Sword of Caledor (24 page)

He looked around at his warriors and could see that their faces were similarly transformed. Just for a moment they had all returned to childhood. There was something about this place that would do that to even the most cynical dark elf. Druchii who hated each other and been rivals for decades exchanged smiles and then looked away from each other as if embarrassed, not quite understanding what was happening to them.

Perhaps he was wrong, Dorian thought. Perhaps this place did have the means to protect itself. Perhaps they were coming under its influence right now. If that was the case, he would soon put a stop to it. He bellowed instructions to his soldiers, telling them to form up in ranks, to set up a defensive perimeter, to be ready to protect themselves from any high elf who might stumble upon them.

Dorian looked at Cassandra. He could see from her look that she understood what had happened here. She understood how close they were to victory. They had established a beachhead in the most sacred heart of elvendom. They could use the daemon’s portal to bring in an army and seize this land and its ruler.

Already scouts were fanning out from the point of arrival. If they encountered any rangers in the woods, they would capture or kill them. It would not do for word of their arrival to leak out before they were ready and the full force of the dark elf army had arrived.

No matter, Dorian thought. He knew that they were going to be blessed with success. The most difficult part had been achieved. He was walking were no druchii had walked in a thousand years and he knew that they were within striking distance of the Everqueen herself, if she was at the tournament ground as Malekith predicted she would be.

The Witch King had got it right. His plan was going to work and Dorian felt satisfied that he had been chosen to lead the force that was to execute this part of the great work. He knew that he was going to cover himself in glory and the rewards for his success would be immense.

He could see that Cassandra looked at him in a different way now. There was more than simple calculation in her eyes. She realised what he was going to be and what she herself might achieve by helping him. The two of them were going to become immensely rich and powerful.

There and then Dorian committed himself to Malekith once more. He would do his absolute best to see that this succeeded and nothing had better stand in his way. He walked around the perimeter of the camp that was coming into being. Cassandra and her fellow sorceresses were moving over to where the sacrificial slaves waited. They would need to expend a great number of lives to keep the daemon’s portal open, but that was a small price to pay for their inevitable victory.

Screams rose above the camp. The portal flickered and shone. Every now and again its surface shimmered and rippled and a new force of dark elf infantry arrived. With ordered precision, they took up their places in the vast armed camp that Dorian was building right in the heart of this most sacred forest. It was astonishing to think that such a feat could be achieved without anyone noticing it. And yet it was happening, he told himself. Nothing could stop them.

More and more dark elf soldiery arrived. Units of cavalry mounted on huge lizard-like Cold Ones emerged from the portal. The great beasts looked strangely dormant and docile for a few minutes after they arrived, obviously disorientated by their passage through the pathways the daemon had opened. After that, as if in compensation for their docility, they became even more savage than normal and their riders had to apply discipline with sharp prods and metal implements.

Dorian smiled. Victory, promotion, wealth and riches were all within his grasp. All he had to do was reach out and take them.

Chapter Nineteen

‘
I heard you had returned,’ said High Loremaster Morelian. ‘I trust you were successful in your quest.’

Teclis studied the older elf. Morelian was very ancient looking. He was tall and stooped and very, very slender, with skin as coarse as a human’s and hair so silver it appeared positively metallic. He had a small forked beard of a type very unusual among elves who were normally clean shaven. He gave the impression of great wisdom and knowledge, but there was a twinkle in his eye and a cheerful smile quirked his lips.

His chamber was austere. There was a large desk and many scroll racks around the walls containing a selection of ancient lore. Books lay in a pile upon his table along with blank parchment, uncut quill pens made from the finest goose feathers and a jar containing black ink. The High Loremaster had been making notes about the books open on the table before him, that much was clear from even the most cursory inspection.

‘My brother and I found Sunfang but that was not all we found,’ said Teclis. Morelian raised an eyebrow.

‘You say that as if you found something even more important than Sunfang,’ he said. Teclis opened his pack and placed the slann inscriptions on the table in front of him.

‘Perhaps we did,’ he said. The High Loremaster looked at the scrolls with something like awe.

‘Is this what I think it is?’

‘I’m not a fortune teller so I don’t know,’ Teclis said. ‘I can decipher enough to see that it contains knowledge that might be important. That is why I have brought it to you. I know of your interest in these things.’

An expression of wonder passed over the High Loremaster’s face. It reminded Teclis of the expression he had seen in his father’s when the old prince had looked at Sunfang. Instantly he began to flip through the copies Teclis had made.

‘You know what it is?’ Teclis asked after a few minutes had passed.

‘It is astronomical and astrological,’ said the High Loremaster. ‘It is written in a very compressed form of their hieroglyphic script. You were right to bring this to me. I think that your suspicions about its importance are correct. It is, among other things, an astrological calculation of the orbits of certain planets and moons and the way they are connected to the fluctuations in the cycles of the polar warp gates.’

Teclis was amazed that Morelian had been able to divine so much from such a cursory examination. Of course, this was his specialist field of knowledge. It galled Teclis to think that there was so much he did not know. This just reminded him of that fact. ‘Is that all it says?’

‘That is as much as I can make out in this short period of time,’ the High Loremaster said. ‘And I may not be correct about that. I am guessing as to the interpretation of quite a lot of the things inscribed. If you leave this with me I can probably have it translated fully in a few hours. There is something hidden here, I feel sure of it, something of great mystical significance.’

Teclis felt a reluctance to let the scrolls out of his sight, particularly if there was a mystical secret connected with them. He did not like the idea that someone other than himself would discover this hidden truth. He was fighting with his own personal daemons here, he knew. There was nothing he could do with the texts himself unless he was prepared to spend several decades improving his mastery of the slann language, and he did not have time for that.

‘Of course, you may have them,’ Teclis said. ‘I am grateful for any help you can give me in this matter. I have been both troubled and puzzled by the little I have been able to deduce about what they contain.’

‘It may be of the greatest importance to all of us,’ said the High Loremaster. ‘I suspect it concerns the times we now live in. I also suspect that the fact that you found it at this time is no coincidence. All things are connected, and mystical objects are more connected than anything else.’

Teclis had heard such things said before but he was not entirely sure that he believed them. Wizards tended to enjoy the benefits of exceptional hindsight, and pointing out the connections between things and events afterwards was much easier than spotting them at any given time.

‘I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,’ Teclis said.

‘You should go and speak to Belthania,’ the High Loremaster said. ‘I know she wants to talk to you and she will be able to tell you more about what is going on than I can.’

Teclis felt certain that this was not the case, but he could also see that the High Loremaster was like a child with a new toy. He was desperate to get to work at once and Teclis understood the benefits of being able to harness that enthusiasm.

‘I shall see to it at once,’ he said.

‘That would probably be for the best,’ said the High Loremaster. He was already focused on the scrolls in front of him and hurriedly scribbling down notes about its contents. Teclis knew that he had already been dismissed from the master of his order’s mind.

Teclis entered the chambers of Belthania. Warriors in the livery of the archmage guarded a doorway that was carved from a sliver of the ivory fang of some great sea monster.

Why had she summoned him? They had met many times at social functions in Lothern and when he was studying at the tower, but he would not have said they were close. Perhaps there was some research she wanted to discuss with him.

A servant in black and gold showed him into a glasshouse protruding from the side of the tower, where it could catch the sun. It sat high in the tower with a magnificent view out over the forest. The floor was translucent crystal and he could see the grounds a long way below. The view made him nervous. The heat in the place reminded him of the jungles he had just vacated. Belthania was garbed in thin flowing robes of greenish silk that clung to the curves of her body. She smiled grimly as he entered. She had a faintly drugged, somnolent air to her, as always.

‘Prince Teclis,’ she said. ‘It is good to see you again.’

She did not sound as if it was. The words were purely spoken from politeness.

He decided to match the tone. ‘The High Loremaster suggested I pay you a visit. He said you wanted to talk with me.’

‘Word has it you have recently returned from the jungles of Lustria, from the slann city of Zultec, and that you brought with you the sword of Aenarion.’

‘My brother has it. He goes to offer it to the service of the Everqueen.’

‘He may have need of it soon.’

‘Why do you say this?’

‘I have been studying the skies and performing other divinatory rites and the signs have not been good.’

‘How so?’ Teclis was curious. Divination was a famously imprecise school of magic. Its practitioners were regarded as little more than charlatans by serious scholars. Except Morathi. Her gifts had been proven again and again.

‘The winds of magic are becoming increasingly contaminated by the powers of Chaos. You can feel it if you try any of the greater spells.’

‘I have sensed something even when working minor spells of the Art.’

‘You are certainly more sensitive than most to such things.’

Teclis wondered if she was sneering at him, but he saw none of the usual signs of contempt. ‘Why am I here?’

‘You saw no signs of anything similar in Lustria?’

‘I noticed nothing of the sort.’

‘Good, then perhaps things have not progressed too far then.’

‘Too far for what?’

‘I believe we may be entering a new age of catastrophe, Prince Teclis. The polar warp gates have long been dormant but they have started to erupt once more. The signs are all there if you know how to look.’

Teclis nodded to encourage her to keep talking. ‘This is dire news if true.’

‘It is true enough, I fear. Ships sailing off the northern coasts of the Old World have reported great drifts of tribes down from the Northern Wastes. They were accompanied by daemons and all manner of monsters. Agents have reported rumours that the Hag Queen herself was sighted there mere months ago.

‘The Vortex has become progressively more unstable. The ghosts of Caledor and his companions have been sighted at many places close to the waystones. The land trembles. The mountains begin to burn.

‘The winds of darkness blow hard again. The Everqueen is dead. A new Everqueen is not yet steady on her throne. I do not think this is all simply coincidence.

‘The dreams of the Wise have been troubled. I wished to ask you if yours had been.’

So that was what this was about. Teclis mentioned his own vision in the forest en route to the tower. Belthania nodded as if she had expected to hear something like this. ‘Did you have any such dreams before that?’ she asked.

‘No. But I have been far from Ulthuan in recent months. Have you done anything about these signs? Surely the Phoenix King should be warned.’

‘We have sent messengers apprising him of this.’

‘What has Finubar done?’

‘Nothing as far as we can tell. But then what can he do until there is some definite threat?’

‘From what you are saying, one of those will not be long in coming.’

‘I would love to be proved wrong but I fear I will not be. I also feel that you have an important role to play in all of this.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘It is a feeling I have. Things have been strange ever since the Keeper of Secrets returned.’

‘N’Kari?’

‘Yes. I fear he was a harbinger of a new age of terrors for the elves. He almost destroyed us once.’

‘He certainly almost destroyed me once,’ said Teclis, thinking back to the brief terrifying time over a century ago when he had faced the daemon.

‘And yet you are still here. Perhaps that is why I think you and your brother are important. How many elves have ever survived an encounter with one of the greater daemons of Chaos?’

‘I am not sure I could survive another. It was Asuryan who protected me then. If ever I meet N’Kari again, I doubt he will be foolish enough to attack me in the Shrine of the Phoenix God.’

‘No doubt you are correct.’

‘You think N’Kari may be behind all of this then?’

‘I don’t know. I do know that it is well past the time when he could have incarnated a new avatar and come back to seek his vengeance on you.’

It was a chilling thought, and most likely the real reason she had wanted to talk with him. ‘I have suspected as much myself,’ said Teclis.

‘Be on your guard, Prince Teclis.’

‘I shall be. I go now to perform some divinations of my own.’

Teclis glanced around his chamber and wished there was something more he could do. He had performed every simple divination he knew and the results had always been bad.

The hexagrams of the
Book of Change
had given a trigram indicating catastrophe. In the cards, the Plague Lord had appeared over the Changer of Ways, the worst possible conjunction it could display. The blood spray patterns of the White Bird ritual had been particularly ominous. Something terrible was going to happen, perhaps was even happening now.

He would find out soon enough what was destined to be. They all would. The sense of foreboding nagged at his mind. If he only had the slightest hint of what was going to happen, he could perhaps prepare for it, let those around him know. In any dangerous situation, even the smallest possible advantage could prove useful.

He felt like a prisoner awaiting execution for some unspecified crime on some unspecified date. The prospect hung over his head, colouring all his feelings, darkening his days. After performing the divinations, he found it very hard to return to his studies.

‘
It is very bad,’ said High Loremaster Morelian. He looked very worried indeed, which given his normally cheerful nature was quite dispiriting. Teclis just stared at him unsure of what to say next. The High Loremaster looked at his notes and then back at Teclis. He steepled his fingers and then ran them through his hair.

‘What did you find out?’ Teclis asked.

‘You were right to bring this to me. And you are right to be disturbed by it. I had not realised you were such a good scholar of the slann language.’

‘I know only the very basics,’ said Teclis.

‘Even that is impressive,’ said the High Loremaster. ‘It normally takes decades for an elf to achieve that. The ancient slann language is not like ours. It is the tongue of a race so alien as to be almost incomprehensible. The hieroglyphs change meaning depending on their position with relation to each other. They imply shadows of meaning projected beyond and above themselves, an entire alien system of logic that it is very difficult to grasp even for one trained in the mysteries of magic. Their runes are language and mathematical and magical notation all rolled into one.’

‘It surprises me that the primitive lizardmen that Tyrion and I encountered in the jungle could grasp such a thing.’

‘I very much doubt that they can. They are warriors and labourers. It is the priestly caste that are literate, and more than literate by our standards. They and their masters, the ancient toad-gods of the race, are the only ones who could comprehend this fully. It is impossible for an elf or a human, or a dwarf for that matter, to grasp their thoughts. Even now I am only guessing some of the content. The only one who ever even came close was Caledor and I suspect that this was one of the reasons he became the supreme mage that he was.’