The Faerion (25 page)

"For your experiments," hissed Elise. "I promise to take my own life before that happens."

"I do not doubt your determination, but I am compelled to stop you. I have already woven a spell to keep you from killing yourselves or each other. I did not expect you to surrender easily and I would be disappointed if you had. But it matters not. Although my strength is green, there are many aspects of my existence that I have no control over. I am compelled to investigate the creatures of our world and present all that I have learned to Galamog."

"You, a mere servant?" asked Tomen.

"You really do not understand? Galamog is not of this world. A creature of vast power. Infinite power. She is a Jungegud I suspect. I am unable to lose my temper in her presence. No control save by her command. She suppresses all emotion, logic, and personalities. The slaves that serve her have spent so much time in her presence that they no longer experience conscious thought. They are merely drones. Insects tending the queen. Galamog's mere presence destroyed their being. They might as well be dead."

"And you chose to serve her?" asked Culver.

"Choice? Haven't you been listening poet? There is no choice with Galamog. I had discovered my abilities and sought knowledge. A sorceress offered to help me and told me her name was Natale Galamog. I had not heard of her and she smiled when I told her. She would instruct me without charge. I would not be apprenticed to her and could move on when I was ready. And she appeared very beautiful. It was too good to be true, but I was still young and overconfident. Still, the early years were very pleasant.

"Ten years I studied and when I told her I would leave, she laughed. Then she showed me her true form and I rolled on the ground in terror. I became her greatest servant, but still, no more than a servant."

"I pity you," said Elise.

"I am aware of the emotion but it is powerless here. Pity cannot save me."

"Tell us how to help you."

"My dear Elise, there is nothing I could tell you that you can trust. I have my own resources, but you would never know what words are mine and which belong to Galamog. Nor would I be able to tell you when I am lying. For good or ill, do not trust me. I cannot change what I am."

"If Galamog was destroyed?" asked Tomen.

"Then I may be free. I cannot answer your next question. I do not know if I would still be what you consider evil, or a force for compassion and justice. The point may be moot, however. I fear I have served her too long and her demise would mark my own. But it would not be unwelcome."

"Death is preferable?" asked Culver.

"Infinitely better. I have existed thirteen hundred years, my friend. Only forty of them did I live freely. The remainder I have been a servant of Lady Natale Galamog."

"Why do you call her a lady?" asked Elise.

"Because she wishes it."

"What does she look like?"

"Ah, Elise. I am afraid you shall find out. Your friend Blackthorne spoke of seeing her true form, one that I have seen. However, to you she shall appear an ageless beauty, full of grace and charm."

"What is her true form?"

Berimar let the question hang as he pondered his answer. Culver became aware of night noises. He felt surprised at the normal sounds near such a well of evil. Wouldn't the creatures flee Galamog? Other than the soothing sounds time seemed to stop for Culver as they waited for Berimar to continue. The sorcerer retreated into his darkness, the red eyes flickering out. "I will not tell you." He did not speak again.

The Tuors leaned against one another and slowly drifted into fitful sleep.

They were awakened by Berimar and broke camp without eating. They walked in silence until they broke for lunch. Berimar told them to eat well; the hardest part of their journey was before them. He allowed them a few minutes extra rest then compelled them to their feet. They hiked down a ravine leading to a darkened area. Tomen recognized the cave opening before the others. He paused, warding the others with his arm, but Berimar turned suddenly, his eyes flashing.

"We enter now. You cannot fight me. Come, Tuors, and meet your destiny."

They were compelled to enter the darkness, pulled by the will of Berimar and after several steps the light vanished completely. Culver looked back but he could not see the opening that stood a mere ten feet away. He felt cold and a terrible fear gripped his heart.

They shuffled their feet across the rocky floor unable to see each other, only the cold red glow of Berimar leading them downward. They walked for what seemed hours ever downward. Culver heard water dripping once, then later what seemed to be a stream. Berimar did not cross water and their course wound in an intricate dance.

Green lights appeared in the distance, too far to tell what caused them. Tomen tried to change direction toward the lights but Berimar's hand stopped him.

"Not yet, Tomen. Do not end your life too soon. You do not want to meet the source of those lights. It is rare that a traveler gets far enough in the tunnel to meet the green lights. We must move quickly, they will be angry that you have escaped."

They moved faster into a darker part of the tunnel. What little sight they gained from the green lights vanished now.

"How much farther?" gasped Elise, her pain pinching her breathing.

"Not far. Not far. Soon you will see my home."

"I can't wait," muttered Tomen.

"Keep that sense of humor as long as you can, Tomen," said Berimar. "You will be amazed at what you can endure if your humor does not abandon you. Steel yourself against the pain to come, for it will come. Not just the pain Elise imagines on my operating table, but the intense assault of your senses by Galamog. She will pierce you with her thought, stripping away your being until only a husk remains, biddable and obedient."

"I don't know if I can stand to hear anymore," said Culver.

Berimar watched him for a moment, then turned and led them on their way again. The walkway grew steep and narrow. Even the Tuors needed to walk in single file. Culver sensed rather than saw the edge of the path, inches beyond his feet. He scuffed several rocks over the edge and waited enormous amounts of time before they hit bottom. One rock he never heard impacted the floor. He kept his hand on Elise's shoulder. She gripped a rope Berimar extended to her to keep them close and following the correct paths. Tomen brought up the rear. His ears were alert - he heard a patter of feet behind him. He knew his business and he knew he did not imagine the footfalls. He debated whether to mention it to Berimar, but surely the sorcerer would know?

They walked in silence, winding through the darkness. Culver's legs ached and he could barely lift his feet for the next step. Each time he shuffled his feet he kicked rocks over the edge of the walkway where they would drop into the depths or crack against another ledge below.

"Stop that, Culver," said Tomen. "I don't like the reminders of the bottomless depths below us."

"I'm so tired. It's hard to pick up my feet."

"Try. You don't hear Elise complaining."

"She's too far withdrawn into her pain; I don't think she hears anything we say. She just moves in a trance. Berimar pulls her on that rope. I'm surprised she hasn't collapsed."

"She will make it to my home," said Berimar. "I am supporting her with my art and shall not let her fall."

"Thank you," sighed Culver. "I don't know if I should, but thank you."

"You think poorly of me," said Berimar. "You cannot understand."

"Yes, yes. You gave us your sad story earlier," said Tomen. "Why keep bringing it up? Do you crave forgiveness in what you do? Hardly like the legends of the Sorcerer Berimar we heard as children."

"No, I suppose not."

"What was that?" asked Culver.

"What?"

"Behind us. There was movement. A bluish shape, but it vanished so quickly. Tomen, did you see it?"

"No, but I heard footsteps earlier."

"Why did you not say something?" asked Berimar, his eyes peering into the blackness behind them. "Bluish? Man shape?"

"This is your domain. I thought you would know if something was following us."

"Not if it is one of Galamog's Seekers. They are creatures that bow not to me. They answer only to her and are very dangerous. I purged this cavern of them once, but Galamog was very angry with me. Yet, I was firm and she agreed to keep them away from here. We must move quickly. They seldom hunt alone."

Berimar increased their speed. The Tuors stumbled in the dark. Culver's foot slipped over the edge and he started to follow. Tomen grabbed him but it proved difficult to get the shouting Culver to calm down enough to aid in his own rescue. Berimar cursed. The sorcerer returned and yanked Culver back to the walkway heedless of the bruises and skinned knees of the Tuor.

"Fool! Follow quickly or the Seekers will have you." Berimar stomped off pulling hard on the rope, knocking Elise off her feet and dragging her several yards before Tomen and Culver could help her to her feet.

They kept to the pace for another hundred yards when Tomen was struck from behind. Something drove into him, knocking him into Culver and they both sprawled on the walkway; Tomen's shoulder hanging over the edge. Blue shapes stood jabbering above him. He heard Berimar curse and the red flashes that followed, but his attention was focused on the triangular face leering at him. He was reminded of a praying mantis except the eyes were feline and the mouth round, framed by razor sharp teeth.

Stubby hands reached for him when a blast from Berimar knocked the creature away. Tomen jumped to his feet. Elise hung on Berimar's arm while Culver slowly regained his footing.

"Hurry!" hissed Berimar. "They shall soon return with their leader. He was a vile sorcerer of old before Galamog changed him. He is very cruel."

Culver lost his sense of direction and Tomen guided him by his arm. Tomen saw that Culver's face bore several cuts. One long slash left skin hanging over his eye. Tomen laughed to himself because he caught himself wondering if Berimar could heal Culver. He laughed because of the fate awaiting them in Berimar's cavern. Fix us up so you can dissect us. His mirth kept him going until at last they entered the red light flooding the entrance to Berimar's home. Tomen heard a sucking sound as they passed through the threshold.

It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the amber light that emanated from the walls. The cavern was divided into several chambers. The one they entered appeared a great hall with paintings hung on the walls, sculptures seemingly everywhere. Some were classical while others grotesque and eerie. One maned head had eyes that glowed and seemed to follow them around the room.

"Have a seat. I shall bring refreshments."

Berimar's courtesy after the journey they had just completed kept them off balance. Elise dropped into the long sofa in the room's center. Culver shrugged and sat next to her. Tomen returned to examining the room. He found a huge sword in a corner. It was not attached to anything and looked usable despite the rusted edges. However, a giant of a man had wielded it and Tomen could not lift it.

"I'm afraid that it would be of no use to you even if you had the strength. You are in my domain and no weapon can harm me here. None. Not even Galamog can assail me here. It is my last refuge, my last stand if I am to be free of her."

The cups of water he brought to them tasted cold and clean. Tomen felt himself become alert. His heart was pounding.

"What did you do to the water?"

"Nothing. There is no enchantment there, just crisp clear mountain water." He walked over to a basin and stood staring into it. "Now this water is enchanted." Tomen joined him and looked into the black depths of the basin.

A hint of blue started in the center sending tendrils of color to the other edges, then it began to spin, blue and black, blue and black and for a moment Tomen thought Berimar wanted to hypnotize him. Then shapes began to appear. Three distinct figures moved down a trail descending from the mountains.

"Shall we have a closer look?" asked Berimar. Tomen nodded.

The features were clear. Navir, Wynne and Blackthorne traveled together.

"Well, isn't that interesting?" asked Berimar. "That trail will lead them to us. I will have to prepare a welcome for them."

"What kind of welcome?" asked Tomen, realizing that the trio might be their only chance of rescue. Berimar looked at the Tuor. His expression was unreadable.

"Let me heal Culver's wounds while there is still time."

She knew he was out there. The street was silent and the shadows draped themselves over the cobblestones dampening the outside world. Dellana knew Garlac would be coming-she had the art, but also she knew him and what motivated his actions.

She drew her bath water, stirring the water slowly with her hand, letting the water run over her palm back into the tub. Bathing was a vice she had taken to quite greedily. She once went many weeks without bathing, perhaps longer, certainly longer, but she would not admit it to herself. The sensation of warm water running over her skin was unparalleled in her experience. She knew Garlac would wait until she was most vulnerable; he usually did. At least to his mind she was vulnerable. Dellana kept her secrets to herself.

She rinsed the last of the soap off her skin and wrapped a thick towel around her and walked into the main chamber. Garlac sat on a chair cutting a piece of bread from a warm loaf he just purchased.

"You always look so attractive after you bathe."

"Hardly the words of a devout Brother of the Rose."

"Perhaps not. But you are not offended?"

"No. You remember where you found me."

"Yes, I do. But I wrongly thought that it was where you had started, too."

"What makes you think different?" She started drying herself, knowing that Garlac would be distracted.

"I had a conversation with a man named Mortic, from Mordyn. It seems he is searching for the wife of Berimar. The wife of Berimar! Can you believe it? I find it hard to believe the sorcerer actually exists, and to hear he has a wife. Probably a withered old crone, eh?"