Roar, page 34
Chapter Thirty Seven
Work was going slowly. But then what else could be expected when that work was to read through hundreds if not thousands of translated works, looking for any reference to either a winged lion or a sphinx. And in fact Camille was beginning to think that if the legends were true, then what they were actually doing was trying to solve the actual riddle of the sphinx. The one that wasn't supposed to be able to be solved. The riddle had nothing to do with silly questions about man walking on different numbers of feet, or day following night, or the unseen tomorrow. It was simply working out what in all the hells the sphinx actually was. Assuming Thorm really was the sphinx.
But even if Thorm proved not to be this mythical sphinx the Council at Strongheart had decided it urgently needed to find out what he was. He was clearly dangerous. But he had also prevented a coming war and destroyed the Tri-consular Orb. He had even bested the Eternal King's armies! No one had ever done that, nor had anyone – Mara aside – reasonably expected to. In all the histories the King had been shown to be unbeatable. Or rather unkillable. Though his armies had been pushed back in the past and the Eternal King attacked, he had still prevailed. On his own.
Until now.
This time his armies had been smacked down as if they were merely impudent children. Tossed away like a dried up leaves in fall. An entire barrage of cannons had failed against him. The balls had bounced off him, doing nothing more than making him angry. And the city had been flattened. At least according to the witnesses – those that remained. All of the King's power had been as nothing against Thorm. It was just a pity that Thorm hadn't actually killed him. And more of a pity that they couldn't communicate with him. Because if the someone on the Council could do so, then they could surely get Thorm to kill the King and end the eternal nightmare. He would do that, Camille thought. Surely he would?
But then again, maybe not. Not if he had any memory of what she'd done to him. Of her plunging a dagger into his skull.
Just the thought of that act made her feel ill. It hadn't at the time. But at the time it had just been a dream. Suddenly it had become real – like Mara's cave – and she had nearly murdered him. More than that, she seemed to have destroyed him in some way. Maybe there was brain damage. She didn't know. But she was sure there had to be anger in their somewhere. And it was deserved.
Which made it strange that she was no longer a prisoner – exactly. What she was, she didn't know. No one had said anything to her about it. But there was no gaol left to lock her up in any more. And no one had bothered trying. She didn't know why. Nor had they bothered trying to lock up Mara again – not that she was grateful. She could be absolutely beastly to those who annoyed her – which was everyone at different times.
“I still say the family has to be the key. We have to find them,” Master Hale announced suddenly.
“And I still say you are a guest in my home, suffered only on the condition that you read and do not speak!” Mara snapped at him. She truly wasn't happy about having strangers in her home. In her family home as she kept reminding them. Even wizards with advanced knowledge of ancient history. “So keep reading and stop annoying me!”
Master Hale's response was a heavy sigh. He'd been doing that a lot lately and she was beginning to wonder if the abuse was getting to him. That wouldn't be good. The man already had an overly long face!
“He's got a point,” Camille interjected. “We’ve been reading through all these tomes for over a week and we still haven't learned anything about this winged lion or sphinx. If the change to Thorm is to do with his blood, then his family will be the only ones who can tell us. They must have the same blood.” Of course she was only repeating what had been said a hundred times before, and by all of them at different times. He had to be a shape shifter of some sort. At least that was the theory. There were stories of such people. Besides, none of his family had had knives plunged into their skulls, so even if they found them, what the Endorsons might be able to tell them was probably limited.
Of course the shamen had a different theory. That he was a shaman like them, and that he was simply lost in his spirit animal, somehow. Except that there was no record of a shaman having a sphinx as a spirit animal and Thorm's power if what they were hearing was true, was immense. If he was a shaman then she suspected he wouldn't really be a man with an animal spirit bound to him. He would be an animal spirit with a man bound to it. But even if that was true – why was he growing?
Naturally the fell casters and the wizards had their own theories. And none of them agreed with the others. The wizards claimed he had always been a wizard. This was just some sort of spell gone wrong. Except they had no idea what the spell was. The fell casters said it was what happened when someone lost complete control of their magic. That it was simply raging out of control inside him. Except that he didn't seem to be out of control.
“Maybe. But even if he is that won’t get us anywhere.” Matilde answered her. “We've been searching for the Endorson family for months and found nothing. As far as we can tell they vanished at much the same time Thorm became … this. No one's seen them in three years.”
Of course they hadn't, Camille thought. Thorm's family had obviously heard what had happened to their son and gone into hiding. Apparently they were very good at it. Hiding must be a family trait.
“Then what do we have left? There's nothing in the books no matter how complete this library is. We can't find the family. None of the spellcasters are any use at all. And the oracles don't seem to be any use either.” It was the last that particularly bothered Camille. She would have thought that if anyone had any insight into what was happening it would be Potaine. But she didn't. It turned out that all the oracles were blind when it came to Thorm. Why?
It troubled her. Because if the gods were saying nothing to their servants, there had to be a reason. As if they had plans. And when the gods got involved history told them it was never good.
“The eyeless dullards were never all that useful,” Mara told her bluntly. “Not since the Eternal King came to power and destroyed all seven of the High Temples anyway. Because when that happened the oracles’ connections to the Seven Sisters were broken. They became little more use than anyone else. And they were already mad to start with. After all what sane woman would tear her own eyes out!”
And in that lay another question. Several questions actually, Camille thought. Why had the Eternal King destroyed all the High Temples when he first came to power? Had he feared the Seven Sisters? Did he still? But even if he did and had taken steps to limit the power of the Seven Sisters, there were other gods. There was Artemis for a start – the Goddess of the hamadryads. And her Oracle sitting in her High Temple seemed to know nothing either. But Camille put the matter aside for another day. Now was not the time for considering ancient history.
“But there is however, one question I really would like answered,” Mara continued, raising her voice in frustration. “How does everything keep going wrong?!”
“Well …” Camille struggled to find something comforting to say.
“No! It's not just frustration talking. It's an actual question. Everything, and I mean absolutely everything, has gone wrong. It's not just about me and all my carefully crafted plans. It's right here in front of us. In our present research. In this very library! We find references in books to other books. But those books aren't here though I know they used to be. Book after book is just missing! It's as though someone has been wandering through my library, pinching every book that might just have something useful to say!”
“Alternatively the answers to our questions about the sphinx may lie with Thorm’s family and yet they too can’t be found. We've searched every realm. We've got names and descriptions out. And the family were well known. But they're nowhere to be found. No doubt they’re off holidaying somewhere and have taken all my books with them!”
“The oracles might be able to give us the answers we seek if their connections with the Goddesses hadn’t been damaged. But they can't even get through to Thorm in the Great Dream. Potaine talks to him endlessly, tries to bring him out of whatever's happened to him to talk. But he just doesn't hear her.”
“And now we have a scion. The most powerful dreamer ever. The one who could surely break through to Thorm in the Great Dream. And you can't even see him.”
“At what point does bad luck become an ongoing catastrophe? A litany of failure? A curse!?”
“Actually that is one question I can answer.” Master Hale announced unexpectedly. And then he fell silent.
She and Mara stared at the ageing wizard, waiting for him to say something. But instead of speaking he returned to reading the book he was working on as if he couldn't see them. He was making a point, Camille finally realised. But it wasn't for her benefit.
“So when Master Toad does bad luck become an ongoing catastrophe?” Mara finally gave up waiting.
“Really?” The ageing wizard turned to peer at her over the top of his book. “Is there any call for insults? Are you a petulant child?”
Mara paled drastically as she stared back at him, and her eyes bulged as her anger grew. But somehow she contained it. She even managed to keep herself from screaming at him, though she surely wanted to. “I apologise.” She squeezed the words out through gritted teeth.
“Thank you child.” Master Hale smiled. “Things go wrong when a sphinx is involved of course.”
“What?!” Mara turned even more white. She clearly thought he was jesting with her.
“Sphinx's are bad luck,” Master Hale continued. “All the legends and writings agree on that. Unfortunately they don’t agree on anything else. Which I suppose makes sense given the sphinx’s nature. Some say that they have the head of a man and the body of a lion. Some go further and say that as they have the head of a man they also have the mind of a man. Others say that they look like a lion but with wings. A few say that they have a lion's form but have a scorpion tail and no wings Some claim they guard temples. Others that they guard treasures. Some claim they ask riddles. Others that they themselves are the riddle. But all agree that they are bad luck.”
“Nothing works as it should in their presence. Machines break down. Spells fail. Plans fall apart. Everything goes wrong.”
“So Thorm really is the reason that none of my plans have worked?” Mara's voice rose several octaves as she realised what he was saying. And then she exploded.
“That bastard! That piss pot!” She launched into a tirade of swearing and cursing. Another one.
Camille meanwhile, found herself intrigued by the idea that sphinx's brought about misfortune. More than that, she began putting the pieces into place. Some of them anyway. There were some unexpected ones. Like the fact that the Eternal King hadn't fled the city or the Palace of the Sun despite the fact that it was in ruins and almost completely deserted. And that what remained of his armies after most had fled were camped well outside the city and not coming back. She understood that. They had found out the hard way that they had an unstoppable creature living in the city, and that to go up against it was to lose. They probably feared the wrath of the Eternal King as well. After all he had a bad habit of hanging his soldiers. It was no wonder that they were staying away. And the wizards were gone too. No one knew what had happened to them.
So the Eternal King had no trolls and no wizards. The Orb through which he gained his power was gone. His armies refused to do his bidding. And his Eternal City and the Palace of the Sun were in ruins. He had nothing left. Yet he stayed!
Why hadn't the King fled? That had puzzled her. When everything was in ruins it seemed like the smart thing to do. The only thing really. Now, hearing about the sphinx and its propensity to bring bad luck it suddenly occurred to her that the reason he hadn't left was that he couldn't. Some sort of misfortune was preventing him from leaving.
But more than that, she had to wonder, when did misfortune become someone else's plan? Clearly from everything they'd been told, Thorm was in no state to plan anything. He ate, he slept and he destroyed anyone or anything that came near him. He had truly become a beast. But could there be something more at work? Some purpose behind their seeming bad luck?
And what about that snippet about sphinx's guarding temples? Could the Tri-consular Orb be considered by the sphinx to be a temple of some sort? Even when it had destroyed it? Was Thorm guarding it?
Hesitantly, after Mara had calmed down once more, she put her thoughts to the others. No one commented on them. But then she supposed that could only be expected. They were all just guessing.
After a time she became tired of her research and the lack of answers and announced that she was exhausted and that she was going back to her cell to rest.
Was it still a cell she wondered as she walked back to it? The doors were no longer locked. And there were no guards watching her. Ever since she'd brought Mara's cave to the prison, that part of her life seemed to have ended. Instead of being locked up she was allowed to wander freely where she wanted, though mostly that consisted of her former cell and Mara's cave. Plus, instead of being shunned she now had Dreaming Lords visiting her every day to instruct her in the use of her gift. Apparently instructing someone in the art who might use their gift for ill was bad – until that person became so powerful that if they weren't instructed they could destroy a city by accident! At least that was her theory.
A scion! It was a bad joke, she thought as she lay down on her cot. From having no gift at all to being the most powerful dreamer in the world in a matter of weeks. And she still couldn't make her gift do the one thing she wanted it to. Sure, she could enter the Great Dream almost at will. Bring things in and out of it. But could she speak with her mother? No.
Sadly, she feared it was because her mother wasn't part of the Great Dream any more. Had she stopped sleeping? Worse, could she be dead? So many were. The Palace of the Sun was in ruins. And no one knew who had died and who had fled. Or where the wizards had gone. Camille didn't know. She only knew she couldn't find her.
Resolutely Camille decided to try again. She sat on the cot with her legs crossed, leaned back against the wall, closed her eyes and in a moment was back in the Great Dream. Neither asleep nor awake, she was in it and ready. And then she called.
“Mother!” Her call was a cry in the darkness. But it was not like the cry a normal dreamer could make. Hers was far more powerful. It ran from one end of the Great Dream to the other. It echoed through all the quiet places, and shook even the loudest. Camille knew it probably startled many of the dreamers out of the Great Dream. The Dreaming Lords would no doubt want to talk to her about it again. It was rude after all. But she didn't care. She needed to find her mother. After spending three long years alone in a dungeon she thought she had that right.
But again as before she heard nothing.
What if she was dead? As always the thought lingered in the back of her mind. So many had died. The Eternal City had practically been destroyed by Thorm. And though most people had fled when the winged lion had appeared, a great many had been hurt and killed. Mostly soldiers. Those who had been foolish enough to attack him. Because whatever he now was, no one had the power to harm him. Bullets bounced off him. So too did cannon balls. All they could do was annoy him. And you should never annoy a lion. Not even a normal one. Maybe the Eternal King had forced her mother to attack him?
“Mother!” Camille tried again, letting her cry echo across the entirety of the Great Dream, seeking out everyone who had ever seen her mother. The Dreaming Lords were going to be upset with her, she knew. But she was beyond caring. This was her mother!
Silence was her answer as always.
But then, just as she was thinking of giving up once more, she finally heard something. Her name. Camille traced back the direction of the sound.
In a heartbeat she was with her mother. But not as she had last seen her. Not in a chair, with her back broken and her hair burnt off. Not even as she had been before that; babbling, with snakes wriggling in her hair and a frightening madness in her eyes. Instead in the Great Dream her mother appeared as she once had been; standing straight and true. Her eyes clear, her thoughts lucid.
This was how the others had described meeting her mother in the Great Dream. Here, she was free of her injuries and her mind was clear. They had described her as a woman of power and wit. Seeing her in this place, Camille could well believe it. The question was always how much of the woman who appeared in the Great Dream would return to the waking world. For the moment though, Camille didn't care. This was her mother and she flew to her, crying with joy as she was finally able to grasp onto her and hold her tight.
For some little while Camille did little else, save to tell her mother how much she loved and missed her. A few tears might also have leaked from her eyes, especially when her mother told her the same. For a while everything was right with the world. For a short while.
“You've finally woken, baby.”
“What?” She didn't understand.
“You're now all grown up and your power is free. You have become the Scion.”
“You know?” For a brief moment Camille was shocked. But then she realised she shouldn't be. Her mother had been responsible for drugging her to blocked her power. Of course she had known what she was!
