"Days? Maybe not," Rathe said. "I think I have an idea."
They stood halfway up the volcano throgs called eh-Doric-al-Kar, "The Eye That Had Once Burned." Last night Gotha Karn's son had led them to it, spurred by Kel's hissing threats and his own desire to ingratiate himself with Jevaka Raye. Rathe had been right... the man who had thrust his own guard onto an enemy sword had been happy to betray his father to save his own life.
Rathe had been daunted by the prospect of scaling the volcano, but Parlock, desperate to win favor, had shown him a narrow stone path, cunningly hidden, that wound its way up the mountain's rocky slopes. The climb had been easy. The path had taken them to the stone door, the entrance to the temple.
"This is the place your father spoke of?" Rathe asked.
"Kyas," said Parlock, with a poor imitation of enthusiasm.
Now it was dawn. The morning sun had just appeared over the volcano's peak, warm and bright. It was the first sunrise Rathe or Kelandra had seen in two days. With Orvig, they had traveled hard through the night. Now the three friends enjoyed a moment's rest, their goal in sight, savoring the feel of sun and wind on their bare arms.
The throg kneeling at their feet obviously didn't appreciate it. He covered his eyes and moaned softly.
"Get up, Parlock Karn," Rathe told him. "It's only the sun."
The sunlight illuminated a great archway, cut into the living rock of the mountainside. Columns stood on either side. One had fallen into ruin. The other depicted a many-branched tree.
"Let's go inside," Rathe said. He glanced back at Orvig and Kel. "It's odd," he told them. "I feel like I'm coming home."
Rathe walked through a huge echoing space, as dark as a womb. At first he thought he drifted, but then Orvig lit a lamp, and they were in a columned hall, and Rathe realized the slippery floor was solid under him, thick black glass. Around them was darkness, as though they stood on a pedestal within the cave. Ahead were fallen columns, scattered debris, piles of rubble that might once have been statues. Rathe caught glimpses of delicate faces, of animal limbs, of fragments of shapes he could not imagine, and ached to know what the statues had been, what they had meant. So much was lost...
Underfoot crunched shards of broken glass from the lamps that Rathe knew had fallen, long ago. But the temple, though damaged, was not destroyed. A pattern was etched in the glass floor—delicate carved lines that caught the light of Orvig's lamp, gleaming. With a start, he realized that he was following it, and he laughed, for he had done this once before.
"The rune forms a word," Rathe told the others. "A name. Thera's true name. He glanced back at the entrance. "I came through this arch before," he said wonderingly. "Only I was fleeing the temple, not entering it. It's like I'm walking through a dream."
"You are," replied Kel. "Thera's dream." She gestured ahead, where the floor was cracked, and shards of glass lay scattered. "See where the rune is broken?"
"We'll fix it," promised Rathe. "If Jevaka Raye wins, he'll help us."
"Aye," said Orvig. "We have your ring for the template. We'll bring in artisans, and make her whole, if we can. But not yet. Let's carry on with your plan, boy. We have a war to win." He looked pensive. "I'm worried about Jhen."
The dwarf-girl had stayed with Jevaka Raye, helping the old Shaman prepare for the offensive they planned for the morrow.
Rathe turned to Parlock, who stood trembling beside him. "Show us where the skull was," he ordered.
The statue lay toppled near the altar. Not shattered, like the others, just headless: a skeleton, every tiny bone in perfect detail, carved from the black glass formed in the volcano's heart. Once it had stood man-high, a last guardian, an image of Death serving the temple of Life. But some power had overcome it, left its head severed for a greedy magicker to find.
"My father didn't break it," Parlock said, echoing Rathe's thoughts. "He found the skull on the ground beside it. He sensed its power—- it was still alive!"
"But who did it?" Kelandra asked. "Someone must have broken the statue. Defeated it. But why did they just leave the head?"
"I don't know," Rathe said. "Perhaps..." He stepped forward and touched the statue. It was cool, smooth. He concentrated, focusing on his ring, on the rune, willing himself to pierce the veil of time. He felt himself sinking.
"Wake up, boy!" said Orvig. He shook him. "Wake up!"
Rathe realized he had fallen to his knees. He looked up, met his friends' worried eyes. "I'm all right," Rathe said. He brushed sweat from his brow. "I saw it."
"What did you see?" said Orvig.
Rathe was still shaking his head. "It was veiled, shadowed. But I saw a little." He glanced at Kelandra. "You sensed it, when you cast the runes day before. You warned us. A third force. Hidden by illusions, veiled in lies, mad, greedy, amused by death...
"I remember," said Orvig. He shuddered. "What was it?"
"I don't know, exactly," said Rathe. "Sometimes it seemed huge, battling the crystal statue. Then small, like an evil goblin, hiding in the dark, hiding the skull so Gotha Karn would find it, and become his pawn." Rathe shook his head. "I don't know what it was, what it wanted. Maybe just mischief..."
"Whatever it wanted," said Kel, "it's gone now." She looked at the statue.
"Orvig, Kel—help me lift it."
Together they heaved the headless skeleton to its feet. Rathe half expected the glass bones to rattle and move, but the statue was solid and heavy.
"What do you plan?" said Kelandra.
Rathe raised his ring, so it caught the light of Orvig's lamp. He remembered the spell he had, unknowingly, performed in the dungeon to call back his stolen ring.
"A simple spell," said Rathe. "For we are simply restoring what has been. A spell of calling. And of renewal." He stepped behind the statue. "Hold my hand," he told Kelandra, "and think of Thera's rune." He touched the statue. "And imagine it whole. Look at the statue, and imagine it as it should be."
In the dark depths of Carkulroth, dawn had brought no end to battle. Perhaps Gotha Karn had sensed something far away—or maybe he sought revenge for the capture of his son. Whatever the reason, in a burst of mad fury he had sallied forth, throwing all his remaining Tse'Mara and copper-helmed guards against the rebel forces in an all-out frenzy.
Taken by surprise, Jevaka Raye's warriors fell before the wave of chitin and steel. Then their barricades were down, and they were fighting for their lives. Now the battle raged through the great hall. The fighting was too close to use the thunder-barrels. Many rebels had broken and ran. Others had died fighting. Ormandarn and a handful of warriors remained before their blind chief, weapons ready, waiting to die in Jevaka Raye's defense. With them stood a small dwarf girl, eyes determined, holding a sword with both hands.
Secure behind a wall of guards, Gotha Karn laughed, exultant. Jevaka Raye was doomed! He was still the true Shaman! A dozen fresh Tse'Mara hovered above him, wings buzzing. He held his skull aloft, and pointed to the small knot of defenders, willing the insect-creatures to rend and tear and slay. He began to give the order—
And the skull turned in his hands, its eyes burning into his. A soundless cry of exultation shook the room. Then Gotha Karn's hands were empty.
Thunderstruck, the shaman stood there. Gone! His power was gone! He felt his control go, magickal webs fading like shadows in the hated sun.
"Wahooka!" he screamed, half a prayer, half a curse. "You swore!"
Then he felt psychic leashes snapping, the breaking of magickal chains that bound a dozen savage wills.
The Tse'Mara struck at the thing that had bound their souls. The last thing Gotha Karn heard was the whisper of death.
Epilogue
Kelandra stretched sinuously on the sleeping furs, then turned to face her lover. She lit a lamp, and studied his face. Rathe seemed older—yet younger too. The lines of care and worry had vanished.
Rathe's eyes opened. "I love you, Kel," he said.
"Tomorrow we marry," she replied. She stroked his hai
r. "In the temple."
"Tomorrow," Rathe said. He leaned over and kissed her for a long time. She broke away, laughing. "We have a lot to do today, you know! Orvig will be knocking soon!"
"He's worked wonders with his new assistant," Rathe said. Reluctantly, he released Kelandra. "That throg girl, Rhyanis. He says she could be a Master someday. There's a wonder for you—a throg craftmaster of Stonekeep. And thanks to the Stonemelter arts, the rune is repaired. Orvig doesn't want to seal that temple... he'd rather everyone come admire his work. His and Rhyanis' work, that is."
"Hmm," said Kel. "I never thought I'd be grateful to throgs." She moved gently against him. "And I would share but one rune with you." She traced a symbol on his forehead. "Aphros. The rune of love."
"But Thera will be good to us," Rathe said. "I can feel it. I had a dream, this night," he said. "A voice came to me. It was Thera." Rathe paused. "I thought we had won a great war, freed her from Khull-Khuum. But..."
"I know," said Kel. "I heard her too." She closed her eyes, recalling Thera's words.
This was just one battle, my children. I am still bound. At most, you loosened a finger just a bit. But I am a goddess. With one finger, and enough time, I can do a great deal...
How much time? Not in your children's day, or your grandchildren's. But I think... perhaps one of your grandchildren's children can take the final step with me.
You have my blessing, for what it's worth... and my promise that your line will endure, to fight for me again. And it was so...
Thera Awakening Page 12