by Rick Shelley
"How will you start?" Carillia asked again. She moved to Silvas's side and linked her right arm with his left. He did not withdraw from the contact.
"By damming the Eyler to give Mecq its water," he said. "That is the gage I must throw down. It seems obvious now-Mecq and its water. Those are the keys." He still wasn't sure why they were the keys, or why Mecq and not any other place in Christendom, but they were somehow the inescapable link. The only explanation that made any sense to him was that his wanderings had finally brought him too near the center of the Blue Rose's power for them to ignore the threat he represented.
"Have you chosen your method?" Carillia asked.
"There's no time for finesse. It will have to be brute force, power I could not command before our Unseen Lord laid his hands across my eyes." He turned to face her. "And still I do not know if my power alone will suffice. I may well need whatever help you and the others can give me." He stared into her eyes, looking for anything he might have missed seeing in the generations of men that they had been together.
"You know me heart and soul, my heart," Carillia said softly. "We are not so different as you believe."
"Even a wizard must believe in something outside himself," Silvas said. "My love, sometimes I know not what to believe anymore." Then he had to take his eyes from hers even though so much remained unsaid. He turned toward the gate.
Sir Eustace had come out of his keep. He started shouting as soon as he emerged, demanding to know why the gate was still open. Bishop Egbert replied. The bishop spoke softly, but his words carried as he took the knight to task for his manners.
"At such a time as this, have a care for your soul," Egbert said. "Let not your anger continue to fester, not even against the Foe and his forces that will come against you." The words held such power that Silvas could feel Sir Eustace's people trembling with fear for their master. And Sir Eustace needed quite some time before he found his voice again. When he spoke this time, his tone was more humble.
"I beg forgiveness, Your Excellency. I stand here ready to do what I may to defend my land, my people, and our Mother the Church. Our resources are scanty, but we are at your disposal." Sir Eustace glanced at Silvas and Carillia, who were just coming back through the gate. "We are here to follow your orders, or even those of the wizard if that is your desire." The last came out haltingly, but with no trace of his earlier, habitual anger.
"It is my desire," Bishop Egbert said. "The Lord Wizard Silvas is much stronger in the magic we need to defend the White Brotherhood than I. You will follow his orders as I will myself."
Silvas made no move to take over the talk. There would be time enough for that. He saw no sense in pressing Sir Eustace's resolve so soon. Once the threat was visible, the knight would be less likely to rebel. Silvas was more interested at the moment in looking at the newest spectators. Sir Eustace's wife and daughter were standing at the door of the keep, cloaks wrapped about them against the morning chill. Eleanora's eyes held nothing but terror as she listened to the bishop. There was something else in Maria's eyes, something wild-not fear but determination or something akin to it. Silvas couldn't quite make out what it was, but she held his attention. Power? Excitement? Silvas shook his head gently. Whatever the difference, Maria seemed somehow more than she had before. She stared at him for a moment, then turned and ran back into the keep. Eleanora was not far behind her.
Bishop Egbert finished with Sir Eustace and came over to Silvas. The knight followed dutifully, his usual scowl replaced by a look of apprehension.
"We are yours to command," the bishop said.
Silvas nodded. "It's time to begin. We'll start out on the flat overlooking the Eyler." After the bishop nodded, Silvas looked to Sir Eustace, who also nodded-if not meekly, then at least without any look of defiance. "Sir Eustace, for you and your men, the task is that which you have already sworn, to defend Mecq and your people. Your place is on the walls of your castle. The work outside will belong to those of us with other talents." Sir Eustace nodded again, this time with more vigor, and when Silvas led the others out through the gate, he climbed to the wall.
"Don't stand too close to the precipice," Silvas warned those who moved out with him-his companions and the churchmen.
"You must intend to begin the fray, since the enemy's storm has not yet appeared," Bishop Egbert said.
Silvas smiled. "One might look at it that way. Or one might say that we merely pick up the gauntlet the Blue Rose cast before the White Brotherhood here a long time since."
Bishop Egbert looked around, then down. "The river?"
"The river," Silvas agreed. He turned a little. "Brother, not so close to the edge," he called to a monk who was within perhaps five feet of it. The monk took another step back.
"Have your brothers stand along the castle wall while I begin," Silvas told the bishop. "Save for Brother Paul. We will include him in our offensive since this is his parish."
The bishop went to speak to his monks while Silvas started to work. The wizard looked around the ledge for a few moments while he started his preliminary chants. The flat area outside the castle was about forty yards long but rarely as much as twenty-five yards wide, from wall to precipice, and on the side of the hill that directly faced Blethye, the castle extended almost to the edge. Silvas switched into a faster chant and used the silver ferrule of his quarterstaff to scribe a large pentagram in the rock. He moved quickly but confidently, drawing lines that were perfectly straight, with angles that were precise. He used all of the room available across the narrow width of the ledge. The segments of this pentagram needed to be as large as possible to serve the purpose he had in mind. Silvas started with the five outer sides, then drew in the inner lines.
When he finished, he stood near one of the points and looked from that to Bay and back. "Bay, is there enough room for you within the point of one of these arrows?"
The horse came closer, staying outside the pentagram while he looked. "Barely," he said after a moment. "I will have to remain perfectly still, and I will have little room to even turn my head from side to side."
"But is it enough, my friend? If I started again, I could hardly squeeze out more than a few extra inches."
Bay looked directly at him and nodded. "It will do."
"Bishop Egbert, I don't know how much use you make of pentagrams, but I find them to be powerful tools. For most applications I would stand alone in the center and erect my shields. This magic will require more. The pentagram will have to be fully populated by individuals of power, one in each point of the star, one more at the center."
Bishop Egbert nodded to show that he followed the wizard's reasoning. "The pentagram is not our most common tool, even within the Greater Mysteries, but it is far from unknown. Place us as you will."
"Bosc and the vicar will have the points nearest the castle wall. I will be in the point overlooking the Eyler. Bay will be to my left, and I would like to have you at my right. Carillia will be in the center."
Silvas turned to look at her. He would certainly have taken his usual place at the center of the pentagram if not for Carillia's admission of divinity. The center was the most important post. It was customary to place the greatest power there. Carillia met Silvas's gaze without outward emotion. After a moment she nodded, accepting his disposition.
"Be careful not to touch any of the lines," Silvas said as the others moved to their assigned positions. "And once in place, don't cross any of the lines or intersections until you are certain that it is safe." He took a step toward Brother Paul. "If you have any doubt, if your power does not yet run so far, any of the rest of us will be able to tell you when it's safe." Brother Paul nodded. His face had paled, but he didn't hesitate to take his position.
Silvas waited until the others were within their assigned segments. He took a moment to survey Bay's position. "You have a little room around you, old friend," he said.
"I am aware," Bay replied without moving even his head. Silvas nodded and moved to his ow
n position.
"It is time," he announced in a loud voice. The six monks from the cathedral chapter were along the outside of the castle wall. Satin and Velvet took up positions flanking the gate, keeping their distance from both the pentagram and the line of monks. Most of Sir Eustace's people were on the ramparts above the ledge.
It is time, Silvas repeated to himself. He turned around within his position to look at the others inside the pentagram.
"Not much is required of you for this part," he said. "Brother Paul, I know you have no experience at this sort of thing. All that is needed now is for you and the others around the points, to clear your minds and project whatever power you command toward Carillia in the center. She will focus that on me, and I will perform the active part."
When each of the others had nodded their understanding, Silvas turned again to face his point and look out over the Eyler. He took a wide, steady stance and started to chant.
It was not a simple magic. Silvas had to draw together many different spells and merge them into a seamless new construction. He started to chant up elementary defenses around the pentagram, waiting to feel the inrush of additional energy from Carillia and the others. Even before that came, Silvas knew that he himself already possessed more power than ever before. The inescapable result of the knowledge I was given, he reminded himself. Even with all this help, I might not have been able to perform this magic yesterday. He would still have found some way to produce the end result he sought-sufficient, reliable water for Mecq-but the production would have been more protracted, more difficult.
He eyed the near end of Mount Balq, across the river. He focused his telesight and scanned the rock, searching for fissures, making estimates of the power that would have to be applied and just where. Finally the surge of power he was waiting for came. Silvas switched immediately into more intense levels of conjuring, challenging what had always been the upper limit of his power, knowing that he had to go far beyond that old range to manipulate the substances of Earth and Sky.
Silvas raised his arms, his quarterstaff held horizontal in both hands. Then he brought the staff down to eye level so that he was looking over it at the crest of Mount Balq. The sky started to turn a slightly darker shade of blue. A few thin clouds coalesced and began to churn and curl far overhead. Faint white clouds against the blue. Then Silvas spoke the first words of power.
A bolt of brilliant blue-white lightning came out of clear sky and struck the end of Mount Balq, its accompanying thunder deafening. A trace of smoke remained after the lightning faded. Silvas repeated the first words of power, then added more, chanting the sequence over and over.
The lightning came in force now, blue and purple, occasionally a greenish yellow, most rarely white. The bolts came singly at first, separated by perhaps a second. But the intervals quickly decreased until the ridge across the Eyler wore the lightning like a crown of thorns. The thunder became a solid wall of noise, too loud and close, too constant. The people on Mount Mecq no longer truly heard the thunder, they felt it in their heads and hearts, in their souls. Tongues of fire danced on the rock of Mount Balq, only sporadically visible in the greater brilliance of the lightning. Explosions started to make themselves heard over the thunder. Even the ledge on Mount Mecq started to tremble from the force of the assault on the opposite hill.
Dust rose from the top of Mount Balq. Small chunks of rock, then larger boulders, finally immense sections of the hill began to tumble and slide from the top to the riverbed. The trembling on Mount Mecq increased with the rock slide.
Silvas lowered his arms still more, keeping the quarterstaff horizontal. There were new chants now, a new target. The deluge of lightning eased off and finally ended, leaving a halo of smoke and dust on the newly truncated top of Mount Balq. The falling rocks tumbled and continued to break into smaller portions with loud cracking assaults on the numb ears of the people above. The rock spread out in both directions, filling the riverbed.
Water splashed. The rocks stopped the Eyler and gave it a new chop. Dust rose above the splatter and then settled. By the time the last of the avalanche came to rest, the Eyler had been most thoroughly dammed to a point two feet below the farm fields on the Balq side. There was somewhat more room between the dam and the top of the bank on the village's side.
The near end of Mount Balq's crest now looked much as it had during the Council that had met there during the night, a large flat ledge with only a few stones to mar it. The slope of the hill had changed near the Eyler as well. There was almost a sheer drop from crest to foot, giving the end of the hill the look of a stone column braced only by low buttresses.
Silvas relaxed and brought his staff down, resting the iron end on the ground, holding the staff in his right hand, leaning a little against it as he looked at his handiwork. The dam was two hundred feet thick, strong enough to stand against anything that unassisted nature might throw against it, too massive for humans to dismantle. The top of the dam was flat and level, almost as if masons had set the rocks in place. It might be the work of two winters for the villagers to put the final finishing touches to the top of the dam, if they wanted to bother. The dam would not require that attention.
It is a beautiful dam, Silvas thought. Despite the urgency of the moment, he had put his full attention to the details. The dam was strong enough and precisely the proper height for Mecq's needs. It would not end the spring floods, but it would make them more reliable. The village would not be threatened, though. Even at the flood, the Eyler would spill through the gap into Blethye fast enough to avoid damaging the village. And beyond that, there was just too much room for the water to spread across the valley Balqside. Before the village could be threatened, scores of square miles of floodplain would have to be covered, with new water pouring in more rapidly than the "old" water flowed out between the twin hills.
I do not think that is possible, short of another Deluge, Silvas thought. It is a good job.
The wizard turned around, staying within his segment of the pentagram. He shouted up toward the castle walls, "I have fulfilled my vow to the people of Mecq." After the din of the thunder, even his loudest shout sounded hollow and distant, even to him.
"You have fulfilled your vow," Sir Eustace shouted back. The amazement he felt kept any trace of resentment or anger out of his voice. He had never dreamed that such a coup might be possible. Whatever might come next, the knight knew in his heart that he had witnessed a miracle.
"You have indeed kept your vow to these people," Bishop Egbert said, as impressed as Eustace at what he had seen-and felt. His ears still rang.
"It may take weeks for the river to overtop the dam," Silvas said in a normal speaking voice, "but I doubt that we will have to wait that long for the Blue Rose to respond. My challenge to them was much too loud."
Almost as he spoke, the sky began to grow night dark in the distance, over Blethye-black and dark purples, shades that immediately called to mind the vision of the Council. The stain over the distant sky expanded and raced toward Mecq. More slowly the people on Mount Mecq caught the sense of thousands of hoofbeats, felt as much as heard, racing ahead of the darkening sky, and a storm wave of fear pressing even ahead of the unseen riders.
Within the pentagram, both Bishop Egbert and Brother Paul fell to their knees to cross themselves and pray. The bishop started to chant the most powerful spells of protection he knew. Over below the castle wall, the monks of his chapter also went to their knees, adding their strength to the bishop's. Even Silvas had to hold his emotions in tight rein to keep from showing his apprehension at the now visible threat of the Blue Rose's anger.
The horror was almost at hand.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Silvas watched the approach of the final storm. There was a sour taste in his throat, but he gave no outward sign of how he felt. Inwardly he uttered a prayer. Lord, lend me your strength for the coming fight. Help me to stand strong for you. For a moment he seemed to sense Auroreus standing at his side, hand
on his shoulder, the way his mentor had often stood by him when Silvas was a boy learning the ways of the trimagister. I have taught you as best I could, the old wizard seemed to say. You have promise. You will serve our Unseen Lord well. Then the image faded and Silvas felt intensely alone. I hope I do serve Him well, Silvas thought, and on a more secret level he added, And I pray He lets me survive.
"It's time to stand and fight," Silvas said aloud. The churchmen had fallen to their knees. Silvas could feel their minds struggling with fear. Bishop Egbert overcame his terror quickly and rose, new vigor in his projections of power and resolve. He helped Brother Paul find the strength to get to his feet as well.
Bay was as solid as ever, broadcasting neither fear nor confidence, betraying nothing of his feelings. He stood motionless in his segment of the pentagram, marshaling his own spells, exhibiting more power than Silvas had ever felt from him.
Bosc emitted waves of fierce determination, seeming more like one of Braf Goleg's lupine warriors. Bosc's magic was limited, scarcely more than Brother Paul's, but he was ready to give everything he had in the coming fight.
And Carillia. There was still no time for Silvas to brood on her revelation. He could do no more than think, How little I have known you, my love, for all our years together. She wore her power more openly now, but it wasn't the same sort of power that Silvas had felt from the Unseen Lord. Even facing this challenge, Carillia radiated more the power of the nurturer, not the warrior.
Silvas let his mind quest farther, touching the minds of the monks lined up below the castle wall, then the soldiers above them. The monks were deep in their magics, channeling their power to the bishop. When Silvas fully raised the defenses of his pentagram, the monks would be on their own, and in greater danger. On top of the wall, Sir Eustace, Henry Fitz-Matthew, and the garrison watched in terror. There could be no mistaking the supernatural nature of the coming storm, and those men had only physical weapons to defend themselves with. Silvas broadcast a spell of calming and courage to all of them. The spell might not last long, and it couldn't relieve all of their fear, but Silvas knew he owed them what help he could provide. Without help some of the soldiers might lose the last of their courage before the enemy arrived.
