Wrath of the White Tigress (20 page)

The Arhrhakim ceased their bustling and stared at the intruders. As the column of warriors and foreigners marched through their winding streets, they backed away to let them pass. Eventually murmurs and whispers spread through the crowd. Most seemed amazed, but some glared in hostility. Ohzikar and Zyrella tried not to meet such gazes, not wanting to antagonize anyone, but Jaska was unfazed.

When they reached the opposite end of the dome, all but twelve of the Arhrhakim warriors broke away. They entered a small, guarded chamber and Hyrkas said to them: "You must surrender your weapons."

"And if we don't?" Ohzikar asked.

"You will not proceed any further. If we had wished to harm you, we would have done so long before now."

One of the guards stepped forward and held out his hands. Zyrella surrendered her staff and a dagger. Ohzikar hesitated but relinquished his weapons when Jaska set his saber and bagh nakh on the floor.

"Thank you for cooperating," Hyrkas said.

Deeper within the mountain they went, climbing stairs and ascending upward-sloping passages. Mythic scenes and hieroglyphics continued to decorate the walls but the colors faded. Some scenes bore cracks and scuffing. A few crumbling sections showed recent patches.
 

"These must be over a thousand years old," Zyrella murmured.

"Three," Hyrkas replied curtly. "We are an ancient people."

They came to an arched door of solid stone with complex sigils carved into it. Hyrkas placed his hands within two large triangles to either side and spoke a guttural command in his native language. The doors inched open with a grating, scuffing noise. The air that washed over them smelled like night-blooming jasmine and reminded Jaska of the Palace of the Hmyr in Kabulsek.

Hyrkas folded his hands together and bowed his head before walking through the archway. Those Arhrhakim beside him did the same. Zyrella and Ohzikar stepped forward and repeated the gestures. Since the Arhrhakim seemed pleased by this, Jaska and the twins followed suit.

Hyrkas guided them into a chamber lit by violet-hued luminescence within a large pool at the back. The gurgling of bubbles rising from the pool's bottom echoed through the chamber. The jasmine scent hung within a slight, wavering haze. Breathing proved difficult, and everyone except Zyrella, who was used to the mind-altering effects of laurentha leaves, began to feel light-headed and suffered from mild vertigo. Even the Arhrhakim appeared hazy-eyed and sluggish.
 

"You have made it at last," said a wheezing voice.
 

From the shadows emerged a female Arhrhakim with a stooped back and hunched shoulders. She was short and plump with large, sagging breasts and wide hips. The hem of her black robe rustled as it drug across the red flagstones. The black wool offset solid white fur that was visible only on her hands and on her face beneath the hood. A black scarf circled her head and covered her eyes, though the lack of sight did not seem to affect her. She wore bracelets and a torque of red gold, as if blood stained the metal. The Arhrhakim kowtowed. Jaska and the others did the same.

"Rise, my loyal servants and honored guests." They stood on weak, shaking legs. "Who has sent you here to me?"

"The White Tigress," Jaska answered.

The withered lips along her muzzle curled into a wicked smile. "I knew, of course. But I must ask, eh?"
 

The Farseer beckoned them to follow her and dismissed all but Hyrkas and two other guards. Around the dark pool she led them to a doorway hidden by an outcrop. Within a smaller chamber, eight alcoves stood along the wall and a low marble table like an altar sat in the middle. On the table were goblets, pitchers, and a plate of hard biscuits.

The Farseer invited them to kneel with her. "Drink," she said, filling their goblets, "and you shall recover strength. This water restores those who have good intentions. It will also help you combat the pool's gasses. I swear that no harm shall come to you from drinking this water unless you intend to harm me. I owe the White Tigress a favor and that favor I shall repay."

"Do you know what has happened to her?" Zyrella asked.

"Yes, and I also know that Salahn grows in power using the texts of Ylarras Kalazaar. In time he will dominate the Shadowland."

"How long?" Jaska asked.

"A year, perhaps two."

Zyrella drank first. As the cool water passed down her throat, fatigue fled from her body. She felt as if she had slept for a full night. Unfortunately, she needed far more than that. She smiled and let out a contented sigh. The others drank, skeptical Ohzikar last.

The Farseer motioned toward the biscuits. "Eat. You must be starved. There is nothing special about them. They are meager, but if you eat too much the gasses will make you sick."

"Thank you," Zyrella said. "We haven't eaten today. We spent all our time fleeing palymfar."

"I know this," the Farseer said. "It was a test for you to make it here on your own, without our help." Zyrella exchanged a nervous glance with Ohzikar. The Farseer laughed. "Little worry, children, in most skeins of the future you made it here."

"The Tigress said you could tell me where I must go from here," Jaska said, eager to get on to business. "How can I defeat Salahn?"

The Farseer tilted her head toward him. "Little bothers you, Slayer. You are not frightened by me at all."

"The Tigress freed me. If she said to come here, why should I fear you?"

"Ah. True enough and very wise. I can help you against Salahn, though not directly. No longer can mortal weapons slay the Grandmaster. Only sorcery powered by the blood of many, or the hand of a greater deity." Her voice dropped to a sibilant whisper. "Or white-steel…"

"I have never heard of such a metal."

"The ancient Eirsenda knew it and could forge weapons from it. Such weapons rest in the vault of the Keeper of Swords within the Temple of Avida."

"But the temple is mere legend," Zyrella said.
 

The Farseer shook her head. "The temple exists, and it lies in the northeast desert, though I cannot say precisely where. When you find the right location, it will become visible beneath the light of Avida."

"And once we find it?" Jaska said.

"You must ask the Keeper of Swords for a blade to use against Salahn."

"The Keepers are real?" Ohzikar asked.

"Yes, yes. I even saw one in my youth."

Jaska said, "And this Keeper will grant what I ask of him?"

"In some of the few skeins of the future where you reach the temple, that is the case, but those are not many, three out of the hundreds I observed. Truthfully, you have little hope for success."

"That's comforting," Ohzikar mumbled.

"Yes," the Farseer said. "But it could be worse. You could have no hope at all."

Jaska devoured three biscuits and drained another goblet of water. "What other help can you give us?"

"Knowledge of your enemy."

"I know Salahn well enough."

"How he fights, I am sure," the Farseer said, "though the man you knew wields far more power now. You know nothing of the real man, of how he came to be who he is, of what motivates him, why he has such ambitions. You must know your enemy to conquer him."

"What price is this knowledge?"

"You read the present as well as I read the future, Jaska Bavadi. The price of knowing more about Salahn could be high. It could cost your life and soul, my own and those of your friends as well."

"I will not risk a price beyond myself."

"That is not your decision," Zyrella said. "Ohzikar and I have as much stake in this as you do."

Bakulus held his fist over his heart. "And we will do whatever you ask, Kharos."
 

Caracyn mirrored his brother's gesture. "We serve you as the prophecy said we should, in whatever capacity is necessary."

Jaska scowled but didn't argue. "Exactly what sort of risk are you talking about, Farseer?"

"Your friends must occupy the alcoves you see here. They will be suspended within them, their life-forces connected to yours and mine. They will give their strength to aid us in the Shadowland, and we may need it. Also, if I get lost in the shadows or near death, then their lives will be forfeit to save mine."

Jaska shook his head and said with disdain, "I cannot accept this. You risk little for yourself and everything with my comrades."

"No, I risk much more." She stood and swept her hands across her robes, smoothing out the creases. "No other Farseer can take my place. I am the only one remaining to the Arhrhakim, and I am all that we have had for nine hundred years. To risk myself at all is a testament to the debt I owe the Tigress."

Jaska turned to Zyrella. "I don't like this."

"I understand, Jaska, but she's important to her people, and we desperately need information."

"We now have knowledge of the Temple of Avida and this Keeper of Swords."

"But we don't know our enemy, what he really wants, plans, and thinks. And you need to know, to understand why he did to you what he did. Otherwise, you will never recover. Besides, she wouldn't waste our time with this if she didn't think it important enough. It is a danger to her after all."

"I will never be whole, regardless of what I see in my past or his." Jaska walked to the nearest alcove, which was decorated with a few small runes. "I am weighted by the past."

"Like the White Tigress is now," the Farseer said. "Many chains bind you, but your Grandmaster bears chains of his own."

Jaska spun. "If you know, why not simply tell us?"

"You must see for yourself to understand. And you need to see what he has done recently to know what actions he will take in the future. The latter is the dangerous part, for he may notice and have the capability to pursue us."

Jaska dreaded going near Salahn. He wasn't ready for a confrontation yet. However, he refused to let fear bind him. "Fine, we shall go and see his past, but be certain that if you harm any of my comrades, I shall return and deal with you."

The Farseer tilted her head toward Jaska and said nothing for several moments. Her lips tightened along with her posture. "I will accept that as fair."

Zyrella broke the tension. "You travel the Shadowland to see the past and the future? I didn't know that was possible."

The Farseer eased her posture. "Indeed it is. The Shadowland goes out into other dimensions and times, allowing travel to many places, though only in spirit. The future offers many possible directions but the past we know from our present has only one path leading back. That is the path Jaska and I shall take."

"If Salahn threatens the Shadowland, then you are threatened as well," Zyrella said.

"That is true. If he conquers it, I must avoid him, make a deal with him, or not go at all. And I will not make a deal with such as him."

Ohzikar finished his sixth and final biscuit. "If loss of the Shadowland affects you so much, Farseer, then why not commit your people to helping us?"

"My people have dwindled, and so few of them are left that I will not part with a single one even if it means the loss of my farseeing."

"Pardon me, Farseer," Caracyn said, "but if you have sight of the future, how have your people dwindled? Why do you hide within this mountain?"
 

"A good and brave question. The answer, of course, is that my knowledge has guided my people."

"We would be lost entirely without the Farseer," Hyrkas said. "Have you seen any other races that are not human? The Eirsenda once lived beside us, and they are long gone, not saved even by their tremendous knowledge. We are fortunate not to have joined them."

"But Salahn, if he's not stopped, will conquer you eventually," Jaska said. "This island is strategic, regardless of its terrain. Hmyr Karphon will want to build a port here eventually."

"No," said the Farseer, "we shall be safe from them here. We will eke out our living and decrease naturally."

"It is the spirit of your people that is dying," Zyrella said. "By continuing to retreat the spirit dies and with it the flesh."

The Farseer almost growled. "We will live as we wish to live! My people are precious to me and I will spare none." She folded her arms and slid her hands into her sleeves. "Now that you have eaten, you should rest. If you will trust me, I will briefly encase you within a spell of sleep worth many hours more than a single night of rest. It will also heal Ohzikar's wound."

After some debate, they agreed to this. The Farseer had them stand in the alcoves, arranging each to a particular spot. She chanted, and with the somnolence already brought on by the gasses within the chamber, they swiftly and comfortably fell asleep, their bodies held erect by the magic of the alcoves.

Jaska awoke with his senses hazed by the chamber's mild hallucinatory gasses. He yawned several times and stretched. Rings of light blurred the edge of his vision. Sparks of scintillating color shimmered before him. The Farseer was kneeling at the small altar, which now held sorcerous implements. Without turning she said, "I pray you slept well, Jaska Bavadi."

"Well enough," he said, looking to his still-sleeping companions. Hyrkas and the two other Arhrhakim slept in the remaining alcoves. "Why are the others not awake?"