Where The Ni-Lach

by Marcia J. Bennell

  Dhal looked at Efan a moment longer, then stood up. “I admit that this place looks something like the Val-hrodhur I visited, but it can’t be. There are no people here and the building is in ruins and the—”

  Suddenly his gaze fastened on the cliffs to the west. The sheer rock wall was vine-covered like everything else, but to the left and slightly above tree level the rock ledges were exposed.

  “Dhalvad, is something wrong?” Haradan asked.

  “There was a stairway clinging to the side of the cliff and above it a tunnel that led into a cave. I don’t see it but—” He looked at Haradan.

  Haradan understood. “Want to take a look?”

  “Yes.”

  Dhal and Haradan set out for the cliff. After they had cut their way through the tangle of vine and bush at the base of the cliff, they searched for the place where the rock wall was broken by fissures.

  Dhal was about ready to give up when Haradan found a piece of rock that was squared off on one edge sticking out of a loose pile of shale. Brushing the shale away, Haradan bent to take a closer look. When he stood up he was smiling. “It’s a step, Dhal.”

  Dhal pulled back the vine that covered the wall. Haradan stepped up beside him to help. Within minutes they had cleared a small section of vine away and were peering up into semi-darkness where a network of vines formed a canopy over the crevice. Haradan brushed the rubble away to find two more steps.

  The steps were so littered with dirt, rock, and old leaves that it was more a ramp than a stairway. Dhal felt his way up through the darkness, his hands sliding along the damp walls. Shortly, they reached the top of the crevice where they cut through the tangle of vines. Some of the vines were as thick as Dhal’s wrist; cutting them was hard work. When they pulled the last vine down, light blazed through. Finally they climbed up through the last barrier and stood on a flat ledge of rock overlooking the valley. A sense of timelessness slipped over Dhal. How long had those vines been growing? How long since any Ni had passed that way?

  He looked down onto the green valley below. Once that land had been home to Ni, then it belonged to gensvolf, draak, and feeder. Where the Ni-lach now? he wondered.

  “Is it like you remember?” Haradan asked.

  “Yes and no. The trees are different. And the building was in good condition.” Dhal turned, trying to remember. “I was talking to Danner some of the time,” he explained, “and I didn’t pay attention to where he was leading me.” He shook his head. “I remember the cave and this stairway and the building—but that’s all.”

  “I’ve been thinking, Dhal. This place is old and long out of use. But if it once did belong to the Ni and they were chased away by the Sarissa, perhaps they moved to another place and rebuilt their home as they remembered it, naming it Val-hrodhur after their first home?”

  Dhal nodded. “It would explain why everything is so familiar to me.”

  Haradan turned and looked back down the stairway. “You want to go back?”

  “Not just yet. Let’s see if there are any more steps. If the other Val-hrodhur is a duplicate of this place, there should be more stairs leading up to a cave entrance.”

  “All right, we can look, but watch your step. It looks as if there’ve been some recent rock slides.”

  Following the rock ledge around the side of the cliff, they located another flight of steps leading up to a small plateau. There they found the entrance to the cave. It had been partially obliterated by a rock slide, but after a little work removing stone, there was room enough for a man to crawl over the rubble and enter. But darkness confronted them from that point on, and Haradan would not allow Dhal to go any farther without some form of light.

  Haradan led the way back down the cliffside. As they reached the bottom steps, Dhal turned. “We will go back later, won’t we, Haradan?”

  Haradan dropped an arm across his shoulders. “We’ll go back. I know how you feel about this place. It’s a link with your people. You know that I would be the very last to deny you that link, but I wasn’t going to let you walk into that cave without a torch.” Haradan grinned. “Not angry, are you?”

  “No,” Dhal answered. “Just impatient.”

  “Your impatience I can handle.” He laughed, squeezing Dhal’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s find Poco and the others and tell them what we’ve found. After all you’ve told us about this Val-hrodhur, I don’t think anyone will want to miss the expedition into the cave.”

  They left the cover of the trees and approached the building. But Poco and Efan were gone, their packs lying in a pile near the bushes.

  “Poco!” Dhal called, raising his voice. “Efan! We’re back!”

  There was no answer. “I wonder where they disappeared to?”

  Haradan continued on toward the packs. “Probably poking around in the building.”

  “Haradan, it’s too quiet. Listen.”

  Haradan stopped and looked around, hearing the alarm in Dhal’s voice.

  Suddenly, Dhal saw movement out of the corner of his eye, as two men emerged from the shadow of the bushes. Haradan saw the men at the same time. “Sarissa!” he yelled, lunging toward Dhal. “Run! Run!” As Haradan pushed Dhal, urging him back toward the shelter of the trees, four more men appeared from different directions.

  Realizing that it was he they were after and not Haradan, Dhal turned back toward the trail he had just left, hoping to draw the men away from his friends. But as he raced to the edge of the clearing, three more men stepped into view, cutting him off. It was a trap—set and waiting—and Haradan and he had walked right into it.

  Dodging back to the center of the clearing, Dhal drew his knife. Haradan was fighting with one man while another man lay on the ground clutching his stomach. Just as Dhal ran up, Haradan knocked down the second man. “Keep going,” he hollered. “I’m right behind you!”

  They ran around a large clump of bushes. Glancing behind, Dhal saw four men on their trail, one fast closing on Haradan. Suddenly he heard something ahead and two more men appeared. There was no way to avoid them. Dhal kept going, lifting his knife. One man ducked away, while the other man threw himself into Dhal’s legs. As Dhal rolled over, the first man lunged, throwing himself on top of Dhal—and onto Dhal’s knife. His scream shattered the air. Dhal kicked him away and looked for the other man.

  But Haradan had already taken care of him. He pulled Dhal up. “Go!” he yelled. “Run!”

  One glance downtrail told Dhal that it was hopeless; still, he tried. Turning, he ran upslope toward the first line of trees. He could hear Haradan right behind him.

  But they could not outrun their pursuers. Dhal was caught from behind and thrown to the ground. The fingers of his knife hand were pried apart. With five men holding him down, he had no chance to fight back.

  After a brief struggle, he gave up. He heard someone order the men to let him up. As he pushed to his hands and knees, he turned to look for Haradan, hoping he might have escaped. But Haradan was there. He lay face down on the ground, four men standing over him. One of the men leaned down and flipped him over.

  Dhal’s heart froze when he saw Haradan’s head flop out of control. Then hands pulled him to his feet. He fought then, fear for Haradan blinding him to the futility of resistance.

  Someone ordered the men to let go. Dhal ran to Haradan’s side. Gently lifting Haradan’s head, he saw the gash over the right temple, blood smeared across the forehead. But it was not the blood that made Dhal’s heart drop—it was the emptiness in Haradan’s eyes.

  “No!” he cried softly. Quickly he felt for a pulse at Haradan’s throat. The skin was warm and sweaty, but there was no throb of life there. Summoning his Ni-lach power, Dhal closed his eyes and concentrated, reaching into the body he held, searching for that spark of fire that is in all living things.

  Time passed. Seconds? Minutes? Dhal never knew. When he opened his eyes and looked down, he knew Haradan was beyond his reach. Gently he placed trembling fingertips to Haradan’s lips, remember
ing his smile. One moment alive, the next moment dead. It did not seem possible.

  Suddenly he felt legs at his back. A hand grabbed his hair, pulling his head up, and something was forced into his mouth. Instinctively he swallowed. For a moment it felt as if liquid fire had been poured down his throat. Coughing and spitting up some of the burning liquid, he knocked the hide flagon away.

  He was thrown forward onto his stomach. As his arms were drawn around behind him, someone gave orders. “Take him back to the ruins.”

  “What about the other one, sir?”

  “He’s dead. Leave him.”

  Numbed within and hardly aware of the rough hands that pulled at him, Dhal was jerked to his feet and dragged past Haradan’s body. The next thing he knew he was being pushed to his knees. A hand slapped across his face. The sting of pain drove some of the numbness away.

  He lifted his head and found a man sitting in front of him on a portable, three-legged stool. The shock of recognition sent tremors coursing through Dhal’s body. He shook his head, unwilling to believe.

  Then came that familiar voice. “I am no ghost, Green One,” Saan Drambe said softly, “nor dead returned to life.”

  For a moment Dhal could not order his thoughts. Even the shock of Haradan’s death was submerged by disbelief. “You— you were reported dead.”

  Saan Drambe nodded. “As was planned.”

  “Planned? Planned?” Dhal shook his head. “Why? What of your son? When he learned that you were dead he—”

  “Efan is a very good actor,” Saan Drambe said calmly, interrupting. “He is not my son.”

  Dhal’s face must have betrayed his bewilderment because Saan Drambe grinned. “It would seem that the boy did better than I had hoped. He had us worried once or twice. I thought he was going to balk at leaving a trail after you healed him. That was beautifully done, by the way. You would never know he had had anything wrong with him.”

  Efan? While part of his mind said no, that Efan would not betray them, the other part remembered the boy’s silences, the eyes that avoided contact. “How?” he asked, sick with the thought of Efan’s betrayal.

  “What?”

  “How did you find us?”

  Saan Drambe answered without hesitation. “Efan always had a flare for carving. You would be surprised at the amount of information that can be left on a single, unassuming stick. The boy grew lax the past three or four days though. We didn’t find even one of his trail markers, but by that time your trail was pretty well established and we just followed the path of least resistance. That, plus a footprint here and there, was all that was necessary to find this place.”

  “What has happened to Pocalina-fel-Jamba?”

  “We have her. She is quite safe—for the moment.”

  “Ssaal-lr and Gi?”

  “If you’re referring to the derkat, it hasn’t been seen. Nor has your little furred friend, but I assume that both will turn up eventually, if we haven’t frightened them off for good. Animals have an instinct for self-preservation. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that both have left the valley for safer territory. Don’t look to them for help.”

  Dhal knew that Gi-arobi would not leave him voluntarily, nor would Ssaal-lr leave Poco. He looked around but did not see Efan. He turned back to Saan Drambe. “Why all of this? What purpose? What do you want?”

  “What other purpose than gain, Green One? You are a part of the legend of the Tamorlee, a treasure that means power and vast riches to anyone wise enough to find it. Down through the years many have tried and failed, but then that only makes the hunt more interesting. As soon as I heard the rumor of a Ni living in the Deep, I spoke with Regent Lasca and convinced him that through you we might have a chance of locating the Tamorlee. He took a lot of convincing, but he’s a man forever interested in power, and the thought of controlling even one of the mysterious forces the Ni were able to control was something he couldn’t resist. I myself am more interested in the treasure of gemstones and Ni-lach art sure to be found within the Ni-lach sanctuary where the Tamorlee is said to be hidden.”

  Saan Drambe paused, then continued. “When we realized that we couldn’t force you to reveal the location of the Tamorlee, we had to make other arrangements, which included your ‘escape’ and my ‘death.’ Once you were free, you behaved much as we had hoped you would. All we had to do was make sure you headed for the mountains.”

  “Who is Efan, if not your son?” Dhal asked, interrupting.

  “Efan is my wife’s only brother. My wife, by the way, is very much alive. She has always been more a mother to Efan than a sister. When I told her about the chance for Efan to obtain Ni-lach healing, she didn’t question my motives, nor did the boy. They both went along with my plans and didn’t think twice about betraying one of your race. I think Efan has found it hard to play the spy, though. He’s not the type. I also believe he has some liking for you, but I’m sure that when he understands the riches to be won out of this expedition, his conscience will bother him no longer. But enough of that. Let’s talk about the Tamorlee. It is here, isn’t it? That’s where you and Haradan went?”

  At Haradan’s name, a flood of anger swept through Dhal. Haradan—dead because of this man’s greed! As Dhal knelt there before Saan Drambe, something within him died, an innocence, a trusting that had been nurtured by Haradan down through the years. And in the void that was left, hate was born, cold and hard, and with that hate came a flood of gensvolf cunning and the urge to retaliate, to kill.

  “I’m waiting for an answer, Green One,” Saan Drambe said. When Dhal failed to reply Saan Drambe took out his knife and with the point of the blade he forced Dhal’s head back. “Somewhere it is said that the eyes are the silent messengers of the soul,” he said softly. “I would see your eyes, Green One. Look at me!”

  Suddenly Saan Drambe’s smile faded. Dhal was not sure what the man saw in his eyes at that moment, but he knew what he felt—once his hands were free, Saan Drambe was a dead man.

  Saan Drambe withdrew his knife and sat back. “No matter your feelings toward me, Green One,” he said, forcing himself to keep eye contact. “It’s time to cooperate. One has already died for you. Will you make it two?” He looked at one of his men. “Bring the woman.”

  Poco was led from the ruins of the building and made to sit at Saan Drambe’s knee. Her hands were tied behind her back and she bore the signs of her struggle. “Dhal, are you all right?”

  Saan Drambe’s hand shot out, fastening in her hair. “Silence,” he growled, jerking her head back until Dhal thought her neck would break. “You will not speak to each other!”

  Where once Dhal would have lunged to Poco’s defense, he now sat still, knowing there was nothing he could do to help her at that moment. Saan Drambe’s knife was at her throat a second later. Had Dhal tried anything, Poco would have died.

  “Perhaps you don’t love her after all,” Saan Drambe said softly, pulling his knife back slightly. Dhal watched a trickle of blood roll down Poco’s neck. “Talk to me, Green One, or watch the Singer die in front of you.”

  Dhal looked into Poco’s eyes. There was no silent appeal there, only acceptance. Poco trusted him with her life. “Release her,” he said. “Then I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

  “You will tell me what I want to know now, and I will keep the woman to ensure your continued cooperation. Now, where is the Tamorlee?”

  Dhal hesitated a moment. “We didn’t find it.”

  “But you were looking for it,” Saan Drambe pressed. “Here, somewhere.”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me what you did find.”

  “A stone stairway leading to a cave.”

  “And inside this cave?”

  “I don’t know. It was too dark to see inside. Haradan and I came back for torches.”

  “How far to this cave?”

  “Twenty minutes.”

  “Good. It’s early yet and we have time to take a look. The girl will stay here. If somethin
g happens to me and I don’t return, I’m leaving orders that she is to be killed. Is that understood?”

  Five minutes later Cerl sar Drambe and Dhal, accompanied by six guards, left the ruins and headed for the cliff stairway. It was almost seven hours before they returned, empty-handed and minus two men. Saan Drambe was not happy.

  After entering the cave, they had discovered their way blocked by another wall of loose rock. It looked as if someone had tried to seal the entrance. Saan Drambe put everyone to work removing rubble while he stood and watched from the side, giving directions.

  It took them three hours to break through. Once on the other side of the cave-in, Dhal’s hands were retied and he was forced to sit with two of the men while Saan Drambe and the rest waded out into the darkness of the cavern, searching for the fabled Tamorlee.

  In his mind’s eye, Dhal could remember the huge cavern he had seen before. Instead of the darkness, there should have been a glow of green light. Though he could not see, he could sense the emptiness beyond the small circle of light.

  Three hours later there came a call to return to the cave entrance. All but two of the searchers returned.

  “We’ll have to look for the missing men tomorrow,” Saan Drambe had growled, tossing the stub of his torch over the cliff. “They’re probably lost in those damn tunnels.”

  Chapter 24

  DHAL WOKE TO WHISPERED VOICES. “KNOWING WHAT HE IS, what he represents, how could you betray him?” Dhal recognized Poco’s voice. By rolling his head to the side he could see her. She was propped up on her elbows, her body still encased in her blanket. She was talking to Efan. Dhal was surprised to find the boy so close, for the night before Saan Drambe had ordered him to stay away from them.

  It was early morning. There was a green mist filtering up through the branches of the trees. The smell of woodsmoke told Dhal that someone was starting breakfast. He could hear several men talking over to his left.

  “Answer me, Efan,” Poco prodded.

  Efan was kneeling, his back to Dhal. For long moments he said nothing, then he spoke, his words barely audible. “I wanted to walk again.”