The Master

by Louise Cooper

  Cyllan looked fearfully around at the other witnesses, who formed a rough semi-circle at a respectful distance from the triumvirate at the altar. The old scholar, Isyn, craning forward to hear the ritual words; two Sisters with their veils to their faces, silently mouthing prayers; and furthest from her the tall, graceful figure of Sashka, whose eyes were feverishly alight, face avid with excitement and pride. There, Cyllan thought, was the greatest betrayer of all - the fickle and greedy heart whose self-interest had brought them all to this …

  Suddenly a hollow silence fell as the prayer Keridil had been intoning ended. Fenar and Ilyaya raised their heads, and the High Initiate stepped forward so that the light pouring from the sacred chalice fell on him, setting his gold robe and circlet on fire with brilliance and casting a vivid halo around his fair hair. Cyllan heard someone - she thought it must be Sashka - gasp with poorly controlled eagerness, and then Keridil raised both hands high to begin the Exhortation to the Ultimate, the final words that he would speak before raising the lid of the gold casket. The High Initiate tilted his head back to gaze heavenward - and stopped, movement arrested as though a dagger had pierced his heart and struck him dead. Everyone heard his sharp, involuntary intake of breath - then he turned, staring up past the company, back to the opening of the chasm in the rock wall.

  Cyllan knew what he must have seen even before she read the confirmation in his face. And there, on the ledge overlooking the crater’s bowl, a solitary figure stood staring down at them. Barefoot, dressed only in a black shirt and trousers, his hair salt-matted and dried to wild tangles by the wind, he had none of his enemy’s magnificence - but a quiet, deadly power radiated from him that dwarfed Keridil’s ceremonial splendour to a hollow parody.

  Amid shocked silence the High Initiate took a step forward. His right hand reached unthinkingly for a sword that wasn’t there, but he was the only one of the company who moved as Tarod crossed the ledge to the path and began to descend. He reached the crater floor, and for long moments the two adversaries gazed at each other from a distance while a myriad emotions crossed Keridil’s face. Then, slowly, Tarod approached.

  Cyllan felt her upper arms suddenly and painfully gripped by the two Initiates beside her, and as Tarod drew nearer she was pulled roughly back, away from him. He stopped. For an instant venom glittered in his green eyes, then he looked at the High Initiate once more.

  Tell your Adepts to stay their hands, Keridil. I wish no harm to anyone here.’

  ‘How did you - ‘ Keridil started to say; then stopped.

  The whys and wherefores of how Tarod had duped or evaded the Guardians to reach the crater undetected were irrelevant - he was here; that alone mattered. But though he had planned for this moment, the manner of Tarod’s arrival had thrown Keridil’s scheme into disorder and caught him unawares. He didn’t know what to do …

  Aware of Keridil’s discomfiture. Tarod turned and walked to where Cyllan was held by her guards. The two Initiates fell back as he approached; with no direct command from Keridil they were unsure of themselves, and afraid of the man before them. Tarod took Cyllan’s wrists; she felt a small tingling shock, and the cords that bound her fell away, writhing, to the ground before Tarod raised her hands to his lips and kissed her fingers in a brief but significant gesture. As he raised his head again Cyllan saw, over his shoulder, Sashka staring at them. Her face was frozen into a look that confirmed everything - hatred, blind jealousy, rage, the final realisation that she had lost all sway over Tarod, and her utter refusal to accept that such a thing could be true. By his simple gesture to Cyllan, Tarod had delivered Sashka a vicious blow, and her pride couldn’t bear it. As Tarod turned back to the company she continued to stare at him, ready, it seemed, to tear him apart with her fingernails in sheer fury; but he looked through her as though she didn’t exist, and his eyes focused on Keridil.

  ‘There’s no more need for conflict,’ he said. ‘And no need for what the Conclave has resolved to do.’

  Keridil’s face went white. ‘You dare to presume that you can stop it? Gods, I thought you arrogant, but never as arrogant as this!’ He had recovered from the initial shock of Tarod’s appearance, and his confidence was restored. ‘We’re not in the Castle now. This is Aeoris’s sacred place; the greatest stronghold of Order - you have no power here, whatever your dark masters might have deluded you into believing!’

  Tarod shook his dark head and smiled thinly. He looked tired, Cyllan thought - tired and drained and troubled. ‘I am not deluded, Keridil,’ he replied, ‘and you misunderstand my meaning. I haven’t come to challenge you.’

  Keridil’s eyes narrowed. ‘You wear the ring of Chaos, and you expect me to believe that?’

  ‘Yes,’ Tarod said. He looked at the High Initiate for another moment as though trying to calculate whether or not he would intervene. Then he drew the silver ring slowly from his finger and, holding it in the palm of his hand, turned to where Fenar Alacar was standing staring as though transfixed at him. This was the first time the young High Margrave had set eyes on the Chaos demon of whom he had heard so many horrifying tales, and when his gaze met Tarod’s he blanched visibly.

  Tarod took two steps towards him, then, to Fenar’s and Keridil’s astonished chagrin, bowed formally and with the greatest courtesy.

  ‘High Margrave. I pledge to you my loyalty and my fealty, and my word that I serve you in the name of Aeoris.’ He made the Sign and straightened, his eyes suddenly intense. ‘I have been accused of a great many crimes, High Margrave - in some instances I am guilty; in many I am not. Above all, my fealty to our gods, the Lords of Order, has never wavered. I don’t serve Chaos -I renounce it and reject it, as I have done since the day of my Initiation. And I surrender this stone as proof of my good faith.’

  Fenar Alacar, his eyes wide, backed away as though Tarod held a Warp in his hand. Tarod hesitated, and his fingers closed over the stone once more.

  ‘Yes, sir; it’s an evil gem; I won’t deny it. But whatever might have been said of me, I don’t want to bring Chaos back to this world - I’ve already seen the madness that the mere fear of Chaos has loosed on the land, and if the Conclave’s resolve is carried out, and Order and Chaos conflict, that madness could erupt into full-scale destruction. Enough harm has already been done. I have the means to destroy this stone by commending it into the hands of Aeoris himself - and I ask you to stop this rite and allow me, instead, to carry out that pledge.’

  ‘M-madness?’ Fenar’s voice squeaked on the second syllable and his face flushed angrily. ‘You speak of madness, but the only madness I see is that which you have perpetrated - and which you try to perpetrate with your lies now! You think that a few cleverly chosen words can sway us from our rightful and holy duty - you’re wrong, demon! You’re wrong!’ He licked his lips and looked to his peers for confirmation. Keridil’s expression was indecipherable but the Matriarch nodded grim encouragement.

  ‘You come too late to use your trickery, creature of Chaos,’ Ilyaya Kimi told Tarod with venom. ‘You have been the source of much evil in this world, but that evil will be tolerated no longer! Aeoris shall return - he will destroy you, and when you are destroyed he will root out all who have strayed from the ordained path and they will be punished! There’ll be none of your wicked spawn left behind to carry on your work when you are gone!’

  Tarod had a sudden and terrible insight into the Matriarch’s vision of the gods’ judgement. ‘How can you say that Aeoris will punish his own people, when their only failing has been that of fear?’ he demanded. ‘There has been no crime!’

  Fenar, whose confidence was growing by the moment, said contemptuously, ‘Ha!’ and Ilyaya’s eyes glinted coldly. There has been sin,’ she said implacably ‘We have seen its corruption throughout the land, and we have seen the brave efforts made to bring its perpetrators to account - but it’s not enough! It must be utterly expurgated, and the greater the sin, the greater the expurgation.’

  Tarod stared at her, appalled, and remembered the
sickening injustices he had seen as he travelled; the burning fields, the slaughtered animals, the mockeries of trials that sent innocent folk to their deaths. And the Matriarch spoke of brave efforts … He said, his voice harsh with emotion, ‘But there’s no call to resort to such savagery! The stone can simply be destroyed - surely you can see the wisdom in that? This way, there will be bloodshed and misery of such an order that it doesn’t bear thinking about. It could be avoided!’

  ‘Aeoris will extract his price,’ said Ilyaya stubbornly.

  ‘And we, who are his chosen, will be the instruments of his justice and mercy.’

  ‘Mercy?’ Tarod’s face was haggard.

  ‘Yes, mercy.’ She all but spat the word back at him.

  ‘And those whose souls are pure need not fear, for though they suffer greatly in the trial, they will not be found wanting.’

  It was blind dogma - the Matriarch spoke nothing but meaningless cant, and yet, Tarod realised, no reason in the world would shake her. As for Fenar Alacar - perhaps he could expect no better from an arrogant and inexperienced boy in the throes of his first true taste of power, but the High Margrave’s refusal to listen made mockery of Tarod’s hopes. He was about to entreat them one last time to consider what he had to say, when a new voice spoke harshly behind him.

  ‘Kill him, Keridil.’ He knew the tones only too well.

  ‘He lies, and he attempts to blind us, as the High Margrave and Lady Matriarch have already seen. Kill him now. Send him to Aeoris, and let’s see how his protestations of loyalty fare when he confronts the god he professes to worship!’

  A shocked silence followed Sashka’s outburst, but as everyone turned to look at her Tarod saw a glint of approval in Ilyaya Kimi’s eyes. The girl was staring at Tarod, every fibre radiating loathing and fury, and before Keridil could react Ilyaya Kimi said, ‘Your consort speaks out of turn, Keridil, but she speaks good sense nonetheless.’

  ‘Yes, Keridil.’ Fenar Alacar was determined not to be in the minority. ‘Your lady is right - and you yourself have warned us often enough of this demon’s duplicity! I say, kill him.’

  Tarod was looking at Sashka, his eyes contemptuous.

  ‘I’d expect little better counsel from the High Initiate’s consort,’ he said almost gently, ‘And, to me at least, her motives are pitifully clear.’ He bowed sardonically to the girl, ‘I’m sorry, Sashka, that I disappoint you by my refusal to wring my hands in anguish at your rejection of me.’

  Sashka’s mouth tightened into a vicious line and her cheeks flamed; Tarod saw Keridil’s quick, chagrined glance in her direction and realised just how successfully Sashka had blinded her new lover to her true nature. It seemed that the High Initiate was about to make an angry outburst, but Tarod forestalled him.

  ‘Very well. Kill me now, Keridil - or try. But there is an alternative, if what I’ve already said can’t move you.’

  Keridil stared at him. ‘It cannot. And any .alternative you may suggest is pointless.’

  ‘Is it? Even if I were to ask that I be allowed to plead my case to Aeoris himself?’

  The slight frown that appeared on the High Initiate’s face rekindled the last slender hope that remained.

  Unreason might prevail amongst his peers, but Keridil had never been one to allow dogma alone to sway him, and he could see that his adversary’s offer left no room for trickery. Before he could speak, however, the Matriarch hissed deep in her throat and said, ‘The demon has a silver tongue! I counsel you not to heed him, Keridil. He must die. There is no more to be said.’

  Sashka smiled, and Fenar Alacar nodded vigorously.

  ‘Kill him.’

  Keridil glanced at the auburnhaired girl beside him and saw the unholy light that gleamed with a clear message in her eyes.

  ‘He deserves far worse than death,’ she said. ‘But death is a beginning … ‘

  And Keridil, though he wished with all his heart that he could have remained in ignorance, began to understand …

  Tarod watched them all, his unquiet gaze flickering from one to another. It took great self-control to keep silent but he knew that to speak now would be to wreck this one final, perilous chance. Keridil’s hatred of him was intense but beneath the High Initiate’s prejudice reason was struggling to find a foothold. And Tarod was gambling on his one-time friend’s unwillingness to be pressurised into a decision to which he might be irreversibly committed.

  Encouraged by Keridil’s silence, Sashka said suddenly, ‘My love, if - ‘ but got no further as, to her discomfiture, Keridil looked quickly at her with suspicion and anger in his eyes. Wo,’ he said, then raised both hands as his other companions made to protest. ‘No. If Tarod is willing to face the ultimate arbiter, I won’t deny such a request.’ He looked at them all in turn, his eyes suddenly cold and challenging. ‘I haven’t the sanction to deny it. What temporal power may refuse any man - ‘

  he touched his tongue to his lips, ‘any man, whatever his nature, the right to plead directly to the gods who rule us all?’ He looked at Tarod, his eyes suspicious and unhappy. ‘Ironically, you and I seem to agree on one matter at least - that it is better if needless suffering can be avoided. I grant your request.’

  Sashka hissed, ‘Keridil - ‘ and the Matriarch’s face reddened with impotent anger. ‘Keridil, think what you’re saying! This demon has duped you before and it’s plain to me that he means to dupe you again! You cannot do this; I forbid it!’

  The High Initiate turned to her. Something within him had turned to ashes, and the bitterness - which, as yet, he couldn’t even begin to comprehend - brought anger and a sense of personal injustice in its wake.

  ‘You cannot forbid it, madam.’ His tone was cold, bleak. ‘Unless, that is, you would care to stand before that votive light and raise the lid of the casket with your own hands … ? Or you, High Margrave … ? No;I thought not. That responsibility is mine alone, and if I am to accept it - as I do - then I’ll brook no interference.’

  He smiled faintly but with no pretence at humour.

  ‘Besides, to believe that any duplicity Tarod might be planning could prevail in the face of Aeoris’s power would be, I think, tantamount to blasphemy.’

  Ilyaya’s jaw dropped and the High Margrave paled.

  Sashka moved towards Keridil, one hand outstretched as though to touch his arm then thought better of it.

  Keridil faced Tarod once more.

  ‘I give you this one chance, Tarod. Not for your sake, but because I’ve seen what’s afoot in this land and I want it to end. I hope … ‘ he hesitated then shook his head.

  ‘No matter. Let it be done.’

  He had been about to say, I hope Aeoris extracts payment threefold for the evil you’ve done, but suddenly the words seemed hollow, meaningless; and Keridil was no longer sure of their validity. This wasn’t the time to question his own subconscious motivations; all he knew was that a goal which once had seemed so bright had been tarnished and at the heart of the tarnish was doubt.

  Sashka’s eyes, as she gazed at Tarod, mixed hatred with a desire that betrayed the High Initiate’s deepest-rooted suspicions; his peers’ determination to have revenge at any price and without thought for the consequences …

  He had learned a good deal on the long journey South through stricken villages and frightened towns and ruined farmlands, and the harshest lesson of all was the fallibility of human judgement, not least his own. If it wasn’t too late to redress the balance, history might at least grant that achievement to his credit.

  He said: ‘I ask you all for silence. If anyone is not yet prepared in mind and heart for what is to come, I exhort you to prepare yourselves now.’

  No one spoke. The two Initiates had relinquished their hold on Cyllan but she didn’t move. Tarod stood motionless, the silver ring with its deadly stone glinting in his cupped hands as Keridil turned his back on the assembly and walked, with the slow deliberation of one in doubt of his own strength, towards the votive altar at the centre of the great bowl. The light f
rom the eternally burning chalice spilled over and around him, casting a grotesque shadow; for perhaps two or three minutes he stood with his head bowed. Tarod’s arrival had interrupted the Exhortation to the Ultimate, the final rite which tradition dictated must be completed before his hand touched the casket. Keridil had carefully memorised the formalised phrases, the long, elaborate sentences … and suddenly he thought: damn tradition.

  Briefly, silently, his lips formed the words of a very private prayer. Then he reached out both his hands and brought his fingers to rest on the glittering casket.

  It felt cold and yet hot together; a sensation his senses couldn’t assimilate and which defied description. No human hand had touched this artefact since the day Aeoris himself had commended it into the custody of the first High Initiate of all …

  His fingers tightened on the golden surface and he lifted the lid.

  Chapter 13

  Overhead, in the circle of visible sky, the stars went out.

  The towering walls of the volcano’s crater lost their colour and texture, fading through the brown of long-dried blood to grey to an utter absence of hue, as though something were draining their pigment, their solidity, their very existence. The figures grouped about the altar seemed to lose their reality, becoming two-dimensional, ghost images with no semblance of life. Only Keridil, now framed by a glaring and brilliant halo, was real; Keridil, and the blinding radiance that had begun to issue from the open casket, a light that eclipsed all in its path, gaining strength, growing, slowly taking form.