Roar, page 20
As they emerged from a copse of tall elms and ashes, Camille could see large spires rising out of the ground in front of them. The building itself – or castle as she thought it must be – was concealed just behind the crest of the hill they were travelling up. Carrying on further along the road up the shallow rise, she found that the spires were even taller than she had thought. They just kept rising further and further out of the ground. But then when they finally crested the top of the hill she forgot about them. Instead she had to wonder what sort of building she was looking at.
It was like nothing she had ever seen before, though if she had to guess she would have said it was a temple of some sort. But beyond that she didn't know. In fact it seemed more like half a dozen huge temples and a great many more buildings all combined together into one massive structure, with a group of twisted towers rising randomly from it. And the building – or was that buildings – that had been mashed together were all very different. Some had domes with spires rising from them; others had gables or flat roofs. Yet they were all joined as one structure.
The architecture was wrong too. Mixed up. Some of the buildings were taller than others, with some being two stories; others four or five. Some had round windows, some square and some arched. Stained glass sat along side clear. And while most of the structures were constructed of wood and brick, each building was painted or stained differently.
Why were the towers twisted, she wondered? Because while it might look interesting, it had to play horrible tricks on the inside spaces. Stair cases wouldn't flow right. Floors would be misshapen. Walls would be a long way from true. And yet they had to have been built that way from the start. Planned.
But there was more involved in it than just buildings and twisted towers. It hadn't all been built. Some parts of it had been grown. Some of the temples were actual trees! Somehow they had become part of the structure. Trunks and branches were parts of the walls, and the green canopies above formed roofs. And it became impossible to work out in places where the trees ended and the walls began.
At first glance it looked as though some giant had come along and grabbed a whole bunch of temples and trees and squashed them together. And yet as they drew closer she also realised that there was a certain sense to it. There was a design. It just wasn't symmetrical. Or even orderly. It was instead artistic. But who would want to live in a giant artistic sculpture?
Camille also found it odd that this structure was sitting on the side of a shallow hill, all by itself. There were no other buildings around it. It wasn't in the middle of a town or city. It didn't even have neighbours. Just fields of crops and a few goats and sheep. Where were the farmers' crofts? Because surely at the very least they had to have them. To feed those living within the temple if nothing else. And stables. And who would want to build a massive temple out in the middle of nowhere?
But was it even a building? As they drew closer and the sheer size of the structure became ever more apparent, she began to realise that that might not be the right word for it. Buildings for all that they might differ had certain constraints on them – and one of them was size. There were limits to how large a building could get. This was bigger. In fact it was so large that she wondered if it could actually be a city. A city made of a single building! It was impossible, but it was standing right in front of her!
“Aunt Matilde? Potaine?”
“This is Strongheart. Or in Doranic, Yessamine. The College of the Spark,” Potaine answered her. “It is one part colleges and places of learning. One part administrations where the leaders of all the various schools of magic make their home and organise their orders. It is in part a trading city where those with the most advanced magical wares may buy and sell. And in part it is also the home of many faiths.”
“This is the only place in all of Erisen where you will find an actual temple to one of the Seven Sisters. To Airia, Sister of the Skies, who brought the spark of magic to the world. It is here that every fell witch and warlock, healer, seer, druid, shaman, wizard and dreamer in Erisen is brought to be assessed and trained. Yessamine is the heart of magic for the hamadryads. And it is where you will be safe.”
A college for the magical? Camille hadn't known there was such a place. Or even imagined that one could exist. But then, this wasn't the Plains where magic was outlawed except for the King's own purposes. This was Erisen. And the hamadryads – in fact all the dryadic peoples – accepted magic freely. Why therefore wouldn't they have a college for the magical? She did wonder however, what the place was like.
In the Palace of the Sun she had lived among many other wizards and witches for years. But most of them had been crazed thanks to the philtres they were forced to drink. They were also all prisoners, unable to leave their homes without guards and chains. Most of them seldom left their homes at all, save of course to step outside when the sun rose and stare at the distant palace and its balcony with the steel clad figure standing proudly on it. The rest of the time they simply hid in their hovels, waiting to die. Many of them couldn't leave their homes even if they had wanted to; the philtres had robbed them of their health as well as their wits. And there was never any thought of them learning new spells or training. They simply knew what they knew, did what they were told, and waited to serve.
This was different, and while the most obvious difference was that it was one building no matter how confused, instead of hundreds of rude mud brick shacks crammed together in narrow streets with guards in front of every door, there would likely be many more differences than that. There could be classrooms and lessons, masters and libraries. She guessed that people with magic here were allowed to wander freely through the hallways without armed escorts and chains around their necks. They were allowed to simply stand around and talk with one another. Study whatever they wished. Maybe even have families. Were they happy though? She assumed they must be. But coming from the Eternal City where those with magic were treated as the King’s slaves, she found it hard to believe that such a place could exist.
“And the Council of War?” She finally asked. “Are they here?”
“Some of those in Strongheart are part of the Council. The leaders of the various orders within the City serve on the Council in whatever capacity they can. The Dreaming Lords are some of the eyes and ears of the Council. They also run a network of dreamers throughout the Volden Plains and the Eternal City. They act as our spies. The rest of us are mostly advisers. But we also provide magical services as needed. They sent us when we were told of your lion problem.”
“And the rest? Who else is part of this Council?” She thought it was about time that she learned all that was happening in the world, since it seemed to involve her and her mother so deeply.
“The rulers, war masters and generals of all the realms threatened by the Eternal King. Mostly the dryadic peoples. The avaryads, neryads and hamadryads. But also the giants have some representatives on the Council as do the aspen and the dwarves.”
“But why? Why is there a Council of War when there is no war?” That was the part that everyone had avoided mentioning. Everyone seemed to know there was a war coming with the Volden Plains. Her aunt and the Oracle, the hamadryads who had travelled with them and even the people of Yissell Arn said so. But no one would tell her why. They were just preparing for it.
“Who said there is no war?” The Oracle stared at her intently. “Do you think war is only fought with armies on battlefields? Because it isn't. This war began a thousand years ago when the Eternal King appeared from nowhere to conquer a peaceful land. When he drove out the faiths. Not just the High Temples of the Seven Sisters, but the temples of all the other peoples of the world. And then he drove those who were not human from the Plains as well.”
“He what?” Camille hadn't heard that before.
“Of course child.” Potaine smiled at her as if she was a little girl being taught a child's history lesson. “Did you think the Plains were always just a human realm? Because they weren't. Nor were the only faiths worshipped those of the Seven Sisters. Why do you think there are so many ruins throughout the Plains. They're temples and towns fallen into disarray and abandoned after his armies marched on them.”
“After a time his conquest stopped. His armies could go no further without being stretched too thin. So he stopped his expansion and the borders between the realms that we know today were formed. And then for many centuries he consolidated his rule. Stealing ever more power from the nobles who had supported him when he first came to power. Making their armies, his. Crushing any opposition to him. Rewriting much of your history so that it said only what he wanted it to say. Claiming all magic for himself – or truthfully for his truest allies, the lamaia. And the war grew cold. But it never ended.”
“And now it is heating up again. Because the Eternal King is planning an invasion. He is running short of magic. Of wizards and others to feed to his underworld allies. And he must feed them or die.” Potaine sighed heavily.
“This war has been coming for a long time. But lately his forces have been growing. His troll pens have been filling up and his armies are swelling with mercenaries. The technologists build ever more terrible weapons. His border forces have been testing our defences. All of our defences. He has sent patrols riding throughout all the realms. He is ready to strike. It is only a matter of where and when.”
“That was why the party of hamadryads were sent to the Eternal City. It was meant to be a diplomatic mission, sent to try and preserve the peace. But as with all these things, it had a secondary purpose. We needed to find out just how prepared he was for war and how soon it would come. So among the diplomats and nobles there were a great many skilled spies and agents and a couple of dreamers to send word back. Unfortunately the Eternal King threw the entire mission into the dungeon as soon as they reached the Eternal City. We did not expect that. We never imagined that he would be so bold. It told us we are running out of time. He would not dare be so bold unless he considered there would be no chance for retaliation.”
“Then fate unexpectedly intervened in the shape of a green eyed lion. We don’t yet know what role he is to play in the upcoming war.”
“Oh.” All of a sudden things started making sense to Camille. But it still shocked her. Things that she had always assumed were just the way of the world, seen in a new light that showed them to be something else. Part of an on-going war. An eternal war. It took her a little while to let that sink in.
“He's feeding the magical to the lamaia?” Camille finally asked. She understood the rest. It shouldn't even really come as much of a surprise she thought. But feeding wizards and witches to the demons? That horrified her. Why would he do that? Surely he needed them! Besides the foul device that opened up a portal to the underworld was only supposed to be used to send the King's worst enemies to them. Not his wizards. Wasn't it?
“The Eternal King made a deal with the lamaia long ago. He wanted to be live forever and he wanted to be the King. The lamaia could help him with that provided he fed them the souls they wanted. The souls of those with magic. But now he's fed so many of the magical people to them, and there are so few left, that he is in danger. He needs them. The lamaia among other things, ensure the loyalty of his soldiers. And they must be fed. So he must find more people with magic.”
“He plans on feeding my mother to them?!” Suddenly Camille grasped the terrible danger her mother was in and it was the only thing in the entire mess that mattered. He was going to kill her mother. Actually it was worse than that. The process would destroy her very soul. Camille could not allow that to happen!
“He will once he considers she can no longer serve him.” Matilde looked away as she told her the truth. “Your mother knows this. But Esmee will not yield to her fear. Even as her body fails and her mind bends, her soul remains strong. She will fight to the end.”
“By the Seven!” Camille was shocked. Shocked and horrified. She also felt desperate. She knew she had to do something. But even as she understood that and tried to think of something to do, she understood that yet again she was helpless. And there was a darker thought too. A question that rolled back and forth through the hidden recesses of her mind. Had her mother wanted her sent away so she could not be used against her by the King? Or was it simply so that Camille would not know that she had been fed to the lamaia?
“Yes, Artana is with her.” The Oracle told her. “She will bring her light in this darkness.”
“No! Forget the damned light. We have to do something!” Camille let her fear run wild. “We need to get her out of there!”
“We are doing something. We are saving you so that your mother can fight as she truly needs to.” The Oracle patted her on the shoulder. “Never forget; your mother's magic is immense. When she knows you are free, very little will stop her.”
“Oh shite!” Camille gasped in disbelief at the stupidity of their plan. It was madness. The designs of a drunkard. Clearly they didn't know how terribly her mother had been hurt by the King and that damned lion wizard. She was no weapon to be wielded in some damned fight. She was a victim needing help.
Camille desperately needed to find a dream weaver. To speak to her mother. To get her to run, however she could. Damned be this war! She had to run!
Chapter Twenty
The alley was dark and quiet as it should be. It was dark because it was late at night, and quiet because he had used the spell of the sleeping wind to make sure everyone nearby who would have been awake was sound asleep. That meant the alehouse patrons who might be up at these hours, night soil collectors, the women of the night and the odd burglar. It also included the guards stationed at their nearby post, all of whom were currently collapsed on the cobbles, snoring peacefully. They would not disturb him. He had been right about the spell of sleeping wind. It was a useful spell. Even if he could only cast it as an untrained child.
A few street signs creaked as they swung on their chains. In the distance he could hear the occasional dog barking, and there was a gentle wind whispering through the streets. But except for that the night was completely still.
It was time for him to walk the city as if it was his own.
Thorm cast the spell of unlocking on the gate at the top of the exit from the sewers. It had always puzzled him why the gates were locked. Perhaps it was so that no small children could make their way down to the sewers. Or maybe they feared the creatures that supposedly roamed the sewers getting out. But whatever the reason, the lock yielded to his spell as always. He heard it click and pushed it open so he could step out onto the cobbles. And then he padded out into the middle of the street. As he did so he took a deep breath, trying to drink in his new found courage. Though he had visited the streets many times before in his four legged form, he had always crept in the shadows using the spell of chameleon. This was the first time he’d felt bold enough to stand out in the open. Of course it was easy to be bold when there was no one to see him. Still, he savoured the moment.
He'd been too timid for too long Thorm thought as the moonlight bathed him. He had never risked letting himself be seen. It was time he stopped worrying about it. He was a lion after all! Not a mouse! Why should the night belong only to the Night Maiden and her shades? Or to the soldiers in their Royal blue? Of course it helped that everyone was asleep.
After a few moments of standing there defiantly in the street, he remembered that he actually did have a purpose this night. One that was more than just standing out in the open under the light of the silvery moon and feeling good about things. He needed magic. He had come to get it.
Barely fifty yards in front of him was the Office of the Inquisition. It was a small fortress in the heart of the Eternal City where the Royal Enforcer spent his days deciding who he wanted to harass. At night of course, he wasn't there. He went home to his mansion in the Palace of the Sun – or so Thorm assumed. Maybe the Enforcer actually lived in the palace itself, he didn't know. It was a pity he wasn't there though. Thorm would have loved to meet with Lord Aston again – and this time he would leave him with a proper reminder of his crimes. One that he personally inflicted on the Enforcer rather than through the vagaries of chance and exploding gunpowder.
Still, it was one less person to deal with, he supposed. Actually more than one since the Royal Enforcer always travelled with a bodyguard. No doubt that was because he knew he was one of the most hated men in the city. Actually he was the most hated since no one ever saw the Eternal King. Even though he was only acting on behalf of the Eternal King it was his face that people saw when he ruined their lives. It was Lord Aston who they loathed and feared.
Thorm padded quietly over to the building and past a ruin of some sort. He couldn't tell what the ruin had once been. Given how large it was and the thickness of the thickness of its heavy brick walls he thought it might once been a cotton mill. Distant memories supported that though he still couldn't be sure. It had been a very long time since he had been in this part of the city.
As he passed it a thought occurred to him – there were a lot of ruined buildings in the Eternal City. And it wasn't just the ruins of his store and his neighbours' stores, destroyed some three years ago. Buildings got old. They fell down from time to time. They caught fire. Sometimes they even exploded. But in the normal course of events they should be rebuilt. That hadn't happened in all the time he'd been living in the city. He couldn't remember a single building being rebuilt. The Eternal City was slowly falling into ruin.
