Horselords by David Cook

Author:David Cook
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fantasy, Fiction, Science Fiction, General
ISBN: 9780880389044
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast
Published: 1990-05-15T04:00:00+00:00

10

Dead Voices The only glow that lit the darkness came from a rough crystal, the size of a large egg, nested on a tripod of wrought iron. The stand's small legs ended in finely chiselled rams' heads covered in gilt. Small, facetted garnets decorated the curling horns of the beasts, tapering back into the black iron of the supports.

The crystal shown dimly with the warm colors of sunlight. Chanar marveled at it. Staring into the stone was like looking out on a sunny morning through a small hole in the tent wall. Warmth and light danced in front of his eyes, just beyond his reach. When he stared into the stone closely, he thought he saw shapes flicker and fade deep in its heart. He wondered what Bayalun, sitting across from him, saw as she hunched over the orb.

The khadun chanted. Her nose was practically pressed against the crystal, and her hands were carefully cupped around the base of the tripod.

Chanar squirmed. His legs were going to sleep, but he didn't want to move for fear of disturbing Bayalun. She had been sitting in the same position for the last half-hour, repeating the same chant over and over again. Chanar wondered how she managed it. The chant was mind-numbing. At first he thought it was Tuigan, badly distorted, but that quickly proved to be wrong.

Whatever she was saying, it was in no language Chanar had ever heard. The general was sure of that. He'd had thirty minutes to listen and be certain.

Abruptly Mother Bayalun ended the chant with a huffing sigh of exhaustion.

She sat up straight, arching her back, and rubbed her temples hard with her fingertips. The crystal still glowed between them.

"Look," she commanded as she lightly touched the stone. The stone's glow shimmered and then expanded, filling the air between them. Bayalun spread her hands open and the light spread, too.

A scene formed and grew within the light. It was a yurt in the bright morning sun. Guards stood rigidly outside, ringing it. A tall standard set near the doorway flapped in the breeze.

"That's Yamun's yurt!" Chanar exclaimed.

Mother Bayalun laughed. "General Chanar, you are so charming," she said.

"Yes, that is the khahan's tent." She stood up, leaning heavily on her staff, and stiffly walked to his side. "Look," she commanded again.

Chanar peered closely at the scene. "There's old Goyuk… and Jad," he whispered, pointing at the image.

"There is no need to be quiet," Bayalun croaked out. She stopped to clear her throat. "They cannot hear us."

Chanar nodded, still watching the scene. He stepped back to give the image space. The general wasn't about to let it touch him.

"Look!" Bayalun suddenly hissed. "Look at the banner! It's just as they said." She pointed at the pole standing in front of the yurt. From it, gently swinging in the breeze they couldn't feel, were nine black yak tails.

"The sign of death," Chanar said softly. He stared for a time at the slowly waving tails. "Yamun's dead?" He turned to Mother Bayalun, not really accepting what he saw.

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