Elfsorrow Part 7

'Much more than that. They open and close doors at the back of the temple.'

Yron raised his eyebrows. 'Really? I think you'd better show me that.'

Erys led the captain around the statue into a short corridor. It was dark but for light spilling out from two open doorways.

'Both of these opened while we were in here, and a third closed,' said Erys. 'We thought it was a trap at first but Stenys is convinced it's the lights pa.s.sing across particular areas of the statue. We'll monitor it.'

Yron glanced into one of the rooms. It was a shrine of sorts. A carved figure sat in an alcove surrounded by incense sticks. A few parchments lay stacked on a low table. A single cushion was propped against the back wall.

'Anything of interest here?'

Erys shook his head. 'I don't think so but we'll take everything anyway. There are some more likely papers next door but we'll have to wait for the real prize.'

Yron stared at him blankly.

'There must be a dozen rooms at least,' the mage explained. 'And we don't know when they'll open.'

Yron snorted. 'Then let's take the walls down. I'm not waiting here a day longer than I have to. I'm being eaten alive. And some of them out there won't last. You've seen the fever.'

'I know.' Erys nodded. 'And we'll do everything we can. But there's something you don't understand. Come and see.'

He led Yron back through the temple to the doors. Ben-Foran had wandered back outside to organise something.

'Here,' said Erys, indicating the stone lintel and the pillars that had once housed the doors. 'Notice anything interesting?'

Yron gave the elaborate carvings and engravings on the stonework a cursory glance and rubbed a hand across the smooth insides where the door frame had sat flush. He shrugged.

'Well, it doesn't seem too damaged.'

'Captain, it isn't damaged at all. I mean, there aren't even any scorch marks. Not here, not anywhere on the temple stone. I know that ward was focussed out but even so . . .'

'Meaning?'

'It's why we were so long earlier. We've probed the structure. Every stone in this temple is bound to every other by a force we can't fathom. It's magic of some sort, but ancient. Really ancient. The only thing not bound in is the statue they built this place round - presumably because it's marble.'

'So you're saying it's strong, is that it?'

'Oh, it's much more than strong,' said Erys. 'If you scratch away the lichen and plant growth on the outside, it hardly even looks old. For one thing, I don't think any spell or tool we've got can do the job. And for another, if by some mischance we did damage the structure, the binding magic would snap any hole shut. Rather violently.'

'Terrific,' muttered Yron. 'Welcome to your new home.' He scratched at his arms, feeling the lumps of the insect bites. He faced the mage. 'Right, I want you two to examine every parchment you find immediately each of these b.l.o.o.d.y doors opens. Finding a text on repelling insects would go down very well right now.'

Erys chuckled. 'We'll do what we can. Unfortunately, much of it's in an ancient elven dialect we can't read.'

'Well, this gets better,' said Yron dryly. 'How will you know when you've found what Dystran wants?'

'We won't,' he said. 'Not necessarily anyway, though we expect to recognise enough to help us. But we're still taking pretty much everything that's not nailed down. Just in case.'

Yron looked for a sign that Erys was joking. He plainly wasn't. The captain nodded.

'Right, I'll catch up with you later. Let me know about anything else you find.' He switched his attention outside. 'Ben! Get your a.r.s.e over here!'

'Sir!' The new lieutenant jogged up.

'Right. Here's what I want. Log every cut, blister and infected bite. List every man with the fever. Give it all to Stenys to work through. Next, I need eight of the fittest to go back to the camp and bring back enough canvas to cover this entrance and set up a stores tent. They are also to bring shovels, wood axes and picks and I want as much food as they can load onto the pack animals, a.s.suming the stupid things are still alive. They have a remarkably developed instinct for uncovering danger.

'Anyway. The camp guard and the mage are to stay there, look after the sick and the rest of the kit. If that dimwit girl can keep any of them alive, it would be a real bonus. I want the eight back here by midnight so they'd better get a move on. Meanwhile, you mark out pitching and s.h.i.t-hole areas, organise a firewood party and set a ring of four fires around this entrance. I don't want anything unwelcome disturbing my sleep. Looks like we could be here for a while. All clear?'

Ben-Foran nodded. 'Yes, sir.'

'Good. I'll be inside exercising my rank privilege and watching you all get hot and tired. We'll all sleep in there tonight but anyone p.i.s.sing in the pool gets staked out for the jaguars. Oh, and Ben, remind the firewood party to wear gloves and be careful where they're putting their hands. If it moves when you pick it up, it isn't a stick.'

Ben-Foran grinned. 'Yes, sir.'

'Good. Now get to it. The light'll fade quickly.' Yron turned and strode back into the glorious cool of the temple. 'Dear G.o.ds, what did I do to land this dog's a.r.s.e of a command?'

Chapter 8.

Erienne felt sick. The nausea spread through her whole body and made her head swim. It knotted her stomach and quivered in her limbs. The blood was pounding in her neck so hard she thought it would burst through her skin. She reached out a pale and shaking hand towards the door handle then let it drop, having to lean on the frame to steady herself. She wasn't sure whether this was fear or hate. Probably it was a mixture of the two. And she could let them see neither.

She gathered her strength, grasped the door handle and pushed open the door, stepping inside before her mind forced her body to run.

'Erienne, how delightful to see you at last.'

And there they were, the two of them, sat in deep, fabric-upholstered chairs, their legs propped up on cushioned footstools. They looked frail and old and a sickness had disfigured their skin but their eyes burned bright. They should both be dead. Like her daughter. Yet here they were, greeting her like a grandchild, which to them she probably was.

'This is not a social call,' said Erienne, hardening her voice. 'I will not exchange pleasantries with those who orchestrated the murder of my daughter.'

'We grieve for your loss-' began Myriell.

'Don't you dare!' Erienne's shout caused them both to flinch. She felt tears well up but refused to let her sorrow get the better of her.

'Don't ever tell me you grieve. Dear G.o.ds drowning, but it was you who let her die. And you didn't have to.'

'We felt-'

'You didn't have to,' repeated Erienne deliberately. 'You panicked when the Dordovans attacked. I could have saved her. You should have trusted The Raven and you should have trusted me. But you didn't.'

Two seasons she had been waiting to say these words. Two seasons where bottomless grief and gut-wrenching loathing had robbed her of the strength to face them as she wanted to. The nausea eased and the nerves steadied. She felt in control of herself.

'But you would have died doing so,' said Myriell.

'To die for my daughter would have been the greatest honour of my life. I'm her mother. What the h.e.l.l else would you expect of me?'

Erienne moved further into the room. The door to the kitchen opened but her scowl sent Nerane scurrying back.

'We expected you to fulfil your belief in the greater necessity of maintaining the One magic,' said Cleress.

'My, my, how divorced you are from reality.' Erienne's words dripped like venom as she advanced on the Al-Drechar's chairs to stand over them, looking down on their pitifully weak forms. 'Did you ever have children of your own or have you always been as dried up and infertile as you are now?'

She rested her hands on the arms of Myriell's chair and leaned in close. 'I would have done anything to save my child's life. Being prepared to die for her was easy. And your One magic didn't even figure.'

There was silence as the two women stared each other out, Erienne finally straightening and stepping back as Myriell broke the gaze.

'So why have you come to us?' asked Cleress. 'Just to vent your feelings or is there more?'

Erienne turned on her. 'And do you not think I have the right? Do you really think in your senile minds that I might have come to see your actions as right? You sicken me.'

'No, we don't think that,' said Cleress. 'And we don't expect your forgiveness either. And yes, we both bore children. But the One is bigger and more critical than any of us.'

'Try telling that to Lyanna!' stormed Erienne, the tears threatening. She felt overwhelmed by their calm detachment. They were cold.

'And she lives on within you now but you deny it,' said Myriell.

'Do you think me completely bereft of sense?' Erienne shook her head. 'I felt what you forced from Lyanna into me and I understand why she had such difficulty controlling it. But it is not in any way some essence of my daughter. It is a malignant force, trying to overpower me. But I am too strong for it and so it lies dormant until I am ready, should that time ever come.'

'But accept it you must,' said Cleress, her voice suddenly gaining intensity. 'It is the future for us all.'

Erienne stared at her long and hard.

'If you deny it for ever, it will shrivel and wither, but not before causing your death. Then you and your daughter will both have died in vain,' said Myriell.

'On my terms if at all,' said Erienne slowly. 'If you so much as touch the outer reaches of my mind, I swear I will come back here and kill you both. I trust I make myself clear.'

'Back?' Cleress's half-smile stretched her face painfully.

'That is why I am here. The Raven are leaving here and I have been reminded that I am one of The Raven. Xetesk controls Herendeneth now. We have things to do, so my husband informs me. While I am gone, keep out of my mind unless by some miracle I invite you in. But more important, stay away from Lyanna's grave. Your foul presence would upset her rest. Nerane will tend her until I return.'

Myriell and Cleress shared a glance.

'We will, of course, respect your wishes,' said Cleress. 'But remember we are dying. And even though you may hate us, you need us. Because the One will awake and only we can shepherd you through the ordeal you must face.'

'If I choose to believe you.'

'Believe me, girl!' snapped Myriell. 'It is an enormous power. And if you awaken it without our help, your fate will be more awful than your daughter's.'

Erienne was surprised at the vehemence of Myriell's outburst but still refused to be cowed.

'I know you want what lies dormant in my head. I know you think you can return the One to dominance through me. But for now it is lost to you. And you will suffer that loss as I have suffered mine. But at least you will have the one thing I do not. Hope.'

'Be careful where you travel,' warned Cleress.

'I will go where I choose and I will do as I please.' Erienne turned and headed towards the kitchen door, suddenly hungry. She paused at the door as a final thought struck her.

'You do not own me, Al-Drechar. And you do not own what I host. You would do well to remember that.'

Ilkar left Herendeneth with a mix of emotions that left him distinctly uncomfortable. He hardly knew where to start to sort it all out. He was happy to be leaving the island but deeply concerned by the overwhelming Xeteskian presence there. His desire to recruit, even temporarily, mages from Calaius to help rebuild Julatsa was tempered by his anxiety about returning to his Southern Continent homeland for the first time in over a century.

And perhaps worse than all of it, immediately at least, he was going to have to travel there by ship. Despite the pouch of the relaxing and settling drug, lemiir, that the Al-Drechar had given him, his memories of misery and sickness on the open ocean were all too fresh.

Scaling the netting covering the port side of the Calaian Sun, he dropped onto the deck and shook hands with the ship's master, Captain Jevin. The elven sailor smiled a little too knowingly.

'Hoping to develop sea legs a little quicker this time?' he asked.

'Just tell me it's not a long journey,' replied Ilkar.

'Three days if the weather holds.' Jevin's eyes sparkled. 'Still, there's a healthy eight- to ten-foot swell out there and you know how capricious the weather can be.'

'I'm so glad I asked.'

Jevin laughed and gestured aft. 'Same cabin, Ilkar. Make yourself comfortable.'

Ilkar hefted his bag and moved off along the sleek vessel, nodding at any of the crew who had time to look up as he pa.s.sed. All elven, the ship and her crew had played a pivotal role in stopping the Dordovans capturing Lyanna, risking their own lives for a wholly inadequate price to take The Raven across the storm-ravaged Southern Ocean. It was a debt that could never properly be repaid, not with mere coin though they were now pledged a good deal of that. But all Ilkar hoped for was a calm enough sea. Feeling the first twinges in his stomach at just the thought, he went below.

In quick time, The Raven were all aboard, netting and boats were stowed and the anchor was weighed. Ilkar joined Hirad at the rail to watch Herendeneth slip away aft, Jevin setting only topsail and foresail for the delicate journey out of the treacherous waters of the Ornouth Archipelago.

Above them, wheeling and calling in the sky, the Kaan dragons watched them go. Beside Ilkar, Hirad was smiling.

'Sha-Kaan having a few words, is he?' asked the elf.

Hirad nodded. 'He's talking about you, actually.'

'Oh, terrific.'

Ilkar didn't get on with the dragons. Not that anyone really did. Except Hirad of course. Something about the thick skin they shared, or so went the joke. But then, Hirad and Sha-Kaan had a unique relationship, part of which allowed their minds to touch, facilitating telepathic communication.

'What's he saying, exactly?'

'Well, I mentioned that you were concerned about the Xeteskians on Herendeneth,' explained Hirad. 'He said he'd make sure they didn't step out of line, so to speak.'

'Oh,' said Ilkar. 'I rather thought he might be coming along with us. Calaius would be very much to his liking, climate-wise.'

'Come off it, Ilks. Wake up. He has to get home, so he's staying to work with the Al-Drechar and the Xeteskians. I'd have thought you'd be pleased - it gives us direct communication to Herendeneth. At least you'll know what's going on.'

'I thought that was what Aeb was coming for?' Ilkar frowned.

Hirad turned to face him. 'This has all really got to you, hasn't it?'