Sermas grinned. “I won’t argue with you on that. This way Hern and I don’t have to haul you all the way up the tower to your room. But, if you’re staying here, we’re staying here too.”
“What?”
“Someone has to keep an eye on you,” Hern observed. “Otherwise, you’re liable to sneak out in the middle of the night and get some work done on the construction without us.”
“Even I’m not that dedicated – ”
“You mispronounced ‘foolish’,” Sermas interjected. “Or maybe, ‘stupid’.”
“Anyway,” Khollo said through gritted teeth. “The only work I’m allowed to do is researching building methods. Which reminds me. Hern, there ought to be a huge book lying around – ”
“On it,” Hern said immediately, striking out into the gathering night.
“Sermas, get us some food, would you?” Khollo asked. “We might as well eat here as well.”
“Not until Hern gets back,” Sermas said stubbornly. “We’re not letting you out of our sight for a second.”
Khollo’s stomach rumbled in complaint. But, before he could order Sermas to the kitchens, Hern returned, bearing the ancient text that Tarrik had given Khollo.
“That’s a hefty bit of writing, and no mistake about it,” Hern remarked, setting the book on a nearby table with a thud. “What does this say?”
Sermas craned his neck to get a better look. “Doesn’t say anything,” he replied. “Just random lines.”
“Oh, good,” Hern said, obviously relieved. “I was afraid I was still having memory issues.”
“Hmm. We can test that if you want,” Sermas replied. “Let’s see . . . can I have your bacon tomorrow?”
“You most certainly cannot!” Hern replied with some feeling.
“I liked him better with the memory problems,” Sermas muttered to Khollo as he moved towards the entrance. “I’ll be back, with food. Don’t let him get away, Hern.”
Khollo sighed and stood shakily, limping over to the table Hern had set the book on. He stared down at the cover for a moment, then turned the stiff leather over and began carefully flipping through the ancient pages.
Hern leaned over Khollo’s shoulder watching. “It’s just gibberish,” he observed. “What are you hoping to find? It’s not even a language.”
“Not one that still exists,” Khollo murmured, pausing in his searching. “This is the oldest language recorded. Used by the ancients. Long before the Sthan kings even considered conquering the known world.”
“What happened?” Hern wondered.
Khollo looked up, frowning. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “Seems like a story worth investigating though. These people were amazing. Look,” he said quickly, turning the book so Hern could see the pages better. “Read that.”
“Read what?”
“That bit there, about – ”
“Khollo, that’s just gibberish.”
Khollo sighed with frustration. He realized that the runes he had been indicating were, indeed, in the old tongue. “Never mind,” he growled.
“You can read it?”
“Yes,” Khollo said shortly.
“Is that normal?”
“No.”
“Where did you learn to-?”
“I don’t know.” Khollo snorted. “Your uncle already asked, in case you were wondering.”
“Oh,” Hern muttered. “Sorry, I was just curious.”
Khollo realized that he may have been a little too short with his friend. “No, I’m sorry,” he said after a moment of awkward silence. “It’s not your fault that everything is spinning out of order.” Ancient languages, dreams, voices. Wars.
“Khollo, maybe you should take a break,” Hern said nervously. “I’ve never seen you quite so agitated.”
“Why can I read this?” Khollo growled. “Why do I hear him? Where are those places? Where is the prison in the dark?”
“Khollo?” Hern said worriedly.
Khollo spun round angrily. “What do they mean?” he demanded, shaking Hern violently. “What is happening to me?” He tightened his grip, fury rising within him, his vision darkened by a red mist.
“I – what – how – who?” Hern spluttered. “Let go! Sermas!”
Hern shoved against Khollo’s shoulders, causing Khollo’s side to flare in agony. The white-hot pain cut through his rage, snapping him back to the moment. As quickly as it had come, Khollo’s violent anger dissipated, leaving him horrified and confused.
“What is happening to me?” he rasped.
Sermas and Hern exchanged troubled glances. “I think you should rest, Khollo,” Sermas said gently, pointing to a low bed in the corner. “We’ll keep watch for you.”
Khollo retreated to the bed, ignoring the forgotten tray of food Sermas had set down. He lay on his side, back to the room. He could hear his friends whispering.
“Should we send for Lord Kurkan? Healers?”
“No, he’ll be fine, he’s just overworked is all.”
“Sermas, he had me by the throat.”
“I know.”
A pause. “Is he going mad?” Hern’s voice trembled. “What if that vertaga damaged something we can’t see, something the healers won’t be able to fix?”
Khollo’s heart jumped into his throat at this possibility. He didn’t feel mad or unhinged, just weary and confused. But if he really were losing his mind, would he be able to tell?
“Let’s just wait and see,” Sermas said finally. The fact that he did not try to reassure Hern or dispel this latest theory did nothing to help Khollo’s confidence in his mental state. Khollo drifted off to sleep, wondering what sort of monster he was turning into.
Chapter 20
Gray stone. High cliffs. An endless plain of gray, gently undulating off to the horizon. Shadows over all, like some strange land where the sun never really shone. To the left and right, sparsely wooded slopes with stunted, twisted trees. Their bare branches stretching to the sky, rattling in the wind, moaning eerily across the plains.
The vision whirled abruptly and Khollo was looking at a fortress, slightly larger than the West Bank, with an unfamiliar black flag flying from the central tower. The vision lurched again and Khollo was rushing through the fortress, past guards, along passages, through solid doors.
Then, darkness. The stench
