The Long Look, page 19
part #1 of The Laws of Power Series
"I’d appreciate any help you can give."
"I’ve none to offer, I’m afraid. Still, do you think you can reproduce some of the symbols you saw on that book? An entire word or even a phrase would be best."
"I-I think so. But why? You said you couldn’t help."
"I can’t," Lady Margate said. "But I know someone who might."
Ω
13 spirits, lost and found
The events of the next morning were a little hazy, as far as Koric was concerned. He had woken just after dawn to find Seb gone, and Tymon quickly breaking camp.
"There’s biscuit and hot tea by the fire," Tymon said. "You won’t have time for anything else, I’m afraid."
Koric saved his breath for eating while Tymon rolled up their bedding and got the travel packs together. When Koric was finished with his meager breakfast,Tymon put the pot away without a word and set off back up the pass towards Wylandia. Koric picked up his bundle and hurried after.
"Where are we going?"
"Where? To the Blackpits, of course."
Of course? There was nothing about it so obvious as that so far as Koric could see. He thought of Seb’s example where Tymon was concerned and decided not to press the matter just yet. He then thought of Seb the man and had to ask. "Where is Seb?"
"He’s on a different errand. I didn’t want to separate, but after last night I see we have even less time than I thought. No help for it."
Koric couldn’t resist. "Time for what? Why are we going to the Blackpits?"
"To save a kingdom or destroy it. To do great harm or great good. I haven’t quite worked out which is which yet."
After that Koric just concentrated on walking. It seemed the safest thing to do.
§
When the summons came, Duke Laras thought about taking his wife and daughter and taking ship to the Isles. It would be a temporary solution at best, he knew. Just until Prince Galan and the Duke of the Isles could settle on the price of Laras’ head. Still, it didn’t make sense to put his family at peril; Laras was pretty sure Galan would be content with the one execution, if that was his reason for the summons.
How could it have all gone so wrong?
Tymon the Black. That was the answer. And still no word from Vor; Laras suspected the worst.
There was nothing for it, Laras decided, but to play the game out to the end. He had his long unused parade armor made ready and sent couriers to gather his escort. It could not be too large, but as a duke of the kingdom he was entitled to more than a handful. He knew that if it came to a fight they would not be half enough but better to have them than not. He also decided that, short of fleeing to the Isles, there was one more precaution he could take. When preparations were well under way and he could delay it no longer, Laras went to see his lady.
Mero is not going to like this.
This proved an understatement. When he broke the news, Mero was braiding Lytea’s hair in their private rooms. She immediately gave the child to her nurse and had the servant carry her out despite Lytea’s protests, crying, and long blonde braids unraveling as she went.
"Mero, what—?"
Mero stood up. She only reached to his chin but Laras certainly felt as if she were meeting him eye to eye. "My Lord, what is all this about?"
Laras frowned. "I’ve been summoned to appear before Prince Galan. Under the circumstances–"
"Yes. The circumstances. I’m afraid that’s the part I do not understand. If I am to drag myself and your daughter to what can only be described as the middle of nothing—with all due respect to our eastern possessions, including the aptly named Seagull Keep—then Lytea is going to want to know why. What shall I tell her?"
"Why...tell her it’s an outing. An adventure. She’ll accept that."
"No doubt. Yet must I accept it as well?"
Laras rubbed his eyes. He was suddenly very, very tired. "My Lady...Mero, please don’t make this any more difficult than it already is. Just accept that I have good reasons for all that I do."
She sighed. "You are my lord. Your will is mine in all things. It is for that reason if no other I must ask if this is your will or Lord Vor’s. He is often to be found if trouble is nearby."
Laras was more than a little taken aback. He had never known Mero to take such an interest in ducal business or to question anything he’d ever done. He fumbled for a response that wouldn’t feed the gathering storm in Mero’s eyes, even as he tried to understand why it was there in the first place.
"That’s because Vor serves me in difficult matters," Laras said, stiffly. "What has this to do with Vor?"
"Nothing, as far as I know, and so knowing only that I had to ask. It’s a sensible question. Surely you have noticed his ambition?"
Now Laras’ own confusion leaned a bit toward anger. "What are you saying? I’d trust Vor with my life, even," he added, "yours. Or Lytea’s. In fact, I have done so more than once. He’s never given me reason to doubt him!"
"Nor I, in matters concerning an outside threat to your House, and that is my point. Don’t mistake me, Husband—I am very fond of Vor. When I say he is ambitious I mean only that his ambition is for you, and the House of Dyrlos. Sometimes I think it excessive."
Laras’s anger turned as quickly to confusion. "Excessive? That he champions House Dyrlos’ place in the world? You seem to feel this a problem?"
Mero looked grim. "If it has not become so, then why are you so concerned about this summons? Not annoyed, not inconvenienced, not curious. You are afraid." Laras started to protest, but Mero headed it off. "I have eyes to see, ears to hear, and a mind to think, and I know you. I am your wife, Laras, whatever else I may be. You’re worried and I want to know why. I want to know what you fear so I can face it with you, not hidden away on some Amatok-blighted rock on the borders."
Laras shook his head. "Mero, you will go where I ask, reluctantly or no, but I would rather you trusted me."
She smiled then, in a way that almost broke Laras’ heart. "I do trust you. Very well; if I am to be left in the dark I’ll need candles. And a good many blankets. I hear Seagull Keep gets very chilly this time of year."
Mero proceeded to summon servants and give instructions, and she continued to do so with the singleness of purpose of a cold mountain stream flowing downslope. Laras waited, he wasn’t sure for what reason, until it was clear there was no reason. He left without another word.
§
In only a very short time, Koric came to appreciate why the Blackpits was an area generally and best avoided.
It’s as if the lands under the sun were being invaded by the underworld!
That was the best interpretation Koric could put on it. He and Tymon walked through a landscape of nightmare. Vegetation was sparse, mostly stunted trees and lichen. As they approached the mountains it got worse. Mud stained with sulphur bubbled to the surface along their path; steaming pools of yellow-crusted water made breathing difficult.
Now I know why Tymon brought wood with him.
Tymon shifted his bundle and looked up the slope thoughtfully. "I think most of the vents are along here; farther up we should get a little relief. Let’s go."
Tymon was right, but only barely. They left the sulphur pits behind as the land rose beneath them; instead they passed steam vents and small mud flows, and spring-fed pools of hot water.
"Much better," said Tymon.
Koric nodded. "At least breathing’s easier."
"I was speaking of the hot pools. That one we just passed looks perfect for a bath."
Koric frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Tymon raised an eyebrow. "You do bathe, don’t you? I didn’t notice before; we were all a little busy and travel grimed. But if you’re going to be in our company for any extended period, well, I really must insist."
Koric blushed. "Of course I bathe! It’s just that the water looked hot enough to boil me."
"Speak of that after you’ve experienced it," Tymon said, and smiled. "Ah, well. Later. We’ve work to do."
They came to a shelf of rock about twenty yards wide before a sheer rock face that seemed to reach to the sky. Tymon dropped the bundle and pulled out his twine and carving blade, and now Koric was pleased to see he was wrong about the wood. Not a campfire—a golem. Koric watched closely and did what he was told. Soon there was a small wooden mannequin lying on the rock. Tymon carved the glyph but the animation of the golem seemed to take longer than Koric remembered. A look of intense concentration came to Tymon’s face, and Koric didn’t feel it wise to speak until the golem stirred and sat up, then looked around it with an eyeless face made of sulphurous mud.
"Welcome,” Tymon said. "You took a bit of finding."
There was a movement from the golem, a twitching in what passed for its shoulders. Koric wondered if that was the golem equivalent of a shrug, but he tried not to wonder very much. The thing slowly stood on its spindly legs, fought for balance, found it. Even though Koric had seen this before, it still gave him a chill to the pit of his stomach to see inanimate wood and twine come to life. It wasn’t just movement; Koric sensed to the core of his being that, somehow, the simacrulum was alive, and that was the biggest chill of all.
Koric glanced at Tymon and realized something he hadn’t before, something that was probably true the first time Koric had seen Tymon create a golem. The magician was watching the creature intently, with a trace of that same awe that Koric felt clearly visible.
Maybe you never really get used to it, he thought. At least not completely.
Tymon addressed the creature. "You know the terms. If you’ve accepted, then there’s no time to lose."
The creature turned and set off along the eastern face of the shelf, its little stick legs click clicking along the stone. Tymon followed without a word; Koric quickly hoisted his pack and followed.
"Where are we going?" Koric asked as he caught up.
"Hmmm? Oh, didn’t I explain that part? We’re here to find the two lost princes of Wylandia."
Koric frowned. "This thing knows the way?"
"Of course. Who better?"
"Who...?"
Tymon sighed. “I didn’t explain that part either, did I? And I suppose there are niceties, such as a bow when you’re introduced...a moment, Your Majesty."
The golem hesitated, turned to face them with what passed for its face.
"Your Majesty, may I present Koric of Borasur?"
Koric just stared. "Majesty? That golem—"
"That golem, Lad," Tymon said, "is the former King Yakaran I of Wylandia."
Not having a better idea, Koric bowed. The introductions out of the way, they continued, with the golem moving rapidly and Koric and Tymon close behind. He followed when the golem led them into the deepest, blackest cave that Koric had ever seen. They paused only long enough to light a torch, and they quickly moved down into the mountain.
Koric shivered. Nothing in his experience had prepared him for this, not even his time at Kuldun. Within the space of a month he had gone from a reluctant farmhand to would-be scholar to...well, he wasn’t quite sure about that part yet. All he knew was that now he followed close behind a man rumored to be the wickedest creature on earth, who in turn followed a former king who was now a mannequin of wood and clay down into the depths of hell. Koric would have laughed, if he hadn’t been too afraid that the sound would make the cavern roof crash down on his head.
They moved through near darkness. Tymon held a torch, which was all the light they had. The golem made a spindly shadow as it tap tapped down a smooth corridor ahead; Tymon in turn cast his own shadow back on Koric, so that the boy walked in darkness much of the time. At first the cave was like Koric expected a cave to be: cold and damp. Later it got much warmer. In places fire showed through rents in the wall and cracks in the floor and the air was sulphurous and stifling. He stepped carefully over a small river of lava and was relieved to find the ground beneath his feet sloping upward, and the air turning cooler. There was a freshening of the atmosphere as well; almost a breeze, and Koric knew there had to be an air shaft nearby. Even the light was better.
Why is the light better?
Of course. Koric finally noticed one more thing that he hadn’t before: the golem was on fire.
"Ah, Master Tymon—"
"I know. His Late Majesty walked across that last lava flow like a water-strider across a pond. I guess when you’ve been a spirit long enough certain physical realities tend to be forgotten."
"Shouldn’t we extinguish him?"
"A grand idea. I’m open to suggestions."
Koric, cursing himself for a slow-wit, finally saw the extent of the problem. They’d set off so quickly from their camp that even their travel cloaks had been left behind. They had no water, and nothing to smother the flames. The golem, for his part, stumped along with even more determination but not much more speed. Both its legs were well engulfed and the flames were licking about its trunk and, even more ominous, the cords that bound its legs and trunk together.
"I don’t think it’s much farther," Tymon said. "We can only hope the mystery gives way before His Majesty’s limbs do the same."
They almost made it. Koric saw the cords fray and begin to part just as they came to a widening of the cavern. Another halting step and the cords snapped. The golem, now burning throughout, fell into a heap like a pile of kindling and burned down to embers almost as fast. The clay of its face hissed as its moisture steamed away and it began to crumble. Its right arm, now a blackened cinder, stretched out ahead of the glowing remains.
"Well blast ... Yet it’s clear enough that he was pointing straight ahead," Tymon said. Let’s go on."
The cavern continued to widen; now Koric heard the sound of dripping water and the nature of their surroundings was changing as they walked. Koric thought they were ascending slightly but it was hard to be sure. "The cave seems a little different here," he observed.
"That’s because it is a cave, finally," Tymon said. "I think up until now we’ve been traveling through a lava tube that was only partly dormant. I think the vulcanism here in the Blackpits is much more recent than the age of the original cave system suggests. Look here ...." Tymon pointed to a fissure in the wall where the passage they traveled opened out into darkness. "The lava path actually touched one of the water-created caverns. Probably only in the last thousand years or so."
Koric blinked. Last thousand? "Doesn’t sound very recent to me," he said.
Tymon smiled. "Could be wrong; it’s a guess. Still, it makes sense that a lava flow takes much less time than hewing out a cave with drops of water. I’m guessing we’re only now reaching the mountain cave system proper; a lava tube would have been part of a layer created by a later eruption."
Koric sighed. "I don’t understand any of that."
"Ask the curate next time you’re in Kuldun. The references are there. So. What’s this?"
Tymon held his torch in the opening. The way was blocked by a huge pile of broken stones, apparently where part of the roof some thirty feet overhead had fallen in.
Koric looked it over. "This at least fits the description of the incident. What do we do now?"
"Now we go in and see if his late majesty was full of beans or no."
Koric blinked. "The passage is sealed, Master Tymon. Even with some of your golems to help it will take days to clear."
Tymon smiled. "I try to reserve golems for the more appropriate uses. Besides, the entrance is not completely sealed. Look at the torch."
Koric looked at the flame and was a little startled to see that it was leaning toward the opening as if being pulled there. Koric took a step closer and could now feel the same breeze that Tymon and the torch felt. Tymon nodded. "Rubble might have been more of a problem. Large stones don’t pack very well; there are always instabilities. It probably wouldn’t take as much to shift them as you might think. Stand back a bit."
Koric was more than happy to oblige, retreating back into the darkness as far as he dared, while keeping his eyes fixed on the light cast by Tymon’s torch. Koric wasn’t sure what to expect but was pretty sure that Tymon, standing in front of the rockfall and doing absolutely nothing that Koric could see, wasn’t it. When the minutes had stretched beyond counting and Koric now shifted from one foot to the other and stretched periodically to keep from falling asleep, Tymon finally did something. Koric still wasn’t quite sure what. As far as he could see, Tymon had simply reached out with his walking staff and poked one massive boulder the size of a small cottage. Whatever the cause, Koric saw the result immediately. A stone larger than Koric near the top of the pile shifted, then tumbled down end over end, taking several other large stones with it as it crashed to the cavern floor below.
Koric closed his eyes against the cloud of dust and debris that rolled up from the rockslide, and for a moment after he opened his eyes he could still see nothing. "Tymon!"
"Right here, Lad." Tymon stood beside Koric, his torch still lit, himself not even bruised and barely dusty.
"What did you do?" Koric asked, still not quite ready to believe what he’d seen.
"I very politely asked the stones if they would move. Only one did, but then we only needed one. Let’s go see."
There was still a large tumble of rocks blocking the entranceway, only now the stones did not quite reach the cavern ceiling. Tymon slowly climbed the tumulus, Koric close behind. When they reached the top they stood in a hole in the barrier just a little taller than themselves. Tymon lowered the torch to keep the backwash of flames out of their cloaks and slipped inside. After a moment’s hesitation Koric followed, stepping down carefully behind the will o wisp of Tymon’s torch as the magician climbed down the opposite side of the rockfall, and farther down than the floor of the cave on the opposite side.
This room is much larger.
It was only when he stood with Tymon again on the cavern floor did he realize just how much larger. Even in the weak torchlight it was obvious that the room was enormous. The roof was barely visible as a faint glimmer high overhead. They stood, as best Koric could tell, near one end of the long, vast space. Spires of stone reached up around them like a forest; the torchlight caught bright reflections in rock crystal and moist stone.
