The Riftwar Saga

by Raymond E. Feist

  The dragon’s ability to navigate in this nothingness was a source of interest to Pug. He suspected Macros might have gained some insight into how to move between worlds at will from his time of study with Rhuagh years ago. Pug made a mental note to search through Macros’s works back at Stardock for that information.

  They emerged in normal space, thundering into existence with a loud report. Ryath beat her wings strongly, flying through angry skies, dark with rain clouds, above a rugged landscape of ancient mountains. The air held a bitter metallic tang, a hint of something foul blown along by a stinging, frigid wind. Ryath sent a thought to Tomas. This place is of an alien nature. I like it not.

  Aloud so that Pug might hear, Tomas answered, ‘We shall not tarry here, Ryath. And here we need fear nothing.’

  I have nothing to do with fear, Valheru. I simply care not for such odd places.

  Pug pointed past Tomas, who turned to follow the magician’s gesture. With mental commands, Tomas directed the dragon to follow Pug’s instructions. They sped between jagged peaks, a nightmare landscape of twisted rock. In the distance mighty volcanoes spewed towers of black smoke that fanned upward, their undersides glowing orange from reflected light. The mountain slopes were aglow with flowing superheated rock. Then they came upon the city. Once-heroic walls lay rent, the gaps framed by shattered masonry. Proud towers occasionally still rose above the destruction, but mostly there was ruination. No signs of life could be seen. Over what had once been a plaza they banked, circling the heart of the city, where throngs once gathered. Now only the sound of Ryath’s wings could be heard over the icy wind.

  ‘What place is this?’ asked Tomas.

  ‘I do not know. I know this is the world of the Aal, or once was in the past. It is ancient. See the sun.’

  Tomas observed an angry white spot behind blowing clouds. ‘It is strange.’

  ‘It is old. Once it shone like ours, brilliant and warm. Now it fades.’

  Valheru lore, long dormant, returned to Tomas. ‘It is near the end of its cycle. I have knowledge of these. Sometimes they simply dwindle to nothing. Other times … they explode in titanic fury. I wonder which this will be.’

  ‘I don’t know. Perhaps the oracle knows.’ Pug directed Tomas toward a distant range of mountains.

  Toward the mountains they sped, Ryath’s powerful wings carrying them swiftly. The city had stood on the edge of tableland, once cultivated, they suspected. But nothing hinting of farms remained, save a single stretch of what seemed an aqueduct, standing isolated in the centre of the broad plain, a silent monument to a long dead people. Then Ryath began to climb as they approached the mountains. Once again they flew between mountain peaks, these old and worn by wind and rain.

  ‘There,’ said Pug. ‘We have arrived.’

  Following Tomas’s mental instructions, Ryath circled above a peak. Upon the south-facing rocks a clear flat place was revealed, before a large cave. There was no room for the giant dragon to land, so Tomas used his powers to levitate himself and Pug from her back. Ryath sent a message that she would fly to hunt, returning at Tomas’s call. Tomas wished her success, but expected the dragon to return hungry.

  They floated through a damp, windblown sky, so darkened by the storm there was little difference between day and night. They alighted upon the ledge before the cave.

  They watched Ryath speed away. Pug said, ‘There is no danger here, but we may yet travel to places of great peril. Do you think Ryath truly without fear?’

  Tomas turned to Pug with a smile. ‘I think her so. In my dreams of ancient days I touched the minds of her ancestors, and this dragon is to them as they were to your Fantus.’

  ‘Then it is good she joins us willingly. It would have been difficult to persuade her otherwise.’

  Tomas agreed. ‘I could have destroyed her, without a doubt. But bend her to my will? I think not. The days of the Valheru ruling without question are long since vanished.’

  Pug studied the alien landscape below the ledge. ‘This is a sad and hollow place. In the tomes harboured in Elvardein this world is described. It was once adorned with vast cities, homes to nations; now nothing is left.’

  Tomas asked quietly, ‘What became of those people?’

  ‘The sun waned; weather changed. Earthquakes, famine, war. Whatever it was, it brought utter destruction.’

  They turned to face the cave as a figure appeared in the entrance, shrouded from head to foot in an all-concealing robe; only one thin arm appeared from a sleeve. That arm ended in a gnarled old hand holding a staff. Slowly the man, or so he appeared to be, approached, and when he stood before them, a voice as thin as an ancient wind issued from within the dark hood. ‘Who seeks out the Oracle of Aal?’

  Pug spoke. ‘I, Pug, called Milamber, magician of two worlds.’

  ‘And I, Tomas, called Ashen-Shugar, who has lived twice.’

  The figure motioned for them to enter the cave. Tomas and Pug passed into a low, unlit tunnel. With a wave of his hand, Pug caused light to appear about them. The tunnel opened into a monstrous cavern.

  Tomas halted. ‘We were but scant yards below the peak. This cavern cannot be contained within…’

  Pug placed his hand upon Tomas’s arm. ‘We are somewhere else.’

  The cavern was lit by faint light issuing from the walls and ceiling, so Pug ended his own spell. Several more figures in robes could be seen in distant corners of the cavern, but none approached.

  The man who had greeted them upon the ledge walked past them, and they followed. Pug said, ‘What should we call you?’

  The man said, ‘Whatever pleases you. Here we have no names, no past, no future. We are simply those who serve the oracle.’ He led them to a large outcropping of rock, upon which rested a strange figure. It was a young woman, or, more appropriately, a girl, perhaps no more than thirteen or fourteen, perhaps a few years older; it was difficult to judge. She was nude, covered in dirt, scratches, and her own excrement. Her long brown hair was matted with filth. Her eyes widened as they approached, and she scampered backward across the rocks, shrieking in terror. It was obvious to both men she was entirely mad. The shrieking continued while she hugged herself, then it descended the scale, changing into a mad laugh. Suddenly the girl gave the men an appraising look and began to pull at her hair, in a pitiful imitation of combing, as if she was suddenly concerned about her appearance.

  Without words, the man with the staff indicated the girl. Tomas said, ‘This, then, is the oracle?’

  The hooded figure nodded. ‘This is the present oracle. She will serve until her death, then another will come, as she came when she who was oracle before died. So it has always been and so will it always be.’

  ‘How do you survive on this dead world?’

  ‘We trade. Our race has perished, but others, such as yourselves, seek us out. We abide.’ He pointed to the cowering girl. ‘She is our wealth. Ask what you will.’

  ‘And the price?’ inquired Pug.

  The hooded man repeated himself. ‘Ask what you will. The oracle answers as she chooses, when she chooses. She will name a price. She may ask for a sweet, a fruit, or your still-beating heart to eat. She may ask for a bauble with which to play.’ He indicated a pile of odd devices, cast off in the corner. ‘She may ask for a hundred sheep, or a hundredweight of grain or gold. You must decide if the knowledge you seek is worth the price asked. She sometimes answers without a price. And ofttimes she will not answer, no matter what is offered. Her nature is capricious.’

  Pug stepped up to the cowering girl. She stared at him a long moment, then smiled, absently playing with her stringy hair. Pug said, ‘We seek to learn the future.’

  The girl’s eyes narrowed and suddenly there was no hint of madness within. It was as if another person instantly inhabited her. In a calm voice she answered, ‘To learn this, then, will you give me my price?’

  ‘Name your price.’

  ‘Save me.’

  Tomas looked at the guide. From dee
p within the hood the dry voice said, ‘We do not truly understand what she means. She is trapped within her own mind. It is that madness which grants her the gift of oracularity. Free her of that madness and she no longer will be the oracle. So she must have another meaning.’

  Pug said, ‘Save you from what?’

  The girl laughed, then the calm voice returned. ‘If you do not understand, you cannot save me.’

  The figure in robes seemed to shrug. Pug considered, then said, ‘I think I do understand.’ He reached out, seizing the girl’s head between his hands. She stiffened, as if about to scream, but Pug sent a comforting mental message. What he was about to attempt was something formerly thought to be solely the province of clerics, but his time with the eldar at Elvardein had taught him that the only real limits to magic were those of the practitioner.

  Pug closed his eyes and entered madness.

  Pug stood in a landscape of shifting walls, a maze of maddening colours and shapes. The horizon changed with each step and perspective was nonexistent. He looked down at his hands and watched them suddenly grow larger, until they were the size of melons, then just as rapidly shrink, until they were smaller than a child’s. He looked up and could see the walls of the maze receding and approaching, seemingly at random, while their colour and pattern flashed through a dozen changes. Even the ground beneath his feet was a red and white chessboard one moment, a pattern of black and grey lines the next, then large blue and green spots on red. Angry, flashing lights sought to blind him.

  Pug took hold of his own perceptions. He knew he was still within the cavern and this illusion was an extension of his own need for a physical analogue in dealing with the girl’s madness. First he stabilized himself so the strange shifting of limbs halted. To act rashly at any point could destroy the girl’s brittle mind, and he had no way to judge what that would do to him, given his present contact with that mind. He might somehow be trapped in her madness, an unpleasant prospect. Over the last year Pug had learned a great deal about controlling his arts, but he had also learned their limits and he knew what he did carried some risk.

  Next he stabilized the immediate area around him, changing the shifting, vibrating walls and dazzling lights. Realizing that any direction was as valid as another, he set out. Walking was also illusory, he knew, but the illusion of movement was required for him to reach the seat of her consciousness. Like any problem, this one required a frame of reference, and it would be one the girl would provide. Pug could only react to whatever her demented mind dreamed up for him.

  Abruptly he was plunged into darkness, so silent that only death could match that stillness. Then a single, odd sound came to him. A moment later, another came, from a different direction. Then a faint pulse in the air. With more rapidity, the darkness was punctuated with movement in the air and odd sounds. At last the blackness was full of pulsing noises and fetid odours. Strange breezes blew across his face and odd feathery things brushed against him, moving away too quickly for him to seize. He created light and discovered himself in a large cavern, much like the real one in which he and Tomas now stood. Nothing else stirred. Within the illusion he called out. No answer.

  The landscape shuddered and shifted, and he stood upon a beautiful greensward, lined by graceful trees, too perfect to exist in reality. They formed boundaries that pointed toward an impossibly lovely palace of white marble adorned with gold and turquoise, amber and jade, opal and chalcedony, a place so startlingly wonderful that Pug could only stand in mute appreciation. The image was emotionally laden with the feeling that this was the most perfect place in the universe, a sanctuary where no trouble intruded, where one could wait out eternity in absolute contentment.

  Again the landscape shifted, and he stood within the halls of a palace. From the white marble floors flecked with gold to pillars of ebony, it was the most lavish image of wealth he had ever perceived, surpassing even the palace of the Warlord in Kentosani. The ceiling was carved quartz, admitting sunlight with a rosy glow, and the walls were bedecked with rich tapestries, woven with gold and silver threads. Ebony doors with ivory trim and studdings of precious stones were common to every portal, and wherever Pug looked, he saw gold. In the centre of this splendour a white circle of light illuminated a dais, upon which stood two figures, a woman and a girl.

  He stepped toward them. Suddenly warriors erupted from the floor like plants springing from the ground. Each was a powerful creature of terrible aspect. One looked like a boar made human, another like a giant mantis. A third seemed a lion’s head upon a man, a fourth wore the face of an elephant. Each was armed and armoured in rich metals and jewels, and they bellowed fearsomely. Pug stood quietly.

  The warriors attacked and Pug remained motionless. As each nightmare creature struck, its weapon passed through Pug, and the creatures vanished. When they were gone, Pug stepped toward the dais upon which the two figures stood.

  The dais began to move away, as if upon tiny wheels or legs, picking up speed. Pug walked directly toward it, willing himself to overtake it. Soon the landscape about him was a blur in passing, and he judged the illusion of the palace must be miles in subjective size. Pug knew he could halt the fleeing dais with its two passengers, but to do so might be harmful to the girl. Any overt act of violence, even one as minor as commanding the pair of fugitives to halt, could permanently scar her.

  Now the dais began a careening, banging passage through an obstacle course of rooms, and Pug was forced to dodge and move to avoid objects hurled into his path. He could also have destroyed anything that blocked his way, but the effect would have been as harmful as if he had ordered the pair to halt. No, he thought, when you enter another’s reality, you observe her rules.

  Then the dais halted and Pug overtook the pair. The woman stood silently, studying the approaching magician, while the girl sat at her feet. Unlike her real appearance, here the girl was beautifully clothed in a gown of soft, translucent silk. Her hair was gathered atop her head in a magnificent fashion, held by pins of silver and gold, each bearing a jewel. While it was impossible to judge how the girl looked in truth beneath the dirt, here she was a young woman of astonishing beauty.

  Then the beautiful girl stood and grew, changing before his eyes to a horror of gigantic proportions. Large hairy arms sprouted from soft shoulders, while her head became that of an enraged eagle. Lightning cascaded from her ruby eyes as claws came crashing down upon Pug.

  He stood motionless. The claws passed harmlessly through him, for he refused to take part in this reality. Suddenly the monster vanished and the girl was as he had seen her in the cave, nude, filthy, and mad.

  Looking at the woman, Pug said, ‘You are the oracle.’

  ‘I am.’ She was regal, proud, and alien. While she looked entirely human, Pug guessed that was part of the illusion. She would be something else in truth … or had been when she was alive. Pug now understood.

  ‘If I free her, what of you?’

  ‘I must find another, and soon, or I will cease my existence. That is as it has always been and how it must be.’

  ‘So another must succumb to this?’

  ‘That is as it has always been.’

  ‘If I free her, what of her?’

  ‘She will be as she was when brought here. She is young and will regain her sanity.’

  ‘Will you resist me?’

  ‘You know I cannot. You see through the illusions. You know these are only monsters and treasures of the mind. But before you rid her of me, understand something, magician.

  ‘At the dawn of time, when the multitude of universes were forming, we were born, we of the Aal. When your Valheru companion and his kin raged across the heavens, we were old and wise beyond their understanding. I am the last female of my race, though that is a convenient label and not a description. Those in the cavern are males. We labour to maintain that which is our grandest heritage, the power of the oracle, for we are the husbanders of truth, the handmaidens of knowledge. It was found in ages past that I
could continue to exist within the minds of others, but at the price of their own sanity. It was considered a necessary evil to corrupt a few members of lesser races in exchange for maintaining the power of the Aal. We would that it were otherwise, but it is not, for I need living minds in which to exist. Take the girl, but know that I will soon have another to reside within. She is nothing, a simple child of unknown parentage. On her homeworld she would have become at best the drudge of some peasant, at worst a whore for men’s amusement. Within her mind I’ve given her riches beyond the dreams of the most powerful kings. What will you give her in its place?’

  ‘Her own fate. But I think another sort of salvation was spoken of, one for you both.’

  ‘You are perceptive, magician. The star around which this world moves is close to dying. Its erratic cycle is the cause of this planet’s ruination. Already we endure an age of vulcanism not seen for aeons. Within a hand’s span of years this world will end in fiery death. We stand upon the third world to be called home by the Aal. But now our race has vanished into time, and we lack the means of finding a fourth world. To answer your needs, you must be willing to answer ours.’

  ‘Relocating you to another world is no difficulty. There are less than a dozen of you. It is agreed. Perhaps we may even find a way to prevent another’s mind being sacrificed.’ He inclined his head toward the figure of the cowering girl.

  ‘That would be preferable, but we have not as yet discovered means. Still, if you will find us a haven, I will answer your queries. A bargain has been set.’

  ‘This, then, I propose. Upon my world I have means to ensure a place of safekeeping for you and yours. I am counted kin to our King by adoption, and he will be favourably disposed to my request. But know that my world stands in peril, and you will share that risk.’