A Lady in Crystal Read online

  “It can be done, then? The rituals would not hold when I last tried,” the Hierophant murmured in wonder.

  “We are ready now, once I have dealt with this one, you shall be taken to Varkuz, he is still your willing servant and he has worked hard to see this day.”

  The Hierophant’s face lit up, “Varkuz has not forsaken me? I thought that, once he was no longer bound, he would forget about me.”

  “Fear not, for you have more in common now. He has made your rituals work and found his own vessel. Once I bring your soul to him, you will be reborn as he has been.”

  Akna felt a mild temptation to inform the ghost of the Hierophant that he doubted that anyone was going to give him a new lease on life but that might lead to him getting shot or torn apart by an enraged ghost, just as surely as allowing Takiaza the belief that there was hope of resurrection. The stone that held the simulacrum of the long dead priest had to be the real prize. A lifetime of occult knowledge would belong to whoever claimed the stone. If what he said was to be believed, he had even found ways to extend existence beyond death. The Hierophant’s presence, after so long, was certainly an indication of something exceptional. Invariably a stone would be required to contain and summon forth whatever part of the Hierophant had been trapped within it; without a focus and a summoner, entities from beyond the veil tended to fade and become the mindless things that inhabited the abandoned parts of Niskar. Some ghosts might remember the people who spawned them or make a pretence that they had not changed but it was always clear that they were only some fraction of what they had once been, with no hope of anything but further degeneration into the madness that took so many cast off dreams, trapped in a world of flesh. The white haired man was nothing like any ghost Akna had heard of, it was still focused after centuries, still working to a plan that had been conceived when the ancient city was still young. Takiaza had indeed come close to finding a way to cheat death, that and many other secrets could belong to whoever owned the crystal; why give that up by granting the Hierophant freedom? Akna knew that Zenker would give almost anything to have the Hierophant’s stone and its secrets, with them there might even be hope that what Lothar had broken in him could be mended. On the heels of this thought, came the biting irony that it was possible that the ghost had more in common with the living than Akna did.

  Akna did not bother to explain any of his thoughts to Takiaza’s ghost, he would most likely be out of his depth in any debate, in any case, instead he took a chance and used the woman’s momentary distraction to dive towards the pillar. The manoeuvre didn’t buy him as much time as he had expected and he felt a searing pain as a crossbow bolt scored his shoulder. Akna could feel the blood running down his back and knew he was lucky that the bolt had only come close enough to graze him. Fortunately, he was well hidden behind the pillar before she could bring the weapon to bear again. Akna had even managed to regain his sabre as he rolled towards the pillar. He held the weapon tight, hoping that he would get the opportunity to use it, but Takiaza’s reaction to the blood spilt on his pure white shrine ensured that the woman had other things to deal with.

  “You spilt blood here. I gave you no leave.” The ghost screamed, the stone on his chest flashed with white fire and the handsome white haired man began to twist into something gaunt and terrible; bones lengthened and fingers curled, until the Hierophant looked every bit the daemon from beyond the veil.

  “Be at peace, I beg you, Your Holiness. No more blood needs to be spilt.”

  The enraged ghost took two steps forward.

  “You have profaned my resting place, when they bring my body here it will have to rest in a place polluted by another man’s blood. Imagine if you had killed him, would you expect me to share eternity with a thief?”

  The woman didn’t bother to remind the Hierophant that his actual body would never rest here. It would almost certainly be more than the creature could understand. That it had survived for so long, without the ritual being completed, was truly amazing. Her master’s hopes might still be realised. Takiaza had not succeeded in saving his soul from extinction but the ghostly simulacrum would still be able to offer many secrets, if he were handled right.

  “My apologies, Your Holiness,” she said and fell to her knees.

  Takiaza rose over her gibbering incoherently and far closer to the mad thing that Akna would have expected, after so many centuries alone.

  “But I had no choice when the thief tried to escape.”

  “I gave an order.” A claw lashed out and drew a thin crimson line across her cheek. The woman was quick to dab the wound with a sleeve, lest more blood stain the pure white of the floor.

  “I sought only to stop the thief before he did more harm.”

  “Yet he called you thief, too. How can I know my servants from my enemies, when you do not even stay your hand at my word?”

  “If I have failed you then I offer myself for punishment but I also remind you that it has taken this long for us to find you again. If you strike me down then you may never be brought to your vessel.”

  “I should not leave this place. The body must be brought here, I must be made whole…” The ghost shrunk a bit as it tried to express the need that had sustained it for so long, “I must take the rest of myself from that flesh… I could not give up everything while I yet lived.”

  “I told you, Your Holiness, things have changed. Varkuz has had to make other arrangements.”

  “You still claim to be in his service?” The ghost shrunk again to something resembling his original form.

  Akna edged around the pillar to get a better view of what was happening. He was ready to duck back quickly if necessary but he already had a terrible suspicion that the worst damage had been done. The wound at his back felt numb and he could feel a slow lethargy creeping through his limbs; if the bolt were poisoned, as he suspected, the only question left was: had he already received a lethal dose? Akna was not so nihilistic that he felt nothing at the prospect of death but since he could see nothing practical to do, he worked on keeping still, so that he might be overlooked and keeping his heart rate low might slow the work of the poison. He absently listened to the rest of the conversation happening on the other side of the pillar, on the basis that, should he survive, the knowledge gained might be worth something.

  “Nay, Your Holiness, I claim to be in your service, just as Varkuz has always been.”

  “Varkuz has always been a liar, barely even an imp, yet he plays the grand daemon while his betters are absent from this world.”

  “Yet it was he who set you on this path, will you not trust him now?”

  The ghost laughed.

  “What is your name, girl?”

  “Ilsar, is the name my master gave me.”

  “You ask me to trust a daemon, Ilsar, have I been gone so long that people have grown foolish enough not to know that daemons lie as a matter of course?”

  Ilsar knew she had to be careful about how she answered this, she was claiming to have been sent by Varkuz, a minor daemon no doubt, if he had still been around in Takiaza’s day. The great ones, like Niskaan, Pathiiki or Belsaris had found the sleep of death or left the world aeons ago and only their lesser children, who could not follow had remained behind. Even those strange creatures had been rare when the Hierophant lived and now no one knew much about them. If Takiaza was to be easily taken, she would have to satisfy him that his old daemonic familiar was behind his rescue.

  “I ask you to trust nothing, Your Holiness, my master begs me to remind you that you still hold a charm sealed with heart’s blood.” Ilsar drew forth a ragged poppet, black with age and ancient stains.

  “Give that to me!” The ghost leapt forward and snatched the cloth doll. Ilsar gasped at the chill of the ghost’s touch. The ghost no longer paid any heed to her, though it almost sobbed as it fondled the doll; then, as it realised how fragile the thing was it gingerly slipped the grubby fetish into its robe.

  “It was meant to come to me when I was
buried here but I waited so long and feared the worst.”

  “The wretch spoke truth there, the tomb was lost and could not be found. As soon as Varkuz knew that Nisgul had released it, he sent me to bring you out and return you to your rightful place, but there is little time for us to leave and return to Niskaan’s Temple, where my master yet waits.”

  “It has been ages since time mattered to me,” the ghost said softly. “I remember when it seemed as though there was no time left and then it seemed that I waited forever, that no one would ever come. This place has been my whole world for so long, I had not thought any might still remember me, let alone wait for my return.” The ghost shuddered and shrunk down to his original size. It was hard to remember that the tired looking old man standing under the vaulted marble had been a wild eyed ghoul with fangs and claws only moments before.

  “I forgive you the blood my child and I will gratefully go with you to your master.”

  “Thank you, Your Holiness,” Ilsar replied, playing her part as she had been taught.

  “Will we not need to deal with the thief before we go?”

  “He was dead the moment the bolt struck him. You hear that thief? You will never leave this place and soon you will be lost in Nisgul’s depths.”

  Akna could not help but notice that she kept her bow levelled on his pillar, as she backed out from under the stone canopy. Perhaps she wasn’t as sure that he was dying as she pretended. Not that he thought she needed to worry, whatever venom she had used was certainly having an effect now. The stone pillars vibrated ever so slightly and as he watched his sword blade seemed to leave a shining trail behind it in the air. He briefly wondered about charging out and attacking the woman. She was a good enough shot that he doubted he would get more than a few paces until she put him down with a second bolt and there would be no question of how big a dosage of her poison he had received then. He would be dead, but what did that matter? He was dead anyway and if there was a chance he could take her with him, he should probably take it. Blind rage coursed through him, along with nausea and dizziness. In spite of his normal cold reserve, he knew he was seconds from going after her, then, abruptly, Ilsar stepped out from under the canopy of white stone and down onto the first step.

  The unfamiliar sunlight burned away the shadows under her hood and for just a moment, he saw her face. Fire seemed to play over her, her eyes flashed with green flame and her hair seemed to glow like gold. In that moment, it seemed that he had not seen anything so beautiful, no dream or vision he had ever seen, matched the form and symmetry of his killer’s face. He froze, lost in his killer’s beauty, then the world seemed to shudder and he found his face pressed against the pillar and he no longer had the strength to lift his head. Ilsar smiled as she saw the thief fall and hurried off, leading the ghost of the Hierophant through the watery ruins of his tomb.

  Chapter 10

  “Hail him that walks in shadow,

  Adore him that devours light,

  Still wakeful in his holy barrow,

  The father of eternal night.”

  Akna woke up. He had expected that his vision of Ilsar would be the last thing he saw, so it came as a shock to find himself lying face down amid Takiaza’s discarded treasures. He didn’t remember having moved from behind the pillar, the only explanation was that he had not passed out when he thought he had and had been crawling about deliriously. He could only thank Nishkaan that Ilsar had already left before he came out of cover. His head pounded and his stomach was churning but if he was returning to consciousness, it would seem his body had managed to endure the effects of Ilsar’s poison.

  “Gods know what a full dose would feel like,” he murmured to an exquisite portrait of some long dead courtesan. Akna licked his cracked lips, his mouth felt woolly, he’d give anything for some water. Water! The realisation that he might already be trapped sent Akna scrambling to his feet; for all he knew the tomb beyond the portal might already be flooded. The Hierophant's world had survived untouched beneath the water for centuries, so there had to be some mechanism by which the water never entered but that would be small consolation if Akna found himself trapped here.

  Unwilling to go back to Zenker empty handed, Akna scooped up the treasures surrounding the old sarcophagus and quickly thrust them into a sack. Akna’s lantern had been left next to the narrow slit of darkness that led back to the tomb, he raised it and tried to probe the space beyond the portal but neither the light of the lantern nor the sun above him could pierce the strip of black. Akna’s hand was wet when he drew it back but there was no way to tell how high the water had risen, he would just have to take a chance that the entire chamber was not flooded. He took a firm grip on the sack with his left hand and held tight to the lantern with his right, the lantern held an enchanted gem rather than a wick and flame so he did not have to worry about water; he was more concerned as to how his body would handle the shock of the water. He was still shivering and racked with nausea; his instincts told him that he was probably too weak to safely risk much physical exertion but he also knew he didn’t really have any choice but to try getting out, before it was too late. His stomach heaved and he retched as he slipped onto his belly and began to crawl into the darkness. The impenetrable gloom below the stone left him unsure if his eyes were open or closed; for a brief moment he wondered if he had ever left the white pyramid or if this was just some fever dream. Then he felt the shock of water on his face and saw the clear blue light of the stone held in his lantern distorted by murky water. He looked up but the hazy darkness seemed to go on forever above and behind him.

  The water had definitely risen in the chamber beyond the portal but at least its chill dispelled some of the haze caused by the poison still in his system. Renewed awareness only led him to feel his weakness more keenly and Akna found himself thrashing to reach the surface and gulp down air. He mastered the panic as best he could and as soon as he was out from under the rock, he pushed off from the chamber floor without allowing himself to think of the possibility that there might be no air to find or that he might be too weak to return by the time he had established that the tomb was totally flooded.

  He broke the surface far sooner than he could have hoped, his initial panic as he came out from under the stone seal had been premature. He found that, if he put his feet down, the water only came midway up his chest, it was a temporary relief and he also knew that he still had a long way to go before he was free. The further he went now, the further he would be from the respite of the realm beyond the stone. Still, he couldn’t picture starving to death on a mountain side as that much better than drowning in the dark. Drowning was a distinct possibility if he didn’t move soon; the chamber was not flooded yet but he could feel the pull of the current as the water entered the tomb. The sack in his hand was already waterlogged and heavy, it would be almost impossible to swim with it.

  Akna struck out forcing himself through the water in long strides and short hops. He passed out of one chamber and into the next. As he went, Akna was mindful of the dying monster that he had seen on his way into the tomb's heart; he had no free hand to hold a weapon but he doubted if a sabre would be much use against the creature, he simply kept to the wall and tried to spot any movement in the water. He did not relax until he reached the stairs that led up to the higher chambers of the tomb.

  The stairs represented a danger of their own, they had been slippery and dangerous enough when he had first descended but now they were a rushing waterfall that threatened to snatch him back and cast him into the water below at any moment. Half way up Akna was forced to tie the lantern to his belt and use his dagger like a climbing pick by thrusting it into any gaps he could find in the stone wall. His progress would have been easier without the extra weight of his sodden bag but he clung to the sack determinedly, knowing that it was exactly this sort of treasure that might finally convince Zenker to return his own dream stone to him.

  The water rushed, white crested and fierce at the top of the stairs and i
t took all his strength to move into the corridor above. Even then the current pulled at his thighs and he could feel the water rising at an alarming rate. He still could not afford to stop using his dagger to pull him forward and was unable to prevent his only light source from swinging wildly at his belt. At times the light was nearly half submerged in the rushing water. By the struggling light, he was able to see the many tiny inhabitants of the lake that swarmed to the luminescence in thrashing shoals, straining towards it with tooth and tentacle before being washed down into the depths. Fortune decreed that none of their larger relatives had yet been taken by the current or had grown curious about the tomb but he knew that it was only a matter of time before the monsters of the deep reclaimed their lairs or were able to swim back up from whatever deep places they had been stranded.

  He had no time to watch the water or its denizens though, his eyes were fixed on the slimy walls looking for the marks he had left to guide himself out. He followed those marks as best he could but often the current and the need for haste, made it a desperate business. He could not spend long trying to interpret the shadows and shapes on the walls; the current would try to take him down one passage or another before he could know which was right and all the while, he was moving his dagger, gouging misleading scratches in the wall, before his eye could ever judge which marks would lead him to safety. The blackness that had enveloped him when he had first been poisoned kept threatening to drag him down again, only this time there would be no waking. The lower half of his body was numb beyond even feeling the pain of muscles, which refused to work as he wanted them to.

  His dagger was long broken and bent by the time Akna saw the muted light marking the exit. Even the eternal night of Niskan seemed to be bright by comparison to the blackness of the tomb. The corridor was all but flooded now, so the current had dissipated as it reached the level of the outside water and he was able to swim the last few feet out into the lake. He was quick to divest himself of the light that might draw predators to him, before he struck out for the lamps that marked the sanctuary of Niskar.