Shroud of Eternity

CHAPTER 57

Even after years of studying in the Cliffwall archives, Oliver had learned more in a few months of journeying across the Old World than he had ever acquired from books. He and Peretta had both absorbed the details of the uncharted landscape, working their way over the mountains to the sea, then sailing north to breathtaking cities.

And now the two were going home at last, their minds filled with more than a lifetime of adventures.

Captain Norcross and fifty soldiers had remained behind in Renda Bay to help the villagers build fortifications, manufacture weapons, and prepare to defend themselves against raiders from the sea. Town leader Thaddeus was breathless with gratitude. “The Norukai are sure to come back. They always do. We fought back and maybe stung them a little, but they won in each case, no matter what we did.”

“The next time,” General Zimmer said before heading out with the rest of the expeditionary force, “you will deal them a much more painful wound. Captain Norcross will make sure of that.”

Norcross gave his sister Amber a farewell embrace before the line of troops departed inland, following the river road. Oliver and Peretta led the line, sharing a horse, because there were not enough mounts for all the soldiers in the expeditionary force.

Even with the mild voyage down from Serrimundi, ten horses had perished belowdecks. Such beasts were not meant to be kept for long in the hold. Oliver had felt sorry about the poor animals, but knew that the remaining horses would face even more horrific conditions if they went to an actual war.…

Lost in his thoughts, Oliver shuddered as they rode along the river with the hundred eager soldiers, who were supposedly the best fighters in the D’Haran army. Seated in front of him on the saddle, Peretta turned around to look at him. “What’s wrong? I felt you shiver.”

“I just had a thought about war.” He realized how close he was holding her, both of them crowded in the saddle. She was thin and bony, and he felt her spine press against his chest, but somehow he found it pleasant.

Her dark ringlets of hair stirred in the breeze that whispered up the wide river. “Why would you think of war?”

“Because of these soldiers and the horses.”

“Then you must not have been listening to what the prelate and the general told us. The wars are over and the Imperial Order has been defeated. Lord Rahl opened the whole world to peace and prosperity, and we’re part of it. Nicci said so herself. It’s good news.”

“Then why do we need all these soldiers?” he asked. “Why does D’Hara require such a large army in the first place?”

“Why, to make certain the peace stays that way.” She huffed and looked forward again. “You worry too much.”

The horses walked double-file along the wide river road. The expedition made good time for days, crossed the foothills, and then descended into the next valley, where they found the remnants of imperial roads.

Each night at camp, the two scholars joined Prelate Verna and the general for dinner in his command tent. Zimmer studied each day’s charts, which were updated regularly by his staff cartographers. Verna was interested to hear tales of Cliffwall and the magical knowledge stored there. Peretta could recite many of the tomes verbatim—and often did so, long past the point where even the prelate seemed interested. Oliver was more careful to choose his stories, and to tell them well.

As they sat around the central wooden table in the general’s tent, eating portions of a wild turkey one of the scouts had brought down with an arrow, Oliver told more background of Cliffwall. “Before the great wizard wars, when magic was outlawed and the gifted were hunted down, when magical libraries were seized or torched, some wizards realized that the only way to preserve knowledge for the future was to hide it. For years, as Sulachan’s armies swept across the Old World conquering city after city, the wizards secretly gathered all the important writings they could find and constructed a treasure trove of arcane lore. They found an isolated spot in unknown canyons deep in the high desert. There, they built the Cliffwall library and spent years stockpiling books and scrolls, stashing the knowledge where it would be safe from Sulachan’s grasp.

“Many wizards were slain, but they kept the secret. Cliffwall grew, its shelves and vaults filled with thousands of the most important books ever written.” He took another bite of the juicy turkey meat, drawing out the pause. “Then they created a camouflage shroud to cover the cliff archive, so it looked like nothing more than a canyon wall. That library remained preserved for three thousand years.” Peretta handed him a napkin, and he self-consciously wiped his lips. “But now a new generation of scholars can study the books.”

“One of the memmers discovered a way to break down the camouflage shroud about fifty years ago,” Peretta said, and a troubled look crossed her face as she pressed her lips together. “Victoria. She caused problems of her own, but she did open up Cliffwall again. No one had been able to do that for centuries, although many had tried.”

“You keep speaking of memmers, but you never explained exactly what they are,” General Zimmer said, discarding a turkey bone and peeling a strip of golden-brown skin with his fingers, then slipping it into his mouth.

The young woman was happy to explain. “The memmers were gifted scholars who had a mission to preserve all that knowledge in another way. We memorized it. All of it. We read and preserved scroll after scroll, committing every word to memory, while the camouflage shroud was in place.”

“For three thousand years?” Verna asked. “Dear spirits, was there a preservation web implanted in the cliffs? How did you survive so long?”

“Oh, we live a normal life span,” Peretta said. “The memmers pass their knowledge along from generation to generation. For millennia, we were the only ones who knew all the prophecies, all the spells, and all the history hidden away.”

Oliver interrupted, “But now everyone can read the books for themselves.” Seeing Peretta flinch, he mollified her. “Oh, the memmers are still a valuable resource. They can call upon their own knowledge much more quickly than a scholar like me can read shelves of books to find a specific stanza or turn of phrase. It’s best if the memmers and scholars work together.” He took one of the unclaimed turkey legs and used a table knife to slice off half of the meat, offering it to Peretta, who accepted it as an apparent peace offering.

“I will be glad when my Sisters and I can study some of that library,” Prelate Verna said. “It makes me nervous to know that so many dangerous spells are in the hands of untrained amateurs. We can help.”

Oliver distracted himself with a second hard camp biscuit. The prelate was right. No one would forget the painful debacle of the Lifedrinker, when a scholar accidentally unleashed a terrible magic that destroyed all life for miles around, or the equally ill-considered restoration spell worked by Victoria, who created deadly jungles so rampant they might have swallowed the world. After he swallowed his dry biscuit, Oliver said, “We will be very glad to have you there guiding us.”

The next day, the large contingent of soldiers rode across the valley and up into the mountains, encountering occasional villages. When they reached the town of Lockridge, they found a flurry of rebuilding efforts and freshly planted crops, even though it was late in the season. Intrepid townspeople had ventured down the old roads and into the hills to reestablish trade with other villages around the mountains.

Mayor Raymond Barre welcomed the line of troops, recognizing Oliver and Peretta from when they had passed through weeks earlier. Nicci, Nathan, and Bannon had liberated Lockridge and all the other local towns from the accursed Adjudicator, who pronounced people guilty and transformed them into statues. Nicci and Nathan had killed the Adjudicator and broken the spell, and Lockridge and other towns were all just getting back on their feet. No one had yet been able to determine how many years, or even centuries, they had remained petrified, but they were getting on with their lives now.

“We have little food to resupply such a large force,” Mayor Barre said apologetically, “but we have some grain and smoked sausages. We can make a large pot of goat stew to feed you and your men.”

“Goat stew! That would be most appreciated,” said General Zimmer. “We are glad for your hospitality. Our soldiers will use the water from your well, and my top officers would sleep in your inn.”

“We could find at least twenty beds among our available homes,” Barre said. “The rest will have to camp. We’ll find good places for them.”

Zimmer smiled. “I’ll have my men draw lots to choose who gets to sleep on a straw tick instead of the hard ground. And we will help with the food where we can.”

He dispatched several of his best hunters into the forest, and they returned with two deer, which they added to the feast. The people of Lockridge celebrated the hope that the D’Haran army brought them, the reassurance of a peace that would last for years to come.

Peretta sat next to Oliver as they ate, enjoying the goat, bean, and barley stew. The young woman’s gaze was distant as she leaned closer to him. “When we came through here before, I had no idea how wide the world was or how far we had traveled. We had come so far by the time we got here!” She laughed. “And now that we’re back in Lockridge, it seems we’re almost home.”

“We are almost home.” He patted her forearm, then withdrew shyly. “We’ll make it, I promise.”

The two of them slept on blankets outside in the town square. They didn’t even draw straws for a chance at a bed. By now, Oliver was accustomed to warm nights under the open starry skies, and he didn’t mind bedding down next to Peretta.

They set off into the mountains, following the road that crossed ridge after ridge, climbing higher until they reached the summit of a large divide. Gazing down into the huge, open valley, Oliver caught his breath and stared. Squinting, he could make out patches of green, the flowing silver of a river, irregularly shaped mirrors of lakes, even geometrical squares of newly planted cropland.

It took him a long moment to recognize what he was seeing. “That used to be the Scar!”

“Does that mean we’re close to Cliffwall?” asked Verna. She sounded weary and eager at the same time.

“Closer than we were yesterday,” Peretta said. “Still many days yet.”

Oliver couldn’t contain his excitement. “That was all barren desolation not long ago, drained dry by the Lifedrinker. Then it became a bastion of impenetrable forest, thanks to Victoria.”

Peretta said, “But now the world is returning to normal again, thanks to Nicci.” She stretched out her hand toward the vast valley. “We have to go down there, around the rim, then up into the high desert. See the plateau there on the horizon? The canyons and Cliffwall are there.”

Oliver sat behind her on the horse, felt her firm body against him. He spoke more for Peretta’s benefit than for anyone else’s. “Yes, we’re almost home.”