Rhapsody, Child of Blood (61 page)

'I don't know what you're talking about." Rhapsody pulled her hair back into the ribbon, tying it nervously.

Achmed sat back, his hands pressed together, the fingertips at his lips again.

'Perhaps we'd best begin over. Back in the Before-Time when they were born in fire, the F'dor were demonic spirits, twisted, dark beings with a jealous, avaricious nature, longing to consume the world around them, much like the fire from which they came.

Their birthplace was the Fiery Rim, a ring of five active volcanic mountains submerged beneath the sea.

'Also like fire, F'dor have no corporeal form, but rather feed off a more solid host, the way fire grows by consuming fuel, destroying it in the process.

'Like fire, the second element, F'dor were the second race to be born. And while the F'dor were less powerful than the Ancient Seren race which preceded them, they were stronger than the others that came after them. Like their birth element, they retreated into the shadows, emerging occasionally; when they did, they were as destructive as their counterpart in nature.

'Fire itself eventually began to burn purely in the Earth's core, as you have seen. It would only occasionally erupt in ruin. F'dor, however, never underwent that cleansing transformation. If anything they became even more twisted, and thrived by using deception.

'They would attach themselves, spirits that they were, to a human host—or Lirin, or Nain—and feed off it, possessing it until it coexisted as two entities, one of them man, the other demon. They had tremendous power to hold their victims in tf. 10—thrall, to make them do their will. And they were almost impossible to discern, sometimes even to the person who was the host. Perhaps you might gain an inkling of insight now into why I don't appreciate you adopting everyone under the sun. For all I, or you, know, you could be one yourself now, or under its power, and not even know it."

'How do you know all this?" Rhapsody exploded. "Where did you get the ancient knowledge that only the greatest Nam-ers are supposed to have?"

Achmed looked up into the darkness. The stars winked between the clouds that hung heavy in the air above. Mist was beginning to form on the ground, as if rising to meet its counterpart in the sky.

'I learned some of the secrets of the F'dor while in its em ploy." ,

'The demon that was your master? It was F'dor?"

'Yes. It had my name, was holding it captive, and could bend me to its will as a result. The F'dor's own name was Tsoltan; perhaps you've heard it before." He glanced at the harp, still grinding out its discordant song.

Rhapsody sought the answer in her memory, and found it a moment later. "Llauron said that the enemy of the king in the Great War that raged after we left the Island was named Tsoltan. Is that the one?"

Achmed nodded. "And just when he was telling us about him, you interrupted with something inane, though you didn't know better at the time."

'I could have, if you had told me about him earlier, instead of waiting until now."

'When? Would you have had me speak his name within the Earth? You, a Namer, should know more than anyone what might have happened." The anger in her eyes diminished, like an ember burning out, and she nodded.

Achmed's voice grew softer. "There is another reason I know of the F'dor. I'm part Dhracian. As a race, we loathe the F'dor with every fiber of our souls. I suppose part of our hatred stems from their indiscernibility; as a people sensitive to vibration it is particularly offensive for a Dhracian to know that the demons are there, but they can't be detected.

'Our history is one of racial conflicts, great crusades by the Dhracians against the F'dor. This is a long story, better suited to another night, but I will tell you just one fragment of the history.

'After the Dawn of Time, in that era sometimes known as the Day of the Gods, the primordial races you spoke of had their own difficulties with the F'dor. What eventually came to pass was an alliance of sorts, albeit a tentative one, between the Ancient Seren, the Mythlin, and the Kith—the dragons stayed out of it. It was the union of these three, working together, that drove the F'dor back into the Earth, containing them there, until they were released by chance.

'The falling star, the Sleeping Child, hit the Earth in the middle of the Second Age, millennia later. Its impact tore a hole in the fabric of the world, and some of the F'dor escaped from the core. I believe the spirit that eventually came to possess Tsoltan was one of them. Tsoltan was evil before the F'dor took him, a priest to the Goddess of Void, the Devourer. He was a perfect host for the F'dor."

'You're losing me."

'I'm sorry; I digress. In the battle in that First Age, when the F'dor were contained, it was the Kith, our ancestors, who found the F'dor, and held them in thrall by means of vibration. They were the assassins, the ones who had studied how to kill both the host and the demon. They bequeathed that ability to their descendants, the Dhracians.

'The Dhracians are an elder race, though not Firstborn, obviously. They came before the races of man. And for reasons too complicated to explain tonight, the Dhracians made it their lives' ambitions to destroy every last trace of the F'dor. So we have the ability to do it; it is our racial gift, our lore. Which is what made the fact that I was Tsoltan's thrall, his personal assassin, all the more perverse and nauseating.

'So it comes down to this, Rhapsody: our world, the world we knew, is gone. I need to find out if it took Tsoltan with it, either by MacQuieth's hand, or by death in the cataclysm.

'Most likely the F'dor died in the Great War. MacQuieth was the one non-Dhracian warrior that might have been able to kill both the demon and the human, but we don't know that for certain. Obviously the wyrm was not released, or we would not be out here, freezing our arses off in the middle of a winter's night half a world away from Serendair.

'But the possibility exists that the F'dor didn't die, as well. Something is definitely behind these strange incursions, and where there is unexplainable chaos, it is often a bellwether of F'dor. Of course, F'dor do not have1 exclusive rights to mayhem and aggression; man has been an active participant in that for centuries on his own.

'Obviously, the greatest fear is that a F'dor spirit escaped, and has come here. It would not have to be the same one I knew in order to wake the wyrm, assuming that monstrosity is still alive in the bowels of the Earth. And any F'dor would know of its existence; that's their lore. Any F'dor would seek its release. I need to know if the F'dor that I was enslaved to survived, but it is critical just to find out if any F'dor is here among us."

'Well, that's easy," Rhapsody said, rubbing her hands up and down her arms to dispel the chill. "Its temple is right here, in Bethany. They're worshipping it, in plain sight."

Achrned laughed. "Not necessarily. You have to remember, Rhapsody, if the legends are correct, the forces of the F'dor lost the' Great War of Serendair. The loser's history isn't the one tKat is told and, retold until it becomes legend. These poor fools, the descendants of the war's victors, probably only had crumbs of the,'truth, just another example of Cymrian self-delusion. The)f wanted to honor the elements, the five children of their Creator. They just didn't know the whole story."

'Is it possible that they are just evil, and sincerely worshipping it?" Rhapsody asked.

'Anything is possible, but let's assume for a moment those idiots in the basilica are innocent dupes. They seem too stupid to be evil. Besides, F'dor don't tend to reveal themselves, and their infrastructure, publicly. Their strength is in remaining hidden.

'So where did the Cymrians get this inaccurate story? Perhaps they came upon a painting of the symbol somewhere. Tsoltan used to wear an amulet depicting the Earth in flames, but it had an eye in the center. Maybe by the time they built the cathedrals, trying to commemorate their heritage, they had forgotten the origin of the fire symbol, or maybe they never knew it in the first place. That's one of the reasons I asked you how long it was between our leaving, and the Cymrian exodus.

'It doesn't matter. What they've done, however inadvertent, has exposed a large segment of the population in this place to the F'dor if it is here. By putting themselves in a worshipful mode, in the presence of an elemental well of fire from a vent in the Earth's heart, and by speaking of the F'dor as a beneficent force, they've handed this continent over to it, if it's here. They invited it here."

The winter chill had crept into Rhapsody's bones, along with something colder.

"Then what do we do? How do we find something that can't be found, in a place we don't know, a thousand years out of our own time?"

'We start in Canrif," Achmed said. "It would have followed the Cymrians if it came with them. That was where the power was. It's where the Bolg are now, and even if it turns out that nothing evil followed the Cymrians, it will be worth the journey just to see Canrif, and the Firbolg that live there."

'And that's why this has been your plan all along, ever since you heard Llauron's tale?"

'Yes. And even more so since we met the Rakshas, and you told me of that vision you had near the altar in the garden. Though that was certainly demonic, it doesn't sound much like the work of F'dor. Truthfully, Rhapsody, if the religion of this place is struggling with its own demons, I say we leave them to it.

'I suspect the blood of those children is the source of sustenance for the Rakshas, keeps it alive. Stephen plans to set a trap for it. If his army, and the army of his cousins, can't destroy the Rakshas, we have no chance against it anyway. This problem is of their world; we need to find the answers to our own concerns. And the place to do it is Canrif."

Rhapsody sighed. "All right, then. I suppose there really is no alternative but to at least try and find out if something came with the fleets or not, and if it's what is causing all the strife. Can I just ask you one thing more?"

Achmed rose and stretched, gathering his robe around him. "Certainly."

'What are you going to do if it turns out to be what you fear it is?"

He looked up into the branches that arched above them, white bare arms gleaming in the dark, lost in thought for a long moment. "I don't know what I can do," he said at last. "Since we were remade in the fire, many things are different. I have powers and skills I never had before, and have lost some of those I used to count on. I'm not sure what weapons I still have to bring to bear against it."

'That's only part of the answer," Rhapsody said softly.

'Maybe I should have asked what you're willing to do. I don't know how mu,'ch you care about this place and its people. In the past you hjave seemed distant from both of them."

He stared at her, unblinking, then finally smiled. "I don't know, either. Let's get back. Grunthor is probably sitting on Jo to keep he^ from eavesdropping." He took her hand and pulled her to a stand.

'All this talk of ancient races made me think of something," Rhapsody said, pulling up her hood. "Do you remember the prophecy of the Three? Child of Blood, Child of Earth, Child of the Sky?"

'Indeed."

'Could that have referred to those primordial races, the alliance of the Kith, the Mythlin, and the Ancient Seren, rather than Anwyn and her sisters, the Seers, like Llauron said?"

Achmed stared at her in disbelief. "Is that really who you think tnet prophecy is about?"

'I have no idea who the prophecy is about. I was just posing a su$ge£tion." chr,'ied smiled and pointed to the harp. "Get that thing and make ft stop; it's addling your brain." Children of the Sky must have air between the ears, he thought. Liringlas. Tour own race, and you don't even recognize yourself. Or Grunthor and me. "Yqu definitely are a Cymrian, Rhapsody; your self-delusion ex-ceects even theirs, and that's a hefty accomplishment."

'What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

The mismatched eyes twinkled. "Nothing. Let me just tell you this: prophecy is clearest after the fact. I don't allow myself to be taken in or led astray by it.

Overconfidence is often a result of trying to read signs you can't translate with certainty. After all, what has your prescience ever done for you? You dreamt of the Island's death—were you able to stop it?"

He pulled aside the branches of the thicket and started back to the camp. Rhapsody watched for a moment before following him.

>Vhen morning came, it was like the spell of the night before had been broken. The companions saddled up sullenly, preparing for their journey to Bethe Corbair, the last human stronghold before the Bolglands.

Once they came to the western edge of the Krevensfield Plain, the endless meadow that wrapped around the province
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of Bethe Corbair, Rhapsody tried once more to sound Achmed out, to see what he was thinking, to no avail. He had returned to his customary distance, resisting any overture she made with thorny silence. It was as if the conversation had never happened.

was at the crest of a deep swale in the Krevensfield Plain when Ashe felt it. At the very edge of his awareness he sensed something alien, something his perceptions had never before come across, and it made him stop in the morning shadow he was walking behind, unseen.

Power, the dragon within his blood whispered. Fascinating power. I want to touch it.

The dragon was a source of constant struggle. It was part of him, a faction of his own nature that had a mind of its own, and though he was perennially in a state of vigilance to keep it under control, Ashe had grown used to it over the years.

He had come to appreciate its vast awareness. Because of that element in his makeup he was conscious of the infinitesimal details of the world around him; he could feel and sense every blade of grass in the field he now stood within if he gave the dragon the leeway to do so. But Ashe tried to avoid that sort of thing; the dragon was unpredictable, and wanted more freedom than he was willing to allow it.

Its senses were never wrong; there was something alien around here, something mystical and old and perverse and fascinating all at the same time. Something more than a source of power, but exactly what it was he was at a loss to determine. It took him a moment to locate where it was coming from, and when he did, he sighed in annoyance.