The Nomad

9

“Why must we be so afraid of Valsavis?” asked Ryana, her voice echoing in the darkness of the cavernous building. The sound of it startled her slightly, and she lowered her voice. “He may be skilled and dangerous, but could he really hope to stand against the three of us?”

“It is not Valsavis we must fear, but his master, Nibenay,” said the pyreen as she led the way. “That Valsavis was able to follow us so quickly proves what I had suspected all along. The magic I detected on him was some means for him to communicate with Nibenay. And with Valsavis here, the Shadow King has never been closer to uncovering the secret of the Sage.”

“Then the Sage is here?” said Sorak with amazement. “In Bodach?”

“No,” said Kara from the darkness just ahead. “But the secret to finding him is here.”

Ryana had no idea what that meant. She could barely see ahead of her, but she held onto Sorak’s arm, knowing he could see easily in the darkness, as could Kara. For his part, Sorak’s view was very different. He followed Kara down a wide, tiled corridor, past fluted stone columns that held up the roof high overhead. He had no idea what sort of building this once was. Some meeting hall, perhaps, or noble’s palace. Many of the tiles on which they walked were cracked, and some were missing. Here and there, the floor had buckled, and several times they stepped around some rubble where pieces of the ceiling had dropped down. He hoped the roof would not fall in on them. Near the entrance, sand had blown into the building, but now that they had gone farther inside, there was merely a thick layer of dust upon the floor. And after they had gone a little farther, he suddenly heard the last sound he would have expected to hear in such a place. “Water!” he said.

“Here?” Ryana said with disbelief, but a moment later, she could hear it, too. The unmistakable, old, familiar, trickling sound of water, like that of a babbling brook.

Ahead of them, Kara stopped and held her arms out, bent at the elbows, palms facing upward. She mumbled a spell under her breath, and there was the rushing sound of air being displaced, followed by a sudden spark of brightness that grew rapidly until it formed into a swirling ball of flame about the size of a large melon. Kara brought her arms up, moving them inward, then fanning them out, and the fireball divided into four smaller fireballs that whooshed across the room in four different directions, landing in four ancient iron braziers that suddenly erupted into flame, illuminating the large chamber in which they stood.

Sorak caught his breath, and Ryana gasped with astonishment at what they beheld. In front of them, taking up almost all of the floor space in the chamber, was a large, rectangular pool of water that sparkled in the firelight. In the center of the pool, there rose a stone fountain that sprayed water up into the air, recirculating and filtering the water in the pool. There was no way of telling how long it must have been here. Centuries, at least. And probably much longer.

“But... how can this be?” Ryana said with disbelief. It seemed to defy all rational explanation. “It is impossible!”

“You see it with your own eyes, do you not?” asked Kara, turning toward them.

“It must be some sort of trick,” said Sorak, “an illusion. One cannot always believe what one sees. How could there still be water in this pool after so many years? How could it still remain so clear? Where does it come from?”

“It comes from an underground spring deep beneath our feet,” said Kara, “under many layers of rock. The ancients truly had accomplished marvels in their time, during the age of science. This building was once a public bath. The fountain draws the water up from deep beneath the ground, and it is filtered by a system of porous rock that still serves its purpose after all these years. On the surface, Bodach appears to be a dead and ruined city, but there are many wonders to be found here if you know where to look, not the least of which is this.”

She walked over to the wall and reached into one of the recesses spaced at intervals around the pool and containing ornamental statues. She pulled a concealed lever. There must have been some sort of hidden counterbalance, for it moved easily. The arc of the fountain grew smaller, and after a moment, became no more than a trickle. And as they watched, the water in the tiled pool began to drain away. The water level dropped by inches, then by a foot, then farther still, and they could see something beneath the surface that they had not seen before for the darkness of the ceiling tiles, which reflected in the surface. As the water level dropped still farther, something metallic gleamed beneath it, and suddenly both Sorak and Ryana realized what they were seeing as the water drained away.

It was the fabled lost treasure of Bodach. As the water receded, they saw that the treasure filled the entire pool. It was an absolutely priceless hoard. They stared, open-mouthed, as thousands upon thousands of gold and silver coins gleamed in the soft firelight, among rubies, sapphires, emeralds, diamonds, amethysts, and other precious stones. There were jewel-encrusted weapons scattered throughout the pile of riches, glittering necklaces and tiaras and brooches, bracelets and arm bands, chains of office and medallions, ceremonial armor made from precious metals, a fortune that made those of the richest sorcerer-kings of Athas pale by comparison. In a world where metal of any kind had become so scarce that weapons made of iron commanded prices few could afford, here was a mountainous horde of precious metals and jewels that rivaled even the most fanciful depictions of the treasure in the legends.

“I cannot believe my eyes,” said Sorak, staring at the hoard with fascination. “Is all this real?”

“Yes, it is real,” said Kara. “Gathered over the years from all over the city and placed here by the undead, who were driven by some vague instinct left over from their days among the living, when they came to Bodach seeking riches, and found instead an eternal living death. Each night, if there is no prey within the city for them to pursue, they shamble through the ruined buildings and the cellars and the storehouses, seeking the wealth they once came here to find. An old chest of jewels in the residence of some long-dead aristocrat, a ceremonial golden dagger in a dusty council chamber, found by some animated corpse and polished lovingly, then brought here and dumped with all the rest. Bit by bit, the horde accumulates. It is much larger now than when first I came.”

“But... why do they bring it here?” asked Sorak.

Kara shrugged. “I cannot say. The undead are not rational creatures. Their minds, if they have not rotted away, are incapable of coherent thought. They are like simple beasts, driven by hunger and by instincts they cannot truly understand. If they were not so horrifying and so dangerous, they would be pathetic.”

“And the Breastplate of Argentum is somewhere among all this?” said Sorak, aghast. “How could we ever find it?”

“It was not here when I first came to Bodach,” Kara said. “Of course, I was not searching for it then, but for something else entirely. However, when I found this precious horde, I detected nothing magical within it. Since then, they may have found the talisman and brought it here. They would not know what it was. To the undead, it would merely be a breastplate made of silver. But if it is here, at least it will not be near the bottom of the pile.”

“But even so, finding it among all this would take forever!” said Ryana with a sinking feeling as she realized the sheer impossibility of searching through all the treasure piled before them. “And we have only hours until nightfall!” The task seemed utterly impossible and hopeless. “We shall never find it if it lies buried among all this!”

“Perhaps not,” said Kara. “But this had to be the first place for us to look. If there is now a magical talisman within this horde, I shall know it in a moment. But I can detect only the aura of its magic. I cannot be absolutely certain it is the talisman we seek. Still, it would have enormous power, and that should help identify it.”

She closed her eyes and held her hands out toward the treasure horde, palms facing down. Sorak and Ryana held their breath as Kara slowly moved her hands in a gradual, sweeping motion.

“Yes,” she said, after a moment. “There is, something ... something very strong....”

“Where?” asked Sorak, scanning the pile anxiously.

A moment,” Kara said, trying to localize the aura she was picking up. She opened her eyes. “There,” she said, pointing. “At the far end of the pool, near the righthand corner.”

Sorak and Ryana ran to the area she indicated and stared down at the pile of treasure in the nearly drained pool. “I do not see anything that looks the way it was described,” said Sorak. “Can you pinpoint the location more precisely?”

Kara came over to them. “I will try,” she said. She closed her eyes and held her hands out once again. “There,” she said, pointing to an area roughly four feet out from the side of the pool.

Sorak started to lower himself over the side, but. Ryana stopped him. “No, not like that,” she said. “It would take forever to sort through it all by hand, and you may cut yourself on something in the pile. It would be much better if we used the Way.”

“Of course,” he said with a grimace. “How stupid of me. In my enthusiasm, I simply was not thinking.”

They both stood beside the pool. Ryana closed her eyes and concentrated as Sorak slipped back and allowed the Guardian to come forth. Kara stood by, concentrating on the magical aura of the talisman to help guide them in their efforts.

For a moment, nothing happened, and then several of the objects on top of the pile of treasure shifted slightly with a clinking sound. Then they rose up into the air, as if something had forced them up from underneath, and the next moment, it was as if another fountain had suddenly been turned on, an invisible fountain that spewed pieces of the treasure horde up into the air, flying outward from the spot Kara had indicated and landing atop the treasure pile several feet away.

As the Guardian and Ryana combined their telekinetic powers, jewels and coins seemed to erupt into the air, sparkling in the firelight from the braziers. Necklaces and rings and bracelets made of gold and silver and studded with precious stones flew up and landed a short distance away, raining down upon the pile of treasure with metallic, clinking sounds. As bits and pieces of the treasure horde were thrown up into the air, Sorak, Ryana, and Kara watched for the glint of silver breastplate made of chain mail.

Sorak was reminded of the exercises they had done as children back at the villichi convent, lifting objects into the air with the power of their minds and holding them there for as long as they could, juggling balls and making them describe graceful arabesques in midair. As a boy, he had found those exercises difficult, frustrating, and pointless, and could never move so much as one little ball with the power of his mind, no matter how hard he concentrated. He would exert himself until his face turned red and sweat started to break out on his forehead, all to no avail, only to execute the exercise successfully the moment he gave up. He had not known then that it was not he but the Guardian who was doing it, that he himself had no psionic powers, but that others of the tribe did. He had not yet known about the tribe then. All he knew back then was that there were periods when he seemed to black out, often to awaken somewhere else, with no memory of what he had been doing or how he got there. With the help of Varanna, High Mistress of the villichi sisterhood, he had discovered the truth about his other personalities, and she had helped him forge a link with them so that they could all work together instead of competing for control of the same body. The Guardian, as the strong, maternal, balancing force among, them, had worked together with Varanna to help the tribe find a sense of unity and cohesiveness.

Now, all Sorak had to do was slip back slightly so that he was still aware of what was: going on but watching, with no real control over his body, as the Guardian came to the fore and brought her strong psionic powers into play. With Ryana adding her ability to the Guardian’s, object after precious object sailed up into the air, as if some indefatigable invisible worker were throwing up shovelfuls of treasure that spun, glittering, through the air. Precious coins that had not been minted in any Athasian city for countless generations because of the rarity of metals pattered down by the dozens like gold and silver raindrops. Daggers made of elven steel, a long and complex forging process that had been forgotten for several thousand years, came up from the shining horde and fell again, to be buried once more under hammered gold tiaras and silver girdles, intricately worked pieces of ceremonial armor. All gave testimony to an age when Athas had been a very different world. It glowed as it came up from the pile, its glow was not immediately perceptible, merely a faint, blue aura that could have been nothing more than a trick of the firelight from the braziers. But now, as it floated in midair above the treasure horde, they could see that it was, indeed, glowing with some inner power of its world, indeed, abundant in the natural resources that had provided the metals and the gems for the construction of these ornaments by master craftsmen, whose descendants saw such materials only rarely, in the form of ancient, cherished heirlooms handed down through the generations among the old families of the wealthy aristocracy.

A depression began to form in the area of the pool that they were excavating in this unique manner. Bits of treasure started sliding down into it, only to be thrown up again and hurled aside. The tinkling and chinking of metallic objects made a strange, ethereal sound as it continued, like some giant, many-stranded wind chime being blown about. And then Kara cried out, “There!”

One by one, the pieces of treasure filling the air fell to the surface of the pile until only one object remained, held up by the power of the Guardian’s psionic talent. And among the other objects making up the treasure horde, this one looked dull and ordinary except for one thing that set it apart from all the other pieces they had seen.

It was a breastplate made of small, intricate links of gleaming, silver chain mail, not really a proper breastplate at all, since no metal plate was used. It seemed a peculiar and impractical piece since it was designed in such a fashion that it covered only the chest, leaving the back, arms, and shoulders unprotected. It looked like ceremonial armor, the wearer’s back remaining comfortably bare beneath a light cape or cloak. The breastplate was constructed to be fastened around the neck and waist, covering only the front part of the upper torso from the waist to the collarbone. But there own.

“The Breastplate of Argentum,” Kara said softly. “I have heard of it in legends, but I had never truly thought to see it for myself.”

The talisman floated over to Sorak, guided by the Guardian, and she then slipped back as he came to the fore once again. The glowing talisman dropped into his waiting hands. It was heavier than it looked.

“What is its purpose?” Sorak asked, staring down at it. “What is the nature of its spell?”

“Put it on,” said Kara with a smile.

Sorak glanced up at her uncertainly, then did as she had told him. He fastened it around his neck, then again at the waist, feeling the weight of it... and something else, as well. As he put it on, his chest began to tingle strangely, as if with hundreds of tiny, minute pinpricks. It was not painful, but it felt similar to the sensation he’d experienced when he sat too long in one position and his legs would fall asleep.

The sensation spread quickly to his arms and legs, and the blue glow grew brighter for an instant, flaring briefly, then subsiding as it seemed to fade into him. And when blue glow of the talisman faded from sight ... so did he.

“Sorak!” Ryana cried out with alarm. It had happened quickly. Just a brief flaring of the blue glow, and then he faded away, completely disappearing from sight.

“What is it?” his disembodied voice asked, speaking from where he had stood a moment earlier, and apparently still stood, though Ryana could not see a thing. It was as if he wasn’t even there.

“Sorak?” asked Ryana, straining to catch some glimpse of him. She could tell from the sound of his voice that he stood right in front of her, but she saw absolutely nothing.

“What?” he asked again. “What’s wrong, Ryana? You seem alarmed. What is the matter?”

She stretched her hand out tentatively until she felt it come in contact with his face, and then she jerked it back again.

“What are you doing?” he asked irritably. And then, realizing that something was wrong from the expression on her face, he nervously added, “Has something happened to me?”

“You’re ... you’re not there!” she said with astonishment.

“What are you talking about? Of course, I am here. I am standing right in front of you! Can’t you see me?”

“No,” she said, in a small, frightened voice. “You have become invisible!”

For a moment, he was silent. He raised his hand up in front of his face. He could see it clearly, but apparently, Ryana could not see a thing. He stepped around quietly behind her. She continued staring at the spot where he had stood a moment earlier. He tapped her on the shoulder. She gasped and spun around, her gaze searching for him in vain.

“You really cannot see me?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Kara?” he asked. “Can you see me?”

“I can hear you,” she replied, her senses being sharper than any human’s. “I can hear the faint fall of your footsteps, and in the stillness, I can hear your breathing. But I cannot see you. No one can, Sorak, not so long as you wear the Breastplate of Argentum.”

“A talisman of invisibility!” said Sorak with wonder. He tiptoed around behind Ryana and once again tapped her on the shoulder. She jerked around, startled.

“Stop that!” she said. “Where are you?” He chuckled. “This is fun,” he said. “Well, I don’t think it’s very funny,” she replied, irritably. “Take it off!”

“Not yet,” he said, and Ryana heard the soft fall of his footsteps as he moved around her. “This is a strange and wondrous experience! I feel no different, save for a momentary, curious tingling sensation that I felt when I first put it on. I see everything clearly, just as before. I look down at my legs, and I can still see them. I hold my hand up before my face, and I can see it, too. But you and Kara see nothing? Not even the faintest disturbance in the air?”

Ryana shook her head. “No, not a thing,” she said. “And it is most unsettling. I wish that you would take it off.”

“What about the undead, Kara?” Sorak asked. “Would I be invisible to them, as well?”

“Most of the undead no longer have eyes,” said Kara, “yet still they ‘see,’ in a manner of speaking. They would sense your presence. Unfortunately, the Breastplate of Argentum would not safeguard you from them.”

“Pity,” Sorak said. “Does it do anything else?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Kara replied. “But it is imbued with an ancient, eldritch power that perhaps the Sage would use in some other way. I cannot tell. I am a pyreen and a druid, not a sorceress. Only the Sage could tell you what use he would make of its enchantment.”

“Where is the Sage?” Ryana asked her. “Do you know? Can’t you tell us? Is he near?”

“No,” said Kara. “He is very far away. But in another sense, he is nearer than you think.”

Ryana sighed with exasperation. “Do you never reply with anything but riddles, my lady?”

Kara smiled. “Sometimes,” she said. “And speaking of time, we had best be on our way if we do not wish Valsavis to find us.”

“He has already found you,” came a familiar voice, echoing through the chamber.

Kara and Ryana turned quickly to see Valsavis step into the room, his sword drawn.

“Did you really think you could leave me behind so easily?” he said. “And did you truly believe you could mislead me by leaving your flying platform in plain sight on the other side of the city? Or did you forget that a roc can spy its prey from a great distance, hundreds of feet above the-” and then his words caught in his throat as he saw the treasure horde spread out before him in the pool. “Gith’s blood!” he swore.

Ryana gazed at him impassively from the other end of the chamber. “Yes, Valsavis,” she said. “You have found the fabled, lost treasure of Bodach. And you are more than welcome to it. It should make you rich beyond your wildest dreams. Richer than any aristocrat, wealthier even than any sorcerer-king, including Nibenay, your master. Though, of course, how you will transport it may prove something of a problem.”

As she spoke, Sorak, still wearing the enchanted talisman, quietly began to circle around the pool.

“Where is the elfling?” Valsavis said, recovering from his astonishment. “Who?” asked Ryana innocently. Valsavis glanced quickly around the chamber. “He is here somewhere,” he said. “If you think to trick me, then-” and suddenly he paused, listening intently.

Sorak glanced down at his feet and silently cursed. His foot had struck a bracelet that had landed on the lip of the pool and knocked it in. It fell into the treasure pile with a clinking sound.

“Are you jumping at shadows now, Valsavis?” asked Ryana, seeking to distract him. She could not tell where Sorak was, but she could guess what he was doing.

“Sorak!” Valsavis called out. “I know you’re there! I heard you moving! Come out where I can see you!” Sorak did not reply. He continued moving toward Valsavis, placing his feet softly and carefully.

“Why do you hide, Sorak?” asked Valsavis, his gaze sweeping the chamber. “What do you have to fear from me? You are a master of the Way, with a magic sword no other weapon can withstand. And I... I am only one old man, with no talismans or magic weapons. No psionic powers. Am I such a threat to you?”

“Not you, Valsavis, but your master, the Shadow King,” said Ryana, hoping to draw his attention and cover up any sounds Sorak might make.

Valsavis felt a tingling on his left hand as the eyelid of the ring opened.

Kara frowned and quickly held out her hand toward him. “Nibenay is here!” she said with alarm.

“I can sense his presence!”

Sorak slowly drew his sword. And as he did so, Ryana gasped involuntarily. Sorak was still unseen, but Galdra’s magic blade was clearly visible. The magic of the Breastplate of Argentum did not affect the enchanted elven steel. And Sorak did not know it.

Valsavis saw the blade approaching, apparently floating toward him of its own accord, and quickly turned to face it, his eyes growing wide with surprise. At once, he took a fighting stance.

“Sorak!” Ryana called out. “Your blade! He can see it!”

Startled, Sorak stopped, still about eight or nine feet from the mercenary.

“So,” Valsavis said, “that is the power of the talisman. It confers invisibility.” He snorted with derision. “Were you so afraid to face me that you had to approach by stealth?”

Sorak reached behind him with his left hand and unfastened the breastplate, first at the waist, then at the neck. It fell to the ground at his feet, rendering him visible once more. “Very well,” he said. “Now you see me. The next move is yours, Valsavis.”

“As you wish,” Valsavis said with a smile. And, to their surprise, he sheathed his sword.

Sorak narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Now what?” asked Valsavis, raising his eyebrows and folding his muscular arms across his chest.

“What are you up to, Valsavis?” Sorak asked uncertainly.

“I? Why, nothing. I am merely standing here.”

“Take care, Sorak!” Ryana shouted. “Nibenay will use him as a conduit for his power!”

“No,” said Valsavis. “He shall not. I am no sorcerer, but even I know that such an act would require a great expenditure of power, and the Shadow King hoards his powers jealously. The metamorphosis always remains his first priority. Besides, there is no need for me to depend upon the Shadow King. As you can see, I have sheathed my sword. It has served me well these many years and I have no wish to see it break upon that magic, elvish blade.”

“Watch out, Sorak!” cried Ryana. “He has some trick in mind!”

Valsavis shrugged. “No tricks,” he said. “Go on, elfling. Now is your chance to be rid of me, once and for all. So ... strike.”

“Damn you,” Sorak said, lowering his blade. Valsavis smiled. “You see?” he said. “I had complete faith in you. You would not hesitate to fight if I attacked. But you would not -kill an unarmed man who offers no resistance. That would be murder. Being a preserver does have certain disadvantages.”

“What do you want, Valsavis?” Sorak demanded, an edge in his voice.

Valsavis glanced down at the talisman, lying on the tiled floor and glowing faintly. “That... for a start.”

“You shall not have it.”

“Well, perhaps not right this moment, but we shall see,” Valsavis said. “You managed to shake me loose once. You shall not do it a second time. I will stay right on your heels until you lead me to your master. And there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

“I would not be so sure,” said Sorak, sheathing Galdra. “You were right, Valsavis. I cannot not kill a man who simply stands there and offers no resistance. But I can knock him senseless.”

Valsavis grinned and uncrossed his arms, putting his fists on his hips. “You? Knock me senseless? Now that is something I would like to see.”

“Very well, then,” Sorak said. “Watch.”

He slipped back and allowed the Guardian to the fore. Abruptly, a small, silver coin came flying up out of the treasure horde and spun across the chamber with a soft, rushing sound like an arrow flying through the air. It struck Valsavis hard in the side of his head, just above his ear. Valsavis flinched, recoiling, and brought his hand up to the spot. It came away wet with a drop of blood. Another coin followed, and then another, and another, and another. Bracelets, jewels, golden plates and silver goblets, amulets and more coins followed in rapid succession as Valsavis backed away and brought his arms up to protect his face. More and more pieces of the treasure came flying up out of the pool, hurtling toward him with great speed and force, striking him about the head and body, cutting him and raising painful welts and bruises.

Valsavis staggered backward, crying out, not so much with pain as with rage and frustration. His arms could not ward off all the objects that came flying at him, striking with greater and greater force. He spun around, doubling over, trying to hunch down and make himself a smaller target, all to no avail. The hail of treasure continued relentlessly as Ryana joined her power to the Guardian’s, and they hurled one piece after another at him, taking care to make sure that none of them were swords or daggers or other objects that could kill.

Roaring with rage, Valsavis reeled back and slammed into a support column, stunning himself. He dropped to his hands and knees, leaving his head uncovered, and the Guardian took that opportunity to levitate a heavy silver tray and bring it down hard upon his skull. Valsavis collapsed, unconscious, to the riled floor.

“Well, you did say you wanted to see it,” Sorak said, gazing down at him. He stepped forward, walking over the litter of treasure on the floor, and crouched over the prostrate mercenary, looking him over carefully. “Hmmm. That is a rather interesting ring.” He reached for it. “Don’t touch it!” Kara shouted suddenly. As Sorak drew back his hand and glanced toward her, startled by her cry, they rushed over to him.

Valsavis lay, stretched out, on the floor. On his left hand, the heavy, golden ring was clearly visible. And from it, a malevolent, yellow eye with a vertical pupil stared out at them. It was the hate-filled gaze of Nibenay, the Shadow King.

“If you touch it, you will establish a link with him,” said Kara. “And then you will be lost.”

“Then I shall use the Way,” said Sorak. “No,” said Kara, putting a restraining hand on his arm. “That will be the same as coming into contact with it. Come away. Leave it alone. To touch it is to be defiled.”

“We should at least tie him up so that he cannot follow us again,” said Ryana.

“And leave him helpless for the undead to find?” said Sorak. He shook his head. “No. We cannot do that, little sister, tempting as it may be. That would be the same as killing him right now, while he lies senseless.”

“That would not stop the Veiled Alliance,” said Ryana, a hard edge to her voice. “They would not hesitate to slit the bastard’s throat.”

“We are not the Veiled Alliance,” Sorak replied. “They may be preservers like us, it is true, but they are not druids, and they have compromised the purity of their vows for the expediency of their purpose. That is not our way.”

“The Sage does not seem to hold their methods against them,” said Ryana.

“Perhaps not,” said Sorak. “The Sage needs whatever allies he can find. But do you hold true to your principles for yourself, or for the sake of someone else?”

Ryana smiled wanly. “Those are Varanna’s words,” she said. “I had lost count of how many times I’d heard them.”

“They often bear repeating,” Sorak said.

Ryana sighed. “You are right, of course. It would be nothing less than murder to leave him here tied up. Tempting as it may be, it would be no different than executing him.”

“No, it would not,” said Sorak. “And when it comes to that, what has he really done to merit being killed?”

Ryana glanced at him with surprise. “How can you say that? He serves the Shadow King!”

“Yes,” Sorak agreed, “he does. And he has also saved our lives. I might have died with that marauder arrow in my back, or else been eaten by some predator while I lay helpless if he had not given me aid. And he came with me to rescue you from the marauders.”

“I would have escaped, regardless,” she said.

“Perhaps,” said Sorak. “But that does not alter what he did. And do not forget what happened when we were set upon by the marauders in Salt View.”

“He only came to our aid because he needed us alive to lead him to the Sage,” Ryana said.

“But the fact remains that he did come to our aid, on several occasions,” Sorak said. “And all he has really done was follow us.”

“And once we had found the Sage, what would he do then?” Ryana asked.

“I cannot judge a man on what he might do, or even what it is probable he will do,” said Sorak. “I can only judge him by what he has done. That is all any of us can do, Ryana. To do otherwise would be to stray too far from the Path. Further, certainly, than I would be willing to go.”

“You are very wise for one so young,” said Kara. “Am I?” Sorak asked. He shook his head. “I am not so sure of that. Sometimes I think that wisdom is merely fear of acting foolishly.”

“The knowledge that one can be foolish is the first step on the path to wisdom,” Kara said. “Now come, quickly. It will be growing dark soon, and it is time for you to see the true lost treasure of Bodach.”

They hurried outside. It was already late in the afternoon, and the sun was low on the horizon. The shadows were lengthening. And a large bank of dark clouds was moving in from the east, coming in fast over the Sea of Silt.

“A storm is approaching,” Kara said apprehensively.

“It is only a desert monsoon,” replied Ryana. “It will probably pass quickly.”

“I do not think it is the rain she is concerned about,” said Sorak. “Those clouds will blot out the sun, and it will grow dark early.”

Ryana suddenly understood, and she licked her lips nervously. “The undead will rise.”

Kara moistened her fingertip and tested the wind, which had increased significantly. “It is coming in very fast,” she said. “Quickly. We do not have much time.”

A shadow suddenly fell over them, and a shrill, piercing cry echoed through the deserted streets. They turned quickly. The roc was perched atop the building they had just emerged from, its huge wingspan darkening the plaza. Its giant head bent down toward them as it raised its wings and snapped its powerful beak hungrily.

“Nibenay,” said Sorak, quickly unsheathing Galdra. “He still controls the bird.”

Ryana barely had time to draw her sword before the roc leapt off the roof and came swooping down at them, its huge, powerful talons outstretched. She dodged to one side, barely avoiding the roc’s gigantic claw. She landed on the ground and rolled, coming up with her sword ready.

Sorak had waited until the last possible instant, then darted forward, underneath the roc’s outstretched talons. He swung Galdra in a powerful overhand stroke aimed at the giant bird’s lower quarters. The blade barely brushed the roc’s feathers, cutting several of them as, with a deafening screech, the bird landed just behind him.

“Kara!” Sorak shouted over the deafening screeching of the roc. “Make it stop!”

“It will not respond to me!” cried Kara. “Nibenay’s will is too strong! I cannot control the creature!”

“Stay back!” shouted Sorak, circling around the bird as it turned toward them, its wings folded back and up, its huge beak snapping as its head darted back and forth between him and Ryana. It lunged at Ryana. She ducked beneath its snapping beak and swung her sword with both hands. It struck against the roc’s beak, and it felt like she had struck a stout agafari tree. The shock of the impact ran all the way down her arms and into her shoulders. For a moment, she felt numb. The bird’s head darted down toward her again, and she leapt, diving to the ground and rolling away.

Sorak ran in toward the bird, but before he could strike, it jumped aside, turning as it did so and sweeping out with its wings. One wing caught Sorak in the side, and he fell, almost losing his grip on Galdra. But by that time, Ryana had regained her feet and came in at the roc from the other side, thrusting at its flank.

The giant bird shrieked as Ryana’s sword entered its side. The roc twisted toward her, craning its neck around to snap at her. She recoiled, barely avoiding having her head bitten off. Sorak, meanwhile, quickly regained his feet. He took several running steps and leapt, stretching out, diving directly beneath the bird. He swung out with Galdra and the elven steel struck one of the roc’s legs, passing completely, effortlessly, through it.

The roc screeched with pain as its leg was severed, and it collapsed to the ground, directly on top of Sorak. Ryana rushed in and thrust at it again, her sword entering the creature’s breast as the roc threw its head back and screamed at the sky. Its head arced down to snap at her again, but Ryana leapt aside and came in once more, thrusting deeply just beneath the bird’s right wing. The roc emitted a long, drawn-out, ear-piercing shriek and fell over heavily on its side with a loud crash. It thrashed several times, then died.

“Sorak!” Ryana shouted. “Sorak!”

“Here,” he called out.

She ran around to the other side of the bird’s carcass. Sorak was dragging himself out from underneath it, freed when the roc fell over. He had been pinned by the bird’s crushing weight, unable to move, and Ryana helped him to his feet. He was covered with the creature’s blood.

“Are you all right?” Ryana asked him anxiously.

“Yes,” he replied, taking a deep breath. “Merely winded. I could not breathe under there.”

“Catch your breath quickly,” Kara said, coming up beside them. She pointed at the sky.

The storm was moving in fast as the dark clouds scudded across the setting sun, blotting out its light. One large cloud moved across it, darkening the sky, and then the sun peeked out again briefly, and then another cloud moved across, blotting it out once more, There was more light when it passed, and then the main body of the cloud bank swept across the sun, and it disappeared from sight, plunging the streets into darkness.

Night had come early to Bodach.

For a moment, they simply stood there in the sudden darkness, staring at the clouds that had moved in to block the sun. The wind picked up as the storm moved in, blowing dust and sand through the streets in swirling eddies. Lightning flashed, stabbing down at the ground, and thunder rolled ominously. And, in the distance, they heard another sound ... a long, low wail that rose in pitch and fell again. It seemed to echo down toward them from the deserted streets coming into the plaza, and a moment later, it was repeated, and joined by several more in a grim, chilling, ululating chorus. Night had fallen, and the ancient, ruined city of Bodach was suddenly no longer deserted.

“They rise,” said Kara.