Magician (14 page)

Borric poured the priest a goblet of
wine from a decanter on a sideboard and handed it to him. Tully
hesitated, for he was an abstemious man, then drank deeply. The
others resumed their former positions around the table.

Borric looked at Tully and said,
simply, “Well?”

“The soldier from the beach
regained consciousness for only a few minutes, a final rally before
the end. During that time I had the opportunity to enter into a mind
contact with him. I stayed with him through his last feverish dreams,
trying to learn as much about him as I could. I nearly didn’t
remove the contact in time.”

Pug paled. During the mind contact, the
priest’s mind and the subject become as one. If Tully had not
broken contact with the man when he died, the priest could have died
or been rendered mad, for the two men shared feelings, fears, and
sensations as well as thought. He now understood Tully’s
exhausted state: the old priest had spent a great deal of energy
maintaining the link with an uncooperative subject and had been party
to the dying man’s pain and terror.

Tully took another drink of wine, then
continued “If this man’s dying dreams were not the
product of fevered imaginings, then I fear his appearance heralds a
grave situation.” Tully took another sip of wine and pushed the
goblet aside. “The man’s name was Xomich. He was a simple
soldier of a nation, Honshom, in something called the Empire of
Tsuranuanm.”

Borric said, “I have never heard
of this nation, nor of that Empire.”

Tully nodded and said, “I would
have been surprised if you had. That man’s ship came from no
sea of Midkemia.” Pug and Tomas looked at each other, and Pug
felt a chilling sensation, as, apparently, did Tomas, whose face had
turned pale.

Tully went on. “We can only
speculate on how the feat was managed, but I am certain that this
ship comes from another world, removed from our own in time and
space.” Before questions could be asked, he said, “Let me
explain.”

“This man was sick with fever,
and his mind wandered.” Tully’s face flickered with
remembered pain. “He was part of an honor guard for someone he
thought of only as ‘Great One.’ There were conflicting
images, and I can’t be sure, but it seems that the journey they
were on was considered strange, both for the presence of this Great
One and for the nature of the mission. The only concrete thought I
gained was that this Great One had no need to travel by ship. Beyond
that, I have little but quick and disjointed impressions. There was a
city he knew as Yankora, then a terrible storm, and a sudden blinding
brilliance, which may have been lightning striking the ship, but I
think not. There was a thought of his captain and comrades being
washed overboard. Then a crash on the rocks.” He paused for a
moment “I am not sure if those images are in order, for I think
it likely that the crew was lost before the blinding light.”

“Why?” asked Borric.

“I’m ahead of myself,”
said Tully. “First I’d like to explain why I think this
man is from another world.

“This Xomich grew to manhood in a
land ruled by great armies. They are a warrior race, whose ships
control the seas. But what seas? Never, to my knowledge, has there
been mention of contact with these people. And there are other
visions that are even more convincing. Great cities, far larger than
those in the heart of Kesh, the largest known to us. Armies on parade
during high holiday, marching past a review stand; city garrisons
larger than the King’s Army of the West.”

Algon said, “Still, there is
nothing to say they are not from”—he paused, as if the
admission were difficult—”across the Endless Sea.”
That prospect seemed to trouble him less than the notion of some
place not of this world.

Tully looked irritated at the
interruption. “There is more, much more I followed him through
his dreams, many of his homeland. He remembers creatures unlike any I
have heard of or seen, things with six legs that pull wagons like
oxen, and other creatures, some that look like insects or reptiles,
but speak like men. His land was hot, and his memory of the sun was
of one larger than ours and more green in color. This man was not of
our world.” The last was said flatly, removing from all in the
room any lingering doubts. Tully would never make a pronouncement
like that unless he was certain.

The room was silent as each person
reflected on what had been said. The boys watched and shared the
feeling. It was as if no one were willing to speak, as if to do so
would seal the priest’s information forever in fact, while to
stay silent might let it pass like a bad dream. Borric stood and
paced over to the window. It looked out upon a blank rear wall of the
castle, but he stared as if seeking something there, something that
would provide an answer for the questions that spun in his mind. He
turned quickly and said, “How did they get here, Tully?”

The priest shrugged. “Perhaps
Kulgan can offer a theory as to the means. What I construct as being
the most likely series of events is this: the ship foundered in the
storm; the captain of the ship and most of its crew were lost. As a
last resort this Great One, whoever he is, invoked a spell to remove
the ship from the storm, or change the weather, or some other mighty
feat. As a result, the ship was cast from its own world into this,
appearing off the coast at Sailor’s Grief. With the ship moving
at great speed on its own world, it may have appeared here with the
same movement, and with the westerly blowing strong, and little or no
crew, the ship was driven straight onto the rocks. Or it simply may
have appeared upon the rocks, smashed at the instant it came into
being here.”

Fannon shook his head. “From
another world. How can that be possible?”

The old priest raised his hands in a
gesture of mystification. “One can only speculate. The
Ishapians have old scrolls in their temples. Some are reputed to be
copies of older works, which in turn are copies of still older
scrolls. They claim the originals date back, in unbroken line, to the
time of the Chaos Wars. Among them is mention of ‘other planes’
and ‘other dimensions,’ and of concepts lost to us. One
thing is clear, however. They speak of lands and peoples unknown and
suggest that once mankind traveled to other worlds, or to Midkemia
from other worlds. These notions have been the center of religious
debate for centuries, and no one could say with certainty what truth
there was in any of them.” He paused, then said, “Until
now. If I had not seen what was in Xomich’s mind, I would not
have accepted such a theory to explain this day’s occurrences.
But now . . .”

Borric crossed to his chair to stand
behind it, his hands gripping each side of the high back. “It
seems impossible.”

“That the ship and man were here
is fact, Father,” said Lyam.

Arutha followed his brother’s
comment with another. “And we must decide what the chances are
that this feat may be duplicated.”

Borric said to Tully, “You were
right when you said this may herald a grave situation. Should a great
Empire be turning its attention toward Crydee and the Kingdom . . .”

Tully shook his head. “Borric,
have you so long been removed from my tutelage that you miss the
point entirely?” He held up a bony hand as the Duke started to
protest. “Forgive me, my lord. I am old and tired and forget my
manners. But the truth is still the truth. A mighty nation they are,
or rather an empire of nations, and if they have the means to reach
us, it could prove dire, but most important is the possibility that
this Great One is a magician or priest of high art. For if he is not
one alone, if there are more within this Empire, and if they did
indeed try to reach this world with magic, then grave times are truly
in store for us.”

When everyone at the table still
appeared not to comprehend what he was alluding to, Tully continued,
like a patient teacher lecturing a group of promising but
occasionally slow students. “The ship’s appearance may be
the product of chance and, if so, is only a cause for curiosity. But
if it was by design that it came here, then we may be in peril, for
to move a ship to another world is an order of magic beyond my
imagining If these people, the Tsurani as they call themselves, know
we are here, and if they possess the means to reach us, then not only
must we fear armies that rival Great Kesh at the height of its power,
when its reach extended to even this remote corner of the world, we
must also face magic far greater than any we have known.”

Borric nodded, for the conclusion was
obvious, once pointed out. “We must have Kulgan’s counsel
on this at once.”

“One thing, Arutha,” said
Tully. The Prince looked up from his chair, for he had been lost in
thought. “I know why Xomich tried to run from you and your men.
He thought you were creatures he knew in his own world, centaurlike
creatures, called Thün, feared by the Tsurani.”

“Why would he think that?”
asked Lyam, looking puzzled.

“He had never seen a horse, or
any creature remotely like it. I expect these people have none.”

The Duke sat down again. Drumming his
fingers on the table, he said, “If what Father Tully says is
true, then we must make some decisions, and quickly. If this is but
an accident that has brought these people to our shores, then there
may be little to fear. If, however, there is some design to their
coming, then we should expect a serious threat. Here we are the
fewest in number of all the Kingdom’s garrisons, and it would
be a hard thing should they come here in force.”

The others murmured agreement, and the
Duke said, “We would do well to try to understand that what has
been said here is still only speculation, though I am inclined to
agree with Tully on most points. We should have Kulgan’s
thoughts upon the matter of these people.” He turned to Pug.
“Lad, see if your master is free to join us.”

Pug nodded and opened the door, then
raced through the keep. He ran to the tower steps and took them two
at a time. He raised his hand to knock and felt a strange sensation,
as if he were near a lightning strike, causing the hair on his arms
and scalp to stand up. A sudden sense of wrongness swept over him,
and he pounded on the door. “Kulgan! Kulgan! Are you all
right?” he shouted, but no answer was forthcoming. He tried the
door latch and found it locked. He placed his shoulder against the
door and tried to force it, but it held fast. The feeling of
strangeness had passed, but fear rose in him at Kulgan’s
silence. He looked about for something to force the door and, finding
nothing, ran back down the stairs.

He hurried into the long hall. Here
guards in Crydee livery stood at their post. He shouted at the two
nearest, “You two, come with me. My master is in trouble.”
Without hesitation they followed the boy up the stairs, their boots
pounding on the stone steps.

When they reached the magician’s
door, Pug said, “Break it down!” They quickly put aside
spear and shield and leaned their shoulders against the door. Once,
twice, three times they heaved, and with a protesting groan the
timbers cracked around the lock plate. One last shove and the door
flew open. The guards stopped themselves from falling through the
door and stepped back, amazement and confusion on their faces. Pug
shouldered between them and looked into the room.

On the floor lay Kulgan, unconscious.
His blue robes were disheveled, and one arm was thrown across his
face, as if in protection. Two feet from him, where his study table
should have stood, hung a shimmering void. Pug stared at the place in
the air. A large sphere of grey that was not quite grey shimmered
with traces of a broken spectrum. He could not see through it, but
there was nothing solid there. Coming out of the grey space was a
pair of human arms, reaching toward the magician. When they touched
the material of his robe, they stopped and fingered the cloth. As if
a decision had been made, they traveled over his body, until they
identified Kulgan’s arm. The hands took hold of him and tried
to lift his arm into the void. Pug stood in horror, for whoever or
whatever was on the other side of the void was trying to pull the
stout magician up and through. Another pair of hands reached through
and picked up the magician’s arm next to where the first held
him, and Kulgan was being pulled toward the void.

Pug turned and grabbed one of the
spears from against the wall where the shocked guards had placed
them. Before either of the men-at-arms could act, he leveled it at
the grey spot and threw.

The spear flew across the ten feet that
separated them from Kulgan and disappeared into the void. A brief
second after, the arms dropped Kulgan and withdrew. Suddenly the grey
void blinked out of existence, with a clap of air rushing in to fill
it. Pug ran to Kulgan’s side and knelt by his master.

The magician was breathing, but his
face was white and beaded with sweat. His skin felt cold and clammy.
Pug ran to Kulgan’s sleeping pallet and pulled off a blanket.
As he was covering the magician, he shouted at the guards, “Get
Father Tully.”

Pug and Tomas sat up that night, unable
to sleep. Tully had tended to the magician, giving a favorable
prognosis. Kulgan was in shock but would recover in a day or two.

Duke Borric had questioned Pug and the
guards on what they had witnessed, and now the castle was in an
uproar. All the guards had been turned out, and patrols to the
outlying areas of the Duchy had been doubled. The Duke still did not
know what the connection between the appearance of the ship and the
strange manifestation in the magician’s quarters was, but he
was taking no chances with the safety of his realm. All along the
walls of the castle, torches burned, and guards had been sent to
Longpoint lighthouse and the town below.