Dormant, no doubt, but it would wake with the wizard. It would cover the world in fire and ash. She had read the histories, and knew that while the world darkened when a volcano erupted, it brightened once more.
She read the next passage slowly, as she had the night she found the scroll.
What man — for surely the author could only be a man, could imagine anyone would want to wake the wizard, after reading his prophesies? It was foolish. If waking the wizard was the only way to save Rythe, surely it would have been more prudent to call him the saviour, and extol his virtues. Not this…doom.
Hope would die…the world would be torn…the suns themselves feeling shame? What nonsense was this? Poetic licence, she hoped. If it was all hopeless, if one was as bad as the other, then what was the point? She could not believe that. She needed to believe there was a purpose to their quest, a chance to destroy the Protectorate. With the wizard on their side they could do it. Who else but a being of such power could work such a miracle, and save her land?
Following the work was a map, and it was this which Tirielle studied now. A key showed the direction of the suns, and an opening, a natural cave leading to the bowels of the volcano. She thought she could find the entrance. It looked simple enough, although from what she knew of ice — in Lianthre it was a rarity, even in winter — it grew with time. The mountains north of Lianthre were often peaked with snow and there were lakes of ice in the crevasses and on the plateaus. It shifted. She had studied geography, and knew from the maps that the landscape changed over hundreds of years. In a land of ice structures could be torn down, shifted and even rock could crumble.
But she knew where to look. At the thought of finding the wizard, her heart tripped. It was not to be as joyous an occasion as she had hoped, but fearful and uncertain.
But what choice?
She did not feel sleepy in the slightest. Beside her the Seer slept soundly. Even Roth was tired from their flight. But there was so much to worry over. The end of the journey was looking no more attractive than the beginning.
She looked at the map again. Now she knew what to expect, where to find the mountain, and how to enter it.
All that remained was to travel thousands of miles before they were captured, tortured and killed.
She smiled at last. The whole thing was folly. But she watched j’ark’s frowning features as he slept, and she felt unreasonable happiness, if only for a moment. She put her head on the hard earth, head turned to one side to look at the warrior. Eventually her eyes closed, her mind shut down, and left worry behind for tomorrow.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Morning broke, and Tirielle at last found a moment to catch Roth before it ran on ahead, scouting before them for patrols or any other unwanted company. Soon, they would be at Arram.
“Roth, we must talk a moment,” she said urgently before it could leave.
“I have but a moment, Tirielle. I must scout, and I hunger. I need to eat.”
Tirielle felt somewhat embarrassed at the thought of the giant rahken hunting, and did not wish to know what it ate.
“I won’t keep you but a moment. The scroll tells of a joining of the rahken nation and the last wizard, of a time before, and age passed when man and rahken were allies…I must know what you know, Roth. The time for secrets is ended. To piece together the story, to know what lies in store for all of us, I must know what came before.
“I would have you tell me what your mother told you.”
“I cannot tell!”
“You must!” she said with fervour. “We stumble blindly, and you know something…”
“Some secrets must be kept.”
“Not between friends.”
Roth sighed, shrugging its massive shoulders and somehow looking sheepish — or at least like the wolf that had eaten the sheep.
“There is much I cannot tell. It is an archaic tale, handed down through time. It is our history, but much is forgotten, even among the rahken nation. I do not know the long of it, but once, long ago, the rahkens and one known as the red wizard joined their magic and banished the old ones, the Sun Destroyers. How it was achieved, or even if it is true or just a myth, I do not know.
“Once, man and rahken were allies, and then the Hierarchy rose to power. How they took the mantle of power I do not know, either, but somewhere in time man lost the ability to weave the threads of magic. That is not rahken history. We keep no record of the history of man, aside from that which joins with the tapestry of our own.”
“I read much during my time in the library. Poetry and myths, histories dry and ancient. Some of the language is redolent of a gentler time. Under the surface though, the language evokes a feeling of despair. There is no comedy. There is no romance. And yet many times I read passionate works, and they were of a time when the rahkens walked among men. What came to pass to break that friendship? I saw a statue in Beheth, a monument to a rahken. It is long forgotten, the gifts your race gave to mine. What caused the breaking?”
Roth looked away.
“You must tell me, Roth.”
“I am ashamed to admit, lady, that I do not know.”
Tirielle huffed in frustration. It was impossible to tell if Roth was telling the truth. There was so much that lived under the surface when it came to her fearsome friend, and while she was not afraid of it, she did not want to press too hard.
“Now, I must go. But remember this, Tiri; Not all sacrifices are to the death.”
“What does that mean?”
Roth seemed sad, but merely shook its head. Then, before she had time to question further, was a blur among the trees.
She mounted, feeling that there was some pattern, some secret at the heart of their quest, that she must fathom, or they would all fail.
Quintal looked at her with a question on his face.
“I am ready,” she said briskly, and urged her horse into a fast canter. The danger of the Protectorate was ever present in her mind.
“Where to?” she asked the leader of the paladins.
“North, for now. The Seer tells us this is where we must go, and she is our eyes. Tonight, we will commune with Drun Sard. Perhaps he can guide us further.”
“I hope so. I am tired of fleeing.”
“The time will come soon when we will turn and bite back, lady. I feel this, and I always trust my feelings. The end draws near. And with it, a new beginning.”
“One we should fear,” said Tirielle too quietly to be overheard.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Reih entered the chamber, fewer seats were occupied. Fewer councillors. It was weak. She was trying desperately to concentrate on the conversion. They were making her sick, squabbling blindly while ignoring the
