The Jasper Forest

by Julia Gray

  He sensed confusion now. Obviously some of what he said was beyond the creature's understanding, and he was wondering how to clarify his thoughts when he realized the elemental wanted to know who was to blame for its confinement inside the ring of magic - the same magic that the people always brought with them.

  Who's to blame? Terrel hesitated, knowing that his own memories might already be betraying him. There were a lot of reasons why you ended up here, but it's the people in the palace who are responsible for keeping you here.

  To his amazement, he heard the next question as if he were using psinoma with someone like Alyssa.

  Within the circle of bright air?

  Yes, Terrel replied, knowing that this meant the sorcerous dome. I want to help you. I. . . He stopped abruptly, aware that the link was gone. The amulet had vanished, and the glow of the message-handle was fading fast. Whatever had prompted the contact, it was over now - and Terrel had no idea whether or not he had convinced the elemental with his arguments.

  Outside in the square, the light returned, the lunar shadow departing as swiftly as it had arrived. The dazzling ring of beads in the sky grew brighter still as the sun reclaimed its dominance of the heavens, but everyone knew they had witnessed an important and wondrous event. What they didn't know was whether the eclipse had been an omen for good or evil.

  The power that had released Terrel from his paralyzed state had gone, but his body was still free. The spell was broken. He was back in the land of the living. However, unless he had managed to placate the elemental, he was not likely to remain there for very long.

  There were sounds of movement outside the cell, and shouted orders. The guards were on their way to collect

  the prisoners. This realization shattered the enchantment that had been cast over the cell, as the inmates were suddenly reminded of the fate that awaited them.

  'Are you a sorcerer?' one of them asked. 'Can you get us out of this?'

  Terrel shook his head.

  'Any talent I have is as a healer,' he said. 'But I have friends who may be able to help us.'

  He looked at the message-handle, knowing that he could not leave it where it was, but dreading the possibility that it might be used to trap him again. As he knelt down and steeled himself to touch it, the other prisoners cowered away, as if they might all be tainted by such foolhardy behaviour. They watched nervously as the boy gingerly stretched out his good hand and let the tip of one finger brush lightly against the wood. He felt no pain or paralysis. Encouraged, he felt its carved surface with the rest of his fingers, then picked it up, still without suffering any ill effects. He did not understand what had happened, but the sorcery that had captured him had been neutralized.

  He stood up, gripped the staff tightly and called out to the sharaken again, hoping that now they were outside the dome the link could be restored.

  Reader? Can you hear me? Reader?

  There was no response, and Terrel wondered whether the struggle between brother and sister had destroyed the power of the message-handle. Even as his hopes faded, he made himself try again, closing his eyes in order to concentrate better.

  I need your help, Reader. Please.

  I am here.

  Terrel didn't know what had shocked him most, the fact that someone had answered, or that the person who had done so was not Reader. This voice was quite different, emotionless and controlled.

  Where's Reader? he asked, realizing as he spoke that the voice belonged to the sharakan he knew as the Collector.

  Reader is dead. His mandates have passed to me.

  Dead? Terrel was appalled.

  His failure weighed heavily upon his spirit. Especially given the manner of his defeat.

  Terrel was stunned and dismayed, but he had no time for grief now. He could hear squads of guards as they began to take prisoners out of the others cells, one group at a time.

  I need your help, he said urgently. We haven't got much time. The killings are—

  Is the elemental aware that Ekuban and his court are responsible for its predicament? the Collector cut in.

  Yes. I've just been talking to it, but.. . Did you know that?

  It was our reading of the oracles.

  I'm not sure if I convinced it not to start the earthquake. You have to help me stop the festival and—

  We will help you, Terrel, the sharakan cut in again. I will gather my colleagues, but you must wait until the Amber Moon rises. We can do nothing until then.

  When will that be? Terrel asked, anxiety replacing his sudden hope.

  An hour, no more. We must conserve our strength until then.

  Can't you— Terrel began, but the contact had been broken.

  He opened his eyes to find several of his cell mates looking at him, pleading silently for any sign of hope.

  'We've got to delay things for at least an hour,' he told them.

  'An hour?' one replied. 'I'd like to delay it a lifetime.'

  'We might be able to do that if you can give me the first hour.'

  'How?'

  'I don't know. Just keep your eyes open for any opportunity.'

  Outside the door, footsteps were approaching.

  'The guards won't let you keep that now you can move,' another prisoner said, pointing to the staff.

  'They won't have any choice,' Terrel replied, knowing he must keep hold of the sharaken's gift at all costs.

  A key turned in the lock and bolts were drawn back.

  'Right, you lot!' a guard shouted as the door opened. 'Single file, and no funny stuff, or I'll save the demon some trouble and slit you open myself.'

  Terrel heard the cheering for the first deaths, and knew that his pleas had been in vain. The elemental was still reacting to what it perceived as an attack - and reacting in the only way it understood. And there was still no sign of the Amber Moon in the eastern sky.

  The rest of the condemned men and women were now all in the square. They had been kept in small groups, and were heavily outnumbered by the guards who were escorting them, so there was no chance of anyone trying to escape or disrupt the proceedings. Terrel had racked his brain for a way of delaying the inevitable, but nothing had occurred to him. The only thing he had to be grateful for was the fact that, because of all the rest of the day's festivities - and the diversion caused by the eclipse - the show had not begun at the traditional time of noon but some hours later. This brought it much closer to the point when the Collector had said he would be able to help. However, to make up for lost time, Ekuban had instructed his men to send the prisoners across the moat in groups of five or six instead of singly.

  Terrel knew that the Ancient would be driven to extreme violence by these multiple assaults. The spectators, on the other hand, were wholehearted in their approval. Every tower was full to overflowing, people clung to every available vantage point, and the hill where Terrel had stood for the previous show was packed. Even in the square, where it was impossible to see into the castle, the crowds were massive. It seemed that everyone in Talazoria simply wanted to be close to the slaughter.

  Terrel had at least managed to retain possession of the message-handle. He had done so by simply refusing to put it down or to let go - and when the sentries had tried to take it from him by force, the jolts of pain they'd suffered made their comrades less than eager to repeat the attempt. Their threats had had no effect, and some of Terrel's fellow prisoners had guarded his back to prevent a surprise attack. In the end the platoon leader had given in.

  'Let him keep it,' he had said. 'A bit of wood isn't going to help him against the demon, is it? But if he tries to use it as a weapon, kill him, orders or no orders.'

  Terrel was now beginning to wonder if the staff would help him in any way at all.

  Another series of cheers went up as, out of sight, more prisoners were killed.

  The soldiers ordered Terrel's group to move forward, coming ever closer to their own doom, when a disturbance up ahead halted their progress. Terrel had spotted Ayle
n earlier, noting that - unsurprisingly - the young man looked haggard and ill. But Aylen had obviously not lost all his fighting spirit, because he was leading an escape bid. The prisoners were attacking their guards wildly, unarmed men against swords and spears. They had little hope of victory, but had evidently decided they'd rather die this way than surrender to an even worse fate. The battle was short and bloody, with most of the men either wounded or beaten senseless, but none of them was killed. The reason for this soon became all too clear.

  'You don't get away that easily,' one of the soldiers told them when order had been restored. 'We've orders not to kill you scum. That's for the demon. But we'll be happy to beat the crap out of you again before it finishes you off.

  It's your choice.'

  After that there was little chance of any more trouble. Terrel looked for Aylen, and when he found him he saw that his head and shirt were covered in blood - but it was impossible to tell whether this was his own or someone else's. He was helping one of his wounded companions stumble forward.

  For perhaps the hundredth time, Terrel glanced at the eastern horizon, willing the Amber Moon to appear. More cheering signalled the fact that the show was continuing apace, and the boy began to feel sick to his stomach. A moment later, to his horror, he began to feel

  something else deep inside himself. It was faint and distant, but the internal trembling was an unmistakable signal. Terrel knew just what it meant. The earthquake was on its way.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Collector! Terrel cried. It's time! You have to help me.

  The response was immediate, although at first it made no sense.

  Is it clear? At last! Terrel? It's too soon.

  The earthquake's coming!

  Use the spiral, the sharakan told him. Isn't that what the creature calls it?

  But—

  We can't arrange another eclipse just for your convenience, the Collector said testily. This is what the amulet is for.

  I don't know how—

  Summon me, the sharakan cut in. It's time we did some trading.

  But the Amber Moon— Terrel began, glancing again at the sky.

  Has risen here, the Collector completed for him, even if it's not visible to you yet. That is sufficient. Now do it!

  Terrel reacted to the command instinctively, repeating the appeal that had brought Reader to him more than a month earlier. As the Collector's image appeared beside him, the staff began to shine again. Although the internal light wasn't nearly as intense as it had been before, it was strong enough to make Terrel's fingers glow blood-red. The nearby prisoners and some of the soldiers fell back, amazed by the sudden appearance of the robed figure, while the crowds beyond the military cordon gasped and pointed, some edging away while others strained forward to see.

  Terrel felt his mind drift into darkness, as if he were falling asleep, and in his waking dream he was vaguely aware of some sort of communication taking place -though he could not tell what was being said or even who was talking.

  And then his internal trembling began to recede a little. It was still there, deep inside him, and still ominous, but the threat seemed more remote now.

  This was something that hadn't happened before — the warning he was given usually only allowed him a few moments' notice - but he had never been in a situation like this before, and he was grateful for any scrap of good fortune.

  He returned to his senses to find the Collector addressing the crowd.

  'This abomination must cease!' he cried, and for once his voice was passionate. 'I speak for all the sharaken. There must be no more killing.' He paused, aware that he had everyone's full attention now. All movement had stopped in the square, and even the people on the towers had turned their backs on the fort and were now looking their way. Temporarily at least, the show had come to a halt.

  'You are meddling with forces you don't understand,' the sharakan went on.

  'Have the moons taught you nothing?'

  Terrel glanced round and saw that the Amber Moon had risen at last, but its arrival did nothing to quell the new doubts that were crowding into his mind.

  Although the Collector's words were fervent, there was something forced about their delivery, as if he were merely playing the role expected of him -

  reproducing the required emotion rather than feeling it. It was as though his attention was really elsewhere, and he was just marking time until the next important development.

  'Can no one here answer me?' the sharakan asked, looking around. 'Then take me to someone in authority.'

  A wide space had developed around the boy and his companion, and as yet no one had tried to breach it. Now, on an order from their leader, several guards rushed forward, their weapons drawn. The Collector smiled contemptuously, and the soldiers all fell to the ground, where they lay groaning and clutching their heads. The onlookers stared in awe, and the hush that had fallen over the arena was replaced by a spreading murmur as the news of what was happening passed through the crowd.

  'Well?' the Collector demanded.

  The platoon leader, whose men had been felled with such disdain, looked dumbfounded — and when, a moment later, a breathless messenger arrived, pushing his way through the throng, the soldier accepted his new orders gratefully.

  'King Ekuban commands you to the palace,' he announced.

  'Good.'

  There was a disturbance at the edge of the circle, and Terrel heard someone calling his name. Aylen emerged from a group of prisoners, and pushed past the guards, who made only a half-hearted attempt to stop him.

  'He's a friend,' Terrel told the sharakan quietly.

  'Then he can accompany you,' the Collector replied as Aylen joined them.

  'Escort these two to the palace,' he said to the platoon leader. 'I will join them there. Be sure that you keep them safe. They are still under my protection.'

  'Yes, sir,' the soldier replied, deferring to the authority in the sharakan's voice.

  Although Terrel hoped that Ekuban had finally seen sense - or was at least prepared to discuss the matter -the idea of going back inside the protective dome made him feel very nervous, especially as the Collector was not going to accompany them on the journey.

  'Are you sure this is wise?' he asked quietly. 'Your dream-trading might not work in there.'

  'It's all right, Terrel,' the sharakan replied calmly. 'Now that we're all working together, we're much more powerful than Reader was on his own.'

  'Reader was working alone?'

  'Unfortunately, yes. The fact that he was facing his own sister put him at an extra disadvantage.'

  'Why can't you stay with us?'

  'I'll see you inside,' the Collector stated firmly. 'Go quickly, and don't worry. This is what we wanted.'

  And then the sharakan vanished before Terrel had a chance to say anything else.

  'You have some interesting friends,' Aylen remarked. *

  'So, young man, we meet again.'

  Terrel and Aylen had been escorted to a wide balcony which commanded an excellent view over the ruined castle. Ekuban had been waiting for them there, together with Marika and a large group of favoured courtiers.

  'It seems we may have underestimated you. And you've brought a companion with you this time,' the king added, eyeing Aylen's bloodstained clothes with distaste. 'Is he injured?'

  'I'm well, thank you, Your Majesty,' Aylen answered for himself. He made his words sound like an insult.

  'I'm grateful for this second chance, Your Majesty,' Terrel said quickly.

  'Macul is in grave peril. The demon—'

  'Wasn't there a sharakan with you?' Ekuban interrupted. 'We should like to meet him.'

  Rather nervously, Terrel called upon the staff and the Collector appeared again. To the boy's horror, he was bent double, just as Reader had been, and his face was contorted with pain. This time, however, Terrel himself was not affected and he knew he was not going to be paralyzed. Even so, the sharakan's evident distress was a terribl
e blow. It meant that Terrel had been right, and the dream-trading would not work inside the dome. They had walked into a trap.

  'You seem to be in some discomfort,' Ekuban observed, smiling.

  'You cannot . . . do . . . this. Do you know . . . who I am?' the Collector rasped, having to cling to the staff in order to stop himself from falling to the ground.

  'We know who you are, Collector,' the king replied complacently. 'And we may do anything we please. What's

  more, you will have the pleasure of witnessing it all. You are in our domain now.'

  'A trick,' the sharakan whispered painfully. 'S-sorcery.'

  'If you wish to call it that,' Ekuban agreed affably. 'We're surprised you agreed to come here so readily. Of course the invitation was Marika's idea, not ours.'

  The Collector's only response was a wordless snarl of agony and rage. The king strolled over to the wall at the edge of the balcony, then beckoned to his guests.

  'Come. Join us as the show resumes.' He flicked a hand to one of the nearby guards, and orders were relayed onwards. A bell rang out, and cheering rose from the impatient crowds below.

  'No!' Terrel cried. 'You mustn't do this. The demon will destroy everything.'

  'We think not,' Ekuban said, laughing. 'Even demons would not dare spoil our birthday.' Some of his courtiers laughed at the witticism. 'Come here.'

  Reluctantly, Terrel did as he was told. The Collector came with him, dragged along by the staff, and Aylen remained on his other side.

  'Please, Your Majesty,' the boy begged. 'Don't—'

  'Enough! Look, the next batch are in the moat.'

  Collector, can't you do something? Terrel asked silently.

  There was no reply. The sharakan's eyes were closed, and he seemed oblivious to his surroundings, lost in his own private world of pain. An icy wave of despair engulfed Terrel as he watched six men reach the castle shore. As they dragged themselves from the water, it was obvious that some of them were injured, and he realized that they had been wounded in the fight Aylen had begun. Terrel glanced at his friend and knew, from his stony countenance, that Aylen was aware of this too.