The Third Door

When Chieftain Perry died, it was understood that Annoltis, his eldest son, would take his place as leader, for Annoltis was dearly loved by the people. But Malverlain, the second son, was bitterly jealous. He believed that his great knowledge of dark sorcery gave him the right to rule, and cursed the fools who preferred his brother to him. In his rage he attacked Annoltis, intending murder.

Annoltis. Malverlain. Those names … Rye’s scalp crawled. Beside him, Sonia had become unnaturally still. He could not have shielded his mind even if he had wanted to, and he knew she was sharing his visions, seeing the names through him.

He saw the eldest brother beaten back. He saw the savage triumph on the face of the sorcerer Malverlain change to shock as a shadow moved to the staggering Annoltis’s side. Again words shone in his mind.

But Malverlain had forgotten that he did not have one brother only, but two. He had forgotten Eldannen, the youngest, whose quiet ways masked a power that was very great. Eldannen’s bond with the Fellan was as strong as Malverlain’s own secret dread of them, and the Fellan had taught him well. When Eldannen joined Annoltis in battle, Malverlain was lost.

Eldannen. His mind whirling in confusion, Rye saw Malverlain fleeing into exile in a boat with a grey sail marked in red. He saw the eldest brother and the youngest standing on the shore, holding the banishing spell between them. He saw the people creeping out of hiding, rejoicing because they had been saved and their beloved Annoltis was triumphant.

Faster the water spun, and faster. Deep within the frame of foam, pictures of the past flashed by, years passing in the blink of an eye. Annoltis ruled as chieftain, Eldannen by his side. The brothers grew older and older, living, like their mother’s people, far beyond the normal span of human years.

Then Annoltis began to weaken, and as he weakened he changed. His orders became shriller and more impatient. He began spending his time alone, studying ancient books. His fiery hair had grown scant and white and his broad shoulders were bowed with age. But as he mumbled over the old texts, his eyes still burned with a will to live that was even fiercer than before.

And at last there came a time when he scurried down dark stone steps, clutching something that glimmered under his cloak. Torches burst into flaming life as he crept along a passageway carved with the images of beasts, to a cavity where an iron statue of a sea serpent swallowing its own tail seemed to squirm like a live thing.

Annoltis raised his mottled hand. With a grating sound the statue slid out of the cavity, revealing a blank wall thick with spider web. Another gesture, and the outline of a small door appeared in the grimy stones. The door swung open. With a cackle, Annoltis drew a gold casket from beneath his cloak.

Watching feverishly, Rye caught his breath.

‘Why are you hiding the charm down here, brother? Surely it was safer where it was, with you?’

Rye could hear the words as clearly as he could see the figure that had appeared beside Annoltis in the passageway. They were not words from the book, he was sure of it. The author of the book had not known where the casket had been hidden.

Suddenly, it seemed, Rye was hearing the past as well as seeing it. And that had to mean that what was to come was of vital importance. He leaned forward, straining his ears, narrowing his stinging eyes.

Annoltis spun round, scowling, to face Eldannen. Eldannen’s beard was grey, but the years had dealt more kindly with him than they had with his brother, for there was nothing grasping or secret in his face.

‘I no longer care to have the charm by me,’ snapped Annoltis. ‘It disturbs my work.’

‘That is because your “work” is taking you into evil places,’ Eldannen replied gravely. ‘The charm disturbs you because dark magic is corrupting you, as long ago it corrupted our brother Malverlain.’

An expression like horror flickered across the chieftain’s face. Then conceit settled back over his features like a mask and the moment had passed.

‘You have never understood the needs and burdens of leadership, Eldannen,’ he rasped. ‘You have always wanted the world to be better and kinder than it can ever be.’ A nerve twitched in his withered cheek. ‘It comes from being the youngest and our mother’s darling, no doubt. Her Fellan dreams infected you in the cradle.’

Scowling, he thrust the casket into the hole in the wall. He watched the door seal itself, then stepped out into the passageway. At once the metal statue slid back into place, filling the cavity once more.

‘You are taking a fearful risk, Annoltis,’ Eldannen said in a low voice. ‘The charm must never be lost or forgotten. Our father’s treaty …’

‘The treaty will be kept wherever the charm may lie,’ Annoltis snapped. ‘I am chieftain. I will see to it.’

‘But what of the chieftains who come after you?’

Annoltis grinned. His shadowed face looked like a skull. ‘There will be no chieftains after me, brother,’ he whispered. ‘At last I have found a way. The blood of the young will preserve my life. The first Gifting will be on Midsummer Eve.’

Rye’s heart seemed to stop. He felt Sonia seize his hand.

‘The blood of the young,’ Eldannen repeated dully. ‘Oh, Olt, how could you, the best of men, have come to this?’

‘Shut your mouth!’ the tyrant shouted. ‘And do not call me what the people call me! We are brothers! You know my true name—use it!’

Eldannen’s eyes were bleak. ‘Annoltis,’ he said, ‘I cannot stand by while you do this evil thing.’

‘What?’ Olt stormed. ‘Am I to die while across the sea Malverlain lives on and grows in power every day? Am I to die and rot when I have found a way to prevent it?’

‘Your way is monstrous,’ said Eldannen.

For a long moment Olt stood struggling to calm himself, then he drew himself up. ‘It is necessary,’ he said stiffly. ‘My life is more important than other lives. Will you fight me over it?’

Eldannen shook his head. ‘You know I will never raise my hand against you, brother. But I must go.’

It seemed to Rye that Olt paled. But again the moment of weakness passed quickly and his face twisted into a sneer.

‘Indeed!’ he spat. ‘And what of the part-Fellan scum you insist on calling friends? Will you leave them to my tender mercies?’

‘No,’ Eldannen said quietly. ‘I will take them with me—all who wish to come. I have thought of this for a long time, Annoltis, even planned for it, but I have stayed by your side, telling myself that my influence must at last prevail with you. I see now that I was wrong. My followers and I will begin a new life, in a new place. And for the sake of the love that was once between us, brother, you will not prevent it.’

Annoltis rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, perhaps to hide the trembling of his lips. ‘I will not prevent it,’ he said sullenly. ‘But know this, Eldannen! If you leave me I will curse you as a traitor. I will make it a crime to utter your name. I will erase all mention of you from every book and document within my reach. It will be as if you had never been born!’

‘So be it,’ said Eldannen, and to Rye’s amazement there was pity as well as sadness in his voice. ‘But I give you a solemn warning in return. Your flatterers may tell you that Dorne needs you at any price, but the people will not agree. The people will rise against you, and destroy you.’

‘No, they will not!’ Annoltis shrieked. ‘They will not dare. Because I am going to make them believe that only my life stands between them and the revenge of Malverlain!’

Rye’s mind was like a raging whirlpool. He knew that Sonia was sharing his tumult, but he could not turn to her. He could not drag his eyes from the pictures in the water.