Author's Note: I own nothing from the Elenium/Tamuli series, it belongs to David Eddings. This is the end of the first arc of my story, please let me know what you think so far…please…begging for reviews here. I appreciate those of you who have already reviewed. I will pay better attention to spelling and location names :( sorry.
A Thief In Armor
Chapter 13: Countdown to the Cataclysm
…5
The sound of clattering metal filled the air of the late-afternoon as Church Knights continued their steady march toward Chyrellos. They were hampered, however, by the numerous injured and the wet, sticky mud from the rain the previous night.
The Knights were only a couple of leagues from their destination and Sparhawk estimated that they would reach the holy city by the next day. The Elenian Champion wondered what he would find there. Part of him worried he would arrive too late and find the city besieged. He felt a twinge of worry for Ehlana, though he knew Danae was more than capable of taking care of her mother.
A tap on his shoulder caused Sparhawk to look up.
"Completely ignoring us as usual…" Rhamik said as he gave Sparhawk a half-smile. "…you'll have to forgive him, as we worms are so far below his notice," he continued in half irritation, half jest.
"Stop being an idiot, Rhamik. My lord, please forgive my brother's pitiable attempts at humor." Dirkeim interjected.
"Will you also be kissing a horse's ass while you're at it, Dirkeim-the-oh-so-proper?" Rhamik asked as he pulled his horse closer to his brother's mount.
"Boys," Sparhawk said sternly as he glared at the two. Both of Kurik's sons looked guiltily away.
"Now, Rhamik what did you want?" Sparhawk asked.
"I was simply suggesting that it might be a good idea to send the mounted Knights ahead. They could reach Chyrellos faster and the infantry could catch up later."
"Unfortunately," explained Sparhawk, "That would leave every man on foot exposed to whatever might appear out of nowhere. Don't worry, Rhamik. If the army we fought reaches Chyrellos before we do, the holy city has plenty of defenders."
The swift rider still looked worried. Meanwhile several Genidian Knights rode up, Ulath heading up the column. He came to a stop beside Sparhawk and slowed his horse down to keep up with him.
"How do you want to form up if the holy city is under siege?" he asked without preamble.
Sparhawk looked ahead. He had been considering the possibility all morning. "Whether or not the city is under siege, I want to form up a semi circle of Knights in and around the city."
"Your infamous 'Ring of Steel'?" Ulath queried.
Sparhawk shrugged. "It worked before…"
Ulath grunted his assent. "I'll let Komier know."
"Has anyone received any word on the Chapterhouse?" asked Dirkeim.
Ulath shook his head. "Give it some time; it's been only a couple of days since the scouts were sent out."
Dirkeim looked down and gripped the reigns of his horse harder.
"Khalad knows what he's doing, Dirkeim," Sparhawk said. "We've sent messengers out to Darellon and Bevier, not to mention Kring's Peloi. The Chapterhouse will get reinforcements soon."
"I hope it's soon enough, my lord." Dirkeim said anxiously.
Sparhawk hoped so too.
…4
Eighty seven. Eighty seven. Eighty seven. The number swirled around in Khalad's head until he thought it would burst from the pressure. Eight seven: it wasn't the number of casualties since the Chapterhouse had been besieged, and it wasn't the number of Knight's now dead.
No, the number eight seven was the number of men that had been trapped outside at the mercy of a staggering force of mercenaries. Eighty seven was the number of Knights, of men, of his men, of fathers, sons, and brothers whose fate was completely unknown.
The young preceptor stood along the ramparts overlooking the area surrounding the Chapterhouse. The northwest sector of the wall had, remarkably, been refortified by diligent Pandions, and the army that had mysteriously appeared out of nowhere had pulled back into the outlying fields.
There was no trace whatsoever of the Knights locked outside the Chapterhouse during the initial attack. Khalad had sent out his best spies, but none where able to penetrate the camp of the army or find out if any of the Knights lived or died.
Eighty seven. Khalad had other things to do. The counteroffensive measure would be mere moments away. The courtyard of the Chapterhouse was preternaturally silent. It was only an illusion however; a complex spell that only masked the flurry of last minute activity. Black clad knights mounted on snorting warhorses as novices sharpened endless lances. Adepts swung swords, axes, and sabers and those competent in the Secretes muttered incantations and drew complex symbols.
Trained killers, competent in all forms of slaughter; Khalad exhaled. He hoped it would be enough, because the Pandions were cornered and outnumber by four to one, last the scouts reported.
The Knights began to form up as the last several minutes drew to a close. Khalad would remain where he was, better to oversee the battle. The preceptor felt a calm descend over him and he tightened his fingers around his sword.
The trumpet sounded, and the drawbridge opened as the Pandions galloped out into combat. Eighty seven… he would find them…alive or dead.
…3
"Y'phira, are you alright?" Ehlana asked.
The young woman sitting across from the Elenian Queen looked as if she were in pain. Y'phira and Ehlana, along with Archprelate Dolmant, Vanion, and Sephrenia had reconvened in the preceptor's quarters that had been set aside for the ladies' use.
"I'm fine, your Majesty, my head just hurts a bit," Y'phira said as she pressed her fingers against her temple and grimaced.
Sephrenia frowned and shared a look with Vanion. "Something is indeed coming. The only thing I can be sure of is that the Three are behind it."
"Isn't there anything we can do at all Sephrenia? I feel so helpless sitting here doing nothing!" Ehlana complained vehemently.
"No Ehlana," it was the Archprelate who answered. "This is of supernatural origin. You must leave it to those who are equipped to handle it."
Just then, Berit and Olet entered the chamber, Bevier and Tynian following.
"We've put all the Pandions on alert. Most of the Knights will stay up for the rest of the night. Whatever is going to happen, we'll be prepared for it." Berit said.
"I've sent out messengers to the Cyrinic chapterhouse as well," Bevier added. "So reinforcements will be on their way if anything gets out of hand."
"We received word from some of our scouts," Tynian inserted. "Sparhawk and the rest of the Pandions are close to Chyrellos. They should be here in a few hours."
"Very good," Dolmant said. "Now we just have to wait and see what our enemy's next move will be."
A low moan caused everyone to turn toward the direction of the sound. Y'phira was holding her head in both hands, and though her eyes were tightly shut, tears still issued from beneath them.
Bevier sprinted across the room and wrapped his arm around the young tutor. "Y'phira, my lady? What's the matter?" He asked; his voice marked with concern.
"Leave her, Bevier." Sephrenia said softly as she looked at her protégé intently. "She's more in tune with what's happening now than the rest of us are…she's always been sensitive like that."
Bevier looked up, surprised, but did not take his arm from around the shaking young woman's shoulders. After a moment her body stopped trembling and she was abnormally still. Slowly, Y'phira opened her eyes, but instead of the irises being their usual grey color, they were white and opaque. Her voice broke the silence, sounding oddly dusty and arcane.
"Behold the time draws nigh unto the tearing asunder of the worlds and those who dwell therein. Truly there abides none who will escape, no, not one. Restoration will come only when the errant echoes of the Bhelliom's threads are once more returned to the place from whence they came."
Finishing her impromptu prophecy, the young tutor fainted.
…2
Talen continued his long climb down the shaft corridor. Dirt and dust dripped onto his face as the smell of decay and mildew filled his nostrils. Despite his initial reaction to being changed back to a child, the altered thief found moving along the treacherous path infinitely easier.
The handholds were uncertain, but his agile movements kept him from falling. Below him, Danae was moving with equal dexterity. Talen made a mental note to himself to have a long talk with Sparhawk about his daughter's many talents.
"Here Talen," the nimble princess called up. "I think this leads to the tombs."
Bevier's earlier research had revealed that Listrages had taken the secrets of the first cipher to his grave.
Literally.
The early Archprelate had a secret text buried with him; Bevier was sure it was one taken from the now extinct H'va-ken tribe. It was Talen's task to retrieve it from where the Archprelate was entombed.
Talen followed the sound of Danae's voice to an opening in the wall several feet down. He climbed down until his feet could swing into the hole. With a smooth, fluid motion the thief detached himself from the corridor wall and landed inside the cavity.
"I think it's big enough here for you to change back, Talen." Danae noted.
She was right. The initial aperture opened into a larger hallway. Talen took a deep breath and incanted the standard nullification spell, forming his fingers into the symbols needed.
He felt an odd stretching, like being full after a meal. He gestured a quick spell for additional light. Looking down, he observed that he was his normal size and age.
The Pandion thief breathed an audible sigh of relief, which earned a quizzical look from Danae.
"What's wrong, Talen? Didn't think you would remember the spell?" she asked; half a grin evident on her face.
"Don't be ridiculous, Danae," Talen scoffed, as he dusted off his arms, "My memory is flawless it's just that…" Talen trailed off.
"It's just what?" Danae turned around and queried.
Talen ran a distracted hand through his hair as he drew alongside her. "Well Aphrael can be a bit whimsical…"
"So I've heard." Danae murmured.
"Well, it would be just like her to leave me as a child…you know, she prefers that form herself." Talen noted absently, looking down at his companion.
"Leave you as a child?" Danae said softly, tilting her head to one side as she considered. For some reason, Talen felt deeply concerned by to conniving glint in her eye.
"Princess…" Talen said, a desperate edge in his voice, "You won't mention any of that to Flute will you?"
Danae looked up, her expression taking on an innocent glow. "Of course not, Talen." She said in a tone that clearly indicated otherwise. "I happen to like you all grown up." She gave him another one of her breathtakingly lovely smiles, and for a moment Talen forgot he was standing in a dark, moldy crypt. Instead he was sitting on his porch in Demos watching the emerald leaves of Kurik's oak stream across the sky in the squalls of late summer.
The distracted thief shook his head to clear it. How very odd; it wasn't like him to daydream. "Well let's see if we can find the old 'prelate's bones." He said to Danae and set off.
They followed the antiquated hallways, their footfalls muted by the centuries of dust underfoot. The dimly lit quarters progressed ahead in a path that twisted and turned in convoluted stretches, pieces of the hallway crumbling away with the decay of time.
Talen looked around as they moved forward. It was difficult to make out anything distinct because of the extreme age of the hallway, but Talen detected some figures along the unbroken parts of the wall. Stopping to investigate further, the thief brushed his fingers across the markings to remove some of the dust.
"Danae," he called. "There are some markings over here." He said indicating the engravings. The princess stood on her tiptoes, balancing herself on Talen's arm as she peered over his shoulder and studied the uncovered etchings.
"Hmm…they look like some type of letters, but nothing I'm familiar with." she said.
Talen dug around in his pockets and removed a piece of paper Bevier had given to him. Listranges' name was reprinted carefully in the old form of Elenic by the Cyrinic scholar. Talen held the paper up for Danae to read.
"This is what should be on the entrance to his sepulture," he explained. Danae nodded as she compared the writing to the engravings.
"This definitely is not it, though some of the letters are the same. We are probably getting close…Talen what are you doing?"
Talen had flipped open his sketch book and had written Listranges' name and lined up the letters engraved on wall directly beneath them. "There's probably a system they have set up here, princess. After the first few I'll probably be able to figure out exactly where our old 'prelate is." He explained.
"What makes you think there's a system for disposing of old dead men, especially so far back in ancient times?" Danae asked, amused.
"Trust me, Danae. The church thrives off of systems and rules. If it wasn't done when Listranges died, then some meticulous clergyman would have fixed it later."
"If you say so, Talen." Danae said with a little huff.
Talen set to work. Several sites later he confirmed his hunch that the Archprelates buried there were in chronological order. Moving quickly down the hall he passed several doors and stopped to compare the letters again. He still had a long way to go.
After several back and forth trips down the hall, Talen and Danae finally found engravings that matched up with the ones Bevier had written.
"Looks like this is it…" Talen said as he ran his fingers along Listrange's burial entrance. Not feeling any fissures in the walls, he wondered how they would get in.
"Did sir Bevier say anything about actually getting in to Listrange's tomb?" Danae asked, folding her arms and tapping one foot impatiently.
"No…but it shouldn't be a major problem," Talen said, unperturbed. He final found what he was looking for and with a shove from his shoulder the wall cracked open. Slipping his fingers into the opening Talen forced the gap wider until it was able to accommodate his size.
"Where'd you learn to do that?" Danae asked an eyebrow quirked.
"Thief school, princess." He said looking back and gave the princess a mockingly grave expression. "Grave robbing is a standard lesson."
"I see," she said wryly, "…any chance that we can go on? Or do you have more brilliant lines to deliver?"
"Be nice, princess," Talen said as he slipped through "Stay here for a moment while I check things out"
Danae sighed in consternation behind Talen as he inched his way through the opening into the burial site. The light from his spell spilled into a large chamber that was empty, bereft of any indication that someone had been entombed there.
"That's odd." Talen said. "Danae, come see this."
The dark haired princess joined Talen in the sepulcher. She looked around and her eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. "But there's nothing in here, Talen."
She walked ahead of him and abruptly vanished. Her loud shriek sent the Pandion running after her and floor disappeared under him. Tumbling down he landed on something soft.
"Ow! Talen that's my arm!" Danae yelled at the disoriented thief. Talen attempted to disentangle himself from the petite princess but ended up getting further knotted up.
Danae rapidly elbowed him away and got to her feet, puffing loudly. "A little light would probably help, Talen." She said in a honeyed voice that made Talen wince.
Talen sat up and incanted a bright area-spell. He was blinded by the sudden presence of light but his eyes slowly adjusted. He realized why the room seemed empty. It was because it wasn't really a room at all.
It was a flight of stairs.
Set into the middle of the room neither Talen nor Danae had seen it until they sprawled down. With the guidance of the light the companions carefully climbed down in a spiraling descent.
Like the rest of the tombs, the stairs were decayed with age and crumbling. Going down was perilous and Talen reached for the young princess' hand as they continued to transverse the treacherous stairs. Danae raised an eyebrow but didn't argue.
Talen became more and more concerned as they continued to go down further and further. How far down was the former Archprelate? Why was he buried so far below the other tombs? Was it possible he had other secrets buried with him besides the text he stole from the H'va-ken tribe?
Finally, the staircase ended. Talen found himself in a small chamber. There were faintly glowing silver symbols on the walls around him. Talen frowned darkly and muttered a curse.
"What's wrong Talen?" Danae asked from behind him.
"It's these symbols," he said as he touched the dimly shining marks on the wall. "They're Styric."
"Styric?" asked Danae, "Why would an Archprelate have Styric symbols in his tomb?"
"I don't know," Talen said, "Either way, some of them are instructions for getting in to the tomb." He said touching a set of letters on the far wall.
Taking a deep breath he muttered the indicated spell and heard a rumbling below him. Hastily he stepped away as a sarcophagus rose from below him. The cover of the stone coffin was carved in a likeness of a man in repose. The definition of his features had worn away, but still retained vestigial elements of his expression; arrogance and pride. So this was the pompous idiot who had destroyed the entire H'va-ken tribe. Talen curled his lip in sudden disgust and pressed his palms against the sculpted lid. Giving a heave the lid slid about half an inch.
Nearly half an hour later, sweating and exhausted, Talen finally pushed the lid off Listrange's coffin. The Pandion thief peered inside, Danae leaning against his side to look also.
The corpse was old, little more than papery skin and bones, but laid against his chest was an incredibly well preserved book.
"Are you going to take it or what?" Danae asked. Talen gave her an anxious look. The princess rolled her eyes and sighed. "Just take it, Talen, I don't think Listranges cares at this point."
Talen reached down and grabbed the book. Suddenly, the ground began to shake.
…1
The holy city loomed ahead. It had been exhausting for the Pandions to travel so far into the night, but a sense of urgency had overcome Sparhawk, a dark foreboding that had him continue on despite the weariness of his men.
However, no one complained, even the bleary eyed Komier. It was if they all understood the necessity of reaching the crux of contention. There was a fraught heaviness in the air, an expectation of things to come.
The battle weary prince of Elenia looked up. All seemed as it should be in Chyrellos; it looked like he arrived in time.
Then the world exploded.
The sky turned to what could only be described as an inferno, bright amber and magenta flames alighting on the previously serene sky. Flashes of lightning streaked across the blazes adding violet tinged brightness to the spectacle. Lit with consuming fire, it was beautiful sight of perfect horror.
Men fell from their horses as they stared, gap mouthed at the marvel around them. The sky, it wasn't on fire, it was fire a rippling conflagration of light and wrath, radiance and passion.
…Then a sound, an awful sound: the sound of screaming, torture and wrenching; as if the very earth were crying as it was torn asunder.
The ground wasn't mere terrain anymore. It groaned and moved and shook, like a living man tormented and in pain.
The horses were terrified, running in panicked circles, the whites of their eyes showing as they whined and grunted. Still nothing could drown out the sound of the earth itself as it split and tore, as the strands of reality ripped apart uncovering what dwelled beneath.
Sparhawk observed this with a sense of unreality until he was abruptly thrown from his horse. Fortunately for the Pandion, Faran didn't trample him but instead rode off in the opposite direction.
He tried to shake his head, he closed his eyes but the vision didn't leave, nor would the cavernous screaming in his ears cease. He heard his name, not the one he was born with, but the name of the man with no destiny.
Anakha.