The Sword Of Angels (Gollancz S.F.) (76 page)

Then, the noise ended. Lukien felt the ground turn firm beneath him. The light faded. He looked around in awe of his surroundings, remembering the place. Overhead was a ceiling, gigantic and soaring, with spirits in the rafters, looking down on him. The floor was stone, polished and smooth, the walls of the place alabaster. Lights and shadows mingled through the air. Lukien squinted to see ahead of him, bracing himself for what he knew he would see.

Out of the light formed a towering figure. Eyes of fire stared at Lukien from the ancient face. He was not a man but a deity, alive but long dead, with smoke for fingers and a chorus of lesser angels at his sides. He stood but had no legs, for light and mists obscured him, and when he rose up to his full height the spirits in the rafters fled. He was Amaraz, the spirit of the Eye. And when he spoke it was like storm.

‘You’re giving me away,’ he bellowed, staring straight at Lukien through the haze. ‘All my power and magic. To a girl.’

Lukien stood his ground, secretly delighted to at last be facing the Akari. ‘So I have your attention!’ he crowed. ‘I should have known you’d try to stop me. What took so long, monster?’

Amaraz, friend to Minikin, looked puzzled and angry both. His enormous face floated closer to Lukien. ‘The Eye of God belongs to you, but it is not yours to give away.’

‘Oh, but it is,’ said Lukien. ‘It belongs to me, and as long as I give it willingly your power goes with it. You see, Amaraz? I remember all your little tricks. It’s time for you to protect someone else now, someone who needs your help.’

‘Do not give her the amulet,’ Amaraz warned, shaking the walls around him. ‘You are not done yet.’

‘You mean you’re not done with me, don’t you? Sorry, Amaraz, but I’m done being your pawn.’

‘The Devil’s Armour still lives in your world!’ thundered Amaraz. ‘You must defeat it, and the demon who dwells inside it.’

‘Yes, well, that would be very nice,’ Lukien hissed, ‘except that I have no idea how to find the Sword of Angels, and you’re not helping me find it, are you?’

The great Akari looked regretful. ‘You do not understand. Do you not remember? I said there is a way to defeat the armour, and so there is – you have only to find it.’

‘How convenient for you,’ snarled Lukien. ‘Yes, that’s very helpful, knowing there’s a weapon but not knowing where to find it. You sent me here to the Serpent Kingdom. Tell me where to find the Sword of Angels!’

‘I cannot,’ said the spirit. His face shifted colours. ‘It is yours to find, your destiny alone.’

The answer made Lukien irate. ‘Do you see why I hate you? You are a cruel and terrible master, Amaraz, and I’m done with you. Lahkali needs your help to save her people. You’re going to have a new host for a while. Get used to the idea.’

‘I will not allow it,’ said Amaraz.

‘You have no choice! I wear the amulet. It’s the one thing I have control over in my life. I wear it or I don’t wear it. You can’t stop me from taking it off.’

‘And when you die, how will you help Baron Glass and the others? Have you thought of that?’

‘I won’t help them,’ said Lukien. ‘I haven’t been any help at all to them. They won’t miss me.’ He stepped back from the spirit’s fiery face. ‘Now, send me back.’

For all his great power, Amaraz could not change Lukien’s mind. His expression soured to remorse. ‘You are not done yet,’ he said.

‘I don’t care. I don’t want to be a slave any longer. Send me back, Amaraz. Now.’

The great face turned away, and as it did Lukien felt the rush of wind and light again. Closing his eye, he waited for the magic to carry him
back. This time, the wind was gentler, like the melancholy breath of Amaraz himself, and when at last he felt the ground reappear beneath his feet Lukien looked to see Lahkali just as he had left her. She was staring at him.

‘Lukien? Are you all right?’

Lukien glanced at each of their faces, seeing the same amazement in them all.

‘What happened?’ asked Karoshin. ‘You were here, and then you were not, but only for a moment.’

‘Like you were asleep,’ said Lahkali. Her face was troubled. ‘Lukien?’

‘I’m fine,’ said Lukien. He was still holding out the Eye of God. ‘Take it,’ he told Lahkali. ‘I know it will work for you.’

On the ridge below the peak of the mountain, a thousand years of wind and rain had carved catacombs into the rock. The ever-melting snow, dripping down from what seemed like the roof of the world, became gushing rivers in the rainy days of Spring, flooding the caves and turning ground loose and dangerous. Of all the countless, meandering catacombs, one stood out importantly from the rest, larger and grander than its ugly siblings, its mouth filled with tooth-like stalactites, its dark recesses thick with rolling mist. Just beyond its holy threshold, the world outside disappeared, devoured by the sounds of water and the hiss of rumbling vapour.

Lahkali entered the cavern knowing it was the one. There was no premonition in the decision. It was simply as Karoshin had described it – magnificent and unmistakable. As she crossed the ridge and stepped inside, she felt the warm breeze of unseen fires strike her face. The cavern glistened with green light, the incandescence of countless gemstones glowing in the rock. Along the ground rushed a torrent of water, higher than Lahkali’s ankles. Beneath it, her feet shuffled carefully across the gravelly floor. In both hands she held the katath out before her. The weapon trembled in her grip. She scanned the cavern without blinking. Her wide eyes caught every nuance of the place.

Beneath her rain-soaked gown of scarlet, the Eye of God pulsed against her chest. Looking down, she could see its red jewel behind the wet silk. She paused, trying to feel its unnatural power. The ruby burned against her skin, but that was all. Confused, she touched it with her hand, trying to summon the great god within its gold. Lukien had told her it would keep her safe, but Lahkali felt nothing, and now the warning the Bronze Knight had given came back to her quickly.

‘You may feel nothing,’ Lukien had told her. ‘But when you need him, Amaraz will strengthen you.’

He had placed the amulet around her neck with his own hands, divesting himself of its power with an odd smile on his face. Together
they had stared at each other, and Lahkali had watched the pain on his face as the old wounds crept back to claim him. Within minutes, he had been almost unable to stand.

‘Go,’ he had urged her. And she had. She had left him, and whether or not Lukien still lived Lahkali did not know. With tears in her eyes she had climbed the ridge, leaving him and the others behind to find the Great Rass. Now, touching the amulet, Lukien’s kindness overwhelmed her.

‘I’m here,’ she told the spirit inside the Eye. ‘Can you hear me?’

Her whisper echoed through the green haze, but the spirit of the amulet did not reply. Lahkali licked her lips. Her people were well-accustomed to spirits. It was a secret she had never shared with Lukien, or any other outsider. Because she herself had spoken to the dead, the thought of communing with the amulet’s ghost did not frighten her. Rather, she was surprised not to hear its voice, not even silently, within her soul.

‘Lukien tells me you are a great being,’ she whispered, hoping to coax the spirit’s trust. ‘I need your help now, Amaraz. I know you’re angry with Lukien, but he did what he thought was right. Will you help me, Amaraz?’

Amaraz did not reply. His silence unnerved Lahkali. She peered deeper into the haze, looking beyond the gems that twinkled along the rock walls. Beyond the mist was darkness, and from the darkness came the heat, like the breath of a dragon, striking Lahkali’s face. She held tightly to the amulet, trying to glean some strength from it.

‘I know you’re inside,’ she whispered. ‘I know you are with me. The spirits of all my people are with me, too, Amaraz. I speak to them in the garden. Do you know that? Have you seen?’

She supposed there really were no secrets from a god like Amaraz, but if he had ever seen her in the story garden, he clearly had never told Lukien. She wondered why the spirit was so silent, not only to her but to Lukien as well. Her feet were leaden as she considered going further.

‘Protect me, Amaraz,’ she asked. ‘I have to do this thing.’

Lukien felt the cold water running against his back, cooling the wound that bloomed like magic between his shoulders. The mud of the earth took away some of the pain, but the pain 9/14/2010was growing now, coiling around him like the fingers of a giant. Fighting to control his shallow breathing, he imagined himself in a very different place, away from the cold rains of the mountain, back in the warm sands around Jador. He imagined the peace of the desert, and his heartbeat managed to slow. Overhead, he saw the troubled eyes of Karoshin, looking down over him the way a mother might a sick child. Next to the priest, Niharn knelt in
the mud, staring peculiarly at Lukien. Niharn could not understand, but the sacrifice seemed to impress him. He nodded as Karoshin spoke, trying to comfort Lukien.

‘. . . as soon as it is done. When you have the amulet back you will be well again, you’ll see.’

Lukien only half heard Karoshin. The intensity of the wound on his back made listening difficult. He gulped the air, but somehow getting enough was impossible. He dug his fingers into the ground, feeling his nails scrape the stones. He was not afraid of dying, but death had not come the way he had supposed. He remembered now how Cassandra had died. Once the spell of the amulet was broken, her cancer had devoured her. Like an inferno, it consumed her. Lukien closed his eyes, searching for what had gone wrong. The wound along his back had been given to him by Trager. They had battled on a mountaintop and Lukien had won, cutting off his enemy’s head and tossing it over the cliff side, but not before taking a mortal blow. Trager’s blade had cut him deep, and when he collapsed Lukien had thought it would be his end, but then he had awoken, alive, with the Eye of God around his neck.

‘What’s happening?’ he heard Niharn whisper. ‘Why is he still alive?’

Karoshin shook his head. ‘Lukien,’ he asked gently. ‘Is this right? Should it be this way?’

Lukien managed to raise his head, but Karoshin set it back down. ‘No,’ said the priest. ‘Lay still. I’m sorry. Do not speak.’

Lukien grabbed his knee and dug his fingers into Karoshin’s flesh. ‘The spell,’ he choked. ‘The spell.’

Karoshin did not understand. ‘All right,’ he whispered.

‘Breaking the spell killed Cassandra,’ Lukien went on. ‘That’s it.’

In his frantic state of mind, he could think of no other answer. Though he no longer wore the Eye of God, the spell that had long protected him had not really been broken, the way it had with Cassandra. He had merely given the Eye away.

‘That’s it,’ he gasped, laughing. ‘But I die, Karoshin, to be sure!’

Karoshin’s smile was kind. ‘Stay awake, Lukien. Wait until Lahkali returns.’

‘No . . .’

‘You must,’ said Karoshin. ‘Why die?’

Lukien closed his eyes, and for a moment felt serene. ‘To go to a better place . . .’

Deeper and deeper Lahkali went into the mountain, and the light of the gems did not diminish. Like torches they lit her way, beckoning her forward, urging her through the meandering cavern. No longer could she see the exit. Up above, the roof of the cave soared. She looked down and
watched the water running past her feet, cold and crystal clear. And somehow, she was sure she had reached the Great Rass.

But Lahkali could not see the beast, nor could she hear or smell it either. She simply knew, because her fear took hold so deeply in her bones that her fingers ached and her tongue dried up. In her hands she held the katath, keeping it low the way Lukien and Niharn had taught her. In her lessons, she had learned how to bring it up quickly, thrusting that one, deadly thrust that might bring down the rass. She would have only one thrust, probably, because after that she would be dead.

‘No,’ she promised herself. ‘I will not die today.’

Saying it strengthened her. She calmed herself. In her ears her heartbeat throbbed just a little quieter. It was, she realized, a majestic place, this House of Sercin, and like a tiny few before her she was going to face a god. The realization humbled her, and then the fear fled entirely. It was not so bad to die this way, in this place.

Lahkali walked on, slowly and in silence, picking her way carefully across the cavern. Her wide eyes scanned for any movement in the mist. Then, up ahead she saw the mists begin to part. A hot breeze spilled out from the gloom. She stopped herself, crouching low and ready, and waited. A shadow moved toward her, barely glimpsed. Lahkali strained to see. As the vapours ebbed, the green gems shined their light on the darkness ahead, revealing the rising figure of a hooded beast.