David Gemmell - The Swords of Night and Day

It leapt for her, then stumbled, blood gouting from the terrible wound in its chest. Askari backed away.

Skilgannon moved alongside her. The hound’s front legs gave way, and it crashed to the floor. Sunlight suddenly blazed through the windows, columns of golden light illuminating the hall.

Skilgannon watched as the light moved across the bone-littered floor. He blinked. Then walked to the window. Askari joined him. Shielding his eyes Skilgannon watched the sun rise.

‘It is too fast,’ he said. ‘The sun does not rise that swiftly.’

Askari pointed to a flock of birds in the distance. They were speeding across the sky. ‘Time is flowing faster out there,’ she said. Skilgannon nodded agreement, and turned away from the sunlight. Taking a deep breath he walked back past the dead beast and headed across the hall.

‘Do you know where you are going?’ Askari asked him.

‘When I stayed here I was allowed to roam freely — except for the upper levels. So that is where we will make for.’

Crossing the hall Skilgannon glanced at several skeletons. They were twisted and unnatural, some with overly curved spines, others with grossly distended bones. There was a skull with four eye sockets.

Skilgannon and Askari travelled on in silence, along deserted tunnels, and up a second flight of metal steps. The higher they climbed the better they felt. Skilgannon’s nausea passed, as did the tingling in his fingers. Another corridor led them back to a high gallery above the dining hall they had just left. There were creatures moving across it now, some like the giant hound, but also other, paler beasts, hulking and brutal. One of them gazed up and saw them. It made no move to follow. Instead it loped to the dead hound and began ripping flesh from it. Other beasts joined in. From far below they heard a high-pitched scream. Several of the creatures loped off towards the sound.

Skilgannon came to an oval wooden door. It was locked. Stepping back he took several deep breaths, then hammered his right foot against the lock. The frame shuddered, but the lock did not give.

Twice more he struck at the lock. On the third blow the door bowed, and wood splintered around the frame. A fourth blow snapped the lock, and the door flew open. Skilgannon stepped inside. The room was an antechamber leading to another door. This was not locked and Skilgannon passed through into a larger room, shelved along the far wall, and stacked with books and scrolls. There was an open window, with a balcony beyond, and before it stood a wide desk of beautifully fashioned oak. An old man was sitting there. He did not rise in alarm as they entered, merely looked at them with weary eyes. His face was oddly shaped, heavy bone around the brows and cheeks. His mouth was wide, the teeth misshapen.

‘What is it you want, Demon Woman?’ he asked Askari.

‘She is not a demon,’ Skilgannon told him. ‘She is a Reborn.’

‘I know what she is. She is evil. We brought her back. We thought she would tell us the wonders of her age. She told us nothing. Landis begged her, and she laughed. Vestava questioned her, and she said she could not remember. Give her time, she asked us. Then she rode out and gathered an army. The days of blood and death began. I know her. I know her too well.’

‘You are mistaken, priest. This is not the Eternal. She is one of her Reborns, and is, with me, trying to end her reign. We need to find the silver eagle and its egg.’

The old man laughed. ‘You cannot find the eagle, warrior. It floats so high that the sky is no longer blue. It moves among the stars.’

‘But it sends power here,’ said Skilgannon. ‘To feed the egg.’

The old man lifted a gnarled hand and rubbed at his face. ‘I am so tired,’ he said. The hand was webbed, the knuckles grotesquely distorted.

‘What is happening here?’ asked Skilgannon.

‘We made an error — a dreadful error. We tried to move the Temple outside time. Just a few seconds, so that she,’ he said, pointing at Askari, ‘could not steal more artefacts. We had discovered a series of hidden tunnels below the temple. There were artefacts there. Terrible artefacts.’ His misshapen face turned towards Askari. ‘She knows this. Weapons that deal death over great distances. There were also scrolls and documents that spoke of even more ghastly devices. Aye, and maps which showed where they were hidden. She wanted them. It was not enough for her that she had corrupted our work. She desired even more power, even greater weapons. We could not allow it. We sought to hide the temple from her. At first we thought we had succeeded.’ He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Instead we merely slowed time within these walls. What followed was more horrible than you could imagine. We began to change. Our structures became unstable. Bone continued to grow. Many of the brothers died, others became deformed. It was slow at first, and we did not realize what was happening. Once we did we tried to change the spell. It only made matters worse. The wards around the temple increased in power. After that everything happened so swiftly there was no time to escape. Some of the brothers managed to reach these higher levels, where the mutations slowed for a while. Gradually they all changed, reverted to beasts, and tore one another apart, or fled below to join the packs that roam the lower levels.’

‘Yet you survived,’ said Skilgannon.

Lifting his grotesque hand the old priest pulled clear a golden chain, hanging from his neck. Upon it, in a golden clasp, was a black and white crescent, part crystal, part stone. T carry the Abbot’s Moon,’ he said. Idly he stroked the crescent. ‘Its power is almost gone. Once it shone, white and bright. It sustained me.’

‘It has been five hundred years,’ said Askari. ‘How do any creatures still live here?’

‘Five hundred years, is it? Not when each day outside passes in under an hour. By my reckoning it is fifteen years since we cast the spell — though my mind is not what it was, and I could be wrong. For a while we could leave and bring in supplies. When more of us became beasts we began to feed on each other.’ His head drooped. ‘We believed we were the keepers of knowledge, that we could lift the world from its savagery. Instead we became savages. The mutation in our bodies also made us long-lived.’

‘Why did you not just end the magic?’ asked Skilgannon. ‘That would surely have stopped the horror of the Eternal.’

The deformed priest looked bemused. ‘End the magic? How would one accomplish such a feat? We tried to change the spell. We knew it was destroying us. But the more we meddled with it, the worse it became. A few months back we made our last attempt. All we succeeded in doing was accelerating the process. Now there is no food, my people are dead, or changed. They feed on each other.’

‘Listen to me, old man,’ Skilgannon urged him. ‘The eagle feeds the magic. It comes somehow through the Mirror of Heaven. Where does it then go?’

‘Magic does not go , warrior. Magic is .’

‘Where is the holiest place here?’ asked Askari.

The old priest gave a cackling laugh. ‘That you of all people should ask that! How amusing. Evil seeks holiness.’

‘Is there such a place?’ Skilgannon pressed him.

‘The Crystal Shrine. The Great Abbot built it, I believe. That is where we used to meet and pray, and heal the sick.’

‘Is it close, this shrine?’ asked Skilgannon patiently.

A distant scream sounded. Then another. Their interlocutor seemed not to notice. He stared at Askari.

‘Where is the shrine?’ asked Skilgannon. The old man did not reply, but his gaze shifted to a far door on the western wall. ‘Let’s go!’ said Skilgannon.

The priest stumbled to his feet. ‘No!’ he shouted. ‘She must not go near it. She would defile it!’