by Sean Russell
“Well, clearly you see what I am getting at.”
“Tremont Abbey and Compton Heath both lay along the fault that runs through Kilty’s Keep. Volcanic activity took place here in very ancient times. There is some connection between this and these other worlds of which you have spoken.”
“I could not have put it more clearly. Though I cannot tell you more. Perhaps this volcanic activity is caused by the proximity of the other world.”
“I think Layel and his followers would find this a little difficult to accept.”
She shrugged. “Many things the mages believe empiricists would find difficult to accept. These men of reason even doubt the arts existed at all. I have heard that some say it was all trickery—conjuring on a grand scale—but you and I know better.” She held his eye for a moment, and then smiled. “Finally, before we give up this subject all together, does this line of vulcanism—Is that correct? Vulcanism?”
“Correct in every way.”
“Does this line extend toward Beacon Head?”
Erasmus felt himself sit up, suddenly not so comfortable.
“This island upon which you have a house, is it volcanic? Is that where this is going?”
“No, that’s where we are going.” She smiled at her poor jest and put her hand on his cheek. “Do not look so suspicious, Erasmus. We have long thought this island to be a place of power, which is how the mages thought of such sites—Tremont Abbey, for instance. Farrow as well. But it is nothing to be concerned about. I have no nefarious plans. No Tellerite conspiracy to bring to fruition. We seldom used this house at all, keeping it as a refuge in case all our plans went awry. I hope it is still standing.” She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly at the corner of his eye. “Do you think people come up here often or might we be left undisturbed for an hour?”
* * *
* * *
Erasmus covered Anna carefully with a blanket, stood for a moment watching her sleep, and then walked out under the shading trees. He sat upon a rock and looked out over the valley toward Kilty’s Keep. The town of Compton Heath lay below, twisting along a road that curved into a hollow of the hillside. This was where Baumgere had first encountered a Stranger and started on his quest—a quest that led to a child dying in isolation and terror far beneath the fair surface of the world.
The surface of the world . . .
Anna seemed to believe that this was but one of several “worlds infinitely far away yet close at hand.”
It did not begin here, he reminded himself, any more than it began when I found Hayes hiding in an Avonel brothel, or when I was ordered to the house of Eldrich as a child. No, it began when the seven journeyed here from Darr—if it is not merely a myth.
“You saw the chamber,” Erasmus reminded himself. And the face forming in stone; a face that must have been him—the last Guardian of the Gate.
But he had escaped the chamber and its gate, escaped Eldrich’s attempt on his life.
“But can I escape him again?” he whispered, for certainly that was why he had taken up with Anna—that and he owed her his life. She would have been far safer to let him drown, but then perhaps she knew him well enough to realize that he could not betray her now. Eldrich had attempted his murder, and Anna had saved him from certain death. . . .
But it was a desperate thing they did, attempting to elude Eldrich. Erasmus could feel the desperation in both of them. It woke them from nightmares and was present even in their lovemaking. If they were found—well, he did not like to contemplate that.
Better to think about what life would be like if they escaped Eldrich. Perhaps he would finally lay to rest his shattered childhood and live life anew. It was worth killing Erasmus Flattery to be free of Eldrich. He only hoped that isolation and secrecy would not drive him to madness.
Erasmus rose and walked a few steps, looking off toward the sea. Great, billowing, white clouds—the escaped sails of an entire fleet—lifted up above the horizon. A hawk circled effortlessly over the fields, turning its head slowly, searching for movement.
Searching.
The sea was not quite visible from this height, though he could imagine it, lying silvered beneath the great reef of cloud.
Did he trust Anna? Lovely, seductive Anna?
No, she had some purpose of her own, some reason to have rescued him. But what could it be? He thought, though, that he had a much better chance of resisting Anna than he did of resisting Eldrich. Better to throw in his lot with someone who could not so easily overpower him.
“Be thankful you are dead,” he said aloud. “Even Eldrich cannot murder the dead.”
It occurred to him suddenly that the countess was with Eldrich now. Had he abducted her? Unlikely that she would go willingly, but then, mages could be very persuasive. Odd that Eldrich would have an interest in this woman, at this point. Certainly in their younger years, before they passed their centenaries, many of the mages were known to have a weakness for the fairer sex. To the best of his knowledge, Eldrich had not been one of these—not that he had likely lived as a monk, but women were not his passion as they had been with some. But Eldrich had passed his hundredth year some time ago, no one knew exactly when, and here he was abducting the fairest woman in all of Farrland. There must be some other reason.
For a moment Erasmus entertained the idea that Eldrich had done it to spite him, but no, the truth was that Erasmus was probably not so important to Eldrich that he would be driven to such revenge or even to wreak a little more havoc on Erasmus’ already battered life.
“Is he lost in thought and melancholia?” Anna’s voice came from behind. “Or is he merely contemplating the beauty of the world which stretches out before him?”
“It is the clouds,” he said not looking back. “When I was a child, I imagined that there were worlds within the clouds and that magic ships existed that could visit them, sailing across the blue of the heavens, landing on islands of clouds which were all inhabited by strange races, usually with beautiful women.”
She sat down and wrapped an arm about his neck, putting her head on his shoulder. “What do you mean, ‘when you were a child’? Are you saying this isn’t true? That we will not be able to find a good sky-ship and make our escape to the clouds?”
“Well, it is not a fancy I give up easily. But then there were some who believed that the way to Faery lay through the cave—yet we did not find it.”
“No we did not, though that doesn’t mean it was not there. . . .”
“You’re beginning to sound like Clarendon.”
“How so?”
“He . . . he was fascinated by Strangers and the idea that Faery might not be merely myth.”
Anna nodded. “Myth it is, I think, but there certainly are lands beyond—Darr, from where Landor journeyed, and other worlds besides; one of them Faery, perhaps. Who can say?” She ran fingers through his hair, and shut her eyes, still in need of sleep.
“Will we escape Eldrich, do you think? Have you tried augury to see?”
“No, I have not attempted augury. Eldrich knew of our visions in the past. I . . . I am a bit afraid to use it now. Will we escape . . . ?” She shrugged.
“But you have the seed now. A familiar follows you. Do you fear him still?”
“More than I can say. There is no one who should not.” She hesitated. “That is not true. Another mage need not fear him. They had strictures—No, it was more than that. There is a curse. One mage cannot murder another without bringing down this curse upon all mages.”
“But there is only one remaining in all the world.”
“So there is,” she said. “So there is.”
Thirty-Five
The soft, almost hesitant knock was becoming familiar to the countess. In fact, she had begun to look forward to Walky’s visits, often remembering what Erasmus had said about the man being a good friend to him in a diff
icult situation.
“Mr. Walky,” she said, curtsying primly.
This took him somewhat aback, it seemed.
“Do I interrupt you, m’lady?”
“No, Mr. Walky, not at all. I was simply so happy to see you that I forgot myself for a moment.” She laughed and took hold of his arm, drawing him into the room and closing the door.
“I have tea,” she said. “Or wine if you prefer.”
“Tea would be very welcome, m’lady.”
She sat him down and poured tea. “It is not entirely fresh,” she said, “as I expected you earlier.” She raised a hand to prevent his next response. “No, you are not coming too late. I am only sorry about the quality of your tea.”
She set his steaming cup before him. “Now, tell me. What will it be tonight? More Owl Songs, for I will tell you I have been trying to read them, but I have not enough of the language yet to make much headway. It is tough sledging, as an instructor of mine liked to say.”
Walky, she noticed, looked rather subdued this evening. It might have been her imagination, but his eyes looked a bit red and puffy.
“Is something wrong, Walky?”
He made as if to speak, and his mouth quivered slightly as though it struggled to open. “I have received some news that, though not unexpected, was still very sad, m’lady.”
“Oh, Walky, I am distressed to hear. Can you tell me what this is, or is it business of the mage and therefore not for mortal ears?”
“It has to do with a . . . friend, m’lady. I do not mean to pry, but I collect you had more than a passing acquaintance with my former charge, Erasmus Flattery?”
She nodded, closing her eyes involuntarily. She felt a peculiar numbness.
“The mage is not utterly convinced this is true, but we have received news that Erasmus had an unfortunate accident.” He struggled with the next word, his mouth quivering again, “. . . drowned,” he managed.
“Oh, Walky.” She felt tears appear upon her eyelashes, and she reached out and took the old man’s hand. “Farrelle preserve us—preserve him. How did this happen? Could not Erasmus swim? Did he not tell me you had taught him?”
The old man nodded. “Yes,” he whispered, “but not well enough, it seems.” A tear streaked down from the corner of one eye. “The poor child,” he said. “The poor, sad child. It was written in the stars. . . . What hope had he with all that was arrayed against him? What hope . . . ?” And the old man broke down and wept bitterly, the countess crying with him, for the loss of Erasmus Flattery, and the fate for which he had been born.
* * *
* * *
“It is nothing to be ashamed of,” Hayes heard the priest say. “We were all afraid.”
Hayes propped himself up on one elbow and looked around.
“Ah, he returns to the land of the living,” Deacon Rose said.
“Hello, Hayes,” Kehler said so softly he could barely be heard. “Do you feel as beastly as I?” Kehler sprawled in a chair looking like a man near death, his face positively gray.
“I have a headache for which there is no descriptor, but it is a long catalogue of ailments and probably no different from your own.” Hayes closed his eyes.
“You resisted,” Rose said, “which was a mistake.”
Hayes noticed Clarendon collapsed against the wall, drawn into himself like a child who’d been beaten.
“Randall? Are you . . . ?”
Clarendon looked up, tried to smile, and then let his head drop again.
“Flames,” Hayes said, “what did that monster do to him?”
“A favor, apparently,” Rose said, looking thoughtfully at the small man. Then he shook his head. “This is about his lost love and nothing more. He was not misused any more than the rest of us—not last night, at least.”
“Let him be now,” Kehler said mildly, not opening his eyes.
Hayes sat up painfully. “What . . . what exactly happened? I have only the vaguest memory.”
“I was just telling Mr. Kehler that Eldrich used the arts to be sure Anna had not left any form of enchantment upon us. He was also very interested in our memories of the chamber. But for the terror of it, I think we are unharmed.”
Hayes nodded, closing his eyes. Yes, the fear was not easily forgotten.
“And why is it that you have so clear a memory of what happened, Deacon?”
“Because I offered no resistance, Mr. Hayes, and had I known what would be done to us, I would have cautioned you to do the same. You cannot resist a mage. But you did not do it by choice, I’m sure, but out of fear, and that is only natural. The arts are frightening and the mages even more so.”
Hayes pressed his hands to the sides of his head, trying to stop the throbbing. “Blood and flames, I have never felt so battered. What will become of us now?”
Rose shook his head. “I cannot say. The mage was not pleased by our efforts. The fact that we found no bodies bothered him immeasurably. Though it would likely have bothered him more had we found the others and not Anna. It is probable that the current swept them away or down into some pool with an undertow, or lodged them under overhanging rocks. But still . . .”
“Still?”
“The mage did not seem convinced. He still suspects that Anna is alive; Anna, and perhaps Erasmus as well. Only poor Pryor has been forgotten entirely.” Rose made a sign to Farrelle.
Truncated paragraphs of memory were coming back to Hayes—flashes of scenes, suddenly illuminated as though by lightning. “I will say, Lord Eldrich did not seem overwhelmed with regret at the death of Erasmus,” he said.
Rose nodded at this.
“An insignificant loss to be rid of his enemy, wouldn’t you say, Deacon?” It was Kehler, still with them, though he appeared to be nearer the state of Clarendon.
Rose glanced over at Kehler, his look pained. “Like all of you, Mr. Kehler, I came to esteem Mr. Flattery greatly. He was a man of substance and incisive intellect. I had begun to think of him, almost, as a man from another age. A better time when men were honorable and principled in ways that many today are not. It might be true that Eldrich does not mourn the loss of his former protegé, but that is not true of me. I mourn him, far more than you will believe, I’m sure.”
Hayes rose from the bed and made his way to the window, where the pale light of morning illuminated the world. He looked down into the empty garden, which dripped still from the storm. “I guess an escape is not to be contemplated?”
“Only if you can outrun a wolf—and an unnatural one at that.”
Hayes cringed at the thought. Kehler had come and stood beside him, and they both stared out into the dreary morning. Kehler looked like a man who had lost all desire to continue, as though his encounter with the mage had overwhelmed him entirely.
Hayes searched desperately for something to say. “What . . . what can we do for Randall?” he whispered after a moment, “for there is no one other than us to tend him.” It was a clumsy attempt, he realized, but Kehler no longer cared for his own well-being so Hayes hoped to interest him in another.
Kehler turned to look at Clarendon, and this seemed to effect him somehow. He drew himself up a little. “I don’t know. For the moment I think we should let him mourn, for it is a natural thing for men to do. But if this state of catatonia persists—Well, the man must eat and drink. We can’t let him lay down and die. He must go on, as we did in the cave. We bore each other up then, and we will do it again.”
“Yes,” Hayes said, “as long as we never give in all at the same time.”
* * *
* * *
Walky knew all the signs; the pale sheen on the face, the sunken eyes, the lassitude. Eldrich had gone searching in the vision world again, searching for Anna, searching to know if she lived and, if so, how she could be found.
The mage sprawled in a chair, his eyes half cl
osed, the dawn light making him look even more ghostly and ill. “We must let Clarendon go with the others, Walky,” the mage said.
Walky felt his heart sink a little.
“Is there no other course, sir?” He did not need to say that Clarendon carried the knowledge of the chamber—the ritual to open the gates.
“If she runs, Walky, we will never find her. She must try to make herself a mage, perhaps even open the gate.”
“If she lives, sir, or did you see her in your dream?”
“No, but she could be hidden from me.” He raised a hand, then let it fall back weakly. “Let us imagine that she is still alive. Put yourself in her place. What would you do, Walky?”
“I would find a place to live quietly, most likely in Doom, and wait. . . .”
“Until I am dead—you can say it, Walky. It’s not as if I am unaware.”
“That is what I would do, sir.”
Eldrich closed his eyes, and for a moment Walky thought he slept. “But you have the wisdom of your years, Walky. Anna is young and impetuous, and though, no doubt, she believes she has learned patience, she does not yet know the meaning of the word. No, I think she will not be as wise as you. But it would help if she could be panicked. Frightened into believing she had no other course. Do you think she understands what was written in the chamber?”
“Perhaps in time she will, sir. It is not easily understood.”
“Yes, that is likely so.” Eldrich shifted his position, his eyes still closed, as though the faint light pained them. “Let us hope she has no record of what Landor wrote. None of the notes the others took survived their near-drowning. Only Clarendon appears to have the knowledge.”
Walky stood quietly waiting for his master to speak again. The mage shifted in his chair again, as though in discomfort. “I will send out this priest and the others once more. And Bryce must make contact with his minion in the government. I will not give up this search, Walky. Perhaps it is madness searching for someone who is dead, but we cannot afford to make a mistake. Teller’s people hid themselves so long—they have ways of doing this that even I don’t understand. Foolish of me to not have questioned Halsey more thoroughly. The search must continue. Unless there is a sign. Bring the priest and the others to me in three hours.”
