"You know, don't you?" Zavros said. "About the book. You're looking for it. Tell me, Killian. Tell me how to unlock its secret."
Killian's hand closed tighter around Zavros's neck. He hesitated, and then shook Zavros harder. "Of course I know about the book. Where is it?"
"Where do you think it is? The Primate has it," Zavros said, "but you'll never find him, he's left Stonewater and won't be back for a long time."
The sound of footsteps clattering against the stone made Killian's voice grow urgent. "And the pilgrim? Where's he?"
"The crazed old man?" Zavros's eyebrows shot up. "He has something to do with this?" Zavros suddenly laughed. "We've been keeping him in the dungeons in Salvation, but he's dead now. The Primate sent for him before he left, asking for him to be sent to the interrogation room. No one ever leaves the interrogation room alive, not once the Primate's had his way with them."
As the approaching footsteps echoed through the vaulted cavern, growing louder, Killian pushed Zavros away from him. Zavros immediately dropped to the ground, fumbling until he found his oculars and placed them back on his nose.
Killian was gone.
~
KILLIAN was both furious and filled with fear. Evrin had been in the dungeons in Salvation, right under his nose this whole time. The lightly-secured gaol for drunks and thieves was the last place Killian would have thought to look for the man who could change his appearance with a few spoken words, or create objects as powerful as the destructive cubes.
The cube he'd fabricated and threatened Zavros with was so false that only Zavros, half-blind and with a templar's ignorance of runes, could have believed it was anything else. While Zavros might have knowledge, when it came to lore the man knew little, particularly compared with someone like Ella or Evrin.
The conversation with Zavros has filled him with confusion, but with the templar's slip he'd managed to learn something about what had actually happened.
Evrin had gone to the Pinnacle to find and destroy this book, and the chamber along with it. Something had gone wrong, and he'd been captured, but the templars thought he was just another pilgrim. Whatever the book was, it hadn't been destroyed, and was now in the Primate's possession.
And now the Primate had tortured the old man. Had Evrin divulged? Did the Primate now have the knowledge that Killian himself longed for? Could Killian have done anything to change Evrin's fate?
Killian ran towards Salvation, to the only place where Evrin might have left him a message. He would need to find Evrin's cell. Surely the old man had left him something?
When Killian arrived at the dungeons in Salvation, he stopped in shock. The gaol, where he himself had been held so many times in his youth, was a smoking ruin. Charred bodies sat hunched inside the remnants of cells, prisoners who would now never leave. Two of the bodies closer to the front must have been guards; one had a key ring at his belt, and the other had bits of white cloth still attached to the red flesh that had been his back.
A solitary guard in white crouched, staring at one of the corpses.
"What happened?" Killian asked.
The guard looked up with eyes that were reddened, perhaps by the acrid smoke. "The Primate called for a prisoner, an old man, but the prisoner had escaped. The Primate was angry. He ordered that the dungeon be sealed, with all guards and prisoners still inside. They tossed in prismatic orbs." He gestured to the two bodies in front of him. "One of them is my brother. I'm just having a hard time figuring out which."
"I'm sorry," Killian said.
Evrin had escaped.
But where had he gone?
15
TIME passed, and in the warmer lands winter gave way to spring. Daylight lasted longer, spirits grew lighter, and a new generation of young animals and wild flowers filled the air with the exuberance of youth.
In Altura's capital, Sarostar, the ferryboats again travelled the Sarsen, taking a new year of students to classes at the Academy of Enchanters. A ferryman named Fergus looked up at the azure sky and smiled, happy to be busy; his children had grown tired of old apples.
In Ralanast, capital of Halaran, the cruellest winter in a hundred years was finally over, and now it was time to count the toll of the dead. The legionnaires and regulars of the Black Army felt angry eyes on their backs, as young men and scarred veterans hatched plans for liberation, and for vengeance.
In rust-coloured Petrya a soldier on patrol saw a great dust storm rise in the east, in the direction of the trade town of Torlac. It wasn't the time for sandstorms, and they never travelled this far north. The soldier wiped his eyes and shrugged.
In Vezna's capital, Rosarva, spring was normally a time for growth — new plants sprouting, trees becoming saplings, and a thriving living city that was unrivalled anywhere in the world. This spring, however, the cultivators shook their heads and cursed their young High Lord, Dimitri Corizon. They remembered the days when his father, Vladimir, had ensured their neutrality in every conflict. Some began to speak of a change in leadership.
In the cooler lands: Torakon, Loua Louna, Aynar and Tingara, the change of seasons meant little. In Torakon families missed their fathers and sons, for the Black Army still requisitioned builders for walls and fences, turrets and fortresses, at every corner of the world. In Loua Louna the artificers waited, idle and frustrated; essence had stopped coming long ago, and their workshops were silent and still. In Aynar the templars watched each other; a colleague's careless word could mean instant promotion. In Tingara the commanders and legionnaires felt proud to be ruling the world, while the common people struggled through life in the same way they always had.
~
THERE was one place where the passage of the seasons meant nearly nothing at all. The days were a little longer, but it was still cold. It was always cold.
Primate Melovar Aspen pulled the white fur-lined robe closer around his body. He felt the chill, yet in a way, he found the climate of the icy north quite pleasant. The pain of his burned skin subsided somewhat, and he felt he was able to think more clearly. It was good to be away from the lands of the empire, even for a short time.
He'd been travelling for several weeks, time he had spent examining the book and gaining a further understanding of its contents, however incomplete. He frowned when he remembered the pilgrim. He had left explicit orders about the old man. With the pilgrim's escape, Melovar would never know if there was something locked up in his mad head that could solve his problem.
What was this powerful relic of the Evermen? What form did it take? Where was it? Why were the diagrams such strange shapes?
Melovar doubted the Akari would know either, and he would have to get through the coming encounter with the information he had.
The carriage bumped and jostled, and Melovar cursed when the bouncing tore at his skin, undoubtedly breaking it in places that would crack and bleed anew. He hoped the Akari were worth it.
Drudges pulled the carriage over the long-abandoned road that stretched from Aynar through Seranthia and far into the icy north, where few men dared to go. An age ago, this road had linked Akari lands with Tingara, but since the exile it hadn't been used at all, and was in poor condition, to say the least. Fortunately, once they were far enough north, snow covered the road, and as the men in front forged ahead, packing it down, it was only the occasional stone or ditch that impeded their progress.
"Halt!"
It was the voice of his detachment's captain. The Primate smiled to himself; they were far enough into Akari lands now. Something told him the Akari were here.
"What is it?" Melovar called out of the open window. He could see pine trees, covered in snow, and swirling eddies of low-hanging mist. The Akari certainly lived in an inhospitable place. Melovar supposed they preferred it this way.
A templar guard came to the window. "There's a strange man standing on the side of the road ahead," the templar said, his voice betraying his anxiety.
"Strange?" Melovar asked. "In what way?"
&
nbsp; "He doesn't come forward, or say anything, or respond to our calls. He simply stands there, watching. We've sent out one of the scouts."
Melovar barked a laugh. "He won't get much sense out of him. Keep us moving, the rest of them will show themselves when they're ready."
"Yes, Your Grace," the templar acknowledged.
The carriage began to roll ponderously forward again as the drudges resumed their plodding walk. Melovar leaned out the window as he saw the scout return.
"Bring the scout here," Melovar called. "Tell him to keep quiet."
The scout came to the Primate's carriage, white-faced, rigidly keeping his composure.
"Well?" asked Melovar.
"He's dead," the scout said. "His skin glows with runes and his eyes are white. There is the stench of corruption about him and he stands still as though frozen. He doesn't answer when I speak."
The Primate nodded. "The rest will be close. Very close. Stay silent."
The scout nodded and moved away. The column continued to advance.
When the Akari finally showed themselves, they openly walked out of the forest rather than materialising out of thin air. These were just men after all, Melovar reminded himself.
Melovar looked out of his window, seeing them on both sides, edging slowly forwards, encircling the carriage and the men the Primate had brought with him. The Primate heard the shouts as his captain formed the templars up, and swords were drawn. Melovar's bodyguard formed a close ring around the carriage. The Primate's personal guard all had the taint, and he idly wondered who would win in a fair fight between one of his templars and one of the Akari.
Melovar had never seen an Akari, and he looked at them with fascination. He quickly divided them into two groups. There were the white-eyed silent warriors, men and women both, who wore swords and armour and seemed neither angry nor scared, but simply waited. Then there were those who stood behind them, also armed, but eminently more aware of their surroundings.
The Akari were tall and pale-skinned, with broad shoulders and narrow waists. They were an attractive people, with almost universal blonde hair and blue or grey eyes. The white-eyed men and women wore their hair long and loose, while those behind had their hair in braids, the women in a single, thick braid at their back, the men with multiple braids entwined in their hair. Many of the male warriors had forked beards, and all warriors regardless of gender seemed to prefer axes, maces, and hammers to swords.
One of the men at the back walked forward. Taller than the rest, with a height that must have measured close to seven feet, he had white hair but his face was unlined. His brow was cruel and his lips were turned down in a perpetual scowl. He wore clothing of bleached leather and a mantle of silver fox fur on his shoulders. At his belt he carried a two-headed war hammer and the muscles of his arms and legs rippled as he walked.
The big man halted, his right hand on the war hammer, and called out. "Your standard says that the Primate of the Assembly of Templars travels with this group. Show yourself, Primate, otherwise we'll destroy this column."
Melovar opened the door of his carriage and stepped out, leaving the book of the Evermen inside. He felt the snow crunch beneath his heels and heard the wind as it howled through the trees, tossing the falling white flakes. One of the white-eyed warriors stood close by, his skin pale and the mottled flesh under his eyes showing an advanced stage of corruption. The hem of Melovar's heavy white robe trailed on the ground as he ignored the revenant and walked towards the tall warrior.
"Dain Barden Mensk, you must be," Melovar said. "I heard your name spoken with fear when I was just a priest."
"That is I. You are Primate of the Assembly?"
Melovar was close enough now that he could see where Barden's forked beard had been threaded with silver. The colour suited the Akari; silver-grey was prevalent in their furred clothing and the colour of the older warriors' hair, in the shades of their eyes and the mood of the sky.
Melovar kept walking until he stood close enough that he knew Barden could see the countless crevices of his ruined skin, the yellow of his eyes. "I am Primate Melovar Aspen." Melovar lifted his voice. "Men," Melovar called, "this is Barden Mensk, Dain of his people. Dain is what we would call High Lord, and he is the ruler of the Akari."
Dain Barden looked around him, his mouth turned down with distaste. The strange silent warriors stepped forward at some unspoken signal. Melovar could see their skin glowing softly where runes had been tattooed onto the dead flesh. With so many around him, he could see where they were in varying states of repair; some looked fresh, if that could be said of the dead, while others were in an advanced state of decomposition.
Once, the Primate would have been filled with revulsion. Now he just thought of the power he would have at his disposal with the Akari by his side. Melovar looked around at his men — tough warriors, hand-picked for this mission, many of them with the taint — seeing that they were both disgusted and filled with fear.
"I come to treat with you, Dain Barden," Melovar said, looking up at the huge leader of the Akari, ignoring the revenants who stared at him with their empty eyes.
Barden looked back at the Primate, frowning, his brows coming together over his ice-blue eyes. "Why would the Emperor send you, Primate? Why not come himself?"
Melovar stepped forward and touched the chin of one of the silent warriors, a woman with loose silver hair and a short sword on each hip. The Primate turned the head, looking into the white eyes.
"Because the Emperor is dead," Melovar said, "and I am the ruler of the Tingaran Empire now."
"You?" Dain Barden said. "A templar?"
Melovar turned his yellow eyes on Dain Barden, lowering his hand until he grasped the woman's neck. "Yes," he said, "a templar."
The Primate began to squeeze, feeling the power of the elixir flow through his veins. The white-eyed woman flailed at her assailant with one arm, while the other drew a sword, and moving with surprising speed plunged it into Melovar's chest.
The Primate laughed as the revenant withdrew the sword; he could feel the wound resealing itself. The woman plunged the sword in again, this time pushing the point up, towards Melovar's heart.
The pain was excruciating, but Melovar continued to laugh, hiding the effort as he continued to squeeze the revenant's neck. If the woman had been alive, she would have choked and perished long ago, but this… thing… had no breath to yearn for. Finally, Melovar felt the vertebrae give beneath his fingers. As the woman withdrew the sword and prepared to plunge it into Melovar's flesh again, the Primate felt the spine crack. He gave one last squeeze, and the revenant crumpled to the ground.
The Primate turned to the ruler of the Akari, who looked at him with wary eyes. "The old ways are finished with, Dain Barden," Melovar said. "Your exile can end. We need to talk."
The tall warrior took his hand away from his war hammer, tugging on his forked beard. "Yes, Primate," Barden said. "I can see that we do."
~
DAIN Barden entertained Primate Melovar Aspen at his frozen palace in the ice city of Ku Kara, with Melovar's men remaining outside the city. A woman bowed in front of the Primate, descending to one knee to offer him strips of salted seal liver.
Melovar took one of the strips and put it in his mouth, rolling the oily texture over his tongue before biting into it. He chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. Disgusting.
Compared to the pain of withdrawal from the elixir, compared to the pain of his burned and ruined skin, it was nothing.
"I can see you admiring her beauty," Dain Barden said, gesturing to the near-naked young woman, dressed in a transparent garment of silver gauze. Her golden hair flowed to her waist, and the large nipples that crowned her breasts could be seen pressing up against the material. Her narrow waist flared to hips that were round and descended to long, athletic legs.
"I am an old man," said the Primate, "and a templar. Such pleasures have never driven me."
Barden gestured, and the young woman came clo
ser to him. He ran his fingers over her hair. Except for the whiteness of her eyes, and the glowing symbols tattooed on her skin, she could have been alive. "My niece," he said. "She drowned in the ice a month ago. Such a shame."
Melovar nodded, shifting on the furs that cushioned his seat of ice. This was Barden's palace, and as host it was the Dain's prerogative to dictate the flow of conversation.
Dain Barden dismissed the woman with a curt gesture. "So let us be clear," he said. "You know where this relic is, along with this pool of essence?"
"That is correct," Melovar said.
Barden looked past the Primate's shoulder. "Renrik?" he called.
Melovar turned in his seat, where an Akari in a silver robe approached. He had black hair, which was unusual for an Akari, and wore a necklace of what appeared to be bones around his neck.
"Primate Melovar Aspen, this is Renrik Hormundar, one of my best necromancers. Well, Renrik?"
The necromancer ignored the Primate. "We have examined the book. It is authentic. We believe the relic exists, as does this pool. The structure though, where the relic is housed… we cannot say where it is."
"And we can return to the Empire?" Dain Barden addressed Melovar.
"Yes," said the Primate. "You can resume links with the houses, with the Assembly, and with the Empire. Your exile will be revoked."
"This relic will be ours?" Dain Barden asked.
"Yes. And the essence," Melovar said.
"And in return?"
"In return, you provide your formidable warriors to fight alongside the imperial legion and our templars."
Renrik spoke up, "But not in the warmer lands. Not in Altura, Halaran, or Petrya. Our warriors will decompose too quickly."
"Agreed." Melovar knew that with the Akari added to his strength in the colder lands in the east, he would be able to free up more of the Black Army to crush Altura.
The Hidden Relic (The Evermen Saga, Book Two) Page 12