The Ruby Knight

by David Eddings

  ‘There’s more,’ Sparhawk told her. ‘When he entered the chamber in the cellar, Occuda saw a shadowy figure back in one of the corners. It was robed and hooded, and its face glowed green.’

  Sephrenia drew in her breath sharply.

  ‘Could Azash have more than one Seeker out there?’

  ‘With an Elder God, anything is possible.’

  ‘It couldn’t be the same one,’ he said. ‘Nothing can be in two places at the same time.’

  ‘As I said, dear one, with an Elder God, anything is possible.’

  ‘Sephrenia,’ he said in a strained voice, ‘I hate to say it, but all this is beginning to frighten me just a little.’

  ‘And me as well, dear Sparhawk. Keep the spear of Aldreas close to you. The power of Bhelliom may protect you. Now go to bed. I need to think.’

  ‘Will you bless me before I sleep, little mother?’ he asked, dropping to his knees. He suddenly felt like a small, helpless child. He gently kissed her palms.

  ‘With all my heart, my dear one,’ she replied, enfolding his head in her arms and drawing him to her. ‘You are the best of them all, Sparhawk,’ she said to him, ‘and if you be but strong, not even the gates of Hell can prevail against you.’

  As he rose to his feet, Flute slid down off her bed and gravely came to him. He felt suddenly unable to move. The little girl took him by the wrists in a gentle grasp that he was powerless to resist. She turned his hands over and gently kissed each of his palms, and her kisses burned in his blood like holy fire. Shaken, Sparhawk left the room without a further word.

  He slept fitfully, waking often and stirring uneasily in his bed. The night seemed interminable, and the rumble of thunder shook the very foundations of the castle. The rain the storm had brought with it clawed at the window of the room in which Sparhawk tried to sleep, and water ran in torrents from the slate roof to hammer the stones of the courtyard. It must have been well past midnight when he finally gave up. He threw off his blankets and sat moodily on the edge of the bed. What were they going to do about Bevier? He knew that the Arcian’s faith was strong, but the Cyrinic Knight did not have Occuda’s iron will. He was young and ingenuous, and he had the native passion of all Arcians. Bellina could use that to her advantage. Even if Sephrenia could rid Bevier of his obsessive compulsion, what guarantee would there be that Bellina could not reimpose it upon him at any time it pleased her? Although he shrank from the idea, Sparhawk was forced to admit that the course Occuda had suggested might be the only one available to them.

  Then, quite suddenly, he was almost overcome by a sense of dread. Something overpoweringly evil was nearby. He rose from the bed, seeking his sword in the darkness. Then he went to the door and opened it.

  The hallway outside his room was dimly lit by a single torch. Kurik sat dozing in the chair outside Bevier’s room, but otherwise the hallway was empty. Then Sephrenia’s door opened, and she came hurrying out with Flute directly behind her. ‘Did you feel it too?’

  ‘Yes. Can you locate it?’

  She pointed at Bevier’s door. ‘It’s in there.’

  ‘Kurik,’ Sparhawk said, touching his squire’s shoulder.

  Kurik’s eyes came open immediately. ‘What’s the trouble?’ he asked.

  ‘Something’s in there with Bevier. Be careful.’ Sparhawk unhooked Occuda’s chain, slipped the latch and slowly pushed the door open.

  The room was filled with an eerie light. Bevier lay tossing on his bed, and over him hovered the misty, glowing shape of a naked woman. Sephrenia drew in her breath sharply. ‘Succubus,’ she whispered. She immediately began an incantation, motioning sharply to Flute. The little girl lifted her pipes and began to play a melody so complex that Sparhawk could not even begin to follow it.

  The glowing and indescribably beautiful woman at the bedside turned towards the door, drawing its lips back to reveal its dripping fangs. It hissed at them spitefully and the hiss seemed overlaid by an insect-like stridulation, but the glowing figure seemed unable to move. The spell continued, and the succubus began to shriek, clutching at its head. Flute’s song grew more stern, and Sephrenia’s incantation grew louder. The succubus began to writhe, screaming imprecations so vile that Sparhawk flinched back from them. Then Sephrenia lifted one hand and spoke, surprisingly in Elene rather than Styric. ‘Return to the place from which you came,’ she commanded, ‘and venture forth no more this night!’

  The succubus vanished with a disjointed howl of frustration, and leaving behind it the foul odour of decay and corruption.

  Chapter 15

  ‘How did she get out of that tower?’ Sparhawk asked in a hushed voice. ‘There’s only one door, and Occuda’s got it chained shut.’

  ‘She didn’t get out,’ Sephrenia replied absently, her brow creased with a frown. ‘I’ve only seen this happen once before,’ she added. Then she smiled a bit wryly. ‘We’re lucky I remembered the spell.’

  ‘You’re not making any sense, Sephrenia,’ Kurik said. ‘She was right here.’

  ‘No, actually she wasn’t. The succubus is not of the flesh. It’s the spirit of the one who sends it. Bellina’s body is still confined in that tower, but her spirit roams the halls of this melancholy house, infecting everything it touches.’

  ‘Bevier’s lost then, isn’t he?’ Sparhawk asked bleakly.

  ‘No. I’ve at least partially freed him of her influence. If we move quickly enough, I can clear his mind entirely. Kurik, go find Occuda. I need to ask him some questions.’

  ‘Right away,’ the squire replied, going out of the door.

  ‘Won’t she come back tomorrow night and infect Bevier again?’ Sparhawk asked.

  ‘I think there’s a way to prevent that, but I’ve got to question Occuda to be sure. Don’t talk so much, Sparhawk. I need to think.’ She sat on the bed, rather absently laying her hand on Bevier’s forehead. He stirred restlessly. ‘Oh, stop that,’ she snapped at the sleeping man. She muttered a few words in Styric, and the young Arcian suddenly sank back into his pillow.

  Sparhawk waited nervously as the small woman pondered the situation. Several minutes later, Kurik returned with Occuda. Sephrenia rose to her feet. ‘Occuda,’ she began, but then seemed to change her mind. ‘No,’ she said, almost to herself. ‘There’s a faster way. Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to think back to the moment you opened the door in the cellar – only the moment when you opened it. Don’t dwell on what Bellina was doing.’

  ‘I don’t quite understand, My Lady,’ Occuda said.

  ‘You don’t have to. Just do it. We don’t have much time.’ She murmured briefly to herself and then reached up to touch his shaggy brow. She had to stand on her tiptoes. ‘Why are you people all so tall?’ she complained. She kept her fingers lightly on Occuda’s forehead for a moment and then let out an explosive breath. ‘Just as I thought,’ she said exultantly. ‘It had to be there. Occuda, where’s the count right now?’

  ‘I believe he’s still in that central room, lady. He usually reads for most of the night.’

  ‘Good.’ She looked at the bed and snapped her fingers. ‘Bevier, get up.’

  The Arcian rose stiffly, his eyes blank.

  ‘Kurik,’ she said, ‘you and Occuda help him. Don’t let him fall down. Flute, you go back to bed. I don’t want you to see this.’

  The little girl nodded.

  ‘Come along, gentlemen,’ Sephrenia said crisply. ‘We haven’t much time left.’

  ‘Just exactly what are you doing?’ Sparhawk asked as he followed her down the hall. For a small person she moved very fast.

  ‘There isn’t time to explain,’ she said. ‘We need the count’s permission to go to the cellar – and his presence, I’m afraid.’

  ‘The cellar?’ Sparhawk was baffled.

  ‘Don’t ask foolish questions, Sparhawk.’ She stopped and looked at him critically. ‘I told you to keep your hands on that spear,’ she scolded him. ‘Now go back to your room and get it.’

  He threw
his hands helplessly in the air and turned around.

  ‘Run, Sparhawk!’ she shouted after him.

  He caught up with them just as they entered the doorway that opened out onto the stairs leading down into the sunken room near the centre of the castle. Count Ghasek still sat hunched over his book in the flickering light of his guttering candle. His fire had burned down to embers, and the wind from the storm outside howled fitfully in the chimney.

  ‘You’re going to ruin your eyes, My Lord,’ Sephrenia told him. ‘Put aside the book. We have things to do.’

  He stared at her in astonishment.

  ‘I need to ask a favour of you, My Lord.’

  ‘A favour? Of course, Madame.’

  ‘Don’t be too quick to agree, Count Ghasek – not until you know what I’m going to ask you. There’s a room in the cellar of your house. I need to visit it with Sir Bevier here, and I’ll need to have you accompany us. If we move quickly enough, I can cure Bevier and rid this house of its curse.’

  Ghasek stared at Sparhawk, his face totally baffled.

  ‘I’d advise doing as she says, My Lord,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘You’ll do it in the end, anyway, and it’s a lot less embarrassing if you just agree gracefully.’

  ‘Is she like this often?’ the count asked, rising to his feet.

  ‘Frequently.’

  ‘Time is passing, gentlemen,’ Sephrenia said, her foot tapping impatiently on the floor.

  ‘Come with me, then,’ the count said, giving up. He led them up the stairs and into the cobwebby corridor. ‘The entrance to the cellar is this way.’ He pointed down a narrow side hall and then led the way again. He took a large iron key from his doublet and unlocked a narrow door. ‘We’ll need light,’ he said.

  Kurik took a torch down from its ring and handed it to him.

  The count lifted the torch and started down a long flight of narrow stone stairs. Occuda and Kurik supported the somnolent Bevier to keep him from falling as they descended. At the foot of the stairs, the count turned to his left. ‘One of my ancestors considered himself to be quite a connoisseur of fine wines,’ he said, pointing at dusty casks and bottles lying on their sides on wooden racks back in the dimness as they passed. ‘I have little taste for wine myself, so I seldom come down here. It was only by chance that I happened to send Occuda down here one night, and he came upon that dreadful room.’

  ‘This is not going to be very pleasant for you, My Lord,’ Sephrenia warned him. ‘Perhaps you might want to wait outside the room.’

  ‘No, Madame,’ he said. ‘If you can endure it, I can as well. It’s only a room now. What happened in it is in the past.’

  ‘It’s the past which I intend to resurrect, My Lord.’

  He looked at her sharply.

  ‘Sephrenia is an adept in the secrets,’ Sparhawk explained. ‘She can do many things.’

  ‘I have heard of such people,’ the count admitted, ‘but there are few Styrics in Pelosia, so I’ve never seen those arts performed.’

  ‘You may not wish to, My Lord,’ she warned him ominously. ‘It’s necessary for Bevier to see the full extent of your sister’s perversions for him to be cured of his obsession. Your presence as the owner of the house is necessary, but if you stand just outside the room, it will suffice.’

  ‘No, Madame, witnessing what happened here may stiffen my resolve. If my sister cannot be restrained by confinement, I may find it necessary to take sterner measures.’

  ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.’

  ‘This is the door to the room,’ the count said, producing another key. He unlocked the door and opened it wide. The sickening stench of blood and decaying flesh washed out over them.

  By the flickering light of the torch, Sparhawk saw immediately why this chamber had inspired such horror. A rack stood in the centre of the blood-stained floor, and cruel hooks jutted from the walls. He winced when he saw that many of the hooks had gobbets of blackened flesh clinging to them. On one wall hung the gruesome implements of the torturer’s trade, knives, pincers, branding irons and needle-sharp hooks. There were also thumb-screws and an iron boot, as well as assorted whips.

  ‘This may take some time,’ Sephrenia said, ‘and we must complete the task before morning. Kurik, take the torch and hold it as high over your head as you can. Sparhawk, hold the spear in readiness. Something may try to interfere.’ She took Bevier’s arm and led him towards the rack. ‘All right, Bevier,’ she said to him, ‘wake up.’

  Bevier blinked and looked around in confusion. ‘What is this place?’ he said.

  ‘You’re here to watch, not to talk, Bevier,’ she told him crisply. She began to speak in Styric, her fingers moving rapidly in the air in front of her. Then she pointed at the torch to release the spell.

  At first nothing seemed to happen, but then Sparhawk saw a faint movement near the brutal rack. The figure was dim and hazy at first, but then the torch flared up, and he could see it more clearly. It was the form of a woman, and he recognized her face. She was the Pelosian woman he had seen emerging from the Styric house in Chyrellos. Her face was also the face of the succubus that had hovered over Bevier’s bed earlier this night. She was naked, and her face was exultant. In one hand she held a long, cruel knife, in the other, a hook. Gradually, another figure began to appear, strapped down on the rack. The second figure appeared to be that of a serf-girl, judging from her clothing. Her face was contorted into an expression of mindless terror, and she struggled futilely with her bonds.

  The woman with the knife approached the bound figure on the rack and with deliberate slowness began to cut her victim’s clothing away. When the serf-girl had been stripped, the count’s sister methodically began on her flesh, muttering all the while in an alien Styric dialect. The serf-girl was screaming, and the look of cruel exultation on Lady Bellina’s face locked into a hideous grin. Sparhawk saw with revulsion that her teeth had been filed to points. He looked away, unable to watch any longer, and he saw Bevier’s face. The Arcian watched in horrified disbelief as Bellina gorged herself on the girl’s flesh.

  When it was done, blood was running from the corners of Bellina’s mouth, and her body was smeared with it.

  Then the images changed. This time Bellina’s victim was a male, and he writhed on one of the hooks protruding from the wall while Bellina slowly carved small chunks from his body and ate them with relish.

  One after another, the procession of victims continued. Bevier was sobbing now and trying to cover his eyes with his hands.

  ‘No!’ Sephrenia said sharply, pulling his hands down. ‘You must see it all.’

  On and on the horror went as victim after victim came under Bellina’s knife. The worst were all the children. Sparhawk could not bear that.

  And then, after an eternity of blood and agony, it was over. Sephrenia looked intently into Bevier’s face. ‘Do you know who I am, Sir Knight?’ she asked him.

  ‘Of course,’ he sobbed. ‘Please, Lady Sephrenia,’ he begged, ‘no more, I pray you.’

  ‘How about this man?’ She pointed at Sparhawk.

  ‘Sir Sparhawk of the Pandion Order, my brother knight.’

  ‘And him?’

  ‘Kurik, Sparhawk’s squire.’

  ‘And this gentleman?’

  ‘Count Ghasek, the owner of this unhappy house.’

  ‘And him?’ She pointed at Occuda.

  ‘He’s the count’s servant, a good and honest man.’

  ‘Is it still your intention to release the count’s sister?’

  ‘Release her? Are you mad? That fiend belongs in the deepest pit in hell.’

  ‘It’s worked,’ Sephrenia said to Sparhawk. ‘We won’t have to kill him now.’ There was a great relief in her voice.

  Sparhawk cringed back from the implication of her matter-of-fact tone.

  ‘Please, My Lady,’ Occuda said in a shaking voice, ‘can we go out of this horrible place now?’

  ‘We’re not finished yet. Now we come to the danger
ous part. Kurik, take the torch to the back of the room. Go with him, Sparhawk, and be ready for anything.’

  Shoulder to shoulder the two slowly walked to the back of the chamber. And then in the flickering torchlight they saw the small stone idol set in a niche in the back wall. It was grotesquely misshapen and had a hideous face.

  ‘What is it?’ Sparhawk gasped.

  ‘That is Azash,’ Sephrenia replied.

  ‘Does He actually look like that?’

  ‘Approximately. There are some things about Him that are too horrible for any sculptor to capture.’

  The air in front of the idol seemed to waver, and a tall, skeletal figure in a hooded black robe suddenly appeared between the image of Azash and Sparhawk. The green glow coming out of the hood grew brighter and brighter.

  ‘Don’t look at its face!’ Sephrenia warned them sharply. ‘Sparhawk, slide your left hand up the shaft of the spear until you’re holding the blade.’

  He vaguely understood, and when his hand reached the blade-socket, he felt an enormous surge of power.

  The Seeker shrieked and flinched back from him, and the glow from its face flickered and began to fade. Grimly, step by step, Sparhawk advanced on the hooded creature, holding the spear-blade out in front of him like a knife. The Seeker shrieked again and then vanished.

  ‘Destroy the idol, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia commanded.

  Still holding the spear, he reached forward with one hand and took the idol from its niche. It seemed terribly heavy, and it was hot to the touch. He raised it overhead and dashed it to the floor where it shattered into hundreds of pieces.

  From high up in the house came a shriek of unutterable despair.

  ‘Done!’ Sephrenia said. ‘Your sister is powerless now, Count Ghasek. The destruction of the image of her God has bereft her of all supernatural capabilities, and I think that were you to look at her, you’d find that she once again appears as she did before she entered the Styric house in Chyrellos.’

  ‘I will never be able to thank you enough, Lady Sephrenia,’ he said with gratitude.

  ‘Was that the same thing that’s been following us?’ Kurik asked.