Magician’s End (29 page)

He stood up, powerful feelings threatening to overwhelm him. ‘I’ve been angry … for so long. The anger has become a part of me.’

‘Forgive me, Magnus.’

‘I don’t know if I can.’

‘You must.’

Still looking into the distance, he said, ‘You need my forgiveness?’

‘No. I’m dead. You can do nothing for me. You need to forgive me so that you can live.’

He turned and found she was gone, as was the blanket and picnic basket. All that remained on the ground were the staff and hat.

He slowly picked up the staff, then the hat, which he put on his head. In the midst of the turmoil he was glad to get back the hat. He didn’t move, digesting the experience and trying to apply his analytical abilities to what he had just experienced, and at the last he could almost hear Nakor’s voice, saying something after several cups of wine that only now Magnus understood: ‘Feelings don’t make sense,’ Nakor had observed, ‘but they can drive us, and that’s what you have to understand most of all. People will often do imponderable things because of how they feel, not because of what they think.’ Then he had grinned at Magnus and said, ‘Of all the men I’ve known, Magnus, I think you will have the most trouble learning that lesson.’

Suddenly there was a sound and Magnus turned to discover that a vortex had appeared. He took one last look around, knowing he would never again see Helena’s face. He drank in the echo of her presence, then leaped into the vortex.

Magnus came tumbling out of the vortex, holding his hat with one hand and his staff with the other. Clouds of dust arose around him and slowly spread out as he came to his feet.

A lone figure stood on a curving ledge and Magnus realized he was on a small planetoid, perhaps the size of a palace but not much larger. The figure turned and beckoned him to come closer, and he took a step and found himself floating upward. The figure stuck out his hand, grabbing Magnus’s ankle before he could float away. Pulling him back down, he said, ‘I’ve created some atmosphere and enough gravity if you don’t try to leap up.’

‘Macros,’ said Magnus. He had seen a rough likeness of him in the form of a Dasati who had been given his memories and some aspects of his appearance, but here stood his grandfather as perhaps even his mother hadn’t seen him, young and vigorous, not a hint of grey in his hair or beard. His high forehead was one trait he shared with his daughter and grandson, but his black eyes were unique. He wore a black robe, cut slightly differently to the one Pug chose: Pug’s had been a Tsurani Great One’s garb, whereas Macros’s was cut off between knee and ankle, and was tight across the shoulders.

The original Black Sorcerer looked at Magnus. ‘Do I know you?’

‘No, not really.’

Macros said, ‘I am—’

Magnus interrupted him, ‘Macros the Black.’

Again Macros tilted his head a little, in exactly the same fashion as Miranda. ‘But
you
know
me
.’

‘It’s a long story.’

‘Aren’t they always?’

‘I’m called Magnus.’

‘Magnus,’ said Macros, nodding as if he liked the sound of the name. Suddenly he looked delighted. ‘You’re my grandson!’

‘How do you know that?’ asked Magnus. ‘You died before I was born.’

‘Yes, battling that demon Maarg on the world of Shila,’ said Macros. ‘I don’t know how I know. I just … suddenly knew. It seems what I need to know just … pops into my head!’ He seemed delighted by that fact.

‘Where are we?’

‘I don’t know exactly, but I have a rough idea.’

‘I’ve been on other worlds and other planes of reality,’ said Magnus, ‘but I’ve seen nothing like this.’

The planetoid they stood on slowly tumbled in orbit around a massive gas cloud, moving along with millions of other pieces of rock. Comets made a stately passage across the sky and down in the core of the gas cloud an incandescent glow burned, illuminating the entire cloud. Within, brilliant lights streaked, like massive discharges of lightning.

Magnus said, ‘This is something to behold.’

‘Yes,’ said his grandfather.

‘You know, Nakor would love seeing this.’

‘The little gambler? Is he still around?’

‘In a manner of speaking.’

Again came the odd cocking of Macros’s head, as if listening to something, then he smiled again. ‘Ah, he will get to see this. He’ll be joining us soon.’ Then his smiled broadened, ‘And so will the others!’

Magnus was about to ask how he knew, then thought better of it, and decided instead to enjoy the spectacle and try to process the turmoil left inside him from his encounter with Helena.

•
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
•

Elvandar

B
ETHANY SHOUTED.

For half a day she had walked the banks of the River Boundary, the edge of Crydee and Elvandar, the home of the elves. Entering Elvandar unbidden put you at great risk. Several times before she had called out, but only forest sounds had answered.

Will said, ‘Lady Beth, we’ve been shouting across this river since sunrise and no answer. Why don’t we just cross at that ford?’ He pointed to a broad shallow about ten yards upstream.

From behind him a voice said, ‘It would be unwise.’

Tom turned around so quickly he almost fell over, his hunter’s cap tumbling from his head. Standing behind him was a pair of elves in brown leather hunting garb, carrying longbows.

‘Lady Beth? Bethany of Carse?’

‘Yes,’ said Beth.

The elf who had first spoken said, ‘I am Calin, and this is my friend Eledar. I met you once when you were very tiny, but you won’t remember.’ He looked as Bethany expected an elf to look, with large pale-blue eyes and light-brown hair that fell to his shoulders.

‘I remember the name, Prince of Elvandar,’ said Beth, curtseying as well as she could while wearing leather trousers and holding a bow.

‘No,’ said Calin. ‘We only bow before my mother.’ His manner was friendly. ‘Who are your companions?’

Bethany introduced the four hunters, who stood silent. They were tired and hungry from days on the trail and were relieved to have delivered Bethany to her goal. By nature they were quiet men, but days on the trail moving through dangerous woodlands had rendered them mute. The trails over the hills were narrow and dangerous, and having no idea how likely a Keshian patrol might be, they had chosen to move on foot. Up the steep inclines and down the narrow draws would anyway have slowed the horses to walking pace, but they were all near exhaustion.

‘What brings you to Elvandar?’ asked Calin.

‘An urgent need to speak with your mother.’

‘Then we bid you welcome to Elvandar. Cross there,’ he said, indicating the ford.

To the four hunters, Bethany said, ‘If you wish to return to your families, you need not travel with me any longer. I am safe from here.’

Will said, ‘My missus will wonder if the Keshians or a bear did me in. I’d best head back.’

‘I will go with him,’ said Edgar. ‘I’m for my family, too.’

The two young brothers exchanged glances. ‘We’d like to come,’ said Jack.

‘We’ll never get the chance again,’ said Tom.

Bethany smiled, then asked Calin, ‘Is it permitted?’

‘Yes,’ answered the Prince of Elvandar.

The two brothers quickly emptied their packs and gave their trail rations to Edgar and Will. The four hunters and Bethany said their respective farewells, and Bethany turned to Calin. ‘Whenever you’re ready.’

Calin smiled and Bethany said, ‘You and your brother have the same smile.’

Calin’s smile broadened. ‘You’ve met Calis?’

‘In Ylith. He went on …’ She felt tension drain away and suddenly she was tired. ‘It’s a long journey. I’ll tell you and your mother together. But yes, your brother was well, last I saw him.’

Calin nodded. ‘You’re tired, and we have two more days before you reach my mother’s court.’

As they crossed the river, Bethany said, ‘The other elf is well, too.’

Calin and Eledar both looked quizzical. ‘Other elf?’

‘Arkan,’ said Bethany. ‘Tall, black hair, doesn’t speak much.’

‘My brother travels with a moredhel chieftain?’ asked Calin with as close to a look of surprise as a human would ever see on an elf’s face.

‘Moredhel?’

‘You call them the Brotherhood of the Dark Path.’

Now Bethany was surprised. ‘But he looks …’ She shook her head. ‘Another tale for your mother’s ears.’ As they started off, she added, ‘But they fought side by side on the walls of Ylith against the Keshians.’

Calin stumbled a step, then set off at a steady walk.

Two days later, Bethany and the two boys reached a massive clearing in the Elven Forest. In the distance she could see a sight that made her pause. Calin put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Welcome to Elvandar, Lady Bethany of Carse.’

On the other side of the clearing reared a stand of gigantic trees linked by graceful arching bridges of branches on which elves could be seen crossing from bole to bole.

As they got closer, Bethany looked up. The trunks rose until they were lost in a sea of leaves and branches. The leaves were deep green, but here and there a tree with golden, silver, or even white foliage could be seen, sparkling with lights visible even in the shadows. Above the canopy, the late afternoon sun shone down, but so thick was its cover that Elvandar was in constant twilight. A soft glow permeated the entire area.

As they made their way across the clearing, Bethany could see that the elven tree city was even larger than she first thought. It spread away on all sides and must have been over a mile across. She was stunned by wonder and glanced at Tom and Jack. The boys were almost opened-mouthed, and finally Jack looked at her and said, ‘Now I’m very glad we came, my lady.’ Tom only nodded.

They reached a stairway, carved into the side of a tree, that wound its way upward, into the branches. They climbed, and as they passed the large branches that served as roadways, they could see elves on all sides. Many of the men wore fighting leather like Calin, but many others wore long, graceful robes of fine weave or tunics of bright, rich colours. She marvelled at the casual splendour of the elven women. All were tall and graceful, with their hair worn long, many with jewels woven into their tresses. Bethany reached up and self-consciously touched her own hair, dirty after weeks on the trail.

They reached a gigantic branch and left the stairs. Calin said, ‘Stay to the centre. Many of your race have difficulties with the heights. It’s best if you look forward, not down.’ For their part, the elves seemed oblivious to how far above the ground they trod.

Deeper and deeper they moved, until they reached a large opening where a circle of trees formed a central court for the Elf Queen, a hundred branches merging into a huge platform. Aglaranna sat upon a wooden throne, surrounded by her court. She was a beautiful, regal woman whose reddish hair was gathered and held behind her lobeless, pointed ears by a golden circlet with a single ruby in the centre. She wore a deep-green gown with golden trim at the neck, sleeves, and hem, and her waist was cinched by a golden cord. Her fingers were long and graceful, and she bore a single ring on her left hand, a simple golden band, a wedding ring in the human fashion.

To her left stood an amazing figure, neither elf nor human, but somewhere in between, clad in green leggings and a dark-brown tunic, with a simple brown leather belt. Easily six inches over six feet, he had striking features, blonde hair, blue eyes and an almost boyish face as he smiled; but Bethany could imagine it would look very different if he was angry. There was a sense of power to him that went beyond his impressive size and obvious physical strength.

He came to stand before Beth. ‘Lady Bethany,’ he said, bowing, ‘on behalf of my wife and queen, I welcome you to Elvandar. I am Warleader Tomas.’

Calin mounted the steps, kissed his mother’s cheek and took the smaller seat to her right.

Aglaranna arose to greet Bethany, taking her hands and saying, ‘Welcome. You’ve come a long way.’

‘Thank you, Majesty. Your home is amazing and I’m pleased to see it, but my reasons for coming are dire and pressing.’

‘Please,’ said the queen, indicating a chair that had been brought for Bethany. She ordered that Jack and Tom were to be shown to their quarters, leaving Bethany alone with the royal court. ‘Before you tell us your story, your mother is coming.’

A cup of wine was handed to her and she drank. Her mother arrived and they embraced. ‘I’m so glad to see you,’ said Bethany.

Bethany’s mother, the Countess Marriann, asked, ‘Any word of your father?’

‘At the last report he held fast in Carse and all lands from there to the Straits are still in Kingdom hands,’ said Bethany.

Countess Marriann looked relieved.

Bethany said, ‘You look well, mother.’

‘We’ve been so welcomed here, and treated well. We have a camp to the north of here. Everyone from Crydee.’

Duchess Caralin had accompanied Bethany’s mother and now she came to embrace Bethany. ‘What news of my sons?’ she asked, fearful to hear the answer.

Bethany realized news was slow reaching this deep forest, being only what the occasional ranger from Natal might share. ‘Martin and Brendan were well, last I saw them. They saw Hal in Rillanon.’

The duchess closed her eyes with relief, and as she did so, Bethany realized her hair had more grey in it and her features looked more drawn than the last time she’d seen her. ‘When word reached me of my husband’s death,’ she said softly, avoiding his name to respect the elves’ tradition of not using the names of the departed, ‘my heart broke, but if the boys are well …’

Bethany hugged her again. ‘They are well. We have a great deal to discuss. Later.’

Now she turned to the Elf Queen, Lord Tomas, and Prince Calin and detailed what she and Martin had seen in E’bar and the warning from the taredhel loremaster, Tanderae. When at last she finished, the queen asked a few questions, then turned to Tomas. ‘My love?’

Tomas waved to someone at the edge of the gathering crowd and two very tall elves came into view. They wore fashion very different to the other elves; tunics and trousers of very fine fabric and beautifully crafted leather boots, somewhat the worse for wear. Tomas said, ‘Gulamendis, Laromendis, two allies of Tanderae – Lady Bethany of Carse.’