Chainfire: Chainfire Trilogy Part 1

Chapter 12

Ann swallowed. “Nathan, how can we both not remember a book we love as much as we do this one? And why is it that the specific parts we both don’t remember correspond to the blank spots?”

“Now, that is a very good question.”

An idea suddenly hit her. She gasped in a breath. “A spell. It has to be that these books were spelled.”

Nathan made a face. “What?”

“Many books are spelled to protect the information. I’ve not encountered it with a book of prophecy but it’s common enough in books of instruction on magic. This place was designed with the intent of concealment. Perhaps that’s what is happening with the information protected here.”

Such a spell would be activated when anyone but the right person with the required power opened it. Spells of that nature were sometimes even keyed to specific individuals. The usual method of protection if the wrong person saw the book was to erase from their memory everything they’d seen in it. They would see it and at the same time forget it. The effect in one’s mind was to blank out the text.

Nathan didn’t answer, but his scowl softened as he considered her idea. She could tell by his expression that he doubted her theory was the answer hut he apparently didn’t want to argue the point just then, probably because he had something more important that he wanted to go on to.

Sure enough, he tapped a finger on top of a small stack of books standing all by themselves. “These books,” he said with a weighty undertone, “are predominantly about Richard. I’ve never seen most of them before. I find that alarming, that such books would be hidden away in a place like this. Most have extensive stretches of blank pages.”

For that many books of prophecy, especially about Richard, not to have been in the Palace of the Prophets was indeed alarming. For five centuries she had scoured the world for copies of any book she could find that contained anything at all about Richard.

Ann scratched an eyebrow as she considered the implications. “Were you able to learn anything?”

Nathan picked up the volume on the top and flipped the book open. “Well, for one thing, this symbol, here, troubles me greatly. It’s an exceedingly rare form of prophecy, undertaken while the prophet was under siege by a storm of revelation. Such graphic prophecies are drawn in the heat of a powerful vision, when writing would take too long and interrupt the rush of what is rampaging through his mind.”

Ann was only vaguely aware of such representational prophecy. She recalled a few from the vaults at the palace. Nathan had never before mentioned to her what they had been, and no one else had known. Yet another of Nathan’s little thousand year old secrets.

She bent close and studied the intricate drawing that took for itself most of a page. There were no straight lines in it at all, only curved swirls and arcs that eddied all around in a circular design that somehow seemed almost alive. Here and there the pen had dug violently into the surface of the vellum, ploughing up parallel rows of fibers where the two halves of the pen’s point had spread under the pressure. Ann lifted the book closer to a candle and carefully examined a curious place that was particularly rough. She saw in the ancient dried bed of an inky pool a fine, pointed sliver of metal: one side of the pen’s point had broken off where it had been stabbed into the page. It was still embedded there. Right after, the cleaner marks of a fresh pen began anew, although they were no less forceful.

Nothing in the ink drawing represented any identifiable subject—it appeared to be completely nonobjective—and yet it was for some reason so gravely disturbing that it made her hackles lift. It seemed as if the drawing was almost recognizable but its meaning was just outside of her conscious awareness.

“What is it?” She laid the book on the table, open to the drawing. “What does it mean?”

Nathan stroked a finger along his strong jaw. “It’s rather hard to explain. There are no precise words to describe what comes as a picture in my mind when I view it.”

“Do you think,” Ann asked with exaggerated patience as she clasped her hands, “that you could make an effort to describe to me as best you can the picture in your mind?”

Nathan viewed her askance. “The only words I can think of that fit are ‘The beast comes.’ ”

“The beast?”

“Yes. I don’t know what the impression means. The prophecy is partially cloaked, either deliberately or perhaps because it’s meant to represent something I’ve never encountered before, or maybe even because it’s linked to the blank pages and without their associated text the drawing won’t fully come to life for me.”

“What is it that this beast is coming to do?”

Nathan flipped the cover closed so that she could see the title: A Pebble in the Pond.

Cold sweat broke out across her brow.

“The symbol is a graphic warning,” he said.

Prophecy often referred to Richard as the “pebble in the pond.” The text of such a volume would probably be of incalculable value. If only it weren’t missing.

“You mean, it’s a warning for Richard that some kind of beast is coming?”

Nathan nodded. “That’s about as much as I can get from this—that and a vague impression of the ghastly aura around the thing.”

“Around the beast.”

“Yes. The supporting text preceding the drawing would have been critical to understanding it better, to being able to comprehend the nature of this beast, but that text is missing. The branches after are blank as well so there is no way to place the warning contextually or chronologically. For all I know, it could be something he has already faced and defeated, or something that in his old age might defeat him. Without at least some of the supporting prophecy or a context there simply isn’t any way to tell.”

Chronology was vital to understanding prophecy, but just from the dread that she felt when viewing the drawing, Ann didn’t believe it was anything Richard had yet faced.

“Perhaps it’s meant as a metaphor. Jagang’s army behaves like a beast and they could certainly be described as ghastly. They slaughter everything in their path. For free people, and for Richard especially, the Imperial Order is a beast coming to destroy them and everything they hold dear.”

Nathan shrugged. “That very well could be the explanation. I just don’t know.”

He paused a moment before he went on. “There is one more disturbing bit of oblique counsel to be found not only in this book but in several of the other books”—he cast a meaningful look her way—“books that I’ve never seen before.”

For a whole variety of reasons, Ann, too, found it disturbing to learn that there were all these books hidden in such a strange, underground, graveyard room.

Nathan gestured again to the books stacked all over the four large tables. “While there certainly are copies of a number of books we’ve seen, and I’ve showed those to you, most of these books are new to me. For any library to deviate to this degree from the classic masterworks is unprecedented. Each library has its own unique volumes, to be sure, but this place is like another world altogether. Nearly every volume in here is an astonishing discovery.”

Ann’s caution awakened. She had the uncanny feeling that Nathan had at last arrived at the core of the labyrinth through which his mind traveled. One thing he had just said loomed in the back of her mind.

“Counsel?” She frowned suspiciously. “What sort of counsel?”

“It advises the reader that if their interest is not of a general nature but they instead have cause to seek more extensive and specific knowledge on the subjects therein, then they should consult the pertinent volumes kept with the bones.”

Ann’s brow drew even tighter. “Kept with the bones?”

“Yes. It referred to these caches as ‘central sites.’ ” Nathan leaned close again, like a washwoman with a load of dirty gossip. “The ‘central sites’ are mentioned in a number of places, but I’ve so far only been able to find where one of these sites was named: the catacombs beneath the vaults at the Palace of the Prophets.”

Ann’s jaw fell open. “Catacombs—That’s preposterous. There was no such place beneath the Palace of the Prophets.”

“None we knew of,” Nathan said in a grave tone. “That doesn’t mean it didn’t exist.”

“But, but,” Ann stammered, “that’s just not possible. It’s just not. Such a thing could not have gone unnoticed. In all that time Sisters lived there we would have known.”

Nathan shrugged. “In all this time no one knew of this place, here, beneath the bones.”

“But no one lived right above here.”

“What if the presence of catacombs beneath the palace was not common knowledge? After all, we know little of the wizards of that time, and not a great deal about the specific people involved in the construction of the Palace of the Prophets. It could be that they had reason to conceal such a place, just as this place was concealed.”

Nathan arched an eyebrow. “What if part of the purpose of the palace—the training of young wizards—was part of an elaborate ruse to hide the existence of such a secret site?”

Ann could feel her face going red. “Are you suggesting that our calling was meaningless? How dare you even suggest that all our lives have been devoted to nothing more than a deception, and that the lives of those with the gift would not have been spared had we not . . .”

“I’m not suggesting anything of the kind. I’m not saying the Sisters were being duped or that what they did didn’t spare the lives of boys with the gift and help preserve it. I’m only saying that these books suggest that there may have been more to it. What if there was not only the intent to have a place for the Sisters to practice their useful calling, but there was in part a grander purpose behind the place where they practiced that calling? After all, think of the graveyard above us; it has a valid reason to exist, but it also conveniently provides a shroud to hide this place.

“Perhaps such catacombs were deliberately covered over thousands of years ago with the intent of hiding them? If so, then by design we would never be aware of their existence. If it was a secret cache there wouldn’t have been any records of it.

“From the impression I got from the references in these books, I have reason to believe that there were at one time books that were considered so disturbing and in some cases containing spells so dangerous that it was decided that they had to be confined to a few hidden ‘central sites’ as a precaution, so that they didn’t end up in circulation, where they would be copied, as is the practice with most prophecy. What better way to restrict access . . . Since these references speak of ‘the books kept with the bones,’ I suspect that these other ‘central sites’ may be catacombs like the one said to be beneath the Palace of the Prophets.”

Ann slowly shook her head as she tried to take it all in, as she tried to imagine if there was any possibility that it could be true. She looked again at the table with the stacks of books that were mostly about Richard, and which they had never seen before.

Ann gestured. “And these, here?”

“What is there I almost wish I’d not read.”

Ann clutched his sleeve. “Why? What did you read?”

His seemed to catch himself. He waved a dismissal, smiled briefly, and changed the subject.

“What I find the most troubling about the blank places in the books is their common thread. While not all of the missing text is in prophecy about Richard, I have determined that they all do have one thing in common.”

“And what would that be?”

Nathan held up a finger to emphasize his point. “Every one of the missing portions are in prophecies that pertain to a time after Richard was born. None of the prophecies that belong to a time before Richard’s birth, or thereabouts, have copy missing.”

Ann carefully clasped her hands together as she considered the mystery and how to solve the puzzle.

“Well,” she said at last, “There is one thing we could check. I could have Verna send a messenger to the Wizard’s Keep in Aydindril. Zedd is there protecting the place so that it can’t fall into Jagang’s hands. We could have Verna send a messenger and ask that Zedd check specific places in his copies of books we have here and see if they are missing the same text.”

“That’s a good idea,” Nathan said.

“With the extent of the libraries at the Keep, he’s bound to have a number of the classic books on prophecy that we recognize and have here.”

Nathan’s face brightened. “As a matter of fact, it would be even better if we could have Verna send someone to the People’s Palace in D’Hara. While I was there I spent a lot of time in the palace libraries. I clearly remember seeing copies of a number of these books. If we had someone check them, that would tell us if the books here are spelled, as you suggested, and the problem is confined to these editions, or if it’s some kind of wider phenomenon. We need to have Verna send someone to the People’s Palace at once.”

“That should be easy enough. Verna is just about to depart for the south. On their way they will no doubt be traveling near the People’s Palace.”

Nathan frowned down at her. “You heard from Verna? And she said she is heading south? Why?”

Ann’s mood sank. “I received a message from her earlier tonight—just before I came here.”

“And what did our young prelate have to say? Why is she traveling south?”

In resignation, Ann let out a deep sigh. “I’m afraid the news is not the best. She said that Jagang has split his army. He is taking part of his horde down around the mountains in order to sweep up into D’Hara from the south. Verna is leaving with a large contingent of the D’Haran forces to eventually stand and face the Order’s army.”

The blood drained from Nathan’s face.

“What did you say?” he whispered.

Ann puzzled at his wide-eyed look. “You mean, that Jagang split his army?”

She didn’t think it was possible, but the prophet’s face went even more ashen.

“Dear spirits preserve us,” he whispered. “It’s too soon. We’re not ready.”

Ann felt a tingling dread start at her toes and begin working its way up her legs. Her thighs prickled with gooseflesh. “Nathan, what are you talking about? What’s wrong?”

He turned and frantically searched the spines of the books stacked all over the tables. He finally found what he wanted in the middle of a pile and yanked it out, letting the rest of the stack topple over. He hurriedly leafed through the book, muttering to himself as he searched.

“Here it is,” he said as he pressed a finger to a page. “There are any number of prophecies down here that I’ve found in books I’ve never seen before. These prophecies surrounding the final battle are veiled to me—I cannot see them in visions—but the words are frightening enough. This one sums them up as clearly as any.”

He bent close and in the candlelight read to her from the book. “ ‘In the year of the cicadas, when the champion of sacrifice and suffering, under the banner of both mankind and the Light, finally splits his swarm, thus shall be the sign that prophecy has been awakened and the final and deciding battle is upon us. Be cautioned, for all true forks and their derivatives are tangled in this mantic root. Only one trunk branches from this conjoined primal origin. If fuer grissa ost drauka does not lead this final battle, then the world, already standing in the brink of darkness, will fall under that terrible shadow.’ ”

Fuer grissa ost drauka was one of the prophetic names for Richard. It was from a well-known prophecy in the ancient language of High D’Haran. Its translation was the bringer of death. To here call him by that name in this prophecy was a means of linking the two prophecies in a conjugate fork.

“If the cicadas should come this year,” Nathan said, “then that will verify that this prophecy is not just authentic but active.”

Ann’s knees felt weak. “The cicadas began to emerge today.”

Nathan stared down at her like the Creator Himself pronouncing judgment. “Then the chronology is fixed. The prophecies have all tumbled into place. Events are marked. The end is upon us.”

“Dear Creator protect us,” Ann whispered.

Nathan slipped the book into his pocket. “We must get to Richard.”

She was already nodding. “Yes, you’re right. There is no time to lose.”

Nathan glanced about. “We certainly can’t take all these books with us and there is no time to read them. We must seal this place back up, like it was, and leave immediately.”

Before Ann could add her agreement, Nathan swept out an arm. The candles all extinguished. Only the lantern on the corner of one of the tables remained lit. On his way past, he swept it up in his big hand.

“Come on,” he said.

Ann scurried to catch up with him, trying to stay in the small circle of light now that the odd room had been plunged into darkness. “Are you sure that we shouldn’t take any of these books?”

The prophet rushed into the narrow stairwell, the light funneling in with him. “We can’t be slowed down to carry them. Besides, which would we take?” He paused momentarily to look back over his shoulder. His face was all angles and sharp lines in the harsh lanternlight. “We already know what prophecy says and now, for the first time, we know the chronology. We must get to Richard. He has to be there at the battle when the armies clash or all will be lost.”

“Yes, and we will have to make sure that he is there to complete the word of prophecy.”

“We are in agreement, then,” he said as he turned and rushed onward up the stairs. The tunneled stairwell was so narrow and low that he had trouble making his way up.

At the top, they burst out into the night, to the shrill, buzzing song of the cicadas. Nathan called out for Tom and Jennsen. The trees gently swayed in the humid breeze as they waited for an answer. It seemed an eternity, but it was really only a moment before both Tom and Jennsen came running out of the darkness.

“What is it?” Jennsen asked, breathlessly.

The dark shadow of Tom towered at her side. “Is there trouble?”

“Grave trouble,” Nathan confirmed.

Ann thought that he might be a little more discreet about it, but as serious as the situation was, discretion probably was pointless. He pulled the book he had taken from the library out of his pocket. He opened it to a blank page where prophecy was missing.

“Tell me what this says.” he commanded, holding it out to Jennsen.

She frowned at him. “What it says? Nathan, it’s blank.”

He grumbled his discontent. “That means Subtractive was somehow involved. Subtractive is underworld magic, the power of death, so it affects her the same as us.”

Nathan turned back to Jennsen. “We have found prophecy that pertains to Richard. We must find him or Jagang will win the war.”

Jennsen gasped. Tom let out a low whistle.

“Do you know where he is?” Nathan asked.

Without hesitation, Tom turned a little and lifted an arm to point off into the night. His bond told him what their gift could not. “He is that way. Not a great distance, but not close, either.”

Ann peered into the darkness. “We’ll have to get our things together and be on our way at first light.”

“He’s on the move,” Tom said. “I doubt you will find him there in that spot by the time you get there.”

Nathan cursed under his breath. “There’s no telling where that boy is heading.”

“I’d guess that he is headed back to Altur’Rang,” Ann said.

“Yes, but what if he doesn’t stay there?” He laid a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “We will need you to come with us. You are one of the covert protectors to the Lord Rahl. This is important.”

Ann saw Tom’s hand gripped tightly around the knife at his belt. The silver hilt of that knife was emblazoned with the ornate letter “R,” standing for the House of Rahl. It was a rare knife carried by rare individuals who worked unseen to protect the life of the Lord Rahl.

“Of course,” Tom said.

“I’ll come as well,” Jennsen added in a rush. “I only have to get . . .”

“No,” Nathan said, silencing her. “We need you to stay here.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Ann said in a more sympathetic tone than Nathan had used, “you are Richard’s link with these people. They are in need of help in understanding the wider world only just opened to them. They are vulnerable to the Imperial Order and vulnerable to being used against us. They have only just made the choice to be part of our cause and part of the D’Haran Empire. Richard needs you to be here for now, and right now Tom’s place is with us and his duty to Richard.”

With panic in her eyes, she looked to Tom. “But I . . .”

“Jennsen,” Nathan said, his arm encircling her shoulders, “look there.” He pointed down the stairwell. “You know what’s down there. If anything happens to us, Richard may need to know as well. You must be here to guard this place for him. This is important—just as important as Tom coming with us. We’re not trying to spare you danger; this may in fact be more dangerous than going with us.”

Jennsen looked from Nathan’s eyes to Ann’s and reluctantly recognized how serious the situation was. “If you think Richard might need me here, then I must stay.”

Ann touched her fingertips to the underside of the young woman’s chin. “Thank you, child, for understanding the importance of this.”

“We must close this place up, like it was when I found it,” Nathan said, swirling his arms with his urgency. “I’ll show you the mechanism and how to make it function. Then we must get back to town and gather our things. We will only be able to snatch a few hours’ sleep before sunrise, but it can’t be helped.”

“It’s a long walk out of Bandakar,” Tom said. “After we’re over the mountain pass we’ll have to find some horses if we’re to catch Lord Rahl.”

“It’s decided then,” the prophet said. “Let’s get this tomb closed back up and be on our way.”

Ann frowned. “Nathan, this cache of books has been hidden under this gravestone for thousands of years. In all that lime no one has ever discovered it was there . . . Just how did you manage to find it?”

Nathan lifted an eyebrow. “Actually, I didn’t think it was all that difficult.” He stepped around to the front of the huge stone monument and waited for Ann to come closer. Once she had, he held up his lantern.

There, carved into the face of the ancient stone were but two words: