Sword of Caledor (25 page)

These words hit Teclis with the force of a blow. He suddenly realised that if it took him a lifetime he was going to need to master this language and he was going to need to begin to study it soon. It seemed like it was the key to understanding so much and might even allow him to surpass those ancient masters of magic who had done so much to shape the modern world. All of this was for the future. Right now he was more curious about what the inscription actually said. The High Loremaster seemed to sense this.

‘As far as I can tell this text deals with our present time. Certain astrological references contained in it allow me to date the prediction with reference to the current position of the stars and planets. It is often the way with slann writing.’

He indicated the position of certain hieroglyphics. They were arranged within multiple etched circles which intersected in different places. Teclis knew that certain of the runes, under certain circumstances, indicated the names of planets and quite possibly the gods or daemons who ruled the movements of those planets.

The High Loremaster continued to speak, ‘These runes indicate catastrophe of the worst sort. They refer to the polar warp gates and the gods of Chaos and the connection between them. I believe that the gates will open the same way now as they did during the first Chaos incursion and I don’t think I need to tell you that that bodes no good for any of us.’

‘Belthania says the same thing,’ Teclis said. ‘She has different reasons for thinking so, but she has come to much the same conclusions.’

‘She is not the only one. The winds of magic blow strangely. Certain ominous portents have been observed by wizards as far apart as Cothique and Lothern. I have even been getting reports of such things from as far away as the Citadel of the Dawn.’

‘What can we do about this?’ Teclis asked.

The High Loremaster shrugged.

‘I have written to the Phoenix King suggesting that we send an expedition into the Northern Wastes to discover exactly what is going on there.’

Teclis nodded. This certainly made sense. It was all very well talking about corruption in the winds of magic and strange signs in the stars, but the easiest way to confirm the truth would be to send observers to the place where actual events were happening.

‘And what did he say?’

‘I am awaiting his response.’

‘Let us hope he comes to a decision soon. Otherwise it may be too late.’

Chapter Twenty

Teclis and the High Loremaster walked through the vaults of the Tower of Hoeth in silence. They had spent the past half hour discussing Morelian’s researches on the slann inscription and seemed to have said all that was needful. He carried the High Loremaster’s partial translation with him.

They passed cases full of wondrous artefacts dating to an earlier age. Teclis loved this place. It always calmed him. He tried to spend some time there every day when he was at the White Tower.

He passed the Staff of Kaladreon, once borne by the white herald of Bel-Hathor, wound round with spells that generated an aura of calm and peace. It was a beautiful thing, but not much use for it had been found in the modern world. He admired the spell-work as much as the intricate carving of the winged goddess of mercy woven into it.

He glanced at the Oracle of Mammakis, a statue in the shape of a lion which was said to come to life once every ten centuries and answer any question asked of it truthfully although not always to the liking of the hearer. The inscription said it would be another two hundred and twenty years before it spoke again.

Teclis stopped to look upon the War Crown of Saphery. It was beautiful in a way that very few objects were, and it was potent, worked around with mighty enchantments to aid its wearer when casting powerful spells. It was one of the most powerful artefacts possessed by the Loremasters of the White Tower. Whoever wore it would be able to achieve wondrous feats.

His hands itched to pick it up and place it on his head. There was something about it that almost compelled him to do so. He had rarely felt so drawn to any object. It felt as if it belonged to him and had done all his life and always would.

The High Loremaster saw the expression on his face. ‘What is it?’

Teclis wondered whether he should confess his desire to own this object. He hesitated only for a moment and then said, ‘I feel drawn to the Crown. I feel as if it belongs to me.’

‘It is one of the most powerful artefacts in our vaults,’ said the High Loremaster. ‘It was intended for use in battle by a war mage. It helps the wearer concentrate and manipulate the winds of magic, and it protects him from some of the worst side effects of miscasting a spell. It has other powers as well. It is said to amplify the senses and shield the mind from the temptations of Chaos.’

The High Loremaster looked at Teclis oddly. Teclis felt almost embarrassed by his scrutiny. It was as if the High Loremaster suspected him of wanting to steal the helmet. ‘Sometimes,’ he said, ‘one has a feel for certain objects that are involved with one’s destiny. This may be the case with you and the Crown.’

‘It is a beautiful thing but I hope I never have any use for it,’ said Teclis. ‘It is something for a warrior not for a wizard like myself. I do not see myself going to war at any time in the near future.’

‘You can never predict what your fate might be,’ said the High Loremaster. ‘It is not something that even the greatest of wizards has any control over.’

Teclis doubted this, but he did not want to get into an argument with the head of his order.

‘What do you plan to do now?’ the High Loremaster asked.

‘All this talk of the alignment of moons and stars and Chaos gates has made me curious. I wish to do some research of my own in the library.’

‘That is a dark and serious subject. In theory, you need the permission of the High Loremaster to pursue it.’

‘Do I have it?’ Teclis asked.

‘I think it is safe to say that you do.’

‘I thank you for the work you have done on the slann text.’

‘I should thank you, Prince Teclis. It is not often I have had such a fascinating subject to study.’

Teclis walked down the steps into the Great Library. Over the arched doorway was the symbol of the moon, the same symbol that appeared on the War Crown of Saphery and was the mark of the ancient princely realm. Sword Masters guarded the entrance.

Within this place were treasures uncounted: ancient books and scrolls, tablets of forbidden knowledge, palimpsests and metal etchings. It was one of the greatest treasure houses of knowledge in existence.

Of course, the guards were symbolic because it was very unlikely that any thief would even find his way into the tower. Not impossible though, Teclis thought, or else the Sword Masters would be deployed elsewhere. Or perhaps they were there to report on the mages studying within. It was not unknown for them to seek forbidden lore.

He nodded to the guardians as he limped past. They acknowledged his presence and a clerk wrote down his name in the register. If he checked that huge leather bound book he would find the names of the greatest magicians that Ulthuan had ever produced. Out of curiosity he had done just that in the past. It thrilled him to think that he was walking now where once those legends had walked.

He entered the main hall of the library. It was gigantic, eight stories high, with books running all the way to the ceiling. On each level was a balcony that ran around the entire chamber. Steps led up to these balconies. In the centre of the room were many tables at which wizards and scholars sat studying ancient volumes of lore.

At the far end of the chamber was another exit which led to a room very similar to the first. He progressed through a dozen such chambers until at last he came to a room with a much lower ceiling and several exits.

This was where things started to get tricky. In the main chambers of the library, which he had just passed through, nothing ever went astray. It was easy to navigate them and no one ever got lost. Once you passed through this area you were into something else entirely. Soon he would be in the Maze of Books.

From here there was a labyrinth of corridors and tunnels walled with volumes of lore which seemed to stretch off in every direction. He had walked through this place on many different occasions and had come to the conclusion that this part of the library was several times greater than the area of the tower which contained it, impossible as that was.

He knew that some sort of magic was at work but, as with all of the magic connected with the tower, it was infinitely subtle and very hard to detect even if you were looking for it. Occasionally he felt the flicker of some spark of power when he passed from one room to another but he never quite worked out what was happening, which annoyed him, for he was very proud of his skill as a wizard.

When he entered these corridors, he was entering a realm where the normal laws of the world did not apply. He had known other mages to claim that they were in the same room as he had been in at the same time as he was there, but he had never seen them and they had never seen him, even though they had been studying books that were barely a few strides apart on the shelves.

He knew that the Master Librarian of Hoeth kept a catalogue which purported to show the location of every book on every shelf, but that catalogue could not be copied and it appeared different to everyone who studied it. Teclis himself had made notes and drawn sketches but they had never agreed with the notes and sketches of other scholars. Nonetheless, anyone who followed the guidance of the catalogue could find the books he was looking for.

Once, as an experiment, he and a fellow mage had sought the same book using different directions and had walked into the same corridors at the same time. Somehow, without ever realising how it had happened, they had become separated. Teclis could very distinctly remember looking back over his shoulder and discovering that the person he had been talking to just a few heartbeats before was not there.

And yet, when he had arrived at the book he was seeking, his fellow scholar was also there. It was the sort of thing that new students to the tower were always doing out of curiosity and probably always would do until the end of time.

He was looking for knowledge concerning the coming of Chaos, which meant searching all the way back to the time of Caledor. This was located in the deepest section of the Maze. He passed through numerous galleries, in which students of magic studied and library servitors went about their business, and then he entered an area in which fewer living presences were visible. The corridors were dustier, and cobwebs hung in corners even though there were no signs of spiders anywhere. It was as if they were spun by his imagination. Sometimes, out of the corner of his eye he even seemed to see them take form.

He went down a flight of stairs he could not recall ever seeing before, and turned a corner and went down another. He was far beneath the tower now, in its very foundations. The place felt old. There was an air of antiquity about it, and the books that surrounded him. The niches in the walls contained small statuettes in an archaic style, depicting elves in garb that had gone out of fashion millennia ago.

He kept walking, feeling that he was getting ever further from his goal. The walls of books seemed to be closing in around him. For the first time in his life, he felt menaced by their presence, and by the library itself. He tried to turn back to retrace his steps, but when he followed the path backwards he could not find the stairs he had entered by, and after what felt like hours he thought he had passed the same statuettes of the goddess of wisdom several times.

What was going on here? Had the library turned against him? Had it decided that he was a threat or had become one for some reason since his return? Was this some variant of the spells that caused people to become lost forever in the woods around the tower. He breathed more deeply and fought against mounting panic. He guessed it was possible to be lost down here forever, if whatever power ruled over the Maze wished it.

He took another turning trying to retrace his steps and he found himself in a chamber he had not been in before. Had he taken a wrong turning, become disorientated, or was something else going on here?

He noticed that the room was lit by a small lantern and contained a table on which were several books. One was a volume of ancient poetry concerning the life of Aenarion and Caledor. The other was a history of Saphery. The last appeared to be a book of spells. It was this he reached for first. Also on the table was a game board that looked as if the squares were inscribed with slann runes. The pieces had already been moved, as if the players had only just left the room and intended to come back.

Weary and seeing nothing else better to do, Teclis sat down at the table. He placed the copy of the High Loremaster’s translation of the slann tablet on the table. He opened the spell book. It contained a number of incantations written in old script. The hand was very fine. There was something familiar about it. Even though he was certain he’d never actually seen this writing before, there was something about it that reminded him of someone.

He turned to the opening page of the volume where he saw a famous mark. It was one that he recognised from the inscriptions on Sunfang, the rune that identified the sword’s maker. This was a volume written in the hand of the Archmage Caledor. It contained spells that he had personally inscribed.

Excitement filled Teclis. This was a treasure he had never hoped to find. He felt sure somehow that no one except himself had ever seen this particular book. He was the one who was meant to find it, even though he was not sure why.

He continued to leaf through the volume, until his eyes came to rest on one particular spell. He could not say why exactly he was compelled to look at it. He was sure that it was not magic that made him do so. He would have felt that. He would have been able to resist the compulsion to read it as well. It was as if this particular spell was somehow intended to appeal directly to him. It was written in slann runes and yet he somehow understood them.

Something about the words embedded them in his mind immediately and set his lips forming them and his hands moving through the gestures of casting before he could even stop himself.

Even as he did so, he felt his eyes grow heavier and his voice grow throatier. His words became slurred and he started to mumble in a way that he had never done when casting a spell before.

Fear filled him. This whole episode was too strange. He felt as if he was caught in some vast intricate trap. This was not supposed to happen. It should not be able to happen. The Tower of Hoeth was supposed to be a safe haven for wizards.

Had he stumbled onto something strange and deadly? Had this happened before to other wizards? Would he simply be the last in a long line of people who had disappeared and were not remembered? He supposed it was possible. After all, the magic of the tower warped the minds of all who came into contact with it.

Even as these thoughts occurred to him, a wave of dizziness overcame him and he slumped forward over the books.

Teclis opened his eyes and wondered where he was.

The chamber was not like anything he had ever seen before. It looked as if it had been furnished by elves, but not any of the sort of elves he knew. The workmanship was crude, although still beautiful and still the product of a fine sensibility. Everything looked hastily made, as if the craftspeople had not taken the time to give it the requisite level of polish.