Annon thought the words that summoned fire and then began bathing his hands over the flames in the fire ring. Erasmus and Khiara watched him, transfixed.
“Nizeera asks what I’ve learned about the enemy so far. I want to make sure you understand my thinking as well. To see if I have any holes in my logic.” He scooped up a thread of flame, using his mind to twist it into a sphere, which floated above his hand like a bubble. “The Arch-Rike is a tyrant, but a clever one. If he enslaved the people with the threat of bonds or prison, they would revolt against him. If he taxed them excessively, they would scorn him and rebel. He enslaves the kingdoms through ideas. People will always serve a cause higher than themselves.” He chuckled softly. “It is the same principle Tyrus uses. We seek to end the Plague. The Arch-Rike seeks to preserve knowledge. Both are noble causes. Both are ideals. If the Plague ends, then there will be nothing to rally the minds of the people. The Arch-Rike would lose his power.”
Annon swallowed, staring at the swirling flames. “The Arch-Rike has taken up an ideal set hundreds of years ago and has made it his own. He is a cunning man. He is wise. But just as a bubble can be pricked by a touch, so can an idea be punctured and vanish.” He let the bubble of fire unravel and disappear. “I have the feeling that the dangers we face ahead will challenge our minds more than anything else.” He fixed Erasmus with his gaze and then Khiara. “What we learn there may challenge our beliefs or assumptions. What we face there may make us doubt ourselves and our cause. This may prove as difficult a challenge mentally as facing the Scourgelands will test us physically. We are entering the lair of a man who has most of the known world under his thrall. To be honest, I’m terrified.”
Annon removed his hands from the fire and brushed them together. The flames were as warm as bathwater. “I rely on you all to help me see through the illusions the Arch-Rike may use to protect his secrets. We must rely on each other. We will probably need to move quickly and think quickly. There is a reason Tyrus chose us to face Basilides. I feel lucky to have you all with me.”
He looked over at Nizeera, who continued to stare at him. Well said, Druidecht. You are truly our leader.
“Having been a student of history for most of my life, I will venture a prediction. At some future period, not very distant as measured by centuries, the civilized races will almost certainly replace the savage races throughout the world.”
—Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
The day remained overcast, the gray of the sky blending in with the crushed rock filling the mountains. By midday, Annon and the others reached a river spilling from the mountains and flowing south to join the lake waters of Kenatos. The river was full of boulders and churning foam, making passage by boat impossible as well as reckless. The river was wide and full of flat rocks, worn smooth by the constant rush of water. Crossing it would be treacherous.
Lukias halted the group and pointed to shrubs farther up the river. “This is the road.” A narrow trail followed the river north, and it was overgrown with shrubs and boulders. They would have missed it completely.
“Does it cross the river eventually?” Annon asked him.
Lukias shook his head. “No, but it is guarded by several threats. We must be cautious.”
“What threats, Lukias?” Annon asked.
“I cannot divulge what the protections are nor the information you need to bypass them. As we draw nearer, they will test your resolve to enter Basilides. If you succeed, it will be by your own merits.”
As they started up the steep incline toward the patchwork of shrubs blocking sight of the road, Annon began to feel a nervous warning in the pit of his stomach. He glanced around for the appearance of spirits, but saw none in the area. The place was devoid of life.
They crossed the hedge barrier and started up the shattered shale road, their boots crunching softly as they plodded along. As soon as they crossed the first bend, a feeling of intense dread struck Annon.
In the center of the small makeshift path was a waist-high stone boulder with a bronze disc mounted inside it, facing them. The bronze work was sculpted into the image of a face with a grim-set mouth and stern look. The eyes were vacant of pupils and knifed through Annon with shards of fear. Nizeera growled in warning, pausing at his side.
The feelings were terrible and real. Lukias continued to walk forward, but the rest had halted, staring in dread at the bronze work. He paused and turned back to them. “It is only fear,” he said with a gentle voice. “Walk on…if you can.”
It reminded Annon of the Fear Liath and his muscles constricted, holding him in place. He rallied his courage and put a foot forward. Then another. Khiara followed him but Erasmus was rooted in place, staring vacantly. His lips moved but his words were inaudible.