by Matt Heppe
“Lamp,” Sulentis said. “Hand one up.”
Telea turned and Escalan passed the lamp to her. Behind him she saw the concerned faces of the Landomeri. “We’re through,” she said.
Sulentis took the lamp and pushed it forward, into the gap. He crawled after it, and she followed. His body blocked the light and it was very dark. She squeezed through the gap, glad when Sulentis cleared the other side and there was light.
Stop! There is danger here! Death! Power and death! The demon’s thoughts were frantic.
What? What’s out there?
Madness and death! Pain! Suffering! Don’t go!
“In Forsvar’s name,” Sulentis called out from the other side.
“What is it?” Telea said. She was almost to the end and suddenly fearful he might tell her to go back. She didn’t think she could.
“It is…terrible,” Sulentis said.
She heard his sorrow but no fear. She crawled out the opening. Sulentis’s back was to her and she almost couldn’t get her legs free. She toppled forward in an ungainly heap.
“Why did you—” she started, and then she saw the bones. She was lying on them. They were everywhere. Skulls stared up at her, the mouths open in eternal screams. She scrambled to her feet.
Speechless, she could only stare at the shattered crystal tree dominating the room. The emerald branches reflected Sulentis’s lantern light, filling the room with a shimmering glow. Beneath the shattered trunk sat a blood red crystal stump.
Death and power! So much death. The demon in her recoiled from the sight of the stump, almost pulling her eyes from it. So much suffering. Power of the Masters. Fear it.
“The Massacre of the Spiridus,” Sulentis said. “This is where they died.”
“Where’s Orlos?” Telea asked. She heard Escalan coming through the wall behind her. Like Sulentis before her, the scene before her left her so entranced she hadn’t thought to help Escalan come through.
“I don’t see him.”
Telea stepped past Sulentis. It was impossible to walk without stepping on human remains. With every step, she carefully nudged bones aside until she felt solid stone beneath them.
“Orlos?” Telea called out. Her voice sounded small in the large chamber.
“Orlos!” Sulentis shouted, louder.
Telea kept moving forward, despite the protests of the voice inside her. The skeletons were still clothed, the dry chamber having prevented them from completely degrading after even all these centuries. Their flesh was gone, which was a mercy.
How many dead? she thought. How many were killed here?
The number had to be in the thousands. Everywhere she looked she saw men and women…and children. How had it happened? The legends said that it had been a massacre, but how had they gotten all of the spiridus into one place?
A summoning. A summoning of terrible power. They were brought to the red stone and slaughtered. Their spirits bound and now they scream in agony.
Who screams? She heard nothing but Sulentis and Escalan making their way through the terrible lake of bones. Then she saw him—not a skeleton, but a man of flesh and blood. He lay slumped at the base of the stump.
“There he is!” she shouted. “By the red stone!” She forced her way through the bones.
Sulentis abandoned all effort at decency and ran forward, bones cracking under his boots.
The closer she got to the stump, the deeper the bodies lay, until she too could no longer take a step without standing on them.
They are dead, but he might yet live.
Sulentis got to Orlos first. He cradled the young man’s head in his arms. “Alive! He’s alive! Escalan, we need water.”
Telea didn’t turn to look, but she heard Escalan running behind her. He called something out to others who must have entered behind them.
The stump was elevated on some sort of pedestal. Telea climbed it and then was with Sulentis. The boy was catatonic. “Let me see him.”
Don’t touch it! Don’t touch the bloodstone! They are trapped there and their pain will drive you mad.
She turned her body so that she didn’t accidentally touch the stone. Its glow was bright here, and both Sulentis and Orlos were bathed in its red light. There wasn’t just light coming from the stone, there was heat. Terrible heat, as if she stood next to a raging fire.
For just a moment, she stared into the stone. There were shapes there, moving in the crystal. They swirled and danced and then jerked and swept away.
Look away! It burns!
Telea tore her gaze away from the stone and focused on the young man. She put her fingers on his neck. “His heartbeat is weak and irregular.” He pulled his eyelids open to expose his unresponsive, staring eyes. “He’s close to death. He needs healing.”
“How? What do we do?” Sulentis asked.
“Get him out of here, but first let me see if I can help him. We need him stable if we’re to get him to the surface.”
Telea closed her eyes and started into the Song of Life. Her voice wasn’t where she wanted it to be. Days of hard travel and constant singing had taken their toll on her. She opened her eyes and looked down at the young Orlos. He was an attractive young man, but his face was wracked by torment.
The red stone, the bloodstone, seemed to absorb her music, or at least diminished it. Telea drew a breath and redoubled her efforts. She knelt by Orlos and put both of her hands on his chest. Singing without restraint, she poured her soul into the song.
The bloodstone resisted her as if a living thing. She fought it, sending the strength of her song to Orlos, but it was so diminished, it had too little effect on him. She needed him stronger.
A rock couldn’t resist her. This was blood magic and the bloodstone was the product of a powerful summoning. A demonic summoning.
No! Don’t sing it! I will perish!
Telea drew a breath and changed her song. She lifted her voice into the high air and sang the Song of Light.
The Song of Light. The song of banishment. The song of demon slaying.
Chapter Nineteen
The pyren seized a ghul and threw it to the floor next to Ayja. The lych, her father, pinned the ghul down with one hand. The ghul writhed but made no real effort to get free.
Her father. Was it truly him? He was supposed to be an eternal knight—one of the silver skinned creations of Akinos and the Orb of Creation. But this was a lych.
“What fiendish business is this, Morin?” Cam demanded. He stood close by, his sword poised to strike.
Morin barely spared him a glance. “Put it down, Nidon. I saved your life with my healing before, and now I’ll save hers.”
Ayja felt Morin’s cold hand pressed against her wound. Her father’s hand, although the word didn’t mean anything to her. Or did it?
She stared at the ghul, less than a stride from her. She smelled its stench and grimaced at its hideous, tortured visage. Morin knelt between her and the ghul. She saw the ethereal glow around Morin’s hand where it touched the ghul.
Morin bowed his head, and a flood of warmth filled her. The pain from her wound suddenly diminished. She stared up at his face, and some of the deep creases seemed to go out of it. He looked almost human.
The ghul thrashed, but as the warmth grew in Ayja the ghul’s movement slowed. It whined and cried out and then stopped moving altogether.
“This one is gone,” Morin said. “Bring another from the hall, Lord Darra,” he said to the pyren.
The ghul was dead, just a husk of skin and bone. “You killed it,” Ayja said.
Morin nodded. “To heal you.” The words chilled her.
“What happened to you, Morin?” Cam asked. “You’re no longer eternal.”
“Things change,” Morin said. “I’m free of the Orb now.”
Darra came back in, dragging another ghul with him. This one used to be a woman. She still wore a peasant dress. The pyren threw it down on top of the first.
Morin put his hand on the ghul’s head
and she grew still.
“Stop!” Ayja said. “You’re killing them to save me?”
“They’re already dead, they just don’t know it yet.”
Ayja pulled away from Morin’s touch. A voice in her mind commanded, Stop! For the briefest moment she felt compelled to obey, but then she pushed against it and broke free.
Morin stared at her with his cold, black eyes. “How…” he started, but then trailed off.
Ayja sat up and looked down at her wound. There was an angry red welt there, but the wound was closed. Her side ached, but it didn’t stop her from standing.
“Can’t you heal her?” Ayja asked, pointing at the ghul Morin still held pinned to the floor. “Can’t you undo what’s been done to her?”
“This is their purpose. They exist to serve.” Morin released the ghul, and it slunk into a corner of the room.
“Get them out of here,” Morin said, waving at the ghuls. “All of them.” Darra immediately obeyed, dragging two bodies out the door. Another pyren entered and kicked and cuffed the living ghul until it departed.
“What is this, Morin?” Cam asked. “What’s this all about?”
Morin stood in front of them. He was very close to Ayja and Cam. The light had almost completely faded outside, but Morin’s skin had a deathly glow. His age-ravaged face was pale and dead and terrible to look upon. Ayja saw no humanity, and couldn’t see the man her father had once been. Worse than his skin though, were his black, soulless eyes.
“You led me on a merry chase,” Morin said, although there was nothing merry in his voice. “You chose a good hiding place, Sir Nidon. For a long time I thought you’d gone to Idoria.”
Cam didn’t reply.
“No reason to be unfriendly, Nidon. You did well.”
“What will you do with us?” Cam asked. “Turn us into slaves like the pyren?”
“Never,” Morin said. “Enna is my daughter. I would never do that to her.” He paused and looked at Cam. “And you, Nidon, I want you to remain human. Pyren and ghuls can only do so much.”
“Enna? That’s really my name?” Ayja asked. “The inquisitor said it as well.”
Morin nodded. “You didn’t know? But then, how could you? I suppose you’ve had no contact with the Landomeri.”
Cam shook his head. “It was too big a danger. I couldn’t risk it.”
“A wise move, Nidon. She’s safe now, though. Now that I’ve found her.”
“Safe?” Cam said. “Your creatures almost killed her.”
“Those weren’t my ghuls. I just saved your lives.”
Cam glowered at him. “Not your ghuls?”
Morin shook his head. “They belong to another lych.”
“We were safe and happy before the ghuls arrived.” Ayja said.
“No, Enna, you were always in danger. I’ll fix that now. You’ll be a princess of Salador. One day, you’ll rule as queen.”
“I don’t want that. And my name is Ayja.”
“Ayja?” Morin turned to Cam. “Is that what Nidon named you?”
“He did,” Ayja said. “And that’s my name.”
“Very well, Princess Ayja,” Morin said.
“Leave us out of your plots, Morin,” Cam said. “Leave us in peace.”
Morin shook his head. “I can’t do that. Ayja is my daughter. She’s the heir to the Throne of Salador. There will be no peace until she sits on that throne.”
“How can you speak of thrones and ruling and peace?” Ayja asked. “You sent your monsters here to kill and enslave innocent Saladorans. Your own people. They nearly killed Cam and me.”
Morin nodded. “The pyren and ghuls who attacked you belonged to the lych, Garion. When I learned that he was trying to take an elementar as one of his own pyren, I came with utmost haste. I and my pyren drove him off.”
“You were close enough to get here to save us,” Cam said. “What were you up to?”
“Watch how you speak to me, Nidon. I’m the rightful King of Salador.”
“You think you can rule Salador as a lych? You think the people will accept a monster as their king?”
Morin was quiet for a moment. “No,” he said. “I don’t think they will. But that isn’t truly my purpose. I intend to save Salador, and maybe once it’s saved, we’ll find a queen who is fit to rule.” He smiled at Ayja as he spoke the last words, but his grin brought a chill down her spine.
“Save Salador from what?” Cam asked. “Ilana?”
“No. We’ll save Salador from the varcolac, Cragor. He’s on the march with a great army and he’s bent on conquest.”
“What? Cragor? What of the wall? The pass is closed.”
Morin shook his head. “Cragor flooded the pass. The wall is gone and the defenders drowned or driven away. I wish it wasn’t so. It throws my plans into turmoil. But there’s nothing to be done for it. I must react to the hand I’m dealt.”
“You plan on fighting him with your pyren and ghuls?”
“I do. He’s stolen a march on me, though. I need more soldiers, so I came here to… recruit.”
“That’s what this is?” Ayja asked. “Killing and enslaving is recruiting? These ghuls were my friends.”
“You’re a bold one, Ayja. You stand in front of the most powerful man in the world and challenge him.” He nodded and gave her his chilling smile again. “I like it. You’ll need that audacity.”
Cam had told Ayja of her father. Before he’d become an eternal, he’d been one of the greatest knights in Salador. Not only that, he was an elementar as well. When he became an eternal knight he’d become even more powerful. The only thing that checked his power was the Orb of Creation, but now even the Orb had no sway over him.
“How many do you have?” Ayja asked. She heard movement outside. Was there an army of living dead out there? She stood and was surprised at how little pain she felt. There was only a dull ache in her side. She looked out the window and saw dozens of ghuls and pyren streaming through the yard.
Morin stood. “Not enough to fight Cragor alone. But we’ll have help. The army of Salador will occupy Cragor’s attention until we can fall upon him.”
“You are coordinating your plans with Queen Ilana?” Cam asked.
“There’s no need. I don’t intend on her remaining queen for long.”
Cam folded his arms across his chest. “You’ll let them destroy each other and then fall upon Cragor from the rear? What’s our part in this? Mine and Ayja’s. You saved us, but I have a feeling you don’t plan on setting us free.”
As they spoke, Ayja took the oil lamp and lit it with the lightest touch of elementar magic. She adjusted the wick and light filled the room. The ghuls were gone, although the floor was stained with their black blood.
“I want you to help me,” Morin said, “both of you. And I want you to do it willingly. It’s a great stroke of fortune that I found you. Cragor forced my hand. I only thought to stop him and save Salador and the wider world from his cruel dominion.”
“You want Ayja and me to help you? Why would we do such a thing,” Cam asked. “Look at yourself. You’re not even human anymore.”
“Sir Nidon, I could turn you both into pyren, and then I wouldn’t have to convince you. I won’t do that. I want you to do this willingly. I am not a monster, despite both your words. What I’ve become, everything I’ve done, has been forced upon me.
“It took some time, but Cragor mastered the Orb. He called the eternals to him with its power. I couldn’t let that happen to me. Once he had me under his sway, I would have been powerless to resist him. I had to break my connection to the Orb.”
“But if you broke the connection, you’d die,” Cam said.
“You saw what happened to me many years ago when Cragor limited my power. I was helpless. I had to find a way to sustain myself without the Orb.”
“So you sucked the life from people,” Ayja said. The two ghuls he had killed had been helpless under his touch.
“That’s right. I tried it on a
nimals at first, but they don’t have the same spark of the divine that humans have. Their blood lacks potency.”
“So you switched to people. You murdered people to fill yourself with strength.”
Morin shook his head. “There was no need to kill. I could draw life to sustain myself without killing the…the donors. It was another former eternal who showed me the creation of the pyren and then of ghuls.”
“You killed those ghuls to heal me,” Ayja said. “They were villagers from near here. I might have known them.”
“Yes, I killed them. I drew the last of their strength in order to save your life, but they were dead anyway. Ghuls don’t survive long. They aren’t like the pyren. And I don’t know who those two were. They weren’t my ghuls. They belonged to Garion.
“Taking energy from someone takes time. When I create a pyren, there’s a link between us. When they borrow strength from a ghul, part of that energy goes to me. I no longer have to find donors. Ghuls serve the pyren in much the same way.”
“But the ghuls are doomed to die,” Cam said. “And let’s not bandy words around. They aren’t donors. They’re victims. And you’re not borrowing, you’re killing.”
“This is war, Nidon. People die in wars. Armies conscript soldiers and the pyren and ghuls are my soldiers.”
“They’re monsters.”
“War is ugly, Nidon. But sometimes it’s necessary. They serve a good cause even if their form might be ugly.”
“Soldiers have a hope of going home after the war,” Ayja said. “You said yourself that your ghuls are doomed to die. The pyren also?”
“The pyren are eternal, as long as they feed.”
“Not borrow?” Cam asked.
Morin glared at him. “Feeding doesn’t mean killing.”
“But the ghuls all die,” Ayja said. “And some of them are women and children.”
“Women and children die in war all the time, daughter. When this war is over, I will ban the creation of ghuls. And I’ll see that there are no more pyren created.”
“You’ll stop the other lyches as well?” Ayja asked. “How many are there?”