Tetrarch (Well of Echoes)

by Ian Irvine

  ‘Why are you taking your daughters there?’

  ‘She is my sister,’ Yara said simply. ‘And Morgadis is the safest place I know. Mira can take care of herself. She is … Well, you will see. Just don’t mention the war.’

  That night they stopped by the ruins of a great monastery. The grass was close-cropped inside the walls by grazing deer. Outside, the forest had obliterated all signs of the farms and vineyards that had once flourished here, apart from a broken stone well that Nish, intent on what lay ahead, almost rode into.

  Fortunately the horse was watching its step. Nish yelped, and behind him heard Liliwen’s tinkling laughter. He smiled. They had left danger well behind and the surroundings could not be bettered.

  ‘What is this place?’ he asked Yara as they dismounted and prepared to make camp in a long roofless hall. A grapevine, so old that its trunk was the size of a tree, scrambled over the walls, covered in tiny bunches of grapes which, unfortunately, would not be ripe for months.

  ‘A monastery that belonged to the Thongi sect, a pacifist pastoral order who worshipped their strange gods here for two thousand years, until not so long ago.’

  ‘Why did they leave?’

  ‘The scrutators burned them out.’

  Nish had never heard of such a thing. ‘Why?’

  ‘The Thongi questioned the authority of the Council and refused to send their young men to war.’

  ‘That’s all?’

  ‘The scrutators like to show their power by making examples. Not a single monk remained. Don’t go out of sight, girls,’ she called as they wandered in the ruins.

  Mounce led the horses down to a rivulet and then on to a river-flat meadow where the grass would be sweetest. Nish gathered wood for the campfire while Yara set up a tent for herself and the girls. After lighting the fire, he glanced up at the sky, which was clear.

  ‘I think I’ll sleep in the open tonight.’ He walked down to the rivulet with a bucket in each hand. There was no sign of Mounce or the horses. The sun-warmed water looked so refreshing that he stripped off his sweaty clothes and lay in it, since it was only knee-deep. He’d washed his clothes, put them on and was on his way back when a despairing cry rang out.

  ‘Liliwen, Meriwen!’

  He dropped the buckets and ran. Yara was down the far end of the roofless hall, looking around frantically.

  ‘Meriwen sang out, then something fell, like a wall toppling. Oh, I told them to be careful.’

  ‘Where did the call come from?’

  ‘Down here somewhere.’ She swept her arm around a collection of broken walls, all that remained of a building that once had hundreds of rooms. Yara was shaking.

  He offered her his hand and she took it gratefully. She could hardly blame Nish, since she had chosen the campsite.

  ‘If we search through there,’ said Nish, ‘room by room, we must soon find them. And if something’s fallen down we’ll see it.’

  Yara choked back a sob and nodded stiffly. ‘I’ll take this row, you do the next.’

  Nish was halfway up his row when he heard a thin cry. ‘Yara – this way!’ he yelled. Yara met him down the row. ‘It seemed to come from underground.’

  They found the place in the next row of ruined rooms – paving stones that covered a vaulted ceiling had collapsed, leaving a neat rectangular hole in the grass. A couple of tall saplings grew in an angle of one wall but the rest of the space was empty. Nish crept to the edge and looked down, for the remaining stones could be just as unstable. The afternoon light did not penetrate very well but he made out a small pile of rubble some distance below. There was no sign of the girls.

  ‘Meriwen, Liliwen!’ Yara screeched.

  No reply. She looked on the verge of collapse.

  ‘Run back and get the tent ropes,’ he said. ‘And see if you can find Mounce. He was down along the stream. I’ll keep watch.’

  She ran. Nish broke off one of the saplings, which was three or four spans long, and reached down to the rubble. The sapling did not look strong enough to support his weight but might do to slide down on. He went down the spindly trunk, burning his hands, and had a good look around.

  He expected to find at least one of the girls buried under the rubble, but saw nothing apart from something white over the other side. He was practically standing on it before he made out what it was – a skeleton. He moved smartly away, taking the pole with him. It was an awkward weapon but better than nothing. Nish had a healthy fear of old bones. One of the monks, no doubt. What could have happened to the girls?

  The stone was stained with soot from the fire that had destroyed the monastery. Over the other way he saw more bones, the skeletons of at least three people, and two of them were headless. It was too dark to make out tracks. He walked into the gloom, calling the girls’ names. Once he passed beyond the lighted area his hackles rose, though he could not tell why. It felt like a place he had no right to be in.

  Just enough light penetrated to show that he was in a cellar or basement with lots of long, narrow compartments, each containing something white. Here and there, luminous patches could be seen. It was not a cellar but a mausoleum or catacomb. The white objects were bones.

  What a hideous place, and it would be worse when night fell, in about half an hour. ‘Liliwen!’ he roared, ‘Meriwen!’ When the echoes died away he heard a faint squeak far off to his right.

  Nish turned that way and the floor moved under his foot. A loose flagstone, or was the whole floor unstable? He probed with his foot. The stone collapsed under him and Nish had to leap sideways onto the base of a pillar as a section of floor folded with a crash and rumble that shook dust down on his head. The fire must have damaged the lower levels and the entire ruin could come crashing down.

  He should have turned back then, but Nish could not bear to leave the girls in such a dangerous and haunted place. How had they run through here and survived? Nor could he bear to think of Yara’s reaction if he came back without them.

  He crept backwards to a glowing niche. The luminosity was due to a phosphorescent growth on the bones. Picking up the brightest one, a partly cloven skull, by the eye-holes, he held it high. It gave just enough light to see. Skin-creeping from the look in its empty sockets, he threaded it on a piece of cord around his neck.

  Taking the pole in both hands, Nish probed the floor in front of him. It seemed solid. He went forward a couple of steps and probed again. He encountered another unstable section before he got across the chamber, but found a way around it. The floor was most solid next to the pillars. On the far side he came to three passages.

  ‘Girls!’ he yelled.

  There was a rumble in the distance but no reply. He took the left tunnel – the earlier response had seemed to come from that direction. Halfway along he came to a shallow pit, also full of bones, some savagely hacked and broken. What barbarity had gone on here?

  He made his way carefully through a maze of walls and pillars. There could be pits, wells or lower collapsed floors. Twice more the floor caved in under his probing pole, the second time beneath his feet. Nish spun the pole in his hands and managed to span the gap as he fell, though the shock almost tore his grip free. The flagstones dropped a long way before splashing into water.

  Nish hung over the unknown depths, praying that the creaking pole would not break, or slide in as he went hand over hand to the edge. It did not, though he had the devil of a time getting up onto solid floor, and after that he was more careful. He threaded his way around objects lying on the floor – thousands of bones and, as far as he could tell, all human. Most bore signs of frenzied sword work.

  A long time later, when it must have been dark outside, he found the girls in the middle of a larger catacomb that contained hundreds of burial niches. It was dimly lit by a blue-white phosphorescent fungus growing on the bones.

  Liliwen was sobbing quietly, and Meriwen holding her and trying to be as grown up as she could, though she had bitten through her lip with terror and her eyes w
ere as wide as moons.

  ‘Why didn’t you answer?’ Nish said gently, giving her his hand. She clung to it as her mother had.

  ‘I tried,’ said Meriwen, ‘but I was so afraid, Nish. The bones moved as if they were watching us and I was scared that if I made too much noise …’

  Nish looked over his shoulder. The phosphorescence did shimmer in a way that suggested the bones were moving. He would be glad to get out of here. ‘What happened?’

  ‘The ground gave way and we fell down. We weren’t hurt but Liliwen saw all those skeletons. Some of them didn’t have heads!’ she said. ‘She ran, and I panicked and ran too. We ended up in here and there were bones everywhere and Liliwen put her foot down on a skull and it rolled under her and she fell and twisted her ankle.’ She gasped a breath.

  ‘Calm down,’ said Nish. ‘Just take it slowly.’

  ‘I could hardly walk,’ said Liliwen, snuggling under his arm. ‘We tried to find a way back but we were lost. I told Meriwen to go on looking but she wouldn’t leave me.’

  ‘Sensible girl,’ said Nish. ‘I think we’ll be right. I’m pretty sure I know how to get back.’ He wasn’t, but someone had to be the leader.

  He picked Liliwen up. A sturdy girl, she was heavier than she looked. She moaned as her ankle was moved, and put both arms around his neck.

  ‘Don’t choke me or we’ll never get out,’ he joked. He put his shoe on something round and bony that rolled underfoot, and nearly dropped her.

  ‘Careful,’ said Meriwen. ‘if you break your ankle …’

  ‘Come close behind,’ he said over his shoulder, kicking bones out of the way.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Meriwen muttered, taking hold of his belt.

  ‘Is either of you brave enough to hold this skull,’ said Nish, ‘so we can see?’

  Meriwen shuddered, but took it. Nish reached out with his pole and they went forward.

  ‘Hush, I think that’s Mother calling,’ said Liliwen after a good while.

  ‘She’s letting us know the way out.’

  They wandered back and forth, Nish probing every ell of the way. If not for Yara calling, he would not have found the exit, for it was dark now. By the time they reached the hole, Mounce was there too. Yara tied the tent ropes together and Mounce pulled the children up.

  Nish came up last and he was glad to be out of there, for there were bones everywhere and they had not come from the niches. Either the monks had been massacred in the crypt or their bones had been thrown down afterwards. It made him think.

  ‘No harm done,’ he said as Mounce pulled him up. ‘Just a sprained ankle and a lot of old bones. All the same, I’d be happier if we camped outside. I’m glad we’re not spending the night down there.’

  Yara searched his face. ‘I heard crashes. I was sure you were all dead.’

  ‘The floor collapsed a couple of times,’ he said more casually than he felt. ‘I had to nip out of the way, quick smart.’

  ‘You could have been killed. And the girls.’

  ‘All of the monks remained here,’ he went on quietly. ‘They were slaughtered by the scrutators. What a hideous place.’

  ‘You risked your life for my children, Nish,’ Yara said. ‘I’ll never forget it. I’m sorry about before. I was wrong about you.’ She gave him a brief, grateful hug. Tears fell on his neck, and that was that.

  Nish lay awake for ages that night, watching the wheeling stars and thinking about what he had seen down below. Why had the Council visited such savagery on a harmless, pacifist order? It made a mockery of their claims that they acted only in the best interests of humanity. Nish decided that he had to know more about the scrutators, and what was behind them.

  They rode through dense forest for five more days. The weather was good, sunny above the forest but cool and shaded within. It rained once, though only a shower of misty drops reached them.

  ‘How far now?’ Nish asked as they were taking breakfast by a stream whose pebbly bottom was perfectly clear. It was broad but shallow; the twins were frolicking in the water.

  ‘We’ll be there this afternoon.’

  The ground had been climbing for some time, and across the stream they struck a path that wound up into hills that grew ever steeper. When they stopped for lunch the horses were plodding. The trees still extended in every direction, making it impossible to see where they were headed.

  At the top they entered a clearing whose edge was marked by an old stone wall, partly collapsed and covered in moss. The trees hung over it. A wooden gate had once closed the path but only rotting timbers hung from the hinges. They rode across a meadow of cropped grass, by a cluster of roofless cottages. The inside walls were scarred by fire. The place made Nish shiver. More work of the scrutators?

  On the other side, they looked over a shallow cliff. A river, broad, deep and entrenched into its valley, looped across a green floodplain. Below, the narrowest part of one loop had been cut through to make a dome-shaped island a third of a league across.

  It was a pretty place, with orchards and vineyards higher up and lush meadows stretching down to the river. On top of the hill stood a large villa or chateau, built entirely of timber so old that it shone silvery in the sun. It was all verticals. The roofs rose in steeples, at least a dozen of them, covered in shingles. Verandas extended on all sides, in and out and in again. Everywhere he looked was another detail to distract the eye.

  ‘It’s stronger than it seems,’ said Yara. ‘Morgadis has stood for twelve hundred years, and troubled no one in that time.’

  ‘Has anyone troubled it?’

  ‘Many times, but eternal vigilance is our watchword.’

  ‘How pretty and peaceful it appears.’

  ‘No one has worked harder than Mira for peace.’

  ‘And yet she has lost a husband and three sons,’ said Nish. ‘I would do anything to end this conflict.’

  ‘You will have much to talk about, in that case, though I would advise you to choose your words with particular care.’

  FORTY

  The river, the principal defence of Morgadis, ran fast and deep. No horse could have swum it, while waterfalls upstream and rapids downstream restricted the use of boats to a couple of leagues either side of the island. A rope bridge, supporting a plank walkway, was the only way in or out. It hung low to the water and Nish did not like the look of it. How was he going to lead his horse across that?

  Fortunately he did not have to, for people appeared out of the forest and took the animals away. Mounce went with them. After an exchange of signals with the other side, they went across on foot.

  The bridge held no fears for Yara or the children, who had crossed it many times. Nish followed, trying to appear nonchalant. It swayed underfoot and he was uncomfortably aware of the weight of his pack. If he fell in it would take him all the way to the bottom. But then, if he fell in he would drown anyway, for Nish was a poor swimmer.

  He reached the other side in safety. To his left was a timber boatshed with two dinghies propped against one wall. Beyond were stacks of sawn timber and a partly erected timber frame, perhaps an extension to the boatshed. He followed the others up the hill, thinking of a cool drink and, with any sort of luck, a long scrub in a hot bath.

  Up a steep series of steps, they turned onto a broad veranda. There they were met by a small woman, a head shorter than her sister, trim of figure and with neat, regular features, though set in hard lines. Her eyes were crinkled as though laughter had once not been far away, but no longer. Her lush brown hair was threaded with grey yet she could not have been more than thirty-five. She did not look anything like Yara.

  They embraced. ‘I thought …’ the woman bit her lip.

  ‘What?’ smiled Yara.

  ‘That I would never see you again, or the twins. Everyone I love goes away and they don’t come back.’

  ‘I will always come back,’ said Yara. ‘Liliwen, Meriwen?’

  They embraced their aunt, who then turned, looking questioningly at N
ish.

  ‘My sister, Mira,’ said Yara. ‘Mira, this is Cryl-Nish Hlar, known to his friends as Nish. He has escorted us all this way.’

  ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mira,’ said Nish, holding out his hand.

  Mira’s hand stopped halfway. ‘Hlar?’ she said, studying his features. ‘Is he related to that warmongering perquisitor, Jal-Nish?’

  ‘His father is Jal-Nish Hlar, now acting scrutator for Einunar,’ said Yara.

  Mira let her hand fall to her side. ‘I’m sorry, Cryl-Nish Hlar, but I don’t care what service you have rendered my sister. No Hlar is welcome in my house.’

  Nish felt as if he had been slapped across the face. He stepped backwards, gained control of himself and bowed. ‘I am not my father, Mira, but if my presence causes you distress I will go at once.’

  ‘Stay,’ said Yara, waving her hand at him. ‘Mira, know that after the fall of Nilkerrand, Meriwen and Liliwen were lost and wandered alone on the road for a night and a day. Had not Nish befriended them they would have been despoiled and murdered by two of the vilest ruffians in the world. And he has done us further service since. Twice he saved my daughters’ lives.’

  Mira stared at the girls. She put her hand over her open mouth. Nish thought she was going to scream, though her eyes were as dry as dust.

  ‘They were not harmed,’ said Yara, ‘though they will remember it to the end of their days.’

  Mira threw her arms around the twins and wailed. It went on for ages. Nish looked on uncomfortably. Her eyes were webbed with red.

  Yara stood back, head cocked to one side. ‘And so,’ she said when the embrace finally broke up, ‘if Nish is not welcome at your house, neither am I, nor my daughters.’

  Nish was astonished. Although Yara had thawed since the monastery, he would never have expected her to defend him against her sister.

  Mira pulled away, rubbed her eyes and made a supreme effort which dissolved the lines from her face and for a moment made her seem ten years younger. She must have been a striking woman, he thought, before.