“I know that, too.” Dougan shifted his feet uncomfortably. “I’ll see to it.”
“What are we to do, Uncle?” Palin asked.
“You are to go to the Abyss. There you will join Steel Brightblade and a small band of knights, who have taken on the challenge of fighting Chaos and his minions. The knights need a wizard. That will be you, Nephew.”
“The knights don’t trust wizards,” Palin said. “They won’t want me.”
“It will be your task to convince them otherwise. I won’t lie to you, Nephew. This is the main reason you are being sent, and not some stronger mage. You are the only wizard your cousin Steel would even consider accepting.”
“I will go, Uncle, and I will do my best,” Palin said, adding ruefully, “but I don’t think I can be of much use fighting Chaos with rose petals and bat guano.”
Raistlin almost smiled. “You’d be surprised what you can accomplish with those. However, we will arm you better than that. The Conclave sends this to you—a gift.”
Raistlin held out his hands. A book appeared, shimmering out of the ash-filled air. The book was old and very worn. The pages were dried and brittle. Its leather binding, red, was cracked; the lettering on the front had been stamped in gold leaf, was almost completely worn off. Only the imprint remained, covered with dust and cobwebs.
Magius.
Raistlin handed the book to Palin.
He took it reverently, trembling. Awed, he stared at it, at the name on the cover.
“The most valued spellbook in the Conclave’s collection,” Raistlin said. “Only those who have risen to the highest ranks have been permitted to read this book, and then it was never allowed outside the Tower of Wayreth. Few in this world even know it exists. The spellbook of Magius, the greatest war-wizard who ever lived.
“He trained with Huma—though in secret, for the Solamnic Knights would have never permitted otherwise. In defiance of all the rules, he fought openly at Huma’s side. His spells are war spells and counter-spells. You will need them. But they are complex, difficult. You don’t have long to commit them to memory. They will require your utmost concentration.”
Raistlin’s eyes flicked to Usha, who had moved out a little from behind her tree.
Palin, troubled, followed his uncle’s gaze. He was silent a moment, then—stretching out his hand to her—he said quietly, “I know what you mean, Uncle. I don’t want to make you angry, but I will not forsake her. I know that if she is your daughter, we can never be more to each other than we are now. Her love is a blessing that will be my armor, my shield—even in the Abyss.”
Usha took Palin’s hand in hers. She kept her head bowed, clasped Palin’s hand tightly.
“I hope you can understand this, Uncle,” he said deferentially.
Raistlin’s eyes flickered. “Perhaps better than you suppose, Nephew. But come. It is time. You have the spellbook. Stand here, by the altar, and you will be transported to the Abyss. The Portal stands wide open now. Her Majesty has no more need to guard it.”
Palin embraced Usha, kissed her on the cheek. She clung to him for a moment, whispered her love, her good-byes, and let him go. He walked over to the shattered altar, the Staff of Magius in one hand, the spellbook of Magius in the other.
“Is Dalamar casting the spell?” Palin asked suddenly, remembering his uncle’s ominous words.
“Dalamar may not even be alive at the moment,” Raistlin answered coolly. “It is Dunbar Mastersmate who now works the spells. Farewell, Nephew. May the gods—those who are left—go with you.”
Dougan waved his hat.
“Wound Chaos!” the dwarf shouted. “That’s all you need do, Lad! Just wound him!”
The magic began to work, lifting Palin and carrying him away, floating like a seabird on a gale wind.
Usha and Raistlin and Dougan stood in the grove of dead trees, near the broken altar.
Usha’s eyes filled with tears. “I’ll never see him again.”
“Oh, I rather think you will, my dear daughter,” Raistlin said, his lip curling in a sneer.
“You needn’t be sarcastic,” Usha said quietly. “I’ll tell him the truth. I was going to in Palanthas.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t.”
“Probably just as well you didn’t,” Raistlin said dryly. “Then he would have found it difficult to concentrate.”
“He’ll hate me for lying to him. He won’t want to have anything to do with me anymore.”
“I doubt that, Child. Palin is like his father. He has a large capacity for loving … and forgiving.” Raistlin placed his hands inside the sleeves of his black robes. “And now I must return to the tower, to the Pool of Seeing. Farewell, Usha, whose name means ‘dawn.’ Let us hope that your name is of a prophetic nature.”
Lifting his head, he spoke to the ash-filled air. “I am ready, Mastersmate, when you are.”
Usha, no longer afraid of him, watched him leave. She would tell Palin the truth. Hopefully, he would love her enough to understand, to forgive her. Usha couldn’t quite believe it; that someone would love her that much. Prot had, but no one else among the Irda. She had always been a disappointment to them. Ugly. That ugly human child. It was one reason she had started lying, hadn’t been able to stop. She couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in her Protector’s eyes.…
Dougan was tugging on her sleeve. “Lass, I know your heart’s gone with your young man, but if the rest of you’s not doing anything at the moment, I could surely use your help.”
“My help, too!” cried Tasslehoff, dashing up, his pouches—refilled—bouncing around him. “I’m sure you need my help, too!”
“Aye,” said Dougan testily. “If I was going to leap headfirst into the mouth of a red dragon, I’d be happy to take you with me. Since I’m not—”
Usha reached out, caught hold of Tas. “We’re a team. Where I go, he goes.”
“That’s right,” said Tas gravely. “As you recall, I do have the Kender Spoon of Turning.”
“At least until Lord Dalamar gets around to counting his silver. Oh, very well,” Dougan growled. “You have had your uses in the past, Burrfoot, leastways, according to Flint Fireforge.”
“Flint said that? About me!” Tas gasped with pleasure. “I’ve had my uses in the past!” he repeated, several times.
Bringing out the two halves of the Graygem, Dougan regarded them longingly, covetously. He seemed to be making up his mind. Finally, sighing, he turned his head away, thrust the gem at Usha.
“I can’t do it,” Dougan said, his voice shaking. “I thought I could, but I can’t. Of all the objects I ever forged, that one’s caused me the most trouble. And it’s the one I love the best. I can’t destroy it. You’ll have to, Lass. You’ll have to.”
Usha held the gem, stared at the dwarf with incredulity. “How?”
“A drop of blood, Lass,” said Dougan. “You must catch within it a drop of blood.”
“Whose blood?”
“Himself’s.”
29
Into the abyss.
The book, the staff, the sword.
t was dawn when the knights reached the rift that opened in the Turbidus Ocean. They located it first by the noise, a thundering sound like a thousand waterfalls, made by the seawater cascading into the chasm. Flying nearer, the knights saw clouds of water vapor rising from it, reflecting the light of the baleful sun, shining with all the colors of the spectrum in a magnificent rainbow. The dragons flew into the cloud, which closed around them in a hot, blinding, suffocating fog. The knights sweated, panted for air, and strained to see through the shifting white mists.
Flare knew the way, however. She had been here once. She could hear the sounds of battle, could see the darkness and the fire through the fog. The rift appeared beneath them.
The dragons spiraled downward amid walls of roaring water. The sound was deafening, the booming of the waterfalls pounding into the head, the vibrations of the thundering cascade threatening to stop the heart.
When Steel spoke, it was mainly to hear the sound of his own voice.
“Where are we?”
“We have flown into a tunnel that leads into the Abyss,” Flare replied. “This is the path we dragons take. It is secret, unguarded. It comes out near the Portal.”
The dragons sped through the tunnel, and soon the knights could see a glimmer of red light at the end. They emerged from the tunnel into a landscape that was more barren and empty than the darkness from which they had come. Empty except for a lone figure, clad in white robes, who stood near the Portal and seemed to have been awaiting their arrival. When they flew within his range of sight, he raised his hand to stop them.
“Who is that?” Steel demanded, peering down at the figure.
“A White Robe,” replied Flare disdainfully, neither slowing nor pausing in her flight.
Steel stared at the figure, thinking it was familiar. His eyes caught the glimmer of white light shining from atop a staff.
“Halt!” Steel ordered. “Take me down. I know him.”
“Master, there is no time!” Flare protested.
“This won’t take long,” Steel promised. “He is in contact with the mages. Perhaps he has some news.”
Flare made no more complaint, but spiraled slowly down. She landed near the Portal, claws skidding on the gray, red-tinged rock.
Steel leapt from the saddle, walked swiftly toward Palin, who advanced to meet him.
“What is it, Majere?” Steel demanded. “Why do you stop us? Make haste. We ride to battle.”
“I know,” Palin replied. “I stopped you for that reason. Take me with you.”
Steel frowned, said slowly, “I thank you for the offer, Majere. I honor your courage now, as I have in the past. But I must decline.”
The other knights and dragons spiraled overhead, silver dragons flying side by side with blue, dark knights riding with the knights of light.
“Go back to the world above, Majere,” Steel said. “Go back to the woman you love. Go back to the parents who love you. Spend what time you can with them. Don’t worry about missing the battle. If we fail, the battle will come to you. Farewell.”
Palin moved to block Steel’s way.
“I can keep you from failing,” Palin said, and he held out the spellbook. “Look at the name written on the cover. The book was given to me by the Conclave of Wizards. And I am to tell you this. All you need to do to Chaos is to wound him.”
“Wound him?” Steel was doubtful.
“That’s all. The god, Reorx, told me this as I was leaving.”
“That’s all?” Flare snaked her head down to take part in the conversation. “That is everything! This is not some ogre chieftain we’re talking about! This is the Father of All and of Nothing. Even in his mortal form, he is terrifying beyond belief. He stands taller than the Vingaard Mountains. His arm is the width and breadth of the River Torath. His hair is pure flame, his gaze is doom, his hand is death. He is surrounded by fire dragons and shadow-wights and daemon warriors. Wound him!” Flare snorted.
“We can. You and I,” Palin said calmly, his hand upon the spellbook. “We walked through Shoikan Grove together and came out alive. Few other mortals can say that.”
“True,” Steel said with a half-smile. He pondered, but only a moment. “A warrior never turns down a useful weapon. Very well, Majere, you ride with us. But understand this—we cannot spare the manpower to defend you. If you get into trouble, you must get yourself out.”
“Agreed,” said Palin. “I will not let you down. I have learned much since my first battle.”
Steel remounted his dragon. Reaching down his hand, he assisted Palin to sit in the saddle behind him.
Flare spread her wings, flew to join the rest of the knights. The red-orange glow in the sky grew brighter, stronger. The air was hot and fetid, difficult to breathe.
“How many spells do you have?” Steel asked, shouting over the rush of wind in their ears. “Are they powerful? What do they do?”
“I may not speak of such matters,” Palin answered, clutching the spellbook under one arm. “It is forbidden.”
Steel looked back at him, suddenly grinned. “The hell it is. You don’t have that many, do you?”
Palin smiled. “They are very complex. And I didn’t have much time to study them.”
“How many do you have?”
“One. But,” Palin added gravely, “it’s a good one.”
30
Chaos. the father.
ALL AND NOTHING.
’ll say this for him,” Tasslehoff Burrfoot remarked, looking up and up and up. “He certainly is ugly.”
“Hush!” Dougan whispered in an agony of terror.
“Himself will hear you!”
“Would he be offended?”
“No, he won’t be offended!” Dougan snapped furiously. “He’ll just squash us all like bugs! Now shut up and let me think.”
Tas fully intended to keep quiet, but Usha looked so pale and frightened and unhappy that he couldn’t help but whisper, “Don’t worry. Palin will be all right. He has the staff and the spellbook.”
“How can he possibly win against … against that?” Usha said, staring in awe and dread at the fearful giant.
A word from Dougan had transported Usha, Tas, and the dwarf to the Abyss. Or rather, the god’s magic seemed to have brought the Abyss to them. The grove of seven dead pines remained around them, but the rest of the island on which the grove stood had vanished. The broken altar of the Irda stood in the middle of the grove, which stood in the middle of nowhere. Dougan, Tas, and Usha crouched behind the altar.
Above them towered Chaos.
The giant was alone. He had apparently not noticed the grove or the altar, which had sprung up behind his back. He gazed straight ahead, into time, into space. He was silent. All was silent around him. Yet it seemed that in the distance could be heard the sounds of battle.
“The people of the world fight Himself and his forces,” Dougan said softly. “Each person in his or her own way, wherever they may be, battles him. It has made allies of ancient enemies. Elves fight side by side with ogres. Humans and goblins, dwarves and draconians—all have abandoned their differences. Even the gnomes—may the gods bless them and help them.” Dougan sighed. “And the kender are doing their part, a small part, but a valued one.”
Tas opened his mouth to make an excited comment, but Dougan frowned at him so fiercely that Tas kept silent.
“And that is why, Lass,” Dougan said, patting Usha on the arm, “that we have this chance. If we had to face Chaos and all his legions …” The dwarf shook his head, wiped his hand over his sweating face. “It would be hopeless.”
“I don’t know if I can do this, Dougan,” Usha said, trembling. “I don’t know if I have the courage.”
“I’ll be with you,” Tas said, squeezing her hand. The kender looked back up at Chaos. “Humpf. He’s big—really, really big. And ugly. But I’ve faced big, ugly things before. Lord Soth, for example. And I wasn’t the least bit afraid. Well, maybe just the tiniest bit, because he was a death knight and awfully powerful. He could kill you with just a single word! Imagine that! Only he didn’t kill me. He just sort of bowled me over and I got a bump on the head. I—”
Dougan glared at him.
“Shutting up,” Tas amended meekly, and clapped his hand over his mouth, which—he had learned—was the only way to keep himself quiet … for a short time, at least. Until his hand found something more interesting to do, such as rifling through the preoccupied dwarf’s pockets.
Usha clutched the Graygem tightly. She stared up at the giant.
“What is it …” Her voice cracked, and she had to start again. “What is it I have to do?”
“Only this, Lass.” Dougan spoke so softly that Usha had to lean close to hear. “The knights and your lad, Palin, will attack Chaos. He’ll summon his legions and fight. It will be a hard battle, but they’re strong, Lass. Don’t you worry. Now, if any of them manages to wound Chaos—just nick him, mind you, that’s all we need—a single drop of blood, caught in the Graygem, will put Himself in our power. We will have captured his physical essence, don’t you see? He must either stay here—in this shape and form. Or he must leave.”
“And what if he decides to stay?” Usha demanded, dismayed. The entire idea sounded ludicrous.
Dougan stroked his beard. “He won’t, Lass.” The dwarf tried his best to sound confident. “He won’t. We’ve thought this all out, the magical children and I. Himself hates being confined, you see. That body of his represents order, though you wouldn’t think so to look at it. His troops, his legions—all of them demand orders and commands. He has to tend to them, send them here, send them there. He’s growing tired of it, Lass. It’s not fun anymore.”
“Fun …” Usha thought of her people, of the ruined houses, the charred bodies. Her eyes filled with tears. She made herself stare at Chaos, stare at him long and hard. Seen through tears, blurred and indistinct, he didn’t appear so formidable. It would be an easy task after all. Sneak up behind him when he wasn’t looking …
Chaos suddenly roared, a bellowing roar that rumbled through the ground, caused the burned branches of the pines to break and topple, shook the broken altar behind which the three hid. The Father did not roar in anger. He roared with laughter.
“Reorx! You puny, sniveling, whimpering, misshapen, undersized, sorry excuse for a god! You’re traveling in low company these days.”
Dougan put his finger over his lips, pulled Usha down behind the mound of wood. He made a grab for Tas, but missed. The kender remained standing, gazing up at the giant.
“I’m not afraid of you!” Tas said, swallowing an unaccountable and annoying lump that had suddenly jumped into his throat, a lump about the size of his heart. “I’m awfully glad I got to see something as big and as ugly as you, but now that I’ve seen you, I really do think it would be best if you went away.”
Dragons of Summer Flame Page 66