Threshold

  And the first three boats, all the landing could cope with at one time, began to do just that.

  I loved the house the instant I stepped inside it. This was a home, loved and full of cherished memories. Even Neuf regained some of her colour – and some of her hauteur – as she walked through the front door.

  “It could do with a second level,” she muttered, hands kneading into the small of her back as she looked about, “and those verandahs really must go.”

  Zabrze and Boaz both broke out into hard-voiced protest, and I smiled and left them, exploring on my own.

  I peeked apprehensively into the kitchens, then grinned to see Holdat already there, deep in animated discussion with the chief cook over a steaming pot. The room had tall windows looking across the fields rolling into the distance, and I could see the small figure of Memmon directing people as they disembarked. Field workers were hurrying about with canvas and poles; some tents could be erected by full dark, but the night was so mild I doubted many would mind sleeping in the open. They would soon have to get used to it, anyway.

  There were reception rooms, dining halls, and sleeping chambers – and a bathing pool in a verandahed enclosure – but before I could explore all of these delights Boaz found me wandering in one of the corridors and guided me back to the main part of the house.

  “Zabrze needs to see us,” he said. “There’s trouble.”

  Trouble had appeared in the form of a half-starving and half-mad slave from the building site. He had fallen from one of the boats as our flotilla had fled south and had then hidden in the river, close to the stone reed banks, until evening. That night he’d found a small boat that was still reed – it had floated free in the haste of our escape and had not been turned to stone – and he’d set sail after us.

  When the wind had died, he had rowed. I do not think he had rested much in the past few weeks. To have caught up with us within half a day of our own docking spoke of the desperation of his efforts.

  “I have news,” the man, Quebez, said, “of Threshold.” And so Azam brought him to the house.

  We congregated in one of the airy front rooms. Neuf was there, sitting close to Zabrze, I as close to Boaz. Isphet and Yaqob sat by one of the windows, Azam stood by the chair in which Quebez sat. Zeldon, who’d travelled in one of the smaller boats, now stood, arms folded, by the door to the garden. Apart from Quebez, we provided, I supposed, the head for the great body of people sprawled outside in Memmon’s hastily arranged camps.

  “Great Lord,” Quebez had unerringly picked out Zabrze as the leader of our group, “I have…I heard…”

  Azam rested a hand on Quebez’s shoulder. “If you would prefer to rest an hour or two…”

  “No, my Lord –”

  “Call me Azam,” he said gruffly, but I thought he might have to get used to such titles from those outside.

  “No, I must speak now. I must tell of what I saw.”

  We were silent, and Quebez took a deep breath and related the horror he’d witnessed while hiding in the river.

  “I thought my life had ended as the last of your boats sailed without me. Either…Nzame…or one of the great water lizards would be sure to get me. But somehow I escaped. Somehow.”

  Was it the frogs, I wondered, watching out for him?

  “I clung to the reeds of stone, and as I clung its voice sifted through my mind. It spoke to those who had succumbed. They must have been grouped about its skirts in a mass, for I saw no-one in the streets whenever I dared raise my head for breath, yet I could hear many thousands call its name, Nzame! Nzame! Nzame! Thousands.

  “Nzame demanded many things of those who proclaimed their adoration for him. He demanded that he be fed. He demanded that many would be needed to feed him, for his appetite was that of the One, and it was ever increasing.”

  “The incomposites,” I murmured, and Boaz nodded.

  “Increasing,” Quebez said, “into Infinity. Never ending, always expanding.”

  I felt Boaz shudder and I glanced about the group. Everyone, even Neuf, looked shaken.

  “Nzame said that as he was fed, then so would his power grow, and so the stone would spread in its circle about him, its diameter increasing according to the incomposite he was fed.”

  “Shetzah!” Zabrze said. “Does that mean what I think it does?”

  “He said,” and Quebez’s voice faltered, “that as the incomposites grew, then so his stone would stretch across the land. Everything in it would be stone. Everything subjected to his will.”

  “Nzame will not only turn Ashdod into stone, he’ll also eat everyone in it!” said Azam.

  “Not quite,” Quebez whispered. “Nzame said that there would not be enough people in Ashdod to sate his appetite, nor turn the entire land to stone. He would need more.”

  “And how does he intend to get these ‘more’?” Zabrze asked quietly.

  “Neighbouring realms will provide the fodder, Great Lord.”

  “Oh?” Zabrze said. “And does he expect that once word spreads of Nzame’s presence our neighbours will gladly send their peoples to feed the beast’s hunger?”

  Quebez shook his head. “Nzame has help, Great Lord. Thousands screamed his name and hurried to pay homage at his feet. Many thousands. An army.”

  “An army can be defeated –” Zabrze began.

  “Not this one, Great Lord. Nzame had changed most of them. As dusk fell and as I paddled down the Lhyl, I turned for one last look. I had moved only just in time, for a score of what had once been men were milling about on the landing.”

  “What do you mean – ‘had once been’?” Boaz said.

  “Nzame had turned them to stone, my Lord. Shambling, crumbling, moaning men of stone. They are what he will send to do his will.”

  There was complete silence.

  “As I swam, almost hoping by this stage that a water lizard would get me, I heard Nzame shout one last word.”

  “Yes?” Zabrze asked.

  “Setkoth.”

  Azam took Quebez to the kitchens for food, then returned. We had not spoken a word in his absence. I dared not look at Zabrze and Neuf. They had seven children in Setkoth.

  It was Zeldon who finally spoke. “Boaz. Tell us, who is this Nzame? Is it – he – truly the One?”

  “No. The One has no personality or mind, and it certainly would not name itself. Nzame has appropriated the concept of the One to himself, but he is not the One.”

  “Then who is he, brother?”

  Boaz looked as stricken as Zabrze. “He, or it, has come across from the Vale.”

  “The Magi are worse than fools, Boaz, to have constructed such an abomination,” Isphet said. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “I say that I will do my best to right the wrong in which I played a part, Isphet.”

  “If you are this Necromancer that Tirzah tells me you be.”

  “Then teach me, Isphet! I can do nothing groping about in the dark as I am now!”

  Isphet opened her mouth to respond, but Zabrze stopped her. “Enough! I want your thoughts on what to do now, not where to lay the blame.”

  “Boaz must be taught,” I said. “The Soulenai have said he will be the one to halt Threshold…Nzame. Isphet, can you teach him?”

  “I can teach him the fundamentals of the Elemental arts, but if he has the potential for necromancy then he needs the Graces to instruct him. Only they have the power. I must take him home.”

  “We all must go,” Zabrze said. “All of us. This house is too close to Threshold for safety –”

  “No!” Neuf cried. “I will not go any further –”

  “Damn you, Neuf!” Zabrze grasped her by the shoulders so he could force her to meet his eyes. “This house is no longer safe! I will not have you and our child put at risk!”

  She dropped her eyes, acquiescing.

  “Zabrze,” Azam said, “is there anything we can do to stop Nzame and his army now?”

  “The majority of the army st
ayed at Threshold. With the slaves who also stayed, Nzame will have ten thousand to work his will for him. Here? I have but some few hundred soldiers and some four thousand men and women who have few weapons and lack the skills to fight stone…damn it! None of us have the skills to fight an army of stone men. How does one kill stone?” He laughed harshly. “I do not know!”

  He sobered. “No. We cannot fight now, not until Boaz can give us something to fight with. But what I can do is warn. If you agree, I want to send some two score runners – messengers – about Ashdod and our neighbouring states to tell of what has occurred. To warn, and to ask for help.”

  “And do you think we’ll get that?” Yaqob asked. He had been very silent, but his voice was even and reasonable. He looked calmer within himself, and I wondered if Isphet had been talking to him.

  “Yes,” Zabrze said. “I think at least one of our neighbours will help us. Darsis, a state to the east, has a large and well-equipped army, and we have always been on good terms with it.”

  “Not if Nzame begins to eat its citizens,” Zeldon muttered, and I threw him an irritated glance.

  “And I have always been on good terms with its prince, Iraldur,” Zabrze continued. “If I send personal messages, then I hope he will aid us. It will be in his best interests to do so, anyway. Brother,” he turned to Boaz, “perhaps these Soulenai believe you can destroy Threshold when no-one else can, but you need to get into it alive and in one piece. Give me some months, and I believe I can rebuild a force that will do that for you.”

  We then discussed what needed to be done to prepare our thousands for their trek across the Lagamaal Plains to the south-east. Neither Zabrze nor Boaz knew this area well, and they questioned Isphet closely about the conditions.

  “Water?” Zabrze asked. “It will be difficult to carry enough water for five thousand.”

  “We should carry some, but we can find it. Food is scarce, though. There are hares across the Lagamaal, but not enough to feed five thousand. And unless you develop a taste for mice, beetles and snakes…”

  There were some camels and mules we could use as pack animals, but not all that many; the home estate could provide some, and Zabrze thought he’d be able to purchase more from neighbouring estates.

  “We shall have a few score,” he said, “but those people who are fit enough shall have to carry packs as well. What horses we have I want to save for our messengers.”

  Then Zabrze called Memmon in. The estate, it seemed, had great grain reserves, enough to feed us for three weeks, but little else.

  “Fish,” Zabrze said. “I want us ready to go in five days. I dare wait no longer. Azam, Zeldon, can you organise groups to go a-fishing over the next three days? And others to dry the fish.”

  They nodded.

  “And reeds to be dried and woven into baskets,” Zabrze continued, “and –”

  “And all this can be organised in the morning,” Isphet said. “There is something else I want to do while we are here, and it is best I speak now. Boaz,” and she swivelled a little on her chair, “I have heard tell how you are an Elemental. How the Soulenai wish you to train as a Necromancer to destroy Threshold. Well, I have yet to see any great demonstration of your skill, and you have yet to be presented to the Soulenai themselves. Before I commit us to a trek across the wilderness, and before I expose my home people to possible danger, I want confirmation of who and what you really are.”

  Isphet was right. Boaz was still the Magus in many people’s eyes, and it would be best if his true arts were demonstrated.

  “In two days I want to induct Boaz into the arts of Elemental magic…if the Soulenai accept him. Yaqob, will you speak to the other Elementals among us? Dawn, on the second morning from tomorrow.”

  Yaqob nodded, and after some desultory conversation we rose and ate the meal that had been laid for us, then prepared for bed. We would all be kept busy over the next few days.

  “Boaz? Tirzah?” Yaqob stopped us as we walked to the sleeping chamber assigned us. He was stiff and apprehensive, and we stiffened in response. I noticed Boaz’s eyes slide to Yaqob’s hands, as if expecting another attack.

  “I should apologise for what I –”

  “No,” Boaz stopped him. “No, you should not. For many months I shamed both you and Tirzah with my words and actions. As I lay slipping in and out of consciousness, as you and Zabrze fought to right some of the wrong I had caused, I heard Isphet tell Tirzah that as I had torn Tirzah apart with my power, so I suffered likewise. She did not think it a coincidence, and neither do I. Perhaps other hands besides yours guided that sword into my belly, Yaqob. There is nothing you should apologise for. Nothing.”

  Boaz paused, searching for the words. “If anyone needs to seek forgiveness, then it is I. Yet it is not something I can ask for, Yaqob, only something I can earn. I hope that eventually my actions will go some way towards negating the evil and unhappiness I have helped propagate.”

  “Boaz,” I murmured, and took his arm, wishing he had said this to me in private, but knowing it had to be said before Yaqob.

  Yaqob stared at Boaz, then at me. “Destroy Threshold,” he said, “and treasure Tirzah.”

  He hesitated awkwardly, then walked away down the darkened corridor.

  We watched him go, and I hoped that a corner had been turned here this evening.

  Among the thousands who had fled Threshold there were only some three dozen Elementals. I realised that this number must be close to the total number of Elementals the building site had held. Over the years, Isphet had managed to gather the majority into her workshop. She was special, and most Elementals had gravitated to her.

  This morning I, as all the others, was about to find out just how special.

  I wondered what Isphet would use to summon the swirling colours and initiate the rite when she no longer had the molten glass.

  The night before the dawn rite Isphet talked quietly with several of the boat-men from the estate, and when we rose in the chill pre-dawn darkness it was to find that eighteen small flat-bottomed punts awaited us at the landing. We all climbed in without speaking, two to a punt, and Boaz took the pole and pushed the punt he and I shared away from the landing. I watched him carefully, thinking it might be too much for him, but Boaz coped with ease.

  Isphet and Yaqob led the procession of craft into the lake. We kept silent, letting the sounds of the awakening land soothe us. Mist drifted across the lake, tangling in the great reed banks to each side, but it was not thick, and as rose light stained the eastern horizon the reed banks retreated, and we found ourselves in open waters that were still shallow enough for the poles.

  Isphet drew us to a spot so deep within the lake that the reed banks were a green line in the distance. She indicated with her hands, and the boats manoeuvred into a great circle and poles were shipped. I thought we would drift out of position, but perhaps the magic was already strong about us, for the circle remained complete.

  Again at Isphet’s signal, those of us still seated rose and faced inward, the boats hardly rocking. We were all clothed in robes of pale hue, no jewellery, no belts or sashes. Hair was left to flow free and be caught by the cold breeze.

  All eyes were on Isphet. She was dressed in pure white, and with her black hair flowing over her shoulders, and her extraordinary dark eyes I thought she looked a witch.

  She surely commanded all of us.

  We were still, our gazes riveted on her.

  Slowly she raised her arm, then, in an abrupt motion, cast her hand over the water before her in a great arc.

  As one millions of pink and red Juit birds launched into the sky from the reed banks, their wings making a great roar over the lake. I stared at Isphet, thinking that the undulating pink and red rising behind her looked like a great sheet of flame.

  Then a different movement caught my eye and I looked down. The water contained within the circle of our boats was swirling in such great motion it was like a whirlpool, though none of the boats at its edge m
oved. Dawn light had spilled over all of us now, and I could see that the green water whirled to black in the pit of its circle.

  Isphet moved again, casting her powdered metals into the water, and colour swirled there: blue, then at Isphet’s command, red, then gold, and finally a brilliant emerald.

  “Feel,” she whispered about the circle, “feel the colours…listen…listen…listen, Boaz, can you feel us listening too?”

  Yes.

  Yes, he did. He was one of us, and not frightened as I had been when first submerged in the power of the colours. He let the power embrace him effortlessly, completely.

  Yes.

  I could hear a rushing – the water, increasingly maddened – but I ignored it, letting the power submerge me as well.

  Then the Soulenai were among us.

  I shuddered, for their presence was different – stronger – from what I’d ever felt before. Far more vigorous.

  Submit, Boaz, I felt Isphet urge, let their power and grace suffuse you, enrich you.

  As I leaned my head back, eyes closed, letting their presence filter through me, I felt Boaz do the same.

  Again he accepted without hesitation.

  Submit…This time the Soulenai spoke, and I could feel the curiosity as they rippled through Boaz, exploring, touching.

  He accepted it all.

  They moved through each of us, and between us as well – something I’d never felt them do previously.

  I opened my eyes. Were the Soulenai walking among us? It felt like it, oh, it did, because this was power such as I’d never felt before. They were vital in this place, very strong, and I wondered why.

  Then they spoke.

  The Elemental arts are dying about the land. War has arrived once more, and the land again turns to stone. Eventually, even the Song of the Frogs will die. Then all will be lost. We charge you gathered here with the reversal of the stone and with the renewal of the land. You are all beloved, and you will all have to shoulder the responsibility of the resurrection.