Rhapsody, Child of Blood (25 page)

'Over there is a tunnel unlike the others we have followed. There have been many like it, but I doubt you've noticed them. The tunnels were not carved by the Tree's roots, but have been here since long before its acorn was ever planted.

'Deep within that tunnel is a beating heart. You have asked repeatedly how I know where I am going. The answer is that I can sense almost any pulse in my skin. I know that what I am saying frightens you, because even though your outward expression has not changed, your heartbeat has quickened. If you become lost within this place, if you fall down a root shaft or are buried alive by a cave-in, I can find you, because I know the sound of your heart."

Rhapsody rubbed her eyes in an effort to clear her mind. The words, spoken softly in the now-familiar dry tone, bore no resemblance to anything Achmed had ever said to her before. She concentrated on the music in his tone, and found empathy there. And concern. And fear. She shook her head to clear the lingering cobwebs of sleep; she must still not be thinking clearly. Her skull was pounding.

'Listen to me. I've been following a pulse. First it was that of the Tree itself, but once we found the Axis Mundi it changed; now I have been following that other heartbeat to this place. Something terrible rests in there, something more powerful and more horrifying than you can imagine, something I dare not even name. What sleeps within that tunnel, deep in the belly of the Earth, must not awake. Not ever. Do you understand me? You once said that you could prolong slumber 'Sometimes."

'Yes. I understand. This must be one of those times."

Achmed's eyes searched the Singer's face as she struggled to wake more fully. He wasn't doing very well with his explanation. He needed her to understand what he was asking of her.

She had been as uncertain of her abilities as he now was, from the moment she had renamed him by accident to her shielding of their presence from the Lirin of the fields and forests. He had come to realize that this was at least in part because she had finished her studies alone; her mentor had disappeared with but a year left in her training.

His blood ran cold at the thought. Tsoltan had once made a casual reference to a Namer in his thrall. Perhaps there had been an earlier connection between Rhapsody and himself than he had realized.

She had been consuming the flesh of the Root, as he planned, almost from the very beginning. There was no question that it had affected her, as it had Grunthor and himself. They had passed a lifetime or more, or so it seemed, down here in the depths of the world, and had not aged a moment, at least -1

by the vibrations he had been able to sense. The Tree tied to Time itself had prevented its ravages. If anything, they were healthier, stronger, even younger than they had been upon entering Sagia.

But there was also another change in her, an inner strength that he had not felt when they first met. Whether it had come from long hours of practice or as a gift from the flesh of the Tree, Rhapsody was becoming a Namer of great power. He hoped it would be enough.

'I need to know what it is if you want me to try to make its sleep last longer,"

Rhapsody said softly. "You're talking in riddles, or avoiding the whole story, which is a minor form of deception. I told you long ago that power is in the truth. I can't help you if you keep me in the dark."

Achmed exhaled slowly. He stared at her for a moment, as if gauging her soul. "You named me Achmed the Snake because it sounded frightening to you, didn't you?"

'Yes. I told you that a long time ago. And I've been embarrassed about it ever since."

'Perhaps you shouldn't be. It may have been the only thing that allowed me to find the tunnel. When I was the Brother, I was tied only to the blood of men and women. It may have been the serpent name you gave me that helped me hear this beating heart.

'In the Before-Time, when the Earth and seas were being born, an egg was stolen from the progenitor of the race of dragons, the Primal Wyrm. If we live to get out of here I will one day tell you its name, though it would not be wise to do so now."

Rhapsody nodded in agreement.

'That egg was secreted here, within the Earth, by the race of demonic beings born of elemental fire. My former master was one of them."

'The one who gave you the key?"

'Shhh. Yes." His voice dropped even lower. "The infant wyrm which came from that egg has lived here, deep in the frozen wastes of the Earth's interior, growing, until its coils have wound around the very heart of the world. It is an innate part of the Earth itself; its body is a large part of the world's mass. It sleeps now, but soon that demon wishes to summon it, and will visit it upon the land. Rhapsody, I can't explain its size to you, except to say that Sagia's trunk root was a mere piece of twine in comparison with the taproot, yes?"

'Yes."

'And the taproot was a thread compared with the Axis Mundi. The Axis Mundi is like one of your hairs in comparison with this creature. It has the power to consume the Earth; that was the intent of the thieves who put it here. It awaits the demon's call, which I know for certain is intended to come soon." He blinked, and Rhapsody could no longer see his face. "I know this, because he planned to use me to help bring this about."

'And that's why you ran?';

'Partly."

Rhapsody sat back, and looked at him with new eyes. Hith-ertofore it had been obvious that her two companions had histories that were nefarious; it was impossible to conclude anything else after the slaughter of Michael's men. And yet despite their pasts there was a nobility to both of them.

Grunthor's she had seen right away. He had been her protector from the beginning, advocating for her with his partner, assisting her in her climb, protecting her from her dreams. It was this other one in whom she had seen no good until now.

Tou cannot see the beauty without facing the darkness. Remember this.

'And rather than circumventing this place you have brought us here in the hope that we can help contain it."

'Yes, if possible." The mismatched eyes glittered in the darkness. "And even then, Rhapsody, you will only be buying time. You will never have the power to destroy it completely, nor I, nor any living soul."

She rested her throbbing head in her hand. "I can sing it a song of slumber, but I don't have any idea if it will work. And I will have to be very close to it to ensure it hears me."

Within his hood she heard a sigh. "I had suspected that. Grunthor and I discussed that possibility."

'And he objected, which is why you waited until he was asleep to talk to me."

'Careful, Rhapsody, you sound almost astute. You're going to ruin my opinion of you."

'I have an idea, but I'll need my pack," she said, hiding her smile. "You are more likely to be able to get it without waking Grunthor."

iOefbre you do anything foolish, why don't you tell me what you are planning?"

Achmed handed her the pack, remembering a night long ago by the light of a hidden campfire in the fields outside Easton's wall.

So I'll ask you again, Singer; what can you do?

I can tell the absolute truth as I know it. And when I do that I can change things.

When the thought passed he looked up again. Rhapsody was untying the rawhide strings that held the burlap cover over her shepherd's harp.

'Thanks for your confidence in me." She pulled the ragged cloth loose and uncovered the instrument. It had not been damaged by its time within the Earth, much like Pilam's bread. "You said that at some point this beast will be summoned."

'Yes."

'What if it didn't hear the call?" Achmed stared at her blankly. She tried again. "In order to summon something, you need to know its true name. Of course, I don't know this thing's name. But if we could obscure the call, keep the beast from hearing it properly, or feeling it, perhaps it would just stay asleep and not answer. At least for a little while."

A fragment of a grin crawled over Achmed's face. "And how would you achieve this?"

'I'm not sure yet. But I'll have thought of something by the time we get to the tunnel."

>yith great care they crept across the vast, glowing Root, taking their time to ensure silence. Eventually they came to its edge and stepped off it for the first time onto the black basalt rock through which the Axis Mundi ran. In the shadows not far from the Root's edge was an immense tunnel, so huge that it faded into the darkness of the stone around it, its edges barely visible.

The closer they came to the tunnel, the colder Rhapsody felt. When they were close enough for her to see it, she knew why.

An icy wind was rising from the depth of the vast circular cavern. Her ears and fingers stung as it blasted through, freezing the wet clothing to her skin.

'Gods," she whispered. "Why is it so cold?"

Achmed slowly turned to her. When he spoke his words were measured.

'The demonic spirits that secreted the egg here took the element of fire with them when they went upworld to keep the wyrm in hibernation. They wanted it to grow to its greatest possible size before setting it free. I think that's why the vermin are attracted to heat and light." The natural percussion in his voice seemed stronger, as if his teeth were chattering.

'Are you all right?"

Achmed smiled through the ice that was forming on his lips. "I'm pondering hibernation myself."

'What do you mean?"

He leaned slowly over so she could catch his whisper. "You're the one who named me Achmed the Snake."

Concern filled her eyes as Rhapsody reached out and brushed the frost off of his face. His movements were now so slow as to be almost imperceptible. "Gods," she whispered again. He was trapped, living up to the reptilian name she had given him.

What have I done? she thought miserably, watching him freeze where he stood. If I fail and wake the serpent, he will be unable to escape. He'll be its first victim. No; its second.

'I'm going to take you back first," she said, taking his frigid hand. "You can't stay here."

With the last of his remaining mobility, Achmed shook his head. His eyes, still piercing, sought hers and stared down at her.

'Rhapsody," he said with great effort, "you do this. I will wait." His words had the ring of finality to them.

She looked down the tunnel into the icy darkness. "Can you still sense its heartbeat?" He blinked twice. "Good. All right, then, I'm going to set up right here. You need to tell me if it reacts to anything I'm doing, if it starts to wake. I'm going to begin softly, so we can stop if we have to. Give me a moment to gauge the direction of the tunnel."

Quietly she put down the harp and tiptoed into the vast opening. Its walls were wider than she could see in the dark, its ceiling higher, so once inside she was blind.

She rested her hand on the wall and leaned forward slightly to try and estimate the angle of descent, but could see very little. The dirt beneath her hand was sandy and cold. The tunnel sloped downward, curling into the distance. Rhapsody returned to where Achmed waited.

'The wyrm must be very far away," she whispered. "I can't see an end to the tunnel."

Achmed struggled to speak. "The tunnel—wall -1

She moved nearer to hear him. "What about the tunnel wall?"

'—is—a scale in—the—skin of—the wyrm."

Fighting nausea and panic Rhapsody sat on the ground and took up her harp. She cleared her mind and attuned herself to the diffuse music in the air around her. After a moment, its low, smooth tone began to fill her ears. There was little fluctuation, just the occasional variation in the monotone up or down a half-step. A sign of deep sleep.

Softly she began the simplest slumber song she knew in the same key as the music around her. She looked to Achmed's face, looking for signs that the heartbeat of the wyrm had increased, but his eyes remained steady, watching her intently within the frozen prison of his body.

The melody wove through the music in the air, matching its tune. Slowly Rhapsody added a harmonic element, and noted a slight increase of warmth in the air around her.

She looked up at Achmed, questioningly, and he blinked once. Stil no change.

A stray thought knocked on the door of her mind, and Rhapsody shook her head to drive it out again. The import of what she was doing, and its potential consequences, was something that had to remain in abeyance until she was finished. Otherwise it would have buried her in its weight.

When the demon summoned the wyrm he would be using its true name, something that would match exactly the musical vibration it was attuned to. She needed to change that vibration subtlely, needed to wrap it in a slightly discordant song.

When using music to cause pain, it is better to be slightly sharp or flat than either of those things in the extreme, her mentor had said. If she did it slowly enough, took it up a degree at a time, perhaps the wyrm would not notice the subtle change, but it would still be enough to interfere with the call of its name.

Rhapsody breathed in time to the song, focusing all the rhythms of her body. All sense of time melted away as it had in the Wide Meadows. She had no idea how long she played, repeating the monotonous refrain over and over again, varying its tone infinitesimally. She shaped it as a roundelay, singing the repetitive melody again and again, over and over.

She added a slightly different beat to the rhythm. Suddenly Achmed's eyes opened wide; the heartbeat had leapt, the ocean of serpentine blood had begun to pump. He blinked furiously.

Rhapsody scarcely noticed. She was attuned to the song herself; it had become part of the fiber of her being. She continued to play, raising the key a half-step.