Magician (95 page)

The black sea lost its fury and
subsided, and he was again standing upon firm ground, a single rock
I
am Tomas
. In the distance the pinpoint of light began to expand
before his eyes, racing forward to engulf him.

I am Tomas.

“Tomas!”

He blinked and saw he was again in the
glade. Before him crouched the boy, waiting to die. He turned his
head and saw Martin, sighting along a cloth-yard arrow, drawn hard
against his cheek. The Huntmaster of Crydee said, “Put down
your sword, or by the gods, I’ll kill you where you stand.”

Tomas’s gaze wandered about the
glade, and he saw the dwarves with weapons drawn, as had some of the
older elves. Calin, still shaking, had his sword out and was slowly
advancing upon him.

Martin watched Tomas closely, not
fearing him, but respectful of his awesome strength and speed. He
waited and saw the flicker of madness still in Tomas’s eyes,
then, as if a veil were lifted, saw them clear. Abruptly the golden
sword fell from his hand, and the pale, nearly colorless eyes filled
with tears. Tomas dropped to his knees, and a moan of terrible
anguish was torn from his lips, and Tomas cried out, “Oh,
Martin, what have I become?”

Martin lowered his bow, watching as
Tomas gathered his arms about himself. Into the glade came Tathar and
the other Spellweavers. They approached Tomas and then surveyed the
others in the glade. So terrible were Tomas’s sobs of anguish,
so filled with sorrow and remorse, that many of the elves discovered
they also wept.

Tathar said to Martin Longbow, “We
felt the fabric of our spells torn asunder a short while ago, and
came at once. We feared the Valheru had come, rightly it seems.”

Martin said, “Now?”

“The other side of the balance.
That the Valheru is at last displaced by the boy there can be no
doubt, but the boy now must feel the weight of ages of slaughter, and
the guilt over joy felt when taking other lives. The burdens felt by
mortals are again his, and we shall now see if he can withstand them.
This agony may prove his end.”

Martin left the ancient elf and crossed
to Tomas. In the dim light he was the first to perceive the change.
Gone were the alien cast to his features, the gleaming eyes, the
haughty brow. Again he was Tomas, a man, though there were still
legacies of his experience that would forever proclaim him something
more than a man: the elven ears, the pale eyes. Gone was the Lord of
Power, the Old One, the Valheru. Where before a Dragon Lord had stood
now crouched a troubled, sick man in torment over what he had done.

Tomas raised his head as Martin touched
him upon the shoulder. Red-rimmed eyes, nearly mad from grief,
regarded Martin for a brief moment, then closed as if seeking
oblivion to all around. For some time the elves and dwarves watched,
and the Tsurani slaves were silent, aware that some miracle had
occurred, not understanding, but suddenly sure they were spared. For
some time they watched, as Martin Longbow cradled the sobbing man in
white and gold, who cried in anguish so terrible to hear.

Aglaranna sat upon her sleeping pallet,
brushing her long red-gold hair. As before, she waited for Tomas,
half hoping, half fearing he would come.

A shout from outside caused her to
rise. She gathered her robes around her and left her quarters.
Standing upon a platform, she watched as a group of elves and dwarves
came toward Elvandar’s heart. With them came Martin Longbow and
some humans, clearly out-worlders from their dress.

Her hands went to her mouth as she
gasped. In the center of the group walked Tomas, at his side a young
boy with eyes wide at the splendor of Elvandar.

Aglaranna was unable to move, fearful
that what she witnessed was the product of delusion born of hope.
Time sped past as she waited, then Tomas stood before her. Leaving
the boy, he stepped forward. Martin took the boy by the hand and led
him away, the others following, giving the Elf Queen and Tomas the
solitude they needed.

Tomas reached out slowly and touched
her face, and he drank in the sight of her, as if seeing her as he
had first at Crydee. Then, without words, he slowly, gently enfolded
her in his arms. He held her in silence, letting her feel the warmth
of the love that filled him at sight of her.

After a time he whispered in her ear,
“For each moment of sorrow I have visited upon you, O my lady,
I pray the gods grant me a year to gift you with joy. I am again your
adoring subject.”

Too filled with happiness to speak, the
Elf Queen simply clung to him, her sorrow only a dim memory.

T
he
troops stood quietly.

Long columns of men awaited their turn
at passing through the rift into Midkemia. Officers walked by, their
presence ensuring discipline in the lines. Laurie, in the mask and
robe of a Red Priest, was impressed at the level of control these
officers had over their men. He judged the Tsurani code of honor,
where orders were followed without question, a very alien thing.

He and Kasumi moved quickly down the
line, heading for the first detachment behind the one now entering
the rift. Laurie bent his knees and stooped, to detract from his
noticeable height. As they had hoped, more soldiers than not looked
away as the bogus Red Priest passed.

When they reached the head of the
column, Kasumi fell in. His younger brother, who had been promoted to
Strike Leader for this offensive, seemed to pay no attention to his
commander’s late arrival, or to the priest of Turakamu who
arrived with him.

After a seemingly interminable delay,
the command came, and they stepped forward into the shimmering glow
of “nothingness” that marked the rift between the two
worlds. There was a brief flash of lights, a momentary dizziness, and
they found themselves walking forward into a light Midkemian rain.
Sheets of wetness, little more than a heavy mist, fell around them.
The Tsurani soldiers, hot-weather-bred, wrapped cloaks about
themselves.

A staging officer briefly conferred
with Kasumi, and the troops were ordered to move off to the northeast
a specified distance and erect a camp. Kasumi and Hokanu were then to
report to the Warlord’s tent for briefings. The Warlord himself
was back in Kentosani, the Holy City, preparing for the Imperial
Games, but his subcommander was to instruct them in their duties and
areas of responsibility until his return.

They quickly moved up toward the front
and set up camp Once the commander’s tent was up, Laurie and
the Shinzawai brothers ducked inside. While bundles containing
Midkemian clothing and weapons were unpacked, Kasumi said, “As
soon as we return from our meeting with the subcommander, we will
eat. Tonight we will lead a patrol of our area and try to slip
through the lines.” Kasumi looked at his brother. “After
we have gone, brother, it will be your responsibility to hide our
departure for as long as possible Once there has been fighting
reported, you may claim we have been lost to the enemy.”

Hokanu agreed. “We had best
report now.”

Kasumi looked at Laurie. “Stay
inside. We want no risk. You are the tallest damned priest I have
ever seen.”

Laurie nodded. He sat upon some
cushions and waited.

The patrol moved silently through the
trees. The rain had stopped, but the weather had turned colder, and
Laurie suppressed a shiver. Years in the hot climes of Kelewan had
driven away his ability to ignore the chill. He wondered about the
new troops from Tsuranuanni and how they would react when the first
snowfalls came. Most likely with studied indifference, regardless of
what they felt inside. A Tsurani soldier would never let himself
appear upset by something as trivial as solid water falling from the
sky.

They elected the North Pass, for it led
to the largest front, and they were less likely to be noticed passing
through the lines. They reached the head of the pass, and a station
guard passed them along. Once outside the valley they struck slightly
more eastward than their patrol called for.

Beyond the rolling hills and light
woods was the road from LaMut to Zun. Once the two travelers had left
their patrol and reached the road, they would head for Zun, buy
horses, and ride south. With luck they would reach Krondor in two
weeks. There they would change mounts and head for Salador, where
they would find passage on a ship for Rillanon.

The only obstacle between them and the
road was a large portion of the Kingdom’s Army. If they were
discovered by a Kingdom patrol, they would try to pass themselves off
as travelers who had been captured by the Tsurani and escaped. There
could be no question of Laurie being Tsurani, and Kasumi’s
command of the King’s Tongue was so complete that he could
easily pass for a Kingdom citizen from the Vale of Dreams; several
languages were spoken in that border area with Great Kesh, so
Kasumi’s slight accent would be reasonable.

The patrol moved at a dogtrot that ate
up miles. Laurie ran beside Kasumi, marveling at the soldiers’
stamina. They might not be showing fatigue, but he was feeling it.
Hokanu signaled for the patrol to stop at the head of a large, flat
area near the woods. “Here we will start our swing back to our
patrol area. We should not see any Tsurani soldiers from here. Let us
hope, for your sake, we don’t meet with Kingdom troops either.”

He gave a signal, and they moved out.
Laurie and Kasumi were handed backpacks and clothing. They quickly
changed, then followed the route taken by the patrol. They would
follow for a short distance, using the patrol for cover should any
Kingdom troops be nearby.

They moved into a small vale and found
the patrol held up by something ahead. The last man in line motioned
them for quiet. They moved to the head of the line, and Laurie looked
around for a quick exit route should there be any trouble. Hokanu
said softly, “I thought I heard something, but there has been
no sound for several minutes.”

Kasumi nodded. “Then move
forward. We will wait until you have crossed that open area ahead,
then follow to the woods.” He indicated a stand of trees, on
the other side of the clearing.

When the patrol had reached the center
of the open area, the clouds parted and shafts of moonlight lit up
the area “Damn!” Kasumi swore under his breath. “They
might as well light torches now.”

Suddenly the trees erupted with motion
and sound. The ground trembled as riders came charging forward, out
from the trees that hid them. Each wore heavy chain mail and a full
helm. Long lances were leveled at the surprised Tsurani soldiers.

The Tsurani had barely enough time to
ready a rude line for defense before the riders were upon them. Cries
of horses and men filled the air, and the Tsurani fell before the
charge. The riders rode over the Tsurani and re-formed at the end of
the vale where the two fugitives hid. They wheeled about and charged
again. The Tsurani survivors of the last charge, less than half the
men, moved quickly up the west side of the vale, where the trees and
incline of the hillside would counter the horsemen’s ability to
charge.

Laurie touched Kasumi’s arm and
motioned to the right. It was evident the Tsurani officer was barely
holding himself in check from joining his men. Suddenly Kasumi was
off, hugging the edge of the trees as he ran low. Laurie followed and
spotted what appeared to be a rough path heading eastward. He grabbed
Kasumi’s sleeve and pointed. They turned their backs to the
fighting and moved off.

The next day found two travelers moving
down the road to Zun. Both wore woolen shirts, trousers, and cloaks.
Closer examination by a trained eye would have revealed that the
material was not really wool, but something like it. Their belts and
boots were made from needra hide dyed to resemble leather. The
fashion was Midkemian, as were the swords they wore on their belts.

One was obviously a minstrel, for he
wore a lute slung over his backpack. The other looked to be a
freebooter mercenary. Any casual observer would have been unlikely to
guess their origins, or the riches carried in those backpacks, for
each had a small fortune in gems tucked away in the bottom of his
pack.

A northbound troop of light cavalry
passed them on the road, and Laurie said, “Things have changed
since I was last here. Those men in the forest were Royal Krondonan
Lancers, and those who just passed wore the colors of Quester’s
View. All the forces of the Armies of the West must be marshaling
here. Something seems to be in the air. Perhaps they have somehow
gleaned your Warlord’s plan for a major offensive?”

“I don’t know. Whatever is
happening does not seem to indicate that things are as stable as we
have been led to believe back home. Alliances are very uneasy since
the death of the Lord of the Minwanabi and the emergence of new
forces in the Great Game. The Warlord may be more desperate than my
father judged. And the concentration of troops here makes me think
the Warlord’s victory may not be easily won.” Kasumi was
quiet for a moment as they walked along the road. “I hope that
Hokanu was among those who reached the trees.” It was the first
time he had mentioned his brother, and Laurie could think of nothing
to say.

Two days later, Laurie, a minstrel late
of Tyr-Sog, and Kenneth, a mercenary from the Vale of Dreams, sat in
the Green Cat Inn in the city of Zun. Both ate with hearty appetite,
for they had lived on soldiers’ rations—cakes of grain
and dried fruit—for two days.

Laurie had spent over an hour
negotiating with a less than reputable gem broker for several smaller
stones’ value. He had settled for one third their actual worth,
stating, “If he thinks they are stolen, he will not be too
quick to ask questions.”

Kasumi asked, “Why didn’t
you sell him all the stones?”