Drums sounded.
Trumpets blew and men ran along the walls of Darkmoor. Erik was dressed and out the door as fast as he could, racing for the council hall.
He was the third man in the room, after Patrick and Greylock, and was only there for a few moments before a half-dozen other nobles came running in. Manfred entered, calmly looked around, and said, ‘They are here.’
No one had to ask who ‘they’ were.
Patrick wasted no time. ‘Owen,’ he said, ‘I want you and Earl Montrose to ride to the south, along the eastern ridge. Take a company and see what we have on that flank. If the entire southern reserves are gone, as reported, I need to know what the enemy brings north. Don’t engage unless you’re attacked, and then try to get back here as fast as possible. If you run into any remnants of the southern reserves, bring them back with you.’
At that moment, Arutha, Lord Vencar, and his two sons entered the room. Erik nodded.
‘Arutha,’ said Patrick. ‘Your arrival is timely. I want you to oversee the administration of the city. We’re going to lock down the gates, and we’ll need to control the consumption of food and make sure no one compromises our security by leaving or smuggling.’ He turned to Manfred. ‘You’re in charge of the citadel, as is your right, but I will oversee the conduct of the war from these headquarters.’
Manfred nodded. ‘Highness.’
The Prince turned to Erik. ‘Erik, I want you to ride north, and oversee the northern defenses. If the south is as weak as I fear, we need to ensure we have no breaches in the north.’ He looked Erik in the eyes, and said, ‘Unless you’re recalled, defend to the last man.’
Erik nodded. ‘I understand.’ He didn’t wait for further orders but hurried out of the room, to the bailey, asked for his horse, and rode out.
An hour later he was moving on one of the newly constructed roads, cut into the eastern face of the mountains, a dozen yards below the ridge line. Along the peaks above him, he could see defensive emplacements. He could tell the men were ready, as they ran, carrying supplies, shouting commands, and readying weapons. The fighting hadn’t started yet, but Erik could tell the enemy was close.
He rode as fast as he could. He studied every foot of the ridge above as he rode past.
While the front was a hundred miles long, roughly fifty on each side of Darkmoor, the northern command post was located twenty miles north of the city. Erik reached it by midday.
Jadow Shati stood outside a small command tent, obviously distressed, with a short man wearing the tabard of Loriél. When Erik entered the camp, Jadow said, ‘Man, I am glad to see you.’
Handing the reins of his horse to a soldier Erik said, ‘Why?’
Jadow indicated the other man with a nod of his head.
The short man, who had a square head, short-cropped grey hair, and a square jaw, said, ‘Who the hell are you?’
Erik realized that he had dressed in his blue tunic and yellow leggings, and had left his uniform back in Castle Darkmoor. Quickly sizing up the short man, Erik said, ‘I’m your commander. Who the hell are you?’
The man blinked. ‘I’m the Earl of Loriél!’ Then he lowered his voice. ‘And you are?’
‘Knight-Captain von Darkmoor, of the Prince’s Special Command, and I’m to command the northern flank.’
‘Well, we’ll just see about that,’ said the man, his face growing florid. ‘I’m sworn vassal to the Duke of Yabon, and I’ll take orders from the Prince of Krondor, but this special army and you jumped-up boy officers are more than I can stomach! I’ll be down to Darkmoor to talk to the Prince himself.’
‘My lord,’ said Erik in a soft but firm tone.
‘What?’
‘Have a nice ride.’
After the man left, Jadow burst out laughing. ‘Man, that little fellow is about as pleasant as a boil on the ass. I hope he stays away for a month.’
‘Well, given the mood our Prince was in when I left, I suspect his lordship will find little sympathy for his protests. Now, what’s the situation?’
‘As best I can judge, we have about six companies intact north of here, with ample supplies down at the bottom of the ridge. Some of the boys are pretty beat up, lads who were fighting along the northern front for the last month, but there are some fresh reserves, so overall we’re in good shape. The bad news is we’re facing Duko.’
‘I’ve heard of him. What do we know?’
‘Not much. Rumors. A few things we’ve learned from captives. He’s smart, has survived where some others, like Gapi, haven’t, and he’s still able to command a large contingency. Man, I don’t know. If I was to guess, I think he’s the best they’ve got after Fadawah.’
‘Well then,’ said Erik, ‘I guess we have our work cut out for us.’
Jadow grinned. ‘The nice part is we’re where they want to be, and they’re not.’
‘You have a happy facility to put things in perspective,’ said Erik.
Jadow asked, ‘What are the orders?’
‘Simple. Kill anyone who comes up that slope.’
‘I like simple,’ said the former mercenary from the Vale of Dreams. ‘I’m tired of this moving backward.’
‘No more of that,’ said Erik. ‘From this point on, if we move backward, we’ve lost.’
‘Well,’ said Jadow, ‘we must make sure we don’t move backward.’
Erik said, ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself.’
A trumpet sounded and Jadow said, ‘Seems they’re coming.’
Erik drew his sword. ‘Then let’s greet them.’
As they climbed the slope to the ridge line, Erik said, ‘Who else is on this flank?’
‘Your old friend Alfred. He’s got a company to the north of this one, and then Harper, and Jerome, who’s anchoring the end of the line. Turner is to our south, Frazer after him, then it’s the Prince’s command at the city.’
Erik smiled. ‘With sergeants like that, how can we lose?’
Jadow grinned. ‘How, indeed?’
Erik looked down the western slope, below the ridge line, and said, ‘A lot of men are about to die over twenty yards of dirt.’
Jadow said, ‘That’s the truth. But if what Captain Calis told us, on that beach in Novindus, is true, it’s a pretty important twenty yards.’
Erik said, ‘No doubt about it.’ He turned and looked down the slope at the men climbing toward him. The archers started firing and Erik could feel the tension in his shoulders as he waited for the first man to close, so he could engage the enemy and get this matter over with.
Then, as if men sprang from the ground, a sea of attackers appeared before him. Erik began to fight.
Pug frowned. ‘Unlock the Lifestone? How do you propose to do that?’
‘What does it mean?’ asked Tomas, looking at his son. ‘Does that release the Valheru?’
Calis shook his head. He sighed, as if very tired. ‘I’m not sure I can answer either question. I don’t know how to unlock the forces inside this thing.’ He pointed at the pulsing green stone, with the golden sword protruding from it. ‘I just know that once I begin, I should be able to manipulate the energies within.’
‘How do you know this?’ asked Nakor.
Calis smiled at him and said, ‘As you are so fond of saying, “I just know.” But once I’ve begun, I may not be able to stop, so I want to be certain I’m doing the correct thing.’ He pointed at the stone. ‘This is something that never should have been allowed.’
Tomas rubbed his chin. ‘Ashen-Shugar said basically the same thing to Draken-Korin.’
‘This is what caused the Chaos Wars,’ said Nakor.
All eyes turned to him. Tomas asked, ‘How can you be certain?’
‘Think about it. You have a Valheru’s memory. Why was the Lifestone created?’
Tomas let his mind drift back, recalling memories he had first experienced fifty years before, but memories that originated with a being ages dead. Suddenly the memories washed over him.
A call came. Ashen-Shugar sat alone in his hall, deep below the mountains. His mount, the golden dragon Shuruga, lay curled in sleep, below the huge vertical shaft that gave him access to Midkemian skies.
It was a strange call, unlike any he had heard before. It was a summoning, but one without the bloodlust that drew the Dragon Host together to fly across the stars for pillage and plunder. In his hall, Ashen-Shugar had found himself changing, as another presence, a being named Tomas, had come to him, in thought, from a distant place. By his nature, he should have felt outrage, a murderous reaction to the presence in his mind, yet this being, Tomas, seemed to be a part of him, as natural as his left hand.
With a mental command he woke Shuruga, and leaped upon the back of the great beast. The dragon jumped upward and with mighty wings beat for the sky, heading out of the mountain hold that was the domain of the Ruler of the Eagles’ Reaches.
Eastward he flew above the range of mountains that would someday be known as the Grey Towers, and over another range that would be called the Calastius Mountains, to a vast plain, upon which the race met. He was the last to arrive.
He circled Shuruga and ordered the great dragon to descend. Each Valheru waited as the mightiest among them touched down. In the center of the circle stood a figure resplendent in black and orange armor, Draken-Korin, who called himself the Lord of Tigers. Two of his creatures, tigers bred by magic to walk upright and speak, stood on either hand, snarling, with their powerful arms crossed. They were objects of indifference to the Ruler of the Eagles’ Reaches. Despite their fierce appearance, these lesser creatures were of no danger to a Valheru.
By common opinion, Draken-Korin was the strangest of the race. He had ideas of new things. No one knew from where those ideas came, but he was obsessed by them.
Tomas blinked. ‘Draken-Korin! He was different!’
Nakor asked, ‘Have you never wondered why?’
Tomas said, ‘No. I mean, Ashen-Shugar never wondered why.’
Nakor said, ‘The Valheru appear to be a race with a surprising lack of curiosity. Anyway, what do you remember?’
‘I remember being summoned.’
‘For what?’ asked Pug.
Tomas said, ‘Draken-Korin summoned the race, and he proclaimed that the order of the universe was changing. The old gods, Rathar and Mythar, had fled …’ Tomas’s eyes widened. ‘He said, “or have been deposed”!’
‘Deposed?’ said Miranda.
‘By the Controller Gods!’ said Dominic.
‘Wait!’ said Tomas. ‘Let me remember!’ He closed his eyes.
‘… but for whatever cause, Order and Chaos have no more meaning. Mythar let loose the strands of power and from them the new gods arise,’ said Draken-Korin. Ashen-Shugar studied the one who was his brother-son, and saw something in his eyes, something that he now realized was madness. ‘Without Rathar to knit the strands of power together, these beings will seize the power and establish an order. It is an order we must oppose. These gods are knowing, are aware, and are challenging us.’
‘When one appears, kill it,’ answered Ashen-Shugar, unconcerned by Draken-Korin’s words.
Draken-Korin turned to face his brother-father, and said, ‘They are our match in power. For the moment they struggle among themselves, seeking each dominion over the others as they strive to gain mastery of that power left by the Two Blind Gods of the Beginning. But that struggle will end, and then shall our existence be threatened. They will turn their might upon us.’
Ashen-Shugar said, ‘What cause for concern? We fight as we have before. That is the answer.’
‘No, there needs be more. We might fight them in harmony, not each alone, lest they overwhelm us.’
Ashen-Shugar said, ‘Do what you will. I will have none of it.’ He mounted Shuruga and flew home.
Tomas said, ‘I never dreamed.’
‘What?’ asked Pug.
Looking at Miranda, Tomas said, ‘Your father knew! He wasn’t just creating a weapon to balk the Tsurani conquest or even to stem the return of the Dragon Host to Midkemia, he was preparing us for this fight!’
‘Explain, please,’ said Nakor.
‘Something changed Draken-Korin,’ said Tomas. ‘He was mad by the standards of his own race. He had these strange notions and odd compulsions. He was the driving force behind the creation of the Lifestone. He masterminded the race’s vesting their powers in that crystal.’
‘No,’ said Calis quietly. ‘He was a tool. Something else was the mastermind.’
‘Who?’
‘Not who,’ said Nakor. ‘What?’
All eyes turned toward the strange little man. ‘What do you mean?’ asked Pug.
Nakor said, ‘In each of you, something is locked away.’ He moved his hand in an arc, and a golden nimbus of light sprang up, washing the room. Pug’s eyes widened, for while he knew that Nakor had far more power than he ever admitted to, this shell of protection was something beyond Pug’s experience. He recognized it for what it was, but had no idea how the little man could so effortlessly create it.
Miranda asked, ‘Who are you?’
Nakor grinned. ‘Just a man, as I have said many times.’
‘But you are more,’ Dominic said flatly.
Nakor shrugged. ‘I am also a tool, in a sense.’ He looked at each of them in turn. ‘Several of you have heard me speak of my life, before, and all I told you is true. When I was a child, powers came to me and my father threw me out of the village for my pranks. I traveled and learned, and have been much as you see me now for most of my life.
‘I met a woman named Jorna, whom I thought I loved – young men often think physical hunger is love – and in my vanity thought she loved me; we also can rationalize anything when it suits our purposes. Look at me!’ He smiled. ‘A young and beautiful woman falling under my charms?’ He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I was left a wiser, if sadder man.’ He looked at Miranda. ‘You know what came next. Your mother came looking for someone who could teach her more than I, for as I have always said, I am but a man who knows a few tricks.’
Miranda asked, ‘Why do I get the feeling you may be the only person on this planet who would use that description?’
‘Be that as it may,’ continued Nakor, ‘Jorna became Macros’s wife, and I became a traveler.’ He looked around the room. ‘My life changed one day when I slept in a burned-out shack on the side of the hills in Isalani. I had always had the ability to do tricks, little things, but that night I dreamed, and in my dream I was told to seek out something.’
‘What?’ asked Pug.
Nakor opened his ever-present carryall and reached deep inside. It was not the first time Pug had seen the little man stick his arm inside up to the shoulder, when, from the outside, the bag appeared to be only two feet deep. Pug knew there was something inside, like a tiny rift, that allowed Nakor to reach through the bag to a location where he had stored an astonishing assortment of items. ‘Ah!’ he said, pulling out an item. ‘I found this.’
Dominic’s eyes widened, while the others stared in curiosity. Nakor held a cylinder, perhaps eighteen inches long, four inches in diameter. It was a cold, greyish-white color. At each end of the cylinder was a knurled knob.
‘What is it?’ asked Miranda.
‘A very useful thing,’ said Nakor. ‘You would be astonished at the information this object has.’ He twisted one end, and the device opened with a click; a half-inch section of the cylinder detached from the side, allowing Nakor to pull out a long piece of what appeared to be a pale, translucent white parchment or paper. ‘If you pull long enough, you can fill up this room.’ He pulled and pulled, and the device continued to emit the long paper. ‘This stuff is amazing. You can’t cut it or tear it or write on it. Dirt doesn’t stick.’ The paper was covered in fine writing. ‘But whatever you want to know about, I bet it’s in here.’
‘Amazing,’ said Pug. He looked at the writing and said, ‘What language is that?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Nakor, ‘but over the years, I’ve gained the ability to read some of it.’ He turned the knurled end and the page slid back into the cylinder, and again it was without apparent line or flaw, a single piece of unbroken metal. ‘I just wish I could figure out how to make it work the way it was supposed to.’
‘You would have to study years, most of the surviving lost lore of the God of Knowledge. It’s the Codex,’ said Dominic in a reverent tone.
‘And that’s … ?’ asked Miranda.
‘The Codex of Wodar-Hospur. It was assumed to be lost.’
‘Well, I found it,’ said Nakor. ‘The problem is, when I open it, it tells me about things, but never the same thing twice. Some of the material is impossible to understand. Some of it is pretty boring. I think there is a way to get it to give you information that you want, but I haven’t figured it out yet.’ He grinned. ‘But you would be astonished at what you learn if you just sleep with this under your head.’
Dominic said, ‘It is also known as the Thief of Dreams. Those who sleep too close to it are robbed of their dreams and, after enough time, driven mad.’
‘Well, you wouldn’t be the first person to call me a little crazy,’ said Nakor. ‘Besides, I stopped sleeping with it in my room over a hundred years ago. It took me a while, but I deduced it was keeping me from dreaming.’ He shook his head. ‘Strange things happen when you don’t dream at night. I was beginning to hallucinate, and, frankly, I was getting a little irritable.’
‘What is it?’ asked Miranda. ‘These names mean nothing to me.’
‘It is the most holy artifact from the temple of the God of Knowledge,’ said Dominic. ‘It is a text with all the knowledge of the temple of the Lost God of Knowledge contained upon it. Wodar-Hospur was a Lesser God, but one deemed critical to understanding all the issues we are discussing now,’ said Dominic. ‘What this vagabond has been carrying around for who knows how many years is an item that would have provided an amazing amount of insight and knowledge to our order if we had possessed it.’
Nakor said, ‘Perhaps, but then again, you might have sat around for a couple of centuries staring at the thing without ever really understanding what it does.’ Nakor looked around the room. ‘Knowledge is power. You all have power. I have knowledge. Together we have the means of defeating the Nameless One.’
As Nakor said that phrase, it was as if the room darkened a little and turned slightly colder. ‘The Nameless One?’ asked Miranda, and suddenly she touched her temple. ‘There’s something I know, but … don’t know.’
Nakor nodded. ‘I won’t name him.’ He looked pointedly at Dominic. ‘There are advantages to being a little mad and to having tremendous knowledge.’ He looked around the room and said, ‘Here is the rest of the story.
‘The Nameless One is nameless, because even to imagine his name is to call his attention to you. If you do, you’re lost, for no mortal creature has the power to resist his call’ – Nakor grinned – ‘except me.’
Dominic said, ‘How is this possible?’
‘As I said, it helps to be a little mad. And there are tricks that can let you think of one thing without knowing you’re really thinking of it, so when the Nameless One hears his name and comes looking for you, you’re not there for him to find. Even a Greater God can’t find where you’re not.’
Miranda said, ‘I am totally confused.’
‘You are not alone,’ said Pug.
Calis smiled. ‘I think I’m following.’
Nakor grinned at him. ‘That’s because you’re young.’ He looked at the others. ‘When the Chaos Wars raged, one of the Controller Gods, this Nameless One, whose nature is what you would call evil, attempted to upset the balance of things.
‘It was he who warped Draken-Korin and who set the Valheru on their self-destructive path. What they did not realize was that the gods were no threat to them. I imagine this would have been nearly an impossible concept to them, but the gods would have been just as satisfied with Valheru worshipers as with humans, elves, goblins and the other intelligent races who live here now.’
Tomas smiled. ‘I think it safe to say you’re right. “Impossible concept” sums it up.’
‘Anyway,’ continued Nakor, ‘when the Valheru rose to challenge the gods, the Chaos Wars ensued.’ He looked at Tomas. ‘How long did they last?’
Tomas said, ‘Why … I don’t know.’ He closed his eyes as if attempting to remember, but at last opened them and said, ‘I have no idea.’
‘They dragged on for centuries,’ said Nakor. ‘The gods as we think of them are localized, specific to Midkemia, yet they reflect larger realities, ones which affect millions of worlds.’
‘I’m lost again,’ said Miranda. ‘Local, yet they stretch across a vast number of worlds?’
Nakor said, ‘It’s the same as if we’re all sitting around a mountain. Each of us sees it from a different perspective, but it’s the same mountain.
‘The goddess you and I call Sung the Pure represents certain aspects of reality, a sense of something profoundly basic, unsullied, without flaw, absolutely perfect, and that aspect of reality exists in a lot more places than just around the corner from here.’ He looked at Miranda. ‘Which is to say, if you tried to destroy Sung the White, you’d not only create havoc on Midkemia but create problems for a very large portion of reality.’
‘Everything’s connected,’ said Calis, intertwining his fingers. ‘You can’t disrupt one part of reality without doing harm to another.’
‘So, this Nameless One,’ said Nakor, ‘attempts to disrupt things, to steal an advantage, to create a disharmony in the order of things. He influenced Draken-Korin and the Valheru to do two things: they created the Lifestone and they rose to fight the gods.
‘As a result, a lot of the Lesser Gods were destroyed, or at least as destroyed as a god gets, which means they won’t be around for a long time; and others were … changed. Killian has sovereignty over the Oceans, where Eortis once ruled. It sort of makes sense, as she’s a goddess of nature, but it’s really not her job.’ Nakor shook his head. ‘You know, this Nameless One, he did some serious damage, all things considered, and we’re still dealing with it.’ He pointed in the general direction of Darkmoor, to the west, and said, ‘A big demon is coming this way, with an army, and he wants that thing.’ Nakor pointed at the Lifestone. ‘He probably doesn’t even know why he wants to come here, or even that this Lifestone is here. And once he gets here, he won’t know what he’s going to do with it. But he’ll do anything to get it. And once he has it …’
Calis said, ‘He’ll end life on this world as we know it.’ All eyes turned toward Calis. ‘It’s the nature of the Lifestone that everything in this world is connected. If you disrupt it, everything dies.’
‘That’s the trap,’ said Nakor. ‘That’s what Draken-Korin didn’t understand when he thought he’d created the perfect weapon. He thought that if he unleashed the power of the Lifestone, the energy would blast away the gods, or something like that.’ He glanced at Tomas.
Tomas nodded.
‘But it doesn’t work like that,’ said Nakor. ‘What would have happened is the world would have died, save for the gods. The Lesser Gods would have been weakened, because there would have been no one around to worship them. But the Controller Gods, they would have been just as they always were.’
Miranda said, ‘I’m getting a headache. If nothing changed for the Controller Gods, what good does all this do to this Nameless One?’
‘Nothing,’ said Nakor. ‘That’s the irony. I think he imagined – if I may presume to think like a god – that the general disruption would somehow benefit his cause, would put the other Controller Gods at a disadvantage.’
‘Wouldn’t it?’ asked Pug.
‘No,’ said Dominic. ‘Each god is cast in a fixed role, and within that role they can act, but not outside their nature.’
Miranda stood up, obviously exasperated. ‘Then what is going on? Why is this god acting outside his nature?’
‘Because he’s mad,’ said Calis.
‘The Days of the Mad God’s Rage,’ said Tomas. ‘That’s the other name for the Chaos Wars.’
‘What drives a god to madness?’ asked Sho Pi.
The others looked at the student, heretofore silent. Nakor said, ‘You’re not as stupid as I think, sometimes, boy. That’s a wonderful question.’ He looked around the room. ‘Anyone have an answer?’
No one spoke.
Nakor said, ‘Maybe it’s in his nature, but the Nameless One did things that defeated his own purpose. He created a situation that resulted in his being cast out, imprisoned far away.
‘Seven gods once lived in balance, each according to its nature. Whatever the reason, the balance was upset. The Chaos Wars caused the destruction of two of the Controllers, for they had to act to preserve what was left of this world. The Matrix, Ishap, the most important god of the seven, is gone. The Good Goddess, Arch-Indar, is also gone, and the Nameless One had to be banished, confined by the other four. His counterpart is dead and the god who kept all in balance is dead, so the remaining four, Abrem-Sev, Ev-dem, Graff, and Helbinor, had to act. They had no choice.
‘So in the end, we’re left with a world out of control, unbalanced, lacking cohesion. This is why so many strange things occur on Midkemia. It makes it an interesting place to live, but a little dangerous.’
Pug said, ‘Is this speculation or do you know these things?’
Nakor pointed to the artifact. ‘Dominic?’
‘He knows,’ said the Abbot of Sarth. ‘That device was carried by the High Priest of Wodar-Hospur, the God of Knowledge. Reputedly, any question that a man can ask is answered in the Codex. But the price to carry it is extreme. It requires the combined effort of dozens of other clerics in the temple to combat the madness that results from the High Priest’s inability to dream.’ He looked at the Isalani. ‘Nakor, how did you escape the madness?’
Nakor grinned. ‘Who said I did?’
Pug said, ‘I have often thought you a little odd, but never have I judged you truly mad.’
Nakor said, ‘Well, the thing about madness is you can only be crazy so long. After that you either kill yourself or you get better. I got better.’ He grinned. ‘It also helped when I stopped sleeping in the same room with the damn thing.’
Sho Pi said, ‘How is it that you’ – he pointed to Tomas – ‘who wear the mantle of the Valheru, and you’ – he pointed to Pug – ‘who were the master of two worlds of magic, and you’ – he pointed at Nakor – ‘who possess this item, and Macros, who was Sarig’s agent, are all together at this point in history?’
‘We are here to help,’ said Nakor. ‘The gods may have planned it this way, but for whatever reason, we need to repair the damage done so many centuries ago.’
‘Can we?’ asked Miranda.
Nakor said, ‘We cannot. Only one being in this world possesses the nature to attempt this.’ He turned and looked at Calis. ‘Can you?’
‘I don’t know,’ answered Calis. ‘But I must try.’ His eyes returned to the Lifestone. ‘Very soon.’
Nakor said, ‘And our job is to keep him alive long enough to try.’
Erik stood behind the lines, watching as his men repulsed another attack, waiting for another assault; Duko was good, and none of his attacks during the day had been wasted effort. It had taken every trick he knew and calling in the reserves for Erik to repulse him. Runners carried messages from the other areas of the line, and the news was not good.
The Kingdom was holding, but the entire line was sorely pressed. Patrick feared there was going to be a breakthrough eventually. It was the reason he was withholding the elements of the Army of the East that were camped below the eastern foothills. They stood ready to respond to any incursion. A small army had been sent to impose itself between any forces that might get through and the abandoned city of Sethanon.
It was late afternoon, and when Erik heard the enemy trumpets sound the retreat, he breathed a sigh of relief. A runner had returned from Darkmoor with his uniform, and he welcomed fresh clothing. He was covered in dirt, blood, and smoke, and while he didn’t take the time to bathe, a fresh shirt and trousers would improve his mood.
After he had changed, Jadow came into the tent and said, ‘We’ve got word some of the enemy have slipped across the ridge line and are holed up in a little canyon a mile north of here.’
‘Get a squad and go root them out,’ said Erik. ‘If you need help, grab whoever’s close by, but get those men dug out of there.’
Jadow left and Erik sat down in the command tent. He pawed through the pile of reports and dispatches, and found nothing that required his immediate attention. He rose and left the tent and hurried to where food was being served to the men. He refused to move to the front of the line, so he was only a few feet away from getting his rations when a horseman rode up.
It was Dashel Jameson, who waved. Erik looked at the bubbling pot of stew with some regret as he left the line and said, ‘Hello!’
Dash dismounted. ‘The Prince sent me to tell you that the Earl of Loriél has been found other duties.’ Lowering his voice, he said, ‘If any other noble rides through and troubles you, I’m to … facilitate.’
Erik said, ‘Thanks.’ He found the next question awkward. ‘Any word on … your grandfather?’
Dash’s expression turned grim. ‘No. Nor my grandmother.’ He looked westward, facing toward Krondor. ‘We are resigned to the fact they chose to die together.’ He sighed. ‘My father is not dealing with this well, but he’ll come out of it soon.’ Dash shrugged. ‘Truth to tell, I’m not dealing with it particularly well, either.’ He looked at Erik. ‘How can I help?’
‘I need someone to sort through all the dispatches as they arrive and save me from the ones that don’t need my attention. The command structure along the ridge is very disorganized.’
Dash said, ‘We’ve lost a lot of nobles, and many of their seconds in command are garrison soldiers, with no field experience.’
Erik said, ‘I’ve noticed.’ He looked at Dash. ‘A lot of nobles?’
Dash looked disturbed. ‘The Duke of the Southern Marches is dead. The Duke of Yabon lies injured and may not live. At least a dozen earls and barons are dead. More before this is through, I think.’ He lowered his voice. ‘While you were up in the mountains training, Patrick ordered all the lords who were coming here to leave one son home if they could. If we survive, we’re going to have a lot of new members of the Congress of Lords next year. We’re paying a bloody price in this war.’
‘That we are.’ Then the trumpets sounded and the alarm was raised as another attack commenced. ‘And that we will,’ said Erik as he pulled his sword and hurried to his chosen place of command.
Calis said, ‘It’s time.’
Pug moved to stand beside his old friend’s son and ask, ‘Are you certain?’
Calis said, ‘Yes.’
He looked at his father, and something passed between them; something silent but profound, needing no words. Then he looked at Miranda, and she smiled at him.
Calis stood before the Lifestone, the huge green emerald pulsing with energy. He said, ‘Father, take back your sword.’
Tomas didn’t hesitate. He leaped atop the dais upon which the stone rested and placed a booted foot on the gem. He seized the hilt of his white and gold sword and pulled. At first the sword resisted his efforts, then suddenly it slid free.
Tomas lifted his sword, feeling complete for the first time since the end of the Riftwar, and a primal shout of victory escaped his lips.
The gem began to pulse and Calis rested his hands upon it. ‘I am Valheru! I am human!’ He closed his eyes and said, ‘I am eledhel!’
Nakor said, ‘Interesting. His nature is unique and he possesses the attributes of three races.’
Calis’s eyes opened and he stared into the gem. ‘It’s so obvious!’ he said, and he lowered his head until his brow touched the gem. ‘It’s so easy!’
Pug looked at Tomas and they both asked the same silent question: What was so obvious and so easy?
In a grand pavilion, surrounded by servants and advisers, the demon Jakan seethed. Something called to him, something compelling and demanding, something that insisted he move toward it. He did not know what this thing was, but it haunted his dreams and sang to him. He knew where it was, a place to the north and east, Sethanon, and he knew that those who opposed him were denying him this thing.
The self-styled Demon King of Midkemia stood, and to those around him, the illusion of the Emerald Queen still held. She seemed to command them to depart, save those attendants she kept close by, the remaining Pantathian serpent priest, one named Tithulta, and the human General, Fadawah. They knew of the deception and were the only survivors of that bloody night when Jakan had devoured the Emerald Queen. It had been so easy. She had been alone with one of her victims, who died held in her arms and legs as she drank his life from him. The demon had used his growing powers to appear as one of her servants. He had slipped into her tent and quickly killed her and her newest lover. The woman’s power was significant, but wasted on keeping a youthful appearance. The demon didn’t understand this; it was so much easier to build an illusion, as he had.
In that moment of consuming the woman, the demon had encountered something alien, yet familiar. He had been touched by this agency and knew its name, Nalar. But beyond knowing of its presence, the mystic echoing within the Emerald Queen, the demon was otherwise unconcerned.
Maarg had made a pact with someone to have those odd creatures who looked like Pantathians open the rift to the Saaur world and to this world. But that was Maarg’s worry. Let him rot on Shila or return to the demon realm and its limited pleasures. Jakan was the only one of his kind on this world, and his power was growing by the day.
He glanced at his left arm and saw the tremendous growth that had occurred. The last human he had devoured he had swallowed whole, and he had found a wonderful moment of delight as the creature screamed for almost a full minute inside his gullet. And now he was pleased to see the human’s face appearing on his belly. He flexed his shoulders and felt his great wings nearly touch the sides and tops of the pavilion. He would have to have it enlarged. The illusion of the Emerald Queen could move easily through the tent, but Jakan was now close to twenty feet tall, and as long as he fed, he would continue to grow. For a brief instant, he considered limiting his feeding, then dismissed the idea as too alien.
He ducked as he moved under the tent flap held open for the Queen by her guards. Fadawah and Tithulta appeared to be following at a respectable distance; no one without magic sight could see the mystic chains and collars Jakan had fashioned to keep them in tow.
The nearby army saw the Emerald Queen reach the large tent she had erected for the wounded. She entered and found a few soldiers attempting to tend the dying. ‘Leave,’ she commanded, and those able to do so obeyed, for most suspected what was about to happen.
Jakan moved to the first man, unconscious but still alive. The demon scooped him up with one hand and bit his head off, swallowing it. The blood and life forces that ran down the demon’s throat filled him with an almost painful pleasure. Never had a demon risen so rapidly, become so powerful, and still had so much potential before him. He would be the mightiest Demon King in the history of the race! Nothing would withstand his march, and when he had devoured this planet, he would use the rift knowledge these people possessed to reach other worlds. Eventually, he thought, I will be a god!
He turned toward a man who could barely move for his injuries, but whose eyes were wide with terror as he attempted to crawl away from the horror he had just witnessed. Jakan realized that, in his bloodlust, he had let his illusion drop, and now sick and dying men moaned in terror. Grinning, with blood still running down his chin, Jakan moved to the man and impaled him on a single talon, lifting him twitching before him. Then with a snap, he devoured him, delighting in the feel of the twitching body sliding down his huge gullet. Never has there been one such as I, he thought.
Jakan turned to his puppet, Fadawah, and said, ‘Order the attack! We overrun the puny humans today!’
The vacant eyes of Fadawah didn’t register any reaction. He turned and stuck his head outside the tent and said, ‘Order all units to attack!’
Soon, thought Jakan, I will feast on thousands and then I will reach this place, Sethanon, and see what it is that calls me there.
Calis smiled. ‘It’s like untying a knot!’
He had two hands upon the Lifestone and the pulsing green light was bathing him, washing over him, infusing him. Though he didn’t move a muscle, he had never looked more animated, alive and powerful to those who knew him.
His father came to stand next to him and asked, ‘What do you see?’
‘Father,’ said Calis, enraptured, ‘I see everything!’
A six-foot-tall spinning column of green energy sprang up atop the gem, and undulated with a keening sound. Faces flickered in the flame, and Tomas’s golden blade came to the ready.
‘The Valheru!’ he said in a hoarse whisper, his every sense tuned and ready for battle.
‘No,’ said Calis. ‘This is but an echo of their former existence. What they sought to become eluded them. What they returned to recover was never theirs.’ He turned to look at his father. ‘Stand ready.’
‘For what?’
‘For the change.’ Calis closed his eyes, and the flame shot upward, into the ceiling of the cavern, and ran along the rocky surface, fanning out in a circle. As it spread out from the point of impact, it thinned, diminishing to nothing more than a faint green overlaying the golden shimmer of Nakor’s protective screen.
Tomas dropped to his knees, the sword falling from his hands, as a moan of pain escaped him. He clutched his chest and stomach, as if in agony. Pug rushed to his side, saying, ‘What is it?’
Tomas’s teeth were clenched and he shook. He was unable to answer.
Calis said, ‘That which was Valheru is returned to the world.’
Pug left Tomas and came to Calis’s side. ‘Will he live?’
‘He will,’ answered Calis. ‘He is more than Valheru. As am I.’
Then Pug saw that Calis was also undergoing a painful transformation, as whatever part of his heritage also was Valheru was being torn from within. Perspiration ran down his forehead, and his arms trembled, but his eyes were afire and his gaze was locked within the stone.
‘What is happening?’ Pug asked softly.
‘Something that was taken from this world is being returned to it,’ said Calis. ‘I am the instrument of that return.’
After a moment, tiny flecks of green light spun away from the glowing nimbus that surrounded Calis and the stone, flying in random directions. Pug dodged the first spray of light and it went past him, then as he turned another struck him in the chest. Instead of its causing injury or pain, he felt nothing but a sense of energy, something warm and healing passing through him.
He looked at Tomas, bent over in agony, but as the tiny green flecks struck, Tomas began to recover. After a moment, he looked up at his boyhood friend, and Pug saw his eyes were clear, free of pain.
Tomas rose and slowly moved over to Pug and Calis. He looked at Pug, and the magician saw wonder in Tomas’s eyes, wonder he had not witnessed since Tomas had taken on the mantle of Ashen-Shugar, last of the Valheru. For the first time in fifty years, Tomas looked more like the boy from Crydee than Pug had ever seen him, and in a voice filled with amazement, Tomas said, ‘My son is healing the world.’
Then, a cry of joy, a note so profound Pug couldn’t tell if it was a sound or a feeling, rang through the cave, and the gem seemed to erupt, casting an awe-inspiring flame of life throughout the room. Nakor nearly danced in delight, while Dominic made the sign of his god.
Nakor said, ‘We don’t need this,’ and dropped his spell of protection.
As it vanished, an echo from across the world, as black and evil as the previous note had been alive and good, resonated, and Nakor’s eyes widened. ‘Oops!’
The demon’s head came up from its feasting. ‘No!’ it roared as it felt something being taken away from it. Sethanon! the voice in his head screamed.
All dreams of power and primacy were forgotten. The mystic leashes to the two slaves were released as the demon strode to the front of the tent.
Two guards turned as Jakan emerged from the tent. They grew pale and fled.
General Fadawah blinked as if coming out of a daze, and he saw the demon rip apart the entrance to the tent, sending tatters in all directions. He only glimpsed the horror before it leaped to the skies, but it was enough.
The General turned to see the confused Pantathian high priest, also coming out of his daze. Rage gripped the General, and he pulled his decorative dagger. He raised it high and plunged it between the neck and shoulder of the Pantathian, driving the serpent priest to his knees. For a moment the creature rocked on his knees, then he toppled over.
Fadawah didn’t even attempt to remove his blade from the last dying member of the Pantathian race. He hurried out the rear of the Queen’s pavilion and found terrified officers standing in the command tent. He looked to where their eyes were fixed and saw the demon soaring toward the mountains, in the direction of the castle at Darkmoor.
One of the captains of the mercenary companies who had risen to the staff of the Queen’s army saw their commander before him, and stammered out, ‘Orders, sir?’
Fadawah said, ‘What has happened? I have been in the power of a monster and don’t know what has happened. Tell me!’
‘You just ordered a full-scale attack. All units. We are engaging the enemy along the entire ridge.’
‘Damn!’ said the General. He had no idea how long he had been in thrall to the demon, but he knew he had to discover quickly what had occurred. The last thing he remembered clearly was being in the Queen’s tent outside the City of the Serpent River; then he had lived in a timeless haze, a vague dream of horror and fear, and now he was on the other side of the world in the middle of a war and he had no idea whom they were fighting, where his units were deployed, or if they were winning or losing. And with the Queen dead, he had no idea why they were continuing to fight.
Looking at his staff he said, ‘Maps! I want to see where we are, where every unit is, and what we know about the enemy.’ As the staff jumped to obey, a few of them stealing glances at the diminishing figure of the demon as it sped eastward, Fadawah was consumed by one goal: Survival.