The Flame Iris Temple Page 9

  The demon tried again, from a different direction, probing his defenses for a weakness or a hole. Sandun felt a stabbing sensation from his foot and saw that the demon had extruded a tendril or a tail that snaked along the ground and now stabbed at his ankle. He put some of his own force into bolstering his shield and again forced the demon back.

  He fended off several more attacks while he considered what to do. The demon was incredibly aggressive—stupidly so, Sandun thought. Didn’t the demon realize who he was? Sandun tried to communicate with the monster, asking its name and what it was doing, but his word-thoughts were ignored. The demon either didn’t understand him or didn’t care.

  Since the demon seemed hell-bent on attacking him, Sandun needed to fight back, but how? He first tried pushing the demon as if he was dislodging a wedged spirit, but it was like kicking water in a lake. The demon was native to the second world; it wasn’t stuck.

  Could he attack it the way he attacked people in the real world? He tried to think what that would be like—how he could use akela to hurt something in the second world. His first efforts failed, and the attempt drained him. He felt himself weakening under the demon’s assault as his shield developed holes and the demon attacked him with incorporeal though painful slashes to his arms and legs.

  Finally, he successfully drew a line in the second world and unleashed a brief shock to the demon. It halted its attack, seemingly puzzled at what Sandun had done. Sandun felt a thrill of excitement and did the same thing again, this time with greater effect. This shock of not-exactly-lighting destroyed a piece of the demon, and a part of its form went fully dark. Sandun was running out of akela, but he pressed his advantage, hoping to drive the demon off or perhaps even destroy it. Again and again, he attacked the demon, blasting it with his secret power drawn from the second world.

  The demon, reduced to half its previous size, finally ceased its attack and pulled away. Sandun considered his options: End the fight or press on? He still had a little power left, and the demon seemed beaten. Although he could halt and let the demon escape, who was he? Ajh’s champion, that’s who. He knew there were powers greater than himself, but he didn’t think this creature was one of them.

  He followed in the second world as the demon moved uphill into a landscape of pillars: some fat, others thin like trees without branches, but with a regularity to their arrangement. Before the demon vanished into this quasi forest, he attacked it with a powerful blast, using more than half of his remaining strength. To his frustration, he missed. A pillar was somehow in the way, and it broke into three or four pieces while the demon withdrew.

  Sandun followed, ignoring the voice in his mind that cautioned rest and recovery before continuing the struggle. The demon ducked into a tunnel or a cave mouth. In the second world, Sandun had only been in one cave before—Ajh’s cave, her home, filled with power. Again, caution suggested this was something he should be wary of, but as before, he pressed on.

  Inside the demon’s cave, the walls were illuminated by patches of glowing material: the second world’s equivalent of rock. The demon seemed stronger now; it was recovering its form just as Sandun was also slowly collecting akela. Who would gain power the fastest? Sandun didn’t know, but his dragon circle was gathering force as well. Sandun liked his chances, and he chased the demon deeper under the ground.

  Suddenly he felt dizzy. He stumbled and put his hand out to steady himself only to discover that he was pushing on the cave ceiling, forcing his legs to bend. Or was he? He was uncertain if he was standing or falling. Was he upside down? His hands touched the rock, and so did his knees; he must be on his hands and knees, yet it didn’t feel that way. It felt as if he were slipping and yet not moving.

  The only thing he was sure of was the direction of the demon and that it was moving away from him. Later, Sandun would rebuke himself for not halting to see if the disorientation would go away, for not turning around. But at the time, without really thinking why, Sandun continued to follow the demon, stumbling down into the tunnels of the second world.

  He found other tunnels branching off in different directions. Some tunnels were brighter, some had a different color to their light. A maze, a labyrinth, a confusion of unexpected openings. Why did he proceed? His sense that up and down, right and left were in flux continued to bother him. At times, his confusion slowed him to a slow walk. Even so, Sandun thought he was in no danger; he believed he could “wake up” and return to his body in the real world at any time. So he followed the demon deeper. It became an obsession, a goal without reason. He could no longer explain why he was pursuing the creature.

  When he found a ghost—that was when he stopped. The ghost was clearly lost, moving slowly, aimlessly. It didn’t acknowledge Sandun’s presence or respond in any way to his power. He stopped and considered carefully. Where was this place, and what was a ghost doing here? He searched his memory for Ajh’s thoughts about this and found nothing. Sandun decided he had gone far enough; the second world held too many mysteries already. Retracing his steps seemed pointless, so he resolved to “wake” and recover himself back in the real world of flesh and blood.

  Yet Sandun discovered, to his dismay, that he could not wake. The method Ajh had taught him simply failed to work. He tried three times, and each time he found his mind was still trapped in the same place, in this hellish underworld.

  The only thing he knew for certain was how to find the demon. He knew where it was, and he could feel its presence echoing down the tunnels. He would get answers from the demon or, by destroying it, he would gain his freedom. Continuing down and into the tunnels, he turned his dismay into determination. He would not be defeated, he would not be driven mad, he would not be stopped! A piece of a god was inside him. Fear me, demon! The champion of Ajh is coming for you!

  The demon was no longer moving. As Sandun came closer, he encountered two more wandering spirits. He guessed the demon was controlling them, using them, tormenting them. In fact, he now believed these were not ghosts at all but the spirits of living people, enslaved by the demon for unknown reasons.

  The demon had halted beside an unusual formation of glowing rock. Its strength was even greater than when he’d first fought it on the street. Sandun swiftly understood why: the glowing rock was not normal rock of the second world; instead, it was crystalized akela, the likes of which Sandun had only seen before in Ajh’s cavern.

  If the demon believed this gave it an advantage, Sandun felt ironic satisfaction; he could tap into that same power just like the demon.

  The demon still did not communicate; instead, it rushed to cut him to pieces, and Sandun responded by striking it with powerful blasts of force. Despite the nearly unlimited power available to Sandun, the demon could draw upon the same source to recover itself. Around they went, force countered by force, attacks absorbed, repelled, or simply regrown. The demon seemed to revel in the damage Sandun inflicted upon it, and there appeared to be no limit to its ability to regrow the pieces Sandun injured.

  Sandun began to wonder how long he could keep this fight going and if he was somehow trapped like the spirits he had seen, lost in a private hell of endless battle.

  As he considered his options, a flash of insight came to him, a vision of a brilliant blue crystal—just like the crystal Ell had picked up after the first phase of his battle with Ajh. Could Sandun do what Ajh had done? Could he drain the demon with an absorbing crystal? He thought he knew how to do it; he had seen Ajh summon akela crystals out of the ground and then send them away, making them vanish into tiny sparks of light.

  As he considered the act, he realized it would cost him. He would have to use a tiny piece of the fragment of Ajh within him to summon the absorbing crystal, and once he did, he likely would never get it back. But no other options came to mind. He could not retreat, nor could he negotiate a truce with the demon. Sandun felt confident that Ajh or Ell could destroy this demon by inflicting so much d
amage that it could not rebuild itself, but he lacked their power, and his experience was measured in weeks as opposed to their uncounted thousands of years.

  Sandun took the tiniest sliver of Ajh and put it in his hand. Even that act weakened him. He stepped back under the demon’s furious attacks, which attempted to capitalize on his distraction. The demon’s claws raked his face, and the pain was excruciating—like being burned by thousands of sparks from a dozen smiths hammering red-hot iron.

  He threw the piece of pure blue absorbing crystal in front of the demon. It grew slowly while he concentrated on fending off the demon’s assault. After a time of hardly growing at all, the crystal suddenly blossomed. One blue glowing arm connected to the stone of akela, and then other arms built up like a thicket of brambles, surrounding the demon. The blue crystals formed a prison, just as Ell had been trapped by Ajh and then drained of his power.

  Finally, when the demon realized that it was trapped by the crystal and its power was being eaten away, it began to laugh. Its laughter, like everything else about the demon, was inhuman and horrible, and it continued for a very long time, till the creature was entirely encased in the crystal prison and dead.

  When the demon was finally destroyed, Sandun felt his disorientation fall from him. Up and down were normal again. His mind was clear. He knew how to return to his physical body. He felt he could wake now if he wanted. But he was reluctant to leave; if only there was some way he could take back the sliver of Ajh! But no, it had changed, merged with the source of power. Only Ajh herself could recover it.

  Gradually, a friendly presence became apparent to Sandun; it was like a ball of light, peaceful and seemingly calling out to him. Sandun, intrigued and joyous in his victory, sought out this entity who recognized him in the second world. Could it be his friend Kagne? Surely not. He would recognize Kagne even after the transformation wrought by Ell, wouldn’t he? Curious and buoyant, his spirit raced out of the tunnels, hurtling upward to the surface.

  He found the friendly entity close to the entrance to the cave. The presence acknowledged him, greeting him without words. Together, he and the presence returned to his body, and then Sandun woke to the real world.

  He was surprised to find the sun was directly overhead. Sitting across from him was a priest of Eston. Also, Miri sat beside him, holding his hand, with deep concern in her eyes. Several city guards stood around the stone bench, keeping a few curious onlookers at a safe distance. Apparently, he had been sitting beside the neighborhood water source for many hours.

  He smiled at Miri and squeezed her hand, and she hugged him in response. The priest of Eston opened his eyes and bowed his head to Sandun, saying, “You have rid the world of a terrible monster. I felt its passing. You are one of the true enlightened. I honor you, great one.”

  Sandun was struck by the priest’s words. They were true, but he didn’t want the truth known. Not now. Quietly he answered, “I ask that you not speak of this to others. I am just a servant, and unworthy of any special note.”

  The priest, older than Sandun and with wrinkles around his eyes, looked at him for many heartbeats and then put his hands together in a gesture of respect. “As you wish,” the priest said calmly. “The enlightened never boast of their wisdom and do not seek praise for their deeds.”

  Sandun stood and breathed deeply. He felt a great sense of relief. Turning to Miri, he folded her into his arms and said, “I am happy to see you! How did you find me? Who is this priest?”

  Miri hugged him tightly in return and spoke in his ear. “A night patrol found you here, unresponsive. After waiting an hour, they sent word to the embassy. I came and could not wake you. This is Master River Reed, from the Temple of Noon. I asked him to come and help. He suggested that we not disturb you as you were engaged in some struggle.”

  Miri pulled back and looked at Sandun searchingly. “Are you well? While I was sitting here, I felt something. I was so worried, but now the feeling has changed. Instead, I feel… I feel like dancing.”

  Sandun took her hands and spun her around with a laugh. “Then you shall, my lady, for this is a happy hour!” For a minute, they danced together while the guards around them clapped their hands to a steady beat. It was as though all the people around the water cistern had been drinking wine; now tipsy, they were entertained by unseen musicians playing a merry tune.

  “Stop! Stop!” Miri said laughingly. “This is ridiculous! And I need some tea.”

  They stopped their impromptu dance to scattered applause. Master River Reed waved his hands and bade them farewell. Sandun thanked the guards for watching over him, and he and Miri returned to the embassy.

  Chapter Five

  Three Abbots

  That evening, Lord Vaina invited Sandun and Miri to join him for evening tea. As they rode down the street to the palace, a chill wind blew from the west, blowing fallen leaves across their path. In less than two weeks, it would be the longest night and the start of the Kelten High Holy Week. Sandun hoped all the Keltens would be in Tokolas soon, though he didn’t have any idea where Kagne was. He thought again about Ashala as he considered the date. Last year, she had helped organize their celebration in the town of Gipu. No doubt Gipu was already locked in snow as it had been last winter.

  At the palace, they were escorted to a building Sandun had never seen before, right at the edge of the women’s quarters of the inner palace. The building looked new and had a delightful aroma of fresh pine timber. Lord Vaina’s wife from Shila, the Lady Eun, was present, and she seemed unusually happy, her normal air of disdain muted. She greeted Miri politely; after some small talk and tea, the two women withdrew to an inner room, leaving Lord Vaina and Sandun alone together.

  “Sandun, when you came back with your story of being rescued by an adesari, I didn’t know what to think.” Lord Vaina said this with a smile, but Sandun knew he was speaking from the heart. “When I suggested you could pretend a knowledge of dispelling ghosts and you agreed, I thought you were just humoring me. But you have changed, like a caterpillar to a butterfly. I know that you know you are being spied upon. My spymaster, Number Eight, has put his best men following you, yet you see them every time. Even he is impressed—a rare compliment.”

  Sandun was a bit taken aback. In this small way, he had revealed a power that was unnatural. He said nothing.

  Lord Vaina continued, “You have only been back a week, and yet already people are calling you the Supreme Ghost Queller. In the district where you were sitting unmoving for hours this morning, two different families have announced celebrations marking the recovery of a loved one from madness. Is this all just a coincidence?”

  Sandun smiled. “What can I say, my lord? If I deny it, you won’t believe me, and if I say I have supernatural powers, you will think I’m joking—just like last time. I trust you to make up your own mind.”

  “You really have changed, Sandun,” Lord Vaina said with mock irritation. “In the past, when I asked for your opinion on a question, you gave it. What good is an advisor who won’t answer my questions?”

  “Sometimes, silence is better than words,” Sandun replied.

  “Well, here is serious question for you,” Lord Vaina said. “You told me that the adesari who spoke to you said I am her choice to be the future king of Serica.”

  “I said that, yes.”

  “That would be a divine mandate to rule.” There was a mixture of disbelief and excitement in Lord Vaina’s voice.

  “This is not a prophecy, my lord. The future is not written. It is a wish of the adesari, and so it is mine, and I will bend my efforts to see it comes to pass.”

  “Well, assuming what you say is true—and I’m not saying it is—then I don’t need the blessings of the priests of Eston!” Lord Vaina said this with a flourish, as though he had proved a difficult problem in logic.

  “I agree, Lord Vaina, you do not need the blessings of the priests of
Eston to rule. Though they don’t seem to take much interest in the doings of any leaders of Serica.”

  “You know, Sandun, we are running very short on money. The harvest is in, the depleted treasury in Sasuvi has been cataloged, and Minister Ussi calculates Kunhalvar will be bankrupt in less than four months.”

  Sandun had heard Lord Vaina complaining about money woes at every meeting this last week. Sandun’s few suggestions, based on his knowledge of Kelten’s finances, were either inapplicable to Serica or were already being done. “I believe you, Lord Vaina, but will you obtain money from the priests of Eston?”

  “Yes, I will. Exactly. My plan is to order the closure of the monasteries of Eston throughout Kunhalvar. My government will seize their buildings and movables and sell them! The monks own nothing themselves, but they live in luxury—trust me, I know. In addition, when my government closes the monasteries, thousands of monks will be required to give up their useless lives of prayer and rejoin society. The younger men can join my army, and the older monks can take up trades or simple jobs.

  “Finally, there are uncounted widows in Kunhalvar and Zelkat due to all the fighting. I feel sure that some of these women wish to remarry and that the former monks can have no objection to marrying widows. In marrying, they would be doing much to help the poor women. It would be a compassionate act, and it would help solve many ills that result when women with young children have no husbands. Indeed, it would do far more good than all their sitting in prayer has ever done.” Lord Vaina made this speech with an uncharacteristic haste, tripping over some of his words, as though what he was proposing was nearly unthinkable, akin to demolishing all cities or damming the river Mur.