The Shining Ones

by David Eddings

  ‘All right,’ she gave in quite suddenly.

  ‘That was quick,’ Talen said to Khalad. ‘I thought she was going to be stubborn about it.’

  ‘No, Talen,’ she smirked. ‘Actually, I’m sort of looking forward to hearing that vast cry of chagrin that’s going to echo from every mountain in Daresia when our enemies hear the sound of Anakha’s fist closing around Bhelliom again. Just lean back in your saddles, gentlemen, and leave the rest to me.’

  Sparhawk awoke with a start. They were riding along the brink of a windswept cliff with an angry sea ripping itself to tattered froth on the rocks far below. Sephrenia rode in the lead, and she held Flute enfolded in her arms. The others trailed along behind, their cloaks drawn tightly around them and wooden expressions of endurance on their faces. The wind had risen, and it pushed at them and tugged at their cloaks.

  There were some significant impossibilities involved here, but Sparhawk’s mind seemed somehow numb to them. Normally, Vanion rode protectively close to Sephrenia, but Vanion didn’t seem to be with them now.

  Tynian, however, was. Sparhawk knew with absolute certainty that Tynian was a thousand leagues and more away, but there he was, his broad face as wooden as the faces of the others and his right shoulder as functional as ever.

  Sparhawk did not turn round. He knew that another impossibility was riding behind him.

  Their horses plodded up the winding trail that followed the edge of the long, ascending cliff toward a rocky promontory which thrust a crooked, stony finger out into the sea. At the outermost tip of the promontory stood a gnarled and twisted tree, its streaming branches flailing in the wind.

  When she reached the tree, Sephrenia reined in. Kurik walked forward to lift Flute down. Sparhawk felt a sharp pang of bitter resentment. He knew about Aphrael’s need for symmetry, but this went too far.

  Kurik set Aphrael down on her feet, and when he straightened, he looked Sparhawk full in the face. Sparhawk’s squire was unchanged. His features were rugged, and his black beard, touched with silver, was as coarse as ever. His bare shoulders were bulky, and his wrists were enclosed in steel cuffs. Without so much as changing expression, he winked at his lord.

  ‘Very well, then,’ Flute said to them in a crisp voice, ‘let’s get on with this before too many more of my cousins change their minds. I had to talk very fast and even throw a few tantrums to get them to agree, and many of them still have grave doubts about the whole notion.’

  ‘You don’t have to explain things to them, Flute,’ Kurik told her in that gruff voice of his, a voice so familiar that Sparhawk’s eyes filled with sudden tears. ‘Just tell them what to do. They’re Church Knights, after all, so they’re used to following orders they don’t understand.’

  She laughed delightedly. ‘How very wise you are, Kurik. All right, then, gentlemen, come with me.’ She led them past the gnarled tree to the brink of the awful precipice. Even though they were very high above it, the roaring of the surf was much like heavy thunder.

  ‘All right,’ Aphrael told them, ‘I’m going to need your help with this.’

  ‘What do you want us to do?’ Tynian asked her.

  ‘Stand there and approve.’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Just approve of me, Tynian. You can cheer if you like, but it’s not really necessary. All I really need is approval – and love, of course – but there’s nothing unusual about that. I always need love.’ She smiled at them mysteriously.

  Then she stepped off the edge of the cliff.

  Talen gave a startled cry and plunged after her.

  The Child Goddess, as unconcerned as if she were only taking a morning stroll, walked out across the empty air. Talen, however, fell like a stone.

  ‘Oh, bother!’ Aphrael exclaimed peevishly. She made a curious gesture with one hand, and Talen stopped falling. He sprawled in mid-air, his limbs straddled, his face pasty-white, and his eyes bulging with horror. ‘Would you take care of that, Sephrenia?’ the little girl said. ‘I’m busy right now.’ Then she glared down at Talen. ‘You and I are going to have a talk about this, young man,’ she said ominously. Then she turned and continued to walk out toward the open sea.

  Sephrenia murmured in Styric, her fingers weaving the spell, and Talen rose with a curious fluttering movement, flaring from side to side like a kite on a taut string as Sephrenia pulled against the force of the gravity that was trying to dash him to the rocks below. When he had reached the edge of the cliff again, he scrambled across the wind-tossed grass on his hands and knees for several yards and then collapsed, shuddering violently.

  Aphrael, all unconcerned, continued her stroll across the emptiness.

  ‘You’re getting fat, Sparhawk,’ Kurik said critically. ‘You need more exercise.’

  Sparhawk swallowed very hard. ‘Do you want to talk about this?’ he asked his old friend in a choked voice.

  ‘No, not really. You’re supposed to be paying attention to Aphrael right now.’ He looked out at the Child Goddess with a faint smile. ‘She’s showing off, but she’s only a little girl, after all, so I guess it’s sort of natural.’ He paused, and a note of yearning came into his voice. ‘How’s Aslade been lately?’

  ‘She was fine the last time I saw her. She and Elys are both living on your farm, you know.’

  Kurik gave him a startled look.

  ‘Aslade thought it would be best. Your sons are all in training now, and she didn’t think it made much sense for her and Elys both to be alone. They adore each other.’

  ‘That’s fine, Sparhawk,’ Kurik said, almost in wonder. ‘That’s really fine. I always sort of worried about what was going to happen to them after I left.’ He looked out at the Child Goddess. ‘Pay close attention to her now, my Lord. She’s coming to the hard part.’

  Aphrael was far out over the surging waves, and she had begun to glow with a brilliant incandescence. She stopped, hardly more than a glowing spark in the distance.

  ‘Help her, gentlemen,’ Sephrenia commanded. ‘Send all of your love to her. She needs you now.’

  The fiery spark rose in a graceful little arc and then shot smoothly down through the murky air toward the long, lead-gray waves rolling ponderously toward the rocky shore. Down and down she plunged, and then she cut into the sea with no hint of a splash.

  Sparhawk held his breath. It seemed that the Child Goddess stayed down for an eternity. Black spots began to appear before the big Pandion’s eyes.

  ‘Breathe, Sparhawk!’ Kurik barked, bashing his lord’s shoulder with his fist. ‘You won’t do her much good if you faint.’

  Sparhawk blew out his breath explosively and stood gasping on the brink of the precipice.

  ‘Idiot,’ Kurik muttered.

  ‘Sorry,’ Sparhawk apologized. He concentrated on the little girl, and his thoughts became strongly jumbled. Aphrael was out there beneath those endlessly rolling waves certainly, but Flute was there as well – and Danae. That thought caught at his heart, and he felt suddenly icy-cold.

  Then that glowing spark burst up out of the sullen water. The Child Goddess had been an incandescent white when she had made her plunge, but when she emerged from the sea she glowed a brilliant blue. She was not alone as she rose once more into the air. Bhelliom rose with her, and the very earth seemed to shudder with its re-emergence.

  All glowing blue, Aphrael returned to them, bearing that same golden box Sparhawk had cast into the sea a half-dozen years ago. The little girl continued her stroll and reached solid ground once more. She went directly to Sparhawk and held up the gleaming golden box. ‘Into thy hands, for good or for ill, I deliver up the Bhelliom once more, Anakha,’ she intoned quite formally, placing the box in his hands. Then she smiled an impish little smile. ‘Try not to lose it again this time,’ she added.

  Chapter 6

  ‘He looked well,’ Khalad said in a tight, controlled voice.

  ‘Aren’t you being just a little blase about all this?’ Talen asked his brother.

  ‘D
id you want me to go into hysterics?’

  ‘You saw him, then?’

  ‘Obviously.’

  ‘Where were you? I couldn’t see you around any place.’

  ‘Lord Vanion and I were right over there,’ Khalad replied, pointing toward the far side of the trail. ‘We were told to just keep quiet and watch. We saw you all come riding up the hill. Why did you jump off the cliff like that?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  Sparhawk was not really paying very much attention to the others. He stood holding the golden box in his hands. He could feel the Bhelliom inside and, as always, it was neither friendly nor hostile.

  Flute was watching him closely. ‘Aren’t you going to open the box, Anakha?’

  ‘Why? I don’t need Bhelliom just now, do I?’

  ‘Don’t you want to see it again?’

  ‘I know what it looks like.’

  ‘Isn’t it calling to you?’

  ‘Yes, but I’m not listening. It always seems to complicate things when I let it out, so let’s not do that until I really need it.’ He turned the box over in his hands, closely examining it. Kurik’s work had been meticulous, though the box was unadorned. It was just that – a box. The fact that it was made of gold was largely irrelevant. ‘How do I open this? – when I need to, I mean? There isn’t any keyhole.’

  ‘Just touch the lid with one of the rings.’ She was watching him very closely.

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘Use your own. It knows you better than Ehlana’s does. Are you sure you don’t feel some sort of…?’

  ‘Some sort of what?’

  ‘Aren’t your hands aching to touch it?’

  ‘It’s not unbearable.’

  ‘Now I see why all the others in my family are so afraid of you. You aren’t anything at all like other humans.’

  ‘Everybody’s different in some ways, I suppose. What do we do now?’

  ‘We can go back to the ship.’

  ‘Can you get in touch with the sailors?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why don’t you ask them to sail across the gulf and pick us up somewhere on this side? That way we won’t have to ride all the way back to Jorsan again, and we’ll be able to avoid any chance meetings with Rebal’s enthusiasts. Some of them might be sober enough by now to recognize the fact that we’re not Edomishmen.’

  ‘You’re in a strange humor, Sparhawk.’

  ‘I’m a little discontented with you at the moment, to be honest about it.’

  ‘What did I do?’

  ‘Why don’t we just drop it?’

  ‘Don’t you love me any more?’ Her lower lip began to tremble.

  ‘Of course I do, but that doesn’t alter the fact that I’m put out with you just now. People we love do irritate us from time to time, you know.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said in a contrite little voice.

  ‘I’ll get over it. Are we finished here? Can we mount up and start back?’

  ‘In just a moment,’ she said, seeming suddenly to remember something. Her eyes narrowed and began to glint dangerously. ‘You!’ she said, leveling a finger at Talen. ‘Come here!’

  Talen sighed and did as he was told.

  ‘What did you think you were doing?’ she demanded.

  ‘Well – I was afraid you’d fall.’

  ‘I wasn’t the one who was going to fall, you clot! Don’t you ever do anything like that again!’

  Talen could have agreed with her. That would have been the simplest way, and it would have avoided an extended scolding. He did not, however. ‘No, Flute. I’m afraid it’s not going to be that way. I’ll jump in every time I think you’re in danger.’ He grimaced. ‘It’s not really my idea. I want to be sure you understand that I haven’t completely lost my mind. It’s just that I can’t help myself. When I see you do something like that, I’m moving before I even think. If you’re really serious about trying to keep me alive, don’t do things like that when I’m around, because I’ll try to stop you every single time – regardless of how stupid it is.’

  ‘Why?’ she asked him intently.

  ‘I guess it’s because I love you.’ He shrugged.

  She squealed with delight and swarmed up into his arms. ‘He’s such a nice boy!’ she exclaimed, covering his face with kisses.

  They had gone no more than a mile when Kalten reined in sharply, filling the air with sulphurous curses.

  ‘Kalten!’ Vanion snapped. ‘There are ladies present!’

  ‘Take a look behind us, my Lord,’ the blond Pandion said.

  It was the cloud, inky black, ominous, and creeping along the ground like viscous slime.

  Vanion swore and reached for his sword.

  ‘That won’t do any good, my Lord,’ Sparhawk told him. He reached inside his tunic and took out the gleaming box. ‘This might, though.’ He rapped the band of his ring against the box-lid.

  Nothing happened.

  ‘You have to tell it to open, Sparhawk,’ Flute instructed.

  ‘Open!’ Sparhawk commanded, touching the ring to the box again.

  The lid popped up, and Sparhawk saw the Bhelliom nestled inside. The Sapphire Rose was perfect, eternal, and it glowed a deep blue. It seemed strangely resentful as Sparhawk reached in and lifted it out, however. ‘We all know who we are,’ he told the stone and its unwilling inhabitants. ‘I’m not going to speak to you in Trollish because I know you can understand me, no matter what language I use. I want you to stop this nonsense with that cloud, and I want you to do it right now! When I turn round to look, your little patch of private darkness had better be gone. I don’t care how you do it, but get rid of that cloud!’

  The Sapphire Rose grew suddenly hot in his hand, and it seemed almost to writhe against his fingers. Flickers of red, green, orange and purple, all interspersed with streaks of white, stained the azure petals of Bhelliom as the Troll-Gods trapped within the gem fought to resist. Bhelliom, however, appeared to exert some kind of over-control, and those ugly flickers were smothered as the jewel began to burn more brightly.

  Then there was a sudden, violent jolt which numbed Sparhawk’s arm to the shoulder.

  ‘That’s the way!’ Kalten shouted with a sudden laugh.

  Sparhawk turned in his saddle and saw that the cloud was gone. ‘What happened?’

  ‘It sort of flopped around like a fresh-caught eel,’ Kalten laughed again, ‘and then it flew all to pieces. What did you do, Sparhawk? I couldn’t hear what you said.’

  ‘I let our blue friend and its tenants know that the cloud was starting to irritate me. Then I sort of hinted at the fact that I get ugly when I’m irritated.’

  ‘They must have believed you.’

  Flute was staring at Sparhawk in open astonishment. ‘You broke all the rules!’ she accused him.

  ‘I do that sometimes. It’s quicker to cut across the formalities once in a while.’

  ‘You’re not supposed to do it that way.’

  ‘It worked, didn’t it?’

  ‘It’s a question of style, Sparhawk. I’m technically in charge here, and I don’t know what Bhelliom and the Troll-Gods are going to think of me after that.’

  He laughed, and then gently put Bhelliom back into its box. ‘Nice job,’ he told it. They were going to have to work together, after all, and a little encouragement now and then never hurt. Then he firmly closed the lid. ‘It’s time for some speculation, gentlemen,’ he said to the others. ‘What can we make of this?’

  ‘They know where we are, for one thing,’ Talen offered.

  ‘It could be the rings again,’ Sephrenia noted. ‘That’s what happened last time. The cloud – and the shadow – were concentrating on Sparhawk and Ehlana right at first because they had the rings.’

  ‘Bhelliom’s closed up inside the box,’ Sparhawk said, ‘and so are the Troll-Gods.’

  ‘Are they still inside the jewel?’ Ulath asked him.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Sparhawk said. ‘I could definitely f
eel them when I took Bhelliom out.’ He looked at Aphrael, phrasing his next question carefully. There were still some things that needed to be concealed. ‘I’ve heard that a God can be in more than one place at the same time.’ He left it a little tentative.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied.

  ‘Does that apply to the Troll-Gods as well?’

  She struggled with it. ‘I’m not sure,’ she admitted. ‘It’s a fairly complicated business, and the Troll-Gods are quite limited.’

  ‘Does this box confine them in the same way that chain-mail pouch did back in Zemoch?’

  She shook her head. ‘It’s different. When they’re encased in gold that way, they don’t know where they are.’

  ‘Does that make a difference?’

  ‘You have to know where you are before you can go someplace else.’

  ‘I’ll take your word for it.’ He made a face. ‘I think we may have blundered again,’ he said sourly.

  ‘How so?’ Bevier asked him.

  ‘We don’t really have any absolute proof that the Troll-Gods are in league with our enemy. If they’re trapped inside this box with Bhelliom and can’t get out, they couldn’t be, could they?’

  ‘That was Ghworg in the mountains of Atan,’ Ulath insisted. ‘That means that he’s out and about at least.’

  ‘Are you sure, Ulath? Those peasants around the bonfire were convinced that the big fellow in the ancient armor was Incetes too, you know.’

  ‘All the evidence points to it, Sparhawk. Everything we’ve seen this time is just like it was last time, and it was the Troll-Gods then, wasn’t it?’

  ‘I’m not even positive about that any more.’

  ‘Well, something had to have enough authority over the Trolls to make them migrate from Thalesia to the north coast of Atan.’

  ‘Just how smart do you have to be in order to be a Troll? I’m not saying that it was something as crude as the hoax Rebal foisted off on those peasants, but…’ Sparhawk left it hanging.