The Sword of Bheleu

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  The second set of torches died, and the third was lit; Deriam began complaining of the stupidity Shandiph had displayed in not bringing food and drink. Karag came to the Chairman’s defense, pointing out that he had no way of knowing how long the search would take, while Thetheru remained silent. When Deriam demanded that the Amagite choose a side, he ended the argument by saying, “I’m too busy trying to remember our route.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” Deriam said after a moment of silence.

  “I’ve been too busy finding our way forward,” Shandiph said.

  “Can you lead us back out?” Karag asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Thetheru admitted.

  “Maybe we should turn back. Do we even know what we’re looking for?” Deriam asked. “How will we know these wonders when we find them? Have they really survived for three hundred years in this damp darkness?”

  “Darkness wouldn’t hurt anything,” Karag retorted.

  “But we don’t even know what we’re looking for,” Thetheru said.

  “I assume that we’ll find a few chests somewhere,” Shandiph said, “and perhaps a shelf of books.”

  “I hope so,” Deriam answered.

  They were discarding the last of the fourth set of torches when Shandiph, who had moved on ahead while Karag lit the new torch from the stub of his old one, called out, “I’ve found something.”

  “What is it?” Karag called.

  “This door has the pentagram sign on it, and another pentagram inside the first.”

  “Is it open?”

  “No. It’s locked.”

  The other three came up to join him and found that the Chairman was standing before a large oaken door bound in rusty iron; he was pulling and pushing at the great iron handle. The door did not move.

  “Whatever we’re looking for must be in there,” Karag said.

  “How do we get in?” Deriam asked.

  “Break it down,” Karag suggested.

  Shandiph and Deriam looked at each other; Deriam shrugged, “Let him try; he’s the strongest of us.”

  The other three stepped back, and Karag took a short run toward the door, slamming his shoulder against it.

  Immediately, he was flung back against the far wall of the corridor in a shower of pure white sparks.

  He lay stunned on the dusty stone. Thetheru said unnecessarily, “It must have a warding spell on it.”

  “I never saw a ward like that,” Deriam replied. He was blinking, trying to help his eyes readjust to the dim yellow torchlight after the vivid brilliance of the sparks.

  Shandiph looked at the door for a moment and then said, “I suppose they wanted to be sure that no one who just happened along could get in. We are the rightful heirs, though, so there must be some way we can annull the wards.”

  “There was no mention of this in your directions?”

  “No. You have to understand, I know very little more than you do. When I became Chairman I was given the seal of office and a box of charms, and taught a spell that would tell me what each charm was for when the need arose; that spell told me that the yellow glass would show me the way through the crypts, but it said nothing of this door.”

  “Did you bring the other charms?”

  “No. That shouldn’t matter, though; I know what almost all of them do. Besides, if one was needed here, the spell should have told me before I left Kholis.”

  “Perhaps the spell has become muddled over the years.”

  “Aal and Amera, I hope not!”

  “Is there some hidden instruction in the pentacle, perhaps?” Thetheru asked.

  Karag was climbing to his feet once again. He said nothing, but stood unsteadily, staring at the door.

  “Did you bring any magic besides the yellow glass?” Deriam asked Shandiph.

  Before the Chairman could answer, Karag said, “I can see the pentagram now.”

  “What?” The others turned toward him in surprise.

  “I can see the pentagram. But you said there was another pentagram within it, Shandiph, and it’s not a pentagram, it’s the Council seal.”

  “It is?” Shandiph also stared at the door; to him it still appeared to be a pentacle inside a pentacle. A possibility occurred to him, and he reached inside the neck of his tunic to pull forth the golden medallion that he as Chairman of the Council of the Most High, wore at all times. He placed it against the center of the pentagram and announced, “I am Shandiph, heir to Hemmaron, Chairman of the Council of the Most High, chief among the wise and first among equals!”

  Nothing happened.

  In desperation, Shandiph reached out and pushed once more at the iron handle. The door swung open.

  The chamber beyond was utterly black, and the light of the torches did not penetrate. The four wizards stared into it for a long moment, none daring to step into the unnatural darkness.

  “I think that magic is called for,” Deriam said at last.

  Shandiph nodded. “Hoi, khiri! I’a angarosye t’aryo ansuyen, o mi alekye i zhure Leuk!” he called. “Hear me, spirits! I am an agent of the lords of demons, and with this talisman I invoke Leuk!”

  The room was suddenly flooded with golden light, and the four stared in astonishment.

  The chamber was perhaps thirty feet wide, but so long that its far end could not be seen in the conjured light. The walls were lined with shelves of books, row after row of chests, hundreds of pegs from which hung amulets and talismans of every sort, and racks which held scepters, staves, orbs, jewels, swords, daggers, cups, plates, goblets, spears, stones, carvings, statues, sacks, pouches, jars, phials, and a hundred other implements and objects. More chests were lined up down the center of the room. Many objects glowed or glittered, and soft rustlings could be heard.

  Directly before them stood an immense reading stand carved of some dark, rich wood, which held a great black-bound book.

  Everything was brightly and clearly lighted for fifty yards of the room’s length, but without shadows and with no apparent source of light.

  “How did you do that?” Thetheru asked Shandiph.

  “You mean the light? I learned a little theurgy years ago; it’s a simple invocation. If you mean the door, I didn’t do anything except what you saw. It must have been ensorcelled to recognize the seal of office.”

  “What is all this stuff?” Karag demanded, astonished.

  Shandiph shrugged. “How should I know?” He stepped forward and looked at the lone book on the stand. “I think that this must be here where we see it for a reason.” He opened the book at random and let the front cover fall back against the stand.

  Pages flipped over without his touch; when they stopped, he read aloud, “This book is the true compendium of all arcane knowledge gathered in this room, compiled to guide those who come after us in the use of our arts.”

  “Useful,” Deriam remarked.

  “How can one volume explain all this?” Thetheru asked, gesturing at the thousands of books and tens of thousands of other objects.

  Pages turned, and Shandiph read, “This book has been enchanted and will answer your every question. Speak, and you shall be answered; ask, and you shall know, that the glory of the Council of the Most High may be reborn upon the earth.” He smiled. “So much for secrecy,” he said. “It appears that our predecessors didn’t expect it to last forever.”

  “Shandiph,” Deriam said, “this is all too much for me. What are all these things? This is far more than I had imagined we would find.”

  A single page turned, and Shandiph read, “Gathered before you is every magical spell and power known to our members at the end of this Twelfth Age, save those thought too minor to waste space upon, and those that have been withheld by the power of the gods or reserved for the continued use of the Council’s master.”

  “I think this is more tha
n we can handle,” Thetheru said. “I think we should contact the rest of the Council before we go any further.”

  A thick sheaf of pages flung itself over with an audible thump, and Thetheru looked at it in surprise. “I didn’t ask a question,” he said.

  “The Greater Spell of Summoning has been embodied for your use in spheres of red crystal, stored in the first chest on your left,” Shandiph read. “The shattering of one of these crystals in the heart of a well-drawn pentagram will bring you instantly whomsoever you shall name aloud while the smoke is thick.”

  “The thing dares to advise us!” Karag exclaimed.

  “We should use it, though,” Thetheru said. “Where is chalk for a pentagram?”

  A page riffled over, but Shandiph did not bother to read what it said, as Deriam announced, “There is already a pentagram here, on the floor, inlaid in gold.”

  The other three looked, and Deriam was correct; a thin layer of dust had hidden the golden star.

  Shandiph was already on the way to the chest indicated by the book by the time Karag and Thetheru had convinced themselves of the pentagram’s reality. He opened it and found that a dozen identical spheres of red crystal, each the size of a clenched fist, were arrayed in a tray at one end. The rest of the chest held an assortment of other fascinating devices, but he resolved to leave those for later. He picked out a single red globe and, with a careful toss, flung it into the center of the pentagram. It shattered spectacularly when it hit the floor, and an impossibly thick cloud of red smoke billowed forth.

  “Chalkara of Kholis, Derelind the Hermit, Miloshir the Theurgist, Herina the Stargazer, Veyel of Nekutta, the sorceress Zhinza, the mage Ranendin, the Baron Dor of Therin, Kala of Mara, Sharatha of Ilnan,” he recited quickly.

  The smoke continued to roll outward in a solid, spreading mass, with no sign of thinning; Shandiph continued his listing. “Kubal of Tadumuri, Haladar of Mara, Sherek the Thaumaturge!” He was beginning to have trouble remembering which other councilors had been at Kholis. “Amarda the Blood Drinker! Linder the Nightwalker!”

  Vague shapes were becoming visible in the seething red cloud, which had reached out far enough to surround the original party of four. “The Seer of Weideth!” Shandiph added. There were still one or two others, he knew. “The wizard Alagar...” Were there still more?

  The smoke showed the first signs of dispersing, and it occurred to him that he need not restrict himself to those who had attended the meetings. He remembered one more who had been at Kholis, though, and named him first, saying, “Phamakh the Wise!”

  Abruptly the red fog thinned and vanished, and the room was suddenly crowded. Every person he had named was present, jammed together in the area around the golden pentagram; all were looking about themselves with varying mixtures of surprise and fear.

  Shandiph realized that he had missed an opportunity to settle Shang’s fate definitely once and for all by summoning him as well, or he might have called for someone who could provide a firsthand account of recent events in Dûsarra. He considered using another of the crystal spheres, but decided against it.

  There was a sudden babble of voices as the new arrivals all began to talk at once; the only question that was decipherable in the confusion of noise was one that was repeated by several speakers, though the pages of the guidebook riffled wildly in trying to answer every startled query.

  “Where are we?” was the one question that could be understood.

  “Fellow councilors!” Shandiph called. “Your attention, please!”

  The questions ceased, the book’s pages lay still, and the entire group turned to face him.

  “You are in the vault where our ancestors placed much of their magic for safekeeping; you were brought here by an ancient spell because we felt that the unexpected wealth of this lost magic was more than we four could handle by ourselves. If you will look around you, you will see that there is far more here than was anticipated; every single thing in this chamber is magical, it appears, and every book here contains arcane knowledge. As may be determined by the ease with which you were brought here, using a single, simple device—beware that you don’t step on those shards of glass—much of this magic is extremely potent by our standards. We thought that all of you should have some say in the management of this treasure trove.”

  “You thought so, Shandiph, you and Thetheru,” Karag said. “We four were appointed as representatives, and I see no need to waste time in further debate. We were sent to find powerful weapons to use against the overman Garth, and there are undoubtedly powerful weapons here around us. I say that we should find them, using that guidebook, and then go and deal with this overman and his magic sword before he becomes any more dangerous than he already is.”

  There were a few calls of support from the gathered crowd and several shouted questions; once again, the guidebook tossed pages back and forth, attempting to answer them all at once.

  “Shandiph, where are we? Where is this vault?” someone called over the general din. Shandiph looked for the speaker and tried to call an answer.

  Deriam and Thetheru were each beset by two or three of their comrades demanding explanations; most of the others crowded around Shandiph, barraging him with questions and opinions. Karag, too, drew his share of attention; the wizard Alagar and Kubal of Tadumuri, both old friends, came toward him. One or two individuals wandered off down the long room, looking at the thousands of trinkets and talismans.

  Karag saw an opportunity in this complete disorganization and made his way to the reading stand, where he asked in a low voice, “What are the most powerful weapons in this chamber, and where are they to be found?”

  Alagar and Kubal watched with him, saying nothing, as the pages turned and revealed a long list—much too long to be of use.

  “Which of these are the three mightiest and most effective?” he asked.

  Two pages flipped back, and Karag read, “The Ring of P’hul, on the Chairman’s ring finger; the Great Staff of Power, first in the third rack of staves on the right-hand wall; and the Blood-Sword of Hishan of Darbul, fifth in the second rack of blades on the right-hand wall.”

  “We can’t use the Ring,” Alagar whispered.

  “You both intend to join me; then?”

  “Yes, of course,” Kubal replied. “These fools will be arguing for hours. They’ll thank us when it’s done.”

  “True enough. All right, book, what is the fourth most powerful among the weapons here?”

  The book turned a few pages. “The Sword of Koros,” Kubal read. “I’ll take that.”

  “I’ll take the other sword,” Alagar said.

  “And I’ll take the staff,” Karag agreed.

  “Karag, what are you doing?” Shandiph called. He had finally noticed that the other was using the guidebook.

  “I thought that the book might be able to advise us on how to proceed.”

  “Has it?”

  “No, not yet; give it a few more minutes.”

  “Well...” Shandiph was uncertain. Karag was impetuous, he knew, but usually meant well. Several of the newcomers had given him news that directly concerned Karag, but he was distracted by another question about the guidebook’s working before he could tell Karag. He decided to trust Karag for the moment and to wait before telling him that his secret departure from the High King’s castle had led to a dispute between the King and the Baron of Sland. Chalkara said that the Baron had accused the King of kidnapping Karag to deprive the Baron of his services. There was a great deal of acrimonious talk going on, though no action had yet been taken.

  While Karag and Shandiph spoke, Alagar had been using the book; when Karag looked down again it was to find complete instructions for the use of the three weapons chosen. He read through them quickly, as did Alagar and Kubal.

  Shandiph remained distracted; the Baron of Therin had been conjured in his true person,
rather than the simulacrum that had come to Kholis, and was therefore able to relay information. The disappearance of the other magicians was creating quite a stir, and Dor’s other self, together with Sindolmer of Therin, who had arrived after the foursome had left and therefore been excluded from Shandiph’s listing, were trying to calm matters. The coincidence that both the apparent survivors were from Therin did not make their task easier.

  Deriam had become entangled in a debate concerning the nature and origin of the crypts, and Thetheru was explaining the red crystal spheres to Sharatha and Miloshir. No one paid any attention to Karag, Alagar, and Kubal.

  “What is the quickest means by which we three may be transported, with our chosen weapons, to wherever we may find Garth of Ordunin?”

  Karag read the answer, and then closed the book.

  “It is yours, Shandiph, to do with as you please,” he called.

  “Thank you, Karag. I’ll want to speak with you in a moment.”

  “You have no objection if we look around, do you?”

  “No, not if you’re careful.” Shandiph was too busy to be really suspicious; he was trying to answer questions about the vault room even as he asked his own about the Baron of Sland and affairs at the High King’s castle.

  Moving casually, so as not to draw attention, Karag and his two comrades gathered their chosen weapons, ignoring the questions and comments of the other wizards. When they were armed, Karag opened the first chest on the right and took out a blue crystal sphere very much like the red one that had summoned the majority of the Council.