Amber and Blood - Margaret Weis [11]
Do not be angry with me, my dearest lord.… The Solio Febalas is holy. Sanctified. The power and majesty of the gods—all the gods—are in the chamber. I could not touch anything. I did not dare! I could do nothing but fall to my knees in worship.…
He had been furious with her. He had accused her of stealing the artifacts for herself. Now he knew better. The power of the gods had acted like a mirror, reflecting back to her the divine power she felt burn inside her. How confused she must have been, confused and terrified, and overwhelmed. She had lifted the tower from bottom of the Blood Sea to give to him. A gift.
Thus, by rights, the tower was his. And just now, no one was standing guard. Everyone was yammering about what to do with Mina. Chemosh left the raging argument and sped across the Blood Sea to the rock-bound island on which stood the newly-raised tower.
The Hall of Sacrilege had been located at the very bottom of the tower. Was it still there, or had it been left behind on the sea floor?
Chemosh dove to the bottom of the ocean. An enormous chasm marked where the tower had once stood. The ocean floor had been hauled up with the tower and formed the island on which it now stood. The water was so dark that even immortal eyes could not plumb its depths. Chemosh felt no sense of his own power emanating from the chasm.
The artifacts were still inside the tower. He was certain of it.
The Tower of High Sorcery that had once been beneath the Blood Sea, but which now overlooked it, resembled the original tower. Nuitari had reconstructed it with loving care. The walls were made of smooth, wetly glistening crystal. Water drained from a dome of black marble and ran down the slick walls as the waves hurled themselves in a sullen, petulant manner against the shores of the new-made island. Atop the dome a circlet made of burnished red-gold twined with silver shone in the light of the twin moons it represented. The center of the circlet was jet black in honor of Nuitari. No sunlight could be seen through the hole.
Chemosh eyed the tower narrowly. Two of Nuitari’s Black Robes lived inside. Chemosh wondered what had happened to them. If they were still alive, they must have had a wild and terrifying ride. He circled the tower until he came to the door—the formal entryway.
When the tower had been in Istar and after that, at the bottom of the sea, the wizards and Nuitari alone possessed the secret to gaining access. Only those who were invited could enter and this included gods. But now the tower had been wrenched from Nuitari’s grasp, stolen from him while his back was turned. Perhaps his magic had been broken.
Chemosh did not bother with the door. He could glide through the crystal walls as though they were water. He started to walk through the walls of shining black but, surprisingly, he found his way blocked.
Frustrated, Chemosh tried pushing open the massive front doors. They did not budge. Chemosh lost his temper and kicked the door with his foot and smote it with his hand. The god could have battered down a castle’s walls with the flick of his finger, but he had no effect on the tower. The door shuddered at the blows, but remained intact.
“It’s no use. You won’t get in. She has the key.”
Chemosh turned to see Nuitari come walking around the side of the building.
“Who has the key?” Chemosh demanded. “Your sister? Zeboim?”
“Mina, you dolt,” Nuitari told him. “And she’s sending her Beloved to guard it.”
The god of Dark Magic pointed across the sea to the city of Flotsam. Chemosh saw with his immortal vision hordes of people jumping from the docks, plunging into the sea, and either sinking or swimming through the waves which glowed eerily with a faint amber light. These were the Beloved. They looked and acted, walked and talked, ate and drank, like ordinary people with one small difference.
They were dead.
Being dead, they felt no fear, they never tired, they needed no sleep, they had boundless energy. Strike them down and they rose back up. Cut off their heads and they picked them up and put them back on. Chemosh