‘How much time before it starts rupturing again?’ asked Ruffio.
The magicians glanced at Tanderae and the first answered, ‘Some time, I think. We have a week or two if we harbour our resources, and the rate of increase doesn’t accelerate. If your human magicians can learn to directly bolster the dome, we may be able to push whatever’s coming through that breach inside and seal it off.’
‘We’re doing what we can to learn,’ said Ruffio.
Tanderae motioned for Ruffio to walk back with him. ‘You’ve mentioned others who might be able to understand our magic.’
‘Yes, but only the gods know where they are now.’
• CHAPTER TWENTY •
Plans
HAL HELD UP HIS HAND.
The column of soldiers behind him reined in and he motioned for Martin, Ty, and the Earl of LaMut – Hokada Venlo – to ride forward. The four ranking officers were positioned atop a rise looking down into a rolling valley in which lay the ruins of an abandoned city.
‘Sethanon,’ said Hal. He surveyed the countryside, noting features and landmarks. ‘Opinions, gentlemen?’
Earl Hokada was a stocky, thick-necked man, but despite being a head shorter than the others, his reputation as a brawler as a youth, and a soldier as an adult made him a man not to be underestimated. He was reputed to be among the best horsemen and archers in LaMut. ‘Chadwick will march down that road.’ He indicated the faint track of the loggers’ highway from the Dimwood in the distance beyond the city. ‘He’s a traditional man, so he’ll march his infantry on his left, with his cavalry providing a screen between his infantry and the forest.’
‘But the forest ends miles north of here,’ said Martin.
Hokada nodded. ‘But he’ll see no compelling reason to move them to the other side. So that’s how he’ll present, infantry in a double column to our left, cavalry double column to our right.’
‘I agree,’ said Hal. ‘So, what else?’
Ty said, ‘He’ll assume the city is deserted, as it has been for a century, but he’ll send scouts anyway.’
‘How do we deal with the scouts?’ asked Hal.
All were quiet for a moment, then the Earl of LaMut said, ‘If they ride through, we know their instructions are to report back only if they spot the enemy. If one or both turn back, they are reporting the city is safe to pass. That’s my best guess, my lord.’
Hal was still getting used to older, more experienced soldiers addressing him as ‘my lord’. He looked at Martin and Ty who both nodded agreement. ‘So, if we want to lure Chadwick into a bad position in the city, he needs to think it’s deserted.’ He stood in his stirrups to get a better look at the surrounding countryside. ‘We have a few days before he gets here, perhaps more. Let’s be exacting in scouting this terrain and preparing the ground for battle. My lord,’ he nodded to the earl. ‘See to your cavalry. We’ll camp over there—’ He pointed to a clearing less than a quarter of a mile farther back down the trail with a small creek running along its west side. ‘And send scouts into the city at first light tomorrow. I want a trap here which will grab Chadwick of Ran by the tail and not turn him loose until we’re ready to see him go.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ said Hokada. He turned his mount and started back down the road.
‘What have you in mind, Hal?’ asked his brother.
‘I don’t have a specific plan yet, but I do have an idea. We’ll let Chadwick’s scouts pass, then have him come into Sethanon, but make him pay with blood to get out of the city.’
‘I like the idea,’ said Ty.
‘Good,’ said Hal, ‘because I’m going to give you a particularly difficult role to play.’
‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’ said Ty with a grin.
‘Let’s get some rest and start plotting,’ said Hal.
‘Good,’ said Martin. ‘I’m hungry.’
‘You’re always hungry,’ returned Hal, laughing. For as long as they lived, these two would always revert to acting like brothers, no matter what else occurred.
Sundown the next day found Ty, Martin, and the earl in Hal’s tent listening to the reports from the scouts Hal had sent into the deserted city of Sethanon. Common lore said it was a cursed city, and its history seemed to support that myth. A large blank parchment had been unrolled and Martin was drawing in details as they were described to him. ‘I don’t know why you’re having me do this,’ he muttered.
‘You were always the best artist, remember,’ said Hal.
‘Just because I said I was, doesn’t make it so.’
They laughed.
‘My father used to say,’ observed Hal, ‘that if your men were staunch and wouldn’t break, then preparation was nine-tenths of the way to winning a battle. We just need to be better prepared than Chadwick.’
Martin, concentrating on drawing in a fine detail pointed out by the scout, said, ‘He also made the point that once you came into contact with the enemy, all your plans went to hell.’
Hal gave him a brotherly smack on the back of his head. ‘But that’s true for both sides, and the side that’s better prepared prevails.’ To Lord Hokada, he said, ‘If you were Chadwick of Ran and you suspected an ambush here in Sethanon, how would you prepare?’
The Earl of LaMut considered the map. ‘There are several ways, my lord, but which one is optimal? The original keep is an obvious choice as a garrison point, for in the case of need, your forces can retreat inside and the old portcullis can be dropped. That would delay an enemy, should they decide to stay and root you out, but in the end you’d lose your position. Moreover, if his goal is to reinforce Oliver, then he leaves a small force to keep you from sallying from the keep, and quickly moves the rest of his forces south. Here,’ he pointed on the map, ‘and here, in those buildings, a squad of archers could hold back any sally as Chadwick marches past.’ He looked at Hal. ‘If they send scouts into the city to explore, I would leave the keep deserted. Then should you choose to fortify, move them quickly in after the scouts leave.’
‘Noted,’ said Hal. ‘What else?’
‘Luring them into house-to-house fighting might provide a temporary advantage, and it would neutralize any advantage they might have in cavalry, but the same holds true for our cavalry.’
Martin said, ‘Your horse archers can do more damage than their cavalry, though – correct?’
‘If they can keep some range, yes,’ said the earl. ‘But you turn a corner and find yourself sword to sword to a heavily armed rider, and you don’t have the advantage in speed. I don’t like the odds.’
‘Point taken,’ said Martin. He looked at the scout, ‘How’s that?’
‘Good,’ said the horseman from LaMut. ‘And there’s another wall here, about four feet high – looks like it might have been used to wall off a garden behind an inn.’
‘I’m beginning to think you don’t like the idea of being in the city, my lord,’ Hal said to his sub-commander.
The earl smiled. ‘My great-grandfather was one of those Tsurani children who fell in love with horses, my lord. I’ve been riding since before I could walk. The idea of finding myself in any place where a horse becomes a liability in combat is alien to me. My first company are horse archers, not mounted infantry. I lead that company personally.’
‘What about your second company?’ asked Ty.
‘Mounted infantry, and as tough a bunch as you’ll find in Prince Edward’s army.’
‘Well, let’s leave your first company to do what they do best.’
‘What are you thinking, brother?’ asked Martin.
‘I’m thinking Earl Hokada and I both like where we sit right now better than being in that empty city.’
Martin sat back with an exaggerated blow of exasperation. ‘Which means I’ve been drawing all day for naught?’
‘Oh, this will come in handy,’ said Hal, putting his fingers on the map.
‘But you want them charging uphill against this ridge-line?’ asked Ty.
‘On
ly if I can get them to do it on my terms.’
Martin grinned. ‘Now, that sounds like fun.’
‘Let’s step outside, gentlemen,’ said Hal.
They followed him from the command tent up to the crest where Hal pointed to a heavy patch of thorn bushes dominating the hillside to his right, between the road and a sharply rising scarp on the other side. ‘If we extend the gorse and thorn by dragging plants from nearby and digging them in, say for a quarter of a mile down this road, to make it look like natural growth, Chadwick will either compress his columns so he can march up over this ridge on the road, or he’ll hold back his infantry and let his cavalry go first.’
‘The second, I should think,’ said the earl. ‘It’s the most logical if he gets surprised coming over the rise.’
Hal stood motionless for a long time, surveying the ground, and after a while said, ‘I think I have a plan.’
‘The Enemy has a plan,’ said Macros. ‘Or as close to a plan as can be imagined when dealing with an alien consciousness.’
They stood in the midst of a vast plaza in the City Forever, where strange lights danced above them, moving like a flock of starlings on the wing in an endless dance.
‘We’re speaking of the Dread,’ said Pug. ‘A Dreadlord appeared in Sethanon when first we battled over the Lifestone, and another was masquerading as the Dasati Lord of Death when that world was almost destroyed.’
‘Dread?’ said Macros. ‘In a manner of speaking. It’s as convenient a name as “the Darkness”, or “the Enemy”.’
Pug’s expression turned questioning. ‘Are you speaking of the Enemy in Tsurani lore? That was the essence of the Valheru, and they were banished or destroyed when we closed the rift into Sethanon.’
‘I wish it was that simple,’ said Macros. ‘Come, it’s time for you to see some more things and learn more truth.’
‘Truth is always welcome, but a rarity with you,’ Miranda said.
‘I have had my reasons for everything I’ve done,’ he replied. His expression became regretful. ‘But I’ll concede my reasons at times haven’t always been for the best.’
They were approaching a massive black building that dominated this central part of the city. ‘The false prison,’ said Pug. ‘This is where Tomas and I first came to find you.’
‘And what was waiting for you?’
‘A lord of the Dread.’
‘Let’s go and see him,’ said the Black Sorcerer.
‘He’s still there?’ asked Pug.
‘Follow.’ Macros hurried through the massive door and led them down the central passage, one which Pug remembered vividly. The Dread, or whoever was behind them, had engineered an elaborate trap to lure Pug and Tomas into confrontation with a Dreadlord. Pug and Tomas had easily bested the creature, but they had accounted for that by assuming the Dread had underestimated them. That assumption had lasted until they had found Macros and sprung the time trap that had carried them back into the past.
As they climbed the stairs, Macros said, ‘Pug, in all the years since you and Tomas found me here, did you ever encounter another case of time travel?’
‘I thought I had,’ said Pug, and he explained the forged notes giving him hints and clues of things he needed to do, originally thought to be from a future version of himself, but at last revealed to have been the handiwork of Kalkin, also known as Banath or Ban-ath, the god of thieves, liars, and cheats.
‘Gods are a little different,’ said Macros. ‘Especially that one. He’s unique and plays a key role in all this.’
They reached the upper room of the tower and entered. A cage of crystal bars stood in the middle of the room, within which crouched a figure of smoke and ash. It rose slowly. ‘You return to taunt me, Magician!’
‘No, we return to ensure your torment,’ said Macros, unleashing a bolt of silver energy that sliced through the air like a thin pole of brilliant light. It passed harmlessly through the bars of the cage and when it touched the creature, passed harmlessly through it as well. ‘I thought as much,’ said Macros. ‘Had this been a true Dreadlord, that energy would have made it go up in flames.’
‘What is it, then?’
‘A lesser child of the void,’ said Macros. He cast another spell and the creature moaned – a hollow, echoing sound. ‘This is a dark wight,’ said Macros. ‘It’s not much of a risk to a well-armed man, or to someone of your or Tomas’s power. They ensured you would be engaged enough to think it real, but emerge easily victorious, and find me in the Garden.’ Turning to the creature in the cage, he asked, ‘How long have you been here?’
‘Since the beginning,’ answered the creature.
‘How long since you were last visited?’
There was no answer.
Macros looked at his companions. ‘He doesn’t know.’
‘It’s been a long time,’ said Pug. ‘Over a century. From what I can see, there’s no way to gauge the passing of time here.’
‘It’s more than that,’ said Macros. With a wave of his hand the cage and the creature inside it vanished. ‘The Dread isn’t a creature or a host of creatures, but a sort of consciousness, one so alien to everything we’ve ever known that even the gods don’t understand it.’
‘It?’ said Magnus. ‘Are we to consider the Dread to be a single entity?’
‘Essentially,’ said Macros. ‘Although it can be in a lot of different forms and places at one and the same time. All the Children of the Void are, in one fashion or another, part of the Dread.’
‘How can that be?’ asked Nakor.
‘It looks at time differently, and uses it differently,’ said Macros.
Miranda said, ‘Now I’m interested. From my experience, what you say makes no sense.’
‘Which is why you are here, D—’ He almost said ‘Daughter’, and smiled instead.
With a wave of his hand, they were in another place.
‘The Pavilion!’ said Pug.
‘Yes,’ answered Macros. ‘Where, if what I’ve been given to understand is correct, your son bullied the Goddess of Death into appearing.’
Nakor looked at Magnus and appeared impressed. ‘You bullied a god?’
‘Persuaded, actually,’ said Magnus.
‘But you are now approaching an understanding that few, if any, clerics, philosophers, or sages on Midkemia possess: the true nature of the gods.’
A voice from behind them said, ‘You are treading on tricky ground, Macros.’
A young man was standing there, with curly brown hair and dark eyes, dressed in the tabard of Krondor. Pug knew this couldn’t be Squire James.
‘Ban-ath,’ said Pug.
The figured bowed theatrically. ‘I chose this appearance out of nostalgia. He was always one of my favourite subjects.’
Magnus asked, ‘Macros, what is it you wish to show us that he—’ he indicated the god in the form of a young man, ‘cautions you against?’
‘That is the most difficult thing to explain, and the hardest to grasp. But it is the most vital part of your preparation to fight against the Dread.’
‘And you don’t want him to?’ Nakor asked Ban-ath.
The god shrugged. ‘I have my limits. I wish for a certain outcome – my survival – yet as gods we must protect certain knowledge.’ He smiled. ‘It’s a contradiction. But then life is full of them. As I said, I do have my limits.’
‘But apparently not as many as the other gods,’ said Pug. ‘Otherwise how could you have interfered in the Dasati realm, or brought Miranda and Nakor back to consciousness through these demons?’
‘You give me too much credit,’ said the being also known as Kalkin. ‘I have the ability to “cheat”, as you say, to circumvent limits preventing my brethren from acting on this world’s behalf, but even I could not cheat enough to give Macros’s memory to that dying Dasati, nor could I blend Miranda’s and Nakor’s minds and memories into a demon of the Fifth Circle. That took the work of all of us.’
With that, the other gods o
f Midkemia appeared around them, looking down from their thrones. At the back sat four gigantic, motionless figures: the four greater, controller gods.
‘I think no introductions are necessary,’ said Kalkin. ‘The Controllers remain mute, as always.’
Pug looked up into the heavens above the Pavilion, and saw the four silent faces: Abram-Sev, the Forger of Action; Ev-Dem, the Worker from Within; Graf, the Weaver of Wishes; and Helbinor, the Abstainer.
Pug said, ‘I … I understand.’
Kalkin said, ‘What do you understand?’
‘These are the forces that define our universe. They do not interact with mortals because … they are the universe.’
Macros looked at Miranda and said, ‘I told you you married a bright lad.’
‘You told me nothing of the sort,’ said Miranda.
Looking at Ban-ath, and then at the other gods, Pug said, ‘You interact with humans because … we made you!’
‘Very bright lad,’ said Kalkin.
As one, the gods stepped down from their thrones and came closer. Kalkin said, ‘We are personifications. We represent elements of the natural order that you, through worship, have given a level of consciousness, one that otherwise wouldn’t exist.’
A frail old woman appeared next to Kalkin. ‘We persist, in one form or another, beyond what is thought of as a mortal existence. We are energy, sometimes vigorous, sometimes faint, but we linger.’
‘Arch-Indar!’ said Nakor, delighted. ‘I had a statue and shrine built for you outside Krondor.’ He looked down, abashed at his own enthusiasm. ‘Or at least the Nakor part of me did.’
‘If enough people return to worship me, I will return to life.’
‘You appeared when I fought to save Caleb,’ said Magnus. ‘How can you say “return to life”?’
‘Because I am not alive,’ she said, smiling. ‘I am a memory.’ She looked at Pug. ‘Zaltais, whom you fought, was a dream, a wish-fulfilment of the sleeping embodiment of evil. The wishes, dreams, and memories of the gods are powerful, Pug.’
‘What I don’t understand,’ said Magnus, ‘is that you came to aid me in saving my brother.’ He looked at the black-veiled figure of Lims-Kragma, the goddess of death, the deity whom he had faced down. ‘You came into her realm and forced her to comply with my wish to see my brother survive.’