Crystal Sorcerers

by William R. Forstchen

  "Now I'm ready to sit," Ikawa announced with mock gravity, and swinging over, he settled down by Allic's side. Scooping up the proffered flask, Ikawa took a long drink and sighed.

  The three friends sat in quiet contemplation of the beauty around them. To the east Mark could see the brooding heights of the Sarnastu, the barrier mountains that guarded the approach to what had once been the realm of Sarnak the Accursed. Their destination was just on the other side of those mountains. Though the war was over and Sarnak had fled in defeat, still there was a sense of foreboding to the place.

  As he looked eastward at the Sarnastu he could not help but feel uneasy.

  "My lord, would you mind sharing with us what this is all about?" Ikawa asked.

  Allic looked at the two and smiled.

  "I'd have told you earlier, but felt it best to wait till we were out here alone."

  The two nodded. Ever since the war there had been some concern about a possible security leak in Allic's ranks. It wasn't so much that there was direct evidence, but rather just an uneasy feeling on Allic's part, backed up by Pina and Valdez, his two most trusted lieutenants, that somehow word was sifting out of the city regarding Allic's activities.

  "Word came in yesterday that we've found Sarnak's secret office and command center."

  "We've been tearing that palace apart for three months," Ikawa interjected. "I thought we'd never find his command center."

  "One of his sorcerers had enough of hard labor and felt that his old master had sold them all out, so he decided to talk in return for a reduced sentence."

  "Maybe now we can find out where that bastard Sarnak is hiding and finish off the job," Mark said grimly.

  "My intentions exactly, and the sooner we get there the sooner we'll find out."

  Leaping forward, Allic dived down the face of the cloud and rolled out eastward.

  "Let's get going." Laughing, Mark gave Ikawa a friendly shove. His friend tumbled off the throne and with a curse plummeted down the side of the cloud. Mark focused his attention and did a magnificent spring upward, like a diver going off a board. He hovered for a moment above the throne and then jackknifed straight down. Snapping his shielding up to ease the buffeting of the wind on his face, he raced down the face of the cloud.

  Ikawa had regained some semblance of stability, and as Mark raced past, the Japanese officer swung in alongside his comrade.

  Below the base of the cloud the two leveled out and, riding the currents of air, swung in behind their lord, forming a protective cover to his rear. Though there was no war, they were still flying into a conquered territory and a moment of inattention could still result in tragedy.

  The ground below was dotted with farmsteads and villages, but as the Eastern Marches drew closer the settled region finally gave way to wild tracks of forest. For three thousand years this had been the frontier between two rival powers, subject to raid and counterstrike, and only the border wardens and lords of the marches had stayed in this region, their settlements fortified positions set atop high peaked hills.

  As the mountains rose below them, the three started to curve back skyward, passing again through the clouds which were billowing upward to form the first thunderheads of an afternoon storm.

  The sight of the clouds made Mark think again of his lover. She was a demigod in her own right, the daughter of Jartan. Storm had in her powers the ability to create her own thunderstorms, the darkened sky her plaything for amusement or, as he had once witnessed, a terrifying power of war. It was, after all, in a storm cloud that he had first met her, and he smiled at the memory.

  As they punched through the clouds, the towering peaks of the Samastu loomed ahead. Allic led the way through a narrow past, the sheer rock walls of the mountains rising several thousand feet above them on either side. The air was cold and crisp, the sun illuminating the peaks with a golden light that rendered them in stark contrast against the mountain clouds.

  Turning and weaving, the party continued on up into the mountain fastness.

  "This is Red Leader to Gold Leader control," Mark announced through his communications crystal.

  "Gold Leader to Red, go ahead please."

  "Party of three approaching through sector five."

  There was a pause on the other end.

  "We have you in sight. Identification code please."

  "Green, green, white," Mark announced.

  One of the things Allic's people had picked up from Mark was the method of air control and identification codes he had learned in the Army Air Corps. He had designed the air approach systems into Allic's realm and Sarnak's territory, and if a flyer did not follow certain corridors, and have the right codes, it would trigger an instant scramble.

  "You are cleared for approach through air corridor five," the controller responded, and the crystal fell silent.

  Mark was pleased with the crispness of the operation, and Allic looked back at him approvingly. It had been difficult to convince Allic that he should never announce his presence or even speak via crystals when in the air, lest he tip some unwanted listener off. But since his injury in battle he had, at least for now, seemed a little more cautious.

  Coming down out of the high pass, the ground dropped away to a broad plateau, broken occasionally by hills and river valleys. For a nation that had been at war there was little sign here that a conflict had ever been fought. But then, Mark reflected, there wouldn't be: Almost all the combat had taken place in Allic's realm.

  The towns and cities were well ordered, in an almost military precision of squared fields and arrow-straight roads. If anything was lacking, it was the green lushness of Allic's kingdom, and that vague indefinable spirit that could instantly tell someone that the people were truly happy and contented with their life.

  Swinging low for a closer look, Allic soared over his new territories.

  Mark felt slightly nervous about this. In Allic's own realm the sight of their lord passing overhead would have been cause for jovial shouts and comments. Here his passage was met by stony silence. Mark kept a watchful eye for the slightest threatening sign.

  "Can't expect them to like me yet," Allic said evenly, falling back to fly beside Mark.

  They passed over a bevy of Sarnak's captured demons hard at work repairing a blown bridge that spanned a narrow chasm. Mark had already had several encounters with the ten-foot monsters and knew that they were fearsome opponents. Brought by Sarnak from their own worlds into this dimension, as guards and warriors they endured years of service to earn their freedom. Of course, these had been forced to sign allegiance to Allic, so they were theoretically harmless. Still, Mark noted that most of this group were winged, and he increased the strength of his shield slightly. The frightening creatures looked heavenward and glowered darkly, while their guards shouted a friendly greeting as Allic raced by.

  Continuing across the plain, Mark could at last see their destination, the high mountains and river valley that marked Sarnak's castle and capital city.

  "Red Leader, you are on final approach," a voice whispered through the communications crystal. "Do not deviate from your flight path unless ordered to do so."

  Mark could see that Allic was tempted to announce his presence and wander about a bit, but decided against it. The wall crystal mounted atop the entry gate would have been brought instantly into play and a scramble of all sorcerers in the city would have come swarming out as a result. It was tight discipline, but Mark had suggested it be set up that way, until such time as every last corner of Sarnak's realm and hidden corridor of his castle had been explored and secured. Only the week before, half a dozen renegade demons had been flushed not five miles away from this spot. More than twenty soldiers had been killed, and a sorcerer injured, before they had been eliminated. Without the tight system of checks and controlled airspace it could have been a lot worse.

  Rising again, they crested the city wall and headed for the twin towers of the main gate into the castle. Before them stood the hidden fortres
s of Sarnak. Half a hundred steel-grey towers encircled the keep, and in the center stood a single monolith of rock and iron.

  Atop the tower fluttered the blue and white pennant of Allic, and the demigod smiled as the banner arched and snapped in the breeze.

  Circling about the tower, the three swung in to alight on the arrival platform. From the shadows of the battlement wall a delegation came forward to meet the new arrivals. Allic was immediately surrounded by his sorcerers and servants, while Mark and Ikawa were the center of attention as their old comrades rushed out to greet them.

  The outlanders split into two parties momentarily as the Japanese lined up to formally exchange bows with Ikawa, while the Americans simply crowded around Mark, exchanging handshakes and good-natured insults.

  Mark easily entered into the clamor. Almost all his old friends and comrades were here. Only Kochanski was away, still up in the capital city, Asmara, working on a special assignment with the god Jartan.

  Younger and Giorgini he simply did not think about anymore, and as for the others... How few we are, he thought sadly. He looked over at Ikawa and their gazes locked for a second. Too many of their original companions were already gone, and those who still lived seemed to cherish each other all the more.

  Sergeant Saito broke away from Ikawa, and coming up to Mark, he saluted and smiled. He pulled a slender white cylinder from his pocket and offered it.

  "A Lucky Strike." Mark laughed and accepted the treasured gift.

  "Bucking for promotion, Saito?" Walker shot good-naturedly.

  "It's just you are so decidedly poor at gambling," Saito replied. "Having won it from you, and not being addicted to the filthy habit, I thought the Captain would appreciate a smoke."

  Mark concentrated for a moment, lighting the cigarette with sorcery, and inhaled luxuriously. Granted, it was really stale, but it still tasted wonderful, rekindling his old craving for tobacco which--tragically, in his mind--was not available on Haven.

  Taking a couple of drags, he offered the butt to Walker, who then passed it around to the other men.

  "If this little reunion is finished," Allic interrupted, his features now serious, "we've got some important business to attend to."

  The group fell in behind their lord and followed him into the keep. Reaching the main staircase, they were met by several other sorcerers who had a hurried conference with their leader before leading him down the steps.

  Level after level was passed. Mark still found this place to be unnerving. He had spent nearly a month here after the war, helping to secure the fortress and surrounding territory. The stark interior was such a chilling contrast to Allic's palace, and to his own estate, that the mere thought of coming back here had sent a chill through him. He felt as if somehow there was still an evil presence here, lurking, watching and waiting.

  The party continued downward until at last an open platform was reached at what Mark assumed was near ground level. Half a dozen sorcerers, all wearing the sky blue livery of Allic's inner command, stood in a circle. In the middle of the group there was a lone sorcerer, wearing the brass collar of servitude, and the soiled remnants of Sarnak's deep burgundy uniform. His hair had gone to white, and grew now in only tattered batches on his balding skull. His grey eyes were deeply sunk into a skull-like visage that seemed to have already passed into the realm of the dead.

  Though the old man had been stripped of all crystals, Mark sensed that he was not someone to be trifled with. Even crystal-less, he seemed to hold a power that deserved to be watched closely.

  "So, Musta, the prospect of a hundred years in the mines started to wear thin, did it?" Allic said coldly.

  "Your people promised me safe conduct out of here, if I agreed to cooperate with your search," Musta said sharply. "I want to at least die with the sun in my face rather than in one of your damned mines, all because I made the mistake of choosing the wrong side. Besides, Guild laws state that sorcerers who are prisoners of war can only be stripped of their crystals and must be set free after no more than two years of servitude."

  "Quite correct regarding most of the other captured sorcerers," rejoined Allic in a mocking tone, "but you are also charged with a contract violation and theft of my crystals, and the law still applies even after seven hundred years."

  Musta fell silent, eyeing Allic with open hatred.

  "Let's get this done, shall we?" the demigod said evenly, "Show us into the offices, deactivate the traps, and then you're free to leave."

  The two locked gazes until Musta finally turned away and started down the stairs.

  Before long the party followed him, going ever deeper into the heart of Sarnak's citadel.

  Reaching the bottom of the fortress at last, Musta started down the main corridor past the dungeons which now housed a few other sorcerers and demons who had been captured in the mop-up operations and who were off duty for various reasons.

  The demons howled with fury at the sight of Allic, who hurled back a series of taunts in their own loathsome tongue, which set them to howling even louder. Mark covered his ears, half afraid he'd go deaf from the noise.

  At the end of the main corridor Musta turned to the right and proceeded for another hundred yards before turning right again, and then yet again, till at last he came up against a blank wall.

  "I've been here before," Ikawa commented. "We didn't notice a damn thing."

  Musta looked over at Ikawa and smiled. Reaching down, he pushed a series of small stones set into the wall. Back and forth his hand danced, tapping out a rhythmic sequence.

  Without a sound the wall before them parted.

  "We could have spent a dozen lifetimes before finding this," one of Allic's sorcerers whispered.

  "I probed this sector myself," another said openly. "Couldn't find a concealed passage anywhere."

  "A lot of work went into this," Musta said proudly. "I helped in the building of it. There's a crystal set into the back of the wall, crafted to absorb any form of probing and return an image of impenetrable rock. A nice personal touch of mine."

  "Enough boasting," Allic replied sharply. "Let's get on with this."

  "After you, my lord." Musta bowed low.

  A thin smile creased Allic's features, but he didn't move.

  "It is hard at times to distinguish between caution and cowardice," Musta commented acidly. He turned and walked into the chamber.

  Though Allic did not reply, all could see the rage that was building within him.

  "My lord," Mark cautioned, "stay here, let some of us check it out first. Hell, this could be a trap, a way for that old sorcerer to get even."

  "Damn it, I'm going in," Allic said impulsively. "It's nothing more than Sarnak's hidden office. You're acting like it's the gateway to hell."

  Mark silently cursed and shouldered his way in directly behind Allic, Ikawa at his side. Though Allic had yet to do so, Mark snapped his shielding up, and the others in the group followed suit.

  The narrow corridor took one final turn into a vast chamber, and at their approach the room snapped into blazing light from a dozen crystals mounted along the four walls.

  Mark gave a gasp of amazement. The immense room was lined on all four walls with row after row of books--probably Sarnak's personal records. The information they contained could be invaluable. At the far end of the room was a raised dais surmounted by a desk a dozen feet across. It reminded Mark of the office of a corporate executive gone mad: If any underling came into this room he'd have to look almost straight up to see his master, seated in an overstuffed leather chair with a high back surmounted with demon heads. Mark shuddered at the realization that the heads were real, preserved and mounted for Sarnak's pleasure.

  Musta paused, motioning for the party to stop, and reached down to brush his hand against the smooth stone floor. With a sudden snap, a row of razor-sharp spikes shot up across the length of the room.

  "A little surprise for unwanted guests." Musta laughed at the uncomfortable exchange of stares among
the others.

  "Any other such toys?" Allic asked coldly.

  Musta simply looked at him and smiled.

  Mark realized there must be more dangers hidden in the room. He would have been a fool to think otherwise. He looked over at Allic, wishing he could get his lord out of the room until it was secured, but knew Allic, stubborn to the point of foolishness, would probably tell him to go to hell.

  Allic looked over at Mark, and as if sensing his thoughts, gave him a look of disdain and strode up to the massive desk.

  "Sarnak always did have a problem with wanting to impress others," he said contemptuously, glancing around the room.

  Mark was tempted to comment that Allic did, too, when it came to a question of personally showing his courage when it wasn't necessary. The demigod strolled past a deep pile carpet covered with a frightening design of demons to ascend the platform and sit in Sarnak's chair.

  Looking at the various drawers, Allic paused and then gingerly reached out, touching the lower right corner of one. There was the snick of metal on metal as a needle lashed out next to the drawer handle and then withdrew. Startled by the sound, Mark looked up, but Allic only shook his head and smiled.

  "This desk was made by Berong, one of the best craftsmen who ever lived. I have one as well. The poison needle is the same--old Berong did lack imagination in that direction--but unless you know about it already, it usually gets you. Deadly stuff, kills in seconds."

  "Anyhow, it's a good place to keep important paperwork."

  Mark held his breath as Allic leaned over and pulled the drawer open. Nothing happened.

  Allic gazed at Musta for a moment. "Thought you had me, you bastard, didn't you?"

  Musta remained silent.

  Allic reached in the open drawer, pulled out a sheaf of parchment, and began to thumb his way through.

  "Most interesting," he murmured, shifting through the pile. "Some correspondence here with my dear cousin Patrice that might be worth researching."

  For several minutes Allic sat back and read meditatively while the rest of the party started to edge nervously around the room. Mark, his eyes never leaving Musta, moved behind the sorcerer, while Ikawa came around to the side of the dais without letting his gaze move from where Allic sat.