Laromendis did and said, “I feel a depression…wait, a series of them.”
“Try turning your hand sidewise.”
“Fingers!” said Laromendis with delight. “You put your fingers in there.”
“And one for the thumb, I am certain.”
“Why?” asked his brother.
The Demon Master said, “Because few of the demon hosts have four fingers and a thumb, and most of those that do have long talons that would prevent their fingers from fitting!”
“Or they just designed it that way because that’s how they create artifacts.”
“Or that,” agreed Gulamendis.
Laromendis moved his fingers around a little in the impressions and said, “I don’t know how this works.”
“There’s nothing in the journal about how this device operates. Lots of discussion of what happened when they used it, but nothing as to how it’s controlled.”
“There are no markings, no devices…nothing to tell you if you’ve selected the proper alignment…” Laromendis looked defeated.
Suddenly Gulamendis said, “Think about where you want to go.”
“Think?”
“You’re the Master Conjurer. Conjure in your mind…that place where the dragon landed us on Sorcerer’s Isle.”
With no better idea, Laromendis closed his eyes and envisioned as best he could that exact location. Suddenly a shot of energy ran up his arm, causing him to jerk his hand away. “Ow!”
“What?” asked Gulamendis.
Shaking his hands a little, his brother answered, “Nothing. Just a little shock—unexpected. It’s as if I touched metal on a very dry day.” Tentatively he returned his fingers to the spots and said, “It’s not bad if you expect it.” Closing his eyes, he again tried to concentrate on the location on Sorcerer’s Island where they had both been taken when reunited.
After a full minute he took his hand away and said, “No, something’s not right.”
“What?”
“If I knew, I’d be a galasmancer, not a conjurer.”
Gulamendis sat, opened the journal, and began turning pages. “This is probably futile, but let me see if there is something I’ve missed.”
His brother sat down a short distance away, content to wait and rest. While they had endured little in physical exertion except a long walk since escaping the battle with the demons, the stress and lack of sleep had taken its toll. Laromendis wished there was someplace more comfortable to sit than a rough patch of basalt. He ran his fingers over the fine-grain dark grey rock and then inspected the tips. There was a powdery dust and it glimmered with tiny fragments of crystal. He let his eyes wander the landscape, noticing a glint of light here and there as the afternoon sun reflected off exposed outcroppings of crystal or rhyolitic glass. Not too far from where he sat he could see a vein of obsidian running through the exposed face of the rock. Ages ago water began seeping though an interstice in the rocks, and at some point in time a portion of a hillside had slid away, leaving a veritable record of the geological history of this region. The mineral riches of this violent place had drawn the Taredhel here. He wondered if the demons had come for the same reasons, or if they had merely come because their enemies were here.
There were so many things Laromendis didn’t understand, or even pretend to understand. From any perspective the war with the demons was lost the moment it was undertaken, for the band members of the Circle of Light were the only magicians with demon lore. Only those few who had avoided the wholesale destruction of the Circle centuries before or, like his brother, who had gleaned their knowledge in isolation from distant central authority had survived to come to the aid of their people. Not for the first time Laromendis was visited with a deeply bitter resentment over the Regent’s Meet and their policies.
Perhaps Tandarae, the new Loremaster, was sincere and some progress could be realized in the policies of the surviving Taredhel, or perhaps it would take violence to change things. Laromendis closed his eyes a moment, fatigue washing over his soul, as he realized this was an academic consideration unless his brother could come up with a way home.
He turned his mind to wondering what they would do if Gulamendis couldn’t activate this portal. Would there be any possible way home in the old abandoned Taredhel fortress, many miles to the south? Even if there was a working portal, would it take them back to Hub, or if they got to E’bar, would death be awaiting them as they stepped through the portal? For the first time in years he felt defeated.
“I have it,” his brother said softly.
Laromendis sat up straight and said, “What?”
“I know why the portal isn’t working.”
“Why?”
Rather than saying anything, Gulamendis scooted over a few feet to the base of the device and opened the base, revealing the crystal. He removed it, then opened the small bag on his belt and took out a crystal he had taken off the dead galasmancer on Hub. He inserted it into the receptacle and closed the latch. Looking at Laromendis, he said, “Now try.”
Laromendis came to his feet, put his fingertips on the depression, and instantly was overwhelmed by images. He closed his eyes and said softly, “I see things.”
Gulamendis said, “That shock you received was designed to let anyone operating the device know that the crystal lacked sufficient energy to make the device work.”
Laromendis took his fingertips away and laughed. “Of course. There are no symbols, no markings, nothing else.” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and saw tumbling landscapes. “It’s as if I’m flying over…worlds….” he said softly. “Desert, mountains, oceans…”
“Try to steer it. Like a ship at sea.”
“I’ll try.” Laromendis first started by imagining he was halting and suddenly the image around him was motionless, as if he hung a few feet above the ground. It was a meadow, with trees that almost looked familiar but were just different enough to inform him this was not a world he knew. He willed his mind to take them to the vale near the burned out Villa Beate on Sorcerer’s Isle, where he had been reunited with his brother.
There was resistance, as if the device did not wish to go somewhere not already known to it, or so far away, but suddenly there was a wrenching and he was apparently speeding among the stars. He felt an almost overwhelming sense of vertigo and his stomach knotted, but he kept his grip on the device and his eyes closed. Then he saw a world and it looked at first as if that world was hurtling at him, then abruptly it seemed as if he was falling toward it, seeing a vast ocean, with masses of land, and a sea with islands in the middle! Then he was heading straight for a small island, northwest of the coast, and he willed himself to slow down.
Fearing to open his eyes, he softly said, “I think I’ve found it.”
His brother spoke in hushed tones. “Open the portal, Laro.”
He willed the portal to open, imagining a way between the worlds, and felt a shock up his arm, not as he had before, but rather a physical vibration as the air made a loud whooshing sound and then a sizzle of energy. He opened his eyes.
“You did it,” Gulamendis said softly.
Laromendis said, “This is amazing. This is a better portal by…many times, than our own. Or the humans’, from what I’ve seen.”
“The builders were humans,” reminded his brother.
“The humans on Home.”
“Home,” said Gulamendis. With a look of profound relief, he said, “Let’s go home.”
He stepped through and Laromendis followed.
They were on another world and for a moment startled by a change in the air pressure; they had come from high mounts to sea level in a step and their sensitive elven ears protested. And the smells were different, from the acrid stench of the volcanic blasted lands to this green island.
And there was also the matter of a dozen determined-looking magicians forming a half-circle before them, with Pug at the middle.
Gulamendis held up his hands, palms out. “It’s us, Pug.”
Pug motioned for the magicians to step back. Turning to the two elven brothers, he said, “How did you do that?”
“We found a portal, ah, rift device on another world and knew if we turned up in E’bar, we’d be…”
“Explain that later,” said Pug. “What I want to know is how you got the rift to open?”
Gulamendis looked at his brother, indicating he should answer.
“I just…told it to bring us here.”
“And it did?” said Pug in amazement.
“Yes, is that so odd?”
“Very,” said Pug, looking concerned. “I have placed wards on this island since the last attack, which is why I knew you were coming. We were merely a second or two in being alerted once the rift punched through our defenses. We located the source and were here as you emerged.”
“Defenses?” asked Laromendis.
“You should not have been able to get through my barriers without magic of incalculable power.”
The two elves glanced at each other and Laromendis said, “I know the portal…rift gate was better than what our builders have created, but I didn’t think it was that much better.”
Pug put out his hand as if reaching for the rift through which they had stepped and then, looking concerned, let his arm fall. “Nothing. It closed a moment after you stepped through. Where did you come from?”
Gulamendis gave a brief description of their travels and said, “If we can deal with the demons and get safely back to Hub, I can get you to Can-ducar on the world of Telesan, and from there I can find that portal again.”
“That will have to wait awhile, but I will take you up on that offer. That design explains why a lot of things have happened over the years that shouldn’t have, especially attacks on this island that do a fair job of ignoring my defenses.”
“Could we go somewhere and sit down?” asked Gulamendis. “We are both rather tired.”
“Yes,” said Pug with a forced smile. “Forgive me.” He motioned to the other magicians and said, “We’ll meet you back at the keep.” He put his hands on the shoulders of the two elves and suddenly they were in Pug’s private study in the tower.
Laromendis said, “This is a prodigious conjuration, Pug. I’m impressed.”
Pug smiled. “You are good at your craft. I have two rooms occupying two different locations and anyone who steps through the door without knowing how to control entrances comes here. My office. It is my office, and I do work here, but it is in a different location.”
Laromendis glanced out the window. “The view?”
“Another illusion, reflecting what you would see if you were in the tower looking out.”
“Again, impressive.” Laromendis glanced around. “The other room, the one you enter if you do know what you’re doing?”
“That is for another time. Please, sit.”
The two exhausted elves did so, and Pug said, “I can see from your appearance you’ve been through a lot recently. I expect you’d prefer a hot bath, meal, and bed before any long interrogation, so I’ll keep this brief and we can delve into all we need to know from one another tomorrow.”
“That would be welcome, Pug,” said Gulamendis. “But two things I feel compelled to report first: I think we’ve found something never encountered before; we discovered on the abandoned world of Telesan an ancient fortress, human or close enough to human I’m fooled, but the demons have occupied the fortress and are keeping prisoners.”
Pug remained motionless, then nodded once and said, “I see.”
“I don’t know if you do,” said the Demon Master. “Demons don’t take prisoners. They eat everything they can and move on. It’s as if they’ve somehow changed from what I know them to be.”
“Isn’t that a conclusion you and Amirantha reached after your pet demons betrayed you to Dahun and Belasco?”
Gulamendis said, “That was…Yes, we did, but that was us being confounded at how their behavior changed. This is more that their nature has changed. They’re becoming more like us.”
Pug again nodded. His dark eyes studied both elves for a moment, then he said, “You said two things?”
“They seem to be at war with themselves.” He described the attack by one army of demons, at the behest of the illusion of Maarg, upon another, and the surprising organization of the operation.
When Gulamendis was finished, it was his brother who said, “Right before we abandoned Andcardia, we began to notice demons in the field who were not simply throwing themselves at our defenses, but who seemed to be instructing other demons, organizing them in a rough fashion, sending them in waves against specific areas of defenders. I didn’t think too much of it, well, because it wasn’t my job to think of it, and I was very busy running for my life most of the time.
“This, however, was far beyond that. These were demons organized into units, camped as humans or elves would camp, with officers, pickets, what I took to be a command tent, and those who attacked came down the hill in multiple columns, coordinated by some unseen overseer—those demons we thought to be in command were illusions.” He sat back, obviously bordering on exhaustion.
Pug was silent for a long time, then said, “We have much to discuss. But it can wait until you’re recovered from your ordeal.”
Gulamendis handed over the journal he was carrying to Pug and said, “You might find this interesting. I know I did, and I don’t understand half the things he was writing.”
“Who?”
“The author. I didn’t see his name, but there is a glyph. I have a demon-taught spell of reading languages…I suppose you do as well. I think it’s a human tongue.” He sighed. “I don’t really know what I’m thinking. He had a little tower, in which there were many books and scrolls, and he kept copious notes and journals. This was the one I found conveniently on the work desk, else I might not have noticed the information that got us to the portal we used to come here.”
“Very fortuitous,” Pug observed. “Please, if you don’t mind, find yourself downstairs to the common room and feed yourselves. Brandos’s wife, Samantha, has taken charge of the kitchen. She should have food for you. Then Jason will find you a place to sleep. I’ll have water heated for a bath.” He stood, then said, “Though where we’ll find clothing to fit you…?”
“We’ll get by,” said Laromendis. “We can wear these a while longer if we must.”
“Perhaps some robes while your clothing is washed,” suggested Pug. “In any event, please, go eat and rest and tomorrow we’ll have much more to discuss.”
The two elves left his study and Pug looked at the book handed to him by the Demon Master. He didn’t even need to open it to know who authored this work. He recognized the symbol on the binding. But to satisfy himself, he opened it and saw the glyph on the first page. “Macros,” he said softly.
Pug let out a long sigh. Did Macros live on that world and advise some alien ruler, or was this another of the man’s false leads left for him by the Trickster God?
“Kalkin!” Pug shouted. “Is this your handiwork?”
Silence was his reply.
CHAPTER 13
ANCIENT HISTORIES
Pug held up his hands.
The others in the room fell silent as he said, “We have three issues here. What the elven brothers”—he indicated a considerably cleaner, well-fed, and rested pair of Taredhel magic-users—“have brought us is important and worth investigation, as well as supporting recent observations we’ve had regarding the changes in the Demon Legion’s behavior.
“What Amirantha has brought to our attention”—he pointed to a massive volume lying on the table before him—“is still being closely examined, and maybe will give us a far more fundamental understanding of our enemy’s nature and purpose.”
He paused, then said, “But what is most imperative, what demands our first consideration is the information that has come to us from Lord James”—he nodded toward Jim Dasher, who had chosen to stand in a far corner—“and San
dreena.” He inclined his head toward the Knight-Sergeant of the Order of the Shield of the Weak, who sat on the other side of Magnus at the table, just to his father’s right.
“This construction in Kesh, in what is known as the Valley of Lost Men, is something I personally plan on investigating within a few days. Its nature and purpose must be determined.
“The dwarf Keandar, who came to us with Sandreena, was only partially able to help us understand what is taking place down there. He was a hunter, herdsman, and warrior, and was quickly made a sentry and given a patrol. All of his people who were smiths, engineers, miners, or with other like skills, they were taken away to someplace deep within the construction, and apparently were aiding the invaders in building the device.”
From deep in the shadowed corner a voice said, “It’s a trap.”
Those at the table turned to see Lord James step out slightly and he said, “They made it too easy to find that festival of slaughter. The more I think on that the more it was them not caring if they were seen or them wanting to be seen.”
Sandreena studied the way he moved and concluded it was likely he was the Kingdom agent wearing Jal-Pul desertman dress who had handed her the message she had delivered to Creegan. There was something about him that made her go on edge, but she couldn’t quite decide what it was. She thought she had seen him before, but she had so little contact with the nobility she was certain that had she met him she would vividly remember where and when.
Pug said, “From what Sandreena reported, it’s guarded.”
Sandreena’s attention was pulled back to the situation before them and she said, “He may be right. I had little trouble getting close and it was only fatigue and careless-ness that caused Keandar to discover me. Had I not torn off the magic token that kept him under control, I think I would have killed him; he’s sturdy enough and a skilled fighter, but they’re not feeding their prisoners well or resting them, and he was weakened.
“I don’t know. They are undertaking something on a tremendous scale, Pug, for just a lure to a trap.” She reiterated what she had seen for those in the room who might be vague on the details of what she had reported to Pug earlier in the week.
At the Gates of Darkness Page 18