“She so loves that,” Ameras sighed. “She really does have an acute appreciation of beauty.”
“That . . . that was a wonder,” Fondaras sighed. “I’d never made it this far into the interior on my previous trips. I’d heard about the glittering lake, but never had a chance to see it. Particularly not in the company of a dragon.”
“They are likely only active in the summer,” Lilastien offered. “A few brief weeks of spectacle, and then they probably go quiescent for the cooler months.”
“Aye, they don’t appear much past late summer,” agreed Rolof. “Can you see now why I might have preferred Anghysbel, Minalan? There are wonders here. Without magic.”
I nodded. The display had been captivating, like the light shows and effects that were becoming popular with the magi in Sevendor and Vanador. Only it had been completely natural. The addition to the dragon had added to the sense of wonder. I knew I had to bring Alya here to watch it with me.
Everyone was in a very good mood, after our chat with Avius and witnessing the glittering lake. We built the fire up and sipped on beet rum and talked far into the night about the state of the world and the path ahead. We explained about the coming devastation of the valley, the Cave of the Ancients, and the sorry state of politics in both the Five Duchies and among the Alka Alon.
It was decided that we would make the brief trek to the east to survey the vault Ameras was guarding the next day – it wasn’t far, apparently. Even if she could not open it, I wanted to see it. So did Lilastien. After that, Rolof promised to take us to where we could acquire a sample of the glassy substance that could – theoretically – aid in the snowstone spell. That lay somewhere within the forbidden Leshwood, apparently.
“We will have to be careful,” Rolof explained, quietly, as the night grew late and our friends began to curl up and fall asleep around the fire. “I have friends there, but the Leshwood is wild and dangerous country. We will have to be on our guard.”
“You have friends there?” Lilastien asked, surprised. “People live there?”
“No, not human nor Alon,” he said, shaking his head. “The lizard folk fear it and give it a wide berth. A few hardy fellows know it well enough to traverse it, but no one would want to live there if there was a better alternative. The Kasari have been known to, and Davachan walks there with impunity.”
“Davachan,” I nodded. “I’ve met him twice, now. Odd fellow. I heard a bit about his history from the Kilnusk. He even invited me to meet his master,” I chuckled. I’d told Rolof about it, but I was interested in Ameras’ perspective on the odd invitation.
That produced an anxious glance between Ameras and Rolof. “And how did you answer?” Ameras asked, slowly.
“I said I would think about it,” I shrugged. “I have a pretty full itinerary. Working that in might be difficult.”
“I urge you to consider carefully before making your decision,” Rolof said, quietly.
“Davachan said that his master could give me the answers to my questions. I’m dubious, of course, but it was an intriguing offer.”
“Szal the Yith is not to be trifled with,” Ameras said, shaking her tiny head. “Do you know the lore of the Yith?”
“I’ve barely heard the name, and I’m a scholar of lore,” admitted Lilastien. “What is the Yith?”
“My father first told me about them when I was a young girl,” Ameras said. “It was one of his lectures on the mysteries of this world and the great powers herein. The Great Race of Yith is not from Callidore. Indeed, their race is eons and eons older than this world, spawned at the very beginnings of the universe. They were old when the Vundel were young,” she reported, her voice taking on a dreamy quality.
“That’s a difficult thing to conceive of,” Fondaras said, thoughtfully.
“It is true,” insisted Ameras. “They are truly immortal. Only a few other beings are known to be able to slay them. Yet they conceal themselves from them, and have, for eons, as if they were vulnerable. Few have ever gazed upon the true form of the Yith, for they embed themselves in deep places where they . . . where they do their work,” she said, faltering.
“What kind of work?” I asked, intrigued.
“The Yith do not travel through the stars often,” Rolof explained. “But they do explore. They are intensely telepathic, and like the Celestial Mothers and other powerful species they can cast their perceptions out into the universe. Perhaps even into other dimensions. Then they join their minds to those they chose and experience their perceptions.”
“Like a beastmaster,” I nodded. “I can see how that might be useful.”
Rolof shook his head. “It is no mere passive touch, Minalan. The Yith possess their . . . subjects,” he said, distastefully. “They take control of them, if only for an instant. In that instant, the Yith learns everything you ever knew. And they will remember it for all time. They are the ultimate observers in the universe. It is the goal of the Yith to learn everything they can about the entire universe, throughout time. To what purpose, I cannot say – Nature, or their creators, perhaps, compels them.”
“So why did one of these creatures come here?” Taren asked.
“Because it was being pursued by some other force and asked the Celestial Mothers for refuge, in ages past. The Mothers agreed, and Szal built deep mansions within the earth and guarded them against attack. One of his mansions lies here, in Anghysbel, within a deep crypt. The jevolar allows Szal to conduct his work with more clarity, here. Like Avius, his telepathic abilities are hampered by the Magosphere.
“Szal finds Callidore . . . interesting,” Rolof continued, his voice laced with bitterness. “There are few worlds where magic exists, and this one has long persisted. While he casts his mind out into the void, he frequently takes an interest in this world. He has possessed millions of beings’ minds on Callidore, over the millennia. He never interferes, merely observes and remembers. He will observe the destruction of most life on Callidore, but he will not intervene. Even if the Formless are released from their imprisonment.”
“I can’t imagine the Formless would just let him sit by and watch,” Taren snorted. “Not if what we’ve come to know about them is true.”
“Even they would be hard-pressed to overcome the power of the Yith, if they were foolish enough to attack Szal,” Ameras assured. “He knows . . . everything. Every science, every magic, every technology that his mind has reached. But the Yith are not belligerent. Szal would retreat to one of his other mansions and defy them, until some day he would witness their extinction. In a few million years, or so. If not longer,” she said, shuddering.
“We would only be a memory in Szal’s mind, by then,” Rolof nodded. “As have passed many mighty civilizations before. There was a Yith on humanity’s homeworld, once, it is said. Not that it matters. We are just fleeting entertainments, to Szal.”
“That all sounds fairly harmless,” Taren pointed out.
“It is not for Szal’s subjects,” Rolof continued, darkly. “For every second spent under the influence of the Yith, the subject of his interest spends the time within the mind of Szal. Enduring the memories of some other creature’s life, pulled from Szal’s vast memory.
“They experience every moment of that life,” he continued, his voice quiet and low, the emotion suppressed with effort. “Not just the knowledge that they possess. But every hope, every dream, every joy, and every horrific tragedy. Everything. And in the next second, you experience another. And then another. Nor are the minds you touch human, necessarily. Some may have existed in eons past, on worlds you cannot possibly imagine. They have senses you cannot guess, perceiving things you never suspected were there, feeling emotions you didn’t know were possible. Doing things you would consider horrific. And you must live with that.”
“The entire thing sounds horrific,” Lilastien agreed. “That would cause madness!”
“It frequently does,” agreed Rolof. “It fades, over time, if the subject has a strong will and a
stronger mind. If he is sufficiently powerful, he can at least guide his way through the chaos and direct the course of experiences to learn what he desires to learn. But he will ever be changed. Haunted by the ghosts of memories of others whose stars are long-dead ashes. So consider carefully before entertaining the offer of Szal the Yith,” he warned.
“The price of knowledge,” Fondaras said, shaking his head. “You sound like you speak from personal experience, lad,” he said, probingly.
“I was tempted by Davachan’s offer,” he said, his voice hoarse and his face shadowed by the flickering firelight. “He said that Szal the Yith could answer my questions. I considered hastily. But then I agreed. For seven seconds the Yith was in my mind. And I will forever bear the memories of seven other entities.”
“What did you learn?” Taren asked, somberly. “Did he answer your questions?”
“Yes, he did,” the broken wizard answered in a kind of despairing sob. “And I learned that my questions were not worth asking.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Arsenal of Kova Salainen
In the middle of a wasteland is a small mountain with a cave in it, wherein lies a great big door we can’t possibly open. So much for our quest.
from the Expedition Book of Anghysbel,
Recorded by Ormar the Alchemist
I started the next morning by calling my wife on the radio.
It was time to check in, and I didn’t want her to worry. It took a few moments to make contact with Gareth, who was also wearing one of the devices, and he was able to bring it to her fairly quickly.
“How are things going?” she asked, her voice anxious.
“Mostly uneventful,” I answered. “Just one little sudden cyclops attack. We found Rolof. And Ameras. We’re working on our next move.”
“A cyclops attack?” she asked, her voice sounding surprised and upset.
“It was just the one. We contended with it,” I said, defensively. “How are things at the cave?”
“I’m learning a lot,” she admitted, though I could tell she didn’t want to change the subject. “Forseti is teaching me things about our ancestors. It’s pretty interesting,” she said, cautiously. “There’s still a lot I don’t understand, and I have to pause and ask him questions . . . which leads to more questions.”
“Our ancestors were a sophisticated people,” I agreed.
“More than you suspect. Forseti has been teaching me about colonial government and our early history. Did you know that there were over a hundred thousand people involved in the initial phase of colonization?” she asked. “Terraformers, surveyors, scientists, engineers . . . the machines they had!” she said.
“You’re talking through one of them,” I agreed. “When I get back, I want to bring you up to this lake for a day. I don’t want to explain why, and ruin the surprise, but I think you’ll be gratified.”
“You said you found Rolof? And Ameras?” she asked. “Are they going to help?”
“I think we’ve persuaded them,” I answered. “They are at least open to the idea. We’re headed to the vault, today. Just to take a look. We’ll see what happens afterwards.”
“But you’re sure you’re all right?” she asked. “No trouble from the gurvani?”
“Not so far,” I sighed. “But we’re well-defended. These weapons are effective, as we found with the cyclops. I’m not concerned.”
“I am!” she insisted. “Nattia reported that she saw signs of them near that forbidden forest and crossing the Plain of Pillars. They’re on both sides of you!”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” I soothed, as I glanced toward the island in the middle of the lake. Avius had awakened, and after stretching her legs and wings, she took flight. “We’ve made some good friends, while we’ve been out here.”
“Who?” she demanded. “The lizard people? Forseti explained to me about the lizard people. They’re supposed to be intelligent!” She sounded scandalized by the idea.
“They’re supposedly the descendants of scientists and researchers, so I’d imagine they have that capacity,” I agreed. “But we haven’t seen any, yet. We aren’t planning on heading anywhere close to their territory, to my knowledge. But I’ll let you know if that changes,” I promised, as Avius made a single lazy circle around the lake and then started to glide in toward the little cove where we were encamped. “Uh, I think I have to go,” I warned Alya, over the radio. “I have to talk to a dragon. Love you!”
“Minalan! What? Are you joking?” she demanded, anxiously.
“I’ll explain later,” I promised. “I have to go, now! Farewell!” I said, shutting off the device before she could protest further. Avius landed gracefully in the water just as I set it down. “Hail, Avius!” I called to her, waving.
Hail, Minalan, the dragon replied. Did you enjoy the show, last night?
“It was magnificent!” I agreed. “Your own part, included.”
My part? What did I do? she asked, confused. I just watched.
“I think you underestimate just how majestic you look in flight,” I flattered. “With the shadows and the graceful flying and the gout of dragon fire? That was spectacular to see,” I assured her.
Well, you are nice to say so, Avius said, clearly pleased. Do you really think so?
“I do. It is sad that your folk were used so horrendously by the Enshadowed, else I think my people would be tempted to admire you to the point of adoration. Or even worship you, like the lizard people.”
They are foolish, she said, chuckling in my head. But they mean well. And they are not even remotely as interesting as you are. They’re worried about hunting and protecting their eggs, and that’s about it.
“Most species’ concerns are similar,” I said, coming down to the edge of the water as the dragon pushed her head closer. I was still tempted to suddenly run away screaming, but I mastered my baser emotions. “Eating and reproduction are constant concerns for all living things. Your own kind must have some similar anxieties over them,” I suggested.
I suppose we do, she agreed. But once those are satisfied, we can converse on other topics. At least I can, she amended. But the lizard folk seem obsessive about it.
“I’m curious,” I said, taking a seat on a rock near the water. “What would you do with a nest of eggs? I’m informed that is how your folk reproduce.”
Oh, I escaped before I could be bred, she assured. They were planning on it, too. But if I had been, I suppose I would have protected them until they hatched.
“The reason that I ask is that, sadly, the Enshadowed forced one of you to attack one of our castles. She was killed in the attack,” I said, carefully not thinking about just who was involved in that particular dragon slaying. “It was discovered, afterwards, that the poor thing was near to laying her eggs. Two were recovered,” I reported.
You have . . . two eggs? Avius asked, her head jerking up at the news. I tried not to piss myself. It may have been impolite. Two dragon eggs?
“Apparently,” I nodded, digging out my pipe with sweaty palms. I realized that one casual bit of dragon fire at this range and I would be cooked like a joint of mutton. “We have them in safe keeping.”
If they are not with a dragon, then they are not truly safe! she insisted. You must bring them to me!
“Would you hatch them, if I did?” I asked, curious. “The Alka Alon are attempting to hatch them, now.”
And then enslave them, she insisted, with a snort. They will not be free. Bring them to me, she urged. I will tend them. They will not hatch unless they are kept warm. Warm with dragon fire, she added.
“I will . . . I will discuss it with the Council,” I agreed. “If I can, I will send them to you. Just to keep them out of the hands of the Enshadowed. If you can promise to keep them safely up here, in the north, and away from the temptation of eating a couple of castles.”
They will not want to leave this place, she agreed. They cannot speak, elsewhere. If you cannot speak, then you cannot
think.
“It’s a little more complicated than that, I think, but I understand what you are saying. I will look into the matter and see what I can accomplish.”
I will not allow any more of us to be enslaved, she insisted, as she growled low in her throat. By anyone. I would be vexed at that.
I suppose you couldn’t put it more simply than that – or mistake the threat she implied.
We chatted for another thirty minutes or so, and I was intrigued by how intelligent Avius was. She was still learning sophistication, in some ways, so it was similar to speaking to a very intelligent child who had a very different upbringing than most, and far different perspective; but once you overcame that, Avius was actually quite pleasant to talk to.
She excused herself for an extended flight around the valley, once I told her that we were going to head away from the lake. The rest of camp had already been broken by the others, and Travid and Tyndal had the horses saddled. We’d had to picket them away from the lake, thanks to the smell of dragon. Horses were generally skittish around the scent, I’d noticed.
Ameras rode double with Rolof, who had taken Travid’s mount. The Kasari ranger walked, carrying his rifle, alert for any danger. I kept my own weapons ready. The forests around the lake may have been relatively peaceful, according to Rolof, but I was getting used to the surprises Anghysbel seemed to hold around every turn. Indeed, we enjoyed another mild earthquake, midmorning, as we crossed from the forested highlands of the ridge into the deep vale below – the Gouge, Rolof called it.
From there, the country turned to desert. That is, the plants grew smaller and more sparsely across the land, and the bare earth beneath became more prominent. It had a savage beauty all its own, as the rock formations and mineral deposits of the Plain of Pillars gave way to drifts of sandy soil and stony outcroppings. We tarried at the edge of the desolation, proper, for luncheon by a spring before we watered the horses and entered the last phase of the journey.
Footwizard Page 44