An hour later he was moving on one of the newly constructed roads, cut into the eastern face of the mountains, a dozen yards below the ridge line. Along the peaks above him, he could see defensive emplacements. He could tell the men were ready, as they ran, carrying supplies, shouting commands, and readying weapons. The fighting hadn’t started yet, but Erik could tell the enemy was close.
He rode as fast as he could. He studied every foot of the ridge above him as he rode past.
While the front was a hundred miles long, roughly fifty on each side of Darkmoor, the northern command post was located just twenty miles north of the city. Erik reached it by midday.
Jadow Shati stood outside a small command tent, obviously distressed, with a short man wearing the tabard of Loriél. When Erik entered the camp, Jadow said, “Man, I am glad to see you.”
Handing the reins of his horse to a soldier, Erik said, “Why?”
Jadow indicated the other man with a nod of his head.
The short man, who had a square head, short-cropped grey hair, and a square jaw, said, “Who the hell are you?”
Erik realized that he had dressed in his blue tunic and yellow leggings, and had left his uniform back in Castle Darkmoor. Quickly sizing up the short man, Erik said, “I’m your commander. Who the hell are you?”
The man blinked. “I’m the Earl of Loriél!” Then he lowered his voice. “And you are?”
“Knight-Captain von Darkmoor, of the Prince’s Special Command, and I’m to command the northern flank.”
“Well, we’ll just see about that,” said the man, his face growing florid. “I’m sworn vassal to the Duke of Yabon, and I’ll take orders from the Prince of Krondor, but this special army and you jumped-up boy officers are more than I can stomach! I’ll be down to Darkmoor to talk to the Prince himself.”
“My lord,” said Erik in a soft but firm tone.
“What?”
“Have a nice ride.”
After the man left, Jadow burst out laughing. “Man, that little fellow is about as pleasant as a boil on the ass. I hope he stays away for a month.”
“Well, given the mood our Prince was in when I left, I suspect his lordship will find little sympathy for his protests. Now, what’s the situation?”
“As best I can judge, we have about six companies intact north of here, with ample supplies down at the bottom of the ridge. Some of the boys are pretty beat up, lads who were fighting along the northern front for the last month, but there are some fresh reserves, so overall we’re in good shape. The bad news is we’re facing Duko.”
“I’ve heard of him. What do we know?”
“Not much. Rumors. A few things we’ve learned from captives. He’s smart, has survived where some others, like Gapi, haven’t, and he’s still able to command a large contingency. Man, I don’t know. If I was to guess, I think he’s the best they’ve got after Fadawah.”
“Well then,” said Erik, “I guess we have our work cut out for us.”
Jadow grinned. “The nice part is we’re where they want to be, and they’re not.”
“You have a happy facility to put things in perspective,” said Erik.
Jadow asked, “What are the orders?”
“Simple. Kill anyone who comes up that slope.”
“I like simple,” said the former mercenary from the Vale of Dreams. “I’m tired of this moving backward.”
“No more of that,” said Erik. “From this point on, if we move backward, we’ve lost.”
“Well,” said Jadow, “we must make sure we don’t move backward.”
Erik said, “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”
A trumpet sounded and Jadow said, “Seems they’re coming.”
Erik drew his sword. “Then let’s greet them.”
As they climbed the slope to the ridge line, Erik said, “Who else is on this flank?”
“Your old friend Alfred. He’s got a company to the north of this one, and then Harper, and Jerome, who’s anchoring the end of the line. Turner is to our south, Frazer after him, then it’s the Prince’s command at the city.”
Erik smiled. “With sergeants like that, how can we lose?” Jadow grinned. “How, indeed?”
Erik looked down the western slope, below the ridge line, and said, “A lot of men are about to die over twenty yards of dirt.”
Jadow said, “That’s the truth. But if what Captain Calis told us, on that beach in Novindus, is true, it’s a pretty important twenty yards.”
Erik said, “No doubt about it.” He turned and looked down the slope at the men climbing toward him. The archers started firing and Erik could feel the tension in his shoulders as he waited for the first man to close, so he could engage the enemy and get this matter over with.
Then, as if men sprang from the ground, a sea of attackers appeared before him. Erik began to fight.
Pug frowned. “Unlock the Lifestone? How do you propose to do that?”
“What does it mean?” asked Tomas, looking at his son. “Does that release the Valheru?”
Calis shook his head. He sighed, as if very tired. “I’m not sure I can answer either question. I don’t know how to unlock the forces inside this thing.” He pointed at the pulsing green stone, with the golden sword protruding from it. “I just know that once I begin, I should be able to manipulate the energies within.”
“How do you know this?” asked Nakor.
Calis smiled at him and said, “As you are so fond of saying, ‘I just know.’ But once I’ve begun, I may not be able to stop, so I want to be certain I’m doing the correct thing.” He pointed at the stone. “This is something that never should have been allowed.”
Tomas rubbed his chin. “Ashen-Shugar said basically the same thing to Draken-Korin.”
“This is what caused the Chaos Wars,” said Nakor.
All eyes turned to him. Tomas asked, “How can you be certain?”
“Think about it. You have a Valheru’s memory. Why was the Lifestone created?”
Tomas let his mind drift back, recalling memories he had first experienced fifty years before, but memories that originated with a being ages dead. Suddenly the memories washed over him.
A call came. Ashen-Shugar sat alone in his hall, deep below the mountains. His mount, the golden dragon Shuruga, lay curled in sleep below the huge vertical shaft that gave him access to Midkemian skies.
It was a strange call, unlike any he had heard before. It was a summoning, but one without the bloodlust that drew the Dragon Host together to fly across the stars for pillage and plunder. In his hall, Ashen-Shugar had found himself changing, as another presence, a being named Tomas, had come to him, in thought, from a distant place. By his nature, he should have felt outrage, a murderous reaction to the presence in his mind, yet this being, Tomas, seemed to be a part of him, as natural as his left hand.
With a mental command he woke Shuruga, and leaped upon the back of the great beast. The dragon jumped upward and with mighty wings beat for the sky, heading out of the mountain hold that was the domain of the Ruler of the Eagles’ Reaches.
Eastward he flew above the range of mountains that would someday be known as the Grey Towers, and over another range that would be called the Calastius Mountains, to a vast plain, upon which the race met. He was the last to arrive.
He circled Shuruga and ordered the great dragon to descend. Each Valheru waited as the mightiest among them touched down. In the center of the circle stood a figure resplendent in black and orange armor, Draken-Korin, who called himself the Lord of Tigers. Two of his creatures, tigers bred by magic to walk upright and speak, stood on either hand, snarling, their powerful arms crossed. They were objects of indifference to the Ruler of the Eagles’ Reaches, for despite their fierce appearance, these lesser creatures were of no danger to a Valheru.
By common opinion, Draken-Korin was the strangest of the race. He had ideas of new things. No one knew from where those ideas came, but he was obsessed by them.
Tomas blink
ed. “Draken-Korin! He was different!”
Nakor asked, “Have you never wondered why?”
Tomas said, “No. I mean, Ashen-Shugar never wondered why.”
Nakor said, “The Valheru appear to be a race with a surprising lack of curiosity. Anyway, what do you remember?”
“I remember being summoned.”
“For what?” asked Pug.
Tomas said, “Draken-Korin summoned the race, and he proclaimed that the order of the universe was changing. The old gods, Rathar and Mythar, had fled . . .” Tomas’s eyes widened. “He said, ‘or have been deposed’!”
“Deposed?” said Miranda.
“By the Controller Gods!” said Dominic.
“Wait!” said Tomas. “Let me remember!” He closed his eyes.
“. . . but for whatever cause, Order and Chaos have no more meaning. Mythar let loose the strands of power and from them the new gods arise,” said Draken-Korin. Ashen-Shugar studied the one who was his brother-son, and saw something in his eyes, something that he now realized was madness. “Without Rathar to knit the strands of power together, these beings will seize the power and establish an order. It is an order we must oppose. These gods are knowing, are aware, and are challenging us.”
“When one appears, kill it,” answered Ashen-Shugar, unconcerned by Draken-Korin’s words.
Draken-Korin turned to face his brother-father, and said, “They are our match in power. For the moment they struggle among themselves, seeking each dominion over the others as they strive to gain mastery of that power left by the Two Blind Gods of the Beginning. But that struggle will end, and then shall our existence be threatened. They will turn their might upon us.”
Ashen-Shugar said, “What cause for concern? We fight as we have before. That is the answer.”
“No, there needs be more. We must fight them in harmony, not each alone, lest they overwhelm us.”
Ashen-Shugar said, “Do what you will. I will have none of it.” He mounted Shuruga and flew home.
Tomas said, “I never dreamed.”
“What?” asked Pug.
Looking at Miranda, Tomas said, “Your father knew! He wasn’t just creating a weapon to balk the Tsurani conquest or even to stem the return of the Dragon Host to Midkemia, he was preparing us for this fight!”
“Explain, please,” said Nakor.
“Something changed Draken-Korin,” said Tomas. “He was mad by the standards of his own race. He had these strange notions and odd compulsions. He was the driving force behind the creation of the Lifestone. He masterminded the race’s vesting its powers in that crystal.”
“No,” said Calis quietly. “He was a tool. Something else was the mastermind.”
“Who?”
“Not who,” said Nakor. “What?”
All eyes turned toward the strange little man. “What do you mean?” asked Pug.
Nakor said, “In each of you, something is locked away.” He moved his hand in an arc, and a golden nimbus of light sprang up, washing the room. Pug’s eyes widened, for while he knew that Nakor had far more power than he ever admitted to, this shell of protection was something beyond Pug’s experience. He recognized it for what it was, but had no idea how the little man could so effortlessly create it.
Miranda asked, “Who are you?”
Nakor grinned. “Just a man, as I have said many times.”
“But you are more,” Dominic said flatly.
Nakor shrugged. “I am also a tool, in a sense.” He looked at each of them in turn. “Several of you have heard me speak of my life, before, and all I told you is true. When I was a child, powers came to me and my father threw me out of the village for my pranks. I traveled and learned, and have been much as you see me now for most of my life.
“I met a woman named Jorna, whom I thought I loved—young men often think physical hunger is love—and in my vanity thought she loved me; we also can rationalize anything when it suits our purposes. Look at me!” He smiled. “A young and beautiful woman falling under my charms?” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I was left a wiser if sadder man.” He looked at Miranda. “You know what came next. Your mother came looking for someone who could teach her more than I, for as I have always said, I am but a man who knows a few tricks.”
Miranda asked, “Why do I get the feeling you may be the only person on this planet who would use that description?”
“Be that as it may,” continued Nakor, “Jorna became Macros’s wife, and I became a traveler.” He looked around the room. “My life changed one day when I slept in a burned-out shack on the side of the hills in Isalani. I had always had the ability to do tricks, little things, but that night I dreamed, and in my dream I was told to seek out something.”
“What?” asked Pug.
Nakor opened his ever-present carryall and reached deep inside. It was not the first time Pug had seen the little man stick his arm inside up to the shoulder, when from the outside the bag appeared to be only two feet deep. Pug knew there was something inside, like a tiny rift, that allowed Nakor to reach through the bag to a location where he had stored an astonishing assortment of items. “Ah!” he said, pulling out one. “I found this.”
Dominic’s eyes widened, while the others stared in curiosity. Nakor held a cylinder, perhaps eighteen inches long, four inches in diameter. It was a cold, greyish white color. At each end of the cylinder was a knurled knob.
“What is it?” asked Miranda.
“A very useful thing,” said Nakor. “You would be astonished at the information this object has.” He twisted one end, and the device opened with a click; a half inch section of the cylinder detached from the side, allowing Nakor to pull out a long piece of what appeared to be a pale, translucent white parchment or paper. “If you pull long enough, you can fill up this room.” He pulled and pulled, and the device continued to emit the long paper. “This stuff is amazing. You can’t cut it or tear it or write on it. Dirt doesn’t stick.” The paper was covered in fine writing. “But whatever you want to know about, I bet it’s in here.”
“Amazing,” said Pug. He looked at the writing and said, “What language is that?”
“I don’t know,” said Nakor, “but over the years, I’ve gained the ability to read some of it.” He turned the knurled end and the page slid back into the cylinder, and again it was without apparent line or flaw, a single piece of unbroken metal. “I just wish I could figure out how to make it work the way it was supposed to.”
“You would have to study years, most of the surviving lost lore of the God of Knowledge. It’s the Codex,” said Dominic in a reverent tone.
“And that’s . . . ?” asked Miranda.
“The Codex of Wodar-Hospur. It was assumed to be lost.”
“Well, I found it,” said Nakor. ‘The problem is, when I open it, it tells me about things, but never the same thing twice. Some of the material is impossible to understand. Some of it is pretty boring. I think there is a way to get it to give you information that you want, but I haven’t figured it out yet.” He grinned. “But you would be astonished at what you learn if you just sleep with this under your head.”
Dominic said, “It is also known as the Thief of Dreams. Those who sleep too close to it are robbed of their dreams and, after enough time, driven mad.”
“Well, you wouldn’t be the first person to call me a little crazy,” said Nakor. “Besides, I stopped sleeping with it in my room over a hundred years ago. It took me a while, but I deduced it was keeping me from dreaming.” He shook his head. “Strange things happen when you don’t dream at night. I was beginning to hallucinate and, frankly, I was getting a little irritable.”
“What is it?” asked Miranda. “These names mean nothing to me.”
“It is the most holy artifact from the temple of the God of Knowledge,” said Dominic. “It is a text with all the knowledge of the temple of the Lost God of Knowledge contained within it. Wodar-Hospur was a lesser god, but one deemed critical to understa
nding all the issues we are discussing now,” said Dominic. “What this vagabond has been carrying around for who knows how many years is an item that would have provided an amazing amount of insight and knowledge to our order if we had possessed it.”
Nakor said, “Perhaps, but then again, you might have sat around for a couple of centuries staring at the thing without ever really understanding what it does.” Nakor looked around the room. “Knowledge is power. You all have power. I have knowledge. Together we have the means of defeating the Nameless One.”
As Nakor said that phrase, it was as if the room darkened a little and turned slightly colder. “The Nameless One?” asked Miranda, and suddenly she touched her temple. “There’s something I know, but . . . don’t know.”
Nakor nodded. “I won’t name him.” He looked pointedly at Dominic. “There are advantages to being a little mad and to having tremendous knowledge.” He looked around the room and said, “Here is the rest of the story.
“The Nameless One is nameless, because even to imagine his name is to call his attention to you. If you do, you’re lost, for no mortal creature has the power to resist his call”—Nakor grinned—“except me.”
Dominic said, “How is this possible?”
“As I said, it helps to be a little mad. And there are tricks that can let you think of one thing without knowing you’re really thinking of it, so when the Nameless One hears his name and comes looking for you, you’re there for him to find. Even a Greater God can’t find you where you’re not.”
Miranda said, “I am totally confused.”
“You are not alone,” said Pug.
Calis smiled. “I think I’m following.”
Nakor grinned at him. “That’s because you’re young.” He looked at the others. “When the Chaos Wars raged, one of the Controller Gods, this Nameless One, whose nature is what you would call evil, attempted to upset the balance of things.
“It was he who warped Draken-Korin and who set the Valheru on their self-destructive path. What they did not realize was that the gods were no threat to them. I imagine this would have been nearly an impossible concept to them, but the gods would have been just as satisfied with Valheru worshippers as with humans, elves, goblins and the other intelligent races who live here now.”