Echoes of the Fourth Magic (26 page)

He looked around the council, his eyes alone showing him to be set in his decision, and at the same time begging approval, relief from the tremendous pressures of leadership.

“Agreed,” the others answered.

“It is a wise decision,” Ryell added.

Ardaz thought so, too, except that he knew a voice from a wood called out to the one named Del. The wizard feared the voice, for he did not understand why it beckoned so, and he knew, too, that its call would not go unheeded.

“Then, as we are agreed, let us end this council and return to the city,” Arien said. “And let us hope,” he added grimly, “that the Usurper’s eyes remain blind to our home.”

D
EL WASN’T TERRIBLY
upset when he awakened at mid-morning and found that he would not be permitted to leave the room. His sleep had been filled with dreams of Avalon, and now a fantasy of dancing with the fair Brielle in a moonlit field haunted his every thought. His surroundings, inasmuch as they were not Avalon, seemed irrelevant, and one room would do as well as the whole city.

Billy, though, took the news hard. From the outset of this adventure, he had adopted a stoic attitude. Even when they had first emerged from the depths of the sea and found their world apparently destroyed, Billy had shrugged it off with grim resolve, wearing grudging acceptance as his shield, though he realized that the fine edge of discipline necessary to maintain stability could cut both ways. He could defend against depression, but to do so in a situation as unpredictable and uncontrollable as this, he had to also avoid the emotional highs, false plateaus ringed by sheer drops. Up till now he had kept that edge, even in the face of Avalon’s magical allure.

But Billy’s discipline had reached its limits. In the afternoon he had spent among the elves, he came to love Illuma and its inhabitants, with their joyous songs and dances and their carefree way of life. He sat now in dismay, fallen from his unintended plateau, staring out the room’s small
window at the frolicking below. For though the shadow of Ungden stretched toward the elves, it could not put an end to their eternal merrymaking.

In the room across the hall, Reinheiser worked hard to calm down the furious captain.

“How dare they?” Mitchell shouted, the veins in his neck standing out in protest. “Locking me up! And after I offered to help them.”

“A hollow offer,” snorted Reinheiser, who knew Mitchell’s desires and ambitions well enough to understand that the captain wouldn’t help anybody unless doing so would bring him closer to his own goals. These elves, so childish and carefree, had no place in Mitchell’s final plans. He might use them, or enslave them, but—Reinheiser knew beyond doubt—the captain certainly had no intention of helping them.

“What do you mean by that?” Mitchell asked warily.

“Come now, Captain. Surely you do not expect to raise an army from these helpless little creatures.”

“No,” Mitchell admitted, and gave a nasty laugh. “But they don’t know that.”

“Of course not,” Reinheiser agreed. “And do not worry, I believe that you have convinced a few of them at least that you are a friend.”

“And this is how they repay me.” He slammed his fist into the locked door. “I’ve got to get out of here!”

“To Calva, I suppose.”

“Of course to Calva. And the court of Ungden.”

“Where you will take over?” the physicist mused. “I do not think that Ungden is one who will give up his ill-won throne so willingly.”

“I wouldn’t expect him to,” Mitchell agreed. “But maybe he’ll reward a great leader from another world, a man who delivers to him his greatest enemy, with a place of honor in his court, or perhaps even a little kingdom of my own.”

“Either of which would be a solid base for you to raise an army,” Reinheiser reasoned.

“An army with guns,” the captain confirmed, savoring his fantasy of power with obscene delight.

“And the equipment to machine such pieces?” Reinheiser asked. “Knowing the parts of a gun does not bestow the ability to manufacture those parts. Are there metals available strong enough? And what of powder?”

“It can be done,” Mitchell insisted.

Reinheiser offered a little smile. “Indeed,” he said. “Or if not guns, then surely other weaponry superior to that we have seen.”

Mitchell nodded, seeming satisfied with that answer. “Then I’ll rule this world,” he calmly remarked, his smile widening. It proved but a temporary reprieve from his anger and frustration, though, and the light quickly left his face. “What’s the use?” he groaned. “It’s all just a dream. Even if we could get out of this room, which we can’t, we’d never find our way out of this stupid valley.”

“Yes we would,” Reinheiser replied, and he was the one beaming now. He pulled a rolled parchment out of his cloak and presented it to Mitchell, who saw as he unrolled it that it held a map, a map showing the way back to Mountaingate.

“Where’d you get this?”

“I made it.”

“But how?”

“Child’s play,” Reinheiser answered. “When the elves escorted us to this valley, I counted my steps and noted the turns and corridors we passed in the tunnel.”

“So that’s why you pulled that damned stunt about being afraid of caves,” Mitchell said. “To get next to the wall.”

Reinheiser nodded, feigning boredom as if it was all but a minor feat for one as brilliant as he. “The map is not perfect, but I am sure it will be sufficient to get us out of here.”

“You’ve got some mind,” Mitchell said, his face barely wide enough to hold his grin. “When do we leave?”

“Patience, my friend, patience,” Reinheiser answered. “The elves will relax their guard when the immediate danger has passed, and then—”

“And then,” the captain interrupted, spreading his arms wide, as if addressing a crowd, “all hail Mitchell, Lord of Aielle!” He began to laugh loudly.

Reinheiser joined him, though less heartily. The physicist knew that there were other powers to contend with that Mitchell hadn’t considered, and in truth, he thought Mitchell’s lust absolutely ridiculous.

   Late that afternoon, Ardaz and Ryell sat on the dais in the throne room as Arien paced uneasily back and forth before them.

“Arien, let him go,” Ardaz pleaded. “We can trust that one.”

“Trust him!” Ryell exclaimed. “He is a man. How can we believe there is any good in him? Men have shown nothing but hatred for Illumans. If they could find us, they would kill all of us in an instant. And you ask us to entrust our lives to one?”

“Being a man, I certainly resent that opinon,” Ardaz said, though he understood Ryell’s bitterness toward his kind. It was a common tale in Illuma that Erinel’s parents, Ryell’s brother and sister-in-law, had been slaughtered on a mountain pass by humans when Erinel was just a child. Arien doubted the story, suspecting instead that the unfortunate couple had been waylaid by rogue talons, and though Ardaz also didn’t believe that men had perpetrated the deed, he had no proof with which to dispute Ryell’s deep-rooted convictions.

“You are different,” Ryell replied. “You are a wizard, and harmless enough.”

“What business could he possibly have in the witch’s wood?” Arien asked, keeping the conversation in line. Arguments between Ryell and Ardaz escalated easily, and
Arien knew from experience that these two could ramble on for hours if allowed to sidetrack.

“What business, indeed!” Ardaz replied. “Why, what business could he possibly have here? This one’s path, I think, is guided by forces beyond us, you know—far, far beyond us. I wouldn’t think it wise for us to detain him. Might get them mad, you see, and we wouldn’t want that. No, if he wishes to return to Avalon, then we should let him.”

“Should we give them all the free run of Illuma as well?” Ryell said with a snarl. “And let these unseen forces you speak of lead us to our destruction?”

“No, certainly not!” the wizard replied. “I speak only of the one called DelGiudice, and he, I daresay, has earned our trust.”

“That he has,” Arien agreed. “ ‘Still, I do not understand what she could possibly want with him.”

“She probably wants to turn him into a squirrel, that he can dance among her trees,” Ryell put in.

“Now you’ve gone too far!” Ardaz cried, and he leaped up, his eyes flashing with fury. Ryell sat unimpressed and unconcerned, holding fast to his belief that wizards were bumbling old fools, and witches merely the workings of a child’s imagination.

“Enough, Ardaz!” Arien commanded, but the wizard did not back away. Arien stepped between him and Ryell and matched the wizard’s fire with his own unyielding glare.

“When you returned to us thirty years ago, you agreed to honor my word and abide by our rules,” Arien said sternly, offering no room for compromise.

Ardaz grudgingly sat down.

“Ryell’s years are not numbered as long as ours,” Arien offered to appease the wizard. “He does not remember the Emerald Witch, or the old days when magic filled the air. Those times are merely tales by the fireplace to him.”

“He’s going to learn better, then, he is at that!” Ardaz
grumbled, but his anger yielded quickly to the memories of that past age that came upon him.

“Arien,” he said calmly, “recall if you will, the days way back, the days of Ben-rin and Umpleby and the Justice Stone. I did much for your parents and kin back then, and I asked for nothing in return except your friendship and your trust. Trust me now, I beg. Let DelGiudice go.”

“What do you think she wants with him?” Arien asked.

“I do not know that she wants him at all,” Ardaz replied. “I only know that he must choose his own path, and now he chooses Avalon. Let him go, Arien. I will have friends watching him, I promise.”

Arien knew in his heart that Del had earned and deserved the trust of the Illumans, but he knew the consequences as well. Ryell and many others would be furious with him if he let Del go, and this was not a good time for his people to be divided.

But he decided finally to follow his heart, reasoning that the sacrifice of conscience was a far greater evil than anything Ungden could bring upon them. Arien would not accept that loss for the sake of precaution. With grim determination, yet softened with empathy, he looked Ryell straight in the eye. “DelGiudice may go.”

Ryell turned away.

“Splendid!” Ardaz shouted.

“But only after,” the Eldar continued, “the Calvans are clear of the lower hills around Mountaingate.”

“Desdemona is watching them now,” the wizard happily reported. “She will let me know when they are gone.”

“Also on that day, the other three may again walk freely in the valley,” Arien said. “We must learn if they, too, are worthy of our trust.”

Infuriated, trembling as if he was barely holding a thin line of control, Ryell turned back and shot Arien a look of utter contempt.

“Be calm, my friend,” Arien said. “You I appoint to oversee the watch of the other three, and you yourself shall
escort DelGiudice down to the archway at Mountaingate. From there you can see that he enters Clas Braiyelle, and if that wood of peace and order allows him entry, then know he is no friend of Ungden the Usurper.”

“And the other three must return to, and remain in, their rooms at night,” Ryell suggested, and it pleased Arien to learn that his friend, obviously infuriated about his decisions, was apparently willing to accept them.

“As you wish,” Arien replied.

“Then I am satisfied.”

   Del’s heart lifted high when Ardaz came to him with the news that he would be allowed to return to Avalon. Billy, too, danced when he learned that he would soon be able to again walk freely among the elves. The wizard thought that he had done them a favor by informing them of Arien’s decision, but in truth, the two men grew even more miserable as the days dragged by and still Desdemona did not return with news that the Calvan scouts were gone.

During this time, Sylvia and Erinel visited the room often and proved a tremendous comfort to the two men. Soon the four had become great friends, exchanging fine tales. Del was a bit disappointed, though, that neither Sylvia nor Erinel shared his enthusiasm about his return to Avalon. Whenever he spoke of Brielle, they looked at each other with concern and pity, as if they knew something about the witch that he did not, and they always changed the subject at the first chance. Del began to understand Ardaz’s advice to him about keeping his meeting with the witch private. Though he could hardly believe the incongruity of it, it came clear to him that the wizard had been correct in his observations that even the good people of Illuma didn’t fully accept the witch of the wood.

   Ardaz spent most of the time in the other room, talking more with Reinheiser than Mitchell. They were a perfect match, for the physicist was an attentive audience and the
wizard loved to talk. Reinheiser pressed Ardaz for stories of Istaahl, the White Mage, and the city of Pallendara, which the elves called Caer Tuatha. Try as he may, though, he could not get the wizard to elaborate about the Black Warlock, Morgan Thalasi, other than the common recounting of the Battle of the Four Bridges and of the days before the first mutation.

Finally, shortly after breakfast on the morning of the sixth day, Desdemona returned to Ardaz with the news that Mountaingate was clear.