The Legions of Fire (49 page)

Alphena's scabbard clinked on the stone as she squirmed through the opening and jumped to her feet. She looked around in concern. “What is this?” she said. “I thought we'd be in a room.”

To the left, the passage ended in a blank wall; to the right, it curved to the left out of sight. “Well, my dear …,” Hedia said. She felt elated simply to have gotten out of the narrow tunnel alive; they were still entombed if the dirt collapsed behind them, but at least they wouldn't be instantly suffocated. “Let's follow the corridor and see if it leads us to one.”

Their feet echoed on the dry stone floor. The quiet
whisk-whisk-whisk
of Hedia's sandals was almost lost in the ring of the younger woman's hobnails.

Alphena's feet sound angry,
Hedia thought; and perhaps they were. Anger wasn't a bad emotion for a woman in a difficult situation. It had gotten Hedia out of places where panic and resignation—and especially resentment—would have done her no good at all.

“How far have we come?” Alphena asked in a little voice.

Hedia had been lost in musings. She glanced at the girl and smiled. Alphena held her hands primly before her with the fingers lightly interlaced.
Otherwise she'd be groping for the sword, and she doesn't want to seem frightened in front of me
.

“We've made at least half a circuit,” Hedia said. “Of course there may be another blank wall at the far end so we'll have to turn around and come back, but at least it's an alternative to listening to Maron grunting.”

Her head was turned to the side, looking at her companion. Because they'd come so far without anything happening, the flicker in the corner of her eye didn't register as movement quite soon enough. Another flame-eyed nymph was coming up the corridor in the opposite direction.

Alphena cried out in surprise. The creature passed between them, gliding rather than walking. There wasn't room for the three of them to cross without touching, but Hedia had no physical sensation. Her mind was on
fire with a surge of lust beyond anything she'd ever felt before, even the night Pansus had whisked the cover off the lantern during the orgy in his garden. The emotion was so intense that she staggered to her knees.

The nymph vanished around the curve of the wall, going toward the hole to the outside through which so many of her sisters had already passed. The floor of the passage was gritty, but her feet hadn't left marks.

“That was
awful
,” Alphena whispered. “Are you all right, Mother?”

Hedia rose. “It was certainly disquieting,” she said. Rather than start off immediately, she waited a moment to make sure that she was steady on her feet again.

She chuckled, grinning at the girl. “I could almost feel sorry for Maron,” she said. Then, briskly, “Well, let's see where she was coming from.”

They started in unison, but Alphena was on the inside of the curving passage and quickly became a half step ahead. She shortened her step then, but she didn't give up that half step—and Hedia certainly wasn't going to run to catch up.

“There may be another door,” Hedia said. “Even a stone—”

There wasn't. The room at the end was an open circular expansion of the corridor. In the center was a stone bier, complete with pillow, on which an old man lay. No one and no thing else was present.

Hedia strode to the man and touched his neck. His flesh wasn't cold, but she didn't detect a pulse in his throat. The gods knew what was wrong with him, but Hedia had few options and very little time: she shook him by the shoulders.

“Wake up!” she said. “Waken! My daughter and I need to know what's going on here!”

The man's eyes opened and met hers. He gave a piercing scream and tried to roll off the other side of the bier. Alphena caught him. He saw her in turn and screamed again.

“Stop that!” Hedia said. “We're not going to hurt you, but we need some answers.”

His mouth opened. Despite what she'd said about not hurting him, Hedia was going to slap him hard if he screamed again.

Instead the man's eyes widened in surprise. “But …?” he said in a rasping voice. “Why, you're alive, aren't you?”

“Yes, of course we are,” said Hedia. “There are some creatures, nymphs, in this place. We need to know how to get our guide away from them.”

The man was short, slight, and nondescript. The sheen of his robe had made her think that it was silk, but touch proved it to be finespun metal. On his chest was an ankh. The chain from which it hung was gold, but the pendant seemed to be cold blue fire.

Hedia reached toward the ankh to see if it existed physically, then jerked her hand away. The internal light moved like a viper. Touching it might prove to be an equally bad idea.

“They're loose in the world!” the man said. “Oh my heavens! I'm so very sorry!”

He sat upright and swung his feet over the edge of the bier, but he didn't try to stand up. He laced the fingers of both hands on the upright of the ankh and raised it. As he did so, his face changed.

Hedia walked behind him around the bier and put her arms around Alphena. The girl was trembling.

The little man didn't speak, but the air trembled with portent. “What's he—,” Alphena said.

The man spoke a four-syllable word. White light flared.

Hedia blinked. She was lying on the stone floor. Alphena hadn't fallen, but she looked stunned. The man was awkwardly trying to stand.

Hedia's skin prickled. She felt as though a thunderbolt had struck very close to her. Her senses were unusually sharp, however, and she bounced to her feet feeling full of energy.

“Alphena!” she said, taking the girl's hands in her own. She glanced toward the little man, her eyes hardening.
If she's been harmed
—

Alphena clutched her suddenly; her eyes cleared. “What was that?” she said. She sounded as though she'd been asleep.

“You've saved me,” said the man. “I thank you with all my heart. If you hadn't rescued me, I might have … I might never …”

“Are they gone now?” Hedia asked. “The ones outside too?”

“Yes, they're quite gone,” he said with a shudder. “That will never happen again, I assure you.”

He shook his head and said, “I can't believe that they got out. I wonder how long it's been? It felt like eternity, and I suppose it almost was. Except for you.”

“What were they?” Alphena said. “Demons?”

The man gave her a wry smile, then turned his head away. “They weren't intended to be,” he said in obvious embarrassment. “They—but
please, I appreciate what you've done for me, but you really must leave at once. I don't want anyone around me now. Especially not women!”

“I don't want to stay here either,” said Alphena, looking toward the corridor. “Maron may be wondering where we are.”

“Wait,” Hedia said, putting her hand on the girl's arm. “We'll leave as soon as you tell us what was going on, sirrah!”

The man looked at her. She couldn't have described the change in his face, but she was suddenly reminded of his expression before he spoke the word that knocked her down.

“Will you give me orders, woman?” he said with a tiny smile. “But you have a right to know. Though it will be no benefit to you.”

He touched Alphena's face lightly, turning her profile to him. He dropped his hand and smiled at Hedia again. She wondered how she had ever imagined that he was a helpless little rabbit.

“I studied for a very long time,” he said, “and gained certain knowledge. I'm older than you might think.”

Hedia looked into his eyes and immediately wished that she hadn't. What she'd thought at first glance were gray irises instead opened into infinite distances.

“At last I found this amulet”—he gestured toward the ankh, now hanging on his breast again—“and learned the ways of it. You should understand that until I gained all power, I had
no
power.
Do
you understand that, woman?”

“I hear what you said,” said Hedia. “No one is really that powerless, though.”

“Perhaps you're right,” the man said, shaking his head with a sad smile. “But I thought it was true, which is the same thing.”

His face lost its weakness again. “With the amulet, I resolved to make a paradise for myself,” he said. “So I thought. A living paradise for
my
mind alone. I knew nothing of women, you see, except that I desired them. And so in my ignorance I created”—he turned both hands upward and moved them apart: the gesture included more than the physical presence of the chamber and the tomb—“this. And found myself trapped in it, with the figments of my desires—as I imagined them to be.”

Hedia nodded. “Thank you for the explanation,” she said. “Daughter, we should be going. We have a great deal to do yet.”

She and Alphena walked quickly up the corridor. The chamber and the man in it were lost behind the curve of the stone.

“I've sometimes wished that I had more power,” Hedia said quietly. “But in truth, I've never been so badly harmed by a lack of power as I have by the lack of judgment to use the power I have. That would seem to be the general fate of humanity.”

V
ARUS WALKED DOWN
the cloud-wrapped path at the woman's side, picking his footing carefully. He forced himself not to look back. He wasn't afraid of what he might see—there was probably nothing but more mist like the fluff which cleared for ten feet ahead of them as they descended. He was remembering the myths of men who looked back as they returned from the Underworld and lost the prize they'd gone there to gain.

“You are not returning, wizard,” the woman said, responding to his thought. “If you gain your wish, you will never return.”

“There's nothing back there I need to see,” said Varus. “And I promised that I'd do this.” He cleared his throat and added, “I don't care if I die, so long as I save the world.”

The woman laughed.

Varus shook his head in embarrassment. It disconcerted him to be with someone who seemed to know what he was thinking.
He
didn't know what he was thinking himself, half the time.

He said, “But I admit that I'm afraid to die, Sigyn. I can't help being afraid. I'll still try to do whatever I have to when the time comes.”

The woman looked at him. She never wore what Varus would describe as an expression, but he thought the curves of her face became minusculely softer.

“Sigyn was afraid to die,” she said. “But when the time came, she died as all humans do. Even great wizards.”

Varus stared in horror. His left hand gripped the ivory talisman, and the throbbing in his mind was briefly overpowering.
How could she be so callous?

He suddenly stepped far enough outside himself to catch the irony. He grinned, then with difficulty swallowed a giggle.

You could always find humor in things if you looked in the right way. Poets—and lawyers—were trained to look for the way that suited their purpose in each particular case. Varus had been mired so deep in self-importance that he hadn't used his skills on his own situation—until a dead girl reminded him.

“Thank you, Sigyn,” he said. “I'll do my best.”

She smiled again.

The clouds below cleared in a rush, melting as though the sun had burned off morning mists. They were descending into the round valley Varus had entered when he pursued the sacred chickens a lifetime ago.

The present path was steep but nowhere nearly as precipitous as the crater walls he remembered from the earlier visit. He and Sigyn would be able to run away rather than having to climb if the dragon pursued them—though of course the dragon wouldn't be slowed noticeably by the slight incline either.

There was no doubt that this was the same valley: the opening to the cave had vertical sides and an arched transom, like the passageways of an arena. It was unnatural and unmistakable to anyone who'd seen it before.

“If the fruit”—Varus lifted the bunch in his right hand—“doesn't poison the dragon quickly enough,” he said, “I suppose I could take us back to the grounds of the Temple of Jupiter.”

He looked at his guide. “That wouldn't help me get into the Underworld, though,” he said.

“I do not belong in a temple,” the woman said, “nor would your temple welcome me. But the fruit of the First Tree is the source of all life. It will not poison the Guardian. There is no place too harsh for the fruit to root and grow, spreading life.”

“But—,” said Varus. “Sigyn, will the dragon even eat the fruit? Or does he eat just meat?”

“The Guardian will eat anything, wizard,” the woman said. “The Guardian would eat you and me.”

They were halfway down the crater wall. The great lizard wasn't visible, but Varus had seen how quickly it could move after it appeared.

He looked at the woman. She had never set him a task that he couldn't accomplish. That meant there was a puzzle here; he
liked
puzzles.

He
didn't
like the thought of being gobbled by a beast he'd seen swallow a larger man whole, but that was the sort of thing that happened to epic heroes. Or at any rate, to the lesser folk standing at the side of epic heroes. Patroclus, the bosom friend of Achilles, could die that way.

Varus chuckled. “I wonder if Corylus is Achilles in this epic,” he said.

“There is no Achilles here, wizard,” the woman said. He couldn't identify the emotion he heard in her voice. “You stand or fall alone.”

They had reached the floor of the crater. Side by side, they walked toward the cave mouth, choosing a path through the brush.

“You're with me, Sigyn,” Varus said.

“Sigyn is dead,” she said harshly. And as she spoke, the dragon squirmed from the cave.

It started for them without hesitation. Its claws clacked and sparkled on the rock, and its breath smelled like the arena after a long August day of slaughter.