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Authors: Brian Lumley

BOOK: Iced On Aran
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She emerged into a place too huge to be taken in all at one glance, straightened up beside Hero, who stood wide-eyed and mouth agape. And following his gaze, finally she saw the reason for his awe and astonishment. Yes, and there was reason galore!
 
 
In his nightmare, Eldin the Wanderer read Kuranes' carner-pigeon message again:
Hero, Eldin—
I shall be as brief as possible:
As you will now know, the seer with invisible eyes is one of mine. His specific task in Oriab is to keep covert watch over a place of ancient evil. I refer to the ruins of Tyrhhia, Yath-Lhi's city-seat in
primeval times, which now lies under the desert on the shore of the Lake of Yath. The place is shunned, or was until recently. Old legends die hard, and such are the legends of Yath-Lhi that none have sought to discover or disturb her immemorial resting place—or the vast treasures which, the olden lore has it, lie buried with her. Indeed, only a handful of mages in all the dreamlands even know the location of Tyrhhia, all of whom are now sworn to secrecy. The reason for such zealous, even jealous, protection of the site and its secret is simple: the so-called Black Princess left behind her a monstrous legacy, a curse which remains extant to this day.
Atal of Hatheg-Kla has it that this curse will visit itself first upon him who steals Yath-Lhi's treasure
—and then upon the dreamlands in their entirety!
For so it is written in the
Fourth Book of D‘harsis
, whose glyphs only Atal himself has ever deciphered; and D'harsis was one of dreamland's greatest mages—that is, before his daemonic demise.
But of course all this is by way of reiteration; you will have had it in some detail from the s.w.i.e. himself. As for the requirement:
The activities of Raffis Gan, Baharna's Chief Regulator, have recently become a matter of some concern. The s.w.i.e. has reported to me Gan's “archaeological” interest in the ruins on Yath's far shore, a region whose very
aura
has in the past sufficed to keep out curiosity seekers, prospectors, searchers after solitude and others of Gan's alleged paleological persuasions. And it would appear that Gan's interest has gone deeper far than that of any mere amateur. I am now driven to the
conclusion that he knows the ruins are those of Tyrhhia, and that beneath Tyrhhia Yath-Lhi constructed her treasure-maze, possibly still intact.
What's more, it seems likely that he is using slaves to excavate the ruins; certainly he is in league with a gang of very dubious Kledans, whose penchant for slaving continues unabated throughout dreamland's less civilized lands and districts.
Alas, but all of this is hearsay—I have not one jot of solid evidence. And Gan is, after all, Baharna's Chief Regulator. If the s.w.i.e.'s information is incorrect in any instance, and my own conclusions less than accurate, any unwarranted accusation would constitute a very serious breach of diplomatic etiquette and might well damage beyond immediate repair relations between the mainland (including Serannian) and Oriab. Which is to be avoided at all costs.
To put it in a nutshell: I cannot approach Baharna's Council of Elders without proof positive of Raffis Gan's assumed criminal and at best very suspicious and extremely dangerous activities. Such proof will not be easy to come by: the s.w.i.e. has himself twice narrowly escaped apprehension on the shore of Yath, where Kledan guards apparently patrol a wide perimeter.
And so to the crux of this communication: you two are to obtain this evidence, with dispatch, so that I may then approach the correct authorities from an entirely secure position. The utmost urgency is, of course, imperative. Yath-Lhi was known to be a sorceress of great power; her interest in vampirism—the fact that she herself aspired to leadership of an Undead Legion more monstrous
far than Zura of Zura's zombies—is convincingly recorded in the
Fourth Book.
In light of which, who can hazard a guess what ghoulish guardians she may have left to watch over her labyrinth, or what aeon-slumbering curse Raffis Gan may yet awaken?
Take care, you two, and may you be successful in this venture as in all the others I've set you …
Kuranes.
“Well, Wanderer?” said Raffis Gan's pale, intense face from behind the thin sheet of smoothed-out paper on which, in a long-dead tongue, the message was written. “Maybe you've come to your senses in more ways than one, eh? And now will you tell me what it says?”
And suddenly Eldin knew he was no longer dreaming. His mind had returned from the sub-conscious realms of his dreams within dreams, and he was back in the dreamlands proper, conscious again following his second clout on the head in … in how long? In too short a time, to be sure! Two eggs now, to be counted on the back of his head; and as for Hero …
Hero!
Full memory returned in the next moment—memory and the horror it brought.
“Hero!” Eldin hoarsely croaked, trying to sit up. And even as the hope dawned that perhaps that, too, had been part of his nightmare, so it was dashed. The Wanderer found himself chained below decks in some strange vessel, sensed the rush of water beyond the ribs and planking of the hull, saw that he was still Raffis Gan's prisoner. For a moment he strained forward, then collapsed again in his chains and lay there, staring almost vacantly into the eyes of his inquisitor. And:
“Gan,” he breathed tonelessly. “You murdered David Hero. Aye, and the girl, Ula Gidduf, too.”
Eldin's seemingly vacant eyes were red-rimmed, but the Chief Regulator thought he saw blood in their pupils, too, and so kept well back out of reach. “I put them out of my way, Wanderer, that's all. I had no need of them—but I do have need of you. And my offer still stands: work for me, and I'll not only spare your life but make you wealthy beyond your wildest flights of fancy!”
Again Eldin dragged himself into a seated position; his chains wouldn't allow more than that. “What of Una, the other sister?” he growled.
Gan nodded. “Your woman, aye. I thought you'd ask for her. Well don't worry, she's safe enough. She's aboard, if you'd like to see for yourself. But first things first. And remember, Wanderer, my patience is short and you've already stretched it far enough. I
do
need you, but not so much that I'll take any more of your nonsense. Understood?”
Again the vacant look—a shocked look, Gan thought, of immeasurable loss, weariness, pain—was back in Eldin's eyes, but he gave a slow nod. “Oh, yes, I understand. What do you want of me?”
“This for starters,” said Gan eagerly, waving Kuranes' message. “Now, for the last time, will you or won't you translate it for me?”
Una was here, right now, on this boat. What would become of her if Eldin refused? Gan didn't bluff, the Wanderer knew that now.
Perhaps the Chief Regulator saw the question written in Eldin's face. “I'll give her to my colleagues,” he smiled thinly. “Myself, the flesh of women isn't much to my taste. But those two …”
“Dog!” said Eldin, but it came out the merest whisper. And: “Very well, I'm beaten. Only promise me you'll bring her down here, where I can see for myself she's safe.”
Gan nodded. “As soon as I know the contents of this message.” He took down a lanthorn from where it swung on a hook above his head, thrust it close to Eldin's face. “And the truth, Wanderer—the whole truth, mind—for be sure I'll know it if you lie to me.”
Still Eldin hesitated. “And when I've done this for you, what's to stop you killing me and the girl out of hand?”
“You broke into a great keep, found your way into its core,” said Gan. “I'm into Yath-Lhi's maze, but the central treasure-chamber is giving me trouble. Quite apart from my promise, that in itself would keep you alive. There are more glyphs to be read than those on this scrap of paper, you see? And you seem to be the man for the job. You can prove me correct on that point right now. Or you can prove me wrong, and face the consequences. Now read—if you can.”
Eldin's eyes slowly left Gan's face, focused once more upon Kuranes' message. “I've told you it's in Ancient Dreamlands?”
“Yes, so you said,” Gan was impatient to the point of itching.
“It can't be translated word for word,” Eldin lied, “for it wasn't that sort of tongue. It conveys ideas, impressions, that's all.”
“Wanderer,” Gan ground the words out, “what—does—it—
say
?”
Eldin let his gaze shift from the message, which he knew now by heart, straight into Gan's slitted eyes. “It says: ‘Hero, Eldin, 'ware Raffis Gan. He's found Yath-Lhi‘s
treasure-maze and would rob all the dreamlands of a priceless legacy.'”
“Yes, yes!” said Gan when Eldin paused. “Nothing new in that, is there? Go on.” The Chief Regulator licked his lips. Not eagerly, Eldin noted; or at best, eager-anxious.
“That's it,” the Wanderer averted his eyes.
“Liar!” Gan snapped. “What? This great long sheet of hieroglyphs, and that's all it says?”
Eldin made to cover up for his apparent error. “Oh, it's not couched that simply, but in essence that's the message. There is a bit more, however.” He squinted again at the sheet, his mind working furiously. “Yes, it also says: ‘The seer with invisible eyes can show you the way to Tyrhhia's ruins. Go there—but go carefully—and bring me back irrefutable evidence of the Chief Regulator's criminal activity.'”
“Hah!” Gan snorted. “Well, no problem there, Wanderer, for we're on our way even now. What else?”
Inspiration came like a bright flash of light in Eldin's mind. A man in a hurry makes mistakes. Panicked, an animal will fly straight into the trap. And Raffis Gan was an animal if ever Eldin saw one. “What else?” he repeated, and nodded. “A postscript, that's all—and one you'll not much care for.”
Gan's pinched face went narrower still and he frowned. “Go on.”
“It says: ‘If I don't hear from you by return, my next message goes straight to Baharna's Council of Elders'!”
“What?”
the Chief Regulator whispered, his eyes darting from Eldin's face to the glyph-inscribed tissue, and back to Eldin. “Where, Wanderer? Where does it say that?”
“There,” Eldin nodded gravely. “The last three lines there, followed by Kuranes' sigil.”
Gan reeled for a moment, staggered until his shoulders came up against low beams. Then he seemed to draw strength from his sturdy vessel, straightened up a little. “So, it's come at last. The Elders have had their suspicions for some time, I fancy, but word from Kuranes will clinch it. At least they'll investigate—and I'm afraid I'm not up to much of an investigation. Then they'll be after me full tilt. We're into the afternoon already; Kuranes will be expecting your answer tonight, but he won't get one—that's when he'll dispatch his damned accusations. The Council of Elders will know all by this time tomorrow at the latest. That gives me less than twenty-four hours to crack Yath-Lhi's treasure-chamber …” He began to turn away, checked himself.
“The girl,” Eldin reminded him, before Gan could say anything else. “You said you'd send her down to me.”
Gan's mind was now on other things. “One last question,” he said. “Did Kuranes mention … a curse?”
“Eh?” said Eldin, trying to be—just Eldin. “Curse, Kuranes? Why, no. He's not much for swearing, that one. Far too much a gentleman. Though I do seem to remember that on one occasion he—”
“A
curse,
clown!” Gan hissed. “A malediction—a DOOM—a lurking evil connected with Yath-Lhi's treasure.”
“Oh,
that
sort of curse!” said Eldin. “No, not a word. D'you believe in such, then?”
“These are the dreamlands, Wanderer,” said Gan darkly, “and of strange things dreamed by men in the waking world … there's no end or limit to what might or might not be. Gugs, ghouls, gaunts, ghasts, dholes, Shantaks, zoogs, zombies and other monsters and mischiefs—their reality has to be acknowledged, because they
are
real. Encounters are numerous and well
documented. But a curse, passed down dim centuries to the present day? No, you're quite right: personally I'm not especially superstitious.” A worried look crossed his face; or rather, the one already there intensified. “But there have been an inordinately large number of accidental deaths among my slaves, and even a few Kledans have …” He paused, scowled. “There's nothing, you say?”
“Nothing at all,” replied the Wanderer blandly. “It seems to me old Kuranes is more interested in the theft or priceless antiquities and a certain Chief Regulator's improper use of powers vested, than in any curse of some mummified princess dead since the dawn of dreams …”
“Quite right,” said Gan, with a curt nod. And again, under his breath, “quite right.” He made his way to where a hatch stood open overhead, hauled himself up and out of sight. Moments later a short ladder came down, then Una followed, tearful as she threw herself into Eldin's shackled arms.

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