“Don’t let it bother you.” The younger soldier leaned over Corvan’s shoulder and brushed Morgan’s eyelids shut. “Sometimes that happens.” Bending in close to Corvan’s ear, his voice dropped to a whisper. “Get far away from this priest. Bad things are coming for all the priests. You will soon be free and won’t have to be a slave to the green cloaks anymore.”
The young man straightened, patted Corvan’s shoulder, and spoke out loud. “Rest a moment while we get this thing opened.” He stared hard at Jorad. “No doubt the priests are overworking their servants.” Pushing past the priest, he joined his partner in freeing the two rusty latches holding the lid of the crypt in place.
Jorad dropped his side of the litter and crouched next to Corvan. “Put your hood back on,” he hissed.
“He’s still alive,” Corvan whispered urgently. “Morgan is still alive. His eyes opened!”
Jorad yanked Corvan’s hood into place over his head and glared in at him. “Don’t fall apart on me. That soldier is right. Sometimes the eyes pop open if you give the body a jolt.”
Corvan shook his head. “Morgan was my guard at the Palace prison. He ate part of that pill the High Priest sent with Tyreth, but it didn’t kill him. His eyes didn’t just open, they focused on my face! He’s not dead!” he whispered hoarsely.
Jorad moved over to Morgan and made a show of straightening the shroud and wrapping it more tightly around the man’s neck. Corvan got to his feet, and Jorad joined him, muttering under his breath. “You’re right. He still has a bit of life in him. He was always the strong one. His father called him ‘the burak boy.’”
They were both startled by the squeal of seized metal as the thick lid of the crypt creaked up and out of the way on rusty hinges. The older soldier peered inside. “What luck—it’s empty. No wonder the clasps were so corroded.” He turned to Jorad. “Let’s get the body inside.”
Jorad straightened Morgan’s body on the litter, and the soldiers each grabbed a pole. Together they lowered Morgan into the crypt. The people of the city must have expected the poor to die in groups; there was ample room for two more bodies inside.
An eerie wail, like a rabbit in its death throes, floated over the cemetery walls from the broken side of the city.
The younger soldier looked anxiously in the direction of the noise, then turned abruptly to Jorad. “You’re the priest; you can finish the ceremonies and seal the crypt. I want to be out of the broken city before its fully dark.” He spun on his heel and walked briskly away.
The older man nodded and then followed the younger man.
Jorad bent down, scooping up pebbles and dirt. “Are they gone?” he whispered.
Corvan busied himself adjusting one of the clasps. “Just another minute.” The strangled wail came again, and the soldiers quickened their pace.
“What’s that noise?” Corvan asked.
Jorad continued picking up pebbles. “That is the sound of the Broken. They’re beginning to move about and hunt for food.”
“They hunt people?” Corvan asked.
“Apparently the soldiers believe they do,” Jorad said derisively. “Are they gone?”
“Yes.”
Jorad tossed the pebbles away, dusted off his hands, and dropped the lid of the crypt in a percussive cloud of dust. Placing both hands on the stone lid, he gazed down at the stone slab. “Farewell, Morgan. This is not how it should have ended, but everyone must live—and die—by the choices they make.” He lifted the first of the clasps and twisted down the large turnbuckle.
Corvan watched in shock before grabbing the second clasp. “You can’t seal a living man inside a tomb.”
Jorad finished the first clasp and turned fiercely toward him. “I know things about him that you do not. It is best if we seal his tomb and make certain it’s over.”
“But it’s not right,” Corvan protested.
Jorad’s eyes flashed. “I am a priest of the Cor, and I know what’s right for my world. If you want my help to find the girl and get back to your world, you’ll mind your business.”
He stared at Corvan through narrowed eyes as he cranked down the second turnbuckle, then he stomped off, leaving Corvan staring at the sealed crypt.
“Come on!” Jorad called over his shoulder. “If he survives the poison, he may yet escape death once again, though I doubt he’ll ever learn his lesson.” He pointed up a narrow street. “We must hurry if we are to catch up to your counterpart before its fully dark.”
Corvan reluctantly turned away from the tomb. A shiver ran up his spine as he hurried to catch up to the priest. “Jorad,” he asked quietly, “Is Kate here in the cemetery?”
Jorad slackened his pace. “Yes. This has always been a secure place for the priests to keep our affairs hidden from the prying eyes of the Watcher and his guards. We are expected to come and go regularly, and we can arrange meetings with other priests and our allies from the settlements.”
“What about the rebels the captain mentioned? Are they your allies?” Corvan asked.
Jorad’s steps faltered. “Some of the rebels were our own palace guards who lost family in the anarchy that followed the rise of the Watcher. In those days, everyone was betraying friends—even their own family.” His voice sagged with the memory, and he pointed to the jagged spires that climbed behind the city wall to the far side of the cavern. “The rebels are based in those crags up behind the graveyard, but as a rule the priests don’t contact them. I once thought they might be a good ally against the Chief Watcher, but a new leader came into power who claimed to be both Rantellic and the promised Cor-Van. They began raiding our settlements for food and recruits. He wants to take over Kadir, but his foolish plans will get a lot of people killed.”
“What’s a Rantellic?”
“Rantellics were an ancient order of wise sages from a city that fell into darkness during the destruction. Everyone knows the Rantellic order died off, so this new leader of the rebels is a fraud in every way.” Jorad sped back up. The conversation was over.
Corvan lost all sense of direction as he followed Jorad through a maze of narrow streets and alleys. Finally, they clambered over a pile of rubble and bones from a crypt that had been broken apart and stepped down onto a curved roadway. The crypts along the inside of the curve were tightly packed, and taller, with full height doors.
Jorad stopped, motioned for Corvan to stand watch, and checked into another alley just ahead. He returned with a short cylinder that he inserted into a round hole in the front of a crypt. The entire wall pivoted inward to reveal a narrow passage and an open space beyond.
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Jorad gave a shrill whistle, waited, then whistled again. “Our guard isn’t responding. Follow closely and keep a sharp eye out for anyone coming up from behind.” A long knife appeared in Jorad’s left hand as he led Corvan through the narrow channel.
The secret passage emerged into a clearing walled by the backs of even more connected tall crypts. The pavements across the open area formed a pattern suggesting more crypts had once filled the space. Jorad scanned the rooftops around the perimeter and pointed to one of the crypts directly across from them. “Kate is inside that one. Take this rod, push it into the hole, and the door will open. I’ll stay here and keep watch. Bring Kate and Rayu back here, we’ll return to the temple together.” Thrusting the notched cylinder into Corvan’s hand, Jorad shoved him into the open.
Corvan stumbled across the pavements to the cracked and weathered crypt Jorad had pointed out. He almost dropped the cylinder in his haste to insert it into the hole.
Nothing happened. He twisted it from side to side. Still nothing. As he turned to look over his shoulder at Jorad, his weight on the rod pushed a narrow section of the wall inwards and off to one side. Losing his balance, he twisted and fell awkwardly inside the crypt, the round key rolling away across the floor.
His heart sank as he got to his knees. The stone benches on either side of the musty room were empty. Kate and Rayu were gone—if they had even been here in the first place. He looked around just in time to see the door slide back into its locked position.
In the darkness, a round light flickered and crawling forward, he peered through the keyhole.
Across the courtyard, Jorad was speaking with two armed men. Jorad appeared to point in Corvan’s direction as a man dressed in a dark tunic walked in front of the tomb and blocked his view. When the dark cloak moved on, Jorad and the two men had vanished.
A man in a ripped cloak marched into view, standing in the middle of the clearing with his back to the door. His long hair hung in two braids down his back. He carried a staff with a long, curved blade on top, and a short sword hung at his waist. These had to be the rebel fighters Jorad mentioned, but it seemed the priest was still working with them.
A loud bang overhead made him jump. The man outside turned and shouted in Corvan’s direction, and then footsteps crossed the roof and faded away.
Corvan pulled back from the door, sat on the bench, and watched the circle of light. There was no more sign of movement outside and all was quiet overhead. If they knew he was inside the crypt, it didn’t appear they were coming to get him, at least not right away.
Pulling off his pack he dug through looking for something to eat but found only a tin can. Dropping it back in the pack, he stretched out on the stone bench. It was cold and hard, but a relief to finally rest. As he recalled, the last time he’s slept was in the tunnels after the buraks had killed Tsarek. At that memory, an intense loneliness enveloped his weary mind. With Tsarek gone, Kate still missing, and Jorad seemingly betraying him, it was getting hard to find much hope to carry on.
He was dozing off when his fingers brushed against a smooth object jammed into the crack where the bench met the wall. Clutching its familiar shape, he sighed with relief.
At least Jorad had told the truth about Kate being here.
In his hand was the Swiss Army knife she had taken from Tsarek in the labyrinth.
Chapter 33 (1006) Rebel Leader and Kate
A loud thump woke Corvan, and he fell clumsily to the stone floor.
Red light flickered at the keyhole. Crawling over, he looked through it and discovered a fire in an enormous metal brazier was burning on the far side of the courtyard. The hazy flames lit the outlines of men sitting on the ground facing the fire. Others were patrolling the tops of the crypts.
A horn sounded in the distance, and the men on the roofs began pounding rhythmically with their bladed staffs.
Ignoring the incredible racket inside the crypt, Corvan felt his way across the floor until he located the round key. Returning to the flickering light, he unlocked the sliding door and eased it open a crack. He wasn’t going to wait around to see if Jorad would inform the rebels where he was hiding.
The pounding abruptly ceases as three older men in hoodless tunics emerged from the alley across the way. They marched in unison onto a low mound behind the brazier, then turned to stand at attention as another man strode into view.
The man joined the three at the brazier. He was the tallest person Corvan had seen in the Cor. He was dressed in a long, flowing brown coat that looked like leather or oilskin. His head was adorned with an animal skin that had the head still attached. The dead creature’s head jutted out over the man’s forehead, its glistening skin wrapped tightly around the man’s skull with its clawed legs dangling by his ears.
The man stepped closer to the firelight and some in the crowd chanted, “Cor-Van, Cor-Van, Cor-Van!”
Keen eyes shone from the shadows beneath the mam’s prominent eyebrows as he surveyed his subjects and soaked up their praise. Throwing out his chest, he motioned discreetly to the three men behind him. One of them picked up a container shaped like a pointed Greek vase and poured a shiny black fluid into a hole at the edge of the metal brazier. The flames leapt higher accompanied by clouds of sticky black smoke and more cheers.
The tall man raised his arms, and his audience grew quiet.
Corvan eased the door open a bit wider.
The man swept his hand over the crowd, then clenched it into a fist and struck his own chest three times. “Our time has finally arrived! For too long we have been reduced to living in holes, our days growing darker as the rulers of Kadir consume the remaining light for their own pleasure. But the end of these evil days is in sight.” He spread his arms wide. “As your Cor-Van …” He paused, waiting for more cheers, but when the crowd did not respond, he dropped his arms to his sides. “As your Cor-Van, I am pleased to tell you that the final sign of our victory against the palace has been confirmed.” He turned toward the city where the upper edges of the courtyard gate were visible and raised a clenched fist in the air. On his back, the firelight revealed a wide, forked tail hanging from the animal skin on his head.
Corvan felt a growing fear in his belly. During the war years, there had been reels featuring leaders like this at the theater in Fenwood. Terrible things had happened all over the world when the masses followed a leader who spoke like this.
Fist still high in the air, the brown coat whirled about to face the men on the ground. “To defeat the palace and rule as your Cor-Van, I must have a worthy counterpart.” A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd. “But since the rule of the Watchers, all possible counterparts, including your wives and daughters, have been taken to the palace!”
All the men jumped to their feet, shouting in anger and pressing forward. Unchecked, they would have overrun their Cor-Van and attacked the palace immediately. It took a while for the leader and his three men to calm them down and get them seated again.
“When all is ready and I take my place as the rightful Cor-Van, we will overthrow the palace.” He stepped back from the crowd, glanced up the alley, nodded, and turned back to his followers. “Things are moving forward. The priests of Kadir have finally seen the light and have acknowledged that I am to lead the Cor. They wish to join our cause.”
A murmur of questions rose from the crowd, but the leader pressed on.
“The Priests of Kadir have suffered greatly. The Chief Watcher has poisoned the High Priest. His son Tarran is dead, and Tyreth has been charged with the murder of Morgan.”
Anger rippled through the crowd at Tyreth’s name, but the leader forged on.
“These are desperate days, and the priests of Kadir have come to me in their hour of need.”
The crowd was silent. The man turned to the alleyway behind him, and Jorad walked out of the shadows to join him at the fire with his hood thrown back.
Corvan studied the priest’s face, trying to discern whether Jorad was pleased to be helping the rebel leader. The leader stepped to one side and waited for Jorad to speak, but the young priest only looked directly over the crowd in Corvan’s direction.
A long silence was finally broken by a few catcalls. The leader raised one hand to silence them. “Tonight, Jorad joins our cause as the High Priest of Kadir. He is the only one left who can lawfully join your Cor-Van and his counterpart in everlasting union.” He gestured to the alley where two men appeared, carrying a chair bearing a veiled woman in a long white cloak. “A counterpart worthy to be joined to your Cor-Van has been brought to us by the priests!”
The bearers stopped. Jorad took the woman by the hand and helped her down.
The leader stood beside her. “With the blessings of the High Priest, and to fulfill the office of your Cor-Van, tonight, in your presence, I will take as my counterpart a prominent woman of Kadir.”
The flames leapt higher.
The leader pulled away the veil.
Kate stared blankly over the silent crowd.