Mary Herbert - City of Sorcerers

“What? What is it?” clamored the men around him.

The old priest ignored them and, with sharp blue eyes, studied the marks. At his request, several other priests joined him to examine the carvings, but finally they all shook their heads in frustration.

Ordan jabbed a finger at the markings. “These-here and here,” he said to the crowded clansmen, “are too old for us to read. I believe they are Clan. They look similar to old tunic signs once used for the gods. But we have lost the knowledge to understand them.”

Lord Athlone, craning his neck to look over the priests’ shoulders, saw the doorframe and felt a jab of recognition. “I know what those two tiles are,” he exclaimed.

Ordan moved aside so the chieftain could step in and take a closer look.

Athlone pointed to the marble panels. “They’re magic wards. This door has been sealed by magic.”

“Heresy,” one of the priests muttered under his breath.

In spite of his longevity as a holy man, Ordan was one of the few priests in the clans who had an open mind regarding magic. Unlike most of his counterparts, he was willing to consider the possibility that magic was a gift of the gods, not an evil mutation of their powers. Therefore, he did not flinch away from the doorway as did two of the other priests or cross his fingers in a sign against evil. Instead he put his fingertips along the almost invisible seam of the door and looked fascinated. “Is it possible to break the seal?” he asked Athlone.

The sorcerer-chieftain considered the tiles for a moment or two. “Probably. They’ve been weakened by age. But should we? I’ve never heard of a burial chamber sealed with magic wards. ”

“Neither have I. On the other hand, this appears to date back to the days before the downfall of the sorcerers. We know so little of that time. Perhaps it was accepted to seal some tombs with magic.”

Athlone touched the cool, damp stone with a finger. “Well, I’m willing to try to open it if you are.”

Ordan’s thin lips pulled into a rare smile. “My curiosity has gotten the best of me. Break the seals, magic-wielder.”

Hastily the men backed up several paces to give Lord Athlone more room. The chief stretched out both arms and placed his fingertips on the wards. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the magic around him. He knew the power permeated the natural world. Magic was in the rocks, the earth, the living plants, and it was in the souls of those born with the talent to wield its energy. As he drew magic from the earth at his feet, he felt the energy flow through him, as natural and comforting as his own blood.

He wished he had a diamond splinter such as Gabria’s to help him intensify his spell, but the splinters were emblems of an older age and only one had been found since the destruction of Moy Tura. He would have to rely on his own strength.

Visualizing exactly what he wanted to do, he focused his spell down through his fingertips and sent a powerful, explosive jolt of magic into the tiles. The wards were stronger than he expected. Old, worn, and eroded as they were, they had been constructed by a master sorcerer and their power was still potent. Athlone had to send a second, more powerful burst into them before the marble finally cracked and the tiles shattered to dust.

The chieftain leaned against the frame, breathing heavily. “Are you all right?” Koshyn asked at his side.

“Yes.” He pushed himself upright. “But if they hadn’t been so old and worn, I would never have broken through. Someone wanted to make sure this body was not disturbed.”

Well, let’s go see what’s in there,” someone yelled eagerly, and the men shouted their agreement.

Still weary, Athlone stood aside and let Savaron step in to put his shoulder to the stone door. Together, Koshyn and Savaron heaved against the entrance until the stone groaned and creaked and a black crack appeared along the right hand edge.

Under the tree in the Khulinin camp, Lady Gabria lunged to her feet and screamed a terrible cry of anguish.

“Mother!” Kelene shouted in horror, hobbling to her side as the sorceress buried her face in her hands. The children clustered around, clamoring with fear and confusion. The white cat took off like a streak, and Demira neighed a nervous challenge. White-faced, Tam tried to calm the young ones while Kelene and Nara gathered close to Gabria.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Tam cried over the uproar.

Gabria was sweating and lightheaded and shuddering uncontrollably. She clasped Kelene’s arm with one hand and Nara’s leg with the other, too upset to speak.

Kelene responded. “I don’t know!” She stared at her mother’s stricken face and felt her heart twist. Kelene knew she had pushed aside her love for Gabria many times in the past few years, but, behind the facade she showed to the world, that love had never waned. Now she was horrified by the pain she saw in Gabria’s eyes. “Mother, please! What’s the matter?” she cried.

Gabria could only shake her head. She gasped for breath and held tighter to Kelene’s arm.

Frustrated, Kelene looked to Tam, but she was still distracted by the frightened children. The girl steadied her shaking legs. There was one way to get a partial answer, if she wanted to do it. Kelene had always been sensitive by touch to other people’s emotions. She didn’t know why she had the ability, and she had never told anyone about it. It was usually something she regarded as painful and a nuisance. This time-, though, fear for her mother overcame her reluctance, and she laid her other hand over her mother’s. Opening her mind to her mother’s feelings, she concentrated on the touch of her skin against Gabria’s. The results were immediate.

“She’s not ill. She’s terrified,” Kelene cried to Tam.

“Terrified of what? Gabria, is this like yesterday? Or the day before?” Tam demanded.

Kelene was surprised. “What are you talking about?”

“Your mother had a vision two days ago, then a strange experience during the race yesterday. Was this the same thing, Gabria?”

The sorceress finally nodded. “Only worse. Much worse.

For just a moment I felt a hatred so strong. . . so malevolent. . . . O Mother of All, what was it?” she moaned.

“I don’t know, but I think you’d better lie down. The moment Athlone and Sayyed get back, we have to tell them,” Tam insisted. “You’re not going to keep it to yourself for a day or two like you did the vision.”

Gabria drew a long, ragged breath to steady her voice and let go of Kelene and Nara. “Yes, we’ll tell them. But. . . I don’t want to lie down. The feeling is passing.” She smiled reassuringly at the children around her. “Why don’t we go on with the story? It will take all our minds off this for a while.”

Kelene and Tam eyed her with some disbelief, but Gabria composed herself. Although her face was pale and there was a tremor in her hands, she took up the tale of Valorian where she had left it. The children settled back down, looking relieved. Tam shook her head and went to search for her cat.

Only Kelene could not relax. She had never sensed a fear like her mother’s before; its intensity had left her badly shaken. If it had touched her so deeply, how must it have affected Gabria? She hoped when her father returned they could discover the cause of these strange attacks. Her mother did not deserve such terror.

The men pushed harder, and the door slowly ground open to a shoulder’s width.

“Stop there,” Ordan ordered. “Let the air within freshen before we open the door fully.” When they all tried to peer into the interior, they could see nothing beyond the small patch of light in the entrance. The darkness beyond the portal was complete.