Sunset came soon after and the room blackened quickly. Reinheiser sat very still and noiseless, feeling small and vulnerable to the hiding demons his imagination assured him were all about. He fought off panic with every passing second and wondered if these overwhelming fits weren’t some trickery of the wizard, a subtle suggestion of promised horror, a mental ward against thieves.
After what seemed an eternity, the door creaked open and the white-robed mage entered, bearing a candle. Without taking notice of the physicist sitting in the shadows, he limped across the room, leaning heavily on his small staff, and mumbling a quick spell to close the door, then another to light the candles on the desk. Reinheiser sat amazed and amused at these small feats of wizardry and watched with continued interest, squinting to discern every movement in the weak and flickering light as the mage’s bony hands began slowly pulling back on the cowled hood.
“It should be black, I suppose,” Reinheiser said finally, smiling with satisfaction at having caught so wise a man by surprise. The hands kept moving without a hitch, undisturbed by what should have been an unexpected voice, and it was the physicist’s composure that was shaken.
“Your mark, I mean,” he continued in a less certain, almost defensive tone. “It should be black, since black is the mark of Morgan Thalasi, and that, unless I miss my guess, is who you are.”
The wizard turned slowly to Reinheiser and gave a laugh that sounded more like a hiss. “You play dangerous games, Dr. Martin Reinheiser,” he said calmly, pulling his hood back to let the intruder see what he was dealing with.
Reinheiser shuddered at the sight, for the man before him was indeed the Black Warlock, Morgan Thalasi. He was completely bald, with pallid, sickly skin that seemed stretched beyond its limits just to cover his bony frame. His black eyes showed as no more than holes in deep, sunken sockets, his cheeks hollowed and taut, as if he had wasted away, like a starved man who should have died long ago. Centuries of wickedness had indeed exacted a heavy toll on Thalasi, eating at his physical being, but not at his evil will, for that was all-enduring. The many-faceted black sapphire that was his wizard’s mark glistened from its setting on his forehead as if newly cut and polished.
“I knew it was you,” Reinheiser said, and he laughed meekly, trying to seem at ease. Despite his effort, the tremor in his voice betrayed his true feelings of terror. “I reasoned that only the mighty Thalasi was capable of the feats that the mage, Ardaz, credits to Istaahl.”
“So you were right,” the Black Warlock mocked, his voice remaining unnervingly calm and sure. “Small comfort in light of the terrible death that is about to befall you.”
Reinheiser stroked his goatee and tried to hold fast to the control and reason he needed now to get him through this. Something was going very wrong. He had never figured his meeting with Thalasi to be like this, not even in the worst of his scenarios, and his imagined pictures of the Black Warlock fell far short of the true horrors of the being standing before him. This man, appearing so physically fragile, exuded an aura of overwhelming evil and limitless power, like Satan incarnate a black hole of morality that Reinheiser knew could sweep him away on a whim to an eternity of hellfire.
“Kill me?” he asked incredulously, trying to put the idea into a preposterous light. “Why would you want to kill me?”
“For knowing my identity and intruding on my privacy, or for talking to that dog, Glendower, that you call Ardaz,” Thalasi replied. “That is surely reason enough. Or I might dismember you merely for the pleasure of dealing pain.” He hissed that wicked laugh again, as if the last idea had appealed to him.
And Reinheiser knew without doubt that this heartless creature was more than capable of such random murder. “But you summoned me!” he cried. “The mist that allowed us to escape; you had to have sent it! That’s how I finally knew your true identity. Istaahl’s magic is limited to the seacoast, and he couldn’t have reached that far inland.”
“I did conjure the mist.”
“And the sleeping Warder?”
“A simple task.”
“Then you brought me here for a purpose,” Reinheiser reasoned.
“For the map, that is all,” Thalasi said. “I reached to possess your mind; and you, thinking that some knowledge was unfolding before you, let me in. I had not the time to take control, but I saw through your eyes and perceived that you were among the night dancers. Yet I could not discern exactly where that was. So I brought you here for the map, and that is all.”
“But Mitchell—” Reinheiser began, desperately grabbing at anything that might save him.
“Mitchell is a fool!” Thalasi interrupted. “ ‘I commanded an army of millions,’ he said. Ha! I, too, lived in the United States before the holocaust, and I remember no General Hollis Mitchell. And I assure you, my memory is excellent.
“I remember you, though,” Thalasi continued. “Your work, at least, and the departure of the Unicorn from Woods Hole.”
The reminders of that other world caught Reinheiser by surprise, but in them he saw a chance and boldly forced himself under control. “Then you know that I, too, mastered an art,” he stated as proudly as he dared. “I was a master of physics and technology. I thought that was why you sent for me, for if we could combine our knowledge—”
Thalasi cut him off with a loud burst of laughter, mocking the physicist’s pitiful attempt to save his life.
“You laugh?” Reinheiser cried, leaping from his seat in anger. He realized that Thalasi would probably kill him then and there for daring to argue, but so frustrated was he by his miscalculations, and so confused by the Black Warlock’s responses and attitude, that at the moment he hardly cared. “You who knew the wonders of the world before the holocaust doubt the power of science?”
“Power?” Thalasi echoed, with such strength in his voice that it made Reinheiser huddle back into his chair. “Destructive, yes,” Thalasi went on. “That has been proven, poignantly so. But do not equate the ability to destroy with power. You confuse the two. A bomb reduces a city to a pit of bubbling tar, and you term that power. What is gained?”
Reinheiser stared at him blankly.
“Annihilation is not power,” Thalasi went on, “but the antithesis of true power.” He clenched a fist and raised his eyes to the ceiling, and Reinheiser shuddered at the sheer evil reflected in those smoldering orbs.
“Control!” Thalasi hissed. “Bending another’s will to do your bidding. Dominating his every move. That, you fool, is power!”
Still terrified, but also intrigued, Reinheiser forced himself to sit straighten Here was the master who held the key to the secrets he desired, and his craving demanded attention even above the threat to his life. “And what of knowledge?” he asked with urgency. “Does knowledge play a part?”
“Yes, yes, of course!” Thalasi replied, suddenly sounding more excited than angry. It wasn’t often that the Black Warlock found a man who could converse with him on such a level, and they were talking about his favorite subject. “Knowledge of the secrets of the universe and of the absolute powers that exist within it is the first necessity.
“The second part,” the Black Warlock went on, his fists clenched and his eyes squinting evilly to accentuate his point, “is desire. Desire to possess, to own … everything. The courage to dare to be a God!” he shouted. “And the unceasing determination to see it through.”
“Do we speak of power, or of evil?” Reinheiser asked.
“They are one,” Thalasi retorted. “Oh, the powers of the universe are absolute, and they are there for those who are good and for those who are neither good nor evil, but their strength becomes limited by the restrictions of the conscience of the first, and the lack of purpose of the second. Only the power of evil runs unleashed and unabated.”
“Surely powers are neutral,” Reinheiser argued. “Evil and good cannot be considerations.”
“Bah! That is where you err,” Thalasi explained. “There are four schools of magic, all working from t
he same absolute and universal truths. These truths, these powers, run purest in Brielle, the Emerald Witch, mistress of the first magic. But she is limited in calling upon her power because she lacks purpose. Tied to her wood and to her covenant of preserving the natural order, she becomes merely a watchdog, alerting nature to the intrusions of perversion. Outside of this domain, her magic is inaccessible and thus she is nothing better than a servant.
“You yourself have spoken with Ardaz,” the Black Warlock went. “His is the second school, the one that the Colonnae intended for me as well.”
“To adapt the truths of the universe to fit into the development of the race of man,” Reinheiser offered. “For the good of man as defined by the codes of morality put forth by the Colonnae.”
“Excellent!” Thalasi replied, enthused by the surprising understanding of the physicist. “Then you recognize the trap? The restrictions?”
“Of course,” Reinheiser answered confidently. “Though more accessible than the first school, the second is more limited in scope and effect, held in check by a strict code of imposed ethics.”
“Exactly,” the warlock said. “But there is a third school, a practice the Colonnae held in reserve for themselves and for those they serve. They kept it from us because they feared us, feared we would rise above them and no longer serve them. I, Thalasi, have found this secret, and each day my power grows.”
“Control?” Reinheiser asked.
“Control,” Thalasi echoed. “I hold no covenants and serve no codes. The powers cannot resist me. I call upon them at will and force them to do my every bidding. It is the most difficult of the magics, a discipline of unceasing concentration. Every thought and every move, I battle the constants of universal order.” His eyes glowed with lust and pride. “Do you understand the implications of what I say?” he asked Reinheiser, who sat staring in disbelief, stunned by the magnitude of the potential power the warlock was hinting at. “They are relentless foes, yet so am I. And when I win—at those times that I am the stronger—with a word I can pervert the very order of nature and tear a corpse from the arms of death to hold it undead under my control. Or I can steal a spell from the mouth of a wizard to turn it back against him, as I did with Istaahl thirty years ago.”
“Then you were indeed the strength behind Ungden’s rise,” Reinheiser said with a widening smile, for this was the way he had imagined his meeting with Thalasi. “You held the Warders at bay until the coup was completed, knowing that their oath would then bind them to Ungden and secure his position.”
Thalasi nodded his affirmation of Reinheiser’s statement and also in approval of the physicist’s continued show of reasoning ability.
“But why Ungden?” Reinheiser asked. “He hardly seems a fitting leader.”
“He is not the leader,” Thalasi explained. “He is the leader’s pawn. A man easy to please, thus easy to control, and no threat to me. And his feud with the line of Ben-rin is rooted deep in the past. Few in all Calva would have turned against the beloved Overlords of that line, yet miserable Ungden was quite eager to drive a dagger into the heart of Ben-galen.
“Thus Ungden is the smoke covering my fire. The Warders would not serve a wizard, and if I claimed the throne, my true identity would soon be revealed. I am not yet prepared for that day, though the time grows near. That is why I need your map. The slaughter of the helpless mutants will break the honor of the truest Calvans and weaken their resistance to me.”
“But what of my knowledge of technology?” Reinheiser pressed. “Surely that can aid you.”
“Speak not that word!” Thalasi commanded with sudden and renewed anger. “Technology!” he spat with utter contempt. “The fourth school of magic, a curse upon the wise and a bane to all. What is technology but a harness, making the universal powers available to any, with total disregard to their inner strength? A swordsman must discipline his mind for years to properly wield the weapon, yet any child can pick up a gun and kill. No, technology is an unacceptable danger, lacking all controls and promising nothing except eventual and total devastation at the hands of the foolish.” He didn’t have to point out the truth in his premise: Reinheiser had seen the world beyond the bubble of Ynis Aielle.
“The deeper strength,” Thalasi continued, his voice an even whisper, “is the strength of the mind in conjunction with the powers of the universe, and driving those powers by sheer desires and convictions. Given the secrets of the universal truths, you would remain a simple Faustus, playing with firecrackers. But I …” he rose up tall and terrible in his wrath and Reinheiser looked away in fear.
“Look at me!” Thalasi roared, and Reinheiser found that he had no choice but to comply. “Behold Morgan Thalasi and know you are doomed!”
Reinheiser trembled uncontrollably. He hid his face in his arms and curled up, desperately seeking a hiding place where there was none. He had never really been frightened before; even death he had accepted as an inescapable part of life.
But Reinheiser was scared now. He felt a blackness in his heart, a sense of hopelessness and despair that touched his innermost being. He waited, he prayed, for the death blow to come quickly.
It didn’t fall, and gradually some hope returned to him, though he feared that this was just Thalasi’s way of toying with him, of giving him one last glimmer of salvation before utterly damning him. Finally, he gathered up enough courage to peek out.
The warlock was sitting, apparently deep in thought. Slowly, Reinheiser straightened himself in the chair and waited for whatever was to come.
“Perhaps there is hope for you,” Thalasi said after several minutes had passed. “You have certainly proven your intelligence, and perhaps, under my guidance, you will become an asset to me.”
Reinheiser smiled hopefully, drawing disapproval from Thalasi, who returned a glare that slumped the physicist back in dismay. Thalasi pointed a finger threateningly and growled, “But never oppose me,” and Reinheiser felt cold, bony fingers close about his throat, an invisible collar that was Thalasi’s will.
Thalasi laughed aloud, secure indeed, for he no longer viewed the physicist as a threat to him. His faith in his edict of power had once again proven well-placed, for with no destruction, no death, he now owned Martin Reinheiser.
Chapter 20
Treachery Unmasked
SYLVIA WENT TO rouse the men early on the morning after Mitchell and Reinheiser had made their escape. The early haze had burned away soon after sunrise, leaving the air warm and clean, and Sylvia wanted the three guests to enjoy as much of the day outside of their rooms as possible. Unconcerned and seeking only to make the men’s stay more pleasant, the elven maiden could never have imagined at that moment that Mitchell and Reinheiser had just begun their wild ride across the plains as prisoners of the Calvan scouting party.
She sensed trouble as soon as she fitted the key into the door to their room and found it already unlocked. This was more than an oversight, she knew, for she had locked the door personally the night before. Yet the two guards beside her, as perplexed as she, assured her that they had been faithful to their watch throughout the night and that she had been the last one in or out of the room.
But the room was empty. Still not quite comprehending the magnitude of the escape, Sylvia crossed the hall to rouse Billy. The mere fact that he was there to answer her knock brought her a measure of comfort and made her believe that there must be a simple explanation for the absence of the other two.
Her relief proved short-lived, though, for her question about his companions’ disappearance jolted the sleepiness from Billy’s eyes as completely as if she had splashed him with icy water.
For every image Billy Shank held of Mitchell since they came to this world led him inescapably to one frightening conclusion. He looked grimly at Sylvia, her innocent and hopeful smile heightening his suspicions, and his anger. “Go find Arien, and quickly,” he instructed. Sylvia hesitated, waiting for more details, but Billy couldn’t bring himself to tell her that Mitch
ell and Reinheiser, his companions, were probably on their way to betray her people.
Sylvia had a good idea where her father would be on such a fair morning. She bade Billy accompany her, and he agreed, though he dreaded confronting the elf-lord with such grim news. They came upon Arien a short time later on a back balcony of the house overlooking the great gorge. He and Ryell sat quietly, enjoying the serenity of the ever wondrous spectacle of dawnslight on the Crystals.
Arien recognized immediately that something was terribly wrong when he saw his daughter, her face flushed and pained. He grasped Sylvia’s hands to steady her. “What is it?”
“They are gone!” Sylvia cried. “Captain Mitchell and Martin Reinheiser are not in their room!”
“Treachery!” Ryell yelled. “I knew that no good would come of these men.” He started threateningly toward Billy, but Arien intercepted him with an outstretched arm.
“Find Erinel,” a very calm and composed Arien said to his daughter. “Gather your friends together at once and search the tunnels to Mountaingate. Until we know more, those two are to be considered as guests and not enemies. But I want them found and brought to me.”
“They might yet be in the city,” Sylvia offered.
“Doubtful,” Arien replied, “but leave a group behind. Instruct them to search the whole of the valley and even Shaithdun-o-Illume. Now go and hurry. We will await your findings here.”
Sylvia nodded and was gone. The two guards remained at Billy’s side, unsure now of his status among their people and a bit nervous about him being so close to their Eldar. Arien, though, waved them away, steadfastly refusing to let the actions of Mitchell and Reinheiser detract from his trust of this man who had done them no wrong.
“Where have they gone?” Ryell snapped, his suspicions bubbling over and showing him to be certain that Billy must be in on some conspiracy.
Billy shrugged his shoulders and looked away, wisely withholding his theory until more information could be gathered and calmer heads prevailed.