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

CHAPTER FOUR

The Hero's Reward

THE passageway blurred by and Alodar glanced back over his shoulder. Bandor's men were already in the tunnel after him. He increased his speed; the drawn swords shining in the torchlight gave his legs urgency even beyond what he had felt two days before when the outer walls had fallen. He squeezed Aeriel's hand tighter, and they rapidly closed on Vendora and the others up ahead.

They caught the queen just as they entered the small room under the corner tower. The panicked flight momentarily stopped in a mass confusion of waving arms and shouted directions.

"Up, up to the surface. It is our only chance," yelled Festil as he tumbled Periac down from the stairs and started to climb.

"No, no father," Feston boomed louder still. "See the stonework. We must go down." As he spoke, he yanked Vendora out of the way of dripping liquid that began to ooze from the ceiling and pushed her through the opening in the floor.

Everyone clambered after. As Alodar brought up at the rear, he saw the small group disappear into the passageway that led back under the keep.

"We will make our stand around the pillar," Festil shouted back to the three soldiers who now ran with him. They drew their swords as they raced, and Aeriel instinctively started to follow.

Alodar grabbed her by the arm and held her back. "Our only chance lies below," he said. "Let us hope that Feston and the others can hold them off until the spell is finished."

He plunged down to the bottom level, pulling Aeriel with him. The staircase seemed to spiral for an eternity and his heartbeat almost drowned out the clank of mail and shouts of the chase that now filtered down after them.

Finally at the bottom, he raced for the central chamber, scarcely noticing the diminishing noise as the hunters chose to pursue the quarry one level above. In a moment they reached their destination and saw the serene pool at the center. Alodar looked rapidly about. They were alone.

"Quickly, Aeriel," he said, "your ring. No, no the unadorned one. Gold is not the best choice and we must at least make the shape as similar as we can."

Aeriel slipped one of the rings from her finger and, with a puzzled expression, handed it to Alodar. Without pausing for explanation, he fumbled in a pouch at his waist and withdrew a small collection of coins.

"At least the copper will be right," he said as he quickly tried matching the coins one by one to the shape of the ring. "Ah, this one jams in properly. Now fill the cup with the water from the well."

Aeriel took the cup he whisked from his cape and dipped it in the pool. "What spell do you cast here, Alodar? I see that the coin in the ring is like the copper disk in the iron collar we saw bared above. But their intent I still cannot fathom."

"The cool water of the well will shrink the metals slightly," he replied, "and because they are different, the copper disk will slip free."

"But what can we use for the energy source? There is naught here but stone and water," Aeriel said, waving her arms about the empty chamber.

"You listened to master Periac well," Alodar said, "but no source is needed for this spell. Rather, we need a sink to absorb the heat we extract from the hunks of metal two levels above. And the water in the well will serve that purpose for us. Now stand close to me, for in truth I know not all that will happen."

Alodar glanced quickly into the four passageways, but no figures fleeing or pursuing showed in them, and he began the binding. When be was done, he thrust the ring holding the coin into the numbing cold of the water and held it motionless. Simultaneously the stillness of the pool was broken by the eruption of tiny bubbles all across its surface.

Alodar held the ring firmly, though his fingers began to ache with the cold. The simmer of the pool changed into a boil, growing more vigorous by the second, and the first wisps of steam crept upward into the already dripping air.

Alodar looked anxiously back and forth between the now scalding well and the placid ring. Was it cold enough? Was there enough water in the well?

The feeling left his hand and the opaqueness of the steam engulfed them; so the passageways were blotted from view and the oil lights in the wall became dim and diffuse.

Finally as the fog closed in, the copper coin dropped clear of the ring and gently fell to the bottom of the cup.

"Look to the ceiling," Alodar shouted as he tore his eyes from what he held. Brushing aside the vapor, they could dimly see the round keystone at the center of the vault tremble and begin to move. It slipped down a foot and then another, increasing speed with each moment and heading unerringly for the well in the chamber's floor.

"Why, it is not a stone at all," Aeriel exclaimed. "Look, it is getting longer and longer like a giant column."

"The column from the second level," Alodar explained, "held in place by a copper cap in the yoke of iron."

He could say no more before the granite cylinder fell into the concentric hole in the floor, missing the edge all around by mere inches. With a sharp crack like a giant bullwhip, it hit the water's surface and drove the liquid downward. Aeriel stumbled to her knees from the intensity of the blow, and Alodar fell awkwardly over her, both flailing and grabbing for their ears in pain.

Small geysers shot from the well around the edges of the column as it continued its plunge, moving more slowly as it pushed the resistance before it. The din of the contact echoed about, and Alodar felt dazed from the onslaught. The cacophony continued unabated for minutes; but through his cupped hands, Alodar could hear another sound slowly increasing in intensity, the rumble of stone on stone.

He looked about for the source of the noise and, as the copper top of the column slid from view into the well, he spotted motion in the northeast passageway.

"The whole floor," he exclaimed, "the whole floor moves as one unit. No wonder we could never spot a break in the stone. There isn't any."

"What has happened, Alodar?" Aeriel asked weakly, still on her knees from the shock. "What did the column do in the well?"

"It was a giant water ram, Aeriel. A giant ram that moved the whole passageway floor upwards a good three feet. We are seeing what no one has witnessed since Iron Fist was constructed hundreds of years ago. By the laws, let us hope we also see our way out of this trap. Look at that gap," he continued excitedly as he approached the raised floorway. "Stone a foot thick but still a slot beneath the bottom and the level of the cobbling here in the chamber."

As he got nearer, he lit a candle and thrust it into the newly made opening. "Stairs," he exclaimed. Before Aeriel could protest, he huddled down and disappeared from view.

The passage was narrow and confining, and Alodar had to stoop and bow in his shoulders as he made his way downwards. He held the candle in front as far as he could, but the darkness extended farther than the feeble light could reach. He paused and tried to concentrate on whether to continue or return to the chamber and announce his discovery. Each heartbeat relentlessly ticked away the time they had left, and the fall of the cylinder would surely bring Bandor's vassals on the run.

Aeriel's scream made his decision for him. Alodar quickly spun about and retraced the few steps he had made into the gloom. As he surfaced, Aeriel ran toward him, pointing frantically down the passageway that lay atop the newly discovered stairs. Alodar turned and squinted down the long length of stone archway that led to the corner tower. His already rapid pulse quickened as he saw in the distance the wave of torches and the glint of armor. At least six of Bandor's men were on the bottom level, babbling wildly about the raised flooring and pointing down at the newly discovered prey under the keep.

Alodar grabbed Aeriel by the hand and turned to descend again into the darkness. He took a step and hesitated. "The queen," he said. "Where is the queen? It is no good unless we can also save the fair lady."

He ran back to the center of the chamber and sighted down the two passageways he could not see from the edge. The first was empty, but in the second he saw rapid movement towards him. His heart leaped with his good fortune.

"It is the queen, Aeriel," he shouted, motioning her towards him. "Feston is still with her, and I can see Periac and Festil close behind."

He moved his head from side to side, trying to see behind the four fleeing figures. He sucked in his breath. "More of Bandor's men hot on their trail," he cried.

He glanced back into the passageway with the raised floor. The men there had begun to move towards the chamber, though not with the speed of those pursuing Vendora and the others. Angry shouts and the rapid tread of feet sounded from behind, and Alodar whirled about, his worst fears realized. Enemies converged on them from all four corners.

Alodar felt his muscles tense and his breathing turn to shallow gasps. Run, run, take the only chance that you have, his body said. But he steeled himself and held his ground, eyeing each tunnel in turn, trying to estimate which group would reach him first. Time lost all meaning while he waited; it seemed an eon later when Feston and Vendora burst through with their pursuers hard at their heels.

"Where are the other men-at-arms?" Alodar scouted as Periac and Festil followed the first two into the center of the room.

"They stood their ground nobly to defend the queen," Festil gasped, waving aside Alodar's question as irrelevant to his own plight.

"Then follow me," Alodar commanded and he led Aeriel into the passageway. He did not pause to rekindle a candle, but caught the rhythm of the steps and descended as rapidly as he could in the blackness, pulling Aeriel after him. He could hear the voices of the other four following close behind.

They descended for more than a flight, and then Alodar stumbled as the ground suddenly became level and the tunnel widened. The others tumbled over him. As they flailed to disentangle, a dim light filtered down from above.

"Down here," a voice shouted, and Alodar heard the cautious tread of steel on the cold stone. His eyes began to adjust to the dimness, and he extended his hand against the floor. Immediately he felt an indentation and, sweeping his arm to the side, he discovered another. With an extended finger, he touched smooth and straight edges on either side of the depressions but found they extended forward farther than he could reach. Grooves, he thought, long narrow grooves cut into the stone floor, He cautiously pressed forward and saw a shape gradually taking form in the dimness.

The light brightened with each clinking step, and Alodar recognized what was before him. "A wagon," he exclaimed. "Some sort of wagon with wheels that are guided by the grooves cut into the floor."

He puzzled over the flat frame, unadorned except for the two central pillars that supported giant two-handed cranks; but as the light grew brighter and the sounds closer, he flung himself up onto the platform. In blind imitation the rest followed.

Feston was the last; as he leaped aboard with a surefooted bound, the tunnel behind them blazed forth with light. Bandor's men packed into the narrow confines three abreast, holding torches high and staring down at Alodar and the others. The stairs sounded with rapid footfalls as more and more poured in after them.

Pushed from behind, the first three charged with swords drawn and bore down on the small party. Feston drew his own blade and stood in a crouch at the platform's edge, awaiting their rush. The three jostled for position and the first momentarily lowered his guard. Festil lashed out with his boot and caught the man on the chin, sending him sprawling.

The wagon lurched with the recoil, and Alodar saw the cranks turn lazy circles about their axles. In a flash, he realized their intent. While Feston parried the blows of the other two, he leaped up to the nearest post.

"Man the other one," he shouted as he cranked the handles before him. They responded slowly to his effort; but with each inch that he pulled and pushed, he felt the car begin to move underneath them. He saw the two men lunge at Feston again, but the warrior deftly leaned back, and the blows cut air. One of the two stumbled and fell, surprised by the motion that the retreating wagon gave to his target.

Alodar felt the pumping ease as the car gained speed. Then, as Periac rose to join him on the other pillar, they jumped away from their foes. An angry shout roared from the pursuers and they lunged forward after the car, trampling over the two who lay sprawled in front of them.

Alodar readjusted his stance and pushed all the harder, beginning to feel the wind made by their progress whistle over his back and around to tickle his face. The vanguard of Bandor's men kept pace for awhile, but then he saw them start to fall behind. The soldiers perceived the outcome of the race as well, and hurled their torches towards him in rage. He ducked the first two as they sailed harmlessly overhead and kicked the third from the platform, barely loosing the rhythm of his methodical strokes.

With a sudden lurch, the car made a sharp curve and cut off the men-at-arms from view. They increased speed still more, and the voice of pursuit lessened as they flew on. The only sound was the muffled scrape of the wheels against their precisely chiseled guides.

Alodar cranked on. He had escaped and at the same time saved the queen.

The small crew remained silent, oppressed by the pitch blackness that gave them no hint as to their path or destination. Alodar felt odd, facing backwards to the direction of motion, but determinedly kept at his task. After many minutes, Periac sagged to the platform floor, gasping for breath, his energy spent, and Alodar felt the crank-arm's resistance stiffen. His arms ached and began to tremble from the effort, but he gritted his teeth and continued. His thoughts soared with what he had done. Beyond his wildest expectations, he had accomplished everything. He was alive and well, free of the tragedy of Iron Fist, free to think again of the future, to mold his own destiny. And that destiny now was far more exciting than what a thaumaturge might dream of attaining even two months ago. He was not merely Alodar the journeyman, but Alodar, savior of the queen.

After much more cranking, the resistance began to increase, and Alodar felt a gradual tilting of the platform on which they rode. They were slowly rising, he thought, but no more could he tell in the blackness. He pushed harder still against the handles, but the slope increased faster and the speed slackened.

Slower and slower moved the cart in the darkness. The wind no longer whistled about them, and each revolution of the arms was a fresh agony. Suddenly the front of the platform clanged and latched against a metal abutment, sending Alodar sprawling and filling the tunnel with noise. Simultaneously he felt fresh air blow by his face and looked forward to see a stone slab hinging up before them and starlight beyond.

The party clambered forward through the opening and into the cool night air. They walked on coarse grass and looked down a gentle slope into rolling farmland. In the distance, a scattering of candlelight hinted at man-made structures, and the air carried the odor of animals corralled close by. A gibbous moon, high in the sky, cast faint shadows, but none could look at it without squinting, so black had been the passageway.

"Why, we have covered a good fifteen miles," Festil exclaimed. "These are the farms on the last ridge that bounds the wastelands to the west. We are indeed well away from Bandor and his threat."

"Yes, and by what strange means were we conveyed here?" Feston wondered. "I have not seen the likes of it in any battlecraft before. The builders of Iron Fist, whoever they were, provided her extremely well."

"As well as you have provided the queen, Feston," Vendora said, raising and stretching her hands high overhead, deeply drinking the fresh air. "If only we had what we set out for, our adventure would be complete. But for the moment, I would settle for a comb for my hair. Aeriel, have you one about you?"

"No, my fair lady," Aeriel responded. "I do not. But mark you, did not Kelric say that we would not find what we sought until Iron Fist lost its grip? That it did in most emphatic fashion. Perhaps our search is indeed not yet over."

Alodar pondered Aeriel's words, then returned to the opening in the slope and squinted into the darkness at the car. He withdrew and relit the candle from his cape and began a close inspection.

He did not have to look far. This time there was no subterfuge or deception. There, in the flat platform between the two cranking pillars, was a small square of metal, hinged at one side and with a finger grip on the other. Alodar bent down and swung the door open, his light illuminating a tightly bound parchment, hard and cracked with age.

"Look here," he shouted, running quickly back to the others. "You spoke of alchemy formulas. Do they not record them in grimoires of about this size?"

All faces turned as he advanced, and Feston reached out and grabbed the bundle from him. With a quick flourish, he ripped the cord and outer covering from the package and began to thumb through the bound parchment within.

"Hold the candle closer," he commanded before Alodar could protest. "Sweetbalm, is that what you seek, my fair lady? The ink is faint, but I can see the beginnings still. Powders, ointments, philtres, elixirs, amulets, and fetishes. Formulas of high yield, none less than eighty-five parts in a hundred."

"Eighty-five!" exclaimed Vendora. "Why Feston, you have done it all. A sweeping rescue and a treasure besides. With a yield of eighty-five, we undercut the costs of them all. The royal products will sweep the competition from the field, and my coffers will be fed by a much-needed new source."

"You speak most glowingly, my fair lady," Feston said. "Can I interpret your praise to mean that you at last see fit to choose the hero of the realm?"

Vendora's smile stiffened and she drew herself erect. "Do not presume too much, lord Feston. You have done me great service here these past few days, but not so much that my senses depart me."

Feston's heavy brows furrowed, and Vendora laughed at his discomfort. "Do not fret, my warrior. Know that I look upon you with much favor. I wish you to journey with me to court, be known as a royal suitor, and stand by me as you have done here. If in time I grow used to the roughness of your features, then perhaps I will indeed honor you with my hand."

"Wait a moment, my fair lady," Aeriel said. " Alodar, the journeyman thaumaturge, did apply his mind and skills with marvelous imagination to our cause. It is to him that we owe our good fortune."

Vendora frowned, paused, and then pulled her face into a smile as she turned to Alodar. "Indeed I thank you all for my deliverance," she said. "Your steadfastness in propelling the car was most dedicated."

"That was but a minor part of it," Aeriel persisted. "He fathomed the castle's secret. He discovered the passageway out. Why he even found you the grimoire."

"May I remind the fair lady," Festil cut in, "that many of the more restless vassals of your crown will interpret the fall of Iron Fist as a sign of weakness. Without the house of the red surcoat standing at your side, you may be hard pressed to deal with them, Bandor, and the border kingdoms to the south, all at the same time."

Vendora looked at Alodar and then back to Feston. Her eyes narrows in thought. She stared at the sword at the warrior's side and then studied Alodar's cape-draped form.

"Oh well enough, Aeriel," she said at last. "I am sure that the thaumaturge did exercise his art most exceedingly fine. He and his master may henceforth speak of royal favor when they lure customers to their craft. But I cannot see how his acts compare with the feats of lord Feston or the comforts he gave me. What indeed can you profit by pressing his suit upon me so?"

Aeriel opened her mouth to speak again, looking first at Vendora and then to Alodar. She hesitated a moment, but finally snapped it shut. Vendora nodded approval at her apparent acquiescence and returned her attention to the grimoire that Feston now held before her.

Alodar flung his candle aside and stepped forward, his eyes starting to smoulder, but Aeriel placed her hand on his arm. He shot her a sidelong glance, then halted when her fingers squeezed more tightly.

"My fair lady, there is no more business to conduct here," Festil said quickly as he saw Alodar pause. "We must start immediately for Ambrosia. Each hour we save will limit the time Bandor has to consolidate his victory. Let us descend this slope and appropriate a quicker means of transport from the first farm we encounter."

Vendora looked up from the grimoire and into Alodar's eyes. "It is settled then," she said. "A royal endorsement for the thaumaturges and status as suitor for lord Feston. Ample largess for deeds well done."

Alodar sucked in a deep breath and opened his mouth; but before he could speak, Aeriel covered his lips. Vendora smiled and looked around the group, from Periac standing silently near the car to Festil already ten yards down the slope. She nodded her agreement to the old man's suggestion, placed her hand on Feston's offered arm, and started to descend the incline. She paced ten slow steps and then looked back over her shoulder at Aeriel.

"In a moment, my fail lady," Aeriel said as she cautiously lowered her hand from Alodar's mouth while still maintaining her grip on his arm.

The two stood silently, not moving, watching the queen draw away from them. Several minutes passed, and she and the two lords gradually shrank to dim outlines, fading into their surroundings.

"By the laws!" Alodar exploded. "What feat must one accomplish to be held worthy in this kingdom? Can she not grasp what I have done?"

Aeriel again raised her finger to his lips. "It will avail you no good, Alodar," she said. "The queen is clever enough to know how her actions influence the safety of the crown. And the circumstances here prevent her from giving her reward in a just manner. So long as Festil and his son feel they have some claim, she can bestow it on no other."

She turned and looked down the hillside. "But at least I know who is the true hero of the day," she continued softly as she released his arm and then suddenly clasped her hands behind his neck. Alodar's eyes widened in surprise and he felt her lips pressing his as she drew against him.

After a moment she dropped her arms and started to step back, but Alodar put his hand behind her. She stopped when she felt the gentle pressure and smiled, watching him intently.

"You indeed behave most unlike a lady-in-waiting," he said huskily after a long pause. He drew another deep breath and the emotions churned within him like the hot acid in the thaumaturge's cauldron. The exhilaration of freedom, Vendora's beauty, the grim determination of his resolve, the anger of yet another injustice, and now the warm presence of Aeriel in his arms, all tumbled in confusion, and he could not sort them out.

"And you are most unlike the tradition-bound noble or the meekly accepting craftsman, Alodar," she said. "You have dared to seek as did no other and because of it you have saved us all."

He smiled and pulled her towards him, and she again reached her arms to ring his neck.

Yes, he had saved the queen, his thoughts raced. Had not Feston been along for the final dash, then all would have followed. Title restored, respect of the peerage and hero of the realm.

Suddenly he stopped his gentle tugging and frowned as the realization of what he was doing hit him. The queen and hero of the realm?or Aeriel and whatever that future might bring? She has judged him by what he had done, rather than by his station. He could treat her in return with no less fairness.

But would not the surprising passion that boiled for the moment cool as suddenly? He was driven to the queen by what had smouldered for years. How could a chance encounter stand against it?

He looked at Aeriel, trying to clear his confusion, and then lowered his head.

"What is it, Alodar?" Aeriel laughed, continuing to come forward.

"I am resolved, my lady," he said thickly after a moment. "I strive for no less than does lord Feston."

Aeriel's lips curved in the beginning of another smile, but then she looked deeply into Alodar's eyes as he raised his gaze to meet hers. For several minutes they did not speak. Finally she reached and pulled his arm from around her.

"I see," she said crisply. "Forgive me for thinking your aspirations to be so low."

"My lady," Alodar replied, "forgive me that your presence confuses me greatly. But I will not have peace until my birthright is restored. And that I see accomplished only if I am hero of the realm. For that end did I labor and almost succeed. And I cannot with honor accept your favor, so long as that is my quest."

Aeriel took one step back and studied Alodar at arm's length. "Had I not seen what you have done," she said, "I would not credit the chance of such ambition." She sighed and looked in the direction in which Vendora had disappeared. "But if that is your goal, then may the random factors align in your favor." With a whirl she suddenly turned and raced down the hillside without looking back.

Alodar stood dumbfounded, watching her go. It all had happened so quickly. He had held excitement in his arms and then deliberately pushed it away. But with each passing second the lure of Aeriel's image lessened and the anger, temporarily diverted, gathered strength.

Total success?and now, nothing! His deeds completely discounted in favor of a strong arm and flashing sword. Great spells worthy of a master judged of lesser worth than the formulas of alchemy. Despite what he had done, the warrior still stood first in the minds of men; and apparently no thaumaturge could displace him.

Alodar watched Aeriel fade from view like the others. When she was gone, he stood motionless, continuing to look down the empty hillside. After several minutes, Periac approached Alodar and threw his arm about him.

"Come, my journeyman," he said. "Never mind the twisted thoughts of the nobility. You have done credit to your craft tonight, and we have been amply rewarded. We can call ourselves thaumaturges to the queen; Vendora herself has given us leave. No more mending pots or keeping the frost from winter fruit for a single night's meal in the backward outlands. Let us also travel to Ambrosia and ply out craft where the coin is gold, not copper."

Alodar blinked as he remembered his master's presence, but then shook him off and looked down at his feet. Not by thaumaturgy could he accomplish his quest! With his face pulled into a tight grimace, he kicked in frustration at the grimoire's outer wrappings, lying where Feston had tossed them. They leaped high into the air; catching a breeze, they began to float gently down to earth some ten feet away. Alodar absently watched them settle while he tried to calm his thoughts, and then suddenly focused his attention. A sparkle in the moonlight caught his eye.

He ran to the parchment scraps as they touched the ground and hastily scavenged them. "Look here, master Periac," he exclaimed. "More deception still. The grimoire alone does not contain all of the formulas we have found tonight. Another is scrawled on the inside of the coverings. See it glow in the feeble light."

"Waste not your thoughts on such distractions," Periac said with a wave of one hand while he began stroking his goatee with the other. "Find yourself a spot of comfort and I will give you some instruction. We will pass the time constructively until dawn to see if there are any survivors and Morwin among them. And then to Ambrosia to better our fortune."

Alodar looked down at the scraps in his hand and clinched his teeth. It was only one formula against a whole book's worth, but he had started with less two months ago. His pulse calmed as he settled his mind to it.

"No, master," he said firmly. "I have had a brief taste of my destiny. I cannot rest until I savor it full swallow. If it is with sword and formula that one wins the fair lady, then on that road I will travel."

With a flourish, be loosened the tie at his neck and dropped his cape to his feet "I am a thaumaturge no more."

Periac's mouth opened in disbelief, but Alodar stood before him in silence, jaws set and fists clenched until the knuckles showed white.

"To cast aside the time you have spent with me is folly," Periac said at last. "And to dabble with the likes of alchemy is greater folly still. Come, study with me so that you learn enough of one art to become a master."

"My life now has purpose," Alodar replied with determination, "as it has never had before. I thank you for the knowledge you have given me and hope my service has been ample payment in return. And I will journey with you to Ambrosia, yes, but then I follow this scrap wherever it leads me."

Periac looked at Alodar for a long moment, then raised his hands and dropped them to his sides. "Very well, my insatiable one," he said. "Explore what Honeysuckle Street has to offer."

He paused and then continued with deliberate slowness. "And when you decide instead to be a true craftsman, seek out my door. For a while it may remain open for you."

Alodar's eyes narrowed, but he did not speak. With a sigh he settled to the ground to await the dawn.