CHAPTER NINE

Palace of Aqhat, Tyranny of Isembaard

O ne morning Isaiah sent an invitation to Axis to join him in weapons practice.

As tyrant, Isaiah’s reputation, his very tyranny, rose or fell on his success as a war leader. Already consumed with curiosity about Isaiah’s competence as a military commander (he could find no one to ask about the mysterious failed campaign against the Eastern Independencies), Axis thought that at least in weapons practice he might learn more about Isaiah the warrior.

Axis was also glad of the invitation as a means to burn off his excess energy. When a young man, Axis had been devoted to war and military pursuits—and it was something he had missed desperately as one of the Star Gods. He hoped that he hadn’t lost too much fitness since last he had trained seriously at war.

Axis had thought that Isaiah would hold weapons practice in the cool of the early morning…but, no.

Their first session was held in the late morning, when the sun was already high and blazing.

Isaiah saw Axis’ concerned glance at the sky as they entered the practice field.

“Too hot for you, my friend?” he asked.

Axis looked at him. Isaiah was dressed only in a hipwrap and sandals. He wore no jewelry, and the myriad tiny braids of his black hair were bound at the nape of his neck. He looked very fit, very strong, very comfortable in the heat, and was obviously amused at Axis’ discomfort.

“I am surprised only,” Axis said, taking the sword the weapons master handed him, “that you use the midday heat to acclimate yourself for a war that will most likely be fought in the driving snow.”

Isaiah laughed, choosing a sword from the three the weapons master offered him. “When we have snow, Axis, then we shall fight in it. But for the moment I am at liberty to test you in whatever manner I choose.”

“I did not realize this was a test.”

“Then you are more out of practice than I realized,” Isaiah said softly. “I need to know your skills, Axis.”

The next instant the blade of his sword sliced through the air at Axis’ neck.

Axis barely parried Isaiah’s move, and then barely had time to recover from that before having to counter the next strike. Not only was Isaiah much faster and fitter than Axis (a sudden, galling realization), but Axis was unused to the type of sword with which they fought. The swords Axis had used in Tencendor had been straight and, to Axis’ mind, well weighted, but the Isembaardian sword was curved, almost a scimitar, and Axis found it too light. He was constantly overcompensating, once or twice almost overbalancing, and Isaiah kept him permanently on the defensive.

Several guardsmen had gathered with the weapons master, witnesses to his humiliation.

“I had thought,” Isaiah said effortlessly, now beating Axis back toward the compound wall, “that you’d be a better opponent than this. Perhaps the legends of your prowess were just that. Legends.”

Axis knew he was being deliberately taunted, but he couldn’t help a sudden spurt of anger. How could he have allowed himself to be put in this position? He summoned every remaining scrap of strength he had, trying to take the offensive rather than the defensive, but just when he thought he might have a tiny opening, sweat ran into his eyes and blinded him, and he thrust into thin air.

“We shall stop, I think,” Isaiah’s soft voice said to one side, and Axis wiped the sweat from his eyes, trying not to let his arms tremble as he lowered his sword.

Isaiah leaned forward, took Axis’ sword, then tossed both swords to the weapons master.

“Come,” he said, turning on his heel and striding away, and Axis had no choice but to mutter a curse and stumble after him.

There was a groom standing with two horses directly outside the weapons compound. The horses wore bridles only, no saddles, and Isaiah took the reins of the nearest horse and swung effortlessly onto its back.

Axis sent him a baleful glance (this was planned, surely) and managed, just, to order his still-trembling muscles to swing him up onto the other horse without landing in a pitiful dusty heap on the other side.

Isaiah grinned, easily and with no mockery. “I think you need to cool off,” he said, and kicked his horse forward.

They rode out of the palace, through the outer gardens, then down to the River Lhyl, Axis keeping his horse very slightly behind that of Isaiah’s.

It was only as they approached the water that Isaiah spoke again. “Death does little for a man’s fitness, eh, Axis?”

Axis couldn’t help a chuckle. “Would you believe me if I said that in my prime I could have sliced you off at the ankles?”

“No. But I’ll grant you a nick or two.”

“I need practice. I have lost my battle fitness.” Axis hesitated. “Isaiah, can I—”

“Either I or my weapons master will partner you each day,” Isaiah said, anticipating Axis’ question. He looked at Axis directly. “I trust you with a sword, Axis, and I trust you with my life. If I have kept you somewhat hobbled to this date, then that was because of Ba’al’uz. I did not trust him with you. Now that he is gone…you are a free man.”

Axis wondered if Isaiah was a trifle overobsessive about Ba’al’uz, or if the man was truly that dangerous.

For the moment he let it go, however.

“You’re very good, Isaiah. Who trained you?”

The horses were at the river edge now, and Isaiah nudged his into the water, motioning Axis to follow.

“All my father’s sons were trained by his war master,” Isaiah said, his horse now swimming out into the gentle current. He held the reins in one hand, and twisted the fingers of that hand into its mane to give himself some purchase before turning slightly to look at Axis. “Do you know how I came to the Tyranny?”

“Yes. Ba’al’uz told me. Isaiah, I can hardly believe that man is your brother.”

“He has all of my father’s worst qualities,” Isaiah said, “and that compounded by madness.”

“Do you think he is really mad, or just—”

“Sly? Cunning? Treacherous? Yes to all those, but I believe he is crazed as well. Perhaps not originally.

When he was young he pretended madness.” Isaiah looked ahead. “Now he worships this great pyramid, adores it as some might a lover. It has inspired madness in him, I think. Real madness.”

“Ah,” said Axis. “We’re riding to DarkGlass Mountain, aren’t we?”

“Indeed. I need to know what you think of it, Axis.”

“Isaiah—”

“Leave your questions until later. Until afterward. Then I will talk.”

Axis realized suddenly that Isaiah was apprehensive and he lifted his head and looked south to where DarkGlass Mountain loomed, brilliant in the sunshine. He had been curious about the pyramid ever since he’d arrived.

Now, perhaps, he would learn more about it.

Neither man looked back to the eastern bank of the river, where a brindle dog stood, half concealed by reeds, watching them with black, unnatural eyes.

From the far riverbank they turned their horses southeast, riding for perhaps an hour down a road that followed the course of the river. To their left, deep reed banks waved in the light breeze; to their right, flat grain fields stretched for miles, their borders marked by irrigation channels and pathways. Axis wondered a little that Isaiah would so happily ride unarmed through the countryside, then, after a quarter hour or so, he realized that they were utterly alone in the landscape.

Isaiah must have ordered the fields emptied earlier in the day.

It was now very hot, and even though there was a cooling river breeze, Axis was sweating in the blazing sun. He wore no shirt, and he could feel the sun burning his shoulders and back.

For a moment he was almost overwhelmed with a pang of nostalgia for the cooler climate of Tencendor.

They rounded a bend in the road and suddenly the thick reed banks came to an end. A massive stone wharf had been built into the riverbank: from this wharf a stone causeway moved in a direct line toward DarkGlass Mountain, rising almost a mile away in the desert plains.

Isaiah looked at Axis, and smiled a little at the expression on his face.

“This is the Great Processional Way,” Isaiah said as they turned their horses onto the causeway for DarkGlass Mountain. “When the river is at its peak, the land to either side is flooded, and it is as if one rides across water to reach DarkGlass Mountain.”

Axis did not respond. He had attention for nothing but the glass pyramid rising in the distance.

The pyramid had looked large from the distance of Aqhat, but riding closer Axis realized its true size.

It was gigantic.

Graceful.

More beautiful than anything Axis had ever seen—and he’d been privileged to witness some astounding marvels. He’d thought it stunning when he’d viewed it from the balcony of Aqhat…but this close…no words any man could mouth could possibly do it justice. Even though there was still some distance to cover before they reached the pyramid, Axis was now close enough to see that the blue-green glass that coated the stone walls glowed with a preternatural light. The glass almost throbbed, and Axis could feel something deep within himself tug in response.

He raised his eyes to the very peak of the structure, his neck cricking a little painfully after his earlier exercise, his eyes squinting in the sun.

The capstone of golden glass reflected so much light it was almost impossible to make out any details.

Axis narrowed his eyes even more, and for a moment thought he saw a pillar of blinding light ascend into the sky from the capstone.

They pulled their horses to a stop perhaps eighty paces away, and Isaiah watched the emotions play over Axis’ face as he gazed at the pyramid.

“It stands almost two hundred paces tall, from foundations to capstone,” Isaiah said softly. “Its four sides are perfectly aligned, perfectly square. Its builders must have been extraordinary. We could not do this today.”

Axis managed to find his voice. “Ba’al’uz told me something of its history…built two thousand years ago by ancient mathematical wizards to touch the power of Infinity, abandoned after a rebellion. Dismantled, and then—”

“We will talk of that later,” said Isaiah. “Not here, not now.”

They were riding forward again now, very close to the pyramid, and suddenly Axis felt cold, as if the pyramid’s shadow had swept over him, even though he could see it stretching out to the west.

“I want to take you into the heart of DarkGlass Mountain,” said Isaiah. “I want you to see what lies there, and”—he swiveled on his horse a little so he could look directly at Axis—“I want you to tell me what you think of it.”

Axis loathed it the moment they set foot inside the structure. He’d been growing progressively uneasier from the moment they’d dismounted outside (a groom appearing from a shadow to hold their horses) and stepped inside via a small door set unobtrusively into the pyramid’s northern face.

The outside of the pyramid throbbed with beauty and reflected light.

Inside, the pyramid seemed to eat light and life and breath.

Isaiah led Axis along corridors lined on walls, ceiling, and floor with black glass that to Axis looked as if it had been melted, or in some manner otherwise fused, to the underlying stone. Every now and then he’d glimpse red light flickering through the glass, as if serpents lived under the glass, and spat their forked tongues at him.

There were torches set into the black glassed walls, but the light radiated only a handbreadth or two from its flames before being absorbed utterly by the glass. Axis and Isaiah walked down tunnels of darkness in which the only illumination was provided by the intermittent lamps and the odd flickering of red deep within the glass itself.

As they passed one lamp Axis peered at Isaiah, a pace or two ahead.

His shoulders and back were stiff.

Why has he brought me here?

“This is a strange place, Isaiah,” Axis said softly, wanting to say, This is a bad place, Isaiah, but understanding, even after such a short time within the pyramid, that those would be unwise words to speak…

Within the pyramid’s hearing.

“We do not have far to go now, Axis,” Isaiah said softly, “until we reach this structure’s golden heart. Be quiet until then.”

By now every nerve in Axis’ body was screaming at him to turn around and walk out—if DarkGlass Mountain would allow him that privilege—but just as he opened his mouth to speak, Isaiah stopped, and turned about.

“We’re here,” he said, his face barely visible in the gloom. “There’s light ahead.”

Somehow Axis doubted that—visual light, maybe, but he wondered if whatever lay at the heart of this structure could ever be characterized with a concept such as “light.”

Isaiah turned about, touched something on the wall with his hand, and Axis heard the soft sound of a door sliding open.