At the Gates of Darkness (17 page)

They moved as silently as possible and when they were once again at the low door that opened on the courtyard, Laromendis opened it a crack and peeked through. The three steps up to the surface were open and no one else was in sight.

They crept along the wall, staying as much as possible against it, despite being covered in darkness. With even a chance at freedom before them, they were loath to take even the slightest risk that they might bring failure upon themselves.

A quick stop in the storage shed and they loaded up with provisions. They were stymied for a short while when they reached the gate and found it bolted. They realized they had come in through a portal in the wall that emptied into the marshaling yard, and hadn’t given any thought of getting through the gate. Logic dictated there was more than one way through the wall so a hurried examination of the defenses led them to a postern gate behind the keep. It was unguarded and they opened it and went outside.

“If I understand what it is we’re looking for,” said Gulamendis, “we need to start south.”

“Toward the volcanoes and the battlefield?” asked his brother.

“Yes,” said Gulamendis.

With a slight turn of his head to indicate acceptance, the Conjurer indicated his brother should lead the way. Into a very dark night two elves ventured, neither of them certain of where they where headed, but both knowing there was nothing good being left behind.

Dawn found Gulamendis and Laromendis sitting under the shelter of an overhang, eyes smarting from the acidic smoke that hung on the hillside like an ill-conceived cloud of suffering. The three volcanoes were belching smoke and ash into the sky on a regular basis, and at one point Laromendis had observed it would be just their luck to reach their destination when one of the three erupted, destroying the portal. He was uncertain if it would be fate’s crueler irony to have them burned alive with the portal, or to stand on a relatively safe outcropping watching their last hope of escape go up in flames. He was inclined to think the second a more painful outcome.

His brother merely gave him a withering look and said nothing. As soon as he could, Gulamendis avidly began reading the volume he had purloined from the ancient keep. Finally he said, “As I understand this, these people, called the Edhara, were just beginning to experiment with portals. They had created the one we are seeking in a cave—I hope not too far from here—and had discovered a few relatively benign worlds. Then the demons found them.”

“Found them?”

“Remember what Pug said about the nature of rifts?”

“Not really,” said his brother. “I think that was a conversation you had while I was learning some things from that very odd creature from that world whose name I can’t pronounce. The fellow with the blue skin and those things coming out of his neck, but whose illusions…they were stunning.”

“From you, my not so modest brother, that is high praise,” said Gulamendis.

“I’ll grant him his due; he was very good.”

“Rifts have a loadstone quality. As loadstones draw iron to them, rifts tend to draw other rifts. So if you have an established portal from one world to the next, if someone is
casting about for a random destination, there’s a better than average chance it will connect to a world that already has a portal on it.”

“I wonder if that’s why the galasmancer created Hub?”

His brother shrugged. “As the Regent’s Meet didn’t see fit to consult with me on the matter, I can only speculate.” His finger stabbed a page. “From here to the end it’s written very hastily.

“It reads much as the reports we had when our people first encountered the demons; massive assaults in chaotic fashion, no quarter asked or given, mindless wave after wave of demon of every stripe.”

“Obviously something is different,” said Laromendis. “Those demons we saw being slaughtered, and those in the keep to the north…they are nothing we’ve seen before.”

“This is where it gets interesting,” said Gulamendis. “Let me read: ‘And then to our lord Hijilia came a herald of the demon kind, under a banner of truce, offering terms.’”

“A truce?” Thinking of the dozens of worlds overrun by the Demon Legion and the millions of Taredhel left dead on those worlds, he muttered, “We never got the offer.”

“These Edhara didn’t accept, in any event, vowing to fight to the end. The author of this chronicle began writing as if this was his last testament, and jammed in every detail he thought was important.

“The reason I think we might contrive to use the portal in the cave to get away is that was what the rulers of the Edhara were planning on doing. It’s unclear to me if they managed to get away in time or if they reached the portal.

“The point is, if we manage to get out of here, and if we can reach Sorcerer’s Island, and then E’bar, we have something vital to tell the Regent’s Meet.”

Laromendis was silent a moment, then said, “You mean we need to tell Tandarea.”

Gulamendis fell silent also and then said, “It always comes back to that, doesn’t it?”

“The Meeting cannot continue on the course it has been on for the last three hundred years, brother. The Circle of Light must be reformed, and all matters regarding magic need to be restored to it. Just a few months with those humans on Sorcerer’s Island tells me that this is true; if you spoke to Magnus or Pug about their own history and learned of Pug’s first attempt, the Academy at Stardock, and all the problems that created…” He took a breath. “Let’s get home first.”

Gulamendis said, “Let’s. I think we can be there today if we leave now.”

“In daylight?”

“Do you see anyone else around here?”

“No, but a few months ago there was a really massive battle taking place a few miles south of here,” reminded the Conjurer.

“And as we abandoned this position, I doubt it’s still in progress,” said the Demon Master. “That would explain why there’s only a small garrison in that huge fortress we just left, and why we were able to come and go as we pleased. They’ve gone somewhere else.”

Laromendis stood up. “The thing that’s annoying me most,” he said, “is that there are still too many mysteries and odd goings-on. I’m a simple elf at heart; I make things appear out of thin air, and people give me things: food, gold, their daughter’s virtue, a nice robe…”

“You have always thought like a brigand, and a brigand you are at heart.” Gulamendis smiled. “Still, you’re my brother and my brigand, and I shall stand with you.”

For the first time in days Laromendis felt like returning his brother’s smile. He clapped him on the shoulder and said, “As it should be. You may consort with the foulest of beings, but I shall be at your side to the end.”

“Let us go.”

As they walked to the south, Laromendis said, “A question I’ve been meaning to ask for some time now…”

“Yes?”

“Remember when that human girl, Sandreena, was saying all those things about Amirantha?”

Gulamendis laughed. “How could I forget?”

“Remember that part about a summoned creature named Dalthea? A female of extraordinary beauty, as I recall.”

“A demon who looked like a beautiful human woman. Yes, I remember. He conjured a succubus and modified her to look beyond compare.”

“Imagine a totally obedient beautiful female elf? Do you know that trick?”

Gulamendis, for the first time in almost a century, hit his brother in the arm.

Midday and the two brothers were getting closer to the volcanoes. The air was rich with the stench of burning ash and their eyes stung from low-hanging smoke—there was almost no wind today. That helped mask them from casual observation, but it also made their lungs and eyes hurt.

The landscape was now exclusively a rugged sea of basalt rock—large, relatively smooth patches of light grey to black sheets, interrupted by jagged outcroppings of up-thrust stone. At times their weight would crack the rock below as they stepped on the relatively thin top of a bubble, occasionally releasing a cloud of noxious, sulfurous gas. Once Gulamendis dropped partway into a gas dome and his brother had to help pull out his right leg. The edges of the rock were sharp and they had to move slowly to avoid injury at almost every step.

“Who would want this miserable place?” asked the Demon Master.

“We did, for a while,” said Laromendis. “Besides the crystals that come out of these volcanoes, there are huge deposits of metals on this world.” He glanced around, as if gaining his bearings. “I spent a little time here, early on when I was exploring for the Regent’s Meet, and the mines
to the south of here, on the other side of our abandoned fortress…impressive is all I can say. There was copper, silver, iron, gold.” He took a deep breath, then coughed. “How far?”

Gulamendis paused to read out of the journal just to ensure he was not making any mistakes. “If I understand this correctly, we climb that ridge there”—he pointed to the south, and Laromendis could see there was a high ridge about a mile away. He saw a notch that looked as if it might be navigable, as a long flow of basalt created a relatively smooth ramp leading up to it. “On the other side.”

They moved slowly, taking their time, and an hour later made it to the top of the notch in the ridge. They surveyed the landscape and Laromendis said, “Gods and fathers!”

Before them spread out mile after mile of more twisted and broken rock. In the distance they could see gas plumes and steam vents, and they knew they were reading the outer boundary of volcanic activity. Since coming to this world, the Taredhel had witnessed two eruptions, neither of which was violent enough to threaten the fortification to the south, but large enough to prevent exploration in this region. Had they not occurred, the brothers speculated the Taredhel explorers would have found the human fortress to the north. Of course once the demons had reached this world, it was behind their lines.

“Where now?” asked Laromendis.

“Somewhere out there?” said Gulamendis.

“Can you be more precise?”

“No,” said his brother as he started walking down the side of the solid lava flow.

S
andreena galloped forward.

Farson and Keandar urged their lagging mounts to keep up as they started down the final hillside into Durban. Dust blinded those not seeking shelter as another hot wind blew hard out of the desert. Sandreena had been unrelenting, pushing the poor animals to the limits of their strength, knowing that three fine warhorses were most likely headed for the knackers when this ride was over, their health so compromised they would never again be fit for battle.

Still, she judged it a necessary sacrifice, just as she judged Jaliel’s loss necessary. She prayed each night that the Goddess protect Her servant, and hoped
that if Jaliel had been fortunate he was a captive and not a corpse, and that if the mystery she had discovered in the Valley of Lost Men could be further unraveled, he along with the others enslaved down there might be freed.

Durban was by any measure the most dangerous city on the Bitter Sea. The titular seat of Imperial Keshian government in the Jal-Pur desert and the Bitter Sea, it was effectively a city-state. Occasionally an Imperial edict would be handed down from the Emperor’s Court in Kesh requiring reform, but for the entirety of its history, the city was a law unto itself. Strength of arms, gold, and power were the only means of safe passage in this city. Three ragged riders entering at a gallop would hardly elicit a second glance from the city watch and only those considering them as potential prey would cause anyone else to study them.

One look at the arms and surcoats of the two knights warned away potential predators that whatever profit might be squeezed from them in the slave pens, it wouldn’t be worth the trouble. Sandreena got that third look, for despite the dark circles of fatigue under her eyes, road dirt, sweat, and filthy hair, her face was still beautiful. Still, she was armed and any Knight-Adamant of the Order of the Shield of the Weak would offer far better than she received in a melee. The other Knight and the dwarf would instantly be dismissed as far more trouble than they were worth. So the three proceeded through the city untroubled.

Sandreena pulled up before a stable near the docks and found the owner. A quick round of haggling got her enough gold to buy a boat. No boat owner in Durban would take anyone to Sorcerer’s Isle, no matter what the price, so she knew they were on their own.

A quick stop in an inn for food, then they took possession of their craft. The boat was small, less than twenty feet, and should they encounter bad weather on their journey, it could mean a watery end. So Sandreena mustered up
her meager sailing skills, and said a prayer to the Goddess, and they departed.

Sandreena had one gift at sea—she knew how to read the stars, and she had no doubt she could find Sorcerer’s Isle. She dead reckoned her first day, going north by northeast, and would adjust that night. Farson and Keandar were both ignorant of boats and got a swift instruction in what she needed for this little craft. It would be cramped and uncomfortable and there would be no privacy, but they had had none on the road, so they were used to one another.

Little was said. They were all exhausted and Sandreena had gleaned all she could from Keandar with questions while they walked their horses or let them rest. None of them had slept for the last two days, and only one night’s rest in the last four had been granted.

From what Keandar had told Sandreena, along with what she had seen, she knew this discovery was far beyond her ability to judge. Nothing she observed, nothing he had told her, made sense in any fashion, and right now she felt a driving need to bring order from this chaos.

Once in the boat, Sandreena ordered Farson to rest as best he could, and Keandar needed no urging to cross his arms, drop chin to chest, and lose himself in sleep. Sandreena knew her best choice was to somehow keep awake until nightfall and then wake Farson, give him two clear guides in the heaven to steer by, then she would give herself permission to rest. Her only concern now was the marauders that plied these sea lanes. By striking straight for Sorcerer’s Isle she would quickly leave the coastal routes behind, with their attendant risk of pirates. Three armed warriors in a city with plenty of defensible positions from which to defend themselves—and the risk that the usually indifferent city watch might choose to take a hand—was one thing. Three armed warriors in a small boat come upon by a full company of armed men at sea was quite another. Sandreena knew that should pirates heave into view, she and her com
panions would be quickly bound back to Durban and the slave pens.

Sandreena stayed awake by sheer strength of will, and when finally the sun set and the stars rose, she nudged Farson. With a nod of her head she indicated they should let the dwarf sleep, though from what she saw, waking him might prove difficult.

She quickly gave him a brief lesson on steering the little craft. With a single boom sail and no jib, it only took her a few minutes to demonstrate the simple task of running abreast a following wind. She made it clear that if something proved too difficult for him, he should wake her at once. He nodded, and she pointed to a star rising directly ahead. “That will be your point of reference, that large slightly blue star. If you keep pointed directly at it, you’ll eventually come north and we’ll be sailing west of where we want to be. So in about three hours you’ll see three small stars rise about the same place. They form a tiny triangle, point down. Put the bow of the boat between where they rise and that blue star until the blue star is over there.” She pointed off to her left. “Once it’s past the highest point in the sky…” She blinked. Then she yawned uncontrollably. “If it starts to go down…” She lay down. Closing her eyes, she said, “Between the blue star and the three until the blue star starts to sink, then straight at the three. You’ll zig and zag, but we’ll get there. Wake me when the eastern sky starts to brighten. I’ll need a quick look at the sky to see…how…far…” She fell asleep.

Fortune, or the Goddess, smiled on them and for three days they had fair winds and Farson didn’t sail them too far off course at night. Keandar had proven useful once he had gotten over an almost natural aversion to sailing; it seemed deep water and boats were not something his people found appealing. Still, once he had learned the basic mechanics of sailing the small craft, he seemed to enjoy it.

The food was gone and the water almost gone when the sharp-eyed dwarf said, “I see land!”

Sandreena motioned for Farson to take over the tiller, moved to stand behind the dwarf, putting one hand on the mast, and peered ahead. A few minutes later she saw a smudge on the horizon and said, “If we didn’t sail right past it and we’re looking at the coast of the Kingdom, that will be Sorcerer’s Island.” She glanced behind her and saw a darkening sky. “Just in time, it seems. I think we’re going to be getting foul weather soon.”

No one spoke as the smudge in the distance resolved itself into a dark spot, which in turn became a distant island. When the sky above began to darken, they could see cliffs and a castle on the eastern edge. “There’s a beach to the west of that point,” Sandreena said, and Farson nodded.

Sandreena said, “Beach landings can be tricky, so plan on getting wet.” She had had them strip off their armor as soon as they had cleared Durban harbor, so she wasn’t worried about either of her companions drowning a hundred yards off shore, then she thought to ask, “Keandar, do you swim?”

“Not a stroke,” he said. “Never had much need to learn.”

“I’ll try to keep from swamping the boat.”

“That would be appreciated, Sandreena,” said the dwarf calmly.

She took the tiller from Farson and said, “When I tell you, move to the back of the boat.”

She deftly moved the small boat so it pointed straight at the little beach, and when she felt the swell rising beneath the hull she shouted to Farson, “Take down the sail.”

He did as ordered and Sandreena saw the canvas fall loosely just as a comber broke behind the boat, and suddenly they were hurling toward the beach. “Back!” she shouted, and they moved a few feet to the rear, tilting the bow up so it wouldn’t plant in the sand. “Get ready to jump and pull us in.” She waited. “Jump!”

The dwarf and Knight-Adamant were over the side into thigh-high water for Farson and chest high for Keandar, but four powerful arms hauled the boat safely into the sand. Sandreena let out a long sigh of relief. She had trusted in the Goddess to bring them safely here, but she had never been completely free of doubts. “Get your armor,” she instructed as she picked up her gear.

On the beach she quickly rearmed herself and when all were ready, she led them up the small path that at first led away from the castle until it reached the top of the bluffs, where it split, one path heading into the heart of the island, the other toward the castle.

No one hailed them and no sign was given they had been observed in their landing, yet Sandreena knew that Pug would know she approached, or if he was not home, whoever was in charge would. She was tired to her bones, but energized by at last reaching her goal.

When she entered the courtyard to the ancient-appearing castle, she found a familiar face in the form of Jason, a young magician she had met on her previous visit to the island. “Sandreena,” he said with a warm smile. “I am to see to your needs.”

“These two need food, clean clothing, and rest,” she replied, introducing Farson and Keandar. “I need to speak to Pug at once.”

He inclined his head and with a wave of his hand summoned another young magician who had been standing at the door of the keep. He took Keandar and Farson in tow and led them into the keep while Jason said, “Are you certain you wouldn’t rather rest, yourself? If you don’t mind me saying so, you are looking a little in need of it.”

She smiled. “I look like I need a lot of it, you mean.” She shook her head. “No, talk now, rest after.”

He turned and said, “Very well. Follow me, please.” He led her into the keep and then across the main floor where
she could see Samantha hard at work over a massive kettle of stew. The plump woman smiled and hurried over and threw her arms around Sandreena’s neck, almost knocking her over.

Sandreena was so tired she could barely laugh, but she hugged her old friend back and said, “I take it this means Brandos is still here?”

“Yes,” said Samantha. “And Amirantha.”

“Good,” said Sandreena, to Samantha’s obvious surprise.

“Good?”

“He may be a right bastard, but we need his knowledge. I’ve got to go. I’ll catch up with you later.” They hugged once more and Sandreena found Jason waiting. He led her through a door and up a winding staircase to a tower. “Through there,” he said.

Sandreena opened the door, expecting to see Pug and perhaps Magnus and Amirantha waiting, but instead the room was now empty. “What?” she asked.

“Step through that portal,” said Jason from behind.

That’s when she noticed there was a tiny ripple in the air, like a distant heat shimmer. She nodded and walked into it.

Suddenly she was someplace else. The room was huge, well furnished, and there were two dozen people sitting around a semicircle of benches. Facing that semicircle was a table behind which waited Pug, Magnus, and Amirantha.

“Sandreena,” said Pug, standing to welcome her. “We had word you were approaching the island.”

She nodded, suddenly wishing she had taken up Jason’s offer, for she was filthy, probably smelled like horse, sea-salt, and sweat, and now she stood in the midst of what was obviously a very important meeting. Pug motioned for her to take a seat at the end of the table, next to Magnus, and she complied.

Pug said, “That is all that we have for you now. Please
go back to your designated tasks, but be ready. The call may come any moment.”

The score or more of people who were sitting in the semicircle stood, and several of them winked out of sight instantly. A couple of others vanished moments later, while still others filed out one at a time through another apparently invisible portal. Finally, Sandreena was alone with Magnus, Pug, and Amirantha.

“You have something to tell us?” asked Pug.

Sandreena nodded. “Creegan has gone to Rillanon, most likely to be named Grand Master of the Order. He left me in charge in Krondor and then left me with this report”—she looked at Pug with suspicion—“which I warrant you’ve already read.”

“A copy,” said Pug.

“There was no one else I could trust to go investigate, so I went.”

“What did you find?” asked Pug.

“Very few answers. Many more questions. I’ll tell you in detail, but first I need to know: did I just walk into a meeting of the Conclave?”

Pug nodded slowly. “The end of a meeting.”

“There are more of you than I thought.”

“More than we want people to know, even our friends in some cases. But it was necessary to call them here.” Pug stood up.

“To brief them?” asked Sandreena, rising as well.

“No, to instruct them,” said Pug. “Those you saw are leaders of groups we have hidden all over the world. But we must begin to marshal our resources.”

“Marshal?” asked Sandreena, her fatigue making her mind sluggish and uncertain of what she was hearing.

“We’re going to war,” Amirantha said. “And it’s going to be the bloodiest, nastiest fight this world has seen, in all likelihood.”

Sandreena sat back down.

Gulamendis said, “It should be near here.”

“How do you know?” asked Laromendis.

“The author gave travel time. I know how long it takes the average human to ride his mount—”

“What if he was on foot?”

Gulamendis threw his brother a withering look. “He mentions riding. I assume, given the abandoned stables back at the keep, it means riding horses.”

His brother conceded. “Go on.”

“I compensated for that, factored in how much this landscape has changed, and how long it would take us to walk the same distance…” With his hand he made an encompassing arc. “Somewhere, near here, we should find it.”

“What exactly are we looking for?” asked his brother.

“A…portal.” His tone sounded far less convincing than it had the last time he answered his brother’s question.