A Darkness at Sethanon (20 page)

Pug nodded.
“We’ll never again be the boys we once were, Tomas. But
we’ve become so much more than we dreamed. Still, few things of
worth are ever simple. Or easy.”

Tomas stared out
to sea. “I was thinking of my parents. I’ve not visited
them since the end of the war. I am not who they once knew.”

Pug understood.
“It will be hard for them, but they are good people and will
accept the change in you. They will wish to see their grandchild.”

Tomas sighed,
then he laughed, part in pleasure, part in bitterness. “Calis
is different from what they would have expected, but then so am I.
No, I do not fear to see them again.” He turned and looked at
Pug. Softly he said, “No, I fear I may never see them again.”

Pug thought of
his own wife, Katala, and all the others at Stardock. He could only
reach out and grip Tomas’s arm for a long, thoughtful moment.
Despite their strengths and abilities, talents unrivalled on this
world, they were mortal and, even more than Tomas, Pug knew the
dreadful nature of what they faced. And Pug held deeper suspicions
and darker fears in private. The silence of the eldar during his
training, their presence on Kelewan, and the insights gained from
studying with them all pointed at possibilities Pug fervently hoped
would prove false. There was a conclusion here he would not speak of
until he had no other choice. Pushing aside his disquiet, he said,
“Come, we must seek Gathis.”

They stood
overlooking the beach, at a point where two trails divided from one.
Pug knew that one led to the castle, the other toward the small vale
where the strange house and outbuildings the sorcerer had called
Villa Beata had stood, the place he had first met Macros. Pug now
wished when he and the others had returned to claim the legacy of
Macros, the heart of the Academy at Stardock’s library, they
had visited the complex. For those buildings to have vanished, to be
replaced by trees of ancient aspect . .. it was, as he had said, one
more of the many mysteries surrounding Macros the Black. They
followed the path toward the castle.

The castle stood
upon a table of land, separated from the rest of the island by a deep
ravine that fell away to the ocean. The crashing of waves through the
passage echoed beneath them as they slowly crossed the lowered
drawbridge. The castle was fashioned from unfamiliar dark stone, and
around the great arch above the portcullis odd-looking creatures of
stone perched, regarding Pug and Tomas with stony gaze as they passed
below. The outside of the castle looked much as it had the last time
Pug had been here, but once inside the castle, it was evident that
everything else had changed.

Upon the last
visit, the grounds and castle had appeared well tended, but now the
stones at the base of the building exhibited weeds growing from
cracks, and the grounds were littered with bird droppings. They
hurried to the large doors to the central keep, which hung open. As
they pushed them wide, the screeching of hinges testified to their
rusty condition. Pug led his friend through the long hall and up the
tower steps, until he reached the door into Macros’s study. The
last time he had been here, it had taken both a spell and answering a
question in Tsurani to open the door, but now a simple push sufficed.
The room was empty.

Pug turned and
they hurried down the steps until they reached the great hall of the
castle. In frustration, Pug cried, “Hello, the castle!”
His voice echoed hollowly off the stones.

Tomas said, “It
appears everyone is gone.”

“I don’t
understand. When we last spoke, Gathis said he would abide here,
awaiting Macros’s return and keeping his house in order. I only
knew him briefly, but I would warrant he would keep this castle as we
saw it last . . .”

Tomas said,
“Until he was no longer able. It may be someone had reason to
visit the island. Pirates or Quegan raiders?”

“Or agents
of Murmandamus?” Pug visibly sagged. “I had hoped we
would discover some clue from Gathis to begin our search for Macros.”
Pug looked about and spied a stone bench before the wall. Sitting
down, he said, “We don’t even know if Macros lives yet.
How are we to find him?”

Tomas stood in
front of his friend, towering over him. He placed one boot upon the
bench and leaned forward, crossed arms resting upon his knee. “It
is also possible this castle is deserted because Macros has already
returned and left again.”

Pug looked up.
“Perhaps. There is a spell . . . a spell of the Lesser Path.”

Tomas said, “As
I understood such things -”

Pug interrupted.
“I have learned many things at Elvardein. Let me try this.”
He closed his eyes and incanted, his words soft and low as he
directed his mind into a path still strange to it as often as not.
Suddenly his eyes snapped open. “There’s some sort of
ensorcellment upon this castle. The stones - they’re not
right.”

Tomas looked at
Pug, a question unspoken in his eyes.

Pug rose and
touched the stones. “I used a spell that should have gleaned
information from the very walls. Whatever occurs near an object
leaves faint traces, energies that impact it. With skill, they can be
read as you or I would read a scribe’s writings. It is
difficult but possible. But these stones show nothing. It is as if no
living being had ever passed through this hall.” Suddenly Pug
turned toward the doors. “Come!” he commanded.

Tomas fell in
beside his friend as Pug walked out to the heart of the courtyard.
There he halted, raising his hands above his head. Tomas could feel
mighty energies forming about them as Pug gathered power. Then Pug
closed his eyes and spoke, rapidly and in a tongue both odd and
familiar to Tomas. Then Pug’s eyes opened and he said, “Let
the truth be revealed!”

As if a ripple
moved outward, with Pug at the centre, Tomas found his vision
shifting. The very air shimmered and on one side there was the
abandoned castle, but as the ripple passed, the court was revealed as
well tended. The circle widened rapidly as the illusion was
dispelled, and suddenly Tomas discovered they were in an orderly
courtyard. Nearby a strange creature was carrying a bundle of
firewood. He halted, surprise evident upon his nonhuman face, and
dropped the bundle.

Tomas had begun
to draw his sword, but Pug said, “No,” placing a
restraining hand upon his arm.

“But it’s
a mountain troll!”

“Gathis
told us Macros employed many servants, judging each upon its own
merits.”

The startled
creature, broad-shouldered, long-fanged, and fearsome in appearance,
turned and ran in a stooping, apelike fashion toward a door in the
outer wall. Another creature, nothing either man had seen upon this
world, exited the stable and halted. It was only three feet tall and
had a muzzle like a bear, but its fur was red-gold. Seeing the two
humans regarding it, it set aside the broom it carried and slowly
backed into the stable door. Pug watched until it was out of sight.
Cupping his hands about his mouth, Pug cried, “Gathis!”

Almost
instantly, the doors to the great hall opened and a well dressed
goblin-like creature appeared. Taller than a goblin, he possessed the
thick ridges above the eyes and large nose of the goblin tribe, but
his features were somehow more noble, his movements more graceful.
Attired in blue singlet and leggings, with a yellow doublet and black
boots, he hurried down the steps and bowed before the two men. With a
sibilance to his speech, he said, “Welcome, Master Pug.”
He studied Tomas. “This, then, would be Master Tomas?”

Tomas and Pug
exchanged glances. Then Pug said, “We seek your master.”

Gathis seemed to
look distressed. “That may prove a bit of a problem, Master
Pug. As best as I can ascertain, Macros no longer exists.”

Pug sipped at
his wine. Gathis had brought them to a chamber where refreshments
were provided. The steward of the castle refused to sit, standing
opposite the two men as they listened to his story.

“So, as I
said when last we spoke, Master Pug, between the Black One and myself
there is an understanding. I can sense his . . . state of being?
Somehow I know he is always out there, somewhere. About a month after
you left, I awoke one night suddenly feeling the absence of that . .
. contact. It was most disturbing.”

“Then
Macros is dead,” said Tomas.

Gathis sighed,
in a very human way. “I am afraid so. If not, he is somewhere
so alien and remote it amounts to little difference.”

Pug considered
in silence, while Tomas said, “Then who fashioned that
illusion?”

“My
master. I activated it as soon as you and your companions left the
castle after your last visit. Without the presence of Macros the
Black to ensure our safety, he felt the need to provide us with
“protective colouration,” in a manner of speaking. Twice
now bold pirates have combed the island for booty. They find
nothing.”

Pug’s head
suddenly came up. “Then the villa still exists?”

“Yes,
Master Pug. It was also hidden by the illusion.” Gathis
appeared disturbed. “I must confess that while I am no expert
in such matters, I would have thought the illusion spell beyond your
ability to banish.” Again he sighed. “Now I worry at its
absence once you’ve left.”

Pug waved away
the remark. “I will re-establish it before we leave.”
Something nagged at Pug’s mind, a strange image of speaking
with Macros in the villa. “When I asked Macros if he lived in
the villa, he said, ‘No, though I once did, long ago.’ ”
He looked at Gathis. “Did he have a study, such as the one in
the tower, at the villa?”

Gathis said,
“Yes, ages ago, before I came to this place.”

Pug stood. “We
must go there, now.”

Gathis led them
down the path into the vale. The red tile roofs were as Pug had
remembered. Tomas said, “This is a strange place, though it
seems pleasing enough in aspect. With fair weather, it would be a
comfortable home.”

“So my
master thought, once,” said Gathis. “But he was gone for
a long time, so he told me. And when he returned, the villa was
deserted, those who had lived with him gone without explanation. At
first he searched for his companions, but soon despaired of ever
knowing their fate. Then he feared for the safety of his books and
other works as well as the lives of the servants he planned to bring
here, so he built the castle. And took other measures,” he
added with a chuckle.

“The
legend of Macros the Black.”

“Terror of
evil magic serves oft-times better than stout castle walls, Master
Pug. The difficulties were not trivial: shrouding this rather sunny
island in gloomy clouds and keeping that infernal blue light flashing
in the high tower each time a ship approached. It was something of a
nuisance.”

They entered the
courtyard of the villa, surrounded by only a low wall. Pug paused to
regard the fountain, where three dolphins rose upon a pedestal, and
said, “I fashioned the pattern in my transport room after
this.” Gathis led him toward the central building, and suddenly
Pug understood. There were neither connecting walkways nor roofs
covering them, but this villa matched his own upon Kelewan in
building size and placement. The pattern was identical. Pug halted,
looking shaken.

Tomas said,
“What is it?”

“It seems
Macros had his hand in many things far more subtle than we had known.
I built my home upon Kelewan in the image of this one without knowing
I had done so. I had no reason to, save it seemed the way to build
it. Now I don’t think I had much choice. Come, I will show you
where the study lay.” He led them without error to the room
that matched the location of his own study. Instead of the sliding
cloth-covered doors of Kelewan, they faced a single door of wood, but
Gathis nodded.

Pug opened the
door and stepped inside. The room was identical in size and shape. A
dust-covered writing table and chair rested where Pug had placed his
low writing table and cushions in the matching room. Pug laughed,
shaking his head in appreciation and wonder. “The sorcerer had
many tricks.” He moved to a small fireplace. Pulling upon a
stone, he revealed a hidden nook. “I had such a place built
into my own hearth, though I never understood why. I had no reason to
use it.” Within that nook a rolled parchment lay. Pug withdrew
it and inspected it. A single ribbon without seal tied the scroll.

He unrolled it
and read, his face becoming animated. “Oh, you clever man!”
he said. Looking at Tomas and Gathis, he explained. “This is
written in Tsurani. Even if the spell of illusion was broken, and
someone stumbled across this room, and found the nook and the
parchment, there was almost no chance of them being able to read
this.” He looked back at the parchment and began to read aloud.
“ ‘Pug, by reading this, know I am most likely dead. But
if not, I am somewhere beyond the normal boundaries of space and
time. In either case I am unable to provide you with the aid you
seek. You have discovered something of the nature of the Enemy and
know it imperils both Kelewan and Midkemia. Seek me first in the
Halls of the Dead. If I am not there, then you know I live. If I am
alive, I will be captive in a place difficult to find. Then you will
make the choice, either to seek to learn more of the Enemy on your
own, a most dangerous course in the extreme but one that may succeed,
or to search for me. Whatever you do, know I wish you the blessings
of the gods. Macros.’ ” Pug put away the scroll. “I
had hoped for more.”

Gathis said, “My
master was a man of power, but even he had his limits. As stated in
his last missive to you, he could not pierce the veil of time once he
entered the rift with you. From that point on, time was as opaque to
him as to other men. He could only speculate.”

Tomas said,
“Then we must away to the Halls of the Dead.”