"Couldn't Mathew have pushed him?" Lara asked.
"At the time, I thought he did. And I suppose it's possible," Collin said. "Mat's stronger than he looks. But the man was better than three hundred pounds. You had to see it."
No one said anything for a while. Father Thomas's arms were crossed in front of his chest and his face had taken on a very serious aspect. Lara struggled internally about whether to mention what she had seen. Eventually she made up her mind.
"There's something else you ought to know too," she finally said. "For the last week, maybe more, Mathew has been coming up on deck late at night by himself. Several nights ago I followed him onto the deck. I think he's been experimenting with the ring."
Lara quickly told them what she had observed.
When she finished Father Thomas shook his head and muttered, "I had not thought this possible. But it seems I've been as blind as everyone else."
"I don't understand, Father," Lara said.
Father Thomas rubbed his hands across his face. "Do you remember the story I told at dinner about my visit to Senecal many years ago?"
They both nodded.
"More was recovered in that forsaken place than anyone knows," Father Thomas said.
"You mean other than the vehicle and the old machines?" Collin asked.
"Precisely. There were books and records about what actually happened to the Ancients," he explained, keeping his voice down. "Even I don't know the full story. That's why we must get to Barcora as quickly as we can. They've been studying these things for years."
"But what has that to do with Mathew?" Lara asked.
"Do you remember what I taught you in school about the Ancients, my child?"
"I think so," Lara replied, "but I still don't—"
"While we waited in Senecal for King Malach to send a ship and transport what we found, I was approached one night by a man named Brother Samuel, a priest of my Church. I was not a priest then, just a soldier. He asked if he could examine the artifacts, and I saw nothing wrong in that. To my surprise, Samuel paid scant attention to either the vehicle or the other machines. He was interested only in the books and records. Each day for three days, from early morning until late into the evening, he stayed in the tent we put up to house the objects. My curiosity aroused, I began to sit with him to see what he found so interesting. Of course, I could not understand most of the words the Ancients used. You see, languages
change over time, and they lived more than three thousand years ago—"
Father Thomas abruptly stopped talking, and waited for two sailors carrying a coil of rope to walk by. When they passed, he continued.
"Samuel was not only a teacher, but a scholar of history. I learned a great deal from him in those three days. The records he found spoke of the war the Ancients fought. They were our ancestors, my children—and they destroyed themselves utterly and completely. All of their great works crumbled back to the earth from which they came, and in the end so little of them was left, we had only stories to go by.
"On the second evening, Samuel showed me a book. It was badly damaged, and whole portions were missing, but much could still be made out. It was written by a man of science, his name lost forever in the eons that followed the destruction. He wrote of a desperate search to find the last remaining rings his people created toward the end. No mention was made of whether they were rose gold or not, nor was it ever clear why they wanted them, but I believe the rings were thought to be dangerous and powerful enough to destroy the world. There were other books, but this one, more than any other, held our attention. Samuel was pushed to the limit of his abilities to decipher the words written there. We read on through the night until the sun began to rise, desperate ourselves to solve the mystery of what happened—but it was not to be.
"We learned only that their end came quickly— quicker than any of them suspected, or had the power to avoid. The author of that book wrote of unseen horror and misplaced hope, although what he meant by that, I never learned."
"And you think Mat has one of those rings?" Collin asked.
"I don't know, my son. Honestly, I don't. I have not been entirely certain what to make of the things Mathew has told me. One portion of the book talked about the search to find the rings, yet another spoke of the need to destroy them. It was unclear to us if the author was talking about the same thing."
Collin let out a low whistle.
"What do we do, Father?" Lara asked.
"We travel to Barcora, with all haste. My belief is that we will find many of the answers we seek there. The sanctuary has the largest library in the western world, and the priests have had more than fifteen years to study what was recovered."
After a pause, Collin said, "We need to tell Mat about this."
28
Alor Satar, Rocoi
DUREN AND HIS SISTER MARSA PAUSED IN THEIR THIRD game of kesherit when there was a knock at the door of her suite. Reflexively, she smoothed her dress and turned. Duren merely looked up, saying nothing. It became apparent after a moment he had no intention of saying anything. It was, after all, her suite.
"Enter," she called.
The door promptly opened and four large men dressed in the uniform of Duren's personal guard came in. Between them were two Elgarian soldiers, their hands bound behind their backs. Their faces were bruised and swollen and their uniforms filthy, encrusted with blood and dust. From their haggard looks and red-rimmed eyes, it appeared they hadn't slept for quite some time. The taller of the two was a man of lean features and hard gray eyes. Even bound, he still had a commanding presence. His name was Gerard Idaeus, general of Elgaria's northern armies and commander of the defense forces of An-deron. The other, slightly shorter man was powerfully built, with a tenacious-looking face and piercing blue eyes. He was Aeneas Kraelin, duke of the Queen's province and cousin to King Malach.
Her brother, Marsa concluded, was still sulking, having lost two games of kesherit to her in succession, and probably wouldn't be fit to speak with for a while yet, so she took the lead.
"Gentlemen, we are so pleased you could join us," she said smoothly. "Oh dear, you do look extremely uncomfortable standing there. Captain, two seats for our guests, I pray you."
The captain hesitated for a moment, until Duren glanced in his direction, then he promptly retrieved two chairs for the prisoners. When neither man made a move to sit, the captain and the soldier next to him grabbed them roughly by the shoulders and yanked them backward into the chairs, then positioned themselves on either side of the prisoners.
"I very much regret the necessity of your hands being tied" she said. "If you will give me your assurances that you will make no attempt to escape or to do any harm, I'm sure we can dispense with the restraints."
"I'll give you nothing," Duke Kraelin snapped.
The captain lashed out with the back of his hand, striking the duke across the face. His head rocked back and a trickle of blood started to run down his chin from the corner of his mouth.
Marsa d'Elso stood up in one fluid motion, sparing only the briefest glance at her reflection in a gold-trimmed wall mirror on the wall. "Come, your grace, can we not act as civilized people?"
The Duke blinked hard to clear his vision and looked at her.
"Yes ... I know who you are," she continued. "I am also aware your companion is Gerard Idaeus, commander of King Malach's northern army. I trust his majesty is well. He was to be found nowhere in the city, or so I've heard."
Aeneas Kraelin drew himself up in his chair and managed to wiped the blood from his mouth on the shoulder of his uniform. " "Civilized? You talk about civilized? You attack us without warning. Thousands are dead—burnt to death, or blown to pieces by your magic, and you talk to me about being civilized? Your soldiers killed women and children. And you have the gall to speak to me about being civilized."
The soldier who had just struck him drew his hand back again, but a barely raised finger by Marsa d'Elso stayed the blow.
"Magic?" She laughed. "I assure you we used no magic, although I can understand why you might think so. In fact, now that I think of it, I imagine it must have appeared very much that way. But you have our assurances—we did nothing of the kind. Did we, Karas?"
Duren looked sideways at his sister and said nothing, his expression unchanging.
Gerard Idaeus spoke for the first time. His voice sounded dry and cracked, but his eyes were intense.
"What do you call walls of fire springing up out of nowhere? Holes opening in the earth to swallow men? Buildings toppling by themselves?"
"Such are the fortunes of war, I'm afraid." She rather liked the turn of that phrase. "Captain, would you be good enough to bring these men something to drink?"
When the captain hesitated again, she added, "Now," the veneer of politeness dropping away.
"You needn't bother," the duke said. "We do not drink with our enemies."
"Such needless posturing, your grace. Surely, this is unnecessary."
"Cut our bonds and I'll be pleased to show you what is necessary," Idaeus said.
"Always the soldier, hmm? How tedious. You may be aware that the people of Alor Satar are wonderful storytellers. They are also wonderful listeners. Right now, you have our undivided attention. My brother and I would very much like to hear where King Malach and his son have fled to with the remainder of your northern army."
"You'll find out soon enough," Idaeus replied.
"Will we?" Duren spoke for the first time, getting up from his chair.
The captain returned carrying two silver goblets of water. Lord Kraelin shook his head and turned away. Idaeus did the same.
"Yes... Duren," Duke Kraelin said, deliberately omitting his title. "I was at the Great Hall twenty-eight years ago when you crawled out on your stomach. Your words mean as much now as they did then. Send us back to your dungeon and have done with us. We have nothing to say to you. It's only a matter of time before—"
Aeneas Kraelin never completed his sentence. His mouth moved and breath could be heard coming from his lips. But his ability to speak vanished when Marsa d'Elso sent a thought that severed his larynx exactly as her brother had taught her. Blood foamed from the duke's mouth, his eyes widened in shock and his mouth opened to scream, but no sounds emerged. He stared at Duren's sister, who stood watching in fascination as two lines of blood ran down the man's chin, a faint smile on her face. Unlike her brother, she didn't mind the sight of blood at all. Karas, she noted, chose to direct his attention to the floor. The feeling of power surging inside her sent a thrill up her spine. It was simply delicious, intoxicating.
Next, she envisioned the small mallet-shaped bones that were located just after the opening of Kraelin's ear canals. With a thought, she snapped them off, just the way she'd practiced on the bodies Karas had sent her. All sound suddenly ceased for the duke, a complete and utter silence descending upon him.
It wasn't just enough to simply think about something, Karas had told her. To make use of the ring one had to have a concept of the result they wanted to achieve. Marsa was a quick learner. The duke stumbled up from his chair and staggered about the room, his mouth open and bleeding. His head thrashed wildly back and forth. To Marsa it looked like he was playing some grotesque pantomime.
Gerard Idaeus watched what was happening in horror. "My lord," he cried. "My lord, what is it?" And then turning to Duren, he yelled, "Do something."
Duren regarded the man without blinking. "You must forgive my lack of sensitivity. Obviously, such a sight distresses you, General," he said.
eye—Idaeus's eyes, to be exact. At the back of the eyeball was a thick cordlike structure, a nerve root, the physicians had explained to him. And from that nerve, hundreds of smaller nerves projected themselves, running all the way to the very back top portion of the brain. He had never done anything like it before, but he decided detaching the thickest of the nerves would probably be sufficient.
Idaeus let out a gasp as a curtain of blackness dropped in front of his face, shutting out all light and depriving him of his sight forever. He too stumbled from his chair and in shock reeled backward into the soldiers behind him, who promptly shoved him away, knocking him to the ground, fearful that whatever was afflicting him might also affect them. The commander of King Ma-lach's northern army tried to get to his knees and fell onto his side. Behind him the soldiers laughed.
One of them came forward, grabbed Idaeus by the back of his collar and growled, "Let's see who crawls out on his belly now," which brought barks of laughter from his companions. His face was next to Idaeus's but the general saw only a bottomless black cavern.
At a motion from Marsa d'Elso, the soldiers dragged both men out of the apartment, closing the door behind them. Duren grimaced at the small trail of blood left behind by the duke and promptly looked away.
As soon as they were alone, Marsa ran across the room and hugged her brother. "Oh, Karas, did you see it? Did you see what I did?" she asked excitedly, throwing her arms around him.
Duren smiled—genuinely, for him—and put his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. "I'm very proud of you, Marsa," he said, not really meeting her eyes but looking down at the swell of her breasts. "We seem to be a family of many talents."
"I want to learn everything," she murmured in his ear, still keeping her arms around his neck.
"Patience. We'll have to wait until the physicians send us another body to practice on."
"But why?" she asked, feeling one of his hands moving lower, to the top of her buttocks.
It came as no surprise to her. She had seen the sidelong glances, and felt it when his hands lingered on her shoulder or waist a moment longer than they should have.
She responded by pressing her hips forward against his and obtaining the reaction she wanted.
"Living people?" he asked incredulously. "You want to practice on living people?"
The tip of her tongue flicked out, just touching his left ear, while her hands moved upward from his neck into his hair. A moment later her tongue explored his ear again, deeper and more sensuously. His hand moved lower, and she made a little noise she knew men liked to hear. Looking over his shoulder, she saw in the large gold mirror that her daughter had entered the room. Their eyes met only for a moment, and a faint cool smile appeared briefly on Teanna's face before the girl turned away.
"Well, I suppose anything's possible," Duren whispered, chortling to himself.
29
At Sea, 20 miles east of Tyraine
Mathew was sitting alone on the mainmast yard-arm. He needed time to think and be by himself, and a ship offered very little in the way of privacy. There were so many things going on in his head at once. Earlier that morning, Father Thomas had come to his cabin and told him about his discussion with Collin and Lara. Mathew listened quietly without interrupting. When the priest was through, Mathew walked across the room and locked the door.
Collin and Father Thomas exchanged puzzled glances.
Without saying a word, Mathew slipped the leather cord over his head and put the ring on. The familiar tingling came and went. "Do you see that candle next to you, Father?" he asked.
Before the priest could answer, the candle lifted off the desk and floated gently through the ah to Mathew's hand. There was a sharp intake of breath from both of them, followed by another when the candle's wick flared and a flame appeared, then went out again just as quickly.
No one spoke. Eventually the silence became uncomfortable.
"How long have you known, my son?"
"A little over a week," Mathew said. "It's taken me a while to learn to control it."
"The explosion back in Elberton . . . ?" Collin asked.
"I'm pretty sure that was me too. I was thinking about something like it a second before it happened. You and I talked about it."
"But how could you do something like that?" Collin asked.
"That's the problem," Mathew said. "I have no ide
a. To be honest, until recently I've been too afraid to try doing anything else."
"Well, that's a relief," Collin exclaimed, blowing out a breath.
"What else have you been able to do, my son?"
"Two nights ago I created a waterspout—just a small one. I did the same thing again last night."
"What do you mean, 'created a waterspout''?" Collin asked, his brows coming together.
"I mean, I just pictured it in my mind, and it lifted right out of the water."
"And that block and tackle that fell, almost killing me yesterday?" Collin asked. "Was that one of your experiments too?"
"Not in the way you think. I saw it fall and caused it to miss at the last moment. I was almost too late getting the ring on. Thankfully, no one was paying any attention to me. Everything about this scares me to death."
"Thanks... I guess," Collin said.
"There's something else I should tell you," Mathew said. "Several nights ago when I put the ring on, I saw things, or rather, people."
The priest's face was-somber and serious. "People? What do you mean, my son?"
"At first I thought it was my imagination, but then the same three people reappeared each time I put it on. I'm positive about that. I think they knew I was there too, because—this is hard to explain—they looked at me, or at least two of them did. One was a man. The other two were women. I could only see one of the women, but I got the feeling the third one knew I was there even though she never turned around."
"You were there!" Collin asked.
Mathew took a breath. "It was like looking through a window ... or a doorway. I knew I was here on the ship, but part of me was wherever they were at the same time."
"I don't get it," Collin said.
Mathew shrugged. "I told you, I didn't think I could explain it... but that's what happened."
"Have you any idea who they were or where it was you saw them, Mathew?" Father Thomas asked in an odd tone.
"Yes... I think so. The first time was in a garden of some sort. The second time was in a large room with lots of marble and fancy furniture. I think it was a palace, from the look of it. At first, in the garden, they didn't know I was there, but then the man turned and smiled at me, if you can call it that. It was frightening. There wasn't a trace of warmth on his face."
Mitchell Graham - [Fifth Ring 01] - The Fifth Ring (v1.0) Page 34