The Unsound Prince Page 11

  “Before Builders come,” said the sprite, and Mudge understood. The sprites called his people Builders. Sprites never lived above ground, and the need that humans had to construct dwellings was incomprehensible to them.

  The history of people in this land, as far as Mudge knew, went back a little over a thousand years. So, the Sarn were here before that. How long they'd been here before the arrival of his people he had no idea.

  “Sarn build Tashigot Keep,” offered the sprite. Mudge, in the middle of lowering himself onto the rocky floor, sat down with a thump.

  That was something he did not know. He had been taught the Keep was an outpost of the Xaanian Empire, something that had been built at the height of its power. That was around 300 years ago.

  Ochren’s enigmatic words about the Keeper Stone, that it rested under the Keep, came back to him. The travellers' job was to check on it for the Legatus, but what exactly did that entail?

  Arnima came to sit beside him. Keeping her voice low, she said, "Bear needs to be somewhere he can rest without being carried around. If I'd known his lungs were going to fill with fluid, I’d have said leave him with the healers in Attica."

  She looked pensive.

  "I'm going to need to draw in some healing power for him, too. I'll need your help with that.” She looked apologetic.

  “I don't have everything I need with me. A place like the smithy, where I've lived for years, has a lot of power stored in it. I don't have that power to draw on here."

  Mudge understood.

  "When we get to Tashigot Keep?" he said, leaving the decision up to her.

  She nodded.

  "And the sooner that happens, the better for Bear," she said firmly.

  Then she rose to help Liam prepare the midday meal in a more open part of the gallery. It was something cold and quick. They had nothing to make a fire with under the mountain.

  Tashigot Keep was closer than either of them thought, but it wasn't going to be easy to get there. By mid-afternoon they'd reached the highest point of the cave system.

  “This is the only way through?” said Mudge. He looked doubtfully at the crumbling, narrow gallery before them.

  “Only way,” said the sprite.

  They’d climbed some distance since midday, and the cave system had narrowed. The last trace of water had vanished long ago. They were following the slope of the mountain up, even though they were deep inside its rocky flanks.

  This was the sort of country that the big mountain cats liked, the creatures taken as the emblem for the Karnatic League. The big cats might be the symbol for the League, muttered Mudge, but that didn't make them any more friendly if the travellers came across one.

  He pushed at some rotten rock protruding from the wall. Bits crumbled off where he touched it. It was unstable stuff, and he didn't like it.

  The granite bones of the mountain had been left behind them, and the smooth galleries that had been their main means of progress had disappeared. Mudge wasn’t sure what this stuff was, but it was treacherous underfoot, and the passage they were following bent and twisted all over the place.

  “Old mine workings,” said Ochren, who’d come up beside Mudge.

  Mudge nodded. Any mark left by tools had crumbled away long ago, but the passageway hadn’t been made by water, that was for sure. Something flickered for a moment at a turning up ahead, and Mudge saw the sprite leader freeze in mid-step.

  “Bar-sarn!” it hissed urgently, then vanished. The other sprites flickered out as well, leaving the passageway in darkness. There was a brief cry from Arnima, which Senovila quickly hushed, and they were left in total silence.

  Mudge sent out his spirit senses. He detected the faint sparks of sprite minds around him, and the lighthouses of human consciousness. Then he flowed out ahead of them. He saw a flash in the far darkness, a flickering that came and went. Then another behind it.

  Both of them were tinged with the darker hues he’d seen in his dream. The forgotten dream!

  Suddenly the dream came flooding back, and he saw the overall plan of the giant red and black figure that had taken root in Xaan. He saw every contingent of troops it had at its disposal, and every agent it had sent out to spy on the Karnatic League and the Independent Kingdoms.

  The same dark marks of red and black sullied the simple minds of the creatures ahead. Creatures the sprite leader had called Bar-sarn.

  Mudge searched for the sprite leader, and found the faint spark of its presence beside him. He touched its mind, very lightly, and felt it shy away.

  "Tell me about the Bar-sarn," he said gently, sending his words into its mind.

  The sprite leader recognised him, and calmed down. Then it told him what it knew. It grew in confidence as it realised it could talk to Mudge mind-to-mind, the same way it talked to the other sprites.

  "Bar-sarn servants of the Sarn, long ago, but few now remain. Bar-sarn exist only in the high places."

  Mudge could feel it hesitating. It was trying to tell him about things it didn’t fully understand itself.

  "More and more they are changing. Before, we always have safe passage through the high places. Now, we do not trust them."

  That made sense to Mudge. The Bar-sarn had the darker hues he associated with the evil emanating from Xaan. Willingly or not, that was the power they now served. He was about to ask something else when a high-pitched squeal erupted from the passageway ahead. It was cut short.

  Mudge sensed the distress of a sprite at the head of the column. Then, with his spirit sense, he felt the sprite leader reach out, and converge on the affected sprite. The others did the same.

  It was the oddest sensation. One central point of fire grew ahead of him, and a dozen empty shells remained, scattered along the passageway.

  The sprite at the head of the column blazed like molten metal. It was a dazzling light that made Mudge turn his head away. Before he did, he saw indistinct shapes scuttle back into the darkness. They seemed ungainly, somehow badly assembled, as if they might drop onto all fours at any time.

  Sprites, as Mudge knew, had become more people-like over the centuries. Their shape had changed during their association with the new settlers across their land. He wondered what it was that had degraded the appearance of the Bar-sarn so much.

  He searched a long way ahead with his spirit sense, looking for more of the dark-hued creatures. He found them scattered throughout the top of the mountain. They were few in number, as the sprite had said. There were just four of them ahead of the travellers' current position.

  Gathering up the minds of the Bar-sarn, he soothed the primitive creatures into a state of sleep. Then he sent out his spirit senses further, in the direction of Tashigot Keep. He sensed nothing else on the path ahead of them.

  That, at least, was something positive.

  He pulled himself back to his body, and saw with his spirit sense that the sprites had also returned to their bodies. He touched the mind of the sprite leader.

  "Good trick," said Mudge, showing the sprite a mental picture of the dazzling light he’d witnessed.

  "Sprite warning," rustled the papery sprite voice inside his head.

  Mudge nodded, then realised this action couldn't be seen in the darkness.

  "Bar-sarn will not bother us again," he said reassuringly. "We can continue to Tashigot Keep safely."

  The sprite leader made the mental equivalent of a nod. Its moon glow radiance returned, lighting up the section of passageway around it. The others followed its lead, and the column continued on its way. Mudge was kept busy for a while explaining to the Rangers what had actually happened.

  The sprites guided them through a number of forks in the passageway, and then the last of the crumbly, brown rock was behind them. They began to descend, and it wasn't long before they entered one of the familiar granite galleries they had travelled through on their way up. They were glad of the better surface underfoot.

  “About time!” said Arnima imperiously, brushing brown grit of
f her overalls. It didn’t help they were several sizes too big for her with her loss of weight. She had taken several tumbles in the crumbling mine workings, pulling Senovila down with her on one occasion. It was clear her pride was hurt, along with the odd bruise and graze.

  Mudge smiled to himself. Whether it was regaining her fitness and losing weight, or getting closer to her Xaanian homeland, Arnima was sounding more regal by the day. She must have spent many years leading an aristocratic life when she first married Senovila. What had become buried under her existence in Shaker’s Hope was now working its way to the surface.

  There was a new fieriness asserting itself in response to the challenges they were facing. Mudge doubted the new Arnima would lose her practical skills and generous nature, but the changes were amusing to watch.

  The trip down the other side of the mountain passed quickly. Mudge estimated it was late in the evening when they entered a long cavern on the Xaanian side of the mountains. It felt to him like the end of a long day. It didn't help that his pack had been growing heavier for some time.

  "I would say it's nightfall outside," said Ochren. "Days seem longer underground. I don't know why that is, but I've learned to knock a few hours off my estimate of times."

  Mudge nodded. He wondered where Ochren had learned things like that. Maybe he'd spent time in the mines of the Scion Kingdoms. Whatever the time was outside, he was hoping for a rest soon, and his stomach was aching for something to be put into it.

  Colma and Liam called a halt from the front of the column. Mudge and Ochren moved up to join them. They were excited by something at the far end of the long cavern.

  "That has to be a tunnel carved out of the rock," said Colma, and Liam agreed. It was a hard thing to make out in the soft light radiating from the sprites.

  Ochren motioned them forward. It wasn't long before they came to steps at the foot of the tunnel, and next to it a low wall. It had been built to funnel seepage into a raised pool.

  "Water for the Keep," said Ochren. As a Ranger he was keenly aware of military necessities.

  "So the Keep is just above us," said Colma, surprised. Ochren nodded.

  "Might as well climb the stairs and set up camp on the ground floor," said the Ranger. "That way, we get to see the morning light."

  Mudge suddenly realised how uncomfortable the long hours of dimly-lit darkness had been. His spirits rose at the very thought of sunlight. It was good to imagine a more normal day tomorrow.

  "That means we can start doing something for Bear," said Arnima, who was now at Mudge’s elbow.

  Mudge was thinking the same. It had been too long since Bear’s encounter with the winged nightmare. His friend’s slow slide into unconsciousness continued to haunt him.

  As they climbed the steps he thought how odd it felt to be using something made by thinking creatures. Had the Xaanians added the tunnel later, or were the Sarn responsible?.

  One by one the travellers entered the basement under the Keep. The stairs continued up the inside wall, but their attention was taken by a raised plinth in front of them. On it an ornately carved disc supported a miniature dome.

  "The Keeper Stone," guessed Mudge. He was surprised to see its resting place so openly revealed.

  Ochren nodded. Ultrich had told him how to remove the dome and reveal the Stone itself, but that wouldn't happen until Mudge was ready. When he was finally ready, only the two of them would be present.

  "Let's have a look at the rest of the Keep," said Senovila. He led the way up the stairs into the first floor of the massive structure. Stone walls separated the area into large rooms. They were crowned by massive beams that held up the floor above.

  Mudge could see the arched stone entrance to the Keep, and a band of red outside that signalled the last of the sunset. Ochren barked orders, and two of the Rangers hurried to find fuel for the metal cones. The rest of the company unpacked.

  Ochren set aside one of the central rooms for a small fire. He thought it was sufficiently screened from outside observers. The travellers were soon resting around the walls, bowls of food in hand, talking about the wonders they had seen under the mountain.

  Mudge called the sprite leader over.

  “Sprites have proved themselves friends and allies,” he said gravely. “They have earned their boon. Prince Rossi Monhoven swears by the Legatus that this promise will be honoured.”

  The sprite bowed so low Mudge was worried it would topple over.

  “Sprites are honoured to assist the League,” it said.

  Mudge nodded, and was silent for a while. He wanted to show the little creature he appreciated the words.

  “Sprites are free to go,” he said at last, smiling and nodding.

  The sprite leader skipped happily. Mudge could hear the paper-rustling mind-to-mind sprite talk as it called the others to it. With a last round of bowing and nodding, the group faded out of existence altogether. The room seemed much bigger.

  “You get used to the little ratbags,” said Ochren quietly, and the others agreed. But Mudge didn’t hear him. He was concentrating on his spirit senses, and they had taken him a long way away.

  When he remembered the forgotten dream, under the mountain, he had also found himself able to sense the movements of the Xaanian armies, and the response of the League.

  Now he detected a huge concentration of Xaanian troops marching across the High Steppes to the east of the Keep. At the same time he sensed a rapidly growing League force in front of Rotor Valley Pass.

  He wished he was with the League force, defending his homeland.

  NINE

  Ultrich touched the mind of his mount lightly, urging it to keep pace with the horse beside it. Companies of Lancers raced side by side across the High Steppes. Ultrich and Gosan, one of the young commanders from the Wild Marches, were at the head of the formation.

  The Legatus rode bareback, as he always did. Part of his mind knew what his mount intended to do, and he shifted his weight accordingly. He made it look effortless, but he knew he would ache all over later. Age was taking its toll. He really needed someone to take over the League, someone from his close family, or one of his commander's sons. Anyone who could show themselves capable of the position.

  So far, no one had come close. It was frustrating.

  Ultrich scanned the empty wastes ahead of him. The High Steppes ran to the horizon, where the plateau descended to the Endless Desert, and the Great Salt Lake. Somewhere to his left the High Pass route cut through the edge of the Steppes on its way to the High Pass.

  He had known the Xaanian army wouldn’t choose that way. They had headed straight for Rotor Valley Pass, with its good grazing and ample water.

  The Xaanians had, however, shown a little greediness, and for that they were about to be punished. Somewhere ahead of the Lancers a whole wing of Xaanian horsemen and mounted archers was advancing along one of the shallow gulleys across the Steppes. They were hoping to fall upon the last of the Hill Tribes as they made their way to Rotor Pass. The Hill Tribes were slow, burdened by herds and tents.

  Ultrich knew the tactic well. A surprise attack was unsettling. Terror spread through unseasoned troops like wildfire, if it wasn’t checked. Drawing first blood would boost Xaanian morale, but they weren't going to achieve that goal this time round.

  The Legatus had been using his farsight to check the Xaanian advance since the middle of the previous day. He’d seen the mounted troops ride ahead of the main body at first light this morning. The Lancers behind him were his response to the threat.

  The Xaanians thought themselves invisible in the gulley, but that also meant they couldn't see the League forces approaching. At a command from Gosan, the horsemen lowered their lances and accelerated to a gallop. The thunder of so many hooves would take away the element of surprise, but by then it would be too late for a coordinated response.

  The edge of the shallow gulley separated itself from the flat expanse of the Steppes ahead. A deep-throated roar went up from the
Lancers as they saw it approaching. Then the Xaanian mounted archers boiled out of the gulley, aware of the danger at last. They loosed a flight of arrows, followed almost as quickly by another.

  Ultrich reached out and made some small changes to the laws of nature. The shafts grew heavy, and the fletching on the arrows unravelled, becoming a tangled clump. The arrows fell short in the dry pasture lands, and the Lancers hurtled over them, metal-clad hooves smashing the shafts underfoot.

  Dismayed, the archers peeled away, but now the Xaanian cavalry poured out onto the Steppes. They stretched out to a gallop as they came to meet the challenge from the Lancers.

  There was barely time for the Xaanians to register the futility of charging lances with swords, when the two lines struck. Almost every lance found its mark.

  Dropping the long, metal-tipped poles the instant they smashed through their targets, the Lancers drew their sabres. They slashed through what was left of the Xaanian lines until they were clear, then wheeled their mounts about and prepared to charge a second time.

  They had been outnumbered two to one at the start, but the odds were already in their favour.

  The Legatus urged his horse forward with the rest, and the Lancers picked up speed. The distance between the two forces closed rapidly. At the last minute Ultrich reached into the minds of the Xaanian horses, and took control of them. The legs of the mounts folded, pitching their riders forward, and bowling the horses along the ground. Then the Lancers were among them, cutting the riders to pieces.

  Ultrich urged his horse right through the fighting, and brought it to a stop. Something wasn’t right about the way the Xaanian troops were acting. They seemed to be under some sort of compulsion.

  He followed his spirit senses in the direction of the mounted archers. They had formed up again on the other side of the gulley. Ultrich walked his horse to the lip on the near side.

  Why didn’t the archers turn and run? They were now heavily outnumbered, and they had seen their arrows fall out of the sky, useless. There was still time to make an escape.