Sephrenia looked at him, her eyes intent. ‘We can if you wish, dear one, but why do you want to?’
‘It’s a little hard to put into words.’
‘We’ve got what we came for, Sparhawk. Why should you care if some swineherd stumbles across the cave now?’
‘I’m not entirely sure.’ He frowned, trying to pinpoint it. ‘If some Thalesian peasant comes in here, he’ll eventually find Ghwerig’s treasure-hoard, won’t he?’
‘If he looks long enough, yes.’
‘And after that it won’t be long before the cave’s swarming with other Thalesians.’
‘Why should that bother you? Do you want Ghwerig’s treasure for yourself?’
‘Hardly. Martel’s the greedy one, not me.’
‘Then why are you so concerned? What does it matter if the Thalesians start wandering around in here?’
‘This is a very special place, Sephrenia.’
‘In what way?’
‘It’s holy,’ he replied shortly. Her probing had begun to irritate him. ‘A Goddess revealed herself to us here. I don’t want the cave profaned by a crowd of drunken, greedy treasure-hunters. I’d feel the same way if someone profaned an Elene Church.’
‘Dear Sparhawk,’ she said, impulsively embracing him. ‘Did it really cost you all that much to admit Aphrael’s divinity?’
‘Your Goddess was very convincing, Sephrenia,’ he replied wryly. ‘She’d have shaken the certainty of the Hierocracy of the Elene Church itself. Can we do it? Seal the cave, I mean?’
She started to say something, then stopped, frowning. ‘Wait here,’ she told them. She leaned Sir Gared’s sword point up against the wall of the gallery and walked back down the passage a little way, and then stopped again at the very edge of the light from the glowing sword-tip where she stood deep in thought. After a time, she returned.
‘I’m going to ask you to do something dangerous, Sparhawk,’ she said gravely. ‘I think you’ll be safe though. The memory of Aphrael is still strong in your mind, and that should protect you.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘We’re going to use Bhelliom to seal the cave. There are other ways we could do it, but we have to be sure that the jewel will accept your authority. I think it will, but let’s make certain. You’re going to have to be strong, Sparhawk. Bhelliom won’t want to do what you ask, so you’ll have to compel it.’
‘I’ve dealt with stubborn things before,’ he shrugged.
‘Don’t make light of this, Sparhawk. It’s something far more elemental than anything I’ve ever done before. Let’s move on.’
They continued upward along the spiralling passageway with the muted roar of the waterfall in Ghwerig’s treasure-cave growing fainter and fainter. Then, just as they moved beyond the range of hearing, the sound seemed to change, fragmenting its one endless note into many, becoming a complex chord rather than a single tone – some trick perhaps of the shifting echoes in the cave. With the change of that sound, Sparhawk’s mood also changed. Before, there had been a kind of weary satisfaction at having finally achieved a long-sought goal coupled with the sense of awe at the revelation of the Child-Goddess. Now, however, the dark, musty cave seemed somehow ominous, threatening. Sparhawk felt something he had not felt since early childhood. He was suddenly afraid of the dark. Things seemed to lurk in the shadows beyond the circle of light from the glowing sword-tip, faceless things filled with a cruel malevolence. He nervously looked back over his shoulder. Far back, beyond the light, something seemed to move. It was brief, no more than a flicker of a deeper, more intense darkness. He discovered that when he tried to look directly at it, he could no longer see it, but when he looked off to one side, it was there – vague, unformed and hovering on the very edge of his vision. It filled him with an unnamed dread. ‘Foolishness,’ he muttered, and moved on, eager to reach the light above them.
It was mid-afternoon when they reached the surface, and the sun seemed very bright after the dark cave. Sparhawk drew in a deep breath and reached inside his tunic.
‘Not yet, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia advised. ‘We want to collapse the ceiling of the cave, but we don’t want to bring that overhanging cliff down on our heads at the same time. We’ll go back down to where the horses are and do it from there.’
‘You’ll have to teach me the spell,’ he said as the three of them crossed the bramble-choked basin in front of the cave mouth.
‘There isn’t any spell. You have the jewel and the rings. All you have to do is give the command. I’ll show you how when we get down.’
They clambered down the rocky ravine to the grassy plateau and their previous night’s encampment. It was nearly sunset when they reached the pair of tents and the picketed horses. Faran laid his ears back and bared his teeth as Sparhawk approached him.
‘What’s your problem?’ Sparhawk asked his evil-tempered warhorse.
‘He senses Bhelliom,’ Sephrenia explained. ‘He doesn’t like it. Stay away from him for a while.’ She looked critically up the gap from which they had just emerged. ‘It’s safe enough here,’ she decided. ‘Take out Bhelliom and hold it in both hands so that the rings are touching it.’
‘Do I have to face the cave?’
‘No. Bhelliom will know what you’re telling it to do. Now, remember the inside of the cave – the look of it, the feel, and even the smell. Then imagine the roof collapsing. The rocks will tumble down and bounce and roll and pile up on top of each other. There’ll be a lot of noise. A great cloud of dust and a strong wind will come rushing out of the cave mouth. The ridge-line above the cave will sag as the roof of the cavern collapses, and there’ll probably be avalanches. Don’t let any of that distract you. Keep the images firmly in your mind.’
‘It’s a bit more complicated than an ordinary spell, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. This is not, strictly speaking, a spell, though. You’ll be unleashing elemental magic. Concentrate, Sparhawk. The more detailed you make the image, the more powerfully Bhelliom will respond. When you’ve got it firmly in your mind, tell the jewel to make it happen.’
‘Do I have to speak to it in Ghwerig’s language?’
‘I’m not sure. Try Elene first. If that doesn’t work, we’ll fall back on Troll.’
Sparhawk remembered the mouth of the cave, the antechamber just inside, and the long, spiralling gallery leading down to Ghwerig’s treasure-cave. ‘Should I bring down the roof on that waterfall as well?’ he asked.
‘I don’t think so. That river might come to the surface again somewhere downstream. If you dam it up, someone might notice that it’s not running any more and start investigating. Besides, that particular cavern is very special, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Let’s enclose it then and protect it forever.’
Sparhawk pictured the ceiling of the cave collapsing with a huge, grinding roar and a billowing cloud of rock dust. ‘What do I say?’ he asked.
‘Call it “Blue-Rose”. That’s what Ghwerig called it. It might recognize the name.’
‘Blue-Rose,’ Sparhawk said in a tone of command, ‘make the cave fall in.’
The Sapphire Rose went very dark, and angry red flashes appeared deep in its centre.
‘It’s fighting you,’ Sephrenia said. ‘This is the part I warned you about. The cave is the place where it was born, and it doesn’t want to destroy it. Force it, Sparhawk.’
‘Do