Then softly the boy said, ‘Mama…’
Calmly Katala put down her sewing and said, ‘What, William?’
The boy looked at his mother with eyes wide and said in a whisper, ‘It’s … Papa.’
Katala came to kneel beside her son and put her arm around his shoulders. ‘What about your father?’
‘He’s talking to Gamina.’
Katala looked hard at the girl, who sat as if enraptured, all around her forgotten. Slowly Katala rose and crossed to the door to the family’s dining room and softly she pulled it open. Then she was through it at a run.
Kulgan and Elgahar sat over a chessboard, while Hochopepa observed, offering unsolicited advice to both players. The room was thick with smoke, for both the stout magicians were sucking on large, after-dinner pipes, enjoying their effects fully, oblivious to the reactions of the others. Meecham sat nearby putting an edge on his hunting knife with a whetstone.
Katala pushed open the door and said, ‘All of you, come!’
Her tone and the urgency of her manner caused all questions to be put aside as they followed her back down the corridor to where William sat studying Gamina.
Katala knelt before the girl and slowly passed her hand before the glassy eyes. Gamina didn’t respond. She was in some sort of trance. Kulgan whispered, ‘What is this?’
Katala whispered back, ‘William says she’s talking to Pug.’
Elgahar, the usually reserved Greater Path magician, moved past Kulgan. ‘Perhaps I may learn something.’ He crossed to kneel before William. ‘Would you do something with me?’
William shrugged noncommittally. The magician said, ‘I know you can sometimes hear Gamina, just as she can hear you when you speak to animals. Could you let me hear what she’s saying?’
William said, ‘How?’
‘I’ve been studying how Gamina does what she does, and I think I might be able to do the same. There’s no risk,’ he said, looking at Katala.
Katala nodded while William said, ‘Sure. I don’t mind.’
Elgahar closed his eyes and put his hand upon William’s shoulder, and then after a minute he said, ‘I can only hear … something.’ He opened his eyes. ‘She’s speaking to someone. I think it is Milamber,’ he said, using Pug’s Tsurani name.
Hochopepa said, ‘I wish Dominic hadn’t returned to his abbey. He might be able to listen in.’
Kulgan held up his hand for silence. The girl let out a long sigh and closed her eyes. Katala reached for her, afraid she might faint, but instead the girl opened her eyes wide, then gave a broad smile and leaped up.
Gamina nearly danced around the room, so excited were her movements as she shouted in mind-speech, It was Papa! He talked to me! He’s coming back!
Katala put her hand upon the girl’s shoulder and said, ‘Gently, daughter. Now, stop jumping about and tell us what you said, and speak, Gamina, speak.’
For the first time ever, the girl spoke above a whisper, in excited shrieks punctuated with laughter. ‘I spoke to Papa! He called me from someplace!’
‘Where?’ asked Kulgan.
The child paused in her excited dance and tilted her head, as if thinking. ‘It was … just someplace. It had a beach and was pretty. I don’t know. He didn’t say where it was. It was just someplace.’ She jiggled up and down again and started to push on Kulgan’s leg. ‘We have to go!’
‘Where?’
‘Papa wants us to meet him. At a place.’
‘What place, little one?’ asked Katala.
Gamina jumped a little. ‘Sethanon.’
Meecham said, ‘That’s a city near the Dimwood, in the centre of the Kingdom.’
Kulgan shot him a black look. ‘We know that.’
Unabashed, the franklin indicated the two Tsurani magicians, and said, ‘They didn’t … Master Kulgan.’ Kulgan’s bushy eyebrows met over the bridge of his nose as he cleared his throat, a sign his old friend was right. It was the only sign Meecham would get.
Katala attempted to calm the girl. ‘Now, slowly, who is to meet Pug at Sethanon?’
‘Everyone. He wants us all to go there. Now.’
‘Why?’ asked William, feeling neglected.
Suddenly the girl’s mood shifted and she calmed. Her eyes widened and she said, ‘The bad thing, Uncle Kulgan! The bad thing from Rogen’s vision! It’s there!’ She clutched Kulgan’s leg.
Kulgan looked at the others in the room, and finally Hochopepa said, ‘The Enemy?’
Kulgan nodded and hugged the child to him. ‘When, child?’
‘Now, Kulgan. He said we must go now.’
Katala spoke to Meecham. ‘Pass word through the community. All the magicians must ready to travel. We must leave for Landreth. We’ll get horses there and ride north.’
Kulgan said, ‘No daughter of magic would depend on such mundane transportation.’ His mood was light in an attempt to relieve the tension. ‘Pug should have married another magician.’
Katala’s eyes narrowed, for she was in no mood to banter. ‘What do you propose?’
‘I can use my line-of-sight travel to move myself and Hocho to locations in jumps, up to three miles or more. It will take time, but far less than by horse. In the end we can establish a portal, near Sethanon, and you and the others can walk through from here.’ He turned to Elgahar. ‘That will give all of you time to prepare.’
Meecham said, ‘I’ll come, too, in case you pop into an outlaw camp or some other trouble.’
Gamina said, ‘Papa said to bring others.’
‘Who?’ asked Hochopepa, placing his hand on the child’s delicate shoulder.
‘Other magicians, Uncle Hocho.’
Elgahar said, ‘The Assembly. He would ask for such a thing only if the Enemy was indeed upon us.’
‘And the army.’
Kulgan looked down at the little face. ‘The army? Which army?’
‘Just the army!’ The girl seemed at the end of her young patience, standing with small fists upon her hips.
Kulgan said, ‘We’ll send a message to the garrison at Landreth, and another to Shamata.’ He looked at Katala. ‘Given your rank as Princess of the royal house by marriage, it might be time to go dig out that royal signet you routinely misplace. We’ll need it to emboss those messages.’
Katala nodded. She hugged Gamina, who was quieting down, and said, ‘Stay here with your brother,’ then hurried out of the room.
Kulgan looked to his Tsurani colleagues. Hochopepa said, ‘Now, at last. The Darkness comes.’
Kulgan nodded. ‘To Sethanon.’
Pug opened his eyes. Again he felt fatigue, but nothing as severe as the first time he had spoken to the girl. Tomas, Macros, and Ryath observed the younger sorcerer and waited. ‘I think I got through enough that she’ll be able to give instructions to the others.’
Macros nodded, pleased. ‘The Assembly will prove little match for the Dragon Lords should they manage to break into this space-time, but they may aid in keeping Murmandamus at bay, so we can gain the Lifestone before him.’
‘If they reach Sethanon in time,’ commented Pug. ‘I don’t know how we stand with time.’
‘That,’ agreed Macros, ‘is a problem. I know we are in our own era, and logic says we must be there sometime after you last left, to avoid one of the knottier paradoxes possible. But how much time has passed since you left? A month? A week? An hour? Well, we’ll know when we reach there.’
Tomas added, ‘If we’re in time.’
‘Ryath,’ said Macros, ‘we need to travel some distance to the next gate. There are no mortal eyes upon this world to apprehend the transformation. Will you carry us?’
Without comment, the woman glowed brightly and returned to her dragon form. The three mounted and she took to the sky. ‘Fly to the northeast,’ shouted Macros as the dragon banked and headed in the indicated direction.
For a while they were silent as they flew, no one feeling the need to speak. They sped away from the bluffs and beach, over rol
ling plateaus covered with chaparral-like growth. Above, a warm sun beat down.
Pug weighed everything Macros had said in the last hour. He quickly incanted, so they could speak without shouting. ‘Macros, you said even one Valheru would be a force unleashed in the universe. I don’t think I understand what you meant.’
Macros said, ‘There is more at stake here than one world.’ He looked down as they sped over a river emerging from a canyon of staggering proportions, running to the southwest to join the sea. He said, ‘This wonderful planet stands at risk equal to Midkemia. As does Kelewan, and all other worlds, sooner or later.
‘Should the Valheru’s servants win this war, their masters will return, and chaos will again be loose in the cosmos. Every world will stand open for the Dragon Host to plunder, for not only will they be unmatched in their wanton destruction, they will be unmatched in might. The very act of returning to this space-time will provide them with a source of mystical power heretofore unthought of, a source of power that would make just one Dragon Lord an object of fear for even the gods.’
‘How is such a thing possible?’ said Pug.
Tomas spoke. ‘The Lifestone. It was left against the final battle with the gods. If it is used…’ He left the thought unfinished.
They were now flying high above mountains, entering a land of lakes, to the north of rolling plains, as the sun sank in the west. Pug found it difficult to contemplate concepts of utter destruction while flying above this splendid world. Macros pointed and said, ‘Ryath! That large island, with the twin bays facing us.’
The dragon descended and landed where Macros instructed. They leaped off her back and waited while she transformed herself back to human form. Then Macros was off, leading them toward a large upthrusting of rock near a stand of pinelike trees. They were before another door, upon the face of the large boulder. Macros stepped through. Tomas followed, then Pug. As Pug returned to the Hall, a dread shrieked its haunting whisper of rage and struck out at Macros, knocking him to the floor.
Tomas jumped forward, drawing his blade as the life stealer attempted to finish Macros. He ducked as another of the dread attempted to grapple him from behind. Pug was knocked to one side by Ryath as she came through the door. A third dread lunged at the human form dragon and seized her arm above the elbow. Ryath screamed in pain.
Then Tomas’s blade lashed out and the dread who sought to close upon Macros was rent and cried in whispering rage, spinning to face his adversary. He howled and ripped out with his talons. Golden sparks rippled along the front of Tomas’s shield as he blocked the strike.
Ryath’s blue eyes glowed, turning angry red, and suddenly the dread that was holding her arm shrieked. Foul grey smoke rose from the unliving’s hand, but he seemed unable to release his hold. The dragon woman’s eyes continued to glow and she stood motionless, with only a slight trembling in her body. The dread seemed to be shrinking, its whispering cries reduced to a reedy fluting.
Pug finished an incantation and the third dread was seized by some sort of fit. He arched backward and his black wings quivered as he fell to the stones of the Hall. Then he rose upward, Pug’s slight hand motion the only sign he was using his arts upon the creature. Pug gestured and the creature was moved to a place between worlds, vanishing into the grey void.
Tomas struck out again and again and the dread he faced fell back. Each time the golden sword bit into the black nothingness, hissing energies were released. Now the thing appeared weakened and it sought to escape. Tomas thrust with his blade, impaling the dread as it tried to flee, holding it motionless.
While Pug watched, Ryath and Tomas disposed of the two remaining dread, somehow draining them of their life essences, as the dread suck out the life of others.
Pug moved to where Macros lay stunned. He helped the sorcerer to his feet and asked, ‘Are you injured?’
Macros cleared his head with a shake and said, ‘Not to any degree. Those creatures can be difficult for a mortal, but I’ve dealt with them before. That they were stationed before this door shows that the Valheru fear what aid we may bring to Midkemia. If Murmandamus reaches Sethanon and finds the Lifestone … well, the dread are but a faint shadow of the destruction that will be unleashed.’
Tomas said, ‘How far to Midkemia?’
‘That door.’ Macros pointed to the one opposite the one they entered. ‘Through it and we are home.’
They entered a vast hall, cold and empty. It was fashioned from massive stones, fitted together by master crafters. A single throne reared above the hall upon a dais, and along both walls deep recesses were set, as if ready to receive statuary.
The four walked forward, and Pug said, ‘It is chilly here. Where upon Midkemia are we?’
Macros seemed mildly amused. ‘We are in the fortress city Sar-Sargoth.’
Tomas spun about to face the sorcerer. ‘Are you mad? This is the ancient capital of the original Murmandamus. I know that much of the moredhel lore!’
Macros said, ‘Calm yourself. They are all down invading the Kingdom. Should any moredhel or goblins be hanging about, they’ll certainly be deserters. No, we can dispose of any obstacles here. It is at Sethanon we must be ready to deal with the ultimate challenge.’
He led them outside, and Pug faltered. Arrayed in every direction were stakes of a uniform ten feet in height. Atop each was a human head. Perhaps as many as a thousand stretched away in every direction. Pug whispered, ‘Heaven’s pity, but how can such evil exist?’
‘This, then, completes your understanding,’ answered Macros. Looking at his three companions, he said, ‘There was a time Ashen-Shugar would have thought this nothing more than an object lesson.’
Tomas glanced about, and nodded absent agreement.
‘Tomas, as Ashen-Shugar, can remember a time when no moral issues existed in the universe. There was no thoughts of right or wrong, only of might. And in that universe all other races were of similar mind, save the Aal, and their view of things was odd even by the standards of those days. Murmandamus is a tool, and he resembles his masters.
‘And beings far less evil than Murmandamus have done far worse than this one wanton act. But they do so with some knowledge of their deeds relative to a higher moral principle. The Valheru don’t understand good and evil; they are totally amoral, but they are so destructive we must count them a near-ultimate evil. And Murmandamus is their servant, so he is also evil. And he is but the palest shadow to their darkness.’ Macros sighed. ‘It may be only my vanity, but the thought I fight such evil … it lightens my burdens.’
Pug took a deep breath as he gained further insight into the tormented soul who sought to preserve all Pug held dear. At last he said, ‘Where to? Sethanon?’
Macros said, ‘Yes. We must go and discover what has come to pass, and with luck we shall be able to help. No matter what, Murmandamus must not be allowed to reach the Lifestone. Ryath?’
The dragon shimmered and soon was again her true form. They mounted and she took to the skies. Moving high above the Plain of Isbandia, she circled. She banked and flew to the southwest, and Macros bid her pause as they inspected the destruction of Armengar. Black smoke still issued from the pit where the keep had once stood. ‘What is that place?’ asked Pug.
‘Once called Sar-Isbandia, it was last called Armengar. It was built by the glamredhel, as was Sar-Sargoth, long before they fell into barbarism. Both were made in imitation of the city of Draken-Korin, using sciences plundered from other worlds. They were vain constructions, won by the moredhel in battle at great cost: first Sar-Sargoth, which became Murmandamus’s capital, then Sar-Isbandia. But Murmandamus was killed in the Battle of Sar-Isbandia, when the glamredhel were reputedly obliterated. Both cities were abandoned by the moredhel after his death. Only recently have the moredhel returned to Sar-Sargoth. Men lived in Armengar.’
‘There is nothing left,’ commented Tomas.
‘The present incarnation of Murmandamus paid a price to take it, it seems,’ agreed Macros. ‘
The people who lived here were tougher and more clever than I had thought. Perhaps they have hurt him enough that Sethanon still stands, for he must have passed beyond the mountains by now. Ryath! South, to Sethanon.’
• Chapter Nineteen •
Sethanon
Suddenly the city was under siege.
Nothing had happened for a week after Arutha had secured the city, then the eighth day after the gates had been closed, guards reported Murmandamus’s army on the march. By midday the city was surrounded by elements of his advance cavalry, and by nightfall picket fires burned along every quarter of the horizon.
Amos, Guy, and Arutha observed the invaders from their command post upon the southern barbican, the main entrance to the city. After a while Guy said, ‘It’ll be nothing fancy. He’ll hit us from all sides at once. These piddling little walls will not hold. He’ll be inside the city after the first or second wave unless we can think of something to slow him down.’
‘The defensive barriers we built will help, but only a little. We must depend upon the men,’ said Arutha.
‘Well, those we brought south with us are a solid crew,’ observed Amos. ‘Maybe these parade soldiers here will pick up a thing or two.’
‘That’s why I spread the men from Highcastle out among the city garrison. Just maybe they’ll prove the difference.’ Arutha didn’t sound hopeful.
Guy shook his head, then rested it on his arms, against the wall. ‘Twelve hundred seasoned men, including the walking wounded returned to duty. Three thousand garrison, some local militia, and city watch – most of whom have never seen anything more extreme than a tavern brawl. If seven thousand Armengarians couldn’t hold from behind sixty-foot-high walls, what can this lot do here?’
Arutha said, ‘Whatever they must.’ He said no more as he returned his attention to the fires across the plain.
The next day passed into night, and still Murmandamus staged his army. Jimmy sat with Locklear upon a bale of hay near a catapult position. They, and the squires of Lord Humphry’s court, had been carrying buckets of sand and water to every siege engine along the city walls all day, against the need to douse fires. They were all bone-tired.
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