At the Gates of Darkness (14 page)

“No,” said Laromendis, his breath beginning to come hard. “No one could. It would take a dozen as good as me, I think. And then it wouldn’t endure long. That’s a great deal of magic being used. To achieve it for a long period at this level, it would take a hundred better than me.”

“Well, let’s hope whoever’s behind this monstrous betrayal is too occupied with whatever he’s doing up there—or whatever they’re doing up there—to notice the two of us slipping away.”

Suddenly the hair on their arms stood up and both slid to a halt, dust rising from their sliding feet.

“What’s that?” asked Gulamendis.

“A barrier…” Laromendis reached out and drew his hand back. “It doesn’t hurt, but it’s not particularly pleasant, either.”

“What is it?”

Pushing with his fingers, Laromendis said, “I think it’s…” He stepped forward.

And vanished from his brother’s sight.

“Laro!” shouted the Demon Master.

Abruptly a hand reached out of the air and grabbed him by the arm, yanking him forward.

“Where are we?” asked Gulamendis.

Wherever it was, it wasn’t the desert world upon which they had stood only a moment before.

They stood in an empty marshaling yard, in a massive black stone fortress. Walls thirty feet high rose up on all sides of an open area two hundred yards across, by a hundred deep. Above them rose a keep unlike anything they had seen. If the castle created by the Black Sorcerer had been designed to warn away passing ships, sight of this fortress would have scared the sailors to death.

The sky above was a canopy of black clouds, so thick it was impossible to tell the time of day, or night. They were lit from below by an angry red light from a series of volcanoes that surrounded this place. Lightning exploded across the sky in the distance, and moments later was followed by peals of thunder that could be felt.

“Where are we?” repeated Gulamendis.

His brother grabbed his arm and pulled him into the relative shelter of a shadow where a tower rose up to form a corner with the wall behind them. In the distance a large figure walked out of the entrance of the vast fortress that rose up across the yard, and even though it was three hundred feet distant, they could see it for what it was—a massive battle demon, perhaps a dozen feet tall. It moved with purpose, but rather than attacking them, it moved at an oblique angle to their position, seemingly intent upon some business. Like those they had seen on the world from which they had fled, this one wore armor and carried a massive two-handed sword strapped across its back.

“Is this the demon realm?” asked Laromendis.

“It can’t be,” answered his brother.

“Why not?”

“Because if it was the Fifth Circle, we would be almost certainly dead by now. Everything we know about the Fifth Circle says we would die within minutes if we weren’t protected by strong magic.”

“Kosridi,” said Laromendis.

“Yes,” said his brother, referring to the tales they had learned about the human magician Pug and his allies traveling to the Second Circle. “On the other hand,” said Laromendis, “who is to say the laws within the Fifth Circle are the same.”

“I’ll argue theory later,” said Gulamendis. “Despite what we just saw, I’m not getting very much…”

“I can’t sense any demons.”

“Another illusion.”

Gulamendis slapped the wall of stone behind him and felt the palm of his hand sting. “What do you think?”

Laromendis closed his eyes for a moment, touched the wall, then said, “If it’s a conjured fortress, whoever did it has the powers of a god.”

“Let’s see if we can find a place to hide while we decide what to do next,” said Gulamendis.

Setting off along the base of the wall, staying as deep in the shadows as they could, the two elves who stood seven feet in height tried to make themselves as small and inconspicuous as possible.

“This may not be the demon realm,” said Laromendis, “but the air is choking.”

“All that smoke and ash in the air,” whispered his brother.

“Who builds something like this in a place like this?”

“I have no idea,” replied Gulamendis. “Over there.” He pointed to a small building that appeared to have been constructed after the wall. It appeared to be a simple wooden structure, a shed or storage room.

They crept along. There didn’t appear to be anyone at hand since they spied the one demon crossing the marshal
ing yard, but they had no idea who might be observing them from any one of the hundred or so windows in the keep above. It reared high overhead, at least a dozen stories, a massive malignant black presence against the evil red-and-grey sky above.

“Fliers!” said Gulamendis, pointing above the top of the keep.

In the sky a dozen black specks appeared against the red glow and then vanished, only to reappear a moment later, growing larger. “They’re coming this way,” said the Conjurer.

“Let’s see what’s in here,” said Gulamendis, opening the unlatched door.

Inside the hut sat sacks and boxes, arranged in a roughly organized fashion. When the door was closed, they were plunged into darkness.

The building was a rough construction, and there were cracks between the boards. The brothers peered through them and suddenly large winged demons descended into view, landing in the marshaling yard and assuming a rough formation, two lines of six each.

“They are waiting for something,” said Gulamendis.

“What?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do we do now?” asked Laromendis.

“Well, as going anywhere is out of the question for the moment, I suggest we just sit here quietly and watch.”

Thinking of nothing else to say, Laromendis fell silent.

Hours passed with nothing of significance occurring in the courtyard, and after a while the sun rose high enough to give faint illumination; like others of their race, the two elves were able to see in light that would challenge a cat.

“What have we here?” said Laromendis, almost absently, pulling down a sack from a large shelf on the back
wall. The bag fell open and red round fruit fell out. “Apples!” he said.

Gulamendis didn’t hesitate, but grabbed up one of the orbs and bit deeply. It was not the freshest he had ever eaten, but the dry cool storage had preserved most of the fruit’s flavors and his stomach almost heaved from the unexpected treat.

“What’s in the other bags?” asked his brother as he bit down into his second apple. He began a haphazard examination, opening bags, using his heavy knife to pry off the tops of boxes, and as he went, the brothers both began to wonder.

The boxes and bags contained provisions and clothing. The clothing was human-sized, too big for dwarves, too small for the Taredhel, and certainly not of a fashion for the other elven tribes.

“What is this?” wondered Gulamendis.

“I don’t know, but have some of this,” said his brother, tossing him a hunk of dried meat.

Gulamendis bit greedily into the jerky and began chewing. “What is this place?”

“You know more about demons than anyone I know; what do you think?”

“Demons eat everything when they see it. They suck life from the living, and then go after whatever’s left.” He made an encompassing gesture and added, “They don’t store fruit, or dry meat. This is not demon food.”

“Then who does it belong to?”

“Let’s get some rest and eat and then we shall go and find out,” suggested Gulamendis.

Laromendis said, “I don’t have any better idea. Eat, then let us rest, and if no one disturbs our repose, we’ll venture out after dark and discover what we can.”

“As you said, I don’t have a better idea.”

They sat and began eating.

The day passed slowly. Twice they held themselves ready to fight as a company of demons marched by, but no one seemed to show much interest in this unexpected pantry. The two conjectures they had arrived at to explain this storage shed were that the original builders of this monstrous fortress were mortals, not demons, and the place had been overrun by the Demon Legion, or that the demons had it built for reasons yet unclear. Given the size and look of the place, the latter seemed a more reasonable conjecture.

The sky darkened and again the massive fortress fell quiet, and finally Gulamendis said, “We need to explore.”

“Why?” said his brother, already knowing the answer. “Very well,” he conceded before Gulamendis could voice his argument. “I know, we can’t stay here forever, even if there’s enough food for it.”

His brother smiled and nodded, pointing over his shoulder in the general direction of the fortress. “If there’s any way out of here, off this world to one that will lead us back to Home, it is in there.”

“These are the times I wish we’d spent less time learning magic and more times learning how to sneak about unseen, like our forest cousins.”

“It’s a difficult choice,” said Gulamendis. “We can skulk about, or you can enchant us to look like something else, but then we’d reek of magic to anyone sensitive to that.”

“What’s you’re best guess, Demon Master?”

“With this bunch, I have no idea,” he admitted. “They don’t act like any demons I have ever encountered…” He fell silent a moment, then said, “Neither those camped in the valley nor those attacking remotely resembled the monsters we faced on Andcardia.

“It’s as if we’ve encountered an entirely new breed of demon.”

“What of their look?” Laromendis asked.

Gulamendis shrugged. “Before all this, I thought myself
familiar with demons, but I have seen more creatures new to me in the last few days than I have my entire previous life. Demons tend to a type, battle demons are large and powerful, but they can look like bulls or lizards or bulls and lizards, or lions or…” He shrugged. “Fliers tend to be small, but we’ve seen some very large nasty ones I’ve never encountered until we were on Hub. I’ve even seen demons in magician’s robes.” He sighed. “I wish that human Warlock was around to talk with; he knew a great deal, as did his friends Pug and Magnus.”

“If we get Home, let’s go visit,” suggested his brother, dryly, “but until we do, turn our attentions to the matter at hand; illusions or skulking?”

“Skulk,” said Gulamendis. “Save your energies for other conjurations.”

“Skulk it is,” said Laromendis, carefully opening the door.

The marshaling yard to their left was empty and the shortest distance to the side of the massive keep was directly across from them. “If someone’s watching from one of those windows above, we will be seen,” said Laromendis softly.

“It’s dark,” said his brother. “If we hurry—”

Not waiting another moment, Laromendis dashed out of the large storage shed and his brother exited, pausing only to close the door behind, then set out after his brother at a full run. It was not a vast distance, less than fifty yards, but it felt like they were exposed to view on every side for the longest time.

Hugging the keep wall, they paused, listening for any sounds of alarm. When none was forthcoming, Gulamendis said, “Now what?”

“That way,” said his brother, pointing to the rear of the keep.

“Why that way?”

“Would you rather try to walk in the main entrance?”

“Point taken,” conceded the Demon Master, and the two elves hunkered down and moved toward the rear of the keep.

Reaching a tower, they moved around its base, until they were looking at a large rear yard, half the size of the marshaling yard. Laromendis whispered, “I see steps leading down to a basement door, and a broad flight of steps leading up beyond that.”

“Down,” said Gulamendis. “Let’s sneak in through the basement.”

“Have you wondered why there are no guards?”

“I presume they’re all too busy obliterating other demons on wherever it was we were before we came through the portal to here.”

“One can hope, but I still find it odd we only saw that one lone demon and those two small patrols,” Laromendis observed.

“Count it a blessing and move on!” hissed his brother.

They made a dash for the steps leading down and found themselves before two large doors. The latch was unsecured, and Laromendis gently pulled the nearest door open just enough to peer through. “It’s a long, dark stairway,” Laromendis whispered.

“Is there anyone there?”

“Not that I can see.” The Conjurer slipped through the door, his brother following.

“This is the height of madness,” said the Demon Master.

“If I push you back to the wall, do not move. I’m going to make us look like part of the stones.”

As plans went, it didn’t seem a particularly brilliant one, but Gulamendis didn’t have a better one so he said nothing.

They moved down a very long tunnel that took them deep into the basement of the keep. When it finally ended, in a large chamber, Gulamendis judged they were at least three stories below the surface. The chamber had four doors, the open one through which they had just stepped,
two other open doorways with stairs leading up, and a barred, heavy wooden one across from them.

“That one,” whispered Laromendis.

His brother gave him a tiny push from behind signaling agreement and they quickly crossed the open room. The door had a small, barred window, and they peered through it. “It’s a dungeon!” said Gulamendis.

Through the small window they could see a long hallway, with cells on the right with floor-to-ceiling bars. On the other side three large heavy wooden doors, like the one through which they peeked, were evenly spaced.

In the barred cells they could see a dozen captives, humans, dwarves, and elves. The last were lesser kin to the Taredhel, being of similar stature to the two brothers. “What is this?” whispered Laromendis.

“Demons don’t take prisoners,” whispered Gulamendis back.

“What now?”

“I have no idea.”

In a dungeon beneath an impossible keep, on a world unknown to them until the day before, created by beings also unknown to them, the two elven brothers stood motionless, crippled by having no idea of what they should do next.

J
im groaned.

The festivities had lasted far too late for him to be welcoming the dawn, yet Pug, Magnus, and Amirantha had come into his room at first light, pulled aside the draperies, and insisted he awake.

“Water,” Jim croaked.

Amirantha picked up an earthen pitcher on the night table next to the huge bed Jim occupied and filled an earthen mug with water. He handed it to the noble who took it and drank. Then Magnus noticed a large lump moving in the bed next to Jim. Magnus poked his father with his elbow and pointed, and Amirantha followed the gesture.

“Ah,” said Pug. “We will wait in the antechamber until you get composed.”

“Thank you,” Jim said, his voice still gravelly from the previous night’s debauchery.

Once outside they retired to a divan against the wall and sat. Pug said, “I should have thought of bringing a powder for this sort of thing.”

“Which?” asked Magnus.

Lowering his voice, Pug said, “Years ago, before I met your mother, I had occasionally indulged in a little too much wine. A healing priest from the Order of Killian had this powder that one mixes with water to banish the effects of too much drink the night before—very effective. And, it turned out, easy to make. No magic involved; just the right mix of herbs and tree bark—”

The door opened and a very attractive young woman slipped out quietly. With a very slight smile she barely nodded at the three men and hurried across the room, to the hall door. She was dark of hair and eyes and wore the garb of a servant, though she was barefoot at the moment.

“Wonder where she left her boots?” asked Amirantha. “Wonder if she remembers where she left her boots?” he amended as he laughed.

Magnus seemed less than amused. “We have some serious work here for the next few days,” he said.

Amirantha put his hand on the white-haired magician’s shoulder and said, “You sound disapproving. If Jim wishes to go through the day with his head pounding and stomach turning, that’s his prerogative. We had a good night’s rest and once we’ve eaten, we’ll be off to do our work. The state of his health isn’t a matter for concern today, is it?”

Magnus shook his head and said, “Sorry. I worry too much.”

“Takes after his mother,” said Pug, and Amirantha was struck by the fact that this was Pug’s first reference to his late wife that didn’t contain a note of sadness. He hoped that was a sign the magician’s black moods were behind
him. Too much depended on Pug’s leadership in the coming fight.

A few minutes later, Jim appeared, looking far more composed than any of the three had expected. He smiled and said, “We dine,” and led them to the door leading out of the apartment he occupied.

As if anticipating his need, an Imperial servant waited to guide them to a small alcove overlooking one of the seemingly endless gardens within the palace. Rather than lying on a divan to eat, they sat upon large cushions around a low table. A variety of foods was provided, several Kingdom dishes like fried cake and savory sausage, as well as the more traditional sweet Quegan delicacies. To everyone’s delight, a large pot of steaming Keshian coffee sat alongside a near boiling pot of water and an infuser with one of the more exotic teas from Novindus.

Jim ate like a man who had starved for a week, and when he noticed the others staring at him, he said, “I worked up an appetite last night.”

“Apparently,” said Magnus with a slight smile.

“You scholars can slight the Emperor’s generosity if you wish, and I don’t denigrate your reasons, but it would have been an insult had I left the festivities too early last night.”

“We noticed,” said Amirantha. “She was very pretty.”

“Very smart, too,” said Jim. “I managed to get out of the orgy by getting off in a corner with a particularly attractive server, which given the differences in our cultures, my host assumed had something to do with Kingdom modesty.”

Pug began to smile. “She was a spy.”

“Of course, and if I get back this way any time soon, I’m going to do my best to turn her.” As if to himself he said, “Though if she won’t turn, I’ll have to kill her and that would simply be a waste.” Looking at his three companions, he said, “It was a certainty the Quegan intelligence service would have several agents watching us.”

“The young woman seated with me?” asked Pug.

“No,” said Jim. “She is what she says she is: the minor daughter of a very minor noble, who if the Emperor can’t marry off to some minor functionary”—he waved his hand at Pug—“will have to marry off to some distant cousin, and this Emperor would rather save himself even that modest dowry.” Looking at Amirantha, he said, “That voluble fellow who bent your ear last night, now he is one of the service’s best men. I doubt you even know how much you told him.”

“Only the truth,” said Amirantha. “The questions he asked about my homeland were obvious, but it was equally obvious after a while that I knew little he would find useful. He asked about the Maharaja’s army, and I said it was big. I had no idea how big—which is true—just big.”

Jim grinned, and took a drink of coffee. “You have the makings of a good spy, Amirantha.”

“I gamble,” said Amirantha. “I expected anyone asking a lot of questions could read a lie, so I find limited truth works well in those situations.”

“Ah,” said Jim. “We must play cards sometime.”

“What are we doing today?” asked Magnus, already knowing roughly the plan, but not the details.

Jim chewed a mouthful of juicy melon, then swallowed. “I meet with functionaries until midday, at which time I dine with a few minor nobles—the Emperor and anyone of rank are done with me—and then I’ll come find you in the archives.

“You three will be about your business and someone will see to your midday meal. After we dine tonight, we’ll discuss the next day’s work.”

They all understood that meant stealing the Great Book of Demons should they locate it, but no one spoke of it.

They finished eating and when they were ready, servants came to escort them to their different destinations.

Pug, Magnus, and Amirantha were led through a series of long hallways and across several large galleries and
gardens, until they started down a long tunnel which they took to indicate they were heading into a portion of the palace excavated from the very soil under the palace.

When they emerged into the sunlight, they could see they were now on the back side of the rolling hills that supported the palace, looking down at a far less populated portion of the city. There were still ample houses and estates nearby, but below there the jumble of merchant and poor houses was minimal. Instead they could see an ancient wall beyond which a vast rolling series of hills, atop tablelands, were dotted with farms.

They trudged down the long road to another entrance, this one into a long and low façade with a dozen large windows, but most of the building had been constructed back into the hillside. “Gentlemen,” said the servant, “we are here.”

He turned and left, and the three magic-users exchanged glances.

“We are here,” echoed Amirantha mirthfully.

Pug smiled, nodded, and indicated they should enter.

Once inside, Pug saw a long hall and off to the left a gallery illuminated by the sunlight streaming in from the tall windows. Two long tables trisected the room, and around them were arranged chairs. Opposite the windows were the end-caps of a half dozen shelves, each with books arrayed so that the spines were out.

A woman sat waiting and seeing the three men enter, she rose and crossed to them, a smile on her face. “Richard, how nice.”

“Livia,” said Pug, bowing slightly. “I believe you met my companions.”

“Yes,” she said, “albeit briefly. Martin, Amirantha. It’s a pleasure to see you once more.”

Amirantha’s expression broadened. “As it is mine,” he replied. “I was sorry I didn’t have the opportunity to speak with you last night. Perhaps…?” He let the question hang.

She glanced at Pug as if gauging his reaction, then said, “Perhaps. Now, what may I do to help?”

Pug said, “Martin and I are commissioned by the King of Isles and the Prince of Krondor to investigate certain discrepancies in our relative histories, especially looking for accounts of the period after Kesh’s withdrawal from the region, but prior to the Kingdom’s expansion westward through Yabon.”

“I think I know where to start you,” said Livia. Looking at Amirantha, she said, “And you?”

“I have a different charge, from my master, the Maharaja. At this point, I would be interested in subjects of a mystical nature.”

“Mystical?” she said, as if not quite understanding.

“Our faiths are much the same as yours, but apparently there are some differences. Our gods have different names, and slightly different aspects.”

“How odd,” she commented. Then realizing she sounded judgmental she quickly amended that by saying, “I mean, it’s odd that there are differences, not that your view is odd.”

“I took your meaning,” said Amirantha with a broad smile. “It might help my understanding if you could show me anything on…non-faith tales of magic and spirits, ghosts, and demons, let us say. Sometimes the tales of the villages and towns give us more insight into the beliefs of a people than the official records of the government or temples.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she replied. “Let me get you two”—she said to Magnus and Pug—“situated, then we”—she said to Amirantha—“will start looking for folk stories and legends.”

With a smile and a nod, Amirantha conveyed he was amenable to this, and for a reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on, Pug found himself annoyed.

They moved off down the hall, toward the rear of the archives.

Amirantha stood with his mouth closed only by conscious will. The term “jaw dropping” had entered his mind as he stood looking at a mountain of tomes, books, scrolls, and codices. There was one table in the far corner of the room, and no chair.

Livia said, “I’m sorry, but for the sort of thing you’re looking to find, this is the most likely spot.” She gently touched his arm, which he found both reassuring and distracting. “My people, as you will no doubt discover, are predisposed to three, no make that four, issues. Glory, both military and commercial, comprise two of the four. The third is self-aggrandizement, for I will confess we are a vain culture. Lastly, pleasures of the flesh, which you would have discovered had you remained at the banquet last night.”

Amirantha tried to appear disinterested. “I’ve been to an orgy before, Livia.”

“As have I, and like you I left before it began, but what I’m trying to say is, if it’s not wealth, war, vanity, or lust, it’s in there.” She pointed to the massive mount of writings.

“So what you’re saying is that Richard and Martin”—he used Pug’s and Magnus’s false names—“are likely to find only officially blessed histories where they are researching.”

“No, they are finding the only histories not fed to the fire. However, there may be one thing or another in this mess that might provide them with a clue or two about what really happened in years past. However, for your research, any discussions of folktales, myths, superstitions, reports of encounters with the gods—not sanctioned by the temples, of course—or anything else you might find intriguing, it’s in there.” She again pointed to the mass.

Amirantha was silent a moment, then said, “I have three requests.”

“What may I do to accommodate you?” she said with a clear double meaning as she studied the still-handsome Warlock.

He smiled his most charming smile and said, “First, could you arrange to have a pot of hot water and some tea brought to that table over there? I will not risk spilling anything on these old volumes, but I do prefer to refresh myself from time to time.”

“Of course. What else?” she asked, touching his arm again.

“Could I have a ladder?” He inclined his head toward the mass and said, “It would be better for whatever is in there if I took the volumes off from the top down. A small ladder, ten feet tall or so, should serve.”

She laughed, and he found the sound of it and her look delightful. “Of course. I’ll have that sent along at once.”

“Could you provide me with a servant, to haul books aside if I don’t wish to look at them, and have him bring along some writing implements and paper or parchment as I wish to take notes.”

“Of course,” she said, though he noticed at once her manner was cooling.

Understanding a moment was slipping away, he added, “Perhaps I should have said four things. Would you dine with me tonight?” He quickly added, “Assuming Lord James doesn’t insist on the three of us dining with him, of course.”

She hesitated only a moment, not wishing apparently to appear too anxious, and said, “If your sponsor doesn’t require your presence, I would enjoy supper with you.”

She turned and in a playful fashion looked over her shoulder and said, “I’ll have the tea, ladder, and servant sent to you at once.” Her smile could only be called seductive, as she added, “And I’ll come back later to see if there is anything else you need.”

“Thank you,” said Amirantha, fully enjoying watching her walk away. The long Quegan toga might run from shoulder to floor, but it hugged her curves in a most tantalizing fashion.

Taking his mind off the lovely woman, he turned and began to consider the prodigious task before him. Sighing, he reached out and took a book at random off the pile. He opened it and found it to be written in a language alien to him. Glancing around to ensure he was unobserved, he took from his belt pouch a small item Pug had given him before they arrived in Queg. He did as he had been taught and incanted a short phrase, holding the trinket to his forehead, then put it away. When he opened his eyes, the letters on the page seemed to swim, then come together in words he could read. Softly to himself, he muttered, “I should have met these people a hundred years ago!”

Now able to read this ancient Quegan text, he began to read softly aloud. “‘On the matter of the stars and their locations in the heaven by seasons…’” He read another page, then put aside the amateur astronomy text and looked around. To no one he said, “You know what you want is at the bottom of that pile, don’t you?”