Blinded by Power: 5 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (40 page)

WITH THE YELLOW light of dawn bathing his back, Torg stared westward at an unusual assortment of characters: a demon, a Faerie, a ghost-child, a man, and a bear. Torg wrestled with conflicting emotions. He was filled with joy that he had heard Laylah’s voice, but riddled with anguish that she was being tortured in a faraway place. He strode first to Elu and reached out his hand.

“Give me the Silver Sword,” he said.

“I found it and brought it for you,” Elu said happily, yet he hesitated to comply.

“Give it to him, you shit-eating savage,” Vedana snarled, her physically incarnated voice still raspy from the choking she had received. “The Death-Whiner has caused enough delays already. We don’t need any more.”

Elu looked at the demon with hate in his eyes, and Ugga growled.

Torg ignored both. “The sword is mine,” he said, this time more gently than before. “
Please
give it to me.”

“Please,
smease
,” Vedana said, rolling her ugly eyes and sighing deeply. “I have to go. Peta, tell the Death-Whiner what to do
 . . .
and then do it
fast
. A lot has to happen in a short time.” Then Vedana swirled her robes and leapt into a dark hole that appeared in the air beside her.

While Elu was watching the demon vanish, Torg took a step forward and snatched the sword from the Svakaran’s grasp. Elu gasped and then angrily swung his fist at Torg’s face, but Torg avoided the blow with ease.

“Enough!” he shouted, his voice so powerful it caused the Svakaran to stumble. “The sword is not for you.”

Elu’s face reddened. “I meant no harm. But it was I who found it.” Then his arms fell limply to his sides.

“You have done well, my friend,” Torg said, peering intently into the Svakaran’s eyes. “Give it no further thought.” Then he turned to Peta. “The demon is right. There’s no time to waste. Tell me. Where do I go . . . and what do I do?”

Peta’s relief was obvious. “I have foreseen what must occur, Father. Though you will not want to hear this, there are deeds you must perform—away from Avici—before your desires are achieved. Bargains have been made
 . . .
between higher powers.”

“And what of Laylah? How much must she suffer while I dally?”

Jord chose to spoke. “You cannot prevail without the help of
all
involved
 . . .
including Vedana.”

Torg grunted.

Peta walked gently forward until she stood just a pace away. “Father, when you sacrificed your freedom to rescue the noble ones from Mala, you set powerful forces in motion
 . . .
as was your intention. But the destruction of a god does not come without a price. All three aspects of existence—life, death, and undeath—have demanded payment, of sorts
 . . .
from you. Until all three debts are satisfied, you and Laylah will not be truly free.”

“I don’t understand,” Torg said. “But if it saves Laylah, I will do what you say.”

“Jord will take you to your first task,” Peta said. “I will rejoin you when it is time to do so.”

“What about me and Ugga?” Elu said.

“You are to deliver a message to Nissaya,” Peta said.

“That’s it?”

“That will be enough,” Peta said. “And I will come with you.”

Elu seemed not at all satisfied, but Torg had no time to succor him. Jord was already moving away and beckoning him to go with her. Ugga attempted to follow, enamored of Jord even in his current state, but Jord hissed at the bear, causing him to stop and squat in the grass, his small eyes mournful. Torg could hear Elu still arguing with Peta, and he turned around for a moment out of concern for both. When he looked back, Jord was gone. Bhojja stood in her place, her jade coat shimmering in the late-morning sun.

“Peta says I’m to trust you,” Torg said to the mare.

Bhojja snorted and shook her huge head up and down. Then she approached and knelt on her left front leg, inviting him to mount. Bearing only the Silver Sword, Torg leapt upon her bare back.

Bhojja rushed northward and then veered to the west, galloping tirelessly for league upon league, though she held back her true speed, for reasons Torg could not discern. They did not reach the eastern shore of the Cariya River until past dusk. There, Torg dismounted, knelt by the water’s edge, and drank from the palm of his hand, while the mare immersed her entire muzzle in the rushing water.

Afterward, she carried him across the river, spanning the treacherous currents as easily as a Daasa. Then she continued on at a canter.

Torg ground his teeth over the relatively slow pace, but it was obvious that protesting would do him little good. He was at Jord’s mercy. It could take several weeks to ride an ordinary horse to Avici, and even longer to jog there on his own, while Bhojja or Sakuna, depending on the Faerie’s preference, could carry him there in less than two days.

Near midnight, the quarter moon began its slow rise. The mare nickered loudly and then slowed to a walk. Torg spotted a figure emerge from the darkness, perhaps a large dog, though if so, its silhouette was oddly configured. Then he heard a welcoming nicker and was further confused. It wasn’t until he recognized the sparkle from the enchanter’s tiny wand that Torg understood who it was that approached.

Torg leapt off Bhojja and greeted Burly enthusiastically, lifting the enchanter off the small pony’s back and holding him high in the air as easily as he would a toddler.

Burly seemed equally pleased, the glow of his eyes illuminating the blushes on each round cheek. But he also was bemused. “
Torgon
, I sensed your fall
 . . .
but not your rise. How is it that I was unaware?”

“I have chosen to conceal myself,” Torg said. Then he gently placed the Gillygaloo on the ground, sat next to him, and unexpectedly began to sob.

Burly caressed one of Torg’s huge knees with his tiny hand. “I know, I know
 . . .
he has Laylah. I’m so sorry.” Then he stroked Torg’s face. “To be honest, I thought he had you too. How came you here,
Torgon
? And more importantly
 . . .
why
are you here and not headed to Avici?”

To both their surprise, it was Jord who answered. She had transformed and now stood before them in a magical gown that glowed like a shimmering jewel. “Peta has decreed what must be accomplished: one gift each for life, death, and undeath,” she said to Burly. “As always, life comes first. There is work to be done, enchanter. Do you understand my meaning?”

“We’re to perform a deed that frees the Jivitans?” Burly said.

“No,” Jord said. “What imprisons the Jivitans is beyond our ability to surmount.”

“Speak plainly!” Torg said. “I have no patience for riddles.”

Jord sighed. “For the second time in a millennium, it falls to you and me to destroy a druid queen.”

“Aaaah
 . . .
I think I understand,” Burly said. “In doing so, you will free not the Jivitans, but the druids.” Then he smiled. “A gift to life.”

Torg grunted. “I have seen what happens to druids when their queen is slain. They wander aimlessly and then die. You call this a gift?”

Jord smiled. “This time will be different.”

“I care naught, either way,” Torg said. “I care only for Laylah. If destroying
Kattham Bunjako
brings me closer to rescuing my love, then I will slay the queen and be on my way.”

Jord’s smile transformed to a grimace. “
Kattham
is still strong,
Torgon
. Victory is far from assured. For success to occur, Peta foresees that Burly must be with you. Will you join us on this quest, enchanter? There is great risk.”

“Though I am ashamed to admit it, the sorcerer was an enemy I could not abide. On that day, I was proven to be a coward. In facing
Kattham
, I hope to redeem myself. Where
The Torgon
goes, I will go. But where is Obhasa? Will not the wizard need his staff as well as his blade?”

“Before all is said and done, they will be reunited,” Jord said. “But Obhasa will play no role against
Kattham
. Now we must go. Both of you shall ride upon my back. Your pony must fend for itself.”

“He’s no slouch,” Burly said. “He will find his way back to the White City. If only I could say the same.”

Now a trio, they rode northward together, Burly in Torg’s lap. Eventually, they reached the southern border of Dhutanga, entering without hesitation. A short while later they heard the humming of druids.

“
Kattham
has sensed the White City’s weakness and chosen to come herself to see to its destruction,” Burly said in a voice just loud enough for Torg to hear. “My guess is she is surrounded by all that remains of her army.”

“Which is large enough to defeat the defenders of Jivita?” Torg said.

Burly nodded. “Especially if the queen is near enough to wield her will. If the druids could carry her close to the northern gates, she could crush the White City with just the power of her mind.”

“She is not near enough yet,” the wizard said.

As if in response, Bhojja increased her speed, rushing into the forest so fast that the surrounding trees became a blur. The humming grew much louder, reminding Torg of the epic battle north of Jivita. Torg held the blade of the Silver Sword high and began to howl. Burly raised his wand and did the same.

They entered a cove as deep and broad as a canyon. Within it were ten thousand druids, their southward progress slowed by the bulbous bulk they were forced to heft. The trio approached like a bolt of lightning, tearing through the front-running druids with ease. Kattham was prepared to confront an army, but she had not perceived the threat of supernatural assassins. Before she could react, they were upon her.

Torg sprang off Bhojja and onto the druid queen’s back. He stood on the quivering white flesh, raised the Silver Sword above his head, and prepared to stab the point into
Kattham
’s flesh. But something stayed his hand, preventing the downward stroke. The druid queen had become aware of his presence just in time to defend herself, and her will once again held Torg in its grip.

BURLY’S POWER FAR outweighed his stature. The enchanter could hold his own against a Warlish witch or Stone-Eater, if the need was great enough. And now indeed it was.

When the wizard leapt upon
Kattham Bunjako
, the druids reacted quickly, first setting down her massive bulk and then swarming upon her flanks to attack Torg en masse. Burly, still aboard Bhojja, was forced to react just as fast. From his wand the enchanter unleashed a multicolored ring that encircled Torg like a palisade of sparkling fire. The druids drew back, unable to penetrate it despite the urgency to rescue their queen.

A portion of the druids turned on Burly and Bhojja, recognizing them as another danger. The mare battered the attackers with her powerful hooves, but not even she could hold off so many. She was forced to transform to Sakuna and take to the air with Burly on her back, flying over and landing inside the magical ring. Then she changed to Jord, causing the enchanter to fall off her back and roll next to Torg’s feet. The wizard remained frigid, his mind apparently tormented by unseen visions.

Burly felt his strength waning as the druids shoved nearer, using their combined weight to sag the magical ring inward. The enchanter doubted he could resist them much longer, but he understood that in order to free Torg from his torpor, he would need to somehow distract the queen from her assault on the wizard’s mind.

Using his tiny but strong arms, Burly drove his wand into the queen’s pale hide, while at the same time unleashing a bolt of magic capable of splitting the trunk of a tree. Though it was not nearly powerful enough to destroy
Kattham
, it caused enough internal injury to distract her from Torg for just a moment.