by Garon Whited
“Are you sure about this?” I asked.
Tort said she wouldn’t be able to hold him for long and you had to do it quickly, Firebrand assured me. She really stressed that, Boss.
I pushed the metaphysical button before Firebrand finished. If Tort said to do it, and to hurry, then I would do it, and I would hurry.
The mirror clouded over instantly with a silvery, opaque sheen, as though coated in silver on the front as well as on the back. There followed a long, bright flash, blue-white, as though silent lightning scattered around the chamber for the space of several seconds. I ducked by reflex and turned away, trying to avoid electrocution, but nothing touched me. It wasn’t electricity; not a single hair rose at the blinding sparks.
I blinked afterimages from my vision and saw the mirror had dimmed, tarnished into an ugly, inky black. The silver continued to darken unnaturally as I watched. The whole thing melted and softened, flowing thickly, viscously, as molten glass will. The blackened silver darkened further, turning positively Stygian, spreading through the flowing glass as though diffusing through it. The whole mass slumped down, pooled, and humped up into a dark, featureless ball. It seemed to shrink in on itself, darkening further as it did so, finally stabilizing at about a foot in diameter before solidifying. It was a deep, unnatural black by then—a black that looked black, even to eyes that see without light.
It rolled across the floor, slowly, ringing as it went, until it came to rest against the wall.
“Firebrand?”
Yes, Boss?
“Where’s Tort?”
You better ask T’yl. I just work here.
“Firebrand…”
Seriously, Boss. I don’t know the spells involved or how any of it works. I swear. Tort said she had this rescue thing all planned out. That’s all I know!
“Huh,” I replied. If that was all Tort told Firebrand, then I really should ask T’yl. “Okay.”
I walked over to the sphere and crouched down next to it. I could smell the evil in it. If I didn’t know better, I would say ghostly, glowing, hostile eyes tried to look out through that impenetrable darkness. Actually, upon consideration, I realized I didn’t know better. Did I hear a distant psychic shriek of rage? Possibly.
I decided not to touch it.
“Wherever T’yl is,” I told Firebrand, “shout. I want him here, right now, to tell me what happened isn’t what I think happened.”
Shouting now, Firebrand replied. Distantly, I could “hear” it yelling at T’yl.
He’s on his way, but he says a bunch of other people insist on coming with him. Be ready.
“Ready for what?”
He didn’t say. I think there are people in the throne room who aren’t supposed to be and they’re coming with him, or after him, or something.
“Dammit, I want to know what happened to Tort! I don’t care who he’s bringing or who’s following—I want an answer!”
They’ll be here in a few minutes, Firebrand assured me. T’yl’s hurrying more than anyone else. He says Seldar is helping to delay the rest.
The clanging noise approaching the door told me Bronze was several lengths ahead of everyone. I pushed it open and the stone pivoted in the middle, swinging wide to let her duck her head and step inside. I threw my arms around her neck and hugged her for all I was worth. I don’t think I dented anything, but she wouldn’t have minded if I did.
“I have missed you,” I told her, quite unnecessarily. She snorted hot air through my hair and brushed my cheek with a hot, metal nose.
Yeah, she missed me, too.
“I don’t suppose you know what happened with this mirror thing?” I asked. She shook her head. “Well, crap.”
I sat down on the edge of the central pool and waited. I tried the whole waiting patiently thing, but all I managed was the waiting part. I wanted to grab the black ball and examine it, but these days I’m much more cautious about anything containing a possessing spirit. Maybe Kavel has some really long tongs in one of the forge-caverns. I wonder if T’yl’s suit of animated armor—or is it Tort’s, now?—could pick it up without risk of being possessed?
Bronze kept an eye on the sphere, ears laid back. She didn’t like it, either. I could feel her desire to stomp it into glassy shards and melt the shards.
T’yl made it down to me in a hurry. He slid in like a skateboarder, riding a flying carpet the size of a beach towel, and skidded to a halt practically in front of me.
“I’m a dozen flickers ahead of the war party, so let’s make this fast. You know your predecessor was a nasty conqueror and a hedonistic tyrant. Karvalen hasn’t suffered; he avoided the place. But, because he wasn’t here, the Church of Light presence is extensive, despite the edict against them. They believe he’s alone inside this mountain and this is a good time to go in after him. I didn’t anticipate having so many people with such a strong feeling on the matter right here at hand. You’ve got to go, and go now.”
“I’ve eaten armies in here, T’yl. If it comes down to a fight, I can defend myself.”
“No! You’re not listening to me! This is an attempt at a coup, if not an outright, open rebellion!”
“I gathered. So we’ll explain—”
“There’s no time!”
“Why not?”
T’yl gnashed his teeth. I always thought that was just an expression, but I could hear them grinding against each other. Then he held out his hands.
“Fine! Take me inside—we won’t have long there, either, but it’s the only way I know to make you see reason!”
I was leery of the idea, but I had Firebrand and Bronze in close proximity and we were all on our guard. Despite my new aversion to guests inside my head, I resisted it. I took his hands and we went into my mental study.
The place was a mess. It needed a good cleaning and reorganization. Whatever else my dark side might be, it was also a lousy housekeeper.
I noted the trapdoor in the floor was still there. Later, when I had a moment and some attention to spare, that was getting deleted.
“Now we may have enough time for the short form,” T’yl fretted. “The Church of Light was not destroyed when you killed Tobias and buried the Hand compound in rubble. It was merely out of favor. Their kingdom-wide power was broken, but the religion continued to exist. Your other self has been a prime recruiter for them; he was everything they needed in a persecutor. He rather enjoyed priests of their persuasion—more than criminals or other sorts your pet giants brought him.
“He also intimidated, killed, angered, or humiliated much of the nobility during the re-conquering of old Rethven. While we have reunited Rethven, it was a brutal campaign of conquest and slaughter, not the gentler, more patient expansion into those territories you indicated to me. This left many of the old guard in many city-states disgruntled and bitter, but they dare not rebel against their conqueror.
“Lastly—and perhaps worst—is Thomen. I am well aware he and Tort once shared affections. He was disgruntled when she chose to be with you; you salved his pride, somehow, and made him an ally, although not a friend. Your darker side has not kept him as an ally. It mistreated Tort and used her, but she stayed with him because ‘her angel’ wanted it so—and her devotion to you infuriated Thomen.
“When Tort discovered the reason for the apparent change in you, she still bore it with a smile, for your sake, to stay close to that thing so she could work its downfall.
“Tort never told Thomen of your circumstances. She feared he would work to have you killed in the procedure, rather than restored. Not knowing why Tort would be so loving and devoted to such a monster, Thomen moved from infuriation to hatred. He has many in his Guild who will follow his orders without question, and more who will follow him in good cause against a tyrant. I believe he was—and is—actively working against the reign of your darker self, possibly in conjunction with the Queen, but I know only what little Tort has told me of that.
“Now, with the King in Karvalen and alone—having l
eft his personal killers and his two pet giants, Torvil and Kammen, back in Carrillon to keep order among his court—these factions now see their chance to attack and destroy what they think is still a monster. How they have managed to raise such support in Karvalen with lightning swiftness, I do not know, but there are, plainly, over a hundred armed men trying to find you and kill you. Those men, along with several priests of the Church of Light, as well as some unknown number of wizards, are charging down the empty corridors this moment!” he finished, shouting.
“Look, T’yl, this is all a misunderstanding. I’m sure that once we explain what happened—”
“No!” he cut me off. “You still fail to understand! Ye gods and demons, how can you be so slow? They do not want an explanation; they do not want to talk. There will be neither parley nor truce while you work some trickery to their downfall. They have seized what they see as an opportunity to kill you for what they believe you have done. It does not matter that you are innocent. It does not matter that you are an entirely different person! When they blast down that door, they will see only the tyrant nightlord. The priests will pray at you; the wizards will cast spells at you; the warriors will attack you. By all their powers combined, they will cut you down!”
Ah.
Well.
That certainly put a different spin on things. I thought about it for a moment. If T’yl was right, then, yes, this could be more than a trifle unpleasant. I didn’t like the feeling of being hurried out the door, of course. I would much rather take a step back, look over the situation, and decide for myself.
Unfortunately, by the time I got a complete grasp of the situation, I might be dead. Deader. Seriously dead.
Tort, Tianna, T’yl, Firebrand, and Bronze were all in on this. They had a plan worked out. I really should have the decency to not screw it up.
“So, what do you suggest?” I asked.
“Run.”
“I’m strangely okay with that,” I agreed. “I bet I could hide out with the People of the Plains, maybe with the viksagi…”
“You misunderstand. They will hunt you even though you flee to the Spire of the Sun or the Horn of Ice.”
“But you told me to run—”
“Through the gate.”
“Hmm.”
“Go through it, wherever you will, and I will destroy it after you.”
“Maybe,” I allowed, unwillingly. Running isn’t always a bad idea; I’m not against it. I have a lot of time and care invested in this place, though. And there are things about it that I love… “First, though, tell me what happened to Tort. I have to know.”
“There is no time!” he shouted.
I slammed a hand down on my desk and everything in the room jumped. Papers fluttered. The trapdoor gave a resounding thud as something heavy hit it from below. It held; I ignored it.
“Don’t tell me we don’t have time!” I shouted right back. “You have no idea how fast things move in here! Firebrand will tell me if anyone enters the room and Bronze will cheerfully stomp anyone coming through that door into a sizzling meat paste! Now tell me what happened to Tort!”
T’yl and I glared at each other for several seconds while we got a grip on our collective composure.
“Stubborn jackass,” he growled, quietly. “She intended to use her reflection in the mirror to seize the creature’s reflection. In some fashion I do not understand, she would then pull the creature itself into the mirror, leaving your flesh empty. If all went as she planned it, she would then activate the mirror and it would become the black sphere. If the thing inside was too strong for her to devote attention to activating the spells, then she would have to keep it penned until someone else could activate them—you, if you could occupy your body quickly enough, or I, on my way as soon as word went out through the Dragonsword.”
“Okay, I get that. Now, answer my question: Where is Tort?”
“I have no idea,” he admitted. “I never saw her spells. All I know is she was in the mirror with that Thing, and if she remained, it would consume her. She knew that. She did it anyway.”
“She didn’t have an escape plan?” I demanded.
“How?” T’yl replied, which stopped me. If T’yl, a professional magician and Tort’s teacher, couldn’t see a way to survive the process, there very well might not be one. Then again, she created spells T’yl didn’t understand. Maybe she did have a way. But if she was trapped in there with a ravening monster-spirit-reflection-thing, she might still be fighting it. I had no idea how it worked or what precautions she might have taken.
“Is it possible she’s still in there, still uneaten?” I pressed.
“It’s possible, but unlikely. You don’t know the power of that thing!”
“Don’t I?” I asked, softly. T’yl sighed.
“Very well, perhaps you do. No, certainly you do. Of course. Forgive me.”
“I might.”
T’yl sighed and rubbed his forehead.
“Fine. So take the sphere with you through the gate. Experiment with it at your leisure; you certainly don’t have time to play with it here and now. Go, you idiot, and save her if you can—save yourself, first, so you have the chance to save her!”
“Damn you,” I said. He found the one argument that could persuade me to abandon everything else. “What about Amber and Tianna? What about all the children my body sired? Torvil? Kammen? Seldar? What about the kingdom?”
“Lissette can choose a new King, or we can have a regency until Liam—the eldest of her children—is old enough to take the throne. I can see to the good care of the rest! That isn’t your concern, not anymore! Now go!”
We stepped out of my headspace together.
Bronze shut the pivot-door and waited, hooves planted firmly on the floor to hold the door shut. Anyone outside would have to tunnel in; the door wasn’t about to move. The only trouble was the wizards. If they were determined to do it, they could tunnel in, or at least blast the door.
“Firebrand? Anybody out there?”
Not yet. I can hear them, but they’re still a long way off in fighting terms. Not all that far at a dead run, though.
“I love it when you’re exact.”
I’m a sword, Boss, not a yardstick.
“Sorry. I’m a little on edge.”
Weapon puns. Nice touch.
“Thanks.”
T’yl moved to the gate and started working. I drew Firebrand and pointed it toward the door.
Nope, still not here, yet.
“Keep me posted.”
I moved to stand next to T’yl. He was covered in sweat and was clearly exerting himself. He held a key of blackened silver in his hands. I recognized the design as one of the keys from Telen—one of the ones they used to make opening a Gate easier for their inter-universal vampire hunting parties. I wanted to ask him how he got it, but would probably just tell me it was a long story.
“How can I pick up the ball?” I asked, instead.
“Try your cloak,” he suggested, eyes still on the gate. I thought that a brilliant idea. I unpinned the fancy thing and wrapped the ball in it. The sensation of a malignant presence grew stronger as I picked it up, but it didn’t seem able to reach out of the glass. Maybe it could if I actually made skin contact with it, which was high on my Do Not Do list. It was surprisingly heavy—a hundred pounds? I’m not good at gauging weight; my strength fluctuates too much between night and day. It seemed much heavier than I expected, though.
They’re at the door, Firebrand reported. Moments later, there were muffled thuds of fists on stone.
“T’yl?”
“Get ready,” he ordered, teeth clenched. I didn’t need to check with Bronze; she nodded, mane tinkling at the movement. I bounced lightly up onto her back and she shifted slightly, preparing to spring toward the gate. T’yl pressed his hands together with the key between them and glanced at me.
“I wish you well, my King, and goodbye,” he said, and drew his hands apart. The key floated in the air
between them, glowing with a pale bluish light. The archway filled with a silvery sheen that spun away like a whirlpool viewed from above. It seemed to whirl and twist, reaching into infinity, the far end slithering around as though hunting for something.
I recognized what he was doing based on theory; I’d never seen it before. He was using the power stored in the structure of an enchanted item—not only the charge any enchanted item builds up in order to function, but the energies built up and tied down in the structure of the object. The enchantment, the structure of it, was burning itself up to do its job. Technically, two things were—the gate and the key, both.
I wondered why. Then I answered myself. Because opening a gate is strenuous, opening a big gate even more so, and opening a big gate between universes is almost impossible. T’yl couldn’t do it by himself. But this way, yes, he could open the gate—once. As a bonus, this would also destroy it behind me.
Bronze pushed off from the door, rounded the pool in the center of the room in a screaming skid of blue-green sparks, and headed directly for the Gate. I did what I usually do when she makes drastic maneuvers: hung on for dear life and tried my best to neither scream in terror nor succumb to maneuvering forces.
The whirlpool snapped like a whip and suddenly the far end of the whirling light was right there, at the archway, an opening no more unusual than a door to the outside. We pounded through it onto wet grass. Lightning flickered overhead as rain came down in sheets. Thunder grumbled a bit, muted by the leafy trees around us.
I turned; T’yl had a fist over his heart in salute. Our eyes met.
“I will come back,” I told him, over the sound of wind and rain. He nodded. Then the key began to glow more brightly and disintegrate. T’yl turned away and threw himself into the raised pool in the center of the room. Bronze kicked divots in the ground, launching us aside in case some sort of nasty effect came through the gate.