Magician’s End (55 page)

‘Your mother thrived on adversity when she was alive, rejoiced in overcoming it,’ said Pug, ‘and whatever else she is, this Miranda is in very large part still your mother.’

‘I know.’ Magnus looked back at his father. ‘When this is over, then what?’

‘I don’t take your meaning.’

‘Miranda and Nakor, what of them?’

Pug sighed. ‘Before our little journey, I would have said something about the gods and their use for us. After what we’ve seen, shall we simply call it fate or providence? In the past, fate has demonstrated little kindness to those it deems no longer necessary. I expect this time around to be no different.’

Magnus sighed. ‘I’ve grown used to having them around again.’

‘I know exactly what you mean,’ said his father. He put a hand on his son’s arm. ‘I’m not sharing a few thoughts with you because I’m uncertain if they’re useful yet. This situation is too fraught with real danger to burden anyone with imagined dangers.’

Magnus nodded. ‘When you’re ready.’

‘You will be first to know,’ said Pug, ‘because if what I think we need to achieve is true, your role will be vital, perhaps the most vital of all.’

Magnus nodded. ‘What now?’

‘We study some more,’ said Pug with a tired smile. He looked to another gathering of magic-users in deep discussion. ‘Let’s see what their concerns are.’

Magnus nodded and they turned and walked over to the magicians and priests.

Brendan hurried to the command tent. Prince Edward’s generals were absent, and only Jim Dasher and Lady Franciezka Sorboz were there, with a few servants hovering. The prince waved the servants away and when the four were alone, said, ‘You’ve done well, young sir.’ He indicated Brendan should take a seat.

‘Thank you, your highness.’

‘In all the time you’ve been here, we’ve had scarcely a moment alone.’ He nodded at Franciezka and Jim and smiled. ‘This is about as alone as I think we’re likely to get. I’ve heard you had quite an ordeal on Sorcerer’s Isle. At least how it was related to me.’ He indicated Jim. ‘Formal reports are occasionally lacking detail. Now that we have a little time, I’d like to hear your recounting.’

Brendan looked slightly embarrassed. ‘I don’t know if I’d call it an “ordeal”, but it was a bit difficult once or twice.’ He told the story in a straightforward fashion, omitting the part where he almost drowned himself getting there, and spent most of his time singing the praises of Sandreena, Amirantha, Ruffio, and the others. When he finished, the prince shook his head and said, ‘Remarkable, really.’

Jim said, ‘I’m sure our young friend here is being modest.’ He put his hands on Brendan’s shoulders. ‘We have a task for you, if you’re up for it?’

‘Of course, sir. Whatever is required.’

Edward signalled that they could withdraw and Jim and Brendan left the tent, leaving the prince in conversation with Lady Franciezka. Outside, Jim said, ‘Those Keshian mercenaries should be about a day south-east of here. If you ride hard past a small village named Tasford, then through a narrow pass in the hills, you should come out right above where they make their last camp. I have heard reports they may number as little as a thousand, or as much as five times that. I would like a more accurate count. If you can avoid being killed or captured by their sentries, you may get a rough estimate of their numbers from how many campfires you see; then ride like mad back here in time for us to know before the battle tomorrow, or the day after, whenever Oliver decides it’s time to fight. An accurate count will allow us a more intelligent deployment of our forces. Can you manage that?’

‘I’ll leave at once, sir,’ said Brendan, turning to run off.

Jim reached out and grabbed his shoulder. ‘I wasn’t jesting. Don’t get killed. His highness has plans for you and your brothers when this is all done.’

‘I won’t,’ said Brendan with a grin that reminded Jim too much of his own.

Jim went back inside. Prince Edward said, ‘I like the boy. What can you tell me about the other two?’

‘I don’t know Martin well,’ Jim said, ‘but from what I’ve seen, he and Hal match their brother, and more. Martin’s report to the Duke of Krondor about the retreat from Crydee and the defence of Ylith was modest, and what I’ve heard from others who were there is that he was nothing short of brilliant in protecting those given over to his care. He reads and remembers.’ Jim tapped the side of his head.

Lady Franciezka said, ‘And I got to know Hal well when he was hiding from John Worthington’s agents in Roldem. He’s more of the same: intelligent, passionate, willing to die for duty. And Roldem is in his debt. The king feels a personal obligation and the queen likes him a great deal. He’s compassionate, modest … in short, he’s unlike most other nobles you meet; he lacks personal ambition, greed, suspicion, and dishonesty. He’s exactly what you’d want in a son.’

Prince Edward appeared to be lost in thought, a hint of regret crossing his face. ‘The consequences of this may be dire.’

‘How much more dire can they be, highness?’ asked Jim. ‘We’re already in a state of civil war, and if we don’t prevail, it will be meaningless. If we do prevail, the majority of those likely to object will be dead or in chains.’

‘Very well,’ said the prince with a sigh. ‘Prepare the document and have Bas-Tyra witness as well as Krondor and Yabon. Charles was once good friends with Chadwick before he discovered his duplicity with Oliver. Switching sides may not make him popular with those nobles wishing to see Oliver on the throne – even if they won’t openly say so – but it makes Charles appear a man of conscience and principle, not my creature.’

‘Very well, your highness,’ said Jim, hurrying off to fetch a scribe.

Prince Edward looked at Lady Franciezka. ‘And what of you, lady?’

She smiled, and he saw the fatigue in her eyes, but otherwise she was as beautiful as ever. ‘My career is over, as is Jim’s,’ she said. ‘We’ve ensured our respective organizations are as intact as possible, to do your bidding and King Carole’s, but our part is done.’

‘What will you do?’

‘Neither of us wants for anything, as we are both wealthy in position and gold.’ Her eyes glistened. ‘Despite being as cold-blooded as he needs to be in his service to the Crown of the Isles, James Dasher Jamison is at heart something of a romantic. He imagines us living idly on an island somewhere, raising children.’

Prince Edward smiled. ‘However unlikely that may be, it’s a wonderful goal to imagine, is it not?’

Franciezka could only nod, fearing that if she spoke her voice would break.

Martin came over to Hal. ‘Could you please do something about the Duke of Ran?’

Hal was trying to eat a hastily concocted meal: they were cooking quickly over campfires on their ride back to Prince Edward’s encampment. ‘What is he complaining about now?’

‘Everything,’ said Martin, sitting down next to his brother. ‘And he keeps offering bribes to me and Ty to help him escape and take you prisoner, or whatever else he can imagine.’ He picked up a wooden plate and dug out a heavy spoonful of beans and bacon from the cooking pot. ‘I don’t think he realizes I’m your brother.’

‘Or he doesn’t care,’ said Hal with a smile. ‘Some brothers, you know?’

‘I think Ty might be listening,’ said Martin, and Hal laughed.

‘How are the horses?’ asked Hal.

‘Tired, but holding up,’ said Martin. ‘The remuda is large enough that we’re riding fresh mounts each day. When do you think we’ll reach Edward’s position?’

‘If we’re out at first light, sometime near sundown tomorrow.’

‘Think the battle’s started already?’

‘We’ll know tomorrow,’ said Hal, finishing up his meal. ‘I’m going to take a quick tour around the camp, then turn in. You turn in now; you’re close to exhausted.’

‘You’re no spring daisy yourself,’ said Martin. ‘But very well, your grace.’

Hal laughed. As he set out to inspect his prisoners and the camp, he wondered if that might not be the last laugh he and his brother would share for a while.

And not for the first time, he wondered how his other brother was faring.

Brendan crawled over the rocks, belly down, listening to the camp noise below. He pulled himself up above an outcrop and saw a sentry standing half-way down the hillside. These mercenaries were sloppy, not expecting any of Prince Edward’s forces to be nearby. Had they been alert, they’d have had twice as many guards up on this bluff looking north-west. If they had any patrols out, Brendan had neither seen nor heard them.

He studied the camp. There was a large tent in the centre, which he assumed belonged to the captain of this company, and only a dozen smaller tents scattered around, big enough for four or five men each. The rest of these forces were sleeping under the stars, which, given the current weather, was no problem.

For a brief moment he wished he had that weather-magician of Reinman’s along to dump a torrent on them, but then realized there probably wasn’t a bottle of wine or a flagon of ale left between Edward’s camp and Rillanon.

Brendan began counting campfires.

Tomas battled and Draken-Korin, in the form of Braden, answered every attack. A human would have long since died of exhaustion, yet these two relics of a bygone age continued to test one another. Twice Tomas had delivered wounds that would have killed any mortal instantly, but Draken-Korin had withstood them and kept his opponent at bay long enough for Valheru magic to heal him.

Both fighters guarded their magic now, needing it to keep them alive rather than to inflict harm. They had both come to terms with their inability to gain magical advantage and now realized this combat would end in the spilling of blood, as primitive and basic as a fight could be.

Throughout the night they moved like wary wolves, circling and dodging in for the attack, only to pull back to avoid counter-attack. They nipped and snapped, and each took slight injuries, but they were now coming into the final phase of this fight.

At some point one would find an opening, or gain a momentary advantage, and when that occurred, the outcome would finally be decided.

Tomas heard the dragon voice in his mind again:
Tomas must die
.

But this time it was followed by an ancient and alien sound. A dragon began to sing, and others took up the song. At last Tomas recognized it. It was the death-song of dragons, the song they would sing when a Valheru fell.

Pug signalled Miranda, Nakor, Ruffio, and Magnus over. ‘I think I know what we need do,’ he said.

Ruffio glanced over his shoulders to where a knot of clerics sat eating and resting.

Pug followed his gaze. ‘We’ll tell the others when it’s time.’

‘It’s not yet time?’ asked Miranda.

‘No,’ said Pug. ‘There are some things we must arrange for, before we embark on what may be our final confrontation.’

‘I don’t like the way that sounds,’ said Nakor.

‘None of us do,’ echoed Magnus.

‘First, we need to know exactly what is occurring within the dome. And we need to be able to react instantly once we know. Second, we must invert the energy of the magic confining the Dread and drive them back whence they came. Last, we must seal off that rift.’

‘When you say it like that,’ quipped Nakor, ‘it sounds easy.’

‘It’s direct,’ said Pug, ‘but not easy.’

‘How are you going to get inside to see what’s there without being obliterated?’ asked Miranda.

‘This,’ said Pug. He held up an orb.

‘An orb of Ocaran?’

‘I’ve never seen one of those before,’ said Nakor.

‘We had one in storage at the villa,’ said Magnus. ‘It’s the last one. We were trying to study it and duplicate it.’

‘Magicians who die without teaching another their secrets are annoying, aren’t they?’ said Nakor.

‘We understand the basic theory,’ answered Pug. ‘We still haven’t taken this one apart for fear we’d disable it, so we might as well use it now to ensure we have the leisure to build another in years to come.’

‘To make sure we have years to come,’ said Miranda. ‘You know how to use it?’

‘I’ve used it before, briefly.’ Pug turned to Magnus. ‘You can put it inside that dome, can’t you?’

‘It’s a very large target, Father, literally the size of a city. I can get it in there.’

‘It’s time to alert everyone to their roles,’ said Pug. ‘We shall need four distinct tasks attended to: first, we will need defenders, for when we begin the spell-inversion, that shell will become porous for a while, and we have a very good notion of what’s going to be coming out of it.’

‘A lot of Dread,’ said Miranda.

‘Second,’ said Pug, ‘we will need people to be ready to evacuate all those who aren’t needed here. Because not only are there going to be Dread rampaging around this valley, but if this spell is as unstable as I think it may be, there could be destruction on a level that will make what happened on the Island of the Snake Men look trivial.’

‘That’s … terrifying,’ said Nakor.

‘Thirdly, Magnus, you’re the only one who has the strength and ability to do the melding of magic that’s coming our way. I don’t know if even I could do it alone. I need you to be the conduit for what they give us.

‘Lastly,’ he said to Nakor, ‘I need you to be ready to do things you’ve never been asked to do before, tricks on a scale undreamed of by anyone.’

Nakor grinned. ‘I’ll try.’

‘Now, I have to speak to some people,’ Pug said. ‘Where are Sandreena, Arkan, and Calis?’

‘Oddly enough,’ said Miranda, ‘they are all with that dark elf queen, enjoying a meal.’

‘I doubt Liallan would enjoy being called either a dark elf or a queen,’ said Pug. ‘I’ll be back shortly. You three start thinking about how we’re going to do this and not make mistakes. We need to have everything in place and ready to try by mid-afternoon tomorrow. After that I think the magicians keeping the dome intact will be too fatigued: we need everyone at the peak of their power.’

He walked away and Miranda looked at Magnus. ‘There are times when your father can be the most annoying person I’ve ever known.’

Without conscious thought, Magnus slipped his arm around her waist and gave her a gentle squeeze. ‘I know.’