came as no surprise to Jinzan when they
led him to the final resting place of the knowledge of Loramar. The first was
that it was buried beneath a crypt in the heart of the Ghelkan capitol of Lon
Mai; it seemed that the whole of the graveyard, as well as the crypt, were
built atop one of Loramar's strongholds. The second was that the crypt was
round. It seemed that every structure in the whole of Ghelk was built round,
from the smallest wooden home to the myriad squat towers that comprised the
palace.
"You are not the first to try yourself against
the wards, Councilor Fehr," Chioju said. Like his younger female
colleague, he wore a grimy brown cloth wrapped about his eyes and plain-spun
woolen clothing. He either knew the way to the crypt by memory or he guided the
way by aether-sight; Jinzan suspected the latter, based on the strength of the
man's Source.
"No one has been killed in a score of winters
though," his other guide, Aolyn, assured him. She was comely beneath the
homely garments, if perhaps a bit too thin. Even in his state of exhaustion, a
glance at her Source was enough to give him thoughts of adding a fourth wife.
"I intend to succeed. I have to discover the
means to Loramar's power," Jinzan said. He kept pace close behind his
guides over the rocky, uneven spaces between the graves.
"It will be interesting, pitting the great
aethersmith Gehlen's masterpiece against the master's wards. Grand Necromancer
Loramar's strength was not his rune-carving, I will admit," Chioju said.
"Well, Gehlen's was."
They reached the crypt at the center of the
graveyard. It was built less than a hundred winters ago, but looked ten times
that old. The stone was pitted with decay, weather-stained and crumbling in
places. To Jinzan's surprise, the door opened easily at Chioju's push. The
hinges had apparently been oiled. There was no light within. As the door closed
behind them, Jinzan cast a quick light spell to banish the darkness, fixing the
glow to the top of the Staff of Gehlen to bring along with him.
Closed within the crypt, his guides each began
unwinding the cloths that bound their eyes. When Jinzan saw what lay beneath, a
chill ran through him. Where eyes ought to have been, there were hollowed,
empty sockets. They were not pits of blackness, the way demons and other evils
were depicted in illuminations, but alcoves carved into the skull, lined with
graying dead flesh.
The two Ghelkan crypt-keepers shared a chuckle at
Jinzan's discomfiture.
"For one who would seek mastery of the dead,
you frighten easily," Aolyn teased. "Our bodies are naught but bits
of flesh packed around a Source, like mud caked upon a diamond. If you learn
nothing else today, take Loramar's First Lesson: I am my Source; all else is
but a tool of my Source."
Chioju lead them down steep stairways that wound
their way underground. The air was oppressive and heavy with dust. When they
reached the bottom, they came upon a wide corridor.
"What was that?" Jinzan asked. There had
been a noise; they had all heard it: a metallic rustling up ahead. Chioju
advanced into the corridor, leaving the illuminated area from the staff.
"See for yourself, Councilor Fehr. It is
nothing to fear," Aolyn said from close behind him. Jinzan could feel her
breath on the back of his neck; she had nearly run into him when he stopped.
He started forward once more. Along the sides of the
corridor, thin chains hung from the ceiling. Spaced a pace or so apart, they
ran all down the length and hung to shoulder height, with little balls on the
end of each. Jinzan stopped short once more and this time Aolyn did bump
into him from behind. The chains jingled again as the "balls" twisted
about to look at him. They were all eyes.
Aolyn shoved him roughly from behind.
"We can find you a teat to suckle from later if
you need to be calmed like a frightened infant. Move on," Aolyn scolded.
The end of the hallway came soon, but still not soon
enough for Jinzan's liking. If these were the
led him to the final resting place of the knowledge of Loramar. The first was
that it was buried beneath a crypt in the heart of the Ghelkan capitol of Lon
Mai; it seemed that the whole of the graveyard, as well as the crypt, were
built atop one of Loramar's strongholds. The second was that the crypt was
round. It seemed that every structure in the whole of Ghelk was built round,
from the smallest wooden home to the myriad squat towers that comprised the
palace.
"You are not the first to try yourself against
the wards, Councilor Fehr," Chioju said. Like his younger female
colleague, he wore a grimy brown cloth wrapped about his eyes and plain-spun
woolen clothing. He either knew the way to the crypt by memory or he guided the
way by aether-sight; Jinzan suspected the latter, based on the strength of the
man's Source.
"No one has been killed in a score of winters
though," his other guide, Aolyn, assured him. She was comely beneath the
homely garments, if perhaps a bit too thin. Even in his state of exhaustion, a
glance at her Source was enough to give him thoughts of adding a fourth wife.
"I intend to succeed. I have to discover the
means to Loramar's power," Jinzan said. He kept pace close behind his
guides over the rocky, uneven spaces between the graves.
"It will be interesting, pitting the great
aethersmith Gehlen's masterpiece against the master's wards. Grand Necromancer
Loramar's strength was not his rune-carving, I will admit," Chioju said.
"Well, Gehlen's was."
They reached the crypt at the center of the
graveyard. It was built less than a hundred winters ago, but looked ten times
that old. The stone was pitted with decay, weather-stained and crumbling in
places. To Jinzan's surprise, the door opened easily at Chioju's push. The
hinges had apparently been oiled. There was no light within. As the door closed
behind them, Jinzan cast a quick light spell to banish the darkness, fixing the
glow to the top of the Staff of Gehlen to bring along with him.
Closed within the crypt, his guides each began
unwinding the cloths that bound their eyes. When Jinzan saw what lay beneath, a
chill ran through him. Where eyes ought to have been, there were hollowed,
empty sockets. They were not pits of blackness, the way demons and other evils
were depicted in illuminations, but alcoves carved into the skull, lined with
graying dead flesh.
The two Ghelkan crypt-keepers shared a chuckle at
Jinzan's discomfiture.
"For one who would seek mastery of the dead,
you frighten easily," Aolyn teased. "Our bodies are naught but bits
of flesh packed around a Source, like mud caked upon a diamond. If you learn
nothing else today, take Loramar's First Lesson: I am my Source; all else is
but a tool of my Source."
Chioju lead them down steep stairways that wound
their way underground. The air was oppressive and heavy with dust. When they
reached the bottom, they came upon a wide corridor.
"What was that?" Jinzan asked. There had
been a noise; they had all heard it: a metallic rustling up ahead. Chioju
advanced into the corridor, leaving the illuminated area from the staff.
"See for yourself, Councilor Fehr. It is
nothing to fear," Aolyn said from close behind him. Jinzan could feel her
breath on the back of his neck; she had nearly run into him when he stopped.
He started forward once more. Along the sides of the
corridor, thin chains hung from the ceiling. Spaced a pace or so apart, they
ran all down the length and hung to shoulder height, with little balls on the
end of each. Jinzan stopped short once more and this time Aolyn did bump
into him from behind. The chains jingled again as the "balls" twisted
about to look at him. They were all eyes.
Aolyn shoved him roughly from behind.
"We can find you a teat to suckle from later if
you need to be calmed like a frightened infant. Move on," Aolyn scolded.
The end of the hallway came soon, but still not soon
enough for Jinzan's liking. If these were the
Similar Books
