There began then a ghastly reign of terror in Zemoch. All opposing cults were ruthlessly extirpated. Sacrifices of the newborn and virgins numbered in the thousands, and Elene and Styric alike were converted by the sword to the worship of Azash. It took perhaps a century for Otha and his henchmen to totally eradicate all traces of decency from his enslaved subjects. Blood-lust and rampant cruelty became common, and the rites performed before the altars and shrines erected to Azash became increasingly degenerate and obscene.
In the twenty-fifth century, Otha deemed that all was in readiness to pursue the ultimate goal of his perverted God, and he massed his human armies and their dark allies upon the western borders of Zemoch. After a brief pause, while he and Azash gathered their strength, Otha struck, sending his forces down onto the plains of Pelosia, Lamorkand and Cammoria. The horror of that invasion cannot be fully described. Simple atrocity was not sufficient to slake the savagery of the Zemoch horde, and the gross cruelties of the inhumans who accompanied the invading army are too hideous to be mentioned. Mountains of human heads were erected, captives were roasted alive and then eaten, and the roads and highways were lined with occupied crosses, gibbets and stakes. The skies grew black with flocks of vultures and ravens and the air reeked with the stench of burned and rotting flesh.
Othas armies moved with confidence towards the battlefield, fully believing that their hellish allies could easily overcome any resistance, but they had reckoned without the power of the Knights of the Church. The great battle was joined on the plains of Lamorkand just to the south of Lake Randera. The purely physical struggle was titanic enough, but the supernatural battle on that plain was even more stupendous. Every conceivable form of spirit joined in the fray. Waves of total darkness and sheets of multicoloured light swept the field. Fire and lightning rained from the sky. Whole battalions were swallowed up by the earth or burned to ashes in sudden flame. The shattering crash of thunder rolled perpetually from horizon to horizon, and the ground itself was torn by earthquake and the eruption of searing liquid rock which poured down slopes to engulf advancing legions. For days the armies were locked in dreadful battle upon that bloody field before, step by step, the Zemochs were pushed back. The horrors which Otha hurled into the fray were overmatched one by one by the concerted power of the Church Knights, and for the first time the Zemochs tasted defeat. Their slow, grudging retreat became more rapid, eventually turning into a rout as the demoralized horde broke and ran towards the dubious safety of the border.
The victory of the Elenes was complete, but not without dreadful cost. Fully half of the Militant Knights lay slain upon the battlefield, and the armies of the Elene Kings numbered their dead by the scores of thousands. The victory was theirs, but they were too exhausted and too few to pursue the fleeing Zemochs past the border.
The bloated Otha, his withered limbs no longer even able to bear his weight, was borne on a litter through the labyrinth at Zemoch to the temple, there to face the wrath of Azash. He grovelled before the idol of his God, blubbering and begging for mercy.
And at long last Azash spoke. One last time, Otha, the God said in a horribly quiet voice. Once only will I relent. I will possess Bhelliom, and thou wilt obtain it for me and deliver it up to me here, for if thou dost not do this thing, my generosity unto thee shall vanish. If gifts do not encourage thee to bend to my will, perhaps torment will. Go Otha. Find Bhelliom for me and return with it here that I may be unchained and my maleness restored. Shouldst thou fail me, surely wilt thou die, and thy dying shall consume a million, million years.
Otha fled, and thus, even in the ruins and tatters of his defeat was born his last assault upon the Elene kingdoms of the west, an assault which was to bring the world to the brink of universal disaster.
PART ONEChapter 1
The waterfall dropped endlessly into the chasm that had claimed Ghwerig, and the echo of its plunge filled the cavern with a deep-toned sound like the after-shimmer of some great bell. Sparhawk knelt at the edge of the abyss with the Bhelliom held tightly in his fist. Thought had been erased, and he could only kneel at the brink of the chasm, his eyes dazzled by the light of the sun-touched column of water falling into the depths from the surface above and his ears full of its sound.
The cave smelled damp. The mist-like spray from the waterfall bedewed the rocks, and the wet stones shimmered in the shifting light of the torrent to mingle with the last fading glimmerings of Aphraels incandescent ascension.
Sparhawk slowly lowered his eyes to look at the jewel he held in his fist. Though it appeared delicate, even fragile, he sensed that the Sapphire Rose was all but indestructible. From deep within its azure heart there came a kind of pulsating glow, deep blue at the tips of the petals and darkening down at the gems centre to a lambent midnight. Its power made his hand ache, and something deep in his mind shrieked warnings at him as he gazed into its depths. He shuddered and tore his eyes from its seductive glow.
The hard-bitten Pandion Knight looked around, irrationally trying to cling to the fading bits of light lingering in the stones of the Troll-Dwarfs cave as if the Child-Goddess Aphrael could somehow protect him from the jewel he had laboured so long to gain and which he now strangely feared. There was more to it than that, though. At some level below thought Sparhawk wanted to hold that faint light forever, to keep the spirit if not the person of the tiny, whimsical divinity in his heart.
Sephrenia sighed and slowly rose to her feet. Her face was weary and at the same time exalted. She had struggled hard to reach this damp cave in the mountains of Thalesia, but she had been rewarded with that joyful moment of epiphany when she had looked full into the face of her Goddess. We must leave this place now, dear ones, she said sadly.
Cant we stay a few minutes longer? Kurik asked her with an uncharacteristic longing in his voice. Of all the men in the world, Kurik was the most prosaic most of the time.
Its better that we dont. If we stay too long, well start finding excuses to stay longer. In time, we may not want to leave at all. The small, white-robed Styric looked at Bhelliom with revulsion. Please get it out of sight, Sparhawk, and command it to be still. Its presence contaminates us all. She shifted the sword the ghost of Sir Gared had delivered to her aboard Captain Sorgis ship. She muttered in Styric for a moment and then released the spell that ignited the tip of the sword with a brilliant glow to light their way back to the surface.
Sparhawk tucked the flower gem inside his tunic and bent to pick up the spear of King Aldreas. His chain-mail shirt smelled very foul to him just now, and his skin cringed away from its touch. He wished that he could rid himself of it.
Kurik stooped and lifted the iron-bound stone club the hideously malformed Troll-Dwarf had wielded against them before his fatal plunge into the chasm. He hefted the brutal weapon a couple of times and then indifferently tossed it into the abyss after its owner.
Sparhawk tucked the flower gem inside his tunic and bent to pick up the spear of King Aldreas. His chain-mail shirt smelled very foul to him just now, and his skin cringed away from its touch. He wished that he could rid himself of it.
Kurik stooped and lifted the iron-bound stone club the hideously malformed Troll-Dwarf had wielded against them before his fatal plunge into the chasm. He hefted the brutal weapon a couple of times and then indifferently tossed it into the abyss after its owner.
Sephrenia lifted the glowing sword over her head, and the three of them crossed the gem-littered floor of Ghwerigs treasure cave towards the entrance of the spiralling gallery that led to the surface.
Do you think well ever see her again? Kurik asked wistfully as they entered the gallery.
Aphrael? Its hard to say. Shes always been a little unpredictable. Sephrenias voice was subdued.
They climbed in silence for a time, following the spiral of the gallery steadily to the left. Sparhawk felt a strange emptiness as they climbed. They had been four when they had descended; now they were only three. The Child-Goddess, however, had not been left behind, for they all carried her in their hearts. There was something else bothering him, though. Is there any way we can seal up this cave once we get outside? he asked his tutor.
Sephrenia looked at him, her eyes intent. We can if you wish, dear one, but why do you want to?
Its a little hard to put into words.
Weve got what we came for, Sparhawk. Why should you care if some swineherd stumbles across the cave now?
Im not entirely sure. He frowned, trying to pinpoint it. If some Thalesian peasant comes in here, hell eventually find Ghwerigs treasure-hoard, wont he?
If he looks long enough, yes.
And after that it wont be long before the caves swarming with other Thalesians.
Why should that bother you? Do you want Ghwerigs treasure for yourself?
Hardly. Martels the greedy one, not me.
Then why are you so concerned? What does it matter if the Thalesians start wandering around in here?
This is a very special place, Sephrenia.
In what way?
Its holy, he replied shortly. Her probing had begun to irritate him. A Goddess revealed herself to us here. I dont want the cave profaned by a crowd of drunken, greedy treasure-hunters. Id feel the same way if someone profaned an Elene Church.
Dear Sparhawk, she said, impulsively embracing him. Did it really cost you all that much to admit Aphraels divinity?
Your Goddess was very convincing, Sephrenia, he replied wryly. Shed have shaken the certainty of the Hierocracy of the Elene Church itself. Can we do it? Seal the cave, I mean?
She started to say something, then stopped, frowning. Wait here, she told them. She leaned Sir Gareds sword point up against the wall of the gallery and walked back down the passage a little way, and then stopped again at the very edge of the light from the glowing sword-tip where she stood deep in thought. After a time, she returned.
Im going to ask you to do something dangerous, Sparhawk, she said gravely. I think youll be safe though. The memory of Aphrael is still strong in your mind, and that should protect you.
What do you want me to do?
Were going to use Bhelliom to seal the cave. There are other ways we could do it, but we have to be sure that the jewel will accept your authority. I think it will, but lets make certain. Youre going to have to be strong, Sparhawk. Bhelliom wont want to do what you ask, so youll have to compel it.
Ive dealt with stubborn things before, he shrugged.
Dont make light of this, Sparhawk. Its something far more elemental than anything Ive ever done before. Lets move on.
They continued upward along the spiralling passageway with the muted roar of the waterfall in Ghwerigs treasure-cave growing fainter and fainter. Then, just as they moved beyond the range of hearing, the sound seemed to change, fragmenting its one endless note into many, becoming a complex chord rather than a single tone some trick perhaps of the shifting echoes in the cave. With the change of that sound, Sparhawks mood also changed. Before, there had been a kind of weary satisfaction at having finally achieved a long-sought goal coupled with the sense of awe at the revelation of the Child-Goddess. Now, however, the dark, musty cave seemed somehow ominous, threatening. Sparhawk felt something he had not felt since early childhood. He was suddenly afraid of the dark. Things seemed to lurk in the shadows beyond the circle of light from the glowing sword-tip, faceless things filled with a cruel malevolence. He nervously looked back over his shoulder. Far back, beyond the light, something seemed to move. It was brief, no more than a flicker of a deeper, more intense darkness. He discovered that when he tried to look directly at it, he could no longer see it, but when he looked off to one side, it was there vague, unformed and hovering on the very edge of his vision. It filled him with an unnamed dread. Foolishness, he muttered, and moved on, eager to reach the light above them.
It was mid-afternoon when they reached the surface, and the sun seemed very bright after the dark cave. Sparhawk drew in a deep breath and reached inside his tunic.
Not yet, Sparhawk, Sephrenia advised. We want to collapse the ceiling of the cave, but we dont want to bring that overhanging cliff down on our heads at the same time. Well go back down to where the horses are and do it from there.
Youll have to teach me the spell, he said as the three of them crossed the bramble-choked basin in front of the cave mouth.
There isnt any spell. You have the jewel and the rings. All you have to do is give the command. Ill show you how when we get down.
They clambered down the rocky ravine to the grassy plateau and their previous nights encampment. It was nearly sunset when they reached the pair of tents and the picketed horses. Faran laid his ears back and bared his teeth as Sparhawk approached him.
Whats your problem? Sparhawk asked his evil-tempered warhorse.
He senses Bhelliom, Sephrenia explained. He doesnt like it. Stay away from him for a while. She looked critically up the gap from which they had just emerged. Its safe enough here, she decided. Take out Bhelliom and hold it in both hands so that the rings are touching it.
Do I have to face the cave?
No. Bhelliom will know what youre telling it to do. Now, remember the inside of the cave the look of it, the feel, and even the smell. Then imagine the roof collapsing. The rocks will tumble down and bounce and roll and pile up on top of each other. Therell be a lot of noise. A great cloud of dust and a strong wind will come rushing out of the cave mouth. The ridge-line above the cave will sag as the roof of the cavern collapses, and therell probably be avalanches. Dont let any of that distract you. Keep the images firmly in your mind.
Its a bit more complicated than an ordinary spell, isnt it?
Yes. This is not, strictly speaking, a spell, though. Youll be unleashing elemental magic. Concentrate, Sparhawk. The more detailed you make the image, the more powerfully Bhelliom will respond. When youve got it firmly in your mind, tell the jewel to make it happen.