her some token of his devotion, he reached inside his mailed jerkin and took out the small ivory book leaf that he had found in Khatris months before. After Suviel had released Gilly and himself from the Acolyte's dungeon, he had rediscovered it in an inner pocket without realising its meaning. But as the rivenshades of himself were slain one by one, pieces of his memory returned and revealed what had been lost. She seemed puzzled when he gave it to her but as she read the inscription in a low voice between the two of them, she smiled.

There were tears in her eyes as she carefully put the ivory leaf away in one of her cloak's pockets. Then she took both his hands in hers and kissed them.

"One moment by your side, beloved, is timeless," she said. "You will always be with me."

"And you with me."

They embraced one last time before Suviel broke away and hurried over to her waiting horse. Minutes later, three mounted figures and a packhorse were riding slowly down the ridge's scree slope towards a grey, rocky vale which curved away in the hills. As Mazaret watched them go, Bardow came over, leading his own mount by its reins.

"This is a risky affair, old friend," he said. "She has the two talismans with her, as well as the melded sword."

"Will they help her to defend herself?" Mazaret said.

"Perhaps… or they could make her more of a target."

Mazaret nodded grimly.

"Then it is time we moved out," he said, urging his steed round to the downward path. Below, the host of Mogaun and Besh-Darok riders waited in a long column that snaked back along the dusty gully, with a few knots of scouts on the raised ground across from the ridge.

Let us find the Lord of this place
, he thought.
I'm sure we can do something to get his attention!

* * *

Gilly knew that this was a god's realm but when he followed the possessed Alael around yet another rocky dune and saw that eerie grey forest directly ahead, he at last began to believe it. From the moment they left Keshada, Alael had been striding along a perfectly straight course. For the last hour or more the forest of tall spindly trees had been some distance away on their left. Yet there it was, now spread right across Alael's path.

From which she was not deviating in the slightest.

Gilly toyed with the idea of trying to physically restrain her but only for the briefest moment - two previous attempts had ended with him tossed aside and nursing bruises.

What else can I do but stay on her trail
? He thought.
And hope that Mazaret and Suviel catch up with us
…

Even from 20 yards behind, he could still see the golden nimbus that enfolded her and which grew brighter as she approached the fringe of the grey forest. But as he watched, she took a few steps inwards and was suddenly gone from sight. Alarmed, he rushed over to the spot where she had entered and even as he approached the spindly trees changed colour from sliver-grey to darkening shades of green. Twigs and sprigs sprouted from roughening branches, bushes burst up out of the burgeoning ground, berries, buds and blooms swelled beneath lush arrays of leaves, and flowering vines wound up trunks and along boughs, dividing, spreading, entwining. It was an eruption of foliage which seemed to be confined to the vicinity of Alael's passage through the forest. Gilly stared at the dense greenery in amazement, then gathered his resolve and plunged in.

The forest rustled around him in slow writhings of its verdant profusion. The air was moist and heavy with odours of growth. Green shadows blurred the distance and added to the strangeness of these restless surroundings. Spurred by tense fears, his imagination provided the luxuriant, unfurling vegetation with eyes and ears and other features. Annoyed at himself, he tried to suppress such transient fancies yet even as he pushed past hanging loops of vine the combination of a dark berry and a few leaves in the gloom off to one side looked just like a face staring out at him…

Then the face became whole and startlingly familiar as a grey-cowled man stepped out of the foliage and lunged at him with an outstretched dagger. Gilly gasped and threw himself to one side, then backed off behind a few trees while drawing his sword. Through the few branches he could see the hooded man straighten and stare back at him with his own face.

His attacker smiled, flipped the curved dagger and neatly caught it. "The Lord of Twilight sends his greetings," he said.

"And us," came another voice from close by.

Instinctively, Gilly ducked and rolled, hearing something slash through the foliage where he had been standing a moment before. Again, the hasty retreat, desperately trying to get both his assailants in view, even as they came after him.

And there was another, identical to the first and thus to himself. He had been sceptical when Suviel told him of the sorcerous creatures called rivenshades, but here was the evidence.

"What a sad, feeble thing you are," one of them said. "Hard to believe that we are
copies
of you."

"Mayhap we are better than him, brother," said the other. "Stronger, faster and deadlier, with all the weaknesses refined away. The Grey Lord undoubtedly saw this to be true and sent us after better prey."

Still Gilly backed away through the forest, trying to follow their voices while searching for a tree with lower branches.

"Come now, fellows," he said. "It is ridiculous that we hunt each other like this. I mean, we're practically family - we should be sharing a bottle of wine and telling each other tall tales. In fact, I know of an excellent tavern in Sejeend, secluded, with a magnificent fire and a goodly choice of ales…"

"Your prattling wearies me," said one of the rivenshades. "It will be an pleasure to cut out your tongue."

But Gilly made no reply. With careful quiet motions, he had climbed a particular tree and was crawling out onto a leafy branch as one of the cowled rivenshades crept towards it, stealthy and oblivious. He waited until the last moment them slamming him into the ground and savagely skewering him through the back twice.

But after the second blow, the rivenshade twisted under him as if unhurt, throwing him off to roll onto his back. There was not a spot or streak of blood on the rivenshade's clothing as he sprang to a crouch, dagger poised for the lunge, face bright with glee. Gilly struggled to bring his sword round but as the hooded man drew back for a slashing blow something large and dark came crashing out of the undergrowth up to the right. In a rushing blur it bore down on the rivenshade, snatched him off his feet and carried on into the forest. There was a shriek of agony cut short, and Gilly felt a little dizzy as he scrambled to his feet, alert to his surroundings.

Warily he followed the trail of broken vegetation left by the mystery benefactor. He had noticed few details, a black and green pebbled hide, a muscular torso and what might have been large, folded wings, none of which sparked any recollection. Then from up ahead came a gasp, a thud and a grunt… and a stream of memories poured into his mind. The dizziness struck again but passed as swiftly, leaving him with knowledge and the memory of the last time had seen such a muscular, winged creature. As Gilly stepped into the small clearing the Daemonkind was sitting on the leafy ground, leaning against a bare rock. One of the rivenshades was impaled by the neck to a nearby tree with his dagger, while the other lay full length and face up beside the Daemonkind, dagger jutting from his chest. The creature raised its great reptilian head and regarded Gilly with amber eyes.

"The man Cordale," it said. "I saw your memories seep out of these two when I slew them with their own blades. I trust you are now more yourself."

"Enough to recognise your race, ser," Gilly said as boldly as he could. "How is it that you recognise me?"

"We were travelling companions once, for a short period," said the Daemonkind. "I am Orgraaleshenoth, prince of the Israganthir."

Gilly tightened his grip on his sword, futile though he knew it would be against one such as this.

"Do you intend to send me flying across the lands again?" he said. "If so, there are a few towns in west Cabringa that I have never seen - "

"Hear me, Cordale - my allegiance is not as it was, and I have suffered wounds at the hands of my people accordingly. And know this - your friend Keren Asherol is here in this realm and she has the Staff of the Void in her possession…" The Daemonkind paused and got slowly to his feet, uttering a groan as he did so. "We must seek out the mage Bardow and inform him of this. He is with an army from Besh-Darok which is following your trail…"

"But I'm supposed to be watching over the girl Alael," Gilly said.

"The Earthmother vessel?" Orgraaleshenoth shook his head. "Neither you nor I have the power to contain her - that is a task for others."

"This is very true," he said. "So - shall we retrace my steps to meet the Besh-Darok army or wait here for them?"

"Waiting here would be to invite peril - once the Earthmother's influence has waned the forest will revert to its master's will."

Gilly sheathed his blade and regarded the two dead rivenshades. "Yes - I don't think I want to be around to see what he does with these."

* * *

The hills were made of dust and the dust was fine, grey and cold. It rose in swirls and veils on the slightest breeze and puffed up from their horses' hooves to cake their clothing and filter into weapon scabbards and mouths. Suviel made Byrnak and Atroc wind spare pieces of garments around their mounts' jaws and nostrils, since they were choking on the dust, and also wipe it away from their animals' eyes as often as possible.

Their passage through the hills lasted less than two hours but it felt far longer. Shaking and beating their cloaks and robes once they reached the other side dislodged some but not all of the dust. And Suviel insisted that they pressed on so garments were replaced and on they rode.

The ash-white plain was warm and dry and seemed to be composed of small bone fragments. Suviel had examined a handful of it and, frowning, wondered if this was real bone or just some kind of pulverised stone. When asked, Byrnak only shrugged and said:

"This is
his
domain - it has no meaning for me."

Less than an hour later they drew close to the lower slopes of Hewn Mountain. It was a little warmer and there was a faint sound in the air, like a high continuous note, like a voice yet not quite like a voice. As they followed Byrnak around the foot of the mountain towards the entrance, past massive fallen shards of stone, the sound grew and became strangely pleasing to the ear.

At last the entrance to Hewn Mountain gaped jaggedly before them, the end point of a darkened road which ran arrow-straight out across the plain. Suviel brought them to a halt before it and turned to Byrnak.

"I can feel the power of the Wellsource beating against my mind," she said. "Most of my other-senses are closed to me and I cannot tell if any guardian waits within. Can you?"

Byrnak gave her a look of hollow dread. "I can feel nothing.
Nothing
."

Dismayed but not showing it, she turned to Atroc.

"What might a seer see?"

The old Mogaun set his lips in a line, frowned and closed his eyes. Then he cocked his head as if listening, opened his eyes and smiled.

"We are being watched," he said. "There are two of them."

Suviel nodded grimly and turned back to Byrnak.

"We'll continue on foot," she said. "Lead the way."

Resignedly, he did so, with Atroc at his side and Suviel following with the packhorse. The passageway had a floor of rough black marble and sloped down into the heart of the mountain. Its grey walls reared up not to a ceiling but to tall, fanglike towers and crags, open to the skies. The high sound was louder, the air warm and sharp with the taste of stone.

Then, when they were halfway down the corridor a stocky figure clad in dark green garments stepped out from concealment and crossed his arms before him. It was Coireg Mazaret. Suviel felt a rush of foreboding as she recalled how he had been possessed.

"Greetings, Crevalcor," Byrnak said. "Such an unexpected surprise to meet you in this place…"

Coireg, smiling sardonically, gave a little bow and further down another figure emerged, tall, hairless and garbed in long, grey robes.

"Ah, and the devoted Obax, too" Byrnak went on. "What, I wonder, brings you both…?"

The man Byrnak addressed as Crevalcor unfolded his arms. Silent emerald flame wreathed his hands. Byrnak stepped aside to cower against the wall, while Atroc moved to one side.

"A pleasing end to your charade, Byrnak," Crevalcar said, shifting his gaze to Suviel as he started walking towards her. "And more pleasing by far to meet an enemy of our master who also happens to be an adept, or what passes for one amongst these enfeebled adversaries."

"And you are?" she said with as much disdain as she could muster while concentrating on a cluster of thought-cantos.

He laughed out loud. "I am Crevalcor of the First-Woken, and the bringer of your death."

Suviel unveiled her shielding thought-cantos even as his hands came up, each finger spilling forth a dazzling tendril of power. But even with the Crystal Eye's enhancement of her abilities she knew that she could only resist this assault of raw Wellsource fire for a short time. Ten incandescent tendrils probed and flared and burrowed into the barriers she had erected, while the grinning Crevalcor watched her with blazing eyes from a few feet away.