by Tim Stead
Balgoan emerged from the shadows and stood above him silently for a time.
“Come more quickly next time, mortal man,” it said eventually. There was a definite menace in its voice. It was right though. He was already getting careless, and he had hardly begun. The illusion of control, of security was only that. His life could still be snuffed out in a moment of annoyance. There was a delicate balance between the doorkeeper’s wish to please Gerique and its dislike of the man before it.
“I am sorry, Faer Karani. I will do as you instruct.” The danger was very real. He was still unimportant here, no more than a curiosity. Balgoan allowed the moment of uncertainty to lengthen.
“You may enter,” it said and turned away again. Serhan went through the door into the inner chamber. At first he could not see Gerique, but spotted it curled up in a corner near the windows like a vast cat, reading.
“My lord, you summoned me,” he said.
“Yes, I have a task for you.” Gerique uncurled, deposited its book on the rug and approached. Its movements were incredibly graceful, like the wind in long grass, or a rising swell on the sea. The beauty of motion was so perfect that it seemed unnatural.
“I have been invited to attend a discussion at Ocean’s Gate,” it said, and its deep smooth voice was a delight to his ears. “The master of that fortress is dissatisfied with his status, and will doubtless seek to elevate it at my expense, so I expect there is some scheme in train.”
“Why would you go then, my lord?”
“It would be impolite to refuse, and that, too, would be a small victory for him.”
“What then is my task, my lord?”
“You will travel with me. I will take a number of guards, as is the custom. It is most likely that some harm will be directed against them, but it cannot be done while they are close to me, as this would constitute a crude insult, and lower the status of the perpetrator. His only other way would be to cause me to say or do something foolish, which I do not fear. Your task is to discover the mechanism of the plot so that it can be avoided.”
“I understand.”
“Now go. Tell Grand that he is to assemble an honour guard of fifty and be prepared to leave at dawn tomorrow. You will be part of that guard.”
“As you instruct, my lord.”
He left quickly and made his way down to the courtyard, and then back up to the officers’ quarters where he found Captain Grand engaged in cleaning and polishing his weapons. His chambers smelled of oil, and his table was covered by glinting, sharp metal. Serhan related what had passed between him and Gerique.
“I don’t like it when he does this,” Grand said. “Putting his best troops at risk raises the stakes on both sides.” He put his head out of the door. “Sergeant!” He had an effortless way of raising his voice.
The sergeant arrived at the run.
“Honour guard tomorrow dawn,” Grand instructed him. “Your section and one other – you know which one. I want them to gleam, sergeant. I’ll inspect an hour before we go.”
“Sir.” The man departed at a run.
“Probably best if you go as one of the troops, Serhan,” Grand said. “Less conspicuous, and I can post you somewhere you won’t be missed if you feel the need to wander off.”
“That works for me. I’d better go and get a uniform.”
Grand put a hand on Serhan’s arm to stay him.
“How are you going to do this?” Grand asked. “It might be a game to the Faer Karan, but our lives are at stake.”
Serhan spread his hands.
“I honestly have no idea. I have a few tricks up my sleeve, but until I get there and start poking around I’ll have nothing to work with. Whatever happens is going to be subtle. You’re not going anywhere unless Gerique tells you to, and they’re going to know that. Just be careful, and I’ll do my best. Between us we should get through this.”
“Right. Still not happy about it,” Grand said. “Now get some sleep. I’ll have someone wake you two hours before dawn.”
Serhan left, and walked slowly back to his quarters trying to work out ways he himself would go about separating Gerique from his guard. At least he’d have time on the journey to figure it out. Ocean’s Gate had to be four hundred miles away.
* * * *
The following morning he realised that he’d been over optimistic.
When the honour guard had been lined up in the courtyard, inspected, and inspected again, Gerique himself appeared and moved to the space in front of the column where he proceeded to cast a spell. Serhan listened as keenly as he could, but he was not positioned in the first ranks of the guard and could not hear all that the Faer Karani said.
When the spell was complete a cloud of black smoke appeared to roll up from the ground and form itself into a square about fifteen feet on each side. It stabilised, and smoothed until it was like a sheet of black mirror.
A black door! Serhan had heard rumours about them, but to see one! And Gerique was intending to take his whole honour guard through it to Ocean’s Gate. Everything changed. Transport through a black door was instantaneous. He had no time to think or plan. No time at all. He felt a cold sweat break out on his brow and fought against a momentary panic.
Gerique stepped through the door and the honour guard followed him, two abreast, at the trot. In a moment he was moving, the door approached and he stepped through. It was like passing through a curtain of cool water, but emerging dry on the other side. It took an effort not to stumble when stepping through the blackness, but he managed and found himself jogging into a vast hall.
Grand stopped the column and began to assign the guard. Eight men were posted to the chamber that contained the black door. It would remain open as long as Gerique was here as a symbol of his connection to White Rock. Grand beckoned Serhan.
“You,” he said. “Remain in the hall outside the chamber. Stay alert.”
Then he was gone down the corridor, following Gerique to whatever discussion was to take place. Serhan looked up and down the passageway in which he stood. It was about twenty feet wide and the same in height, all cased in stone, but with great wooden beams across the ceiling, and there was a noise. He listened for a moment and realised that it was the sea, the crash of waves on a rocky shore. It reminded him of childhood.
There was a window and he went to it and looked out. A hundred feet below him, and as far as the eye could see lay the ocean. They really had travelled, in the blink of an eye, four hundred miles. He drank in the view.
The task. He pulled himself away from the window and checked that there was nobody in sight. He knew three spells, passed on to him by his masters in the village, and now he spoke one of them, and in a moment was all but invisible. He knew from experience that he was still just detectable when he moved, only as a distortion, a shadow of motion, but still visible. When he stood still he was impossible to see.
How to begin? He had no idea of the layout of this fortress, but what he could see through the window suggested many levels below him and few above. He walked quickly to the end of the corridor and found a stair that led both up and down. He chose to go up, but there was nothing to be seen, only two or three doors that were securely locked, and no sound from behind them.
He walked back down, passed the floor where he had started and came to another corridor. This looked more promising. Noises could be heard distantly, and he followed them until he came to what looked like a barracks room. There were a few men there, talking about people and places he did not know. He listened for a minute, but none of it seemed consequential, so he moved on through the barracks area until he came to a door that led outside.
The courtyard was similar in size to the one at White Rock. The arrangement was different, of course, but he positioned himself on the north side, pressed against a wall, close to a buttress where nobody would pass close by, and watched the doors.
The sea was to the south, and he reasoned that the Faer Karan would have their chambers on the south side. From
what he had seen of the Faer Karan at White Rock they were as fond of views as any other creature, and the view here was all the sea.
In a few minutes he had identified the doors where people came and went, the ordinary doors, and those that were less used or even avoided. These unpopular doors would be more rewarding, he guessed, but also more dangerous.
He picked one and went to it, making sure that he was not observed in any way. He opened the door, slipped through, and shut it behind him. It was very quiet now. The staircase was dark, and he stood for a moment more trying to pick out sounds, but there were none. He moved up the stairs and came to a door. He listened again; nothing. He opened it and found a bare room, not even a stick of furniture.
Up two more flights and there was another door, more silence, another empty room. The whole stair was deserted, it seemed. He smiled wryly to himself. It was the more obvious explanation for the lack of activity, but it had not occurred to him.
He went back to the door that led to the courtyard. This was one of the most dangerous moments. The door must be opened without any idea of what was passing on the other side. He pushed it open an inch and listened. He heard no footfalls, and eased it open until he could slip out. It was badly timed. A group of guardsmen was walking directly at him, passing by, and he had no time to close the door behind him. He pushed it, leaving it a little ajar, stepped quickly across their path and stood, waiting for them to notice the accusing gap that remained.
The men were talking easily among themselves. He caught a few words of their conversation, and as they passed by the open door, not noticing it in the least, his interest was piqued by what they said.
“I wish we had a reason for doing it,” one of them was saying. “It’s dangerous going into White Rock lands at any time, but with no reason …”
He shut the door quickly and stepped after the men.
“It’s an order,” an older man replied. He looked senior, an old soldier used to discipline. “You don’t question orders, not from them; not from me either if you don’t want a kicking.”
“But how do we know what we’re looking for?” the younger man asked.
“Just follow the order. Search any old buildings, deserted buildings, and bring back any items that seem unusual.”
The young man shook his head. “What do you think they want?” he asked.
“Something from before,” the third man said.
“You just keep your mouth shut,” the older man warned him. “You start talking like that and they’ll start listening.”
The third man glanced up at the windows on the south side and Serhan felt a small thrill of confirmation. His reasoning was right; the Faer Karan were indeed on the south side. More than that, though, he was intrigued by what he had overheard. It was an unexpected bonus. Ocean’s Gate was sending groups of men into White Rock’s domains, searching old buildings for something, something from before. Before what? Before the Faer Karan? That would mean it was more than four hundred years old, whatever it was.
He knew very little about the time before. There were stories, legends, perhaps, but he did not have much faith in their veracity. Men had been lords, kings, even mages. He believed that much to be true. Even he could work the small magics that had been taught to him, so why not greater ones? All had been swept aside by the Faer Karan. Now there was no history, no past at all. All that remained was the present.
He had been gone from his post in the hallway for nearly half an hour. It was time to check back, make sure that all was well. He retraced his route back through the barracks room, moving quickly. The spell was beginning to drain his energy, and he would have to rest soon. He climbed the stairs and arrived at his post, checked that the guards around the black door were untroubled and alert. He was peering into the room when he heard steps behind him in the hallway, and shrank back against the stone, out of the way.
Many pairs of feet were approaching. He pressed himself flatter against the wall, and was alarmed to see not just ten guards in Ocean’s Gate uniforms, but a taller figure at the head of them – much taller, and not walking quite like a man. Its eyes were plain white, set in a white face, and he knew that it was one of them. It paused close to him, just out of sight of the White Rock men in the chamber who guarded the black door. He wondered for a moment if it had sensed him. He did not know if the spell would shield him from the Faer Karan, and certainly had not wished to put it to the test, but the shape shifter raised its arms, began to speak.
Then it was gone, and he was standing alone in the passageway. The strange guards were also gone, as though they had been spirited away in an instant. He looked inside the chamber, and Gerique’s guards were still there, still looking alert and unharmed. The black door, too, seemed unchanged. All was well.
What had happened?
He replayed the arrival of the strange Faer Karani in his head. One moment it had been there, and the next gone, and…
The sun had moved.
He replayed the memory again and there was no doubt. The place where the sun shone through the window and cast a shadow on the wall had moved. The shadow had stepped three inches in a moment. It meant that he had been unaware of the passage of time for, what? Five minutes? Ten?
At that moment he knew that he had failed, that the plot, whatever it was, had been executed. The trap had been laid, and he had no idea what it was.
It had to be something to do with the black door. He went into the chamber and examined it. It looked no different, even when he stood right next to it. The quickest way to find out was to step through the door, but where would it lead? It could be on the face of a cliff, inside a fire, a mile below the sea. He was certain it would not take him back to White Rock any more. Stepping through it could be certain death. He looked at the mirror-like black surface and shivered. Although it shone like a mirror, there was no reflection.
But the Faer Karani had been with ten guards. It would not simply march around the castle with a noisy column in tow for no reason. The guards, he reasoned, had gone through the door to whatever was on the other side, so it would not be fatal. He was fairly sure of this, but there were so many assumptions and so few facts.
He stepped up to the black door and steeled himself. Then he stepped through.
6 Trap
Just for a moment he thought that he was dead. There was nothing beneath his feet and very little light, but his fall was short, and he landed awkwardly on hard ground. There was a lot of pain in his arm and leg.
“What was that?”
Serhan froze, holding himself rigid despite the pain, and tried to breathe quietly. The voice had been very close.
“What was what?” a second voice.
“Something came through the door. I heard it.”
Light flared and he heard steps very close to his head. He turned his head very slowly and saw two pairs of feet no more than a yard away. The feet were clad in leather boots with steel plates sewn onto them; one on top of the foot, one protecting the shin and the other the back of the calf. They were guardsmen’s boots. He was wearing something similar. He blessed his invisibility.
“I don’t see anything,” said the second voice. “Probably just a rock fall. Borbonil said the caves were not very stable.”
“It didn’t sound like a rock fall.”
“Well, can you see anything? Nothing could have got past us.”
“No, I don’t see anything.”
“Then let us dim the lamp again and wait for the others to arrive. This place will be busy soon enough.”
The footsteps receded and the light faded, and Serhan was alone again. He turned carefully onto the side of his body that did not hurt. He managed to stand on his good leg and tested his other ankle. It hurt, but it would bear weight. His arm seemed to be broken for the second time in a few weeks, and caused him great pain every time he moved it. This was not a good habit to get into. He tucked the wrist into his shirt front as a makeshift sling.
Looking around he c
ould see that the portal was on a shelf five feet above the ground. There was a ledge about a foot wide before the fall. The light was dim, but quite adequate for an inspection. It was clearly set that way to cause a fall for anyone coming through who was unprepared. Two guards stood in the shadows no more than ten feet away. He limped further back into the cave, the effort of being quiet was even greater with a sore leg, but he found the rest of the guards behind a group of rocks thirty feet from the door. All eight of them were there. Three were resting, and the rest were playing a game of cards by lamplight on top of a flat rock.
So there was to be an ambush. It seemed clear enough what the plan was. Borbonil was building up a force here in this cave, far from White Rock, and intended harm to Gerique’s honour guard. The men were being moved here in small groups. Perhaps a large group of men would be detected by the White Rock guards. It would certainly be difficult to move so many through the fortress to the gate without making a noise.
He had discovered enough. Serhan limped his way back across the cave to the door and managed to climb up to the ledge. With one hand and a weak ankle it wasn’t easy.
He stepped through.
Back at Ocean’s Gate he quickly left the chamber that housed the black door and returned to his position in the corridor. He was exhausted. The spell of invisibility that he had used drained his energy considerably, the broken arm and the sprained ankle had made it worse, and he was close to dropping.
He had nothing to make a sling, so left his hand inside his shirt and spoke the words that ended the spell. Visible again he used his good hand to brush off as much of the dirt as he could manage and made his way down the corridor in the direction that Gerique and Grand had taken. Just around the corner he came across one of Grand’s men. The guard looked startled when he saw him.
“What happened to you?” he said.
“Much. Please take a message to Captain Grand. Tell him I have solved the puzzle, and that I need to speak with Gerique in private. Quickly. I will take your place here.”