The Children of Urdis (Grimwold and Lethos Book 2) (5 page)

Sharatar grimaced and shook his head. "The wild stone and the magic became too much for him. He deluded himself into believing he was Tsal, and he squandered the power of the wild stone I had bestowed upon him."

"Not unexpected," Avulash said. "There is still plenty of wild stone upon the white ark. What did Amator do?"

"He used sorcery to grant himself a number of powers, and created charms that allowed him to grant these to others. He then used the greatest secrets that he learned from our ancient libraries to create beasts of the First Age. Yet his knowledge was imperfect and the beasts he created from the flesh of men were weak to the salt of this land. His enemies soon learned to use this against him."

"What a waste of precious wild stone," Avulash said.

"Yet not a complete waste, my captain. His mad plans brought two pairs of Manifested to oppose him. Whether this is a breaking of their pact to not interfere with our people, I am not qualified to say. Only mighty Urdis may judge them. Amator had captured one of the neophytes before he bonded to his partner, and tried to shape him into a creature of legend--a Minotaur."

Avulash laughed. "Did such a change even take place? What powers did this Amator possess that we did not see?"

"Other forces were at work. One of Amator's allies was a human girl possessed by a demon of the otherworld. She had natural abilities in summoning, but with no instruction she fell victim to the dark forces in her youth. The demon was weak, but the wild stone nourished it. Perhaps it was the presence of the demon that made Amator successful, for the Manifested did transform."

"We are not prepared to handle the meddling of the Manifested now, not before more white arks arrive."

Sharatar's amber eyes brightened, "But I have remedied this problem. I found the Manifested Prime's birthplace and took stone from the earth there."

"He left the stone of his birthplace unprotected?" Avulash clapped his hands together and laughed again. "Surely the world has degenerated during our long absence."

"Someone had been to the stone before me, and left enough behind so that if the Manifested dug it up himself he might think he had all of it in his possession. I used it to fashion two arrowheads and presented these to his enemies along with a charm to resist his magic. I gave them wild stone arrows to handle his Cohort. It won't be long before those arrows find their targets, and if they do not then I have the stone hidden. I will remove the Manifested myself."

"A good plan. But we may have use for the Manifested. Think of their blood." Avulash clapped his hand to Sharatar's shoulder. "What of the other Manifested?"

"Their kind is holding council now. They must realize we are returning to the world. In any case, they have gone beyond my sight."

"And the demon?"

"Here is what will interest you most. The Order of Phyros has placed a paladin in these lands disguised as a High King of Valahur. When all this turmoil arrived on his threshold he had to reveal himself. His magical sword was enough to strike down both Amator, who had divined the paladin's true nature, and the demon once it entered the world. But you must know, it was not the paladin's hand upon his sword, but that of the young Manifested. He wielded it with the ease of a man destined for that weapon."

Avulash fell silent and nodded. The Manifested council would be a problem for him until he could establish these landing bases for the white arks following behind. This local Manifested united with the Order of Phyros was more than he wanted to face now.

The human woman at their feet sprang to her feet and began to run. Both Sharatar and Avulash let her run a short distance before Sharatar turned and extended his palm toward her. He murmured the words of power, and Avulash felt the stir of radiance from the wild stone amulet he wore beneath his armor. The human woman wailed and crashed facedown into the grass. Her sobs carried over the gentle breeze.

"These people are a stubborn lot," Sharatar said. "The people of Valahur are more wild and independent than their kin in Avadur. It must be the influence of the Order upon them."

"No longer call these places by their corrupted names. All is Sathkera now. This land, these slaves, are all to be returned to us." Avulash gestured toward the felled sow, and Sharatar led the way. "I thank you for bringing this one to me. Her people must be nearby?"

"Through the forest there is a village of her kin. They shall worry for her soon. She was gathering firewood."

"Their women labor like animals, and reek like them as well. Even our basest slaves are superior to this beast. Still, I am weary." He drew the long bladed knife at his hip. Its leaf blade shimmered in the light as he kicked over the woman. Her blue eyes bulged in terror, no doubt confused at the spell that Sharatar had used to knock her down. She was a crude thing, with ruddy cheeks streaked with dirt and tears. His nostrils flared in disgust.

"Such bloat in this creature. She will be full of blood, degenerate as it is." Avulash knelt beside her, placing his blade to her pulsing neck.

"Yet Amator worked powerful magic with the same blood. Imagine how much more you can do."

The knife tore the woman's jugular with precision. No need to waste precious magic on a spell to drain her blood. A brilliant geyser of blood jetted ten feet into the air. Avulash stood and held his palm out. The blood streaked to it, absorbing into this body. When she died her skin was colorless gray and her eyes half-closed. Avulash stood a moment in the pulsating warmth.

"How long it has been," he said. "But I will need to burn much blood in the coming days. We must land the crew of the ark here. We shall destroy this sow's village and take her kind to the ark. Then we will cut the guts from this land and make it our own. We go to kill the High King of Valahur."

CHAPTER SIX

Kafara glided on cold, rare winds that lofted her along the invisible roads of the air. The roar of the wind was dull in her ears and the cold was a thin taste of ice on her tongue. In the shape of a gray mountain eagle, she was the queen of the skies. Below her, Turo, also in the same shape, echoed a screech off the snow-laden mountains that surrounded their destination. Kafara shared his joy at the end of a long flight from Valahur.

Tucked into the mountains, accessible only from the air or hidden passes, huddled the ancient, crumbling fortress of Vanikka. None but the Manifested could find this place, and few of her kind could ever see it as she did. From the air the fortress was a sprawling black castle with walls crumbled and filled with snow. Towers leaned unsteadily and one had fallen, leaving the impression of a broken rib sticking from the snow. Whatever grandeur awaited them on the inside, the exterior was sullen and dilapidated, a ruin of a time long lost to human memory.

Kafara landed on the path outside the front gates. She could have easily landed in the courtyard but followed the protocol of her land-bound kin. Turo's talons crunched on the gravel path as he alighted beside her. With a flash of heat, she tapped her power to shift into human shape. Clothes did not transform with her, and so she stood naked against the biting cold. She was a tall, lithe woman with olive skin and dark hair that hung to her waist. Though the fashion had vanished along with her people of ancient Ageos, she still preferred to wear her hair at this length and in a single braid when possible. She had no time for tradition now. Turo transformed into a naked man, a male mirror of her, though he wore his hair only to his shoulders and grew a thick beard.

"And so the wanderers finally join us." The speaker stood in the shadows of the gateway. He stepped out into the snow, clad in nothing heavier than a light shirt of red and brown wool pants tucked into peasant boots. His long, thin hair was like strands of fire flowing to his shoulders and a sharp nose dominated his face. He cradled folded robes in his arms. "Don't suppose you took clothes with you?"

"Tirkin, you old fool. How long has it been?" Turo stepped forward to greet his old friend, the Prime of Fire. Kafara sensed his joy and it brought a smile to her lips. The two men embraced, Tirkin tucking the robes under his arms.

"It has been at least a century, if not more." The woman who answered the question was Storra, Tirkin's Cohort and lover. She was dressed in a more practical robe of red wool, with a cowl pulled over her head. Hair as fiery as Tirkin's, but she had cut it at her shoulders. Her voice was smoky and warm, like a crackling fire. She took a robe from Tirkin and handed it to Kafara. "I am glad to see you again."

Once they had slipped on the plain brown robes and exchanged welcoming embraces, Tirkin's mood shifted. "Come, the others are all assembled. You are the last to arrive. Old Thunder and Lightning are not pleased with you, to say the least."

"When have they ever been?" Turo asked. Thunder and Lightning were Tirkin's pet names for the Dyad of Storms, who were also the oldest of all the Manifested.

"Was this council called just for us?" Kafara asked. They had already passed beneath the ruined gates and then across the hard frozen ground of the courtyard. Tirkin shrugged at the question, giving Storra a quick glance.

They entered into a main fortress where light and warmth filled the air from no particular direction. All of Vanikka was enchanted. Rooms lit and darkened on command or as occupants moved through them. They traversed long halls lined with intricate carvings and carpeted with rugs worth the fortunes of kingdoms. Kafara knew the way to the central hall without aid. Doors of bronze decorated with dragon motifs stood closed in the yellow light.

They entered into a whirl of murmured talk that rolled to a stop as she and Turo swept inside. The chamber was a large circle with serried rows of chairs all around. It could seat hundreds, but no more than thirty-six ever sat in the chamber at one time. The chairs were old, reddish wood and deeply padded. The rows at the back were white with the dust of ages. The central stone floor was empty, reserved only for speakers, and high above, a chandelier of glowing orange crystals bathed the room in a thin, steady light that painted everything gold.

Kafara spotted her customary seat, though it had been more than a century since she had last occupied it. She climbed the short stairs to it, and claimed her position among her siblings. Turo flopped into the chair next to her. Tirkin and Storra returned to their customary seats in the opposite side of the circle. She rarely saw her peers, for most had gone into a hibernation over the last century. Yet since the war of the trolls, all had awakened. The powers represented in the room were as diverse as life itself. She had received her summons to this council from a raven sent by the Dyad that controlled animals. Every Dyad was a major force in the world, and to have all eighteen assembled indicated a major concern.

At last all eyes settled on the Dyad seated alone in the first row of chairs. The Dyad of storms, Thunder and Lightning as Tirkin had called them, sat with their eyes closed in contemplative meditation. The Prime was a woman of tremendous age and unparalleled beauty named Myrakka. She had a wide face and strong jaw, flawless white skin and a cruel mouth. She wore a robe of silver wolf fur that contrasted with her startlingly black hair. Beside her was her Cohort, a broad-shouldered man with a rugged jaw shaded blue from his clean-shaved beard. He was called Kelata, and he wore leather armor studded with iron and a matching silver wolf fur robe over it. His eyebrows were as thick as a man's thumbs and drawn tight as if he were enduring a loud noise. Both were the eldest Manifested, being many thousands of years old. How they never aged remained a mystery. They were as close to a king and queen as the Manifested ever came.

"We are all gathered now, and so may begin," Kelata said, his voice rich and commanding. "It has been five hundred seventy-two years since we have all met. Yet the need today is the greatest in our history."

He paused to survey his audience and build the tension. Kafara detested this sort of showmanship, but at least half of the circle of Dyads leaned into the silence.

"There is a new Dyad among our number, so young as to not yet understand their places in this world nor the implications of their existence." Kelata's dark eyes met Kafara's. She tilted her head back, feeling her pulse quicken. She felt hostile stares upon her, as if she had created this imbalance. "Worse still, those who should have known better have acted rashly in dealing with one of the First People."

"He was a blood sorcerer who was using wild stone to twist men into monsters," Turo shouted.

The flash of anger from him made Kafara jump in her seat. Kafara had known that her peers would not agree when they interfered with the affairs of Valahur and Avadur. She was surprised that it had come to council. They had ceased their meddling once they halted Amator's blood sorcery.

"I am more concerned about the new Dyad." Now Myrakka opened her eyes of startling blue, but otherwise did not move. She stared across the room at no one. "Through the ages, when a new pair arises, an older pair dies. So it was with you, dear Kafara and Turo, and so it must be with the pups you have dragged into the world."

"The balance is a mystery," Kafara said, not rising to the emotion Myrakka had baited. "It is always natural. If none have died yet, then one Dyad will soon. We do not take it upon ourselves to create the balance in our numbers."

Myrakka gave a wintry smile. "We do not. This Dyad should have died before their bonding, yet you ensured they survived. To me that is manipulating the balance. Yet I wonder if your brothers and sisters understand what you have brought to this world? Does everyone know that you have brought a full-fledged dominator among us?"

Thirty-six voices exploded in an uproar. Kafara sank back in her chair. She had expected some fear, but nothing like this. Not all of the shouting were accusations against her and Turo. Some, like Tirkin and Storra, shouted for calm and reason. Turo wisely contained his fiery passion and sat mutely with Kafara.