The Amber Enchantress

SEVENTEEN THE PRISTINE TOWER

Sadira slipped past the gnarled form of another bogo tree, taking care to stay well away from the dagger-sized thorns covering its trunk. As she moved, the sorceress kept a watchful eye on the burled limbs overhead. Although she and Rhayn had been in the forest less than three hours, they had already been attacked a half-dozen times by snakelike beasts lurking in the trees. The creatures liked to swing down as their prey passed beneath a branch, trying to impale their chosen victims on the barbed spines that covered their bodies.

Once Sadira was safely past the bogo tree, she turned her attention forward, expecting to see nothing but more twisted, stark boles. Instead, she was surprised to find herself at the edge of a small glade covered with clumps of ash-colored brush. Thousands of fleecy white blossoms, held aloft on long yellow stems, swayed back and forth in the hot wind.

Sadira hardly noticed the meadow. During the last day and a half, she and Rhayn had seen a dozen different fields. All had been equally beautiful, and all had concealed hazards that had to be negotiated at the peril of their lives. The sorceress was more interested in what lay at the heart of the glade.

There, a glaring needle of white stones rose into the sky, as high as a cloud and as sheer as a sculpted column. At the bottom stood an ancient gatehouse, guarding a narrow case of stairs that circled up the spire until it could no longer be distinguished as a separate feature. The pillar seemed to have no summit, at least not that Sadira could see. It simply grew smaller and smaller, until it disappeared into the sky.

“I’d say we’ve reached the Pristine Tower,” said Rhayn, coming up behind the sorceress.

“Not yet,” said Sadira, cautiously stepping into the meadow. “There’s still a hundred yards to go-and that’s no small distance in this place.”

The two women advanced slowly, avoiding contact with the brush and its blossoms. When they could not, they carefully inspected the stems for thorns or stickers that might draw even a drop of blood. It was a slow and tedious way to travel, but with what had happened to Magnus still fresh in their memories, the women knew it was necessary.

They were about halfway across when a chorus of snorts and squeals erupted from a short distance away. Yellow canes and fleecy blossoms danced wildly as the growling creatures charged toward the sisters.

“I’ve got it,” Rhayn said, pulling a pinch of sand from her pocket.

An instant later, several squat rodents with the bodies of weasels and the tusks of boars charged from the undergrowth. They came directly at the two women, their clawed feet spraying dirt high into the air.

Rhayn tossed the sand in their direction and spoke her incantation. The grains began to sparkle and formed a small cloud close to the ground. The beasts rushed straight into the scintillating fog and promptly collapsed on top of each other, sound asleep.

“That’s the last of my spells,” Rhayn said, turning back toward the tower.

“I’m no better off,” said Sadira. “We’ll just have to hope for the best.”

During the trek the tower, the two women had relied on their magic to defend themselves from a myriad of creatures. Unfortunately, whenever they cast a spell, the incantation vanished from their minds. Usually, the mystic words and gestures were renewed through study, but because Faenaeyon had not let them keep their spellbooks, they could not replenish their spells.

Sadira resumed her careful approach to the tower, listening even more intently for any hint of trouble. As they neared the white spire, the sorceress saw that it was made of the same porous stone as the grotto at Cleft Rock. Although she found this puzzling, she was not concerned by it. Since both she and Rhayn had exhausted their spells, there would be no need to draw magical energy through the stone.

A few tense minutes later, they reached the gatehouse. It was an ancient structure, solidly built from granite blocks and lined with the dark slits of arrow loops. Stone hinges still hung from the gate posts, and beneath the archway, the spikes of a shattered portcullis were lodged in the foyer’s cracked flagstones.

When the two women stepped beneath the arch, a pair of sparkling, blue eyes appeared in the darkness of an arrow slit. “Stand where you are!” ordered a voice that seemed neither male nor female.

When the sisters obeyed, a black silhouette slipped from the arrow loop and took the ropey form of a shadow person. It stepped forward to block their way, than asked, “Do you bring obsidian?’

“No, that will come later,” answered Rhayn, taking charge of the negotiations. “For now, we have only a small gift to establish our good will, and in return we seek a favor to establish yours.”

“What is your gift?” asked the shadow.

“News regarding Umbra and the obsidian mines of Family Lubar,” answered Rhayn.

In preparation for the negotiations, Sadira had repeated to her sister all that Rikus and Er’Stali had told her about Maetan of Lubar’s relationship to Umbra, the shadow people, and the Pristine Tower. After hearing about the obsidian caravans that Family Lubar had sent in payment for Umbra’s services, Rhayn had declared she would have no trouble getting what they wanted from the shadow people.

When the silhouette expressed no interest in what she had tendered so far, Rhayn said, “We thought you might be interested in reviving the flow of obsidian caravans.”

This offer met with more success. “We will hear what you have to say,” the shadow replied. It drifted aside and faded back into the arrow slit.

“After you,” Rhayn said, motioning Sadira forward.

The sorceress stepped past the remains of the shattered portcullis, then led the way onto the narrow stairway beyond. She found that they would need to be even more careful climbing the tower than they had been in approaching it. Although each step was only a few inches long, it was also just half as wide as Sadira’s foot was long. To make matter worse, in places the staircase was so worn that it had become more of ramp, covered with a thousand years of dust and sand. The footing was so treacherous that a dune’s slip face would have been easier to ascend.

“Be careful,” Sadira said. “After coming so far, it would be a shame to get hurt here.”

“Elves do not trip on staircases,” Rhayn replied.

Sadira turned and, being especially careful of her footing, began to climb. At the same time, she asked, “Don’t you think you promised too much back there?”

“What did I pledge?” Rhayn asked.

“Nothing, I guess. But it’s what you implied you could do that concerns me,” Sadira said. “When they discover we can’t send them caravans of obsidian, they’ll be angry-and where will that get us?”

“They’ll be interested, and that’s all we need,” said Rhayn. “We may not give them obsidian at all, but we’ll find out what else they want and give that to them-or make them think we’re going to.”

Sadira shook her head. “I hope they’re not accustomed to dealing with elves,” she muttered.

They continued upward for an interminable time, choosing every step with the utmost care. Sadira’s thighs soon began to burn from the effort of endless climbing, while the strain of supporting her weight on the balls of her feet caused knots to form in her calves. The sorceress tried to ignore the pain and concentrate on her footing.

Occasionally, she paused to rest and took a moment to look out over the vista. There was not a sand dune or stretch of barren ground in sight. Everywhere she looked, the panorama was covered by some shade of green: silver-green broomgrass on the horizon, a ring of brown-tinged tortoise bushes closer in, and the blue-hued boughs of the bogo forest encircled the tower itself. If not for the risks involved in reaching the place, it would have been worth the climb just to see a panorama so teeming with plants.

During one of these short rests, Sadira asked, “Have you seen any sign of Dhojakt?”

Rhayn shook her head. “There are many creatures down there, but none of them seem to be following our path.” She motioned for Sadira to resume the climb. “Let’s go. The less time we give our culls to think, the better.”

The sisters climbed the rest of the way without stopping and soon reached the summit of the spire. The staircase ended at the wall of a small bastion, built completely of alabaster and finished with an undulating cap of ivory. Beyond the open gates, a path of limestone blocks crossed an immense basin of shimmering blue water, stopping at a minaret that rose directly out of the pond. This tower was faced with white onyx and crowned by a crystal cupola, blushing pink with the radiance of the crimson sun.

After passing through the gate, Rhayn and Sadira knelt at the edge of the pool. Despite their thirst, they hesitated to drink. The water smelled brackish and foul, while the grass-like blades of some underwater plant clogged the entire basin. In the few places where they could see to the bottom, they glimpsed a rocky growth resembling the gnarled branches a myrrh tree, save that it glowed in a dozen different shades of color, from rosy pink to jade green.

Sadira scooped up a handful of water and, ignoring the fetid smell, lifted it to her lips. When she tried to swallow the horrid stuff, her throat rebelled at the briny taste and she had to spit it back into the pool.

“That water is not for drinking,” said a shadow’s voice. The sister spun around to find a dozen shadow people standing behind them. All of the silhouettes had assumed three-dimensional form, with their burning blue eyes fixed on the woman.

As Sadira and Rhayn rose, the leader demanded, “Tell us of Umbra.”

“Who are you? asked Rhayn.

“I am Khidar, sachem in Umbra’s absence,” answered the shadow. “Tell me of Umbra.”

“First, you must answer a question for us,” said Rhayn.

Khidar stepped forward and grasped the elf by the throat. A stain of darkness began to creep up her chin and down over her shoulders. “There is nothing we must do,” the shadow growled, spewing black fumes into Rhayn’s face.

“And I don’t have to tell you what happened to Umbra,” the elf countered, answering the challenge with her own.

“True-you can die instead!”

The darkness continued to spread, engulfing Rhayn’s entire face. Realizing that either Khidar did not understand the concept of bargaining or had no wish to, Sadira said, “Tell him!”

Her sister did not seem to hear. Instead, a blackness swallowed her head and torso, Rhayn lashed out at her captor. Her fists passed right through his body, and when she withdrew them, they were also covered in darkness.

“We think Umbra was destroyed!” Sadira blurted. “Now let her go!”

Khidar released the elf, and the darkness drained from her body. She collapsed to the walkway, shivering and as pale as the limestone blocks on which she lay.

The leader faced Sadira. “Now that you know who is master in this keep, you may tell me more of what happened to Umbra.”

Sadira studied her sister for a moment, than looked back to Khidar. “Before we continue, let me explain something to you,” she said. “Rhayn and I came to the Pristine Tower because we need your help. Unless you give it to us, we’ll die before we cross the meadow at the base of this spire. So, you see, your threats mean nothing to us.”

“You would not find the Black such a pleasant place,” Khidar hissed.

“I suspect I’d find it more to my liking than becoming a half-slug and spending the rest of my life crawling through the bogo forest,” Sadira said. When the shadow did not contradict her, the sorceress continued, “Your only choice is whether to help us or not-and the same is true of us. We can tell you what we know of Umbra and the Lubar obsidian, or we can refuse.”

“In which case, you’ll die-

“And be no worse off than we are now,” said Rhayn, gaining control of her shivering body.

When Khidar did not try to threaten them again, Sadira said, “Let me propose this: we’ll tell you what we need. If you agree to provide it, we’ll tell you what we know of Umbra.

“That’s no good,” objected Rhayn. She rose to her feet. “How do we know they won’t renege on their promise?”

“How will they know we’ve told the truth?” countered Sadira. “At some point, we’ll have to trust each other.”

“Tell us what you want,” said Khidar.

“Power,” replied Rhayn. “I want you to use the tower’s magic to make me strong enough to become chief of my tribe.”

Khidar nodded. “You shall have power in proportion to the value of what you tell us.” He looked to Sadira. “And what do you want?”

Sadira hesitated, wondering how they would react if she told them the truth. Remembering Lyanius’s initial resistance to the idea of helping her defy the Dragon, she thought it would be wise to stall until she could learn more about the shadow people. Unfortunately, from what she had seen so far, they had little patience for such bartering ploys.

Fearing that she would only make matters worse by being coy, Sadira took a deep breath and said, “I want to stop the Dragon from tyrannizing my city.”

Khidar moved closer, his burning blue eyes locked on Sadira’s. “Surely, you don’t think we can do that for you?”

“I didn’t ask you to do it for me, but I know there’s something in this tower that can help me do if for myself,” the sorceress replied. “Otherwise, King Tithian and Prince Dhojakt wouldn’t have tried so hard to prevent me from reaching it.”

This seemed to satisfy the shadow. “We’ll do what we can to help you,” he said. “Now tell us of Umbra.”

“Do you know of the war that took place between Tyr and Urik?” Sadira asked, referring to the invasion that Rikus had turned back the year before. When the shadows nodded, Sadira continued. “During that war, a great champion from Tyr, the gladiator Rikus, fought with Umbra several times. During their last battle, Umbra received a terrible wound-” ’

“That’s impossible,” interrupted Khidar. “No weapon can injure one of us!”

“Rikus’s sword was special,” Sadira said. “It was the Scourge of Rkard, the blade that-”

“Borys of Ebe used to kill Rkard, the last of the Kemalok Kings,” finished the shadow. “The sword is one of only a few that can do what you claim-but it’s been lost for centuries. Where did this Rikus find it?”

“It was given to him by a group of dwarves,” Sadira answered, encouraged by Khidar’s familiarity with the weapon. She purposely left the rest of the details vague, so as to honor her promise to Neeva and Caelum about not revealing the treasure of Kled. “Rikus was also wounded during the fight, and fell unconscious before he saw what became of his enemy. When he awoke, Umbra was gone-though the floor where he had fallen remained as dark and cold as night.”

“Then Umbra truly did perish,” said Khidar. From the relief in his voice, the sorceress guessed that he enjoyed his duties as the new leader of the shadow people. “But why haven’t I been contacted to go to Urik in his place? For centuries, our people have traded our sachem’s service for Family Lubar’s obsidian.”

“After Urik lost the war, King Hamanu destroyed the entire family as punishment for Maetan of Lubar’s failure to bring him victory,” Sadira replied. “If any Lubars survive, it’s as quarry slaves, not masters.”

“That explains much,” said Khidar. “It appears we’ll have to find another source for our obsidian.”

“Perhaps we could come to an arrangement,” said Rhayn, stepping forward.

Khidar turned his blue embers toward her face. “I was not aware that elves mined obsidian.”

“Don’t be vulgar,” she said, offended by the mere suggestion of such a thing. “But as soon as I become chief of the Sun Runners, we’ll be able to steal all you want.”

“I doubt that will happen,” Khidar said.

“Don’t underestimate the skills of the Sun Runners.”

“I don’t-though I doubt any tribe of thieves could supply us with a hundred unblemished balls of obsidian each year,” the shadow replied. “What I mean to say is that you’ll never become their chief.”

“What?” Rhayn demanded.

“I promise to give you power in proportion to what you told us,” Khidar said. “You said nothing. This one did all the talking.” He pointed toward Sadira. “Therefore, we’ll give her what she has asked for-but not you.”

“Don’t try to cheat me!” Rhayn warned. She thrust her hand out over the pond. “I swear, you’ll regret it.”

Khidar laughed. “Your spells won’t harm us.”

“Maybe not, but I can ruin this garden,” she spat.

To give credence to her threat, she began to draw life-force from the pond. An eddy began to swirl beneath her hand, and a column of steam formed where the energy was rising. Because the rest of the Pristine Tower was made from the same porous stone as Cleft Rock, Sadira knew that the power her sister was drawing could only come from the plants in the pool. At the rate she was going, it would take only a few seconds before the elf defiled the whole thing.

“Rhayn, no!” Sadira said, moving toward her sister.

“Do you really think they’ll give you what you want?” Rhayn growled. “They’re playing us against each other-and you’re letting them!”

“Even if that’s true, what you’re doing is wrong,” Sadira said. Beneath Rhayn’s hand, the plants began to turn brown, and the foul stench of decay rose from the frothing water.

“Stop!” yelled Khidar.

“Why should I?” demanded the elf. “We’re going to die anyway.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sadira said, her eyes fixed on the brown stain spreading across the pool. “This is the last time I’ll ask you to stop.”

“Ask all you-”

Rhayn did not have a chance to finish. Sadira dropped to a knee and spun around, using the lower part of her leg to sweep her sister’s feet. With an astonished scream, the elf lost her balance and fell into the pool of brown water.

A half-dozen shadows slipped into the pond without creating so much as a ripple. They glided over to Rhayn’s struggling form and clamped their hands onto her arms. As they dragged her into the pool’s depths, a black shroud slowly spread over the elf’s body. She turned toward Sadira and opened her mouth to scream. That was the last the sorceress saw of her sister.

For a moment, Sadira could only stare into the water, morose and somber. She did not feel guilty, however, for Rhayn had been defiling the garden. As Sadira had learned in Nibenay, not even the shadows’ betrayal could justify ruining fertile soil. In exacting her petty vengeance on the shadow people today, the elf had been willing to condemn an untold number of future generations to an existence of pain and misery.

As Sadira pondered her sister’s fate, an icy hand touched her shoulder. “Come, we must hurry,” said Khidar’s voice.

“Why? So you can betray me, too?” demanded Sadira.

“We did not betray the elf,” answered Khidar. “We merely honored the word of our promise-”

“Instead of the spirit,” Sadira said. She rose and looked up into the blue cinders that served as the shadow’s eyes. “Would it have been so difficult to give her what she asked?”

“No, but then we couldn’t have given you what you want,” Khidar answered. “Would you have preferred that?”

“At least I would have a reason to trust you,” Sadira answered, dodging an answer to this difficult question.

“Whether you trust us or not does not matter,” the shadow said. “Now come. We must hurry, or you will change into a mindless beast and run off before we can aid you.”

He pointed at the stones where sorceress’s knee had dropped when she swept Rhayn off her feet. There was a faint smear of blood on the limestone. Sadira looked down and saw that she had scraped her kneecap. Already, a yellow carapace was forming around the edges of the abrasion.

As Khidar guided her toward the tower at the center of the pond, Sadira asked, “Why are you helping me-if that’s really what you’re doing? It would have been an easy matter to find a pretense and betray me, as you did Rhayn.”

“I told you, we are honoring our agreements to the word,” the shadow insisted, though his tone suggested that he was not telling her the whole truth.

Sadira stopped. “There’s more to it than that.” She clenched her teeth as a painful muscle spasm ran up her leg. “You have some reason for wanting me to defy the Dragon.”

“What do you care?” Khidar asked. “We’re willing to help you. That’s all that matters.”

“If I’m to stand a chance of defying the Dragon, I must learn everything I can about him and this place.” Sadira answered. “Otherwise, you might as well let me die here.”

“I suppose it will do no harm to tell you, and perhaps it may even help.” Khidar said, starting toward the tower. “You were powerful and resourceful enough to reach the tower on your own-and that is a good portent for the struggle you’ve taken upon yourself.”

“This is all very interesting, but it still doesn’t answer my question,” Sadira answered, not allowing the shadow to sidetrack her with flattery.

Khidar sighed. “How much do you already know of the Pristine Tower?”

“Enough to guess that you’re taking me into the Steeple of Crystals,” the sorceress began. She quickly repeated what Er’Stali had told her: that the Champions had rebelled against Rajaat and that they had forced him to make Borys into the Dragon. Sadira and Khidar reached the Steeple of Crystals just as she came to the story of how Jo’orsh and Sa’ram had tracked Borys to the Pristine Tower.

As soon as she mentioned the dwarves’ names, Khidar burst out, “May the ghosts of the little thieves never find rest!”

Sadira frowned. “What did they steal?”

“You shall see soon enough,” the shadow said, holding out his hand. “You must take my arm for a moment.”

The sorceress grasped his frigid hand. She had to stifle a pained cry as his touch began to draw the heat from her body, leaving her shivering with a cold agony such as she had never before experienced. Khidar stepped forward, melting into the onyx wall. He pulled Sadira after him, and a shudder of nausea ran through her body as she also passed through the barrier. A moment later, the shadow released her hand.

“Welcome to the Steeple of Crystals,” he said. It was here that Rajaat imbued his champions with the power to carry out his will, and here that the traitors forced him to make Borys into the Dragon.”

At first, the sorceress could see nothing but a fierce crimson glow whirling around her like a windblown fog. When she grew accustomed to the strange light, Sadira saw that the tower housed only a single gloomy room. A dome-shaped mirror served as the floor, while sheer white walls soared high overhead to support the crystal cupola that she had seen from the walkway outside.

A shaft of pink light descended from the cupola to the center of the mirror, where a dozen obsidian spheres of various sizes had been gathered. At first, it seemed to Sadira that the balls should have rolled away, but then she noticed that they were held in place by tiny wedges of marble. Inside each globe, a wisp of blue light slowly whirled about, as if some living thing were swimming through the black glass.

“What are those?” Sadira asked. Her leg began to itch madly. When she reached down to scratch, she discovered that an articulated yellow shell had entirely encased it.

“Eggs,” Khidar replied, motioning the sorceress toward the murky orbs.

As she stepped away from the wall, limping slightly, Sadira saw that there were dozens of shadow people standing along the edge of the floor-mirror. Each time they exhaled, streams of dark vapor rose from their blue mouths and drifted toward the ceiling, joining the murk that already filled the room. The sorceress did not know whether the shadows had been there all along or had only recently come into the chamber, for with their mouths and eyes closed, they would have been indistinguishable from the gloomy walls.

“We must incubate our young in isolation, transferring, them from smaller balls to larger as they grow,” Khidar explained, waving his shadowy hand at the obsidian globes. “Before Jo’orsh and Sa’ram came, this was not necessary. We grew them all together, inside the dark lens.”

“The dark lens?” Sadira asked.

“Rajaat used the dark lens to perform his magic,” he said, “Without it, we cannot make you as powerful as you would like. But if you can steal the Scourge of Rkard from this Rikus, you will have two of the three things you need to kill the Dragon.”

“Could you explain this a little more clearly?” Sadira asked. “Why do I need the Scourge of Rkard?”

“Because it was forged by Rajaat,” Khidar answered. “Not only is it one of the few blades that will injure the Dragon, it will protect you from his blows. No champion-even traitors-can strike someone bearing a weapon forged by Rajaat.”

“I can get the sword,” Sadira answered confidently. “Now, what is it that you’re doing for me?”

“You will understand better after we have finished,” Khidar said. “But basically, we’ll open a new source of magical energy to you-one that has not been used since the days of Rajaat.”

“And the third thing?” Sadira asked.

Khidar pointed halfway up the tower. “The dark lens,” he said. “You’ll never kill the Dragon without it.”

Sadira followed the shadow’s finger and saw that there was an enormous steel ring attached to the walls. In it were set seven different gems, each as large as a half-giant’s head. Six bars protruded from the inner wall of the ring, supporting another steel collar centered directly above the middle of the floor. From the size of this empty band, Sadira guessed the crystal it had held to be the size of a kank. Now the setting was empty, save for the crimson shaft of light descending through it to bathe the eggs below.

“Where do I find this dark lens?” she asked, wondering how she would move it once she had located it.

“That’s something you’ll have to discover for yourself. We have no idea where Jo’orsh and Sa’ram went after they left the tower,” he said. “Now, you’ll have to endure my touch one more time.” Khidar reached for the sorceress’s hand. “I must take you up there, where we can focus the magic of the sun on you.”

“Not yet,” Sadira said, pulling away. Although she was frightened by the change occurring in her leg, the sorceress was determined to learn everything she could about the Pristine Tower and the Dragon. Besides, she assumed Khidar would be able to return her leg to normal, at least if the shadow people had been telling the truth when they offered to heal Magnus. “What do you get by helping me?”

A black cloud left Khidar’s mouth. “Our reward is simple,” he said. “Our race was born of the magic which made Borys into the Dragon. We’re the descendants of the loyal servants of Rajaat-of the men and women whom the champions sacrificed in order to complete the betrayal of their master. When Borys dies, our race will be released from its fate.”

“Thank you,” Sadira said, nodding to the shadow. “Now I’m ready.”

Khidar took Sadira in his arms. A terrible chill ran through her body, stinging her skin and freezing her flesh to the bone. A black stain spread outward from where the dark arms enclosed her, bringing with it an icy, deathlike numbness. The sorceress felt her knees buckle, then she collapsed into the shadow’s grasp.

Khidar rose into the air, carrying Sadira’s shivering body with him. Below them, the rest of the shadow people moved toward the center of the room, flitting about in a wild, rhythmic dance. Scintillating flashes of light began to shoot off the mirror, passing through the gems set into the steel ring that had once supported the dark lens.

Khidar took Sadira almost to the crystal cupola before he stopped. The sorceress saw that her body now resembled his: a black silhouette, with no hint of her wiry frame or womanly figure. Below her, a varicolored spray of light danced off the walls of the tower, rising from the gems of the lens to lap at her feet like flames with no heat.

As Sadira watched, the dancing rays came together in a prismatic blast of light. The eruption that followed formed itself into a simmering cloud of color, which came boiling up beneath her feet. A peal of deep, sonorous thunder rumbled from the heart of the storm. Golden rays of brilliance and black streaks of darkness flashed out to strike her, sending searing waves of pain and icy bolts of torment shooting through her body. Sadira felt herself slipping from Khidar’s icy grip. As she sank into the storm of colors, she heard herself scream in agony.

When her voice echoed back to her, it was filled with jubilation and triumph.