Master of the five Magics m-1

by Lyndon Hardy

  "Silence, Balthazar, silence," the wizard shot back, "I have had the will of two of your kind since I toddled from my father's knee. The passage of time does not weaken my steadfastness but gives me all the more experience and confidence to handle your feeble puffs of will. If you do not believe it, look into me and see what you find there."

  The demon sneered from bristly jowl to jowl. His luminescent eyes bore down on the wizard. For several minutes there was silence. Neither moved. Alodar saw beads of sweat break out on Handar's forehead. He saw the demon's tail begin to twitch slowly, first to the left, then to the right. Finally a spasm ran up the entire length to the large plates which covered his back.

  "And so, Balthazar," Handar said, "say again who is master and who is the slave."

  "I am at your bidding and service," the demon mumbled.

  "I cannot discern your usually wonderful diction, Balthazar," Handar continued. "Speak louder for my companion here."

  "I am at your bidding and service," Balthazar boomed. "What task will you give me so that I may have it done?"

  "Know then, Balthazar," Handar said, with a tinge of smugness in his voice, "that below this very pinnacle several of your kindred have forced their way into the mortal world without being called here by one of my craft. Plunge downward and dispatch them to whence they came. Rend them limb from limb and distribute the essence of their being to the farthest corners of their natural realm, so that eons may pass before they coalesce again."

  Balthazar glanced groundward and stared through the rock. "But they are indeed of my closest kindred," he said. "Spawned from the same clutch in which I was laid. I see they only frolic about, and about them are none of your kind to be harmed. Such action does not deserve unjust wrath from one with your mighty will, master."

  "As I have said, Balthazar," Handar commanded, "dispatch your obligation and whine no more about it."

  The tail twitched twice more above the tripod. Then suddenly the demon was gone. The chamber was still, with only the small flicker of flame and a hint of a foul odor to mark his presence.

  "Up to the entrance," Handar said. "We can see how well Balthazar strives after such a long rest."

  Alodar sprang for the spiral passageway, and the wizard marched after at a more stately pace. In a moment Alodar reached the slab, which was still cantilevered from the steep sides of the pinnacle. Racing out onto it, he looked below.

  The campfire flamed in a rainbow of colors. The original three sprites had grown to a swarm of lights that dove and climbed among perhaps a dozen of the smaller djinns. In the center of all towered a giant, from the distance seemingly as tall as Balthazar, hands on bony hips and head tipped back in a fiendish yell as the smaller devils danced about him.

  Suddenly lightning flashed. Deafening thunder cracked through the air. As Handar reached Alodar's side, a small cloudlet formed over the blaze. A second flash struck the earth in the midst of the demons. As they scrambled away, a staccato burst of rain fell and doused the fire. In a ball of orange flame, Balthazar appeared in the middle of the smouldering rocks and branches. Without warning, he snatched up two of the small demons, one in each hand, and dashed their heads together in a spray of greenish pulp. With seeming nonchalance, he tore limb from lifeless limb and scattered them airwards to vanish in puffs of smoke and flame.

  The demon confronting Balthazar roared in challenge and waved his arms in warning. A giant globule of ice suddenly appeared between his hands; with a snap of his long arms he hurled it at his opponent. Balthazar dropped the remains of his smaller brothers, turned, and caught the missile against his scaled shoulder. It burst into a thousand tiny shards and dashed to the ground, hissing into steam when it touched the still glowing embers. Before the other demon could attack again, Balthazar stomped the ground. A fissure opened at his feet. It raced across the clearing from one fighter to the other. From a small crack, it grew wider till it spanned a full six feet and caused even the pinnacle to rock as the shockwaves spread from the disturbance.

  Balthazar's opponent danced to one side and then the other as the jagged crack approached, but it sped unerringly to him. With a guttural yell, he fell into the abyss that opened under his feet. Balthazar stomped the ground again; the earth closed as rapidly as it had split asunder. No trace was left of the demon, except for a few bubbles of green which oozed upwards from the crack that marked the fissure's path.

  The smaller demons and imps that had watched the battle suddenly began to scatter, but Balthazar pursued each with relentless precision. He dispatched the sprites with a clap of his hands. In a few moments it was over and Balthazar streaked skywards to stand before Handar on the slab.

  "It is done, Balthazar," Handar said. "Transport us gently below and then return whence you came."

  In a rush, Alodar felt himself scooped up in a pillow of air and hurled down to the campground with breathtaking speed. Just when he thought that the demon planned some revenge upon his master, they came to a gut-wrenching halt and stood on the firm ground.

  "Use the embers," Handar said. "It is enough to give you passageway back." Balthazar said not another word but moved to the glowing remains of the drenched fire and wrapped his tail about him. He stepped upon one of the coals, still red-yellow, and vanished from sight.

  Alodar looked at Handar with a stunned expression on his face. The events he had just witnessed were so far removed from anything he had experienced that it was hard to believe they had happened. The raw power of Balthazar pushed his own strivings into insignificance. He felt like a small child, bewildered by the complex world of adults manipulating their surroundings in a way he could never hope to master.

  "It is cold," Handar said, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "And I am hungry. Repair your camp, and then we will talk."

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Possession by Design

  ALODAR warmed his hands in front of the fire. The events of the past hour were slowly ebbing away. He closed his eyes, but the vision no longer came. He was free of the enchantment which had drawn him to the spire.

  He shook his head and looked across the flame at Handar, who was complacently pulling the remains of the meal out of his beard with a small comb. "Why was I drawn here?" he asked at last. "For what purpose did you sleep in the tomb? How can demons of such great power cross unbidden into our world?"

  "It all will be explained in good time and proper fashion," Handar said, raising his hand to stop the rush of questions. "But first I must know more of your journey. How is it that you and no other broke the seal that awakened me? And besides the demons here, how does our world fare elsewhere in interaction with them?"

  Alodar frowned with impatience, then sighed when he saw Handar tilt up his chin and close his eyes to mere slits. "I am Alodar, suitor to the queen of Procolon," he said. "And I am here as a result of my quest for her hand." He paused and let his thoughts tumble back into order. "From the dungeons of Iron Fist, to the depths of the Fumus Mountains, to the inner sanctums of the Cycloid Guild, through the enchantment of the sorcerer's eye, I have striven to aid her cause better than any other."

  "For a mere queen?" Handar asked.

  "For the respect of all men, for a parade of triumph through the streets of Ambrosia, for the glory of the sagas, for a reason for existing." Alodar flushed as the feelings flooded back through him. He breathed deeply, savoring the taste of his goal. "But each step along the way led only to the next, the promise of some greater marvel to turn the eyes of the fair lady. Now armies from the south and west sweep into the heart of Procolon. If only I could find the means to swell the ranks of the nomads around her banner and defeat the demon-led hordes which oppose her!"

  Alodar stopped and blinked. "Balthazar," he exclaimed. "With his might and the others you could muster, we could rid the warriors who oppose the queen of the fiendish influence which drives them. Or more easily convince Grak and the other chieftains to join in the fair lady's cause. My quest goes onward. It was right to diver
t our trek southwards so that I could visit this tower. A powerful wizard is just what the fair lady needs in the struggle for her kingdom."

  Alodar halted again and looked at Handar through narrowed eyes. "But I must admit I view the prospect with mixed feelings," he said at last. "My efforts before have benefited others as much as they have aided me. Vendora would look to reward the wizard who did the deed rather than the messenger who brought him."

  "Then do you wish to turn aside what aid I might offer," Handar asked, "and continue your petty struggle on your own?"

  Alodar was silent for a moment more. He thought of the sprite with its boils and rashes, of the pleasures he was able to resist only with intense pain, of the raw power of Balthazar and the other djinns. Already he had seen and experienced too much of what demonkind could do. He nodded slowly with decision and looked Handar in the eye. "The demons must be exorcised from our world. No matter who gets the credit."

  Handar returned Alodar's stare. He lightly touched his fingertips together in front of his chest. "It is well that you answered as you did," he said, "for any other would have meant that your quest was for naught."

  Alodar raised his eyebrows with surprise but Handar continued. "It would be my doom if I summoned Balthazar to satisfy my every whim. Each time we contest, he learns more of my will, of my weaknesses and petty failings, my irritations, desires, and fears. If I persisted one time too many, it is he who would be the master and I the slave. It well may be that I must call upon him again before the struggle is finished, but it will be only when he is desperately needed and not before. Nor will I appear before this queen of yours juggling imps in my hands like some jester. I am a wizard and know better than to dissipate foolishly the power of my craft. You need not fear for the effect of my art on the heart of this lady. It was for a much graver reason that I was laid to rest."

  Handar collapsed his palms together and brought his thumbs up to his chin. "You mention building an army," he said, "and using wizardry to aid in persuasion. I think that it would be a good enough first test. Listen well and I will instruct you on the workings of my craft."

  "You offer to teach me how to deal with djinns such as Balthazar?" Alodar asked.

  "One as mighty as he will come later," Handar said. "For the moment, summoning a sprite or two should suffice to build your confidence and probably impress this queen as well."

  "But why?" Alodar asked. "You pile one mystery on top of another."

  "Why?" Handar echoed, stiffening into an erect posture. "It is not for a wizard to answer why. He does as he chooses, as he wills things to be. I elect to tell you of my craft now. More will come when I judge you worthy to receive it."

  Alodar shrugged and settled into a comfortable position. Handar waited several moments more in silence and then rose.

  "What you saw transpire in this clearing tonight was an exercise in one of the fundamental laws of wizardry," he said. "The law of ubiquity. Or stated in simple terms, 'fire permeates all.' It is by fire and fire alone that a bridge or gateway is formed between the demon world and ours. It is through fire that they come to us. The simple blaze of a fallen log is enough to furnish passage for the most feeble among them, such as tiny imps and will-o'-the-wisps. Their presence is harmless, even though an annoyance and surrounded by much folklore and baseless superstition. Any man with a whit of courage can bend them to his will and make them behave. The powerful demons require more exotic means of access. Fire of a natural kind will not do. Exotic plants, woods, and even rarer substances such as rock must burn to make the conditions right."

  "Then what I surmised was true," Alodar said. "The less powerful opened the way for the greater djinns to pass through."

  "Yes," Handar agreed. "But if it were as simple as that, then long ago this world would have been overrun with demonkind. There would not be wizards enough to wrestle with all that might appear. But in the scheme of things, although flame is necessary, it is not sufficient. Except for an irritating imp or two, none of the demons have free access, even though a path may be open. The flame makes a channel where there was none before, but all resistance is not overcome. The greater the demon's power, the greater in proportion is the barrier which impedes him. A sprite, devil or djinn of any strength must make contact with a human mind and be pulled across the friction that remains. Indeed, all of the so-called craft of wizardry is concerned with just one thing, the establishing of a link between the two worlds, of making the contact of minds that allows the demon to come forth. Once the connection has been made, the resistance vanishes and what happens next is governed by the second law, the law of dichotomy."

  "But there were no wizards pulling the sprites and djinns through," Alodar objected. "Once the flame was established, they came of their own will."

  "Of that I will speak later," Handar said. "But first the law of dichotomy, or simply stated, 'dominance or submission.' There is no middle ground. Once the demon has been called forth, then who controls whom is determined solely by a contest of wills. If the wizard is strong enough, he will dominate and the demon, at least for the particular conjuring, will be his to command. If the man falters and the demon wrests mastery from him, then he becomes the pawn of the other world, a warlock, a mere toy to strut and twist about as it suits their eerie amusement."

  Handar suddenly raised his palms and stopped. "And that is all there is to the craft," he said.

  "No words of power, formulas, rituals or chants handed down from master to pupil?" Alodar asked.

  "Only which flames are appropriate for which demon," Handar replied. "And that is just so that the foolish do not attempt beyond what they are capable. But such knowledge is peripheral to mastery of the craft. The essence is the will to resist, to remain free, to preserve one's spirit. And this central core of wizardry cannot be taught, only experienced."

  "But the power I saw your creature unleash," Alodar said. "With such as he to aid you, no kingdom could resist."

  "It is as I have said," Handar replied. "The more powerful the demon, the stronger is his will and the greater risk there is of submission rather than domination. And there is somehow a flaw in those who seek skill in wizardry and perhaps in most men as well. A flaw that leads us to temptation almost without fail. As we practice our art and summon again and again the lesser demons which we can easily bend to our will, we grow tired of their supplications, their flattery, their bemoaning of the small tasks that are placed upon them. We reach out and try to bring forth a devil of more power, to test our strength against him and to measure our accomplishments against our peers who strive as well. And as the sagas show, one by one, the daring craftsmen of wizardry eventually attempt what is beyond their reach and pass from free men to be the tools of those whom they wished to control. To be a wizard is no casual undertaking, though the preparation for it is small. And to be a great one requires character as strong as any hero in the sagas, a will unbending to the temptations that demonkind will offer along the way."

  "And you, Handar?" Alodar asked.

  "If I were strong enough, if wizardry alone were great enough, then there would have been no need for my long sleep of waiting for someone to come."

  Alodar trudged up the pass in silence, the stiffness of his wounds almost completely gone. Except for more detail on how to probe through the flame, Handar stubbornly chose to say no more about his background or any of the other puzzling questions. Most of the morning had passed while Alodar gave an account of his adventures starting with the siege of Iron Fist over a year ago. All along the trail back to the meadow, the wizard's only comments had been an occasional grunt or introspective smile.

  Alodar looked down from the pass and saw that little had changed since his departure the day before. The goatskin huts of Grak's tribesmen still clustered near the base of the mountain. Further out in the grasses, the collection of nomads who were pledged to Vendora's banner huddled around a scattering of small fires, preparing a midday meal. Between the two camps, one isolated group stood apar
t from all the rest. Alodar squinted at a pole thrust into the ground there and saw a crude banner with the colors of the queen.

  "They still parley," Alodar said over his shoulder as Handar climbed the last few paces to his side. Handar nodded wordlessly and started down the slope. In a quarter of an hour they walked into the small camp.

  Alodar could tell as he looked into the dozen or so faces staring his way that conversation had stopped several minutes before their final approach. Grak, other chieftains, the suitors, Grengor, and Aeriel sat in an informal circle around a single fire. Alodar sought the face of the queen and shouted his greeting. "I bring powerful resources and fresh hope for the fair lady. The wizard Handar, and great are the demons at his command."

  A buzz of conversation started around the group. Grak conferred with two of his nomads sitting nearby and the other suitors exchanged glances among themselves. "You return at a most propitious time, master," Grengor said. "Three of Grak's sub-chieftains have experienced enough of Basil's show of gems and Feston's words of plunder to want to join our cause. If you can aid in convincing the fourth, the one with the long unruly mane, then I am sure that chieftain will follow."

  "We talk in terms of carats of ruby and ounces of soft gold," Basil said. "A tale from these highlands, even a wizard's, carries no weight compared to these. Return your hermit to wherever you found him and let his imps scavenge his existence as before."

  Handar turned to face Basil. His eyes sparked and the muscles in his face hardened. His stare bored into the apothecary. Basil hesitated for a moment. Before he could speak again, Handar looked away and scanned the rest of the group.

  "I am a true wizard," he announced slowly, "not some carnival attraction. A wizard from the time of the sagas, when even kings would walk behind. And I have heard of Bandor's possession, of the sprites deep within the fissures of the Fumus Mountains, and of the djinns who stunt the trees, kill the game, and make the winds howl around the spire to the east. It is not by chance that all of these events crowd together. No, they are deeply related. Shall I return to my hermitage, as you call it, or do you wish to hear instead of the doom which hovers over you like a block of granite suspended from a cotton thread?"