On the other side, a staircase descended deeper into the earth. As he stalked downward, he watched for carved sigils, listened for the rustle of leathery wings or the click of claws on stone, and sniffed for the scents of brimstone or putrefaction. It seemed likely that if the ancient Nars had left any demon watchdogs behind, their Rashemi successors had cleared them out. But then again, since the witches and their followers had seen fit to seal off the lower vaults, they must not have considered them entirely wholesome.
At the bottom of the stairs, Dai Shan suddenly felt the inner jolt that came with sensing he was being watched. He dropped into a fighting crouch and peered about.
The vault before him had five walls with a doorway in the center of each, and a five-pointed mosaic star in the middle of the floor. Smaller geometric figures and words in an unfamiliar language filled the spaces between the radiating arms.
A later hand, working just as meticulously, had painted another layer of glyphs and symbols over the original pentangle. Thanks in part to his sojourn in Rashemen, Dai Shan was able to interpret some of the newer signs. The spiral horns represented Mielikki; the crescents, Sel ne; the roses and scythes, Chauntea; and the triangles, all three goddesses together.
After a few moments, Dai Shan stepped through the arch that connected the stairs to the pentagonal chamber. Even when he set his foot on the edge of the mosaic, nothing leaped forth from the empty air to menace him, and he permitted himself a slight smile when he concluded that nothing would.
The Nars had indeed left demons behind, and the hathrans hadn t cleared them out. Instead, they d taken the same approach here as with the Raumathari spirit traps in the High Country. They d wrapped additional bindings around the originals to make certain the tanar ri would rot in their cages for all time.
Increasingly confident that he was in no danger, but nonetheless proceeding cautiously, Dai Shan prowled onward into a labyrinth of oblique angles and pentagonal forms. At one point, he felt that something else was watching him with the same profound but impotent malevolence as whatever was chained in the star mosaic. At another, he suddenly imagined himself an eight-legged creature crawling down a colossal spider web toward the beautiful winged woman stuck in the strands below. When the fancy passed, he suspected he d just shared the dream of a demon that had gone to sleep in its prison.
But of course, the Nars hadn t left fettered fiends along every inch of the dark and silent maze. Much of the time, Dai Shan found himself exploring spaces that, with their dusty altars, and faded, flaking frescoes depicting the lower worlds, had plainly once served the purposes of spell and ritual but were simply left to inspire a forlorn feeling of abandonment.
Occasionally, despite the gulf of ages and the lack of a common language, he recognized a glyph or image connected to the esoteric disciplines he himself had mastered. He felt the temptation to linger, to try to decipher the overall message and see what secret knowledge he could obtain thereby. But that wasn t why he d come, and so he kept moving.
Moving and looking for the burial crypts that Falconer claimed were here, Dai Shan just hoped that, despite his ignorance of the customs of the ancient Nars, he d know them when he saw them. He reassured himself that there couldn t be all that many ways to lay a corpse to rest.
And indeed, he recognized the tombs instantly when a turn brought him to another pentacle mosaic painted over with hathran symbols. On the other side was an arch sealed with a wrought-iron gate, and beyond that, stone sarcophagi, and jars and urns in niches in the walls.
Very well, Dai Shan thought. I found it. I can carry out Falconer s instructions forthwith. The question is, do I want to?
On one level, the answer was, surely not. No rational man would be eager to do the bidding of an undead creature when he didn t even understand what would ensue as a result.
But it was also true that in a game of Stones, a player sometimes found himself obliged to take his turn without sensing how the opponent would respond or what overall strategy he was pursuing. One placed one s stone anyway, because the only alternative was to forfeit.
Till that point, Dai Shan had promised aid to several of the other players in the game that was Rashemen without doing too much except for facilitating the murder of the Aglarondans to assist anybody. But clearly, with Falconer making demands of him, and the berserkers of the Griffon Lodge marching on the Fortress of the Half-Demon, the overall situation was evolving, and mere pledges wouldn t serve much longer. If Dai Shan didn t make himself genuinely useful to someone, he was going to lose everybody s trust. So he would. He just had to proceed in a manner that still left room to prevaricate, maneuver, and betray.
The Shou walked around the edge of the design on the floor. He trusted the ancient hathrans arts, but still, why walk across the center of the demon cage and so make all but certain that the thing within knew someone was outside? He climbed the wrought-iron gate like it was a ladder, and then, not needing to cling with his hands to keep his balance, removed a mallet and chisel from inside his coat. Reciting the words that Falconer had taught him by rote, disclosing nothing of their meaning he hammered the first of three vertical notches.
It seemed a wooded slope like any other, until a dark, droning cloud rose from the leafless trees at the top. Some of Vandar s lodge brothers exclaimed in alarm.
They might have turned to run, too, except that the onrushing insects closed the distance before they could shake off their astonishment. Buzzing, the flies and other creatures bit, stung, clung, and crawled. As he flailed at them, Vandar was nearly unmanned by the unreasoning fear that they d crawl into his nose and ears, and he d never get them out.
Sliding and almost falling in the snow, he turned and blundered back down the hillside. It was all he or any of the berserkers could do against such an attack.
His eyes were all but closed to keep the insects out. But despite that handicap, and the swirling haze of the swarms on every side, he glimpsed flickering forms appearing and disappearing in the pale winter sunlight. And as the buzzing waxed and waned, it sometimes articulated words. He couldn t understand them, but he felt the weight of anger they carried.
He prayed the attack would stop once he and his comrades blundered off the slope. It didn t. He supposed the insects couldn t keep it up forever, but there was no way to guess just how long they d persist or how far they d give chase.
Torches! he cried, half choking on the creatures that instantly flew into his mouth. Only the Forest Queen knew how long it would take to gather wood and set it aflame with the swarms tormenting them, but if they could
This is winter! Cera cried from somewhere overhead. She and Jet had been scouting from on high and had evidently observed their comrades distress. The Keeper commands you to go back to sleep!
The sunlight shone brighter, and the insects dispersed. Had he been a weakling, Vandar might have wept with relief at their departure. Instead, he spat their bitter taste out of his mouth, scooped up snow, and rubbed it on the burning, itching bumps where he d been stung. Meanwhile, with a final beat of his wings, Jet settled on the ground.
I m sorry I didn t get here sooner, Cera said, fumbling with the harness that secured her to the griffon s saddle.
We flew down as soon as we noticed, the griffon rasped. Vandar had heard enough of Jet s inhuman speech to start to pick up emotion, and he wondered if the familiar had found the warriors plight humorous. But no, surely not. The griffon was their totem, after all.
If everyone will gather close, Cera said, swinging herself off Jet s back, I ll ask Amaunator to ease your hurts.
She recited a prayer and swung her gilded mace in an arc above her head. The pain of Vandar s tiny wounds diminished, and other men sighed as they experienced the same relief. The lumps on their faces shrank.