Magician (70 page)

Macros nodded. “Bravely said,
lady, but you will need my aid.”

Dolgan studied the sorcerer. “What
can one man do?”

Macros stood. “Much. Upon the
morrow, you shall see. Fear not, dwarf, the battle will be harsh, and
many will travel to the Blessed Isles, but with firm resolve, we
shall prevail.”

Tomas said, “You speak like one
who has already seen these things happen.”

Macros smiled, and his eyes said a
thousand things, and nothing. “I do, Tomas of Crydee, do I
not?” He turned to the others and with a sweep of his staff
said, “Ready yourselves. I shall be with you.” To the
Queen he said, “I would rest; if you have a place for me?”

The Queen turned to the elf who had
brought Macros to the council. “Take him to a room, bring him
whatever he requires.”

The sorcerer bowed and followed the
guide. The others stood in silence, until Tomas said, “Let us
make ready.”

As night gave way to dawn, the Queen
stood alone near her throne. In all the years of her rule, she had
never known a time like this. Her thoughts ran with hundreds of
images, from times as long ago as her youth, and as recently as two
nights ago.

“Seeking answers in the past,
lady?”

She turned to see the sorcerer standing
behind her, leaning on his staff. He approached and stood next to
her.

“Can you read my mind, sorcerer?”

With a smile and a wave of his hand,
Macros said, “No, my lady. But there is much I do know and can
see. Your heart is heavy, and your mind burdened.”

“Do you understand why?”

Macros laughed softly. “Without
question. Still, I would speak to you of these things.”

“Why, sorcerer? What part ,do you
play?”

Macros looked out over the lights of
Elvandar “A part, much as any man plays.”

“But you know yours well.”

“True. It is given to some to
understand what is obscure to others. Such is my fate.”

“Why have you come?”

“Because there is need. Without
me Elvandar may fall, and that must not be. It is so ordained, and I
can only do my part.”

“Will you stay if the battle is
won?”

“No. I have other tasks. But I
will come once more, when the need is again great.”

“When?”

“That I may not tell you.”

“Will it be soon?”

“Soon enough, though not soon
enough.”

“You speak in riddles.”

Macros smiled, a crooked, sad smile.
“Life is a riddle. It is in the hands of the gods. Their will
shall prevail, and many mortals will find their lives changed.”

“Tomas?” Aglaranna looked
deep into the sorcerer’s dark eyes.

“He most visibly, but all who
live through these times.”

“What is he?”

“What would you have him be?”

The Elf Queen found herself unable to
answer. Macros placed his hand lightly on her shoulder. She felt calm
flow from his fingers and heard herself say, “I would wish
nothing of trouble upon my people, but the sight of him fills me with
longing. I long for a man . . . a man with his . . . might. Tomas is
more like my lost lord than he will ever know. And I fear him, for
once I make the pledge, once I place him above me, I lose the power
to rule. Do you think the elders would allow this? My people would
never willingly place the yoke of the Valheru upon their necks
again.”

The sorcerer was silent for a time,
then said, “For all my arts, there are things hidden from me,
but understand this: there is a magic here fey beyond imagining. I
cannot explain save to say it reaches across time, more than is
apparent. For while the Valheru is present within Tomas now, so is
Tomas present within the Valheru in ages past.

“Tomas wears the garb of
Ashen-Shugar, last of the Dragon Lords. When the Chaos Wars raged, he
alone remained upon this world, for he felt things alien to his
kind.”

“Tomas?”

Macros smiled. “Think not upon
this overly long, lady. These sorts of paradox can send the mind
reeling. What Ashen-Shugar felt was an obligation to protect this
world.”

Aglaranna studied Macros’s face
in the twinkling lights of Elvandar. “You know more of the
ancient lore than any other man, sorcerer.”

“I have been . . . given much,
lady.” He looked over the elven forests and spoke more to
himself than to the Queen: “Soon will come a time of testing
for Tomas. I cannot be sure what will occur, but this much I do know.
Somehow the boy from Crydee, in his love for you and yours, in his
simple human caring, has so far withstood the most powerful member of
the most powerful mortal race ever to have lived upon this world. And
he is well served in withstanding the terrible pain of that conflict
of two natures by the soft arts of your Spellweavers.”

She looked hard at Macros. “You
know of this?”

He laughed with genuine amusement.
“Lady, I am not without some vanity. I’m stung you’d
think you could fashion so fine a spellweaving without my observing.
Little magic in this world escapes my notice. What you have done is
wise and may tip the balance in Tomas’s favor.”

“That is the thought I plead to
myself,” said Aglaranna quietly, “when I see in Tomas a
lord to match the King of my youth, the husband taken too soon from
my side. Can it be true?”

“Should he survive the time of
testing, yes. It may be the conflict will prove the end of both Tomas
and Ashen-Shugar. But should Tomas survive, he may become what you
most secretly long for.

“Now I shall tell you something
only the gods and I know, I can judge many things yet to come, but
much is still unknown to me. One thing I know is this: at your side
Tomas may grow to rule wisely and well and, as his youth is replaced
by wisdom, grow to be the lord of your wishes, if his power can
somehow be tempered by his human heart. Should he be sent away, a
terrible fate may await both the Kingdom and the free peoples of the
West.”

Her eyes asked the question, and he
continued. “I cannot see into that dark future, lady; I can
only surmise. Should he come into his powers with the dark side in
preeminence, he will be a terrible force, one that must be destroyed.
Those who see the battle madness come upon him see but a shadow of
the true darkness bound up within him. Even if a balance is struck
and Tomas’s humanity survives, but still you send him away,
then humanity’s capacity for anger, pain, and hate may come
forth. I ask you: should Tomas be driven away and someday raise the
dragon standard in the north, what would occur?”

The Queen became frightened and openly
showed it, her mask of control lost completely. “The moredhel
would gather.”

“Aye, my lady. Not as bands of
troublesome bandits, but as a host. Twenty thousand Dark Brothers,
and with them a hundred thousand goblins, and companies of men whose
dark nature would seek profit in the destruction and savagery to
follow. A mighty army under the steel glove of a warrior born, a
general whom even your own people follow without question.”

“Do you advise me to keep him
here?”

“I can only point out the
alternatives. You must decide.”

The Elf Queen threw back her head, her
red-gold locks flying and her eyes moist, looking out over Elvandar.
The first light of day was breaking. Rosy light lanced through the
trees, casting shadows of deep blue. The morning songs of birds could
be heard around the glades She turned to Macros, wishing to thank him
for his counsel, and found him gone.

The Tsurani advanced as Macros had
foretold. The cho-ja attacked across the river, after the two human
waves had carried the flanks. Tomas had set skirmishers, lines of
bowmen with a few shield guards, who retreated and fired into the
advancing army, giving the impression of resistance.

Tomas stood before the assembled army
of Elvandar and the dwarves of the Grey Towers, only fifteen hundred
arrayed against the six thousand invaders and their magicians. In
silence they waited. As the enemy approached, the shouts of Tsurani
warriors and the cries of those who fell to elvish arrows could be
heard through the forest. Tomas looked up at the Queen, standing on a
balcony overlooking the scene of the coming battle, next to the
sorcerer.

Suddenly elves were running toward
them, and the first flashes of brightly colored Tsurani armor could
be seen through the trees. When the skirmishers had rejoined the main
force, Tomas raised his sword.

“Wait,” a voice cried out
from above, and the sorcerer pointed across the open clearing, where
the first elements of the Tsurani forces were running into the
clearing. Confronted by the waiting elven army, the vanguard halted
and waited as their comrades joined them. Their officers ordered
ranks formed, for here was fighting they could understand, two armies
meeting on an open plain, and the advantage was theirs.

The cho-ja also stood in ordered ranks,
heeding the officers’ shouted commands Tomas was fascinated,
for he still knew little of these creatures and counted them animals
as much as intelligent allies of the Tsurani.

Macros shouted, “Wait!”
again, and waved his staff above his head, inscribing broad circles
in the air. A stillness descended upon the glade.

Suddenly an owl flew past Tomas’s
head, straight for the Tsurani lines. It circled above the aliens for
a moment, then swooped and struck a soldier in the face. The man
screamed in pain as its talons clawed his eyes.

A hawk sped past and duplicated the
owl’s attack. Then a large black rook descended from the sky. A
flight of sparrows erupted from the trees behind the Tsurani and
pecked at faces and unprotected arms. Birds came flying from every
part of the forest and attacked the invaders. Soon the air was filled
with the sound of flapping wings as every manner of bird in the
forest descended upon the Tsurani. Thousands of them, from the
smallest hummingbird to the mighty eagle, attacked the out-world
host. Men cried out, and a few broke formation and ran, trying to
avoid the wicked beaks and talons that tried to scratch at eyes, pull
at cloaks, and tear flesh. The cho-ja reared, for though their
armored hide was immune to the pecking and clawing, their large,
jewellike eyes were easy targets for the feathered attackers.

A shout went up from the elves as the
Tsurani lines dissolved in disorder. Tomas gave the order, and elven
bowmen added feathered arrows to the fray. Tsurani soldiers were
struck and fell before they could come to grips with the enemy. Their
own bowmen could not return the fire, for they were harried by a
hundred tiny foes.

The elves watched as the Tsurani tried
to hold position, while the birds continued their bloody work in
their midst. The Tsurani fought back as best they could, striking
down many birds in midflight, but for each one killed, three took its
place.

Suddenly a hissing, tearing sound cut
through the din. There was an instant of silence as everything moving
on the Tsurani side of the clearing seemed to pause. Then the birds
exploded upward, accompanied by a sizzling crackle of energy, as if
thrown back by some unseen force. As the birds cleared the area,
Tomas could see the black robes of the Tsurani magicians as they
moved through their forces, restoring order. Hundreds of wounded
Tsurani lay upon the ground, but the battle-tempered aliens quickly
re-formed their lines, ignoring the injured.

The enormous flight of birds gathered
again above the invaders and started to dive. Instantly a glowing red
shield of energy formed around the Tsurani. As the birds struck, they
stiffened and fell, their feathers smoldering and filling the air
with a pungent burning stench. Elven arrows that struck the barrier
were halted in midflight and burst into flame, falling harmlessly to
the ground.

Tomas gave the order to stop the bow
fire and turned to look at Macros. Again the sorcerer shouted,
“Wait!”

Macros waved his staff and the birds
dispersed, hearing his silent command. The staff extended toward the
Tsurani, as Macros aimed it at the red barrier. A golden bolt of
energy shot forth. It sped across the clearing and pierced the red
barrier, to strike a black-robed magician in the chest. The magician
crumpled to the ground, and a shout of horror and outrage went up
from the assembled Tsurani. The other magicians turned their
attention to the platform above the elven army, and blue globes of
fire shot toward Macros. Tomas shouted, “Aglaranna!” in
rage as the tiny blue stars struck the platform, obliterating all
sight of her in a blinding display of exploding light. Then he could
see again.

The sorcerer stood upon the platform
unharmed, as did the Queen. Tathar pulled her away, and Macros
pointed with his staff again. Another black-robed magician fell. The
four remaining magicians looked upon Macros’s survival and
counterattack with expressions of mixed awe and anger, clearly seen
across the glade. They redoubled their assault upon the sorcerer,
wave after wave of blue light and fire striking Macros’s
protective barrier. All upon the ground were forced to turn away from
the sight, lest they become blinded by the terrible energies being
unleashed. After this magical onslaught was ended, Tomas looked
upward, and again the sorcerer was unharmed.

One magician gave out with a cry of
pure anguish and pulled a device from his robe. Activating it, he
vanished from the clearing, followed moments later by his three
companions. Macros looked down at Tomas, pointed his staff at the
Tsurani host, and called, “Now!”

Tomas raised his sword and gave the
signal to attack. A hail of arrows passed overhead as he led the
charge across the clearing. The Tsurani were demoralized, their
attack blunted by the birds and the sight of their magicians being
killed and driven off. Yet they stood their ground and took the
charge. Hundreds had died from the claws and beaks of the birds, and
more from the flights of arrows, but still they numbered three to one
of the elves and dwarves.