by Adrian Cole
Ratillic was pointing. ‘I can feel the road. We would achieve nothing by trying to cut our way to it. But there is a way to attack the plants that cover it. Korbillian should already have had help.’ Ratillic nodded at the small cloud of floating dome-plants. They had circled the plant that had brought them up here, and Brannog noticed that they had kept to a particular formation.
'They are sentient,’ he said.
'All life is part of the same stream,’ said Ratillic, and beside him the Earthwrought escort were nodding solemnly. ‘It is possible to share oneself with all living matter. Have you not begun to discover this, through the little folk?’
Brannog nodded. ‘Aye. And you are fully attuned, by your arts.’
'It is my gift.’
Sisipher jerked at the word. For a moment the world around them shrank and everyone's attention focussed on her as if she had shouted. Wolgren sat beside her, in his hand a sword that Elberon's men had given him. They had teased him, enjoying the sternness of this youth, but he had come to take a special place in their hearts. They knew of his worship for the girl.
'My gift,’ muttered Sisipher, as though from a dream. ‘I have to use it now.’
'To see ahead?’ said Brannog.
'Something moves beyond my sight.’
Guile scowled. What does she mean? The mist? Or her inner eye? If she can foresee things, we must be guided. It is her purpose. Let her speak!
Sisipher rose up and stood with her hands by her side. She became like a statue. The Earthwrought formed a ring around her, all squatting down and gazing out across the jungle. Brannog, Wolgren and Guile were all sitting now, but Ratillic had gone down the hill a little way, trying to learn more from the land about him. Why did Korbillian send us here? he was asking himself. Why must he veil so much from us?
Sisipher found herself sinking into a silence that was even deeper and more final than that of the open desert. The light above her faded and the totality of the vacuum had never been so powerful. She was unable to stop or control it. Whatever came now used her as a vessel, willing or otherwise, and it could not be avoided. Her body went rigid and Wolgren fought with himself not to wrap his arms around her and howl his denial at whatever disturbed her. But he watched. A word from her lips and he would gladly kill for her. Sisipher saw the world sliding away, but her eyes rose to meet an inner panorama. There was a world of shade, grey and drab, but at its boundary rose up the distinct shape of a huge hill, the Mound. Black, featureless, it seemed to be alive and writhing, impregnated with a malign power that suggested pain and destruction, livid evil. There was no direction or purpose to it that Sisipher's vision would reveal. Behind the Mound the pale orb of the sun rose as if leeched of brilliance. Sisipher found herself swooping towards the Mound like an eagle diving for prey and as she rushed on, she saw the silhouettes upon the brow of the hill. There were ten of them, and although they were pitch black and blurred like frozen menhirs, she identified Korbillian and his leading followers, though she could not tell one from another. Above them another shadow floated, spreading wings as it glided to land between them. The Mound seemed to focus its evil upon them all, and in horror she watched as five of the figures began to slide into the earth, as if sucked down into a morass. Then she had shot by and into the blinding light. It exploded, making her reel, and when she came to, Wolgren and her father were holding her upright.
'What did you see?’ Brannog asked her. Guile leaned closer, eager to hear.
She shook her head to clear it, then held out her hands, examining them as if they were alien to her. She flexed her fingers. ‘Ten,’ she said. Her right hand dropped to her side like something dead, and she stared now at her left hand. “But which five?’ She had swooned, and they let her down gently, the Earthwrought murmuring quietly over her, tending her with extreme care.
Ratillic was standing beyond them, watching. ‘She will be well. She is exhausted, but not harmed. It is a rare gift, the gift of telling. But it is not always wise to look ahead. You do not always see what you wish.’ There is more to this girl's gift, he told himself. What is it? How can I wrest it from her with every blade ready to defend her at the first hint of trouble? ‘It may be she has other talents.’
'She needs to rest,’ said Wolgren, his tone implying that he would stand against anyone who disagreed.
'What did she mean?’ said Guile. ‘Ten and five?’
Brannog shook his head. ‘The fingers and thumbs of both hands, as she held them out. Ten. She took away her right hand to leave five.’
'Wargallow's hand?’ said Guile.
Ratillic was shaking his head, trying to read the mystery. ‘The hands of power, Korbillian's, perhaps.’
'He will lose one, is that it?’ said Guile.
'She said, “Which five?'” answered Ratillic. ‘Not “Which one?'”
Brannog was muttering names under his breath, and suddenly he stiffened. ‘There are ten of us,’ he gasped, and went on to name Korbillian, Ratillic, Guile, Elberon, himself, Sisipher, Wolgren, Ygromm, Ilassa and Wargallow. But then he gazed at the sky. ‘Kirrikree!’ he said.
'That's eleven,’ said Guile. ‘But what were you thinking of?’
Ratillic's shadow fell across them. ‘An interesting theory. Possibly accurate. It may yet fit. If Korbillian is the body, then perhaps we are the ten fingers of his hands, focal points of the power he seeks to unleash. He has told her how essential we are to his working.’
'Go on,’ said Guile.
'You heard the girl. “Which five?'”
'Which five will perish,’ said Brannog, and around him the Earthwrought sighed as if he had made a true prediction.
Guile stared at Sisipher, but she had not recovered. ‘We must question her further! Can we not revive her—”
Wolgren's sword hovered close to Guile. He felt the anger in him begin to flow, felt something writhe and give, as if it was right to feel this joy, this thirst for hatred. ‘Touch her and you will be the first of the five,’ he hissed.
Guile drew back as if stung, trying to laugh. ‘My, my. Such teeth, Wolgren. I've no reason to harm the girl.’
'Hold your sword up!’ snapped Brannog testily. ‘There'll be no killing among ourselves.’ Wolgren's eyes narrowed, but then he seemed to come to his senses and he muttered an apology.
Ratillic stepped between them. ‘We should not pay too much heed to one possible view of the future. Likely this evil place sends these things to torment the girl. We should make no decisions on them.’
Sisipher groaned and sat up. Once she had shaken her head, she appeared to be herself. She forced a weak grin and stood up. ‘I must have fainted. I had a strange dream, but I hardly remember it.’
'It was not important,’ said Ratillic, and he looked pointedly at Guile, who shrugged. ‘Do not be misled by it.’ Sisipher was glancing at her hands, puzzled, but Ratillic drew her attention away. ‘Korbillian and the army will ascend the road, but they will need help. There is power here, mostly dark and infected, but I sense that there may be more help of the kind the dome-plants have given us. Your gift, Sisipher, not of the telling, but of the communion, does it tell you anything?’
'What do you mean?’
“Does it sense anything here other than hostility?’
Sisipher made herself put aside her loathing of Ratillic. ‘I was not aware—”
'I will try to lend my own understanding of the life here. The Earthwrought must do so also. Concentrate. Search.’
'For what?’
'We are surrounded by hostility. Somewhere here there is anger against what has been done to this land. I can feel it, but cannot reach it. Between us we may find it.’
Sisipher would have veered from the thought of sharing any kind of mental exercise with Ratillic, but something in his words had struck a chord of recognition within her. She nodded. She took her place on the highest point of the outcrop, ringed by the Earthwrought, with Ratillic inside the ring. Brannog, Wolgren and Guile sat outside it and wa
tched as the search began. Very slowly Sisipher was turning in a circle, letting her open eyes scan the land below. The Earthwrought were murmuring, their deep voices becoming a chant, a concentration of energy.
Guile could not rid himself of her previous vision. He glanced at Wolgren, but all the youth's attention was on the girl. He sees me as a rival, Guile thought. How jealous he is! Yet he cannot be her lover. Far too young for her. But I must be wary. There was blood in his eyes for a moment. He meant what he said about killing me. Without the soldiers, I would be easy for him, young as he is. Weapons are simply not my skill. Yes, I must watch the boy. In the heat of battle, it would be easy for him to slip his steel into me. Perhaps I should act first. Damn this place! It twists the mind.
Sisipher had stopped her slow circle of movement. She faced the edge of the plateau and the open desert beyond. Ratillic, aware that something within the girl had locked into place, sent his own mind reaching out across the edge of the plateau. Almost at once he felt it tugged. The Earthwrought leapt up uniformly and ran to the edge of the rocks to shout unintelligibly.
'What is it?’ said Guile.
Brannog shifted uneasily. ‘I feel something. Under the sand.’
'Feel it? How?’ said Guile impatiently. He felt nothing.
'I don't know.’
Before Guile could ask more, the Earthwrought began leaping about like children. Sisipher had not moved, but Ratillic pointed to the desert. Clouds of dust rose up from a number of points there and there were far more cracks spreading across the flat rock outcrops. Ratillic shrank back, clutching his head as if smitten by agony. He stumbled back, dropping to his knees. As the others watched, they could see that the cracks in the desert were fresh, as if there was an abrupt disintegration in progress. It occurred to Guile that as the desert floor was so far away, these fissures must be huge, miniature canyons. An entire section of the desert abruptly folded in on itself and disappeared. While the clouds of dust gathered into a huge single cloud and rose up and outward, the Earthwrought fell to the ground, their heads pressed to the stone.
Sisipher spoke something over and over again. ‘Naar-Iarnoc, Naar-Iarnoc.’
Up from the crumbling desert floor there now came a sight fit to shake the reason of all of them. Even Ratillic, a man of power, gaped in disbelief at the awesome size of the organism that had risen up like something born again from its deep grave. The whirling dust obscured much of the detail but outlines were visible. It seemed to be part plant, part vessel, as though somehow an artifact had been not only constructed from materials, but also grown. It drifted like a gigantic version of the dome plants, and yet it had sail-like structures above it, spread like plumes. From its curved sides protruded spines which widened into fibrous leaves, and as these moved forwards and backwards in oar-like fashion, they propelled the superstructure through the air. Hanging beneath it were cabled roots and trailing vines, as if a hundred anchors had been carelessly left suspended there. The body or hull of the superstructure was studded with smaller growths, parasitic plants that appeared to be feeding on the monstrous body.
'Am I seeing this?’ said Guile, eyes agog.
Wolgren stood beside him, his face pale. ‘It lives! The power in the land has created this.’
'In a way,’ said Ratillic, breaking his concentration. ‘I tried to commune with it, but there is too much power there, too much screaming anger at what has been done to it. But it is not evil. The power here is corrupt, distorted. It has warped that being terribly. What you see is Naar-Iarnoc, the last of the Sorcerer-Kings. Its pain is only transcended by its anger.’
The organism slowly rose up, sand pouring from its curved back, and its freed cables uncoiled beneath it.
'But what will it do?’ gasped Brannog.
Sisipher turned to him, and he was stunned to see a smile on her face. ‘He will open the way.’
'How can you know that?’ cried Guile.
'He knows we are here,’ she said, her words indisputable. ‘He has been waiting for Korbillian. The weight of the years has filled him with a dreadful purpose. You will see!’
Brannog could hardly believe the sudden change in the girl. She seemed feverish, obsessed by the sudden need to throw everything into Korbillian's cause. He, too, felt the rightness of opposing this eastern madness, and yet it was as though his daughter had become another person. The land here worked upon them all. Guile was more surly, more introverted, without his humour of earlier, and Ratillic had changed from the insular, cool pariah to the curt, almost arrogant commander, sure of himself and what must be done. All of them were ready to unleash violence on this land, as though the stored emotions of their lives had balled into a hard knot to be wielded brutally. It would have to be controlled, Brannog knew, otherwise he could see the outcome, a backlash of mindless power, like that which saturated this place. And yet, something was using it, shaping it. The Children of the Mound. They still had not shown themselves or their real purpose.
When the gigantic organism had burst up from the desert, Korbillian and the army had again taken their attack to the growths on the ancient roadway, sending tongues of fire into the heart of the hostile plants there. They were forced to stop and watch the incredible spectacle as the organism raised itself into the air, impossibly light for its size.
Wargallow felt his reason wrenched by the vision, for no amount of compromising belief in powers that he had long scorned could have prepared him for this. He, and many of his Deliverers, staggered back, fearing that the desert had sent its worst disciple to crush Korbillian's challenge to its might. Korbillian could feel the horror of the men around him, for Elberon and his troops also looked appalled, and he was quick to cry out that here was aid. The Earthwrought, led by Ygromm, had fallen to the ground, but they began a chant by way of praising the immense sky-creature, and their attitude brought home to the men around them the potential truth in Korbillian's words.
They waited. Slowly the organism drifted towards the plateau, a mass that darkened the sky, a mile long and half as wide. As it came, the dome-plants that were already in the air floated up towards it, and at the foot of the plateau other plants broke loose and floated up in a blanket, filling the air like countless seeds, acolytes flocking to their god. As they drifted higher, they brought the extraordinary size of the organism into perspective. It made belief and comprehension even more difficult.
'Sisipher has summoned this,’ Ygromm told Korbillian. ‘As she speaks to Kirrikree, so she speaks to this. But neither the Earthwrought nor I have the power to do this. We only know that it is not harmful to us. It thrives on its hatred of the plateau and the evil that floods from it. It is Naar-Iarnoc, the last of the Sorcerer-Kings.’
Korbillian's mind shuddered to the impact of Ygromm's words. So this was her true gift! To wake this being, this monster. Had she known? She could not have.
'Now comes the reckoning!’ cried Ygromm, shattering his thoughts.
As he spoke, the huge organism approached the plateau and discharged a sudden cloud of vapour. It sank down over the summit of the plateau and spilled downwards, absorbed by the verdure before it could reach Korbillian and the army. While this cloud began its terrible work, charring and poisoning whatever it touched, the great plant dropped lower, and from it now there came what seemed to be bolts of fire that crackled on the air. In the verdure there was instant turmoil, and roots and tendrils of enormous thickness flailed up at the sky, the ends reaching for and curling around the trailing growths beneath the aerial plant. These groping horrors were attacked by the dome-plants, but within moments there was a locking of the two forces. The walls of the plateau shook and fire scorched downward in a rain.
Another great cloud discharged from the organism, scorching the roots that held it, but they held on, others rising up, blotched and grey, out of the havoc below. The dome-plants were scythed from the air by the great sweeps some of these roots were making, bursting in showers of brown gas. The organism surged on over the plateau lip,
wrenching scores of giant roots from the earth as it passed, while scores of others rose up to attack it. A titanic struggle ensued, with the great plant being dragged slowly downwards. At last it sank under the sheer weight of tendrils that had wrapped around it and it ploughed into the canyon in a bizarre tangle of verdure. The shudder of the impact knocked many of Korbillian's army to the ground, and they felt it thundering.
A pillar of fire rose up into the sky, thick black smoke erupting from it, and there came several deafening explosions. Great fragments of rock burst from the plateau, tearing with them huge chunks of vegetation. Korbillian could feel the effects of these explosions like mighty spells being cast far below ground, causing fire to spread in all directions. Like an earthquake, the explosions rocked the entire plateau rim.
Ygromm, pressed close to Korbillian, looked horrified. ‘It cannot live through this.’
'But Naar-Iarnoc has opened the way,’ said Korbillian. When the clouds began to disperse and the frantic conflict above had eased, it was possible to see that the landscape had changed. Instead of a sheer wall of vegetation, there was a deep cleft, scorched bare. The road went on up into this great ravine which opened into the very heart of the plateau. Of the massed jungle, there was little obstructing the way now, and fire continued to ravage the slopes of the canyon, far up into it. Of Naar-Iarnoc, nothing could be seen, nor of the dome-plants.
The first sacrifice has been made, thought Korbillian.
Ratillic had watched the final scenes of the staggering conflict, his mind closing off the tremendous psychic detonations. He felt the ground convulse as Naar-Iarnoc tore into the canyon with the force of a meteor. As the smoke boiled away it revealed a thick rift that had opened along the plateau to the east, as far as the eye could see. Much of the vegetation around the exposed rock was either dead or quiescent, and below them now the jungle seemed stripped of nerves, crippled. It would be safe to leave the outcrop and search for the road now, and Ratillic said as much to his companions. The Earthwrought readily agreed, but Guile glanced uncertainly at the terrain.