"Master of the five Magics" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hardy Lyndon)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Alodar Enchanted

ALODAR stretched his legs and smiled. The weariness of their journey still hung over him, and the meager morning meal did little for his hunger, but he was content. He flexed his fingers in the coarse sand just inches away from Vendora's arm. He looked about the camp. Only Grengor and a few of his marines remained. The rest were away, scouting the surrounding hills for signs of the nomads. Down the beach, Aeriel stood alone, staring out to sea. Behind a nearby dune, Kelric had yet to stir from his slumber.

Alodar shot a sideways glance at Vendora while she idly scraped a bit of beach tar from her gown. He had come this far from the most humble beginnings, spurred on only by hopes and dreams. To rank finally above them all must be within his grasp, if becoming a suitor ever was. It was only a matter of seizing the opportunity.

Alodar looked to the north and saw the line of hills slowly converge upon the sea. The beach narrowed to a slender ribbon and then terminated abruptly against a rocky point that cut off the view. Back to the west, a sprinkle of vegetation dotted the slopes, chokecherry and spicebush still green beneath the bare branches of oaks and dogwoods that yielded to pines and cedars as the elevation climbed. At the limit of vision, a hint of snowy whiteness mingled with the hazy purples of the great mountains that thrust into the interior.

Alodar lazily scanned the panorama a second time. As he looked to the lower hills, he caught sight of one of the scouting parties that had left at dawn. He squinted into the morning light, trying to resolve some detail, and decided finally that the specks slowly bobbing his way must be Basil and his retainers. As they drew closer and confirmed his guess, he sat upright and then pointed at the approaching figures.

"Look, Grengor," he said. "Basil does not return empty handed. He left with two followers but there seem to be four men marching back to camp."

"And by the looks of the last," Grengor replied, "he journeys as a captive rather than a friend. It is not an auspicious beginning, if we are to convert all of these wild northmen to our cause."

Everyone turned to watch Basil's progress; several minutes later he puffed into the camp. "My fair lady," he said, as he rushed to the queen, "already I prove the great worth of my wealth to your crown. Behold, I bring forth your first new subject from the wastelands."

Basil paused to catch his breath, and Alodar looked at the captive. His hair was matted in snarls; even though no breeze was blowing, Alodar caught the pungent odor of his body. His chest and legs were bare. The muscles trembled in his arms as he strained against the cords which bound his hands together behind his back. He looked around the circle of armed men, and his expression stiffened into a mask of defiance when he returned Basil's stare.

"The barbarian's mouth dropped when I showed him a few samples of my gems," Basil continued. "Great treasures were back in his camp and a fair trade for a few of the jewels could surely be made, he claimed. And while he fingered them, it was simple enough for my followers to overpower him from behind and drag him here."

Basil stopped and looked at the dying embers of the fire. "And I think that there is sufficient means in camp to make him tell us the rest of what we must know." His eyes widened and he licked his lips as he pushed a coal aside with his boot "Where the rest of his group is hiding and how many they may be. It can be found in a few hours, if you know how."

"But the gift of one of your pretty stones would have been simple enough," Grengor interrupted. "And far less trouble than torturing one who probably would have dealt in good faith. I do not care for how you have acted in behalf of the fair lady, apothecary, and even less for what you propose to do."

Basil turned and faced the marine. "The temporary success of your master has weakened your judgment, sergeant," he said. "As you apparently have forgotten, Procolon is in grave danger of being overrun. We do not have time to barter for days with each scattered tribe that we meet. We must convince them in haste to harken to our banner, using whatever tools prove most expedient. And the fair lady will reward the suitor who provides the army to save her crown, not the one who labors over some petty distinction for what is just." He stopped and looked back at the prisoner. "Besides, he is as likely to be a treacherous brigand as a simple wanderer. There is no other way in which we may proceed."

"What about enchantment?" Alodar said suddenly. "He could hold nothing back if under the charm of a sorcerer. If his tribe proves friendly, then he can be freed."

"Kelric would attempt no such feat when fully in health and in the comfort of Ambrosia." Basil waved the words aside. "He certainly will not try such an adventure now."

"I was not thinking of Kelric," Alodar replied coldly. "I have studied enough that I am willing to give the charm a try."

"An idle bluff," Basil shot back. "The fair lady will not be fooled by such blatant attempts to win further favor."

"It is not a bluff," Alodar said. "I have been successful with far-seeing. There is no reason why I cannot enchant as well."

Before Basil could reply, Vendora rose and extended her palm for silence. She looked at Alodar and smoothed a loose curl in place. "Kelric never wavered in expounding the difficulties of his craft," she said. "And even in his prime, his enchantments numbered less than a dozen. Can you really perform as you claim?"

Alodar looked back into Vendora's eyes. "I have never attempted it before, my fair lady," he said, "but my studies thus far have increased my confidence so that I feel there is a reasonable chance of success. If you would prefer touching the nomad's mind, rather than tearing his body, then I shall attempt it."

Vendora's eyes narrowed, and then she looked back at Basil. "If Alodar indeed can effect such enchantment, then it is a skill which I can employ well in my service," she said. "I thank you, Basil, for your efforts in my behalf, but I judge it is in my best interest if you turn the prisoner over to the aspiring sorcerer."

Basil's scowl deepened, and he stood silently for a long moment. Finally, with a wave of disgust, he spun and tromped off to the other side of the firepit. His followers pushed the barbarian forward, and the nomad pitched to his knees at Alodar's feet.

"Get Melab," Alodar said to Grengor, "and prepare to hold the prisoner steady. I will consult with Kelric and learn what I must know."

Alodar ran up the beach to the low ridge where Kelric slept. He touched the sorcerer's arm and gently rocked him back and forth. The flesh felt hot; as the eyes slowly opened, Alodar touched the bare forehead and frowned.

"Ah, my sugar plum," Kelric's voice wheezed. "Are you so impatient for more that you disturb my sleep?"

"It is only your student," Alodar said. "And I interrupt your rest on service to the queen."

Kelric started to reply but gagged instead and then coughed spasmodically for several minutes. He shook awake and widened his eyes as he recognized Alodar hovering over him. "Not more sorcery," he whispered at last. "You push too hard, Alodar, and will end in no better condition than I."

"I wish that Basil carried with him the substance of his trade, rather than the tokens of his wealth," Alodar said, ignoring the sorcerer's words. "With the proper ingredients, I could brew an alchemical potion to cool the fever and purge your sickness. But neither my thaumaturgy or Duncan's magic sphere can offer any aid."

Kelric shrugged and rattled out a deep sigh. "It is far less discomforting than if I attempted one charm too many," he said, "and the visions that swim before my eyes are as good as any I have had when in a trance. Let it be, Alodar. Even though a sorcerer can see the workings of fate, he cannot alter them."

Alodar looked back over his shoulder to the firepit. Grengor and Melab struggled to hold the captive in a sitting position, and Vendora stood with her hands on her hips, looking Alodar's way.

"I was successful with the cantrip last night," Alodar said. "Even the third repetition came without much difficulty. The queen now has need for an enchantment, and I feel I am ready to attempt it."

"No, Alodar," Kelric said weakly. "Do not be misled just because one charm seems to progress well. You were probably fatigued and your senses dull. If you tried the very same cantrip fully alert, you might find it beyond your power to complete it."

Kelric raised one shaky hand and motioned Alodar closer to his head. "And the enchantment of a mind as complex as a man's is too large a step," he continued softly. "I studied for two years before my mentor judged me proficient enough to try it. If you have seen afar for the first time less than a day ago, then you must rest instead, before pursuing anything more."

"But it is for the queen," Alodar said, "and the favor that I hope to find in her eyes because of it."

"Ah, the fair lady." Kelric choked out a laugh. "Even I have not dared dream so high." His chest heaved with effort for several moments more, and then he slowly shook his head. "In my youth, it was always just one charm more," he said. "Just one more and my power would be great enough that men would bow their heads with respect and my choice of the ladies would be a pleasant confusion." He shook his head a second time. "You state that you do this for the queen, Alodar, but in the end I doubt that she will behave differently than any other."

He stopped and looked Alodar in the eye and saw the resolution. "But I recognize the fierceness that cannot be denied," he sighed at last. "And there will be little more that I will teach you. If you must know of enchantments, then listen to my words well."

Kelric whispered the charm, and Alodar concentrated intently to remember the strange pattern of words. It was only a third the length of the cantrip for far-seeing. After a short while, he returned to Vendora and the others. He looked about and raised his brows in surprise as they all stepped back and flung their arms over their eyes. He coiled into a cross-legged position and directed Grengor and Melab to set the captive before him. While the two marines held the nomad's head steady and pressed his eyelids open, Alodar began the charm.

The first recital went smoothly enough; but from the first word of the second repetition, Alodar felt the beginning of the resistance. He spoke half a dozen words correctly, then almost gagged as he attempted the next. He tried to force his tongue flat in the bottom of his mouth, but spasms of nausea forced his lips closed each time he pursed them into a circle. He braced himself, concentrated on the next three in succession and finally forced them out.

He licked his spray-chapped lips, and beads of perspiration broke out on his forehead. The rest of the charm faded away. Almost in panic, he mentally grabbed at the chain of words as they seemed to disappear down a hole in his memory. He focused on the next and brought it back into sharpness. By holding his breath, he kept his stomach calm. With excruciating slowness, he finished the second recital.

Alodar felt dizzy, A chilling numbness ran up and down his legs. His tired body protested the abuse. The thought that the strain would only increase began to weigh heavily on his mind. He broke the starting word of the final repetition into syllables and concentrated on uttering the first correctly. But each time he opened his mouth, his lips trembled and he fought to force back the rumbles of his stomach. He gasped like a man choking and beat his fist into the sand to pop the sound free, but it would not come. For several minutes he struggled, his arms twitching and his eyes stinging with salty tears. A dull pain started to throb in the base of his neck and pulse upwards between his ears as the realization that he might not finish began to form.

In desperation Alodar flailed about and untied the pouch with the sphere from his side. He grasped the coldness and held it at eye level, hoping somehow to tap its reputed powers to aid in finishing the charm. He stared at the closed eye, but his thoughts crackled with tenseness. The strange feeling that poured over him outside of the Cycloid Guild would not come.

With a final effort he twisted his lips into the correct form and squeezed his sides. A raspy growl dribbled from his mouth and then his head seemed to explode in a flash of light, as if he had been struck by a well-aimed mace. A searing pain raced through his body. With a feeling of his skin being stripped away, he slid from consciousness.

"The queen explicitly left him in our custody," a voice shouted angrily.

"Then you did not discharge your duty with much competence," a second answered. "Well, we have what we need to know, and one barbarian life more or less does not matter.'"

Alodar blinked his eyes open and then quickly squeezed them shut again. He moved his head slowly to the side and felt a sudden throbbing that continued unabated for several minutes. He wrapped his arms about his stomach, but the pressure did not help, and he kept his lips firmly pressed together, trying to force back the queasiness. Kelric had been right; he had pushed too far and misspun the enchantment.

Alodar felt a gentle touch on his brow and cracked one lid open to see Aeriel bending over him. "You have been in a swoon for over a day," she said. "And during the night, Basil carried out the rest of his plan."

Alodar propped himself up on one elbow, grimacing at the pounding the motion started in his head. "Then what did the apothecary learn?" he asked weakly. "I think my sorcery will not be the means by which we deal with the nomads."

"Their camp is to the north, beyond the rocky point," Aeriel said. "Their group is a small one; their men number no more than ours. They plunder as much as they hunt. On the morrow they will move southwards, looking for shipwrecked booty from the storm. We must either retreat before them or make the conditions of confrontation our own choosing. From the way the captive related their history, a civilized parlay is out of the question."

"Are they the only ones with whom we can deal?" Alodar asked.

"No, there are others scattered throughout the north. The larger tribes are in the hills to the west, seeking the game that winter drives down from the higher peaks. But enough of that. Let the other suitors carry forth the queen's banner for awhile. From the looks of your face, you need more rest. I can fetch you a meal, as well."

Alodar slowly shook his head. "Had I succeeded, there would have been no denying my primacy," he groaned. "As it is, now I must strive all the harder not to loose more ground."

"Keltic warned that it takes more than a week for a misspinning to fade," Aeriel replied. "Are you truly ready to contest again after a single day?"

Alodar tried to push himself to a sitting position, but his arm trembled with the effort, and he collapsed back to the ground. "Perhaps just a little while longer to gather my strength," he said.

"And the meal?" Aeriel asked.

Alodar clutched his stomach. "Food I can still do without." He looked into her face filled with concern. "But your presence would be a comfort indeed."

Aeriel smiled, sat down beside Alodar, and placed her hand lightly on his shoulder. Alodar managed to smile back and then turned his attention to the loud voices around the firepit.

"Sweetbalm on their prowess!" Feston said, pounding a fist into an open palm. "We still outnumber them by one or two. If we strike at dusk, surprise will carry the day. And it is only force that these barbarians respect. They will submit to us no other way."

"You speak with the imprecision of a neophyte," Duncan shot back. "Suppose we were to take their camp. What would we have when we were done? Half of our men slain and half of theirs. Our numbers would be no greater than what we have now. And we would have traded ten stout hearts for an equal number who will serve only with a sharp blade at their backs. Let us retreat south, I say, as best we can. Even if they catch up, my sphere will protect the queen from harm."

"A fight in their camp would not be as bad as all that," Basil said, "if we could fell the chieftain with one of the first blows. According to our captive, his hold on the group is slight. He bullied them to rob anyone who ventured this way, regardless of the profit in it. Why, their treasure he bragged of was no more than some alchemist's rotting samples they had plundered a week ago. You look with scorn at what I have done with a barbarian. But apparently that was nothing compared to what this chieftain delights in whenever a civilized man falls into his clutches. If we can kill the leader, then the rest just might lay down their arms and follow the victors."

"Such a blow will not be swung easily," Grengor said quietly. "These nomads are a suspicious lot. They would insist we drop our arms before entering camp. And if we rushed them, the leader would be in the center. We would have to hack through them all to approach him." He stopped and rubbed his chin. "It would take a berserker to slash through the defense?a berserker or perhaps someone like Feston's guard whom we saw on the royal barge. His own safety concerned him not. Indeed, he took more than one mortal wound without even flinching."

"More sorcery," Duncan sneered. "That plan is no better than any other." He looked at Kelric, propped up against a rock a little distance away, his arms sagging limply at his sides, and then over to Alodar, barely managing to hold his head off the ground. "One nearly dead and the other unable to complete an enchantment. I say that the key to our dilemma somehow involves the use of my sphere and that we should not act until we discover it."

"Then what is your proposal, Duncan?" Vendors asked. "If we cannot gain by arms or guile, how does your magic assemble the army that I need?"

Duncan looked back at the queen and then dipped his head in silence. For a long moment, Grengor and the suitors stood shuffling their feet in the sand, saying nothing. Finally Vendora turned to two other marines standing further back. "Bring me Kelric," she said.

The two men fetched the sorcerer. With a hand under each arm, they brought him to stand before the queen. Vendora looked at the sagging form and spoke softly. "Master Kelric," she said, "I am sorry that your loyalty to the court has brought you such distress. But with the conditions being as they are, can one final enchantment make any difference?"

"You are so tactful with your words, my fair lady," Kelric wheezed without bothering to raise his head from his chest. "Since my hours seem numbered and no one cares how many remain, why not one final gesture for the glory of Procolon, you say." He nodded his head back and forth. "There are not enough jewels in Basil's coffers to make me want to attempt it."

A flicker of irritation crossed Vendora's face, and then she pressed her lips in thought. After a long moment, she reached forward and touched Kelric's arm. Frowning with the effort, she bent over and brushed her mouth against his cheek. "I am not so removed from the gossip of the palace that I do not know for what reasons you ply your craft," she said. "We have ignored your plight since we landed, one and all, it is true. But if you perform this labor in my cause, then your nurse and comforter shall be none other than the queen of Procolon."

Kelric raised his head and looked at Vendora through half open eyes. "And if that comfort requires a caress or two or perhaps even a lack of haste to resmooth a gown blown above the knee by the wind?" he said.

"We shall see later what it entails. Perform for me what I require and you will be appropriately rewarded."

"You are no different from the lowest chambermaid," Kelric said. "Full of vague promises that must be wrenched out of you, once the deed is done."

Vendora drew erect and placed her hands on her hips. "There are two important differences, sorcerer. First, I am none less than the queen. And second, even if I were not…" She left the sentence unfinished and curved her lips into a slight smile.

Kelric's eyes widened as he drank in Vendora's beauty. "But, my fair lady," he said, "in refusing an enchantment before, my words have been true. With full health I would fail; now even if I desired it as nothing else, the result would be the same."

Alodar frowned in concentration as he sensed the opportunity. The suitor that resolved the course of action would gain, relative to the others. Despite how he felt, he must enter the discussion. He ignored the weakness and pushed himself up.

He looked to his side and saw the top of the sphere poking out of the sand from where he had dropped it. He scooped it up and slowly climbed to his feet, panting rapidly. For a moment he gently swayed back and forth, waiting for the throbbing to quiet and the flashes of light to clear from his eyes.

"But with the sorcerer's eye, would not the effort for enchantment of only one be greatly reduced?" he called out. "And with a willing subject, even less required."

All eyes turned to Alodar as he weaved across the beach and finally thrust the eye into Kelric's hand. "Use it," he said. "It will be some time before I will be of full service to the fair lady."

Kelric looked down at the translucent orb, up to Alodar, and then back to the queen. He ran his eyes over her a second time and then scratched his side. For a long moment, he was silent. "Oh, it just might work," he conceded at last. "Yes, with the help of the eye. I learned the charm in my youth and thought I never would have cause to use it. And for the attention of the fair lady against expiring alone, I may as well try."

"Then there remains only the matter of the subject," Vendora said, looking quickly around the circle. "Who among you will seize the opportunity for greater glory?"

Heads dropped as she scanned the group. As if she were a sorceress herself, the circle of men avoided her eyes. A minute passed and no one moved.

"Men of great bravery and pledged to the fair lady!" Keltic laughed. "And not one as brave as an old man with insufficient strength to draw a sword."

"My life for the crown of Procolon I have always sworn," Grengor responded quietly. "I do so still. But that life I have pledged to give in honor in battle, not smothered and stolen away by the foulness of sorcery."

"But it seems the only way," Alodar said. "Without the enchantment, we will not bend this first small band to our side."

"Then let it be you, suitor and savior of the queen," Duncan sneered. "You have the righteous air of the pure hero of the saga. If you are indeed true to your ideals, then it is you who should do the deed."

Vendora turned to Alodar and her lips curved into a small smile. "It seems your boasts with sorcery far exceeded your craft, Alodar," she said. "How soon then will it be before you can swing a blade and carry an equal load with the rest?"

Alodar licked his lips and held himself steady as he returned the gaze of the queen. He heard Aeriel rush to his side but nodded before she could speak. "It is as Kelric states, my fair lady," he replied, "a question of bravery. When you weigh the virtues of your suitors, remember who spoke when all the others remained silent."

The first recitation had been long. Alodar sagged with weakness as he sat in front of Kelric, who still held the small sphere at eye level. He looked from the motionless old sorcerer, mumbling before him, to the ocean beyond. In the low afternoon sun, he could see the sail of the longboat still fluttering above high tide. He looked to the south, over the unending beach that finally blurred out in the distance. He studied the hills to the north that curved to the surf, cutting off his view.

Then with a sudden shock, Alodar felt his gaze wrenched in the direction of the sphere. Instinct took over; he tried to draw his head away or raise an arm, but his muscles would not respond. With great effort, he squinted his eyes to thin slits, resolved to catch only a glimpse of what Kelric held in his hand and then dart away. But he could only blink once, then stare directly into the globe.

A single eye, now fully open, glowed back at him, its pupil golden yellow and dilated with power. Around the white perfectly spaced black lashes stood tensely erect, and tiny crackles of blue flame darted from one hair to the next. The eye floated free in the confines of the sphere, circled with but a hint of the palest flesh. In fascination, Alodar examined the orb which confronted him, feeling that he must let no part go unstudied or neglected. Even from the distance, he could somehow tell that the lashes curved inward in the same precise arcs; not a single vein marked the perfect whiteness in which the pupil swam.

With a last shudder, he stared straight at the pupil and felt a sudden dizziness as the world about him swept away. The sea, the hills, the men who stood with faces guarded, one by one they dimmed and were gone. Alodar lashed his mind out in blackness. He groped for the fabric of his existence but felt it dissolve. The other suitors, the craftmasters, Vendora, Aeriel?visions of them warped before him and slid away into the blackness. And Alodar, Alodar the suitor, the neophyte magician, the alchemist's apprentice, the journeyman thaumaturge, the one who quested for the fair lady?like the layers of an onion, his self-images were peeled off and crumbled away. Shell after shell faded into oblivion. As the innermost core was bared and dissolved with the rest, Alodar screamed in anguish and then was quiet.

Now there was only the eye and the eye was everything. The blackness was complete; he could not see. The silence was complete; he could not hear. He was composed of nothingness; he could not feel. But the eye was there. The eye would provide; the eye would guide him. What was proper for him to see, he would be shown. What was proper to hear, he would hear. What was proper for him to feel, he would feel.

Gradually and gently, he began to perceive. At first it was only a whisper and, because there was nothing else, he dwelt upon it; the murmur grew into a hiss of surf on sand. As it did, the darkness lifted; the sun shone behind him, lighting a gentle sea, broken only by a single mast standing above the tide. The sea ran upon a beach, a beach that stretched off in the distance to the south and butted against hard granite hills to the north.

He felt the wind course about him, heard the call of gulls above the beach. The scene before him shimmered for an instant. Then, where there had been no one, a tired old man was sitting in the sand. Without asking, Alodar knew the man was Kelric the sorcerer. He heard a cough behind. Without turning, he knew of the marines and the men of the court of Procolon.

He watched the sorcerer without feeling. And as he waited, he felt himself take form, felt the layers build upon the seed that sprang into being as he watched. He was Alodar, Alodar the journeyman thaumaturge, the alchemist's apprentice, and the neophyte magician. Feeling coursed through his limbs. He was Alodar the fighter and he felt a restlessness welling up in him, to take form and guide him to action. He felt a desire to strike, to bring forth blood, to hack until be could hack no more. And it felt right. He was Alodar and this was his purpose for being.

He rose to his feet, eyes still on the sorcerer who somehow held his attention. Behind the huddled form he saw a woman, looking away, walking slowly along the beach. She was beautiful, cheeks aglow, crimson hair flowing behind as the waves rolled up to touch her bare feet.

In a flash he was Alodar the suitor as well as the fighter. As he looked at the woman, something began to matter greatly. It bubbled up beside the desire to fight and it grew angular and sharp and sawed at his mind for attention. But the lust for blood flamed higher, and the edges of the other desire shrank beside it. The sharpness rounded and it subsided. She was only Aeriel, a lady of the court. He was Alodar the journeyman thaumaturge, the alchemist's apprentice, the neophyte magician?but most of all, Alodar the warrior.

The feeling exploded within him and he drew his sword with a mighty flourish and a piercing scream. Without waiting for the others, he turned and raced out of the camp, across the sand, and to the fight, to the blood that beckoned him from the hills to the north.

Like a machine of the thaumaturges, Alodar stomped forward with an even cadence up and over the low dunes, across the gullies that emptied to the sea, striding evenly, breathing evenly, not pausing to check his direction or how far he had gone.

He was aware of the others scurrying behind, trying to keep pace. Once, after an hour, two of the marines raced by carrying the sorcerer between them on a makeshift stretcher. The old man raised himself shakily on one arm as they came alongside and looked Alodar deeply in the eyes. Alodar paid him no heed. After a moment, Kelric signaled that all was well. His bearers dropped back to join the throng behind.

The sun sank towards the west, casting the men's shadows before them as they finally climbed through a cut in the hills. At the narrow pass, Alodar felt a sudden compulsion to pause. He waited for the rest to draw up beside him and look down to a cove beyond.

They saw a narrow finger of the sea crook inland in the midst of a scattering of small campfires. Around each, two or three men sprawled in relaxation, talking, picking fleas from each other, and gnawing on the remains of the evening meal. Nearest the inlet, one roared with laughter, holding high a silver cup and wiping the back of his hand on a woolly vest. On the peninsula of land between the bay and the sea, women and children clustered about low-slung tents and hobbled ponies.

"It is as the captive painted it," Grengor said. "If we hurry we can take them as they eat."

"Then let us group at the outcropping over there," another man replied. "With master Alodar rushing out, and a bit of luck, he will have the chieftan down just as we show ourselves and charge."

Alodar heard grunts of agreement, and the desire to rest quickly passed. The bloodthirst rose again, and he jerked at the hilt of his sword. He struck out in the lead down the hillside, scrambling over the rocks and just barely remaining behind cover. The urgency boiled higher, and his nostrils flared in anticipation. The rest followed behind as he descended the irregular trail.

Halfway down, his view suddenly blurred. As he lurched around a large boulder, he did not see the cove, but more of the hills leading to higher mountains in the distance. In the very center, a monolith of cold granite soared into the sky. Alodar stopped and blinked in confusion. He was Alodar the bloodspiller, with a purpose soon to be fulfilled. There was no room in his existence for anything but his mission.

But the spire compelled, and he felt himself drawn forward. He seemed to skim over the rough ground. Like a tiny leaf blown by the wind, he hurled to the tower. At its base, his compulsion grew, and he launched himself up the side. Hand over hand, as rapidly as he seemed able, he climbed into the sky, drawing nearer to whatever called him. In an instant he neared the peak and stopped to stare at what was before his eyes. The stone was smooth, with no more grips to pull him higher; but directly in front, protruding from the rock, was the tarnished surface of an ancient bracelet.

As Alodar reached forward to pull it from the wall, the vision wavered and blurred. He felt the presence of the eye expand in his mind, growing, consuming, absorbing into blackness the sights about him. The scene flashed away and he looked down into a cove populated by a small tribe of barbarians. He blinked again, but the image remained firm.

He resumed his hurried descent, untroubled by what he had seen and intent only on what he was meant to do. Down the hillside the party went, until at last they stood poised at the outcropping, barely fifty yards from the small camp at the water's edge. With perfect calmness, Alodar marched out from the hiding place and headed straight for the barbarians, his hand on the hilt of his sword and his gaze steady.

The men in the camp spotted him almost immediately. Alodar heard an order barked from the water's edge as two men rose to meet him. He closed half the distance and scanned those still seated, marking for sure the one who commanded them.

"Drop your arms," the two guardsmen growled in unison as he approached. Alodar took but two more steps and felt the last restraint hurl away. The lust for blood billowed up. With a frenzy, he drew his sword. Swinging it high overhead, he ran at the two with a chilling yell.

The man on the right cleared his blade of the scabbard but did not have time to use it. Alodar's sword swung down into his shoulder with a bone-breaking thud. As the man sank, clutching spasmodically with his free hand the wound, Alodar pulled his sword backwards and wrenched it free. The other nomad stood openmouthed, still not comprehending the folly of such a suicidal attack. Alodar thrust his dagger into the nomad's stomach with his left hand in a swiping zigzag that spilled the man to the ground.

The men behind all scrambled to their feet. The ones nearest instinctively drew their swords as Alodar thundered into their midst. They formed a shallow bowl around him, animal hide shields high and swords pointing out. Alodar looked beyond, down to the water's edge, where he saw the chieftain now on one knee, peering in puzzlement at the commotion.

Using sword and dagger together, Alodar lunged at the two immediately in front. As his blade skittered off their shields, he bolted around them. The man on his left slashed backwards, and Alodar felt the sharp edge of pain race through his left arm. He convulsively dropped his dagger and faltered for a step, his vision fogging from the blow. But the urge to run amok welled up even stronger and beat down the pain, hurling it away. With the arm dangling at his side spewing blood, he sprinted down the beach to his target.

The chieftain rose to his feet, barking new orders to the men scattered along the way. Behind Alodar, the original group pounded after, now out of sword reach but sealing off all retreat. Glancing quickly to the side, Alodar saw a bowman nock an arrow and began to track his progress across the sand. One arrow sailed by in front, and then a second fell inches behind.

He burst across the logs which defined the chieftain's campfire and closed upon the three men who still stood between him and his goal. With a savage yell, he hacked low underneath the falling shield on his right and hit just above the ankle, sweeping the man from his feet. The two on the left both slashed downward on his unprotected side but missed as Alodar dipped and scrambled forward.

The man nearest swung again, this time in a low horizontal arc. The point reached Alodar's calf, and his leg buckled. The leader and the two aides closed about him, each eager to deliver a mortal blow.

The pain coursed up through his leg and spine as Alodar struggled to stand and get past the chieftain's guard. Three blades were raised against him, but he concentrated only on one, trying to find an opening before they fell.

Suddenly beyond the periphery of the camp, a mighty yell arose and the marines and the rest of the royal party charged into view. The three swordsmen hesitated and turned to see the cause for the commotion. Alodar saw his chance. He swung his sword up into the air, reversing his grip, and plunged it daggerstyle at the face of the leader. The point caught the barbarian in the left eye and snapped his head backwards with the fury of the blow.

The other two nomads spun back to see their leader fall and then dropped their jaws as they saw Alodar standing with both arms at his side, staring vacantly. One took a step forward, sword still high, but then hesitated to look back at the wall of men racing his way.

Alodar felt the fury slowly subside and the pain from leg and arm return. As the delayed blow slashed down, his leg again buckled. The sword caught him in the flesh of the shoulder and deflected off and down into the sand. Without caring, he saw the nomads waver and then throw down their swords.

The world without fell away and the crescendo of the pain rose higher. In desperation Alodar sought out the eye, the eye which had comforted him, which had provided for him, which gave him his reason for being and protected him from pain.

But the presence was not there and the pain grew stronger, throbbing through limb and torso and beating on the fiber of his brain with ever-increasing strokes of lightning. Alodar groped for a touchstone, some reference point in the void to guide him to the eye, but none was there. Then, as he was on the edge of consciousness, a vision came of a granite crag, a bracelet embedded in its peak, and the sleeping form of a great wizard. As the pain finally overwhelmed him, Alodar clawed the air, reaching out to grasp at the strange force which beckoned him over the hills.