“Those who
know your nature, man-thing.” The dread stood holding Tomas’s
arm and sword. “They even understood how you would come here,
rather than seek the sorcerer’s true prison.”
“Where is
he?” gasped Tomas, seeming on the verge of fainting.
With a whisper
of evil the thing said, “You have failed.”
Evidently near
collapse, Tomas forced himself alert, almost snarling when he spoke.
“Then you don’t know. For all your posturing you are
nothing but a servant. You know nothing but what the Enemy tells
you.” With contempt, he spat, “Slave.”
With a muted
howl of glee, the dread spoke. “I stand high. I know where the
sorcerous one is hidden. He abides where you should have expected: at
that place most unlikely to be a prison, therefore the most likely
place. He lives in the Garden.”
Suddenly Tomas
jumped to his feet, grinning. The thing faltered, for the arm it was
holding faded into insubstantiality as it reappeared upon Tomas’s
body, while the shield untwisted itself with metallic complaint and
sped across the room to rest again upon his left arm. The thing moved
toward Tomas, but the warrior in white slashed out with his sword
with blinding quickness and this time the blade bit with fury,
exploding on contact with a spray of golden sparks and a loud hiss.
Bitter smoke came from the contact, and the creature shrieked its
muted cry of pain. “It seems I am not the only one given to
arrogant presumption,” said Tomas as he drove the thing back
with a fury of blows. “Nor are your masters the only ones
capable of casting illusions. Foolish thing, don’t you know
that it was I along with my brethren who cast you and yours from this
universe? Do you think that I, Tomas called Ashen-Shugar, fear such
as you? I, who once vanquished the Dreadlords?”
The thing
cowered in terror and anger, its cries distant echoes. Then, with a
musical tinkling, glowing clear crystalline gems erupted in the air
about the creature. Each elongated rapidly, forming a latticework of
transparent bars around the creature. Tomas grinned as Pug finished
the mystic cage about the night black being. The dread lashed out and
sounded a muted howl of agony as it touched the transparent bars. Pug
got up from where he had feigned unconsciousness and came to stand
next to the creature, which attempted to reach between the glass-like
bars, but recoiled instantly it touched one. It shrieked and howled,
its alien voice an odd raucous whispering. “What is this
thing?” asked Pug.
“A
Dreadmaster, one of the Unliving. A thing whose nature is alien even
to the essence of our being. It comes from a strange universe at the
farthest reaches of time and space, one that only a few beings can
breach and survive. It eats the very substance of life, as do all its
kind when they enter this universe. It will wither grass should it
step upon it. It is a creature of animated destruction, second in
power only to the Dreadlords, who are beings even the Valheru are
cautious of. That this thing was even brought to the City Forever
shows that the Enemy and Murmandamus have callous regard for the
potential destruction they might unleash.” He paused, a look of
concern on his face. “It also makes me wonder what more is
involved with this Enemy than we have understood so far.” He
looked at Pug. “How are you?”
Pug stretched
and said, “I think I broke a rib.”
Tomas nodded.
“It was lucky that was all you broke. Sorry, but I expected to
keep it busy.”
Pug shrugged and
winced. “What do we do with it?” He indicated the softly
howling creature.
“We could
drive it back to its own universe, but that would be time consuming.
How long will that cage stand?”
Pug said,
“Normally, centuries. Here, perhaps forever.”
“Good,”
said Tomas, starting for the door.
A terrified cry
erupted from the thing of blackness. “No, master!” it
shouted. “Don’t leave me here! I will wither for ages
before I die! It will be constant pain! Even now I hunger! Release me
and I will serve you, master!”
Pug said, “Can
we trust it?”
Tomas said, “Of
course not.”
Pug said, “I
hate to visit torment on anything.”
“You
always did have a tender side to your nature,” said Tomas,
hurrying down the stairs. Pug came after as shrieks and curses
followed them. “Those beings are the most destructive in the
universes,” said Tomas, “anti-life. Once set free, the
common dread are difficult enough to deal with; the Dreadmasters are
impossible to control.”
They reached the
door and went outside. Tomas said, “Do you feel up to getting
us back to the surface?”
Pug stretched
slowly, testing his tender side. “I’ll manage.”
He incanted his
spell and, holding Tomas’s hand, rose into the air,
insubstantial again as they passed the rock ceiling of the cavern.
With their departure the only sound in the vast cave was the faint
inhuman screams that came from the top of the tower upon the island.
“What is
the Garden?” asked Pug.
Tomas said, “It
is a place which is of the city, but apart from it.” He closed
his eyes, and shortly after, Ryath descended from the sky. They
mounted and Tomas said, “Ryath, the Garden.”
The dragon beat
into the sky and soon they were again speeding over the odd landscape
of the City Forever. More alien buildings rolled by beneath them,
hinting at functions but not revealing them. In the distance, if
distance could be judged in this impossible place, Pug saw seven
pillars rising from the city. At first they appeared black, but as
they drew closer, Pug could see tiny flecks of light contained
within.
Noticing his
interest, Tomas said, “The Star Towers, Pug.” He sent a
mental command to Ryath, and the dragon banked, coming very close to
one of the pillars, which were arranged in a circle around a mighty,
open plaza, easily miles across.
As they passed,
Pug was astonished to discover that the pillars were composed of tiny
stars, comets, and planets, miniature galaxies swirling within the
confines of the pillar, locked in a void as black as true space.
Tomas laughed at Pug’s astonishment. “No, I don’t
know what they are. No one does. It may be art. It may be a tool of
understanding.” He paused and added, “It may be the true
universe is contained within those pillars.”
As they flew
away, Pug looked back at the Star Towers. “Another mystery of
the City Forever?”
Tomas said,
“Yes, and not even the most spectacular. Look there.” He
pointed to the horizon, where a red glow could be seen. As they raced
toward it, it resolved into a wall of flames, topped by a heat
shimmer that distorted everything seen beyond. As they passed over
the flames, waves of scorching heat rose to meet them.
“What was
that?”
Tomas said, “A
wall of flames. It runs roughly a mile along a straight line. It has
no apparent purpose, no reason, no use. It’s simply there.”
They continued
their flight until they approached land free of buildings of any
sort. The dragon descended toward a green area. As they dropped in
altitude, Pug could see a dark circular shape outlined against the
grey of rift-space, floating at the edge of the city. “It is
the oddest feature of this very odd place,” said Tomas. “Had
I your discerning nature, I might have thought of the Garden when we
first came here. It is a floating place of plants. Assuming Macros’s
powers could have been neutralized, this is the last place from which
he could escape. There are many unexpected treasures hidden
throughout the City Forever. Besides gold and other obvious items of
wealth, there are alien machines of vast power, arcane items of
might, perhaps means to return to true space. But even should means
of return to Midkemia exist in the city, Macros can’t get
there.”
Pug looked down.
They were a thousand feet above the city and descending rapidly.
Beyond the boundaries of the City Forever, the grey of rift-space
could be seen. As they approached the border of the Garden, Pug could
see misty falls of water descending from several points along the
edge. The garden was surrounded by what Pug could think of only as a
moat. But instead of water flowing along the edges of the Garden,
there was literally nothing - the void of rift-space.
They passed
above the edge of the Garden, and Pug could see that somehow a large
circle of land floated beside the city. Atop this circle of earth a
garden of lush vegetation sat, fully covering every inch of the
surface. It brimmed with meandering streams, which spilled over the
edge. Fruit trees of every description could be seen. Pug said, “This
is indeed a most improbable place.”
Tomas indicated
a stone artifact. “A bridge should stand there.” At once
Pug could see that a span had indeed once arched above the moat. It
had been shattered, leaving a stone foundation on the ground. Across
the moat, the twin of that foundation squatted. “If this place
once existed upon some real world, then whoever or whatever brought
it here neglected to include the river that ran around the Garden.
With the bridges destroyed, there’s no way to leave the
Garden.”
They began a
search, skimming over the trees. Not only the varieties known to Pug
from Midkemia, but also many he knew from Kelewan were planted there,
along with a host of bowers from other worlds, never seen before.
They flew past one stand of large tubular plants that began a
haunting fluting, almost a musical sound, in the wind from the
dragon’s wings. They sped above a wine coloured stand of
flowers that exploded in white, as seed pods were thrown skyward to
drift upon the breeze of their passing. And as Tomas had predicted,
other bridges along the perimeter of the Garden were also shattered.
Small animals
could be seen scurrying below the brush, hiding from the potential
predator that flew above. Then another shape appeared in the heavens,
heading toward them.
Faster than an
arrow’s flight, something hurtled through the sky at them. In
the instant before it closed, Ryath bellowed a bone wrenching battle
cry. It was answered.
A giant black
dragon attacked, claws extended, head craning forward with sheets of
fire exploding from its maw. Tomas erected a barrier that prevented
Pug and himself from being harmed by the flame.
Ryath answered
the attack and the two creatures joined in battle. They grappled with
claw and fang as they hovered above the garden. Tomas slashed out
with his blade, but could not reach the other dragon. “This is
an ancient beast,” shouted Tomas. “His kind no longer
exist upon Midkemia. No greater black has lived there in ages.”
“Where did
it come from?” shouted Pug, but Tomas seemed unable to hear the
question. Pug felt the buffeting of the black’s wings, but
Tomas’s spellcraft was sufficient to keep them both safely
seated. They would have difficulty only should Ryath not win the
contest, for while Pug thought he had some idea of how the beast flew
between worlds, he didn’t wish to have to put those theories
into practice. If Ryath fell, they might be stranded here.
But the golden
dragon was equal in might to the black and Tomas punished the black
every time it came close enough to be struck. Pug incanted and
launched an attack of his own. As crackling energies struck the enemy
dragon, the beast screamed in rage and pain, throwing back its head.
Ryath seized the opening and bit upon the black’s neck,
bringing claws up to rip at the less protected belly. The golden
dragon’s fangs could only dent the heavy scales of the neck,
not break them, but the claws were doing considerable damage to the
black’s underside. The battle carried the two mighty dragons
away from the heart of the Garden, until they hovered near the moat.
Now the black
sought to escape, but Ryath’s jaws held tight. Pug and Tomas
felt the gold falter and begin to be dragged down. Then suddenly they
were moving upward again. The black had collapsed, ceasing its
hovering. The sudden added weight had pulled Ryath down, but she had
released in time to prevent them all from being dragged downward.
Pug watched as
the black fell past the edge of the Garden, to vanish into the moat
between it and the city. As he watched, the black dragon continued to
fall, below the city, until at last it was simply a spot of black
against the grey, then at last gone from sight. Pug heard Tomas say,
“You fought well, Ryath. I have never ridden one so
accomplished, even the mighty Shuruga.”
Pug felt the
beaming pride the dragon projected as she said,
Thou art fairly
spoken, Tomas. I thank thee for thy words. But that one was an
ancient male, one less mighty than I, so it was less a contest than
it appeared. Had thou and Pug not crouched upon my back, I would have
been less cautious. Still, thine aid and Pug’s counted much.
They circled
above the island in the sky and began their search again. It was a
large place, and the foliage was dense, but at last Pug pointed and
shouted, “Tomas!”
Tomas followed
his friend’s direction and there, in the centre of a clearing,
a figure jumped up and down, waving his arms above his head. They
waved back as Tomas instructed the dragon to descend. The figure
staggered back, covering his eyes from the wind the huge wings
caused. He was holding a staff and wore the familiar brown homespun.
It was Macros. He continued to wave at them as they came to land.
His face
registered resignation as the dragon touched ground. There was an
odd, strangely quiet moment, and they could hear him sigh. Then he
said, “I wish you hadn’t done that.”
The universe
collapsed and came crashing down upon them.
It felt as if
the ground had fallen out from under them. Pug staggered a moment,
then righted himself and saw Tomas doing the same. Macros leaned upon
his staff, looking about, then sat down upon a rock. The falling
sensation slowed, then ceased, but the sky above changed, as the grey
of rift-space was replaced by a dazzling display of stars in an inky
void. Macros said, “You should do something about the air above
this island, Pug. In a moment we’ll not have it.”