Darknesses

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Alucius couldn’t help the momentary surprise, then had to catch himself and concentrate on the other ruby arm, now thicker and more armored in a sheen of purple.

  Neither Alucius nor the engineer spoke, as golden green Talent-force battled pink-purple Talent-force.

  Alucius hammered his Talent-probe into the main node of the ruby mist-arm, but the engineer, veins standing out across his temples, forced layer after layer of purpleness around that probe, so that Alucius could barely move it.

  With great effort, Alucius twisted the probe, but not enough to break the linkages.

  The engineer threw a line of purple farther back around Alucius’s probe.

  Alucius expanded his probe just slightly, and the purpleness shattered away.

  Vestor fired another gout of purple force at Alucius, and Alucius deflected it, then twisted the probe, just about ready to break the node, when the arm vanished.

  Alucius felt himself stagger.

  A second arm appeared, larger and more massively defended than the first and second ones had been, arrowing toward Alucius.

  Alucius jabbed a probe into a smaller node, less defended, but more toward the attacking end of the tentacle-like arm. The last two yards of the arm vanished in a spray of purple threads.

  Another bolt of purple flared toward Alucius, one that he barely managed to parry before throwing a quick blast of golden green at the engineer.

  Vestor grunted, but the ruby mist-arm began to thicken and grow again, undulating through the air of the Table chamber toward Alucius.

  Alucius could see the purple Talent-armor of the engineer thinning. Hurriedly, he drove a second probe at Vestor’s main lifethread node, where the two threads—the one from the Table and the one of the engineer himself—intertwined. After a moment of resistance, Alucius’s probe was through, and into the node, where he twisted deftly, but savagely.

  The purpled lifethread exploded into thousands of smaller threads, unraveling and fraying into ever-smaller pieces.

  The engineer gaped at Alucius, as if he were seeing the overcaptain for the very first time.

  Alucius did not hesitate, but struck a second time, severing the remaining lifethread.

  As Vestor’s knees buckled, the engineer’s pale face crumpled and darkened. Then he pitched forward onto the stone floor.

  Alucius swallowed as the Table sucked in the few remaining smaller threads of what had been the monstrous purple-black lifethread. As the last thread vanished into the Table, the building shivered. A flash of purple light—visible only with Alucius’s Talent—flared from the Table through the chamber, and Alucius could feel that at least part of the Table had died, or had ceased to work, with the death of the engineer.

  For several moments, despite the shaking of the building, Alucius just stood there, breathing deeply and trying to catch his breath. He felt as though he had run a vingt or more at full speed, and yet he had barely moved twenty yards since he had come through the Table.

  The vibrations continued, and the building began to sway more violently. A large stone wall tile, weighing as much as Alucius, vibrated out of the inner walls of the chamber, crashing down onto the floor stones with an impact that shook Alucius and sent cracks radiating through the stone floor. Before the vibration from that impact died away, a second stone followed the first, and an ominous creaking and groaning filled the building.

  Alucius could hear men yelling, their voices muffled by the grinding of stones and continued shaking of the structure and the earth.

  More stones fell.

  Alucius glanced from the door to the Table. As a wide crack appeared in the wall beside him, he jumped onto the Table, and concentrated on seeking the purple-black conduit.

  This time, he dropped through—or into the Table—quickly.

  Once more, chill surrounded him, and the shock was greater because of how hot Alucius had become in battling the engineer. Within the blackness and chill, he paused for a moment, although he doubted time passed quickly—or at all—in the dark conduit. Now what? He hadn’t expected to have to flee from a collapsing building through the Table. Could he return to the hidden city and regroup?

  He began to search for the golden thread lying beyond the black conduit…but it was impossibly distant—as though it had been moved. He pressed toward it, and it vanished. He tried keeping it in mind and moving away, but that had no effect either. Neither did trying to move himself to the golden thread, which wavered—just out of his Talent-reach.

  He could feel the chill seeping into his very being. Why was it so hard to find the nodes back to the hidden city—or to use them?

  Because the soarers didn’t want him returning? Because, now that he knew how to do it, they had taken steps so that he and others could not?

  With near desperation, Alucius began to search for the blue arrow, the one that would return him to Tempre—and the Recorder of Deeds. As he did, he could see that the silver arrow had faded—but it had not vanished, although it continued to fade. He drove himself—or his being—toward the blue arrow…willing himself beyond it.

  At that moment, a brilliant blue light coruscated around him.

  114

  Two figures lurched back from the Table of the Recorders as Alucius appeared upon it, steamlike mist evaporating from his face and figure. His skin was chill, as if the sweat had turned to ice, then sublimated away.

  Alucius glanced from the Recorder to the second man, who resembled the Lord-Protector, but who was shorter, stockier, and younger. Then, his eyes focused on the Recorder, who lifted a pistol-like weapon.

  “Get him, Waleryn, if you value your life. He is an evil spirit who will steal your very being!” snapped the Recorder.

  Alucius barely managed to drop behind the Table as the light-knife flared over his head. Stone droplets pattered down onto the floor, and the odor of hot stone or metal filled the ancient chamber. From behind the Table, he quickly reached out with his Talent-probe and touched Waleryn’s lifethread, enough to stun the man, who sagged to the floor, his fingers momentarily grasping at the edge of the Table, before he slumped forward.

  The Recorder said nothing, but another blast of bluish light flared into the wall behind Alucius, more stone droplets sprayed across the stones, and an acrid scent filled the room.

  Alucius extended his Talent-probe to the light-knife, unraveling the connections between the crystals.

  “Waleryn!” snapped the Recorder. “Weakling…”

  Alucius eased up from behind the Table, facing the ifrit, checking the monstrous lifethread, and probing for the most vulnerable of nodes.

  The Recorder leveled the light-knife at Alucius, but no light beam flared from the weapon, and he set it on the Table. “That will not help you long.”

  The all-too-familiar ruby mists began to rise from the Table, and as they did, a wall of purplish power slammed toward Alucius.

  Alucius formed a golden green wedge and let the force flare around him, then struck back, aiming at the node where the Recorder’s lifethreads intertwined, the one from the Table and the one linked to somewhere in Lanachrona.

  A purplish shield blocked the thrust, but for a moment, the Recorder’s hands left the Table, and the ruby mists subsided. Alucius dropped a line of darkness over the Table, further smothering the mists.

  “That won’t last,” the Recorder said quietly, replacing his hands upon the Table.

  “Long enough.” Alucius probed for the main lifethread node, keeping his line of golden green tight and focused.

  “You cannot stand against all of us,” the Recorder said. “But you could join us.” He hurled another blast of purple at Alucius.

  Alucius slipped the purple force aside and jabbed at the Recorder’s face with golden light designed to dazzle.

  The other blinked, then retaliated with another wave of purple as the ruby mist-arms rose once more from the Table.

  Understanding the arms better the second time—or fourth, he realized absently—Alucius a
ttacked their nodes just beyond the Table, and both sprayed apart in instants, with threads flying into the air, then retreating into the Table and the unseen conduit beneath.

  “You can’t be…” murmured the Recorder, leveling another blast at Alucius.

  As the force sheeted past his golden green shield, Alucius struck, hard, and tight, against the main lifethread nodes.

  Purple flared all around the Recorder. He pitched forward against the Table, then crumpled to the stone floor.

  A wave of dizziness assaulted Alucius, and for a time, he just leaned on the edge of the Table, panting and trying to catch his breath. His arms and legs both felt heavy, as if it would be a chore to lift either.

  He hoped that the death of the Recorder and the entity that had possessed him did not trigger another building collapse, but there were no rumblings in the earth, no shivers of the palace, for which he was glad, because he had no place to retreat through the Table.

  Finally, he straightened.

  Now what? What could he do to the Table? If it remained in the palace, sooner or later someone else would be snared, then…

  Alucius shook his head and began to probe, seeking out nodes, linkages, and connections. Without worrying about the Recorder, he could follow the lessons of the soarers more deliberately and closely. He just hoped that he could use more finesse and skill than strength in dealing with the Table, since he was running close to his Talent-limits. That, he could tell.

  He continued to probe the Table until he found what he was seeking, a multiple node that wove together different threads—two that were deep greenish black and thick, the purplish black of the ifrit conduit, and a lighter purple thread that left him squeamish even to consider. Still, he could sense the power, and he had the definite feeling that if he unraveled the nodes and the threads, there would be a reaction, and it would not be wise to be anywhere close.

  He looked at the still-unconscious Waleryn, then bent and grabbed the man’s tunic, dragging the Lord-Protector’s brother out of the Table chamber and down the narrow corridor into the room of those nearby farthest from the Table. By then, Alucius was breathing deeply once more, but he eased his way back to the doorway of the Table chamber.

  From the doorway, his hand upon the heavy door, Alucius extended a thin golden-green probe to the nexus of the threads, and, tiny thread by tiny thread, began to unlink them.

  When he was little more than halfway done, the purplish thread bucked and flared fire, a line of force that Alucius blocked, although the effort set him back on his heels for a moment. With that kind of reaction, Alucius closed the door and backed away as he continued to unravel the joints.

  He did not finish, because when he was close to three-quarters finished—or so he judged—all four threads flew apart.

  Alucius sprinted down the corridor. He made it to the outer archway when a dull rumbling explosion shook the walls and floors, bursting the door to the Table chamber from its hinges and flinging it against the opposite stone wall of the outer corridor. Great gouts of gray dust, carrying a purple Talent-sheen billowed from the chamber.

  The entire palace shook—once, twice—and then subsided.

  Alucius watched, panting, sweating profusely, as the dust began to settle. He did not have to return to the chamber to know that the Table no longer functioned. A half smile crossed his lips. That was good, because he doubted he had the Talent-strength left to do anything at all, beyond perhaps a minor illusion, at least for a while.

  He slipped along the corridor toward the kitchen, casting an illusion of a captain-colonel, being ignored as cooks and their helpers scurried about…passing him and generally ignoring him, except for one woman, who demanded, “What happened?”

  “There was an explosion in the Recorder’s chambers. Nowhere else,” Alucius replied.

  “…knew he’d come to no good.”

  Alucius kept moving. Before he dealt with the Lord-Protector, he had one other chore to handle. He hoped he was up to it.

  He smiled to himself. He had one advantage. No one knew he was back except Waleryn, and the Lord-Protector’s brother wasn’t likely to wake for several glasses.

  The first order of action was to get something to eat. Amid the scurrying and the guards in the outer corridor, he used a deeper illusion to slip into the kitchen and help himself to a meat pie and a beaker of ale. Then he found a dark alcove off the game larder and relaxed his illusions.

  His vision was blurring and his hands were trembling as he began to eat and drink. After he finished, he remained there, listening, watching, but no one came his way, although he could hear guards and officers questioning people.

  Then, a good half glass later, some of his strength restored, with a concealment shield in place, he made his way upward and through the back corridors, wending his way toward the topmost floor and the Lord-Protector’s private apartments.

  After more than a few wrong turns, he found them. He had to stun both guards in the corridor outside the Lord-Protector’s apartments, then use his Talent-probe to unlock the door to the private foyer.

  The Lord-Protector’s consort sat at her writing desk, not facing the foyer, for which Alucius was grateful. Ever so gently, Alucius touched her lifethread, and the woman slumped over the desk.

  Carefully, as he moved toward the unconscious woman, he probed her figure with the tiniest of golden Talent-probes, noting the reddish ugliness in places within her body. He stretched her out on the lounge, then concentrated, melding what he had already known about healing with what the soarers had taught him.

  When he left, she was breathing more easily.

  Alucius was sweating again, even after drinking some of the dark ale in the crystal flagon on the desk.

  His next effort was to see if he could find the Lord-Protector, preferably in a private setting.

  After finding the concealed stairs across the main foyer from the private apartments, he descended the circular staircase. He found no one in what had to be the private study of the Lord-Protector, but he could hear voices from the adjoining hall. He seated himself in one of the straight-backed chairs and listened. As he waited and rested in the private study, hoping the audience would not be too long, he took the Star of Honor from his belt wallet and pinned it back on his tunic.

  “…the Table is destroyed? How could that happen?”

  “…do not know, Lord-Protector…the Recorder is dead. The Lord Waleryn remains unconscious. The walls are cracked, but we can find no signs of any explosives, and there is no smell of gunpowder.”

  “My own palace, and you cannot tell me…”

  The conversation went on for some time, then died away.

  Alucius stood, waiting.

  “…surrounded by idiots…” The Lord-Protector was so engrossed that he did not look up as he stepped into the study, followed by Majer Suntyl.

  “Sir!” blurted Suntyl.

  The Lord-Protector looked up. He stopped, then turned to Suntyl. “You may leave us, Majer. I’m certain that the overcaptain has much to report. Please close the door. Firmly.”

  “Yes, Lord-Protector.” Suntyl backed away.

  Once the door closed, the Lord-Protector laughed. “I should have guessed. I had hoped, but not after so long. Not when you vanished without a trace.” The Lord-Protector studied Alucius. “You look as though someone had confined you.”

  “They did. I’ve spent much more time than I would have liked in Prosp. The Recorder sent me there.” Alucius knew he couldn’t keep everything from the Lord-Protector, not and have his story make sense, but he saw no point in bringing in the soarers.

  “Sent you there?”

  “Through the Table. It was a way of transport in the time of the Duarchy. There was another Table there.”

  “Was?”

  “A building was falling on it when I departed. In great haste.”

  “So there is no way to use the Table in that fashion any longer?”

  “No. You would not wish that anyway.
Not for the price you would pay.” Alucius asked quickly, “Is Waleryn your brother?”

  “Why?” asked the Lord-Protector.

  “He was with the Recorder. I left him unconscious in one of the Recorder’s chambers.”

  “You just left him?”

  “You already knew that. He’ll be fine when he wakes.” Alucius looked calmly at the Lord-Protector, who stepped back.

  After a long moment, Alucius spoke. “You asked me to take care of your problem with the Recorder of Deeds, and you were right. Sooner or later, he would have killed you, or had your spirit possessed by another of his kind. Or he might have just had you die in some unfortunate accident and had your brother become Lord-Protector. Of course, your brother would already have been possessed.”

  “That…you are mad.”

  “No.” Alucius projected absolute certainly. Cold and brutal assurance. “Unlike some. I want nothing from you—except for what you already promised. You can believe me or not. There is a…presence…that can use the Tables to take over those who summon images in them. That is why the Tables would not have been a…reliable form of transport. The Matrial was one of those.”

  “How could she have been? She did not have a Table.”

  “She had a purple crystal that performed similar functions. That was how she controlled the torques.”

  “How do you know…Should I ask?”

  “You can ask.” Alucius smiled. “It’s better that I don’t answer that one, except to say that I know, and that I didn’t destroy her.” He hadn’t. He’d destroyed the crystal, which had killed her. “How is your consort?”

  The Lord-Protector looked sharply at Alucius. “What do you know of that?”

  “Before I…left, the majer who was acting as your secretary was kind enough to tell me that she was ailing.”

  “What…?”

  “Now that the Recorder is dead—and your brother is no longer working with him—you may find that your consort will recover.”