Magician's End

by Raymond E. Feist

  ‘Many times,’ said Pug, ‘and in discussions with Tomas afterwards, and with a few others who understand the lore of the Valheru, and the even fewer who know something of the Dread, I still came to no conclusion.’

  ‘Then it is time for you to see the truth of that moment.’

  They stood in a featureless realm of white light which seemed to come from every direction. They felt as if they were standing on a solid floor, but looking down, all they saw was white. ‘Where are we?’ asked Nakor.

  ‘In the middle of a metaphor,’ said Macros. ‘I’m creating this to illustrate something impossible to show you.’

  He waved his hand and a spinning ball appeared to hang in the air before them at chest height. ‘This is … everything.’

  Pug whispered, ‘You said “size and distance have no meaning”.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Macros with a smile. ‘You remember.’

  ‘How could I forget?’

  ‘Pug, Tomas, Ryath the dragon, and I witnessed this,’ said Macros.

  ‘What?’ asked Miranda, peering at the orb.

  ‘It’s featureless,’ said Macros, and he also leaned close to inspect it. ‘It seems to have shape and substance, but yet reflects no light. This is a metaphor for what really happened, and it’s my creation. I haven’t the means to take you back to the Garden at the time we witnessed what I’m about to show you. More, I’m controlling this so I can manipulate a few things so you may understand better what it is you need to know, about the Dread and the coming battle.’

  He moved his hand and the sphere moved as well, rising to eye level. All around them the light faded until they were floating in darkness, with a single light around the sphere illuminating their faces. ‘Behold,’ Macros said quietly.

  In an instant the sphere vanished and a light erupted and filled every point of view with blinding brilliance so that they all had to avert their gaze. With the light came a surge of feeling, an almost overwhelming sense of completion and perfection, that left them weeping for joy. Then the light was gone, shattered into billions of tiny lights, and on every side around them were stars, masses of stars, speeding away.

  Macros cried, ‘Hold!’ and all motion halted.

  Moving through the void, he walked in a circle around a solitary point where the sphere had been. ‘Can you see this?’ he asked.

  They saw a flicker in the dark, a swirling mass. ‘It’s … something,’ said Nakor, ‘but I can’t make out any features.’

  ‘Here,’ said Macros, and a blazing light shone down from above and brought the tiny mote into view. It was a thing of utter darkness, and no matter the bright light hitting it, nothing was reflected back. Rather, it was seen because of its lack of features, a negative presence amidst all the glory of stars all around it. It was given definition only by where the light could not be seen, where the stars behind it were rendered invisible.

  ‘What is it?’ whispered Miranda, the alien nature of the object prompting a mood of trepidation in her.

  Nakor said, ‘I think it’s the Dread.’

  Macros said, ‘There was at the beginning … everything. Matter, energy, space, time, all were one thing. That was the sphere you saw.’

  ‘It was massive when we saw it in the Garden,’ said Pug.

  ‘Perspective,’ answered Miranda.

  ‘Now you are beginning to understand the lessons,’ said Macros. ‘Watch,’ he said. He moved his hands and the dark speck expanded till its irregular surface was finally revealed in detail, reflecting so very faintly the distant stars, offering an impression of movement, of change, something that looked almost like writing.

  ‘Remember,’ said Macros, ‘what you are seeing is a metaphor, an analogy, a representation of something so far beyond our ability to apprehend that even what I show you is only a small part of the reality.’

  The point of view of the observers seemed to swoop in to a point just above a writhing, ever-shifting landscape.

  ‘It’s … almost as if it’s in pain,’ said Miranda.

  ‘Astute,’ said Macros. He waved his hand and suddenly their entire field of vision was filled by the surface of this mass. ‘Now,’ he said, and colours began to shift. ‘This is a way to show you something beyond the ability of mortal eyes to see.’ A mass of threads rose up from the surface to connect to the fleeing stars, and their number was so vast that it was as if they were speeding through a jungle of white vines. Perspective shifted and for a moment Pug couldn’t judge if he was getting smaller or the threads were getting larger. Then suddenly they stopped.

  ‘What is this?’ asked Pug.

  ‘Watch,’ said Macros, and they appeared to approach a single thread, which got larger and larger, until it dominated their field of vision, and then within the thread other threads manifested, as if the first thread they saw was some sort of rope. On they drove, deeper into the fabric of that virtual rope until Macros brought them to face one single thread. ‘Now, pay close attention.’ The thread seemed to flicker until at last they saw it wasn’t a thread, but a series of tiny motes so close together that from any distance they seemed to be connected. ‘So, Nakor, what is this?’

  The mote expanded and became a translucent sphere within which energy vibrated. The vibrations slowed until the illusion of a sphere vanished and they could see there was a thread of energy that writhed madly, turning itself into a variety of shapes each second. Again Macros waved his hand and it slowed. First the strand was straight, then it looped, then it fluttered upward, then doubled back on itself, one end anchored while the other described the outer limit of its reach, defining the ‘sphere’, despite moving at speeds faster than the human eye could decipher.

  The little demon-turned-human stared in wonder, and at last he said, ‘It’s … stuff.’

  ‘Stuff?’ asked Magnus.

  ‘It’s what you call “magic”,’ said Nakor. ‘This is what you play with when you think you’re doing magic.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ said Macros. ‘Yes, this is what you’ve been struggling to understand your entire life, little gambler. You’ve intuitively understood the single most fundamental truth about our universe.’ He put out his hand as if presenting the flickering thread. ‘This is the basic building block of everything. Nothing smaller exists.’

  ‘What is it doing?’ asked Miranda. ‘It’s constantly changing.’

  ‘Therein lies the genius of creation,’ said Macros. ‘For this tiny object, this thing that is not energy, nor matter, nor light, nor time, but its own unique thing, decides from instant to instant what it is going to be.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Magnus.

  ‘No one does,’ said Macros as if the idea delighted him. ‘There are things in the universe that we will never fully comprehend. We must just accept it as mystery.’

  ‘The first being why this happened,’ suggested Miranda.

  ‘Yes,’ said Macros. ‘Exactly. There was this perfect state of being, this total harmony of everything …’ He stopped, then said, ‘Words can’t do it justice. You felt that brief instant of bliss as it passed through you. That was how it was eternally.’ He laughed. ‘Or perhaps it was only that way for the tiniest part of a second, because then time was part of everything.’

  ‘I’m overwhelmed,’ said Miranda

  ‘I’m delighted,’ said Nakor.

  Pug merely glanced at Magnus who said, ‘Why?’

  ‘Why what?’ said Macros.

  ‘Why the elaborate display? Why not just tell us?’

  ‘Two reasons,’ said Macros. ‘Miranda can tell you the first.’

  ‘Because he’s not the most reliable source of intelligence we’ve encountered, and in this case showing us is better than merely telling us.’

  ‘And,’ said Pug, ‘because we need to understand the scope of what we are confronting.’

  ‘You are tasked with the most profound and difficult burden in history: you are to save the universe.’

  Tomas flew above the trees and as he
approached the farthest boundaries of E’bar, he could feel the alien energies infecting the area. First, he saw the clearing to the north of the valley where once the Kingdom and Tsurani armies had battled. Sensing a familiar presence, he located it and swooped down, landing easily next to his son.

  Beside Calis, Arkan of the Ardanien looked on with hooded eyes, uncertain of how to keep his deep rush of emotions under control. He was torn between drawing his sword and attacking the white-and-gold armoured figure, or begging forgiveness for some unnamed shortcoming.

  ‘Father!’ cried Calis, and they embraced.

  ‘I thought you were to return to your mother as soon as you had finished carrying word to the Kingdom?’

  ‘At Ylith, while I was waiting for safe passage south to Krondor, several odd things happened.’ He nodded to Arkan. ‘Arkan, this is my father. Father, this is Arkan, the Chieftain of the Ardanien.’

  ‘Gorath’s son,’ said Tomas. ‘I met your father. He was a remarkable person.’

  Arkan inclined his head. Since Tomas had appeared, rumours of his nature had circulated among the clans of the north, speculation ranging from him being a pretender with some magic ability, to his being a tool of the eledhel by which to claim dominance over all the elven people. But one moment in the presence of this towering figure in white and gold, and Arkan knew to the core of his being that this was indeed an embodiment of an Ancient One. He fought the desire to fall to his knees in obeisance.

  ‘I encountered the sons of the Duke of Crydee,’ Calis said. ‘The mantle of the dukedom has passed to his eldest son, Henry. So I spoke to Martin and Brendan, and passed word of their mother’s and the others’ safety. My duty being done, I felt free to find out what our friend here was doing in the Kingdom.’

  Arkan looked at Calis askance at the term ‘friend’, judging it to be meant as a friendly jibe, and stayed silent.

  Tomas indicated that he wished to have a private moment with Calis and led him a short distance away.

  ‘You’re leaving,’ said Calis, and it wasn’t a question. ‘The dragons call.’

  ‘You hear it, too?’

  ‘In my dreams, Father.’ He studied the face of the marvellous man who had sired him; studied the features as familiar as his own reflection. He knew of the struggles endured by the human side of him to control the Dragon Lord’s rage, and yet all he had known since his birth had been love and acceptance. Calis kept his emotions under control as he considered that this might be the last time they spoke. He said, ‘My life has been one of wonder and love. I thank whatever gods listen every day for my mother and my father.’

  Tomas felt himself swept up in powerful emotion. ‘I could not have asked for a better son,’ he declared. ‘Take care of your mother if I do not return.’

  ‘I will,’ Calis said stoically. His father’s request was unnecessary, but a reminder that both men faced the possibility of not surviving this coming fight. They embraced and lingered for a moment, then separated.

  Tomas turned. ‘How fares this struggle?’ He looked down the hillside at the ruby dome.

  ‘We appear to have reached stalemate. The enemy within brings more power to bear, but the magic-users who have arrived to aid the taredhel have blunted the assault. I do not know how much longer we can withstand the mounting pressure inside the dome.’

  ‘Come,’ said Tomas and he walked back to the motionless moredhel chieftain. ‘Arkan,’ he said, ‘your clans march south.’

  A flicker of concern passed over Arkan’s face. ‘Clans? I have but one.’

  Tomas smiled. ‘Your aunt’s clans, then.’

  ‘Liallan comes here?’

  ‘She brings the might of the Snow Leopards and their allies to aid the taredhel. Every shaman of note is coming to help push back whatever’s trying to get out into our world.’

  Arkan was silent, then asked, ‘My people?’

  ‘I do not know if the Ice Bears were called, but I can’t imagine her not calling every sword and shaman tied to her.’

  ‘She takes a great risk,’ said Arkan.

  ‘I know,’ said Tomas. ‘She abandons the north to Narab and his allies.’

  ‘You know much of our politics,’ said the moredhel chieftain.

  ‘We have always thought it wise to keep an eye on our neighbours,’ Tomas said. The relationship between the various nations of elves had long been contentious and bloody, and it was considered bad taste to mention the kinship involved. The use of the word ‘neighbours’ instead of ‘cousins’ was appreciated, and Arkan inclined his head.

  ‘I must ask, though,’ said Tomas, ‘why are you here? You departed the north long before the events here.’

  ‘Liallan sent me,’ he said. ‘She and her shaman dream—’

  Before he could finish, Tomas said, ‘—of dragons.’

  Arkan paused, his eyes widening in surprise. Then he nodded. ‘Yes, they dream of dragons.’

  ‘Why you?’ asked Tomas.

  ‘Many reasons,’ said Arkan, ‘but foremost, she saw me in a vision, atop a hill, protecting a human magician in a black robe, and judged it to be a foretelling.’

  ‘Liallan’s bloodline numbered many with that gift,’ said Tomas. ‘Her sister was considered a shaman, though tainted by your father’s choices.’

  ‘My mother,’ said Arkan softly, ‘is someone of whom I never speak.’ In his eyes, his mother, Cullich, had betrayed his father after the first battle of Sethanon, when Gorath had ordered the remaining forces of the moredhel north, and she had renounced their marriage.

  Tomas nodded. ‘I meant no offence. Apologies.’

  Arkan stood motionless. The most powerful figure he had ever encountered, perhaps the most powerful single mortal being on this world, had just apologized to him. This was perhaps the most unexpected thing he had ever encountered in his life. He inclined his head and said, ‘There is no offence … Tomas.’

  Tomas smiled and turned his attention to the ruby dome. Using his own powers, he studied its structures for a moment, then said, ‘I recognize a very odd but familiar quality to what is seeking to leave.’

  ‘The Dread?’ asked Calis.

  Tomas nodded. ‘It will take Pug and Magnus to push that back whence it came.’ He looked at his son. ‘No word from them?’

  ‘Ruffio is here on behalf of the Conclave and Stardock, but there’s no word from Pug or Magnus, or Miranda and Nakor.’

  Tomas’s eyebrows rose.

  ‘It’s a long story, but Miranda and Nakor …’

  Tomas held up his hand. ‘If we see one another again, you can tell me the long story. However it happened, if Miranda and Nakor are with Pug and Magnus, then perhaps this day will be ours.’ He looked at Arkan. ‘If Liallan’s vision of you protecting a black-robed human magic-user is a foretelling, then it is a critical role you play. The survival of all of us may depend on you protecting whichever man in black – Pug or his son – is fated to be in your care.’

  ‘I will give my life if I must,’ said Arkan.

  ‘We all may,’ said Tomas.

  ‘Are you not staying to confront that thing within the dome?’ asked Arkan.

  ‘No,’ said Tomas, ‘for the powers of the Valheru are not given to the more subtle arts of magic, and should what is in that dome emerge, even my sword will make little difference. I am destined to play another role. And now I must answer the call of dragons.’ He smiled. ‘If they wish me to return, I will. If they have other plans for me, fare you well, both of you.’

  Calis and Arkan both nodded.

  Tomas leaped into the sky and in a giant arc sped into the distance.

  • CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO •

  Revelation

  ON ALL SIDES THE UNIVERSE UNFOLDED.

  Five magic-users studied an incredibly complex array of energy and matter.

  ‘There are ten dimensions, three which you perceive, one which you experience, and six so profound that even gods wonder at their nature,’ said Macros.

  ‘Height, width
, depth, and time,’ said Pug.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘There are six more?’ asked Nakor, his curiosity piqued.

  ‘Perhaps more, but six I have been able to deduce, using a complex set of …’ He grinned at the little demon in Nakor’s form. ‘We do not have time for this. I will indulge you if I can at some later time.’

  Miranda softly said, ‘I’m struggling to understand what you’re showing me, but more importantly, I need to know what the point of all this is.’

  ‘It’s complex at a level that gives me a headache to consider, let alone attempt to understand,’ said Magnus.

  ‘You’re coming to the end,’ said Macros. ‘But each step has been needed so you can approach the coming conflict with as much knowledge as possible.’ He turned and seemed to walk around the mass at the centre. ‘We shall return to this in a moment.’ He waved his hand and the virtual universe around them appeared to speed away from the Dread, following the countless tendrils of energy that gave the impression of being connected to everything. Then the vision halted, and they were left with a vista of curving space, moving away from the centre, connected throughout by energy.

  ‘It is a common error of all sentient beings to see the universe as being limited by the capabilities of their own perceptions. A race of blind creatures might perceive light as heat, but they will not understand light unless there’s a different means to detect it,’ said Macros. ‘What is this thing that happened, this primary birth of all known universes?’ he asked.

  The other four remained silent.

  ‘Nearly every race has a creation myth, everything from a single ultimate god willing the universe into existence, to the world being born out of struggle, to living in a god’s dream …’ He shrugged. ‘Whatever one can imagine, I guess.’

  ‘We were taught,’ said Magnus, ‘that before the Chaos Wars began, the two blind gods of the beginning …’

  Macros interrupted, ‘Consider.’ He waved his hand again and images of two powerful beings appeared on either side of a swirling torrent of energies. A massive male stood grasping at the flood and tearing shreds out, casting them in every direction. Opposite him, the female figure reached out with incredible speed and grabbed the threads of life and wove them into a tapestry that looped around behind her and fed the torrent.