“The ramp ends just ahead. There’s a door – I can’t see anyone, but we should be prepared.”
Walst drew his sword, and Trimon primed an arrow.
“Remember what we discussed – let them make the first move. Dethin – keep Mia safe.”
The warriors lowered their visors, and drew their swords. Slowly, carefully, Hurst led them up the last stretch of ramp. Mia held back, Dethin beside her, and the others disappeared out of sight around the bend. Then there was silence.
Mia waited in an agony of impatience. Six Silent Guards – that was what the healer had said. If they were truly waiting above, then how could it end but in bloodshed? Ten warriors against six – that was too close a match to provide her with much hope. Hurst had seemed quite confident about it, but no one knew very much about the Silent Guards, except that they were selected at the age of five, and taken off to the Ring to be trained in secret. Once adult, they were seen only in the temples or on ceremonial occasions. They were always tall and well-built, wearing metal armour that covered much of their bodies, and armed with spears and short stabbing swords. Whatever training they did was carried out in secret. They modelled themselves on the plains lion, fierce and brave, wearing the symbol on their armour and dressing always in gold.
It was the silence that made them so unnerving. It was said that they couldn’t speak because their tongues had been cut out, but that was too horrible to contemplate. Certainly they never spoke, and were obedient only to the Slaves. There were many theories about them, but no one knew their real purpose. Were they there to protect the Slaves from violence, or to defend the temples, or were they some relic of a past era, once functional but now reduced to no more than an adjunct to ritual?
The continued silence from above began to shred Mia’s nerves. Why was there no sound? If the Silent Guards were there, surely she would hear the sounds of fighting by now. If they were not, Hurst would have called down for her to join him. She was conscious of uncomfortably strong emotions washing down from the floor above, but she automatically closed her mind to them, to avoid sharing the distress. She was reluctant to eavesdrop on warriors in the midst of battle, for surely it would be humiliating for them to know that she was aware of all their fears and misgivings.
After a while, Dethin leaned closer and whispered, “Can you feel anything? Maybe you can work out what’s going on up there.”
She nodded and, with some hesitation, allowed her mind to open to the warriors. If she focused, she could see just one at a time, which was easier for her to cope with. She found fear, certainly, and aggression, the desire for a fight. Not anger, exactly, but impatience only loosely held in check. To her surprise, the strangers were easy to detect, for their emotions were quite different – there was no fear in them, or perhaps it was swamped by stronger feelings, but she could identify respect, a warm emotion which perhaps was a sense of brotherhood, and strong curiosity. There was something else, too – hope, perhaps, which was odd. Not only was there no hostility, they felt positively friendly towards the warriors.
“I have to go up there,” she said.
“You can’t,” he said flatly. “It’s far too dangerous.”
“I must. The warriors are spoiling for a fight, but whoever’s up there, they’re friendly. I have to convince Hurst of that. I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t try.”
He was silent, and she could see the indecision in his eyes. “If anything happens to you, Hurst will kill me.”
“I know,” she smiled. “But you must trust me on this, the same way I trusted you with the lion, remember? Back me up, and we can resolve this without blood being spilt.”
He lowered his sword and stood aside to allow her to go first. “Move very slowly,” he said. “And whatever you do, don’t startle Walst.”
She crept up the ramp, step by cautious step, and still no sound came from above. As she reached the top, she found herself behind the warriors who were frozen in position, ready to attack or defend on an instant. The tension clung to them like fog, and even without any special skill it was easy to see that the slightest provocation would trigger a fight. Hurst stood directly in front of her, with Gantor and Walst protectively in front of him, the standard formation for Companions defending a Karningholder. Trimon, bow primed, stood to one side. The others were on either side forming a loose semicircle.
Beyond them were six Silent Guards standing in front of huge arched doors, but they looked nothing like the armoured, anonymous specimens from the temples. They were just ordinary men, she saw, tall and muscular, but no more threatening than the average Skirmisher. They wore something very like the traditional formal dress of the Karningers, thin, floating silk trousers and tunics, although a little more draped and fitted, and without the headband with its long tendrils. They all wore gold, their traditional colour, with the lion symbol embroidered on the breast. Their heads were shaved. They reminded her of the baton-wielding figures. Curved ceremonial daggers, still sheathed, hung from each hip. One of them, perhaps the leader, stood a little forward of the rest, looking at Hurst, hands held up in appeal.
For a moment, Mia dithered. How to break into this tableau without causing alarm and provoking the very battle she was trying to prevent? But she had no need to do anything. The leader of the Silent Guards was facing her, and saw her at once. His gaze flicked from Hurst to her and back again, and then, unmistakably, he pointed to her, and Hurst turned his head and saw her.
“Hold position! Commander Gantor, you have the lead,” he barked, and then stormed back to Mia, face like thunder. His eye lit on Dethin, and he seemed about to explode.
“It’s all right,” Mia said quickly. “They’re friendly, I came to tell you. They mean no harm to any of us.”
“We’ll see about that…” Hurst began, but Dethin held up a hand. Mia had seen how effectively he could control even pugnacious men like Bulraney, but to her astonishment, his authority worked on Hurst, too, for he was silenced at once.
“It’s true,” Dethin said quietly. “Mia can tell, in the same way that I could with the keelarim. She knows they’re not hostile towards us. Look, he agrees.”
The leader of the Silent Guards was nodding and almost smiling as he heard this. Hurst looked suspiciously from one to the other, and then marched around Gantor to stand in front of the warriors, only feet away from the lead Silent Guard.
“Is this true? You wish us no harm?”
The man nodded eagerly.
“Can you talk to us?”
A shake of the head.
Hurst grunted.
Mia had slowly made her way forward to stand beside him. “They’re puzzled,” she said. “Why not tell them who we are, and what we’re here for?”
That brought another nod.
“I’d rather know what they’re here for,” Hurst muttered. “Oh, very well. I am Hurst dos Arrakas, of – well, of nowhere at the moment. We have all come from – from beyond, to… erm…”
Dethin appeared beside Mia, and twitched a hand, and Hurst fell silent. All heads were turned towards Dethin.
“There are those who call us barbarians,” he said in his quiet voice which yet carried all round the wide landing with its high ceiling, “but we are all of us Karningers, like you. We were sent into exile beyond the border by Those who Serve the Gods and their Voices and Slaves, to fight endlessly against our own people with no possibility of reprieve. We will tolerate this oppression no longer. We have come here to reclaim our own land from these outsiders and set ourselves and all Karningers free. Our quarrel is not with you, but all who oppose us must die or leave the Karningplain. You must choose which side you will take, and you must choose now. Will you oppose us?”
The warriors stood motionless during this speech, but the Silent Guards were signalling to each other with rapid hand movements. They couldn’t speak, but they could still communicate. Mia could see Walst tensing, and she put out a restraining hand towards him, shaking her head slightly. His swordpoint
dropped a little, but his eyes were on Hurst.
The Silent Guards stopped signalling, and all turned to Dethin. The leader bowed deeply to him.
“Will you oppose us?” he asked again.
A vehement shake of the head.
“We are going up to the top of the tower,” Dethin said. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Again, a negative.
“I’m not going anywhere while they’re still here, and armed,” Hurst muttered.
The leader gestured at himself, then a sweeping motion to include his fellows and then pointed downwards, a questioning look on his face. Dethin looked at Hurst, who shrugged and then nodded.
“Very well,” Dethin said. “If you leave all your weapons behind, you may go.”
They unbuckled their knife belts and placed them in a heap on the floor. Cautiously, swords still bared, the warriors stood aside to let the Silent Guards leave.
With a quick hop the leader jumped onto the low wall edging the ramp and leapt into the void beyond. Mia was too horrified to move as one by one all six of them jumped to certain death many floors below. It was Walst who recovered first, and raced across the landing to look down the shaft.
Then he laughed. “Fuck me, this place is amazing! Come and look.”
It was only when Dethin took her hand and reassured her that the six were perfectly safe that Mia dared to look. There they were, floating slowly in elegant spirals down to the ground floor, their silks fluttering colourfully as they descended.
“Well, that beats walking, and no mistake!” Ainsley said.
“Any explanation for that?” Hurst asked Gantor.
“Just some mechanism we don’t understand,” he grunted.
“Exactly so. Let’s call it magic, shall we? But I wonder why they put up no resistance?”
“Not their responsibility,” Gantor said. “Whatever their orders are, they’re not required to defend the tower from the likes of us.”
“If they’re not here to keep us out…?”
“Maybe they’re here to keep someone in? Let’s find out, shall we?”
There was no time to savour the relief of escaping without a fight, for they were not yet at the topmost level of the tower, and none of them had forgotten the traps and devices they had encountered lower down. They could not afford to be complacent.
The arched doors had ordinary handles and opened without effort. There were no other doors onto the landing, so there was no option but to go through. Beyond was a long straight corridor leading directly to a window in the outer wall of the tower. Doors led off on either side. The first one they opened revealed a bunk room with six beds, each perfectly made up, six chairs and a cupboard containing equipment for sharpening swords and the like.
“No personal effects at all,” Gantor muttered. “No books, games, writing things.”
“Maybe they don’t write home much,” Walst said.
“I’d expect them to write reports, though,” Hurst said thoughtfully. “Very odd.”
“Maybe they can’t read or write,” Gantor said. “To keep them isolated. But everything about this place is odd. Do you realise, we haven’t seen them at all.”
“Them?”
“Those who Serve the Gods. They’re supposed to live here, remember, and there’s room for hundreds of the little bastards, but we haven’t come across a single one.”
“That woman – the healer – said they weren’t here, but if they are, they’re up above, on the top floor. We must be close now.”
They went on, and found a room with shelves filled with clean clothes for the Silent Guards, neatly folded, then several empty rooms and finally, a surprise – five women in aprons busy with domestic chores; not Trannatta, just ordinary Karningers. Two were dealing with laundry, and three were preparing food, and they burst into terrified screams when the warriors appeared.
“Nothing wrong with their voices,” Dethin muttered.
Hurst rounded them up and then went off with Gantor to investigate their quarters.
“There’s not much to see,” he reported when he returned. “The usual things, and a room with six beds, and an old woman sleeping there – sick, I’d say. Took no notice of us, anyway.”
Walst and Trimon had the five women pinned into a corner, sobbing and leaning against each other for support.
“The old woman – what’s wrong with her?” Hurst said. This brought a loud outbreak of sobs. “What is your job here?” More sobs. “Look – we mean you no harm, you know. Who is it you work for?” But he could get nothing from them.
“Can you calm them down?” Dethin said quietly to Mia. “Soothe them – like I did with the keelarim.”
“I don’t know how to,” she said.
“Give it a try.”
But although she could feel the women’s distress very clearly, she had no idea how to reduce it.
“Well, we can’t waste any more time on them,” Hurst said. “Ainsley, take three men, and keep an eye on them. Put them in the bunk room, that’ll keep them out of the way.”
“Can’t we let them go?” Mia said, finding herself quite upset by the women’s constant wailing. “They are none of them young, they’re terrified and they can’t do us any harm, surely.”
“They’re too hysterical to let loose down below,” he said. “Who knows what they might do? They’re safer here. Besides, someone has to stay with the sick one. She looks likely to die at any moment. Come on – just a few more doors to go.”
When they reached the outer door of the women’s quarters, they found it closed and locked against them. There were small hatches in the door, to allow food to be passed through. Once again, Dondro’s ring released them.
“They were locked in there!” Mia said, shocked.
“So they were,” Hurst said sombrely. “Elderly women locked away to provide food and clean clothes for the Silent Guards. We’ll take them with us when we go back down.”
“There are a lot of people imprisoned in this tower,” Mia said quietly.
Two remaining doors led only to empty rooms, and a third was locked. Again, the ring released it.
“Look at this,” said Gantor. “The door locks on both sides, so you need a ring to go either way. What do you suppose they have hidden away here?”
“Let’s find out,” Hurst said. “But I think we should assume it’s hostile.”
Beyond the door was a short corridor and then a long ramp curved away up the inner side of the tower wall. The men drew their swords and Mia her dagger, and they crept silently up the ramp, up and up, until they could see the topmost spire of the tower arching high above them. They had reached the top of the tower.
They emerged into a room filled with light. The whole floor was a single vast room, the outer walls largely glass, and the sunlight reflecting off the lake dazzled them. In the exact centre of the room was a massive glass table, perfectly circular, and embedded in it were the same type of fiery letters they had seen in the tunnel.
Set around the table were many chairs, about half of them filled, but Mia had never seen people like them. They were old, yet their skin was clear and shining. Their hair was grey or white but it hung to their waists, lustrous and full. They wore elegantly draped gowns decorated with gold embroidery. Their faces were all turned expectantly towards the warriors, and there was no fear in them at all. Surprise, maybe, and even pleasure.
One of the two women gasped and clapped her hands in excitement. “At last, at last!” she cried.
One of the men held both hands out towards them, beaming. “Come in, friends, come in and welcome! We have been waiting such a long time for you.”
50: The Chamber of the Gods (Hurst)
“Now what?” muttered Walst.
Hurst felt much the same. After all the bizarre events of the last few days and weeks, going right back to Mia’s disappearance and his own pursuit of her, he had long since lost any ability to predict what might be around the next corner or behind the next door.
He felt as if he had jumped into a river in full spate and was being swept inexorably downstream to who knew what destination.
It no longer worried him. It was enough to be alive, to be with Mia, to be still moving forwards. Every encounter, however, every new twist left him less able to deal with the next. He knew himself to be a competent Skirmisher, perhaps more than competent, and where he knew the rules of the game he could cope well enough. But here there were no rules at all. He had no idea what game they were playing, what the pieces were, what moves he could safely make. A simple lock could open up the floor beneath them. An empty hall could suddenly fill with enemies appearing out of nowhere. He was prepared for anything or nothing, moving blind, simply hoping that they would get through each stage.
He wished Tanist were there, with his relaxed air of authority, taking the lead, giving orders without effort. He made it look so easy. Dethin had that too, he realised. He had stepped in with the Silent Guards, and said all the right things, much better than he could have done. He had never pushed himself forward, never tried to take over, but when he had needed help, Dethin was there, just like his Companions, trustworthy, always watching his back. He liked that. He half wished their positions were reversed, that he had nothing to do except protecting Mia, and Dethin had the task of dealing with all the impossible things that had crossed their path.
And now, this. Whatever he might have thought he would find, it was not these benign old people, beaming in pleasure at him. They looked harmless, but how could he tell? Were they even real?
He heard Dethin’s voice from behind him. “Mia?”
“They’re friendly,” she said without hesitation. “They seem – excited.” Her voice sounded puzzled by that.
Those seated around the table exchanged glances.
“We are friendly,” one of the men said, standing up, so that Walst twitched. “We have no weapons – see?” He held his arms out horizontally, the draped sleeves hanging almost to the floor. “You may search us if you wish.”
Hurst was torn. It would be sensible, of course, but it seemed disrespectful. The gowns they wore were of an unfamiliar style, but there was a tradition long ago on the plains that those who had reached the age of wisdom set aside practical working clothes and grew their hair and wore the gown. Many villages still kept to the old ways, calling such people ‘elder’ and deferring to them in many matters.
The Plains of Kallanash Page 54