“Ferwan wants me to make an appearance tomorrow. He says it’s been too long and the people are beginning to wonder if something is wrong. Seeing the two of us will calm them. I suppose he’s right, although at the moment I’m too tired and sore to think about getting out of bed. What’s your assessment of how things are in the city?”
“Much better, Your Majesty,” said Sorial. He was surprised at how much progress had been made in such a short time. Buildings were being raised, citizens new and old were coming to Vantok, the fields were being planted, and there was a general air of optimism. “The funds being spent by the Crown are having the desired effect. More merchants are coming every day, having heard tales of your lavish spending. The new path through The Broken Crags is making it easier for caravans from the North to make the trip. There’s hope the city may be able to stockpile enough stores to avoid disaster next Winter.”
“And what of the inn where you grew up?”
“Ponari opened The Wayfarer’s Comfort yesterday. It’s been restored and many of the old employees have come back.”
“Is the plaque on display?”
“It is, Your Majesty.”
Myselene was referring to something commissioned by royal decree. Although Sorial couldn’t verify what it said, he was told it identified The Wayfarer’s Comfort as the place where “the Great Wizard Sorial, Lord of Earth, was reared” and where “the famous adventurer and war hero, Warburm, once presided as innkeeper.” Ponari had given it a place of honor behind the bar, next to a portrait of her late husband. Uncertain public sentiment about Warburm, who was widely acknowledged as Ferguson’s killer, hadn’t hurt business, perhaps because the Warburm most people chose to remember was the one who had made The Wayfarer’s Comfort a welcoming place.
“Someday, I intend for the whole story about Warburm to be told. Give it a little time. Until the world has transitioned from the old faith to whatever emerges as the new one, Ferguson’s name needs to be revered. That won’t be forever. I personally owe Warburm a great debt and I’ll see it paid in full. His family shall want for nothing and, before I enter my grave, the bards will sing of him alongside all the other great heroes of the war.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. He deserves that much,” said Sorial. Then Alicia handed the child to him and he had to concentrate on not dropping her, even though she was very light and not especially difficult to hold even with only one arm. He stared in fascination at her tiny bow-shaped mouth, button of a nose, and closed eyelids. She had a tuft of black hair atop her head. As was the way of babies, she was sleeping. Sorial became so engrossed in looking at her that he lost track of the conversation.
He snapped back to attention when he heard Alicia mention the Otherverse. “It won’t be long,” she was saying. “We have reason to believe there’s some time sensitivity. I need to finish studying The Balance of All Things and a few documents it references, but I think we know pretty much everything that needs to be known.”
“Will you be able to… handle… whatever it is that spoke through the portal in Ibitsal.”
“That’s the hope,” said Sorial. He wished he could be more definitive. “At this point, however, I can’t even say with certainty if I’ll be able to enter the Otherverse, let alone what will happen when I get there.” He didn’t have much of a plan because he had no idea how to strategize for a situation that was beyond not only his experience but his imagination. He would have to rely on his instincts and reactions to guide him.
“We’ll need to take Lavella and Excela with us, along with Sorial’s eventual… replacement.” There was a hitch in Alicia’s voice when she said the last word and Myselene’s face softened with understanding.
The baby started to fuss and Sorial quickly handed him to the queen, who opened the front of her robe to provide Kara with access to food. “She’s greedy,” noted Myselene. “I don’t produce enough for her. I think I’m going to need a wet-nurse. Unfortunately, there aren’t many women in Vantok at this point who have recently given birth.”
As the direction of the conversation wandered in other directions, Sorial continued to stare at the baby, studying everything about her. Her tiny hands, opening and closing. Her mouth, sucking on her mother’s nipple. Her perfectly formed ears. So tiny, so precious. For the first time, he experienced pangs of regret where she was concerned. He wished… but there was no point wishing about Azarak’s daughter. He had known the situation from the beginning and there was no purpose to think about altering the bargain. By the time Kara was old enough to know her father’s identity, Sorial would be as much a memory as the late king. Better that she never know the truth. There was no benefit to it, only grief and confusion. This was the best way for all involved.
So why did it cause him a sharp twinge to acknowledge that?
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: THE LIFE THAT WAS
“Lad, it be good ta see ya!” Warburm’s wide face beamed with delight. He stepped forward to wrap Sorial in bear hug. “Don’t you be tarrying long, though. The Lords of Order and Chaos be waiting. Balance in the Otherverse be a tenuous thing that could slip at any time.”
Before Sorial could respond, the innkeeper vanished in a puff of smoke, as if he had never been there. Sorial shook his head as if to clear away cobwebs.
“Why are you still here?” It was Kara, looking much as she had at the Ibitsal portal - a portrait of insubstantiality. “The Lord of Chaos is slowly winning his battle. If he triumphs before you arrive to thwart him, he will spread entropy throughout the world of matter. Magic will become destructive and unpredictable and everything else will start a cycle of rapid decay. You must get there before that happens; once done, it cannot be undone, even by a wizard.”
“Mother, I…”
“This isn’t the time for words, Sorial. Everyone, dead and alive, relies on you. You bear within you the Last Whisper of the Gods. Don’t betray that. You once asked me to answer the riddle of your existence. This is it.”
He reached out for her but, like Warburm, she vanished into the swirling fog that surrounded him.
“Make sure my death wasn’t in vain,” said Carannan, his voice preceding his physical manifestation. “When Warburm first approached me about you, I was skeptical. The salvation of Vantok in the hands of a stableboy? My daughter’s happiness chained to one who shoveled shit and fed animals? It took me many a restless night to come to grips with that. Then I met you and was convinced. Over the years, I saw nothing in you to disabuse that initial impression.
“I died in a trap that might easily have ensnared you. I don’t regret what happened. In fact, I’m glad I lived long enough to give you that gift. Dying in Ferguson’s library meant more than falling to my death in Widow’s Pass or expiring at Obis. But it’s up to you to validate that sacrifice. If you fail, or fail to try, my death has no meaning.”
“I’m committed,” said Sorial, but somehow the words sounded hollow. Was he? Had seeing that baby changed his course or made him wonder about another way?
Images coalesced out of the mists. There was he, an old man, looking ancient and frail. By his side was Alicia, beautiful even with the blossom of youth having faded. There was a third figure as well - a girl who resembled Sorial’s mother to a heartbreaking degree. Behind her stood her mother. Both Myselene and the young Kara wore diadems on their heads. The girl, reading a book, looked up and favored Sorial with a shy smile. Not a father but a favored uncle or beloved tutor.
He could have this. All he had to do was put aside the quest for the Otherverse. Would another decade matter? Could The Lord of Chaos be that close to a victory?
“Yes.” It was Azarak, answering the unspoken question without hesitation. He strode toward Sorial, full of purpose, and the vision of a happy future disintegrated with his approach. His countenance was sterner than the wizard remembered.
“We all have our assigned duties and, gods or no gods, our ends are written the moment we’re born. My fate was to face Justin and lose, and through that
loss to pave the way for his eventual defeat and your chance to enter the Otherverse. Your future doesn’t lie in pointless self-indulgence. If you choose that path, the guilt of not acting will eat away at you like a corruption of the flesh, poisoning everything in your life. You may from time-to-time entertain the fantasy that you could be a common man, but there’s no truth in that. You are The Lord of Earth. Until you pass beyond this life, none will share that title. You are also the Magus Prime. Responsibility defines you.
“Kara is your daughter but she’s also mine. Most importantly, she’s Myselene’s. My queen loves you in her own way and is grateful to you for providing the child but, even if you choose to turn your back on your quest, she will never allow you to grow too close and she will never acknowledge your parentage. Kara will grow up believing herself to be the daughter of Azarak. In her dying days, as she lies abed with her children and grandchildren by her side, they will all believe themselves to be descended from me. Your name will often be sung by the bards but never in conjunction with the future kings and queens of Vantok. And it may not be sung of at all if you turn aside now. The Otherverse is a bubbling cauldron of unrest, its uneasy state of balance on the brink. If it boils over, our universe can’t survive the incursion. The chaos that is a normal part of the Otherverse, if allowed to roam unchecked across the links to our world, will devastate everything. Myselene will die. Kara will die. Alicia will die. Everyone will die. You know these things and you must prevent them.”
The king’s features changed before Sorial’s eyes, blurring and softening. His body became smaller and riper. His impeccably tailored clothing dissolved. In his stead was Annie, her body and face as he remembered them from their last torch-lit encounter in his cramped chamber in The Wayfarer’s Comfort. At the time, he had thought she might become his wife. Neither of them had known that, in less than a full day, Ferguson’s scheme to have her killed would find fruition.
“Hi, Sor. It’s been a long time. Sorry I couldn’t be there for you but I was never meant to be your life’s companion. You know that. Alicia’s your soulmate; I think I knew that even before… what happened to me. It had to be that way. All the things you accomplished since then never would have been done if I was still with you, and we both would have died in the sacking of Vantok. You’ve sacrificed so much to this point that it seems almost unfair to ask you to make one more concession. But there’s no one else. Ferguson thought you were born to be his wizard but he was wrong. The gods had a greater purpose in mind and this is it. You must follow Malbranche and Altemiak into the Otherverse and contend with them to mend the damage their foreign presence has caused.”
“The stableboy you knew would have quailed at doing something like that.”
“The stableboy I loved wouldn’t have understood what it meant. You were a simpler boy then. But The Lord of Earth knows and is afraid. This isn’t the first time you’ve felt fear, is it, Sor? Fear and sadness. Embrace them as you did in Langashin’s captivity and use them. We’ll all be with you when you step through the portal. You won’t be alone.”
She vanished in an instant and the fog turned an impenetrable black, darker than the depths of a starless night. It became blisteringly hot. Every hair on Sorial’s body - those few that hadn’t been burned away by Justin - stood on end.
“You’re lost, boy,” said the voice. Sorial had heard it before; this time it was quieter, less filled with rage. Somehow, that made it more fearsome. “The shade lies. If you dare to cross the boundary, if you aren’t obliterated in the attempt, you will come alone and what you face on the other side will make you wish for something as simple and peaceful as oblivion. You would do well to turn from this folly. Enjoy the few days or weeks or years I allow you to have.” Now the voice grew louder as the blackness became thicker, coiling around Sorial like a serpent, seeking to suffocate him. “IF YOU ARE FOOLISH ENOUGH TO PROCEED, KNOW THAT YOU WILL PROVIDE THE VICTORY I STRIVE FOR AND AS A REWARD, I WILL DEVOUR YOUR SOUL.”
Sorial screamed but the sound was swallowed by the darkness as it reached deep inside him, grasping for his heart.
He awoke with Alicia’s arm around him, his head cradled to her breast, his breath coming in gasps. In that moment of waking, the realm from which he had escaped seemed more real and solid than the one to which he had returned.
“It’s only a dream,” she said, her voice soothing. Her delicate tone chased away some of the demons but not all of them. A few of the more determined ones lingered just beyond the span of his vision.
He shook his head. “Too vivid. It was something else.” But what? A vision? Impossible; visions were images created by the gods and the gods were dead. But had they been constrained by time? Could the gods have crafted these images before their demise and left them in the ether for Sorial to stumble upon? It was a question worthy of a wise priest, but Vantok’s prelate was dead. Ferguson’s shade, unlike so many others, hadn’t come to visit him. What did that mean, if anything?
“It’s said the dreams of wizards are unlike those of normal men.” Alicia’s fingers stroked the uninjured side of his face, gentle and caring. “Do you remember it?”
Every moment, every word. It wasn’t fading the way a normal night-vision drained away. Wakefulness wasn’t dispelling it.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I can’t delay what has to be done. I have to go forward. Too much depends on it. The balance of the Otherverse is threatened and, if it falls, everyone who died will have died in vain. Everything that’s happened has been leading up to the moment when I enter the Otherverse and confront whatever’s waiting.”
Alicia smiled - a sad expression of love and understanding. “Over the past few days, I sensed you were wavering. Part of me was happy about that, I guess. But I’ve always been a selfish bitch. Wanting you here with me at the expense of all else… Alicia might accept that but The Lady of Water wouldn’t. We’ll leave tomorrow as planned. But we have tonight for ourselves. Just you and me. Sorial and Alicia. Let’s go out to the river.”
* * *
It was a perfect night in late Planting, with the first hints of Summer hanging in the air. The clear sky was a quilt of twinkling stars soon to be joined by a waning crescent moon. A gentle, playful breeze teased the young crops sprouting all across the landscape and it was just cool enough to chill anyone out-of-doors without a light covering - anyone who couldn’t use magic, that is.
The river gurgled and burbled below them as the two wizards sat on its banks, dangling their legs - three between them - into the water. Sorial had temporarily removed his stone limbs, making him feel more naked than without the clothing he had also discarded.
He turned to look at his wife, who sat by his side, her hip touching his. His magical vision allowed him to see things the light of the stars only hinted at. A smile quirked his lips. Alicia wouldn’t be so sedate if she realized how teeming the nearby grasslands were with animals - mice, mainly. They were everywhere. He supposed she was aware of it on some level, but suspecting it was different from seeing it. It was comforting to Sorial to know that, no matter how many great and traumatic things had occurred in recent years, the lives of such simple creatures went on as always. They didn’t care about the Otherverse or The Lords of Chaos and Order. Their concerns went no further than finding food, rutting, and caring for their young until they were weaned. Their lives were short and uncomplicated. He envied them.
Sorial allowed his gaze to focus on the woman next to him. Alicia was lovely and his eyes drank in her form, so like yet unlike the one revealed to him less than two years ago on their return from Ibitsal not far from here. In many ways, hers was still more the body of a girl than a woman, lacking the curves so many men prized. Yet Alicia possessed her own charms. They had captivated him from early in their relationship once he had stopped thinking of her only as a pampered noble’s daughter. She was thin and sleek and although her breasts were small, they fit perfectly into his hand. She loved leaning back against hi
m while he cupped one and tweaked a nipple. Circumstances had offered them far too few opportunities for moments like that. It was one of many things he would miss.
“So pensive?” she asked. Alicia was studying him with an intensity to match his own.
“Thinking about things. The past, mainly.”
“That’s a trap. We can’t go back there. Better to think about the present and stop worrying so much about the future. It’s going to come whether we like it or not.”
“You’ve become philosophical since your trip across the sea.”
“I’ve always been philosophical. You just didn’t appreciate it. Philosophy doesn’t interest stableboys.”
“What does?”
Her fingers did a little dance as they crossed his upper thigh to nestle between his legs.
“I was never as innocent as you imagined. Vagrum was very straightforward and matter-of-fact when talking about what my mother called ‘the ways between men and women.’” She sighed as his hand found her breast. Wordlessly, they adjusted their positions to a more comfortable one with her between his legs, reclining against his chest.
“I didn’t think you were innocent. Just naïve. And a bit of a brat.”
That elicited a most unladylike snort accompanied by an uncomfortable clenching of her hand. “A brat? Should I tell you what you were, splattered with horse shit with hay sticking to your chest?”
Sorial laughed. “It’s obvious I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. That’s probably what you found appealing - someone who wasn’t licking your boots.”
“There are places where you can put your tongue to better use than on my boots.” She pivoted to raise her legs out of the water and, never one to need a map on journeys like this, he lay between those beautifully sculpted limbs. The cool ground felt good against his bare skin. He could feel the vitality of the earth, pregnant with the newness of the growing season, seeping into him. He felt more alive than he had in a long time. Alicia watched him, her eyes alight with hunger and anticipation.
Shadow of the Otherverse (The Last Whisper of the Gods Saga Book 3) Page 54
