Fifty- One
There is, unfortunately, a great misunderstanding of what the Way of the Wise, often called magic, is. If one were crudely looking for power, he could turn to politics, the accumulation of money, or the rough edge of a sword. What the ancient teaching is about is not power over, but inhabiting and participating in the very potency of the enchanted world.
-from The Encyclopedia of First Teachings , Ollam Vygesserit
SOLAHN
“I thought you were dead, and I was simply going to make the best of it,” Queen Iokaste said, motioning for her servant not to pour, taking the golden jug from his hands and herself pouring a cup of wine for her son.
“The news came almost immediately to me that your father had died, that you had died. I heard something about the Temple falling. As you can guess, to me it was the least important news. All I knew was there were strange goings on in the West. And then Ermengild died.”
“The Queen of Chyr?”
“Yes,” Queen Iokaste said. “For a time I thought maybe, somehow, your uncle had a hand in that too. But it was old age, I am sure. I did not want to do anything. I did not want to do anything but be miserable, but the court said that wasn’t an option. The night I heard you all were dead I knew Bellamy had done it. I also knew that I had to do something. I could not allow him to simply come here and make himself king, but there was no way I could see to stop him. The city is up in arms against him. They’ll never receive him. That’s for sure. This only worried me more because it meant that the fair city of the Solahni would come under siege. It would suffer, and in the end give way. It had to. With you gone, Bellamy was the true heir to the Throne. There are cousins, yes, but they would contest among themselves who should be king. Civil war was certain.”
Iokaste stopped talking and looked, from her couch, over the porch. They were in Wheat Palace, one of the royal houses outside of the city, and from here they looked out on green fields though, as they had come on the road, Mehta had seen, in the distance, the walls of small towns, the suburbs of the great city of the kings of Solahn.
“I moved everything here,” Iokaste said. “I would rather fight here than in the city. When I came to marry your father, the court called me a foreigner. But my grandmother was of the royal House of Solahn. See, this land is my care as well.
“But you are here,” the Queen placed a firm hand on her son’s knees. “You have escaped the wiles of that sorcerer with the help of these…” she gestured to Mehta and Yarrow, “brave friends. And with this prince of Chyr.”
The man who sat beside the Queen and looked just like her said to Ethan, “That is the one thing which has bought us time. As you will know, a princess of Chyr, one… Tealora, is the new heir, and she is the wife of Bellamy. He has gone to claim the throne there. Perhaps he thought it would be easier. He does not wish to divide his army in two.”
“Uncle, we know of this,” Rendan said to Iokaste’s brother. “He has the aid of Phineas,” Iokaste said, darkly, “And of the Black Hand and their sorcery.”
“But Chyr had magic of its own,” Yarrow said.
“Had,” the Queen said. “Where is Ohean after all these years? And where are the folk of the Ancient Wood? There was magic in Chyr, but from what I have heard it is gone.”
“Enchantment,” Yarrow began, “once cast upon a land never truly fades. When the people cry out, they are not abandoned.”
“This is what we have hoped,” Iokaste’s brother said. “Day in and day out the doors to the House of Banthra are open. We hope that, in our time of need, the Tiger will rise.”
“Hektar, that is not mete,” Iokaste said to her brother. “After all, today, out of the grass and from traveling under the earth, here is my son, restored like one dead. There is the beginning of miracles. With him come friends from other lands, a Chryan prince, noble Zahem soldiers and a magical woman. This is cause for great praise.”
“And if it is true,” Rendan said, “that Bellamy is making his ships ready for Chyr, then so much the better for us.”
“Phineas is still here,” Hektar reminded him. “He is in this land and he is coming closer every day.”
“Perhaps,” Rendan allowed. “But he is not here today. We are, and that is the point.”
“And what is more,” Yarrow continued, “there are many things he doesn’t know. Many things that will make it much harder for your Bellamy to take any throne, here or in Chyr. There is magic in Chyr. And there is, if not a king, then at least a new Queen.”
“What?” Queen Iokaste began, but it was Mehta who said, “Wait, Ma’am, and we will tell you all.”
UNDER THE EARTH
The Dwarf who had rushed in was Thumbprick, and nearly as soon as he had shouted to Andvari, the noise grew louder beyond the garden. This place had seemed so peaceful, and such a relief after the long day’s tunneling through caves. Now they followed Andvari, and really they all followed Ohean, whose arms were outstretched and whose staff was thrust forward. Coming through the forest it was Theone who noticed first that the green leaves were sharp jewels, jade, crystal, glittering emerald, and they were passing through a mineral forest.
And then the forest ended at a ridge, and beneath them they heard the terror of the great city of the Small People. It was all up and arms and however it was lit normally, now it burned. All through the fiery streets the Small Folk raced, toward the horizon, toward where the fire burned and here and there on a tower, one squat and knotted dwarf with a short sword battled something twice the height of a man, with a face like a man almost, but also, possibly like a lion, maned, and horned, or shaggy, golden and red. These bore whips and the swung swords that sizzled and Andvari was gone, descending into the fray.
“What,” Arvad wondered, “Do we do?”
Soren looked at Kenneth who nodded grimly, and he said, “I suppose we fight.”
“What?” Theone snapped.
“See here,” she shouted above the din. “I’ve lost you after all this time and you would leave me to die under the earth, fighting some hell creature you know not what? No.”
“Theone,” Soren said, tenderly. “Listen. You may be queen in the world above, but not here. Here we must do this.”
And then Soren caught the cliff’s edge where he stood and leaping off, declared, “We will return,” and leapt off.
“That’s my cue,” Anson said, taking a bow and pulling out his blade.
“Kenneth, do you still remember how to fight?”
“Fuck you, I do!” Kenneth said.
“Mother, bless me.” Anson said.
Essily placed her hands on his head and wiped her pale hair from her face, and then Anson knelt before Ohean, who laid his hands on his head and whispered words of enchantment. He did the same for Kenneth as well, and the prince and former Hand took hands and leapt into the fray together.
“He is a warrior,” Ohean said. “Before all things.”
Suddenly Arvad embraced Conn, and then he kissed him quickly and was gone too, leaving Conn quite surprised. Dahlan looked to Ohean who scowled, and Essily said, “Don’t even think about it.”
“Then what do we do?” Conn wondered. “Surely not stand here and watch while our friends plunge into the middle of it.”
“No,” Ohean said wearily, “No, certainly not. We will not go into the middle of it. We will go to the end of it,”
And instead of leaping off the edge, leisurely, seemingly heedless of the screaming and explosions below, he walked along the edge as the path slowly lowered into the city.
“Come now,” Ohean said. “Let us go.”
“It is like a human city,” Dahlan said. “But at the same time it’s like little mountains grown together and twisting out of each other.”
He said it more to distract from the people running up and down the streets, shouting.
“Have you noticed,” Theone said, as they walked against the crowd, that, for the most part was running in the opposite direction, “that there are no women?”
“Maybe it’s because these are all fighters.” Conn supposed.
“I have never seen,” said Ohean, “in all of my days, nor heard tale of anyone seeing, a female Dwarf—”
The last word was cut off by a great explosion, followed by a shuddering quake so great Ohean nearly fell, but Essily steadied him.
Ohean righted himself on his staff, and at that moment a gout of fire blasted from an alley, and out came a creature with a face broad as a bull’s and a blazing yellow body. It had the muscled thighs of a man, but was fur bellied. It made a sweep for Ohean’s staff, but Ohean, steady now jabbed it in the belly. It roared, then jumped back, smelling of sulphur, darkening the air around them. The Muspel made for Ohean, lunging as if he might land on the wizard, but Dahlan jumped in front of him and while Ohean shouted, “No, you idiot—” the monster lunged on the boy, and then gave a gurgling howl as the immense thing collapsed upon Dahlan like a wall.
Conn had his knife in it, and Essily, Dissenbark and Theone were slashing at the Muspel too.
Ohean set down his staff and was murmuring in a long, musical tone as he began tp push the beast, turning it over. It came away, its belly oozing blood, Dahlan’s hair sticky with blood, his short dagger still firmly gripped in his hands and sunk in its stomach.
“I just let it fall on me,” Dahlan smiled, trying to look nonchalant, though he was gasping.
“Don’t you ever do that a—” Ohean began, but there was another shake of the land and another roar, and Ohean said, “Further on. Further in. That’s why we’re here. Let’s go.”
They walked on, and now the streets were more desolate. This must have been a marketplace. It was abandoned now, carts overturned, fruits smashed. From high windows fires burned.
“I need to rest,” Theone said, making her way to an overturned vegetable cart. “I need to rest and that’s a fact. Pray the Twins our friends are safe.”
But even as she said this, there was a great roar. It was greater than any before, and then another earthquake. Ahead of them a great chunk of rock from above crashed into the middle of the street.
“Essily!”
“Yes,” she said, and clearly something had passed between Essily and Theone.
“Dissenbark. Tea, to me.”
Ohean pulled Dahlan and Conn into his cloak and began a charm as around them towers fell.
“You are young but gifted,” Ohean said to Conn. “This chant has no words, join your music to mine.”
Conn nodded, and the crashes continued until Conn wished to put his hands over his face and scream. And then it stopped, and there was nothing but darkness.
There was darkness for a long while, and then there was a sizzling and a snapping and Dissenbark whispered: “What… the hell…. Is that?”
It was Arvad who said: “A voice.”
It was a while before they could all hear the voice repeating: “You. You. You.”
You delve into my lands
You take from my hands
You dare you fingers feel
With that which was my Jewel
“Not much of a po…” Dahlan began. He had meant to say, “Not much of a poet, is he?” and laugh, but this voice filled the place, and dried his mouth, and he was aware of his weakening bladder, his melting bowels, the blood and gore on his face.
And now the ground was shaking again, harder now so that they went to their knees, and stones were falling from far above and the houses were cracking. And then, filling the sky, it came, winged, filling the darkness with its greater darkness, and one foot touched the earth, and it was a fire wrapped in smoke, and a whip, electric and whining, like a lightning serpent cracked the earth and split it, and it stopped feet in front of them, and they were seen by snapping eyes. By now Dahlan was standing, and all too quickly he realized this thing was after Ohean, and Ohean had knocked him back, and there stood Ohean, facing it. Through the darkness, like lightning in a whirlwind, high above the eyes snapped, and these were the eyes of Mozhudak.
“Ohean—”
Dahlan began, but he was shoved back by a shock of lightning and then he knew it was Ohean who had done it, and now Ohean cast up a wall of twinkling light between himself and the others. The demon flicked its whip and Ohean stamped his staff and, flicking his whip again, the demon roared:
Ashavagnag vonuata dosetate Ohean astanante!”
And Ohean said not a word, but when the demon flicked his whip around his staff, fire ran up the staff and up the whip into Mozhudak and the demon shrieked high above.
Everything shook. Now Theone heard shouting, and she turned, looking for more demons, only to see Anson with Kenneth behind him. Anson, Callasyl blazing, ran for Ohean, but Theone and Essily pulled him back this time, and Mozhudak roared. This time there was a whirlwind touching down, and it was Conn who saw it was finger. A charge went from it, and it broke the staff of Ohean and Ohean fell back like one dead. The wall he had cast shattered like diamond chips, fading, and Anson ran to cover Ohean’s body, heedless of his safety, but Dissendark heeded their safety. Desperately, Theone raised the Jewel and her mouth fell open in horror when it sat in her hands, heavy, cold and dead.
“Come on!” she screamed. “Damn you! Come on!”.
The Demon did not look like any one person. Mozhudak was all winds and wild storms, eyes of lighting, tornado whip, and trembling earthquake with fire for body. Lightning and thunder wrapped about the place and Dissenbark, seeing this demon lean closer to destroy the comatose wizard, the desperate Anson and the screaming Theone, screamed out her own word and just like that, the earth cracked.
She kept screaming and the earth kept cracking, and now there was a hands on her, and these were the hands of Connleth Aragareth and of Essily, and Essily hissed, “Do not… stop. Do not…”
She felt Conn around her, Conn the young Blue Priest of unknown powers. She felt Essily in her, she felt this woman’s, Nimerly’s sister, power joining her as new power welled in her. She was opening up the earth and Mozhudak was screaming, and she was saying words, and the words were like nets and ropes and locks and she did not know them, but she was saying them, and they poured out of her mouth like fire, or like rock or like burning rock and over and over the words. She heard Ohean whisper the first to her:
“Masgare…”
And she repeared it again and again, “Masgare, Masgare….”
And then Essily’s voice in her head joined Ohean’s,” Masgare, Kavana, Masgare, Kavana….”
They were opening up something in her. Their power was a key, or rather it was like something piercing a wall in her and how, from out of her leapt the charm she’d never known.
“Masgare Kavana, Masgare Kavana indeneatha, invande, ilthuen!”
It poured out of her, a river of words, a flowing hot magma of enchantment.
“Masgare Kavana, Masgare Kavana indeneatha, invande, ilthuen! Masgare Kavana, Masgare Kavana indeneatha, invande, ilthuen!”
And the screaming of Mozhudak was becoming fainter, and Dissenbark’s vision was getting dimmer, and the world was swimming around her, and everything was pouring out of her, and then Dissenbark’s mouth and throat felt like the time she smoked her father’s fireweed and ended up not being able to talk for a day.
Everything blackened, and then everything browned, and she knew no more.
