The door opened and a white-faced Nathan appeared. He looked around the room and began to speak, but halted, as if the words were too difficult to utter. At last he simply said, “He’s dead.”
Jimmy couldn’t contain himself. He sprang from the bench and pushed past those before the door, not recognizing his own voice crying, “No!” The guards were too startled to react as the young squire forced his way into Arutha’s chamber. There he halted, for upon the bed was the unmistakable form of the Prince. Jimmy hurried to his side and studied the still features. He reached out to touch the Prince, but his hand halted scant inches from Arutha’s face. Jimmy didn’t need to touch him to know without doubt that the man on the bed, whose features were so familiar, was indeed dead. Jimmy lowered his head to the bed quilting, hiding his eyes as he began to weep.
FOUR
EMBARKATION
Tomas awoke.
Something had called to him. He sat up and looked about in the dark, his more than human eyes showing him each detail of his room as if it were twilight. The apartment of the Queen and her consort was small, carved from the living bole of a mighty tree. Nothing appeared amiss. For an instant he felt fear that his mad dreams of yesterday were returning, then as wakefulness fully came to him, he dismissed that fear. In this place, above all others, he was master of his powers. Still, old terrors often sprang unexpectedly to the mind.
Tomas regarded his wife. Aglaranna slept soundly. Then he was on his feet, moving to where Calis lay. Almost two years old now, the boy slept in an alcove adjoining his parents’ quarters. The little Prince of Elvandar slept soundly, his face a mask of repose.
Then the call came again. And Tomas knew who called him. Instead of being reassured by the source of that call, Tomas felt a strange sense of fate. He crossed to where his white and gold armor hung. He had worn this raiment only once since the end of the Riftwar, to destroy the Black Slayers who had crossed into Elvandar. But now he knew it was time to wear battle garb again.
Silently he took down the armor and carried it outside. The summer’s night was heavy with fragrance as blossoms filled the air with gentle scents, mingled with the preparations of elven bakers for the next day’s meals.
Under the green canopy of Elvandar, Tomas dressed. Over his undertunic and trousers he drew on the golden chain-mail coat and coif. The white tabard with the golden dragon followed. He buckled on his golden sword and picked up his white shield, then donned his golden helm.
For a long moment he stood again mantled in the attire of Ashen-Shugar, last of the Valheru, the Dragon Lords. A mystic legacy that crossed time bound them together, and in odd ways Tomas was as much Valheru as human. His basic nature was that of a man raised by his father and mother in the kitchen of Castle Crydee, but his powers were clearly more than human. The armor no longer held that power; it had been but a conduit fashioned by the sorcerer Macros the Black, who had conspired to have Tomas inherit the ancient powers of the Valheru. Now they resided in Tomas, but he still felt somehow lessened when he forwent the gold and white armor.
He closed his eyes and, with arts long unused, willed himself to travel to where his caller awaited.
Golden light enveloped Tomas and suddenly, faster than the eye could apprehend, he flew through the trees of the elven forest. Past unsuspecting elven sentries he sped, until he reached a large clearing far to the northwest of the Queen’s court. Then he again stood in corporeal form, seeking the author of the call to him. From out of the trees a black-robed man approached, one whose face was familiar to Tomas. When the short figure had reached him, the two embraced, for they had been foster brothers as children.
Tomas said, “This is a strange reunion, Pug. I knew your call like a signature, but why this magic? Why not simply come to our home?”
“We need to speak in private. I have been away.”
“So Arutha reported last summer. He said you stayed upon the Tsurani world to discover some cause behind these dark attacks by Murmandamus.”
“I have learned things over the last year, Tomas.” He led Tomas to a fallen tree and they sat upon the trunk. “I am certain now, beyond doubt, that what stands behind Murmandamus is what the Tsurani know as the Enemy, an ancient thing of awesome abilities. That terrible entity seeks entrance to our world and manipulates the moredhel and their allies—toward what particular ends I do not know. How a moredhel army gathering or assassins killing Arutha can aid the Enemy’s entrance into our space-time is beyond my understanding.” For a moment he fell into a reflective mood. “So many things I still don’t understand, despite my learning. I almost came to an end to my searching in the library of the Assembly, save for one thing.” Looking at his boyhood friend, he seemed possessed by a deep urgency. “What I found in the library was barely a hint, but it led me to the far north of Kelewan, to a fabulous place beneath the polar ice.
“I have lived for the last year in Elvardein.”
Tomas blinked in confusion. “Elvardein? That means…‘elvenrefuge,’ as Elvandar means ‘elvenhome.’ Who…?”
“I have been studying with the eldar.”
“The eldar!” Tomas appeared even more confused. Memories of his life as Ashen-Shugar came pouring back. The eldar were those elves most trusted by their Dragon Lord masters, those who had access to many tomes of power, pillaged from the worlds the Dragon Lords raided. Compared to their masters, they were weak. Compared to other mortals upon Midkemia, they were a race of powerful magicians. They had vanished during the Chaos Wars and were thought to have perished beside their masters. “And they live upon the Tsurani homeworld?”
“Kelewan is no more homeworld to the Tsurani than it is to the eldar. Both races found refuge there during the Chaos Wars.” Pug paused, thinking. “Elvardein was established as a watch post by the eldar against the need of such a time as this.
“It is much like Elvandar, Tomas, but subtly different.” He remembered. “When I first arrived, I was made welcome. I was taught by the eldar. But it was a different sort of teaching than any I had undergone before. One elf, called Acaila, seemed responsible for my education, though many taught me. Never once in the year I spent under the polar ice did I ask a question. I would dream.” He lowered his eyes. “It was so alien. Only you among men might understand what I mean.”
Tomas placed his hand on Pug’s shoulder. “I do understand. Men were not meant for such magic.” He then smiled. “Still, we’ve had to learn, haven’t we?”
Pug smiled at that. “True. Acaila and the others would begin a spell and I would sit and watch. I spent weeks not understanding they were conducting lessons for me. Then one day I…joined in. I learned to weave spells with them. That was when my education began.” Pug smiled. “They were well prepared. They knew I was coming.”
Tomas’s eyes widened. “How?”
“Macros. It appears he told them a ‘likely student’ might be coming their way.”
“That indicates some connection between the war and these odd occurrences of the last year.”
“Yes.” Pug fell silent. “I’ve learned three things. The first is that there is no truth to our concept of there being many paths of magic. All is magic. Only the limits of the practitioner dictate what path is followed. Second, despite my learning, I am but just beginning to understand all that was taught to me. For while I never asked a question, the eldar also never gave an answer.” He shivered. “They are so different from…anything else. I don’t know if it’s the isolation, the lack of normal congress with others of their kind, or what, but Elvardein is so alien it makes Elvandar feel as familiar as the woods outside Crydee.” Pug sighed. “It was so frustrating at times. Each day I would arise and wander the woods, waiting until an opportunity to learn presented itself. I now know more of magic than any of this world, now that Macros is gone, but I know nothing more about what we face. Somehow I was forged as a tool, without fully understanding my purpose.”
“But you have suspicions?”
“Yes, though I will no
t share them, not even with you, until I am sure.” Pug stood. “I have learned much, but I need to learn more. This is certain—it is the third thing I told you I had learned—both worlds face the gravest threat since the Chaos Wars.” Pug rose, looking Tomas in the eyes. “We must be going.”
“Going? Where?”
“All of that will become apparent. We are poorly equipped to enter the struggle. We are ill informed and knowledge is slow in coming. So we must go seek knowledge. You must come with me. Now.”
“Where?”
“To where we may learn that which may gain us advantage: to the Oracle of Aal.”
Tomas studied Pug’s face. In all the years they had known each other, Tomas had never seen the young magician so intense. Quietly Tomas said, “To other worlds?”
“That is why I need you. Your arts are alien to mine. A rift to Kelewan I can manage, but to travel to worlds I know only through millennia-old tomes…? Between the two of us, we have a chance. Will you aid me?”
“Of course. I must speak to Aglaranna—”
“No.” Pug’s tone was firm. “There are reasons. Mostly, I suspect something even more dread than what I know. If what I suspect is true, then no one beyond the two of us may know what we undertake. To share the knowledge of this quest with another is to risk the ruination of everything. Those you seek to comfort will be destroyed. Better to let them doubt awhile.”
Tomas weighed Pug’s words. One thing was certain to the boy from Crydee turned Valheru: one of the few beings in the universe worthy of complete, utter trust now spoke to him. “I dislike this, but I will accept your caution. How shall we proceed?”
“To transverse the cosmos, perhaps even to swim the time-stream, we need a steed only you may command.”
Tomas looked away, peering into the darkness. “It has been…ages. Like all the former servants of the Valheru, those you speak of have become stronger-willed over the centuries and are unlikely to serve willingly.” He thought, remembering images of long ago. “Still, I will try.”
Moving to the center of the clearing, Tomas closed his eyes and raised his arms high above his head. Pug watched silently. For long moments there was no movement by either man. Then the young man in white and gold turned to face Pug. “One answers, from a great distance, but she comes with great speed. Soon.”
Time passed, and the stars overhead moved in their course. Then in the distance the sound of mighty wings beating upon the night air could be heard. Soon the sound was a loud rush of wind and a titanic shape blotted out the stars.
Landing in the clearing was a gigantic figure, its descent swift and light, despite its size. Wings spanning over a hundred feet on each side gently landed a body bulking larger than any other creature on Midkemia. Silver sparkles of moonlight danced over golden scales as a greater dragon settled to the earth. A head the size of a heavy wagon lowered, until it hung just above and before the two men. Giant eyes of ruby color regarded them. Then the creature spoke. “Who dares summon me?”
Tomas answered. “I, who was once Ashen-Shugar.”
The creature’s mood was apparent. Irritation mixed with curiosity. “Thinkest thou to command me as my forebears were commanded by thine? Then know we of dragonkind have grown in power and cunning. Never willingly shall we serve again. Standest thou ready to dispute this?”
Tomas raised hands in a sign of supplication. “We seek allies, not servants. I am Tomas, who, with the dwarf Dolgan, sat the deathwatch with Rhuagh at the last. He counted me a friend, and his gift was that which has made me again Valheru.”
The dragon considered this. Then she answered. “That song was well sung and loudly, Tomas, friend of Rhuagh. In our lore, no more marvelous thing has occurred, for when Rhuagh passed, he coursed the skies one last time, as if his youth had been restored, and he sang his death song with vigor. In it he spoke of thee and the dwarf Dolgan. All of the greater dragons listened to his song and gave thanks. For that kindness, I will listen to thy need.”
“We seek places barred from us by space and time. Upon your back I may breach such barriers.”
The dragon seemed leery of the notion of one of her kind again carrying a Valheru, despite Tomas’s reassurance. “For what cause dost thou seek?”
It was Pug who spoke. “A grave danger is gathering to strike this world, and even unto dragonkind it poses a threat terrible beyond imagining.”
“There have been strange stirrings to the north,” said the dragon, “and an ill-aspected wind blows across the land these nights.” She paused, pondering what had been said. “Then I think it may be thou and I a bargain shall strike. For such purposes as thou hast spoken shall I be willing to carry thee and thy friend. I am called Ryath.” The dragon lowered her head and Tomas adroitly mounted, showing Pug where to step so as not to cause the giant creature any discomfort. When both were mounted, they sat in a shallow depression where neck joined shoulder, between the wings.
Tomas said, “We are in your debt, Ryath.”
The dragon gave a mighty beat of her wings and took to the sky. As they rapidly climbed above Elvandar, Tomas’s magic kept Pug and himself firmly seated on Ryath’s back. The dragon spoke. “Debts of friendship are not debts. I am of Rhuagh’s get; he was to me what in thy world thou wouldst term a father, I to him a daughter. While we do not count such kinship vital as do humans, still such things have some importance.
“Come, Valheru, it is time for thee to take command.” Drawing on powers not employed for millennia, Tomas willed a passage into that place beyond space and time where his brothers and sisters had once roamed at will, visiting destruction upon worlds unnumbered. For the first time in long ages, a Dragon Lord flew between worlds.
—
Tomas mentally directed Ryath’s course. As need came, he discovered abilities not used in this life. Again he felt the persona of Ashen-Shugar within, but it was nothing like the all-consuming madness he had endured before he finally overcame the heritage of the Valheru to regain his humanity.
Tomas maintained an illusion of space about himself, Pug, and the dragon, again almost instinctively. All about them the glory of a thousand million stars illuminated the darkness. Both men knew they were not in what Pug had come to call “true space,” but were rather in that grey nothingness he had experienced when he and Macros had closed the rift between Kelewan and Midkemia. But that greyness had no substance, existing as it did between the very strands of the fabric of space and time. They could age here while appearing back at the point of departure an instant after having left. Time did not exist in this nonspace. But the human mind, no matter how gifted, had limits, and Tomas knew Pug was human, regardless of his powers, and that now was not the time to test his limits. Ryath appeared indifferent to the illusion of true space about her. Tomas and Pug sensed the dragon change directions.
The dragon’s ability to navigate in this nothingness was a source of interest to Pug. He suspected Macros might have gained some insight into how to move between worlds at will from his time of study with Rhuagh years ago. Pug made a mental note to search through Macros’s works back at Stardock for that information.
They emerged in normal space, thundering into existence with a loud report. Ryath beat her wings strongly, flying through angry skies, dark with rain clouds, above a rugged landscape of ancient mountains. The air held a bitter metallic tang, a hint of something foul blown along by a stinging, frigid wind. Ryath sent a thought to Tomas. This place is of an alien nature. I like it not.
Aloud so that Pug might hear, Tomas answered, “We shall not tarry here, Ryath. And here we need fear nothing.”
I have nothing to do with fear, Valheru. I simply care not for such odd places.
Pug pointed past Tomas, who turned to follow the magician’s gesture. With mental commands, Tomas directed the dragon to follow Pug’s instructions. They sped between jagged peaks, a nightmare landscape of twisted rock. In the distance mighty volcanoes spewed towers of black smoke that fanned upward, their unders
ides glowing orange from reflected light. The mountain slopes were aglow with flowing superheated rock. Then they came upon the city. Once-heroic walls lay rent, the gaps framed by shattered masonry. Proud towers occasionally still rose above the destruction, but mostly there was ruination. No signs of life could be seen. Over what had once been a plaza they banked, circling the heart of the city, where throngs once gathered. Now only the sound of Ryath’s wings could be heard over the icy wind.
“What place is this?” asked Tomas.
“I do not know. I know this is the world of the Aal, or once was in the past. It is ancient. See the sun.”
Tomas observed an angry white spot behind blowing clouds. “It is strange.”
“It is old. Once it shone like ours, brilliant and warm. Now it fades.”
Valheru lore, long dormant, returned to Tomas. “It is near the end of its cycle. I have knowledge of these. Sometimes they simply dwindle to nothing. Other times…they explode in titanic fury. I wonder which this will be.”
“I don’t know. Perhaps the oracle knows.” Pug directed Tomas toward a distant range of mountains.
Toward the mountains they sped, Ryath’s powerful wings carrying them swiftly. The city had stood on the edge of tableland, once cultivated, they suspected. But nothing hinting of farms remained, save a single stretch of what seemed an aqueduct, standing isolated in the center of the broad plain, a silent monument to a long-dead people. Then Ryath began to climb as they approached the mountains. Once again they flew between mountain peaks, these old and worn by wind and rain.
“There,” said Pug. “We have arrived.”
Following Tomas’s mental instructions, Ryath circled above a peak. Upon the south-facing rocks a clear flat place was revealed, before a large cave. There was no room for the giant dragon to land, so Tomas used his powers to levitate himself and Pug from her back. Ryath sent a message that she would fly to hunt, returning at Tomas’s call. Thomas wished her success, but expected the dragon to return hungry.
A Darkness at Sethanon Page 9
