At the Gates of Darkness (20 page)

Taking in a deep breath, shaking his head at how things turn out despite plans at times, he chuckled to himself at how well Creegan did understand his protégé, and he slowly returned to the keep, trying to savor a few more moments of fresh air before plunging back into the intrigues and murderous needs of the Conclave.

Pug asked, “Why can’t you go?”

Laromendis said, “My brother and I are not well regarded by our people.” He sat back in one of the two chairs before Pug’s desk. The other should have been occupied by his brother, save Gulamendis was somewhere with Amirantha poring over a volume on demon lore. “To understand, you’d have to have some knowledge of the history of the Edhel.”

“I know a little,” said Pug, “from Tomas.”

Laromendis nodded. “His memories from the Valheru,
the Dragon Lord.” The elf’s forehead furrowed in an expression of worry. “There are many things that I fail to understand, and that particular miracle is one of them, but what he remembers is what another being saw. It is not the only perspective.”

Pug made a gesture with both hands indicating the elf should continue. “I will spare you a long story of our struggles and say that at the height of our power, the Taredhel had risen to heights no elf living on Midkemia could imagine. We were rulers of worlds, Pug. But with such a change in our nature came a price—arrogance. Few of my race would admit to it, but having spent some time on this world, scouting and encountering…” He took a slow breath. “Before I returned to Andcardia with word that I had found Home, Midkemia, I killed a member of your race; a cleric I had captured and after I obtained all the useful information I could from him, I simply killed him to ensure no one would know I had been there. I know travelers who’ve ventured too close to E’bar have been murdered. I know the Lord Regent has ordered raids against farms and villages in the Free Cities, letting blame fall on our cousins, the Moredhel.”

Pug said, “This is disturbing news. Why are you telling me this if you know this will indispose me toward your people?”

“Because there are those of us within the Taredhel who do not agree with this course of action. Before I was born, all matters mystical, what you would have called priests, magicians, healers, and the like, existed independent of civil authority.

“Your friend Tomas is wed to the woman who we view as the unbroken connection back to the roots of our past, those elves primarily responsible for the cultivation and care of the holy groves, what we call the Stars. But real power for our people has resided with the Regent’s Meet and the Circle of Light.

“When we first encountered the demons, the Regent’s Meet ruled that all members of the Circle of Light had to sever ties with that organization and subject themselves to the rule of the Regent’s Meet or suffer the consequences, which were imprisonment or death, the latter being the more usual consequence.”

“For what reason?”

“Power. Pure naked power. The Regent has by tradition been forbidden to take the title King, because there always was this faint hope among the Taredhel that we would someday return here and reclaim the world.” Laromendis sighed and shook his head slowly, as if in regret. “We never expected this world. We thought we’d find one in ruins, or perhaps in a primeval state, or even one occupied only by other elves, and we would assume our rightful place as their rulers.

“We even imagined a world where the Valheru were still in residence, and we were prepared to fight for our freedom. We have evolved. You’ve seen the other elves of this world, Pug, and you know that we are larger, stronger, faster, and more ruthless. Our magic dwarfs any that the Spellweavers of Elvandar can hope to bring against us.

“In short, the Regent doesn’t want allies; he wants subjects. And of any voice to whom he might listen, mine is among the least likely.”

“You were a member of the Circle?”

“Barely. My brother and I are young compared to the others of the Circle. I was a member less than ten years, Gulamendis not at all; Demon Masters are not well regarded, even among the most accepting of our people.”

“Amirantha suffered the same regard,” said Pug. “Or should I say lack of regard.”

Laromendis said, “He is the first of your race I can say my brother has developed some affection toward; it’s quite remarkable. As I said, we are an arrogant people.” He sighed, then said, “In my case, I do not particularly care
for your race, Pug, but I also do not hold you in any sort of disdain. If I were to admit my shortcoming, here it is, that I don’t feel much kinship with anyone besides my brother. Perhaps that is due to our upbringing, but I feel much the same way toward the other elven races on Midkemia.

“But to return to the reason we are talking, I think you may have difficulty with anyone you might choose to speak to the Regent.” He narrowed his gaze. “The only person I can name who might persuade him to mitigate his position regarding alliances with humans and dwarves—and that would be close to a miracle; dwarves have never gotten along with the Taredhel—that person is Lord Tomas.”

“Why?” asked Pug, now intrigued.

“The Regent honors the Queen, but he doesn’t respect her. The Eledhel are seen as rustics, simple, lacking the sophistication of the Eldar. The other Eldar, the ones who did not become the Taredhel, those are viewed with distrust, because they serve the Queen. The others?” He made a small motion of dismissal with his head. Pug knew he meant the Moredhel, Glamredhel, and others were just not worth discussing. “But Lord Tomas, the Regent cannot completely rid himself of our heritage. He fears Lord Tomas. As much as he would like to displace him and the Queen and proclaim himself King of all Edhel, raising the Taredhel to supremacy among the People, he doesn’t dare think about the consequence of trying. You only have to see Tomas standing there in his armor, not even climbing up on the back of a dragon, to know that he
is
Valheru when he wants to be.” Laromendis nodded slowly. “Yes, have Lord Tomas speak with the Lord Regent, and perhaps some good may come of it.”

Pug was silent, then said, “Thank you, Laromendis. Both for the suggestion and your frankness. The truth is those few of your people I’ve met besides yourself and your brother strike me as being as you said they were.”

“I have another name,” said Laromendis, standing, as
he knew this discussion was coming to a close. “Tandarae, the newly appointed Lorekeeper of the Taredhel. He understands there are powerful beings on this world, and that having them as friends is a better choice than trying to conquer them. Were there a million of us here, the war would already have begun, I fear, but we have perhaps ten thousand or so who now cling to the legacy of the stars. It’s both a sad time and a time for opportunity, Pug. Tandarae, keep his name in mind, and if you ever have cause to speak with anyone in the Regent’s Meet, it would have to be with discretion, but he’s the one.”

Pug nodded. “I will remember. Thank you.”

Laromendis left, and Pug sighed. He had much to do, but it seemed that at the top of the list now was a quick visit to Elvandar.

Amirantha was astonished at the insight and observational skills of the elf. Gulamendis had quickly digested all that Amirantha had come to understand out of the tome they had removed from Queg, and then in short order had drawn some conclusions from the material that left him doubting his own intelligence; they were obvious once they were pointed out. The elf was slightly arrogant at times, but for the most part was respectful of the work Amirantha had done and on more than one occasion had complimented him on a particular insight or conclusion. Amirantha was forced to either become increasingly annoyed with the elf’s attitude or accept it for what it was; he chose the latter, because he was forced to admit that it was closer to his own manner and behavior than anyone else he had ever met.

He was taking a break from the work, leaving Gulamendis on his own, as the Warlock had given everything he had to give, and really was tired of reading, discussing, and wondering. He simply needed a few moments outside, in the fresh air, away from worry and concern.

That sense of freedom from worry and concern van
ished a moment later when Sandreena’s voice cut through the air: “Amirantha! I need a word.”

As he turned to watch her approach, two things struck him simultaneously: the first was she still took his breath away, despite the martial apparel. All too well he knew how she looked without the armor, tunic, and trousers. The second was he knew it was going to be many more than one word. He recognized that expression.

Deciding it was time to say little and listen, he said, “Of course, Sandreena. What is it?”

She paused, looking at him, gauging his expression and manner, deciding exactly what to say next, then she blurted, “I’ve been made Mother-Bishop of the Order in the west.”

He inclined his head slightly, smiled, and said, “Congratulations. Deserved without a doubt and I know you will excel in your new post.”

She blinked, revealing that whatever she expected him to say, that wasn’t it. Then suddenly she reached across and back-handed him across the face, knocking him to the ground.

Amirantha sat stunned for a moment, then reached up and put his hand to his now throbbing right cheek. Finally he said, “I wish you’d stop hitting me.”

Her eyes shining with emotion, she hissed, “Just be glad you’re needed; otherwise I’d have no compunction about killing you!” With that she turned and hurried off, back to the keep.

She passed Brandos coming out of the keep. He took one look at Sandreena hurrying by and then another at Amirantha sitting on the ground, and broke into a broad grin. Coming to stand over his old friend, he reached down and helped him to his feet. “You’d better do something to get that girl over you, or she’s going to kill you.”

“Any suggestions?” asked Amirantha, wiggling his jaw and hearing it pop in and out.

“Either kill her first or marry her are the only two that come to mind.”

“Marry? She’d rather marry a demon. Not to mention she’s just been promoted to Mother-Bishop.”

“No wonder she’s so cranky,” observed Brandos. “Well, I guess marriage is out of the question. Unless you think you’d like temple life…?”

Amirantha gave him a look that would wither flowers. “You wanted something?”

“Yes. Pug sent me to fetch you. Gulamendis seems to have found something in that book you stole…retrieved from Queg.”

Amirantha put aside his annoyance, hurt, and confusion over Sandreena and followed his friend into the keep. Brandos took him to the entrance to the tower, and said, “Let me know if it’s anything interesting.”

“Things have hardly been boring around here lately,” said Amirantha, moving quickly up the stairs.

Reaching the entrance to Pug’s private study, he knocked once and heard Pug say, “Come in.”

Amirantha entered and found Pug sitting at his desk with Gulamendis in a chair opposite him. Amirantha said, “You sent for me?”

“Yes,” said Pug. “Gulamendis has interpreted a few passages that seemed to have caused you some problems, and we have, if he’s correct, a very different situation than we anticipated.”

“Really?” said the Warlock, sitting in the empty chair next to the elf’s.

“Yes,” said Pug. “I’ll let him explain how he arrived at these conclusions, but in short, it seems that things in the demon realm are not what we imagined them to be.”

“I suspect we understood that when Belasco subverted the demons we held in thrall and Villa Beata was sacked.”

Pug visibly tensed at mention of the destruction of his home, where his wife had died.

“Sorry,” Amirantha said softly. “No disrespect intended. What has changed?”

It was Gulamendis who spoke. “I want to go over this with you in detail, Amirantha, but unless I am completely misled by something I don’t see, what my brother and I witnessed is one part of a very nasty civil war in the demon realm.”

“Civil war?”

“We know Maarg is dead, but someone is keeping alive the notion that he’s still around, still in command. But he’s not. Pug saw his corpse on the world of Shila, and the demon king we saw on Telesan was an illusion; we can assume Maarg is dead. Even if he’s returned to the demon realm, it will be some time before he rises to power again, if ever.

“That leaves us with two questions: who’s pretending to be Maarg and why?”

“Three,” said Amirantha. “Who’s he fighting?”

“Four,” amended Pug. “What has any of this to do with Midkemia?”

The three sat back, thoughtful, as they realized that for every question they had answered since the Demon Legion started threatening Midkemia, they now had two new ones.

P
ug signaled.

Magnus followed Gulamendis’s instructions and they found themselves suddenly standing in a vast chamber. The Oracle of Aal rose up above them, her magnificent dragon form made all the more impressive by the multifaceted layer of jewels that adorned her body, the result of a magic fusion that took place in a battle with a Dreadlord over a century before.

“You come uninvited, Pug,” said the Oracle, though her tone was neutral; it was a statement, not an accusation.

“I face the unknown, Lady,” answered Pug. “A great danger approaches, and I would know what you can tell me.”

The Oracle was silent for a while, as if weighing the question, then spoke: “Too many futures, most of them dire, some ending life as we know it. Too many nexuses of possibility.”

“Is there one thing you can tell me to enhance our possibility of successfully avoiding the most dire of consequences?”

“Two waves, the one you see and the one behind it. You remember, from your youth.”

Pug was startled. No one knew of that moment, or at least he was almost certain he had never spoken of it. It was the day he had first spoken with his future teacher, Kulgan. He had fallen into a doze on the beach and was awakened by a sudden storm. He had been knocked over by a wave on the beach and as he was attempting to rise, one behind it swept him under. “I remember,” he said. “It was a lesson I’ve remembered all my life.”

“You must seek out the hidden wave. The wave before you is meant to distract, to bleed your resources and scatter your focus.”

“Can you tell me any more?”

“Shadows hide deeper shadows. There is a void from which no light emerges, and into which none may see. Those who seek to destroy all you love lurk within.” A deep sigh came from the massive figure and the Oracle said, “Seek more knowledge before you act, for once begun, this conflict can only end in complete victory or utter defeat.”

Magnus said, “Not the first time we’ve been faced with that option.”

The Oracle said, “Wave after wave, young magician, that you must realize. This struggle started before you were born, before your father was born, before even I was born. It is not apparent, but all is connected. Be cautious, be wise, seek more intelligence before acting is my counsel.”

The massive dragon head slowly lowered to the floor and the men and women who had been standing in the
shadows—the Oracle’s companions—moved forward to meet any need she might have.

Pug nodded to his son and suddenly they were back in his study.

Magnus asked, “Father, did that help?”

“Somewhat,” answered Pug. “I think before we run down to Kesh to look at Sandreena’s big hole in the ground, we need to backtrack the elven brothers’ route, and find that lost castle.”

“What do we seek there?”

“As always. Knowledge. There are dwarf, human, and elven prisoners there, so we should free them. And there’s a room full of books I wish to bring here.”

“Books?” said Magnus. “What sort of books?”

“We won’t know until we fetch them.”

“Why are they important?”

With a wry grin, Pug said, “Because it appears this is another small den that had been at one time occupied by your grandfather.”

Magnus visibly sagged. “Macros.”

Pug reached over and pulled a book off the shelf, handing it to his son. “Look at the mark on the first page.”

Magnus opened the volume and looked. “It’s grandfather’s glyph, if I read it right.”

For a painful moment, Pug looked lost and he said, “I just wish I knew what your mother would say right now.”

“Something scathing,” said Magnus and he laughed.

Suddenly Pug laughed, too. “No doubt.” It was the first time either of them had been able to laugh since Miranda’s death and they looked at each other. They needed to put the past behind, for the coming struggle was approaching faster than either would welcome, and they needed to be at their best. Pug pushed aside a rising fear: is this where I lose my son? Ignoring that stab of near panic, he resigned himself to the fact the gods were exacting a price for returning him to this struggle, and it was a bitter price, watching all he loved
die before him. But that didn’t mean it would be now, or even soon.

“I think we need to find Gulamendis and start back-tracking to that world with the volcanoes.”

“Who else?”

“Amirantha and Sandreena, because we need all the demon knowledge we can bring to this, and Brandos, because we could use a good sword and he’s faced his share of demons, too.”

Magnus said, “When do we leave?”

“As soon as you gather them all here. No time like the present.”

Magnus nodded and hurried out of the tower, and Pug sat in his chair, lost in his thoughts. Fear over his last child’s fate threatened to rise up and instead of succumbing to it, he forced his mind to dissect the Oracle’s riddle. The hidden wave. An enemy hiding in a lightless void. He could feel his mind almost comprehending something, but with the Oracle the mix of simple fact and metaphor often confused things.

He turned his attention to her predictions and waited for the others.

It had taken some time, but eventually they discovered the source of the brothers’ last rift. Pug had spent the better part of an hour in the clearing where they had arrived, using his powers to seek out any lingering effects of the magic rift, and finding it after a tedious search. It was a faint trail, but there was enough of it that with calculations and patience he finally decided he could reach the point of origin.

“Everyone, stand back,” he instructed. “Magnus, be ready to get us out of here if needed.” Rifts could be very unstable and destructive and while no man living knew more of them and their nature than Pug, still he was cautious when constructing a new one to a previously unknown location.

Pug closed his eyes a moment, then with a quick incantation formed a rift.

Pug was pulled forward a step, as if seized by a massive invisible hand, then fell back, as if that same hand pushed him away. Brandos stepped forward and steadied Pug, keeping the sorcerer from falling on his backside.

“That was unexpected,” said Pug.

“What, Father?”

He looked at Magnus and said, “That rift formed with a great deal more energy than I intended. It was as if someone was helping me form it.” He turned to the others and said, “Best be ready for anything when we step through.”

Pug led the way and stepped through. When the others came through they found him examining the gate used by the elven brothers. Brandos and Sandreena both coughed, as the air was thick with smoke and an acrid bite stung their eyes and noses. “Must have had an eruption recently,” observed Gulamendis. “It wasn’t this bad when we left.”

Magnus came to stand beside his father and instantly understood what had his father’s attention. “I’ve not seen its like.”

“Neither have I. Look at this.” He pointed to the impressions where fingers were to be placed.

Magnus put his fingers there, closed his eyes, then opened them wide as if he had been surprised. “Those controls…”

“Masterful,” said Pug. “If this is one of your grandfather’s designs, it surpasses anything I’ve been able to construct. If it’s someone else’s…”

“Who?” said Magnus quietly.

Amirantha said, “Wind is rising!”

Pug looked around. It was impossible to tell what time of day it was, as ash and smoke formed a canopy in the sky. The air was acrid with stench from the distant volcanoes, and a faint fall of ash covered everything in sight. It could be sunrise, sunset, or noon, and they wouldn’t know. “Yes,” he said, “I think you’re right; there’s been an eruption recently.”

“None of this ash was here when we left,” Gulamendis said. Glancing around, he continued, “At least the darkness will help mask our approach.”

As if to accent his observation, a deep rumbling came through the ground as a hot tower of flame appeared above one of the distant cones. “I wonder how long this has been going on,” said Amirantha.

“Ages, no doubt,” said Pug. “These sorts of regions can go through very calm periods then suddenly become active again.” He pointed to the sloping ground. “The lava flow fans out at the bottom of the cone and forms these relatively flat surfaces.” He then pointed to the erupting volcano in the distance. “But a big explosion and this can all be lifted, dropped, broken…” He shrugged. “If we can, I want to take that gate back with us.” He turned to Gulamendis. “But first, which way to the fortress?”

Pointing north, he said, “That way. About a half-day’s walk.”

“We’ll get there a little faster than that.” He motioned for them to stand close and join hands. Sandreena and Brandos stood beside Magnus, while Amirantha and Gulamendis stood beside Pug. They all joined hands and suddenly they were standing on a ridge that had been easily a mile north of their previous position. “Don’t let go,” Pug said, and another jump put them on a plateau. They could see the fortress rise up in the distance. “What’s the best way in?” asked Pug.

“We came out the main gate,” said Gulamendis. “It has a small door to admit people in and out without opening the big gates fully; there was no one in the yard; we just opened it, walked through, and closed it behind us. If no one’s noticed, it still may be unlatched.”

Pug nodded and said, “I think over there,” and suddenly they appeared on a slope just below the ridge line opposite the main gate. Pug poked his head above and looked around. If anyone was on the wall or in the tower, the
chance of them being seen on the other side of the slope was high, though Pug was confident Magnus and himself could deal with anything likely to come from a half-abandoned fortress. Still, it paid to be cautious and Pug’s last encounter with a demon prince had almost cost him his life.

Pug studied the fortress for a long minute, moving his hand to indicate the others should remain out of sight. He saw no sign of movement anywhere. He waited and then conjured up a wandering eye.

The spell was one he rarely employed, for while useful for scouting areas he did not personally wish to enter, it was easily detected by any other competent magician and it tended to leave him with a splitting headache.

A tiny orb appeared before his face, and suddenly Pug’s vision originated at the orb and his own eyes were as if blind. He sent the orb speeding across the clearing before the gate, the so-called killing ground, and over the wall and swiftly into the open doors of the main keep.

No alarm was raised. Pug let his magic vision race along halls and corridors, into rooms, and up towers. The armory stood empty as did the pantries. The keep was abandoned.

Pug let the spell end, opened his eyes, and said, “There’s no one there.”

He rose and led them over the ridge and down the slope. Pug stopped for a moment and knelt. He poked at what appeared to be a fibrous plant, knocked down by falling rock and ash. “This plant was nearly four feet tall…” He stood. “No one has cleared this area for a while. You don’t provide even modest cover for an attacking foe.”

Gulamendis said, “I suspect this place was abandoned years ago and only reoccupied by the demons recently. Parts of the keep we passed through had layers of dust on the floor.”

“Tracks?” asked Magnus.

“We just didn’t worry about them,” said Gulamendis. “We judged that if no one has used those parts of the
keep in years, they were unlikely to use them just after we left, and that if anyone came in after a few days…” He shrugged. “We planned on being far from here by then.”

Pug said, “Logical.”

They quickly walked to the door within the massive gates and Pug pushed on it. It swung slowly open. “Apparently they had no idea you had visited the area.”

They slipped through the gate, staying within the deep shadows along the walls. Moving quickly, Gulamendis led them into the corner then over to the side of the shed. He glanced around. There was no hint of life.

He led them quickly to the ramp leading down to the door into the basement and found the door refused to open. He pushed, and despite his above-human-level strength, the door wouldn’t budge. Magnus whispered, “Let me.”

The younger magician moved to stand before the door and held up his hand. With a short motion and a single word, the door moved in balky fits and starts until it was open enough for them to see what blocked it.

“Bodies,” whispered Magnus.

The stench of decomposing flesh rose up and even Brandos swallowed hard.

Sandreena said, “What happened here?”

“We won’t know until we get inside,” said Pug. He spoke in a normal tone, not evidencing any concern over being heard. “I think the demons have quit this place and decided not to take the prisoners with them.”

Magnus waved his hand again and the door veritably flew off its hinges, back into the room. The large room that led into the dungeon cells and up to the kitchen was littered with corpses: humans, elves, and dwarves all piled atop one another. It was clear a good number of them were racing for this door, to escape, and were cut down from behind. The wounds were mixed, some smooth cuts, from sword or knife blades, others torn, ragged, as if made by fang or claw.

Once they had cleared a way though the piles of bodies,
Pug knelt and inspected the corpses. “Some of the clothing I recognize,” he said softly. “I think this dwarf here is from Dorgin, perhaps a companion of Keandar’s. That pattern in the weave of the tunic is common there. But these elves…”

Gulamendis said, “They are unknown to me, but then until we found Home…Midkemia, we knew only the Taredhel.”

“I don’t think they’re from Midkemia,” said Pug. He felt an undamaged piece of shirt on a dead elf and said, “I do not recognize this material. It’s not silk or linen, but it’s light and…” He stood and said, “Too many mysteries. Too many distractions. Where is the tower?” he asked.

“That way.” Gulamendis pointed.

Sandreena and Brandos had both seen their share of battlefields, yet both appeared pale and shaken by the carnage in the room.

The light was faint and at the end of the hall, Magnus raised his hand, creating a bright blue-white glow that illuminated their surroundings more efficiently than a lantern. They reached the bottom of the tower stairs and moved quickly to the top.