Magician (46 page)

Dolgan pulled long on his pipe and
looked at the white tabard Tomas wore. Seven times in battle, and
free from stain. Dirt, blood, and all other manner of contamination
were refused purchase in its fabric. And the device of the golden
dragon gleamed as brightly as when they had first found it. So it was
also with the shield he wore in battle. Many times struck, still it
was free of any scar. The dwarves were circumspect in this matter,
for their race had long ago used magic in the fashioning of weapons
of power. But this was something else. They would wait and see what
it brought before they would judge.

As they finished their meager meal, one
of the guards on the edge of camp came into the clearing before the
cave. “Someone comes.”

The dwarves quickly armed themselves
and stood ready. Instead of the strangely armored Tsurani soldiers, a
single man dressed in the dark grey cloak and tunic of a Natalese
Ranger appeared. He walked directly into the center of the clearing
and announced in a voice hoarse from days running through wet
forests, “Hail, Dolgan of the Grey Towers.”

Dolgan stepped forward. “Hail,
Grimsworth of Natal.”

The rangers were serving as scouts and
runners since the invaders had taken the Free City of Wahnor. The man
walked into the cave mouth and sat down. He was given a bowl of stew,
and Dolgan asked, “What news?”

“None good, I’m afraid,”
he said, between mouthfuls of stew. “The invaders hold a hard
front from out of the valley, northeast toward LaMut. Walinor has
been reinforced with fresh troops from their homeland and stands like
a knife between the Free Cities and the Kingdom. They had thrice
raided the main camp of the Kingdom’s host when I left two
weeks ago, probably again since. They harry patrols from Crydee. I am
to tell you that it is believed they will start a drive into your
area soon.”

Dolgan looked perplexed. “Why do
the dukes think that? Our lookouts have seen no increase in the
aliens’ activity in these parts. Every patrol they send out we
attack. If anything, they seem to be leaving us alone.”

“I am not sure. I heard that the
magician Kulgan thinks the Tsurani seek metals from your mines,
though why I do not know. In any event, this is what the dukes have
said. They think there will be an assault on the mine entrances in
the valley. I am to tell you that new Tsurani troops may be coming
into the southern end of the valley, for there has been no new major
assault in the north, only the small raids.

“Now you must do what you think
is best.” So saying, he turned his full attention to the stew.

Dolgan thought. “Tell me,
Grimsworth, what news of the elvenfolk?”

“Little. Since the aliens have
invaded the southern part of the elven forests, we are cut off. The
last elven runner came through over a week before I left. At last
word, they had stopped the barbarians at the fords of the river
Crydee where it passes through the forest.

“There are also rumors of alien
creatures fighting with the invaders. But as far as I know, only a
few burned-out village folk have seen these creatures, so I wouldn’t
place too much stock in what they say.

“There is one interesting piece
of news, though. It seems a patrol from Yabon made an unusually broad
sweep to the edge of the Lake of the Sky. On the shore they found
what was left of some Tsurani and a band of goblins raiding south
from the Northlands. At least we don’t have to worry about the
northern borders. Perhaps we could arrange for them to battle each
other for a while and leave us alone.”

“Or take up common cause against
us,” said Dolgan. “Still, I think that unlikely, as the
goblins tend to kill first and negotiate later.”

Grimsworth chuckled deeply. “It
is somehow meet that these two bloody-handed folk should run across
one another.”

Dolgan nodded. He hoped Grimsworth
correct, but was disquieted by the thought of the Nations of the
North—as the dwarves thought of the Northlands—joining
the fray.

Grimsworth wiped his mouth with the
back of his hand. “I will stay this night only, for if I am to
pass safely through their lines, I must move quickly. They step up
their patrols to the coast, cutting off Crydee for days at a time. I
will spend some time there, then start the long run for the dukes’
camp.”

“Will you return?” asked
Dolgan.

The ranger smiled, his grin showing up
brightly against his dark skin “Perhaps, if the gods are
obliging. If not I, then one of my brothers. It might be that you’ll
see Long Leon, for he was sent to Elvandar and, if he is a’right,
may be bound here with missives from the Lady Aglaranna. It would be
good to know how the elvenfolk fare.” Tomas’s head came
up from his musing at the mention of the Elf Queen’s name.

Dolgan puffed on his pipe and nodded.
Grimsworth turned to Tomas and spoke directly to him for the first
time. “I bring you a message from Lord Borric, Tomas.” It
had been Grimsworth who earned the first messages from the dwarves
along with the news that Tomas was alive and well. Tomas had wanted
to return to the Kingdom forces with Grimsworth, but the Natalese
Ranger had refused to have him along, citing his need to travel fast
and quietly. Grimsworth continued his message. “The Duke
rejoices at your good fortune and your good health. But he sends
grave news as well. Your friend Pug fell in the first raid into the
Tsurani camp and was taken by them. Lord Borric shares your loss.”

Tomas stood without a word and moved
deep into the cave. He sat in the rear, for a few moments as still as
the rock around him, then a faint trembling started in his shoulders.
It grew in seventy until he shook violently, teeth chattering as if
from bitter cold. Then tears came unbidden to his cheeks, and he felt
a hot pain rush up from his bowels to his throat, constricting his
chest. Without a sound he gasped for breath, and great silent sobs
shook him. As the pain grew near-unbearable, a seed of cold fury
formed in the center of his being, pushing upward, displacing the hot
pain of grief.

Dolgan, Grimsworth, and the rest looked
up when Tomas re-entered the light of the fire. “Would you
please tell the Duke that I thank him for thinking of me?” he
asked the ranger.

Grimsworth nodded. “Yes, I will,
lad. I think it would be a’right for you to make the run to
Crydee, if you wish to return home. I’m sure Prince Lyam could
use your sword.”

Tomas thought. It would be good to see
home again, but at the keep he would be just another apprentice, even
if he did bear arms. They would let him fight if the keep was
attacked, but they certainly wouldn’t let him participate in
raids.

“Thank you, Grimsworth, but I
will remain. There is much yet to be done here, and I would be a part
of it. I would ask you to give word to my mother and father that I am
well enough and think of them.” Sitting down, he added, “If
it is my destiny to return to Crydee, I shall.”

Grimsworth looked hard at Tomas, seemed
about to speak, then noticed a slight shake of Dolgan’s head.
More than any other humans in the West, the Rangers of Natal were
sensitive to the ways of the elves and dwarves. Something was
occurring here that Dolgan thought best left unexplored for the time
being, and Grimsworth would bow before the dwarven chief’s
wisdom.

As soon as the meal was finished,
guards were posted, and the rest made ready for sleep. As the fire
died down, Tomas could hear the faint sounds of inhuman music and
again saw the shadows dance. Before sleep claimed him, he plainly saw
one figure stand apart from the rest, a tall warrior, cruel of face
and powerful in countenance, dressed in a white tabard emblazoned
with a golden dragon.

Tomas stood with his back pressed
against the wall of the passage. He smiled, a cruel and terrible
smile. His eyes were wide, whites vivid around pale blue irises. His
body was nearly rigid as he stood motionless. His fingers clenched
and unclenched on the hilt of his sword of white and gold.

Images shimmered before his eyes, tall,
graceful people who rode on the backs of dragons and lived in halls
deep in the earth. Music could be faintly heard in his mind’s
ear, and strange tongues. The long-dead race called to him, a mighty
race who had fashioned this armor, never meant for human use.

More and more the visions came. He
could keep his mind free of them most times, but when he felt the
battle lust rise, as it did now, the images took on dimension, color,
and sound. He would strain to hear the words. They efame faintly, and
he could almost understand them.

He shook his head, bringing himself
back to the present. He looked around the dark passage, no longer
surprised at his ability to see in the dark. He signaled across the
intersecting tunnel to Dolgan, who stood quietly waiting in position
with his men forty feet away and acknowledged him with a wave. On
each side of the large tunnel sixty dwarves waited to spring the
trap. They waited for the handful of dwarves who were running before
a Tsurani force, leading the enemy into the trap.

The sound of footfalls pounding down
the tunnel alerted them. In a moment it was joined by the sounds of
clashing arms. Tomas tensed. Several dwarves came into view, moving
backward as they fought a rearward action. Passing the side tunnels,
the fighting dwarves gave no indication they were aware of their
brethren waiting on either side.

As soon as the first Tsurani warriors
were past, Tomas cried, “Now!” and leaped forward.
Suddenly the tunnel was filled with turning, slashing bodies. The
Tsurani were mostly armed with broadswords, ill fitted for close
quarters, and the dwarves wielded hand axes and hammers with
expertise Tomas laid about himself, and several bodies fell. The
flickering Tsurani torches threw mad, dancing shadows high on the
passage walls, creating confusion for the eye.

A shout from the rear of the Tsurani
force sounded, and the aliens began to back down the tunnel. Those
with shields came to the fore, forming a wall over which the
swordsmen could strike. The dwarves were unable to reach far enough
to do any damage. Each time a dwarf attacked, the shield wall would
stand, and the attacker would be answered by sword blows from behind
the shield. In short spurts the enemy backed away.

Tomas moved to the fore, since his
reach was long enough to strike at the shield holders. He felled two,
but as quickly as each dropped, another took his place. Still the
dwarves pressed them and they retreated.

They reached a glory hole, entering it
at the lowest level, and the Tsurani rapidly took position in the
center of the great cavern, forming a rough circle of shields. The
dwarves paused for a moment, then charged the position.

A faint flicker of movement caught
Tomas’s eye, and he looked up to one of the ledges above. In
the darkness of the mine it was impossible to see anything clearly,
but a sudden feeling alerted him. “Look to the rear!” he
shouted.

Most of the dwarves had broken through
the shield wall and were too busy to heed him, but a few close by
stopped their attack and looked up One standing next to Tomas cried,
“From above!”

Black shapes came pouring from above,
seeming to crawl down the face of the rock. Other, human, shapes came
running down the paths from the higher levels. Lights appeared above
as Tsurani warriors on the upper levels opened shuttered lamps and
lit torches.

Tomas stopped in shock. Directly behind
the few surviving Tsurani in the center of the cavern he could see
creatures entering from every opening above, like a herd of ants,
which they closely resembled. Unlike ants, though, they were upright
from the center of their bodies, with humanlike arms bearing weapons.
Their faces, insectlike, had large multifaceted eyes but very
humanlike mouths. They moved with incredible speed, dodging forward
to strike at the dwarves, who, surprised though they were, responded
without hesitation, and the battle was joined.

The fray increased in intensity, and
several times Tomas faced two opponents, Tsurani, or monster, or
both. The creatures were obviously intelligent, for they fought in an
organized manner, and their inhuman voices could be heard crying out
in the Tsurani tongue.

Tomas looked up after dispatching one
of the creatures and saw a new influx of warriors from above. “To
me! To me!” he shouted, and the dwarves started fighting toward
him When most were close by, Dolgan could be heard shouting, “Back,
fall back! They are too many.”

The dwarves slowly began to move toward
the tunnel they had entered from, with its relative safety. There
they could face a smaller number of creatures and Tsurani and, they
hoped, lose them in the mines. Seeing the dwarves moving back, the
Tsurani and their allies pressed the attack. Tomas saw a large number
of the creatures interpose themselves between the dwarves and the
escape route. He sprang forward and heard a strange war cry escape
from his lips, words he didn’t understand. His golden sword
flashed, and with a shriek one of the strange creatures fell. Another
wielded a broadsword at him, and he caught it on his shield. A lesser
being’s arm would have been broken, but the blow rang out on
the white shield and the creature backed away, then struck again.

Again he blocked it, and with a looping
overhand swing struck through its neck, severing head from body. It
stiffened for a moment, then collapsed at his feet. He leaped over
its fallen body and landed before three startled Tsurani warriors.
One held two lanterns and the others were armed. Before the man with
the lanterns could drop them, Tomas jumped forward and struck down
the other two men. The third died trying to draw his sword.

Letting his shield hang on his arm,
Tomas reached down and grabbed a lantern. He turned and saw the
dwarves scrambling over the bodies of the fallen creatures he had
killed. Several carried wounded comrades. A handful of dwarves, with
Dolgan at their head, held their enemies at bay while the others made
good their escape. The dwarves who carried wounded hurried past
Tomas.