Things get serious as the "Tond" saga continues.

Tond, Book One: The Sons of Tlaen Ras-Erkéltis

Chapter 4
The Grosk

Grask, kachlaksh, tayas Gaejtark-Bad’hanani sh’pfooksh, ash ta’ach tkau grechtaemyawopwa ‘ahhinor!

“Grosks, I call you forth: yours is the power of Gaejtark Bad’hani, and you will help to (beneficially) destroy the ahíinor vermin!”

Karjannic, From the Legends of the Magja Tsajuk during the most warlike phase of the Imperium

 In the seven years following the initiation, the brothers Ras-Erkéltis grew in stature and knowledge. Keldar taught them in the ways of the ahíinor. They learned about the lands of Tond. They learned the fighting and fencing skills that might be necessary should they encounter an enemy on the road, since all loremasters were expected to wander to collect tales from farther parts of Tond. They learned the comical conjurer’s tricks and how to set up and use the illusion mechanas of ii-yam, the first and easiest type of lore-power, and about the herbs and healing potions of ter-yam, the second. The true mechanas, known as ren-yam or “third”, would remain beyond them until their eighth year of training, except for the glowballs; fyer-yam, the most perilous of all, was forbidden lest a second Devastation be ignited.

Rolan added to his training his own particular interest and aptitude for languages, translating some of the Ancients’ formulae from archaic Fyorian into meaningful utterances. Arnul’s personality ran darker; he delved into the arcane aspects of oaths and hidden meanings and verbal persuasion—despite Rolan’s disinterest and Keldar’s warnings that such topics would lead to trouble. They both learned quickly, but there was a dark spot in their minds: Arnul remembered Eilann having walked out on their initiation, and mentioned it often to Rolan and Keldar. Rolan would have preferred to forget the incident, at first (it was merely the behavior of an eccentric elder loremaster), but Arnul continued to see it as a grave insult to both of them and forced it into Rolan’s mind until he began to be angered by it himself. Arnul seemed to wish for some kind of later revenge for the rudeness. The opportunity would come sooner than expected.

Rolan also often thought of the days in the Council Town, but his ruminations had a cheerier theme.

  

Council Town in South Rohándal, third month, Fyorian year 614

 The occasion was Shillayne’s Coming of Age party when they next visited the town of South Palms. Rolan walked in to the crowd at the inn (Shillayne’s parents were the innkeepers, and they certainly knew a lot of people from all over Tond and had seemingly invited everybody they knew), made his way past the laughing children and the gossiping shopkeepers and gardeners of the town, and went straight for the ten-ball table. Yes, it was still there in its corner, and two children were playing, knocking the metal balls together and trying to get them to fly out into their opponents’ side of the net. Rolan sat on the chair next to the table and waited.

Not that he had anybody to play it with; his brother Arnul was quite a way behind him, with Keldar, and both had gotten quite lost in the crowds. But Rolan needed a little time to think, somewhere where Arnul wouldn’t laugh at him. It had been seven years since he had seen Shillayne, and he had been a child then, and so had she... What would he say to her now? Would she even remember him? Would he even recognize her? What if he were to tell her that, all during his ahíinu training with Keldar, he had often thought of her and the games of ten-ball that he could never win, and wondered if she ever thought of him? What if he were to tell her that he had often thought about how she had traveled to some places outside of Rohándal with her innkeeper father and wondered if she might like to go to some of those places with him too?

And so he waited while the children played at the game-table, and he jumped when a hand touched his shoulder.

“Rolan Ras-Erkéltis?”

He turned. It was Shillayne, standing there, smiling. She still had the same blonde hair tied back in a pony-tail (it was slightly darker now), the same freckles and the same cute nose, and her eyes were large and dark brown. She had not inherited her parents’ corpulence; she was, in fact, quite shapely (and he was at exactly the age to notice this most intensely). She was wearing a south-Rohandal styled formal robe, sandy colored but reflecting in a number of different but hazy colors.

All he could say was, “uh...Play you a game of ten-ball...?”

She laughed deep and heartily. “So you still remember! Do you think you can win now? After all, I’ve been practicing for seven years.”

“Well let’s try,” he said, angry with himself for not coming up with something wittier to say.

Arnul strode up. He was now a little taller than Rolan, though three years younger. “I thought you’d find Shillayne! …Of course that’s what this party is about anyway. But knowing you, you’d look all over the town for her if you didn’t find her here...!”

“Swallow a whole mango, Arnul. We’re playing ten-ball.”

“No you’re not. You’re standing here gaping at each other. They’re playing ten-ball.” He meant the two children; but then one of them laughed in triumph.

“Ten to four! Ten to four! I got you! I win! I win!”

The other boy frowned.

“I’ll challenge you to a game,” said Arnul, stepping in front of Rolan and Shillayne and addressing the winner.

“What? Oh, sure. You go first.” And Arnul grabbed one of the metal balls.

Shillayne laughed again (she’d gotten that laugh from her father) and glanced back at Rolan. “So that’s that. Go for a walk in the garden?”

“...uh, sure,” said Rolan, suddenly realizing that he’d never seen the garden at this inn, and he still felt like a clumsy oaf.

They threaded their way through the crowds, but of course it was impossible because this was Shillayne’s party and everybody there knew her and stopped to talk. Shillayne’s mother approached.

“So there you are. I thought you were going to play ten-ball all day long and miss your own party. Just like something you would do; you’re just like your father, he’s always playing that game and missing things, and in fact a lot of things are missing because he’s always playing that game. I wish he’d give away the game-table to someone who beats him at it. Anyway this is your coming of age party, and you’re supposed to be greeting people and singing and playing your kitál and so on; now come with me and act right!” She grabbed Shillayne by the arm and pulled her away into the chattering throng.

“So that’s that,” muttered Rolan to himself, “I guess I’ll talk to her later. Her mom didn’t even look at me. Well, anyway...” he turned to try to find the table with the food (it was probably over there in the middle of that really crowded place) and he saw Arnul slip between two women and walk right up to him. Rolan rolled his eyes.

“That was quick, spoil-sport. Did you win?” he asked.

“Swallow a whole mango, Rolan. There’s someone over there you’d probably like to meet.”

Before he could ask who, Arnul grasped his arm and pulled him into the crowd. “Everybody quit grabbing everybody’s arm please!” Rolan said, rather quietly so nobody could hear him, and he squeezed through the people with Arnul firmly leading him. He didn’t really try to pull away because he couldn’t talk to Shillayne now anyway.

Arnul led him back to the ten-ball table, where, seated on the same chair where he had waited for Shillayne, was a haggard ahíinor, his gray hair messy and unkempt. He looked up at Rolan, and Rolan’s eyes narrowed. Arnul’s constant reminders of rudeness returned to his mind.

“Eilann Kun-Tanninos. I haven’t seen you in seven years, much too short. Did somebody invite you? Must’ve been Shillayne’s mother. One of the other ahíinor certainly wouldn’t, after you walked out on us at our initiation ceremony.”

Eilann’s dark eyes were unreadable. “My, you remember well, Rolan. Actually I’ve been trying to talk to you all those years.”

“To do what, ask me why I don’t get lost somewhere? I think you were very rude.”

Eilann laughed; it was a nervous laugh, but not threatening. “Actually I’ve been trying to apologize. It was rude of me, and I’m sorry. I, more than the others, wanted you to become an ahíinor. After all, I was a friend of your father.”

“Oh?” Rolan asked suspiciously. “So then why did you walk out?”

Eilann sighed. “It was a spectacular initiation ceremony. I’ve never seen the Master of Light use illusions like that. All the flames in the air and the underground seas and all. It was beautiful. I’ve never seen anybody use an illusion stone so dramatically. But I walked out to make a point. Keldar said he’d seen some things in Borrogg that, quite frankly, unnerved him. So I did some investigating with the Fiery Eye. I saw some things that would make your hair fall out. But when I tried to tell the other ahíinor, they laughed. They laughed at me. They called me mad, that the things I was seeing were figments. Such things couldn’t possibly exist, they all said. Fyer-yam lore had been banned from use; no ahíinor are permitted to use it lest we inadvertently bring down the Devastation again. But somebody’s using it, Rolan. Somebody in Borrogg, and it isn’t pretty.”

“Oh?” Rolan was still eyeing the old ahíinor suspiciously, but was starting to get interested in spite of himself. “Continue.”

Eilann leaned back in his chair. “The Council called me mad, forbade me talk about such things. And they tried to take away my four-pointed star. But the things I had seen wouldn’t go away.” He emitted a cynical laugh. “The Guardians of Tond. The ahíinor are the Guardians of Tond. Quite a title. Who appointed them?”

“Teilyandal’?”

“The Creator? I doubt it. Did they ever say so?”

“Well, no…”

“They appointed themselves. It’s quite a responsibility if they could do it. But they haven’t even tried. All they do is watch things in the Eye and smite an occasional Karjan warrior with the Circle of Shining. Otherwise they just stand around and look impressive.”

Arnul took a step forward, and clenched his fist. “Listen, if you’re going to insult the ahíinor like that, and after walking out on our ceremony…!”

The older man tensed up for second, then relaxed. “Unfortunately, I mean no insult. But if they would even look at Borrogg; no, I don’t mean that... Nobody should look at that, I haven’t even dared myself after what I saw...” he paused. “ Anyway, the Master of Light went and made all that show of illusion, wild and wonderful, but he wouldn’t use that same power to be a true guardian of Tond...”

“So you walked out in protest. So why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I tried, but the other ahíinor, Keldar included, said I was mad, and refused to tell you what I’d said.” He ran his fingers through his thin hair. “I don’t know, maybe I am mad. But after seeing that...” He paused, then sat forward and motioned for Rolan and Arnul to bend down to talk to him, and he brought his face right up to their eyes. “Listen, you two. I need to tell someone who will believe me. What I have seen, in these last six or so years... The gruntagkshk. Gruntags. Those strange creatures. There are thousands of them now. They live in Borrogg. You saw one in the Eye yourself, Keldar says. But listen to me. They know when we look at them. Only ahíinor can know when the Eye is being used to look at them. Even the Master of Light admitted that. But nobody drew the obvious conclusion. They have mechanas, Rolan. They have something that was left over from the Ancients. Something they use to know when they are being observed. And maybe they are observing us in turn. And listen carefully: they are not creatures that could be living and breeding in any usual way. They are all different. Not one is like another. Some look like nightmare birds, some like rats, some like lizards, some like combinations of all. And they wear armor.”

“That’s pretty much what Keldar has said. He’s been watching them. But I don’t know what he knows about them.”

“Not much, I can assure you. Deeper in Borrogg there is some kind of... of... tower. I think it’s a tower. I couldn’t really see it. It’s dark. It’s very dark, as if no sunlight can touch it. It sprang up in the last two years. Just sprang up, with no signs of anybody building it. But I haven’t looked lately. Because the last time I tried, I felt something horrible was looking back. Looking back through the Eye. Something of such malice that it was almost palpable. And it’s watching us, whether or not the gruntags are.” He paused, and took a deep breath. “ A thing of such ill would have a name, Rolan. I have dared to give it a name.”

“What name?”

He pronounced the name slowly and carefully. “Gashug-Tairánda.”

Arnul chuckled. “A good story, Eilann. You had me scared there for a while. But you know the histories. The Shapeshifter… the monster Gashug-Tairánda was created in the Karjan Imperium, in what used to be the Tower of Kings, and was destroyed by the Circle of Shining.”

“Was it? Maybe you forget the histories, Arnul. Gashug-Tairánda was created with the Circle of Shining too.”

Arnul turned to Rolan. “This is nonsense. He just wants to make up an excuse for walking out of your initiation. Well that was seven years ago and he’s had plenty of time to think of a story.”

Rolan waved him off. “What if you’re right?” he asked Eilann.

“I’ll skip all the niceties. If I’m right, if, and it’s a big if, the others say; but if I’m right, then the coming horror will make the Devastation look like a campfire. ...I don’t know. But heed my warnings. Even you, Arnul, even if you don’t believe me. Whatever it is, it’s in Borrogg. And I think it’s much too strong now for anyone to attempt to see it for what it is. So don’t try. Never again try to look at the land of Borrogg with the Fiery Eye.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud cheer from the crowd a few feet away. Shillayne and two of her girlfriends had appeared. Shillayne had her kitál, the others were carrying other instruments, and they sat down on the floor in the middle of the crowd. The people formed a ring around them.

“A song! A song!” somebody yelled. Somebody? Shillayne’s father, Rolan noticed. He turned back to Eilann, but the old ahíinor was gone.

Shillayne addressed the crowd. “Thank you all so much for coming. It’s been such a pleasure; some of you I haven’t seen in several years. These are my friends, Allayne and Laréya. Allayne plays the séntem, Laréya plays the kétatang. We’re going to play an old Drennic song that I learned while we were up north in the Drennlands a couple of years ago, though I’m going to sing it in Fyorian of course. And it’s supposed to be sung by a man, though I’ll try it in a low voice. Thanks for the request, Daddy.”

There was some scattered laughter, then Shillayne began strumming her kitál and the others joined in with bell-sounds and click-clacks, and Shillayne sang. Her voice was beautiful though loud, and people in the front moved back a couple of steps. When she finished, more applause erupted. Somebody yelled, “Sing it again!”; someone else shouted, “More! More!” (and a third voice yelled “Less! Less!”). There was some more laughter; and another voice yelled “Sing something else!” and then Shillayne’s father, as round and jolly as ever, pushed his way into the middle of the crowd and announced, “Food! Food! Chicken in sánatar sauce! Roast rabbit with edible cactus and Sherványa cherry-wine sauce! Stuffed eggplant and peppers with Karjan rice and ground pork and cheese! Spiced sausages! Flatbread with onions topped with cheese and imported spices from the far corners of Tond! Peaches, pomegranates, mangoes, pineapples! Bread! Wine! Juice and anything else you want to drink! Cake and pineapple pie and Shillayne’s favorite, stuffed berry-cake with apples! All for the taking, over there on the table, by the...”

He broke off; the crowd was already shifting. His wife stomped up. “You didn’t have to announce it like that! I’m sure they could have found it for themselves! You’re going to cause somebody to get trampled! You’re always doing things like that! Try to be responsible! And wasn’t Shillayne going to sing another...”

Then she became quiet. Nobody was paying attention to her. Rolan had walked over to talk to Shillayne and her friends, and Arnul had followed, and almost everyone else was by the food table. The innkeeper ducked into a doorway. Shillayne’s mother let out a disgusted “Hmmph,” and clomped away.

“Well, that was quite a song,” Rolan said. “I’ve never heard anybody sing a Drennic song. The part in the middle with a different tune, it sounded a little like a Fyorian tune that Keldar once taught me. Did you learn it from...”

Arnul interrupted, “They still have the statue!” He pointed to a nearby table; on it stood the statue of the Karjan warrior that he had admired before. “I’ll play somebody a game of ten-ball for it!”

“Maybe you can convince Daddy to do that. Go try,” Shillayne said to him with a wink at Rolan. “He just went into the kitchen to get more food. The door’s over there. Go find him. …Say, who’s that?”

It was Eilann, the old ahíinor, standing rather off to the side of the others leaning on his walking-staff, seemingly lost in thought. Rolan felt frightened again. “Oh, I think he was a friend of my father or something like that. I thought maybe you knew him.”

Shillayne looked at him. “You sound strange. Are you all right?”

“Uh, yes. Yes, I’m fine. This is a good party; let’s go have some food.”

And Arnul followed.

The food was delicious, even better than Rolan remembered it from the years before. Rolan and Shillayne and her friends talked and laughed for a good part of the day, before Shillayne’s mother approached them and dragged Shillayne (and her friends) away to talk with some of their other friends. Rolan sat down on a chair by one of the empty tables, and then Arnul (who had been silent for most of the conversation and then disappeared to go play ten-ball but had wound up playing haru-kandis with another boy) approached and sat down by Rolan.

“So what do you think?” he asked.

“Think about what, you? You keep butting in,” Rolan answered.

“No, about Eilann. Do you think he’s right?”

“How would I know? He thinks he’s right, that much I can tell. But as you keep reminding me, why didn’t he try to apologize to me, to us, earlier?”

“It is rather far to go. Remember his name. The Kun- is for the easterners.”

“Well of course.”

“But think about it, Rolan. What if he’s right? And Gashug-Tairánda really is still alive. What could happen? Or think about this... what if Eilann really is mad? Or what if he isn’t, but doesn’t want anybody to look at Borrogg with the Eye for some other reason.”

“Like what?”

“Well we haven’t seen him for several years. Maybe he disappeared. Maybe he went somewhere and found something, say, like a treasure or a hoard of mechanas from the Ancients. What if he hid it, Rolan, in Borrogg? Then of course he wouldn’t want anybody to look there.”

Rolan laughed, then stared at him. “What are you saying, Arnul?”

“We could find it. Let the other ahíinor know what he did. Call it revenge for walking out on us at our ceremony.”

Rolan laughed again, but it was a nervous laugh. “Arnul, of all the preposterous ideas. That we should go all the way to Borrogg to find something that probably doesn’t exist...”

Arnul glared at him. “You know what I mean, stupid.”

Rolan’s thoughts were reeling. What if Eilann was right? And how could they do it anyway?

“No,” he said. “We can’t. The Fiery Eye is a ren-yam mechana. We don’t know how yet.”

“But we do know how to use ren-yam. Glowballs are ren-yam mechanas.”

That was true, thought Rolan. They used glowballs all the time, and he had in fact used one the very first time he had encountered lore-power. But this was just too dangerous a mechana to attempt to use, even if they knew which mechana it was that made the Fiery Eye.

“No, Arnul. We can’t. What if Eilann’s right? Then we’ll look at Borrog with the Eye and we might get ourselves killed. No, we can’t do it.”

“Mechanas can be ‘opened’ to use their powers. They can also be ‘closed’. Quickly.”

“No, Arnul.” Rolan stood up and began to walk away, but he felt something dreadful. There was a heaviness in the air he hadn’t noticed before, and he was sweating. He turned back to Arnul. “You do it, if you want,” he said.

Arnul mouthed the words, “The Mystery-Challenge.”

Rolan almost cried out. His heart thudded in his chest. “Arnul — why did you have to say that...?” Of all the customs of the ahíinor, that was the most terrifying. The Mystery-Challenge. ...Either do the deed and sow the seed, or be forever driven mad, by what might have happened if you had... the old rhyme echoed through his mind. He wanted to say no, but it was too late. The Mystery-Challenge had been invoked, and the powers of the Four were bound to their deeds now. He swore and charged at Arnul in a sudden fury, but it was too late. Arnul had already said it, and they would have to find the answer. Sweating, he slapped Arnul’s shoulder in the manner of the Challenge. “The Mystery-Challenge,” he said in a trembling voice.

Arnul smiled back at him. “The boy I was playing haru-kandis with,” he said. “His name’s Ranti. His dad’s an ahíinor, and they’re staying here in this inn. Their room is upstairs, and nobody’s there now. They have some mechanas there.”

 

Keldar was sitting on a stuffed chair, munching contentedly on a plate of flatbread with cheese and onions, when he felt his four-pointed star mechana nudge him. He took it out of his pocket, glanced at it; the word “Mystery Challenge” appeared on its metallic surface. He glanced around him at the faces in the crowd, saw nothing unusual, and slipped the mechana back in his pocket. He took another bite of flatbread. Eilann approached him, looking even more haggard than he had in recent months.

“Hello, Eilann. What brings you to this party?”

“Keldar, I need to tell you something. Now.”

“About your usual thoughts about fyer-yam lore in Borrogg and so on? You know that a couple of loremasters checked into your ideas, and they found nothing. They didn’t see your dark tower or your Shapeshifter. Borrogg is a deserted land, nobody, no thing, lives there, except for those gruntags.”

“Yes, I know that. But certainly I saw something. And I had to tell somebody. So I came to this party, mostly to apologize to your two stepsons for walking out on their initiation. But I just told them what I had seen.”

Keldar glared at him. “You’ve been trying to talk to them since you saw Rolan in the Eye that night. I don’t know what your fascination is with them. But be careful, Eilann, when telling them tales. They’re young. They might believe you.”

Eilann seized him and stared deeply at him. “Listen! I think they did believe me, and now they’re trying to find out if I’m right! I just felt a Mystery Challenge begin!”

Keldar backed off, jerked his arms to knock Eilann’s grip loose. “I felt it too. But there are two or three other ahíinor here. One of them might have made the Challenge. ...And please try to keep from attacking me like that.”

“But what if it is them? Have you taught them any ren-yam lore yet?”

“No, of course not. That begins in their sixth or seventh year of training. Ren-yam mechanas are too dangerous without knowing how to use the four-pointed star correctly.”

“Oh no. Listen to me. They might try to use the Eye, Keldar. Dangerous enough if I’m wrong and everything I’ve seen is a figment. But if I’m right, and they try to look at Borrogg... Does the word ‘grosk’ mean anything to you...?”

Keldar paled and backed away as if struck. He scowled at Eilann. “If you’re right... no one here is safe…” He paused, then his expression changed. “Eilann, you may be mad, but I’m going to have to believe you on this for now. So where are they?”

“They were sitting over by the ten-ball table. But they aren’t there now. Oh, I saw Arnul playing haru-kandis with young Ranti Ras-Elrothai a few minutes ago, but I don’t see him either. Oh, Shillayne!”

“Yes?” she came over, holding a bowl of berry-cakes with apples.

“Have you seen Rolan and his brother?” asked Eilann.

“Well, I was talking to him with Allayne and Laréya, and then Mommy came up and told me to go talk over there. Oh, then I saw both of them go up the stairs about five minutes ago. Why?”

“Are there any other ahíinor staying in this inn now?” asked Keldar.

“Yes, there’s one and his family in the... is it the third room on the left up the stairs?... Yes, I think that’s right. Oh, but he’s not here now, he went to the market with his wife and daughter. I think his son stayed here to play some games at the party. They, the ahíinor family, are on a journey southward, to the Emb Lands, I believe. Anyway, I think they’re staying in the third room on the left.”

“Thanks, Shillayne,” Keldar said, adding a sharp “Stay here.” He and Eilann both slipped through the crowds and sped up the stairs, holding their árukand walking staffs in their hands.

Surprisingly nimble for a couple of old-timers, Shillayne thought, and she wondered what the problem could be. Maybe she should go check on Rolan; he was pretty handsome, but Keldar had told her not to follow.

“Play you a game of ten-ball!” said Laréya behind her, briefly chasing those thoughts away.

 

The single shaft of light opened into darkness, and Rolan and Arnul stepped in.

“There’s a glowball over there on the table,” Arnul stated. He went over, and took the metal ball, put his finger in the hole and the light started. Rolan shut the door, locked it, and followed Arnul over to the table. There were a number of mechanas there, mostly crystals and knives.

Arnul picked up a short, stunted-looking knife. “This one,” he said. “Ranti said it was the short knife, and besides Keldar has one like this. I’ve seen him use it.”

Rolan stared blankly at him. “So you’ve been spying some more. And after how scared you were when Keldar caught us in there.”

“Well he was going very slowly with the ahíinu training.”

“Probably to keep us from doing something like this,” said Rolan.

Arnul glared at him. “The Eye is only a view, stupid. So what if something looks back. We just ‘close’ the mechana. Nothing can happen. Keldar doesn’t trust us with higher-power mechanas yet. That’s the problem.”

“Hmmm…” Rolan was shaking. He waited for a moment, took a deep breath. There might be a reason that Keldar didn’t trust them with the higher-level mechanas. They were about to use the Eye to see something that might be perfectly dreadful, and, and, unlike the ahíinu training or the initiation, there was no guarantee that this was safe. But the Challenge had been invoked. He took another deep breath. “So we’ve gotten this far,” he said at last. “If you know how to use that thing, then go ahead.”

Arnul turned the knife over and over in his hand. “There’s a nonsense word you have to say. Like a spell, except that spells are part of old stories, and this is real. You have to say it once to the mechana itself, so it can hear your voice and then act on it the next time. Let’s see...” He held the knife up to his mouth, and muttered a strange series of words. Yes, Rolan had heard them before, echoing in Keldar’s lore room in Xóa Éyuhand. But that was years ago and almost in another world.

“Trúmitii káva mikáva ahíkullaa.”

The knife flashed a green light, then returned to its metal color.

“Ha, it worked,” Arnul said.

Rolan commented in spite of his alarm, “Those words must mean something in Old Fyorian. The last word might mean something like Kullándu, at least.”

“You and your words. Now, shall we do it?”

Rolan backed away. The sweat was beading up on his forehead and arms, and he could taste his own fear. Arnul seemed unafraid, as of yet.

Arnul went to the center of the room, and shouted the same nonsense words.

“Trúmitii káva mikáva ahíkullaa!”

There was a flash of light, a dreadful flash of light, and Rolan covered his eyes. When he looked again, there was firelight; the center of the room was filled with a blaze that started a foot or so off of the floor. And as they watched, the center of the flame turned different colors and formed a scene of the desert dunes and the sun above.

“Ha! Easy! Nothing to it!” laughed Arnul. “Just like when Keldar does it. It always starts with a scene of the desert near where you are.”

Rolan was becoming fascinated despite his dread, and he stepped nearer to the flame. “How do you control it?” he asked.

Arnul was silent for a moment. “Actually, I don’t know. Keldar never said, of course.” Rolan sighed with a momentary relief. Maybe they wouldn’t have to look at Borrogg after all. But the moment he thought it, he felt a twinge of terror; the Mystery Challenge had been invoked.

Arnul continued. “Maybe you move it by..., oh look, it’s starting to move on its own.”

And indeed it was. The scene began to rove, slowly, across the sands. A palm tree appeared, then vanished behind. But Rolan was barely looking; at the same time as Arnul had noticed the first bit of movement, he had felt a peculiar twinge in his side near his pocket. The pocket where he kept the four-pointed star amulet. He took out the amulet; saw that it was glowing with the same greenish light that the knife had flashed.

“Look.” He showed it to Arnul. “That’s what these amulets are for; they probably control all ren-yam mechanas like this. Remember how Keldar could make the glowballs fly around..?”

Arnul swore, then laughed. “I forgot mine. I left it in Xóa Éyuhand.”

Rolan almost laughed himself. “Well of all the strange things to happen; you start the Eye but I have to make it look at...” he trailed off, not wanting to say ‘Borrogg’. “Well anyway, let’s see how this works.”

He turned the amulet over; the scene swayed dizzily in the flame. He held the amulet up; the scene showed the sky. He tilted it forward; the scene began to move more quickly.

He laughed. He was forgetting his fear. “It is easy. Look at this!” and he made the scene sway and stagger and then plunge straight into the ground. For a moment all they could see was sand.

“How fast can it go?” asked Arnul.

Rolan tipped the amulet forward, almost on its side. The scene began to race along, flying over the desert like a bird, no, faster than a bird, and the sands blurred into a smear of color. In seconds grass had appeared; they were viewing the lands outside of the desert of Rohándal.

“So where are we looking at?” they both asked together. No reason to wonder; Rolan held the amulet aloft, over his head, and the scene shot into the air and the lands below spread out like a map. They saw the sandy desert surrounded by mountains on three sides, the strange greenness of the jungles in the south (the Karjan Imperium was there); the endless grasslands of the Sherványa territories in the east. And in the north was a strange wrinkled land of mountains and patches of forest and snow, and an almost circular configuration of peaks surrounding an uninviting brown flat land.

“That is Borrogg,” said Arnul. “Shall we go there now?”

Rolan’s dread returned. Of course they would have to sometime; the Mystery-Challenge had been invoked. There was no escape. But first it might be fun to take the scene down among the Drennlands or Kaii, and see the famous Kayanti stone buildings. Maybe he could take it down slowly, bit by bit, and reveal wonders to himself and to Arnul, a little at a time...

His thought was abruptly cut off. The scene trembled and jerked, and began to tumble to the ground toward the circle of mountains.

“Arnul, close the mechana. Something has taken control of the Eye.”

Arnul looked at the scene. “You’re going right to Borrogg...”

“Close it! Now!”

But Arnul backed away, shaking his hand, as the knife became hot and began to spark. The greenish light flashed, then a reddish light, and a burning flame burst out of it; he dropped it and it burned and exploded on the ground. The Fiery Eye continued its descent.

They backed away, staring at the Fire with terror-filled eyes. “Go get Keldar,” Rolan mouthed.

“No, he’d get angry for us doing this...”

“GO GET HIM! NOW! No. I’ll do it.” He turned, away from the flame, ran to the bolted door, but Arnul pulled him back.

“Look,” said Arnul.

The image had fallen to the ground, and they were staring at something dreadfully black. As if no sunlight could touch it; could ever touch it. And as they watched the black thing seemed to rush at them, and open, its left side and its right side changing places disconcertingly, and it became like a gaping mouth. Arnul fell back into the corner of the room and collapsed into a heap; Rolan backed into the table with the mechanas. He reached around a grabbed a mechana, a crystal, and held it up before him, and held up the four-pointed star in the other hand. But he saw, or rather he felt, something laugh at him; and there was a malice in the Eye, and he quailed before it. The mechanas fell to the ground.

The Fire exploded into a chaos of sparks and embers that swirled through the air. The glowball also sputtered and flashed. In the center of the room formed another black dreadful shape, like a rent in the air, a view into total darkness.

Something leapt out of the darkness. Something like the incarnation of fear, a gleaming metallic monstrosity. It remained there in the air for half a second, drooling, rotting, and stinking of venom, and then it lunged directly at Rolan. He fell back onto the table under its slimy bulk and the table legs gave way and collapsed. Splinters of wood dug into his back, along with shards of glass and metal from crushed mechanas.

The door burst open. Keldar and Eilann rushed in, brandishing swords, their metal flashing in the sparkling light. (Swords? Rolan had never seen any ahíinor use swords!) Keldar fell upon the creature immediately and began hacking at it (did his sword have a wooden handle?), but the monster stood and shook him off. It grabbed at Rolan with its sharp teeth. It had teeth all over it; its very skin was made of molars. It ripped a piece of flesh out of his arm, and he cried out. Keldar was on the creature again, but it turned and charged at Arnul. He squealed in terror. It collapsed on top of him and began to drag him towards the center of the room. Keldar hacked at it again and his sword dug in; bright blue blood gurgled out and burned like fire on the floor; Keldar screamed and shook his hand where it had touched. The creature turned around and lunged at Keldar, but Eilann was in its way, hitting at it with his own sword. It yowled.

The thing had a sting in its tail. The tail snapped around, missing Keldar and Eilann (who were both still hacking at it) and it bored into Rolan’s shoulder. He felt the pain and the poison rush into his body, and he cried out again. He saw Keldar hack off the tail and dodge another explosion of blue blood; the tail went on coiling and twisting by itself and Keldar kept chopping at it until it was still. Eilann stabbed the creature again and again from the front; it kept yowling and it grabbed Arnul off of the ground (Arnul feebly kicked and hit it, to no avail) and then it attacked Keldar with its teeth and claws. The pain of the venom was beginning to overtake Rolan, and darkness was falling, but he could see Keldar turn around as it was attacking and stab it directly in its bloated belly and roll out of the way as another jet of blue gore sprayed out; at the same time Eilann jumped on it from behind and began stabbing; it wheeled around and hurled him onto the floor with a ghastly thud. And then Rolan fell, seemingly through the floor, into darkness and confusion and nightmare.

 

To read more of this book: Tond, Book One: The Sons of Tlaen Ras-Erkéltis: Scribner, Steven E.: 9781520157573: Amazon.com: Books