Angus’s left arm rested on his backpack with the wand under his fingertips. He could wield it quickly and efficiently when Sardach arrived, but only if he had enough warning to do it. He planned to give himself enough warning—if he could.
The cave was dark. The Lamplight still had its lumpy blue glow, but Angus had it concealed under his cloak. He didn’t want Sardach to know it was there, and being in the dark made it easier to peer out for Sardach’s red, flame-like eyes. It would be so much easier if he could see the magic, but it was missing. Why was it gone? What had happened to him that was preventing him from seeing the magic? Seeing magic was so much a part of who he was, that it made no sense. Even while his essence had been fused with Typhus’s essence, he could see the magic. But then Sardach had ripped them apart, and he couldn’t see it anymore. What had Sardach done to him? Why couldn’t he see the colorful strands when Typhus brought the magic out for him? Why were they all gray and black and white? What would happen when—if—Typhus looked at the magic again? Would he even look at it at all? Angus frowned; he couldn’t count on Typhus to seek out the magic for him; he was an assassin, not a wizard, and there was no need for him to do it. But Typhus had cast Cloaking….
He took a brief moment to bring the magic into focus, but all that came to his mind was a gray-scaled image of a narrow alley. Typhus was in his element again, skulking around in the dark underbelly of a city, draped in the heavy cloak and bandages Iscara had given him. It served him right, too; he never should have cast the Cloaking spell. He didn’t understand it well enough to do it properly. The only thing that surprised Angus was that the spell hadn’t gone more wrong that it had. Magic was a fickle servant, and the effects of a miscast spell were often much, much worse.
Angus let the magic fade and blinked the afterimage away. He sighed and squinted up at the night sky. He had long-ago learned how to conserve his energy when patience was required; Voltari had seen to that. But something was wrong, and he couldn’t tell what it was. His fingers wrapped around the familiar etchings of the little ivory wand, and he lifted his arm from his backpack. Something—he couldn’t tell what it was—told him he would need it soon; Sardach was close. How did he know it? What was he seeing that was out of place? What was wrong? There were no red eyes glaring back at him through the stars, no tell-tale touch of Sardach invading his mind.
The stars! Angus suddenly realized. It’s the stars! His eyes widened; some of the stars were missing! A small cluster of them had been obscured by a passing cloud. But it was a cloudless night, and the moon was as crisp and clear as it had ever been. Sardach! he thought as the cloud approached, blocking out more stars.
Angus slowly, carefully, cautiously made the first movement of the wand. If it wasn’t Sardach, if he didn’t come close enough soon enough, the spell would be wasted. But it was better to be ready for him than to save the spell. He made the second movement and prepared for the third. He would have to make that third movement soon, otherwise the magic could break free on its own. If it did that.…
Angus reached out with his mind, trying to summon the otherworldly creature to him and expecting it not to work. He had never dealt with an elemental, never tried to control one, and Voltari’s instruction on them had been superficial. You’re not ready, Voltari had told him. Even after ten years of intense study, he still only knew the basics, just enough to realize he shouldn’t take the risk of conjuring one. But this wasn’t a conjuration; it wasn’t even a spell.
Sardach? Angus called, trying to sound inviting, friendly. Sardach?
He repeated the name every few seconds, hoping it would serve as a beacon to draw the smoke elemental closer to him. He was certain Sardach was just outside the cave, still too far away for him to use the wand. If he could coax him closer.…
The energy in the wand was beginning to fight against the knots containing it in anticipation of being released. The wand quivered, but he kept a firm hold on it. He waited, hoping Sardach would come closer before the magic escaped.
More stars had disappeared. Either Sardach had expanded himself to cover more area—perhaps in the hope of having part of him survive an attack from the wand?—or he had come closer. Angus could almost see the blackness of his opaque, amorphous form.
Angus? The thought was cold, distant, as if Sardach was reluctant to make it.
Angus responded as clearly and stridently as he could: I have the wand. I will destroy you if you attack.
There was a brief, feather-like touch that reeked of contempt embedded in an intense anger tinged with fear.
I also have the key you seek, Angus thought, trying to make it as tantalizing as possible.
This time, there was a sense of eagerness, a sense of curiosity, a sense of anger, but no words.
Angus began to sweat. The wand was struggling to break free; he needed to use it soon or it might shatter and release all of its magic at once. But he couldn’t use it, not yet. I propose a bargain. A Wizard’s Pact.
A wave of barely contained rage shot through him, and Angus jumped. The wand nearly slipped from his fingers, and he made the third movement. But instead of pointing it at Sardach, he directed it at the side of the cave entrance, close enough for a warning but too far away to cause Sardach any real damage. The thunderclap was horrid inside the cave, and the air near the entrance filled with dust. A moment later, several of the missing stars reappeared. Was the elemental retreating?
You know what this wand will do to you, Angus thought, preparing to trigger the wand again if Sardach moved in too close. I will use it if I must. I would prefer not to do so.
Angus waited for several seconds. What bargain, Wizard? Sardach sent him. It was a strange thought, calm on the surface but roiling with hatred beneath it. The connection was strong now, but Angus knew it was because of Sardach, not him. The images in the vile creature’s mind….
Angus frowned. Sardach knew the limitations of the wand and was staying well away from its effects—for now. I have no need of the key, Angus thought in his most amicable tone, but I am in need of your assistance. Do for me what I ask of you, and the key will be yours.
The roiling hatred softened as Sardach probed Angus’s mind, trying to delve deep enough to find a hidden agenda. But there was no hidden agenda to be found, only pain and desperation. Then Sardach purred, as if he had sensed Angus’s weakness, What tasks must I do? Somehow the thought carried a smile with it, the kind of smile a cat might give to a mouse just before it bit into its shoulder.
Angus smiled in return, but it wasn’t a timid smile like a captured mouse’s would be; it was the confident, self-assured smile of a wizard dealing with a minion under his control. But Sardach wasn’t under his control, not yet, and Angus had no intention of placing him under his control. He didn’t need to; the elemental had just shown his own weakness, and they both knew it. Sardach was afraid of the wand and didn’t want to risk a confrontation if it could be avoided. But Sardach could wait a long time, more than long enough for Angus to die.
Take me to Iscara, Angus thought, bringing the strange gray image of her to mind. Have her heal me. Then take me to Argyle. I will give him the key and gladly be rid of it. Then return me to Hellsbreath.
There was a lengthy pause, and then Sardach asked, his thought curiously flat with a mild undertone of surprise, as if he had expected something more. Is that all?
Yes, Angus thought to him. You have my word as a wizard that I shall ask no more of you. Do I have your word that you will see no harm is done to me until these three tasks are done?
Stars winked in and out of the night sky as Sardach’s form shifted, writhing like smoke being buffeted apart in a fierce thunderstorm. Then, quite surprisingly, Sardach approached him. It is agreed, he thought.
Angus sighed, nodded, and slid the wand back into the sleeve of his robe. As he did so, Sardach slowly entered the cave and hovered directly in front of him. Once he was there, he demanded, Show me the key.
Angus hesitated. If he showed
Sardach the key, what would stop him from wresting it away and leaving Angus to wither away in the cave until he died? He had already sent his companions away, assuring them that he would meet them again in Hellsbreath. Of course, if his plan to bargain with Sardach had failed, he would have died, but he was already too close to death for that to matter. He had seen his foot when Ortis had checked the dressing, and without a healer….
Angus sighed. “Your word,” he said, his voice calm and unyielding.
Sardach shifted his form, squeezing into a more solid structure, and then hissed, “My word as an elemental, I agree to the bargain struck.”
Angus nodded. It was the formal phrase that bound the elemental to him, and the pact was sealed. Sardach would do all that was in his power to fulfill his part of the bargain, and now it was time for Angus to do the same. He reached into one of the pockets of his robe and brought out the key. “I believe this is the key Argyle seeks.” He held it up to Sardach, letting the elemental move in to smother his hand and caress the key. It was a strange sensation, like warm, dry soot caught in a tiny tornado whirling about his fingers. Then Sardach enveloped him with a stench like foul-smelling incense thrown on the burning coals of a brazier. A tendril solidified and gradually, almost tenderly, wrapped itself around Angus’s chest just under the armpits. Angus gasped and winced as it squeezed below his right shoulder too tightly, and then Sardach was lifting him from the cave floor.
“Wait,” Angus gasped, grabbing for his backpack. “I need to secure the key.”
Sardach paused, and Angus slipped the key back into one of the pockets in his robe. Then he lifted the backpack and slung it over his left shoulder, securing it as best he could. When he had finished, he braced himself and said, “Now I am ready.”
Sardach carried him out of the cave. Angus knew it was a cloudless night and the stars were strikingly brilliant, but all he saw of them were fuzzy blurs through the haziness of Sardach’s form. Sardach turned northeast and rapidly increased his speed and elevation as he flew around the mountain. The pace was astonishing, much faster than he could have flown on his own, and they were past the mountain in minutes, already well on their way to Tyrag. As they flew, Angus finally relinquished his stranglehold on consciousness and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. It would be a long time before he would wake up again.
8
Sardach hovered well away from the entrance of the cave, his form spread wide to avoid destruction if Angus’s magic could reach that far. He didn’t think it could, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. The wizard was inside the cave, and he was alone. His friends had left him behind—Sardach had followed them a short distance to make sure—and he wondered why. For some time, he thought Angus was dead, but then he felt the thought coming from inside the cave and recognized the tone. It was Angus.
Sardach listened to the wizard calling for him but didn’t respond until he was sure he had secured an escape route. Then, tentatively, he sent the thought, Angus?
The response was rapid: Angus threatened to destroy him. The impertinence! Sardach was an elemental, and the wizard had a little wand. He fumed, his rage magnified by the potency of Argyle’s command. Bring me the key. Use whatever means necessary. He was almost compelled to enter the cave, so close he was to fulfilling Argyle’s command, but something held him back. It wasn’t the wand—it had hurt him, certainly, but Sardach had left himself vulnerable; he had not expected the wizard to be a threat—it was the key. Did Angus have it? He said he did. He said it was in the cave with him? But was it a trap?
Sardach retreated to get a broader view of the mountain, testing it for other means of ingress into the cave. He was just beginning his search when Angus sent an interesting offer: A Wizard’s Pact.
Sardach focused his attention on the cave, trying to peer inside it while he delved into Angus’s mind. Was it a trap? Did he understand the significance of that statement? Did he know the Bylaws of Conjuration? They had been written long ago for demons and later expanded to include the elementals, but they had long-since been forgotten. But not by Sardach. He knew them well, and for centuries he had sought a way to use them to free himself from his enslavement to Argyle, but there were no exit clauses available to him. The conjuration had been properly done, the contract had been sealed, and he had been bound to this world indefinitely.
Or had he?
The Bylaws of Conjuration were quite clear: Only one demon—or elemental—could be summoned at a time, and no demon—or elemental—could be controlled by more than one master at the same time. Did Angus know this? If he did, why didn’t he realize that Sardach could not be bound by such a Wizard’s Pact as long as he was bound to Argyle through the conjuration? What if he set aside the technicality that Angus hadn’t conjured him? He was offering a Wizard’s Pact….
Sardach was intrigued. What bargain? he thought, reinforcing the connection between them. If the wording were improper, the agreement would be nullified—but would Angus know this? Would he know the proper language to secure the deal?
I have no need of the key, Angus thought to him, and Sardach’s attention heightened. But I am in need of your assistance. Do for me what I ask of you, and the key will be yours.
Sardach stiffened, involuntarily drawing in upon himself. The key! he thought fiercely, barely restraining the urge to plunge into the cave and rip it from Angus, wand or no wand. Then, quite suddenly, he calmed down. By whatever means…. Whatever means! It had been a command, one voiced with urgency and sincerity, one that had compelled Sardach to obey. It had been clearly articulated, and there was much room for interpretation in such a command. Much room….
As he thought about the implications of Argyle’s command, Sardach asked Angus, What tasks must I do? It was the formal phrasing of the contract, and so far Angus had followed the proper sequence—at least in broad strokes. He hadn’t summoned him from his home, but Sardach was already here. Was the summoning necessary for entering into a Wizard’s Pact in such situations? The Bylaws were comprehensive; they covered contingency after contingency, but this particular situation had not come up before. No demon, once conjured, was ever subject to the will of another conjurer. But.…
Take me to Iscara, Angus thought, sending him a colorless image of her. Have her heal me. Then take me to Argyle. I will give him the key and gladly be rid of it. Then return me to Hellsbreath.
Sardach waited for Angus to continue, but he didn’t. Why not? These were simple tasks, easily accomplished, the kind of tasks that didn’t require an elemental’s intervention. What more was there? He was puzzled, and he asked, Is that all? It was important to be clear, in case the Damnable Bureaucracy got involved. They were sticklers for the language expressed in a Wizard’s Pact, and that meant Sardach also had to be a stickler for that language.
Yes, Angus thought to him. You have my word as a wizard that I shall ask no more of you. Do I have your word that you will see no harm is done to me until these three tasks are done?
Sardach puffed up and then pulled himself into a tighter configuration. He puffed up again…. Could it be this simple? Could he, after centuries of servitude, be freed by performing these three simple tasks? By whatever means, he thought, feeling a sense of guarded ecstasy. He probed the Bylaws, sought confirmation, sought refutation, and found neither. This was an anomaly, an unforeseen, unanticipated situation. The command was vague, but it was clear. If the means for returning the key was the severance of the contract with Argyle, then it was necessary to sever that contract—and that would fulfill Argyle’s final command! He would be free from him! And all he had to do.…
It is agreed, Sardach thought to him, amazed that he was able to think it without feeling the dreadful grip of the legalese stifling his thought. A moment later, he plunged toward the cave—and slowed rapidly as a discomfiting thought settled in upon him: What if Angus doesn’t have the key?
He entered the cave cautiously and came to a stop in front of Angus. Show me the key, he demanded.
<
br /> Angus looked at him for a long time before he finally said, “Your word.”
Sardach cringed. He had hoped to avoid the trap of language, but Angus had seen through him. He wanted the added layer of assurance, but it wasn’t necessary. Still, by giving Angus his word, he would also be binding Angus to his own. He shifted his structure until he was solid enough to squeeze air through himself, and his wispy voice wheezed, “My word as an elemental, I agree to the bargain struck.” It was the seal of the Wizard’s Pact, and as long as Angus fulfilled his part of the contract, then Sardach would be compelled to fulfill his own. Then he would once more be free.
Angus reached inside himself and brought out a small object. He held it out before him and said, “I believe this is the key Argyle seeks.” As soon as it was out of his pocket, Sardach knew it was the key, but he needed confirmation. He settled in around it, tasting its flavor, sensing the faint, lingering essence of Argyle and the more recent, muted reek of Typhus. It was the key! The contract could be fulfilled!
Sardach wrapped himself around Angus and solidified the tendril he used to carry those he needed to carry when he flew. It was an uncomfortable thing to do, but it was necessary. The tendril slithered under Angus’s armpits and around his chest. He lifted—but Angus told him to wait. He needed to secure the key, and Sardach agreed. It would be hideous if Angus couldn’t fulfill his end of the bargain because he had dropped the key and lost it. He waited until Angus had put the key back away, and then waited a few seconds more for Angus to pick up the other thing. It wasn’t a part of him, but he had long-ago learned the importance humans placed on such things. When Angus said he was ready, Sardach lifted him gently from the floor of the cave and carried him outside. As he left the mountain, he accelerated at a pace that was slow for him but much faster than humans could normally manage. Then he headed unerringly for Tyrag.
The Golden Key (Book 3) Page 25