Spellsinger

by neetha Napew

  NOTHING TO UNDERSTAND WITH. THE DANGER TO YOU IS NOTHING TO ME, AND YOU CANNOT

  IMAGINE IT."

  "When will this take place?"

  "THEY ARE UNCERTAIN, AS I MUST BE UNCERTAIN, AS IS EVER THE FUTURE UNCERTAIN.

  LET ME GO NOW."

  Suddenly the flaming hooves were another ten feet above the surface. Yet it was

  not M'nemaxa who had moved, but the earth, which had pulled away in fear at the

  spirit's rising fury. "Stay!" Clothahump threw up his hands. "I am not

  finished."

  "THEN BE QUICK, LITTLE CREATURE, OR, WORDS OR NOT, I WILL MAKE OF THIS WORLD

  WHITE ASHES."

  "I still do not understand the Plated Folk's new magic. If you cannot describe

  it to me any better, at least tell me how to counter it. Then I will let you

  go."

  "I WILL GO ANYWAY, FOR WORDS CAN HOLD ME BUT SO LONG AND NO LONGER. I CAN TELL

  YOU NO MORE. I CHOSE NOT TO ARBITRATE THE FATE OF THIS WORLD, FOR I HAVE MY OWN

  JOURNEY TO MAKE AND YOU CANNOT STOP ME." There was a vast, roaring chuckle. "IF

  YOU WOULD KNOW MORE, ASK YOUR ENEMY YOURSELF!"

  A violent concussion shook Jon-Tom loose from the tree root. Bark came away in

  his bloody fingertips. But he was blown only a few feet downslope when the wind

  began to fade from hurricane to mere gale force.

  The thermonuclear stallion spirit vanished in an expanding ellipse of brilliant

  light. As the light faded, it left behind a three-dimensional residue. He saw a

  wavy image of some huge, sinister chamber. It was decorated with red gems, blue

  metal... and white bone.

  Within the bower stood an insect shape ten feet tall. Chains of jewels and cloth

  and small skulls of horribly familiar design draped the chitin. The nightmare

  stood next to a throne with a high curving back decorated with larger jewels and

  skulls. Some of the skulls still had flesh on them.

  It was talking to someone out of their view. Then something made it turn, and it

  saw them. A high, vibrating shriek filled the glade, and made Jon-Tom shiver. No

  dentist's drill could have made a more excruciating sound.

  A far smaller flash, an echo of M'nemaxa's blinding passing, obliterated the

  awful sight.

  And then there was no longer anything within the glade save one very tired

  wizard, wind, and grass.

  The gale had become a breeze. As if confused by its presence, the wind-cloud

  vortex that had hung above the glade simply dispersed. Silver phosphorescence

  shimmied down trunks and branches to run like water back into the soil.

  A light rain began to fall. Hesitantly, the moon peeked through the intermittent

  clouds, filling the glade with healthy light.

  By the time the panting Jon-Tom and the others had reached the center of the

  glade the ellipses and suns and arcane symbols and formulae no longer glowed

  against the ground. Though he sought Clothahump, Jon-Tom's mind still saw the

  face of the towering praying mantis, heard once more the grating scream that had

  issued from it just before it vanished.

  Pog was hovering nervously above them. The rain was steadily washing the powders

  and rare essences back into the soil from which they'd been extracted. This

  corner of the web of the world had held.

  They found Clothahump sitting on the grass, his glasses askew on his horned

  beak.

  "Are you all right, sir?" Jon-Tom spoke with a mixture of anxiety and respeet.

  "Who, me? Yes, my boy, I believe I am."

  "You ought not to have tried it, good wizard." Talea studied the empty ellipse

  warily. "There are extremes of magic which should not be touched."

  He shook a finger at her. "Don't try to tell me my business, young lady. Pog,

  give me a wing up." The bat dipped lower, helped the wizard to his feet.

  "I have learned part of what I wished to know, my friends. Though I must confess

  I did not expect the spirit M'nemaxa to speak in riddles."

  "Actually, I don't see that we've learned that much," said Flor.

  "We have something to work with, my dear, even if it is only couched as a riddle

  or metaphor. That is a great deal more than we had before." He sounded pleased.

  "And if naught else, we have given a scare to the Empress Skrritch that may make

  her hesitate or delay her attack, for she it was whom we saw in that final

  moment.

  "We can continue our journey, secure now in the knowledge that this will be a

  full-scale war led by the Empress of all the Plated Folk herself. That should

  win over some of muddleheads in Polastrindu!"

  "I hope we don't have to go through this many more times," Flor muttered. "Santa

  Cecilia may not have many more blessings left for me."

  "Not to worry, child," he assured her. "I will not attempt it again. Such a

  conjuration cannot be made more than once in a lifetime, and tonight I have used

  mine. I employed incantations I will never employ again, spoke words I may not

  safely speak henceforth.

  "From now on, each day on earth will be one twenty-two thousandth of a day

  shorter than previously, for in order to draw the immortal from the far depths

  of his journey I had to utilize the soul-strength of the earth itself."

  Jon-Tom walked out into the inner ellipse. Every blade of grass within the

  marked shape had been vaporized. So had the soil. All that remained was a

  perfect ellipsoidal shape of melted stone. The white granite had been twisted

  like taffy.

  "You spoke of its journey, sir, and so did it. I... I heard it."

  "Did you see how furiously it soared, how steadily it galloped, though it did

  not move beyond my confinement?" Jon-Tom nodded.

  "It was at once here with us and holding its place in its journey." He cheeked

  to make certain his plastron compartments were still tightly closed. "If the

  legends of wizards and the admonitions of necromants are correct, the spirit

  M'nemaxa has traveled approximately a thirtieth of its journey. The journey

  began at the beginning of the first life, life which in making its journey

  M'nemaxa strews across the worlds behind it.

  "It is galloping around the circumference of the Universe. It is said that when

  it meets itself coming it will annihilate purpose. Then it can finally rest.

  'Tis no surprise it was irritated at our interruption. With a journey of several

  trillion years still to make, even a little pause is unwelcome.

  "Yet despite all that, the formulae worked. The ellipse held." He glowed a

  little bit himself, with pride. "It was contained, and It answered when It was

  called." He blinked and slowly sat down on the grass again. "I'm a little tired,

  all of a sudden."

  "I think we're all a little tired," said Jon-Tom knowingly.

  "Aye, I'll not argue that, mate." The afterimage of the enormous winged

  flame-horse still lingered on the otter's outraged retinas. "I think we could

  all do with a bit o' sleep 'ere."

  Everyone agreed. After a brief mutual examination to insure that no injuries had

  been sustained, they began to make camp. Sleep finally came to all, but fiery

  images alternated with visions of a tall green-black horror to provoke less than

  benign dreams.

  Far above and away a distant pinprick of light flared briefly across the cosmos.

  The tiny burst faded qu
ickly. It came from the vicinity of NGC 187, where

  M'nemaxa angrily kicked aside a star or two as he raced back to where he'd left

  off his eternal race around the infinite bowl of existence....

  XIV

  There was panic in Cugluch Keep.

  Word of the troubles seeped down from servitors to attendants to workers and

  even to the lowly apprentice workers who toiled in the deepest burrows and

  worked endlessly to keep the omnipresent ooze from flooding the undertunnels.

  Rumors abounded. Workers whispered of a flaming rain that had fallen from the

  sky and destroyed hundreds of brood platforms. Or they told of tons of carefully

  hoarded foodstuffs invaded and ruined by spore rot. Or that the sun had appeared

  for three consecutive days, or that several of the Royal Court had been

  discovered feeding on the corpse of a mere worker and had been summarily

  dismissed.

  The truth was far worse than the rumors. Those who knew hid in fear and went

  about their daily business always looking over their shoulders (those who could

  look over their shoulders, for some had no necks... and some no shoulders).

  Hunter packs took every opportunity to get away from the capital city, on the

  pretext of adding still further to the enormous stocks of supplies. Official

  auditors bent low over their tallies. All were affected by the panic, a panic

  that reached beyond sense, beyond normal fears of mortality, to affect even

  quivering grubs within their incubation cocoons.

  The Empress Skrritch was on a rampage. Blood and bits of loose flesh trailed in

  her wake as she stormed through the rooms and chambers of the labyrinthine

  central palace.

  Safe from her wrath, endless legions of mandibled, facet-eyed troops drilled

  mechanically on the mossy plains outside the city. As if fearful of reaching the

  ground, the rays of the sun penetrated the dun-colored sky only feebly.

  Guards and servants, scurrying messengers and bureaucrats alike felt the

  Empress' temper. Eventually the rage spent itself and she settled herself down

  in one of the lesser audience chambers.

  Her thoughts were on her own fear. Idly she nibbled the headless corpse of a

  still twitching blue beetle chamberlain who'd been too slow to get out of her

  way. Chitin crunched beneath immensely powerful jaws.

  It was some time before Kesylict the Minister dared to stick fluttery antennae

  around the arched doorway into the chamber. Sensing only simmering anger and the

  absence of blind fury he poked first his head and then the rest of his antlike

  body into the room.

  A glance revealed a ruby the size of a man's head and redder than his blood. In

  the top facet Kesylict saw the reflection of the Empress. She was squatting on

  four legs. The body of the unfortunate chamberlain dangled loosely from one hand

  while the beautifully symmetrical porcelain-inlaid face of the Empress stared

  out without seeming to see him.

  Though not as lavishly decorated as the main audience chamber or the sinister

  den of death designated as the royal bedroom, this chamber was still lush with

  gems and precious metals. The Greendowns were rich in such natural wealth, as

  though the earth had compensated the land for its noisome, malodorous surface

  and eternal cloud cover.

  They were much appreciated by the hard-shelled denizens of those lands. In the

  absence of the sun, their sparkle and color provided much beauty. All the

  varieties of corundum were mined in great quantities: beryl, sapphire, ruby.

  Rarer diamond framed the windows in the chamber, and thousands of lesser gems,

  from topaz to chryso-beryl, studded furniture and sculpture and the ceiling

  itself.

  But Kesylict had not kept his head by mooning like a bemused grub at commonplace

  baubles. He waited and was ready when the triangular emerald green skull jerked

  around and huge multifaceted eyes dotted with false black pupils glared down at

  him.

  Kesylict debated whether it might not be prudent to retire and wait a while

  longer before attending his Empress. However, cowardice could cause him to go

  the way of the chamberlain. That former servitor was now only an empty husk that

  had been neatly scraped clean by the voracious Empress.

  "Why do you cower in the doorway, Kesylict? Yes, I recognize you." Her voice was

  thick and raspy, like sandpapered oil. Useless wings twitched beneath a long

  flowing cape of pure silk inlaid with ten thousand amethysts and morions shaped

  by the empire's finest gem-cutters and polishers, and attached to the cape by a

  dozen royal seamstresses.

  "Pardon, Your Majesty," said the hopeful Kesylict, "but I do not cower. I only

  hesitate because while I have hoped to talk with you for the past several hours,

  your mood recently has not been conducive to conversation." He gestured at the

  corpse-shell of the chamberlain. "Mutual conversation is difficult when one of

  the participants is forced to function minus his head."

  That glowering, fixed skeleton shape could not twist her mouth parts into a

  smile, and such an expression would have been foreign to her anyway.

  Nonetheless, Kesylict felt some of the tension depart the room.

  "A sense of humor when one's own possible demise is at stake is a finer

  recommendation of courage than the most dry and somber brilliance, my Kesylict."

  She tossed the empty shell of the chamberlain into a far corner, where it

  shattered like an old dish. A couple of legs fell away and rolled up against a

  far door. The corner was rounded, as were all in the room. The inhabitants of

  the Greendowns disliked sharp angles.

  She turned away from the window. "Anyway, I am full, and tired. But there is

  more than that." Both knife-edged arms crossed in front of the green thorax, and

  the decorated head rested on the crux they formed, producing a frozen image of

  an insectoid odalisque.

  "I am worried."

  "Worried, Your Majesty?" Kesylict scuttled into the chamber, though taking care

  to try and remain unobtrusively out of her reach. One could not escape the

  lightning-swift grasp of the mantis unless one remained beyond its range. So

  Kesylict approached no closer than protocol demanded. None could tell when the

  mercurial desires of the Empress might change from a request for advice to a

  craving for dessert.

  "What could possibly be enough to worry Your Majesty? The preparations?" He

  waved toward the far window. Outside and below were the busy streets of Cugluch,

  capital of the Empire of the Chosen, their most powerful city. Teeming thousands

  of dedicated citizens dutifully slaved for the glory of their Empress and their

  society. Their own lives were filled with the shared glory of their race, and

  each lowly worker was ready to share in the coming conquests. Preparations were

  proceeding with the usual efficiency.

  "We ready ourselves better than ever before in the history of the Empire, and

  this time we cannot fail, Majesty."

  "There has been no trouble with the stores?"

  "None, Majesty." Kesylict sounded genuinely concerned. Though fearful for his

  personal safety, he was nevertheless a loyal and devoted servant of his Empress,

  and she did indeed seem worrie
d.

  "The training and mobilization also proceeds smoothly. Every day more grubs shed

  their larval skin and develop arms and the desire to bear weapons. Never has our

  army been as powerful, never has the desire of its troops been greater. Not one

  but three great armies stand ready and anxious for the ultimate assault on the

  lands to the west. Victory is within our grasp. Or so generals Mordeesha and

  Evaloc have been saying for over a year now. The whole Empire pulses with desire

  and readiness for battle.

  "Yet by wisdom we wait, grow stronger still, so that we can now overwhelm the

  hated soft ones with but a third of our strength."

  She sighed, a low hiss. "Still, we have many thousands of years of failure

  behind us to show the folly of brave words. I will not give the order to move

  unless I am certain of success, Kesylict." Her head twitched to one side and she

  used an arm to clean a bulging eye.

  "No trouble then with the Manifestation?"

  "Why, no, Majesty." Kesylict was appalled at the thought. For all his talk of

  strength and desire, he knew that the Empress and general staff were pinning

  their ultimate hopes on the Manifestation.

  "What could be wrong with it?"

  She shook a cautionary claw at him. "Where magic is involved, anything is

  possible. This development is so different it frightens even Eejakrat, who is

  responsible for it. The greatest care must be exercised to insure its safety and

  surroundings."

  "So it has been, Majesty. Any unauthorized who have come within a hundred

  zequets of it have been killed, their bodies buried without even the meat being

  consumed. Greater security has never been exercised in the whole history of the

  Empire." He peered hard at her.

  "Even still, my Majesty worries?"

  "Even still." She made as if to rise from her squat. Kesylict took a nervous

  step backward. She gestured casually, slowly, with an armored arm.

  "Be at ease, my valued servant. I am sated physically. It is my mind that

  hungers for surcease, and your counsel that I require. Not your meat."

  "Gladly will I offer my poor advice to Your Majesty."

  "This is not for you alone, Kesylict. Summon High General Mordeesha and the

  sorcerer Eejakrat. I have need of their thoughts as well."

  "It will be done, Your Majesty." The Minister turned, his cushioned shoes