Blinded by Power: 5 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (34 page)

SINCE HIS ENCOUNTER with Bhayatupa, Rathburt’s sessions of meditation were more rewarding than ever. He was able to sit cross-legged on a lumpy boulder for a thousand slow breaths without the slightest movement or discomfort. Never before—even the one time he accidentally had achieved
Sammaasamaadhi
—had he reached this level of single-mindedness. It filled him with peace and joy and gave him relief from the impending doom that awaited him: the moment that would define this life and all the others to come.

But when Rathburt slept, there was no peace or joy. Nightmares haunted every moment. Most focused on the
Badaalataa
, the carnivorous vines from the demon world. He relived, over and over, his painful rescue of Elu, if it could be called a rescue. He had restored the Svakaran’s life, but at what price? Elu had become more than a man—and less than one: more because he housed the physical remains of several warriors in his body; less because he had been resurrected in such a tiny body. In the end, however, Rathburt dreamt of his own pain. Rebuilding Elu had not been pleasant, to say the least.

The moment that Invictus had cast his gruesome spell on Torg, Rathburt had sensed it, causing him to fall onto his face and sob, then sit up and scream. Then finally collapse into dreadful unconsciousness.

The following morning, Rathburt picked up his staff, took a long drink from a clear-running finger of the Cariya River, and then started steadily toward his destiny. He no longer was afraid. He had spent so much time fretting, worrying, and feeling sorry for himself, he had become immune to self-pity. He would do what he had to do.

For Torg’s sake.

For Laylah’s sake.

And the sake of everyone else.

For the first time in his life, Rathburt would perform a deed that was utterly unselfish. Even his rescue of Elu had been selfish to a degree, in that guilt born of cowardice had motivated him.

“
Torgon
, though I hate to admit it, I do love you as a brother,” Rathburt said out loud. “You would probably find this amusing, but I’ve always wanted to be like you. Of course, we both know how miserably I’ve failed, in that regard. But you’ve always claimed that there is more to me than meets the eye. Maybe, for
once
, you were right. When all is said and done, you’ll be proud of me
 . . .
my friend.” The last two words were whispered.

When Rathburt reached the open plains, he saw two figures approaching from the distance: one tall, one squat and thick. They walked side by side with unwavering confidence. But if they were aware of his presence, he could not yet discern.

Rathburt wasn’t particularly afraid. He no longer could be considered a weakling, by any standards. In fact, he was bloated with power. Death Energy, combined with dragon essence, surged through his sinews and also through the dense fibers of his wooden staff. Even his legendary slump was less pronounced. Rathburt doubted that anything he faced now would be able to derail him from his purpose. If so, he might welcome it. But he couldn’t allow such hopeful thoughts to creep into his awareness.

His doom, first revealed to him at the frozen waterfall and then reiterated time and again by the ghost-child and the damnable demon, could not be avoided. The funny part was he no longer desired to avoid it. A few moments of agony and horror would be worth the pleasure they would buy him in the eons to come.

“Hey, there!” he called to the strange pair, in a purposely dramatic tone. “I am a wizard of great renown on a quest of huge import. If you choose to thwart me, you will do so at your peril.”

As if they hadn’t heard, the pair continued forward. Now Rathburt could see that it was a man carrying an enormous weapon, and with him a very large animal. They were coming straight for him. Rathburt stopped and held his ground.

“If it’s a fight you want, it’s a fight you’ll get,” he shouted, mimicking the words of the Vasi master who had tormented him centuries ago.

Instead of slowing their approach, the pair began to run. This amazed Rathburt, and he thought, “They really do want to fight.” But then he heard the man shouting his name. “Rathburt
 . . .
aw, Rathburt
 . . .
it’s me!
Me
!”

Then the large man was taking him in his arms and holding him tight, sobbing with joy. Rathburt finally understood. It was Elu. Though not the man-child he had restored from the horror of the vines. It was Elu—as he had been before.

Elu hugged Rathburt so hard he began to wonder if he might swoon from lack of breath. The Svakaran, no longer diminutive, laughed, sobbed, and smacked the wizard on the back, all at the same time. The bear, huge and black, ran in frantic circles around the two men, grunting playfully and occasionally nipping at Rathburt’s skinny calves.

Rathburt made the same noises as Elu, so happy was he to see his friend again. But when they finally separated and looked at each other through swollen eyes, they realized that things had changed. Elu was more than what he had been
 . . .
and less. It was not just the size of his body that was different. Once they began to talk and exchange tales, Rathburt recognized that Elu’s personality also was altered. Now the Svakaran was more serious and stern, like he had been in his prime. Apparently, at least some of his good nature had come from the other warriors that Rathburt had magically blended into the incarnation. His magic had been able to separate the human flesh from the plant, but he had not been able to separate one human being from another.

It was almost noon before they settled down in the grass and ate a small meal from Rathburt’s pack. The bear disappeared for a time, apparently to forage on its own, leaving the men alone, as they had been so many times before. But now they were oddly uncomfortable in each other’s presence, like friends who had met unexpectedly after years of distant separation.

Per usual, Rathburt tried to make a joke out of discomfort. “Your new body looks great, Elu, but your choice of clothes leaves a lot to be desired.”

The Svakaran did not smile. “The sorcerer did this to me.”

“He gave you those clothes?”

“Don’t be foolish. You know what I mean. And you know who the bear is, too.”

Rathburt sighed. “Yes.” Then he looked hard into the Svakaran’s eyes. “You fear that you contain a portion of Invictus’s evil?”

“Could it be otherwise?”

Rathburt thought this over. After a long pause he said, “Not everything the sorcerer does is evil. His intentions are evil—or at least what you and I would consider evil—but his methods aren’t always that different from those of any magical being. He even uses some of the same spells as
The Torgon
or Jord might employ. After all, much of what we define as magic originated with the demons, and all share from that ancient pool. It’s just that Invictus is far stronger than everyone else.”

Elu looked puzzled. “If the sorcerer’s intentions are evil, then what he did to Ugga makes sense. But if he wanted to harm me, he chose a strange way of doing so—giving me the gift that I’ve desired for so many years.”

“Is it truly a gift?”

“Of course.”

“Wait, Elu
 . . .
think about this. Before he gave you this
gift
, were you unhappy?”

“No
 . . .
”

“Did you lack friends?”

“No
 . . .
but
 . . .
”

“And are you unhappy now?”

“Yes
 . . .
no
 . . .
as I said, I’m confused.”

Rathburt sighed again. “Invictus did give you a gift, though it came with a price
 . . .
and it’s the price that he intended as your punishment. Before he changed you back to your original self, your mind contained several karmas blended into one—and not just that, but you seemed to have harvested the best of each. Now you’re once again a single being. In some ways, that makes you free. In others, it imprisons you in the same way as the rest of us.”

Elu chuckled softly. “I never took you for a philosopher.”

“I’ve changed too,” Rathburt said. “And like you, some for the better and some the worse.”

The bear came charging back, its short snout slathered with honey. Before Rathburt could even raise his arms to defend himself, he was licked messily on the face. Rathburt squealed and then fell onto his hands and knees.

Elu laughed. “Good one, Ugga!”

Rathburt wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “How
disgusting
! The damn bear stinks worse than the druid queen. But not as bad as the old Ugga, I suppose.”

Elu continued to laugh, the sound deep and masculine. Perhaps realizing, on some level, that he had overstepped his bounds, the bear lay next to them and feigned sleep.

Finally the Svakaran regained control of his mirth. Then he yawned. “What now, Rathburt?” he said sleepily. “Do we return to the longhouse? You, me, and Ugga? And what of Jord? Will she join us?”

Rathburt’s expression grew sad. “You and Ugga should go. I’ll find you, eventually. There’s something I have to do first
 . . .
and it must be done alone.”

“Don’t be silly. Ugga and I aren’t about to leave you.”

The bear lifted his head and grunted. Then pretended to go back to sleep.

“I appreciate your concern,” Rathburt said. “But I’m not in a position to argue. There is something I must do
 . . .
”

“Ugga and I will do it with you.”

“No,” Rathburt said with such vehemence that Elu and the bear leapt to their feet and backed away. Rathburt also stood, waving his staff menacingly. “I am not asking your permission. I tell you that there is something I must do
 . . .
alone.
”

Elu held out the palms of his hands in a gesture of peace. “Rathburt
 . . .
it’s all right. I didn’t mean to anger you.” Then he placed his hand on Rathburt’s shoulder. “This is about your vision at the waterfall?”

Rathburt felt his anger fade. “I cannot lie to you. But neither can I permit you to thwart me. Too much is at stake.”

“We will come with you
 . . .
wait
 . . .
let me finish. We will come with you, but we will not attempt to stop you. I promise.”

“You don’t understand,” Rathburt said. “It will not be
 . . .
pleasant.”

“We will stand aside.”

“No matter what?”

“I can’t speak for Ugga
 . . .
but
I
will stand aside.”

“Very well
 . . .
come then,” Rathburt said. “Before I lose my nerve.”

“No time for a nap?” Elu said with a yawn. “You and I used to take lots of naps when we were friends before.”

Rathburt also yawned. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. But just a short one.”

Elu smiled and then lay on his side in the grass next to the giant axe. Ugga was already asleep, and this time not pretending. Rathburt also lay on his side, closed his eyes, and counted sixty slow breaths. Then he sat up and lowered his face within a finger-length of the Svakaran’s.

“
Niddaayahi
(Sleep),” he whispered. Bluish tendrils crept from his mouth and slithered into Elu’s nostrils. Rathburt did the same to the bear, just to be sure. Then he stood and watched them in silence, tears streaming from his eyes. When he was certain they would remain still, he took his staff and continued alone across the plains.

By the time he reached the battlefield, the quarter moon had risen. About a mile to the west, a huge pyre was ablaze. Several score Jivitans stood nearby, so intent on the fire that they didn’t notice a solitary figure creep past them in the deep darkness beyond the flames. Rathburt was no warrior, but he did have a Tugar’s innate ability to move with stealth.