Dreams of Fire and Gods 2: Fire

by James Erich

  Donegh stared at the spot, uncomprehending. He looked up at Eivan and the man shook his head, laughing.

  “You rolled right across it.”

  THEthrone room was in chaos. Sael sat on the throne recently occupied by his older brother and looked out upon the gathered vönan, who all seemed determined to shout over one another. He knew his late brother—and certainly their father— would never tolerate this degree of insolence from his subjects. Which meant he couldn’t either.

  “Silence!” he commanded, doing his best to imitate his father’s stern voice of command.

  It worked, at least for a moment. The mages fell silent and looked at him in surprise.

  Geilin, who was standing on the dais beside the throne, remained silent as well, though Sael could see a twinkle of humor in his eyes. The old wizard was looking much better now, to Sael’s immense relief.

  Sael stood and took a step forward. He looked at the mage in the fore of the group, the one called Vosik, who appeared to have taken on the role of spokesman. “You there! Tell me what this is all about. There’s nothing to be gained by all of you bursting in and talking at once.”

  Vosik bowed, looking a bit flustered. “Yes, Your Lordship. It’s just that… well, there are rumors…. After what happened last night….”

  “Spit it out,” Sael commanded impatiently.

  “Yes, Your Lordship. You see, Master Geilin—” “ Vönan Makek Geilin,” Sael corrected him.

  But Vosik looked perturbed, casting an almost hostile glance at Geilin. “No, Your Lordship. I must beg to differ on that point. It has come to our attention that, after the ‘Taaweh’”—he said the word in a tone dripping with contempt —“visited Master Geilin in his chambers last night, they did something to him. Theychanged him. We don’t know what happened in there, but… look at his forehead!”

  Sael had been afraid of this reaction. The magical tattoo had disappeared from Geilin’s forehead, the tattoo that was placed there upon initiation into the vönan through magical means of which Sael had little knowledge. Had he continued his apprenticeship for another year, he would have gone through the initiation himself, but that would never happen now. However, he knew one thing—the tattoo was more than just a mere decoration upon the skin. It was a dedication to the gods, and it was inextricably linked to the vönan. Nothing could remove it except death. Only when a vönan died did the tattoo fade away.

  Sael turned to Geilin and the old wizard took his cue, stepping forward to address Vosik directly. “With the valley dark, we have all been cut off from the source of our power, from the Eyes of the Stronni. This puts Harleh in grave danger in the event of another attack by the emperor’s forces. And we’ve all felt the physical effects of being cut off. I understand that Gaün and two other older vönan have been forced to take to their beds. So the Taaweh have offered us a solution—learn their magic and how to channel the energy that is freely available to us at this time.”

  Vosik said contemptuously, “That’s very magnanimous of them, considering that they caused this… crisis… to begin with!”

  “The Taaweh and the Stronni are ancient enemies, and they are about to go to war,” Geilin explained. “It is unfortunate that Harleh happens to be situated near the Taaweh’s capital city —a coincidence that puts us in grave danger—but it does not appear to have been intentional. The Taaweh are attempting to protect us and aid us—”

  “They have forced us all to become heretics!” There was a murmur of assent from the gathered vönan. Vosik went on, “And now they ask us to compound this by intentionally committing sacrilege? You know as well as any of us that a vönan must not attempt to learn the spells of the ömem or the caedan. Nor should we dabble in the so-called ‘folk magic’ the peasantry stubbornly clings to. That is the law, passed down to us from the gods themselves!”

  “Yes, Master Vosik,” Geilin replied with a weary nod. “I know the law.”

  “Surely you’re not going to claim that the law doesn’t apply to magic taught to us by the oldest enemies of the gods?”

  “No, I am not going to claim that.” There was a malicious gleam in Vosik’s eye that Sael did not like, as if the man had been hoping all along to ensnare Geilin with this admission. “Are we to understand that you have knowingly committed sacrilege, by allowing these… ‘Taaweh’… to teach you forbidden magic?”

  There was only the slightest hesitation before Geilin replied, “I have been studying their magic, and I intend to continue doing so.”

  “Then for the good of all the vönan in Harleh,” Vosik said, “I must ask—no, demand!—that you step down as vönan makek of Harleh.”

  So that was his game, Sael thought. No doubt Vosik hoped to advance in the court by removing Geilin from his position. Perhaps he even had his eye on becoming vönan makek himself, though that would never happen as long as Sael had a say in the matter. Seven years ago, Geilin had given up the position of vönan makek of the city of Worlen in order to become Sael’s guardian. Now, at last, his years of loyalty had been rewarded, and Sael would be damned if he would let Geilin fall victim to petty political maneuvering.

  He took a step forward and did his best to imitate his father’s imperious manner. “It is up to His Grace and myself to determine who is qualified for any position within the walls of Harleh. You would do well to remember your place, Master Vosik.”

  Vosik blanched and bowed quickly. “Of course, Your Lordship! I merely—” “Your Lordship,” Geilin interrupted, addressing Sael. “If I may?” “As you wish, Vönan Makek Geilin.” Geilin looked Vosik in the eye and stated coldly, “Anything I have done has been done with the best interests of Harleh in mind. The first war between the Taaweh and the Stronni lasted centuries, if we are to believe the chronicles. So it seems likely that Harleh Valley may remain dark for a very long time and any vönan who remain here will be powerless.

  “That having been said, I knew when I accepted the Taaweh’s offer to teach me some of their magic that there would be consequences. The bond I once had with the Stronni has been broken, and you are correct, Master Vosik—I can no longer call myself a vönan. I therefore… regretfully… step down as vönan makek of Harleh.”

  KOREH hated sneaking into Master Geilin’s quarters, but it was urgent that he speak with the mage in private, out of anyone else’s hearing. Especially Sael’s. So Koreh sat quietly in the shadows of the darkened room, hoping the Taaweh wouldn’t come to fetch him before Geilin arrived.

  When the old man did at last return, Koreh watched him open the door and hesitate for a long moment on the threshold, peering into the darkness. Then Geilin entered and softly closed the door behind him. He hadn’t brought a lantern with him, so once the heavy wooden door blocked the light from the wall sconces in the hallway, the room was again almost completely dark, though Koreh could see perfectly well.

  “I thought you were an assassin for a moment,” Geilin said with a slight chuckle. He walked across the room, navigating easily around a wooden chair to reach the small table near Koreh.

  “You can see in the dark now,” Koreh observed. “I can.” Geilin picked up the flint and iron from the table and lit the large beeswax candle with it. The warm yellow-gold glow of the candle flame illuminated Geilin’s kindly face, and for the first time in twenty-four hours, Koreh felt some of the tension in his gut ease a bit. Geilin would help. He would find a way out.

  “Now,” Geilin said, “suppose you tell me why you’ve been sitting here in the dark.”

  “I’ve been waiting to talk to you.”

  Geilin moved to the fireplace, where a cast-iron kettle hung over cold coals. He touched the sides of the kettle gingerly and then frowned. “Ah, for the days when I could heat water for tea with a simple incantation…. What did you want to talk about? It must be serious, if you’re here chatting with me rather than visiting with Sael.”

  “Sael’s in danger.”

  “Oh dear. Again?”

  “I’m serious,” Koreh said, irr
itated by the old man’s flippant attitude. “I’m sure you are. I merely observe that Sael has never stopped being in danger since we escaped from güKhemed.” Geilin gave up on the kettle and came back to the table, drawing up the other chair so he could sit across from Koreh. “Now tell me what this is about.”

  Koreh relayed the Taaweh’s plan for the rescue of the Iinu Shavi, or what little he’d been able to pry from his companion the night before. “He wouldn’t tell me which one of us will die—only that one of us will,” Koreh finished.

  Geilin nodded thoughtfully, and seemed to be weighing his words carefully when he finally asked, “And somehow you want me to stop Sael from taking part in this mission?”

  “Of course!”

  “And how do you propose I do that? Once he finds out, he’ll assume that you are the one in danger and he’ll insist that we prevent you from going. Or he’ll insist on accompanying you.”

  “You have to persuade him not to go!” Koreh insisted. Geilin sighed wearily. “Koreh… I’ve relinquished any political power I may have wielded—”

  “Sael doesn’t care about politics,” Koreh interrupted. He wasn’t actually sure what Geilin was referring to, and he wasn’t entirely certain it was true that Sael didn’t care about politics. But he knew Sael loved and respected Geilin more than he did his own father. “He’ll listen to you. He’ll do what you say.”

  “Would you?” Geilin countered. “If I told you that Sael was going on a dangerous mission, but you should stay behind, would you listen to me?”

  Koreh knew he would not. But then, as much as he respected Geilin, the old man was still a relative stranger to him. “I’m not Sael,” he said.

  Geilin harrumphed and shook his head. “You don’t give him enough credit, you know. You still think of him as a spoiled, self-absorbed aristocrat. But if he thought you were in danger, I don’t think Vek Worlen himself could prevent Sael from running after you.” “Then we can’t let him find out.”

  “What’s to stop the Taaweh from appearing in his chambers, just as you’ve done, and telling him directly?”

  Koreh knew neither he nor Geilin would be able to prevent that. “I’ve noticed,” Geilin said, standing up and walking to the fireplace again, “that you haven’t suggested the possibility of neither of you going. What do you think the Taaweh would do if you refused?”

  Koreh was startled by the question. For all his anxiety over the possibility of Sael being killed or injured, it had never occurred to him to say no. “I don’t know,” he replied. “They never talk about possibilities. Everything to them is predetermined. I don’t think Icould turn them down.”

  “Why not?” “Because it has to be done. Somehow the Iinu Shavi must be released, or the war will go on forever. She—and possibly the Iinu Shaa— they’re the only hope of defeating the Stronni.”

  Geilin chuckled and shook his head sadly. “So they started a war, knowing that they would be unable to win that war without first sending two—no offense—inexperienced young men to accomplish what they themselves have failed to accomplish over a thousand years. Madness!” He gazed into the cold, black ashes of the fireplace and added, “I have to wonder now if the ‘help’ they’ve given me wasn’t… perhaps… dual-purposed. By teaching me their magic, the Taaweh have possibly saved my life, but they’ve also rendered me useless as a vönan. I was the only alternative to Sael, and now….”

  His voice trailed off as both he and Koreh noticed something happening in the fireplace—steam had begun to rise from the kettle. There was no fire, but the water in it now appeared to be boiling.

  A soft female voice said, “Everything is as it should be, iinyana.” Koreh was unsurprised to see one of the Taaweh step from the shadows across the room. As Geilin turned to face her, she continued, “Your powers have changed, iinyeh Geilin, but you will discover that you still have power. Iinyeh Koreh and iinyeh Sael have been chosen because they can succeed where the Taaweh have failed.”

  “It is generally considered to be rude,” Geilin replied coolly, “for a person to slip into a man’s quarters unannounced.”

  Koreh felt his cheeks burning, feeling the reprimand was aimed at him as well as the Taaweh standing in the room. The Taaweh herself appeared to take no notice.

  “It is time for further instruction, iinyeh,” she told Geilin. “Andiinyeh Koreh must return to Gyishya.”

  Chapter 6

  DONEGHwas as baffled by the fact that he was still conscious on the Harleh side of the boundary as Commander Eivan. But once it became clear he wasn’t about to collapse, the commander had abandoned him to his fate and returned to camp. Donegh contemplated throwing a knife at the man’s back. Eivan could do little to retaliate, but he knew he would likely miss. The dizziness hadn’t quite left him yet.

  So he removed himself to a spot where he felt certain he couldn’t be seen by any of Eivan’s men, and sat with his head between his legs for a time, breathing slowly until the dizziness eventually passed.

  The hollow feeling inside his head remained and gnawed at him. It didn’t take long to determine the cause—he could no longer hear the ömem. For the first time in his life, there was an oppressive silence inside his head, a disturbing emptiness he’d never experienced before. Even as a small child, before the samöt found him, the voices had been there, constantly whispering, along with the sense that he could often “see” everything around him, even what should have been out of his sight. Some children who were born with the link went mad from it, but Donegh had reveled in it.

  Now it was gone. And for the first time in his life, Donegh knew what it was like to be alone. He hated it.

  But whatever allowed him to stay conscious in these woods would also allow him to get out of the valley again once he’d killed the dekan. He clung to that thought as he navigated through the forest to Harleh Keep. He was “blind” in that he could no longer get the lay of the land from the ömem, which could have made it difficult to find his way. But there was a natural basin shape to the valley that guided him to the northeast.

  After about a league, Donegh began to notice a change in the light. He’d thought little of it, at first, being too preoccupied with thoughts of finding Harleh and how he would navigate within its walls, now that he could rely only upon his own senses. But eventually it became apparent to him that something was… off. The light seemed to have an odd bluish tint to it. He glanced at his hands, now looking ghastly and corpselike, and then looked up at the sky. Heavy clouds blotted out the Eye, which wouldn’t have been all that strange, except for their strange blue color.

  It wasn’t long afterward that he came upon the enemy camp. Thousands of soldiers were camped in the forest, their uniforms and standards all bearing the red-and-gold colors of Harleh and Worlen and displaying the hawk crest of the Menaük family. It was difficult for Donegh to assess their numbers, though he doubted they matched the size of the force sent from gü-Khemed. To his annoyance, Donegh was forced to detour far to the south in order to skirt around the camp without being seen.

  Just before nightfall, the thick foliage over his head parted briefly, and Donegh stopped dead in his tracks. Rising up out of the forest in the distance was a vision more terrifying than the vile, undead thing that had attacked him in the Dead Forest—a vast cluster of enormous gray-green spires, sparkling with thousands of yellowish lights and rising up into swirling blue clouds. Through the link, Donegh had seen the entire kingdom, and he knew no towers existed anywhere that could reach those heights—until now. And the architecture was completely alien. The swirling sky above them reminded Donegh of the vortex of a hurricane, yet the valley seemed bathed in an eerie calm.

  Was this strange new… city… the source of the disturbance in Harleh Valley? It seemed likely. Donegh wondered if he should investigate it further, but his mission was still to kill the dekan. No doubt the emperor would appreciate more information when Donegh returned, but Donegh’s first priority had to be the mission he’d been contracted for. If
he succeeded in killing Sael dönz Menaük and escaping from Harleh, then he could think about investigating the strange new city. Getting himself captured or killed before reaching Harleh would serve no one.

  So Donegh continued through the forest, which by now he realized was far more extensive than it should have been. Where was the plain? He should have reached it a few hours after leaving Eivan’s encampment. Yet there seemed to be no end to the trees. By nightfall, Donegh began to wonder if he’d somehow gotten turned around. Was he heading south into the ancient forests there? It was impossible to see the Eye with this odd cloud cover. The sky had grown noticeably lighter in the west, just before evening, but that was only helpful for a short time.

  He was beginning to feel a little panicked when he finally caught sight of the lights of Harleh through the trees up ahead. His relief was short-lived, however, as the lights were coming from torches along the battlements, carried by guards, and the heavy, steel-reinforced wooden gates were closed. Harleh appeared to be in a state of alert. Not that this was surprising, considering the circumstances.

  Had he not been cut off from the ömem, Donegh would have been able to see the positions of all the guards and anything else that might aid him in getting into the keep. But now he had no more advantage than a common thief, trying to find the right moment to slip through the gate or possibly scale the wall.

  Snug up against the outer wall, extending to either side of the gate and a good distance outward along the solitary road into the keep, was a small village. The wooden-framed buildings had apparently suffered considerable damage recently. They looked burned, especially near the road, and several of the buildings near the gate had been completely destroyed and were now in various stages of reconstruction. The emperor’s forces had apparently gotten this far, attacking the gate with firebolts.

  But what had happened then? How had Harleh survived? And where had all the emperor’s men gone?

  The forest grew right up to the edge of the village and appeared to surround all of Harleh Keep. “Harleh Plain” no longer existed. But this bizarre circumstance allowed Donegh to remain hidden in the underbrush and skirt the edge of the village unseen while he considered his possibilities.