The Shining Ones (20 page)

‘That’s a graphic picture.’ Ulath shuddered. ‘I’d imagine it sort of interferes with establishing normal relations with these people.’

‘Indeed, Sir Ulath,’ Itagne smiled, ‘but despite all of that, the Shining Ones are among the most popular figures in Tamul literature – which may provide you with some insight into the perversity of our minds.’

‘Are you talking about ghost stories?’ Talen asked him. ‘Some people like those, I’ve heard.’

‘Delphaeic literature is far more complex than that.’

‘Delphaeic? What does that mean?’

‘Literature refers to the Shining Ones as the Delphae,’ Itagne replied, ‘and the mythic city where they live is called Delphaeus.’

‘It’s a pretty name.’

‘I think that’s part of the problem. Tamuls tend to be sentimentalists, and the musical quality of the word fills the eyes of our lesser poets with tears and their brains with mush. They ignore the more unpleasant aspects of the legend and present the Delphae as a simple, pastoral people who are grossly misunderstood. For seven centuries they’ve inflicted abominable pastoral verse and overdrawn adolescent eclogues on us. They’ve pictured the Delphae as lyric shepherds, glowing like fireflies and mooning about the landscape, over-dramatically suffering the pangs of unrequited love and pondering – ponderously, of course – the banalities of their supposed religion. The academic world has come to regard Delphaeic literature as a bad joke perpetuated far too long.’

‘It’s an abomination!’ Sephrenia declared with uncharacteristic heat.

‘Your critical perception does you credit, dear lady,’ Itagne smiled, ‘but I think your choice of terms over-dignifies the genre.
I’d
characterize Delphaeic literature as adolescent sentimentality perhaps, but I don’t really take it seriously enough to grow indignant about it.’

‘Delphaeic literature is a mask for the most pernicious kind of anti-Styric bigotry!’ she said in tones she usually reserved for ultimatums.

Vanion appeared to be as baffled by her sudden outburst as Sparhawk and the rest. He looked around, obviously seeking some way to change the subject.

‘It’s moving on toward sunset,’ Kalten noted, stepping in to lend a hand. Kalten’s perceptiveness sometimes surprised Sparhawk. ‘Flute,’ he said, ‘did you plan
to put us down beside another one of those water-holes for the night?’

‘Oasis, Kalten,’ Vanion corrected him. ‘They call it an oasis, not a water-hole.’

‘That’s up to them. They can call it whatever they want, but I know a water-hole when I see one. If we’re going to do this the old-fashioned way, we’re going to have to start looking for a place to camp, and there’s a ruin of some kind on that hilltop over there to the north. Sephrenia can squeeze water out of the air for us, and if we stay in those ruins we won’t have to put up with the smell of boiling dog all night the way we usually do when we camp near one of their villages.’

‘The Cynesgans don’t eat dogs, Sir Kalten,’ Itagne laughed.

‘I wouldn’t swear to that without an honest count of all the dogs in one of their villages – both before and
after
supper.’

‘Sparhawk!’ It was Khalad, and he was roughly shaking his lord into wakefulness. There are people out there!’

Sparhawk threw his blankets to one side and rolled to his feet, reaching for his sword. ‘How many?’ he asked quietly.

‘I’ve seen a dozen or so. They’re creeping around among those boulders down by the road.’

‘Wake the others.’

‘Yes, my Lord.’

‘Quietly, Khalad.’

Khalad gave him a flat, unfriendly stare.

‘Sorry.’

The ruin in which they had set up their camp had been a fortress at one time. The stones were roughly squared off, and they had been set without mortar. Uncounted centuries of blowing dust and sand had worn the massive blocks smooth and had rounded the
edges. Sparhawk crossed what appeared to have been a court to the tumbled wall on the south side of the fortress and looked down toward the road.

A thick cloud-bank had crept in during the night to obscure the sky. Sparhawk peered toward the road, silently cursing the darkness. Then he heard a faint rustling sound just on the other side of the broken wall.

‘Don’t get excited,’ Talen whispered.

‘Where have you been?’

‘Where else?’ The boy climbed over the rubble to join the big Pandion.

‘Did you take Berit with you again?’ Sparhawk asked acidly.

‘No. Berit’s a little too noisy now that he’s taken to wearing chain-mail, and his integrity always seems to get in the way.’

Sparhawk grunted. ‘Well?’ he asked.

‘You’re not going to believe this, Sparhawk.’

‘I might surprise you.’

There are more of those Cyrgai out there.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I didn’t stop one to ask him, but they look exactly the same as those ones we ran across west of Sarsos did. They’ve got on those funny-looking helmets, the old-fashioned armor, and those silly short dresses they wear.’

‘I think they’re called kilts.’

‘A dress is a dress, Sparhawk.’

‘Are they doing anything tactically significant?’

‘You mean forming up for an attack? No. I think these are just scouts. They don’t have their spears or shields with them, and they’re doing a lot of crawling around on their bellies.’

‘Let’s go talk with Vanion and Sephrenia.’

They crossed the rubble-littered courtyard of the ancient fortress. ‘Our young thief’s been disobeying orders again,’ Sparhawk told the others.

‘No, I haven’t,’ Talen disagreed. ‘You didn’t order me not to go look at those people, so how can you accuse me of disobeying you?’

‘I didn’t order you not to because I didn’t know they were out there.’

‘That
did
sort of make things easier. I’ll admit that.’

‘Our wandering boy here reports that the people creeping around down by the road are Cyrgai.’

‘Someone on the other side’s been winnowing through the past again?’ Kalten suggested.

‘No,’ Flute said, raising her head slightly. The little girl appeared to have been sleeping soundly in her sister’s arms. ‘The Cyrgai out there are as alive as you are. They aren’t from the past.’

‘That’s impossible,’ Bevier objected. ‘The Cyrgai are extinct.’

‘Really?’ the Child Goddess said. ‘How astonishing that they didn’t notice that. Trust me, gentlemen. I’m in a position to know. The Cyrgai who are creeping up on you are contemporary.’

‘The Cyrgai died out ten thousand years ago, Divine One,’ Itagne said firmly.

‘Maybe you should run down the hill and let them know about it, Itagne,’ she told him. ‘Let me go, Sephrenia.’

Sephrenia looked a little startled.

Aphrael kissed her sister tenderly, and then stepped a little way away. ‘I have to leave you now. The reasons are very complex, so you’ll just have to trust me.’

‘What about those Cyrgai?’ Kalten demanded. ‘We’re not going to let you wander off in the dark while they’re out there.’

She smiled. ‘Would someone please explain this to him?’ she asked them.

‘Are you going to leave us in danger like this?’ Ulath demanded.

‘Are you worried about your own safety, Ulath?’

‘Of course not, but I thought I could shame you into staying until we’d dealt with them.’

‘The Cyrgai aren’t going to bother you, Ulath,’ she said patiently. ‘They’ll be going away almost immediately.’ She looked around at them. Then she sighed. ‘I really have to leave now,’ she said regretfully. ‘I’ll rejoin you later.’

Then she wavered like a reflection in a pool and vanished.

‘Aphrael!’ Sephrenia cried, half reaching out.

‘That is
truly
uncanny,’ Itagne muttered. ‘Was she serious about the Cyrgai?’ he asked them. ‘Is it at all possible that some of them actually survived their war with the Styrics?’

‘I wouldn’t care to call her a liar,’ Ulath said. ‘Particularly not around Sephrenia. Our little mother here is very protective.’

‘I’ve noticed that,’ Itagne said. ‘I wouldn’t offend you or your Goddess for the world, dear lady, but would you be at all upset if we made a few preparations? History is one of my specialties at the university, and the Cyrgai had – have, I suppose – a fearsome reputation. I trust your little Goddess implicitly, of course, but…’ He looked apprehensive.

‘Sephrenia?’ Sparhawk said.

‘Don’t bother me.’ She seemed terribly shocked by Aphrael’s sudden departure.

‘Snap out of it, Sephrenia. Aphrael had to leave, but she’ll be back later. I need an answer right now. Can I use Bhelliom to set up some kind of barrier that will hold the Cyrgai off until whatever it was that Aphrael was talking about chases them away?’

‘Yes, but you’d let our enemy know exactly where you are if you did that.’

‘He already knows,’ Vanion pointed out. ‘I doubt that those Cyrgai stumbled across us by accident.’

‘He has a point there,’ Bevier agreed.

‘Why bother with holding them off?’ Kalten asked. ‘Sparhawk can move us ten leagues on down the road faster than we can blink. I’m not so attached to this place that I’ll lose any sleep if I’m not around to watch the sun come up over it.’

‘I’ve never done it at night,’ Sparhawk said doubtfully. He looked at Sephrenia. ‘Would the fact that I can’t see where I’m going have any effect at all?’

‘How would I know?’ She sounded a little cross.

‘Please, Sephrenia,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a problem, and I need your help.’

‘What in God’s name is going on?’ Berit exclaimed. He pointed to the north. ‘Look at that!’

‘Fog?’ Ulath said incredulously. ‘Fog in the
desert?
’

They stared at the strange phenomenon moving steadily toward them across the arid desert.

‘Lord Vanion,’ Khalad said in a troubled voice, ‘does your map show any towns or settlements off to the north?’

Vanion shook his head. ‘Nothing but open desert.’

‘There are lights out there, though. You can see them reflecting off the fog. They’re close to the ground, but you can definitely see them.’

‘I’ve seen lights in the fog before,’ Bevier said, ‘but never quite like that. That isn’t torchlight.’

‘You’re right there,’ Ulath agreed. ‘I’ve never seen light quite that color before – and it seems to be just lying on the fog itself, almost like a blanket.’

‘It’s probably just the camp of some desert nomads, Sir Ulath,’ Itagne suggested. ‘Mist and fog do strange things to light sometimes. In Matherion you’ll see light reflected off the mother-of-pearl on the buildings. Some nights it’s like walking around inside a rainbow.’

‘We’ll know more about it in a little bit,’ Kalten said. ‘That fog’s moving straight toward us, and it’s bringing the light with it.’ He raised his face. ‘And there’s absolutely no breeze. What’s going on here, Sephrenia?’

Before she could answer, shrieks of terror came from the south, where the road was. Talen scurried across the littered yard to the tumbled wall. ‘The Cyrgai are running away!’ he shouted. ‘They’re throwing away their swords and helmets and running like rabbits!’

‘I don’t like the feel of this, Sparhawk,’ Kalten said bleakly, drawing his sword.

The fog-bank approaching them had divided and flowed around the hill upon which they stood. It was a thick fog such as one might see in a coastal city, and it moved across the arid, barren desert, marching inexorably upon the ruined fortress.

‘There’s something moving in there!’ Talen shouted from the far side of the ruin.

They were only blurs of light at first, but as the strange fog-bank drew nearer, they grew more and more distinct. Sparhawk could clearly make out the shapes of nebulous bodies now. Whatever they were, they had human shapes.

Then Sephrenia shrieked as one seized in the grip of an overpowering rage. ‘Defiled ones! Defiled ones! Foul and accursed!’

They stared at her, stunned by her sudden outburst.

The lights in the fog never faltered but continued their glowing, inexorable advance.

‘Run!’ Itagne suddenly shouted. ‘Run for your lives! It’s the Delphae – the Shining Ones!’

It was the fog perhaps. The fog blurred everything. There were no precise outlines, no clear, sharp dangers, and the glowing figures in the mist approached slowly, seeming almost to float up the graveled slope toward the ancient ruin, bringing their obscuring fog with them. Their faces, their very shapes were indistinct, softened until they seemed hardly more than glowing blurs. It was the fog, perhaps – but then again, perhaps not. For whatever reason, Sparhawk felt no alarm.

The Delphae stopped about twenty yards from the broken walls of the ruin and stood with their glowing fog eddying and swirling around them, erasing the night with its cold, pale fire.

Sparhawk’s mind was strangely detached, his thoughts clear and precise. ‘Well met, neighbors,’ he called out to the shapes in the mist.

‘Are you mad?’ Itagne gasped.

‘Destroy them, Sparhawk!’ Sephrenia hissed. ‘Use the Bhelliom! Obliterate them!’

‘Why don’t we see what they want first?’

‘How can you be so calm, man?’ Itagne demanded.

‘Training, I suppose,’ Sparhawk shrugged. ‘You develop instincts after a while. Those people out there don’t have any hostile intentions.’

‘He’s right, Itagne,’ Vanion said. ‘You can definitely feel it when someone wants to kill you. Those people out there don’t want to fight. They’re not afraid of us, but they’re not here to fight. Let’s see where this goes, gentlemen. Keep your guard up, but let’s not precipitate anything – not yet, anyway.’

‘Anakha,’ one of the glowing figures in the fog called.

‘That’s a good start,’ Vanion murmured. ‘See what they want, Sparhawk.’

Sparhawk nodded and stepped closer to the timeeroded boulders of the fallen wall. ‘You know me?’ he called, speaking in Tamul.

‘The very rocks know the name of Anakha. Thou art as no man who hath ever lived.’ The language was archaic and profoundly formal. ‘We bear thee no malice, and we come in friendship.’

‘I’ll listen to what you have to say.’ Sparhawk heard Sephrenia’s sharp intake of breath behind him.

‘We offer thee and thy companions sanctuary,’ the Delphae out in the fog told him. ‘Thine enemies are all about thee, and thy peril is great here in the land of the Cyrgai. Come thou even unto Delphaeus, and we will give thee rest and safety.’

‘Your offer’s generous, neighbor,’ Sparhawk replied, ‘and my companions and I are grateful.’ His tone, however, was doubtful.

‘We sense thy reluctance.’ The voice in the fog seemed strangely hollow with a sort of reverberating echo to it, an echo such as one might hear in a long, empty corridor, a sound receding off into some immeasurable distance. ‘Be assured that we mean thee and thy companions no harm, and shouldst thou choose to come to Delphaeus, we will pledge thee our protection. Few there are in all this world who will willingly face us.’

‘So I’ve heard. But that brings up a question. Why, neighbor? We’re strangers here. What possible interest can the Delphae have in our affairs? What do you hope to gain from this offer of friendship?’

The glowing shape in the fog hesitated. ‘Thou hast taken up Bhelliom, Anakha – for good or for ill, and thou knowest not which. Thy will is no longer thine own, for Bhelliom bends thee to its own purpose. Thou
art no longer of this world, nor is thy destiny. Thy design and thy destiny are of Bhelliom’s devising. In truth, we are indifferent to thee and thy companions, for our offer of friendship is not to thee, but to Bhelliom, and it is from Bhelliom that we will extract the price of that friendship.’

‘That’s direct enough,’ Kalten muttered.

‘Thy peril is greater than thou knowest,’ the glowing speaker continued. ‘Bhelliom is the greatest prize in all the universe, and beings beyond thine imagining seek to possess it. It
will
not be possessed, however. It chooseth its own, and it hath chosen thee. Into
thy
hand hath it placed itself, and through
thine
ears must we speak with it and offer our exchange.’ The speaker paused. ‘Consider what we have told thee here, and put aside thy suspicion. Thy success or failure in completing Bhelliom’s design may hinge on our assistance – or its lack – and we
will
have our price. We will speak more of this anon.’

The fog swirled and thickened, and the glowing shapes dimmed and faded. A sudden night breeze, as chill as winter and as arid as dust, swept across the desert, and the fog tattered and shawled, whirling, all seethe and confusion. And then it was gone, and the Shining Ones with it.

‘Don’t listen to them, Sparhawk!’ Sephrenia said in a shrill voice. ‘Don’t even consider what he said! It’s a trick!’

‘We’re not children, Sephrenia,’ Vanion told the woman he loved. ‘We’re not really gullible enough to accept the word of strangers at face value – particularly not the word of strangers like the Delphae.’

‘You don’t know them, Vanion. Their words are like the honey that lures and traps the unwary fly. You should have destroyed them, Sparhawk.’

‘Sephrenia,’ Vanion said in a troubled tone, ‘you’ve spent the last forty years with your hand on my sword
arm trying to keep me from hurting people. Why have you changed? What’s making you so blood-thirsty all of a sudden?’

She gave him a flat, hostile look. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

‘That’s an evasion, dear, and you know me well enough to know that it’s probably not true. The Delphae may not have been entirely candid with us about their offer, but they weren’t hostile, and they weren’t threatening us in any way.’

‘Ah – Lord Vanion,’ Ulath interrupted, ‘I don’t think anybody in his right mind would threaten Sparhawk. Threatening the man who holds Bhelliom in his fist is
not
the course of wisdom – not even for people who glow in the dark and mulch their neighbors down into compost.’

‘That’s exactly my point, Vanion.’ Sephrenia seized upon Ulath’s words. ‘The Delphae were afraid to attack us because of Bhelliom. That’s all that was holding them back.’

‘But they
were
holding back. They weren’t any danger to us. Why did you want Sparhawk to kill them?’

‘I despise them!’ It came out in a kind of hiss.

‘Why? What did they ever do to you?’

‘They have no right to exist!’

‘Everything has a right to exist, Sephrenia – even wasps and scorpions. You’ve spent your whole life teaching blood-thirsty young Pandions that lesson. Why are you suddenly throwing it away?’

She turned her face away from him.

‘Please don’t do that. You’ve got some kind of problem here, and your problems are mine. Let’s pull this out into the light and look at it.’

‘NO!’ And she turned abruptly on her heel and stalked away.

‘It has absolutely no basis in fact,’ Itagne told them as they rode across the barren miles under a murky sky.

‘Those are usually the best stories,’ Talen said.

Itagne smiled briefly. ‘There’s been a body of folk-lore about the Shining Ones in Tamul culture for eons. It started out with the usual horror stories, I suppose, but there’s something in the Tamul nature that drives us to extremes. About seven hundred years ago, a decidedly minor poet began to tamper with the legend. Instead of concentrating on the horror, he began to wax sentimental, delving into how the Delphae felt about their situation. He wept copiously in vile verse about their loneliness and their sense of being outcast. He unfortunately turned to the pastoral tradition and added the mawkishness of that silly conceit to his other extravagances. His most famous work was a long narrative poem entitled “Xadane”. Xadane was supposedly a Delphaeic shepherdess who fell in love with a normal human shepherd boy. As long as they met in the daytime, everything was fine, but Xadane had to run away every afternoon to keep her paramour from discovering her real identity. The poem’s very long and tedious, and it’s filled with lengthy, lugubrious passages in which Xadane feels sorry for herself. It’s absolutely awful.’

‘I gather from what those people out in the fog said last night that the word “Delphae” is their own name for themselves,’ Bevier noted. ‘If Tamul literature also uses the term, that would seem to suggest some sort of contact.’

‘So it would, Sir Knight,’ Itagne replied, ‘but there’s no record of them. The traditions are very old, and I suspect that many of them grew out of the warped minds of third-rate poets. The city of Delphaeus supposedly lies in an isolated valley high in the mountains of southern Atan. The Delphae are said to be a Tamul
people somewhat akin to the Atans but without the gigantic proportions. If we’re to believe our poets, which we probably shouldn’t, the Delphae were a simple pastoral folk who followed their flocks into that valley and were trapped there by an avalanche that sealed the only pass leading to the outside world.’

‘That’s not entirely impossible,’ Ulath said.

‘The impossibilities start cropping up later on in the story,’ Itagne said dryly. ‘We’re told that there’s a lake in the center of the valley, and the lake’s supposed to be the source of the Delphaeic peculiarity. It’s said to glow, and since it’s the only source of water in the valley, the Delphae and their flocks are forced to drink from it and bathe in it. The story has it that, after a while, they
also
started to glow.’ He smiled faintly. ‘They must save a fortune on candles.’

‘That’s not really possible, is it?’ Talen asked skeptically. ‘I mean, people aren’t going to glow in the dark just because of what they eat or drink, are they?’

‘I’m not a scientist, young sir, so don’t ask me about what’s possible and impossible. It could be some sort of mineral, or maybe a form of algae, I suppose. It’s a neat sort of explanation for an imaginary characteristic.’

‘Those people last night
did
glow, your Excellency,’ Kalten reminded him.

‘Yes, and I’m trying very hard to forget about that.’ Itagne looked back over his shoulder. Sephrenia had refused even to listen to a discussion of the Delphae, and she and Berit followed them at some distance. ‘Lady Sephrenia’s reaction to the Delphae isn’t really uncommon among Styrics, you know. The very name makes them irrational. Anyway, “Xadane” enjoyed enormous popularity, and there were the usual imitators. A whole body of literature grew up around the Delphae. It’s called, quite naturally, “Delphaeic literature”.
Serious people don’t take it seriously, and foolish people take it foolishly. You know how that goes.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Bevier murmured. ‘I had to read whole libraries full of abominable verse when I was a student. Every professor had his favorite poet, and they all inflicted them on us without mercy. I think that’s what ultimately led me to take up a military career.’

Khalad came riding back to join them. ‘I wouldn’t want to seem critical of my betters, my Lords,’ he said dryly, ‘but the decision to abandon the road and cut across country may have been just a little ill-advised on a day when we can’t see the sun. Does anyone know which way we’re going?’

‘East,’ Vanion said firmly.

‘Yes, my Lord,’ Khalad replied. ‘If you say it’s east, then it’s east – even if it really isn’t. Aren’t we supposed to be getting fairly close to the border?’

‘It shouldn’t be very far ahead.’

‘Doesn’t your map indicate that the River Sarna marks the boundary between Cynesga and Tamul proper?’

Vanion nodded.

‘Well, I just rode to the top of that hill on up ahead and took a look around. I could see for about ten leagues in every direction, and there aren’t any rivers out there. Do you suppose that someone might have stolen the Sarna?’

‘Be nice,’ Sparhawk murmured.

‘Cartography’s not an exact art, Khalad,’ Vanion pointed out. ‘The distances on any map are only approximate. We started out at dawn, and we rode toward the lightest place in the cloud-cover. Unless somebody’s changed things, that’s east. We’ve taken sightings on landmarks every hour or so, and we’re still riding in the same direction we were when we set out this morning.’

‘Where’s the river, then, my Lord?’ Khalad looked at
Itagne. ‘How wide would you say the valley of the Sarna is, your Excellency?’

‘Sixty leagues, anyway. It’s the longest and widest river on the continent, and the valley’s very fertile.’

‘Grass? Trees? Lots of green crops?’

Itagne nodded.

‘There’s not a hint of green in any direction, my Lords,’ Khalad declared. ‘It’s all a brown wasteland.’

‘We’re riding east,’ Vanion insisted. ‘The mountains of Atan should be to the north – off to the left.’

‘They could be, my Lord, but they’re a little bashful today. They’re hiding themselves in the clouds.’

‘I’ve told you, Khalad, the map’s inaccurate, that’s all.’ Vanion looked back over his shoulder. ‘Why don’t you ride back and ask Sephrenia and Berit to join us? It’s about lunch-time, isn’t it, Kalten?’

‘Definitely, my Lord.’

‘I sort of thought so myself. Let’s dig into the packs and put together something to eat.’

‘Is Sir Kalten skilled at estimating the time?’ Itagne asked Sparhawk.

Sparhawk smiled. ‘We normally rely on Khalad – when the sun’s out. When it’s cloudy, though, we fall back on Kalten’s stomach. He can usually tell you to within a minute how long it’s been since the last time he ate.’

Late that afternoon, when they had stopped for the night, Khalad stood a short distance from where the rest of them were setting up their encampment. He was looking out over the featureless desert with a slightly smug expression on his face. ‘Sparhawk,’ he called, ‘could you come here a moment? I want to show you something.’

Sparhawk put down Faran’s saddle and walked over to join his squire. ‘Yes?’ he asked.

‘I think you’d better talk with Lord Vanion. He probably won’t listen to me, since he’s already got his mind made up, but somebody’s going to have to convince him that we haven’t been riding east today.’

‘You’re going to have to convince me first.’

‘All right.’ The husky young man pointed out across the desert. ‘We came from that direction, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘If we’ve been riding east, that would be west, right?’

‘You’re being obvious.’

‘Yes, I know. I have to be. I’m trying to explain something to a knight. The last time I looked, the sun went down in the west.’