Cain shook his head. “I must return to a place called the Captain’s Table, if you want me to accompany you. I have friends there.”
Egil hesitated, then nodded. “I know of it. I can take you to them, and then we will go meet my brothers. Please, come.”
The man moved with a fluid grace, making almost no sound, his torchlight flickering off an arched ceiling that seemed to close in over Cain’s head. They passed several branches in the tunnel, finally taking one that sloped upward to another set of stairs leading to an iron grate. Leaving the torch burning in a brace on the wall, Egil pushed the grate aside, and Cain found himself at street level, just a short distance away from Jeronnan’s inn.
When they arrived at the Captain’s Table, Mikulov and Leah were overjoyed to see him. Leah threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tightly, while Jeronnan shook Cain’s hand with both of his own. “I suppose you’ll be moving on, then,” he said. “You can trust this man, Egil. I know him well enough, born and educated here in Gea Kul. He’s a good lad.” Jeronnan handed Leah another honey stick. “A little something for your troubles, lass,” he said. “Stay well.”
Mikulov wanted to know more about the order, but Egil was growing desperate, warning them of the dangers of traveling through Gea Kul after dark. “We have less than two hours to be free of the town,” he said. “We will have time to talk later.”
The four of them said their good-byes, thanking Jeronnan profusely for his help. The captain insisted on giving them some fish wrapped in paper for the journey, though Egil said it wasn’t far. Cain tried to return the horn, but Jeronnan wouldn’t take it. “Remember,” he said, his huge hand on Cain’s shoulder. “Should I hear the sound of that, I’ll come to your aid, wherever you may be. I may look old, but I’m still a match for anything that might be wanting to hurt you.”
They left before night fell. In the street they saw no one other than the crows, which continued to swoop and caw loudly above their heads, the sounds traveling in the fog that had continued to thicken. Egil led them back into the tunnels beneath Gea Kul, picking up the torch again from the wall and taking them through a dizzying warren of intersections, finally emerging beyond the town through a sewer entrance.
He left the torch and took them into the wilds beyond and away from the sea, with Mikulov watching their backs. Leah remained glued to Cain’s side, suspicious of their new friend and his strange looks; Cain did have to admit that Egil’s colorless eyes were intense, almost hypnotic, and his white hair and eyebrows gave his face a waxy sheen. He had no other apparent facial hair, and his skin was smooth and unlined.
Beyond the town, the landscape quickly changed to a wilderness of scarred, leafless trees, slabs of rock and dead grasses sprouting in thick, razor-like tufts from patches of dry soil. They followed a narrow path winding through the tufts. Egil kept looking at the skies nervously, but the crows appeared to have lost them at the entrance to the tunnels, and there was no sign of any pursuit from here.
The ground rose gently as they entered a thicker copse of trees. It was dark and gloomy, dead branches reaching out like skeleton fingers overhead. Mikulov closed ranks in the rear, and Leah grabbed Cain’s hand again as Egil slowed his pace, finally stopping completely in a small clearing. He gave a low, soft whistle. Almost immediately an answering whistle came from somewhere to their right. Leah’s grip tightened as three figures emerged from the gloom, closing in on all sides as silently as ghosts in the dim light. One of them was huge, even wider through the shoulders than Captain Jeronnan and several inches taller than Cain himself. He carried a bow, an arrow notched and ready.
The figures paused. The mist drifted in and swirled around their feet.
“My brothers,” said Egil, his voice trembling with emotion. “We are saved. I have found him.”
26
The First Ones
The camp was not what Mikulov had expected. He had had a vision of a sprawling complex of wooden temples and studios and sleeping quarters, buildings rising up out of the wilderness as builders swarmed over them, while others meditated or discussed strategy or led scholarly discussions on the future of Sanctuary itself: something that fit with the grand history of the order, as it had been written.
This was nothing but a network of caves, set within the rocky face of a steep incline that led up to a cliff overlooking the town and the sea. There was little evidence on the outside that anyone was living there at all.
The location itself was the biggest problem. The Ivgorod masters had taught him about the ways of war, and the most important thing in choosing a stronghold, after its defensibility, was to have an escape route, should the battle turn against you. These caves appeared to be a dead end, and a deathtrap should they be discovered by a force stronger than their own.
The three men who had met them in the jungle were initially suspicious, but after Cain showed them his reproduction of the Horadric text, along with the other texts and scrolls he had in his rucksack, they grew more animated. The biggest one, a man named Lund, appeared to be what his masters would have called slow-minded; but he had a kind heart, and Leah took to him almost immediately. Lund was as thickly muscled as an ox, and his bow was nearly as tall as a full-grown man. Mikulov wondered how he could draw it back, but as he showed Leah its pull, he drew the string effortlessly in one fluid motion, pointing out a knothole in a tree over fifty yards away before burying the arrow in its center.
As they arrived at the cave entrance, more men swarmed around them, about thirty in all. Cain was treated like a returning king by some, and all but ignored by others. “Never mind about them,” Egil said quietly, after they had a moment to speak. He nodded at the group of men who had held back when Cain arrived and were now gathered to one side, whispering to each other. “There are two divisions here: those who believe in the prophecies and the future of the Horadrim, and those who do not. For those of us who believe, you are our salvation.”
“And for those who don’t?” Mikulov asked.
“They may take a bit more convincing,” Egil said, with a wry smile. “But they are good men. They will come around, once we have our meeting tonight. We will all hear about your journey, and discuss what lies ahead.”
“I’m no savior,” Cain said. “Just a scholar who has studied enough of the ancient texts to know we must act quickly. There is little time left. Ratham is only three days away.”
Egil looked blankly at him. “Ratham? The month of the dead? Why should that be important?”
Mikulov tried to explain what he had found in the scrolls, but the discussion went downhill from there. It didn’t take long for him to realize that these men knew very few actual details about the dangers facing Sanctuary and had only the faintest sense of what was to come.
This was a great disappointment. Cain and Leah sensed it as well, and Mikulov felt the energy that had formed when Egil had been leading them here begin to dissipate. Still, those who peppered Cain with questions seemed to think he had come here to lead them to a victory against the darkness, and they wasted little time trying to convince him of their worth.
Perhaps I am being too quick to judge, he thought. We must give them a chance to prove themselves. If they were Sanctuary’s only hope, then so be it. The gods would provide the answers, in time.
More persistent questions about the group of men, and their former leader, were turned politely aside until the upcoming “meeting,” which would happen after they broke bread. Mikulov sensed Cain’s growing frustration at the seeming lack of urgency from the group.