Around him, invisible chameleon men were grappling with strange and foul-smelling creatures who were plunging up from below the bridge like birds. The creature immediately in front of him, which had a mass of woolly gray hair, was obviously alive, clinging to its invisible prey like a jockey on a horse. Niall grabbed the hair and pulled, then gave a cry of revulsion as the hair came away in his hand, still attached to rotting flesh. White grubs were crawling on its lower surface.
Terrified that he would be dragged off the bridge and into the gulf, he stared at the giant figure of the troll to see whether it was also being attacked. As he did so, there was a blinding flash, and the ozone smell filled the air. The troll was standing with its legs apart and its right arm outstretched; there was a crackling sound, and another thread of lightning leapt from the end of its finger and struck a flying creature that had just landed on the rock. It seemed to explode and vanish like a bubble, leaving nothing behind but a kind of steam that smelled of decaying flesh — as if the cooks in Niall’s palace kitchen were boiling rotten meat. The troll looked demonic, the lips drawn back from broken teeth, like some destructive god. Each time it stretched out its fingers, the lightning crackled in a short burst, each lasting a fraction of a second. One of the flying creatures was within a few feet of Niall when it was struck, and Niall felt a shock of electrical energy, while fragments like a sandstorm peppered his face.
Within less than a minute, it was over, and the flying creatures had vanished. Niall was sickened by the stench, and felt he was going to vomit; before this could happen, he remembered the thought mirror, and quickly turned it over inside his tunic; an immediate sense of control dispelled the nausea.
Now that he was able to look more closely at the revolting heaps left behind by their attackers, Niall realized they were not skeletons but corpses — corpses in an advanced state of decomposition. There were a dozen or more, and some even had fragments of garments clinging to them — garments whose coarse gray texture told Niall they were slave uniforms.
Niall felt oddly exhausted as he hurried in the wake of the chameleon men, who were now visible once more. Within a few minutes they were on the far side of the bridge, on solid ground. There, to Niall’s surprise, the chameleon men flung themselves on the ground, breathing heavily. At least they seemed confident that the attack was over. No doubt this was because the troll was standing there like a huge black statue.
Niall had never felt so frustrated by his inability to talk to his companions in human language. He wanted to know what had happened and why their attackers seemed to be the decaying corpses of slaves.
As he sat with his forehead pressed against his raised knees, an enormous fatigue swept over him. He hardly had the energy to reach inside his shirt and turn the thought mirror. The stench of death filled the air, but he hardly noticed it anymore. His neck was stinging where the hand had gripped it; so was his ankle. And when he peered at his ankle, he saw that the flesh was swollen with small blisters that seemed to be filled with blood. He reached around to the back of his neck, and felt similar blisters there. He knew instinctively that his exhaustion was connected with these blisters.
It seemed only a moment later that someone touched his shoulder and startled him into crying out. But it was only one of the chameleon men. Niall realized he had been asleep, but had no idea how long. He still felt tired, and the stinging pain at the back of his neck and in his ankle had turned into a throbbing ache. The others were already standing. He staggered to his feet, and followed them as they moved off.
At least the ground was no longer hard beneath his feet; it was covered in a gray, velvety moss. There was a mist hanging over the ground that reminded him of the night he had set out from the city of the beetles with another group of companions, to try to locate the Fortress. It seemed to increase the air of unreality that was due to the fatigue. But from the fact that the chameleon men were stepping out with a new vigor, he guessed they were not far from their goal.
For perhaps a quarter of an hour he walked on like an automaton, following the chameleon man in front. Then the ground sloped upward, and they entered a narrow valley where the rock was bare of moss and the ground underfoot was as smooth as a road, although it was so narrow that there was only room for them to walk in single file. The troll in front had some difficulty negotiating it with his massive feet, although he towered over the sloping walls. Then, suddenly aware of their anticipation, Niall shook himself into attention and raised his head. They had reached the end of their climb.
The valley had come to an end, and the light seemed to increase, as if dawn was breaking. They were standing on a plateau-like hilltop above a lake, which extended between hills for a distance of perhaps two miles. Even if he had been alone, Niall would have known this lake was sacred, although he would have found it difficult to explain why.
For the whole of its length, except on the slope on which they were standing, the hills plunged steeply into the water, which was black and very still. On the surface up above, it would have reflected the sky, showing every drifting cloud as faithfully as a mirror. Here it seemed to reflect a sense of mystery.
Since leaving his home in the desert of North Khaybad, Niall had seen two great bodies of water: the sea and the salt lake of Thellam. Both had filled him with wonder. But the sacred lake filled him with awe, as if it spoke of some tremendous secret. It was like some deep vibration that caused his whole being to respond with a deep intentness, as if listening. Even the troll seemed to be affected by it; he stood there like some great black statue, so still that Niall could have believed that he was turned to stone. Niall himself would have been contented to stand there for hours or days; he felt that he was absorbing the stillness as a desert absorbs rain.
It was the leader of the chameleon men who finally led the way down the slope. This was covered with the gray, velvety moss, whose smoothness made it necessary to walk cautiously. He observed that, in the steepest part of the slope, a row of small hollows had been carved, obviously to serve as chairs, with flat seats and straight backs like the seating in an amphitheater. The implication seemed to be that human beings, or creatures of about the same size, came here to contemplate the lake.
In the last fifty feet, the slope became less steep, creating an effect not unlike that of a beach. At the edge of the water, Niall noticed, the gray moss had become green, and in the water itself, it had developed tiny fronds, like seaweed. From a few feet away, the water looked so exceptionally pure and clear that it was almost invisible.
The chameleon men, being naked, walked straight into the water, and — to Niall’s surprise — went on walking until it covered their heads. Niall paused only long enough to kick off his sandals and remove his tunic. The green moss had an almost fleshy consistency that seemed to caress his feet, as if he was walking on tiny tongues. Then he stepped into the water, which was cool but far from cold, and experienced a rush of delight that made him gasp. Now he could understand why the chameleon men had walked in until they were entirely immersed.
The sensation was like the trickle of vitality he had experienced when standing under the water that dripped from the tunnel roof. Again, he was filled with a glowing force that filled him with a sense of purity, goodness, and sheer joy. And as he walked deeper into the sacred lake, he felt that the water was cleansing his whole being. Like the chameleon men, he was impelled to go on walking until his head was immersed. Then, with the pleasure he often felt when emerging from a deep sleep, he walked back a few steps until his head was above water. The sensation was so sweet that he was surprised to taste the water on his lips, and find that it was bitter.