A Darkness at Sethanon

by Raymond E. Feist

  As they sped high above the island kingdom of Queg, they could see the capital and outlying villages, again looking like playthings from this height. Far below them winged shapes flew in formation over the edge of land, and from the dragon came a mirthful chuckle. Know them, dost thou, Ruler of the Eagles’ Reaches?

  Tomas said, ‘They are not what they once were.’

  Pug said, ‘What is it?’

  Tomas pointed downward. ‘Those are descendants of the giant eagles I hunted – Ashen-Shugar hunted – ages past. I flew them as lesser men fly falcons. Those ancient birds were intelligent after a fashion.’

  The island men train these and ride them as others do horses. They are a fallen breed.

  Tomas seemed irritated. ‘Like so much else, they are but a shadow of what they once were.’

  With humour, the dragon answered, Still there are those of us who are more, Valheru.

  Pug said nothing. Well as he understood his friend, there was much about him no one could ever fathom. Tomas was unique in all the world and had burdens upon his soul no other being could comprehend. In a vague way Pug could understand how these descendants of the once proud eagles Ashen-Shugar had hunted could pain Tomas, but he chose not to comment. Whatever disquiet Tomas experienced, it was his alone.

  A short time later another island came into view, tiny compared to the nation of Queg, but still large enough to house a sizeable population. But Pug knew only a few had ever abided there, for it was Sorcerer’s Isle, home of Macros the Black.

  As they sped over the northwestern edge of the island, they dipped lower, clearing a range of hills, then flew above a small vale. Pug said, ‘It can’t be!’

  Tomas said, ‘What?’

  ‘There was an odd … place here before. A home with outbuildings. It’s where I met Macros. Kulgan, Gardan, Arutha, and Meecham were all there, too.’

  They swooped over tall trees. Tomas said, ‘These oaks and bristlecone pines did not grow in even the near-dozen years since you first met the sorcerer, Pug. They are ancient in aspect.’

  Pug said, ‘Another of Macros’s mysteries. Pray, then, the castle’s still there.’

  Ryath cleared another line of hills, putting them in sight of the only visible structure on the island, a lone castle. They banked over the beach where Pug and his companions had first landed upon the island, years before, and the dragon rapidly descended, landing upon a trail above the beach. Bidding her companions goodbye, she launched herself into the air, preparing to hunt. Tomas, watching as Ryath vanished into the azure sky, said, ‘I had forgotten what it was to ride a dragon.’ He appeared thoughtful as he faced Pug. ‘When you asked me to accompany you, I was again fearful of awakening dormant spirits within.’ He tapped his chest. ‘I thought here Ashen-Shugar waited, only needing an excuse to rise up and overwhelm me again.’ Pug studied Tomas’s face. His friend was masking his emotions well, but Pug could still see them there, powerful and deep. ‘But I know now there is no difference between Ashen-Shugar and Tomas. I am both.’ He looked down for a moment, reminding Pug of how the boy had once looked when making excuses for some transgression before his mother. ‘I feel as if I’ve both gained and lost.’

  Pug nodded. ‘We’ll never again be the boys we once were, Tomas. But we’ve become so much more than we dreamed. Still, few things of worth are ever simple. Or easy.’

  Tomas stared out to sea. ‘I was thinking of my parents. I’ve not visited them since the end of the war. I am not who they once knew.’

  Pug understood. ‘It will be hard for them, but they are good people and will accept the change in you. They will wish to see their grandchild.’

  Tomas sighed, then he laughed, part in pleasure, part in bitterness. ‘Calis is different from what they would have expected, but then so am I. No, I do not fear to see them again.’ He turned and looked at Pug. Softly he said, ‘No, I fear I may never see them again.’

  Pug thought of his own wife, Katala, and all the others at Stardock. He could only reach out and grip Tomas’s arm for a long, thoughtful moment. Despite their strengths and abilities, talents unrivalled on this world, they were mortal and, even more than Tomas, Pug knew the dreadful nature of what they faced. And Pug held deeper suspicions and darker fears in private. The silence of the eldar during his training, their presence on Kelewan, and the insights gained from studying with them all pointed at possibilities Pug fervently hoped would prove false. There was a conclusion here he would not speak of until he had no other choice. Pushing aside his disquiet, he said, ‘Come, we must seek Gathis.’

  They stood overlooking the beach, at a point where two trails divided from one. Pug knew that one led to the castle, the other toward the small vale where the strange house and outbuildings the sorcerer had called Villa Beata had stood, the place he had first met Macros. Pug now wished when he and the others had returned to claim the legacy of Macros, the heart of the Academy at Stardock’s library, they had visited the complex. For those buildings to have vanished, to be replaced by trees of ancient aspect … it was, as he had said, one more of the many mysteries surrounding Macros the Black. They followed the path toward the castle.

  The castle stood upon a table of land, separated from the rest of the island by a deep ravine that fell away to the ocean. The crashing of waves through the passage echoed beneath them as they slowly crossed the lowered drawbridge. The castle was fashioned from unfamiliar dark stone, and around the great arch above the portcullis odd-looking creatures of stone perched, regarding Pug and Tomas with stony gaze as they passed below. The outside of the castle looked much as it had the last time Pug had been here, but once inside the castle, it was evident that everything else had changed.

  Upon the last visit, the grounds and castle had appeared well tended, but now the stones at the base of the building exhibited weeds growing from cracks, and the grounds were littered with bird droppings. They hurried to the large doors to the central keep, which hung open. As they pushed them wide, the screeching of hinges testified to their rusty condition. Pug led his friend through the long hall and up the tower steps, until he reached the door into Macros’s study. The last time he had been here, it had taken both a spell and answering a question in Tsurani to open the door, but now a simple push sufficed. The room was empty.

  Pug turned and they hurried down the steps until they reached the great hall of the castle. In frustration, Pug cried, ‘Hello, the castle!’ His voice echoed hollowly off the stones.

  Tomas said, ‘It appears everyone is gone.’

  ‘I don’t understand. When we last spoke, Gathis said he would abide here, awaiting Macros’s return and keeping his house in order. I only knew him briefly, but I would warrant he would keep this castle as we saw it last…’

  Tomas said, ‘Until he was no longer able. It may be someone had reason to visit the island. Pirates or Quegan raiders?’

  ‘Or agents of Murmandamus?’ Pug visibly sagged. ‘I had hoped we would discover some clue from Gathis to begin our search for Macros.’ Pug looked about and spied a stone bench before the wall. Sitting down, he said, ‘We don’t even know if Macros lives yet. How are we to find him?’

  Tomas stood in front of his friend, towering over him. He placed one boot upon the bench and leaned forward, crossed arms resting upon his knee. ‘It is also possible this castle is deserted because Macros has already returned and left again.’

  Pug looked up. ‘Perhaps. There is a spell … a spell of the Lesser Path.’

  Tomas said, ‘As I understood such things –’

  Pug interrupted. ‘I have learned many things at Elvardein. Let me try this.’ He closed his eyes and incanted, his words soft and low as he directed his mind into a path still strange to it as often as not. Suddenly his eyes snapped open. ‘There’s some sort of ensorcellment upon this castle. The stones – they’re not right.’

  Tomas looked at Pug, a question unspoken in his eyes. Pug rose and touched the stones. ‘I used a spell that should have gleaned information fro
m the very walls. Whatever occurs near an object leaves faint traces, energies that impact it. With skill, they can be read as you or I would read a scribe’s writings. It is difficult but possible. But these stones show nothing. It is as if no living being had ever passed through this hall.’ Suddenly Pug turned toward the doors. ‘Come!’ he commanded.

  Tomas fell in beside his friend as Pug walked out to the heart of the courtyard. There he halted, raising his hands above his head. Tomas could feel mighty energies forming about them as Pug gathered power. Then Pug closed his eyes and spoke, rapidly and in a tongue both odd and familiar to Tomas. Then Pug’s eyes opened and he said, ‘Let the truth be revealed!’

  As if a ripple moved outward, with Pug at the centre, Tomas found his vision shifting. The very air shimmered and on one side there was the abandoned castle, but as the ripple passed, the court was revealed as well tended. The circle widened rapidly as the illusion was dispelled, and suddenly Tomas discovered they were in an orderly courtyard. Nearby a strange creature was carrying a bundle of firewood. He halted, surprise evident upon his nonhuman face, and dropped the bundle.

  Tomas had begun to draw his sword, but Pug said, ‘No,’ placing a restraining hand upon his arm.

  ‘But it’s a mountain troll!’

  ‘Gathis told us Macros employed many servants, judging each upon its own merits.’

  The startled creature, broad-shouldered, long-fanged, and fearsome in appearance, turned and ran in a stooping, apelike fashion toward a door in the outer wall. Another creature, nothing either man had seen upon this world, exited the stable and halted. It was only three feet tall and had a muzzle like a bear, but its fur was red-gold. Seeing the two humans regarding it, it set aside the broom it carried and slowly backed into the stable door. Pug watched until it was out of sight. Cupping his hands about his mouth, Pug cried, ‘Gathis!’

  Almost instantly, the doors to the great hall opened and a well dressed goblin-like creature appeared. Taller than a goblin, he possessed the thick ridges above the eyes and large nose of the goblin tribe, but his features were somehow more noble, his movements more graceful. Attired in blue singlet and leggings, with a yellow doublet and black boots, he hurried down the steps and bowed before the two men. With a sibilance to his speech, he said, ‘Welcome, Master Pug.’ He studied Tomas. ‘This, then, would be Master Tomas?’

  Tomas and Pug exchanged glances. Then Pug said, ‘We seek your master.’

  Gathis seemed to look distressed. ‘That may prove a bit of a problem, Master Pug. As best as I can ascertain, Macros no longer exists.’

  Pug sipped at his wine. Gathis had brought them to a chamber where refreshments were provided. The steward of the castle refused to sit, standing opposite the two men as they listened to his story.

  ‘So, as I said when last we spoke, Master Pug, between the Black One and myself there is an understanding. I can sense his … state of being? Somehow I know he is always out there, somewhere. About a month after you left, I awoke one night suddenly feeling the absence of that … contact. It was most disturbing.’

  ‘Then Macros is dead,’ said Tomas.

  Gathis sighed, in a very human way. ‘I am afraid so. If not, he is somewhere so alien and remote it amounts to little difference.’

  Pug considered in silence, while Tomas said, ‘Then who fashioned that illusion?’

  ‘My master. I activated it as soon as you and your companions left the castle after your last visit. Without the presence of Macros the Black to ensure our safety, he felt the need to provide us with “protective colouration,” in a manner of speaking. Twice now bold pirates have combed the island for booty. They find nothing.’

  Pug’s head suddenly came up. ‘Then the villa still exists?’

  ‘Yes, Master Pug. It was also hidden by the illusion.’ Gathis appeared disturbed. ‘I must confess that while I am no expert in such matters, I would have thought the illusion spell beyond your ability to banish.’ Again he sighed. ‘Now I worry at its absence once you’ve left.’

  Pug waved away the remark. ‘I will reestablish it before we leave.’ Something nagged at Pug’s mind, a strange image of speaking with Macros in the villa. ‘When I asked Macros if he lived in the villa, he said, “No, though I once did, long ago.”’ He looked at Gathis. ‘Did he have a study, such as the one in the tower, at the villa?’

  Gathis said, ‘Yes, ages ago, before I came to this place.’

  Pug stood. ‘We must go there, now.’

  Gathis led them down the path into the vale. The red tile roofs were as Pug had remembered. Tomas said, ‘This is a strange place, though it seems pleasing enough in aspect. With fair weather, it would be a comfortable home.’

  ‘So my master thought, once,’ said Gathis. ‘But he was gone for a long time, so he told me. And when he returned, the villa was deserted, those who had lived with him gone without explanation. At first he searched for his companions, but soon despaired of ever knowing their fate. Then he feared for the safety of his books and other works as well as the lives of the servants he planned to bring here, so he built the castle. And took other measures,’ he added with a chuckle.

  ‘The legend of Macros the Black.’

  ‘Terror of evil magic serves ofttimes better than stout castle walls, Master Pug. The difficulties were not trivial: shrouding this rather sunny island in gloomy clouds and keeping that infernal blue light flashing in the high tower each time a ship approached. It was something of a nuisance.’

  They entered the courtyard of the villa, surrounded by only a low wall. Pug paused to regard the fountain, where three dolphins rose upon a pedestal, and said, ‘I fashioned the pattern in my transport room after this.’ Gathis led him toward the central building, and suddenly Pug understood. There were neither connecting walkways nor roofs covering them, but this villa matched his own upon Kelewan in building size and placement. The pattern was identical. Pug halted, looking shaken.

  Tomas said, ‘What is it?’

  ‘It seems Macros had his hand in many things far more subtle than we had known. I built my home upon Kelewan in the image of this one without knowing I had done so. I had no reason to, save it seemed the way to build it. Now I don’t think I had much choice. Come, I will show you where the study lay.’ He led them without error to the room that matched the location of his own study. Instead of the sliding cloth-covered doors of Kelewan, they faced a single door of wood, but Gathis nodded.

  Pug opened the door and stepped inside. The room was identical in size and shape. A dust-covered writing table and chair rested where Pug had placed his low writing table and cushions in the matching room. Pug laughed, shaking his head in appreciation and wonder. ‘The sorcerer had many tricks.’ He moved to a small fireplace. Pulling upon a stone, he revealed a hidden nook. ‘I had such a place built into my own hearth, though I never understood why. I had no reason to use it.’ Within that nook a rolled parchment lay. Pug withdrew it and inspected it. A single ribbon without seal tied the scroll.

  He unrolled it and read, his face becoming animated. ‘Oh, you clever man!’ he said. Looking at Tomas and Gathis, he explained. ‘This is written in Tsurani. Even if the spell of illusion was broken, and someone stumbled across this room, and found the nook and the parchment, there was almost no chance of them being able to read this.’ He looked back at the parchment and began to read aloud. ‘“Pug, by reading this, know I am most likely dead. But if not, I am somewhere beyond the normal boundaries of space and time. In either case I am unable to provide you with the aid you seek. You have discovered something of the nature of the Enemy and know it imperils both Kelewan and Midkemia. Seek me first in the Halls of the Dead. If I am not there, then you know I live. If I am alive, I will be captive in a place difficult to find. Then you will make the choice, either to seek to learn more of the Enemy on your own, a most dangerous course in the extreme but one that may succeed, or to search for me. Whatever you do, know I wish you the blessings of the gods. Macros.”’

 
; Pug put away the scroll. ‘I had hoped for more.’

  Gathis said, ‘My master was a man of power, but even he had his limits. As stated in his last missive to you, he could not pierce the veil of time once he entered the rift with you. From that point on, time was as opaque to him as to other men. He could only speculate.’

  Tomas said, ‘Then we must away to the Halls of the Dead.’

  Pug said, ‘But where are they to be found?’

  ‘Attend,’ said Gathis. ‘Beyond the Endless Sea lies the southern continent, called Novindus by men. From north to south a range of mountains runs, called in the language of those men the Ratn’gari, which means “Pavilion of the Gods”. Upon the two tallest peaks, the Pillars of Heaven, stands the Celestial City, or so men say, the home of the gods. Below those peaks, in the foothills stands the Necropolis, the City of the Dead Gods. The highest-placed temple, one that rests against the base of the mountains, honours the four lost gods. There you will find a tunnel into the heart of the Celestial Mountains. This is the entrance to the Halls of the Dead.’

  Pug considered. ‘We shall sleep the night, then call Ryath and cross the Endless Sea.’

  Tomas turned without comment, beginning the trek back to Macros’s castle. There was no discussion. They had no choice. The sorcerer had been nothing if not thorough.

  Ryath banked. For hours they had flown faster than Pug had thought possible. The Endless Sea had rolled below, a vast ocean of seemingly uncrossable size. But the dragon had not hesitated an instant in accepting their destination. Now, hours later, they were flying over a continent on the other side of the world. They had moved from east to west as well as crossing to the southern hemisphere, so they had gained some daylight. In late afternoon, they had sighted the southern continent, Novindus. First they had crossed a great sand wasteland, bounded by high cliffs running for hundreds of miles along the seacoast. Any who landed from a ship on that northern coast would have days of travel and a dangerous climb before drinking water could be found. Then the dragon had cut across grasslands. Far below, hundreds of strange wagons surrounded by herds of cattle, sheep, and horses had been moving from north to south. Some nomadic people, a nation of herdsmen, was following the tracks of its ancestors, oblivious to the dragon high overhead.