Citadels of the Lost (36 page)

“By the gods!” Drakis gasped in wonder. He turned, calling to their guide at the back of the first boat. “What is this place, Ishander?”

The youth's gaze was fixed forward, his jaw set. “It is . . . just another ruin of the lost time. It is nothing.”

“Nothing?” Drakis was incredulous. “Surely it has a name!”

“No name,” Ishander said flatly. “We must go on.”

“There isn't the equal of this in all the known empires and kingdoms . . . not in Aeria, Oerania or Exylia,” Ethis said, a tone of suspicion slipping into his voice. “You have known the names of nearly every broken stone on the banks of the river from Pythar to the Cascades . . . and yet you do not know the name . . .”

“It is the Koram Devnet,” the Lyric said cheerfully.

Drakis turned to the Lyric in surprise. The woman had sat silently in the bottom of the second boat for the last three days, not saying a word to anyone since her outburst in the sanctuary of the Fordrim.

“Koram . . . what?”

“Koram Devnet,” the Lyric replied with a smile. “It was built by the Third Dynasty King almost two thousand years ago and would long ago have fallen to ruin except that the Aether defended it for centuries, holding its structure in place and protecting it from assault. It was a symbol of the unification of Khorypistan, Tyrania, and Armethia. In the ancient speech it means ‘Unity at the Divergence.'”

“Divergence?” Jugar puzzled, his brows furrowed. “What divergence?”

“The divergence of the Rivers Tyra and Havnis,” the Lyric answered happily.

“She's right,” Ethis shouted, gazing from the bow. “The river splits near the base of the tower.”

Drakis looked back at Ishander. “Which way do we go?”

Ishander stood still, his gaze fixed beyond the bow.

“Ishander!” Drakis barked.

The startled boy jerked at the sound.

“Which river do we take?”

Ishander blinked at Drakis, rainwater running down his face. “You are always asking me questions! I am not your keeper!”

“But you
are
our guide,” Urulani said, her anger and frustration boiling out in her voice. “That is your station on this expedition—guide us!”

“Tell us which river,” Drakis insisted, making his way quickly aft in the second boat, threatening to leap across to where Ishander stood. “Right? Left? Which one?”

“I am a Far-runner of the Ambeth!” the boy shouted in defiance. “You cannot speak to me with such insolence!”

Drakis stared across at the youth, understanding dawning on his face. “You don't
know
, do you?”

Ishander refused to answer.

“You were as much surprised to see this tower as we were, weren't you?” Drakis continued. “You didn't know its name, and you don't know which river to take . . . because you've never been here before—you've never even
heard
of it before, isn't that right?”

Ishander stood tall, but Drakis could see that his limbs were shaking visibly. “I am a Far-runner of the Ambeth! My father . . . my father was the greatest of the Far-runners. He traveled the rivers to the ends of the world! He sought the Citadels of Light . . .”

“Yes, he
sought
them . . . but he never found them, did he?” Drakis pressed. “Maybe he told you what he knew . . . as far as he had run and returned but then he left to ‘run-far' and he ran too far and never returned.”

“He would have returned,” Ishander shouted. “He knew the river and the far-roads! He knew the way to the Citadels beyond the Fordrim clans! He told me when he left . . .”

Drakis called through the rain to Ethis at the other bow. “Is there a landing near the tower?”

“Yes!” Ethis called back. “It looks like a sand bar spit extending out between the rivers.”

“Get us untied!” Drakis ordered. “Ethis, can you pilot that boat?”

“The chimerian got us down the cascade,” Jugar answered before Ethis could speak. “He can certainly get us to some sandy shore.”

Drakis flashed a grim smile at the memory. He turned toward Urulani. “Make for the tower. We'll put in there.”

“And then what?” Ethis asked.

“And then I don't know,” Drakis replied. “I don't think any of us know.”

The dwarf had hobbled his way directly to the tower the moment he landed ashore. Now he stood in the rain on the hard, slick stone stairs, leaning heavily on the makeshift crutch and glaring up at the closed gates before him.

“Tantalizing, isn't it?”

The dwarf turned awkwardly on his crutch toward Ethis. “Aye, it is most certainly a delectable and frustrating invitation.”

“You still cannot open the gates, can you?” The chimerian's words were less a question than a statement.

“I have, I will admit, been giving the problem considerable thought,” Jugar mused, his gaze returning to the gates. They stood at the top of a set of broad stairs obscured by dead leaves and debris. The ornate doors were of stone, their hue darker than the stained, paler stone of the tower itself. The doors were carved with a frieze of men and dragons at war near the bottom, then laying down their arms in the central sections and, finally, engaging in peaceful pursuits at the topmost panels. The doorway itself formed a great oval, partially truncated at the bottom where it fit in a nearly perfect seal against the top of the approaching stairs.

“As fine a stone workmanship as I have ever seen,” Jugar huffed. “Curse them!”

“Is there no other way inside?” Ethis asked.

“I've conducted a most thorough examination of the tower from its various aspects,” the dwarf continued as much to himself as to the chimerian next to him. “There appear to be a number of openings near the top of the structure—about that area where the palms look to be pressed together and from that pearl as an orb held between them—but nothing so low that it might present an opportunity to even one of your unique talents. This appears to be the only opening, and it is sealed against us. If only I had my . . . oh, it's useless to consider.”

“Had your what?” Ethis asked.

“My stone,” the dwarf whined. “The Heart of Aer!”

“Your rock opens gates?” Ethis asked, affecting a casual manner.

“In this case, it might,” Jugar growled. “See here, chimerian! These doors are one piece—or appear to be one piece, held in place by the mechanism within.
That
mechanism was given its motive force in a disgracefully wasteful manner from the Aether that once flowed through this land. But now that the Aether is gone, there is no means by which the mechanism may be moved. No magic—no door.” The dwarf looked up at Ethis, seeing that the chimerian had folded both sets of his arms in front of him, apparently considering their dilemma. Jugar nodded behind them past the ruined lawn and overtaken garden toward where Drakis had set up camp by the river. “So, what about the rest of them? Have they made a decision?”

“About which river to take?” Ethis shook his head. “No. They aren't even sure which river is called Tyra and which is the Havnis—as though that would do them any good.”

The two stood staring up at the tower for a moment, the rain falling around them.

“I'd best help with the boats,” Ethis said at last as he turned and walked away. “Good luck with the tower.”

The Far-runner of the Ambeth sat on a rock overlooking the river, his arms hugging his knees to his chest. He had turned his back on the great tower that rose up behind him, well above the trees. He had turned his back on the boats still being secured to the shoreline.

“Ishander?” Ethis said quietly.

“Go away,” the youth said.

“I need your help.”

Ishander shook his head. “I am no help.”

“But you are,” Ethis said, keeping his eyes averted. “We could not have gotten this far without you. We cannot go on without your help now.”

“You lie, bendy.”

Ethis chuckled. “No, I don't. You are a Far-runner of the Ambeth. Please, I need help and you are the only one who can do this for me . . . for all of us.”

“What is this help you need?” Ishander asked.

“Ishander,” Jugar said brusquely, “I'm rather busy at the moment so if you wouldn't mind going back to the boats and . . .”

“Old dwarf,” Ishander said quickly. “If I were to ask your pardon, would you grant it?”

The dwarf looked up at the young human.

“You are a most curious being of your race,” Jugar said with a frown. “Dwarves do not forgive easily but if you are willing to make amends, then I would feel duty bound, as your companion on this journey, to consider it in the balance.”

“Then that will have to be my best hope,” Ishander sighed. He reached into a pouch he had slung over his shoulder.

“I'm not sure that I am entirely following what . . .”

When he pulled out his hand, it held the black, faceted stone.

Jugar's eyes widened. He smiled in wonder.

“I am sorry,” Ishander said.

The dwarf snatched the stone from the young human, grinning down at it as he stroked it in his hands. When he looked up at Ishander, a shadow of anger and suspicion tempered his joy, but Jugar held it in check when he spoke. “Oh, no matter now, my boy. You've done right by me after all.”

“Will this help us?” Ishander asked.

The dwarf's grin broadened again. “Just see if it doesn't!”

Jugar struggled up the stairs, nearly pitching backward once when his crutch caught on one of the stone treads but Ishander quickly righted him. The dwarf stood up to the door, holding the mystical black stone in one hand and pressing against the door with the other.

The great gateway door made surprisingly little sound as it slid backward into the opening and then sideways leaving the oval open as though no door had filled it just moments before. The dwarf and the young human both stepped inside, the dwarf gleefully calling a glowing ball into existence at the tips of his fingers.

“Ah,” Jugar murmured with satisfaction, “it feels good to draw from the stone once more.”

Inside, they stood at the bottom of a great rotunda extending upward, the ceiling lying beyond the reach of the dwarf's lit globe. A grand staircase curved upward into the darkness around the perimeter of the rotunda.

“We shall have to make that climb and get our bearings,” Ishander said as he tried to gauge its height.

“Perhaps,” Jugar chuckled as he pointed. “But the treasure is down here.”

The dwarf hobbled across the rotunda, his globe illuminating a collection of baskets, small wooden boxes and earthen jars. Some of the jars were broken, but a good deal more were intact.