The Betrayed Read online

  She closed her eyes. “Cane,” she said. She felt his hand upon her shoulder, which sparked a longing she pushed aside. Then the power flowed into her. She reached out with her mind and became aware of the searing touch of the Daegmon. She endured the pain just long enough, then pulled her thoughts back in.

  “There,” she said, pointing toward the north and west. That the path still led away from the pass brought only a little relief.

  Little else was said. After they had eaten a cold meal together, the remaining companions departed. As Alrew pointed out, they didn’t need to worry about Namha finding them—their tracks would be impossible to hide. Unless a considerable amount of additional snow fell, anybody who stumbled upon the place where they had slept would follow them with ease—Namha or Golach.

  “Golach will not need help,” Elynna said, but she spoke so quietly nobody seemed to hear her.

  With the sun rising at their backs, they started up the low rise that had shielded them from the wind during the night. Cane led the way, with Noab beside him. Elynna followed a few paces behind. The Daegmon was still far enough away that she did not need to probe continually. They were going in the right general direction, and that was enough for now. If they got closer to it—or it came closer to them—she would know soon enough without trying.

  The others followed by twos and threes, with Cathros and Aram taking the first shift at rear guard about a half mile back. They marched through the morning along a line of low hills. Before long, the last trace of clouds had disappeared behind them. The sky above was bright, and though a brisk north breeze chilled the air, the sun warmed her shoulders. To keep her mind off the missing companions, Elynna studied the land about them, attempting to place their position in the context of the maps she had studied in Citadel months earlier. Southward the ridge of mountains rose steeply just a few miles away. Across it and two thousand feet below lay the Plains, where even now Tienna’s people were, Elynna hoped, coming to the aid of the Uëtha. But there was no way across these mountains except back through the notch, and there was no returning that way.

  Her eyes wandered to the north. That was Undeani land—a narrow strip of rugged but habitable highland between two westward-jutting mountain ranges. A pair of high jagged white peaks rose up in the middle of the region. Elynna’s eyes drifted beyond these peaks. Still further north and west, faintly visible against the distant horizon, another long range of mountains marked the northwestern edge of the Undeani highlands. Across those, the precipitous drops plunged down to the Westwash.

  It dawned on her that less than two hundred miles separated her from her former home in Lienford. It was the closest she had been to the Westwash in more than a year. That brought little comfort. Those two hundred miles might as well have been a thousand. And even were that option open to her, she had no plans of returning. Her quest led her elsewhere.

  Onward she marched, her eyes upon Cane’s strong back. The ground was rocky and the region sparsely wooded. They would have made good time had it not been for two long detours around a pair of ravines thirty feet deep and twenty feet wide cutting directly across their path. Even with the detours, they covered a fair amount of ground during the morning.

  A little past midday the company rested in a shallow vale. Theo rose suddenly. “Did you hear that?”

  Cathros was on his feet a second later. “Voices,” he said.

  Golach! Elynna thought as she leapt to her feet.

  23

  INSIDE KNOWLEDGE

  “Borodruin,” Dhan breathed out. It was a voice of relief. “And you are not the one I expected to find here. Why did you run from me?”

  “Didn’t know t’were you,” the man said. “Thought you were in the dungeon, and I was still wondering—while I was wandering—how an old man might rescue you. And rescue you,” he added a second later with a little wry smile crinkling his lined cheeks, “without getting killed in the effort.”

  Curious, but no longer afraid, Thimeon resheathed his blade. He stepped up beside the prince and looked the man over. He was at least sixty years of age, though he might have been eighty or older. He still had a full head of hair and a small pointy beard, but his hair was as white as the beard of a gyurt.

  “I was in the dungeon,” Dhan replied. He stepped forward and placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “What in the bowels of Entain are you doing here?”

  “Same thing as you, I think,” Borodruin replied. “Hiding.”

  “From whom?”

  “From Koranth. Who else?”

  Dhan dropped his hand and took a step back. “You too?” he murmured. He shook his head sadly. “I’ve missed you, old friend. I could use your wisdom right now. It’s too bad my father ceased to listen to you when Koranth came.” Then, despite the urgency of their situation, the prince took a step to his side and sat down on a large rock. “Help me now. Give me counsel. Why is Koranth after you? Pardon my bluntness, but he can’t be jealous of your power.”

  Thimeon, surprised and curious, remained standing. Dhan’s voice and expression suggested someone sitting at a tavern having a mug of ale with an old friend, not an escaping prisoner whose life was in grave danger. Yet Thimeon resisted the urge to remind either of them of the situation.

  “Only too true,” the old man said. “Your father ceased listening to me long before Koranth arrived. Had he listened to me, he would never have traveled to Entain, and he would not have allowed that scoundrel in court.”

  “Koranth is worse than a scoundrel,” Thimeon said in soft voice.

  The old man looked at Thimeon as though seeing him for the first time. “True. True,” he replied. “He’s an evil one. His spell, I think, had already been laid on the king’s heart before any of us knew who he was. Anyway, as to why Koranth is after me, I seemed to have stumbled on something he wants.” He leaned forward and handed his bundle to the prince. “Here, you take it. It’s rightfully yours anyway. I only took it to give to you when the time came. I wasn’t trying to steal. It was a waste to let Koranth destroy it with everything else.”

  Curious, Thimeon watched as the prince took the bundle onto his lap. It was long and heavy. The prince unwrapped an old rag to reveal a beautiful jewel-encrusted broadsword and an old book. He set the book down on the rock floor and turned the sword over in his hand, gazing at it in admiration.

  Thimeon’s pulse quickened at once—more because of the book than the sword. Could he dare to hope? He sat down next to the prince. “Where did you get these?”

  “From the treasure chamber by the old dungeon.”

  Thimeon’s eyes opened wide, and tears welled up in his eyes. He wanted to hug the old man. He reached and with awe lifted the book and held it in his lap. “Why did you save them? And how?”

  “And how did you know about that place?” Dhan added as Thimeon looked at the cover of the book.

  “I’ve known about that chamber for most of my life,” Borodruin said. At this news, Thimeon turned his gaze from the book back to the man. This was the very help he had been looking for—it was almost too good to believe.

  The man continued his tale. “’Twas my own father who told me about it when I first entered the king’s service. If you think back, you will remember. ’Twas I who made sure you accidentally discovered the passageways years ago. And I planted the thought in your mind that your discovery should remain a secret. As for the old treasure chamber, I used to go there from time to time and study those many ancient tomes.”

  Thimeon’s breath stuck in his throat. This was more than he could have hoped for. “The Daegmons. You know about them? How to fight them?”

  “Why didn’t you tell anybody?” the prince asked.

  The old man raised his eyebrows. “You mean somebody like your father?”

  Dhan rubbed his face. “No. I see you are wiser even than I thought.”

  “’Twas my father’s f
ather’s father who sealed off that chamber a hundred years ago during the reign of the boy King Athan,” Borodruin went on. “My great-grandfather made sure those treasures were hidden. Kept safe for when they would be needed. And my father’s father began also a process of copying some of the most precious of the books. The kings in those days had forgotten about them anyway. The gifts and the universities for the gifted were abandoned. The Daegmon had not been seen in generations—”

  “What?” Thimeon interrupted. “What are you talking about? What universities? How do you know about the gifts? Why do you speak of the Daegmon when nobody else in this city does?”

  “Too many questions for such a short time,” the old man replied. “For now ’tis enough for you to know that Koranth has been searching for those treasures since he arrived at Citadel six years ago. I thought my secret was best kept hidden. I couldn’t risk talking openly about the Daegmon. Had I done that, I would have ended up in the dungeon long ago. I did try to help that young Westwash woman a year ago—”

  “Elynna?” Thimeon guessed.

  “Yes. But she was too impetuous. I was afraid to tell her too much until she had learned more patience and until she understood the danger of the king and Koranth. Now I fear I made a grave mistake in waiting. Unfortunately, I didn’t know about her capture until it was too late. By then she had already escaped without my help. As it is, I barely heard in time that Koranth had discovered the chamber and made plans to destroy it. Her escape was what led to his discovery. And the destruction of those treasures was our enemy’s greatest victory yet. This was all I could save.” As he said that, he nodded toward the blade in the prince’s hand. “That sword and book. And, of course, the knowledge now in my mind from many years of study of those volumes still lives on. For a time. Yet it is no small consolation. In your hand are two of the four greatest treasures preserved from the first wars. Or so I believe.”

  Thimeon looked at the blade more closely now. Intricate runes, like those he had seen in one of the books in the treasure room, covered the length of the scabbard. His voice reflected the awe and reverence coming over him. “What is it?”

  “The sword is one of two great weapons,” the old man replied. “I have a guess which one, though I can’t be sure. There were two like it, forged for the Karsmose to wield. One of them, could focus and magnify the power of the flame-gift. The other could bear even the great strength of the Ischus, the mighty one, when the strength of battle was upon him. Both of them have great power—power to destroy even the Daegmon.”

  “Your words mean nothing to me,” the prince said.

  But Thimeon stared at the blade with even greater awe. “Cane and Cathros,” he muttered in astonishment.

  “Who?” Borodruin asked.

  “Cane and Cathros,” Thimeon replied. “Two Northland warriors who have the powers of which you spoke. Gifts. I traveled with them for many weeks, seeking to destroy the Daegmon. But how do you know all these things?”

  Borodruin shook his head and chuckled, but it was a short and almost sad laugh. “How do I know? From the teachings of my father and my father’s father. From a lifetime of study. From asking questions, and spending time doing what few others cared to do. From listening to old stories too seldom told or remembered.”

  Books and old stories. Just what Thimeon had come to Citadel to find, and what was now lost. His gaze shifted from the sword back to the book now resting in his lap. “Yes,” Borodruin said. “The books, and not the gold or jewels, were the greatest treasure hidden there. I’ve studied the lore for many years. All that remained, that is, and all that I was able to understand. Some had been lost even before Koranth came to Citadel and destroyed the archive, and some was in a language long ago forgotten. Alas, I worked alone and in fear, or else I might have learned more. Still, in addition to the sword I saved this one book you now hold. ‘Tis the most important of them all. It has more than mere knowledge. The words are power as well as truth. It tells the All-Maker’s tale. The greatest treasure in all of Gondisle.”

  Thimeon’s hands trembled, and he thought at once of his former companions and their quest.

  “The treasures are in your hands now,” Borodruin said, looking first at Dhan and then at Thimeon. “You know the ones with the power to use this blade?”

  “I know them,” Thimeon replied, meeting the old man’s gaze. “And others of the gifted as well. The Karsmose, as you called them. Elynna, the Westwash woman you tried to help, also has a gift. She can sense the presence and even the thoughts of Daegmon, though it causes her great pain. We fought the Daegmon together. But after several failures, I left them and returned here intending to look again at the books we had found, hoping to discover some knowledge that might help us. That was a few days ago. Alas, I was too late.”

  “Not too late,” Borodruin replied. “Yes, you could have learned more had you come earlier. Yet even now you can take with you this sword. Bring it to them. It is one of the two, I say. Which one, I do not know. But the Karsmose will know. The one who is meant to wield it will feel its power. As for the book, it is power itself.”

  “Does it contain knowledge of the Daegmon?” Thimeon asked.

  “It contains wisdom as well as knowledge. And that is a sort of power. But as I said, there is a greater power in the words themselves. A power beyond knowledge. Of what sort, you will have to see for yourself. It is too bad we don’t also have the other blade or the Henetos, the remaining two treasures. But both disappeared before I could save them.”

  “The Henetos?” the prince asked. “What is it?”

  “A stone, it is in appearance. A blue-black gem. It was fashioned in the heart of the Holy Mountain itself. Fashioned of wood and stone and blood of Illengond. Some say the All-Maker himself spilled his blood into the mountain to bear the cost of mankind’s war. He gifted the shapers of stone and wood to make this gem. They placed it in a necklace to be worn by one of the folk of Gondisle in the presence of the Karsmose. It is a stone of unity. It weaves together the strengths of the peoples, and its very presence magnifies the power of the Karsmose. It was a bane to the Daegmons. If it is destroyed, their power will grow threefold, or fivefold, or even tenfold. But it must not be worn by one of the Karsmose. It is for those who do not have the powers. For into it comes a power even mightier than all the gifts—a power from the depths of Mount Illengond itself and from the hand of the All-Maker.”

  Thimeon stared wide-eyed for several seconds as the meaning of the old wise man’s words sank in. The Henetos. The stone he had held in his hand. It must be. What else? He thought then about Cane taking the necklace from him as he departed from the company. It must not be worn by one of the gifted? He buried his head in his hands.

  “What have I done?” he wondered aloud in dismay.

  “What have you done? That is a question too often asked. What you will do is the more important question. Koranth seeks these things even now, and he will not rest until he has destroyed them. He already rules Citadel through the king. He will not stop until he and his kin rule all of Gondisle. The Henetos escaped his grasp before he discovered its chamber, but he suspects these two treasures still lie in Citadel. Even now he seeks them to destroy them.”

  Thimeon jumped to his feet. “You don’t understand. We must get back to my companions. I left them in the Plains”

  “Why?” Dhan asked. “What is it?”

  “The Henetos was in my hands. I found it in the chamber when we were there before—when you found us and helped us to escape. I don’t know why, but I took it with me when we left. I had it in battle last time we fought the Daegmon, and it did just as Borodruin said. I could feel its power. It made us all stronger. The Daegmon fled from it.”

  “But where is it now?” the prince and Borodruin both asked.

  Thimeon’s voice fell in sorrow and shame. “I gave it away—to one of the gifted.”

  Borodruin
shook his head. “That is not good. Not according to the lore I have studied—though the lore is not always easy to understand, I have little doubt about this. That stone is the gift to the Ungifted. I know not what will happen if the one to whom you gave it—one of the Karsmose—should seek to wield it. One who wields it unrightfully might be destroyed. Even worse, the stone itself might be destroyed.”

  Thimeon looked at Dhan and frowned. “Without knowing, I have made a grave mistake. Thus our need for haste is all the greater. We must depart at once.”

  “Yes,” the old man interjected. “But there is a difference between urgency and haste. If you can spare a few moments, I can share in brief a few bits of knowledge. You have in your hand only one of many books I studied. They told the history not only of Gondisle and the Daegmon Wars but of the world itself. The story of the All-Maker and his mountain. Koranth sought to destroy—and did destroy—much of that treasure. But if the work of my father and his father remains, then copies of those books will be found. Some here in this city and some scattered about Gondisle. In the meanwhile, they live in my thoughts, for I have spent a lifetime studying them and committing the words to my memory, even when I did not understand them. And though it would take many days to tell you all—for neither wisdom nor knowledge are easily rushed nor shrunk like old fabric—I would pass on to you before you depart a few words of warning. Though it may add to your fear, they are words also of hope, and mostly of caution.”

  Thimeon was torn. His mind raced ahead. Even if he could get out of the city immediately, it would be not mere hours but days or weeks before he could find his former companions and bring them both the sword and the warning. He was not sure even how to find them. Every hour of delay might be costly. And yet the knowledge Borodruin claimed to have was the very thing he had come to Citadel for. If he rushed off now, he might have the same regrets that had plagued him days earlier and drove him back to the city.