Exile's Return (25 page)

“Yes, if he possesses the power I think he does, he could be back within a year of his ‘death,’ and sending those in his employ on their dark missions once more.” Pug looked at Kaspar. “There’s a particularly dangerous and repellent spell whereby a magician can trap his own soul in a vessel, bottle, or any sealed container. As long as the vessel is kept intact, it doesn’t matter what happens to the body. If another body is close to the vessel at the time the previous body dies, the soul of the magician takes that body over.

“Varen could look like anyone now. He could be a young boy, or a beautiful woman. He could mask his identity from any but myself—I have faced him too many times not to recognize him within minutes.”

Kaspar said, “You’ve got to find that jar.”

“Some day I will,” said Pug.

Tomas sighed, “Then let us dine, my friends, and tomorrow you may set about whatever unhappy tasks you must face; but until then ease your minds and hearts.”

Kaspar and Pug exchanged glances. Both knew that while the night would be enjoyable, neither would be able to relax.

Kaspar waited patiently.

He and Pug were about to depart from Elvandar and were awaiting the appearance of the Queen and Tomas at the morning court. The Talnoy stood motionless behind Kaspar.

When the royal couple arrived, everyone stood and bowed. The Queen assumed her place upon the throne. “We thank you for your warning of this dangerous turn of events, Pug. Thanks to you, as well, Kaspar of Olasko.”

Kaspar bowed to the Queen. “Majesty, your graciousness matches your beauty. You humble a proud man with your generosity and kindness.”

Aglaranna smiled. “I know that your past is dark, Lord Kaspar, but I sense that you are struggling to find a better path. You have our good wishes for your success in this endeavor.”

“Again, your graciousness humbles me, Majesty,” said Kaspar.

“It is time?” the Queen said, looking at Pug.

Pug said, “We have to depart now for Sorcerer’s Isle, with Her Majesty’s leave.”

Queen Aglaranna smiled and inclined her head. “Go with our affection and best wishes for a safe journey, friend Pug. You are always welcome at our court.”

Tomas shook Kaspar’s hand. “I hope we meet again under less dire circumstances. As my wife said, I wish you well on a better path than the one you have trodden so far.”

“I hope that I may some day return to visit, Tomas.”

To Pug, Tomas said, “You know my vow, never to leave Elvandar save to protect it, but Tathar has convinced me this threat is far graver than the Tsurani invasion. Should you need me, you have only to call.”

Pug said, “I pray I never have such need, but if you get the call, know I will not make it lightly.”

“I know.”

Pug slipped on the ring that commanded the Talnoy and said, “Approach.” The creature obeyed.

Pug slipped the ring off and handed it back to Kaspar, who slipped it into his belt-pouch. Pug put his hand on Kaspar’s shoulder and said, “Elvandar is protected by wards unlike any in the world. I will need the cooperation of the Spellweavers to depart directly to my home. Otherwise I would need to take us to the riverbank, and we would have to cross the ford again.” He nodded to Tathar.

The old spellweaver inclined his head, and began a chant, one that was quickly picked up by the other spellweavers. “In a moment, we will be able to—”

Suddenly, there was something wrong, frighteningly wrong. A thrumming sound filled the air, tearing at Kaspar’s ears. The pain stabbed at him, making him falter as he raised his hands to his head.

Kaspar’s eyes watered from the pain. Blinking away tears, he fell to his knees, and saw that many in the Queen’s court had also been driven down. The Queen sat back on her throne, her eyes shut tightly, her face a mask of torment. Tomas stood up, obviously in discomfort, but able to bear the distress more easily than the others.

Kaspar felt his stomach knot as waves of nausea swept through him. He turned to where Pug stood and saw the magician struggling to focus.

Pug’s face was set in a grimace, but his eyes were focused and clear. He raised his hand above his head, and shouted a harsh-sounding incantation. The horrible noise ceased. For a moment, everyone was still, stunned by the unexpected event, then the skies above them exploded into flames.

For an instant, Kaspar felt the heat of an open oven wash over him, threatening to sear his lungs and blister his skin. But Pug had another response, and with a wave of his hand the crown of flames descending from the sky was repelled. It washed over an invisible dome of energy, but Kaspar still felt nearly-unbearable heat.

The spellweavers were still reeling. The attack from above seemed to have taken its toll on those responsible for protecting Elvandar as much as it had on the trees surrounding the court.

Everywhere he looked, Kaspar saw flames in the heads of the trees. The ancient oaks were faring better than those in the forests surrounding the center of Elvandar. Through the branches and boles, Kaspar could see fire in every direction. And he could hear shouts and screams.

Pug shouted, “Tathar! It has been years since I cast weather-magic. Can you bring rain?”

The old elf shook his head. “The breach of the protective barriers has stunned us, but we will try.”

The elves knelt together and began to discuss what they would do. “Quickly,” urged Pug as he kept the central court protected.

Kaspar looked around and wondered what was happening to those people in Elvandar who dwelled in places unprotected by the black-clad magician’s spell. Those on the ground or on the lower platforms should be safe, for the fires were only burning the topmost branches, but those with homes in the higher platforms were surely doomed.

Kaspar had seen a canopy-fire in the forests of Olasko when he was a child. His father had taken him hunting one summer during a dry year and a lightning storm had started a fire above them in the mountains. The boy had stood and watched as flames leapt from treetop to treetop, racing as fast as the animals below fleeing the conflagration. It had been a terrible thing to witness.

Suddenly another terrible feeling struck Kaspar, a chill that seemed to run down his spine and into the pit of his stomach. He drew his sword without conscious thought, and every elf turned, looking around. Something was there that hadn’t been present a moment before.

Then Kaspar saw the shadow—the fleeting image of the faint figure of a man, caught by the corner of his eye. “There!” he shouted, pointing at the flickering shape.

A flurry of action erupted. Kaspar looked around in astonishment as elven spellweavers collapsed on all sides. Only ancient Tathar stood like a deep-rooted oak, his hands moving through the air as he sought to protect the Queen. Tomas was at his wife’s side in a single step, and swept her up in his arms. He carried her as easily as if she were a child to the relative safety of their private quarters, a short distance away.

Kaspar turned, looking for another glimpse of the figure he had seen. He saw nothing.

With one hand held high, Pug willed away the threatening flames, and with the other he invoked a new spell. Blinding blue light erupted from his hands, and its brilliance outlined the entire court in stark relief, throwing harsh highlights and black shadows. In the middle of the court, looking around as if seeking something, stood the silhouette of a man holding a sword. Then there were two. Then a third.

Pug cried out, “Death-dancers!”

Kaspar tried to make sense of them: they were human-shaped, but without features or dimension, silhouettes given form, like large cutouts from a material so black that it reflected no light. Kaspar knew that without the magic Pug had cast, these things would have been invisible to the eye.

The elves raced into action. Throughout Elvandar Kaspar could hear shouts and screams, and the sound of steel ringing out.

Then a death-dancer stood before him, and the former Duke was fighting for his life. Kaspar had never faced anything so fast and focused before. He parried, for all he could do was defend. He didn’t have time to think about a riposte or an attack. He was simply trying to stay alive.

When Tomas returned, he held a golden sword. With a crushing blow he sliced hard across the shoulder of the creature battling Kaspar and it howled, a thin, wailing cry. The death-dancer turned to engage Tomas, and Kaspar thrust hard, his blade striking the creature in the back. It wailed again, but seemed only slightly slowed by the blow.

Then something pushed past Kaspar, and in his peripheral vision he saw two more death-dancers pick up the Talnoy and begin to carry it away.

Kaspar pulled the ring from his belt-pouch and slipped it on. Instantly he felt the odd sensation that accompanied wearing the ring. He leapt after the fleeing death-dancers, and in the instant that he touched the Talnoy’s shoulder, said, “Kill the death-dancers.”

Kaspar stopped as the Talnoy came alive. It raised its legs, knees bent, then kicked upward until its legs were almost straight in the air. In a move that would have dislocated a human’s shoulders, it pushed off and broke the underarm hold of the two death-dancers, shooting itself high into the air. It tucked and flipped and twisted, and when it came down it landed on its feet facing the enemy, the black sword in its hands.

The Talnoy took a step forward. Moving with inhuman quickness it scythed through both death-dancers at the waist. Both turned to smoke and vanished with a cry. Then it turned to intercept a death-dancer that had just dispatched two elf warriors. The black, featureless dancer turned, as if sensing the Talnoy’s attack, and raised its blade. The Talnoy slashed downward with incredible force, and the death-dancer recoiled from the impact. Then the Talnoy delivered another thundering blow and the death-dancer fell back as if shrinking in on itself. The third blow of the black blade sliced through its shadowy sword and cut into the apparition’s neck. It lost coherence, and before Kaspar’s eyes turned to smoke and blew away on the breeze.

Before Kaspar could understand what he was seeing, the Talnoy was upon a fourth death-dancer, while Tomas struck down another with both hands on his sword, a blow that could have cut through an anvil. The death-dancer crumbled and evaporated.

Tomas looked around, but while the elves and humans were gathering their wits, the Talnoy set off at a full run, moving as easily and quickly as the elves through the trees.

Tathar slapped his palms together and thunder erupted above them. Rain started to fall.

Kaspar hesitated for a moment, then when Tomas and Pug hurried after the otherworld creation, he followed. As he ran, Kaspar grew angry.
These monsters, these death-dancers
, he thought,
how dare they invade the most tranquil and wonderful place I have ever seen!
A small part of his mind realized that this emotion heralded the first hint of madness that came from wearing the ring, and that within the hour he must remove it; but for now the risk to Elvandar was still too great.

Kaspar was puffing as he ran up a flight of stairs. He reached the top—his eyes and lungs burning from the acrid smoke that filled the air—just in time to see Pug vanish out of sight. The rain was banking the fires above, but the heat was filling the air with steam.

Kaspar caught his breath. He saw Tomas, upon another platform, vault over a wooden railing and vanish below. Kaspar ran to the railing and looked down, just as Tomas landed lightly on his feet forty feet below on another immense platform, where several elves lay sprawled in pools of blood. Kaspar couldn’t see through the foliage and smoke as Tomas moved out of sight, but he could hear conflict a short distance away. He cast about, saw stairs leading down and hurried to get to where the fighting was.

By the time he reached the lower platform, the conflict had moved again. He continued to hurry toward the sound of fighting, but always it stayed ahead of him. The pace of combat was furious, far more manic than anything Kaspar had experienced during battle.

At the next platform, he had to stop to catch his breath. He could barely stand, let alone fight. His lungs felt seared by the steam and smoke. He leaned forward, hands on his thighs, coughing and spitting. In the distance he could hear the sounds of fighting abate, and then suddenly it was quiet.

Kaspar stood slightly bent over, breathing hard and hearing only the sound of the driving rain as the fury of the storm increased. He took one last deep breath and hurried toward the last place he had heard fighting.

When he reached the location of the final struggle, he found Tomas, Pug, and the Talnoy standing amidst a scene of carnage. Four elves lay in grotesque postures of death, while another dozen nursed wounds that ranged from minor to life-threatening.

Elves from all parts of the community were rushing to aid the injured. “What just happened?” asked Kaspar.

Pug turned, and with an upraised hand indicated that Kaspar should remain silent. When Tomas turned to face him, Kaspar understood.

Never in his life had Kaspar seen such a look of outrage. In the hushed voice of fury, Tomas said, “Who dares?” He looked at the fallen bodies and the volume of his voice rose, “Who
dares
to visit this upon my people?”

“Someone who wants that,” said Pug, pointing to the Talnoy. “They may not know exactly what it is, but they know it’s important. They have sensed powerful dark magic afoot in the land, and they want to control it.”

Kaspar said, “How do you know that?” He took the ring off at last.

Pug said, “There are no other possible reasons. Moreover, I’m certain because I know who sent the death-dancers.”

“Who?”

Pug looked at Kaspar and Kaspar saw a mask of controlled rage, no less fearsome to behold than Tomas’s, and possibly even more so because of his iron control.

Softly, Pug said, “Your old friend, Leso Varen.” He looked around and made an encompassing gesture. “This proves that he is back, for he is the only magician powerful enough to create this many death-dancers.”

“Why here?” gasped Kaspar.

Pug pointed to the Talnoy. “He must have sensed its presence when Tathar and the spellweavers breached the defenses of Elvandar to allow me to leave.” Pug looked at Tomas. “I feel responsible, for had I only transported us to the river, he never would have violated your sanctuary.”

Tomas shook his head. “No, old friend. It is not your fault. And I believe he might have broken through our wards anyway. Remember, when you were prisoner on the Tsurani world, it took the skills of Macros the Black to repulse the Tsurani Great Ones when they attacked. If they could pass through our defenses, why not Varen?”

Pug nodded. “Perhaps you’re right. I will send Miranda to you after I return home, to consult with Tathar and the others about strengthening your defenses.” He looked at the smoke-filled air, listening to the cries of anguish and pain, and said, “This cannot happen again.”

Kaspar could only nod mutely in agreement.

It was a somber meeting in the Queen’s Court as the council learned the extent of the damage. Sixteen elves had sacrificed their lives to protect their homeland. Another dozen had been killed in the fires, three of them children.