Mirror 04 The Way Between the Worlds (60 page)

'And do you remember your potency?' Llian was jumping up and down, shouting
and waving his arms. His spittle spattered Tensor's coat front.
'I remember that too,' said Tensor, holding up his fist. Wisps of radiance
began to rise from it like vapour. He stared at the tenuous strands.
'And is your potency the equal of this barrier Rulke has put between you and
Karan?' Llian said wildly, caught up in the ecstasy of this creature that he
was creating. 'Look at her, lying there in her agony, bleeding inside.'
'Enough, Llian,' said Malien, advancing on him. 'Shand, help me!' She shook
him hard.
Shand roused from his dreams of Yalkara. 'Llian, stop it!'
'It is the equal of Rulke itself,' said Tensor, standing tall and brandishing
his radiant fist.
"Then smash the barrier down - '
Tallia whipped her hand across Llian's mouth. Shand pinioned his hands. They
dragged him away. 'You bloody fool,' Shand hissed in his face. 'I warned you
about this after the citadel burned. Do you realise what you could have - '
He broke off, staring at Tensor, whose upraised fist now glowed as bright as a
furnace. 'Look at him there,' husked Tensor, 'embracing Maigraith while Karan
lies dying at his feet. They are my enemies both. My time has come at last.'
Tensor drew himself up by will alone. He reached for the sky, tottering on his
emaciated legs, and his face was alive with hate. Thrusting out his fist, he
roared forth his rage. The crystalline barrier shattered to fragments that
sparkled in the air then struck the floor with a roar like a waterfall.
'Beware the thrice betrayed!' Tensor bellowed. He thrust his hand toward Rulke
and Maigraith, exactly as he had that night at the Conclave a year ago, when
he had destroyed Nelissa and taken back the Mirror.
Shand and Malien were powerless to stop him. They watched in horror, helpless
to prevent the tragedy.
LIEBESTOD
Rulke's head jerked up and he saw his nemesis. He could have escaped, had he
cared to leave Maigraith behind, had he fought back. But Maigraith was
clinging to him, barely able to stand. He knew Tensor would strike her down as
well.
Rulke swept Maigraith behind him, shielding her with his body. A jet of ruby
came from Tensor's hand and struck Rulke full in the chest. For a moment his
great frame seemed to glow. His feet slipped on the floor as he was pushed
backwards by an irresistible force. Once this potency would have been no more
than a flea bite but the day had taken a dreadful toll of him.
'Help me!' he cried to his Ghashad, but where once they would have obeyed
instantly, now they hesitated momentarily. It was just enough. By the time the
nearest of them raised their spears Tensor was ready for them. He swung his
arm and they were tossed in all directions.
'Tensor, stop!' screamed Shand. 'What are you doing? Oh, you bloody fool!' He
sprang forward, but Tensor held out his other hand and Shand could not get
near him.
The jet of light struck Rulke once more. He windmilled the air with his arms.
Maigraith was blown sideways, to disappear behind the stairs. Rulke's feet
struggled for a purchase, but he was tossed into the air. Soaring like a paper
cut-out on the wind, he slammed into the side of the construct. Rulke flung
his arms and legs out, roaring so loudly that the spiral staircases
oscillated.
He raised a mighty fist and it seemed that he would fling Tensor's potency in
his face. Llian ducked for cover. Then Rulke suddenly collapsed as if all the
air had been let out of him.
Llian picked himself up. Everyone near, except himself, had been affected by
the potency. Malien was on hands and knees, retching. Shand looked dazed and
had a cut above one eye. Yggur lay twitching on the floor. The rest of the
company were strewn about the room.
Llian raced forward, crunching over broken glass, and saw that Rulke had been
impaled on one of the horns of metal torn away from the side of the construct.

The jagged black thorn protruded out through his side. Yet still Tensor
screamed at his enemy, still the ruby jet roared out of him like water out of
a fire hose. Tensor began to shrink down and wither, as if projecting his
entire essence into that rod of fire.
'Master!' cried Vartila the Whelm. Sprinting right across the room she struck
Tensor down savagely. The beam arced across the ceiling and went out.
'You stupid, stupid fools!' said Shand, lurching to his feet. 'Tensor, all
your names are folly. Look what you've done,
Llian.'
Malien hobbled over to Tensor, her lover once and long ago. T have done well,
Malien,' he said.
Her face showed nothing but contempt. 'You are not Tensor!' she said. 'You are
Pitlis the Second, the most contemptible fool that ever lived.' She did not
tear her blouse in grief for him this time. She ripped his shirt off his back,
dropped the tatters on the floor and put her head in her hands. 'The Aachim
are cursed!'
Vartila hurled herself through the heaped-up fragments of glass to Rulke.
'Master,' she cried, falling to her knees and
taking his hand. T was blind to you, master, but I know you now. Forgive me,
master.'
Rulke took Vartila's hand and smiled. 'Thank you, most faithful servant. But
it's over now. You're free.'
Tears poured down Vartila's face. 'What am I to do with freedom?' She spat the
word out like blasphemy. 'All I ever wanted was to serve my master.' She
vainly tried to stem Rulke's wound with her fists.
Rulke writhed on the metal thorn. No one could think him their enemy any more,
so great was his agony; so great his nobility. 'Does Maigraith live?' he
groaned.
'Yes,' said Vartila. 'She lies yonder.'
'Attend her injuries, faithful servant, then bring her to me.'
Llian took Karan's hand. She did not recognise him. He tried to straighten her
broken body but she screamed and screamed. He could do nothing to stop it.
Shand and Malien ran to her. Llian was hopping around in such distress that
Shand pushed him off.
'Go away, you bloody fool! See to Rulke.'
Llian crept up to the Charon. He touched the black metal spear.
'I did this!' Llian said bitterly. 'I am the stupidest man that ever drew
breath.'
Rulke smiled a smile of sorts. 'You are,' he agreed. 'But are you not a
chronicler? This was my fate all along, Llian. Help me off this barb.'
Rulke put out his hand. Llian gave his, braced himself and strained hard. The
thorn crept into the wound. Rulke's lips curled apart to show bloody gums.
'Harder!' he gasped. He appeared to lose consciousness, then Llian gave a
mighty heave and Rulke subsided to the floor. Blood gushed out of the chasm in
his side. All around, Llian saw the horrified faces of the Ghashad, conscious
that they might have saved their master, but had not.
Rulke choked. Llian wiped blood from his mouth. The
Charon stared at his shaking hand as though unable to believe that he could
ever have come to this.
'Where's Karan?' he asked in a kind of a daze.
'Right here,' said Llian.
Turning his head, Rulke saw her lying there, still but for an occasional
shudder. 'Thank you, Karan.' He took her limp hand in his, and her pain eased,
though his grew worse. 'I've a gift for you.'
'The Gift of Rulke!' murmured Llian. 'I hope it's not a poisoned chalice like
the last one.'
Rulke awkwardly felt inside his coat and brought out a black bead the size of
a pill, in a clear case.
'What is it?' Karan whispered.
'The least I can do for you. Use it if you get better. If not, it won't

matter.' He pressed the case into Karan's hand and closed her fluttering
fingers around it. 'And I've something for you too, Llian.'
'I don't deserve a reward,' Llian said bitterly.
'I want you to have it anyway.'
Fumbling at his throat, Rulke lifted over his head a tiny key made of silver,
on a silver chain.
'My spies told me that you lost a tale, chronicler. Here is a better! But
you'll have to earn it.' He dropped the chain over Llian's head. With the
movement his scarlet blood flooded onto the white floor. Rulke appeared to
admire the patterns it made on the tiles. 'The pain is even worse than the
last time,' he whispered.
'I don't know where to begin,' said Llian stupidly.
'Begin in Alcifer.' Rulke closed his eyes, went still, then seemed to find
another reserve of strength. 'We are extinct, chronicler. The Charon will live
on only in your tales. Will you take them on for me?'
Llian wiped his mouth again. Rulke's side still ebbed blood. His dark
complexion had faded to pale grey.
'Yes, I swear it,' cried Llian, riddled with guilt and desperate to atone.
'But make sure you tell the truth about us. All of it!' 'The Histories are
truth!' said Llian. "The best we can recover from the past.'

Rulke looked at him pityingly. 'Dear boy! You have failed the final test. You
believe what you were taught. Everyone else may believe, but the masters must
know the truth. History is as it is written, that is the only truth. Enough of
that. I would speak to my enemy Tensor, before I die. Bring him here!'
Tensor was carried across and laid next to Rulke and Karan.
'Karan,' Tensor said in the husk that remained of his voice. Her eyes
fluttered open. She was in great pain. 'Forgive me for shaping you, for trying
to destroy your triune talents. I did it for the best of reasons.'
Karan took his huge dark hand in her small pale one. His hand was even colder
than hers, and so withered now. She turned her head painfully, looking into
his eyes. 'I hated you for it, but what does it matter now?' she whispered,
and closed her eyes again.
'So, my enemy!' said Rulke. 'You Aachim will have your freedom, and your
world, after all.'
'It's too late for us,' said Tensor. 'We are a species rich in folly but short
on courage. We used you as an excuse for so long that we no longer know how to
face the world by ourselves.'
'But the Aachim will live on in Aachan. And here.'
'Diminished!' Tensor said scornfully. 'But tell me, how do my people fare?'
'On Aachan?' asked Rulke. 'They are legion, I believe, and not much reduced by
their servitude.'
'I would have loved to see Aachan again.'
'But you never will.'
'No, I never will. But at least I go knowing that I have finished you at
last,' said Tensor.
'I wish you joy of your victory,' said Rulke, and held out his hand.

Tensor's face wrenched. 'You have defeated me, and out-mannered me,' he said.
Then he toppled sideways, dead.
Maigraith, supported by Vartila, laboured across. She stood beside Rulke like
a marble statue, staring down at the hideous gash in her lover's side. She was
utterly still. 'You gave your life for me,' she said.
'We made vows together,' he replied simply. It encapsulated everything there
was to be said.
'I will never forget you,' she said.
'I will be part of you forever.'
'What will happen to your people now, my love?'
Rulke looked up at Maigraith. 'We will not dwindle away to nothing. The void
is the only place left. It may remake us, but most likely it will erase us
utterly, like the ten billion species that have come and gone since the

ancestral mite. If we are to be extinct, we will face it bravely. We will
embrace it.'
Maigraith went to her knees and laid her head on his breast. 'What am I to do,
Rulke?'
He held her with one arm. 'It hurts, Maigraith! I'm so sorry. Mourn me as you
see fit, then follow your destiny.'
'I don't know how,' she said plaintively. 'How can I restore the balance
between the worlds?'
Rulke coughed shiny blood onto the floor. 'Only Yalkara knows what she
intended. Take the construct to Aachan.' He choked. 'If she has survived, tell
Yalkara of my death and beg her assistance.' His eyelids fluttered.
'How we would have loved, you and I,' he went on. 'But it was not to be.'
She gripped his hand. 'I once loved, and was loved.' She dropped a feather
kiss on his eyelids.
'And the fruit of our love will shake the Three Worlds to their underpinnings.
But this is the end of the Charon.' Rulke closed his eyes for the last time.
His death turned Maigraith inside out, the marble-statue calmness wrenched
into a feral rage over the futility of it all.
'I will not allow it!' she screamed at the construct and the Wall and the
place where Faelamor had disappeared. 'I will reach even beyond the grave to
bring him back.'
Mendark had been quietly biding his time, watching from his balcony for an
opportunity. And though he had never really expected it, that chance had now
come. The construct was unattended. He had coveted it since the instant he'd
heard of it. With it he would seal the Forbidding and rid himself of his
enemies forever.
But when that was done, what opportunities the construct presented him! He
would order Santhenar the way he had always wanted to; perhaps the other
worlds too. Mendark felt a surge of excitement such as he had not felt in a
hundred years.
He crept down the stairs. Faelamor was nowhere to be seen. No one was
watching; they were all busy with the dead and the dying. The construct was
between them and him. He climbed the hidden side, fell into the seat and sat
in silence for a few moments, savouring this time of triumph. Putting his
hands to the controls, Mendark began to think himself into the way of
controlling the machine.
He pressed buttons, eased back levers and prepared to deal with the first of
his enemies - Yggur! Nothing happened. He tried again. The construct was
absolutely dead.
There came a piping cry from below. 'It's Mendark!' Lilis's thin arm was
pointing directly at him.
Mendark would have struck her down if he could have. What was one child before
the security of the world, before his great destiny? He did not get the
chance. In a few seconds the construct was surrounded.
'Come down!' Yggur said coldly.
'Stand back,' Mendark cried, holding the flute up so they could all see it. T
have the flute and the construct too.'
'It will be the death of you,' said Shand.
'Shut up, you old fool! I'll be glad to see the end of you.'
Raising the flute, Mendark drew the notes out of his memory and began to play
a melody so wild that his mind could scarcely encompass it.
'Not on the construct!' screamed Shand.
Too late! Abruptly the whole room twisted and turned back on itself, writhing
with impossible colours and music. Mendark's eyes burned with splinters, as of
coloured ice. Then the whole fabric of the Forbidding began to peel apart
layer by layer, like a burning book. Bits of shredded Wall floated in the air,
charred flakes as from the death of a library. The flute had betrayed him. The
Forbidding was coming apart!
Once more he played, exerting all his mind and will to tune himself to the
Forbidding and seal it tight. Too late he realised that he did not know how.