Do I have to speak to it in Ghwerigs language?
Im not sure. Try Elene first. If that doesnt work, well fall back on Troll.
Sparhawk remembered the mouth of the cave, the antechamber just inside, and the long, spiralling gallery leading down to Ghwerigs treasure-cave. Should I bring down the roof on that waterfall as well? he asked.
I dont think so. That river might come to the surface again somewhere downstream. If you dam it up, someone might notice that its not running any more and start investigating. Besides, that particular cavern is very special, isnt it?
Yes, it is.
Lets enclose it then and protect it forever.
Sparhawk pictured the ceiling of the cave collapsing with a huge, grinding roar and a billowing cloud of rock dust. What do I say? he asked.
Call it Blue-Rose. Thats what Ghwerig called it. It might recognize the name.
Blue-Rose, Sparhawk said in a tone of command, make the cave fall in.
The Sapphire Rose went very dark, and angry red flashes appeared deep in its centre.
Its fighting you, Sephrenia said. This is the part I warned you about. The cave is the place where it was born, and it doesnt want to destroy it. Force it, Sparhawk.
Do it, Blue-Rose! Sparhawk barked, bending every ounce of his will on the jewel in his hands. Then he felt a surge of incredible power, and the sapphire seemed to throb in his hands. He felt a sudden wild exaltation as he unloosed the might of the stone. It was far beyond mere satisfaction. It verged almost on physical ecstasy.
There was a low, sullen rumbling from deep in the ground, and the earth shuddered. Rocks deep beneath them began to pop and crack as the earthquake shattered layer upon layer of subterranean rock. Far up the ravine, the rock face looming over the mouth of Ghwerigs cave began to topple outward, then dropped straight down into the weedy basin as its base crumbled out from under it. The sound of the collapsing cliff was very loud even at this distance, and a vast cloud of dust boiled up from the rubble and then drifted off to the northeast as the prevailing wind that raked these mountains swept it away. Then, even as it had in the cave, something flickered at the edge of Sparhawks vision something dark and filled with malevolent curiosity.
How do you feel? Sephrenia asked, her eyes intent.
A little strange, he admitted, very strong for some reason.
Keep your mind away from that. Concentrate on Aphrael instead. Dont even think about Bhelliom until that feeling wears off. Get it out of sight again. Dont look at it.
Sparhawk tucked the sapphire back inside his tunic.
Kurik looked up the ravine towards the huge pile of rubble now filling the basin which had lain before the mouth of Ghwerigs cave. That all seems so final, he said regretfully.
It is, Sephrenia told him. The caverns safe now. Lets keep our minds on other things, gentlemen. Dont dwell on what weve just done, or we might be tempted to undo it.
Kurik squared his heavy shoulders and looked around. Ill get a fire going, he said. He walked back towards the mouth of the ravine to gather firewood while Sparhawk rummaged through the packs for cooking utensils and something suitable for supper. After they had eaten, they sat around the fire, their faces subdued.
What was it like, Sparhawk? Kurik asked, using Bhelliom, I mean? He glanced at Sephrenia. Is it all right to talk about it now?
Well see. Go ahead, Sparhawk. Tell him.
It was like nothing else Ive ever experienced, the big knight replied. I suddenly felt as if I were a hundred feet tall and that there was nothing in the world I couldnt do. I even caught myself looking around for something else to use it for a mountain to tear down, maybe.
Sparhawk! Stop! Sephrenia told him sharply. Bhellioms tampering with your thoughts. Its trying to lure you into using it. Each time you do, its hold on you grows stronger. Think about something else.
Like Aphrael? Kurik suggested, or is she dangerous too?
Sephrenia smiled. Oh yes, very dangerous. Shell capture your soul even faster than Bhelliom will.
Your warnings a little late, Sephrenia. I think she already has. I miss her, you know.
You neednt. Shes still with us.
He looked around. Where?
In spirit, Kurik.
Thats not exactly the same.
Lets do something about Bhelliom now, she said thoughtfully. Its grip is even more powerful than Id imagined. She rose and went to the small pack that contained her personal belongings. She rummaged around in it and took out a canvas pouch, a large needle and a hank of red yarn. She took up the pouch and began to stitch a crimson design on it, a peculiarly asymmetrical design. Her face was intent in the ruddy firelight, and her lips moved constantly as she worked.
It doesnt match, little mother, Sparhawk pointed out. That sides different from the other.
Its supposed to be. Please dont talk to me just now, Sparhawk. Im trying to concentrate. She continued her sewing for a time, then pinned her needle into her sleeve and held the pouch out to the fire. She spoke intently in Styric, and the fire rose and fell, dancing rhythmically to her words. Then the flame suddenly billowed out as if trying to fill the pouch. Now, Sparhawk, she said, holding the pouch open. Put Bhelliom in here. Be very firm. Its probably going to try to fight you again.
He was puzzled, but he reached inside his tunic, took the stone and tried to put it into the pouch. A screech of protest seemed to fill his ears, and the jewel actually grew hot in his hand. He felt as if he were trying to push the thing through solid rock, and his mind reeled, shrieking to him that what he was trying to do was impossible. He set his teeth together and shoved harder. With an almost audible wail, the Sapphire Rose slipped into the pouch, and Sephrenia pulled the drawstring tight. She tied the ends into an intricate knot then took her needle and wove red yarn through that knot. There, she said, biting off the yarn, that should help.
What did you do? Kurik asked her.
Its a form of a prayer. Aphrael cant diminish Bhellioms power, but she can confine it so that it cant influence us or reach out to others. Its not perfect, but its the best we can do on short notice. Well do something a little more permanent later on. Put it away, Sparhawk. Try to keep your chain-mail between the pouch and your skin. I think that may help. Aphrael once told me that Bhelliom cant bear the touch of steel.
Arent you being a little overcautious, Sephrenia? Sparhawk asked her.
I dont know, Sparhawk. Ive never dealt with anything like Bhelliom before, and I cant even begin to imagine the limits of its power. I know enough, though, to know that it can corrupt anything even the Elene God or the Younger Gods of Styricum.
All except Aphrael, Kurik corrected.
She shook her head. Even Aphrael was tempted by Bhelliom when she was carrying it up out of that abyss to bring it to us.
Why didnt she just keep it for herself then?
Love. My Goddess loves us all, and she gave up Bhelliom willingly out of that love. Bhelliom cant begin to understand love. In the end, that may be our only defence against it.
Why didnt she just keep it for herself then?
Love. My Goddess loves us all, and she gave up Bhelliom willingly out of that love. Bhelliom cant begin to understand love. In the end, that may be our only defence against it.
Sparhawks sleep was troubled that night, and he tossed restlessly on his blankets. Kurik was on watch near the edge of the circle of firelight, and so Sparhawk was left to wrestle with his nightmares alone. He seemed to see the Sapphire Rose hanging in mid-air before his eyes, its deep blue glow seductive. Out of the centre of that glow there came a sound a song that pulled at his very being. Hovering around him, so close as to almost touch his shoulders, were shadows more than one, certainly, but less than ten, or so it seemed. The shadows were not seductive. They seemed to be filled with a hatred born from some towering frustration. Beyond the glowing Bhelliom stood the obscenely grotesque mud idol of Azash, the idol he had smashed at Ghasek, the idol which had claimed Bellinas soul. The idols face was moving, twisting hideously into expressions of the most elemental passions lust and greed and hatred and a towering contempt that seemed born of its certainty of its own absolute power.
Sparhawk struggled in his dream, dragged first this way and then that. Bhelliom pulled at him; Azash pulled at him; and the hateful shadows pulled as well. The power of each was irresistible, and his mind and body seemed almost torn apart by those titanic conflicting forces.
He tried to scream. And then he awoke. He sat up and realized that he was sweating profusely. He swore. He was exhausted, but a sleep filled with nightmares was no cure for that bone-deep weariness. Grimly he lay back down, hoping for an oblivion without dreams.
It began again, however. Once again he wrestled in his sleep with Bhelliom and with Azash and with the hateful shadows lurking behind him.
Sparhawk, a small, familiar voice said in his ear, dont let them frighten you. They cant hurt you, you know. All they can do is try to frighten you.
Why are they doing it?
Because theyre afraid of you.
That doesnt make sense, Aphrael. Im only a man.
Her laughter was like the peal of a small, silver bell. Youre so innocent sometimes, father. Youre not like any other man whos ever lived. In a rather peculiar way, youre more powerful than the Gods themselves. Go to sleep now. I wont let them hurt you.
He felt a soft kiss on his cheek, and a pair of small arms seemed to embrace his head with a peculiarly maternal tenderness. The terrible images of his nightmare wavered. And then they vanished.
It must have been hours later when Kurik entered the tent and shook him into wakefulness. What time is it? Sparhawk asked his squire.
About midnight, Kurik replied. Take your cloak. Its chilly out there.
Sparhawk arose, put on his mail-shirt and tunic and then buckled his sword-belt around his waist. Then he tucked the pouch under the tunic. He picked up his travellers cloak. Sleep well, he told his friend and left the tent.
The stars were very bright, and a crescent moon had just risen above the jagged line of peaks to the east. Sparhawk walked away from the embers of their fire to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He stood with his breath steaming slightly in the chill mountain air.
The dream still troubled him, though it was fading now. About the only sharp memory he really had of it was the lingering feel of the soft touch of Aphraels lips on his cheek. He firmly closed the door of the chamber where he stored his nightmares and thought of other things.
Without the little Goddess and her ability to tamper with time, it was probably going to take them a week to reach the coast, and they were going to have to find a ship to carry them to the Deiran side of the straits of Thalesia. By now King Wargun had undoubtedly alerted every nation in the Elene kingdoms to their escape. Theyd have to move carefully to avoid capture, but they nonetheless needed to go into Emsat. They had to retrieve Talen for one thing, and ships are hard to come by on deserted shores.
The night air in these mountains was chill even in summer, and Sparhawk pulled his cloak tighter about his shoulders. His mood was sombre, troubled. The events of this day were the kind that led to long thoughts. Sparhawks religious convictions were not really all that profound. His commitment had always been to the Pandion Order rather than to the Elene faith. The Church Knights were largely engaged in making the world safe for other, gentler Elenes to perform those ceremonies the clergy felt were pleasing to God. Sparhawk seldom concerned himself with God. Today, however, he had gone through some rather profoundly spiritual events. Ruefully he admitted to himself that a man with a pragmatic turn of mind is never really prepared for religious experiences of the kind which had been thrust upon him today. Then, almost as if his hand were acting of its own volition, it strayed towards the neck of his tunic. Sparhawk resolutely drew his sword, stabbed its point into the turf and wrapped both hands firmly about its hilt. He pushed his mind away from religion and the supernatural.
It was almost over now. The time his queen would be compelled to remain confined in the crystal that sustained her life could be measured in days rather than weeks or months. Sparhawk and his friends had trekked all over the Eosian continent to discover the one thing which would cure her, and now that cure lay in the canvas pouch under his tunic. Nothing could stop him now that he had Bhelliom. He could destroy whole armies with the Sapphire Rose if need be. He sternly pulled his mind back from that thought.
His broken face grew bleak. Once his queen was safe, he was going to do some more or less permanent things to Martel, the Primate Annias and anyone who had aided them in their treason. He began to mentally draw up a list of people who had things to answer for. It was a pleasant way to pass the night-time hours, and it kept his mind occupied and out of mischief.
At dusk six days later, they crested a hill and looked down at the smoky torches and candlelit windows of the capital of Thalesia. Youd better wait here, Kurik said to Sparhawk and Sephrenia. Warguns probably spread descriptions of you through every city in Eosia by now. Ill go into town and locate Talen. Well see what we can find in the way of a ship.
Will you be all right? Sephrenia asked. Wargun could have sent out your description as well, you know.
King Warguns a nobleman, Kurik growled. Nobles pay very little attention to servants.
Youre not a servant, Sparhawk objected.
Thats how Im defined, Sparhawk, and thats how Wargun saw me when he was sober enough to see anything. Ill waylay some traveller and steal his clothes. That should get me by in Emsat. Give me some money in case I have to bribe some people.
Elenes, Sephrenia sighed as Sparhawk led her back some distance from the road and Kurik rode at a walk on down towards the city. How did I ever get involved with such unscrupulous people?
The dusk faded slowly, and the tall, resinous fir trees around them turned into looming shadows. Sparhawk tethered Faran, their packhorse and Chiel, Sephrenias white palfrey. Then he spread his cloak on a mossy bank for her to sit on.
Whats troubling you, Sparhawk? she asked him.
Tired maybe, he tried to shrug it off, and theres always a kind of let-down after youve finished something.