The Vitalis Chronicles: Tomb of the Relequim (47 page)

“
What is it that hunts ye then? Have you seen 'em yerself?”

“
Yes, sir. They're big, whatever they are. Not Dunmar, though it's been reported that Dunmar drive them. They're strange creatures, thick like they're armored. Black, horned helms and covered in small knobs and spikes. They seem to carry axes or maces. And they hop.”

“
They hop?”

“
Yes, sir, begging your pardon. Or jump, or leap forward in place of running. But it looks like hopping to me, sir.”

Oh God...
Cid's stomach lurched the opposite direction of his horse.
God no.
“How many of them are there?” He forced the question.

“
No saying sir, but they don't seem to keep up well. They engage our outriders when they get the chance, but they have only harried the rear once or twice.”

It's a trap,
Cid's mind was flying.
It's a bloody trap and they're running to it.
“Yer scouts, the van, what do they report?”

“
That would be us, sir. And we report nothing unusual. The road appears clear all the way to the coast. I think the Greatbow means to make for the Bastard's Ring. It's a circle of hills that were fortified by the Truans once. I would be willing to put my mark on the idea that he plans to hold out there. If there's anything left. The place was reduced to ruins a long time ago.”

“
Not a lot of other options, are there?” Cid was thinking out loud as much as anything.

“
As much as I hate to admit it, no.”

It only took them twenty minutes to reach the outskirts of the masses. There were at least five thousand people walking through the grassy plains. Men, women, and children of all ages. Cid reined in and watched as a young woman hobbled past, her leg obviously injured. In her arms she carried a small child who he could only assume was hers. Or was it?

In the midst of all this madness, he wondered how many adoptions had been born of necessity. How many orphans had been made as well. The young woman was crying, though silently. He watched as more and more people filed past. Dirty, disheveled. Many of them wore as little as short pants and sandals. Some didn't even have sandals. But for each face he saw weeping silently, there were two set in stony resolution. That was good. Morale might be low, but they remained unbroken.

“
They're movin' awful slow,” Cid remarked to his escort.

“
We can't push them too hard, sir, though some have a mind to anyways. We've already lost hundreds to exhaustion and dehydration.” There was an edge to his voice. Was it frustration or
something else? “God be good, the enemy doesn't even have to attack us to kill us.”

“
Let's keep goin' if we can.” Cid moved forward, but pressing through the crowd became more difficult as it grew more dense.

Makeshift carts and litters were being pulled and carried by a number of the people. Towards the center, Cid could make out the official baggage train. It didn't look much better, he thought as he drew closer. Everyone and everything around him had been pushed to the breaking point. If they weren't careful they would soon pass it.

“
There, sir. The Greatbow will be with them.”

His escort pointed to a group of mounted men in the center of the baggage train. Their spears stuck out of their reinforced saddles proudly, wind whipping at the slender banners that were tied to each spear. Each rider seemed to be flying different colors and devices. A blue slash on a white field, a black tree on green, a red fox running on gray. There were dozens. He wished he remembered which houses and histories each represented. Some he knew stood for the family of the bearer, while others represented station, rank, or honors bestowed in battle.

Their approach was well noted as the man Cid took to be the Greatbow rode to meet them. It was easy enough to pick him out, as he had the largest bow Cid had ever seen strung across his back.

“
You're home early, Thorn.” He greeted Cid's guide.

“
I thought I would bring you a gift, sir.” He turned to Cid. “May I present Lord Cambridy, the Greatbow, heir to the Lodent Peak and Master of Bow and Spear.” He turned back to the Greatbow. “And may I present to you the Cleaver, Cid, Captain of the Old Guard, Savior of the King, and Protector of the Realm.”

“
Sir Thorn, my lord.” The Greatbow made a brief introduction of his own. “Lad has a silver tongue but we call him Thimble for the amount of sense it carries. Certainly knows how to make one feel inadequate in the presence of greatness.” He extended a gloved hand to Cid.

The old man took it and shook it firmly. “If you find tarnish on a tongue, what good is it being silver?”

They both grinned. “Well met. While I'm pleased to see you, I'm sorry it has to be in the midst of this motley bunch. Truan slaves don't march so well after a few days.” He laughed, the giant bow on his back bouncing in time with his belly. “I must ask after my queen. Or sister to the King... to be honest I never got the titles straight when the King died. He had been King a long time.”

“
She's turned west, to warn her brother. And to get help, I hope.”

“
Her bodyguard didn't go with them? What of Shill, and the boy that was with you? Is he escorting her?”

“
Truth be told, she's escorting him.” Cid went on to explain what he could. There was little that
he left out in the end.

“
The Brethren...” The Greatbow was left in awe. “Here? Things truly must be reaching their
timely pitch.”

“
It's worse'n that.” Cid said quietly. “The Relequim's on the verge of gettin' free of his tomb. It's
what brought the Brethren so quick.”

“
That, my friend, is not possible. The Magi sealed him in the Tomb with the help of your own Brethren. Your Greater Being imprisoned him in the mountain. Legend has it you were there; you know the truth of it. He may have learned how to influence a few servants abroad, but he remains interred.”

Cid bowed his head for a moment, exhaling before he started. “It ain't quite like that. Or at least it weren't.” Where did he start? “I don't fully understand it myself, but the Tomb was only temporary. It was ne'er meant to be permanent. In fact, I don't think they had it in 'em to make a permanent prison for the Demon should they try. For as powerful as our Greater Bein' is, he went and split himself in four to make the Brethren and leave a presence behind. And the Demon can match him pound for pound. Ounce for ounce. Even with the Magi helpin', the Greater Bein' weren't there in the fullest sense.”

“
What are you saying?” The Greatbow's voice had lost the strength of its earlier conviction.

“
They said it would hold him for a thousand years. That's what they said, but it ain't true. In the end, he was stronger. He's gettin' out, and now it seems he found someone to quicken the process. The time is near, my friend. He's gettin' free.”

T
HE
S
HADOW
K
ING STOOD AT THE EDGE OF THE LARGEST GORGE ON THE PLANET
. T
he Cathedral of the Relequim stood a mile away at the end of what looked like the most narrow bridge he had ever seen. In reality, it was broad enough for four lanes of traffic, but its sheer length gave it a fragile appearance. The mountain it ran to shot so high into the air that it dwarfed the mighty peaks of the Dragon's Teeth with graceful ease.

Unlike the light-gray and white granite peaks that surrounded it, this mountain was a dark and gloomy gray, though it hadn't been that way when they first entombed the Relequim. Its craggy slopes were only lightened by snow that tumbled off of its wind-swept heights. Floating at the center of a dozen lesser summits, it was waiting. For him.

Home to the Relequim, the mountain had never had a name before the day the Magi began to carve away its roots. Its individual components had earned many names since that day from those who had come later. The Great Catacomb. The End of the World. The Tomb of the Relequim. But the peak itself remained nameless, as the Magi had originally intended.

The Cathedral was the actual structure that was built around the Gates and housed the tomb itself. The Gates were sealed to the outside world, and they were what he was bid to open. The Relequim seemed confident in his ability to escape the tomb itself should they fall.

The Shadow King had been there on the day they had imprisoned the Relequim, though the memories had turned to nightmares when he had taken Silvers on as a host. Though the Demon had been severely wounded and weakened, he still proved immensely powerful. And vengeful. More than a handful of Shadow had been killed as well as a Mage when they had carried him across that bridge.

They had encapsulated him in a great chest. A casket. They had sealed it with a dozen enchanted locks, and still he reached out with his malice. They carted him over and wheeled him inside the Cathedral. They made it half-way before every member of the team of oxen that pulled the cart was dead. From there, the Magi carried it with their own power.

Only the Elders, the Brethren, the King of the Shades, and two human observers had been permitted inside for his interment. Cid, the man that would become Captain of the Guard, and the historian. The Shade still couldn't remember the man's name, Alexander something, only that he had been with them since the beginning. The Shadow King had been brought along as a symbol of solidarity. He had never taken anything from that day until the power of it had been made tangible by the process of becoming human.

The Cathedral jutted out a hundred yards or so from the slopes of the mountain. It was as if a massive building had been picked up and shoved into the side of the stone.

But the interior was where its true vastness lay, it reached hundreds of feet towards the apex of the mountain. Great granite pillars carved out of the raw stone dotted the expanse of the space. It was lit by a two giant windows halfway up and on either side of the mountain, one facing east and the other west so that darkness only entered come nightfall. The magnitude alone was awe-inspiring. The Shadow King remembered how he had been lost in the space when they first entered. He had even forgotten for a moment why they were there. In an instant uncharacteristic for a Shade, he found he admired the beauty of the place. He had turned in a circle to see all of the ornate carvings in the stone. Much of it was enchanted; the whole place was designed to funnel the enchantments down on the doors that would entomb the Demon and trap him.

In the center of the room stood a great dais. It only rose three feet from the floor, a pentagon with curved indents at each corner. But the vast majority of it was a massive set of doors facing down. Five triangular stone panels swung slowly upwards as the three Elder Magi approached. Caspian, Cervoix, and Charsi. How regal and powerful they had been. Four of the doors stood straight in the air, while the fifth continued rotating until it made a pointed ramp up to the dais.

The Shadow King had been cold to the fear that the other five had written across their hard faces. Even the hidden features of the Brethren were unnecessary to see the hesitation in their stances. But they were ready for what was to come. The massive chest was lifted by the Magi. It shook and quivered as the Relequim bent the last of his strength on escape. They walked it slowly over to the open dais, a gaping hole beneath. Here the root of the mountain was exposed. The Brethren kept their hands on their weapons, moving slowly with the floating chest.

The Shadow King had followed along with the humans, watching and waiting. As they neared the edge of the dais, he could see down inside. The Tomb was a pit that ran to the bottom of the mountain. Inside broiled a writhing mist, purple and glowing with a contained energy. The Magi had moved the massive chest out over open space. It hung there for a moment as the Relequim shook and screamed and fought to be free.

And then they dropped it.

They had moved closer then, pouring themselves into that pit. What they had created, he was uncertain, but it looked like some sort of ethereal cement. They made it out of thin air, and they poured it in over the Relequim. For an hour they stood there, until they had filled the hole with the viscous fluid. It tinged red as they stepped back and bid the doors to close.

Once shut, they had run their hands over the seams, sealing them with enchantments the likes of which he had never heard. As they backed out of the Cathedral, Charsi had said one final incantation. One that caused the lines and bevels in the carvings all around the room come to life and glow. All the weight and pressure of the room was focused on those doors, he knew. And they would be nearly impossible to open from the other side.

They had left that place, and as one final gesture of protection, they had breathed life into the statues that guarded the Gates. Three of them stood over the Gates themselves while six stood along the bridge. “Should anyone ever approach these Gates to betray mankind,” Caspian had said. “These guardians shall undo them.”

He hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now he hoped that statement to be untrue.