At the Gates of Darkness (6 page)

The High Priest snorted. “Ishapians! I knew they were keeping something from us. Long have we been curious about what happened at Sethanon at the end of the Great Uprising, and why King Lyam never attempted to rebuild that city. The official reasons were that it was no longer an important stop along a trade route, or that it was cursed…” He shook his head and sighed.

“The Ishapians knew only what we told them,” confessed Pug. “All we knew was the Lifestone was a vessel of great power and the demon Jakan was determined to reach it.”

“But why?” asked Amirantha. “What use would a demon have for that artifact, no matter how powerful it is?”

“If we can deduce that,” said High Priest Marluke, “then we might understand why your mad brother is so interested in wholesale slaughter and death magic and what that has to do with this demon he serves.”

Amirantha sat back and sighed. “Perhaps, but I don’t think so.”

“Why?” asked Pug.

“Let me ponder a while longer before I venture any more speculation,” answered the Warlock.

“Can’t we, I mean you, study this Lifestone now?” asked Jim.

Pug shook his head in the negative. “It was destroyed before the demon could reach it.”

The expression on the High Priest’s face revealed distress. “Destroyed?”

Pug raised his hand in a placating gesture. “Perhaps that’s the wrong word. The elf queen’s son, Calis, managed to unbind the confining magic, and the trapped life energy within was set free.”

The High Priest appeared almost delighted at that news. “A blessing! Those souls were freed to resume their journey to Our Mistress!” He looked eagerly at Pug. “What was it like?”

“Difficult to describe, Holy Father. A crystal to all outward appearances, the Lifestone pulsed with green energies, but when it was…unraveled is the only word that fits, a flurry of tiny green flames…floated away, in all directions.”

The High Priest sat back and said, “In the ages of our temple, no such manifestation of the actual act of translation has been documented. Occasionally we have reports from one of our priests, priestesses, or lay brother or sister, and a few have reported glimpsing a tiny green flash.” He sighed in resignation. “There are so few overt signs of the
reality of what we do. Those of us who have been blessed by a visitation from our Goddess…” He looked at his wine cup and took a sip. “It is difficult at times to convince the faithful. So few actually have experienced the divine.”

Pug resisted the urge to remark on that, as he felt he had had more than his fill of experiencing the divine. Several encounters with both Lims-Kragma, and Banath—the God of Thieves, Liars, and a host of other malfeasances—made it clear the gods were as real as the chair upon which he sat, so faith was never an issue, but he certainly felt as if he was their creature at times, and that left a sour taste in his mouth if he dwelled upon it too long.

The door opened and an elderly woman in the garb of a priestess entered, followed by a younger woman in similar attire. “You called for me, Holy Father?”

“Sister Makela, we have need of your knowledge.”

“I am at your disposal,” she said as Jim rose to offer the older woman his chair. She smiled, nodded her thanks, and took the seat. She was as old as the High Priest, and frail in appearance. But she shared the same lively gaze as the Holy Father.

The High Priest outlined what had already been discussed, finishing with a question: “Have there been any exhaustive studies on the exact nature of necromancy, specifically what use the life force robbed from Our Mistress might have to the necromancer?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, the old woman said, “Exhaustive, no. Several volumes of opinion exist, and I can have them brought up from the archives if you wish, Holy Father. The evidence suggests that the necromancer usually has one of two goals. First, to control the dead, harboring enough life energy to animate corpses to do his bidding.”

“Why?” asked Jim.

“A dead servant can have several advantages,” suggested the librarian. “It is impervious to death, obviously, and can only be stopped by the utter destruction of the body.
These so-called undead can be prodigious bodyguards or assassins. They can exist in places where the living cannot long survive, stay underwater for a few hours, or in a room cursed, protected by poisonous vapor, or some other passive defense harmful to the living. Moreover, they can kill with plague or infection as well as weapons.

“The difficulty is they decay, as do all the dead, though life magic can be employed to slow it for quite some time.”

“What’s the other reason to use life magic?” asked Pug.

She sighed, as if this was distasteful for her to discuss. “To extend their own life, after death, to continue their consciousness in their mortal shell, rather than journey on to Our Mistress to be judged.”

“A litch,” said Amirantha.

“Yes,” agreed Makela. “It is the ultimate defiance of Our Mistress and the natural order of things. But the toll is great, for the mind of the magic user who extends his life this way is the first casualty of such evil; litches are universally mad, from all reports.”

“Madness does not preclude cunning and purpose,” observed Pug.

“True,” said the High Priest.

Amirantha looked at the librarian and said, “Is there any mention in the annals of any ties between such magic and the summoning or controlling of demons?”

The woman regarded the Warlock in silence for a moment, then said, “Demons are creatures of the other realms, beings not answerable to the laws and natures of our own world; we have almost no dealings with such practices. This is more the province of other orders, those who serve Sung the Pure or Dala, Shield of the Weak.

“They may have heard of some such knowledge, but I have not.” She looked at the High Priest. “Is there anything else, Holy Father?”

“I think not, Makela. I thank you for your knowledge.”

She rose, bowed slightly before the High Priest then
moved toward the doorway where her aide waited. As she reached the door, she paused, turned, and said, “I have thought of one thing, though.”

“What?” asked the High Priest.

“A passing reference, nothing more. In ancient times a war was fought with a cabal of necromancers, which was strange for that; they tend to be solitary types.

“But it was their name that I recall now as being the thing most odd. They were the Demon Brothers.”

Amirantha said, “Is there more?”

“Only that they were called that.” She tilted her head slightly as she thought. “It was something I found odd, really.” She looked from face to face in the room as she said, “We always assumed it was simply a name, describing the cabal much as you might call them something evil. But the more I think on it, it may be more than this, for the accurate translation of that ancient name would be ‘Brothers to Demons.’ I hope this helps.” She nodded, as her assistant opened the door, and they departed.

The High Priest said, “Perhaps this is of some use to you?”

Pug said, “A great deal, perhaps.” He rose and Amirantha followed suit.

Gregori appeared and ushered them from the room and left them to their own devices in the large main hall of the temple. Jim asked, “What next?”

“Sarth,” said Pug. “The Ishapians are accommodating but not particularly helpful in this, but now we have something specific to investigate.”

“The Demon Brothers,” said Amirantha. “A very odd name for necromancers.” To Pug he said, “Do we need to advise those waiting for us at the island that we’re not returning soon?”

Pug said, “I’ll see to it after we reach Sarth.”

“Good,” said the Warlock. “Samantha grows very short with me when I fail to show up for meals on time.”

For the first time in recent memory, Pug laughed. Everyone in the temple turned and several of those before the votive candles stared, while some glared, for laughter was almost unknown in this place.

Jim said, “Now would be a fair time to depart, I think.”

“Stand close,” said Pug and he held out his hands. Each man gripped Pug’s forearm, one to a side, and suddenly they were in another place.

A
mirantha gawked.

Jim also was astonished by the scale of the room in which he found himself, but managed to retain a small shred of decorum. Pug motioned for them to follow and led them deep into the vault.

Vault was the only word to describe the room, for the ceiling rose up into a gloom that prevented the unaided eye from perceiving its height. Massive columns rose to support the unseen ceiling, and row upon row of shelves were lined up in orderly fashion. The aisles between them, with the intersecting spaces separating them, provided a chessboard of areas. At each intersection a slender stand was erected, a graceful ironwork that bent over in a swan-neck fashion
ending in a hook, from which hung a small crystal bound by a metal chain. The crystal provided illumination, just enough to allow those in the room to see to the next lamp.

“Amazing,” said Amirantha, as he regarded row upon row of books.

Jim echoed his tone when he said, “I’ve been in the Royal Archives in Rillanon, but this dwarfs them in scope. How many volumes, Pug?”

“I’m sure I have no idea,” said the magician. They moved between row after row of shelves, some vanishing up into the gloom, with ladders set on rails along the wall. “Perhaps the librarian can tell you?”

“This is Sarth?” asked Amirantha.

“That Which Was Sarth,” corrected Pug.

“I don’t follow,” said the Warlock.

Turning with a wry smile, Pug said, “Before the invasion of the Emerald Queen’s army, the Ishapians abandoned their abbey near the town of Sarth.”

“I still am not clear as to the odd name,” said Amirantha, following Pug down a long narrow passage between vaults.

Pug stopped and said, “The Ishapians have a prophecy, or perhaps ‘had’ is a better word. It said that a great upheaval would come upon the land and after the destruction of the west, all that would remain would be ‘That Which Was Sarth.’”

Amirantha looked at Jim, then Pug, and said, “Was Sarth destroyed during the Emerald Queen’s invasion?”

“Essentially,” said Pug, “though the old abbey itself was relatively intact. How would it have fared had the brothers still occupied it…?” He shrugged.

“So, they made the prophecy come true,” said Amirantha, as Pug resumed walking.

As the Warlock and Jim joined him, Pug said, “Perhaps. Or perhaps there’s another destruction headed our way, and this place, ‘That Which Was Sarth,’ is what is destined to survive.”

“Exactly where are we?” asked Amirantha. “I assume underground, as I have not noticed anything remotely like a window in the last two vaults.”

“We are very deep underground,” said Pug. “As to where, I promised the monks I would not reveal that location unless given leave. As I transported you here by magic outside your understanding, it’s safe to assume you would have no way of finding your way back here should the urge visit you.”

Amirantha chuckled. “Indeed.”

They reached a large door and Pug pulled it open. Inside was a small room, with a table fully occupying half its area, over which stood a white-haired magician in black robes. “Father,” said Magnus to Pug as he entered. Then he greeted Amirantha and Jim.

Next to him stood a monk in the simple light brown robes of the Ishapians. He was a nondescript man of middle years, with a round head topped by a thatch of brown hair cut with a tonsure. He inclined his head in greeting and said, “Pug. You bring guests?”

“Brother Victor, these are friends. This is James, Baron of the King’s Court in Rillanon, and great-grandson of Lord James of Krondor, also known as Jimmy the Hand.”

At that the monk smiled. “We have a story about your ancestor you may not know,” said the monk.

“And this is Amirantha, a Warlock of a people from across the great ocean, the Satumbria. He is something of an expert on demons and I have need of his wisdom.”

“Your vouching for them grants an indulgence,” said the monk. “But the Father-Superior might not be so kindly disposed.”

“Which is why I came straight here,” said Pug with a nod.

The monk smiled. “So when I mention, in passing, your visit, I should do so, what? An hour or so after you depart?”

“That should be ample,” said Pug. “We don’t plan on staying long, unless there’s a need.”

“Well, then,” said the monk with a wry expression, “what do you seek this time?”

Magnus turned to Amirantha and said, “We’ve been challenging Brother Victor’s nearly inexhaustible knowledge on every subject imaginable.”

The monk held up his hands, palms outward, and said, “Hardly that.”

“He is the living repository of where everything in this vast library is placed,” said Pug.

Amirantha said, “Prodigious is the only word that springs to mind. Don’t you have some sort of written record?”

“Of course,” said the monk, “and a dozen brothers labor ceaselessly to update it as new material is found and sent to us, but until they do, we make do with scraps of hastily cobbled together notes, and this.” He tapped the side of his head with a forefinger.

“What do you know of the Demon Brothers?” asked Pug.

The monk went almost completely motionless for nearly a half minute, then he closed his eyes. “I believe there’s a mention of them…” His eyes widened. “Wait! I’ll be right back.”

The four men remaining in the room exchanged strange glances, which became expressions of curiosity as time dragged on. “Right back” became a half hour when the monk finally returned, a dusty old leather-bound volume in hand.

“It should be in here,” he said as if he had merely stepped out of the room, then reappeared.

“What is it?” asked Pug as the monk laid the book down on the table and gently opened it.

“It’s a chronicle of one Varis Logondis, a Quegan trader who lived about four hundred years ago. He was a compulsive journal keeper who felt every detail in his life was worthy of mentioning.

“In fact, most of his life was remarkably un-noteworthy,
unless you are an aficionado of travelogues, long discourses on mercantile trends of the day, or the state of Varis’s digestive health at any given moment in his life. But, in passing he remarks on many issues of the day, useful in providing corroboration or refutation of other histories and accounts of the time.

“But one remark in particular stuck with me over the years.” He scanned the page. “Ah, there it is. Let me read—the dialect is somewhat antiquated and his spelling is atrocious. ‘In the evening, we came upon a village, by name Hamtas on Jaguard, whereupon we were welcomed at an inn by name, the Restful Station. There did we encounter soldiers of the Empire, at their ease after a battle.

“‘I remark on this for two counts’—reasons is what he means, I am certain—‘that first they were not of the militia, yet were Legionaries from Queg that had been haste posted to this region, and last that they had struggled mightily against the Demon Brothers and their living dead.’”

“Back then most of the Bitter Sea was still under control of the Empire of Great Kesh,” Pug remarked.

“What’s interesting about this passage, Pug, is that it supports two other sources we are aware of, one in our possession, another not.” He looked at the magician and his two companions with a satisfied smile. “Varis wrote sixty-five volumes over his lifetime, so I had to skim a couple before I could find this passage.” He pointed to the page and said, “The source we possess along with this is a fairly standard tally of captured goods returned to Queg by the expedition encountered by Varis. We know that Varis was surprised to find Imperial Legionaries in that town instead of local soldiers; it implies something significant was being undertaken. Legionaries were only stationed in three garrisons around the Bitter Sea at that time: Durban, Queg City, and Port Natal. They were not used unless there was an uprising or some other menace of equal weight.

“If we look at what that expedition brought back with
them, we encounter an unlikely list of things; along with an unusually short inventory of gold, silver, copper, and lead, livestock and slaves, we also see a very long list of idols, books, and scrolls.”

Pug looked interested but uncertain of what was being said to him. “It sounds as if they raided a library.”

The monk smiled. “There were no libraries, either Imperial or maintained by any order of temple known to us at that time, anywhere west of Malac’s Cross or north of Queg, in the Empire! Oh, some rooms of books here and there, but nothing that would require a detailed cataloguing that the Empire was so famous for at that time.” There was a merry glint in the man’s eyes as his smile broadened.

“What is it?” Pug said, unable to resist returning the man’s smile.

“It’s your Demon Brothers!”

“According to this inventory of captured items, over a score of volumes came from the ‘frateri demonicus,’ which is very bad Quegan spelling for Demon Brothers, or more accurately, Brothers to Demons!”

“The necromancers?” asked Pug.

“Not a common name, by any measure,” said Brother Victor. “And there’s more.”

“More?” asked Magnus a moment before Jim echoed the word.

“The title of a volume; the maker of this list was, by any measure, barely educated. Legionaries were not as a rule much better educated than the common Keshian Dog Soldiers of today. The officers read and write—a necessity for giving and receiving orders—but the common soldiers, no. Either this list was compiled by a relatively uneducated officer, or the task was given to one of the common rank who claimed to write. In any event the title given is
Libri Demonicus Amplus Tantus
or
Really Big Demon Book.
”

Amirantha laughed. “I speak Quegan, and it’s nothing I recognize.”

“It’s four hundred years old. I originally thought the scribe just didn’t understand that ‘Amplus’ and ‘Tantus’ have similar meanings—ample and large—but it occurs to me now our less than scholarly scribe was trying to describe two aspects, that it’s a physically large volume, and also that it’s important. ‘Tantus’ can mean ‘of such great size,’ but ‘amplus,’ besides ample, can also be read to mean ‘of great importance.’ So, what you may wish to consult is a very large, very important book concerning demons, written by a four-hundred-year-dead necromancer.”

“I don’t suppose you have that volume here?” asked Amirantha.

“No,” said Brother Victor with a regretful expression. “I wish we did. It sounds fascinating from what you have revealed.”

“But you know where we might find it,” suggested Magnus.

The monk nodded. “If it still exists.”

“The Imperial library in Queg?” suggested Magnus.

Pug said, “If the book was among the property seized by Legionaries, and if they didn’t loot the library when recalled to Kesh during the abandonment of the north…” He tapped his chin in thought. “Likely. Gold and other valuables they’d take south with them. Books and scrolls? Not as likely. Certainly it’s the place we can start looking.”

Brother Victor said, “I must leave as the evening prayer is about to begin. I assume you do not need me to show you out?” His merry expression revealed he already knew the answer.

“No,” said Pug. “Thank you, my old friend.”

“No, thank
you
for all you have given. Too few people know what they owe you, Pug. Until we meet again,” he finished, then turned and left the four visitors alone in the library.

Magnus said, “We have a problem, Father.”

“I know,” said Pug. To Jim he said, “Queg is the one court where we have no friends.”

Jim sighed, as he could anticipate what was coming next. “I thought you had agents, or at least ‘friends,’ everywhere.”

Pug gave him a tight smile. “Queg is strategically unimportant. We manipulated some information their way during the invasion of the Emerald Queen. They believed they were attacking a foreign treasure fleet, while instead they ran into her armada, half the Imperial Keshian Fleet, and the Kingdom Navy. Not wishing to attack nations they were at peace with, they did their best to loot a few ships which instead of treasure held angry soldiers. It made them distrustful of information that doesn’t come from reliable sources.

“To the point they resisted all attempts to infiltrate their intelligence.”

Jim smiled ruefully. “I know. I have had the same problem.”

“How about Kesh?” asked Magnus. “Have they anyone within the Quegan Court who might prove useful?”

Jim slowly shook his head. “No, they’re just as annoyed by their former cousins as the Kingdom is. If Queg didn’t have as formidable a navy as it has, they’d have been reabsorbed by the Empire a century ago or conquered by the Kingdom. There is not a lot on that island that is worth owning, but they are a serious annoyance, and while they may not be strategically important to you, Pug, controlling that island would prove a significant advantage to Kesh or the Kingdom.”

“Which is why neither of you will let the other gain control,” finished Magnus.

Amirantha said, “Back to the point, if you don’t have anyone in that court, how do you propose to find out if this tome exists?” He smiled dryly. “Are you just going to show up one day and ask to browse the shelves?”

Pug got a distant look for a moment, then he slowly smiled. “That may just be the thing.”

“What?” asked Jim. “I was certain you were going to ask me to swim ashore, sneak into the library, and steal the book.”

“No,” said Pug, looking amused at the suggestion. “You’re going to use your rank to get the Prince of Krondor to send you, with three advisors”—he indicated the three of them—“on a scholarly project, to correct some distortions of the truth in our own history. This will play to the Quegan vanity as you will explain that their place of glory will be forever enshrined in the annals of the Kingdom, and you would like permission to let your three scholars spend a few leisurely days browsing the shelves of the Imperial Quegan Library.”

Jim’s face went through a spectrum of emotions, from surprise, to doubt, to agreement, and then to delight. “Play to their vanity!”

“Yes,” said Pug. “Then when we find out if the book is there, you can sneak into the library and steal it.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Can’t we just glance at it for a while?”