Stones Of Power - The Last Sword Of Power Part 20

The Britons retired to the villa, leaving the old general in the garden where Nica found him. 'Is there anything you need, lord?'

'What news from the merchants?'

'They say that a great army is gathering across the water and that Wotan will be here within weeks.'

'What do the merchants plan?'

'Most have hidden their wealth. Some have reinvested in Hispania and Africa. Still more are preparing to welcome the Goths. It is the way of the world.'

'And you, Nicodemus?'

'Me, lord? Why, I will stay with you.'

'Nonsense! You have not spent ten years building yourself a fortune merely to die as my slave.'

'I do not know what you mean, lord.'

'This is no time for denials. You risked my capital with Abrigus and he brought home a cargo of silks that netted me a handsome sum. You took a commission of one hundred silver pieces which you re-invested skilfully.'

Nica shrugged. 'How long have you known?'

'About six years. I am leaving tomorrow and I do not think I will return. If I do not come home within the year, then the villa is yours - and all my capital; there is a sealed parchment to that effect lodged with Ca.s.sius. My slaves are to be freed and an amount set aside for the woman, Trista; she has been good to me. You will see all this is done?'

'Of course, lord, but naturally I hope you will have a long life and return speedily.'

Severinus chuckled. 'And still you lie, you rogue! Get ready my sword, and the armour of combat -not the ornamental breastplate, but the old leather cuira.s.s. As to the mount, I will take Cam's.'

'He is getting old, lord.'

'We are all getting old, Nica. But he's wily and fears nothing.'

The boat slid through the dark waters, Culain sitting silently at the tiller, until at last the tunnel widened into a cavern hung with gleaming stalact.i.tes. The waters bubbled and hissed and the walls gleamed with an eldritch light. Culain steered the craft through a maze of natural pillars and out on to a wide mist-smeared lake. The stars were bright, the moon shining over the distant tor on which stood a round tower. The air was fresh and cool and the Lance Lord stretched and drew in a deep breath as the peace of the Isle swept over him. His eyes roamed the landscape, seeking the once-familiar forms of the Sleeping Giants, the Questing Beast, the Centaur, the Dove, the Lion. Hidden for two thousand years, but potent still.

The craft moved on into the tree-shadowed bay, towards the camp-fire that twinkled in the distance like a resting star. As the boat neared the land, seven hooded figures rose from around the fire and advanced in a line towards the sh.o.r.e.

'Why have you called us?' asked a woman's voice.

'I have a friend here, in need of your help.'

'Is your friend a man of peace?'

'He is the King.'

'Is that an answer?'

'He is the man who declared the Isle of Crystal to be sacred, and he has protected its sanct.i.ty and its freedom.'

'The Isle needs no mem to declare it sacred, nor swords to protect its freedom.'

'Then look upon him simply as he is, a man whose soul has been stolen and whose body is in peril.'

'And where would you have us take him?' asked the woman.

To the Round Hall hi the Circle of the Great Moon, where no evil may dwell, where the two worlds join in the sign of the Sacred Fish.'

'You know much of our Mysteries.'

'I know all of your Mysteries . . . and more besides.' Without another word the women moved forward and effortlessly lifted the King from the craft. In two lines, the body almost floating between them, the hooded women set off into the shadows with Culain following.

A figure in white emerged from the trees, a hood drawn over her face.

'You cannot travel further, warrior.'

'I must remain with him.'

'You cannot.'

'You think to stop me?'

'You will stop yourself,' she told him, 'for your presence weakens the power that will keep him alive.'

'I am not evil,' he argued.

'No, Culain lach Feragh, you are not evil.'

'You know me, then? That is good, for you must also know that I planted the Thorn and began the work you now continue.'

'You began it, yes, but not in faith; it was but one more of your games. You told the Sisters that you know all their Mysteries and more besides. Once that was the truth, but it is no longer. You think you chose this place, Culain? No. It chose you.'

'Forgive my arrogance, lady. But let me stay. I have much to atone. And I am lost and have nowhere to go.'

Moonlight bathed the bay, making the white-robed priestess almost ethereal, and the warrior waited as she considered his words. Finally she spoke.

'You may stay on the Isle, Culain - but not at the Round Hall.' She pointed up at the great Tor and the tower that stood there. 'There you may rest, and I will see that food is brought to you.'

'Thank you, lady. It is a weight lifted from my heart.'

She turned and was gone. Culain climbed the ancient path that circled the Tor, rising higher and higher above the land and lakes below. The tower was old, and had been old when he was a child in Atlantis. The wooden floors had rotted and only the huge stones remained, carefully fashioned with a precision now lost to the world and interlocked without the aid of mortar. Culain lit a fire with some of the rotten wood and settled down to sleep beneath the stars.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Cormac awoke to a barren landscape of skeletal trees and dusty craters. Beside him lay his sword, and behind him was a tunnel that rose up through a mountain. Sitting up, he looked into the tunnel. At the far end, high in the heart of the mountain, he saw a flickering glow and yearned to walk towards it and bathe in the light.

But just then he became aware of another figure and swung, sword in hand, to see an old man sitting on a flat rock; his beard was white and he was dressed in a long grey robe.

'Who are you?' asked Cormac.

'No one,' answered the man with a rueful smile. 'Once though, I was someone and I had a name.'

'What is this place?'

The man shrugged. 'Unlike me, it has many names and many secrets. And yet, like me, it is nowhere. How did you come here?'

'I ... there was a fight ... I ... cannot remember clearly.'

'Sometimes that is a gift to receive with grat.i.tude. There is much I would like to un- remember.'

'I was stabbed,' said Cormac, 'many times.' Lifting his shirt, he examined the pale flesh of his chest and back. 'But there are no scars.'

'The scars are elsewhere,' said the man. 'Did you fight well?'

'No. I was blind . . . Anduine! I must find her.' He stood and moved towards the tunnel.

'You will not find her there,' said the man softly, 'for that way lies blood and fire and life.'

'What are you saying, old man?'

'I am stating the obvious, Cormac, son of Uther. Your lady has gone before you on this long grey road. Do you have the courage to follow?'

'Courage? You are making my head spin. Where is she?'

The old man rose and pointed to the distant mountains beyond the black river that wound across the foot of the valley below. 'She is there, Cormac, where all new souls gather. The Mountains of the d.a.m.ned.'

'I ask you again, old man, what is this place?'

"This, young prince, is the place of nightmares. Here only the dead may walk. This is the Void and here dwells Chaos.'

'Then . . . I . . .'

'You are dead, prince Cormac.'

'No!'

'Look around you,' said the old man. 'Where is life? Is there gra.s.s, or any living tree? Is there sign of any animal or bird? Where are the stars that should grace the sky?'

'And yet I still think and feel, and I can wield my sword. This is a dream, old man; it does not frighten me.'

The man rose and smoothed his grey robe. 'I am journeying to those mountains. Do you wish me to give a message to your lady?'

Cormac looked back at the tunnel and the beckoning light. Every emotion in him screamed to run towards it, to escape the pitiless grey of the land around him. But Anduine was not here. He looked to the mountains.

'You say she is there, yet why should I believe you?'

'Only because you do. I would not lie to you, young prince. I served your father and his father and grandfather. I was the Lord Enchanter.'

'Maedhlyn?'

'Yes, that was one of my names in the Light. Now I am no one.'

'So, you also are dead?'

'As dead as you, prince Cormac. Will you travel with me on the grey road?'

'Will I truly find Anduine?'

'I do not know. But you will walk her path.'

'Then I will join you.'

Maedhlyn smiled and walked down the hillside to the dark river. He raised his arms and called out and a black barge came into sight, steered by a monstrous figure with the head of a wolf and eyes that gleamed red in the pale half-light of eternal dusk. Cormac raised his sword.

'You will not need that,' whispered Maedhlyn. 'He is only the Ferryman, and will offer no harm to you.'

'How can he harm a dead man?' asked Cormac.

'Only your body has died. Your spirit can still know pain and, worse, extinction. And there are many beasts here, and Once-men who will seek to harm you. Keep your sword ready, Cormac. You will have need of it.'

Together they climbed into the barge, which moved out on to the river under the skilled silent poling of the Ferryman.

The boat came to rest against a stone jetty and Maedhlyn climbed clear, beckoning Cormac to follow him. The Ferryman sat still, his red eyes fixed on the youth and his hand extended.

'What does he want?'

'The black coin,' said Maedhlyn. 'All travellers here must pay the Ferryman.'

'I have no coin.'

The old man was troubled. 'Search your pockets, young prince,' he ordered. 'It must be there.'

'I tell you I have nothing.'

'Search anyway!'

Cormac did as he was bid, then spread his arms. 'As I said, I have nothing but my sword.'

Maedhlyn's shoulders sagged. 'I fear I have done you a terrible injustice, Cormac.' He turned to the Ferryman and spoke in a language the youth had never heard. The beast seemed to smile, then he stood and turned the barge, poling it back on to the river.

'What injustice?'

'You are not, it seems, dead, though how you have come here is a mystery. All souls carry the black coin.'

'There is no harm done. He carried us over.'