R. Salvatore - Echoes of the Fourth Magic

“Del,” Belexus echoed, smiling. “ ’Tis noble to chance yer life for a friend. I bow in respect o’ yer braveness.” The compliment from such a man thrilled Del, but Mitchell moved quickly to defuse Del’s pride.

“He was stupid,” the captain snorted.

“And who ye be?” Belexus asked, eyeing Mitchell with some obvious measure of contempt now, and understandably, for the captain had just insulted the man Belexus had just honored.

“Mitchell, Captain Mitchell,” the huge man proclaimed, emphasizing the rank.

But the pride in his voice only seemed to antagonize the warrior all the more.

“Ye show a strange mind for a captain, Mitchell,” Belexus said. “A man following his heart to a danger his mind would’no’ face is not stupid. Nay, he’s a man I wish to raise sword beside when battle is joined. A true leader knows the worth o’ loyalty.” Apparently having nothing more to say to Mitchell and wanting to hear nothing more from him, Belexus turned to Billy.

“Billy Shank,” Del said.

“Health o’ yer kin,” Belexus said, warmly clasping Billy’s wrist.

Not knowing quite what to say in his amazement of this magnificent man, Billy just nodded blankly. But Billy didn’t have to say anything, for he had already earned the warrior’s respect. His attempt to help when the monster had gained the upper hand had not gone unnoticed.

“By yer unheared names and ne’er seen clothes,” Belexus said with a deep sigh. “And ye come no’ from the land, for suren ye do’no’ know her ways. Troth be in seeing, ye are standin’ proof to the Witching Prophetics.”

“What do you mean?” asked Reinheiser, who had come from hiding when things appeared safe. He grudgingly dealt with Belexus’ offer of a handshake with a quick pump. “What are these Witching Prophetics?”

“A gift o’ the Lady,” replied Belexus, undisturbed by the callous efficiency of Reinheiser’s greeting. Something had struck a chord in his heart, a faraway memory or a pleasant image, and a sparkle like the twinkling of a distant star edged his eye. “Old tales and long in the telling.”

“I thought you said we didn’t have much time,” Mitchell cut in, his voice openly hostile.

“That I did,” Belexus replied with a smile, obviously taking no care of the captain’s tone. Insults directed against him didn’t bother Belexus unless they came from someone he respected. He turned to Reinheiser. “By the words o’ the prophecies, a time o’ great trial is come upon us. A time for valor and courage. And honor. And the tales tell o’ the coming of strange men-ancient men to deliver us. Or mighten be they come to damn us. ‘And they shall be the shapers of Aielle, the changers of all that is to pass,’ ” he recited. “But the prophecies do’no’ tell for good or for evil. Me sire, Bellerian, Ranger Lord o’ Avalon, sent me in quest o’ the ancient ones. I found yer tracks in the vale above and the rest ye huv seen.”

“And we must be the ancient ones,” Reinheiser said.

“May that ye be,” Belexus replied. “And being so, I must beg yer trust o’ me and bring ye to meet me sire.”

“I have to bury my friend first,” Del said. “It is our custom.”

“And ’tis ourne,” Belexus explained. “But we huv no’ the time. I huv no heart for seein’ this foul swamp at shadow-time, and even now the sun rides low. Blackemara takes care o’ her victims.”

Del looked at the fallen doctor. “Then, if you’ll excuse me for a moment,” he said softly, “I’ll say my good-byes.” With Billy at his side, he walked to where Brady lay fallen and knelt over the body. Belexus bowed his head in respect.

In deference to Del’s injured back, Belexus led them at a steady but easy pace. Del wasn’t too uncomfortable, though, the cut being superficial.

Walking behind Belexus, Del was stunned by the grace of the ranger’s movements. Belexus seemed unhindered by his bulky muscles as he easily glided over or around any obstructions they came upon. And Del was even more amazed when he noticed that Belexus, though heavier than any of them except Mitchell, left only a slight depression, barely visible in the muddy ground, while he and the others sank in nearly to their ankles with every step. Del smiled as the meaning of Belexus’ earlier words, “too soft for the way ye fill yer boots,” came clear to him.

They emerged from the swamp as the day began to wane, and backtracked up the grassy slope with the sun, riding low in the western sky, in their eyes. When Belexus felt assured that Blackemara had been left safely behind, he veered sharply off toward the southern range. They made the cliff wall just before sunset and moved westward along its base. The great river, red-speckled in the last rays of the daylight, rolled on methodically a short distance ahead of them, and as they approached, they saw that it flowed into a wide tunnel in the cliff wall. Belexus led them in, walking along a narrow rock ledge beside the flowing water. A short distance inside he stopped.

“Pray turn yer eyes aside,” he requested.

“Why? Don’t you trust us?” Mitchell protested.

“You embarrass me, Captain,” Reinheiser promptly scolded. “Turn away and let us get on with this adventure.” Still grumbling, and stung by Reinheiser’s comment, Mitchell realized that he had no support in his hostility toward the ranger. He spun around and the others followed suit.

Belexus put his hand in a small crack in the wall and pushed a hidden lever. A large slab of rock silently slid away, revealing a narrow, carved stair spiraling upward into blackness.

Del’s jaw dropped open when he turned back.

“Wizard’s working in a fore age,” Belexus explained. “A free path from the vale in times o’ need. Come.” And they entered the stair. Just inside the opening, Belexus pulled a torch and tinderbox out of a cubbyhole. A few steps up, he stopped again to work a second lever, and the rock moved quietly and securely into place behind them.

Ever upward wound the stair, always arcing at the same angle to the right. The walls were cracked and chipped, though not nearly as broken as the exaggerating torchlight shadows made them appear. This passage didn’t appear to have been cut; Del got the impression that an incredible force had literally torn the rock from between the walls.

Up they went, and up some more. Five hundred stairs passed, then a thousand. Only Belexus kept the spring in his stride; the others struggled for every breath, their legs aching. Reinheiser lagged behind and the others kept calling to him to make sure he was still moving, but Belexus didn’t relent the pace. In near blackness the physicist stumbled on, scrambling to keep within the area of torchlight. Finally, just when the men thought they could go no farther, they came to a short, level landing ending in a large stone door. There they waited for a minute to find their breath and to let Reinheiser catch up. Then, with a great heave, Belexus opened the door.

A cool refreshing breeze rushed in on them, and the cries of a night bird and the chirping of crickets mercifully washed away the monotonous echoes of weary boots scraping on stone. But it was the clear night sky that held Del’s thoughts. A canopy of black velvet it seemed, a million twinkling little lights strung upon it.

“Beauty in the spring, Aiellian Sky,” Belexus recited, sensing Del’s delight. “Soothing freedom for wall-wearied, wintered eyes.”

The men stepped out into the night, and Belexus closed the door behind them. From the outside, the portal seemed to be part of an immense boulder, and not a crack showed to indicate that this was an entrance.

“Incredible workmanship!” Reinheiser exclaimed. Belexus smiled and nodded, but before he could elaborate any details to Reinheiser about the door, the group was accosted by a voice from the darkness.