Spitemorta stared angrily at the door that had just been abruptly closed in her face. It occurred to her that she could easily blast it in with the Staff. “Of course I can't,” she mumbled between clenched teeth as she resentfully thought better of it. Actually, Demonica had just freed her of having to spend the rest of the morning with her. “Very well then,” she said, stepping into her cabin. She looked about and quickly spied a place to sit with her skinweler to address her people.
***
“Wizards. You're joking,” said Lukus as he stared in disbelief across the table at King Neron. “Daniel and Ariel are just babies.”
“At the moment, they are not yet wizards,” said Neron, “for as you say, they are babies. But as they grow up, they will indeed become wizards. When they're older, they'll come into their magic, and it's absolutely vital that they begin learning to use and control it the moment you realize it has appeared. They will be more powerful than anyone has ever been before, even more powerful than the First Wizard.”
“Because there are two of them?”
“No, because you aren't an ordinary Human, Lukus. You're becoming a strong wizard in your own right, even if you've only begun your training. All Human wizards descend from the First Wizard, as you know. Your having children by an Elf, particularly one with a lineage as exceptionally endowed with magical ability as Soraya's, means that those children cannot help but be the most magically gifted beings who've ever been born. They will be a favorable match for the evil that has recently been loosed upon the
Continent.”
“But, Spitemorta and Demonica have the Great Staff and the Heart,” said Lukus.
“Yes,” said Neron, “right powerful objects indeed, created by the First Wizard, who was the most powerful until now...”
“You knew this,” said Lukus. “You knew this back when Rose and I first came to these woods. Danneth said something back then that stayed with me. He said: 'then it is time.' This is what he was talking about, isn't it? Does Soraya know this, too? Is that why she married me, so that we could breed wizards for this evil age?”
Neron's eyes flashed. “I see why you say this, Lukus,” he said, at once letting go of what had just flared as he sagged with a heavy sigh. “Would I do that to my own kin? I make mistakes, but have you truly seen me do things that would lead you to such an accusation? Things have come to pass due entirely to the Fates and to circumstance. We saw it coming, Lukus. That much is true, but we manipulated nothing. We had nothing, absolutely nothing to do with you and Soraya meeting and forming a heart bond. This I swear unto you: she loves you freely and unconditionally. Please, never mistake that. It is true that when the bond between you was certain, we knew that things which could not be changed had been set into motion on this path, but knowing it is not the same as causing it. You must understand that. I'm only telling you this now because you have to be told. Would you have had me tell you early on and risk injuring the love which was unfolding between you and Soraya?”
“I'm sorry,” said Lukus, slumping back against his chair. “I am indeed very sorry. Please do forgive me. You've been nothing but fair and wonderful the entire time I've known you. I'd not have had you do anything different than what you've done. It's what you have to say that scares me. I fear for my children. They're in danger, aren't they?”
“From the moment they were conceived,” said Neron. “Until the evil ones and the Heart and the Staff are destroyed, Daniel and Ariel will live in the shadow of peril. Our single most important mission of all is to keep them safe.”
***
“Well,” said Razzmorten as he set his spoon in his empty bowl and pulled his napkin from his collar. “A little suspense now and then builds character.”
“He's like that, you know,” said Hebraun, leaning aside to Yann-Ber.
Razzmorten looked up and down the table over the top of his spectacles. “I'm right pleased to announce that we are not without hope,” he said rhetorically, as he straightened in his chair and pushed back from the table. “There are indeed things that Demonica and Spitemorta must know and do in order to make any substantial use of the Staff and the Heart, lots of things, actually...”
Everyone began talking excitedly at once.
“Regardless...” he said, speaking out as he held up his hand, “Being the right powerful sorceresses which they happen to be, that tiny fraction of the power of the Staff and of the Heart available to them still allows them to be the most formidable and dangerous witches who have ever lived. We're in a most precarious position. We might be able to combine power with a good number of others to hold them off for a time, but we should expect that they'll anticipate this.”
“And if they do?” said Fuzz.
“They'll most likely seek out each wizard and sorceress and destroy them one by one.”
“What exactly are these things which Spitemorta and Demonica 'must know and do' in order to use the power of the Staff and Heart?” said Rose.
“By themselves or particularly if they are together, the Staff and Heart are capable of almost unimaginable destructive power,” said Razzmorten. “However, as with all magic, the energy to produce it must come from somewhere. The Staff is used to store up huge amounts of power that can add to its wielder's powers when he commands. The Heart also stores enormous amounts of power, even more than the Staff. If the Heart and the Staff are combined and used to their limit, the pair is easily ten thousand times as potent as either one alone, assuming that the one wielding them knows all the proper spells and incantations required to release and direct the powers from each one.
“Blood magic,” he said in a hoarse whisper, as he paused to look around at the anxious faces. “Blood magic is how the Heart was created in the first place, you see.”
“And the Staff?” said Fuzz.
“No, no,” said Razzmorten, “the Staff was just a straightforward storage container for the First Wizard's excess magical power. It builds up if it isn't used, don't you know. Most wizards find it convenient to have a wand or a staff, sometimes several for just such a purpose. They store their extra power in them to draw on when big tasks arise. The Great Staff is no more than the most potent version known of one of those...”
“So that's why wizards always drag staves and wands about with them.”
Razzmorten smiled.
“And this blood magic?” said Fuzz, “Didn't mean to interrupt. What's that?”
“Well, I'm glad to see you on the edge of your seat,” said Razzmorten. “Diabolical stuff, that's what. You see, the First Wizard was the only Human (half Elf though he was) to have magical abilities until he had children and grandchildren who'd inherited some of his abilities. Now, he was also quite selfish and would never settle down with one woman, if you know what I mean, so he had children all over the place, and it wasn't long until there were a goodly number of Human wizards and sorceresses.
“As is typical of those who are both powerful and irresponsible, and vain man that he was, he decided to put a stop to this spread of wizardish powers by taking it out on others rather than by controlling himself, so he began stealing power from the other wizards for himself. “Now, don't forget, his powers were twice as great or better than the other wizards because the most powerful of them only had half his blood.
“He discovered that certain exceptional single stones and crystals can enhance magical powers, and he came across a uniquely potent and perfectly clear crystal stone in the shape of a heart that he added to the end of the Staff. Then, he set about hunting down the other wizards to drain them of their power, which he stored in the stone heart...”
“What happened when they fought back?” said Fuzz. “Surely they did.”
“Oh, by all means,” said Razzmorten. “They each did, I suppose, but none managed. None were a match for his power, so he took away every bit of theirs, growing stronger wizard by wizard. Of course, the drained wizards died in the process.”
“And, he kept up this morbid practice until h
e'd drained every other wizard and sorceress of power?” said Rose. “He mustn't have managed entirely, or there'd be none today.”
“He kept it up as long as he lived. The remaining wizards and sorceresses soon went into hiding, which mainly meant their not practicing magic. Wielding magic would have alerted the First Wizard.
“The First Wizard was still mortal, after all, and he'd not bothered to learn anything about the healing magicks. The plague struck the Northern Continent, hard. He fled, but he was already ill. He died on the Dark Continent after he brought the plague to a whole string of villages. The Dark Continent was hit so badly that even today their numbers are not back to what they were.”
“That's an awful story, Father,” said Minuet.
“Especially since it's true,” said Razzmorten. “You, of course, realize the meaning of it for Demonica and Spitemorta, don't you?”
“I suppose it means that they must take power from a wizard or sorceress to use the Heart to its full capacity...”
“Well yes, if they want its power to grow, which of course they would,” said Razzmorten, “but remember that there's already a great deal of power in the Staff and the Heart which they have no access to because, as we are guessing, they know nothing of the words and spells which unlock the greater part of the power of either one.”
“Demonica is frighteningly powerful and clever,” said Yann-Ber, turning to Razzmorten. “Give her time and she'll have it all figured out. And she'll begin by seeking out any she thinks might hold the key to this knowledge.”
“I'm quite sure you are right, Yann-Ber,” said Razzmorten with a grim nod. “Quite sure.”
Chapter 89
Demonica knocked again on Spitemorta's cabin door and waited for her to answer. “Her childish revenge for my having shut my the door in her face,” she thought. She knocked again. “Honestly, Spitemorta!” she called through the door. “I actually had the opinion that you were a little more grown up than this!”
“Go away!” cried Spitemorta, with a retching woof from above the vomit in the bottom of the bucket between her knees.
“Klenved-mor!” said Demonica, as she wrinkled her nose. “Look, you should've told me you get seasick. If you let me in, I can help you with that.”
Spitemorta gave a resonant bucket bottom gag and a few groans. After a dead silence, she threw open the door. She stood reeling and glowering from under the hair pasted with vomit to her cheeks and forehead.
“My,” said Demonica, taking a step back. “You're having a nasty time of it, aren't you? Leave your door open to let it air out and go sit down. I'll go fetch some herbs that'll have you over this in no time.” She turned and left to return in a few moments, herbs in hand. She found Spitemorta sprawled across a brocaded chair, her head resting against the wall behind.
Spitemorta watched Demonica with slit-eyed doubt.
Demonica ignored her, filling a teacup with water from the night stand. She passed the flat of her hand over the top of the cup, setting the water in it to a furious boil, which it obligingly continued to do while she bustled about with herbs, saucers and a mortar and pestle. She set a strainer atop the cup and dumped in the herbs. She sighed, paced around in a circle once, then lifted out the strainer and handed the cup to Spitemorta. “Drink it right down,” she said.
Spitemorta made a terrible face as she took it, trying to keep from slopping it on herself. When she got it to her lips it wasn't scalding, so she gulped it right down.
“Ungh!” she said.
Demonica knitted her brow and stepped up for a close look at Spitemorta's face, just in time for her to spew forth a shaft of vomit, right into the snow white ruffles of her bodice. “Aaaah!” she shrieked, as she turned and fled.
“Aangh! Ingaaff!” declared Spitemorta, swaying on the edge of her brocaded seat. “Got you, ci hithau!”
With Demonica gone, she picked up the Staff from where it lay across her bunk. All it took was getting hold of it and having well in mind the image of things cleaned up and the mess vanished. She stared at where Demonica had disappeared out the door and smiled broadly in spite of her nausea. She dropped her smile at once at the sight of her, breezing back in as though she had just stepped out for a breath of fresh air.
“That was rude, dear, but not at all out of character,” said Demonica.
“And you can't handle direct affronts...” said Spitemorta sitting on the bunk with a wince and a puckering swallow as she squeezed shut her eyes.
“You should've told me you were with child rather than seasick. The treatment's altogether different. You deserve to just sit there and puke, dear.”
“You came in with all the assumptions, Grandmother.”
Demonica drew a breath for a reply and held it. “So I did,” she said with a sigh. “My mistake, then.”
“You do that all the time, Grandmother. I'm not nearly as shallow and helpless as you insist. So what did you come here for in the first place?” She was starting to feel noticeably better, even if Demonica's remedy was for the wrong affliction.
“You hadn't come topside, and I wanted to see how you were getting on with your skinweler and to suggest that we scry the Marooderyn Imshee, actually.”
“I sent out to all the other skinwellerioù the visions which you suggested, showing me hard at work at the palace, looking out for the interests of my people,” she said, noticing that her nausea was altogether gone. “I also composed and sent out another vision. I showed King Hebraun and Queen Minuet in Castle Niarg, plotting with the dragons and Elves to destroy more of our country's commerce.”
“Splendid. Including the Elves, I mean,” said Demonica.
“So, you thought I did something right?”
“Oh absolutely. Destruction of the Elves is going to have to come from as many directions as possible. And letting everyone see the enemy hard at work will have the whole kingdom frantically grappling with one another for a peek into the skinweleriou.”
“Why do you want to scry the Elf Killers, anyway?” said Spitemorta, taken aback by her sincere enthusiasm.
“We need to learn as much about them as we can before we get there, dear,” she said, pulling up a chair and sitting directly in front of her. “The more we know, the easier it'll be for you to be their great goddess.”
“What?”
“By all means. I have my reasons. You'll see.”
“Very well, but what if they have no idea what a 'great goddess' is? Then what?”
“That's my point. That's why we need to scry them as much as we can in the time we have at sea. And you'll need my help, since you've not been there. Trolls may not be human, but they strike me as having much in common with the savages of our kind...”
“So?”
“So, if you act commanding enough they'll cower, particularly if you find out what scares them worse than anything else.”
Spitemorta took her skinweler from its gilded stand on the chest at the foot of her bunk and gave a look of resigned dubiousness before staring into its depths. Soon she saw an unfamiliar shoreline. She heard the cries of a gull as it soared over the waves breaking along the beach. Sandpipers scurried about after wee mollusks vanishing into the sand.
“That's it,” said Demonica, hovering over her shoulder. “I recognize that part of the coast of the Eastern Continent, but you won't find them there. They'll be inland, up into the mountains in the Great Maidenhair Woods, undoubtedly in some of the caves, this time o' day.”
Spitemorta looked up at her with a knitted brow.
“They won't be out. They only hunt after dark. They hole up when it's daylight. Hunt for the mouths of big caves.”
Spitemorta was now searching for caves along the feet of bluffs and rocky prominences rearing up above the coastal piedmont of the Eternal Mountains.
“Whoa,” said Demonica. “Right there. Go back a bit. That's a cave. Get up close. I swear I saw a flicker of light.”
Spitemorta complied, and at once they saw trolls sitting ar
ound a fire inside the cave.
“I did. Go right inside. They won't see anything.”
At once they saw everything as well as if they were standing just inside the cave. It was an enormous cavern, and right before them were seated and sprawled around a fire, several score ponderous Elf Killers, scantily clad in furs and skins. Husky naked children cavorted and pranced about in their midst. Off to one side, a throng of troll children smeared with red clay made the entire cave ring with peals of deep guttural laughter at their antics, as they riotously jabbed sticks at a pair of screaming Elf children tethered to the wall.
Demonica broke out with a peal of rattling laughter, causing Spitemorta to look up wide-eyed from the skinweler to see her beady eyes of glee. For a moment she would have sworn that Ugleeuh was standing there. She dropped the skinweler into her lap and covered it with the folds of her robe. “You're disgusting, Grandmother. You saw that, didn't you? You think that's fun? They were getting ready to roast and eat those children.”
“What's the matter with you, Rouanez Bras? When did you become squeamish? I clearly remember your delight at the screams of the Beak when you helped skin him alive. Why's this any different? You weren't even helping the troll cubs do it.”
“You know very well I'm not squeamish, Grandmother. But I want no part of turning loose monsters to put my own son, my own children, in danger. I certainly don't mind watching the Elven spawn squeak and bawl.”
“Well, you certainly had me worried for a moment, dearest heir of my ways,” said Demonica. “It's Elves the Marooderyn Imshee have a taste for, dear. Humans have been on the Eastern Continent alongside those trolls for aeons without being bothered in the least by them.”
“But I've heard of trolls in Niarg's Jutwoods killing people...”
“Altogether different kind of troll. The ones in the Jut of Niarg live alone and attack anything big that is stupid enough to wander by their caves, including Humans. The Gwaelic trolls on the Eastern Continent live in clans, and as far as I know have never attacked a Human.”
Heart of the Staff - Complete Series Page 96