Master of the Five Magics

by Lyndon Hardy

  Alodar looked rapidly about. The defending demons were fewer in number and huddled as shields around the two wizards on the ground. Like great hawks, the djinns from the south dove and blasted those that remained from the sky. Additional clouds of imps appeared from the south, and no devils rose to challenge them. More fireballs slammed into the rear of the nomads, leaving gaps too wide for a single blade to guard. The salient on the west expanded, and the line of barbarians tumbled backwards, letting them pass. Cedric’s forces sagged in the center. More and more left the line to slap away at the darting imps. For a moment, Cedric’s booming commands held the formation, but then columns of Bandor’s men blasted through in two places. To the east, more fire devils flew through the sky, and the smell of burning flesh and leather drifted along the line. At the far end of the other flank, Alodar saw some of the horsemen thunder past Feston’s few remaining defenders and swerve to the north, heading for the clumps of onlookers on the crest.

  In ones and twos, men began to fling down their weapons and run from those who chased them. Then, like a dam crumbling from an overwhelming flood, Cedric’s line collapsed from end to end, and a solid wall of Bandor’s forces charged forth, waving their swords and shouting victory. Here and there, isolated clumps of men stood their ground, flicking swords outwards at the warriors who swelled to surround them on all sides. But, except for them, the entire defense dissolved in confusion.

  Alodar stood rooted in position, watching the cavalry charge up the hill. He took one last look at the havoc as Bandor’s army hacked its way forward. His marines still struggled with Bandor’s horsemen on the ground. He looked across the other crest and saw it clear of men and the huge stone firepit silent and dimly glowing. He touched the pocket containing the wire he had beaten from the rare metal. He knew that he could forestall his task no longer.

  “I shall use the portal the prince has erected to send his minions to us,” he said aloud. “Perhaps the gesture will symbolize more strength than we have.”

  Alodar shook his head and sprinted to the west, hoping to duck into the shimmering air before any of Bandor’s men turned to cut him down.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The Final Battle

  ALODAR panted up to the deserted firepit. Screams echoed across the valley, but he turned his back so that he could concentrate. He lit a fire and thrust the end of the exotic wire into the heat. Impatiently he waited for ignition.

  Several minutes passed but, although the coil grew painfully hot, the silvery-gray luster did not change. “I expected as much,” Alodar muttered to himself. “Despite his great prowess, Handar never worked with any substance that required more than an open flame. He did not consider that kindling the gateway to a demon prince would take a bit more effort.”

  He dropped the wire and quickly pushed some of the larger bricks, still warm to the touch, into the form of a crude anthanor. He stuffed kindling in its base, started a second blaze, and blew air through the chamber with a piece of hose until the stones glowed cherry red. Cautiously he inserted the end of the coil. Almost instantly, it ignited. Squinting at the intense spot of flame as it raced around the loops, he willed his adversary to come forth.

  For an instant, nothing happened. Then the ground shook in a great spasm that crashed together the stones of the pit. The wind howled, and the sky grew suddenly dark. The air above his head exploded in a shower of imp light, and hundreds of shrieking voices bombarded his ears with sound. More devils burst forth with sizes and shapes that spanned the descriptions of the sagas. Spitting fire, roaring the wind, throwing sheets of hail and ice, and quaking the ground they shredded the elements.

  Finally, with a flash of blinding light and a clap of thunder, a last figure stepped forth from the fire. Then all was quiet. Alodar stared with surprise. The form confronting him was not a stooped djinn or a towering hulk such as Balthazar. Barely his own height and with straw-pale hair pulled back over a smooth brow flecked with gold, the demon prince glowered through eyes half closed under long curving lashes. His face was thin and delicate with an upturned nose, thin lips, and ears barely pointed. Rather than the coarse and hairy nakedness of his kindred, he wore a flowing gown of deepest sea green which covered all his slender body except for the tips of his fingers. A prince of demonkind, Alodar thought, but without a close look he would pass for the ruler of some exotic and far-away realm of men.

  “So you seek a prince of my kind,” a voice tinkled from slightly parted lips. “Your folly only makes possible a little sooner what would be my pleasure in a short time to come.” He waved one draped arm across the valley. “The end of the battle is but minutes away, and soon an entire mortal kingdom will be mine. With the name of Elezar on every being’s lips, enough of my minions will come forth that the resistance to passage will vanish. Any of my kind then will journey freely between the realms.”

  Alodar braced himself as he tried to hold in focus the plan he had constructed the night before. He felt his face tighten into a grim mask, hiding the small kernel of self-doubt he harbored inside.

  “Submit,” he commanded with a throat suddenly dry. “Submit to him who ordered you forth.”

  Elezar threw back his head in a human gesture and his laugh jingled skyward. “Such impertinence and bluster! You mortals think that because the browbeating of a hapless imp or simple devil is successful, you are more than a match for any of our realm. Look at me. How closely do I resemble the lesser ones over which I hold sway? The ratio of their power to mine is no greater than that of a toad to yours.”

  “The relative strengths of our wills cannot be decided by words alone,” Alodar said, “no matter how glibly spoken.” He paused and then continued with a rush. “I have been chosen as the one to bring you to submission. Show me the reason that this is not so.”

  Elezar’s finely penciled brows raised slightly. “The question is not who is the stronger. Only the means by which I will demonstrate it to you.” He studied Alodar for a moment in silence. “No doubt you have met the mild annoyances of the lesser sprites. Tell me, if you can, how what they do compares to this?”

  Three of Elezar’s long fingers undulated in a complex gesture. Suddenly Alodar felt an itching rash break out on his back and spread over his limbs. Involuntarily he raked one hand across his thigh and reached frantically between his shoulder blades with the other. Down the small of his back he gouged, along both legs and across his chest. Wherever he touched, the itch seemed to increase with maddening intensity, driving his uncontrolled flailing into a frenzy.

  For over two minutes, he spun about on the ground in a tight ball, kicking up dust. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the feeling slipped away.

  “Or perhaps you have dealt with demons of fear,” Elezar continued.

  Alodar felt a paralyzing chill race down his spine. His chest muscles cramped and he gasped for breath. He looked up wide-eyed at Elezar and threw his hands across his face. Thoughts of searing thirst, smashed bone, and ragged lungs ripped from his chest flashed through his mind. Nothing mattered but escape. His intent, his reason for being there, his plan to cope, all vanished with a brain-numbing jolt. He tried to rise on wobbly legs, but the trembling muscles would not respond.

  “And the strong emotions manipulated by my lesser minions are not the only ones for which I am your master.” Elezar shrugged. “I can crumble you as well with ones more subtle, with gut-burning rushes of anxiety, the muscle-knotting barriers of frustration, the will-sapping blanket of despair.”

  Alodar tried to stop the swirl of his thoughts and bring them back under his control. Unlike the projections of the other imps and devils, the brutal force of Elezar’s onslaught had raced through his mind undiminished by any feeble resistance he could offer. Like a scrap of paper in a storm, his will was blown about with no volition of its own. There was no way he or any other wizard could hope to stand for more than an instant against a prince of demons. It was foolish even to try. Alodar felt his spirits sag. With a trembling lip
he choked out a sob.

  It was a problem without solution, a task that could not be done. Alodar’s head throbbed with the impossibility and the muscles of his neck strained in painful contractions. His left cheek began to twitch and his hand shook uncontrollably.

  Alodar’s stomach churned and his thoughts cut through his mind like a spray of stinging acid. Submission seemed a minor price to pay if it would end the uncertainty and give him even a moment of peace. Alodar lifted his eyes upwards and opened his mouth to speak.

  The demon cut him off. “Even with those, it is hatchling’s play. I choose to use instead the means that will give me the most satisfaction.” He gestured a final time and Alodar felt the intense feelings evaporate away.

  “You have tasted my might,” Elezar continued, “and now know well what easily can be your lot if I choose to inflict it.”

  He stopped and parted his thin lips in a twisted smile. “I want your submission as a gift, freely given. Under no duress, with your thoughts completely your own. You mortals pride yourself on your logic, on how you can sort through the facts and conditions to the conclusion that is inescapable. In the end you will be mine, if you choose to resist or not. Is it not better to minimize the discomfort if the final result is the same? I will give you a few moments. I want your decision based on the cold light of your clearest reason. Contemplate it in the pavilion I erect for you here. In the meantime I will amuse myself with reports of the battle.”

  A momentary burst of light dazzled Alodar’s eyes. When he could see again he found himself in a domelike cage. Iridescent struts crisscrossed and joined in a complex web that rose from the ground on all sides and met in a point over his head. He looked for Elezar and found him standing some five feet away, conversing in rasping tones with two hovering devils.

  Alodar slumped to the ground. For a moment he sat in stunned silence. The validity of the demon’s logic was overwhelming. There was no way for a wizard to struggle against him. Despite his slight form, Elezar could not be resisted.

  Alodar blinked and sat upright. He pulled into focus dim outlines splattered about in his mind. He breathed deeply to steady himself and remembered the sketchy plan that the demon had so viciously dashed away.

  Alodar grabbed at the two bars nearest and felt them yield to his touch, stretching like rubber away from his body. He changed his grip and forced the bars apart; but as he did, two adjacent ones contracted closer together. He could not enlarge the opening. He rose to a crouch and felt the pressure of the webbing on his back. Straining with his legs, he forced himself to a standing position, but no spar ripped or parted.

  He withdrew a small knife from one of his pockets and vigorously sawed at the strut nearest. His eyes widened with surprise as the blade grated across a surface suddenly hard and unyielding. Even though it retained a soft and malleable texture under his hand, the line of contact with his knife seemed like the strongest steel.

  Alodar turned slowly to examine the intricately woven net, frowning as he caught hints of a subtle symmetry. He pushed again with his knife and met inflexible resistance. When he extended a finger, the bar bowed gently to his touch. With his shoulder and head, he forced a deep bulge that crept back into place when he released the pressure. He turned the knifeblade on its side. Surprisingly, the flat edge caused the greatest indentation of all. Somehow the blunter the object, the more effect it had. But what could be flatter than a plane of steel?

  Suddenly, like the ingredients of a complicated formula, all of the elements of what he must do coalesced together. He would have only one try, he thought excitedly, but nothing else offered even a glimmer of hope. He glanced at Elezar, still occupied with the demons. His pulse quickened as one of the hovering devils darted away. Hastily he patted at the many pockets of his tunic, throwing out vials, matches, string, a mirror, pebbles, twigs, scissors, and the other contents as he searched for what he needed.

  Finally he found the piece of Aeriel’s wishbone and formed the binding. Goosebumps raced along his arms and legs as he felt his body heat provide the energy for the connection. Slowly he removed the bone from his pocket and placed it on the ground. He looked across the valley at the swirling confusion on the slopes and Bandor’s waving banners already on the opposite crestline. For a moment, he thought of Aeriel racing away from warriors in hot pursuit, or already thrust to the ground, but he pushed the possibility aside. He grabbed the bone like a knife and, with bold slashes, drew a summoning message in the soft ground. Across the valley, the other part of the bone would also be scratching the earth, copying his motions stroke for stroke. Twice he looked over his shoulder at Elezar’s back and increased the speed with which he inscribed the words that explained what she must bring.

  When he was done, Alodar studied the webbing carefully one final time. He found the junction he wanted and settled on his knees before it, trying to burn the position of the vertex into his mind. He closed his eyes and practiced hitting the exact spot with no clues to aid him. Over and over, with methodical repetition, he conditioned himself to perform the precise stroke. With each fleeting moment, the chance of finishing his preparations before having to face Elezar’s awesome power diminished, but there was no other course to try.

  Finally he heard a commotion down the slope and turned his head to see Aeriel struggling up the hill, batting away a small swarm of imps. Her clothing was torn and her face and arms swollen with many angry welts. She hobbled barefoot over the rough ground, the remnant of a boot top still tied about one leg and the last drops of bog solvent dripping into smoking rivulets on her skin.

  Gasping for breath, Aeriel struggled upwards to the far edge of the firepit. One small devil flew from Elezar and yanked at her hair. She stumbled with exhaustion and fell. The prince turned to watch as she shakily propped herself on one arm. With a final effort, she tossed her dagger into Alodar’s cage, collapsing a second time.

  “A common blade will avail you nothing.” Elezar said, drawing his attention back to Alodar. “The sharper the edge, the greater will be the resistance of my pavilion to it. And even if you were to break free, your legs could not propel you away so fast that my power could not follow. Now tell me of your decision. Am I not your master, the master of your will freely given? Or must I take it in exchange for pain and suffering?”

  Alodar grabbed the dagger and it instantly molded itself into the contours of his hand. He ran his finger along the blade edge and felt the magically perfect flatness. Elezar raised his eyebrows expectantly, but Alodar ignored the question. Making sure he was back in position he began the charm.

  “Answer me not with gibberish,” Elezar snapped. “And do not trifle with my patience.”

  Alodar raced on through the three recitals, pushing aside the nausea and not contemplating the consequences. With a rush, he completed the last word and looked at himself in the small mirror at his side.

  Instantly the world vanished. He was in total darkness and without sound. The sickness in his stomach, the residual aches from Elezar’s bombardment, even the tactile sensation of kneeling on the ground, all were gone. As when Kelric had enchanted him with the eye, he was totally cut off from any stimulation from the outside.

  Mentally Alodar sighed with relief. He had not been sure he could complete another enchantment, but the resistance was far less with himself rather than someone else as the subject. Apparently he still had his consciousness, even though he knew nothing of what went on around him.

  He jerked his attention back to his task and visualized raising his hand to cut at the cage with the magic dagger. He felt nothing and had no way of knowing if he had hit the vertex at the precise spot but he had to assume that he did.

  Next he imagined himself jumping upwards and crashing into Elezar. Mentally he wrapped his arms around the demon as they fell. Straining muscles that he could not feel, he crushed his arms towards his chest. At Handar’s tower, even a demon had felt physical pain when cut. Now to see if a demon prince could also feel it. With unwave
ring persistence, Alodar focused on a picture of Elezar encased in his arms, with spindly ribs cracking one by one.

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then Alodar felt a sudden stabbing thrust into his bubble of blackness. Somehow, in a way he could not describe, his barrier thinned and retreated before a probing pressure. A portion of his wall paled from black to gray, and the beginnings of pain trickled inwards.

  Alodar concentrated on controlling his senses. He increased the intensity with which he blocked them out. Pushing against the indentation, he halted the rush and forced it backwards. With a shove, he slammed it into the smooth wall of nothingness which surrounded him.

  Another thrust followed and then another. Like an inverted sea urchin, the spines poked inward from all directions. Alodar felt the seed of doubt, the kernel of fear, the germ of indecision take root in his mind. For a moment, he faltered. Then he focused on the first and repelled it away. One by one, he expelled them all and reinforced the thickness of his protection.

  Finally Alodar felt a uniform pressure on all sides. There was no hint of pain or distress, but instead a subtle discomfort, as if he were surrounded in a growing crowd. He braced himself against the squeeze and exerted his will to keep Elezar’s influence away. But the pressure increased. With a shudder, his barrier constricted closer to his innermost being.

  Alodar felt his pride pushed on top of his curiosity, his anger mingled with his need to succeed. His drives tumbled among his doubts and fears. The wrinkles of his personality collided as they were pressed by the uniform smoothness. He strained to expand the bubble, but the pressure waxed greater. The sphere contracted with a jerk, once and then twice again. The forces gathered momentum, hurling inward, imploding him towards a featureless smooth mind and then non-existence.