"Use the wand! Blast it!" said Black.
"I can't make it work!" said Derkon, the red rod raised before him, lines of tightness about his eyes and mouth.
Dilvish swung his blade in an arc before the advancing creature, repeating the gesture rapidly, over and over again. It darted toward him, halted, drew back. The air was filled with the sound of heavy breathing. Back in the corner from which it had emerged, another creature jerked forth, this one dropping to all fours and darting wide past the confrontation of its fellow and the arcing blade. Arlata scratched a curved line upon the floor before it and struck an en garde position, the point of her weapon moving constantly. It scurried to flank her, and Hodgson scratched a continuation of the curve and began waving his blade before him also. Another of the creatures was coming out of the same corner, and turning his head, Black saw that they were now appearing in all corners of the hall, including those overhead.
More and more of them approached, crowding nearer and nearer, darting, retreating, heads snaking forward, snapping back. Dilvish was pressed on three sides. Derkon uttered imprecations as he shook the wand and waved it.
Then Black snorted and reared. Fires danced in his eyes as he advanced to break the circle and fall upon the Hounds besetting Dilvish. Great gouts of fire spewed from his nostrils upon the angular, darting forms. One fell to the floor and began thrashing about. Another fled. The third sprang upon his back. He reared again and Dilvish's blade slashed across the creature atop him. It howled and slipped to the floor as two more sprang at him.
Dilvish cut at another and Black struck forward and breathed more flames. Five more leaped at them as this occurred.
Abruptly, a great flash of light appeared and Hounds were falling away everywhere.
"I've got it!" Derkon announced, the Red Wand blazing like a star in his hand. "It was almost too simple!"
He directed it first upon those Hounds nearest them, blasting them back across the hall. Some slithered into corners and vanished. Others lay smoldering, jerking, changing shape. Those which had been approaching—sliding down walls, bounding across the floor—halted, milled, transformed themselves into hissing packs. The hall was filled with the sounds of their breathing.
Immediately, Derkon turned the wand upon the nearest pack, shattering and scattering it. The others howled and raced forward.
Dilvish and Black hurried to rejoin the circle as Derkon continued to wield the wand against the oncoming creatures. By then, Derkon was beginning to breathe heavily himself.
Hodgson struck at one of the beasts which had gotten by. It hissed, withdrew, and came at him again. Dilvish cut at another, Arlata at a third and a fourth. Black scraped arcs upon the floor with his metal hoofs and breathed fire above them. Derkon swung the wand again.
"They're falling back!" Hodgson gasped as Derkon continued to swing the wand in widening arcs, his face a mixture of pain and exultation.
The Hounds were retreating. It seemed that wherever there was an angle, one was sliding into it and out of existence. Laughing, Derkon hurled bolt after bolt at them, blasting them along their way. Dilvish straightened. Hodgson massaged his arm. Arlata smiled faintly.
No one spoke again until all of them had departed. And they remained together for a long while, back to back, watching the corners, running their gazes over angles.
Finally, Derkon lowered the wand, lowered his head, and rubbed his eyes.
"Takes a lot out of you," he said softly.
Hodgson clasped his shoulder.
"Well done," he said.
Arlata clasped his hand. Dilvish came over and repeated the gesture.
"They have all departed," Black announced, "and are fleeing back to their own regions. Our velocity is mounting enormously."
"I could use some wine," Derkon said.
"Anticipated," said Black. "Apply to the cabinet across the way."
Derkon raised his head. Dilvish turned his.
The once-gray walls were now white and of a plastered appearance. A group of paintings hung upon the one to the left, a small red and yellow tapestry depicting a boar hunt upon the right-hand one. Directly below the tapestry was a mahogany cabinet. There were bottles of wine and other beverages within, some of them entirely strange. Black indicated one of these latter, a squarish bottle containing an amber fluid.
"Just the thing for my sort," he said to Dilvish. "Pour some of that into yon silver bowl."
Dilvish uncorked it and sniffed.
"Smells like something you'd use in a lamp," he observed. "What is it?"
"It is closely related to demonjuice and other items in my natural fare. Pour out a lot."
Later, Arlata studied Dilvish over her wineglass.
"You alone appear to have achieved your goal," she said, "after a fashion."
"Yes," he replied. "The weight of many years has been lifted. Yet—It is not the way that I had thought it would be. I don't know…"
"Yet you have succeeded," she said. "You have seen your enemy removed from the world. As for Tualua—I suppose that the poor creature is better off with the gods themselves, who count it as kin."
"I begrudge nothing its salvation," Dilvish said. "And I am just beginning to realize how tired I am. Perhaps that is good. You—You will find other ways to better the world, I am certain, than with the use of a mighty slave."
She smiled.
"I'd like to think so," she said, "providing we ever find our way back to our world."
"Go back…" Dilvish said, as if the thought had occurred to him for the first time. "Yes. It might be good at that…"
"What will you do?"
He stared at her.
"I don't know," he answered. "I hadn't given it any thought."
"Over here!" Hodgson called out from around a corner where he had wandered with Derkon. "Come see!"
Dilvish downed his drink and left the glass atop the cabinet. Arlata placed hers beside it. The only urgency in the cry had been that of excitement. They walked toward the room in which the two sorcerers stood before a bay window. The room had not been present earlier.
The brightness beyond the window seemed to be increasing. When they came up beside the others and looked out, they saw a rapidly fluctuating landscape not without considerable patches of green beneath a sky traversed by a great, glowing golden arch.
"The sunbow is bright," said Derkon, "and you can just barely detect a light-dark pattern if you stare for a time. It may be a sign that we are slowing."
"I believe that you are right," said Dilvish after a while.
Hodgson turned away from the window, gestured widely.
"The entire place has changed," he said. "I am going to have a look around."
"I," said Dilvish, "am not," and he returned to the bar.
The others followed Hodgson, save for Black, who raised his muzzle and turned his head.
"A little more of the substitute demonjuice, if you please," he said.
Dilvish refilled the bowl and poured himself another glass of wine.
Black took another drink, then looked at Dilvish.
"I promised to help you," he said slowly, "until Jelerak had been disposed of."
"I know," Dilvish replied.
"And what now, eh? What now?"
"I don't know."
"A number of alternatives present themselves to me."
"Such as… ?"
"Not important, not important. Only the one I choose is important."
"And what have you chosen?"
"It's been an interesting career so far. It would be a shame to end it at this point. I'm curious what will become of you, now that the big driving force in your life has been removed."
"… and the rest of our arrangement?"
From no apparent source, a piece of folded parchment sealed with red wax and imprinted with a cloven hoofmark fell upon the floor between them. Black leaned forward and breathed upon it. It burst into flames.
"I have just scrapped our pact. Forget it."
"You meet the damndest people in Hell," he said. "I sometimes doubt you really are a demon."
"I never said that I was."
"What, then?"
Black laughed.
"You may never know how close you came to finding out. Pour me the rest of that stuff. Then we'll go and get the lady's horse."
"Arlata's Stormbird?"
"Yes. A part of the hillside has accompanied us, so the cave should still be here. Jelerak was able to go out to it and bring her in. We might as well do the same and save the horse… Thank you."
Black lowered his head to drink again. Across the way, the clock made peculiar noises, beginning to slow.
Not reflecting anything within the room, a form took shape within the great iron-rimmed mirror. Holrun stared out, examining the small chamber, satisfied himself that it was empty and stepped forth.
He wore a soft, sleeveless leather jacket over a dusky knit shirt with palely embroidered cuffs; his trousers were a dark green sateen, bloused into wide-topped black boots; his kellen-hide belt was studded and bore a short, silver-chased scabbard at his right hip.
As he crossed the room, he heard voices from outside and moved to take up a position beside the door.
"It has become a lot smaller," he heard a masculine voice say.
"Yes, everything is changed," answered another.
"I rather like it this way," said the first.
"I wish we could find something worth plundering, though—for our troubles."
"I'll be happy just to get out of here," said a" female voice. "I still have a dotted line."
"No problem there," said the second masculine voice, "as soon as it stops. Soon, I'd say."
"Yes, but where?"
"Wherever. Just to be alive in the world again will be good."
"Unless it stops on a desert, a glacier, or a sea bottom."
"I've a feeling," came the girl's voice, "that it knows where it is going and is changing to accommodate itself to the locale."
"Then," came the first masculine voice, "I've a feeling I'll like the place."
Holrun pushed open the door and stepped out into the corridor, where he immediately faced two drawn blades and a red wand.
"I take it you people are not interested in going home, then?" he said, raising his hands. "Point that wand somewhere else, huh?" he added. "I think I recognize it."
"You're Holrun," Derkon said, lowering the wand, "a member of the Council."
"Ex-member," Holrun corrected. "Where's the boss?"
"You mean Jelerak?" Hodgson asked. "Dead, I think. In the hands of the Elder Gods."
Holrun made a clicking noise with his tongue, looked up and down the hall.
"You call this place a castle? Doesn't look like any castle to me. What have you been doing to it?"
"How did you get here?" Derkon asked.
"The mirror. I'm the last one around who appreciates it. Are you three all that's left in the place?"
"There were others about—servants and such," Hodgson said, "but they all seem to have disappeared. We've explored most of the place and found no one else. There's only ourselves and Dilvish and Black—"
"Dilvish is here?"
"Yes. We left him downstairs."
"Come on. Show me the way."
Blades were sheathed and they led him to the stair.
Partway down, they felt a strong draft. When they reached the ground floor, they noted that the former double doors had become a single large one, and this stood open. It was night outside and the movements of the stars had slowed. When the sun came up, it swam rapidly but did not race into the heavens. It seemed to be slowing even as they watched. Before it reached the middle of the sky, the house gave a jolt and the sun stood still.
"We're here," Hodgson said, "wherever here is," and he looked out across a very green landscape toward the misty mountains. "Not bad," he remarked.
"If you have a thing for vegetation," Holrun said, as he stepped over the threshold and looked about.
Dilvish and Black were approaching, leading a white horse.
"Stormbird!" Arlata cried, racing forward to embrace the horse.
Dilvish smiled and passed her the reins.
"Gods!" Holrun said. "You want me to take a horse through into my sanctum?"
Arlata turned, eyes flashing.
"We go together or we do not go."
"It had better be well behaved," Holrun said, turning back toward the house. "Come on."
"I'm not going," Hodgson stated.
"What?" said Derkon. "You're joking!"
"No. I like it here."
"You don't know anything about the place."
"I like its looks—its feeling. If it disappoints me, I can always try the mirror."
"Wouldn't you know, the only white magician I ever liked… Well, good luck to you."
He extended his hand.
"Will anybody who does want to leave please come with me?" said Holrun. "I've got a lot of work ahead of me today."
They filed back into the house, Black's step slightly less sure-footed than usual.
Holrun dropped back as the others returned to the stair.
"So you're Dilvish?" he asked.
"That's right."
"You're not as heroic-looking as I thought you'd be. Say, do you recognize that wand Derkon is carrying?"
"It is the Red Wand of Falkyntyne."
"Does he know it?"
"Yes."
"Damn!"
"Why 'damn'?"
"I want it."
"Maybe you can make a deal with him."
"Maybe so. You really saw Jelerak get his?"
"Afraid so."
Holrun shook his head.
"I've got to have the whole story as soon as we get back so I can tell the Council. I may even join them again, now that their half-assed policy doesn't matter."
They mounted the stair, came to the room of the mirror, and entered. Holrun led them to the glass, activated its spell.
"Goodbye," Hodgson said.
"Good luck," Dilvish told him.
Holrun stepped into the mirror. Arlata nodded and smiled at Hodgson, then she and Dilvish led Stormbird into the glass, Derkon and Black following.
Then came a momentary rippling of reality, a feeling of intense cold. They emerged in Holrun's chamber.
"Out!" Holrun said immediately. "Get that horse out into the hall! All I need's some neat little brown piles on my pentagrams. Out! Out! You— Derkon!—wait a minute! I've been looking at that wand. I'd like it for my collection. What say I trade you one of the Green Wands of Omalskyne, the Mask of Confusion, and a sack of Frilian dream-dust for it?"
Derkon turned and looked at the objects Holrun was snatching from shelves.
"Ah, I don't know…" Derkon began.
Black leaned forward.
"That green wand is a fake," he said to Holrun.
"What do you mean? It works. I paid a bundle for it. Here, I'll show you—"
"I saw the originals destroyed at Sanglasso a thousand years ago."
Holrun lowered the wand, with which he had just begun tracing fiery diagrams in the air.
"A very good fake," Black added. "But I can show you how to test it."
"Damn!" Holrun said. "Wait till I catch that guy. He told me—"
"That Muri power-belt hanging on the wall is a phony, too."
"I've suspected that. Say, could I offer you a job?"
"It depends on how long we'll be here. If there is no place for the horse…"
"We'll find a place! We'll find one! I've always been very fond of horses…"
Outside, in the faintly glowing corridor, Arlata regarded Dilvish.
"I'm tired," she said.
He nodded.
"Me, too. What will you be doing after you've rested?"
"Going home," she said. "And yourself?"
He shook his head.
"It's been a long while since you've visited E
lfland, hasn't it?"
He smiled as the others emerged from the chamber.
"Come on," Holrun said. "This way. I need a hot soak. And food. And music."
"It has been," Dilvish said as they followed him up the tunnel, "too long. Far too long."
Behind them, Black snorted something none of them recognized as a tune. The light grew before them. About them, the walls sparkled. Somewhere in the world the black doves were singing as they headed for their landing and their rest.
The Changing Land Page 20
