Magician (111 page)

Macros stepped into the void of the
rift Pug entered behind Instead of the expected emergence into
Kelewan, they hung in a colorless place. There was little sensation
of direction. The place was without light, but not dark, only various
shades of grey. Pug found himself alone, with only the sound of his
heart beating in his ear to reassure him that existence had not
ceased. Softly he said, “Macros?”

Macros’s voice came to him:
“Here, Pug.”

“I cannot see you.”

A chuckle was heard. “No, for
there is no light. What you see is a faint illusion granted by my
arts so you might have some point of reference here. Without ample
preparation, even your vaunted powers would avail you little in
keeping your sanity, Pug. Simply accept that the human mind is poorly
equipped to deal with this place.”

“What is this place?”

“This is the place between. Here
the gods struggled during the Chaos Wars, and here we shall do our
work.”

“Men are dying, Macros We should
hurry.”

“Here there is no time, Pug
Relative to those who battle, we are frozen in an instant. We could
grow old and die, and not a full second would pass upon the
battlefield.

“But we must still be quickly
about our task. Even I could not do this without spending a bit of
energy to keep us alive, energy we’ll need to finish this
business. We dare not tarry long, but there are a few things I would
say to you. I have waited a long while for you to fulfill your
promise. I could not close the rift without your aid.”

Pug spoke, though his senses rebelled
at the grey landscape on all sides and the disembodied voice that
seemed a short distance away from him. “It was you who turned
the rift aside, when the Stranger came and the Enemy sought to
reclaim the nations of Tsuranuanni. Surely that took awesome power.”

He could hear the sorcerer chuckle.
“You remember that detail? Well, I was younger then.” As
if he knew it was an unsatisfactory answer, Macros added, “Then
the rift was a wild thing, created by the wills of those who stood
atop the towers of the Assembly. I only turned it to another place,
balking the Enemy’s design, and that at great risk. Now this
rift is a controlled thing, firmly anchored in Kelewan, managed by a
machine. That which controls it, many intricate spells, keeping it in
harmony with Midkemia, keeps me from manipulating it. All I may do is
end it, but for that I need help.

“Before we end this particular
drama, I would say this to you: you will understand most things after
you reach my island. But one thing above all I ask of you to bear in
mind as you hear my message. Please remember I did what I did because
it was my fate. I would ask you to think of me kindly.”

While he could not see the sorcerer,
Pug felt his presence close by. He started to speak, but was
interrupted by Macros’s voice. “When I am done, use
whatever shred of energy you have left to will yourself to Kulgan.
The staff will aid you, but you must bend all your efforts to that
task. If you fail, you will perish.”

It was Macros’s second warning,
and Pug felt dread for the first time in years. “What of
yourself?”

“Take care of yourself, Pug. I
have other concerns.”

There came a sensation of change, as if
the fabric of nothingness around them was subtly altering. Macros
said, “At my command, you must unleash the full fury of your
power. All that you did at the Imperial Games was but a shadow of
what you must do now.”

“You know of that?”

Again there was a chuckle. “I was
there, though my seat was poor compared to your own. I must admit it
was quite impressive. Even I would have been hard-pressed to provide
as spectacular a show. Now, there is no more time. Await my command,
then let your power flow toward me.”

Pug said nothing. He could feel the
sorcerer’s presence before him, as if it were being defined for
him by Macros. Again he felt the sensation of twisting change around
him. Suddenly there was a blinding light, then darkness. An instant
later all around him erupted in mad displays of energy, much like
those he witnessed in the rift of the Golden Bridge. On every side
blinding colors exploded, primal forces he did not recognize.

“Now, Pug!” came Macros’s
cry.

Pug bent his will to the task. He
reached down into the deepest recesses of his being. From there he
brought forth all he could of the magic power he had gained from two
worlds. Forces sufficient to destroy mountains, move rivers from
their courses, and level cities to rubble, all these he focused.
Then, like casting away something painful to hold, he directed all
this energy toward where he sensed the sorcerer to be. There came an
unimaginable, insane explosion of those forces, and the primal matter
of time and space screamed in protest at its presence Pug could feel
it writhe and twist around him, as if the fundamental universe were
trying to cast the invaders out. Then there came a sudden release,
and they were expelled.

Pug found himself floating in total
blackness. He drifted, numb and without coherent thought. His mind
was unable to accept what he had sensed, and he was close to losing
consciousness. He felt his fingers go lax, and the staff began to
slip from his hand. He clutched spasmodically at it from blind
instinct. He then felt a faint tugging. His mind resisted the cool
blackness that was trying to overtake him, and he tried to remember
something. It was growing cold around him, and he could feel his
lungs burning for lack of air. He tried to remember something
once-more, but it would not come to him. Then he felt the tug again,
and a faint but familiar voice seemed to sound close by.

“Kulgan?” he said weakly,
and let the darkness take him.

The Tsurani Force Commander was alive.
He wondered at that miracle as he saw those around him who lay dead
before the rift machine. The explosion a minute before had killed
hundreds, and others lay dazed a little way beyond.

He rose and took stock of what was
occurring. The terrible destruction of the rift had not served to aid
the Kingdom forces, either. Riders frantically tried to control
near-hysterical horses, and other mounts could be seen running madly
away, their riders thrown from their backs. All about, confusion
reigned. But those at the edge of the conflict were less dazed than
the others, and the fighting was resuming.

There was little hope; now that Kelewan
was cut off to them, either of aid or of a safe return. Still, they
numbered only slightly less than the enemy, and there was a chance
that the field could yet be theirs. There might be time to worry
about the rift later.

Abruptly the sounds of fighting stopped
as the Kingdom forces withdrew. The Force Commander looked about and,
still seeing no officer of greater rank, started shouting orders to
ready the shield wall for another assault.

The Kingdom forces were slowly
regrouping. They did not attack, but took up position opposite the
Tsurani. The Force Commander waited, while his soldiers made ready
the lines. On all sides Kingdom horsemen stood ready, but still they
did not come.

Slowly the tension grew. The Force
Commander ordered a platform raised. Four Tsurani grabbed a shield,
he stood upon it, and they lifted him up. His eyes widened. “They
have reinforcements.” Far to the south he could see the
advancing columns of the South Pass Kingdom forces. They had been
farther removed from the parley site and were only now reaching the
battlefield.

A shout from the opposite direction
caused him to look to the north: lines of the Kingdom infantry were
advancing from the trees. Again he turned his attention southward and
strained his eyes. In the distant haze he could see the signs of a
large force of infantry following behind the cavalry. The officer
ordered the shield lowered, and his Subcommander said, “What is
it?”

“Their entire army is in the
field.” He swallowed hard, the usual Tsurani impassivity
broken. “Mother of gods! There must be thirty thousand of
them.”

“Then we shall give them a battle
worthy of a ballad before we die,” said the Subcommander.

The Force Commander looked about him.
On all sides stood bleeding, wounded, and dazed soldiers. Of the
Kingdom armies arrayed against them, only a third had fought. Fully
twenty thousand rested soldiers approached four thousand Tsurani,
half of them unable to fight at their normal efficiency.

The Force Commander shook his head.
“There will be no fighting. We are cut off from home, perhaps
for all time. There is no purpose.”

He stepped past his startled
Subcommander and walked beyond the shield wall. Raising both hands
above his head in the sign of parley, he walked toward Lyam, slowly,
dreading the moment when he would be the first Tsurani officer in
living memory to surrender his forces. It took only a matter of
minutes to reach the Prince. He removed his helm and knelt.

He looked up at the tall, golden-haired
Prince of the Kingdom and said, “Lord Lyam. Into your care I
give my men. Will you accept surrender?”

Lyam nodded. “Yes, Kasumi. I will
accept surrender.”

Darkness. Then a gathering greyness.
Pug forced his heavy eyelids open. Above him was the familiar face of
Kulgan.

The face of his old teacher split into
a wide smile “It is good to see you are with us again. We did
not know if you were really alive. Your body was so cold to the
touch. Can you sit up?”

Pug took the offered arm and found that
Meecham knelt next to him, aiding him to sit up. He could feel the
cold leave his limbs as the bright sunlight warmed his body. He sat
still for a moment, then said, “I think I will live.” As
he said it, he could feel strength returning to him. After a moment
he felt able to stand and did so.

Around him he could see the assembled
armies of the Kingdom. “What has happened?”

Laurie said, “The rift is
destroyed, and the Tsurani who remain have surrendered. The war is
over.”

Pug felt too weak for emotion. He
looked at the faces of those around him and could see deep relief in
their eyes. Suddenly Kulgan engulfed him in a hug. “You risked
your life to end this madness. It is your victory as much as any
man’s.”

Pug stood quietly, then stepped away
from his former master. “It is Macros who ended the war. Did he
return?”

“No. Only you, and as soon as you
were here, both of the staffs disappeared. There is no sign of him.”

Pug shook his head, clearing away the
fogginess. “What now?”

Meecham looked over his shoulder. “It
might be wise if you joined Lyam. There seems to be some commotion
taking place.”

Laurie and Kulgan assisted Pug, for he
was still weak from his ordeal within the rift. They walked to where
Lyam, Arutha, Kasumi, and the assembled Kingdom nobles stood waiting.
Across the field they could see the elves and dwarves approaching,
with the northern Kingdom forces behind.

Pug was surprised to see the older son
of the Shinzawai present, for he had thought him back on Kelewan. He
looked a figure of deletion, standing without weapon or helm, and
with head downcast, so he didn’t see Pug and the others arrive.

Pug turned his attention to the elves
and dwarves. Four figures walked at their head. Two he recognized,
Dolgan and Calin. There was another dwarf with them who was unknown
to the magician. As the four reached a place before the Prince, Pug
realized that the tall warrior in white and gold was his boyhood
friend. He stood speechless, amazed at the change in Tomas, for his
old friend was now a towering figure who resembled an elf as much as
a human.

Lyam was too exhausted for outrage. He
looked at the Warleader of Elvandar and said quietly, “What
cause did you have to attack, Tomas?”

The Prince Consort of the elves said,
“The Tsurani drew weapons, Lyam. They were ready to attack the
pavilion. Could you not see?”

In spite of his fatigue, Lyam’s
voice rose. “I saw only your host attack a conference of peace.
I saw nothing in the Tsurani camp that was untoward.”

Kasumi raised his head. “Your
Highness, on my word, we drew weapons only when we were set upon by
those.” He pointed at Tomas’s forces.

Lyam turned his attention back to
Tomas. “Did I not send word that there was to be a truce, and a
peace?”

“Aye,” answered Dolgan, “I
was there when the sorcerer brought word.”

“Sorcerer?” said Lyam. He
turned and shouted, “Laurie! I would have words with you.”

Laurie stepped forward and said,
“Highness?”

“Did you carry word to the Elf
Queen as I bid?”

“On my honor. I spoke with the
Elf Queen herself.”

Tomas looked Lyam in the eye, head
tilted back, an expression of defiance upon his face. “And I
swear that I have never seen that man before this moment. Word of the
planned Tsurani treachery was carried to us by Macros.”

Kulgan and Pug came forward “Your
Highness,” said Kulgan, “if the sorcerer’s hand is
in this—and it has been in everything else, it seems—
then it may be best to unravel this mystery at leisure.”

Lyam still fumed, but Arutha said, “Let
it be. We can sort out this mess back at the camp.”

Lyam gave a curt nod. “We return
to camp.” The Heir turned to Brucal and said, “Form a
proper escort for the prisoners and bring them along.” He then
looked at Tomas. “You I would also have in my tent when we
return. There is much we must explain.” Tomas agreed, though he
did not look happy at the prospect. Lyam shouted, “We return to
camp at once. Give the order.”

Kingdom officers rode toward their
companies, and the order was given. Tomas turned away and found a
stranger standing next to him. He looked at the smiling face, then
Dolgan said, “Are you blind, boy? Can’t you recognize
your own boyhood companion?”