I have copied separately many of the pictographs, and several of my colleagues have spent decades trying to decipher the complex language contained in them. So far complete success has eluded us. What is apparent is that Kuan-Hador was unique in the ancient world. Its methods of architecture, the skill of its artisans, are apparent nowhere else. Many of the stones still standing are blackened by fire, and it is likely that the city was destroyed in a great conflagration, perhaps as the result of a war with neighbouring civilizations. Few artefacts have been recovered from Kuan-Hador, though the King ofSymilia has in his possession a mirror of silver that never tarnishes. This, he claims, was recovered from the site.
Waylander paused in his reading. There followed a series of descriptions of site examinations and a suggested layout of the city. Bored by the scholarly writing Way-lander skimmed through the text until he came to the concluding paragraphs.
As is ever the case when a civilization falls, tales abound that it was evil. Nomads who inhabit the areas that once were the realm of Kuan-Hador talk of human sacrifice and the summoning of demons. There is no doubt that the city boasted great magickers. I suspect, from the statues and those pictographs we have been partly able to decipher, that the rulers of Kuan-Hador did indeed have some understanding of the vile art of meld-magic. It is entirely probable that more recent examples of this abhorrent practice – among the Nadir and other barbaric peoples – are legacies of Kuan-Hador.
I have listed separately some of the oral legends pertaining to the fall of Kuan-Hador. The one most told concerns the return of the shining swords. Among the nomads of the Varnii – distant relatives of the Chiatze – the shamen speak a succession of doggerel verses at season feasts. The first and last verse read:
But seek ye not the Men of Clay,
Who buried lie in crafted night,
Their shining swords are put away,
Their eyes are closed against the light.
Death must await these Men of Clay,
Who stand in rows of ghostly white,
And will until that dreadful day,
When they awake to one last fight.
A more complete translation can be found in Appendix 5. The Historian Ventaculus produced an appealing essay on the song, claiming it to be a metaphor for the death and resurrection of those of heroic virtue, a faith system not unusual among warrior peoples.
Waylander put the scroll back in its rightful place on the shelf and strolled from the library. Minutes later he emerged on to the central terrace outside the Banquet Hall. Kysumu was waiting there, standing by the balustrade and staring out over the bay and the sea beyond. As Waylander approached the little swordsman turned. He bowed deeply. Waylander returned the compliment.
‘I have found little,’ he told the Rajnee. There are stories of an ancient city that once ruled this land. Apparently it was destroyed by warriors with shining swords.’
‘A city of demons,’ said Kysumu.
‘So it is said.’
‘They are returning.’
‘That is quite a leap of imagination,’ said Waylander. ‘The city fell around three thousand years ago. The scroll I examined was written a thousand years ago. One attack on a merchant and his bodyguards is too little to convince me.’
‘I also discovered a scroll,’ said Kysumu. ‘It talked of nomads avoiding the ruins because their legends say the demons were not all slain, but had escaped through a gateway to another world, one day to return.’
‘Even so, the evidence is small.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Kysumu. ‘But when I see birds flying south I know winter is coming. They do not need to be large birds, Grey Man.’
Waylander smiled. ‘Let us say you are correct, and the demons of Kuan-Hador are returning. What is your plan?’
‘I have no plan. I will fight them. I am Rajnee.’
‘Matze Chai tells me you believe your sword brought you here.’
‘It is not a belief, Grey Man, it is a fact. And now that I am here I know it is right. How far are the ruins from the palace?’
‘Less than a day’s ride.’