Hiero Desteen: 02 - The Unforsaken Hiero

by Sterling E. Lanier

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  4 - Dark Perils, Dark Counsels

  In an underground place, a large screen covered one end of a room. Blue bulbs set in the bleak stone walls shed a pallid light upon a great table of polished black marble. Around the table and under the screen were arranged four black chairs with legs carved into contorted shapes and bearing strange arabesques and flourishes along their broad arms and backs. Pulled away from the head of the table was a fifth chair, larger than the others and more ornate. It alone was unoccupied.

  In the four chairs in use sat or lounged four gray-robed men. A stranger entering the room might have thought that he had encountered four offspring of a single birth, so alike were the seated men to one another. All were bald, or with heads and faces so shaven that no hair appeared. All had pale ivory skin. At sight of those faces, a child would have screamed in instant horror. The eyes were dead, gray pools of nothingness, in which there yet glowed a baleful fire. The faces were expressionless, carved in a sickly marble, set in grim lines and yet smooth, seeming ageless and yet old beyond memory. Only the flickering of the awful pairs of eyes to the great screen and back toward each other seemed to betray life, together with the writhing and uncoiling of the long white hands when they rested on the smooth surface of the table. The men's attentions were fixed on the screen, but occasionally one would mutter to another or inscribe some notes on one or another small square of writing material laid before him. The Great Council of the Unclean, those who called themselves the Chosen Masters, was in session.

  Though the men appeared identical at first glance, a further look would have discerned differences. Each bore upon the gray of his breast an embroidered symbol, worked in threads of metallic, glittering stuff. Each had a different color, one being red, one yellow, one blue, and the last of all green. None of the colors seemed normal somehow, being oily and iridescent, at once too pale and too dark, changing constantly but always sickly and abhorrent. The livid green of the fourth man's mark seemed the worst of all, a ghastly parody of the fresh and limpid hue of spring in the ordinary world. But that world was what these monsters were sworn to destroy or, as they put it, to bring to order. The symbols were spirals and coils worked into mind-bending twists which the eye could not follow, as if they faded in some impossible way into some other and fouler dimension.

  The screen itself was covered with a maze of fine metallic wire which, like the symbols of the robed men, was worked into impossible bendings and anglings, back and forth in a weird pattern which changed by the moment. It contorted itself each instant into something new and even more peculiar. Here and there on the wires glowed tiny lights of different colors, like minute bulbs. Yet if they were bulbs, they were as strange as their background, for they also moved, appearing and reappearing at what looked like random, but was not. It was clear that the four could read the board and understand it, as one would read a printed page. None but they and one other could have done so, however. For this was the Great Screen, and all the lore and memory of the Unclean was embedded in it, as were all their plans and contingencies of the future. It would have taken the life of a normal human to learn the basic elements necessary for the interpretation of its easiest and most accessible secrets.

  At length, the one who wore the hellish green turned away from the screen and examined his fellows thoughtfully. Just as the one who wore the blue seemed in some indefinable way the youngest, so did the creature of the green seem older than the others, though exactly why, no one could have said.

  "I will speak, according to the rules of the Great Council, where no mind can be deemed safe and thoughts cannot be trusted with our deliberations."

  It was clear that this was a formula being recited, a formal opening of the meeting. The voice of the speaker was thin yet resonant, toneless and yet vibrant. It was also chill, the timbre gelid and ringing like the slow grinding of ancient glacial ice.

  "As the Senior among you, I call on the Lord S'duna, First among the Brotherhood of the Blue Circle. Upon him mainly has fallen the brunt of the most recent events. He and his bear much of the responsibility for them. This is said not in blame, but only is strict accountability. This is also said," he added as S'duna stirred and shrugged, "under orders."

  As the others looked up in sudden interest, the green-symboled man touched his brow and inclined his head toward the large and empty chair at the head of the table.

  "Yes," he went on, "to me, S'lorn, First of the Green, in my fortress in the South there came in the night, on the One Circuit, a message. The Unknown One, That Which Is Not To Be Named, that which is not, but was and will be, sent a message. Any of us could have received it. Why I was chosen, save for age, I know not, but can perhaps guess." He paused. "I think, and I have spent much thought on this matter as I journeyed, that I received the message to summon the Council because I am the farthest away in the body. My thought, and it is no more, reads thus: In many, many lives of the outer world, we four, or they who taught and preceded us, have seldom found it necessary to meet in the flesh. Now, I think, the matter grows urgent, and thus the importance is stressed that I who live the farthest off should summon us together. The Nameless One, the Chosen of the Chosen, has many secrets. There may be other explanations, but I think mine will suffice." He folded the pale hands in the lap of his robe. "Let the Lord S'duna speak to us and unfold his reading of the recent past."

  The Master of the Blue Circle did not flinch. While he was not on trial, still the others were watching and judging. All were equals, the Great Council having been devised to still the ceaseless internecine warfare which had so long crippled the Unclean plans in the past. All were equal, but it was not in the nature of such beings to spare another pain, nor was it the way they had all been taught since birth. The troubles of the recent past had involved S'duna far more than the others. So they would watch, not being hostile, but if there were any sign of weakness, or indecision ...

  And then there was the Nameless One, their unknown ruler, who had sent instructions. Could those instructions have to do with the failures of this time, and might they also carry orders on dealing with faulty leadership?

  If a shudder ran through the Blue Master's frame, it was not detectable. He began. "First, we had warning that all was not well from the death of S'nerg of the Red Circle. For long, his body was not found, though we knew that he must be dead or somehow taken, for his self-seeker was moving away from us. We loosed followers, mere animals, on the track. They too were slain. That was the second warning, though the death of a high Brother was more than that, surely." No one said anything, no features moved, but the point had been taken. The Blue Circle was not the first to be struck.

  "Next, the creature or creatures vanished into the Palood, the great marsh where even we do not go. Yet we alerted something which had dwelt there from time out of mind, a thing we feared and scarcely understood, yet thought could be used for our purposes. And it too was slain." The level voice paused. Another point made.

  "Now we began somewhat to worry. The thing or things had entered the area. I control. It or they had managed to pass through the marsh, no mean feat in itself, as all here know. I estimated the track it might take, for it had discovered and destroyed the self-seeker it bore and we could no longer follow it. And, as all know, I trapped it.

  "Surprise upon surprise and wonder upon wonder! What had we caught but one of the despised Abbey priests of the soft religion of the past, the cross worshippers. One of the vagabond pack of woodsrunners, half soldier, half hunter, whom they send about on their stupid errands. For allies, it had two animals and a slave girl, the latter seized from savages on the coast as they were about to eat her. And this motley crew was what had shaken the North and frightened our Councils to their depths!" He stared at each of the others in turn, as if weighing his next words before continuing.

  "And there I erred, I freely admit. And if the Great Plan has suffered for it since, I accept my full share of responsibility. For I simply could not believe that t
his very ordinary human, however brave and skilled in the combat of the forests, could be the thing he was. I felt, as did all who studied the matter, that the Abbeys, or perhaps this man alone, had found a secret in a Dead City of the past, something to enhance the mind powers, some machine, perhaps, or even some strange drug. This secret we would extract at leisure on Manoon, the Dead Isle, whence none had ever gone, save at our bidding and direction. We completely ignored the escape of the slave girl and the two animals; let them perish in the wastes, we thought. They meant nothing." His ivory skull wagged slowly as he shook his head.

  "Mistake upon mistake, error upon error. The man had inborn or somehow inbred powers locked in his skull, some of which, with training, might have brought him here, into this chamber, my Brothers, even as we. That was the sum of our greatest error—not ( to realize the appalling strength that this seeming woodsrunner, this half priest, masked and kept hidden in the inner part of his mind!" The emphasis, even the passion which had crept into his voice, drew a faint hiss of incredulity from S'lorn, but the older man suppressed it when he saw the expressions of the Masters of the Red and Yellow Circles. For they seemed in total agreement.

  "What occurred next, alas, is too well known," S'duna went on. "He escaped. Escaped from the Dead Isle, taking his weapons and slaying still another Brother! A dumb brute, the captain of my Howler pack, sensed the escape on some level we could not and he too was slain, though a doughty fighter trained by me for many years. Now, think on this matter, Brothers, and think hard. We have not yet discovered how or by what powers this was done! All of our science, all of our records, which we thought the entire sum of knowledge here today—all of these tell us nothing useful. Oh, yes, the man used his mind. He slew the Brother with it. That was obvious. But without weapons or machines and hardly even with them, could we do the same? No, you all know we could not.

  "What next? More by guesswork than by anything concrete, we traced him again, this stupid priest-assassin, this Per Hiero Desteen, of whom we now know so much. And what occurred this time to the band of ragged wanderers? For he had found the girl and the animals by mind touch, though again we do not know how. What next? This time a whole shipload, one of the very few new ships, driven by the powers of The Death itself, ship, crew, and yet another high Brother, S'carn, third under me in rank and no weak foe, all vanished!" This time his pause was both unstudied and longer. Nor was he taking such trouble to conceal his rage and bafflement. The others listened soberly, their own faces now eager as they digested all the meaning of his words. S'lorn of the Green was as attentive as any.

  "We did what we could. We issued as many of the hand-wrought, personal mind screens as we had and warned all those that had dealings with us or were under our control on or near the Inland Sea. We alerted our Brothers of the Yellow Circle to the south. And now, too, I went southward myself. For I was convinced at last of our terrible danger from this man who had such strength that he could throw his mental force about like careless bolts of lightning, Oh, yes, by now I had become thoroughly convinced!

  "What follows next is not certain, but we have some clues, painfully assembled and collated. The reading seems thus;

  "Somehow, the priest crossed the Inland Sea. During this crossing, he again fought, having a ship and crew under his command, found how and where we know not. He fought a pirate long under our control, slew him in personal combat, and with him a Glith, newest and most powerful of what the enemy call Leemutes, the animal slaves we long have bred as our servants. The pirate crew surrendered. Not even fear of us could break their Sea Law, that to the victor goes the spoil. We have interrogated such as we could catch since and have learned a good deal, but gaining information has been slow and tedious.

  "This battle," he said, "caused mental storm. Also, there were self-seekers taken. We detected the area, plotted a course, and again sent one of the new ships, this time from a hidden harbor of the sea, near Neeyana on the south coast. It found the enemy and destroyed his ship, homed in on the self-seekers, the mind screens he had captured and forgotten. But we were too late! We gained nothing but the ashes of the paltry boat. All those aboard escaped into the deep forest, a place we go not and know little of. So now, at last, we know, from, the sea scum we captured later, much we did not and could not know then.

  "Listen well, Brothers!" His voice, never pleasant, had become a susurration, a hissing of pure venom. "Eleveners! Into this comes the so-called Brotherhood of the Eleventh Commandment, our most ancient enemies, the animal and plant lovers, the grubbers in the dirt, the beast minders, the midwives of all that creep and crawl, the adorers of useless life, the pitiers of the weak, the tenders of the helpless and soft! Arrgh! Eleveners!" His rage seemed almost to choke him for a moment, but he mastered himself.

  "One of these vermin was on that ship with the priest, his woman, and the two animals. He was seen. An old man, he must have been one of weight in their rotted hierarchy, for he could control the great sea beasts. Mayhap he had something to do with the lost ship in the North.

  "I was in Neeyana then and I called upon Brother S'ryath, my fellow and Master of the Yellow Circle here, for aid and counsel. And since I had abandoned direct control to him, I would that he tell of what we devised and what transpired as a result of it."

  S'duna leaned back, as if glad to be done with his part. His anger had brought unaccustomed beads of sweat to his pallid brow.

  S'ryath, on S'duna's left, hesitated for a moment, as if wondering where to begin or, perhaps, how. But he took up the tale readily enough.

  "We tried, S'duna and I, something which should have been done far earlier, if only there had been time, which there had not been." He looked about, as one would do if perceiving a challenge, but he seemed to see none and went on.

  "Our thoughts ran thus: Why had the priest been sent, or why was he going to the South, far beyond the borders of his barbarous land? Indeed, had he been sent at all, or was this all his own venturing? We thought not, we two. S'duna had indeed made it plain to me that this was no false alarm but a grave and sudden danger to us and to all the Great Plan. What did he seek, this priest? Remember, we knew nothing of any Eleveners then. That knowledge came much later.

  "We assembled such knowledge as we had. This Rover had S'nerg's maps; that we knew or guessed. On those were the locations of many places of the Great Dead, the masters of the world before The Death. Could this creature be in search of one such, for some purpose of his own? It seemed a good chance, and we had little other information. S'duna's spies were ransacking the North and so were those of Brother S'tarn across from me, the Master of the Red Circle. But spies, even such as we have in the North, take time to gather news, and we were and are stretched to the limit. We had to guess and meanwhile assemble forces for any eventuality. This we did at great speed—men, our animal slaves of all kinds, all we had at hand. It was a powerful force, and there were a half-dozen Brothers in command. And then we had a message, though undesigned by the sender!

  "On the eastern edge of the great wood, this priest and his pack used their minds, having some apparent struggle with the strange life of that area. We knew that grim things laired there, bred by the atom and yet not of us. It was an unknown place to us, save for dark rumor. Many had disappeared in that country without trace, both of us and of the ordinary human scum, traders and such.

  "We studied our maps, and there was a pre-Death site there, one, moreover, with an entrance marked, one we ourselves could open. It was but one of many marked for future research. We have hundreds of such, some being treasure troves, but most are useless. This is all well known." He looked about again, an expression of defiance on his face, the control slipping as he tried to justify what came next.

  "No, S'duna and I did not accompany the army. Perhaps we should have done so, in the light of hindsight. I do not apologize, though. Why do we breed and train servants and inferiors, if not for such tasks? I ask if any here question our courage, before I continue." Seeing no disposition
to do as he asked on any of the other faces, he continued, his voice lowered as if in involuntary awe.

  "There was a destruction brought upon the army such as we have never seen or dreamed of in our entire history. We received messages from our Brothers of the Robe, mind messages, that they had found the place, just as the maps showed, and that they would enter. Then—nothing! All mind voices ceased, as they went underground, presumably. And there fell a great silence, one still unbroken.

  "Many days later, one of our scouts, reconnoitering with all caution, found a vast area of blight and rot, full of foul growth, all of it dying and giving forth a stench which rose to the clouds above. Where the lost cavern of the Mighty Dead had lain was a smoking, tumbled waste, which still gave off heat and reeks of horrid vapor from beneath. Not the atom, not the forces of The Death, for those we can detect, but something else, perhaps older still, some great secret of the ancients, we deem, had been unloosed. And we have learned no more of what befell. My tale ends here." He fell silent and stared at the table.

  The silence continued, as if none cared to break it. The sheer magnitude of what they had heard, even though all knew the body of it in advance, seemed to have cast a spell. When a voice finally did speak, the actual sound appeared to have no place there.

  "But Jean add to the tale, Brothers, and in a way that will give us a new strength." S'lorn of the Green was actually smiling, a nasty rictus of no humor but of immense satisfaction. "Take heart, Brothers, while I unfold news from the South, from my own distant lands. Much of it came to hand only today, from my own trusted messengers. But it makes a pretty picture."

  He leaned forward as he spoke, and his long white fingers arched and touched each other upon the cold smoothness of the table.

  "We all have been told that the priest arrived in D'alwah, throwing years of patient work by our minions and allies into confusion. For lo, as we could never have guessed, the ragged slave woman this woods rat had found in the distant North was the lost princess, daughter of D'alwah's stupid king, one thought by us to be dead in the jungle long ago. The priest knew this, nurtured her, and finally married her by their absurd rites. Thus in one incredible stroke, he had himself made the de facto ruler of the kingdom.