At the Gates of Darkness

by Raymond E. Feist

  The demons attacked.

  Gulamendis drew back his hand, his brow furrowed in concentration as he watched his brother from the corner of his eye. Laromendis had conjured a battle demon illusion that was all talons and teeth, muscles like iron drawn over by skin resembling the hardest dragon scale. Ignoring the relatively lesser threats of the two Taredhel magicians, the three demons threw themselves upon the most obvious threat. Demon logic was simple: dispose of the most dangerous foe, then turn attention to the lesser. Intelligence was not a prerequisite for harrying demons, those whose job was to seek out hidden prey and drive them to where the demon captains were waiting. All they saw was a rogue demon not of their cadre attacking them and they never for one moment considered the improbability of it all.

  As long as the demons believe Laromendis’s conjurations, they were subject to damage from it, and it lay about in frantic mayhem, slashing and biting, tearing and gouging. From bitter experience, Gulamendis knew the illusion would be good for only a moment or two longer, then the attacking demons would recognize it for what it was; Laromendis had never smelled a demon or experienced its magic aura, so those components were lacking in the conjuration, and as soon as the demons recognized the fraud, the two magicians would be assaulted.

  Which is why Gulamendis had his wand at the ready. It was a treasure, gained by guile and subterfuge from the treasure trove brought from Andcardia to E’bar, the elven city constructed on the ancient planet the Star Elves called “Home,” in their language.

  The wand had been the only thing that had kept the two brothers alive for the last few days, which was beyond the expectation of the Lord Regent and other members of his Meet who obviously wished to see the two brothers soon dead. Only Tandarae, the new Loremaster of the Taredhel, was kindly disposed toward the Demon Master and Conjurer, but he wasn’t in a strong enough bargaining position to keep the brothers from being dispatched to the Hub World.

  The warning from the Loremaster had come in the dead of night, delivered to the brothers in their small apartment by one of Tandarae’s trusted servants. It recounted a heated debate that had erupted in the Regent’s Meet, and the few voices that had spoken on the brothers’ behalf had quickly fallen silent. They were being sent to the Hub World, ostensibly to aid in the evacuation of the remaining defenders facing the Demon Legion, but it was a thinly disguised death sentence. The brothers’ role in finding Home, aiding the Taredhel in contacting the Elf Queen and her consort, and any other service done to the People, was outweighed in their minds by the simple fact that these two magic users were legacies of the Circle of Light and not to be trusted. When the portals on Hub World were deactivated, anyone still there would be stranded, with no means to return to Home.

  Now they fought for their survival moment by moment.

  They were holed up in a relatively defensible position in the city, a cul-de-sac of apartments for laborers, long abandoned, but with only one approach. They had created a series of trip-wire alarms and alerts so they could rest. Their orders had been to remain until recalled, and both knew that the recall was unlikely to ever come, so they had hunkered down and only fought when demons somehow managed to catch sight or wind of them.

  The three who battled the conjuration were minor demons, any one of whom the brothers could probably have bested in hand-to-hand fighting should the need arise, but three of them was more than enough to give pause to engaging them directly.

  This was the third time they had used this ploy, the other two having taught them how to refine the illusion and ready themselves for the moment they would truly engage the demons in combat.

  Gulamendis took his eyes from the struggle for a moment; his brother had to concentrate on the illusion, so it was up to the Demon Master to keep alert for unexpected intruders while they stood exposed in the open, atop the rise that led to the highest apartment on this small street.

  Behind the struggle, Gulamendis saw something flickering in the distance, near the entrance to the portals. He hoped it was other elves answering a recall he and his brother somehow hadn’t heard yet.

  Hub World; here the portals—what the humans called “rifts” between the worlds—were clustered. For reasons that in retrospect looked like the height of prudence now, an ancient Lord Regent had decreed that only one rift from each world would be allowed to come to this one place, this otherwise nondescript world that had been home to barely a thousand elves, just enough to ensure the portals were operating as they should.

  The portal to Andcardia had been breeched long before, and shut down. There had been one maintained portal from Hub, to the world of Locre-Amar, and from there back to E’bar. Once that one was closed, there should be no access to Midkemia by the demons. At least none the Taredhel knew about. Unless the brothers could manage to keep the marauding demons who still roamed this world from reaching the last remaining rift, and themselves get to it first, they would be stranded here with however many demonic castaways still resided here.

  And Gulamendis’s knowledge of demons told him there were too many still nearby to give the brothers much hope of surviving.

  Then the conjuration was broken, and Gulamendis extended the want. A sphere of silver light with pink and blue colors scintillating across the surface expanded around him, and as soon as it touched the demons they shuddered, went rigid, and fell to the ground at Laromendis’s feet. They were in spasm, and neither brother knew they needed to act quickly.

  At first they had simply used the wand, but a couple of quickly reviving demons had educated them to the need to weaken them in combat to extend the period they were stunned. Both brothers drew out large battle knives and began cutting throats as fast as possible. Gulamendis reminded himself that even though this death was nowhere nearly as dramatic or effective as his magical abilities to banish demons under the best of conditions, it would suffice. The demons’ essences would return to their realm and reform, but by the time these three were reborn the issue of getting off this planet would long be decided. Not to mention, considered the Demon Master, that to the best of his knowledge, the portal to the demon realm had been sealed.

  In a few moments it was over. The two tall elves stood covered in dark demon blood, the stench of carrion and sulfur making their eyes water. “That bought us a few minutes,” said Laromendis.

  His brother nodded. “I sense some to the south, but they’re not coming closer. We should probably make our escape now.”

  “Which way?” asked Laromendis.

  Both were tall, nearly seven feet in height, but proportioned like all lesser elves. Massive shoulders narrowed to trim waistlines above powerful hips and legs. Neither was by training or inclination a warrior, but both had been forced to learn the killing trade and had become adept at it. It helped that Gulamendis understood each demon’s vulnerabilities and had communicated what he could to his brother.

  “That way.” Gulamendis pointed to the northeast. “There should be an alley and through it to the broad street; last portal should be there.”

  “I thought it was the other way,” said Laromendis, pointing to the northwest.

  His brother smiled. “So does everyone else.”

  “You have a plan?”

  “Always,” said Gulamendis, trotting in the indicated direction.

  The small city that served as the home of those caring for the portals was a simple enough place to navigate under normal circumstances. A wholesale invasion by the Demon Legion was hardly normal.

  They carefully made their way between buildings, stopping at every corner to peer around and be sure they were unobserved. There was a very small class of demons that could hide well, even to near invisibility, but Gulamendis’s sensitivity to any demon’s presence usually alerted them to their proximity.

  They came to the last open ground before the entrance to the hub portal and Laromendis swore. “Fliers!”

  Circling above like so many vultures were a half dozen flying demons. “Can you do anything?” said Gulam
endis.

  “I’m tired,” replied his brother, “but I think I can manage a small diversion. Give me a moment to compose myself.”

  The Conjurer closed his eyes and called up the last reserve of his power and abruptly Gulamendis saw the illusion. It wasn’t much as conjurations went, a slight scampering between two houses directly under one of the hovering demons, but it was enough to set the demon to shrieking and diving toward the imagined prey. The others were only a moment behind and they flew off up a side street. “Now!” said Laromendis.

  The two elven magic users dashed for the entrance of the building Gulamendis had indicated and made it safely inside. They darted around the edge of the doorway and paused. In the gloom of the unlighted entry, they waited for their eyes to adjust and to see if any ground forces waited inside.

  “Now,” said Laromendis softly, “where are we?”

  His brother squatted, back to the wall, and Laromendis followed suit. “While I don’t make it a habit to eavesdrop, I did manage to be close enough to hear two Sentinels discussing the last recall. This is a building housing a single portal, one designed to be used by the last of us fleeing. Assuming we heard the recall.” He pointed to a door. Every elf who had visited this world had come down “that way.”

  They were exhausted, tired to the core of their beings, but necessity made them rise and move to the door. Gulamendis closed his eyes a moment, then said, “No.” His brother knew he meant no demon sign beyond the door.

  Gulamendis opened the door and they moved slowly, for whatever illumination normally employed was missing. In the distance they saw a faint light, which became a line along the floor as they reached a closed door. Again the Demon Master paused to see if he sensed any demons, but when he felt nothing, he gripped the latch and pushed aside the heavy wood.

  The room was a mess. Bodies littered the floor and the single platform that supported the two magically imbued wooden arms between which the portal formed were so blood-spattered they looked as if they had been painted red. The stench was nearly overwhelming, despite the brothers having been subjected to demon carcasses for days.

  The portal was inactive.

  Gulamendis said, “Well, isn’t this a surprise?”

  His brother let out a long sigh of exasperation and said, “No, it’s not. Those arrogant bastards in the Regent’s Meet think they have everything under control and we’re no longer useful. So, rather than trust us after all we’ve done…”

  “Well, if I were inclined to give these poor souls the benefit of the doubt, perhaps they just didn’t try hard enough to make sure we’d get the recall. From the looks of things here, it was a quick and dirty fight.”

  A sound behind caused them both to spin, daggers and swords at the ready, but instead of a demon, it was another elf, this one in the garb of a Sentinel. “I’m wounded,” he gasped as he clutched his left side with his left arm, leaning against the edge of the doorway.

  Laromendis motioned for his brother to care for the Sentinel, and said, “I’ll see if he was followed.” He hurried down the hallway.

  “Let me see,” said Gulamendis to the Sentinel. The brothers’ upbringing along the frontier had given them both a fundamental education in field dressings. The wound was long and deep. He had already lost a lot of blood. “Let me bind it,” said the Demon Master.

  He cut at the bottom of the Sentinel’s tunic, then sliced away a long length of cloth, fashioning a rude bandage. The man lifted his arm above his head, obviously in pain, but seemed slightly more comfortable once the makeshift bandage was in place.

  Laromendis returned and said, “Nothing followed.” He looked at the Sentinel. “They neglected to send you the recall, as well, I see.”

  “There was no recall,” said the Sentinel. “The demons swarmed the hub and some of us counterattacked to hold them off while others ran to draw them away so the galasmancers could shut down the portals.” He pointed to blood and gore splattered on the walls. “We tried to reach this location, but I and two others were cut off. The rest of the Sentinels and one galasmancer came here to use this portal. My two companions perished, but I’ve been making my way here.” He paused. “I really didn’t think the portal would still be open. But…”

  “You had to see,” finished Laromendis.

  “I had to see,” agreed the Sentinel.

  Gulamendis said, “It appears that those who got here also didn’t get through. That’s what’s left of them.”

  The Sentinel said, “But they got the job done.” Catching his breath, he continued, “My name is Arosha.”

  Gulamendis introduced himself and his brother, then said, “Sorry to hear about the sudden evacuation; nice to know it was necessity that shut this place down before the recall and nothing personal.”

  The warrior looked confused by the statement, but Laromendis said, “Never mind.” He glanced at the doorway into the huge room. “We need to think of something very quickly because eventually…?” He looked at his brother.

  “Those fliers and most of the smaller demons won’t trouble us unless we wander right up to them, but the more powerful ones…they’ll sense we are here eventually.”

  The warrior looked at him and said, “You know demons?”

  “More than I care to reveal most times,” he said, “but I think I know how we can avoid them, for a while longer.”

  “If only we knew how to open this damn portal,” said Laromendis.

  Gulamendis said, “Something occurred to me.”

  “What?” asked his brother.

  Gulamendis looked at the bodies on the floor and pointed to one, dressed in a robe, and said, “Arosha, is that the galasmancer?”

  The Sentinel’s knees weakened, and Laromendis helped him sit. “Yes, and the others are the rest of my company of Sentinels.”

  “Then he didn’t have time to escape.”

  “Obviously,” said Laromendis to his brother. “Your point?”

  Gulamendis went to the body of the fallen portal builder and pulled a demon corpse from off it, then turned over the red-drenched robed figure. The elf clutched a yellow stone in his hand, so firmly Gulamendis had to pry it from his fingers. Holding up the faintly pulsing stone, he said, “He didn’t destroy the portal! He only pulled the power crystal from it.” He pointed to the empty hole where the crystal was placed. “When the demons got done with everyone, they saw an empty room with two sticks. Obviously none of the really intelligent ones have been here yet, else they might have also realized the portal isn’t destroyed, just turned off.”

  He considered the situation as he looked at the glowing stone in his hand. “If we stick this back in the base, with the right starting spell, the portal should open, and we can get home!” He reached down and pulled a small bag from the dead elf’s belt and quickly tied it to his own.

  “It wouldn’t do any good,” said Arosha. “For the time being, anything that comes through a portal from this world will be killed the second it steps through.”

  “Lovely,” muttered Laromendis. “Now what?”

  Gulamendis paused, then said, “We go someplace else.”

  “Where?” asked his brother.

  “Sorcerer’s Isle,” said the Demon Master.

  “How do you propose to do that?”

  Gulamendis said, “When I was there I was shown one of their rift gates. There are wards there that act as a beacon.” He realized he was now at the edge of his knowledge. Looking at the Sentinel, he said, “How much do you know about portals?”

  The wounded elf smiled slightly. “I’ve been watching galasmancers play with those things long enough to have a fair idea of how they work. I can recall the spell that activates them if a crystal is in place, but I have no magic.”

  Laromendis said, “We do, and I’ve been through enough of these things for the Lord Regent that I probably know the spell as well as you do.”

  Arosha asked, “Do you know how to find a different portal? I could help you tune this to one of our o
ther portals, but I don’t know if I can find one that we didn’t build.”

  “Here’s what I know,” said Gulamendis. “According to the human Pug, what they call rifts have an affinity and if there is a rift in existence and you create a second rift, it will tend to follow the first.”

  “Tend?” asked his brother in a skeptical tone.

  “If you have a better idea, I would welcome hearing it,” said the Demon Master.

  “You can activate this gate’s destination?” Gulamendis asked the Sentinel.

  “Yes,” said Arosha. “That’s the easy part. Setting a different destination than the one already cast is the hard part. I think I’ve seen it done enough times to have a sense of how to do it, but only to a few other portals, as I said, the ones we’ve built, and they are all now closed. If I open any of them from this end…they’ll all be guarded and worse.”

  “What’s worse?”

  “The portal could be buried under rock, at the bottom of a lake…” The Sentinel shrugged, though it caused him to wince. “I can only imagine what would happen if you stepped through into solid rock.”

  Gulamendis said, “Do you know the way to E’bar?”

  The Sentinel said, “This one is already set for the new city.” He slowly rose and said, “It was to be where the last of us fled. But as I said, if we step through archers will be waiting to fill us with arrows before we say a word.”

  Gulamendis got a thoughtful look and then said, “We change…something.”

  “Something?” asked his brother.

  “What?” asked the Sentinel.

  “Set it for almost E’bar. If Pug is correct, a new rift should form, somewhere nearby.”

  “How nearby?” asked the Conjurer.

  The younger brother fixed Laromendis with an exasperated look and said, “I will settle for the same planet.”

  “As long as we don’t end up in the middle of the sea…or under a mountain…”

  “Can you do it?” asked Gulamendis.

  Laromendis nodded. “Setting magic imprints on objects, enchanting them, is a lot like conjuring an illusion—it’s just moving energy over the surface of something, rather than in thin air.”