Child of Thunder (Renshai Trilogy)

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  Alone, Shadimar sat in one of the hard wooden chairs that surrounded Captain’s table and fixed his gaze on the narwhale horn above the books. His heart pounded, revealing all the anxiety he had hidden from his colleagues. The staff felt vibrant in his fist, and magic hummed through it with a current stronger than he would ever have guessed existed. There was something horrible about its power that Shadimar could attribute only to its intensity and concentration. So far, he had feared to tap more than its barest edge, even when he had tried to control the demon. Its vitality dwarfed his own, making his centuries seem like an eye blink in the cosmos and his life itself less than the last twist of steam from a candle’s flame. Afraid to lose himself in the depths, Shadimar slid the staff between his knees, trapping it between the edge of the chair’s seat and the table. He gripped the staff in both hands, resting his forehead against its smooth wooden surface.

  A massive wave of presence pulsed against Shadimar’s being, as if to suffocate him with its otherness. Nearly overcome, Shadimar reeled backward. His chair toppled over, spilling him to the floor, and the staff hit the planks with a resounding clatter. The surge of the force receded to a trickle, a message that touched Shadimar’s mind like a whisper. *You are my champion. You need not fear me.*

  *Too much.* Shadimar gathered his remaining composure and dignity. Righting the chair, he picked up the staff gingerly and retook his seat.

  The staff held its sending to a cautious ebb. *I did not mean to overwhelm you. We are one. You are my champion.*

  *Your champion?* Shadimar repeated, not quite understanding. The intensity and enormity of its power quailed him. He had met nothing so formidable since his one and only meeting with the Keeper of the Eighth task, a god he believed might have been Odin himself. Yet where the Keeper’s whole being had seemed to clutch and pull, as if to drag Shadimar into eternity, the staff seemed drawn to him, as if it might drown him beneath its own vitality.

  *Yes, my champion. Of course. Did you not notice how right we felt together from the moment you touched me? It has always been the intention of Odin for the Eastern Wizard to wield me. It is your destiny, and the destiny of all those who share your mind.*

  The collective consciousness stirred, roused by the staff’s words. Shadimar’s predecessors knew a calm rightness about the staff’s presence, yet its scope and vigor still cowed Shadimar. It promised strength, yet the current Eastern Wizard worried about dominance, concerned that the device might become sovereign and the Wizard servant.

  *You doubt yourself too much, Eastern Wizard. I told you before, you need not fear me. I am no being, just the portal to a force. And you are the champion destined to direct and advance my realm.*

  The concept confused Shadimar. *Your realm? What realm is that?*

  *You know what I am.*

  *You’re the Staff of Law.*

  *And what is my realm, then?*

  *Here.* Shadimar made a grand gesture to indicate the worlds of men, elves, and gods. *We are your realm.*

  The staff gave nothing, waiting for Shadimar to continue.

  Shadimar frowned. *So you‘re a portal from our world to itself?*

  *From the gods to men. The Staff of Law opens onto the repository of law itself. The gray god, Odin. That is the source of law’s power.*

  Shadimar suddenly felt paralyzed. Though he had no need to speak aloud, his mind seemed unable to even form words for speech. But where Shadimar failed, the collective consciousness swarmed forward to ask the obvious questions. *It has, from the start, been our job to champion law?*

  Though addressed by the others, the staff sent its answer directly to Shadimar. *I have always been the Eastern Wizards’ destiny. Unlike good and evil, Odin kept the Staves of Law and Chaos while the Cardinal Wizards became more knowledgeable and competent. The time has come for you to wield me.*

  A conclusion followed naturally. *And for Colbey to wield chaos.* Shadimar had spent centuries guarding the balance between good and evil, long enough to understand that one force could not exist without the other. The insight opened a whole new area of thought, and guilt gnawed at him. Perhaps he had been wrong from the start, and Colbey right.

  Shadimar’s mind did not get far before the staff’s presence blocked the trail. *No!* The forcefulness of its insistence hammered through Shadimar’s head. *Law and chaos cannot be compared to good and evil. Good and evil are degrees of law; they cannot exist in chaos. Without law, there can be no faith, loyalty, or honor. Without form and definition, the world can have no absolutes, no right or wrong; and all that has become solid and real on this world will lose meaning. There is no such thing as a little bit of chaos. Its leaks will widen, until the tiny breaches in Odin’s defenses split open, admitting its destruction like a torrent. Should Colbey league with his staff as you have with me, he would fling wide the portal to the banished plane of chaos, exposing our world to a deluge that would wash all honor and morality away.*

  Buoyed by the confirmation of faith and the staff’s strength, Shadimar became bolder. *How, then, do I stop him? Do I listen to Carcophan? Or to Trilless?*

  The staff fed into the wave of enthusiasm. *You listen to neither. Or both, or either as it suits you. You follow your instincts, and you follow my advice. The other Wizards can help you, but the difference between their causes and your own is like that between plain daggers and the Swords of Power. Good and evil are constructs of law. And you ARE law.*

  Vitality seemed to course through Shadimar, and he reveled in the power. Even knowing that normal weapons and accidents could harm him now, he felt invincible.

  The staff’s voice pulsed through Shadimar with its advice. *You must destroy Colbey’s staff, whatever the cost. Sometimes, my champion, like it or not, you have to turn an enemy’s allies and tactics against himself.*

  The concept seemed wrong, even now. *Are you, the device of law, suggesting that I use chaos?*

  *Never! But I will remind you of this. You are the Lawbringer. You make the rules.* The staff withdrew then, leaving only a tangible reminder of its physical presence. Its final words came softly, but were no less formidable. *And when the need arises, you can change them.*

  * * *

  The following morning, Shadimar perched upon the Asciian fjords with Secodon, Carcophan and Mar Lon. Though it was early spring, the Northern winds howled bitterly around them, sending Carcophan’s cloak into a whipping dance. The Sea Seraph glided northward, becoming a dot on the horizon in the short time it had taken them to scale the cliffs. Shadimar leaned upon his staff, enjoying the feel of the breeze twining his beard about the wood and the high-pitched hum of the wind’s passage through the hollow of Mar Lon’s lonriset.

  “He’s been here,” Carcophan said, drawing Shadimar from his vigil.

  “What?” Shadimar turned, facing his colleague, who examined the stony sands.

  “Colbey’s been here. He went south.” Carcophan looked up, fixing the Eastern Wizard with his catlike eyes. “You know this land better than I. Where will that take him?”

  Shadimar easily drew a mental map. “After he got through Trilless’ territory, he’d come to the Weathered Range. Once through the mountains, the first town he’d reach would be the great trading city, Pudar.” He considered a moment longer. “Of course, the Western Wizard’s cave lies just about directly south of here. In the mountains.”

  “Mmmm.” Carcophan’s brow crinkled in irritation. “Do you think he knows he’s safe there?”

  “Not for sure.” Shadimar considered. “He might, though. He’s been to the cave, so he can find it. When he stayed in my ruins, he knew I had them permanently warded.” Shadimar went beyond the direct question. “It’s not like Colbey, though, to hide from anything.”

  Mar Lon remained in place, watching the Sea Seraph disappear, deliberately adding nothing to the conversation.

  “You heard the captain.” Carcophan did not taunt, apparently ill at ease on his opposite’s home ground. He did not belong there. “Colbey was ba
dly injured. And the uneven spacing of his tracks makes me certain he fared worse than even Captain guessed. He fell at least once. Probably, he’ll hole up for a while to heal.”

  Shadimar knew the warping of time sense that accompanied the Wizards’ immortality tended to make them withdraw into solitude for months, years, or even decades at a time.

  Apparently, Carcophan’s thoughts had taken the same turn. “We should have plenty of time to pick out our successors, if not to train them.”

  Shadimar straightened, still keeping a solid hold on his staff. The wolf lay down at his feet, waiting. “Don’t count on huge amounts of time. Though a Wizard, Colbey hasn’t yet learned patience.”

  “Nor magic,” Carcophan added. “Which means he’ll need at least a few weeks to recuperate.”

  “Don’t underestimate the Staff of Chaos. It may do it for him or teach him.”

  “Or it may kill him.” In his own way, Carcophan let Shadimar know that it was useless to speculate about the unknown. “I’d suggest bringing books to study while each apprentice runs through the tasks. The more research we gather about the staff, the less power Colbey holds.”

  Shadimar nodded, Carcophan’s point a wise one. Then, recalling the manner in which the Evil One tended to obtain his information, Shadimar qualified. “But no demons. Only books.”

  Carcophan returned a tight-lipped smile, but he did make a gesture of accord. “No matter what Trilless thinks, you and I know we have to kill Colbey.”

  “Yes. And I believe Trilless understands that now, too.” Again, Shadimar glanced out over the waters. The Sea Seraph and its two passengers had disappeared from sight. Displeased with her choices on man’s world, Trilless had decided to obtain her successor from among the elves.

  Carcophan continued warily, “And you and I know that the strongest of us should wield the Staff of Law.”

  Anger stabbed through Shadimar, but the security of the staff’s power allowed him to keep the comment in perspective. Compared to what the staff had to offer, the difference between his and Carcophan’s abilities became insignificant. He did not bother to meet Carcophan’s gaze, though he let a slight grin play across his lips. “You couldn’t wield it any more than I could champion evil.”

  “That’s nonsense,” Carcophan insisted. “All of us champion law. Any of us could wield it.”

  Now Shadimar pinned Carcophan’s yellow-green eyes with his own gray ones. “The Staff of Law would not have you.”

  Carcophan held the Eastern Wizard’s gaze, turning the exchange into a war of wills. “When chaos’ day comes, you may despise your greed. Farewell, Shadimar. May you find a successor who exceeds the average man, if any neutral prospects remain. And farewell, Mar Lon, on your long and lonely walk.” Still glaring at Shadimar, Carcophan transported himself back to his own territory without fanfare. One moment, he played a staring game with the other Cardinal Wizard. The next, his place stood empty, without evidence that he had ever been there.

  Free of the other two Wizards, Shadimar felt as if a great weight had lifted from his shoulders. Then thoughts of Colbey and his chaos filled Shadimar’s mind, and he shivered. He harbored no wish to face the enraged and corrupted Renshai by himself. He returned his attention to his remaining companions.

  Secodon lay in place. As his master’s gaze found the wolf, his tail whisked against the sand, flinging sparkling grains into the air. Mar Lon sat, cross-legged, on the beach. He balanced the lonriset across his knees, pressing out chords with his left hand while his right alternately mimicked strumming and plucking. His mouth moved as he whispered new rhymes amid the silent runs and riffs. The sword in his belt lay twisted awkwardly to accommodate the instrument and Mar Lon’s position.

  A strange thought came to Shadimar’s head. Once formed, the idea found the staff’s support. Why not Mar Lon? He knows more about the Cardinal Wizards than any other mortal in the world, and he can fight. “Mar Lon.”

  The bard looked up. His fingers stilled on the strings.

  “What are you going to do now?”

  Mar Lon stroked Secodon absently with his left hand. The wolf’s tail rose, waving like a flag. “I think I’ll just stay here. King Sterrane’s done without me this long, and there’s still more business to attend at the Meeting Isle.” He spoke with a bold matter-of-factness, but his tone betrayed sadness and a concern for responsibilities unperformed. The bard’s god-given tasks, to gather the knowledge of the world and to guard the king in Béarn, now clashed. “By the time I finished traveling home, you and Carcophan would have returned here, ready to test your apprentices.”

  “You’re going to stay here? In Asci? On this empty beach?” Shadimar crouched before Mar Lon, lowering himself to the bard’s level, yet still clutching the staff.

  Mar Lon shrugged, obviously less worried about his own discomfort than over leaving the king unprotected. “It’ll give me the chance to seek more knowledge of the North. And it’s not as if I don’t have a thousand new songs to write.” He smiled, clearly referring to the events of the last few weeks. “I’ll do fine. You have more important things to concern yourself with than my plans or comfort.”

  “Perhaps.” Shadimar considered. “Listen, Mar Lon. I need to talk with you. Would you object if I transported us both back to my territory?” Shadimar thought over his own offer briefly. Technically, his realm extended from the Northern Weathered Range south to the ocean and from the Great Frenum Mountains westward to an ill-defined line through the farm towns near Sholton-Or. Since the Eastern and Western Wizards championed neutrality together, they had never needed a strong physical barrier like the ones that separated Carcophan’s far eastern realm and Trilless’ Northmen. Mar Lon would find less of interest in Shadimar’s realm than in Colbey’s, although he would find security in Shadimar’s ruins until the time came for the Wizards to reconvene. And Shadimar did not forget that the high Western kingdom, Béarn, was considered joint territory by the Eastern and Western Wizards. “Better yet, I’ll transport us to Béarn. We can chat freely there, and you’ll have a closer watch over the king.”

  Mar Lon rose hesitantly, brushing sand from his breeks. “Naturally, nothing could please me more.” His manner did not match the enthusiasm of his words. “But isn’t it dangerous?”

  Shadimar snapped his fingers, signaling Secodon to his side, and the wolf obeyed instantly. Shadimar understood the bard’s concern. Though competent to perform magics of many sorts, the Cardinal Wizards rarely exercised the privilege; the peril was too great. Shaped of chaos, the spells could easily escape a Wizard’s control or come out far differently than the caster’s intention. Clearly, when it came to one Wizard leaving the territory of another, the benefits outweighed the risk. When it involved shifting mortals from place to place, the effort quadrupled and the hazard with it. Still Shadimar recalled two instances when his own predecessor had magically transported him, and the staff made him bolder. “Not very dangerous. A simple enough spell, and I have the Staff of Law to alert me to chaos leaks. Will you come?” Crooking the staff in his elbow, he placed one hand on the wolf’s head and held out the other to Mar Lon.

  The bard came to him, and Shadimar sized one of the man’s wrists. Muscles shifted around bone, the attachments well-developed from his sword training. Shadimar triggered the transport spell. The cold touch of chaos rippled through him, a sensation devoid of substance or loyalty, yet terrifying for its alien impurity. Always in the past, its contact sent chills through Shadimar, reminding him of its destructive wrongness, a presence he tried to forget from day to day. But, this time, he scarcely noticed the feeling, concentrating instead on the wonder of the magic itself, the beauty of an act that only four beings on man’s mortal world could perform. The workings of the spell stretched before him in multicolored bands and streamers as complex as, yet less ordered than, a spider’s web. Within the shimmering lines and planes that seemed to mock order, Shadimar found the otherworld words of the spell sewn into the maze. Though he had thought e
ach syllable with rulered exactness, the visual image had cut and decapitated the lettering, sprinkling it in random sequences about the infrastructure.

  Then, suddenly, the sequenceless patterning disappeared. Mar Lon, Secodon, and Shadimar stood in a valley just outside the kingdom of Béarn. Carved from the mountain, the palace rose among the other peaks, chips of quartz and pyrite glimmering through its spires. Secodon wagged his plumed tail, obviously caught up in his master’s excitement. Mar Lon hugged himself tightly, looking chilled to the marrow, though the temperature here was twice that of Asci’s sea air.

  Shadimar saw no need to announce their arrival. Mar Lon had lived in Béarn long enough to know precisely where he stood. He credited the Staff of Law with showing him the details of magic that he could only have surmised before. Chaos had its place, and clearly that place was on another plane where its destruction and dishonor could not touch the citizens of law’s realm but it could be summoned for spells such as the one Shadimar had just performed.

  Mar Lon bobbed his head in wary appreciation. “I thank you, friend Wizard, for the knowledge of a new experience.” He made a formal bow to soften the words that followed. “It would please me if I never had occasion to experience it again.”

  Shadimar laughed. “Chaos never feels right. But it does become less frightening when you brace for its touch.”

  “Is that what I felt? That shiver that tore through my soul and set every muscle in my body on edge? The only other things that came close to making me feel such horror were sounds: the dying scream of a rabbit and the terminal crack of a tree trunk before it fell. But there was also a personal wrongness to this that made me feel ashamed for every man’s barest thought of dishonesty.”

  Shadimar loosed another wry chuckle. “A poet to the heart, Mar Lon. I’ve never heard it described better. You have a talent for seeing detail, a talent that would serve the Cardinal Wizards well.”