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

CHAPTER TWENTY

The Second Quest ALODAR nudged his mount forward in a slow walk down the dusty street. Aeriel and Handar followed on either side. Grak reined a huge gelding with his right hand and guided Vendora's pony with his left. Grengor and the other suitors brought up the rear.

"I hope that Bardina is large enough to house a decent bath or two," Aeriel said. "The fair lady is not the only one who has become rather testy from such a long journey."

Grengor rubbed at the dirt caked to his stubble of beard. "Yes, to that I fully agree. The barbarian horde may prefer to camp outside the wall, but my back has had enough of sleeping on the hard ground."

"We can stay but a short while," Grak said, looking uncomfortably at the building fronts which pressed in from either side. "The farmlands around will not long provide meat for nearly two thousand mouths, and my people have little taste for your grains."

Vendora ran a hand down the length of her gown. "There is time enough for a change of clothes and to have my tresses properly done," she decided. "After all, if a proud chieftain finally agrees to soap himself, it is a fair return."

"And now that we are back across the border into your realm," Basil said, "we will learn as well how fare our forces to the south."

"More important than that," Handar added, "we will see firsthand how low the barrier between the worlds has become. Even if we are far from the battles where possession is forced, there will be changes that we cannot help but notice. It is like a rock dropped onto a tightly stretched blanket. The maximum depression is where it falls, but the effect is felt even at the edges."

Alodar did not join in the conversation. In silence, he mulled over the events of the past weeks. The recruiting had gone according to his expectations. With a cloud of speedy imps, they had found all the tribes within a reasonable distance of their southward trek. Between Basil's gems, Feston's promise of steel weapons from the slain, Grak's endorsements, and his own healing salves, all had been won to the cause. Along with the tale of the enchanted warrior, the nomads now whispered of his great wizardry, of how imps had blown the mosquitoes and gnats away, fused broken stoneware together, and pressed streambed mud into hard slate.

Alodar watched the activity of the street as they moved along, and the contrast with his mental image jogged him out of his reverie. The low buildings on either side crowded close, leaving passage barely a coach wide. Though it was midday, few of the townspeople journeyed outdoors and those marked their passage with sullen jowls and squinting eyes.

Vendora's troops reined up in the town square, scarcely wider than the road on which they had come. It was deserted. Alodar cupped his hands to his mouth to shout out their arrival. "Attend onto the fair lady. The queen of Procolon honors Bardina. Attend her and receive her regal presence."

His words echoed off the walls. For a long moment, no one stirred. Then gradually, in twos and threes, the townspeople began to appear in the doorways of the buildings and narrow alleys between. They shuffled into the square in silence, forming a thin line that surrounded the royal party. Alodar looked rapidly about at the faces which confronted him. In some were apprehension and even a hint of fear, in others hate glowered out of piercing eyes. In none was the excitement that should accompany a visit of the queen.

The square filled, pressing in on them. "The fair lady," someone cried out. "She has come to deliver us at last."

"It cannot be she," another yelled. "This handful of men matters for little. It is more like another witch sent to torment us further."

"My fair lady, set free my daughter. Possessed she is not." An old woman in coarse tatters pressed against Duncan with arms outstretched to the queen. The magician pushed her back and the crowd responded with a buzz of anger.

"They are demons. Deal with them now before they can infest our townfolk further." More shouts hurled upward and the agitation grew. Three figures in an alleyway struggled with a fourth. With a final shove, they pushed him to fall through the crowd to the horses' feet.

"Another of your kind," a gruff voice called out as the group joined the rear of the throng. "Take him when you depart. Bardina is his home no more."

The man staggered to his feet and absently ran one hand down the side of a tattered cloak, caked with mud and decay. He squinted through swollen eyes past a tangle of long black hair that streaked across a nearly bald crown. Bits of moldy food clotted a mangy beard. Slack jowls hung from what once must have been a full and fleshy face.

Vendora leaned forward in her saddle, instinctively smoothing her own hair into place. "And what manner of visitation is this?" she asked in annoyance. "An official delegation to apologize for the treatment thus far accorded my presence? Speak ruffian, what message have you for us?"

The man did not heed the queen but stood with hands stiffly at his sides and eyes staring straight ahead. "Sandacar," he mumbled at last. "Sandacar, my master Sandacar, will provide for me."

"Periac!" Alodar exclaimed in sudden recognition. Handar dismounted, walked forward, and gently placed his palm under Periac's chin, looking him deeply in the eyes. "His will, his being, his essence, they are gone," he said. "This empty hulk is animate only when his demon master abides among us."

Vendora watched as Periac spasmodically thrust a hand to his face and pulled free a tangle of mud and hair. The queen shuddered and turned in her saddle. "Tell them to take him away. Such display is most unfit for my presence."'

The rumbling increased. Feston stood in his stirrups, arms outstretched and motioned for silence. "You speak most rashly," he shouted. "Know that it is the fair lady, indeed. Only her forgiving spirit stands between you and the swift vengeance of our swords. Do her the proper honor or suffer the just consequences."

More shouts of anger hurled from the crowd. In a confusion of arms, they jostled one another for room in the crowded square. One man stumbled and fell. The others quickly trampled over him, raising clenched fists.

"Honor to the fair lady," Feston blasted again as he tried to keep his balance while his mount banged against its skitterish comrades. Before he could say more, a rock whizzed overhead and the tumult increased.

Alodar looked again at the swaying thaumaturge. He scanned the crowd that was slowly creeping closer to Aeriel and the queen. He grimaced and made his decision.

"Enough of this mob, Grengor. We will have to attend to Periac later. Let us move to safer ground," he commanded as he started his horse forward.

Suddenly the townsmen exploded in hatred. Two more rocks hurled by and then a third crashed painfully into Alodar's shoulder. With a piercing shout, the mob converged, pushing the ones in front under the horses' hooves and scrambling upon their backs to pull the riders down.

Arms from all sides reached up to grab at Alodar's reins. He heard Vendora scream behind him and turned to see Basil's horse rear and toss him to the ground. Grak pulled his sword and slashed at two who leaped upwards. Duncan jostled about on his saddle as he tried to activate his sphere. Grengor and Feston kneed their mounts forward into the crowd, making room to draw and defend themselves.

Alodar turned his horse to the side, out of the clutches of the men on the left; immediately three from the right surged forward to attack with bare hands. The tallest sprang upwards and grabbed Alodar about the waist. As he grappled to disengage, he felt his leg pulled free from the stirrup and painfully wrenched by another. With a crash, he fell to the street, barely ducking his head to avoid the nervous stomp of Aeriel's riderless horse.

Two of Alodar's assailants fell on top, pinning him to the pavement. A third raked his nails across Alodar's cheek. Alodar arched his back, freeing his left arm, and drove an elbow sharply into the groin of the one astride his chest. The man rolled off and Alodar brought his knees suddenly upward, lifting the second from the ground. As the townsman fought for balance on one leg, Alodar kicked savagely and propelled him into the forest of horse legs tromping whatever was underfoot,

Alodar rolled aside, missing a kick by the third attacker. Grabbing at an empty stirrup, he pulled himself to his feet. He glanced about quickly, just barely able to see over the rise and fall of the horses' backs as they reared. Everyone was down in the confusion of the square.

"Handar," he called, "assist the fair lady." He danced aside from his antagonists as they stumbled forward, pushed from behind by others trying to join the fray. He ducked beneath a horse's neck and stepped over a body which lay sprawled in his way.

Alodar shouldered past a knot of intertwined men, each trying to bring the others to the ground. He elbowed a man with an upraised rock on the left and drove a hard blow into the face of another. He vaulted up onto a horse's back and then down on the other side, stumbling over a black-robed figure as he landed.

"Handar!" he shouted as he struggled to turn the wizard over. "We need a devil to aid our cause. Suggest one I should seek."

The wizard's eyes rolled in his head but then locked on Alodar's face. "No, you must not," he said thickly. "You must deal with the townsmen instead. In my sleeve?the small candles. Toss them skyward one at a time but do not look as you do so."

Alodar puzzled at the commands but did as he was instructed. He groped in Handar's clothing and retrieved a flint and three small tapers, dimly glistening in the sunlight and strangely heavy to the touch. The first instantly ignited from a small spark. Alodar hurled it high in the air.

He ducked his head and shut his eyes. Suddenly, even through closed lids, everything flashed painfully white. The random hubbub of the mob ceased, replaced by shrieks of surprise. Alodar felt the crowd give way around him. He lofted the second candle, this time burying his head in his arms. A yell more piercing than the first accompanied the flash, and Alodar could hear footfalls stumbling away from the periphery of the square. He threw the third candle. The retreat turned into a stampede. More rapidly than they had rushed forward, the townsmen trampled one another as they sped away, yelling about demons who tormented them still.

"It is what we call sunfire," Handar yelled over the screams of the departing mob. "We use it to summon certain fire sprites when simpler flames will not do. Your sight will return in a moment. Rest patiently and all will be well."

Alodar stood up slowly and soothed one of the horses. He saw Aeriel staggering to her feet. She bore a few scratches and some torn clothing but was apparently unhurt. Vendora and the rest were either sitting or struggling upwards. Except for the party of the queen, the square was deserted. Even Periac was not to be seen.

"The townsmen were quite startled by the fireworks," Handar said. "It probably will be some while before they gather sufficient courage to try us again."

"But what caused them to act so?" Duncan asked. "It is no less than treason against the queen."

"And Periac, a master thaumaturge," Alodar wondered. "He would know better than to traffic with such great risks."

"No less is to be expected when demons freely walk the land," Handar said. "When only will-o'-the-wisps could come of their own volition and wizards sought the rest, there was some measure of control. But with a sprite in every bush, the perils and temptations are too great. Either the common craftsman is possessed by his encounter or, if he achieves domination, he cannot resist using the power for his own petty ends. And if the concentration of demons is as strong as I now fear, then we have little enough time to prevent the complete disaster." He stopped and looked into one of the alleyways. "With what Grengor has caught, we will get the confirmation."

Alodar turned in the direction Handar indicated and saw the marine dragging a screaming youth by the scruff of his neck back to the feet of the wizard.

"I never doubted the identity of the fair lady," the boy sobbed. "I never doubted it. Let me go to join my brothers. Let me go. I hurl no rocks into your midst."

"Control yourself so that you speak properly to a wizard," Handar ordered. "We seek information about what has transpired in Bardina and the rest of Procolon."

As Grengor released his grip, the youth nodded and shifted to one knee to bow to the queen. "My fair lady," he stammered. Aeriel nodded encouragement and the boy started again with a rush.

"It was barely a month ago that all this began. Kellic's daughter had a spat with another lass down the road and woke the next morning with her comely face covered with pox blisters that would not heal. The cows in the herds nearest the east went dry and the hens would lay no longer. The peddlers who trudged from Bardina to Graymill and back would disappear for weeks. When they returned, they had eyes of madmen and tongues that none could understand. And then in this very square, one of the merchant wives ripped the shawl from another to expose a little imp riding near the base of the neck and working his mischief on whomever he passed.

" 'You witch!' the first exclaimed. 'So this is how my Hentor's eye is made to wander. Well it is only just that you are dealt with in kind.' And the next morning the second was struck dumb within the confines of her own well-guarded house. It did not take long for the curse to be full upon us after that. The smallest slight was dealt with in most cruel fashion; revenge answered revenge as more and more trafficked with demonkind.

"And those who did not lash out, those in fear of what was happening around them, they became unreasoning avengers seeing evil wherever they looked. On the slightest pretext, many were trapped and slain, some protesting their innocence to the end. All commerce stopped and we became no more than roving bands, suspicious of one another and always tempted to use demonpower to protect us from each other. And we have no news from the south. No one ventures anymore from Bardina and no one dares step foot within the city walls.

"My mother, even she…" The boy shuddered and then shut his eyes. His voice trailed off and he said no more.

"It will be the same in every town and hamlet of the kingdom," Handar told the queen. "Part of the citizenry possessed, part temporarily dominating sprites until their wills falter as well, and the rest guided only by suspicion and terror. As more and more are coerced in the battles with Bandor, far wider does the influence of demonkind spread throughout the land."

The wizard shook his head. "It is even worse than I feared, although our first efforts must be the same. First to the south to defeat the forces of the petty kingdoms and exorcise those demons that we can. And then to the west to add to the forces trying to route Bandor from his strongholds. But from what I have seen and can infer, even ten times our number may not be enough."

Alodar released the cinch and removed the saddle from the horse's back. He looked into Aeriel's eyes and read the same weary resignation. For the last two days the meaning of Bardina had slowly sunk in and weighed them down.

At the very least, they had all looked forward to a rest from the trail, a return to familiar and comfortable surroundings, decent food after a month of rabbit meat.

But Handar had said that all of the towns would be the same. Wherever there was a concentration of mankind, the demons would also be. The queen's party had to continue as before, foraging from the countryside, taking all livestock from each farm they chanced upon, trying to ignore the sullen faces, driving like exiles rather than the royal party of a queen in her own realm.

And behind the loss of comforts, the depressing isolation, the hostility of the plundered subjects, the bickering of the free-spirited nomads, was the true meaning of what they had seen. A quarter of the population was demon-possessed; the rest had turned into snarling mobs. Periac, a master thaumaturge, rotted away in some hidden hole, undiscovered despite Alodar's careful search. And with each day, more demons poured across the bridge between the two worlds.

A sudden commotion behind Alodar spun him around and he looked up the slope. They were encamping on a gentle rise, with the nomads scattered into rough groups of fifty. The ridgeline to the south cut off their view. Now over the crest appeared two of the marines, whipping their flagging ponies.

They raced across the inclines, splattering foam from their mounts. With a swirl of dust, they savagely reined to halt in the middle of the camp and called for the queen.

Alodar crowded around with the rest and heard the gasping report, "Banners of Procolon, no more than an hour's march away. But hotly pursued by a far larger force. They are in retreat and sundown will find them in our midst."

Alodar ran to the ridge and looked across the broad valley on the other side. The land dipped to the bed of a small, meandering stream and then rose to a crestline slightly higher than the one on which he stood. Long-stemmed grass rippled in a gentle breeze. Here and there domes of bare rock poked through the cover. An occasional glint of sunlight reflected off the stream as it sluggishly trickled to the east.

The opposing ridgeline was silent and bare. Except for the stubble of grass nothing moved. Alodar sank to the ground as Vendora and her followers arrived and clustered about. Her crude banner was thrust into the soft earth and fluttered in the quickening afternoon breeze.

Eventually a small cluster on horseback came into sight, followed by precisely formed, squares of men on foot. As they splashed across the stream, additional groups appeared, more ragged than the first?partially filled squares, wavering oblongs and chaotic clusters that seemed to stagger and lurch rather than hold to a definite direction. Finally in the rear, craftsmen whipped horses pulling overloaded wagons, and men with backs piled high with family possessions tugged at the gowns of women staggering under the load of small children. Isolated individuals zigzagged back and forth in a daze. In a ragged wave they tumbled down the slope, straining to keep up with the warriors in front.

As the last stragglers forded the stream, the horsemen trotted up to where Alodar stood. With an arm dangling at his side, the leader slowly dismounted and threw back his casque. The face was gaunt and deeply lined, and the eyes glistened with pain, but Alodar recognized the bristly moustache and bulky frame.

"Cedric!" he cried, "Cedric, what luck to see you here and in service to the fair lady!"

The warmaster nodded back to Alodar and stiffly approached the queen. He grabbed the offered banner from the man behind and placed it at her feet.

"The volunteers of Ambrosia," he announced. "And a few units of the army of the west as well."

Alodar looked at the men who formed a line a respectable pace behind. His eyes widened as he saw white-haired men and spindly youths far younger than he was. Another two thousand?but they looked ready to drop.

"Your fame is still remembered, warmaster," Vendora said. "And no doubt it aided you well in recruiting a militia to my cause." She paused and looked at the haggard faces staring back. "But why a forced march northwards? You could have aided in the siege or waited in Ambrosia until we arrived for our offensive to the south."

"There is no longer a siege to conduct in the west," Cedric answered. "Bandor burst through the lines which tried to hold him."

"Impossible!" Feston shouted above the sudden chorus of voices. "Bandor and his allies were in a vice-like grip. He was to be crushed for his impudent rebellion?not our efforts against him abandoned."

"Abandoned they were not," Cedric replied. "But with each day, Bandor grew stronger, sending forth more sallies, wrecking the engines of war, capturing more of the disheartened besiegers. Whole companies of men, nobles and warriors alike, changed their allegiances, joining the force which seemed to burst out of the west with demonic power. The three squares which marched with me are all that are left. Even those I had to persuade back into formation as they fled in panic before the very gates of Ambrosia."

"And the kingdoms to the south?" Basil asked. "How deeply have they penetrated into our heartland? How many leagues between them and the royal palace?"

"The armies have linked," Cedric answered. "Bandor and the others pursue us together."

"But if you are so far north," Duncan asked, "what of the defense of Ambrosia?"

"There is no Ambrosia to defend," Cedric said wearily. "Procolon has fallen, my fair lady. Your forces and mine are all that remain." He stopped and looked at the setting sun. "They are at our heels and we no longer have the strength to run. Tomorrow there will be a final battle and it will be here."

With a wave of his good arm, Cedric pointed back across the valley. As if on a paymaster's cue, a line of men appeared on the other crest, their energetic step in ominous unison. The vanguard halted on the ridgeline and spread out into the distance on either side. As Alodar and the others watched, more and more climbed to join them, filling in the gaps and piling up behind. In the quickening darkness, they merged into a solid wall, shoulder to shoulder and many rows deep.

In the very center of the line, huge stones were dropped from a wagon and shaped into a ring. A small fire sprang to life, and a dim, blue-green flame twinkled in the twilight. Drums began to sound, leading an unearthly chant. The warriors jabbed their swords into the sky. Mindlessly they gestured and roared, flaunting their freshness at the end of the day.

Alodar looked up and down the line as it stretched before him, uniformly thick and extending farther than he cared to imagine. He looked back over the royal forces and tried to visualize them strung out thinly to meet the next day's charge.

He and the others were silent with shock as they watched the scene fade into the night. The line of men dissolved into the darkness, but dancing lights marked where they stood. An occasional beat of luminescent wings fluttered in their midst, and soft but spine-tingling laughter wafted across the valley.

Alodar recalled his longing for battle before entering Bardina and felt it dash to splinters against the hard strength of what he had seen. He followed the flittering of imp glow and smiled ruefully at his hopes, of tipping the balance with the control of a single demon.

He shuddered as the final reality hit him. Tomorrow, outnumbered, by how many he could not tell, they must defeat those demon-driven, screaming hordes, or it would all be over. There would be no fair lady, no Procolon, no Ambrosia. All would be swept away and replace by horrors that even Handar had difficulty describing.

Vendora stood speechless, her face a tight mask and her fists clenched at her sides. Grak placed a hand on her shoulder. "So this is the battle for which we will receive our great rewards," he growled. "It is more likely that our women will see few of us again."

Vendora blinked and her eyes widened as she looked up at the nomad.

"No, I will not abandon you," Grak promised. "It is not for the pretty rocks or shields of shiny steel that I have pledged my sword to your aid. We will see tomorrow through, no matter what the consequences."

"And after a meal for my weary men, we will plan," Cedric said. "They will attack at dawn and we must be deployed as best we can."

Handar looked at Alodar in the darkness, his eyes glowing. He sighed. "I wish that there had been more time. We might have had a better chance."

Alodar raised his eyebrows as Aeriel approached and she laughed self-consciously. "Vendora has decreed that our council tonight be held as a proper court," she said "So after a hurried meal I did what I could to clean my tunic and wash my hair." She whirled for his inspection and patted a hand to her hip. "Yes, even the magic dagger. Somehow Basil managed to carry two with him throughout the entire trek. He presented one to the queen, and she insisted that I display mine."

Alodar nodded and accompanied her to the fire pit where the advisors were assembling. The moon was nearly gone, and the yellow flames silhouetted the closest figures in harsh shadows. He looked around the group and saw Cedric resting comfortably, the lines of pain in his face softened into creases of fatigue. The vat of sweetbalm Alodar had brewed with ingredients scavenged from the refugees was not the best; but there was enough so that each of the warmaster's men received some share. He saw Cedric nod his head slowly as he listened to Grak explaining the numbers and weapons of his men. While he talked the nomad pulled uncomfortably at a silken shirt embroidered with metallic threads that sparkled in the firelight. Clearly more than willowbark had been requisitioned from the fleeing subjects of the queen.

"The fair lady," Grengor announced, rising to his feet and pointing to the periphery of illumination. Out of the shadows Vendora slowly approached, walking in synchronization to a silent promenade. She wore a gown of gold, and her hair was pushed high, held in place by jeweled combs. She smiled as she slowly sat in a chair roughly constructed from a wagon's planking. She motioned the assemblage to rest as well.

"The hours till dawn are few enough," Feston muttered. "I hope, my fair lady, that you do not intend to start with the ritual proclamations."

"I am still the queen of Procolon, if only for one more night," Vendora said. "All shall be conducted with the proper decorum."

Feston frowned but said no more. For a moment a heavy silence hung on them all. "There is very little to discuss," Cedric said at last. "We are too few to have many options. My men with mail will take the center and Grak and his nomads will form on either side. The horses we have must guard both flanks and try to prevent an envelopment."

"And while you hold them at bay, there may be time to slip away," Basil suggested. "We should be able to bribe enough silence for a safe hiding place."

"With my sphere, the number accompanying need not be large," Duncan added. "Consider carefully, my fair lady, the choices you have left."

"We are pledged to fight for this woman, one and all," Grak growled. "To slink away is to cast aside one's honor."

"Do not be swayed, my fair lady, by the folly of the sagas," Basil said. "The fate of most of those assembled here may be determined, it is true. But for one with personal resources, the result need not be so clear."

"The sphere wards off demons as well as mortal blows," Duncan reminded the queen.

"Duncan, you are not the only suitor to whom I can turn for aid," Vendora said. "In fact I have decided today to increase my options further." She stopped and swept her arm across the circle. "Stand up, Grak, and receive the congratulations of your peers."

The nomad rose stiffly and placed his hands behind his hack, glowering at the looks cast his way.

"For what deed this time?" Aeriel asked. "Are not four suitors enough to play one against the other?"

"I could justify it as a reward for assembling my barbarian army," Vendora replied.

"But that is favoritism even more blatant than at Iron Fist," Aeriel said. "It is not because of his aid alone that we have gathered as many as we have."

"I could say for assembling my army," Vendora repeated, "but I will not. It is because I want it so, and that is reason enough."

A rash of whispers shot around the circle but Vendora ignored them and continued. "You cannot fault the role of queen that I have played. My father taught me in fine detail how to balance the competing factions and to win independent power to my cause. But I am a woman as well as a queen. Not all of my choices will be made because they suit the purposes of the state."

"But your beauty is renowned throughout the kingdom, my fair lady," Duncan protested. "We suitors pursue you as well as the dignity of the crown."

"Oh I know you would eye me even if I were a wench in a tavern." Vendora smiled. "But without the glitter of the throne, how many gems or magic spheres would you offer my way? Grak pledged to Vendora the woman, and for that he would have the same reward if he alone came to my banner. After tomorrow it may no longer matter; you will not suffer for the one night he is your equal."

"Our fate cannot be as certain as all that," Aeriel cried. "Surely fight or flight are not all that we can consider. Handar, I do not believe you slept only to warn us of what we would finally discover of our own accord. What else can we do besides stand firm and wave our swords until we are swept away?"

"Yes, there is another hope," Handar said as he rose slowly and stepped to the center of the circle near the fire. "Another chance, less direct but one that we must take as well."

He looked around the group and saw everyone waiting for him to continue. "Years ago when it was decided that one day what we see about us indeed could come to pass, the great wizards planned what must be our defense. Our hope would not lie in struggling with the mischievous imps, the devils of power, or even the great demons. No, we must strike instead at the capstone. We must subjugate the very prince who plots against us and bend him to our will to trouble us no more. Only with one such as he working for our good fortune rather than against it could we ensure that our peril was gone. Directed by his human master to turn his attention elsewhere, he would bring his minions home and look to other worlds to satisfy his lust for conquest. And even though the barriers subsequently might fall again, he would be bound to prevent any free transfer."

"But a demon prince, one more powerful than Balthazar," Alodar protested. "Has any wizard ever tried to undertake such a task?"

"No, such a conjuring has never been attempted," Handar replied. "And for two compelling reasons. The first is the flame; the prince can be summoned only by the burning of a metal extracted and purified from many substances which are nearly its twin. From no common earth does it come. And as far as I know, only one quantity of sufficient size has been refined by the most painstaking alchemist's art."

"Then where is it now?" Alodar asked. "Back in your spire?"

"No." Handar smiled. "Much nearer than that. Here, Alodar, let me see the sorcerer's eye."

Alodar reached into his pouch and handed the wizard the nearly forgotten orb. His eyes widened with surprise as Handar suddenly snatched it away and hurled it to the ground. The sphere hit a rock with a crash and shattered into a myriad of tiny jagged pieces. The eye was gone and Handar stooped and picked up a single crystal of shining metal hidden in its interior.

For a moment Alodar was silent, studying first the remains of the sphere he had struggled so hard to obtain and then the gleaming beauty Handar held between thumb and forefinger. "But if you knew that it was there all along, why wait until now to bring it forth? When I awakened you at the tower, why did you not summon the demon prince at once and be done with it?"

"As I have said," Handar continued, "No such conjuring has ever been attempted. I am among the best of my craft, but Balthazar is the limit of what I can hope to master. For one such as the demon prince, no mortal wizard would have the strength to impress his domination upon him."

"Then what is this hope of which you speak?" Grengor asked. "If none can subdue this mighty demon, then we are left with nothing but to struggle with blade and shield."

"No wizard, I said," Handar replied. "One armed only with the powers of my craft, no matter how skillful, would have no chance to succeed. Therefore we consulted with masters of the other arts, an event most unheard of. But thaumaturge, alchemist, magician, sorcerer?they all agreed that none of their arts singly applied could fare any better than mine. The one to confront the demon prince would need proficiencies far greater, far more encompassing than any of those in a single craft. He would need to be an archimage, the master of all the arts."

"But even if such a wonder existed," Grengor persisted, "would even he be enough?"

"I do not know," Handar said. "But by logic, there is nothing more potent that a mortal could try. We know that knowledge of one of the arts is insufficient. But yet this one spark of hope is there. Even though each art would fail by itself, perhaps, if used together by someone versed in them all, the effect of the whole might be greater than the sum of the parts."

Handar stuffed the crystal into a pocket and then touched his fingertips together and rested his thumbs on his chest. "And so we, the great wizards, made our plan on this premise. We began by building Iron Fist, the fortress of the far west. Great effort was spent in raising its long, smooth walls. Much thought was given to the design of its passageways and mighty keep. Many demons were pressed into the labor of its construction. When the trigger was complete, we set them upon themselves until they all were destroyed."

"The trigger?" Feston interrupted. "I was at the fall of Iron Fist but saw nothing of what you speak."

"The trigger was the castle itself," Handar said. "After we had finished the other tasks of our plan we went to sleep in the tower to the north. And so long as the interaction with demonkind was random, we would slumber on. Awakening?my awakening?was not to come until precipitated by the desires of the demon prince for our world. When the prince finally directed his attention to us, his first act would be to attack our tower. He could not penetrate our protective shield so he acted instead to ensure that no mortal would awaken us either.

"And after the passage of time had sealed us away from other men with taboo and superstition, his interest then naturally focused on the structure for which we had lavished so much care, the mighty fortress built by the wizards he was unable to reach. He could not but think that some great secret of our craft lay somewhere hidden within its protective walls. And so, after isolating us in the north, he directed the sack of Iron Fist to learn what we must have hidden there. That attack started the sequence of events that resulted in my awakening and the culmination of our defense as well."

"None could fathom why Bandor chose to raze the castle rather than fortify it for his own." Feston nodded his head. "But you speak of a man of great skill to lead the defense. Ask and you will hear of my prowess in that fall, how I saved the queen from a dire fate and became suitor for her hand."

"Ah, skill in arms. Most commendable," Handar said. "But was it by that skill that you made your escape with the treasures that were hidden there?"

"Why no, it was not so," Aeriel interjected before Feston could speak again. "It was Alodar who solved the riddle of the column and the well. It was he who found the passage that let us reach the cool air of the hills "beyond."

"Most clever for you to solve the riddle, Alodar." Handar smiled. "But then, cunning is the mark of the master thaumaturge."

He patted his fingertips together and then put his hands behind his back. Like a lecturer before a group of apprentices, he slowly circled the fire with his chin bent down to his chest. "But there was more buried in Iron Fist than just a means of escape. As we returned from my tower, Alodar told me that he carried away a scrap of paper with a single formula, most arcane. A formula that was used to probe the secrets of the Fumus Mountains."

"And not by the novice alone," Basil interrupted. "My minion Rendrac pitted his great bulk against the heat of those furnaces. He brought forth a treasure the likes of which man has not hitherto seen. It was pledged to the queen to provide the means by which she might finance her struggles." He drew his dagger and waved it about. "And for my great generosity I am her suitor as much as any nobleborn."

"I have heard of Rendrac's fate," Handar continued. "With ointment applied thickly, he braved the mountains, only to die a suffocating death in the end. And with no ointment, the treasure could not be reached. Only by pushing onward against great pain could one hope to return with both orbs of magic and his life. But then, perseverance is the touchstone of the master alchemist."

"It may have been wizardry which placed the spheres in the mountains," Duncan said. "But it was my magic which completed the sphere of protection, proof against man and demon alike. What greater gift could one give a queen in exchange for marriage vows."

"Yes, magic and wizardry mixed," Handar admitted. "A source of heat, lasting forever, to keep the lava bubbling in its basin of solid rock. And the two incomplete spheres placed by a fire demon in the bowels of the mountain. Two spheres, not one, and subtly different. When completed by tradition the results are the same. With a different ritual performed with precision, however, one becomes instead a sorcerer's eye." Handar shrugged. "But then, precision is the essence of the master magician. It was the eye that led Alodar to me and completed the chain for which Iron Fist was the trigger."

"Kelric showed great bravery in unlocking its power," Grengor said. "Even though he died with the badge of a suitor, he knew that he willed his own death by attempting to use it."

"Great courage indeed." Handar nodded. "But which was greater? Who among you submitted to look into the eye when it opened? It is one thing to resign yourself to death but quite another to accept an uncertain fate which may be even worse. But then, bravery is the heart of the master sorcerer. And through it all, who ran the entire gauntlet of tests, refusing to succumb to the events which threatened to dominate him?"

Handar stopped and turned to face Alodar. "But then, strength of will is the quintessence of the master wizard. Yes, our plan encompassed more than the mechanism for our awakening. They included as well the means by which we would find and test the one who possessed the inherent capabilities to master all the arts. The lid of my coffin was not pushed aside by a random messenger. It was done by the one whom we sought."

Alodar blinked. For a moment, he was speechless. "I have faced these trials as you say," he said at last. "But I do not know of what you speak. I sought only the hand of the queen."

"Yes, my lad," Handar replied. "Most certainly you moved forward from endeavor to endeavor with some other goal in mind. But the first quest is but the shadow of the second. It is for more than a single kingdom that you are here. All else is the pettiness of dull history and not the fabric of the sages."

"But I could have faltered along the way," Alodar protested. "Had I not acted correctly at each step, what then of your plan to save us?"

"To defeat the demon prince, the need is for the archimage," Handar said. "No less will do. Not one who claims to know all the crafts, not one who is willing to learn them. But one who possesses the attributes that make a great master of them all. We had to take the risk that someone capable of being the complete master would be present at Iron Fist when it fell."

"But in no craft am I master, let alone five," Alodar protested. "I studied thaumaturgy for a few years, alchemy for half of one more. With each art my knowledge and experience is less than the one before. I have controlled a few simple imps and exorcised one or two more. Yet I would fear Balthazar or the tower demons, let alone their master."

"It is not their power on which you should dwell," Handar said. "That is as they would wish. It is their will that must be your focus, independent of how they manipulate the natural elements at their disposal. Such is the way with Balthazar and with the prince as well."

The wizard paused and then continued slowly. "I understand some of what you feel, but events have proceeded all too quickly. I could wish to see you develop more fully in my craft, to build the confidence needed before you were distracted by the task for which you were groomed. But tomorrow precludes such an option. And master in the arts or not, we have no other candidate. You are the best that mortal men at this junction can offer."

Alodar looked around the circle, his mouth suddenly dry. He saw all eyes staring his way awaiting his decision. He felt a touch on his arm and turned his head to see Aeriel at his side. Numb with the weight of what was asked of him, he looked at Vendora and thought of how hard he had struggled for the prize of possessing her. He ran his tongue across his lips and visualized his dream of the triumphant march of the hero. He brushed his hand by his side and then suddenly looked across at Cedric.

The warmaster returned his stare, cool and steady, "I said to wear the sword so that it did honor to us both," Cedric said. "I have no cause to wish it back."

Alodar glanced at Aeriel standing quietly beside him, only dimly aware of the pain her grip sent through his arm. He looked back at the wizard and read the truth of all that Handar had said.

"Is it so certain that I alone have walked this path for you?" Alodar asked.

Handar nodded silently.

Alodar filled his lungs with a rush of air. "It is not for this that I have quested," he said. "But I have offered my life once already and that was merely for a queen. How can I sacrifice less for what you ask?"

"It is as I knew you would say." Handar tossed Alodar the crystal of metal.

"But when and how should I use it?" Alodar asked. "Now, just before the attack, during the battle, or only if all seems irretrievably lost?"

Handar slowly shook his head. "That is for the archimage to decide," he said softly.