“Who says we’ll have the same luck?” the actor argued. “I hate the idea of being modified by any form of magic, that’s all.”
“We simply have to keep our stay short,” Corenn countered. “The effects should be kept to a minimum.”
“Should,” the actor repeated cynically. “Not to mention that every day spent in this ‘paradise’ counts for five here.”
“At least we understand why there have always been so few heirs,” Lana said sadly. “Surely we are already Gweloms.”
The only child in her family, the Maz thought of her father, and her grandfather, who had only two boys, despite his desire for a large family. During five years of Union, she had never had a child. The heirs carried part of their ancestors’ curse in their flesh.
“Could Saat be hunting us for that?” Yan proposed timidly.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure. To be Gweloms makes us peculiar. Saat might know something on the subject, something we don’t.”
“We don’t know so many things,” Lana said sadly, thinking of the journal’s lost pages.
Corenn skimmed the pages on which the Maz had transcribed the journal. It was rich with information and she didn’t want to miss anything.
“Achem mentions a second responsibility,” she said. “Some-thing about allowing humanity to reach the Age of Ys.”
“He must mean the knowledge about how gods are made,” Grigán disagreed. “That’s what he tried to tell the Grand Temple.”
“No, no! He makes the distinction clear: the burden of Jal’dara’s secrets was already heavy enough to bear. That’s what motivates Saat. It’s this mystery we have to solve.”
“What do our births have to do with the Age of Ys?” Rey interjected. “Lana, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t Eurydis supposed to start it herself?”
“Exactly, Rey. It’s said that the goddess will come for the third time to this world, to help humanity take the last step. But only the last one. Mankind must first finish the universal quest for the Moral. Perhaps one of the heirs is destined to bring her word. Like Comelk in his time?”
“Those are just words.” Grigán waved her off with a disdainful swipe. “That doesn’t explain why Saat is so focused on our extermination. Even if our births contributed, by some mystery I don’t understand, to the coming of the Age of Ys, what does that have to do with Saat?”
The warrior had hit the nail on the head. His intervention brought the conversation back to their immediate problems.
“Perhaps it’s about vengeance,” Bowbaq proposed. “Our ancestors thought he was dead when they left Jal’dara without him. Maybe he feels abandoned or betrayed.”
“He wouldn’t go through all this trouble for vengeance,” Corenn disagreed. “Did he hate his companions so much that he hunts the fourth generation of their descendants? That would be the sign of a deep madness. And, to the contrary, Saat seems to possess all his mental faculties.”
“But why then? Why is he our enemy?” Grigán asked.
“That’s what we have always wanted to know. We can’t respond to this question until we meet Saat. Or Nol.”
Corenn turned to Grigán, inviting him to share his decision, but the warrior didn’t respond.
“He is with the Wallattes,” Rey reminded them. “That might have something to do with the Eastians who were in Jal’dara.”
“We always thought there had been only ten emissaries,” Lana commented.
“We should have thought of that,” Corenn said. “Now it seems obvious that if Nol sought out representatives from every kingdom, he would have invited the Eastians as well.”
“What could they have done there?” the Maz asked reflexively. “Nol certainly had good reasons to bring them all there. But what were they?”
“Have you ever heard of He Who Teaches?” Yan asked.
“Never. If Nol is a god, as he seems to be, his name is rarely invoked in the Holy City.”
“Like Reexyyl,” Grigán added, “and the Undulating Drake, and the Wyvern of Oo. And all the Eternal Guardians whose names we don’t even know. They are all gods.”
Yan’s mind wandered briefly. Only two moons earlier, he hadn’t even believed in magic. Since then, he had learned to use it, and every step of their voyage brought him more proof of the supernatural. What if all the legends were true, at least partially? Dragons, elves, chimeras, griffins, the Fey, ogres, hydras, unicorns, and so many other extraordinary creatures . . . Did they all exist, somewhere in this world, which had become so rich and fantastic?
If mankind can create gods, can’t we make monsters as well? Yan thought. The Eternal Guardians were probably born out of the nightmares of early man, materialized versions of their primal terror. Yan wanted to share his thoughts, but didn’t dare interrupt Rey and Corenn’s intense discussion.
“Lady Corenn, you know how much I normally respect your suggestions,” the actor explained. “But this time, I can’t agree with you. What kind of chance do we really have to get through that portal, supposing we can even find it? Very little. Practically none. The only thing we know about it is that there is a murderous monster waiting for us there.”
“Saat is another,” Léti retorted, “and smarter.”
“Saat is mortal,” Rey responded. “What do we know about this Wyvern? And can we count on it to open the gate?”
“It did so on the Day of the Bear, a century ago,” Corenn explained. “According to Achem, it should still resonate from Pal’b’ree’s passing, like the one on Ji.”
“And if that is insufficient? Like on Ji?”
“The portal’s power grows when the Guardian is close. We just have to touch it . . .”
“Nothing could be easier!” the actor said, reaching the end of his patience. “And how do you plan to convince it to share its divine touch? You know, the only thing mortals need to get the portal to function?”
“Perhaps we can touch it ourselves,” Léti proposed. “And then we run for Jal’dara.”
“My dear friends, excuse me, but I don’t share your optimism. I won’t bet my life on it, to borrow Grigán’s favorite expression!”
The divine touch, Yan thought, Usul’s unusual gift. “You won’t know until the moment is right,” he had said.
“I have been touched by a divine,” the young man announced, trembling with emotion. “Usul touched me.”
He had already told them the story, but like him, his companions had forgotten, thinking the god had been lying. Now the strange gesture showed its value.
“Why did he do that?” Grigán asked. “By the very act, he interfered with the future himself.”
“Usul has never wanted to be a passive observer,” Lana said, as excited as the others. “Only, he has no power outside of his cave; he can only act on his visitors.”
“He is terribly bored,” Yan confirmed, pensive. “If he helped us, it’s only to better entertain himself, to add some uncertainty to his terrible game.”
“Whatever his reasons,” Corenn concluded, “we should thank him. Rey, are you convinced now?”
The actor thought for a long moment, an uneasy expression on his face. Too many elements of this project were out of his control, and that did not please him.
“Grigán, what do you think?” he finally asked, standing at the warrior’s side. “Don’t you think this is too risky?”
Grigán looked up from the fire where he had been staring, thinking. He had never felt so indecisive. In his opinion, both plans were equally dangerous. There was no obvious choice.
But if the warrior decided to seek Saat, it would mean that he would have to leave Corenn behind, and this argument swayed him.
“We will go to Oo,” he said finally. “If that doesn’t help us, I will find Saat. Alone.”
They all agreed, relieved and worried at the same time. Yan spent the rest of the night wondering if they had taken a wrong turn. Usul must be enjoying himself!
They had only nine days le
ft before the Day of the Bear, barely enough to reach Oo in time. Oo was in the Solene Federation, and they had to both travel cautiously and allow for some time to find the portal.
Yan had little knowledge on the subject; if the manuscript from the Deep Tower had indicated a few landmarks, it was silent when it came to the exact placement of the portal in relation to these milestones. The heirs knew they had to find the ruins of a keep in the forest described as the Forest of Titans. The portal couldn’t be far from there. They just had to hope that it wasn’t as well hidden as the one on Ji.
Rey followed the group from behind, showing his disagreement with being dragged into an adventure he thought was by all accounts too risky. Sulking, he let his rebellious side show. One night, he even threatened to leave them if the experience in Jal’dara was fruitless. They all reacted to his declaration as if he were joking, and at the time the actor didn’t correct them, but the next morning he spoke with Lana, begging the Maz to accompany him, or at least to wait for him somewhere.
“But where would we go, Reyan?” she asked. “We can’t hide anywhere, and Saat can see us wherever we go!”
“I plan to go visit the sorcerer first,” the actor confided. “I rarely let others fix my problems. Grigán wants to go alone, fine. I’ll do the same. We’ll see who gets to Wallos first,” he finished, with a smile.
“Reyan, it’s not a competition!” Lana responded, panicked. “I beg of you, promise me you won’t decide anything until we meet Nol.”
“For you, I promise. No decision before the Oo country. But then we will have nothing left to discover, Lana. We can’t keep running across the world while Saat gathers his army.
“I would give my life for any one of you, but not in vain. The solution is not in our current quest. It’s in taking action. I would be happy if you all followed me, but I won’t change my mind, even if I have to leave alone. And that’s exactly what Grigán feels too,” said Rey.
His words troubled the Maz more deeply than Rey had wanted. He might have been right, but the idea of leaving Grigán, Corenn, Bowbaq, Yan, and Léti brought tears to her eyes. The thought of Reyan’s departure seemed just as tragic.
On their fifth day of travel, as they approached the Col’w’yr, the river marking the Thalite Kingdom’s border, Lana followed through with her promise to her father and burned Achem’s journal. They all watched the little ceremony and sympathized with Lana’s dismay, not knowing that there was another cause. For her, burning the journal was a symbol that the heirs were going to split up.
Grigán’s and Rey’s wishes were the first signs of an inevitable rift. Soon they would all take their own paths.
Grigán had been doubly vigilant as they crossed the Thalite lands, and, extraordinarily, they had avoided contact with any natives. They had seen smoke from faraway hearths, hamlets in the distance, villages, and even villagers, but they had kept their distance. The nearby war played in their favor; the heirs were able to avoid contact with the Thalittes because they in turn wanted to avoid the Wallattes, who had invaded their territory.
Now only four days remained before the Day of the Bear, and the heirs couldn’t afford to lose more time with detours and furtive riding. The ease with which they forded the Col’w’yr encouraged the warrior to accelerate the pace, and the Solene Federation seemed to have been spared from the wars to the west.
Continuing their trek, they noticed how advanced the Upper Kingdoms were compared to the Eastian Kingdoms. The trails here were poorly marked and completely unkempt, very few buildings were constructed with stone, and every village had an outer wall built of sharpened logs, showing that war reigned in this region.
The Eastians, like the people of the Lower Kingdoms, were always at war, but these conflicts rarely reached the level of nations. Most often, battles were between two neighboring villages or, more rarely, neighboring provinces. To bring all of these people together under one banner, as Saat had done, was an exceptional achievement.
If the sorcerer had united them with force, wouldn’t he use the same powers to bring his army victory in the coming battle? The Goranese confidence of defending the Warrior’s Vale bordered on arrogance, Grigán thought. Having himself lived in the Grand Empire, Saat would know every weakness and would penetrate the Vale. Or perhaps he had another plan in mind? What could it be?
The warrior could only guess, as they encountered no new information. But the idea haunted him until they reached Oo. From there, he had other things to worry about.
They entered the Forest of Titans on the eve of the Day of the Bear, which was a feat in and of itself. That Grigán could guide them there with only the help of his compass and his memories of glimpsed maps was a testament to his abilities, and they all thanked him. Reaching the forest wasn’t their end goal, though; the most difficult part was yet to come.
“We have to find the door before tomorrow night,” Corenn reminded them. “If Achem is right, the passage will open from the resonance of Pal’b’ree’s passage a century ago.”
“And if it doesn’t?” Rey asked, for the tenth time.
“Then we will have to call the Guardian and hope that she doesn’t hibernate for all of the cold season, as Nol led Achem to believe.”
“Hope that she isn’t waiting for us!” the actor corrected, grimacing.
They started looking for the portal immediately, entering the shaded forest at random. The Forest of Titans earned its name from the trees, which stretched thirty yards into the air, rendering anything at their base tiny and awestruck.
Most of the trees were barkors, which Bowbaq recognized from the White Country, but there were also other varieties. Apart from lénostores, atar birches, and the resonating alters, which supplied the wood for vigolas, they could see dozens of others that they didn’t recognize. It had been this way since the Warrior’s Vale; even nature seemed to be somehow different from what they knew in the Upper Kingdoms. Yan wouldn’t have been surprised to see a flying margolin.
The forest’s ceiling was rich with vegetation and leaves, but the ground was almost completely devoid of plant life. Except for a few types of mushrooms and an omnipresent moss, the trees kept out any plants shorter than fifteen feet tall. Above that, the branches and winter leaves mixed to form a canvas, which was held together by a parasitic ivy that flowed through the entire forest. When they were well into the forest, the heirs could practically feel the weight of the vegetation towering over them.
“Even when it rains, the soil must stay dry,” Bowbaq commented, as he tried to see the sky.
“It must be teeming with life up there,” Yan added. “Insects, birds . . . Ifio would love it here.” Of course, he had no intention of abandoning the mimastin, nor would Ifio let him.
“Look at the size of this trunk!” Rey said, pointing to an enormous barkor. “You could build a house inside it.”
“Maybe that’s what the Wyvern did,” Léti said. “What do you think she looks like?”
“Like Grigán,” Rey responded without hesitating. “More beautiful, and with a mustache.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny,” Grigán said, annoyed.
But Léti’s remark had given Corenn an idea.
“What could the portal look like?” she asked the group. “The one on Ji is in a cavern, but this landscape has no caves. The Sohonne Arch is made of stone . . . Perhaps the portal here is carved into a tree?”
“That seems unlikely to me.” Grigán rejected the idea. “The ones we know so far are supposed to endure forever.”
“The barkors live for a very, very long time,” Bowbaq said, happy that he could help. “And they become so hard and dry when they die that you can only destroy them by burning them.”
Rey commented, “If there were ever a fire here, the dry vines covering all the trees would burn so hot that not a twig would escape!”
“Don’t forget that the portals are magical,” Corenn continued, “built by divine hands. Given that, they must posses a certain resistance. Or,
at least, a protection . . .”
“The Guardian,” Lana finished for her. “The Wyvern must ensure that no fire spreads to the portal. Or even, throughout all of Oo.”
Luckily, the heirs hadn’t yet lit a torch or a lantern, despite the feeble light that trickled through the thick canvas of leaves.
“At least now we know how to coax it out of its hiding place,” Grigán said.
“As long as we don’t have to make friends with it, yes,” the actor cynically responded.
“If the portal is in a tree, we should find it quickly,” Léti said excitedly. “It must be one of the largest ones in the forest!”
“Unfortunately, we can’t see from here,” Corenn said looking at the chaotic canopy. “These trees are too high to be climbed.”
“Not for Ifio,” Yan offered timidly, already certain how the Mother would respond to his idea.
“That’s out of the question. You can’t risk your mind for a simple piece of knowledge! Read her mind if it pleases you, but no more of this deep mind connection.”
The young man nodded, disappointed, but relieved. The experience of stealing a body was so trying that he would prefer to avoid it.
“I don’t think climbing would be so hard,” Rey said. “The ivy makes for a great stairway, and the branches can handle my weight. We brought some rope, I think?”
The actor stopped his horse and dismounted, before loosening some of the straps on his horse. Feeling vaguely concerned, Yan handed him the rope he had used to descend into Usul’s cavern. Though he wasn’t superstitious, two moons of travel had taught Yan to listen to these feelings of premonition. Grigán must have learned at least as much after his twenty years of travel.
“Reyan, you can’t climb up there alone!” Lana said.
“In every inn where we have stayed, I dreamed you would say something like that to me,” the actor joked. “But you had to wait until now.”
They all dismounted and watched their friend prepare for his climb. He tied a few knots, after passing the rope under his armpit.
Shadow of the Ancients Page 24