by B. J. Beach
* * *
Bright light surrounded him. Casting no shadows, it robbed him of any sense of depth or perspective. He pushed himself to his feet and turned a complete circle on the spot as he tried to look around. All his jangled senses could register were the light and the floor beneath his feet. He felt angry and alone. Unable to remember how he came to be here, he somehow knew that this was only a beginning, that he was destined for greater things. By degrees the light which surrounded him softened and dimmed. A number of figures moved quickly towards him, some robed in crimson and black, others in deep blue. His memory gave a lurch. Details of everything which had gone before flooded into his brain, reminding him that it was in this awful place he was to receive more than he had ever dreamed of. Power, knowledge, riches were all within his grasp. He emerged from his reverie with a start. Resplendent in finely woven robes of crimson and black held closely round her body, the priestess Andra stood before him.
Her voice conveying no vestige of concern or emotion, she addressed Ghian as an equal. “Lord Ghian. All that has yet occurred has taken place as foretold. Events are following their pre-destined course. It is now time to take you among us and instruct you, as once we were instructed. The time will soon come when you must leave us to receive further knowledge and powers which are forbidden to we who simply serve. Please accompany us. Your trial is over and the journey has truly begun. The one who was foretold is now with us. We honour and salute you.”
Ghian’s dark eyes glinted as the group of priests and acolytes bowed their heads and repeated the last phrase in unison. “We honour and salute you.”
Although his body still felt weakened and frayed by his ordeal, thoughts of power and mastery of the dark and secret arts raced through his mind. Almost gleefully, he allowed himself to be surrounded and led toward the deep shadows which once again obscured the far reaches of the vast temple.
He turned to one of the priests who walked beside him. “Is there any likelihood of getting something to eat and drink? Oh! And a bath would be good.”
The priest averted his eyes and gave no answer. It was the crimson robed Andra who replied. “Lord Ghian. All your physical and material needs and comforts will be met in a very short while. Although these others are also here to serve, I am your guardian and tutor. Speak, therefore only to me, and to the great god through me.”
A protest died on Ghian’s lips as Andra flicked a dismissive hand towards their small retinue. “They can hear nothing. I have stopped their ears. They will be restored when it is time for them to resume their normal duties and studies. Until then it is better that they remain in ignorance.”
Frowning, Ghian looked askance at the priestess. “It wasn’t one of them that spoke to me, then?”
Andra gave a short contemptuous laugh and continued to stride forward, her head high. As if struck by a sudden realisation, she gave an involuntary gasp as her step faltered. She stopped, her eyes wide, and whirled round to look back at the now dark and silent altar.
Drawing close to Ghian she looked into his face, her voice hoarse with excitement. “You have heard a voice? Describe to me what you heard.”
Ghian stared at her, but try as he might he was unable to remember the words or to describe clearly the sound of the voice. He only knew that he felt an over-whelming sense of triumph. Even as his memory struggled to re-conjure the moment, Andra’s eyes went flat and her mood altered abruptly.
Her words were like steel on stone. “There will be a proper time for triumph. There is much to be accomplished before that time comes.”
Turning on her heel, she strode towards a vast pillar-framed portal which yawned in the wall before them, Ghian, the priests and priestesses hurrying in her wake. As they drew nearer to the portal Ghian could see inscribed on the massive lintel and pillars the same symbols and characters he had seen in the underground chamber where he and Miqhal had sheltered from the Qibli. Shreds of something connected with the desert warrior dodged and flitted through his brain. His mind snatched at the fleeting images in a vain attempt to form a memory. Reluctantly allowing the elusive images to drift away, Ghian paused to gaze up at the lintel far above his head. His eyes traced the curved and angular script, a strange truth clawing at his brain, holding him motionless where he stood. He found he was able to make some small sense of the supposedly long-forgotten language flowing in a mesmerising golden stream of sinuous curves around brutally contrasting geometric forms. Three lines of the alien script snaked across the lintel. Reading right to left Ghian began softly to mouth some of the words. His voice became increasingly more audible as he attempted to master the pronunciation. He had reached the last symbol of the first line when Andra placed gently restraining fingers across his mouth. In a sudden surge of anger he grasped her wrist, his dark eyes flashing. Unperturbed, she locked her gaze on his.
He heard her calm persuasive voice enter his mind. “It is not yet time for the words to be spoken aloud. One person alone is destined to bring down the curse which lies within this writing. The who and the when have yet to be revealed. Come now, there is much to see and do. Many other formidable writings will be yours to read as and when you will.”
She lowered her hand from his mouth as Ghian released his cruel grip on her wrist. Wrapping her robe closely around herself again, she made a slow half bow to the group of priests and acolytes who stood quietly by. With one accord they dropped to one knee in front of Ghian and bowed their heads. Seeing them kneeling before him, he felt his lip begin to quiver, a whole gamut of emotions surging through him. He studied their shoulders and hooded heads for a long moment before turning sharply away.
The single word rode out on a snarl. “Go!”
In a soft sigh of robes they rose, before hurrying noiselessly away through a hidden recess in a far wall. If Ghian saw them again, he didn’t recognise them.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The room was large, windowless and sumptuously furnished. Intricately worked tapestries in dark, strong colours hung on the walls. Rich leather upholstered furniture sat aesthetically placed on thick wool rugs. He was beginning to feel much better. A bath had been prepared for him, fresh towels laid beside it, and new clothing. Andra had made quite sure he was left alone to his ablutions, and he luxuriated in the hot water and aromatic oils. He had decided not to shave. His face was now quite thickly covered with a dark growth of beard, and its effect pleased him. Against the paleness of his face it made him appear stern and unapproachable. It was an image he would strive to cultivate further.
Amongst the clothing laid out for him was a long undershirt of a fine soft black material. It felt cool and comfortable against his skin. Tilting the polished silver mirror he studied how the shirt fitted. It suited him well. He felt a pang of regret that it would be totally hidden beneath the long black hooded robe which lay across the chair beside him. He picked up the robe, smoothing his hand over its soft smooth texture, admiring its fine weave and warm lightness. He lifted it to put it on over his head. Something in the fabric caught his eye. Turning the robe towards the light he saw, black on black within the fabric, three groups of three symbols. Spaced one beneath the other, they began just below the left shoulder. In an attempt to study them more closely, he turned the robe this way and that. With each movement the symbols seemed to flicker and change, while at certain angles they could not be seen at all. Despite all his efforts he was not able to see any one of them in its entirety, much less begin to understand their meaning. Frustration welling up inside him, he began pacing the room, twisting the robe in his hands, racking his brain for an answer. Suddenly he ceased his pacing. As if struck by some profound notion, he contemplated the crumpled robe. A thin smile twisted his cruel mouth as he began to smooth out the creases.
He addressed his mirror image. “A great destiny has been handed to you, virtually on a plate. Don’t trouble your mind over such a trifling thing. It probably means nothing.”“
The thought pleased him, and he grinned at himself in the
mirror. Dropping the robe over his head, he slid his arms into the full, cuffed sleeves. Round his narrow waist he tied a long thick cord of braided black silk finished at each end with a tasselled knot of incredible intricacy. Lastly, he pushed his feet into calf length boots of soft black leather. With the mirror tilted at various angles, he studied as much of his new image as it would allow. He peered into the long oval of polished silver but could see nothing of the elusive symbols. Neither could he feel them when he stroked his fingers over the place where he knew them to be. Any further thoughts of their significance flew away as a gentle knock sounded on the door. He opened it to find Andra standing there, the soft deep folds of her crimson and black robe shimmering in the soft lighting.
She stepped past him into the room. An appreciative gleam in her dark eyes she turned and looked him up and down. “Lord Ghian. You wear them well. I thank Zo’ad that he has allowed this to come to pass in my own lifetime. Come with me now. A meal has been prepared for us. After we have eaten I will show you to the place which is to become your home.”
The priestess moved closer to him. He could feel the heat of her body through his robe as her long slim fingers caressed the smooth black fabric. Her voice was husky, pregnant with suggestion. “Everything has been provided. You will want for nothing. If you are ready, I will lead the way.”
Now, four years later, the embittered Ghian looked out across the moon-washed desert, with nothing more to sate his hunger than emotive memories.
CHAPTER TWENTYONE
At the crest of a lightly wooded sunlit hill, Karryl stood with Dhoum looking down into a wide valley, which nestled at the feet of a chain of snow-capped, violet-hued, mountains. In the bottom of the valley was a city, laid out like a great wheel, its spokes defined by clusters of domed white buildings shining softly in the gentle sunlight. Beside them a rippling stream bubbled and chattered its way to a tumbling waterfall, its melodious harmonics mingling with the low hum of jewel-like insects hovering among clusters of sweetly perfumed blossoms. Hardly able to believe what he was seeing, Karryl sat down on the soft, yielding turf and stared wide-eyed at the panorama spread out below him.
With a soft rustling of robes, Dhoum crouched down beside him. “So, Master Karryl, here we are. Impressive isn’t it?”
The young magician turned and looked into the shining amber eyes of the sleek-haired Grrybhñnös. “That hardly seems the right word. Where are we anyway? Does anybody even know we’re here?”
Dhoum pensively stroked his golden throat-patch as he pointed with his other hand. “A guide will be sent shortly. The ones down there are aware of our presence.”
Karryl turned his gaze in the direction of Dhoum’s pointing four-jointed finger. Caught by a brief sparkle, his eye was drawn to a large building standing in solitary splendour at the wheel’s hub. He scrambled to his feet and shielded his eyes with his hands. Sunlight was glinting on something which had emerged from the building, its form becoming more distinct as it floated swiftly and silently through the air towards them. Within two paces of where they were standing it stopped, an iridescent sphere hovering barely a hand-span above the ground.
A twinkle in his dark brown amber-flecked eyes, Dhoum shot Karryl a sideways glance. “Transport’s arrived.”
Karryl stood rooted to the spot, staring at the shining object. “What do we do? Ride on it?”
Dhoum chuckled and began to amble towards the sphere. “No. In it.” He turned and beckoned. “Come on. You’ll see.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, Karryl stepped forward. As if aware of his presence, the shimmering globe began to expand, rainbow colours swirling across its opaque surface. Gradually the spectrum of colour faded away, leaving a perfect softly glowing white orb, its diameter a little larger than Karryl was tall. Dhoum paused beside it for a moment, then to Karryl’s surprise, hopped lightly into it and out of sight.
His voice rumbled from inside the sphere. “Walk straight in. Can’t hurt you.” Suspecting that he might just be dreaming, Karryl reached out a hand in an attempt to touch the shining surface. His hand went straight through. He let out a startled yelp as Dhoum caught hold of his wrist and pulled him inside to sprawl in a heap on the smooth, pleasantly warm floor. About to struggle himself upright, Karryl’s heart skipped a beat as he found he could see clearly through the outer shell. Slowly the shining sphere rose into the air. As it gathered speed, he watched in awe as the ground rushed away from him, the tops of the trees passing swiftly by below.
Not daring to move any other part of his body, he gradually turned his head and looked wide-eyed at Dhoum. “Is this sort of thing considered normal for … wherever we are?”
He felt sure that under all that hair, Dhoum was grinning at him. “Quite normal. Safe, reliable, clean.”
After pushing himself into a sitting position, Karryl wrapped his arms round his knees and began to look about, his former misgivings yielding to fascination as the sphere gradually slowed to drift silently down into the valley and over the neat clusters of domed buildings.
As they neared the tall central structure Dhoum waved his hand around him. “Don’t be fooled by all this peace and serenity. Down there is a very busy community, each doing their bit to make sure things run smoothly.”
Karryl peered down. “Well, if they’re that busy, why didn’t we just materialise somewhere in the city? It would have saved them having to send this… this… ball to fetch us.”
Now a glowing deep amber, Dhoum’s round eyes glinted as he held up a finger. “Ah! Good point! Trouble with that is, our kind of magic doesn’t work down here. Once you set foot outside the sphere, you’re no longer a magician. To their way of thinking you’re still a novice.”
Before Karryl could reply, their unique transport stopped to hover outside one of many arched portals opening off the central building’s upper storey.
Dhoum shook his robe and smoothed his scaly fingers over the sleek russet hair of his head and face. “We’ve arrived.”
Very slowly, Karryl stood up. Fully expecting the spherical vehicle to shake or wobble, he was greatly relieved when it maintained perfect stability. His confidence greatly restored he dared to look down, and was rewarded with a bird’s-eye view and his first glimpse of the inhabitants of this extraordinary city. Intrigued, he watched the people moving about below him, going about their business in groups of two or three, sometimes more. All wore robes of white or a rich deep purple, and seemed to glide rather than walk along the clean, wide streets. A group of three, one in white, two in purple, stopped almost directly beneath the sphere and looked upwards. A feeling of intense well-being flooded through Karryl, and he found himself unable to suppress a wide smile. The little group looked away and moved towards the building, disappearing through what he assumed could only be the entrance. The feeling of well-being dissipated only a little, and he turned to find Dhoum’s round amber eyes regarding him.
A sudden thought struck him. “Those people down there. They looked up as if they could see me, but you can’t see in here from outside, can you?”
By now he was well accustomed to Dhoum’s little mannerisms. He recognised the ripple of sleek russet hair as a smile. The stocky Grrybhñnös gestured towards the scene below. “To these people this sphere is quite transparent. There are times when they have no need of eyes in order to see.” He pointed towards the building. “Now, time to go. Ready?”
It was only then that Karryl noticed the wide, flat shimmering path which now stretched from the building to the sphere. Appearing to have no solid substance, it seemed no more than a film of light suspended in mid-air.
Karryl’s brow furrowed as he gestured towards it. “Are we supposed to walk on that?”
Dhoum ambled off through the wall of the sphere and stood waiting on the path. He beckoned to Karryl. “It’s quite safe. Come on.”
Remembering the broad ribbon of blue light which he and Symon had walked on in Xatchiqlan, Karryl shrugged, but he could feel his heart pounding as
he gingerly followed Dhoum onto the path. It felt solid and steady beneath his feet, and a couple of quick paces brought him under the arched portal to stand beside Dhoum. They watched as the softly glowing white sphere grew steadily smaller, iridescent rainbow hues shimmering across its surface, before it sped away round the building and out of sight.
They stepped into a wide bright corridor floored with intricate white and purple mosaics. Looking up, Karryl saw clear blue sky. He realised then, that the dome of the building was constructed of the same amazing material as the sphere. He wanted to explore further, but Dhoum twitched his sleeve as they approached a large glistening door-sized panel, recessed slightly into the wall. After briefly placing two of his four fingers on a small circular plate fixed on the wall beside it, Dhoum stepped back. The panel quivered then vanished, revealing a circular shaft, its walls shining with a cool blue light. Karryl tiptoed to the edge and peered down. Far below, he could just make out a floor, similar to the one on which he now stood. Before he could do anything to stop him, Dhoum had jumped into the shaft. To Karryl’s total astonishment the Grrybhñnös remained suspended in mid-air in front of him.
The young magician stepped back and looked around, his expression doubtful. “Are there any stairs?”
Giving one of his surprisingly deep rumbling chuckles, Dhoum beckoned Karryl into the shaft. “No stairs. Only way down. Come on. Best foot forward.”