They emerged from the mountain passes a week later, Ratillic's maps having proved accurate, and they camped that evening on the lower slopes of the range facing east. Clouds obscured that view, but they knew that they were within a few days of the desert's edge. Korbillian had been relieved at the way the mixed company had conducted itself on the journey. Strangarth's men, most of whom he had now spoken to quietly, had been rowdy and cheerful, but Ilassa, who controlled them well, put this down to their nervousness. They had never been this far from their homelands and were not at all sure of the other men around them. Elberon's troops were a different breed; orderly, disciplined, they were careful not to breach their military codes, and they were much more prepared to accept the others. Elberon had said that once any fighting began, new friendships would be forged. The Deliverers (and Wargallow had kept his word and assembled many of them) moved on with their usual silence, none of them appearing to question their orders. There was, however, something of an atmosphere hovering over the army, and the tensions that flowed through it ran deep.
Brannog detached himself from the company a number of times, going with Ygromm to rally the Earthwrought, who preferred to travel their own separate ways to the east, though their presence near at hand was somehow always felt, and it brought an unexpected comfort to the travellers. In those small folk pulsed an excitement, a hunger almost, to be beyond the desert, to confront what waited there Kirrikree and his people were not often seen, for the owls were wary of so many men, but their presence was also felt. And there were hawks and ravens, eagles and falcons that swooped above, often in groups, all moving eastward.
Ratillic was rarely with the company and wandered to the far flanks of the march, and when he was seen, it was in the company of wolves and other creatures, but he was no less purposeful than anyone else.
Evening fell on the slopes, a brief twilight as the mountains swallowed the sun. Korbillian sat with Wolgren, who rarely left his side, Guile, Sisipher and Ilassa. Elberon, as he always did at this time of day, was visiting his men, looking for signs of unrest or drop in morale. He had not yet found either, although he knew that his men were unsure of the cloaked Deliverers, sharing no conversation with them as yet.
Wargallow walked up to the knoll, to where Korbillian and the others sat, knowing that he would never be accepted as part of this company in the same way as they were. Yet it suited him. He felt sure that he was not trusted, in spite of his reassurances that he had come to terms with the need to work together against the common evil.
'The desert is not far,’ he said. ‘We have been fortunate to come so far without incident. Is there news from the others?’
Korbillian shook his head. ‘Kirrikree and his birds scour the land on all sides. Everything is quiet. Unexpectedly so.’
'And beneath us?’
'I am expecting Ygromm's report at any time. What of your men? Are they ready for the crossing?’
'We will need fresh water soon.’
'Ygromm will tell us where it is safe to draw it. Kirrikree says it will take us at least seven days to cross the Silences. There will be no water in the desert.’
'And on the other side? Will the water be safe there?’
'It can be purified.’
'Then we will all be in your debt,’ Wargallow smiled.
'As I am in yours.’
Brannog arrived soon afterwards. ‘The word from the Earthwrought is promising. There is a clear lake between us and the desert and we should have all we need for the crossing. Ygromm has met not only his own Earthwise, but three from other tribes, and all have sent men. But we reach the place where it is impossible for them to travel below the ground. They will cross the desert with us, and there will be many hundreds of them.’
'It will give confidence to the men,’ said Wargallow. ‘Mine are no less uneasy than any of the others. They are uncertain.’
'Are you?’ said Guile.
'Of course,’ nodded Wargallow. ‘But I have made my decision.’
'I don't foresee an attack,’ said Korbillian. ‘The Silences will be no place for conflict. The east will be ready, though. We must expect that.’
Sisipher stared straight ahead of her, face white. ‘It is like a hound scenting the wind. I see through the jungle there, and beyond.’
'Use your gift,’ urged Brannog. ‘What do you see, Sisipher?’
She studied an unseen future terrain, searching it for tangibles, then her eyes seemed to find something. Shock stabbed at her and she recoiled, only her hands preventing a scream. Wolgren and Guile moved closer at once, and Brannog held her.
'What is it?’ said Wargallow. ‘What does she see?’
But the girl had withdrawn into herself, shaking her head.
'Will she not speak?’ Wargallow persisted.
Brannog waved him away. Holding down his annoyance, Wargallow turned to Korbillian. ‘What do you know of this?’
'I have said that the east is diseased. We cannot expect to find anything but terror there. Sisipher should not try to look for it.’
'But what use is her gift?’ said Guile.
'It can still help us,’ said Korbillian. ‘There will be pitfalls in the Silences as there were in the snowfields above Sundhaven.’
That night, though they were not attacked, they felt a change in the air, as though something had billowed from the east like a cloud, and in their fevered sleep they saw the plateau beyond the desert and each of their imaginations depicted it crawling with all manner of evil. Even Ratillic, who remained aloof, higher above them in the rocks with his wolves at his feet, felt the onset of this invisible cloud. It had eyes, he thought, and was sure that messages sped back to the east moment by moment. It was becoming very difficult to keep the birds from westward flight, and only the wolves remained with him of the other creatures.
No sooner had the first pale rays of dawn filtered through the eastern mists than the army marched. It was orderly, efficient, and there was little delay as the various columns threaded their way through the foothills and down to the forests below. These were much greener and fuller than the forests of the Three Rivers to the north west, although oddly silent. Word came from Ygromm's folk that all of the creatures that had lived here had long since migrated, and overhead there were no birds, their usual incessant song sadly missed. The only creatures that Ygromm's folk found were dead, with nothing to show why, or how long they had been dead. Yet their corpses had been somehow preserved for the army to stumble across.
Elberon came to Guile as they rode through the grave-like silence. ‘How much more of this deathly forest? There are soldiers here like dead men. I would rouse them with a marching song, but something within me will not respond. The place seems devoid of life, and yet we fear to make a sound.’
'It is empty,’ returned Guile. ‘Ygromm reported an hour ago. Under the earth are many bones. But the evil has retreated, too. Soon we meet the Earthwrought at the lake. After that they will remain on the surface with us. This is truly a grim place. And yet we have not even reached the Silences. It may have been a mistake to attempt this crusade.’
Elberon glanced sharply at him. ‘But if this power is spreading, it is well that Korbillian has forged this army. It may have been better to have brought every last man.’
Guile's brows raised. ‘Oh, you sing a different song?’
Elberon showed no sign of amusement. ‘How could we know what was here, and what lies beyond? Evil such as this must be destroyed.’
Wargallow, riding at the head of the long column of Deliverers over to the left of Elberon's troops, was thinking very much the same thing. No king or ruler could feel safe in his capital with powers like this abroad. Every man here would need his wits about him day and night from now on.
A few days later they reached the lake, but it did little to raise spirits. Although the water seemed clear and unpolluted, a mist clung to it, wraith-like and full of elusive movement. No one drank from the waters until Korbillian gave the word. When Ygromm appeared at the edge of the dreary forest at last, it was to confirm this as the last safe water they would find. Each man filled his containers, and spare horses were loaded with water carriers. As they left the lake and went on through the forest, they found the way dropping downwards and they could feel the heat of the lands below rising up to meet them like the hot breath of some awesome beast, with nothing at all wholesome in it. The trees thinned and became scrub-like copses, scattered about like the remnants of a fire, and the vegetation was withered and thin. The earth looked scorched, burned up by a freakish heat, the grass seared. Already the transition from forest to barren moor and wasteland seemed too dramatic, too unnatural. Geographical changes that normally took hundreds of miles had been shriveled into a mere score, conditions warped and fused.
Another day passed and there were no trees. The ground was hard and dry, boulder-strewn, the stones cracked and blistered. No one could doubt that each step eastwards brought them to a land already dead. The Earthwrought travelled with them now, none of them prepared to find a way below ground for fear of the effect that it would have on them, for Ygromm pointed out that they could see and feel more suffering in the very soil than they would have believed possible.
Wolgren thought of the snows and of the blasts of winter back in Sundhaven (was it yet winter?) and it seemed unreal to be in such heat so quickly. The sun here blazed more fiercely than any summer sun in his village home, and he felt faint as it reached its midday zenith. Korbillian alone seemed unaffected, his thoughts and emotions, as so often, completely clouded.
When they came to the cliffs that marked the upper edge of the Silences, they rested. Beyond them now was a drop of several thousand feet, the sheerness broken by the great slopes of scree and collapsed rubble from the cliff walls. Once the sea had battered these majestic ramparts, even overlapped them, but now there was nothing beyond but an endless ocean of dust, without a rock to break its monotony. Korbillian called together the leaders of the columns, and they all studied the spreading panorama before them. There should be no desert here, they all knew. It should be water, with islands, forests, abundant life. The sun should not be so cruel, but the real heat came up from the sand, up from beneath it, as if a furnace blazed there, fuelled by the unthinkable forces beyond this desert. Each of them was aware of the immense depth of power that could twist a season, make a desert of a sea.
'There is no way to reach the Mound,’ said Korbillian, ‘except by crossing this dead ocean.’ Close beside him, clinging to a rock, was Kirrikree, who was dusty and less imposing than before. ‘The owl has found the safest way down for us, and his birds will show us a possible route to follow. There is great evil in this place below. What lies buried here is a mystery beyond time, but the power of the east has sent out its workings through these sands. We cannot know what effects they have had on anything there. If there is life, the east may use it to attack us.’
'But you are ready to defend us?’ said Wargallow.
Korbillian nodded. ‘One thing is evident. The east is expecting us.’
There was little further discussion, and the group quickly broke up. Korbillian walked along the rim, and Ratillic appeared at his elbow. ‘Do you expect any of these people to survive?’ he said quietly.
Korbillian did not look at him, but watched the dust clouds sweeping across the desert far below. ‘It is their choice to come. I need them.’
'As a shield?’
'You know what awaits us, Ratillic. We have to attempt its destruction. It will be over, then. All that has gone before will be wiped away.’
'Blood to the earth return,’ murmured the tall figure. ‘And the Hierarchs?’
'They will sleep more easily in their graves.’
Ratillic glanced at the sheathed hands and said no more.
Brannog sat with his daughter, aware of the effect the land was having on her, and he tried to cheer her. Guile joined them, also attempting to amuse the girl and her father.
'It's no place for a girl,’ he told them. ‘Look, many of the horses will have to be sent back. Only the hardiest can try and cross these wastes. Let me arrange for Sisipher to have an escort back to my camp near the Camonile. I would travel more happily knowing she was safe.’
'My thanks,’ said Sisipher before her father could reply. ‘But no, I have already seen myself on the other side of the Silences.’
'What else have you seen?’ said Guile.
She shook her head. ‘If I told you, no one would go there.’ She closed her eyes and Brannog put his arms about her. Guile moved away, and as he did so, Wolgren watched him closely. He had noted the way this man who would be Emperor looked at Sisipher, and the anger flared in him. Would Sisipher not favour a man who would rule all of the Chain? She might, if Guile survived this trek.
During the night many of the company were woken by strange sounds, a dirge almost, that led them at first to believe strange forces were amongst them, preparing to attack, but by the light of their torches and a waxing, bloated moon, they discovered the Earthwrought locked in a ritual chant. It was for the good of the company, but those who heard it were not easily charmed back to sleep. Morning came as a relief, and no one complained at the immediate start.
Ratillic guided them to the most passable slope downward and the long descent began. Already the air was still, and the silence from the desert far below closed in, suffocating them. The dry heat came in waves, and for each yard they slid down those crumbling slopes it became worse, so that it was an effort not to drink constantly. Elberon and Wargallow were strict with their men, and Ilassa pointed to Elberon's soldiers as an example to his own men. Only by constantly railing at them had he managed to keep Strangarth's warriors from abandoning the journey. None of the horses found it easy, not being used to this terrain. Only the Earthwrought seemed agile and capable, though their fears for what might be around them were visible.
As they wound downwards through great gashes in the collapsing cliffs, they sent small rockfalls ahead of them, raising a dust cloud that curled high over the Silences like a beacon. In the vault of the sky, which seemed to be white in the dazzling sunlight, the faint dots that were Kirrikree's people could occasionally be seen. Nothing else flew there, and there were no sinister carrion-eaters circling in hope of food.
By late afternoon they were on the dead sea bottom, though there was nothing in evidence now to suggest that water had ever been here. The air was a wall of heat, even in shadow, and the sand was white and fine, almost a powder. Korbillian began singling out horses that he thought could be risked on the crossing. The remainder were to be taken back to the higher lands by a handful of men. Once this had been done, the army travelled out into the sands, still dropping downward, for the world tilted away, the horizon submerged under thick clouds of dust. Masks had to be worn, for the particles of sand began to find their irritating way into every pore.
'Better to rest by day,’ Ygromm told Brannog. ‘Travel at night. Easier to breathe.’
Brannog passed this on to Korbillian, who saw the good sense in the suggestion. No one argued, but Elberon spoke roughly to Guile. ‘We cannot survive many days of this. If we do, we'll not be fit for war. This is ill planned. Korbillian and the bird-man have their own powers. We have not. Even the little folk are gifted. What are we, fodder for the enemy? Necessary but expendable?’
Guile was already exhausted, and not fit to argue. ‘Can't stop now, Morric.’
They journeyed far into the night, the air much colder, but they could take that, and although the going seemed easier, nothing changed around them. The sand was flat and featureless, like a pond on an airless afternoon. When they made camp, all parties gathered together, and with the desert as a shared foe, there was no complaint about who stood by who. It was here, in this arid wilderness with its absolute scorn for anything living, that the disjointed army at last became a unit. The common bond of suffering fused it, and Korbillian sensed it, just as his commanders did. Barely shielded from the rising sun, they closed ranks in silence, and though they spoke to each other, every sound seemed to be sucked into the void, as if the silence imposed itself, intolerant of the slightest whisper.
Some of the remaining horses succumbed and were buried, though Ygromm feared any disturbing of the sands. By night they moved on, and after three days came to another long escarpment, far less steep than the first, that dropped them a few hundred feet to another level. The moon turned the sand into a white carpet, and the men longed for a rock or a dune to break the crushing monotony. When dawn came, and they closed together again to camp, Kirrikree swooped down and told Sisipher that they had made good time and were half way across.
'Ask him what news of beyond,’ Korbillian told Sisipher.
'The owls won't go close enough to the land there to see,’ she answered. ‘But there's a jungle.’
'Beside the desert?’ he said, surprised.
'Such is the power under the earth,’ was all she would add.
During the day, when most of the men were asleep (it came far more easily to them now) the Earthwrought began to feel restless, and anyone watching them would have noticed that none of them slept. They watched the sand suspiciously. Ygromm came to Korbillian, his face even more fierce than usual.
'Bad things,’ he said.
Korbillian looked uneasily at Brannog. ‘What is it?’
'This is the deepest part of the Silences. Under us, the sand is shallower than elsewhere and leads to firm rock. But the Earthwrought can feel movement. It is rhythmic.’
Ygromm hissed, pointing into the shimmering distance. ‘See!’
Korbillian shielded his eyes and studied the northern horizon. There seemed to be dunes there, the only feature visible for scores of miles.
'They were not there an hour ago,’ said Ygromm.
Other Earthwrought guards paced the perimeter of the camp, and no one now questioned their doing it. Even the silent Deliverers noted them with relief, knowing that their alertness was something unique and not to be decried. One of the Earthwrought came before Ygromm, and the two of them rushed off to study the southern horizon. Before long Ygromm reported dunes on every horizon. There was a stirring in the camp, and already there were very few left asleep.
'Closing in,’ said Brannog. By now the word had spread and the army roused itself, looking anxiously to its leaders for instruction.
'What can it be?’ said Guile.
'The enemy,’ said Korbillian. He watched each horizon, but any movement was too subtle to see, though there was no denying it. ‘Very well,’ he muttered. At once he issued commands.
Ratillic stared at him fearfully. ‘What do you intend?’
'Whatever this is, it will not be easily defied. And not with steel. It will take a storm.’
'Here!’ gasped Ratillic. ‘Where is the army to shelter?’
'I will protect it. See to the animals.’
'This is suicide,’ Ratillic snapped, but he could do no more than protest. Korbillian made his way to the centre of the army and had it arrange itself in concentric rings around him.
'Face away from me, out into the desert,’ he told them. There was very little dissent. The Earthwrought formed the inner ring, the warriors and soldiers the outer, with the horses between the two rings. Ratillic took charge of them, keeping his wolves close at heel, and the Earthwrought helped to get the horses to the ground, talking to them and soothing them. Even Wargallow's men accepted Korbillian's promise that there was to be a storm.
Korbillian now stood alone, raising his arms to the sun. The world seemed frozen. Out in the desert the dunes seemed to be motionless, but there were spiraling dust clouds drifting about them. These rose up, thickening, so that it seemed as if clouds had come gently streaming across the sky, darkening it. Already the sun had lost its glare, its fierce rays barely filtering through this curtain. Half an hour passed and now the daylight had altogether faded, as if Korbillian had brought down a false evening on the world. He had not moved. Those who dared to look at him saw him still with arms raised high, his eyes closed, his lips moving.
Through swirls of dust, which now eddied up along the desert floor, the watchers could see the movement of the dunes much more clearly. Still they advanced, and now it was apparent that they were huge. The force that moved them must be abnormally powerful, and great ripples of fear ran through the army. Panic strained at its leash. Overhead there was a crackle of lightning and the dust clouds had merged with other clouds, the air swollen with the threat of rain.
More lightning threaded the sky and it seemed to rise up from Korbillian and not strike him from above. Guile watched him, and saw the black gloves glow as if they were molten. Had the storm come from within them? How else could Korbillian have dragged the elements into a storm? Now the winds came, a fierce breeze at first, quickly building into a slicing gale. They spread outwards from the heart of the circles, and every man dropped to the sand, hiding his eyes, watching the sand in front of him gust away, whipped up and driven outwards like huge ripples away from a stone tossed into a lake.
The dunes towered now, threatening to engulf everything like great waves. From their highest ridges the sand streamed in plumes like surf scattering. A great bolt of lightning tore down into one front and seemed to explode, sand gushing upwards in a fountain, dispersed in seconds by the howling wind. Its force increased, and no longer was the desert silent. It screamed as the fury of the wind tore at it like a maddened beast. While the men crouched down, almost blinded by the tremendous sandblasts, the dunes writhed, the sand stripped from them.
Ygromm and his Earthwrought would not look at the dunes, but closed their eyes and minds to whatever it was that surged within them. Sisipher and her father and Wolgren gripped each other, and the youth knew that whatever horrors were out there were partially known to the girl and her father. They shared power with the Earthwrought and there were times when it brought more suffering than joy. As the wind contrived to rise and the noise became atrocious, the army dug itself in, curling up like a single beast, trying to shut out the madness surrounding it. No one could see Korbillian now, enshrouded as he was within a blanket of screaming power.
Wargallow's mind roared, almost bursting with the sheer amazement of recognising that Korbillian had done this, had launched this storm out of nothing. It shattered the ears with its lightning, and Wargallow bent still further into the sand. One of the towering dunes collapsed in on itself as if it were hollow, and it rolled backwards as if it had met a wall of rock and, like the sea, been rebuffed. The sands rushed back. As the wind tore from its central point, each line of dunes burst or collapsed and was driven back by power too immense to resist. If anything lived within the dunes, it was not seen, and it either slid deeper into the sand or fled quickly away.
Although the thunder ceased, the roaring of the wind went on until no one could even guess how long they had been there. Sand raced away from them, the very ground beneath them draining like water through a sieve. Men clung together, and the Earthwrought had difficulty in keeping the horses from tearing loose and being smashed away by the colossal forces at work. Slowly the roar died down and the wind eased, becoming no more than a strong breeze again. Those who had the strength looked up to see a changed landscape. Great swathes had been cut out of the sand, and so deep were some of these that bare rock showed through like the bones of an immense corpse.
Wargallow made himself peer at Korbillian, around whom the dust had settled. He stood on a great slab of stone that had been exposed by the storm, his arms lowered. Still he watched the desert as the wind died and a deep silence came again. The sand was heaped and hummocked on all sides, churned up like a miniature range of hills, peppered with rocks. The entire sea bottom had been reformed.
'Now can you doubt his power?’ Guile whispered to Elberon, who merely shook his head in stupefaction. If anyone here had needed a demonstration, no longer could they doubt. As if in answer to Elberon's thoughts, an abrupt cheer went up, and scores of swords were raised in a tribute to Korbillian. It was echoed by others, until the entire army shouted its approval. Its belief in Korbillian was complete. Now, he thought, they could go on with better heart.
Brannog saw that Ygromm was very still, staring down a canyon of stone that had been sculpted out of the sand by the wind. It led to a deeper level of desert, a level that had been buried for centuries. Ygromm's wonder was so real it could be touched.
'What do you see?’ Brannog asked him. ‘There is evil there?’
'I think not. But there are secret things waiting.’ His people seemed wholly aware of the narrow canyon now, and held back from it.
Korbillian was pointing to it. His voice came very clearly across the stilled air. ‘The way to the east lies through that pathway. Let us go at once.’
Brannog studied the rocks, and it was then that he saw the floor of the exposed canyon, noticing for the first time the stairs that had been carved there.