by Garon Whited
The part that makes people gape in openmouthed wonder, however, is the way I change the frequency of the light.
Normally, a lot of the sunlight is wasted. Sunlight is made of lots of frequencies we can’t see, like ultraviolet or infrared, microwaves and radio waves, and all that other stuff. Your glass magnifying lens only bends certain types of light; the rest either bounces off or goes straight through.
I can alter the light coming into the big lens—I don’t change its energy; it still has the same amount of energy in it—by changing its wavelength. I can shift the ultraviolet light, for example, down the spectrum into visible blue light, which the magnifying lens will affect. Everything outside the normal visible range gets shifted up or down into visible light, making it much, much brighter. This all goes into the lens and focuses down to that point. Now I’m using all of the sunlight, not just the part we can usually see.
Then, after it goes through the lens that turns it into a beam, I shift it all up. Up into the ultraviolet. Up again, into the high ultraviolet. Up again, into the x-ray range. Up again, and again, and again…
I’m sure you see where this is going.
Not all of the light gets shifted, of course. There’s a little wastage; a little gets through, but it’s no brighter than a flashlight. All that light is still light—electromagnetic radiation—but at a fantastically higher frequency. Now it’s a beam of gamma radiation, invisible and deadly.
I thought aiming an invisible beam was going to be a problem, but I used a frequency-altering spell across my eyes like a visor. It downshifted the stray ionization into the visible range, making the gamma ray beam look like a searchlight through a fog.
I tweaked the focus of the lenses, widening the beam angle just a trifle, and played with it until I had it just right. I wanted this to go as quickly and smoothly as possible.
This morning, the guys and I took the fastest canal boat up the northern canal from Karvalen; Bronze pulled us and the three horses. The canal ran past the mouth of the pass and continued north. I wondered where it ended.
We did have a bit of trouble getting out of the canal; as we went north, the walls of the canal rose faster than the floor of the canal. I suppose if the floor had the same angle, the water in the canal would flow too rapidly. Still, we were very close to where we wanted to be when we stopped. There was a bit of a delay in disembarking; getting the horses up over a six-foot lip of stone was challenging.
Interesting note. When loading, the horses did not want to get into the boat. Bronze snorted at them and they stopped fussing, got into the boat, and stood there shivering for the rest of the trip. Bronze was also instrumental in getting them off the boat. She got down in the canal, worked her way under the boat, and stood up under one end to make the whole boat into a ramp. Afterward, she just leaped out.
Anyway, we spent most of the morning doing that, then rode hard up the pass to get to my vantage point. We parked where I did before, where the road through the pass comes around that gentle curve to reveal the gate.
They had done some repairs on the wall and repaired the portcullis. The gate itself was gone, of course, but they had a temporary wooden wall blocking access to the gateway and a number of workmen chopping lumber and hammering. The guards were also doubled. They didn’t like daytime duty, but they were there.
I cast my sunlight-conversion spells, and my guys started their virtual patrol. Once we had everything set, I raised my hands, added some amplification, and called out my warning. I wanted Firebrand. If they didn’t bring it out, they were going to suffer for it.
They didn’t bring it out. They blew horns and pounded on drums. More troops flooded the upper defensive works, armed and ready, about like I expected.
I waved the gamma-light over them, back and forth, giving everyone multiple brief exposures. I wasn’t too worried about induced radioactivity in their gear or the surrounding rock. While some of the gamma rays were probably well above the threshold necessary to induce photodisintegration, the resulting byproducts would be relatively short-lived.
I would have been overjoyed to use neutron radiation on the parapets, but I couldn’t figure out a good way to generate it. That would have made the walls radioactive for quite some time; people would rapidly decide that anyone guarding that gate would be accurséd, which is worse than just being regularly cursed.
The other problem with neutron radiation is that, in an atmosphere, it’s comparatively short-ranged. To use it, I would have had to get right up next to the gate.
Come to think of it, maybe gamma rays are the safest way. Neutron radiation makes me nervous. Unlike gamma rays, stray neutrons can stick to your atoms and make them unstable, causing them to become radioactive, which means you become radioactive. Neutron radiation is contagious.
My guys reported some activity along our flanks; sentries, scouts, nothing pressing. I nodded and continued my slow sweep of the troops along the parapets, careful to avoid irradiating the towers of the palace. I also reminded the guys to check around us for a scrying sensor. They reported the area clean; it seemed no one was willing to expose an eyeball around me. I was very pleased.
Some of the troops on the defenses seemed to be circulating. Some were withdrawing, possibly because they were puking, while fresh troops crowded up to see what was going on. That was a good sign, as far as I was concerned. I didn’t have a good way to measure the amount of radiation dose they were picking up, but rapid-onset nausea is a good indicator of a lethal dose.
Eventually, Vathula opened up the portcullis and the temporary barriers. A diplomatic type emerged, backed by an armored column of orku cavalry.
“Hold it right there!” I bellowed. They ground to a halt.
“Do you have my sword?” I asked. “Dip your banners if you do!”
They did not.
I shrugged and aimed the beam again, spotlighting the armored column. Eventually, they started forward again at a walk, trying not to look too threatening. They had roughly two miles to go, so I wasn’t worried. My bet was that they were sending a diplomatic-looking person to keep me in place while they moved troops closer. That was about the level of treachery and deception I expected.
After the first mile or so, a few of the armored column had to drop out; they were violently ill. Several of the horses were in a similar condition. That’s a good marker for just how much of a radiation dose they had. Seldar reported substantial movement out of our line of sight; people were coming out of caves and tunnels. They seemed to be moving to cut us off from retreat.
I agreed that our work here was done. My guys got up and mounted. Moments later, we were on our way. The armored column didn’t bother to chase us; they could see it was hopeless. We did have a few people shoot at us from high up on either side of the pass, but no one with any magical assistance. Deflection spells handled it all.
We made it back to the canal boat. I paused to let the mountain know we needed stairs right about here in the wall of the canal. I would give the mountain more details about where to put other sets of stairs later, but for now, a set of stairs as wide as a canal boat was long, right here in front of the pass, would do just fine.
With that done, we headed home.
I’m guesstimating that I gave everyone at least eight to ten Grays of ionizing radiation; it might be—probably was—more. Regardless, if you start to throw up immediately after a dose of radiation, that’s a Very Bad Thing. It’s usually a lethal dose for anything human. My guess is that orku and galgar—and sadly, their horses—don’t have any special tolerance. Look up the effects of acute radiation poisoning and you’ll see why I’m a monster.
I couldn’t bring myself to care about the various forms of ugly on the walls, but I felt bad about the horses.
More and more knights are getting their new armor. It meets with their universal approval. They love the stuff and I don’t blame them a bit. They’re not thrilled to still wear the old, steel stuff in practice, but they’ve grudgingly admitt
ed that it’s probably a good idea.
But they wear the new stuff like clothes. I’m not sure they get out of it to sleep.
At night, I’m pushing hard to get them all enchanted with what I think of as the standard issue enchantments. Luckily, I have a pretty hefty charge on my gate; I don’t need to keep feeding power into it. Instead, I hook up my remaining prisoners directly to me and use that power.
That helps a lot. It kind of freaks T’yl out that I can do that, but he’s getting used to it. I’m a nightlord; I eat life force. He knew that from the first, so he’s coming to terms with what that means. Working together, we can finish everything on a suit in about an hour. We’ve also worked out a trick, similar to my half-enchantment, half-spell for growing a suit around someone.
While each enchantment is something unique to an object—you can’t grab twenty arrows and enchant them all in a bunch—you can use some mandala (magical diagrams) to help define what you’re doing to whatever it is you’re enchanting. So, when you put a suit of armor into a man-shaped outline on the floor and start activating the symbols around it, some of the basic groundwork is already there. And, of course, since you’re working from a drawn diagram, rather than grabbing power and shaping it by hand, it’s a lot less power-intensive.
T’yl and I are getting really good at it.
I asked Tort if she could help, but she says she’s too busy. I can’t fault her for that; she’s handling most of the day-to-day chores of running the place. I am duly grateful, and I mean that. She’s coordinating with Kelvin and Rendal, too, setting up the details of militia training and of our brand-new City Guards.
She delegates a lot. A lot more than Raeth, anyway. Of course, Raeth had a much smaller population to deal with—mostly just the knights. Tort’s dealing with over a thousand people in Karvalen alone, and her reach extends to Mochara as well.
I still haven’t heard from any of the three cities, though. Sadly, I have heard from a bunch of foreign dignitaries. They talked with Amber for a while, then elected to press on to Karvalen and talk to the King.
Amber snickered when I complained to her through the mirror.
“Well, it’s not easy being in charge,” she told me. “I guess you’ll just have to make time to be a ruler.”
“Oh, very funny. You’re enjoying seeing the tables turned, here.”
“If you think you can find someone better qualified,” she said, “feel free to turn the job over to them.”
I stuck my tongue out at her. She blew me a raspberry in return. A pair of mature adults, we are.
“How did Rendal take his promotion?” she asked.
“He accepted a shield from the hand of the King,” I replied. “He swore to protect and serve the people in accord with the will of the King. Stuff like that. There was cheering, as I recall.”
“Good. He’s a good man, just not a very political one.”
“I like him, I think. I looked into his soul and didn’t see any of the deep darkness.”
“I’m not going to ask.”
“I’ll explain, if you want.”
“No. I’ll just take your word for it and move along, if that’s all right.”
“Okay. The good news is that I didn’t find anything truly awful in the guys who wanted to stay in Karvalen, either. I don’t think any of them are spies or assassins or agents or whatever; they seem to be what they claim to be.”
“You can tell that?” she asked, interested despite herself.
“Not for sure, no,” I admitted. “I just didn’t see the… the flickers that come when someone is lying to me. I asked them why they wanted to stay and they told the truth. I also didn’t see the really deep, dark places that only seem to show up in people like what’s-his-name, the child murderer.”
“I am very glad to hear that.”
“So am I.”
“By the way, good luck with the dignitaries,” she said.
“You’re so helpful.”
“More often than I should be, maybe. ’Bye, Dad.”
She hung up before I could answer.
Dad.
I wonder if I could get used to that.
We didn’t get any negotiating done today. The dignitaries settled into quarters and came to dinner; that was about it.
On the other hand, they did seem interested in the way things were run. For example, they were surprised that it wasn’t a feast in their honor. It was just the King’s Table—I have dinner with the King’s Council and my knights, along with any royal guests. I guess it impressed them. I know the ceiling of polished gold did. They think I’m wealthy beyond the dreams of Midas and Scrooge McDuck. Maybe I should designate one cavern as a money bin and see how long it takes to fill.
They were also immensely impressed with the extent of the undermountain city. The regular city is impressive, yes, because it’s a big, regular, well-laid-out place and made entirely out of stone. That’s amazing, right there. But the fact that the whole upper quarter, maybe third, of the mountain itself is honeycombed with spacious tunnels and pleasant rooms is even more amazing. And that’s just the Palace. Below that is even more city. With running water. And there are hot, steaming baths…
It’s also well-lit. I’m very proud of that.
They didn’t quite know what to make of the post-sunset dinner. I had my goblet of blood, sucked up by one finger, while watching a juggler and pretending not to notice the way the dignitaries stared at me.
A few of the knights also put on exhibitions of swordplay in their new armor. That was one of the high points of the evening’s entertainment. They were all over the place, combining tumbling and some acrobatics with their swordplay. I don’t think anyone but other combat-types could tell they were only playing at fighting. Still, they were impressive specimens in the old, heavy armor; they were awe-inspiring in light, mobile armor. It duly impressed the dignitaries.
Tort, that devious woman, made sure Sir Sedrick and Brother Terrany were seated alternately with the visitors. Those two, all unrealizing, are some of the best PR flacks we could ask for. There’s something about having a Hero who came to destroy an Evil Overlord tell you what a great guy the Evil Overlord turned out to be.
I retired from the table shortly after my blood; that signals everyone to start winding it up, I think. I’m not sure, since I’m never there after I leave, obviously. Tort and Kelvin fielded the dignitaries; I was later informed of my morning appointment to meet with them.
In the meantime, I wanted to do some work with T’yl.
“What’s on your mind, Sire?” he asked. He always has a faint accent on the “Sire.” I think it’s because he knew me long before I ever became a king. Then again, he might just mean it differently; I did sort of father him, what with the new body and all.
“How does one walk through a wall?” I asked.
“Is this a riddle? I’d say use the door.”
“What if there isn’t a door?”
“Window?”
“You know what I’m asking.”
“Yes.” He leaned back, hands behind his neck, and thought. I waited while he did whatever he did to remember things.
“Well,” he said, finally, “I can think of two spells that might do what you want. The easy one causes a doorway to appear in the wall.”
“Does the doorway go away again?”
“Only if you hire a mason. Or do it to a living mountain,” he added. “I wouldn’t recommend it on the mountain; it might not like it.”
“And the other spell?”
“It moves a piece of the wall out of the way. It doesn’t actually move, you understand, but it slips just slightly out of our world and you can walk through the place where it was.”
“Sounds difficult.”
“It is. The really tricky part is making sure it sits somewhere it won’t pick up Things. When the spell wears off, sometimes you get little ones clinging to the part that went away.”
“Any chance I could learn it tonight?”
“Tonight?” he asked, surprised. “No. You impress me as few other beings ever have, but even for you, learning Quazer’s Portal will take a lot longer than one night.”
“Then, could we make something—say, a large circle?—that I could hang on a wall and use to go through it?”
“Hmm. Do you have a wall in mind?”
“Yes.”
“How thick is it? I ask because you have to get the whole thing or it’s pointless. Get too much and you may damage something or someone on the far side.”
“I’ll let you know. Now, how about a flying spell?” I asked.
“Lots of them,” he replied, waving a hand dismissively. “How complicated do you want?”
“Something that will let me travel fast in a straight line and hover. And without being more obvious than just a guy flying—no glowing wings or suchlike. I’d like at least a little subtlety.”
“I can do that,” he said, nodding.
“Something I can learn tonight?”
“It’s possible,” he allowed. “Romal’s Exit is not nearly as complicated as Quazer’s Portal. On the other hand, you don’t know any spells for flying already, so this will be new territory for you, yes?”
“Sadly, you are correct. I think. I remember a lot of spells from Zirafel, but not really all that clearly. The more people I eat who knew something, the clearer the remembrance.”
“So, the more complicated the spell, the fewer who knew it, therefore the less-well you know it?”
“’Fraid so.”
“I see. That’s unfortunate. However, if you like, I can just cast the spells for you. Or will you need to do them?”
“You casting them for me… I can make that work, I think. How are you with invisibility?”
“Mediocre. I always get a ripple effect that I can’t seem to quash.” He shrugged. “It’s not really my area.”
“That will do,” I decided. “I’ll talk with Kavel about a metal hoop while you get started on tonight’s suit of armor.”
“Just as you say.”
