The Last Talisman (5 page)

Wedged between the spikes of black rock, he noticed something, an object gleaming white. Bones. The bones of shipwrecked sailors. Or, perhaps, the bones of others like himself, unworthy of approaching the sanctuary walls. Rather than dwell on it and feed his fear, Sennar entered without delay. The darkness wrapped itself around him.

It was a cold, gloomy evening. Oarf could hardly move his wings. It was then that the two Arshet emerged from the darkness. Immense, sinister, blacker than night. They brought to mind the unsettling image of the Tyrant's Fortress.

“There they are!” Nihal shouted. “We're here.”

Hold out, Sennar! Please, hold out just a little longer!

Several times in the past, Sennar had gazed upon the Tyrant's fortress and wondered what it looked like inside. Now, entering the sanctuary, he seemed to be stepping into his own imagined idea of the Tyrant's dwelling.

At the tower's summit was an opening, so high up as to appear miniscule, though in reality it must have been enormous, through which light filtered to illuminate the sanctuary. Beyond it, Sennar could make out a bit of sky and moon. The base of the structure was round, with a pointed rock pinnacle that rose nearly to the opening above. A staircase spiraled upward around the pinnacle, its small, treacherous steps carved into the rock. Now and then, a spray of white sea foam came in through one of the many crenels in the steep inner walls as waves crashed against the structure.

Sennar stood there in thought for a moment, gathering courage to move forward. When at last he proceeded toward the central pinnacle, his footsteps echoed hauntingly.

Sennar raised his foot to the first slick, narrow step and began to climb. Where was the guardian? He heard only the howl of the sea as it slammed against the rocks and the agonizing wail of the wind, as well as his own, faltering footsteps, his ever more labored breathing.

Sennar was frightened, but it wasn't fear that had him wobbling with each step. It was the amulet in his pocket, lunging forward with all its force to unite with the second stone. More than once he slipped, nearly falling from the stairway, only to regain his balance and push onward up the endless pinnacle. When he looked down, the inner floor of the Arshet seemed miles away, and yet when he looked up, his destination seemed farther away than ever.

The worst part was the sanctuary's apparent emptiness. It couldn't really be empty, of this Sennar was certain. The guardian must be hiding in the shadows, waiting for just the right moment. Sennar could feel its presence, could sense it acutely, but nothing appeared.

Nihal guided Oarf in a loop around the Arshet. No one in sight. Only the pale white glimmer of skulls and bones against the black rock and the howl of the raging sea.

They scoured below for a place where Oarf could land, but there was nothing. Nihal decided there was no time to lose. “Laio, fly back to shore with Oarf.”

The squire cast her a look of astonishment. “But—”

“But nothing! There's nowhere for Oarf to land here. Head back to shore and wait for me there.”

Nihal unsheathed her sword, adding no further instructions. She lowered Oarf close enough to the rock's surface and leaped, landing in front of an opening that she was sure must have been the entrance. With her stomach curling into a tight knot, she stepped into the darkness.

Sennar halted suddenly. “I know you're in here,” he yelled. “Come out already!”

Only his echo answered, bouncing rapidly off the walls to create a jumbled chorus of voices, then silence. In the confusion of sound, Sennar lost hold of himself. “Come out, dammit! I'm not here to fight; I've come for the stone.”

Again his words echoed, and a sea of shouting voices surrounded him.

“Come out!” the sorcerer shouted, beside himself with rage.

He had no time even to understand what was happening. An immense tentacle wrapped itself around his neck and lifted him to the moon, up into the bitter cold stratosphere, then wrenched him down again into the abyss. Sennar was terrified. He wanted to scream, but it was impossible; the creature's grip was too tight. He felt himself being banged against the staircase once again and then lost conciousness.

When he came to, a strange, ten-headed creature with an infinity of twisted tentacles was winding itself up the column.

Where the devil did that thing come from?

One of its faces turned to him and sneered, revealing a gleaming set of sharp teeth. Once again, a tentacle seized him and hoisted him upward, this time by the foot. Sennar howled with every ounce of air left in his lungs, and he felt the amulet slide from his pocket and disappear into the depths of obscurity.

The monster hoisted him higher, and Sennar realized that the beast was planning to smash him against the column. He tried reciting a spell, but no energy flowed from his palms. His fate was up to the enemy.

This is the end. This is truly the end.

Then he heard a sharp yelp and a warm, slimy liquid covered him from head to toe. The tentacle's grip loosened, and suddenly Sennar was plunging downward through the emptiness. By the time his body hit the stairway and he struck his head, he'd already lost consciousness again.

Nihal stood panting before the monster, her sword raised. She allowed herself only an instant to study her enemy before hurling herself at it again.

She moved with grace and agility, dodging its infinite tentacles as they lashed at her from every direction. Slithering like a serpent, she slid beneath the beast and inflicted a second blow.

One of its tentacles contorted violently and fell spiraling into the abyss. A hot, stinking liquid gushed from the stump, and the beast's howl drowned out the roar of the sea.

Nihal didn't stop there. She dodged, blocked, caught the monster off guard in a moment of weakness, and leaped on its back. Again she drew her sword down on the creature again and again, and with each piercing blow came another deafening howl and more gushing blood.

At last, the enormous monster lost its balance and went tumbling through the emptiness, Nihal falling just behind it. When they hit the ground, the half-elf sprung to her feet once again, her sword raised, ready to strike. But something held her back.

She heard an enormous wave smash against the rock. A mountain of foam flooded in through the gaps in the walls of the sanctuary, rising rapidly toward the opening at the tower's summit, before crashing down again with the fury of a waterfall. As the plummeting current reached the ground, it took the form of a human-like figure, armed with a trident. The central tip of the trident glowed with a strange force.

“Silence your rage,” came a thundering command.

Nihal launched herself at the guardian, howling. “Get out of my way!”

The man of sea foam planted his trident into the ground, an inch from Nihal's face. “You have no hope of defeating me,” he murmured. His unfathomably low, booming voice shook Nihal to her bones. “What brings you and your friend to my sanctuary?”

All was a clouded, distant dream for Nihal in that moment: the mission, the talisman, everything. She felt only blind fury and a lingering anguish; was it possible Sennar was alive?

“Well then?”

The half-elf tried organizing her thoughts. Then she noticed a faint glimmer in a corner of the room. The talisman.

“We've come … we've come for the amulet.”

The great being smiled slyly. “The same old longing for power, another pair of fools …” A cruel laugh escaped his lips. “Why is it that all of you suffer from the same stupidity?” he asked, his voice rumbling. “For centuries, I've kept watch over Seraphen, here in the solitude of these towers erected by the gods as a warning to all. I've witnessed countless beings arrive at the doors of this sanctuary. Many were chosen, and I thus granted them possession of the stone, but many others were impure, daring to knock on these sacred doors for the sole purpose of obtaining power, their hearts longing to control the hearts of their fellows, driven by nothing other than the vain desire to rule, to possess, to do as they pleased with the lives of others. Many of them perished before even confronting me. Those who didn't, I dispensed with personally. Even so, they did not fear death. For power, for the longing to dominate, they were ready to pay any price. Just like your friend, who's come this far knowing well that he is unworthy to touch Seraphen.”

“That's not what we've come for … we're not here for power.”

The man gazed at her inquisitively. “A half-elf,” he muttered.

“Yes!” Nihal shouted. “Yes! A half-elf! I am worthy of touching the stone! Let us go. Grant us the stone and let me save my friend. …”

“What business do you have with the stone?”

“To defeat the Tyrant.”

An ironic smile spread across the man's face. “The Tyrant … one more pathetic man, blinded by power.”

“I have the talisman with me here.” Nihal sprinted toward the glimmering object and lifted it in the air, displaying her ability to touch the amulet without harm. “You see? I've already retrieved one of the stones.” She pointed to the stone.

The guardian eyed it. “Ael? How could one so full of rage and hatred have been granted possession of Ael?”

Nihal didn't know how to respond. It was true. But little by little her fury was abating, giving way to her concern for Sennar.

“Why is it you want the stone? Not for the reason you've just given me. …”

“No …” Nihal murmured. “All I want is to get out of here. Now. I want only to wrap my arms around my friend, to know he's alive. And the stone is our only way of moving forward.”

The guardian stared back at her, impassive. With one sweep of his trident, he knocked the amulet from her hands.

Nihal fell to the ground, as if stripped of all her strength.

Turning the trident over, the guardian loosed a stone from the glimmering center prong—a dark blue stone, which seemed to be infused with the depths of the ocean. He lifted it, and for a moment it seemed to glow in the light of the moon, until the reflection itself was absorbed into the stone. The guardian placed it on the ground beside Nihal.

“Your journey, I see, has only begun. Your heart is filled with confusion and terror. Guardians less merciful than I would never have granted you the stone. But never stop seeking, never, or the power will never be yours.”

Then, just as he'd come, the guardian dissolved into a thousand streams of sea water and flooded back into the ocean through the Arshet's crenels. The monster, too, receded into the shadows, and Nihal was left alone in the immense sanctuary, enveloped in a haunting silence. Hastily, she grabbed the stone, lifted it high in the air, and placed it into its niche, reciting the sacred spell. “
Rahhavni sektar aleero
.” Her voice trembled.

The stone settled firmly into its place. Nihal sprang to her feet and raced to Sennar's side.

The sorcerer lay splayed out and face down on the stairwell, his pale hand resting on the slick, black rock.

Nihal rolled him over and began calling his name, but the wan-faced sorcerer made no reply. She called him again and again, louder each time, until her voice caught. “You promised me you wouldn't die. …” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Overcome with despair, she didn't notice when Sennar's eyes began gradually to open. When at last she turned toward him, she saw his lips curl into a half smile.

“You're a little late,” he muttered feebly.

6

Frost

That evening, as they ate, Nihal was unusually frugal with her words. Sennar was struck by the coldness of her manner, the complete opposite of the warmth she'd demonstrated in the sanctuary. Though it wasn't all that hard for him to imagine why. He'd lied to her, and pretty soon he'd have to pay the price.

The next morning, they woke at dawn. The first pink rays of sun in the west left Sennar feeling cheerful. Nihal, however, quickly interrupted the idyllic moment, rushing Laio out of bed and ordering them both to hurry because it was time to go.

Once again, they set off, headed south. Their plan was to cross through the Inner Forest on their way to the Land of the Sun.

Over the course of the days that followed, the impression that had formed in Sennar's mind on the evening of his rescue was confirmed. Nihal was cold and standoffish and she barely addressed a single word to Sennar throughout the entire journey. They spent their days on Oarf's back in utter silence. In the evening, they'd set up camp and stare, dumb as fish, into the fire.

On their fourth day of travel, Sennar decided to say something. The tension had become unbearable.

He waited until his turn to take over guard duty from Nihal. It was the middle of the night. He had woken up a few minutes early in order to prepare his speech. When the hour arrived, Nihal gave him a simple tap on the shoulder.

Sennar turned to face her immediately. “What's the matter with you these days?” As soon as the words left his lips he felt like a complete imbecile. Had he really just spent all that time getting his thoughts in order, only to open the discussion with such an idiotic remark?

“What do you think?”

Sennar lowered his eyes. “I did it for you. …”
Excellent
…
yet another stock phrase. …

“I certainly didn't ask you to.”

“I did everything I could to reduce the risk. … I'm hardly one to act recklessly. You know that.”

“Will you stop already with these pathetic lies!” Nihal shouted. “All that crap about some spell capable of restraining the amulet's power … You even had to drag Megisto into this.”

“What was I supposed to do? You were sick but you didn't want to stop. I had no other choice.” Sennar was beginning to lose his patience.

“How is it that you don't understand?” Nihal sprang to her feet. “Do you know how I'd have felt if you died? Do you have the slightest idea?”

Sennar stood there with his lips parted, his anger stuck in his throat.

Nihal turned away. “I don't want any more deaths weighing on my conscience.”

These last words pushed Sennar over the edge. Nihal had been completely unpredictable since his journey to the sanctuary. She might have thanked him. He certainly didn't deserve such cold, hostile words. “Oh, never fear, the last thing I want is to be another useless weight on your conscience. I thought I could help you, but I guess I'm nothing but a burden. But you can rest easy. Unlike someone else I know, I'm in no rush to get myself killed.”

The smack of Nihal's palm against Sennar's cheek echoed through the silent forest.

The sorcerer was frozen in place, dumbstruck. Nihal, meanwhile, struggled to choke back her tears. Only then did he understand the sheer magnitude of the lie he'd told her. But there was no time to ask her forgiveness. Nihal had already turned away and stretched out on her straw mattress.

The following morning, her travel companions still asleep, Nihal decided to consult the talisman. After her exchange of words with Sennar, she'd passed the night without sleep.

She closed her eyes and saw something luminous that burned like a thousand suns. It must be the sanctuary. Then she saw a mountain sunrise. She seemed to be looking at the view from a rooftop: an immense, flat surface, surrounded by high peaks. A plateau. And at last, a direction. They needed to go east. She reopened her eyes.

Shortly after, they ate their hasty breakfast, climbed onto Oarf's back, and headed off for the last destination within friendly territory. After the next sanctuary, things would get more complicated.

After six days of flight, they reached Makrat. Laio had insisted they make a stop in the capital of the Land of the Sun to visit the Academy, where he and Nihal had met. The thought of lying down on a clean, freshly made bed didn't sound so bad to Sennar or Nihal either. And so they made a detour and found an inn where they could spend the night.

As the sun sank in the east, Nihal went out to take a walk through Makrat. She plunged herself into the chaos of the city streets. Hardly anything had changed since her days at the Academy. The same bustle and business, the same crowd of refugees just beyond the city's gates in a forest of tents set up along the walls. This was precisely what Nihal most hated about the place, this juxtaposition of opulence and the starkest poverty, the tasteless parade of pleasure, the splendid jewels on women they passed on the streets. It was a center of ignorance and arrogance, a place that broadcast indifference to the pain of others. She herself had felt extraordinary sadness during her entire time there.

She walked toward the Academy but she didn't pass through its gates. She didn't want to risk bumping into Raven, the Supreme General, who'd done all he could to make her life more difficult in her days as an aspiring Dragon Knight. The sight of its massive structure, however, wasn't as unbearable as she'd feared it might be. She hoped even that she might meet Parsel, her teacher, the first to have believed in her. Or even Malerba, the malformed creature with whom she shared so much.

In the end, her feet led her to the parapet where she'd so often taken refuge, with a view of the Tyrant's Fortress at its most menacing. There she sat, lost in thought.

“May I?”

Nihal was jolted from her reverie. When she noticed that the person standing behind her was Sennar, the expression on her face tightened.

The sorcerer took a seat, staring at her for a moment before he spoke. “I knew I'd find you here,” he said, at last.

Nihal made no reply, keeping her gaze fixed on the dark outline of the Fortress.

“Forgive me for the other day,” Sennar went on. “What I said was stupid and petty. I don't really think that.”

“You don't need to ask my forgiveness. What you said is true. I've been foolish and short-tempered ever since we set off on this stupid journey. I'm sorry.” She went back to staring out beyond the parapet. “Maybe I never really wanted to complete this mission. Maybe that's why I was so dead set on leaving Megisto's before I'd recovered. It's not that I'm afraid. Do you understand?” Sennar nodded. “It's just that I feel like I had no choice in the matter. And the thought that I'm supposedly destined for all this is terrifying.” She looked him straight in the eyes.

“I believe this is your destiny, in a certain sense,” he replied. “But I don't think your destiny begins and ends with this mission. It's true—you really didn't have much of a choice in this. But your whole life isn't composed of this one journey. When this is all over, you'll have a completely new path ahead of you. No one will be able to force you to choose one way or the other. Only you will know what to decide. This journey is merely a stop along the way.”

“Maybe you're right,” Nihal muttered. “But I feel like it's not just the fate of the Overworld that's riding on this mission. It's as if there were something else I still needed to find, and I don't even know where to begin looking for it.” Nihal sighed. “In the past, this is the place where I always came to remember my driving force in this world, my hatred for the Tyrant.” She pointed to the sinister outline of the Fortress in the distance. “But now it's different. I know I still feel nothing but hatred for the Tyrant, but I'm just not sure what to do with it now. Hatred doesn't feel like the final aim anymore. But then, what is it I'm aiming for?” she asked, her voice faint as she turned to face Sennar.

The sorcerer gave no reply. The two of them sat there in silence, their gazes fixed on the Tyrant's base looming in the distance.

“There's one thing I do know,” Nihal murmured after a moment or two. “What you said at the meeting of the Council was true. I couldn't do this without you.”

Sennar smiled. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her tight to his chest. When he let go, Nihal smiled back at him. Together, through the dark city, they made their way back to the inn.

The following morning, Sennar wandered through town in search of any information that might help them locate the next sanctuary. At lunch, he returned with the news that the plateau they were seeking was located among the Sershet Mountains, at the border of the Land of Days, to the east. He'd spoken with an old beggar outside the city gates. As far as the man knew, centuries had passed since anyone had traveled there, in part because there was nothing to see besides frost, ice, and lakes that were frozen year-round.

Nihal thought it a rather odd place to situate the sanctuary of the sun. With winter in full swing, as it was now, who knew what they'd find there.

“What's the problem?” Laio asked. “Oarf has had more then enough rest. He'll drop us off at the door. It'll be child's play.” The squire's eyes suddenly lit up. “And it'll be the first time I ever step foot in a sanctuary.”

“If I were you, I wouldn't be so thrilled,” Sennar muttered.

Things didn't turn out as smoothly as Laio had hoped. When, after a day's travel, they came upon the slopes of the Sershet Mountains, it was clear that this leg of the mission would hardly be a walk in the park.

A wall of bare rock rose before them. From the base of the plain, the mountains ascended gradually, forming elegant, grassy slopes, but then they climbed onward toward the sky on a dizzying incline, steep beyond all measure. The peaks were invisible, swallowed up in the clouds. Even Laio, who wasn't given to pessimism, seemed utterly disheartened in the face of such a tremendous landscape.

“Judging by the clouds up at the peak,” Sennar remarked, “I'm guessing the weather's not too pleasant up there.”

Nihal cast a worried look at the wall of rock. “Oarf won't make it. His wings won't last on such a steep climb, and the weather won't make things any easier—”

“We have no other choice,” the sorcerer broke in. “Either we take Oarf or we spend the rest of our lives scaling these mountains.”

That evening, they set up camp at the foot of the mountain range, and in the morning they left just after sunrise.

“I'm going to have to ask you for another big push, Oarf,” Nihal said to her dragon. “But I promise you, I'll do my best to make sure this is the last.”

Oarf fixed his red eyes on her proudly, straightening his back to reveal his full stature. Nihal smiled and climbed aboard. And so began their ascent.

Initially, they proceeded without a hitch. Oarf soared with his wings outstretched, traveling upward at an effortless pace. But the worst was still to come.

All that morning they coasted over the lush pastures that ran along the foot of the mountain until suddenly the rocky mass before them shot straight up through the sky and the true climb began. Oarf could no longer travel horizontally, but was forced to extend his wings and fly on a diagonal. At first, the angle was minimal, but it increased in steepness as they proceeded. From beneath her, Nihal could feel the muscles tensing in her dragon's wings.

“You can do this. You can do this,” she whispered in his ear, leaning forward over the creature's head, and Oarf pushed even harder.

Come evening, they set up camp at a high altitude, and Laio saw to Oarf's aching muscles. With each passing hour, the wind grew more biting, the sky more menacing. Just before they closed their eyes to rest, the first flakes of snow came fluttering down.

“Perfect,” Sennar muttered.

For three whole days, they did nothing but climb, and on the evening of the third day, they set up camp just beneath a dense ceiling of clouds. Casting their hopeful gazes upward, they saw nothing but haze. Not even the outline of a peak was visible.

On the first evening, Sennar had tried his luck conjuring a fire to keep them warm, but the tepid heat of the flames was short-lived, and the spell ceased working entirely the moment he fell asleep. To keep from dying of frostbite, they were forced to curl up even tighter beneath their cloaks and huddle beneath Oarf's wings.

The next morning, they plunged into the wall of clouds, and from there things only grew worse. The wind was icy. The snow muddled their vision and impeded their breathing. Oarf was doing the best he could, but the climb was arduous, and the distance he could manage to travel between sunrise and sunset was shrinking with each day.

“Maybe we'll just keep climbing like this forever. Maybe these mountains don't have peaks at all, and the gods themselves are on the other side of these clouds,” Laio exclaimed, and Nihal couldn't tell if he was thrilled or frightened by the prospect.

For the next two days, they soared upward through the sea of clouds. When they emerged at last on the other side and lifted their gazes, they saw what seemed like a miraculous vision. In that moment, it became clear to Nihal why such a place had been chosen for the sanctuary.

The mountains were a triumph of light. The sun shone with spectacular brightness, and even the cobalt blue of the sky seemed to shine. The ice all around them refracted the rays of sunlight into a thousand shades of blinding white. Everywhere they looked were more mountaintops, as far as the eye could see, rock after craggy rock in all directions. This onslaught of beauty revived their spirits. Now, with the long climb accomplished, they felt they were on the brink of success.

The warmth of the sun's dazzling light did not suffice to combat the wind and the cold, but it seemed likely the last leg of the trip would be easier. On back of Oarf, they weaved through hundreds of dark-brown mountaintops, their sharp peaks carved into the sky from out of a sea of downy white. Laio couldn't keep from leaning out over the side and staring down.