Magician's End

  The two young magicians hurried back down the hill.

  The old magician said, ‘Let me rest a while longer, then I can return.’

  ‘Rest, then,’ said Ruffio. ‘More help is on the way.’

  He went to help his students.

  Cullen and Ruffio sat motionless, while Joshua stood watch. In a trancelike state, the two magicians cautiously explored the energy of the ruby shell, examining what they could without actively engaging with it. Within the trance, they spoke to one another with mind-speech, oblivious to the world around them. ‘This is incredible,’ said Ruffio.

  Cullen said, ‘Now you can appreciate the difficulty. We can aid the elves but to join in holding this matrix of energy in place would be problematic at best, disastrous at worst.’

  Ruffio used his magic to alter his perception, looking at the flow of energies from the elven magicians to the ruby sphere. ‘I see it as if it were a tapestry,’ he said. ‘It’s as if where the elves’ magic ends, countless tiny threads of their devising intersect the magic of the sphere. It’s a clever weaving, with overlapping threads that hold other threads in place but somehow don’t truly link to them.’

  Both magicians peered at the latticework of energy. ‘The elves’ magic lattice inserts its own weft in between the strands of the alien magic, just enough to seize part of the warp,’ said Cullen. ‘I don’t know if this was by design, or by sheer luck, but they’ve turned the invaders’ spell on itself. Very clever, really.’

  Ruffio blinked and came out of the trance state. He put his hand on Cullen’s shoulder and the younger magician also came alert. Ruffio stood up, inspecting the scene around him. Magicians from Stardock had begun arriving hours ago and were doing everything they could to help, but at this point the only aid they could provide was to augment the flagging energies of the elven spell-casters. That was helping, and most of the breaches in the energy shell had been repaired. Only a few of the shadowy creatures were getting loose and they were being quickly disposed of by the actions of Sandreena and the elven Sentinels.

  ‘I don’t know what more we can do,’ said Ruffio. ‘Pug or Magnus might be able to make sense of this, but I can’t.’

  ‘I’ll keep exploring it,’ said Cullen. ‘Maybe if you talk with some of the elves?’

  Ruffio felt his eyes burn. ‘I have, and don’t know if any more discussion will help.’

  ‘Then rest. I think we’re holding our own and we should have more help shortly.’

  Ruffio nodded and moved off to find a bite to eat and a place to nap. He looked at the night sky and realized he had lost track of time. He didn’t know if it was only an hour after sunset, or an hour before dawn.

  He wondered if even Pug or Magnus could make sense of what he had seen. Then he realized he hadn’t heard from either since that odd sensation of upheaval before the storm. It wasn’t unusual for them to be out of touch for a while, but as a rule, when they knew they would be away for any significant period of time, they let Ruffio know. He was head of the Conclave after them, and should anything occur to father and son, the burden of the Conclave and Stardock fell to him.

  Suddenly he was worried: where were Pug and Magnus?

  Nakor said, ‘This place is a maze.’

  ‘Where are we?’ asked Miranda.

  Macros swept his hand around and said, ‘Let’s explore the City Forever a little.’ They rose as if on a magic platform lifting high into the sky, feeling no sensation of movement, which would have been disorienting to lesser mortals.

  Pug said, ‘Perspective helps.’

  Nakor was delighted. ‘I’ve heard the stories …’

  ‘Let’s move above the confusion,’ suggested Macros, and the four of them started travelling above the buildings, between the vaulted arches and sky-topped towers. On every hand was alien beauty. Impossibly slender, brilliantly hued minarets of crystal, or fluttering fabric, or liquid rose below them, weaving their way skyward. Fountains sent out showers of liquid silver that turned to crystals, filling the air with tinkling music as they shattered upon the tiles, only to become liquid again.

  They hovered above the centre of a magnificent boulevard, nearly a hundred yards wide. The entire street was tiled, and the tiles glowed with soft colours, each subtly different from the next, so that it appeared like a leisurely flowing rainbow.

  As the group passed over them, the tiles shifted hue and music filled the air, music that evoked a longing for another place – a softly lit glade in a scented forest, a gorgeous sunset over an alien sea, green fields beside sparkling brooks, or late-afternoon light softly colouring majestic mountains.

  The images were almost overwhelming. Pug shook his head to clear it, putting aside a dawning sadness that such a wonderful place could never be found. ‘I’ve had the same reaction to this place before,’ he said.

  ‘It’s part of the secret of the city,’ offered Macros. ‘There are more aspects to this place than can be imagined by the mortal mind. This is just a part of what there is, and it plays on more than the five senses. It feeds thoughts, feelings and false memories to you.’

  ‘What is this place?’ asked Miranda. ‘I’ve heard the stories, but it’s real. Who built it?’

  ‘We may never know,’ said Macros.

  They flew under monumental arches a thousand feet above their heads, and tiny flowers tumbled through the air around them. Sparkling white-and-gold, glowing rose-and-vermilion, green-and-blue petals showered down around them as they made for the heart of the city.

  Everywhere they looked, the eye was beguiled by forms and structures that were at first glance-jarring but within seconds achieved a relationship of colour, form, balance, and harmony. ‘Truly remarkable,’ said Magnus.

  ‘Keep alert, for occasionally others wander into this place and sometimes they can be unpleasant,’ said Macros.

  ‘I remember,’ returned Pug. ‘Tomas and I encountered a particularly nasty bunch of flying demons somewhere around here.’

  ‘Those were merely to distract you,’ said Macros. ‘They were sent to convince you that the false trap you were intended to find and name false was actually convincing.’

  ‘What are those?’ Nakor asked, pointing to rising columns in the distance.

  ‘What I was going to show you next,’ said Macros, and with a wave of his hand they were standing next to a maze of massive pillars, made of crystal or some clear material, that rose to impossible heights, their tops lost in the sky above. Within them swam motes of light and clouds of what appeared to be gas.

  ‘It looks like—’ began Miranda.

  ‘The vast universe of galaxies I just showed you,’ interrupted Macros. ‘It does, doesn’t it?’

  Pug said, ‘It’s been many years, more than a century, since I was last here, Macros. Do you know what this place is?’

  ‘No,’ said Macros. ‘Several times I came to visit. Once you’ve been here it’s really easy to return. Over the ages many have come. Ask Tomas about the time the Valheru came, Pug.’

  ‘Tomas had mentioned it just before we found you in the Garden.’

  ‘There was nothing to loot,’ said Macros, ‘despite the appearance of riches. Imagine trying to pry up some of those magical tiles to decorate a palace and discovering nothing you could do could move them even the most minuscule distance. The Valheru were never known for handling their ire well, so they lashed out and tried to destroy the city out of pique. But they never so much as put a scar on a stone.’ He pointed and a blinding line of energy shot out. Energy sizzled as it ran up and down the column and then a wave of heat washed over the onlookers.

  Macros stopped and Pug knelt where the energy had struck. He reached out and touched the invisible container that housed the floating lights. ‘Not even warm.’

  Miranda said, ‘So what are your conclusions?’

  ‘No conclusions, but suppositions, and perhaps a theory.’

  ‘The theory then,’ said Miranda, her impatience surfacing again.

 
‘I think this is … a set of plans.’

  ‘It’s a very large set,’ said Nakor.

  ‘And very detailed,’ added Magnus.

  ‘Explain,’ demanded Miranda.

  ‘I’m not sure this place even exists in any way we understand, nor that it looks remotely the way we see it.’

  It was Miranda who said, ‘Perception.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Macros. ‘You’re beginning to understand.’

  ‘When I encountered Piper, before joining with the rest of you,’ Miranda went on, ‘she showed me something called the Sundering and a host of demons rising against an army of angels, but they looked nothing as I expected them to look. First the demons were things of beauty, then things of horror, then abstractions of energy.’ She paused, then added, ‘Piper said they were unchanged, but my perspective of them changed each time.’

  ‘Imagine a blind man,’ said Macros, ‘and you take him to a sea coast, and he defines it by the salt tang on the air, the sound of waves on the shore, the sensation of warm sun or cold wind on his face, all the other factors that enter into your perception of that environment, but lacking form, colour, visual texture, or perception of distance.’

  ‘So we see this because …?’ asked Magnus.

  ‘Because you are human,’ said Macros. He smiled at Miranda and Nakor. ‘Or close enough that it makes little difference. Pug, I suspect you or Magnus have spent more time attempting to apprehend energy states that are not normal to human sight. Care to have a look?’

  Pug shifted his perspective, using magic he had developed years before to see above and below the human spectrum, and was overwhelmed by the level of energy rampant through the city. ‘It’s incredible. Beyond my understanding of the entire spectrum of energy I know.’

  ‘And beyond what I know as well, and I was doing it even longer,’ added Macros. ‘I know there are magic safeguards in place, because without them we would have been turned to ash within moments of arriving here.’ He pointed at the columns. ‘I believe those are universes.’

  ‘Really?’ said Miranda, leaning over to peer at them. ‘But they are so tiny.’

  ‘Perspective,’ said Nakor with a laugh. ‘Perhaps we are now very big. Everything is relative, remember?’

  ‘Ha!’ laughed Macros. ‘You are almost correct.’

  ‘Almost?’ puzzled Nakor. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘In all the vast universes we’ve encountered, all the places we’ve travelled to, and the tiny wonders we’ve beheld in a drop of water, there is one absolute. What is it?’

  Miranda said, ‘I’ve heard from priests the gods are absolute.’

  ‘Bah,’ said Macros dismissively. ‘I’ll get to the gods in good time. No.’

  Magnus looked self-conscious as he remembered his encounter with Helena. ‘The poets say love is absolute.’

  Macros shook his head. ‘More harm has been done in the name of love than in the name of the gods. Love of self, love of others, love of children, love of power, love of nation …’ He shook his head. ‘No, it’s something else.’

  ‘One,’ said Pug.

  Macros smiled, and Nakor grinned. ‘Of course,’ said the little demon in human form.

  Magnus took a moment, then nodded.

  Miranda said, ‘One what?’

  ‘Not one anything,’ said Magnus. ‘The abstraction “one” is an absolute so that everything else can be measured against it.’

  ‘You can’t have twice as many of something unless you can define that something,’ said Macros. ‘Or half of something.’

  ‘You need a starting point,’ said Pug. ‘And that leads us to: where did that concept come from?’

  ‘What does it matter?’ asked Miranda. ‘You’re speaking of an artificial construct. It’s a mental, academic abstraction to enable us to cope with the world.’ She narrowed her gaze, and everyone knew she was growing short-tempered. ‘I’m sure the universe went swimmingly without it before someone thought the notion of “one” up. Again, what’s the point?’

  Macros laughed. ‘You never were one for the abstract side of things. All you wanted to know was “How do I do this?” and never “Why does it work this way?”’

  ‘It’s a mathematical convention,’ said Miranda. ‘It’s not real.’

  ‘And that is the lesson!’ said Nakor, nearly jumping with the excitement he felt.

  ‘If there’s a universal language, across all realms of time and space, something that isn’t bound by different laws of nature and states of energy, it’s mathematics,’ said Macros. ‘How many times, when puzzling out how a magical spell is achieved, did you find a need to express concepts that only rendered themselves manageable through mathematics?’

  Even Miranda was forced to concede. ‘Oh, very well. It’s useful.’

  ‘More,’ said Nakor. ‘It’s a reflection of something beyond our understanding, allowing us to grapple with forces and manifestations of the universe otherwise beyond our grasp.’

  Macros reached out and tapped the side of Nakor’s head lightly with his fingertip and said, ‘There’s a great deal going on in there, isn’t there?’

  Nakor lost his smile. ‘Sometimes it worries me.’

  ‘Well, that’s what you get for sleeping with that damned Codex under your head all those years.’

  The Codex of Wodar-Hospur, the lost god of knowledge, had fallen into Nakor’s hands and he had kept it on him for many years. He had used his backpack as a pillow on most nights without knowing, until years later, that it was imparting knowledge to him, but in a random fashion, so that Nakor had many ideas that seemed to come from nowhere. He had finally given it up to the Temple of Ishap for safekeeping.

  ‘Very well,’ said Miranda. ‘What is the point?’ This time her tone was not accusing.

  ‘The point is, we can “see” all manner of things beyond the universe we see, which we call “rational”, or “objective”,’ said Macros. ‘If we take something away, we can say “less one” or “minus one”, and move on to a new value, but what if we take a null, a zero, and take one away?’ He paused. ‘We have a negative number.’

  ‘Useful for moneylenders,’ said Nakor with a smile. ‘It’s how they know they’re losing profit.’

  ‘And for many other things,’ added Macros. ‘It allows us to describe things – when we have no words or anything close to an analogy – that provide us with the means of understanding what is happening in realms beyond our knowledge.’

  Pug said, ‘So you’re saying the City is a mathematical construct?’

  Macros pointed at Pug. ‘Exactly, but a mathematics beyond any scrawl of numbers across a board or parchment. It’s a multi-dimensional equation a billion times more complex than the most complex apothecary’s formula, or the most precise engineering used by a shipwright to calculate the stresses a mast can endure or how much water a hull displaces. It is the mathematics of creation.’

  ‘All right,’ said Miranda. ‘I’m impressed with the concept, and this place is far more unnerving than anywhere I’ve been, even in the Fifth Circle of Hell, but where is this taking us?’

  ‘It is taking you to a place where perhaps you’ll be able to do what needs to be done to save … everything,’ said Macros. ‘Be patient. You’re ready for your next lesson.’

  He waved his hand and they vanished.

  Ruffio awoke to find Sandreena sleeping nearby, as well as several other magicians from Stardock. The morning light was cutting through the trees from the east. He stood up and looked around. What had begun as a small cooking station a short distance away had turned into a full-scale military field kitchen. He found that he was hungry. He walked over, casting a glance down the hillside and saw that the ruby shell seemed completely intact.

  Tanderae was overseeing the general care of the wounded and exhausted and saw Ruffio approach. ‘We have stabilized the dome,’ he said. ‘Without your aid, we would have been lost. We are in your debt.’

  ‘Your quick actions may have saved all of
us,’ Ruffio said. ‘Perhaps neither of us is indebted. Perhaps we simply needed each other.’

  ‘For my people, that is a difficult concept,’ conceded Tanderae. ‘We have been taught since birth that we are the only highly evolved people in the universe.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Don’t even ask what we think of dwarves, let alone goblins and their ilk.’

  ‘If it comes to a stand-up fight, those dwarves to your south in the Grey Towers are very handy to have on your side.’

  ‘We’ve been polite to our neighbours to the south,’ was all Tanderae said. ‘At this point the dome is holding, and some of our ’mancers are resting. This energy we control is as alien to us as it is to you, but we’ll attempt to learn more of it.’

  ‘I wish two of my fellow magicians, Pug and his son Magnus, were here,’ said Ruffio. ‘They understand more about the energies of magic than anyone I know. Pug has even taken the time to learn what he can about elven magic up in Elvandar.’

  ‘Four of their Spellweavers arrived while you were sleeping,’ said Tanderae. ‘They have been very helpful, as their magic isn’t as alien to our own as human magic can be.’

  ‘If we manage to get through this, I’d like an opportunity in the future to learn more of your arts,’ said Ruffio.

  Tanderae smiled. ‘Not long ago I would have been accused of treason even to suggest we allow a human to study our arts. How could I say no after what you’ve done for us? Of course. I will make sure of it, should we survive all this.’

  The feeling of collegiality was short-lived, for an elf warrior ran up to Tanderae and said, ‘Please come, my lord.’

  Ruffio invited himself along and found a pair of elven magicians resting nearby. One looked up at the Loremaster of the Clan of the Seven Stars and said, ‘The pressure is increasing.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Tanderae.

  ‘The best way I can explain it, my lord, is to say that something is trying to get out of a hole, and we’re trying to push it back down. We managed not only to repair the tears and the dome, but actually to increase the pressure on the forces inside.’

  The other magician added, ‘But the pressure inside is increasing. It’s building up like steam in a kettle.’