by Eve Forward
The Heartstone glittered in the night, a fire-sparkle among the raindrops. It was so light that the winds scooped it up and played with it, tossing it from side to side and across the distances like a hailstone. Finally they tired of the bauble and let it drop, It fell, and landed lightly in a tiny crevice high up a mountainside, hidden away forever from the sight of mankind.
The shock of the water woke Sam, sort of; he barely had the strength to cling on to a passing log, like a drowning kitten. Working his failing hands around the trunk, he locked his fingers together and concentrated on keeping his head above water. At least the cold numbed his wounds. A short while later, a change made him open his eyes; the rain was stopping, and the river slowing. The ‘’ sky was different-lighter. It was dawn. He drifted down the current, uncaring as to where it might take him.
The rain stopped, the sun came out, and soon the unpleasantness of the night was dissolved away as swiftly as the mist. The rivers slowed and drained down, falling back into their normal courses as they emptied themselves into the Western Sea. Fenwick and Tasmene and their men prepared themselves for the hunt, and began making their cautious way into the mountain passes, hounds and guides leading the way.
As soon as the flood had ebbed enough, Blackmail woke his sleeping companions and they all edged cautiously out of the cave and made their way along the steep banks of the river. As soon as they could, they moved away from the water and continued to make their way through the mountains, wanting to put as much distance as possible between them and their pursuers. They had suffered a crushing capture and defeat, and lost one of their number, and were still in great danger. All agreed that a strategic retreat was in order. The day was bright and cheerful, Kaylana noticed; and in the light she could see tiny flowers sprouting from cracks in the bare rock, where no flowers should grow. The Light was getting stronger... she judged they had less than a week before the world finally tipped from balance far enough, and began its rapid slide into burning light. “Trust that fool Sam to go and get himself losted,” snapped Arcie. “There’ll be no finding him in all this rock.”
“We shall find him ... or he will find us,” Kaylana said, with more certainty than she felt. They were passing by another fast-flowing river; the slippery rocks made the going treacherous. Nightshade had abandoned his mistress’s shoulder and had gone off scouting along the river’s edge, poking at twigs and debris.
“I hardly expect him to just turn up under a rock or something,” scoffed Valerie.
Robin was walking more slowly, closer to the edge of the river where the rocks were flatter and the going a bit smoother. Nightshade had landed ahead of him, and was busy pecking at something dead that had been washed into a crack of the rock. Robin averted his eyes in disgust at the carrion-eater’s habits, but suddenly something odd in the scene made him look again. What the raven was tearing and stabbing at was a human hand, still attached to an arm, still attached to ...
Robin gasped and stumbled, almost falling into the current. He ran up to the object, startling Nightshade into flight, and looked, going pale.
“I found him!” he cried, motioning the company to the water’s edge.
Wedged in a crack between two rocks, the detritus of the ebbing river, was Sam. His hand, pecked and gouged by Nightshade, scarcely bled. Kaylana checked his pulse, and then, between worried muttered spells, ordered Robin and Blackmail to extricate him from the rocks.
Arcie sat on a nearby rock and lit up his pipe, glad of the rest, while Valerie soothed the grumbling Nightshade, and fed him with scraps from her few remaining provisions.
It took them upwards of a quarter hour to work Sam free. Blood loss and exposure had left him in a deep coma, and something had charred his clothing badly.
Kaylana, going about the meticulous job of healing the many wounds and abrasions, was shocked to see the network of scars covering the assassin’s skin. Scarcely a handspan anywhere was lacking the pale tracks of old battles, or the darker red scars and scabs of more recent ones gained on their journey. On his torso and arms there were so many scars they often overlapped. Only his face was unmarred; for that was the only wound an assassin would bother to have magically healed-a facial scar would be far too easily recognized.
At length, Kaylana sat back and shook her head. “The exposure has taken too great a toll,” she said grimly. “He will not wake to see another dawn.”
“Oh, bugger,” sighed Arcie. “Well, I’d guess you’d better be giving him some of this, then,” he added, and passed over a wineskin.
“What’s that? More Barigan whiskey?” sneered Valerie.
Arcie looked affronted.
“Nay, ‘tis some o’ Mula’s magic water ... I were saving it for an emergency.”
“This is one,” Kaylana snapped, taking the waterskin.
She quickly poured a few shimmering drops over the pale, dead-looking fresh wounds in Sam’s flesh, and then forced some down his throat.
The color slowly began to return to Sam’s face, and his breathing steadied. He heaved a deep sigh and opened his eyes.
“Cold,” he muttered. Then he tensed.
“Test! I was in the Test... fought... me. Got the rock ... red rock. Segment. Where is it?” He sat up and then woozily sank back down. Kaylana and the others exchanged glances.
“You went through the last Test?” snapped Valerie.
“And won? Where is the Segment?”
“Explosion,” gasped Sam. “Blew up into the air, fell in the river.”
“It could be anywhere!” whinnied Robin in exasperation.
Blackmail nodded assent.
“I’ll get Nightshade to look for it... Will you do that, my pet?” she crooned to her raven. “Find mommy the big pretty red rock, won’t you please? I’m sorry if the nasty man woke up and wouldn’t let you eat him,” she added, glaring at Sam. Nightshade clucked happily, and then took off.
“What happened to you in there, Sam?” asked Arcie, as Blackmail helped Sam to his feet. Sam shook his head and pulled his sodden cloak close.
“More than I like to say, Arcie ... maybe too much.”
Sam was so tired ... despite the healing water, his whole body ached. He looked around and was stunned at what he was seeing.
The shadows were dark and frightening. Superstition warned him away from them. The people around him seemed strangely different; he realized, suddenly, that their movements ceased to catch his eye, that he no longer noted their vital spots. He tried to think of Mizzamir, but the image of the wizard just made him frightened and tired, and the thought of sticking a knife into flesh turned his stomach. He felt slow, weak, and tired.
As he stood, he put out a hand for support, and leaned heavily on a sharp rock. He reacted, and twisted an ankle as he tried to move.
“Ouch!” he yelped loudly, jerking back. He froze in horror, and his gaze caught and echoed Arcie’s look of shock.
“Laddie ... you cried out!” gasped the thief. “In all of our years of knowing you I’ve never heard you do that. What happened in there?”
“I...” Sam hopped around on one foot, trying to take the weight off his ankle. “Ouch! Ow! Shi-” Then he fell over. Blackmail and Robin caught him.
“And yer clumsy as a pup, ye lummox!” Arcie jumped down from his rock as Blackmail carefully helped the shaking assassin upright. “Speak!”
“I ... I guess you could say I sacrificed my assassiness,” answered Sam softly. “I had a Heartstone ... it was the only way ...”
“Sam? Is this true?” Kaylana stared at him with those impossible green eyes and he felt something in his guts flutter. Maybe now that he was no longer an evil death dealer, but just a normal man, maybe she would see him differently. He tried to deny to himself that such thoughts had crossed his mind before he accepted the terms of the final Test. She was about to speak again when a voice called out.
“Come on! We must get moving! Nightshade just came back to tell me that as yet there’s no sign of the Segment, but there
are a number of men heading this way.” Valerie motioned to them from where she had already begun to press on through the passes. Nightshade circled above, and then swooped off again, searching. They pressed on, Sam picking his way through the rocks with a pitiful mockery of his former grace.
In his Tower, Mizzamir finished his few preparations to scry for the Segment. He’d needed to change clothes and compose himself a bit. He set up the mirror and began his incantations, safe in his Castle on the far eastern edge of the Six Lands.
Nightshade was also looking for the Segment. He flew high over the rocky crags, turning and soaring in the thermals. He took a moment to harass an owl that was trying to sleep in the shelter of a tree trunk, then sailed on his way, scanning the ground below with sharp black eyes. In the distance he could just see the bright colors of the people who pursued his mistress; the rocks hid her and her party. A red glitter caught his eye, far below; the pretty red rock! He swooped down to get a better look.
But when he landed, he was disappointed. It wasn’t a big pretty red rock, like the other big pretty rocks. It was a little rock, red and sparkly and pretty, yes, but only small, the size of squirrel’s eyeball. It was just sitting up here, in a crack of the mountain.
The raven liked sparkly things. And this was, even if not what was wanted, a very nice sparkly thing, just the size to pick up and carry in one’s beak. He scooped it up, and tucked it under his tongue for safekeeping. A lovely sparkly for him! He shuffled his feathers smugly, and then took to the air again, searching for the rock his mistress wanted. Mizzamir had no trouble locating the stone. An artifact of that much power is easy to find in a barren land like Ein. A few minutes concentration soon showed the chunk of ruby-red crystal resting atop a pile of similarsized stones, at the bottom of a gully. Mizzamir smiled in satisfaction. There was no one around the stone. He concentrated on the picture, getting a firmer fix on the location; he meant to travel through the mirror and emerge at the other side. He had never been to that location, thus he could not teleport himself straight there. Such were the few limitations of his power.
It was difficult to dodge the pursuing heroes. The terrain was cruel, and Sam and Robin both were hindered by it.
Arcie, as well, was soon panting from exertion; his small size necessitated climbing up and down rocks that the others could step up upon. They all wanted to know about Sam’s experience, and why he now seemed so stumbling and helpless; but the need for silence and speed damped conversation and curiosity. Finally, both to throw the pursuers off the trail and to make going easier, they waded into the shallows of the river and trudged along through knee-deep water. There was no sign of Nightshade, and Valerie in exasperation hit upon an idea. They stopped for a short rest, and she tested it.
She reached into a carefully constructed black pouch in the lining of her robe, made from the mysterious dweomer-worm silk that holds more than it should, and withdrew the shining chunk of yellow crystal she had won from the Test in the Castle of Diamond Magic.
Holding it gently in her hands, she focused her mind upon it.
Like calls to like, as power to power. Each one is part of a whole, and all seek at last the eventual rejoining. What calls to thee?
At first, nothing. Then a strange warmth seemed to spread from the stone. It was magic, power, not good nor evil, simply a preset strength and purpose. On the inside of her vision, lights and sounds flared into being.
Golden light rippled before her, a high fluting. A cool blue tone pulsed to her left, where Kaylana startled, noticing the blue crystal in her cloth backpack beginning to glow. A rich purple bass thrummed from Blackmail’s satchel, and a double note, of a warm, brassy orange and a bold green fluttered from Arcie’s laden knapsack; the thief, in his usual way, had stolen the green Segment Sam had taken from Robin so long ago. Then, in the distance, seen and heard only by Valerie, a strong red blared its low presence. Valerie looked up, the colors still dancing in her eyes.
“That way,” she said, pointing. They abandoned the riverside at once and headed in that direction.
Mizzamir stepped through the portal and walked over to where the Segment rested atop the pile. He reached for it; but as he did so, it did something that startled him. It began to glow, a warm ruby light that pulsed slightly. It also seemed to be making a noise, reminiscent of a horn or perhaps a huge violin. Mizzamir furrowed his brow thoughtfully, but the noise and glow did not seem to be concerned with him. He picked the Segment up carefully.
It did not change, but simply sat in his hands glowing.
At last! A Segment! Now the fate of the world was assured.
The sheer power of the stone thrilled him; he ran his fingers over it gently. True, he had helped to design the original Key; but the reality, created by the gods themselves, was so marvelous and rich he could not help but admire it.
Thus it was that he was still admiring the glowing stone when a scramble of shale made him look up in surprise.
Down a scree slope tumbled the villains he’d had so many unpleasant dealings with, all apparently still alive.
They stopped dead at the bottom of the slope. Remembering the assassin and his daggers, he quickly put up an invisible magical wall of minor protection and faced them.
The lead figure, the sorceress dressed in black, was holding the yellow Segment; it was glowing as was the red one he carried. She instantly ducked behind the others; the Druid, warily gripping her staff, the centaur shuffling his feet, and the strange knight whose presence disturbed him so. The knight, silent as shadow, drew his sword, but did not approach. They remained in a frozen tableau.
Arcie, next to Sam, tugged on the tall man’s belt.
“There he are, Sammy my lad! Quick! Draw your dagger and let him have it! I’m paying you for this!” he hissed.
“I... “ Sam started to fumble a dagger out of his belt.
Mizzamir smiled and said, “Well, so we meet all together at last. Please, drop the other Segments that I know you carry, and I promise you, no harm shall come to you.”
“We will not,” stated Kaylana firmly and Blackmail gave a faint nod. The motion made Mizzamir stare at the dark knight for a thoughtful second; and Sam got his dagger out of the sheath, and, gripping it awkwardly, drew back and threw.
It flipped through the air, and Mizzamir reacted instinctively, jerking back even though the dagger went past him and hit a nearby boulder. It clattered to the ground. Arcie swore an incredulous oath.
Sam’s jaw dropped. He’d missed. He’d missed. And as fear struck him deep and strong, he saw the fate of death and felt gravity and pain and weakness and fear all dragging at him, and he felt his knees begin to buckle as he realized what he’d sacrificed. Mizzamir sighed and raised a hand. With a sudden wave, the villains felt a sudden cold stillness settle over them. Mizzamir took a breath, ready to complete the spell that would root them to the spot until he decided otherwise.
But, so used was he to the centaur’s allegiance, he had excluded Robin from the spell. Even if the centaur were a turncoat, Mizzamir knew that Robin was far too timid to attempt any attack. Robin, he knew, had a lot of respect for him and his power. Robin could wait, while Mizzamir finished dealing with the real villains ..
A gray flash zipped through the space between them, with a rapid drumming of hooves.
Robin, his ears pinned back, fists clenched, sprinted forward. His hooves clattered on the stone, and then he crashed, full on, into the Arch-Mage. Mizzamir’s protective shield, designed to stop small objects, was no match for the heavy bulk of the centaur, and it exploded in a flash of orange-silver shards. The Segment went flying.
As Mizzamir fell, his concentration failed, and the spell of holding vanished. The villains sprang into action.
Robin, using frantic blows of hooves and fists, prevented the Arch-Mage from being able to concentrate long enough to complete a spell, but flashes of incomplete magics zipped and zinged around the two, and the smell of scorched hair was strong.
Arci
e ran forward, grabbed the red Segment, and they ran out of the area along one of the passes. As Sam, in the rear, made his stumbling way through, Kaylana shouted back to Robin-
“Hurry, centaur! You journey with us!”
Robin jumped away from Mizzamir, with a final hindleg kick, and galloped after them. As he swept past the Druid at the far end of the pass, Kaylana touched her staff to the rock wall and sent a burst of sheer power and command through the ancient stone.
The mountainside cracked with a sound like lightning and burst outward, shuddering and sundering all around its faults and fissures. Thousands of tons of rock tumbled down to where Mizzamir was regaining his feet. With a faint noise of annoyance, Mizzamir vanished from view, an instant before the rocks smashed into the small gully where he had been.
“Och, we’ve.. got all the bits,” wheezed Arcie, as they ran. “Now what?”
“I don’t know!” replied Valerie, with the same difficulty, as she scrambled over the rocks. “Bhazo said ...”
“The way should be open ahead!” gasped Robin, his ears flickering. “I can hear the noise of the river!” Sam and Blackmail stumbled on in silence.
Suddenly, a black shape came winging down from the clouds, fluttering frantically. Kaylana looked up in annoyance.
“Well, your raven has decided to return, despite his lack of success,” she began, when Valerie, listening to the raven’s muffled cries, suddenly stopped, and turned to run back.
“We’ve come the wrong way!” she shouted. “Fenwick and his men-”
An arrow thudded into the ground before her, cutting her words short. They looked up in despair as dozens of green-and-yellow and blue-and-white garbed men came pouring down from the rocks on all sides. The villains froze for a moment, and Sam had a desperate hope that they could surrender and just give up, rest and sleep and maybe die, anything to stop moving... but it was not to be.
Blackmail drew his sword, as did Robin. But Arcie had a much better idea. He bolted, running as fast as his short legs would carry him down the pass. Without hesitation, the others followed him, Robin and Blackmail bringing up the rear and cleaving their way through the first ranks of the attackers. Arrows hailed around them and splattered off the dark knight’s platemail. More thudded into Robin’s flanks, making him whinny and squeal with pain, until the cover of the rocks made accurate aim impossible.
