Mirror 04 The Way Between the Worlds (52 page)

'I've solved the puzzle,' said Llian. 'The answer was in a letter written by
Nivan of the Council just after the Experiments. Yggur, you were betrayed!
Mendark forced Rulke into your mind.'
Mendark looked shocked but recovered quickly. 'Damn you!' he roared. 'Cease
your lies! There is no such document.' 'How can you be sure?' Llian said
softly, hoping Mendark would give something away.
Mendark did not. 'Because I've seen them all!' he snapped. 'I had to, to write
the official Histories of that time. And the Council members since then have
checked the documents. Yggur himself can vouch for that.'
Yggur's disappointment showed. 'We checked with the utmost care. Unfortunately
none of us found anything out of order.'
'That's because Mendark had already destroyed the evidence!' Llian said
weakly. His bluff was failing and it was going to ruin him.
'The chronicler grows desperate!' Mendark sneered. 'Fame is a drug he can't do
without, even if he has to make up slanders to get it.'
'Well, Llian?' Yggur said impatiently. 'Let us see your evidence.'
Yggur's trust in Llian had always been equivocal. Well, he would have to bluff
harder, and his fate would rest on the bluff.
'Why is Mendark so sure about that, do you think? Because he spent a lifetime
searching out and destroying every document written by that Council, but only
after he had tracked down and killed its members, one by one.'
'You're a liar!' grated Mendark. 'This is treason and the penalty is death!'
'You deal a lot in that currency, don'tyou, Mendark? But you were not careful
enough. This proves my argument,' said Llian, producing the receipt he had
found in the archives. 'Nadiril confirms that it is genuine.' He showed it to
Shand. 'It lists a document sent to Mendark by Nivan's sister, Uivan - My
Histories of the Experiment and the Taking of Rulke.'
'I remember Nivan,' Yggur said thoughtfully. 'She was one of the few honest
people on the Council!' His eyes flashed fire at Mendark. 'But I don't ever
recall seeing that document.'
'You haven't,' Llian said softly. 'It was never entered into the catalogue.
Mendark destroyed it, and every other such document, as he murdered their
authors one by one.'
'You build palaces on foundations that wouldn't support a sandcastle,' said
Mendark, who was angry but unshaken. 'Show it to me.'
Llian passed the receipt to Yggur.
'The receipt is genuine,' said Yggur, squinting through his glasses. 'But
there's still no proof of your charges. Produce the evidence or prepare to be
charged with slander.'
'I will produce it!' cried Llian, preparing to use his teller's gifts as he
had never used them before. 'Since finding this receipt I have gone through
the archives. I found a copy of the document. It incriminates you, Mendark.'
Mendark stood his ground, trembling with rage, but still gave nothing away.
'Let's see the document!'
Llian's bluff had been called. He gasped for breath.
'You cannot! Guards,' cried Mendark. 'Guards!'
Osseion was through the door in an instant, followed by a brace of Yggur's
guards. 'Take him!' Mendark roared, pointing at Llian.
Osseion slowly stepped forward, but Yggur said softly, 'Leave him be, Osseion.
We will hear Llian. Chronicler, prove your case if you can. You have one
minute.'
'I don't even need a minute,' Llian said arrogantly. 'Look at this, Yggur!
Mendark used you as bait in his trap. I have the proof right here.' He leapt
up on the table and with a theatrical flourish pulled a much-folded piece of
yellowed parchment out of his shirt. Llian held it high, then thrust it in
Yggur's face.
'Here, read Nivan's record aloud,' Llian raged. 'I'll tell you what it says.
This is what Mendark did to you - '
Yggur took the paper and let the folds fall open. It stretched down to his
waist. He moved the document up past his eyes. He stared at Mendark and slowly

his face grew colder and colder.
'Be silent!' Mendark screamed. 'I will silence you!' He threw out his arm and
a flame leapt forth, setting fire to Llian's coat. Yggur raised his own hand.
Mendark sprang out of the way. Shand tossed Llian onto the floor, rolling him
over and over to put out the flames. Lilis, standing quietly in the
background, ducked to safety under the table.
Mendark, running backwards, swung his arm in a circle. Flames burst out among
the books and papers on the table, leapt to the bookshelf beside the table, to
a rack of scrolls nearby.
'No!' Llian shrieked. He elbowed Shand out of the way but it was too late. The
papers on the table blazed higher than his head. He snatched his bag of
precious journals, on the floor beside the table, from the fire. The cover of
one was burning but he stamped it out.
Mendark sent fire leaping into the bookshelves. Flames licked across the
carpet between him and the company.
'A burning,' he said calmly, standing back to stare at the pyre of blazing
books. 'A cleansing! The past is gone now. I have cleansed the Histories. My
life no longer exists.'
He watched until the conflagration reached the top of the shelves and roared
up into the beautiful panelled ceiling, then walked though the swirling fire
across the room and out the far door, which he gently closed behind him.
Row after row of shelves gushed flames; burning papers spilled out of boxes
that had preserved them for centuries. The whole room was on fire. Llian wept
for the priceless records that would be lost forever. He stood there,
oblivious to the heat, the smoke and the cinders settling onto his hair. His
clothes were still smouldering, his beard singed to stubble.
A bookshelf toppled behind him, sending a whoomph of fire licking at his
trouser leg. The room was full of smoke. Flames leapt up between him and the
door. He ran back and forth but could not find the way out. Everyone else had
fled and he was trapped.
He was going to burn to death with the library. The teller in him appreciated
the irony.
Llian sprang up on the table among the papers now burnt to ash, trying to see
a way out. The smoke and heat were worse up here. Another bookshelf crashed
down, the flare singeing most of his hair off. He smacked it out and sat down
on the table, cradling his precious journals to his chest.
'Llian!' It was Shand's voice. Another voice called his name, Lilis. Llian
could not see either of them.
'Here!' he screamed hoarsely. His throat hurt.
'Llian, where are you?'
He shouted and kept shouting, and eventually Shand, crawling along the floor,
found him. 'You fool, get down!'
Llian found that the air was better at floor level, though he could see
nothing. 'How do we get back out?'
'Lilis is by the door,' Shand shouted above the roar of the flames. 'Lilis?'
'Here,' came her voice.
'Hold my hand, Llian.' Crawling along, they eventually found the door, and
Lilis, and safety.
'So,' Shand said, supporting Llian on his shoulder, for he was choking. A
silent Lilis gave him her shoulder too. 'The villain is unmasked at last. We
will find more evil afoot before the day is out. Come on!'
At the door Llian looked back. The heat hurt his eyes, but the burning library
hurt much more. "This is all my fault!' he said, and would have wept but that
the fire dried up his tears as they formed. 'I pushed him to see what would
happen. This is the result. Why did I not keep to my books and leave the
intrigue to others?'
'Why indeed?' said Shand. 'But at least we know.'
Gripping his journals tightly, Llian closed the door behind him for the last
time.
Already the halls were clotted with servants and retainers, running this way

and that, hugging things too precious to leave, or treasures they might as
well have if everything else was to be destroyed. A few servants dashed
towards the library carrying buckets, but when they saw the size of the fire
they dropped their pails and ran back again. By the time Shand and Llian
pushed down the choked stairs to the main level, the ceilings were scorching.
They reached the great hall. Yggur was there, standing tall, calming the
panic, despatching guards up to the higher floors to rouse the sleepers and
down to the dungeons to get the prisoners out. He did not try to take from the
avaricious the treasures they had pilfered.
'What does it matter now? Better that anyone have them than they be destroyed,
and no doubt they will be stolen again before the night is out.'
The citadel was doomed, though most of the people from the upper floors were
led to safety. Those that remained could not be saved, unless they chose to
leap, for now the fire was licking even into the Great Hall. They raced
outside, getting well clear, and shortly the great dome sagged, copper running
in rivers, and crashed down into the ruin. They turned up the hill to Yggur's
stronghold and the workshop where the flute was held.
'By the way, Shand,' Yggur said, smiling fiercely, 'don't ever play at cards
with Llian.' He took the folded piece of parchment out of his shirt.
Shand scanned it and burst out laughing. 'An inventory of a carpet warehouse!
You devil, Llian! It's lucky you were right, or not all of us together could
have saved you.'
Before they reached the fortress two of the Aachim guard came running down,
shouting incoherently. One, a muscle-bound man, had a curtain of blood down
his face from a gash on the temple.
'The golden flute is gone!' they cried together. 'Mendark came upon us like a
storm, blasted down your guards and ours, and got away with the flute.'
'I didn't think, somehow, that he was going to commit suicide,' Yggur said.
'Where has he gone, Stentex?' he asked the Aachim with the bloody face.
'No one knows!'
Tensor appeared behind them. He looked shattered. 'Well, Tensor!' said Shand.
'Whose side are you on now?'
'Not ours!' Yggur said. 'We don't want you!'
'Will you join with us in this chase?' asked Shand, ignoring Yggur. 'Or do we
fight each other all the way?'
Tensor took a long time to answer. 'We will not oppose you, until we catch
him. After that, the flute goes to the strongest, and I fervently hope that is
us.'
'Your word on it, Tensor?'
Tensor offered his hand. 'My word.' His voice was barely audible.
Like a whirlwind they made themselves ready for pursuit. Llian was clothed in
new gear from the stores, for his shabby clothes were ruined. Still, a couple
of hours had gone by before they uncovered Mendark's tracks and were ready to
go after him. A message came from the west gate that he had ridden through
like the wind and disappeared down the Tuldis road in the direction of
Bannador, leading a string of horses.
'He has a lead of two hours and the best horses in Thurkad,' said Yggur.
'Unless he breaks a leg we won't catch him. Where has he gone? Why didn't he
use the flute to make a gate?'
Shand had the answer. 'Because Maigraith's departure has so warped reality
here that it's no longer possible to make a gate; not even with the flute.'
'How do you know that?'
'I know! Now, at what place might a gate still be made when all others have
failed? Karan's mad ancestor Basunez located it precisely. Carcharon!'
They rode like fury all day and through the night, stopping before dawn for a
few hours' rest and to get fresh horses. At sunrise they continued. The
company comprised Yggur, his timid little adjutant Dolodha, Vartila and
another Whelm. Shand was there too, with Llian, a shocked and silent Tallia,
Lilis, Jevi and Osseion, equally moody. Tensor rode awkwardly beside Malien,
with four Aachim. Tensor forced himself, though every jolting stride was a

torment. Malien's eyes were sick with fear and failure. The other Aachim were
to follow. Nadiril had been informed but was not well enough to go on this
hunt.
They rode through the day, changing horses again at midday. In the afternoon
they came on a tall black horse,
dead in the slush on the road; ridden to death. Tallia looked down at the
great beast, and then away up the road.
'I might have done the same if the need was dire enough,' she said, but Llian
could tell by the set of her mouth how she felt about it.
Shand swung down to feel the beast's muzzle. 'It's still warm; can't have been
dead an hour. We're gaining.' He hobbled back, grimacing. The hard riding had
chafed the skin off his thighs.
They rode on and on.
The following night they arrived at Gothryme, stopping only long enough to
give Rachis the news. Mendark had been through less than an hour ago, they
learned, riding past at great speed without a hallo.
They reached the bottom of the cliff. Another beautiful black horse stood in
the moonlight, its flanks covered in foam. It was quietly cropping the grey
grass. They left their own with him and started up.
They made no ground on the way up the cliff, Mendark proving to be remarkably
fit. 'The people who helped renew his body have a lot to answer for,' said
Yggur, with a cold stare at Tallia.
She did not reply.
'I've got to stop for a rest, no matter what,' gasped Shand when they were
halfway up. The sun was rising. 'We're too slow. Send someone ahead. Someone
quick, and powerful enough to match him.'
'I'll go,' Tallia whispered. Mendark had betrayed everything she stood for.
'And I with you,' said Jevi. They had ridden stirrup to stirrup for the past
day and a half.
'And I,' said Malien.
'I'll come too,' said Osseion. 'I have repudiated my oath.'
At the top of the cliff the four hurried on, walking quickly at first, then
breaking into a jog, then walking some more, jogging some more. Even so, they
came out of Gothryme
Forest in the afternoon to see that Mendark, in the distance, was halfway up
the ridge to Carcharon.
Now they ran. Mendark began to jog but even his youthful body could not keep
it up. It grew dark. The moon came out, a horned crescent. It was slow work
here, the slope being icy. By the end of the long race they were but ten
minutes behind and closing the gap. Tallia and Jevi were well ahead of the
other two when they reached the steps. Mendark was silhouetted at the crest of
the knotted buttress of rock, pointing down, then he disappeared over the top.
They had to climb the last pitch cautiously, for Mendark's blast had melted
the snow and the steps were now icy. The last hundred paces were agonisingly
slow. At the top they sprinted across the amphitheatre but the race was
already lost. Mendark was just going through the open door of Carcharon.
On they ran, down the dip and up the steep stairs to the front door of
Carcharon. Past leering gargoyles, in through the doors, up the broken
staircase, leaping over rubble and mounds of ice, up and up. Tallia and Jevi
emerged together, gasping the inadequate air, at the very top of the tower.
Mendark stood in the construct-shaped depression in the floor. He had aged
more, looking middle-aged now. He had the flute to his lips. The first
strange, haunting notes emerged. Tallia put out her hand.
'No, Mendark . ..' she pleaded.
Mendark blew the tune in a higher key. They heard a frightful din as though
the stones of the wall gnashed themselves together. Half a hundred tormented
ghosts wisped out of the rock, Basunez among them. On even his angry face
there was a look of horror. Then they vanished into smoke as the walls of
Carcharon wobbled like custard. Jevi hurled himself at Mendark but was too
late. When the distorting glass that was the space between them cleared again,