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Richard could see traces of whitish residue on the leathery skin. It looked like ashes or white pigment of some sort might have been rubbed onto the body at one time, likely as it had been prepared for preservation after death. Thin lips had pulled back from the teeth, giving the skull a grin. The sunken eye sockets showed indications that dark oils had once been rubbed around the eyes, so that now the sunken sockets were even darker than they otherwise might have been.
The Shun-tuk, with their ash-rubbed bodies, dark-circled eyes, and painted-on toothy grins, looked like they were paying ghastly homage by trying to mimic the look of the shriveled corpse.
As Richard got closer, he could see that the body was partially wrapped in what looked to have once been an elaborate ceremonial costume and was now little more than darkly discolored remnants of cloth decorated with gold and silver medallions strung together with precious stones. The robes lay open from the neck to the waist, exposing a skeletal rib cage.
Taking a better look, Richard realized that the dark stains on the robes were from dried blood.
Relatively fresh blood.
When he glanced down, he saw that blood also covered the floor all around the platform in the center of the cavern. It looked like something had been butchered.
“Welcome, to the momentous ceremony,” Hannis Arc said.
When Richard didn’t answer, Hannis Arc lifted a tattooed hand around at the crowd watching. “These people have long awaited the arrival of fuer grissa ost drauka, for prophecy has promised that he will be the one to resurrect their king.”
At the mention of the king, all the Shun-tuk in the enormous chamber went to their knees. The rustling sound of them all kneeling in concert echoed around the room, dying out slowly in a hushed whisper of knees against stone.
“And what are you doing here in their land?” Richard asked.
“With my help, the ancient gates that for so long held them captive in this place have at long last been broken open, finally enabling them to bring in the living, those with souls, to help in returning life to their beloved king, the king of the third kingdom who will become the king of the world of life and death united in one purpose.”
“In other words,” Richard said, “they are trying to use the blood of living people with souls to bring life back to a corpse, and it isn’t working the way they had hoped.”
Hannis Arc smiled in a way that distorted the tattooed symbols on his face. “Not a very generous way to put it, but essentially correct. In their ignorance, they believed that the blood of those with souls—strong soldiers for example—would again give strength to their king, and that the blood of the gifted would give him back his powers in the world of life. In their simplistic grasp of ancient lore, they thought that if they drenched their king in the warm blood of people with souls, then it would bring warmth and life to him.”
“That’s it?” Richard thought there had to be more to it. “You’re saying they believed that by simply pouring blood over a corpse it would come back to life?”
“Well,” Hannis Arc admitted with a gesture, “there was more to the procedure. Although they didn’t fully understand the process, they weren’t quite as ignorant as you make it sound.
“Along with the living blood from those with souls, they were to add in the vital component of occult conjuring their kind had been taught since ancient times before they were banished, conjuring long forgotten by the rest of the world. Such spells and incantations have long fallen into disuse and have been largely forgotten by the outside world, but not here. All they lacked was the blood of those with souls, and now they have it.”
“I don’t know,” Richard said, “he still looks dead to me.”
Only Hannis Arc’s red eyes betrayed his annoyance. The smile, as insincere as it was, remained in place. But even though it was hard to tell because of the way their faces were covered in pale ash and dark circles that made their eyes look like hollow sockets, there was no mistaking the silent displeasure on the faces of all the Shun-tuk watching.
“They were closer to the truth than you might think. Unfortunately,” Hannis Arc said as he gestured to the masses, “they lacked access to prophecy, or they would know better.”
“Prophecy?”
“Yes. You see, they had lost the living link to those who knew the old ways and could bring them the prophetic knowledge necessary to assist in their ancient task. Those who banished them to this forsaken land stripped them of any who might possess knowledge of prophecy. They were left as children, thirsting for knowledge but it was beyond their grasp.”
He lifted an arm and signaled for someone to come forward. One of the bare-chested Shun-tuk women rushed down with a small pot, a bit like a teapot, suspended on a chain decorated with what looked to be gold-covered human teeth. She poured liquid from the pot into a half-dozen flat bowls set around the corpse. Another woman followed behind with a flaming splinter, lighting the fluid. Slowly wavering blue flames sprang up, giving off a pungent, yellowish smoke. Both women bowed to the corpse of the king before rushing away.
“So,” Richard said, “I take it that they have been missing your leadership for all this time.” He met Hannis Arc’s gaze. “And, I would bet, some other important element.”
Hannis Arc smiled again, but it was not what could be described in any way as a pleasant smile. “Oh yes. They have waited all this time for someone who understands how such occult procedures would have once been practiced.”
“Such as all those spells and instructions tattooed all over you,” Richard said, gesturing, “all those ancient symbols in the language of Creation.”
The man smiled as he arched an eyebrow. “So you know something of these sacred writings.”
“I’ve run into them before,” Richard said without saying much. “So, without you, these ‘children’ have been endlessly pouring a whole lot of blood over a corpse for nothing.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“But you know what they might have been missing.”
“Precisely what they have been missing,” Hannis Arc said with a small bow of his head. “Prophecy dictates that for this to work properly, it requires something extraordinary.”
“And you’re here to provide that extraordinary final ingredient.”
“Actually,” Hannis Arc said as his small smile returned, “it is you who is here to provide the extraordinary final ingredient.”
“With your guidance, of course.”
Hannis Arc shrugged. “Only I, a man who lives the ancient ways, practices the occult arts, and listens to the obscure whispers of prophecy, would be able to understand the larger picture of what this is all about, what was intended when this was all set into motion, and so could provide what they need. Only I would be able to bring the element of prophecy to such a task and thus be able to complete what no one else could.”
“Prophecy,” Richard repeated with a frown. “I get the occult magic, in a strange, sick, ritualistic way—and even the blood. But what does prophecy have to do with any of it?”
Hannis Arc ar
ched an eyebrow. “Prophecy reveals the extraordinary final ingredient that is needed.”
Richard sighed, tired of the game. “And what would that extraordinary final ingredient be?”
“To bring their dead king back to life requires life and death mixed together. It requires fuer grissa ost drauka, the bringer of death, to bring life again to the emperor.”
This time, Richard didn’t say anything.
“Ah,” Hannis Arc said, pleased by what the silence meant. “I see that you are finally beginning to understand your part in all this. These people simply don’t grasp how it all works. They didn’t understand that this doesn’t merely require the blood of the living with a soul.
“Rather, it requires the right blood, blood from one of them, one who is of the third kingdom, one who carries death within him, and yet, has a soul.
“There is only one such person, one such bringer of death. You, Richard Rahl, are the one.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“You dismissed my belief in prophecy, but it is my study of prophecy that has once again shown me the way. You are a fool for so easily shunning prophecy, and now it is going to cost you everything, Richard Rahl.”
Richard cried out as Vika, from behind him, drove her Agiel into the base of his skull.
CHAPTER
67
When Richard began to become aware of the world around him again, there was nothing in that world but paralyzed pain, leaving him frozen in place, unable to move. He remembered that shattering, one-of-a-kind pain from having the Agiel pressed into that spot at the base of his skull, but the memory was nothing like the reality of it being done again.
He realized that he was down on his hands and knees, trembling with the shock of what Vika had done to him. His screams still echoed around the otherwise silent cavern. His tears from that all-consuming pain dripped onto the bloody floor beneath him.
