The Archimage's Fourth Daughter

by Lyndon Hardy

  “Buddha says ‘The whole secret of existence is to have no fear.’“ he tried to continue, but more troops broke rank and converged on him, arms extended, beckoning to be touched.

  He tapped all of the offered palms he could, stepping around prostrate bodies beginning to pile up in front of him, picking his way onward toward his goal.

  Just as Maurice reached the flock leader’s side, another stentorian boomed from the direction of the city. “I am Randor, the tribunal,” the imp called out. “I have come to end this heresy once and for all.”

  Maurice looked in the direction of the challenge. There was Randor threading his own troops through the mass of others and forming a line in front, directly opposed to the one Thaling had built. Maurice would have expected, approximately the same number as commanded by the returning exile. The difference was that, whereas Thaling’s troops were enraptured with Maurice’s pronouncements, Randor’s stood at attention, ready for the signal to attack.

  It would be a slaughter, exactly as the tribunal had threatened, and after that would come the attack on the Earth. It was not only a matter of his own escape. He had to save the rest of his home planet as well.

  Prelude to Enlightenment

  “RANDOR,” THALING said as Maurice drew near. “I see the reason for his delay. Look at his minions. Wizards, all of them. Criminals who probably have been offered freedom in exchange for what they have been asked to do.”

  Maurice looked across the parched plain and considered. The door to the portal was only a few feet away. But escape by itself would not be enough.

  “What would happen if he were not the leader?” he asked.

  Thaling managed a forced laugh. “You see the impact of your words. If I were not here to harangue them, my followers would fall to the ground and roll on their backs like pet dogs hoping for your touch. Randor’s troops would do the same.”

  “Then we should get him away from the scene,” Maurice said. “Make him vanish…”

  He stopped speaking. The strands of an idea began to weave together. “Who were you talking to in the hole in the ground in front of the other portal door?” he asked.

  “The rock bubblers,” Thaling shrugged. “I have released them. Besides, it will take two to roll a stone large enough to contain them.”

  “I will help you,” Maurice said.

  Thaling laughed. “Of course you would. As soon as you set foot back on your own orb, you would vanish as rapidly as you could.”

  “I give you my word,” Maurice said.

  “Your word? What is the worth of that?”

  “There is much in life one cannot control,” Maurice said. “Most, in fact. But one thing over which you have complete mastery is your honor. It is yours to shine brightly or let be tarnished and scorned. I said I will help you — on my honor.”

  Thaling’s brow furrowed as he pondered Maurice’s words. He stared at Randor’s straight line of armed wizards.

  “You go first,” the magician said. “I will follow as soon as you are there.”

  IN ONLY a few minutes, Thaling was able to summon Littlebutt and Mintbreath into a small boulder near Oscar’s hut. Together he and Maurice rolled it into the portal to stand against the far door. Maurice returned to the field with the assembled aliens, and Thaling followed shortly after. The two pushed the rock through the doorway..

  Thaling’s minions, Randor’s troops, and the undisciplined crowd — all three groups stared at Maurice as if he had them entranced. He raised his arms, palms downward in one of the poses he had performed the day before. Immediately, an anticipative hush fell over everyone.

  “Pain is inevitable,” he said. “But suffering is optional. Do not accept what is said by others. Look within yourself to discover truth.”

  As Maurice finished speaking, an astonished cry erupted from Randor’s ranks. In the blink of an eye, the tribunal sank into a hole in the ground that immediately closed.

  “Randor is gone!” Thaling shouted. “Look! Look! Without him to lead, his minions will not fight with verve. Yes, see, even some of them are laying down their arms. My flock will win! I will win! After a millennium, revenge is mine!”

  Then the returned exile stopped, and exhaled a great sigh, one almost collapsing his stooped body to the ground. “I had wished to tear away Randor’s throat myself. Even in victory, my rage will not be assuaged.”

  “Holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die,” Maurice said. “There will always be for you the pain of loss, but you can learn not to suffer because of it.”

  A chant started by the crowd of aliens between the two war lines drowned Thaling’s answer.

  “A miracle!” those nearest the disappearance cried out. “The Buddha has performed his first.”

  As those farther away looked and saw that Randor was no longer there, they added their voices to the chant. “A miracle! The Buddha has performed his first.”

  Thaling’s followers threw their daggers to the ground and joined in as well.

  Like a tide receding from a stormy shore, everyone who had been standing, even the stentorian, prostrated themselves to the ground. “The Buddha,” they chanted. “The Buddha.”

  “I am not the Buddha,” Maurice protested, but his words were drowned out.

  “I would not have thought it possible!” Thaling as he took in the massive reverence arrayed before him. “You are the solution,” he declared in wonder to Maurice. “The fresh voice from another world to heal our wounds.”

  Maurice looked about. Only Thaling remained standing. With a sudden thrust, he pushed the exile aside and flung open the portal door.

  “You gave your word of honor,” the flock leader scrambled back to his feet.

  Maurice hesitated for a second. “I came back. I did not promise to stay.”

  Thaling dove at him and the two tumbled to the ground.

  “Don’t you see?” Thaling shouted. “You have united us as none before has ever been able to do. Stay and be the dispenser of wisdom for us all. Everyone will listen and obey your words. You are the one who can grant us eternal peace.”

  He raised his head and yelled, “Help me. Help me convince the Buddha he is to stay.”

  Two more exiles slammed into Maurice and flattened him to the ground. His phone bounded out of his swathing and skittered a few feet away.

  Briana, Maurice thought as he struggled to get free. No matter what, she needed to know and understand what was happening. With a burst of strength, he reached out, grabbed his phone, and dialed Briana’s number. There was no reception on wherever this place was of course, but, maybe, just maybe near the other portal door, the one by Oscar’s hut…

  He pushed ‘Send’ and flung the phone down the length of the passageway. It clanged as it struck the far door. Thaling shut the one closer, picked up his makeshift controller, and then began to manipulate its settings.

  “To Nowhere,” the flock leader said. “I should have done this when we first arrived.”

  Maurice looked back to the door, and in horror saw it fade and vanish. The portal was his only way home. The implication of what was happened hit him like a cannon ball shot directly into the gut. He wrenched himself free of the two exiles struggling with him and frantically grabbed at the device in Thaling’s hand.

  The setter slipped away from the flock leader and crashed to the ground, exploding in a shower of metal, glass, and wires.

  “Remove his glove and hold him steady,” Thaling commanded to one of his followers. He removed the ring of eternal youth from his hand and thrust it on the middle finger of Maurice’s. “Now twist and bind it to his palm so it cannot be extended. Our Buddha will be with us forever.”

  Maurice staggered to his feet as the fetter was applied. It was a ring of twine with a simple enough knot, but somehow he felt a slight tingle where it touched his skin. Instinctively, he knew he would not be able to remove the ring.

  A second cannon ball, as violent as the firs
t, slammed into his being. Not only cut off from home, but also marooned for an eternity — the worst thing that possibly could happen. Here he had no friends, no familiar surroundings. Nothing was comforting. It was alien as it possibly could be.

  Somehow, he had to get back. Back to Briana’s quest, his studies, his meditations. His walk along the eightfold path. Searching for the truth, to remove the suffering from his own life, to…

  Maurice stopped struggling. He let Thaling lead him back to the sorbet parlor, and slumped onto one of the chairs. The enormity of what had happened bore down on him, sinking him into despair.

  No, not that, he recoiled. He would meditate. Perhaps in that, there would be a crumb of solace. He settled into the posture and cleared his mind.

  Almost immediately, with a feather touch, the realization hit him. Return to what? Would what he sought be any different from was before him here? A simple place to stay. Food to satisfy his needs. Dispensing wisdom to others who sought it. Was not this the path he was to walk from the beginning? As the temple master had said. He knew the teachings of Siddhartha in his head; what he needed was to understand them in his heart.

  Yes, that was the way he would endure. Accept the world around him as it was. Do not yearn for what could never be. ‘Peace comes from within. Do not seek it without.’ Meditate and find the answer. Yes, he could do this. He looked at the magic ring of eternal youth bound to his finger. After all, he would have an eternity to get it right.

  He stood up, emerged from the parlor, and straightened out his arms toward the crowds of followers now intermingling among one another.

  “I am not the Buddha,” he cried out.

  “I am not the Buddha,” everyone called back. “You are. You are the one.”

  Part Six

  Briana's Choice

  Counter Incantation

  BRIANA LOOKED at the row of cabs lined up in front of her along the street. Four at once this time. Word was getting around. She hoped so. Three days of asking the same questions repeatedly with nothing to show for it.

  The sun was setting on this side street in the old part of Hilo. At least the heat and humidity would not be continue to be so oppressive. Fig approached her after slipping the Benjamin to the next cabbie in the line. He shook his head again. Behind him, Ashley and Jake stood in the shade as best they could, dialing for more pickup reservations.

  Fig was the most exhausted of their group. Taking the red eye back to SoCal so he could round up the micromites and then immediately bringing them back to Hilo was a good idea. But so far, they had not spotted a man wearing a hoodie anywhere on the nearby streets.

  “I remember now,” the driver nearest Briana said when she stuck her head into the open window on the passenger side. “Yeah, took me a while. Two of them. A man and a woman. The guy wore a hoodie and did not say much. Dropped them off on Iwalani. So, I get the two hundred bonus, right?”

  “What about the woman,” Briana asked. “Anything unusual about her.”

  “Nothing stood out. Dressed okay, but nothing high fashion. Didn’t say much either.”

  Briana waved him away. “No thanks,” she said. “Not quite the right description.” She sighed in frustration. She felt the guilt more than any of the others. It had been a wrong decision. Fig had warned her, but not one of them had objected to her rapid fire tasking the night before.

  When they had returned to the warehouse with the truck, the food, and the blanket, they found Jake still unconscious on the back office floor. Angus, or Dinton, or whatever he called himself was gone, and so was Ursula.

  But perhaps more important was what they found near the microphone in the front office — the papers with the strange text Briana had surmised might be the incantation for producing more of the SF6 gas. The bottom of the last page was torn off and missing — probably the final few words that would break the spell, release the pent-up energy and cause the volcanos to erupt.

  It was a conclusion that none of the group wanted to believe — that the incantation at each of the volcanoes has been started. The concentration of SF6 was building with each passing moment.

  After a full backup to a flash drive, they dismantled and destroyed the warehouse computer so it could no longer be used for transmission. Then they traveled to Oscar’s hut, removed the equipment there and verified the portal door was still shimmering nearby.

  When Briana went inside, she recognized the other entrance’s destination was set to ‘Nowhere.’ She picked up Maurice’s phone and read his lengthy text. Knowing the rest of the exiles were no longer anywhere on the Earth was the only satisfaction. Maurice was marooned somewhere impossibly far away.

  Even though everyone was getting punchy from lack of sleep, Ashley had led them through another brainstorming exercise with no real result other than returning to Hilo and interviewing cabbies about a fare in the evening two days ago.

  The lack of anything positive was tearing at all of them, Briana knew. They had so little time left now. The exile could break the incantation at any moment, and then everything would be over.

  Rather than interview the next cab in line, Briana slumped against the building wall behind her. She was so tired, so depressed, so lacking in energy. She reached into her backpack and withdrew the portal setter. When it had first stopped working, she had spent hours clicking the buttons and watching the displays, but nothing worked. The next day, she tried only for an hour before giving up.

  Without thinking, she pressed the ‘ON’ button for perhaps the thousandth time. A ready light started blinking. The transport device was indicating it was accepting commands!

  “Guys!” she cried. “The remote is working. Something has happened. I don’t know what. We can use the portal again.”

  “How does that help us find where the exile has gone,” Ashley called back.

  “Well, we can widen the search without walking,” Briana answered. Her energy began to return. “Dismiss the remaining cabs. That doesn’t seem to be working anyway.”

  A few more Benjamins from Jake’s bottomless wallet thanked the remaining taxi drivers for their trouble. Briana thought for a while after they were gone, then punched the instructions. Soon the portal door shimmered a little ways up the street in the growing dusk.

  “This changes everything,” she said. “I should have thought things through more thoroughly, considered all of the possibilities.” Her shoulders sagged. “I have no excuse.”

  “Excuse for what?” Fig asked.

  Briana coiled and uncoiled a tress. She did so a second time, then a third. “I am going back,” she said at last. “Back to Murdina. My personal problem is small compared to what now has to be dealt with.”

  “You’re abandoning us?” Fig’s voice rose almost a whole octave.

  “No, you and Jake are coming with me. Ashley can remain behind and continue searching here in Hilo in case.”

  “You’re talking in riddles,” Fig continued complaining. “Why?”

  “I will need you for your knowledge of chemistry. To talk to Fordine, the thaumaturge. He tutored me when I was quite young. Probably the reason my father put him on the council. Quite wealthy for one of his craft. Came up with the idea of… an academy he calls it. Trains apprentices and journeymen. Other thaumaturges pay a good fee to be free of the bother of instructing their own. And Jake because, well, believe it or not, Murdina is even less civilized than it is here.”

  “Talk to Fordine about what?” Jake asked. He was tired also, but his interest perked up.

  “How to construct another incantation — a new one, a counterspell. One that will reverse the one the exile started in motion here and then release the pent up energy over a long, long time.”

  “You told us the crafts of the exiles were more advanced than yours,” Fig said. “How will any thaumaturge on Murdina be able to do that?”

  Briana waved the papers that had been left at the warehouse. “It will take me a few hours, but this will be the key. I ca
n translate phonetically the symbols that were written  — change them into words understood on Murdina.”

  “So, one of your thaumaturges can repeat the charm?” Jake asked.

  “No, don’t you see? What the exile left is like… like part of a Rosetta stone. We know both what the incantation does and how to speak it. If a master studies the sounds, he will learn the underlying concepts used. And once he grasps those, a reverse catalyst spell should be possible.”

  Two Brothers, Not Three

  DINTON SAT on the hard floor of his alcove and brooded. He had tried so hard. Over all the years, he was the one keeping everything together — giving his brothers enough freedom so they would think rationally before they acted — reminding them of his implied authority when necessary — averting one disaster after another.

  Now there was nothing to show for his efforts. He was the last of the exiles. He was alone. The heavy oppressiveness of the silence hung over him like a stone propped by rickety sticks. He grasped the ring on his left hand with his right and gave it a few tentative tugs.

  It would be simple enough. Take it off. Climb to the surface and let the cold take away what remained of his life. Perhaps he would even find Angus’ body nearby and could lie down beside him to await the inevitable end.

  Yet, there was no satisfaction in that. It would mean Randor and the Faithful had won. Their father — suicide by duel. Thaling by abortive escape. Angus by… did he really care how?

  “You look quite glum,” Angus’ voice suddenly broke through Dinton’s reverie. “A little bit down, perhaps, because there is no one left over which to rule?”

  “Angus!” Dinton cried. He rushed forward and swept the other exile into a tight embrace.

  His brother shook him off. “No need for that. Since you have no means for enforcement, I even forgive you for the error in judgement about my use of the crafts.”

  “What do you mean? How did you escape? How — ”

  “There will be time enough later to explain,” Angus said. “There are two other matters first.” He pointed behind himself at another — one completely swathed with no way to tell who it was.