Dark Magic (9 page)

Telyn put her hand on his arm, and pointed to the staff that lay across the stranger’s knees. Brand knew the truth the moment he saw it.

“Myrrdin?” he asked aloud.

The man stood and approached at his call. The patrons fell quiet as he passed them. They did not look upon him fearfully, but rather warily, as a man might look upon a dog that did not bark or growl, but which did walk stiff-legged.

Brand saw that it was indeed Myrrdin, and he was not smiling.

“Take a seat, man!” Brand urged him, and the other did as he asked with uncharacteristic stiffness. Brand decided to ignore the wizard’s poor manners. He suspected that he might still be upset about Tomkin getting his tiny hands on Lavatis. He had, of course, wanted Brand to return the Blue Jewel to Oberon. But Brand had not felt that choice was in the best interests of the River Folk. More importantly, he had not felt Oberon’s people had done anything to deserve the loyalty and kindness of humans.

Myrrdin’s poor mood was not lost on Tomkin. He sniffed and stood up on his chair. “Perhaps I’ll be taking my leave, now, Brand.”

“Nay,” said Brand, “stay a moment, Tomkin. We are all friends here.”

“Well,” said Telyn, “I for one am glad to see you are well, Myrrdin.”

Still, the wizard said nothing. He placed his staff cross-wise on his lap and crossed his arms, leaning back against his chair.

Brand and the others exchanged glances. This wasn’t Myrrdin’s usual attitude. Brand felt, for the very first time, irritated with the behavior of this half-fae wizard whom he still considered to be a friend and an ally.

“Come now, tell us what’s bothering you,” said Brand, speaking openly what was on everyone’s mind.

“Yes, witch!” said Tomkin, hopping up on the table beside Brand. “Don’t fear another bite from me! I’ve had a fine breakfast, and I’m quite full.”

Brand waved at Tomkin to settle down, but instead the manling struck a pose that instantly and accurately aped Myrrdin’s. He leaned back in midair, resting his shoulders against nothing. He crossed his arms with precise mimicry and glowered back at the wizard.

Telyn, sensing a rising tension, squeezed Brand’s arm worriedly. For its own part, the axe tapped at his neck, urging him to reach back and draw it.

Brand put up his arms, trying to settle everyone down. “I don’t know why we are all tense! This should be a happy reunion. Now, Myrrdin, tell us what is bothering you man. Whatever it is, you owe us that.”

Myrrdin finally nodded, pursing his lips. He reached into his vest and pulled out a black stone. He tossed it down upon the table between them.

They all looked at it for a moment without recognition. It was a chunk of dark rock, with a smaller black stone set in its midst. The smaller stone seemed to be oval in shape, and Brand realized after a stunned moment that it was obsidian.

He recoiled slightly as the stone glittered for just a moment in a hideous parody of life. Brand knew in that instant, that it was in fact still alive, at least partly. For it was, of course, the black eye of one of the gnomes he had chopped to rubble in the Deepwood only yesterday.

“You forget your handiwork so soon, Brand?”

Brand drew a deep breath. “I understand your mood better.”

“Well, I don’t,” said Tomkin. “The beastly creatures earned their fate, witch.”

“Is this what I’ve created?” asked Myrrdin, his eyes storming. For the first time, looking into them, Brand could see those eyes were not fully human. He wondered why he had never seen that before.

“What do you mean?” asked Brand. He heard his own voice and he realized that it was no longer friendly in tone. His good spirits were gone. He had lost all the ease he had gained here in this place, with the Kindred. His axe tapped at him, but he ignored it.

“You slayed them. An entire tribe of them. This will not soon be forgotten. This act will be remembered long after you have passed from this world, Brand. Stones have very long memories.”

Tomkin whistled and looked at Brand expectantly. He seemed excited, and his black, doll’s eyes glittered in a manner similar to the eye of the gnome that lay on the table between them.

Brand drew himself up. His mouth drew into a line. “What do I care?”

This question seemed, for the very first time, to take Myrrdin by surprise. He sputtered. “You slay an entire tribe of folk without concern? You defile their shrine, and their bodies, and have not a care? Do you know where you are headed, boy? The Everdark is the world from which creatures like these spring. They rule there. You have dammed yourself and all your kind to their eternal wrath.”

Brand laughed in a mocking fashion, as if Myrrdin were the biggest fool to walk beneath the skies. This time, the wizard’s face registered shock. “What have you become?” he demanded.

“I’ve become the Champion of my people,” Brand said, “and they did lure one of our children to their dark fane and there do foul things to him. In so doing, they forfeited their lives. All of them. Had they run, I would have been obligated to chase them down and cut down every one I could catch.”

Brand’s voice grew louder as he spoke. By the end of his words, he was shouting.

Myrrdin was purple with rage. He had in his face the look every father has for his son who at long last defies him and stands proud. He jumped to his feet and Brand stood with him. Tomkin whooped excitedly and did a back flip away to land on another table. He crouched there and bared white sharp teeth so big it seemed they could not possibly have fit inside his mouth.

All around them, the Kindred, who had been watching these proceedings with growing alarm, backed away. Some few of them smiled in their beards. The Kindred liked to watch a good fight more than most. A few wagers were exchanged.

Myrrdin touched the evergreen tree that grew up in the center of the room with his staff. There was a thickening of the room’s light, and every lantern in the place shone with sudden stabbing beams of heavy green brilliance. The tree shivered like an awakening serpent, then started upward, flowing out of its pot, growing with impossible rapidity.

Brand and the others ducked as the sapling grew further every second and formed a whip-like spiraling creature over their heads.

The Kindred in the common room cried out in alarm and backed away further. Fists, flying spittle and drawn blades they had expected, but sorcery they had not.

Brand drew Ambros and it flashed yellow lightning in the enclosed space. Everyone there save for Brand blinked at the purple splotches that infected their vision.

Most of the Kindred now took cover, but few actually fled the room. They were concerned, but relished the tale of a fight too good to be passed up.

Then Tomkin bared Lavatis, which as Brand had long suspected resided under his cap. The Blue flashed as well, not so brightly as Ambros, but with an intensity that dazed the mind rather than the eye.

That did it for most of the Kindred. Only the bravest did not scramble away from the room in the face of three Jewels of power. Legends had invaded their taproom, and no mortal was likely to survive it.

“This is my fight, Tomkin,” said Brand. He slashed down a vine that reached for him. The plant, now a thing living and feeling, reacted in pain.
Myrrdin was buried behind it somewhere.

“I’ll not have it said the Wee Folk abandoned their only allies—” but he got no further as a vine managed to grasp him, having snuck up from behind. He dropped the Blue and another vine snatched at it. Telyn slashed at the green fingers and seven of them, formed of tightly rolled leaves, fluttered to the stone tables.

Brand suspected suddenly that this might be Myrrdin’s plan all along. Perhaps this entire thing was a ruse to get Tomkin’s Jewel. The manling talked a good game, but Brand knew he was no master of Lavatis yet. He would be weak at this point, what better moment to take the Jewel?

This thought, finally, made him give himself over to his anger. He went wild with the axe, letting it have its head, so to speak. Grunting with effort he slashed his way into the darkening room, blasting apart writhing vines and wooden limbs. At times he struck stone chairs and tables, and those he cleaved through as well.

Finally, he struck something that his axe stuck into, and the monster shivered. He had severed its trunk. He pulled back his axe with a fantastic effort and struck again at the same spot. The monster toppled, taking much of the room and the roof with it.

When he climbed upward atop the thrashing foliage, he saw the open sky of morning. The plant had lifted the wooden roof from the Inn and left it out in the yard in its wild death throes.

“Myrrdin!” roared Brand, “Don’t make me slay you!”

“Would you, Brand?” asked a voice to his side.

Brand twisted and faced Myrrdin, who extricated himself from the ruins of the Inn and the massive plant. He stood with his staff raised in a defensive posture. He still glared at Brand.

“Know this, he who all River Folk have called a friend,” said Brand, “The old days are gone. Creatures like the gnomes must understand that we are no longer their playthings. It is they who must accommodate us. It is they who must learn fear and humility and proper manners. No longer shall any being lure a human child into a forest and perform foul deeds upon it without knowing a quaver of fear.”

“What of the gnomes? What of their bodies you used to build a tomb?”

“They had best hope that my vengeance is done. For I’m going now into their dark lands, and their best hopes lie in vanishing into the farthest reaches of that place.”

Myrrdin looked shocked at his words. Brand knew that he had shaken the very foundations of the worlds where long-lived creatures dwelt. Like elderly people they had a hard time learning new ways. But he would teach them.

“Now, return Lavatis,” said Brand. At this, Tomkin appeared, hissing. He was beyond words. His Jewel had been taken by the plant beast and he scrambled about in the death growth still, seeking it.

“I do not have it,” said Myrrdin.

Brand struck. The axe flashed and Myrrdin’s upraised staff was cut in twain. There was a burst of energy as the two Jewels touched. Both Brand and the wizard were blown backward, staggering.

“You would slay me?” asked Myrrdin.

“If I had meant to, you would be dead,” growled Brand. Both got to their feet. “But if I had the proper cause, never doubt that I would slay anyone.”

“I told you, I do not have the Blue. Do doubt my word?” asked Myrrdin, “for I do not doubt yours. Decide if you have proper cause to slay me, and decide now,” so saying, he got to his feet and stood before Brand proudly. A breeze blew up and tousled his hair. He stood imperiously.

Brand’s axe urged him to strike. This was an unbelievable opportunity. Finally, in a single clean stroke, he would rid the world of this meddlesome wizard and his commanding ways. No longer would the River Folk—

—bend a knee to his kind.

Brand shook himself. He put away the axe.

Myrrdin nodded to him, then took up the two broken halves of his staff. He touched them together and they grew into one whole piece again on the instant.

With no further words, he departed toward the Deepwood, his swift stride taking him quickly away.

“I found it!” shouted Telyn suddenly.

Brand had been watching Myrrdin’s retreat. He whirled around to look at her. She stooped and reached down into the ruins of the plant.

“No!” shouted Brand, but it was too late.

Telyn had touched the Blue Jewel.

Chapter Nine

Snowdon

Modi and his company retreated from the lava chambers and headed back up the ruby tunnels. After a few days of travel, they had reached the location of the ancient plug in the tunnel floor. None of the Kindred dared so much as tread upon the burned metallic surface of the plug, save for Modi himself, who stood upon it while he addressed his fellows. As he spoke, each of them flicked their eyes down to the circular expanse of molten rock and iron. The miners circled him, but none stood so closely as to set foot upon the blackened area. Beneath that ancient plug they knew some forgotten evil lurked.

“We’ve come this far, and I want to thank you all for a successful trip,” said Modi holding up a brass lantern bigger than the skull of a Kindred. It cast yellow squares of light over all their faces and made their eyes gleam as they looked at him.

“I’m sure Gamal has made it back home by now, and my father has sent a patrol to meet us. We will not keep them waiting for long.”

At his talk of patrols, many of the miners relaxed. Their spirits had steadily dropped since Githa’s death. They had their loot and they wanted out of the Everdark now.

Modi indicated the ancient scorched area he stood upon. “We will mark this spot on our private maps for future exploration. I would like to come back here, after consulting the ancient texts. I hope to learn what might have once dwelled beneath this very spot.”

None of the miners could help but glance down at his feet where the unknown slept. Their eyes showed concern, rather than a lust for exploration. Only Modi seemed interested in this plug. His eyes did shine and he smiled, a very rare thing for the huge warrior. All there knew that dreams of glory drove him more than riches, an unusual twist of mind for one of the Kindred.

“Yes, right here. Something must be below us. We will come back here, and we will know the truth of it. And if you all are too cowardly, if you all wish to embarrass our ancestors with your love of your filthy skins and shiny stones, I’ll do it alone!”

None dared meet his eye now. Some glanced furtively over their shoulders into the dark tunnels, dreaming no doubt of being at the far end of them and back in the Earthlight far above. Others watched the blackened plug Modi stood upon with big eyes, as if whatever slithered below might be offended by Modi’s words and swallow him up.

Modi gave them a dismissive snort. “You all fear this thing, don’t you? Most likely, whatever it was is long dead, if its type can die. Here, I’ll show you.”

He took his heavy pick from his belt and raised it. A few gasped in horror, realizing his intent, and reached out to stop his arm. They did not stop him of course, partly because doing so would have required treading upon the plug, and partly because none of them had the strength to stop that great arm from descending anyway.

Modi slammed the pick downward with a grunt of effort. The tunnels rang with the sound of the blow. Black chips sprayed.

Breathing hard, all the Kindred backed away from him. Everyone stared. But a minute passed and nothing happened.

“Ha!” snorted Modi, returning his pick to his belt. “See? Long dead. Long turned to dust. If anything is down there, it is probably nothing but spines and bones. But maybe, just maybe, there is a rich hoard lying in that puddle of dust.”

He had their attention again with this last thought. They blinked at him. He had wanted to leave them with dreams of unknown riches. Some of them, he knew, would follow him back here, should they make it to the surface after this successful trip. Someday, he would plunder this ancient blocked hole of both its secrets and its treasures.

“We set camp right here,” he told them, stabbing downward with a thick finger. “I will sleep upon this plug. I find the texture of it inviting for my bedroll.”

And he did so, and none there dared argue with him.

* * *

Telyn did not collapse when she touched Lavatis. Instead, she stood stock-still. The Blue Jewel shimmered in her hand. She stared at nothing at all, or at something no one else could see, transfixed. Brand took two strides across the rubble of the Inn toward her, but Tomkin was faster. He leapt at her, hissing. Brand’s hand strayed to his axe, but it was all over before he reached them.

Tomkin had the Jewel again in a second and stuffed it under his cap. Blood dribbled from his teeth. Brand’s eyes went to Telyn’s fingers. There was blood there too, but he did a quick count and saw that she still had all ten. He released his grasp upon the axe and forced himself to calm down. He had already fought with one Jewel today, he did not need to face Tomkin and the Rainbow in a second squabble.

He wrapped his arms around Telyn to comfort her, but she took no notice of him. She stood there, blinking. Her hands still held the pose of one grasping an object. Blood dribbled from her fingertips.

“It was like...” she finally began, when she could speak. She sounded as one might when awakening from a dream. “I was there. I was in the clouds. I was one with the sky.”

“Are you able to walk?” asked Brand. He put a hand upon her shoulder.

She touched his hand with bleeding fingers and looked at him. “How do you stand it, Brand? How do you keep from going mad when you have such power in your hands?”

Brand didn’t answer. Instead, he turned an angry eye to Tomkin, who stood above on the teetering peak of the ruin that had once been the Inn. “Did you have to bite her?”

Tomkin shrugged. “She is practically unharmed. Let’s see what you do when I grab hold of that axe of yours in the middle of the night.”

Brand wasn’t happy, but he had to concede the manling’s point. The Jewels, when you possessed them, possessed the bearer at least as tightly. Like jealous lovers, any wielder of a Jewel of Power would fight to keep hold of it. No one could resist the pull they had over the mind. Brand, right then, was more impressed with Gudrin than he ever had been. She had freely given him the axe, even after she had borne it and wielded it in battle. He understood only now what an effort of will that must have been for her.

Once he was certain that neither Telyn’s body or mind was broken, he looked around the destroyed Inn and felt ashamed. One of the four great slabs of granite had popped loose and fallen into the cobbled street. The roof was gone, having been removed by Myrrdin’s writhing creation. Roots had dug up the floorboards as well, exposing the cellar. Kindred were returning to the scene, hands on hips or planted in beards. They clucked their tongues and shook their heads at the destruction.

Brand gave a single gold coin to the Innkeep. It was not enough to repair all the damage, but it was all he could spare. The Innkeep took the payment with what grace she could muster. Brand suspected if he had not scared them all with the display of unleashed sorcery in the middle of town, things might have gone differently. He also felt grateful for the purse of money he carried. The Riverton council, natural misers all, had seen fit to reward him with a stipend fitting a lord with the title of the Champion of the Haven. They had probably never suspected he would be doling out their money to repair wrecked Kindred inns, however.

They gathered up the roan and what belongings they could locate within the rubble and beat a hasty exit out of Gronig. The road they took followed a winding path up the nearest mountainside. They passed dozens of mines that opened like mouths in the cliffs.

Telyn’s leg was better, and after a time she took to walking again. Her limp was only a slight one, and Brand didn’t want her leg to stiffen before they had to go down into a tunnel where they would not be able to take the horse, so he didn’t argue. As soon as she climbed down from the horse Tomkin took her place. Soon, in the manner of folk that march up a steep mountain, they saved their breath for marching and spoke little. Except for Tomkin, however, who spoke a hundred words for every one of theirs whether he stood on the horse or trotted along beside them.

He told them funny stories about what the Kindred would do upon the site of the “Great Battle of Gronig”, as he had taken to calling today’s events. He suggested they may build a monument, or a shrine, or a place for festivals to be held. He described plays with mock battles fought upon a stone stage with Kindred gathered around raptly watching the re-enactment.

“Battle? It was really more of an argument,” said Telyn.

“What?” squawked Tomkin. “Never! Three Jewels of Power raised in anger in one stone hovel? The Kindred are lucky they yet breathe, one and all of them.”

They smiled at him while he went on in great detail, excitedly over-inflating his role in the events of the day. They did not bother to point out he had never actually used Lavatis to do anything. They knew it was a point that would not be appreciated.

Along the way they passed carts pulled by teams of large goats. The mountain goats and the wheels of their carts passed alarmingly close to the cliff that had grown to their right as they proceeded northward to Snowdon. Brand imagined that if just one of the goats slipped, the entire cart, driver and load might go over the side. They were large white mountain goats, however, and the sure-footed creatures seemed very confident. Their drivers dozed under floppy leather hats as they sat on their buckboards, knowing their goats knew the way.

When these carts came down toward them, both sides had to work to find a turnout spot so they could both pass safely. Fortunately, turnouts were placed frequently along the road, at measured distances. The Kindred were always organized, at least in their construction efforts.

They walked all day. The road usually climbed, but leveled off in places and finally reaching its highest point by early afternoon. The road, once up at the top, widened somewhat and more traffic was in evidence. Brand marveled at the number and variety of carts and travelers. Goat carts were in profusion, transporting all manner of goods. There were patrols of Kindred who were clearly of the warrior clan, marching in formation with red cloaks flapping. Each trooper carried a crossbow which rested on their shoulders. Their polished scalemail shimmered brightly in the sun and an axe rode on every belt.

They had one of the very few horses in evidence. Brand wasn’t surprised, as horses required a lot of flat grassland to support and there was precious little of that in this place. Kindred lands consisted almost entirely of mountains with dense forests huddling against stone cliffs. The Kindred would have little use for horses or cavalry of any kind.

By nightfall, they had finally reached the ramp that led up to the great Gate of Snowdon. The gates were fashioned entirely out of stone and metal. The doors themselves, which were swung wide during the day and shut tightly at night, were the now familiar slabs of granite. The great hinges and the locking mechanism, each of which was larger than Brand was tall, were made of black iron.

Snow coated the entire body of Snowdon, and Brand understood it’s name better when he saw it. He had never walked upon a true mountain before, and he was awed by the beauty of it. The most amazing thing was the view down around them, which reached all the way in the west to the sea.

Telyn stared that way. The noted a strange scent in the air, a not unpleasant tang. Tomkin rolled his eyes at them and explained the unique scent of the seas. The two River Folk marched northward, entranced. To their left, far down the rocky slopes, was a wild looking region of forests and open white snowfields that ran down to an endless gray-blue body of water such as few of their folk had seen for generations. Brand thrilled inside to know that he gazed upon the open sea. Few folk from the Haven had ever seen it. To the right and east, the Deepwood bordered the mountains and led eventually, beyond the range of their vision, to the distant Berrywine along which they had spent their lives.

Soon, they came to the great gates and were there eyed coldly by the guards. They were allowed to pass within without harassment. Tomkin bowed to them mockingly. Brand was under the instant impression they recognized the manling. It had to irk them, having one of the Wee Folk freely allowed to travel by their post at will. They had, only months ago, been at war with his kind.

Brand was surprised by the gust of heat that came up to into their faces as they entered the mountain. It was as if a giant, huge beyond all imagining, blew hot breath into their faces. The passage into the mountain sang with the passage of this unnatural wind, exchanging hot air for cold.

Once inside, the two river folk halted and stared.

“What? What?” complained Tomkin. “Don’t tell me you two are mooning again?”

They made no response, as they were shocked. The place was so alien, it was so beyond their experience, that they did not know what to think. They barely knew what they were seeing.

The Earthlight, which is what the Kindred called the interior of Snowdon, was a strange place. Some would say it was among the strangest places inhabited upon this world, at least by civilized folk. Much of the interior of Snowdon was hollowed out, but although the mountain served as a rocky shell, the shell was by no means a thin one. The solid stone walls were at least two hundred paces thick at the thinnest spots. The entire cavern, if such a large enclosed space could even be called a cavern, was lit by a deep orange-red glow. This was the source of heat that came up into their faces and blew back their hair as they entered the gates.

From the Great Gates a winding path led downward, interrupted along the way by several strongholds. These were castles or towers, carved from the rock of the mountain itself. The Kindred rarely built structures. They preferred to sculpt them with their picks out of the living stone of the mountain. These towers and castles, all seven of them, were placed mostly along the path down to the floor of the great cavern. There, at the distant bottom, they could see a far larger structure had been carven from the very heart of the mountain. It was the eighth and final defensive structure, and they knew it must be the Citadel of the Earthlight. The sculpted citadel served the Kindred as their capital.