The Wizardwar cakt-3

by Элейн Каннингем

  The ringing sincerity in his voice made Keturah want to shriek with fury.

  "You know there is not," the magehound said sternly. "She cannot take any magical potion of any kind, for fear of altering the delicate balance and harming the child."

  Keturah's eyes widened as a grim possibility seared its way into her mind. Dhamari knew her devotion to Halruaa. If she were chosen as a jordain's dam, she would find a way to accept her fate. Yet he had made sure that she knew nothing of this.

  "Keep my lady with you," Dhamari went on in his gentle voice. "She is too confused to travel alone. I will come presently and collect her."

  Keturah hurried to the window. A tall iron trellis covered with pale lavender roses leaned against the wall, leading down into the greenmage's garden. As she eased herself out and began to climb down, she blessed Mystra that Dhamari had never had much talent for travel spells. He would have to depend upon their stables. The ride to the magehound's home and back granted Keturah some time.

  Once she reached the ground, she conjured a travel portal and leaped through it. She emerged not in her own home but in the public gardens, near the pool where she had found the blue behir nearly a year ago.

  For a moment she considering attempting another gate spell but was afraid what the next random location might be. She set off on foot, hoping that the sedate mare Dhamari usually rode kept to its usual, plodding pace.

  After what seemed an eternity, she reached her tower. She raced up the stairs to gather a few belongings and seek some answers.

  "Mistress."

  Keturah stopped on the stair landing and whirled, regarding a woman with a face similar to her own, yet somehow coarser and lacking in symmetry.

  "What is it, Hessy?"

  "Did you see Whendura the greenmage this morn?"

  Keturah blinked. "Yes. What of it?"

  "She is dead. I heard it cried in the marketplace." Hessy swallowed hard. "It is said she was killed by starsnakes."

  "A starsnake? At this hour? Unless she climbed one of the bilboa trees to accost one in its sleep, that seems unlikely."

  "She was attacked in her own tower. They say there must have been at least three of the snakes."

  Dread began to gnaw at Keturah, giving way to growing certainty. The winged snakes never ventured within human dwellings. They were also fiercely solitary creatures, capable of bearing young without need for another of their kind. They avoided each other assiduously-never had she seen more than one of them in the same place. Though starsnakes had a high resistance to magic, no natural starsnake would attack a wizard-unless compelled to do so by a powerful spell.

  Keturah began to see the shape of Dhamari's plan. He could not allow the sympathetic greenmage to become Keturah's ally for fear of what the two women might together discover. Keturah would be confined to her tower, under Dhamari's care, until the birth of the valuable child. Then she would be turned over to Halruaan law-if indeed she survived the birth with her mind intact-and the child would be Dhamari's to control. No doubt a magehound would detect some spark of magic in the babe, and the child would be rejected by the jordaini order. Everyone would regard this as a tragic waste and look upon Dhamari with great sympathy.

  Oh, but he was clever! The only flaw in his plan was Keturah was not yet with child. He probably had spells prepared to entrap her long enough to remedy this lack.

  "It was Dhamari who found Whendura, I suppose." Her voice was harsh as a swordsmith's rasp. "Or what little was left of her?"

  Hessy nodded, and her eyes confirmed Keturah's unspoken suspicions. "The militia are questioning her servants about who came before him. He has not been truth-tested for her death. The militia did not deem it necessary, as he is a maker of potions and not a wizard known for his ability to summon such creatures."

  "Unlike his wife," Keturah said bitterly. "Yes, Dhamari can be very convincing."

  "They will test you," Hessy said hopefully. "They will learn the truth."

  Keturah shook her head. "He has been giving me potions that confuse magical inquiry. Whendura thought I was with child, and she is among the best greenmages in the king's city. The council will wait until after I have given Dhamari a child. By wind and word, that I will never do!" she swore. "Let the mangy whelp of a rabid jackal find me if he can!"

  The servant hesitated, then pressed a bit of bright metal into Keturah's hand.

  "Wear this talisman wherever you go," she whispered urgently. "It will tell you when Dhamari is near, or those he sends."

  Keturah stared at the servant in puzzlement. "This is a rare and costly thing. How did you come by it?"

  The girl attempted a smile. "You pay me well, and my needs are small. I saved every coin I could, hoping that when the time came, I could see you safely away."

  "When the time came?"

  "I clean his lab," Hessy said flatly. "I have seen the spells he creates. Forgive me for not speaking of what I knew!"

  Many wizards enspelled their servants and apprentices to keep them from betraying secrets. Even so, Hessy’s concerns were for her mistress's safety and not her own. Words utterly failed Keturah. She opened her arms, and Hessy rushed into them. For a moment the two women stood clasped in a sisters' embrace.

  Keturah pulled away and walked to the open window, chanting a spell as she went. Hardly caring if the spell held or not, she stepped out into the wind...

  * * * * *

  Tzigone hit the ground facedown, landing with a spine-numbing jolt and a solid splat. She pushed herself off the mossy cushion and rose to her feet, wiping the moisture from her face. For a while she paced, waiting for the last lingering shadows of her vision to fade. When all she could see was the bleak expanse of rocky moor, she sat down with her back against one of the jagged standing stones that littered the dark fairies' realm.

  So there it was-the beginning of her story. For years, Keturah had evaded Dhamari's pursuit, finally falling into the hands of Kiva, the elven magehound. Somewhere in between, Tzigone had been born.

  That was interesting, but Tzigone didn't see how it could help her get free of this place. She would try again... later. Right now she was bone-weary, soul-weary.

  Even so, she gathered her small remaining strength and sank back into recent memory. When she opened her eyes, a tall, solid figure stood over her, arms crossed and an expression of fond exasperation on his face. The illusion of Matteo was nearly as ghostly as the form of his friend Andris, but Tzigone took comfort from the illusion of his presence.

  She raised her eyes to his shadowy face. "Good news, Matteo. Dhamari is not my father."

  You're sure of this? inquired the illusion with typical jordaini skepticism.

  "Positive. I saw it in one of those past memory trances you taught me to do. The little weasel never even made an attempt at fatherhood. You'd think all those wands and chalices and crystal balls that wizards have lying around would plant the idea. The man has no appreciation for symbolism! He never once cast a spell, if you follow."

  Matteo's misty visage furrowed. No spells? But Dhamari is a wizard.

  Tzigone groaned. "I'll put this in terms a scholar can appreciate: either there was no lead in Dhamari's stylus, or he was just never in the mood to write."

  A faint flush suffused the illusion's face. You saw this?

  "There wasn't much to see, praise Mystra." The amusement faded from her eyes, and she studied Matteo for a long moment. "None of this is real, you know. Nothing here is real, anyway, and I wouldn't bet on whatever's happening back in Halruaa. Life is mostly illusion and wishful thinking, isn't it?"

  Yes.

  "You're the only person I've ever known who is exactly what he seems." She grinned fleetingly. "I'm sorry for all those times I called you boring and predictable."

  No you're not, Matteo's illusion responded.

  Tzigone chuckled. "Well, maybe not all those times."

  She began to drift, and leaned back against the stone. "Stay with me for a while?"

  Always.


  Because this was the Unseelie court and because illusions had great power here, the answer Tzigone heard was what she needed to hear. As the exhausted girl sank toward sleep, she realized that truth, in its purest form, was quite different from fact. Matteo was worlds away, but he was truly with her.

  The familiar warmth of her friend's presence enfolded her like a cloak. Drawing it around her, Tzigone settled down to sleep while she could.

  The dark fairies would return soon enough.

  Chapter Six

  Two figures strode across the swamp water surface, confident in the spells that allowed them to traverse the murky water as easily as a northman might cross a winter-frozen pond. Despite their reliance upon magic, both these travelers looked utterly at home in this wild place.

  Kiva's coppery skin and jade-green hair proclaimed her a native of the jungles. The colors of her beauty blended with the lush foliage, and her movements held the subtlety of shifting shadows. The human's scaled, faintly green skin, the gills on his neck, and the webbing between his fingers suggested a creature well suited to places where air and water mingled.

  The amphibious wizard halted, leaning on his staff as he rested. For several moments the only sounds were the voices of the surrounding swamp, the faint crackle of energy that surrounded the wizard's staff-a living but stiff-frozen eel, hard as mithral-and Akhlaur's labored breathing.

  "The air is thin. Two hundred years in magic-rich water cannot be countered in mere days," he snapped at his companion, as if she had chided him for some weakness.

  Kiva lifted her hands in a defensive gesture. "This jungle has always been difficult for humans. Surely you remember the last time you were here."

  Akhlaur's thin lips curled in a sneer. "Not so difficult. The natives died as easily as those in any other place."

  The wild elf bit back her outrage and kept her face calm. "When you are ready, we should move on."

  They pressed deeper into the Kilmaruu Swamp, the site of Kiva's first great victory. Twilight gloom settled over the swamp as they neared a swift-running river bordered by deep gorges and spanned by the remains of a bridge fashioned from a single, enormous log.

  Akhlaur regarded the skeleton of the three-horned creature sprawled across the blackened wood. His face took on a dreamy expression, as if he were lost in fond memory.

  "Monsters from Chult-I'd almost forgotten that spell! Bringing them here was difficult but worthwhile. The wild elves had never seen such creatures before. Quite amusing."

  "No doubt," Kiva said flatly. She pointed toward the opposite bank. "That way."

  The necromancer eyed the apparently impenetrable forest wall. "It did not look so when last I came through. There were terraced gardens amid the trees."

  "Two hundred years," the elf reminded him. "The jungle covers all and forgets nothing."

  He sent her a sharp glance. "That sounds suspiciously like a warning, little Kiva."

  "A proverb," she said mildly, "of a sort often spoken by the jordaini. During your exile, these sayings have infested the Halruaa language like gnats upon overripe fruit."

  "So much for my gift to Halruaa," Akhlaur observed. "It is said that no good deed goes unpunished!"

  Several responses came to Kiva's mind, all of which were almost guaranteed to kindle the necromancer's rage. She acknowledged his ironic proverb with a nod, then led the way across the log bridge. They crawled through the rib cage of Akhlaur's creature and passed into the forest. The wizard followed her down long-forgotten elven paths that no human, magically gifted or not, could ever see.

  Night fell, and the path traced a steeply sloping hill. They skirted several ravines and pits-all that remained of the elves outer defenses. Finally they stood within the crumbling walls of the ancient elven city.

  Moonlight filled the courtyard, lingering on the blackened, vine-covered ruins.

  Akhlaur looked about in dismay. "What happened here? Pillage I could understand, had it been widely known that elves lived in this part of Halruaa! But this was a hidden city. Certainly a few learned wizards suspected its existence, but sages and looters seldom drink from the same bottle."

  "Not looters, Lord Akhlaur, but time. Time and Halruaa herself conspired in this destruction."

  "I am not one for riddles," he warned.

  She took a moment to choose her words. "The destruction of Halruaa's elves could not have been accomplished by one wizard, not even one as powerful as you. During your rise to power, all of Halruaa looked the other way and pretended not to know."

  The necromancer looked at her as if she'd stated that most of the trees were green. "You are just now discovering the nature of humankind? Even those who consider themselves virtuous see only what they wish to see. Especially those who consider themselves virtuous! After all, illusions, once created, must be maintained."

  "Yes, my lord," she agreed, though his observation made little sense to her.

  A strange silence hung over the city as they worked their way over piles of crystalline rubble toward the treasure Akhlaur had left here.

  Kiva stopped at the door of the elven temple, staring in revulsion at the scene before her. What had once been a place of great beauty and serenity now resembled an abandoned charnel house.

  Bones lay in tall heaps. Long, delicate elf bones were tumbled together with the thick, yellowed remnants of humans, swamp goblins, even such creatures as birds and crocodiles. Many of the bones had been blackened and broken, probably by the explosion the clever jordain Andris used to break the charge of the undead creatures. Kiva wondered how long it had taken for the shattered, scattered remains to gather themselves and return to this place.

  She glanced at Akhlaur. He nodded, and she stepped over the threshold.

  The intrusion triggered defensive wards. Shudders ran through the piles of bone. With a horrible clatter, the undead guardians rose.

  Elven bones skittered across the floor, cast aside as the other creatures took shape. Kiva's eyes narrowed, as if to hold back the gleam of triumph they held. The elves whose bones these were had passed far beyond Akhlaur's power.

  The others, however, had not. A skeleton of gray stone, the unmistakably squat and sturdy frame of a long-dead dwarf, lofted a giant's thighbone like a club and stalked forward. The floor around the undead dwarf writhed as hoards of giant snakes and crocodilian skeletons undulated forward, their naked fangs grinning wickedly. Other skeletons marshaled behind this undead vanguard, some of them entire, some partial creatures that limped or hobbled or crawled toward the intruders.

  The necromancer chanted softly, gesturing toward the advancing army, directing them to go here and there, as if he were a master of dance. The advancing wall of undead creatures parted, moving to face each other in two long lines.

  A sharp crack rang through the temple as every bipedal creature snapped off one of its arms and held it aloft with the other, forming an arch to honor and welcome their master.

  Akhlaur swept through the grisly arch to the temple's most sacred and powerful place. The elf followed, suppressing her disgust with great difficulty.

  So much magic, and for what? Would humans never learn that just because a thing could be done, it did not follow that it should be? For all their complacency, their careful laws and customs, Halruaans had not fallen far from the tree of their Netheril ancestors.

  Akhlaur stopped abruptly. For a long moment he gazed in consternation at the empty altar.

  This was the most dangerous moment. All Kiva's wiles would be tested here.

  The necromancer turned furious eyes upon her. "Where is the globe?"

  Kiva just shook her head, as if she were too stunned to speak. "Stolen," she marveled at last "It must have been stolen."

  "What wizard could get near this place?"

  She suppressed a sneer. Of course Akhlaur would assume that only a Halruaan wizard would be capable of such a feat! "None, my lord," she said hastily. "I heard rumors, though..."

  "Speak!"

&nbs
p; "There were tales of an army of magic-dead fighters. Jordaini, mostly."

  An expression of extreme distaste twisted the wizard's face. "Again, these jerdayeen," he scoffed, using the old Netheril word for court fool. "Not one of my more successful experiments."

  "Yet these fools have become highly regarded counselors in Halruaa." Akhlaur chuckled at her words, and Kiva added, "Even the king employs them."

  Her tone was innocent enough, but her words had the desired effect. Speculation crossed Akhlaur's face, quickly chased by wrath.

  "Zalathorm," he muttered. "He sent the jordaini in. He has the globe!"

  Kiva nodded slowly. "It is possible. Who else could have known so much about your magic and about these elves?"

  Who else indeed? she thought. For a moment, Kiva relived the flash of joy-an emotion she had thought banished from her heart forever-that she had known when Akhlaur's green crystal shattered and the trapped spirits within took flight.

  Akhlaur turned and stalked back through the skeletal arch, muttering as he went. "Two globes missing, and with them all the magic they held! Thousands of spells, hundreds of life-forces-all that, stolen. By curse and current, Zalathorm will pay!"

  A sly, satisfied smile crossed the elf woman's face. She quickly banished it. "You were so close, Lord Akhlaur. Had Zalathorm not interfered, you would have gathered the lion's share of Halruaa's magic into your hands. As you will yet do," she added hastily when the necromancer shot a glare over his shoulder.

  "On that you may depend," Akhlaur grumbled. "I have other bases, other sites of power. They will be more than enough."

  When they emerged into the ruined courtyard, he swept both arms wide. A shimmering oval appeared. Akhlaur stepped through-

  And sank like a stone into miry water.

  Kiva emerged from the magic gate behind him, walking lightly on the swamp water. She, unlike Akhlaur, had been expecting this wet reception.

  The wizard shot out of the water and settled down beside Kiva, looking none the worse for his dunking. He looked about him in consternation. "What is this place?"