“I . . . I cannot believe this!” Lord Kanlan declared, shaking his head in shock. “When you said you were aware of a danger to my domain, Count Minalan, I thought perhaps the gurvani were coming in force, or perhaps some magical event. But this – how can I defend my people against this?”
“You cannot,” I agreed, sadly. “You must lead them south, my lord. All of them,” I emphasized. “That includes the Kasari, the Kilnusk, and the Lakeshire Tal Alon. Anyone left behind will perish.”
“I cannot ask my people to uproot their lives and become refugees, abandoning their homes!” he insisted.
“It doesn’t look as if you have any choice in the matter, my lord,” Tyndal offered. Tandine, who sat beside him, looked aghast at what she had just seen. “Neither did I, when I had to abandon my home in Boval Vale, when the goblins came. But you must preserve your people’s lives,” he reminded him. “It is your duty.”
“There is no bargaining with fate or nature,” agreed Fondaras. “We cannot persuade the mountains not to breathe if they are preparing to exhale. No more than we can persuade the sunset to move out of the way, or the rain to stop falling. We can only move out of the way.”
“My people will not like this news,” Lord Kanlan said, grimly. “Nor will the Tal Alon be eager to hear it. Some may disbelieve it altogether as a wizard’s tale.”
“And if our wizards had not told us, we would have blundered into it unawares and died horrifically as a result, Father,” Tandine countered. “Are you certain that this will happen?” she asked, concern on her face.
“It is unavoidable, considering the pressure building up in the volcanic system,” answered Forseti. “The only question is when. It could occur at any point after fourteen months and is certain to occur within twenty-one. I am sorry. There is no way to avoid disrupting your communities to survive this eruption. Evacuation is the only solution, I’m afraid.”
There was a long moment of silence as everyone contemplated the dour words of the dispassionate voice. There didn’t seem to be a lot of skepticism amongst the Anferny folk. But there was a lot of disgust and anger.
My people, surprisingly, were not overly challenged by the prediction. Collectively they had been through a lot: invasion, war, genocide, evil dark lords, dragons. They had seen the darkest things that fate could throw at them. A simple evacuation with over a year to prepare for it seemed an inconvenience, in comparison.
“Don’t panic,” Lilastien finally advised them, as the sky darkened overhead. It gets dark quick in Anghysbel. “You are fortunate enough to be led by Minalan the Spellmonger, the greatest mage of the era. If anyone can manage your orderly retreat from this unique place, it is he. Forseti, too, will be of invaluable assistance in this endeavor. I’d counsel you all to heed his advice, follow his orders, and recognize that he has only your security in mind.”
“To flee my land at only a hint of peril, when we have spent lifetimes making a place here . . .”
“It is a hard thing, my lord, to abandon what we hold dear, what we have fought for,” Tyndal agreed. “But there is a time to recognize our inability to continue when fate intervenes. That intriguing mountain,” he said, pointing to Chimney Mountain in the distance, “it doesn’t care about how hard your people have toiled. It doesn’t care about the work you have done. It will do as it wills. You can either adapt to avoid its danger, or you can suffer the consequences.
“But I will host all of Anghysbel in Callierd if you can find your way to retreat to there. An entire domain, thrice as large as all of Anghysbel and largely unpeopled, since the invasion, is yours until you can return here,” he promised. “A bountiful land, if properly worked. A land of just laws, wise leadership and strong defense in the face of an uncertain future. Gods, I cannot promise you more than that,” he said, fervently.
“The folk of Anferny are welcome in the Magelaw,” I agreed. “As are the Kilnusk and the Lakeshire Tal. And the Kasari,” I added. “Apart from a few pesky Nemovorti and an army of gurvani on our frontiers, it’s as close to paradise as I can make it.”
“That . . . that is a generous offer, Count Minalan,” conceded Lord Kanset, standing to address us. “One as unexpected as the crisis, itself. I cannot speak for my lord father, but I find your consideration passing kind, in the face of such a disaster.”
“Oh, posh!” Lilastien dismissed. “They’re doing it largely because Tyndal has an eye for Tandine, and Kanset for Ithalia. I can think of a score of political moves with less pure motives than sexual interest,” she pointed out, swaying slightly.
Clearly, I realized, she’d been hitting the Tal Alon beet rum tonight. It’s often hard to tell when an Alka Alon is drunk, but I was used enough to Lilastien’s mannerisms to recognize it. The blushes on the faces of the four young people were testament to how accurate her observation was, however. Ithalia and Tandine, in particular, looked guilty and embarrassed. Ithalia twice as much, considering it was her grandmother pointing out her budding relationship with the young human lord.
“But to give up our lands,” Lord Kanset said, shaking his head sadly. “It is an affront to our noble ancestors.”
“Your ancestors would want you to live, regardless of the country in which you live,” Lilastien answered, defiantly. “And you aren’t giving them up, you are merely giving them a rest for a few years. You should all feel incredibly lucky that mere sexual attraction has rescued you all from a hideous doom, she continued. “I’ve seen the reverse countless times, in my examination of culture. For once, let’s let infatuation work in our favor: Anghysbel must be evacuated,” she declared. “As much as it pains me, there is no alternative.
“Let your lords and ladies guide you, as you find new solace for your losses in the south. For the Spellmonger will not see the least of his subjects suffer, if he can offer a solution – which he has,” Lilastien pointed out.
“Now, who’s ready for a real treat after that depressing presentation? Forseti has cued up the audiovisual representation of an ancient Terran entertainment of which I am particularly fond: the tale of a noble lad returned home to his island estate after military service but is unwilling to accept the rich legacy of his parents when the allure of romance with a girl of dubious status blossoms and tempts him to forego his patrimony to follow his heart. It also features your people’s mastery of the aerodynamic arts. I’ve had Forseti ensure that the translation into Narasi is as accurate as possible. I only regret that we lack the traditional ritual foodstuff associated with the presentation of this drama, popcorn.
“My friends,” she announced, dramatically gesturing toward the rock where the projection was displayed. “I present to you . . . ‘Blue Hawaii!’ ”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ordering the First Expedition
One of the nicer things about Unger Station is the maps that are available. They are invaluable to planning. Though there were maps found in Anferny and in Lakeshire, the maps Forseti is able to provide are far more accurate and filled with useful information. Even the simple maps included in the guidebook are more helpful than the stylized art that passes for a map among the Wilderlords. While they are six hundred years out of date, they still provide much helpful information. Among other insights they provide, it is revealing that the Ancients had a curious obsession for “gift shops.”
from the Expedition Book of Anghysbel,
Recorded by Minalan the Spellmonger
The next day, Lord Kanlan was pronounced recovered enough by Lilastien to return to his home with his party. She gave his attendants a detailed list of instructions and a sack full of medicines she had compounded, as well as direction for their use. The folk of Anferny departed after luncheon, with Lord Kanlan’s son and daughter carefully helping him down the trail, one under each arm, until he could pass the obstructing boulder and get into the wagon the Anferny had used to transport him. His servants struck camp and followed dutifully behind him.
Tyndal and Ithalia escorted them to the bottom of t
he mountain, no doubt to say goodbyes to their erstwhile paramours. With the Anferny folk gone, the Cave of the Ancients was left to our original expedition, with the addition of Travid, Nattia’s brother.
“You almost seem glad that he’s gone,” I observed, watching Lilastien’s face as we waved one last time to Lord Kanlan.
“Oh, I enjoyed his company,” she admitted, “but I didn’t come here to be a surgeon. I’m glad the gentleman is healing well, and that the operation was a success. But we have work to do, Minalan. And our time is growing short. We have a little over five weeks to make our discoveries,” she reminded me. “That said, I do think spending a few days here doing some research could prove productive.”
“I’ve had Gareth working with Forseti since he got up this morning,” I nodded. “He’s compiling a list of resources we can use in the future. I planned on spending a few days here, myself – but your point is well-taken. We do need to push on.”
“Where did you want to head, first?” she asked.
“I’d like to start by going to the ridge where Rolof might be living,” I answered. “If we can establish contact with him, he may well be able to direct us to where we need to go. If he isn’t mad,” I added, mostly to myself. “I told you about the Karshak who paid me a visit at Grost Kilnuskum and his master’s offer.”
“Yes, that was interesting,” Lilastien nodded. “Disturbing and undoubtedly dangerous, but interesting.”
“While he was there, Davachan informed me that Rolof had taken the Yith up on his offer a few years ago. The Kilnusk warned me that he might still be crazy, after that.”
“That doesn’t really recommend his offer,” Lilastien pointed out, as we turned and walked back into the cave. “But I think it’s worth the chance to see your friend, if he’s still there.”
“‘Friend’ might be overstating our relationship,” I said, with a sigh. “We were never terribly close. Still, he’s our best opportunity to find what we’re looking for.”
We ended up spending five glorious days at the Cave. While Alya was not thrilled with sleeping underground, the rest of us quite enjoyed it. We spent the time investigating the secrets of our ancestors, as presented by Forseti and Lilastien. Gareth, in particular, haunted the control room, speaking to the computer at length about all manner of subjects. Other times he disappeared into the carriage house to work on the two vehicles, or into the bowels of the installation to aid Forseti’s attempt to establish full control over the place.
But he was far from alone. Nattia spent half of her time in the control room with him, taking copious notes, and whenever Gareth was not using the room Ormar, Lilastien, or myself were. Even Ithalia, Alya, Travid, and Fondaras spent hours conversing with Forseti. I’m unsure of what they spoke, but each of them seemed to take some wisdom away from their conversations.
As for myself, I spent at least four or five hours a day speaking with the tireless machine and watching his presentations on all manner of subjects. When I wasn’t thus engaged, I either spent time with my wife just relaxing or lingering in the common room, where the screen was constantly displaying visuals of things Lilastien felt we should know. That included everything from our homeworld’s geography to ancient history to colonial history to physics and alchemy. All of it was translated into Narasi, though Lilastien and Forseti had to fiddle with the translation algorithm frequently. There just weren’t words in Narasi for many of the things displayed.
I learned much, and I absorbed it with the eagerness of a first-year student. The experience was both brilliantly enlightening and maddeningly disappointing. But there were jewels, among the dross; some of my long-held questions were answered in splendid form. I’m not certain that what I learned was always useful, but it was incredibly satisfying to know. When the secrets of history are spat out by a nearly blank wall, a good wizard does his best to listen.
When we weren’t learning new things in the command room or common room, we busied ourselves with other matters. I assisted Gareth a few hours in his quest to get one of the vehicles working. I watched Ormar pack a pound of Dragon Cotton around the boulder on the path and then blow it off the mountain with a mighty boom.
I continued to practice with the ancient weapons the cave had gifted us with – though Lilastien cautioned us about using up too much of the firearms’ ammunition. The plasma rifles were easier; a single hour spent recharging from the installation’s systems replenished fifty charges. I practiced with that one a lot. It was like a very simple but very powerful warwand. In this nonmagical part of the world, I cherished the idea that I could protect myself without mere steel.
After five days, however, it was time to get going. I could feel it in my bones.
“For the initial expedition, I think we’ll take Tyndal, Lilastien, Taren, Ormar, and Fondaras,” I decided over dinner with Lilastien and Alya that night. “I want Ithalia and Nattia to remain here and continue patrolling the skies against the gurvani. We’ll call you by radio if we need you. Gareth needs to work on Forseti’s list, and the Callierd knights will be more comfortable here. But I think we’ll also take Travid. He’s familiar with that region, he says.”
“I didn’t hear my name mentioned in that roster,” Alya pointed out, her eyes narrowing, when we were alone after dinner. Lilastien was going to watch some other epic of my ancestor’s culture, something with puppets, I think.
“This is an exploratory expedition,” I argued. “Until we know more about the reality of the situation, I want to keep the potential casualties minimal. If I do get into trouble, I want ample resources to come and rescue me. No one is going to be more passionate about that effort than you,” I proposed.
Alya studied me for a few moments. Her skepticism was tangible. “You’re using flattery and emotion to manipulate me into staying behind,” she accused.
“That is a strong possibility,” I admitted. “What makes you think so?”
“I’ve been talking to Fondaras,” she explained. “He cautioned me about being manipulated by flattery and replacing emotion with reason.”
“It occurs to me that Fondaras the Wise is too wise for his own good. Or at least my tastes,” I said, dryly. “Not that he’s wrong, in this instance, but his advice, while wise, doesn’t serve me.”
“Why would you want to leave me behind?” Alya asked, her eyes narrowed.
“Honestly?” I asked, actually considering an honest reply. “Three reasons. The first is that having my wife along in that kind of unknown, dangerous situation would make me more concerned with your safety than my own,” I proposed. “Secondly, I may be in a position to make a foolish decision – and I hesitate to put you in a position that would challenge that. I do some of my best work, making foolish decisions,” I pointed out.
“You have an example, my husband?” she asked, her eyes no less narrow.
“Well, thinking that I could have a life of peace as a quiet village spellmonger in the mountains, far away from the strife of civilized life. That one didn’t work out as planned,” I pointed out.
To her credit, she sighed. “You make a compelling point,” she admitted. “Although for me it worked out fine.”
“Another compelling point,” I nodded. “But thirdly, I want you – and the rest of the party we leave behind – to be in a position to come rescue us, when we make a foolish decision. From my reckoning,” I considered, “no one else in the world would be more motivated to come save me when I make the inevitable poor decision than you,” I said, as charmingly as I could.
“More flattery . . . and emotional manipulation,” Alya sighed, shaking her head.
“But nonetheless true,” I said, struggling. “Do you think Lord Kanlan or the Kasari would give a damn if I disappeared into the wild? The Kilnusk? The Lakeshire Tal? Only you and the others have any incentive to mount a rescue operation,” I reasoned. “I need that security, if I’m about to go into the wild and do something stupid.”
“But why do anything stupid?” she asked, fru
strated.
“Because that’s likely what’s called for, Alya,” I sighed. “I’m running out of time,” I explained, desperation seeping into my voice. “The Vundel are expecting me to produce more snowstone. If I can’t, they’ll come after Sevendor. All of it,” I said, with an air of finality. “Every grain of sand, every pebble in the place. And they can do that, too,” I reminded her. “They can pay for it, after the fact, and feel like they’ve gotten a bargain, but they don’t even really need to do that. They’ve proven that they can take what they want from the drier portions of Callidore, and there’s not a damn thing any of us can do about it.
“So, my only real answer to that is to find out a way to produce more,” I sighed, feeling a bit defeated. “The answer to that riddle may well lie here, in Anghysbel. But if it does, you can bet that the price of that knowledge will be steep. Which means I may have to do something stupid. And if my wife is over my shoulder, telling me not to do it . . . well, that could be problematic,” I concluded, diplomatically.
“You’re going to try to blame failing to find your answers – answers that could save our home – on your wife?” she asked, her eyes cutting at me like lances.
“No! No,” I insisted. “Why would you – never mind. I need your support, here, Alya, I need your cooperation. And, mostly, I need you to pull me out of a bad situation, if we get into one. I don’t have Azar or Sandoval or Terleman to help me, here, I only have the few people I brought on this mad expedition to rely upon.
“You wanted to come with me, and I let you. Part of my reasoning was that you would be the one with the greatest motivation to see me survive. Hells, I’m relying on that,” I confessed. “If I take you with me, who would try to come for us, if I got into trouble? I’m taking Tyndal with me, so he can’t help. Gareth might come for me, as would Nattia. Ithalia might because her grandmother is involved. But how motivated will they be to find me? Not as much as you. I need you to stay behind. For my security.”
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