- Home
- Ian Irvine
The Summon Stone Page 3
The Summon Stone Read online
Page 3
“Who are these Merdrun, who look just like Charon?”
Llian thought for a long while, frowning. “I’ve never heard the name before. I don’t think I can find the answer here.”
“And, how could Gergrig see Sulien from the void? He looked into a little glass box and I saw lights flashing.”
“At a guess, because of her seeing, though I didn’t know she had the gift.”
“Neither did I,” said Karan. “But I’ll stop her from ever doing it again.”
“It came through a nightmare – how can you stop that?”
Karan’s belly knotted painfully. What if Sulien saw Gergrig again, tonight, and the magiz used the nightmare to locate her?
“I’ll have to find a way to hide her from the magiz. Next question – how do the Merdrun plan to invade Santhenar? Everyone knows how difficult it is to get out of the void.”
“That’s why Gergrig was going to wake the summon stone right away,” said Llian.
“But what is the summon stone? Where is it and how is it woken? Why does that cost so much power, and what does the stone actually do? Can it be stopped or destroyed? And what’s the drumming got to do with it?”
“If I had access to the secret archives of the college library, I might be able to answer those questions. But since I’m banned—”
“You’ve got to find out, urgently; do whatever it takes to get the ban overturned. And I…” Karan looked away.
The blood drained from Llian’s face. “Please tell me you’re not going to spy on them again?”
She avoided his eye. It had to be done.
“Karan?” he said desperately.
“The Merdrun want to kill Sulien. You and I have to protect her. It’s as simple as that.”
“Yes,” he said hoarsely. “Well… if you’re quick.” He frowned. “There’s one question you haven’t asked me to answer.”
“How long until syzygy, when the three moons line up in the sky of Cinnabar?” said Karan. “That’s my other job.”
“But—”
“The only way I can know when syzygy is, is to do more seeings.”
He choked. “They’d have to be really long ones.”
“Yes.”
“All right,” said Llian. “But before anything, we’ve got to spread the word about the invasion.”
“How will that help?”
“If everyone knows, the magiz has no reason to target Sulien.”
Except malice – or hunger to drink her innocent life.
Karan went across to the nearest kumquat tree. Some of the little round fruit were ripe and she picked a handful and ate them whole, the pungent oils stinging the inside of her nose and clearing her head.
She had another, even more dangerous plan, one she dared not even whisper to Llian. If there was no other way she would try to attack the magiz, and Gergrig too. Though she did not know how.
“Don’t tell Sulien about any of this,” said Karan.
“Why not? She’ll have to know before long.”
“Until we know more, for her sake I’d like to pretend that everything is all right.”
“But it’s not all right!”
“No. And I’ve got a very bad feeling.”
“What?” said Llian.
“That everything we care about, everything that matters, is about to be swept away. Until… that happens, I just want Sulien to be a normal, happy little girl.”
5
THE BIGGEST MISTAKE OF YOUR LIFE
Karan hurled her trowel into the vegetable garden. “How will the magiz attack?” she yelled at Llian. “How will I even know? I’m afraid to leave Sulien for a second.”
Her family’s survival depended on her and she did not have the faintest idea what to do. She could not protect Sulien twenty-four hours a day; sooner or later the magiz would find a way through and kill her, and the world would end.
It was mid-afternoon. She was picking leeks and onions; Llian was lifting little round potatoes out of the dry soil with a wooden garden fork. The leeks were thin and yellow, not much bigger than spring onions. Everything was withering away.
She had written to Tallia and Shand, the only powerful allies she had, asking them to spread the word about the Merdrun threat, but what could they do to help her?
Shand was like a wise old uncle, but he was also a dangerous mancer who, when one of his moods took him, could be downright unhelpful. And, she remembered bitterly, years ago his prejudice against the Zain had almost got Llian killed. Would he help now? Could he help?
“I’ll look after her if you need to go to Tolryme,” said Llian, scooping a double handful of potatoes into his basket.
“What can you do?”
Llian restrained himself with an effort. “I don’t know. What can you do?”
“I’ve got to be here. I can’t leave her.”
“Gergrig saw Sulien through her nightmare. She’s hardly likely to have another one in the middle of the day.”
“You’re happy to take the risk, are you?”
“Please stop attacking me. We’re in this together.”
But Karan was beyond being reasonable. “What if the drumming starts again, and you—” Fool, fool! If she could have taken the words back and swallowed them, she would have, but it was too late.
Llian went so white that she thought he was going to faint. He dropped the garden fork and said stiffly, “You don’t trust me.”
“Of course I do.” How could a few thoughtless words make things so wrong? “I trust you absolutely…”
“Just not with Sulien. You think, when the drumming sounds again, that I’ll help the magiz attack my own daughter.”
“That’s not what I meant at all,” she cried.
“It’s exactly what you meant,” he said in a dead voice. He picked up his basket and stumbled away.
Karan’s bones were aching again. She sank onto a garden bench and put her head in her hands. She had made things worse and did not know how to fix them.
“You must stop pushing Llian away,” Rachis said quietly. “You’ve got to trust him.”
She had not realised he was in the garden. “You heard?”
“More than I cared to.”
“I’m afraid to trust anyone – except you, of course.” She looked up at him. “You went to town this morning. Has the drumming caused any other attacks?”
“A few fights. No killings. Lots of people heard it, but most weren’t affected by it.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“It’s bad for Benie. I argued that the drumming made him kill Cook, but the bailiff wouldn’t listen. He insists it’s murder, and everyone in Tolryme feels the same.”
“And no one can prove otherwise.” Karan had already written to the mayor of Tolryme and the judge who would come from Radomin to hear Benie’s case, though she felt sure it was futile.
“No,” said Rachis heavily. “Karan, about Sulien…”
“I don’t know how the magiz will strike, or where. Or when.” She looked up. “I’ve got to have a plan. Can you…”
He sat beside her, his knees clicking. “I’m just an estate manager, Karan. I know when to plant the crops and when to get them in, how to look after the animals and manage the farm workers. I don’t know anything about your world, your special gift, or the kind of people you’re dealing with.”
“But you’re wise and strong.”
“I’m an old, old man and I’ll soon be in my grave. Whatever you do, you must work it out with Llian first.”
“But—”
“I can’t believe you’ve forgotten everything he’s done for you – and all he’s sacrificed.”
“Of course not,” she said guiltily.
“He’s brave and strong and clever, and he loves you – if you’ll give him the chance.”
“If I tell him what I’m up to, he’ll only agonise, and that’ll make it even harder.”
“Sulien is his daughter too,” Rachis said curtly. “It’s h
is right to be involved – and to agonise! Don’t cut him out, Karan.”
“What happens when the drumming starts again? How can I trust—”
“You’re making the biggest mistake of your life, and I’m not collaborating with it.”
Rachis trudged up the dusty path towards the kitchen. He did not deserve the burdens she kept piling on him. Karan slumped back on the bench. She kept seeing the way Llian had gone for the axe before Benie had killed Cook. True, he had beaten the impulse, but could he resist the drumming next time, and the time after?
She was utterly alone. No one could help her now…
Except her Aachim kinswoman, Malien. The Aachim who dwelt on Santhenar were few, but they were clever and strong, and Malien was one of their leaders. But she was a thousand miles away in the great bastion of Tirthrax, carved deep into the highest mountain in the world. How best to contact her?
A mind-to-mind link could work, and Karan was skilled at using that rare talent, though it was risky. Links were related to seeings and it was possible the magiz might be able to eavesdrop on it. But there was no choice.
She slipped out the rear gate of the garden and headed through the dusty fields to the River Ryme, where she sat on the end of her decrepit jetty. It had fallen into disuse over the past twelve years of drought, since the river was seldom high enough for boats to come this far upstream. At the moment it was just a series of isolated pools separated by meandering beds of cobbles.
Karan sat cross-legged on the weather-roughened planking and tried to picture Malien as she had last seen her, a couple of years ago. The Aachim were big people for the most part, with dark hair and dark eyes, and remarkably long fingers. They were long-lived, brilliant designers, and masterly workers in both metal and stone. But, bitter about their long exile from their own world, Aachan, they now isolated themselves in their mountain cities and lived in the past.
Malien was different. She was smaller, pale of skin, green of eye and red-haired, like Karan herself. They were distantly related though Karan, being only one quarter Aachim, was not considered one of them. Malien was like a wise old aunt to her; she had tremendous inner calm and a vast knowledge of the Secret Art, and Karan needed both.
The link proved difficult and tiring, and when she finally made the connection it was weak and wavering.
“What’s wrong?” said Malien.
Mindful that the link might not last, Karan told her as briefly as possible. Links also conveyed emotions and she felt the impact on Malien as a series of sharp shocks, like a nail being hammered into a tree.
“Ah, to drink a life! the magiz said. It was sickening.”
“Go on,” said Malien.
Karan told her about the drumming and Benie murdering Cook. “Have you heard it too?”
“We have,” said Malien, “though none of us has been affected by it.” Her tone hinted at superiority. After a long silence she went on. “This is very bad.”
The link was hard to hold, but Karan waited in silence.
“You know how much we feared the Charon,” Malien said at last.
“They were the most powerful human species of all. A hundred of them took Aachan from you and turned your people into serfs.”
“A fact we don’t care to be reminded of, even after all this time,” Malien said drily. “Yet I happen to know – I learned it by accident not long before their end – the Charon’s deepest secret.”
“Oh?” Karan said sharply.
“They were afraid of another human species in the void.”
“Could that be the Merdrun?”
“I don’t know.”
“Except for the tattoos, they look just like Charon; at first I thought they were Charon.”
“They aren’t,” said Malien. “The Charon fought their enemy for thousands of years and were beaten.”
“Beaten?” It seemed impossible.
“They were being hunted to extinction, and they were desperate. That’s why they fled the void and took Aachan.”
“Gergrig said his people had been betrayed and exiled. They’ve practised the art of war for ten thousand years to get their revenge.”
“I don’t know anything about that, but anyone who could terrify the Charon and almost wipe them out must be formidable indeed.”
Karan’s entrails knotted painfully. How could Santhenar survive such an invasion? “Can the magiz attack Sulien from the void?”
“There’s no way of telling.”
“Then I’ll have to spy on her again.” Karan waited for Malien to talk her out of it.
“A mother must protect her child,” said Malien, “whatever the cost.”
“Do you think I can spy on the magiz via a seeing?”
“Spy on a mighty alien sorcerer and get away with it? Seriously?”
Karan swallowed. “Yes.”
“No, I don’t,” said Malien. “You’ll probably fail and be killed, very unpleasantly… but you have to try.”
Karan’s heart gave a single, leaden thud.
“Though not with hrux,” Malien went on. “It’s too dangerous and unpredictable.”
“Then how?”
Again the hesitation. “We have a secret spell,” Malien said reluctantly. “Forbidden to all but pure-blood Aachim. I could be exiled just for telling you about it.”
“I can’t work spells.”
“You wouldn’t need to.”
“What is it?”
“An incantation of disembodiment.”
“Disembodiment?” Karan squeaked.
“If I were to cast it on you, you’d be able to use all your senses to spy on the magiz on Cinnabar. You would be there in every way, except physically.”
“I’ll do it.”
“It’s a most unpleasant spell, quite unnatural. The body fights it all the way.”
“As long as it does what I need, I don’t care.”
“You will care. You’ll wish I’d never been born.”
“I’ll worry about that at the time.”
“Impetuous as always,” said Malien with a hint of amusement. “All right.”
“When I’m disembodied, can I be seen or heard?”
“Not by ordinary people. But if you’re sensed, a skilled mancer could make you visible. If that happens you must break the spell instantly.”
“Can my spirit be attacked while I’m disembodied?”
“By a skilled mancer, yes. Also, over such a massive distance the spell could fade, or the connection between your spirit and your body could break. If that happened, your spirit would be lost and your witless body would wither and die. Be clear on this, Karan – using this spell is the most dangerous thing you’ve ever tried to do. And that’s not the worst that could happen.”
“What is the worst?”
“The magiz could force you to materialise on Cinnabar, then trap you.”
“Is there any way that I can attack her, under the spell?”
Malien seemed to start, then said, “Don’t even think about it.”
“I was born with a gift for mancery,” said Karan. “But—”
“Stop right there!”
“But when I was thirteen, Tensor saw my gift as a danger to the Aachim and blocked it so it would never develop. He robbed me of my birthright!” she said furiously. “Can you unblock it?”
“No!”
“I really need it, Malien.”
“You’re far too old. Your mancery can’t be resurrected. And even if it could, it’d probably kill you.”
“All right!” snapped Karan. “Can you cast the disembodiment spell on me via the link?”
“Are you sure you’re ready?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll put a dormant spell on you – its effect will be… mild. It’s only when you trigger the spell that you’ll really pay. Hold on to something.”
Karan took hold of one of the splintery old planks. Malien cast the dormant spell and it wasn’t mild at all; Karan felt a blistering pain from the bac
k of her throat to the pit of her stomach as if a red-hot poker had been rammed down her throat, and the burning spread until the whole of her body was afire.
“You all right?” said Malien.
“Yes,” Karan gasped, though she wasn’t. She was burning up.
Malien told her how to set off the spell when she was ready. It was keyed to the single word trigger. The words spell-stop would undo the spell and bring her back to her body.
“Make sure Llian knows exactly what’s going on,” Malien added. “Under the disembodiment spell, your abandoned body will look… frightening.”
Karan did not have the strength to reply.
“I mean it,” Malien said sharply. “You can’t do this on your own.”
Her voice went fuzzy. “Can’t hold the link much longer,” said Karan.
“Last thing!” cried Malien. “Your mad ancestor, Basunez, and your father, Galliad, both carried out reckless sorcery at Carcharon.”
Carcharon, a remote part of Karan’s estate, was a ruined tower high in the mountains west of Gothryme. Galliad, a half-Aachim, had been exiled by his own people for this crime.
“Sorcery that weakened the barrier between Santhenar and the void,” said Karan. “I know.”
“And their work could aid the Merdrun’s invasion plans. If you have any of their papers, get rid of them.”
“Why?” said Karan.
“If the Merdrun do invade, people will remember what Basunez and Galliad got up to, and their papers could be used to hang you for conspiring with the enemy.”
The link vanished.
Karan remained on the jetty, picking splinters out of her fingers. Her insides still felt scalded; how could she endure the far greater pain of the triggered spell, then be competent to go spying? She felt hot and cold, and too unsteady to stand up.
What if the magiz caught her and killed her? Or the disembodiment spell went wrong and her spirit never returned to her body? Or the magiz attacked Sulien while Karan was separated from her body?
Was it hopeless? Was her little family doomed?
6
AND HE WAS DEAD!
Karan ran into her library and locked the door. In the secret passage she got out the rusty iron box that held Mad Basunez’s documents, then flipped through the yellowed papers and stained parchments, the spell charts and coded incantations, shivering. His profane experiments at Carcharon almost six hundred years ago had allowed something alien in from the void, and it had slaughtered all but one of his seven grandchildren. It had nearly destroyed the family.