Into a Dark Realm (15 page)

“But you deserve acknowledgment for being the first to find the Hiding, and for the first kill. Share the female with your brother or not as you wish, but remember, what you did this night was remarkable.”

Valko nodded, realizing that soon he might have to kill this old man.

T
he vista was amazing.

Pug, Nakor, Magnus, and Bek had exited a doorway from the Hall of Worlds, after following detailed instructions by Vordam, and were now standing upon a peak overlooking the city of Shusar, on the world of Delecordia. As he had warned them, the doorway used was the less traveled of the three doors known to connect Delecordia to the Hall, and it was the least used for an obvious reason; for it exited onto a windswept ledge with barely enough room for the four men to stand, and only a single narrow pathway down to safety.

Pug didn’t worry about falling; he had enough magical skill to protect himself and the others, though none of them would likely need his help. Magnus was better
able to levitate and fly than any student in the history of Sorcerer’s Island, Nakor always had a “trick” at hand, and while Bek couldn’t fly, everything he had revealed about himself gave Pug the distinct impression it would take more than a tumble down a small mountain to kill the young warrior.

“Look at that,” whispered Bek. “That’s interesting.”

Nakor was forced to agree. “Yes, very interesting.”

The sky contained colors they had never experienced, scintillating rushes of hues across the spectrum that pulsed and glowed for brief instants, never staying still long quite enough for the eye to apprehend them. It seemed that every gust of breeze or movement of a cloud above was outlined in these alien colors. Pug was quiet for a moment then said, “I’ve seen colors like that once before.”

Magnus glanced at the steep mountainside sweeping downward from where they stood. “When was that, Father?”

“When I was a boy. During the ride with Lord Borric, when Tomas and I were traveling with him to warn the Prince of Krondor of the Tsurani invasion. Beneath the dwarves’ mountains we encountered a waterfall with colors like those. The rocks bled minerals that were made luminescent from the churning energy of the water, and the light from our lanterns. I’ve not seen those colors since, and never this vivid.”

“I like it!” shouted Ralan Bek, as if the point needed to be emphasized by volume.

Nakor said, “Really?” Nothing in his experience with the young man had prepared him to consider he possessed any aesthetic appreciation.

“Yes, Nakor.” Bek looked heavenward, a near rapt expression on his face. “It’s nice. I like the flashes and the way you can see the wind.”

“You can see the wind?” asked Magnus.

“Yes. Can’t you?”

“No,” Magnus admitted.

Nakor squinted. “Ah, now I can see…” He turned to the two
magicians. “If you try to see through the air, to the space behind it, you can see the pressure of the wind, like water rippling across a smooth sheet of rock. Try.”

Pug did and after a moment he began to gain a sense of what the two men had seen. “It’s like heat shimmer on the desert,” he said at last.

“Yes!” said Bek. “Only it’s more. You can see it behind itself.”

Pug’s eyes narrowed questioningly as he looked at Nakor, who merely shook his head. “He sees deeper than any of us.”

Pug decided not to pursue the matter for the moment. The wind was chilling and the air had a bitter tang. In the distance, they could see their destination, the city of Shusar. “Look at the size of it,” he said.

He had spoken at length with Kaspar about his vision on the mountains called the Pavilion of the Gods, and asked him questions about every detail. One thing Kaspar had been emphatic about was the enormity of the Dasati cities.

Pug tried to calm himself, but the entire experience of entering Delecordia was taking its toll. “I think this will take some getting used to.”

“We’d better start down, Father,” said Magnus. “Vordam’s instructions are helping, but I can sense myself beginning to feel ill. We must reach Kastor soon.”

Pug agreed with a nod and started walking down the path. “As soon as we are able, I’ll try a small jump to a visible site, but I suspect I may not be able to focus my mind correctly. It feels as if I’ve been given a sleeping draft.”

Nakor nodded. “It’s interesting here, but not good. We need to find this Kastor fellow, yes.”

As he had predicted, Pug was unable to effect the spell he used to travel short distances, willing himself to any place he could see. Nakor watched him struggle and said, “Yes, yes, it’s as I thought. Stuff here is different than back home. It’s twisted…wrong.”

“What do you mean?” asked Magnus as they continued to trudge down the long trail to the road that led to the city.

“I don’t know,” said Nakor. “It’s how I think of it. Stuff has rules. It acts a certain way when you do things to it. You push on the right side, and it goes left. You push down and it goes down. This world’s stuff…it’s as if you push on it and it pushes back, or you press down and it wants to go left.” He grinned as he added, “Interesting, and if I had time, I think I could figure out how to work it.”

Pug said, “If Kastor can take care of us as Vordam said he could, we should then have time for you to learn, Nakor. Magnus and myself as well.”

Bek pointed, his hand sweeping in an arc, indicating the entire vista. “This is a wonderful place, Nakor. I really like it.”

Nakor looked at his young companion. “How do you feel?”

Bek shrugged as he walked at Nakor’s shoulder, down the narrow trail. “I feel fine. Why? Don’t you?”

Nakor said, “None of us feels well here, but you do?”

“Yes. Is that wrong?” asked the powerful youth.

“Apparently not,” said Magnus.

The trail broadened as it reached the lower hills. After nearly two hours of steady walking, they reached the verge of a wide road, almost a highway, that led to the city. A cart pulled by something that looked a great deal like a horse, but had broader shoulders and a shorter neck, rolled by, the beast snorting as the driver in the high seat behind prodded it with a long stick, apparently the item of control. As the cart passed them, the driver gave them a glance; but if he was surprised to see four humans standing on the roadside, he didn’t reveal any change of expression.

“I wonder how he gets it to stop,” said Pug.

Nakor said, “Maybe he just stops prodding it and it stops out of gratitude?”

Magnus laughed just loud enough to cause Pug to turn. His elder son rarely displayed any sense of humor, and on those rare occasions when he did, it always surprised his father.

They turned up the highway, staying on the verge, as vehicles were a steady feature of this thoroughfare. Pug had visited other
worlds, had lived on Kelewan with the Tsurani for four years, and had spent time with nonhuman sentient beings, but there was something about this place that fascinated him more than anything he had ever encountered. This place and these people were alien in a way he had never imagined possible.

Vordam had been quite precise in all his instructions, and he had answered a few questions, but only those pertaining to Pug and his friends reaching the merchant Kastor quickly and efficiently. He had deferred many questions to Kastor, as if Vordam had reasons for being cautious that were not apparent to Pug.

The city was magnificent. As they trudged along the road, getting closer by the minute, Pug could see the stones of the dark wall were slightly reflective, giving off hints of color as if light had been broken into a spectrum, like oil on water. Were there minute crystals in the stone? Pug wondered.

As they neared the vast city gates, the wonders increased. The stones were fitted so closely the walls appeared seamless. They towered eleven or twelve stories by human standards.

“What sort of enemy were they expecting?” said Pug.

“Oh, maybe they just like really tall things,” replied Nakor as he drifted over to the left side of the massive entrance to the city. “Now this is interesting,” he observed.

There were no gates in the traditional human fashion, but rather a massive portion of wall was retracted inside, swinging on hinges of unimaginable design. Nakor laughed. “They haven’t had to use them in a while.”

A tree of some sort had grown up alongside the wall, blocking the segment that was retracted. “That would make closing the gate problematic,” said Magnus with a smile.

“I think they’d figure out a way,” offered his father as they entered the Ipiliac city of Shusar. “That they’re peaceful is welcome news.”

“Or they killed all their enemies,” Bek offered.

Pug spared the youth a backward glance and saw him looking
around at everything as if his head were on a swivel, his eyes wide and his face a grinning mask. “I like these people, Nakor,” Bek said. “This is an interesting and wonderful place.”

Pug didn’t have Nakor’s appreciation of the way this odd boy thought, but he knew him well enough to know that this was as close as Bek could get to exhibiting what others would call joy. Bek lived in a heightened state of existence, it seemed, his pleasures coming from anything that offered an emotional peak, be it sex, violence, or beauty. Pug wondered, and not for the first time, why his future self had insisted on the lad being in this company. Now tiny pieces of a very complex puzzle were falling into place; of all of them, Bek was the least disoriented and least troubled by coming to this realm. He actually seemed to be enjoying it while his three companions were experiencing mounting discomfort and illness.

If their presence caused any alarm in the Ipiliac they masked it well. In fact, Pug noticed, most barely spared the four humans a glance.

He was forced to admit that once the alien aspect wore off, the Ipiliac appeared to be a handsome race: tall, almost regal, their movements fluid and graceful. The women were striking if not obviously attractive by human standards. They moved with even more grace than the men, motion that had an almost seductive quality to it, yet they appeared unself-conscious as far as Pug could see. There were apparently playful moments as men and women in the market joked with one another and shouted greetings. By any measurement Pug could apply, these seemed a happy people.

By the time they reached the plaza Vordam had described, Pug was feeling a tightness in his chest, a shortness of breath, and he was starting to cough. The others, apart from Bek, were also laboring. Pug halted before a fountain, one which astonished him because of its beauty, a crystal thing with lights within, and water tumbling in sheets to strike harmonious sounds each time drops splashed on a crystal face.

“There,” said Pug, pointing. “The shop with the red door.”

A company of mounted riders was coming through the plaza, all wearing black tunics trimmed with purple, each with a shield of white on his back. Each man wore a hat that looked to be made of some felted material and boots that reached the knees with a high flap folded down in front. The dashing look was heightened by each man sporting a small chin beard.

They were riding the odd horselike creatures at a posting trot and Bek laughed like a child. “Ha! I wonder if they can fight?”

Pug looked at once to see if he intended to test the question, but was relieved to see him merely watching in openmouthed admiration. He motioned for the others to follow him and they moved toward their destination. Pug spared a look up and down the streets, more to gauge how the local populace approached these shops: whether they knocked then entered, were admitted, or were just entering.

Seeing that shops were being entered and exited without issue, he pushed open a shop door. Inside they found nothing that resembled a human shop: no counters, no shelves, no apparent inventory or even images of products for sale. Instead there were cushions strewn across the floor around a large device with several hoses of woven fabric leading from it. A large bowl topped this apparatus.

An Ipiliac came through a beaded curtain, tall and thin even by this race’s standards. He wore a rippling robe of rainbow colors that shifted hue as he walked. He paused for a moment, looked from face to face, then spoke a phrase in an alien tongue. When they didn’t respond, he tried another language, one Pug recognized.

“We are not from that world,” he said. “We are from Midkemia.”

In Keshian, the entrepreneur said, “Welcome to my establishment. I rarely get human clients. You must be the ones Vordam spoke of. How may I be of service?”

“We seek a guide to the world of Kosridi.”

Now Pug saw surprise on the merchant’s features.

“You seek a way into the next realm?”

“Is it possible?” Pug asked.

“Yes, but difficult. However, Vordam would not have sent you had he thought it impossible. You are beings of considerable strength to have reached this shop without the aid of powerful magic.”

“Which doesn’t seem to work here,” Magnus responded. “And it is getting difficult to breathe.”

Nodding, Kastor said, “I can help.” He vanished into the rear of his shop, then returned with a small pouch and deposited the contents into the bowl of the device. Then he added a liquid and almost at once a light mist appeared above the bowl. “If you would inhale this mist through these hoses, I think you will find your breathing difficulties will be ameliorated.”

Bek said, “I don’t need to.”

The Ipiliac studied the young man for a minute, then softly said, “I think you are right.”

Pug hesitated for an instant, as Nakor and Magnus began inhaling from their small hoses. It was pointless to worry: they had no other choice; they were here and had to trust this being. Pug inhaled deeply, fighting back a cough as the pungent mist started to affect his lungs. After several deep breaths, his discomfort eased.

After one long deep inhalation, Nakor said, “This is very good.”

Kastor said, “Forgive me for being direct, but you will discover time is against you should you decide not to continue onward with your quest.”

“We have no intention of turning back.”

“So you say, but there are many things about the place you seek I am certain you do not understand, and I will not agree to help you until I am certain that you do.”

Pug nodded.

“The Dasati will kill you on sight. Simply for existing. They are a race akin to our own, but driven by realities you can only begin to imagine, let alone fully comprehend. Everything that is a potential threat is to be destroyed, utterly, and anything not understood is a threat, and therefore destroyed.