The Sword of Bheleu

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  It was apparent that the sorceress had not slept or rested any more than she had eaten, and Shandiph arranged for her to have a good meal and a few hours rest before reporting her results to the members present.

  By the time Zhinza felt sufficiently recovered to tell the gathering Council what had happened the members in attendance numbered fifteen besides herself, and Shandiph had finally found time to speak with the two astrologers present as well as the one theurgist. He had also, by compiling information brought him regarding the deaths of members, by accepting proxies granted, and by consulting the Council’s by-laws, determined that the quorum necessary to conduct business was twenty-one members. A quorum required two-thirds of the total votes, but not all members were equal; he, as chairman, had five votes of his own and several by proxy, while the most junior members had only one. It was also required that a quorum be one of the numbers with mystical properties; twenty-one, being the product of the mystical numbers three and seven, as well as the recognized age of adulthood, met that prerequisite neatly.

  No formal action could be taken until five more members arrived; nevertheless, to ease the impatience of many present, Shandiph officially convened the Council of the Most High. With the High King’s permission, he had converted an unused gallery into a meeting chamber, complete with warding spells on each door and a row of three long trestle tables in the center.

  The meeting was to have begun at noon; but as Shandiph had anticipated, it proved impossible to gather the entire group together on schedule. It was a good hour past midday when he finally rose at the end of the first table and called the meeting to order.

  The gallery had a southern exposure and high, narrow windows; the sunlight from one of them lit Shandiph from head to foot, from the sweat glistening on his balding scalp to the sterling silver buckles on his black leather sandals. His remaining hair was thin and gray, his face broad and flat. He wore a tunic of black silk worked with silver that was cut to disguise his growing paunch, and soft gray breeches hid his thighs.

  “Fellow magicians, seers, and scholars, I welcome you here and hereby convoke the session of the Council of the Most High,” he said. “We are met to consider a matter that threatens to disrupt the peace of the world, which we are sworn to safeguard. A border has been violated, and magic of great power has been used”

  “We all know that,” Karag of Sland called. “Get on with it! What has Zhinza got to say?”

  “Karag, I want to deal with the necessary formalities, if you don’t mind, and get them out of the way. Now, is there anyone present who questions my authority to convene this Council or questions that I had sufficient reason to do so in this instance?”

  There was a moment of silence; Karag was visibly restraining himself from interrupting again.

  “In that case, is there anyone present who does not have a clear understanding of the situation we’re here to discuss?”

  This time there were muttered words and a few uncertain questioning noises. Shandiph gestured for silence, then began an account of what was known of Garth and the Sword of Bheleu.

  “Reliable divinations have determined that this sword is in fact powerful enough that it could be used to defeat any army that Eramma might send against this Garth,” he concluded. “Therefore, it falls to the Council to deal with this trouble maker and prevent a long and bloody war. We are considering both assassination by ordinary methods and the possibility of using the basilisk to turn this Garth to stone. Other suggestions will be welcome. For the present, though, we asked the sorceress Zhinza to contact Shang in Mormoreth, the keeper of the basilisk, and inquire as to the monster’s readiness for use. I now ask Zhinza to report what she has learned.”

  He gestured toward the old woman, then sat down, glad to be off his feet.

  Zhinza rose, looked around at the gathering, and cleared her throat. She was at least two inches short of five feet in height, thin, and frail; her face was narrow and wrinkled, her hair long and shining white. She wore a simple unbelted gown of white linen.

  “Shang isn’t there,” she said.

  There was a moment of silent surprise; before anyone could speak, she went on, “I mean, I can’t find him. As a lot of you know, my specialty is the knowledge of other planes of reality and the conveying of messages through them or drawing knowledge and power from them. I think I know as much as anybody about communicating over long distances or through other realms, and probably more than any of you here. I used every bit of that knowledge in searching for any trace of Shang. I knew him when he was young and I know the shape of his thoughts and the image of his face. I couldn’t find him—not in Mormoreth, not anywhere in Orûn or Derbarok, and not in any of the known planes that he might have been translated into. I think he must be dead. If he’s not dead, then he’s behind a warding spell the like of which I’ve never seen, or else has gone someplace completely beyond my knowledge. I think he’s dead, and I wish he had carried a warning spell so we could be sure, but he didn’t.”

  She paused, and then rushed on before anyone could interrupt, “And I can’t find the basilisk either. After I couldn’t find Shang I looked for the basilisk, and it’s not there. I don’t know its thoughts, but it has an aura of evil and death that’s unmistakable, and there was nothing but the memory of it in the crypts of Mormoreth.”

  She looked around defiantly and then abruptly sat down.

  There was a moment of babble; then Shandiph rose and silenced the meeting. “Let us behave calmly and rationally,” he said. “Now, who wishes to speak? You, Karag, what do you want to say?”

  Karag rose, impressive in his red velvet and black leather, his black beard bristling. He was not particularly tall or especially heavy, but he gave the impression of great strength nonetheless, for his every muscle was hard and tense.

  “I would like to know,” he announced, “how reliable this old woman’s findings are. I do not deny that she was, in her time, a sorceress of great repute, but she must have lived three-fourths of a century by now, and even the mightiest of us is not immune to the effects of time.”

  “I’m eighty-six, but I still know more than you ever will, you strutting idiot!” Zhinza retorted.

  Karag looked at her with manifest disdain, and Shandiph rose again. “Sit down, Karag,” he said. A hand gestured for his attention, and he added, “Yes, Chalkara, what is it?”

  The court wizard to the High King got to her feet; like Shandiph she stood in the direct light of a window, so that her long red hair and cloth-of-gold gown were as vivid as flame. Karag glared at her, then seated himself, though not before Shandiph had noticed for the first time that she stood slightly taller than Sland’s wizard.

  “I do not impugn Zhinza’s knowledge or power, but the fact remains that we do not know what has become of Shang; as she says, he may be concealed by some warding spell of which we know nothing or hiding in a place of which we know nothing. Or it may be that something has deceived Zhinza, by means we do not know, and Shang and the basilisk remain in Mormoreth, as always. This is a matter that must be investigated immediately, and I suggest that we send someone in person to Mormoreth to inquire there what has become of our great weapon and honored colleague.”

  Karag objected. “If Shang is dead, then there won’t be anyone in Mormoreth to ask!”

  Without rising, Thetheru of Amag said, “If Shang is dead, then his killer will be in Mormoreth.”

  Karag whirled to face the Amagite and retorted, “Nonsense! The killer would have fled long ago!”

  “We don’t even know that there is a killer,” Deriam of Ur-Dormulk interjected. “Shang may have gotten careless with the basilisk’s venom.”

  “Shang was never careless,” replied Lord Dor, Baron of Therin—or at least the avatar he had sent to the meeting, since Dor had developed the ability to reproduce himself in identical copies that shared his consciousness.

  “Anyone can
be careless once,” Deriam insisted.

  “Please, councilors!” Shandiph called as argument became general. He was answered, after some shuffling, by silence; Karag seated himself, having risen so as to be able to yell in Thetheru’s face more easily. The old sorceress shifted in her chair, and Shandiph asked, “Is there something you wished to add, Zhinza?”

  “There is someone in Mormoreth; I could see that when I looked for Shang and for the basilisk. There are several people, none of whom I could identify in any way, and none of whom were magicians, so that I couldn’t communicate with them.”

  “There, you see?” Thetheru said; Karag turned toward him, his hand falling to the hilt of the dagger he carried on his belt.

  “Silence!” Shandiph bellowed.

  When he was satisfied that he had the full attention of those present, he went on, “It would appear that there are people in Mormoreth, whether or not they are connected with Shang’s death. These people may know what became of Shang and of the basilisk. I think that it would, indeed, be a very good idea to send someone to investigate, particularly since we are still five votes short of a quorum to decide matters of importance and can therefore spare the time. I suggest we vote on that, here and now; no quorum is necessary for sending a messenger. All those in favor of sending an investigator to Mormoreth will signify their position by standing.”

  With much scraping of chairs, most of the members rose; Shandiph tallied up the votes, to make it official. Zhinza did not stand, nor did Deriam, nor did a blue-clad young woman Shandiph could not immediately place; all others had voted in favor. Karag and Thetheru were glaring at each other, obviously annoyed that they had voted the same way.

  “Good,” Shandiph said. “The next question is who should be sent?”

  “With the Chairman’s permission,” Derelind the Hermit said, “I volunteer.”

  “Are there any other volunteers?”

  There were several, and a disorganized debate ensued. It was finally settled in favor of Derelind when he explained his proposed mode of transportation, which none of the others could equal; he claimed to have learned the languages of winds and birds, and to be able therefore to fly to Mormoreth carried on the backs of eagles, his weight borne up by the west wind. He estimated the round trip at three days’ travel.

  Once that was settled, Chalkara suggested that no round trip was necessary to deliver information, since Zhinza should be able to communicate with him while he was still in Mormoreth. Derelind agreed, but asked that no votes for death be taken until he had returned.

  When that, too, was settled, Derelind said, “By your leave, then, I will depart immediately.”

  Shandiph replied, “You may if you choose, but the meeting is not done; we have yet to hear the advice of the astrologers and our theurgist on the nature of the danger that Garth and the Sword of Bheleu present.”

  “I will forego that pleasure.” He bowed his head politely and headed for the door. Deriam released the wards he had placed upon it, and Derelind stepped through, closing the door behind him.

  When he had gone, Shandiph announced, “I will now call on Herina the Stargazer, one of our most learned astrologers and scholars, to tell us what she feels may be relevant in the motions of the stars.”

  Herina rose; she wore light blue that contrasted well with her butter-yellow hair. She was plump, but not distressingly so, and age had not yet done any serious damage to her figure or face—certainly no more than had her diet.

  “Ah ... it appears we have the misfortune to be living in evil times. The beginning of a new age is upon us; the familiar Thirteenth Age, which has lasted for three hundred years and is all any of us has known, is over. The Fourteenth Age began approximately a month ago, and I believe that all these events that we are here to discuss relate somehow to its advent. The Fourteenth Age is, according to the priests and scholars as well as to the more orthodox astrologers, to be ruled by the god Bheleu, Lord of Destruction, as signified by the presence of the three wandering stars in the constellation of the Broken Sword. It is therefore believed that this age, which is to last for only thirty years, will be an age of fire and blood, in which the wars that ended with the coming of the Thirteenth Age will return threefold.

  “The ancient texts and prophecies include several descriptions of signs, omens, and warnings that will signal the onset of this great destruction. An overman will come out of the east to the city of the dark gods, according to one; this is obviously fulfilled by Garth’s visit to Dûsarra. The worshippers of P’hul will honor the servant of Bheleu, says another; this is not confirmed, but it could be interpreted to mean Garth’s alleged spreading of the White Death. The others I am familiar with do not appear to have been fulfilled as yet, though. There is mention of a slayer of monsters who shall come out of the north, and of storms of fire, and of various other portents. Since none of these has occurred, as far as I know, I don’t believe that too much weight should be given to the seeming fulfillment of one or two of the prophecies. They’re quite vague, after all.

  “Regarding the Sword of Bheleu, that’s not really within my area of expertise, but it seems to fit in with the start of the new age. I have no idea where it came from or what it is capable of.”

  She sat down.

  Shandiph rose and said, “We have a second astrologer on hand; Veyel of Nekutta, have you anything to add?”

  The old man robed in black shook his head. “No. She covered the general topic well, and I cannot deal with specifics without casting a proper horoscope of this overman, something I do not have sufficient information to attempt.”

  “In that case, I call on Miloshir the Theurgist to inform us regarding the nature of the Sword of Bheleu.”

  The theurgist was a middle-aged man wearing white and gold, of nondescript appearance except for his flowing brown hair. He got slowly to his feet, and spoke.

  “I am afraid that we may be in serious trouble very soon. As Herina has told us, this is now the Fourteenth Age of the world, ruled by Bheleu, the god of destruction. Bheleu is the second most powerful of the Lords of Dûs, the evil gods, second only to The God Whose Name Is Not Spoken. Among all the gods, only the ineffable Dagha and the gods of life and death are reckoned his superiors, and Bel Vala, god of strength and courage, is his only near-equal. Furthermore, Bheleu is not a god who can be accommodated and lived with, as we have lived with the goddess P’hul for these past three centuries; he demands constant destruction, unlimited death and chaos. Herina said that this age would last for thirty years; my own studies indicate that it will last for only three, since it will take no longer than that for the world to destroy itself utterly under the influence of Bheleu.

  “As for the Sword, every god, in his time, uses tools to work his will in our mortal world. Each deity has some token, some powerful magical object, through which his power is channeled and by which he dominates the age given to him. Each such token has existed, it is said, since the very beginning of time, when the First Age began, but each remains hidden and powerless until it is found at the proper time and used by the mortal being or beings chosen by the god to wield it.

  “I am very much afraid that this overman, Garth, is Bheleu’s chosen agent and has already found and begun using the sword that is the god’s token. This means that he has at his command, should he learn to use it, the full might of the god and all the supernatural powers and abilities attributed to the god. While I might ordinarily suspect that this overman is a fraud and the sword a fake given a prestigious name—such hoaxes have occurred—I fear that is not the case here. You will recall, some of you, that idols of Bheleu always depict him as an overman, and that, as the astrologer mentioned, this Garth has already fulfilled at least one, and probably two or more of the relevant prophecies.

  “As the agent of destruction, this Garth—or, if you prefer, the god Bheleu—will be most eager to destroy the forces that help preserve order.
The foremost force for order in this decadent world of ours is this very Council. Therefore, we will be one of his prime targets.”

  He stopped speaking. Karag asked, “Then do you say there is nothing that can be done?”

  “Oh, no! I never said that. It is entirely possible that Garth can be defeated and much of the havoc he would cause averted. Only three of the gods are so mighty that they cannot be thwarted, and though Bheleu, in this age, is fourth among the gods, he is not one of the three. He can be defeated, his agent destroyed, and his token suppressed. However, any such action must be taken immediately, since the god’s power will grow steadily for some time as the new age asserts itself.”

  “You are saying, then, that if we do not immediately destroy this overman, he will destroy us?”

  “Yes, and the world with us. Exactly.”

  Chalkara said, “You spoke of tokens of all the gods. Could we find these other tokens and use them against this overman?”

  “I suppose so, yes. Of course, the tokens of the Arkhein are of very little power and would be of no use at all against the Sword of Bheleu. I believe the tokens of the Lords of Eir may have been destroyed in the Eighth Age, when the balance first shifted in favor of the Lords of Dûs; I certainly know of nothing that would indicate that they still exist. That leaves us only the tokens of the other six dark gods. We already possess one of the six, and I know what the others are, but not where they might be found.”

  “We already possess one?”

  Miloshir was suddenly hesitant and uncertain. He glanced at Shandiph. “I have spoken out of turn.”

  Shandiph rose again; his knees were growing tired. “That’s all right. Yes, we already possess one; it was the Ring of P’hul that first permitted the Council of the Most High to gain what power we now hold, at the end of the Twelfth Age. It has been kept carefully hidden ever since, because it is far too dangerous to use; it was the Ring which caused the Great Plague that wiped out the Royal Eramman Army and thereby put an end to the Racial Wars before the overmen could be wiped out. It was the Ring that laid waste the Plain of Derbarok. It always did what was asked of it, but never in the way desired; it ended the Racial Wars only by killing the army and ended the war with Orûn only by ruining what both sides fought for.”