by Simon Hawke
“As you wish,” Valsavis said with a smile. And, to their surprise, he sheathed his sword.
Sorak narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“Now what?” asked Valsavis, raising his eyebrows and folding his muscular arms across his chest.
“What are you up to, Valsavis?” Sorak asked uncertainly.
“I? Why, nothing. I am merely standing here.”
“Take care, Sorak!” Ryana shouted. “Nibenay will use him as a conduit for his power!”
“No,” said Valsavis. “He shall not. I am no sorcerer, but even I know that such an act would require a great expenditure of power, and the Shadow King hoards his powers jealously. The metamorphosis always remains his first priority. Besides, there is no need for me to depend upon the Shadow King. As you can see, I have sheathed my sword. It has served me well these many years and I have no wish to see it break upon that magic, elvish blade.”
“Watch out, Sorak!” cried Ryana. “He has some trick in mind!”
Valsavis shrugged. “No tricks,” he said. “Go on, elfling. Now is your chance to be rid of me, once and for all. So… strike.”
“Damn you,” Sorak said, lowering his blade. Valsavis smiled. “You see?” he said. “I had complete faith in you. You would not hesitate to fight if I attacked. But you would not kill an unarmed man who offers no resistance. That would be murder. Being a preserver does have certain disadvantages.”
“What do you want, Valsavis?” Sorak demanded, an edge in his voice.
Valsavis glanced down at the talisman, lying on the tiled floor and glowing faintly. “That… for a start.”
“You shall not have it.”
“Well, perhaps not right this moment, but we shall see,” Valsavis said. “You managed to shake me loose once. You shall not do it a second time. I will stay right on your heels until you lead me to your master. And there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.”
“I would not be so sure,” said Sorak, sheathing Galdra. “You were right, Valsavis. I cannot not kill a man who simply stands there and offers no resistance. But I can knock him senseless.”
Valsavis grinned and uncrossed his arms, putting his fists on his hips. “You? Knock me senseless? Now that is something I would like to see.”
“Very well, then,” Sorak said. “Watch.”
He slipped back and allowed the Guardian to the fore. Abruptly, a small, silver coin came flying up out of the treasure horde and spun across the chamber with a soft, rushing sound like an arrow flying through the air. It struck Valsavis hard in the side of his head, just above his ear. Valsavis flinched, recoiling, and brought his hand up to the spot. It came away wet with a drop of blood. Another coin followed, and then another, and another, and another. Bracelets, jewels, golden plates and silver goblets, amulets and more coins followed in rapid succession as Valsavis backed away and brought his arms up to protect his face. More and more pieces of the treasure came flying up out of the pool, hurtling toward him with great speed and force, striking him about the head and body, cutting him and raising painful welts and bruises.
Valsavis staggered backward, crying out, not so much with pain as with rage and frustration. His arms could not ward off all the objects that came flying at him, striking with greater and greater force. He spun around, doubling over, trying to hunch down and make himself a smaller target, all to no avail. The hail of treasure continued relentlessly as Ryana joined her power to the Guardian’s, and they hurled one piece after another at him, taking care to make sure that none of them were swords or daggers or other objects that could kill.
Roaring with rage, Valsavis reeled back and slammed into a support column, stunning himself. He dropped to his hands and knees, leaving his head uncovered, and the Guardian took that opportunity to levitate a heavy silver tray and bring it down hard upon his skull. Valsavis collapsed, unconscious, to the riled floor.
“Well, you did say you wanted to see it,” Sorak said, gazing down at him. He stepped forward, walking over the litter of treasure on the floor, and crouched over the prostrate mercenary, looking him over carefully. “Hmmm. That is a rather interesting ring.” He reached for it.
“Don’t touch it!” Kara shouted suddenly. As Sorak drew back his hand and glanced toward her, startled by her cry, they rushed over to him.
Valsavis lay, stretched out, on the floor. On his left hand, the heavy, golden ring was clearly visible. And from it, a malevolent, yellow eye with a vertical pupil stared out at them. It was the hate-filled gaze of Nibenay, the Shadow King.
“If you touch it, you will establish a link with him,” said Kara. “And then you will be lost.”
“Then I shall use the Way,” said Sorak. “No,” said Kara, putting a restraining hand on his arm. “That will be the same as coming into contact with it. Come away. Leave it alone. To touch it is to be defiled.”
“We should at least tie him up so that he cannot follow us again,” said Ryana.
“And leave him helpless for the undead to find?” said Sorak. He shook his head. “No. We cannot do that, little sister, tempting as it may be. That would be the same as killing him right now, while he lies senseless.”
“That would not stop the Veiled Alliance,” said Ryana, a hard edge to her voice. “They would not hesitate to slit the bastard’s throat.”
“We are not the Veiled Alliance,” Sorak replied. “They may be preservers like us, it is true, but they are not druids, and they have compromised the purity of their vows for the expediency of their purpose. That is not our way.”
“The Sage does not seem to hold their methods against them,” said Ryana.
“Perhaps not,” said Sorak. “The Sage needs whatever allies he can find. But do you hold true to your principles for yourself, or for the sake of someone else?”
Ryana smiled wanly. “Those are Varanna’s words,” she said. “I had lost count of how many times I’d heard them.”
“They often bear repeating,” Sorak said.
Ryana sighed. “You are right, of course. It would be nothing less than murder to leave him here tied up. Tempting as it may be, it would be no different than executing him.”
“No, it would not,” said Sorak. “And when it comes to that, what has he really done to merit being killed?”
Ryana glanced at him with surprise. “How can you say that? He serves the Shadow King!”
“Yes,” Sorak agreed, “he does. And he has also saved our lives. I might have died with that marauder arrow in my back, or else been eaten by some predator while I lay helpless if he had not given me aid. And he came with me to rescue you from the marauders.”
“I would have escaped, regardless,” she said.
“Perhaps,” said Sorak. “But that does not alter what he did. And do not forget what happened when we were set upon by the marauders in Salt View.”
“He only came to our aid because he needed us alive to lead him to the Sage,” Ryana said.
“But the fact remains that he did come to our aid, on several occasions,” Sorak said. “And all he has really done was follow us.”
“And once we had found the Sage, what would he do then?” Ryana asked.
“I cannot judge a man on what he might do, or even what it is probable he will do,” said Sorak. “I can only judge him by what he has done. That is all any of us can do, Ryana. To do otherwise would be to stray too far from the Path. Further, certainly, than I would be willing to go.”
“You are very wise for one so young,” said Kara. “Am I?” Sorak asked. He shook his head. “I am not so sure of that. Sometimes I think that wisdom is merely fear of acting foolishly.”
“The knowledge that one can be foolish is the first step on the path to wisdom,” Kara said. “Now come, quickly. It will be growing dark soon, and it is time for you to see the true lost treasure of Bodach.”
They hurried outside. It was already late in the afternoon, and the sun was low on the horizon. The shadows were lengthening. And a large bank of dark clouds was moving i
n from the east, coming in fast over the Sea of Silt.
“A storm is approaching,” Kara said apprehensively.
“It is only a desert monsoon,” replied Ryana. “It will probably pass quickly.”
“I do not think it is the rain she is concerned about,” said Sorak. “Those clouds will blot out the sun, and it will grow dark early.”
Ryana suddenly understood, and she licked her lips nervously. “The undead will rise.”
Kara moistened her fingertip and tested the wind, which had increased significantly. “It is coming in very fast,” she said. “Quickly. We do not have much time.”
A shadow suddenly fell over them, and a shrill, piercing cry echoed through the deserted streets. They turned quickly. The roc was perched atop the building they had just emerged from, its huge wingspan darkening the plaza. Its giant head bent down toward them as it raised its wings and snapped its powerful beak hungrily.
“Nibenay,” said Sorak, quickly unsheathing Galdra. “He still controls the bird.”
Ryana barely had time to draw her sword before the roc leapt off the roof and came swooping down at them, its huge, powerful talons outstretched. She dodged to one side, barely avoiding the roc’s gigantic claw. She landed on the ground and rolled, coming up with her sword ready.
Sorak had waited until the last possible instant, then darted forward, underneath the roc’s outstretched talons. He swung Galdra in a powerful overhand stroke aimed at the giant bird’s lower quarters. The blade barely brushed the roc’s feathers, cutting several of them as, with a deafening screech, the bird landed just behind him.
“Kara!” Sorak shouted over the deafening screeching of the roc. “Make it stop!”
“It will not respond to me!” cried Kara. “Nibenay’s will is too strong! I cannot control the creature!”
“Stay back!” shouted Sorak, circling around the bird as it turned toward them, its wings folded back and up, its huge beak snapping as its head darted back and forth between him and Ryana. It lunged at Ryana. She ducked beneath its snapping beak and swung her sword with both hands. It struck against the roc’s beak, and it felt like she had struck a stout agafari tree. The shock of the impact ran all the way down her arms and into her shoulders. For a moment, she felt numb. The bird’s head darted down toward her again, and she leapt, diving to the ground and rolling away.
Sorak ran in toward the bird, but before he could strike, it jumped aside, turning as it did so and sweeping out with its wings. One wing caught Sorak in the side, and he fell, almost losing his grip on Galdra. But by that time, Ryana had regained her feet and came in at the roc from the other side, thrusting at its flank.
The giant bird shrieked as Ryana’s sword entered its side. The roc twisted toward her, craning its neck around to snap at her. She recoiled, barely avoiding having her head bitten off. Sorak, meanwhile, quickly regained his feet. He took several running steps and leapt, stretching out, diving directly beneath the bird. He swung out with Galdra and the elven steel struck one of the roc’s legs, passing completely, effortlessly, through it.
The roc screeched with pain as its leg was severed, and it collapsed to the ground, directly on top of Sorak. Ryana rushed in and thrust at it again, her sword entering the creature’s breast as the roc threw its head back and screamed at the sky. Its head arced down to snap at her again, but Ryana leapt aside and came in once more, thrusting deeply just beneath the bird’s right wing. The roc emitted a long, drawn-out, ear-piercing shriek and fell over heavily on its side with a loud crash. It thrashed several times, then died.
“Sorak!” Ryana shouted. “Sorak!”
“Here,” he called out.
She ran around to the other side of the bird’s carcass. Sorak was dragging himself out from underneath it, freed when the roc fell over. He had been pinned by the bird’s crushing weight, unable to move, and Ryana helped him to his feet. He was covered with the creature’s blood.
“Are you all right?” Ryana asked him anxiously.
“Yes,” he replied, taking a deep breath. “Merely winded. I could not breathe under there.”
“Catch your breath quickly,” Kara said, coming up beside them. She pointed at the sky.
The storm was moving in fast as the dark clouds scudded across the setting sun, blotting out its light. One large cloud moved across it, darkening the sky, and then the sun peeked out again briefly, and then another cloud moved across, blotting it out once more, There was more light when it passed, and then the main body of the cloud bank swept across the sun, and it disappeared from sight, plunging the streets into darkness.
Night had come early to Bodach.
For a moment, they simply stood there in the sudden darkness, staring at the clouds that had moved in to block the sun. The wind picked up as the storm moved in, blowing dust and sand through the streets in swirling eddies. Lightning flashed, stabbing down at the ground, and thunder rolled ominously. And, in the distance, they heard another sound… a long, low wail that rose in pitch and fell again. It seemed to echo down toward them from the deserted streets coming into the plaza, and a moment later, it was repeated, and joined by several more in a grim, chilling, ululating chorus. Night had fallen, and the ancient, ruined city of Bodach was suddenly no longer deserted.
“They rise,” said Kara.
Chapter Ten
“Hurry!” Kara cried. “There is no time to lose. Run!”
She started sprinting across the plaza, toward a street leading off to the left. Sorak and Ryana ran after her. They headed north, down another street that curved around to the left and then ran straight again for a distance of some fifty to sixty yards before it branched off into two forks. Kara went right. They ran quickly, leaping over obstacles in their path, dodging around dunes that the wind had piled up against the building walls and rubble that had fallen into the street from the collapsing buildings.
All around them now, they could hear the bloodcurdling groans and wails of the undead as they rose to walk the streets once more. The sounds seemed to be coming from everywhere. They were coming from inside the buildings, and from the cellars underground, and from the ancient, long-dry sewers that ran beneath the city streets. Together with the rolling thunder and the rising whistle of the wind, it made for an unwholesome, spine-chilling concert.
“Where are we going?” Sorak shouted as they ran. It had taken him a few moments to reorient himself, and he had abruptly realized that they were running in the wrong direction. “Kara! Kara, wait! The raft is back the other way!”
“We are not going back to the raft!” she called over her shoulder. “We would never reach it in time anyway!”
“But this way leads north!” Ryana shouted, gasping for breath as she ran to keep up with them. She, too, had suddenly realized that the direction they were heading in would take them to the very tip of the peninsula. If they kept going in this direction, they would reach the northernmost limits of the city, and the inland silt basins. And then there would be nowhere left to go. “Kara!” she called out. “If we keep going this way, we shall be trapped!”
“No!” Kara shouted back over her shoulder, without breaking stride. “This way is our only chance! Trust me!”
Sorak realized that they had no other choice now. Kara was right. Even if they turned around at this point, they would never reach the raft in time, nor would there be time for Kara to once more raise the elementals. They would have to go back through the entire city, and it would be a running fight all the way.
The wailing of the undead was growing louder now and ominously closer. Already, he could see several of them come lurching out of the building doorways in the street ahead of them.
Sheet lightning flashed across the sky, briefly illuminating the streets as the shambling, walking corpses came staggering out from their resting places. The wind howled, and there was a deafening clap of thunder that seemed to shake the building walls around them. And then the rain came.
It came down in torrents, with all the
strength and try of a fierce desert monsoon. Within seconds, they were drenched clear through to the skin. It was ramming so hard that it was difficult to see much more than several yards in front of them. Water flowed rapidly down the sides of the buildings and fountained off the rooftops in sheets, cascading to the streets below.
Rivulets formed and ran across the paving bricks, sluggishly at first, then gathering speed and size as the volume of water rapidly increased. Rains were infrequent in the Athasian desert, for the most part coming only twice a year, during the brief but furious monsoon seasons, so the buildings and the streets of Athasian towns and villages were not designed for drainage. If the roof leaked, it made little difference because the storms, though fierce, were usually of short duration, and then the sun came out again and everything dried quickly in the relentless desert heat. If the streets turned into muddy soup, no matter. They would remain that way only for a short while, and then the water would run off into gullies and washes, and in little while, the streets would dry and traffic would make them level once again.
The city of Bodach had been engineered by the ancients to take into account the extremely fierce monsoons that swept across the desert—then the sea—during the very brief storm seasons, but in all the years that the city had been abandoned, the gutters had cracked and been filled with wind-blown sand. The slight grading of the brick-paved streets, designed to allow the water to run off into the gutters at the sides, was not enough to compensate for gutters that no longer functioned.
Sorak and his two companions were soon sloshing through water that ran ankle deep. The hard desert soil beneath the paving bricks could not soak up the sudden volume of water, and so it ran in sheets across the bricks, instead of trickling down into the cracks. The uneven street they ran on became slippery, and to fall or turn an ankle now would mean disaster.
However, the rain did nothing to impede the slow, relentless progress of the undead. Sorak and Ryana saw the dark and spectral figures through the sheets of rain as they came lumbering toward them. More and more of them were coming out into the streets now. Sorak glanced behind him and saw their figures staggering out of the buildings, moving spastically, like marionettes with half their strings cut. And there were walking corpses directly ahead of them, as well. Several came lurching out of building doorways as they ran past.