by Tuson, Mark
‘Listen to me, Steward, I’m on your side. I am sorry for having brought this about, but if you had called on me I could have helped sooner. And as for Lucy, she didn’t come for me, she came to kill me – you should be careful what you say in front of the young and impressionable.’
Lucy turned and opened her mouth to protest, but Peter met her eyes sharply, as if to say ‘I’m pulling your neck off the block here, kiddo – don’t throw it back at me.’
Eddie looked at Peter with hatred and fury in his eyes. He was being a warrior and a commander now, and Peter, in his eyes, posed a threat to his people. Peter shook his head and mobilised Eddie’s hands again, and performed the same shield spell on him that he had performed on Lucy and himself a moment ago. He did it very slowly, so Eddie could see how he was doing it and, hopefully, remember for future reference.
‘Come on Eddie, we’re friends. Show me where the action is, I’m here to help.’
Eddie nodded stiffly and started jogging, waving at Lucy and Peter to follow, which they did. Nobody said anything until they got to the bottom of the monastery, near the chamber where the tomb was.
When they stopped, Eddie took a moment to catch his breath, and then explained. ‘Right. From here we’re chaining all the protection we know around the tomb, on top of what’s already there –’
Peter cut him off. ‘No, there’s no point in doing that. That isn’t magic in there, it’s something more, and believe me it won’t open unless it wants to.’
‘You opened it.’
‘I made it want to open.’
‘Whatever. We’ve been putting spells as close to it as we can, anyway, just to make sure. We’ve also been spiralling chains of spellwork from here.’
That gave Peter a thought. ‘I know enough about some of the work on the tomb that I might be able to replicate it, add a little protection that way.’
‘Go for it. I’m going to be back at the entrance, watching over it in case anyone else tries to break in tonight.’ He turned to Lucy. ‘Are you coming back up with me?’
She nodded, and the two of them left. Peter immediately drew his flute and started blowing, manipulating the forces which were operating on the tomb, extending them to protect the rest of the Guild. He had no idea what sort of protection it would offer them, but at the moment he was working on the principle that “every little helps.”
He walked around the large spiral corridor, up the stairs, stretching the forces and adding to them, all the way back up to the entrance, where Eddie, surrounded by what looked like around fifty other magicians, were engaged in a magical melee with another fifty or so Werosaians. He knew what to do. Walking between them, he shielded every Guild member he found, greeting absolutely nobody as he went, and simply stopping the hearts of any Werosaians he came across.
Nobody noticed him moving among them – or, if they did, nobody said anything. This suited Peter fine, as it allowed him to get on with doing what he was doing. There would be time for pleasantries later.
Pretty soon, there were very few Werosaians left, and when Atlosreg suddenly turned up in the entrance, Peter had to stop himself from stopping his heart too.
Atlosreg was just stood there, with a face which carried the wrath of all the ages. He whipped his wand across the air and snarled, and all the remaining Werosaian Militias fell down, dead.
‘I have decided,’ he called to Peter, ‘that maybe you were right. You are my people, and so are your people.’
‘Thank you,’ Peter called back. ‘Now look after the doorway while we get these dead out of here!’
He did. No Guild magicians had died that night, Peter was grateful to find out, and while he accepted that all the dead were Werosaians, the enemy, he hated the fact that they believed in their orders enough to follow them.
All the dead were incinerated, without any of the pomp or ritual that was usual for Guild funerals. Then again, this wasn’t a funerary practice, it was a clean-up operation. Get the place clear, make room for the next lot. The smell of burning masses of human flesh was intolerable, and when they left, Peter was almost convinced that it would linger in his nostrils for all time.
Back in the entrance area, everything was calm. They all migrated into the refectory, where small cups of brandy – ‘for medicinal purposes,’ Peter was told – were handed out to all present. They all downed their cups in unison, and low talking started among all the people.
He went and caught up with some of the people he knew; Eric, Caroline, and one or two others, and then he went over to where Atlosreg was standing, alone.
‘They’re fucked,’ Peter said.
‘Are they?’
‘What do you mean?’
Atlosreg met his eyes urgently. ‘I think you were right. It is time, and we are ready. The cavern under Knifestone is prepared, and the Guild are desperate. We should start.’
That was what Peter had been afraid of him saying for over a month. But at the end of the day, there was no hiding from it: they were as ready now as they were ever going to be.
Peter wanted to have more protection on Knifestone, though if he was being honest with himself he might have admitted that the protection already on the island and the cavern, was all they needed and all they could do: he was simply loath to take the first step, because it was going to be such a monumentally huge task. Now the time was here, he was terrified of it all going wrong once they passed the point of no return.
Of course, his fear wasn’t unfounded. Compared with the task he had assigned for himself, everyone else had it pretty easy: move the innocents from Werosain to Knifestone, while he sought Rechsdhoubnom. He was terrified, but now they had called time, he suddenly felt more capable of surviving – and, who knew, even succeeding.
He was going to need help, though. Atlosreg alone didn’t have the first chance of getting everyone out. He was going to have to ask Eddie to enlist a few – or all – of the Guild, the better to be able to locate everyone and shepherd them all back to Knifestone.
Later in the evening, once everyone had called down after this evening’s attack from the Werosaian forces, Peter went to look for Eddie.
‘Hello?’ He found him at the opposite end of the refectory, silently nursing a much larger mug of brandy than the ones they had all been given before.
‘What do you want?’ Eddie’s eyes were bloodshot, and now Peter had a chance to look at him without the distraction of impending death hanging over them all, he noticed that Eddie looked a lot older as well. He looked worn out, which the appearance of him having not shaved for a week did nothing to help.
‘I know you don’t approve of what I’ve been doing. But Atlas and I are ready to move the Werosaian innocents out, to Knifestone.’
Much to Peter’s shock, Eddie nodded. ‘I know you were right about that,’ he said. ‘A couple of months ago, we kept one of the Army alive and… made him talk. He was terrified, said that he was only acting under orders. He didn’t want to be a part of any of it. We’ve still got him, protecting him.’
That was encouraging, thought Peter. Someone had proven to Eddie that Peter wasn’t full of shit after all.
‘Are you prepared to help us?’ Peter said after a brief pause.
‘Yes. Just let me see who we still have, then you can have whoever can help.’
Peter nodded solemnly. ‘Thank you.’
Eddie waved him away. He wanted peace.
They stayed there, at the Guild, that night: Peter in his old room, and Atlosreg in a room nearby. The following day, Eddie addressed everyone, calling a meeting in the refectory immediately after a large breakfast.
‘As some of you know,’ he was saying loudly, ‘Peter Rutherford and Atlosreg of Werosain have been working together for the last year to prepare a place where the innocents of Werosain can be relocated, before Peter does what our ancestors should have done twenty thousand years ago: call and end to that world.
‘He will be needing help to move everyone to the place he has p
repared, and I have said we’ll assist in whatever ways we can. This means, later, we will be splitting off into a number of groups and travelling to each of the villages in Werosain –’
At the mention of them all travelling to Werosain, a few people began to shout out garbled phrases alluding to the impracticality of such a mission, alongside a few others who stood up and blatantly shouted ‘fuck that.’
Eddie continued, shouting over the insubordinate comments: ‘Travelling into each of the villages in Werosain,’ he repeated, ‘to invite them to come into the new place.
‘Meanwhile, Peter will be looking for Rechsdhoubnom, and engaging him personally. I have no idea whatsoever how he expects to survive that one, but he seems to think he can.’
Peter laughed aloud. He hadn’t realized how little the other members of the Guild knew about how far he had come in the year since he had last even set foot in the Guild.
Eddie signalled to Atlosreg to explain his part of the plan, and he reluctantly stepped up in front of everyone to do so.
‘There are around ten thousand, divided into villages of between three and five hundred each. Finding them will not be difficult, but I will be going ahead of everyone to explain what is happening and why. We can expect resistance, but for the most part any people who make things difficult will be on their own – I imagine – and easily sorted out.
‘I have drawn a map of Werosain, but I cannot guarantee how accurate it will be. Copies have been prepared and I have marked each village, and where the other main landmarks are. There are twenty-seven of these villages, and they are all far enough away from one another that we will have to travel. That said, we can carry a door with us so we can get back to Knifestone with the people we are bringing back.
‘We can expect it to take a week or two to get everyone moved, if we work quickly. During this time, Peter will be working alone, looking for Rechsdhoubnom and possibly fighting with him. I can guarantee his capability, because of the magic I have seen him produce – he is easily the most powerful magician I have ever seen at work.’
For a man who had seemed reluctant to stand before everyone and speak, Peter thought, he didn’t have much of a problem actually speaking. Not that it mattered; he had got across what he needed to get across – for now, at least. There was more he was going to need to tell them, but he would be better telling them those things once they became relevant.
Copies of Atlosreg’s map were distributed, and a month’s worth of food rations were given to Peter, to keep him going while he was on his journey. The food rations consisted mostly of hardtack and honey, which in themselves weren’t particularly appetizing, but Peter knew they would help him survive pretty much as long as he needed to, and if he didn’t feel like eating them he could likely hunt for something. Privately, he was looking forward to the possibility of finding a wakka or two on his travels.
Shortly after, they were ready. All of the surviving members of the Guild of Magicians, plus Atlosreg, swarmed through the portal to Knifestone. It was surreal, everyone standing on the island which, until this morning, had been a secret. He couldn’t help being curious as to how Lucy could have found the place, but he supposed he would find out in due course.
As everyone else made their way down into the town-sized cavern under the island, Atlosreg and Peter pulled the doorway they had built out of the water, and cleaned it. It was still usable, though no obvious attempts had been made by anybody to come through it. Between them, they carried it down into the cavern and set it up.
The cavern itself was dark and warm, and the ceiling, which was two hundred feet higher than the floor, was glowing a reddish colour, similar to the sky in Werosain. The spellwork involved had been nontrivial, though not quite as difficult as it could have been, especially given Peter’s initial idea of creating a copy of the sky above. The atmosphere down here was one which, Peter imagined, would feel at first quite alien to anyone else. The ground was cool and damp, and with the light down here there were the very beginnings of small plants attempting to grow. Of course, they weren’t as well-established as they would have been had they been growing on the surface, but the fact of them having grown the little they had had been encouraging to Peter and to Atlosreg.
With everyone here at Knifestone, and the door set up, they were all almost ready. The one thing they had left to do was make sure everyone had all the tools on them they were going to need. As Peter had hoped, Eddie had paid attention to the shield spell Peter cast on him, and now everyone else here knew how to do it, which they all did. Peter checked his own shield: it was as strong as he had hoped it would be, and the out-phasing spell he had developed, and eventually cast on the small gold cygnet ring he had taken to wearing, was ready to become active at a thought. His wands, knife, two-stick, and flute were in his satchel, and his food rations were in a large blue backpack.
He was ready. This was it.
Atlosreg and Peter went through first, killing the guards before even having looked at them. Peter stepped back through to Knifestone to give the others the “all-clear” for coming through, and then he, feeling nervous and emotional, said his goodbye to Atlosreg.
‘I hope this works,’ he said quietly. ‘And I hope we see each other again. You’ll let me know when everyone is safely back on Knifestone, won’t you?’
‘Of course.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Thank you, Peter.’ It felt very strange to hear Atlosreg say his name; that didn’t happen very often at all. ‘You have given me hope that maybe my life has not been wasted. I hope you find him and succeed in this. You are the only man who can.’ And then, in a gesture which was so alien to Peter that he nearly burst out laughing, Atlosreg put an arm around him. ‘We will see each other again, brother.’ Peter nodded. For the moment, he couldn’t speak.
Eddie and Eric had come through, and they both came together to wish Peter luck, though Eric seemed not to be willing – or able – to speak. Eddie, on the other hand, told Peter that he was sorry for having been unfair on him, but that he should have been more open about his intents, and more willing to accept the guidance of his elders. Peter understood, and hugged both of them. Even Lucy and Caroline came to see him off, both hugging him. He wasn’t sure why Lucy had made this effort, since they hadn’t ever spoken before – unless Peter had gained a reputation in his absence of which he wasn’t aware.
There wasn’t anybody else there wanting to say anything, at least as far as Peter knew, and he took his opportunity to quietly leave. They were going to be alright from here.
The Shaman's Demise
Wand at the ready, he left the room in which the door out of Werosain was. He threw explosive spells at every Werosaian who approached him, no longer feeling any remorse for the deaths he was causing. This was a military operation, and he had to be prepared to sacrifice the lost to save the innocent.
Calmly and purposefully, he continued in this manner until he reached the palisade around the base. The guards had their own wands out, and were preparing what appeared to be some kind of duet offensive spell between them: they must have seen Peter approaching, and the fallen Werosaians in his wake. They looked worried and shaken as they worked, though neither one finished the spell they had started: they simply collapsed where they were, still wearing the expressions they had been when they were alive.
As he stepped through the now un-guarded gateway, he set light to the wooden fence, for no other reason than that he wanted to. He now had to simply work. There was no stopping and allowing himself to feel the things he had just done: he was working for the greater good – a greater good which, hopefully, would save anyone from committing any more killings. That was the theory, at any rate.
He took out his own copy of Atlosreg’s map. If Rechsdhoubnom had a home, it wasn’t marked down. Obviously, Atlosreg didn’t know of any particular home he kept, which meant Peter would have to search through all of Werosain, possibly trying to break through who-knew-what ancient forms of conceali
ng spellwork along the way.
The map itself was drawn in an almost unbelievable level of detail, which made Peter wonder how Atlosreg could have gained such a knowledge of the land: he had never claimed to have any expertise in cartography or geography, and from what he had said, he had never travelled much.
After a moment’s absent-minded pondering, he reminded himself that he was here on a mission, and directed his attention back to the map, which indicated his current position as being pretty much dead-centre of the most western part of the lower continent, which was the largest of the three continents which constituted the total landmass on Werosain.
He had realized before setting out that he was going to have to look through each continent in turn, starting with the one further away, to the north-east: as far as Atlosreg knew, there was no settlement there, and no military base, which – in Peter’s mind – would make it the perfect place to hide whatever home, or base, or whatever the most appropriate term was, that Rechsdhoubnom kept. The only drawback was that it would take almost as long simply to get there as it would take the rest of the Guild to evacuate the rest of Werosain. And then, when he got there, if there wasn’t any sort of base there in which Rechsdhoubnom lived, he would have that time to spend again, getting back to the main landmass and starting again.
Not only was there that to think about, but Peter and Atlosreg had also discussed the likelihood of Rechsdhoubnom moving away from his own home, wherever it was, and engaging the Guild in combat. They had concluded, however, that even if that were to happen, Peter would pose more of a direct threat; his presence would be far more likely to pique Rechsdhoubnom’s interest.
Peter stared at the map again, and at the landscape, and back at the map. He was trying to match physical landmarks with those Atlosreg had marked on the map: compasses wouldn’t work here, which Peter guessed was likely to be because of the lack of a magnetic field on the planet which constituted Werosain.
