“Tell me what you need,” said Arosha. “I can adjust this for you—I know how to do it.” The Sentinel indicated he needed help reaching the portal controls and the Conjurer put his arm around the wounded elf’s waist and helped him reach it. Laromendis shot his brother a concerned expression and with a slight shake of his head told him the Sentinel was in worse shape than at first thought. He helped the guardsman stand before the controls, and felt blood drenching his arm where he had held him.
Runes were set in a large patter, and several glowed with a faint light. “There’s magic in the device, independent of the gate power.” He pointed to the crystal Gulamendis held and said, “That will get the gate open…” He glanced around and said, “Let me study this while you look for another stone. The galasmancer should have it.”
“What stone?” asked Laromendis.
“It may be purple or blue.”
Laromendis did as he was asked and a moment later came up with a purple crystal, half the size of the yellow one his brother still held. “What is this?”
“This is what will close down this portal after we go. The gate will be useless and the demons will have to find another way to E’bar.”
“How does it work?” asked Laromendis.
With a slight smile, the pale Sentinel said, “I pull out the yellow crystal, put this one in, hit any mark on the controls…”
“And what?” asked Gulamendis.
“It explodes.”
Both brothers were mute.
The Sentinel said, “We all know I’m dead within minutes. This way is quickest and I serve the People. I can barely stand. You’d better go now, or I won’t be able to close the portal after you. Good fortune.”
Laromendis started to say something, but couldn’t find words. He nodded.
The Sentinel put the yellow crystal in a small depression in the surface of the control panel and it began to pulse with a stronger light. Laromendis repeated the spell he had heard many times, closing his eyes to focus his energies on controls designed to easily receive them. Then he opened his eyes and nodded.
Arosha struck all the runes but one and held up his hand. “I’ve put in the runes for E’bar but one and…” He started to sway on his feet, but gripped hard on the edge of the panel. “Pick any rune save that one.”
Gulamendis didn’t hesitate, just reaching over to blindly pick one and push it. A faint hum was followed by a sudden increase in the pressure in the room, as if they had a huge influx of wind, then a faint thumping sound. A grey void, with colors shimmering across the surface, like oil on water, appeared between the uprights of the portal device.
“Go, quickly,” said the Sentinel, and the brothers hesitated but a second, then stepped through. Certain death was their reward if they remained, and if death waited on the other side of the portal, what was the difference? But a chance awaited and they took it.
Suddenly they were underwater. There was a moment’s disorientation and both brothers had to use all their focus and willpower not to gasp in lungs full of water. It was dark on all sides.
In a lucid moment, Laromendis understood they were not too deep, as he had experienced the pressure of water diving for shellfish as a youth. He blew out a slight breath and felt the bubbles rise up his face. In the gloom, he knew which way was up. He grabbed his brother’s arm and pulled and they both swam furiously to the surface.
They were less than ten feet below the surface, but it felt as if it were a hundred. They broke above rolling combers and found themselves spitting out mouths full of seawater.
Gasping for air, Gulamendis said, “We aren’t dead…yet.”
Looking around, his brother said, “We have time. I have no idea where we are.”
Gulamendis said, “This isn’t Home.”
“How do you know?”
“Demons. I can sense them.”
“How many?”
“A lot.”
The chop of the seawater was relatively mild. The peak to trough was roughly six feet, so they tried to time their exploration to looking in circles as they crested on the rising water.
“Lights!” said Laromendis.
“Where?” asked his brother as he slid down into a trough and began to rise again.
“That way,” said his brother.
“I can’t see where you’re pointing. It’s as dark as a cave here.”
“You’re right.” He got close to his brother’s face and could barely make him out. There was a faint shine on his face, and he turned to look for the source.
High in the night sky rose a single moon, a slivered crescent, obscured by a heavy mist. “Fog,” said Laromendis.
“Then we’d better make for those lights before they get obscured again,” said Gulamendis. He felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder and felt himself being moved in a specific direction. He didn’t need any more convincing and began swimming in the indicated direction.
Both brothers were not particularly powerful elves, but that still gave them more strength and endurance than humans or the lesser elves of Home. And both had spent years near the ocean, so they were both good swimmers. Both had depended more times than they cared to remember on what they could bring in from the sea if they were going to eat.
“Listen,” said Gulamendis as he paused.
“What?”
“Breakers.”
“Good. I’m starting to get numb and was desperately hoping we saw lights on land and not a passing ship.”
Saying nothing more, they both set out toward the sound of breakers.
Minutes later the two exhausted, chilled elves heaved themselves out of the surf and trudged ashore in the dark. The beach was broad and welcoming, which they both counted as fortunate. A sudden crash into rocks would have almost ended their escape.
“Where do you think we are?” asked Laromendis.
“I have no idea, but with a little luck I might deduce something. We know the worlds taken by the Demon Legion, and if this is one of those, we might be able to come up with another means of reaching home.”
“You always were the one to look on the bright side of things; it’s odd how you ended up spending so much time in caves as a child.”
His brother tried to chuckle, but couldn’t quite work up the energy. “There!” he said suddenly, pointing to lights that dotted the side of the hill above them, then were again consumed in mist.
“Torches, I think,” whispered Laromendis. Without another word they started moving up the beach, cautiously in the dark. Like all of their race, they were far better equipped to see in the dark, their night vision rivaling that of most cats, but no matter how acute their eyes might be, they still needed some light and there was very little.
Instead the land was shrouded in a murky haze, and they had to work their way cautiously on a path that led upward, perhaps a game trail. Movement was slow, as the way was littered with rocks and bramble.
Gulamendis kept his voice low and said, “There are a lot of demons nearby.”
His brother whispered, “We need to get off that beach. If there are demons around, we need to find a place to hide until we can get some idea of what to do next. You were the one who told me some of those fliers can see in the dark.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” the Demon Master whispered in return. “Not many, and none of them like to fly in fog. Too easy to run into something unyielding.”
They reached a small switchback and continued up the hillside. As they got to higher ground the fog thinned and a few minutes later they broke clear of it. The sky on the other side of the cliff they climbed was aglow, and they crouched instinctively against any sentries.
Looking back the way they came, the trail vanished a few yards below them into a low-lying bank of heavy mist. Both brothers had lived on the coast enough to recognize the heavy marine air that would roll in at sundown, only to burn off by midmorning. Natural barriers like this cliff face could hold it in place if it wasn’t thick and even when it was, it w
ouldn’t extend very far inland.
Reaching the top of the bluff they saw no sign of any other living thing, but both moved with a hard-won, exhausted caution. Neither had much left for a fight or a dash. Besides, where would they flee? Back down the trail in the fog to a beach they knew nothing about?
The bluff swept away on either hand as they came to a cut at the top of the trail and found themselves on tableland. Even without fog, there was little light as the sliver of moon provided only faint illumination.
Scrub and a few scrawny trees dominated the landscape, giving them a tangle of shadows and patterns of dark grey and black, and their only sense of those shapes was provided by the distant glow in the sky beyond.
“Demons?” asked Laromendis quietly.
“No closer,” answered his brother.
“I suggest we just sit and wait for dawn.”
Gulamendis squatted on the ground, then slowly put his legs out. After a moment he said, “No,” and rose quietly.
“No, what?” asked his brother, on the verge of sitting.
“You rest. I’ll stay awake.”
“Why?” said his brother, though obviously he didn’t care to argue much.
“You spent the last three days spinning illusions while I just pointed a wand now and again. We both know I have no control over demons as long as the demon captains or lords are present, and even if I could command one, there are dozens running around.
“No, you need rest more than I do, and if we need talent tomorrow, it will be your conjurations, so you need to be rested. If we can find a place to hole up tomorrow, then I’ll sleep.”
“You have no idea how long until dawn. The sun could have set an hour ago.”
“I have no idea how long night is on this world, either, but it doesn’t matter. Sleep and I’ll keep watch.”
Not wishing to argue any more, Laromendis put his head down on his arm. It wasn’t the first time he had been forced to sleep on the ground, but right now he welcomed the hard soil beneath him as if it were a soft feather mattress.
Gulamendis was as exhausted as his brother, despite his claims otherwise, but struggled to stay alert. The sense he had of nearby demons made it far easier, and while he knew he flirted with the edges of exhaustion, he still managed to stay alert.
Hours dragged by and the Demon Master shivered while his clothing dried on his body. He wondered how his brother had fallen into slumber so quickly, then laughed silently at the thought; had he the opportunity, he also would have been fast asleep on the ground.
He studied the sky. He knew little of the sky on any world, really, as it wasn’t an area of interest, and the idea that he might recognize a constellation or other astral sign and discern their location wasn’t more than an idle thought.
He moved and hummed absently, to keep awake while his brother slept. He wondered at the strange course of events that had brought him here, and in a strange way made him closer to Laromendis than they had ever been.
As children they shared certain interests in things magical, and as initiates into the Circle of Light, they shared the early training. But when the Regent’s Meet had disbanded the Circle and, according to rumors, conspired to murder some of their more powerful members, the brothers had gone their separate ways for years.
Later they discovered that on several occasions they had almost run into each other, one time living on opposite sides of the same island for the better part of a year, though Gulamendis had been high in the hills in a cave, as his brother wryly pointed out, while Laromendis had been down in the island’s sole town working as a laborer while the purging of the Circle had continued.
Only the Demon Legion’s onslaught had put off the further persecution of the remaining members of the Circle. Gulamendis was certain others still hid, but most had answered the call of their people, and had been welcomed back to Andcardia when the Regent’s Meet granted amnesty.
Except for the Demon Masters. It was fate that spared Gulamendis, for only days before his arrival at the Regent’s court his brother had “volunteered” for the mission to seek out a refuge for the Taredhel should the demons overrun their capital.
Gulamendis had spent some time in a cage but had been allowed to live; most Demon Masters hadn’t been so fortunate.
The sky lightened and blacks resolved into greys and lighter greys. The Demon Master waited until he could see enough of the trees above them to chance moving, and woke his brother.
Laromendis came awake instantly, but it was clear he was still exhausted. He glanced around and nodded. Without comment the two elves moved into the woods.
The trees were scrawny and parched, and both brothers knew that fresh water might be a problem. The brush was dry and cracked when stepped on, so both moved slowly and with care.
Finally they reached a small clearing, an extrusion of stone that formed a ridge, and on the other side the land began to once again fall away. They peered over the stone and Gulamendis whispered, “Merciful ancestors!”
As far as the eye could see ranged fires, organized in rank and file, so a crisscross of lines of flame defined areas. Around the fires rested figures, and the Demon Master tugged at his brother’s sleeve.
They moved back away from the edge into the relative shelter of the trees. The light from the fires had been what had illuminated the sky the night before, and now they saw that it wasn’t a small fire close by, but many distant fires that had pierced the gloom.
“It’s the Legion,” whispered Gulamendis.
Laromendis said, “Where are we?” As soon as he asked, he knew it was a stupid question, for his brother had no more knowledge of their whereabouts than he did.
They exchanged silent looks, and both knew the same thing; they were on the world being used by the Demon Legion as a staging ground. The demons below were unlike any they had seen or fought, all bearing arms, organized, and resting before invasion. There was a calm that was so unnatural for demons it was frightening, and from the organization witness, they would be moving soon.
Finally Gulamendis said, “There’s one good thing here.”
“Really?” asked his brother, eyes widening.
“If they’re here, and if they are going to invade Home, that means they have a way to get there.”
“A Demon Gate?”
“They must,” said the Demon Master. “We just need to find it and get through it before they do.”
His brother shook his head. Words failed him.
CHAPTER 7
QUEG
Trumpets sounded.
James Dasher Jamison, Baron of the Prince’s Court, Envoy Extraordinary of the Kingdom of the Isles, occasional diplomat, and full-time spy turned to his companions. Pug, Magnus, and Amirantha were dressed as scholars, in light tan robes and sandals.
“One more time,” he said.
Pug smiled, but Magnus and Amirantha looked annoyed.
“One more time,” he repeated. “These stories must be the first thing you think of should you have to answer unexpected questions.
Pug looked at his son and the Warlock, and said, “I am Richard, a historian from the Royal Court of Rillanon. I have been there for years.” Pug had spent enough time in the capital city over the last hundred years that he could easily describe most of the famous aspects of the “Jeweled City,” and its recent politics had been a constant discussion among the four of them as they sailed from Krondor to Queg.
“I am his first student, Martin,” said Magnus. “I am recently to the capital and am still finding my way around.” Unlike his father, Magnus had spent relatively little time in Rillanon, so the identity chosen would serve. “I originally came from Yabon.” He knew that area very well.
Both father and son looked at Amirantha who said, “I am Amirantha, a scholar from the distant city of Maharta. I have a royal patent from the Maharaja of Muboya, courtesy of General Kaspar, First Minister to the Maharaja, commissioning me to learn all I can about the nations of Triagia, and am collecting hi
stories toward that end.”
“Try to look a little more enthusiastic,” said Jim.
“Shouldn’t we get up on deck?” asked Magnus.
Jim smiled. “Quegan protocol dictates we keep them waiting at least another five minutes, ten is better. Quegans are an odd people. They tend to self-aggrandizement, to the point of considering the Imperial Keshian Court degenerate, and see themselves as the true inheritors of all things grand and imperial. They would be a silly people if it wasn’t for that irritatingly large navy they insist on sailing all over the Bitter Sea. That gets them a great deal of respect they otherwise wouldn’t enjoy. Their position as something of a balance shifter here in the west keeps them more or less at peace with their neighbors, but should the cause arise where the Free Cities, Kesh, and the Kingdom could get over their own differences, we’d happily obliterate this island.” He said the last with a cheerful expression.
“But then you’d have a war over who got the island,” said Amirantha with a wry expression.
“Oh, I’d happily argue to just let Pug and some of his compatriots sink it.” He looked at the magician. “You could manage that, couldn’t you?”
Pug shook his head and deemed not to answer.
“What we have now is a short time of it. The Imperial Archivist is at our disposal, but only for three days. I need you to discover what you need in two, because if I must break in and steal something, I need to plan it the day before we leave.” He sighed. “While I have little problem robbing the Quegans, I do have a problem with starting a needless war, especially when we may need to be fighting a far more dire one soon. So, try not to do anything overtly suspicious. The Quegans are suspicious by nature, and you will be watched, so always remember there are eyes on you, ears nearby, even if it doesn’t seem that way. Once we leave this cabin, we will be living our roles as nobles and scholars. If you have any questions, now is the time.”
No one did, as they had rehearsed their various roles for the seven days’ sailing time from Krondor to Queg. The necessity of having to arrive in public by ship had given them a great deal of time to review their plan.