Robert Hughes - The Power and the Prophet

Strahn looked at him sharply, more worried now than ever. “Really?”

“Sometimes.” Erri smiled at his companion. “But then it passes.” He waved his hand at the line that stretched out before them. “These are our people and they’re frightened too. Let’s go see if we can encourage them some. Maybe then we’ll all feel better.”

Strahn stared at Erri, his expression still one of puzzlement. But this time when the prophet picked up speed to rejoin the tail of the retreating column, the young man went with him.

Erri smiled inwardly and told himself that one day Strahn could even be a great man.

Pelmen woke with a start, and sat up in bed. He was surrounded by total darkness. One moment later, a ball of flame bobbed above the bed, and he had to lower it a little to keep from singeing the canopy.

He remembered now where he was, and who lay beside him.

Serphimera slept on her side, her long hair spilling across the pillow she clutched so closely. He sat for a time watching her, admiring the shape of her lips and the curve of her thighs. He briefly considered remaining here. Flayh knew nothing of this place. They could be safe here, turning their backs on the troubled world and living peacefully within this endless artifact. Then he smiled at his folly and woke her.

She was alert immediately. “Is it time?” she asked. “I have no idea what time it is. It could be morning or midnight and we wouldn’t know.” He noticed Serphimera shielding her face from the glare of his light. He waved his hand and it moved over a bit, out of her eyes. “Yet we’re both awake. And there’s little enough time left to those who struggle outside. Let’s gel on with it.”

They rose and dressed, leaving the glorious bedchamber with a shared lingering sense of sadness. Once in the hallway, Serphimera turned the wrong way. “Where are you going?” Pelmen asked.

“Isn’t that the way out?”

“Maybe there is an exit in that direction, but we’d probably emerge someplace in the Great North Fir and be hopelessly lost. I don’t think we have the time to go looking for it.”

“You mean the throne room is that way?” Serphimera asked, pointing behind her, and Pelmen nodded.

The priestess smiled brightly and shrugged. She’d never had much of a sense of direction.

A few moments later they stood once again in that circular chamber that had once bound the three lands into one. “Where do we start?” Serphimera asked.

“At the bottom of that pile,” Pelmen answered, pointing.

“How do you start at the bottom?”

“You just wade in,” Pelmen murmured, and he did just that. She sighed and followed after him. They dug an hour before

they found the fourth pyramid. They found the fifth only moments later, and with shouts of jubilation they threw themselves into their digging with a new excitement. Oblivious to the substance they tunnelled through, they dug with the keen exhilaration of anticipated victory.

Three hours later, they admitted to each other their growing frustration. “I must rest,” Serphimera wheezed, and she waded toward the steps of the dais and sat down. Pelmen squatted where he was, and heaved a disheartened sigh. It seemed Serphimera’s eyes widened suddenly, then closed again. “We know it’s here,” she encouraged him.

He nodded. “That seems reasonable. But what if it’s not? What if we can’t find it?”

“Then you won’t have to remake the weapon. And you won’t be obliged to use it.”

Pelmen turned his head and met her most penetrating stare. “You know the price of using it?” he asked.

“I’ve always known the price. Long before you told me of its making—perhaps before we even met—I knew that cost. I just didn’t know the circumstances until now.”

“And how do you know now?” he asked. “Another vision last night?”

She looked away, unable to meet his eyes any longer. Then she nodded—a brief, quick jerk of her head.

“And you know we’ll find the sixth pyramid?”

“We already have,” Serphimera murmured, and she pointed toward his foot. “You kicked it up just now when you squatted down.”

Pelmen slowly looked downward and saw the pointed tip of the sixth crystal pyramid. He reached down and reverently picked it up. The set was complete. “There remains only the task of putting it together,” he said, and Serphimera nodded.

“Where do we do that?” she asked briskly.

Pelmen shook his head, shocked that they actually possessed all the parts of the ancient magical object.

“I know where Sheth was to have taken it, once he’d made his contribution.”

“They’re alive with magic,” Serphimera said quietly, “so obviously his contribution was made. Who else was to participate in the project?”

“The men of faith, who resided on the mountain in the Great North Fir. That’s the mountain of your visions.”

Serphimera nodded again, her expression a mingling of tragedy and resolve. “We’ll go up that mountain, Pelmen. We’ll not come down it.”

He frowned. “Are you sure? I mean, before you said you just couldn’t see beyond—”

“I’m sure,” Serphimera interrupted. There was no point in discussing it further. They sat there for several minutes, each lost in private thoughts. Finally, Serphimera got to her feet. “I guess we’d better get started.”

“It’s a long way to the mountain,” Pelmen said after a moment. “Maybe we ought to rest again before we go?”

She caught his meaning instantly and responded with a shy smile. They returned first to the marble bath, then to the giant bed. It was a long time, however, before they slept.

Pelmen and Serphimera stepped out of the lair into brilliant afternoon sunlight. The early thaw had come, melting the last of the muddy snow from the pass below them and leaving a swamp of thick brown muck in its place. They quickly climbed down, found their mounts where they’d left them, and loaded their precious treasures into the saddlebags. Only then did they notice they had company.

A huge pack of dogs encircled them, pinning them to the canyon wall. Serphimera gasped. “Dogs!”

Pelmen gazed around at the circle. “They’re not dogs at all.”

“But how do you—”

“Look at their eyes,” he told her, and Serphimera did. She shivered, and Pelmen put a protective arm around her shoulders. “What are they?” she whispered.

“Powers. They’ve been given that form by Flayh.”

“They’re not illusions?”

“No, these are not like the false dragon. They’re real—real enough that those teeth could tear us open and those jaws snap our bones.” He murmured this in such a cold, flat manner that Serphimera looked away from the dogs and at him. His eyes remained fixed on their adversaries. It was evident his mind was hard at work.

“You can escape, at least,” she whispered, and that drew his attention back to her.

“And leave you?” His mind flashed immediately to Dorlyth.

“There’s too much at stake for us to—”

“What’s wrong with you?” he snapped. “You saw us both going up that mountain, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she answered softly.

“Then we know we’ll not die here. Come on.” He lightly touched the flanks of his horse with his heels, and it took a few tentative steps forward. Serphimera’s horse quickly followed, wanting to stay close to its companion. They moved slowly toward the line of dogs, horses and riders alike closely watching these unnatural beasts for some movement signaling attack.

No attack came. As had happened with Erri and his followers, the line turned westward and trotted before them, while those behind closed ranks around them and matched their pace. “It’s as if they’re escorting us,” Serphimera murmured.