The Ancient Ones (The Legacy Trilogy Book 3) (59 page)

Captain Orrell, Daneel, Kali and Leopold climbed aboard before the boat was eased over the water. It was only as they were lowered that some spark of recognition ignited in Toby and his bliss changed to sadness. He squirmed to be after them, grunting and whining. As they descended the boy disappeared from view, his last look one of confusion.

The boat was bobbing in the water when Samuel dropped into it, landing in his seat without causing a ripple.

‘Leopold,’ Samuel said. ‘I promise I will not ask any more of you after today, but can you man the oars for us one more time and get us ashore?’

Leopold agreed, feeling an air of finality in the magician’s words. He set himself to the task, ploughing the oars into the water deep and coursing them towards the shore. Unlike the clear waters of Koia, the sea here was black and impenetrable.

The muscles in Leopold’s back contorted and shifted as they did their work and strangely, he felt satisfaction at the feeling. His flesh had grown thick and strong during his time aboard the Farstride. If he could see himself in a mirror, he might be surprised to find he was not the same skinny youth who had left his mother’s side.

‘Samuel,’ Leopold stated, breaking the magician from contemplation. ‘What was the lesson? What was I supposed to learn along our way?’

‘There was no lesson, Leopold. You were well within your rights to be angry, and there were many directions you could have aimed it. I wanted to be sure it was towards me, where it could do the least harm. In that, I was perhaps overly successful. Also, I wanted to guide you, to protect you from the spoils of being Turian, of being their Emperor.’

‘Ah,’ Leopold responded. ‘Was it successful?’

‘I don’t know. If tomorrow comes, would you tend such chores without me looking over your shoulder?’

‘I suppose—if they needed doing.’

‘Then I suppose it worked.’

Leopold nodded. He expected anger or resentment to boil to the surface, but it did not. Such trivialities do not matter, he thought, looking to Kali sitting silently amongst them. This will soon be ended.

****

Daneel took a turn at the oars when they had nearly reached the shore, and he steered them into the calm river mouth, multitudes of small, dark jetties poking out into the water. Every moment, the pounding became stronger, until they could feel it rattling in their bones and their teeth: thump ... dump ... thump ... dump.

‘Stay close to me at all times,’ Samuel told them, speaking softly. ‘I am not certain if this magic has any purpose, but its potency is dangerous enough in itself. I have never felt anything like it in all my years.’

They left their boat and marched along the tiny wooden boards of the landing, onto the shore. Their footsteps sounded deafening in the quiet—a strange, unnatural silence infused upon the city.

Here, the houses were well spaced. As before, there was no sign of life—no dogs, no cats, no birds, no bugs, nor grass. There were only the rundown buildings and the blackened dirt between them—no sounds but the wind amongst the houses and the pervading thumping that emanated from the dome—that incessant force that worked to drown out even the thoughts in their heads.

‘What has happened to everyone—to everything?’ Daneel asked.

‘Maybe it was always like this,’ Leopold suggested. ‘Or because of the war.’

‘No,’ Samuel said. ‘Once this city was a thriving metropolis. Poltamir has made it thus.’

‘There!’ Orrell said, for the streets were not entirely deserted. Ahead of them, some figures were wandering in open view.

The people did not notice them as they approached and it took several attempts before the ragtag trio—two old men and a woman—would respond. Their clothes were filthy and torn, their dark Eudan skin covered with grime and sores they had not bothered to address. They were soulless, hugging onto what they carried—some knotted string, a cup, a mallet and a few spoons—as if they were treasures.

‘They are cursed!’ Kali declared, and from the astonished look on Captain Orrell and Daneel’s faces, it was clear they now understood her.

‘It was time,’ Samuel remarked in response to Leopold’s questioning glance. ‘No, they are not cursed,’ he then told Kali. ‘They are ... overcome, overwhelmed ... lost within themselves.’

‘What has happened here?’ Captain Orrell asked the Eudans, their language spilling unbidden from his lips.

They stared at him, straining to comprehend his words. Leopold thought they simply did not understand, but a moment later he found himself corrected.

‘Go to the master,’ one of them spoke, hoarse and decrepit.

‘Where is your master?’ Orrell asked. The withered man would only look blankly towards the great white dome. The three of them then shambled away in a different direction altogether, clutching their bundles tightly.

The party watched the pitiful figures depart, wondering what could have caused their state, when the slapping of sandalled feet approached.

Two files of armed men appeared between the buildings—more dark-skinned Eudans. They were lightly armoured, wearing soft sandals so as to travel fast, with short swords at their sides. Unlike the three they had just encountered, these men were animated. They trotted along in time, pulling to a dusty halt before the party.

Their captain stepped forward to address the strangers to his land. ‘Our master summons you.’ He was agitated, distracted.

His men waited perfectly still, not moving their eyes from directly ahead.

‘What has happened here?’ Samuel asked.

‘Our master summons you,’ the man repeated.

‘Are you unwell? Is that all people can say around here? What’s going on here?’ Daneel asked the man.

The soldiers drew their swords as one, emphasising that questions were not welcome. Still, they did not turn their heads, and their captain fidgeted nervously, stealing glances towards the dome.

‘Let’s go with them,’ Samuel suggested. ‘I’m keen to see what is happening here ... and to meet Poltamir. I don’t think we will get any answers from these men. All roads seem to lead to the dome.’

The Eudan captain led the way and they followed, the troops trailing behind them. There was not a word or whisper from anyone. The men did not look left or right, or blink out of turn. Only the captain murmured occasionally, scratching at his arms and looking anxiously down side streets they passed.

They traversed the criss-crossing streets, ever towards the dome, and the closer they came the more it loomed above them. It was huge, a mountain.

They spied another such group of soldiers. These looked worn and battered, as if just returned from a long journey and they were herding a ragtag group of Eudan civilians, harrying them with their swords. The captives looked desperate, begging their captors for mercy, but the men did not respond.

‘Can we help them?’ Leopold asked.

‘Not yet,’ the magician responded, and the other group disappeared from view, travelling along another street towards the dome.

They came to a short tower of polished ebony, jutting from the ground and rounded at the top, tapering to a point like a curved tusk. Samuel eyed it with curiosity. A house had been demolished to make room for it, the rubble still littering the ground.

‘What is that?’ Leopold asked, for the construction had no perceivable doors or windows.

‘A tribute, perhaps?’ Daneel suggested. ‘A sculpture?’

Samuel peered closely at it. ‘I am not sure, but it reeks of magic ... of Poltamir. Everything here does.’

The guards prodding at their backs meant they could not slow to inspect it, and they passed the tower by. Looking down the streets, they could see more of the columns spaced evenly in concentric rings around the dome, leaning outwards like layers of defences.

When they met the foot of the dome the group gaped up at its curving wall in awe. It was a monstrous construction, towering over them as they stood in its shadow.

‘They could probably fit the entire Imperial Palace inside,’ Captain Orrell mused.

‘Or something,’ Samuel said gloomily. ‘I think we are about to find out.’

The soldiers led them to an arched opening in the wall, large enough to accommodate one of the navy’s galleons without any qualms. The Farstride might have difficulty fitting, but with her masts removed and a bit of grease applied to her hull, she should just squeeze through.

Looking along the length of the wall, they could see several other such openings, where single files of people were being ushered inside by soldiers, like ants bringing food back to their nest.

Venturing inside, even Samuel gasped in awe. A hill dominated the dome’s centre, covered by a network of pale buildings, a palace complex with paths, stone work and balconies stretching between. Towers and domes speckled the scene, joined by bridges of white stone. If not for the cold, foreboding atmosphere, it might have been beautiful. Every inch was breathtaking in splendour and majesty, yet it was as deserted as the broken city outside, the Eudan soldiers and their captives barely visible amongst the structures.

They were guided further inside, gazing towards the sky. The walls were translucent, dimming the light, but allowing enough sunshine inside to maintain visibility. The sun, the blue sky and the clouds were all visible through the skin of the dome. Great arches and framework supported the structure, likewise nearly transparent so as not to detract from the view.

The ground was laid with intricate paving—similarly comprised of white stone—set together in spirals and patterns, yet it was cracked in many places, bulging and broken, unmaintained. Buildings were everywhere, looking unused, as if this had been intended to be the grandest palace in history, or a life-size museum piece that no one was allowed to inhabit.

Some patches of bare, dark earth were visible atop the hill, beside the most elaborate buildings. Paving had slipped down the slope many years before and like everything, not repaired. More curved, black towers ringed the bottom of the hill, thrusting up at regular intervals, contrasting starkly with the paleness around.

The incessant drumming in the air was worse in here, resounding from the insides of the dome, drilling into their temples and tingling inside their sinuses. The more one thought about the sound, the stronger its effect.

Their escort took them to a nearby building—a freestanding cylinder of pale stone sitting in the open—and the captain waited. Some unseen signal passed to his men, and they turned and trotted back towards the entrance, leaving their captain alone.

‘What now?’ Daneel asked.

‘I will go see. Leopold, come with me.’

There was no door, only a break in the wall. The two of them stepped inside and followed the inner circumference of the chamber until it opened into a hollow at the building’s centre. Indeed, it could barely be called a building, for there was no roof over their head.

Standing there, upon a knee-high dais, was a figure cloaked in hanging folds of black cloth. He faced them, his features hidden deep within the shadows of his cowl. A tangible energy radiated from him, carrying the same monotonous pulse that threatened to overcome their minds, so intense it made Leopold’s vision hazy and distorted, and made him unsteady on his feet. The voice that spoke did not come directly from their host, but emanated from all around, sounding from the walls, and it echoed in the chamber ... a deep, growling voice filled with gravel.

‘Samuel.’ The words dragged out slowly, his tongue long unfamiliar with speaking. ‘Have you come to mock me?’

‘I have not, Poltamir,’ the magician responded.

‘Then ... have you come to kill me?’ the voice asked, sounding strangely hopeful.

‘I have come for my son,’ Samuel said.

Leopold bent slightly and tried to look into the face of their host, but the hood hung low and contained only darkness.

‘Ah,’ Poltamir said after short deliberation. Hidden within his cloth, he swayed as he talked, as if about to fall at any moment. ‘I do not have him.’

‘Then where is he?’ Samuel asked.

‘Come to my chamber. I will speak with you more ... about your son and about the traitor Lomar and all that he has done.’

‘So it is true. He betrayed you as well,’ Samuel said.

‘Come. Come to my chamber at the centre of my Palace of Loneliness and we will talk. I have been waiting so long to meet you. This is the end, Samuel, for one of us. How I have been looking forward to it. I do not want to rush. This is something to be savoured and enjoyed. Take your time ... come.’

Poltamir would say nothing further. Samuel raised an eyebrow with curiosity.

‘Is he coming?’ Leopold whispered to the magician.

‘It seems not,’ Samuel replied, and they made their way from the chamber, leaving Poltamir behind, wavering gently upon his stage.

The Eudan captain was waiting wordlessly with the others and as Samuel and Leopold re-joined them, the man jerked to life, starting up the paved incline towards the palace.

‘What are all those people doing?’ Daneel asked the man as they followed. From their vantage point they could see lines of people moving between the buildings, climbing sets of stairs; everyone moving upwards, no one coming down.

The captain kept pacing along in silence, as if he had not heard the question at all. He had lost his nervousness, and kept his face set squarely on the hill above. Only his eyes retained emotion: red and trembling.

‘Everyone here is under the spell,’ Samuel said. ‘They are Poltamir’s slaves, and you would be the same if you stayed here any length of time. Only my presence protects you.’

Leopold looked over his shoulder to see if Poltamir was following, but no one emerged from his chamber. It seemed the man was happy to remain there, or else he travelled by some unseen or magical means.

‘This place is vile,’ Captain Orrell stated. ‘They tried to make it beautiful, but created a centrepiece of evil.’

‘Well said, Captain,’ Samuel replied. ‘He called this abomination his Palace of Loneliness, so I imagine he is aware of the atmosphere. Perhaps he chose to set this scene purposefully.’

‘Will we kill him?’ Leopold asked.