Pawn’s Gambit (24 page)

“And what of the Wizard's Curse?” she asked quietly.

“I don't care,” he said, and meant it. “Whatever the price, I'll pay it.”

For a long minute the room was silent. “Nunisjan used to talk like that,” Marja sighed at last. “Will you need a guide tomorrow to … where the trouble is?”

Saladar shook his head. “Thank you, but you'd better stay here. It's likely to be dangerous.”

A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “So? What do I have to live for?”

“Marja—”

“I want to come, Saladar. I … want to see what this dream is that Nunisjan gave his life for.”

Saladar bowed his head. “All right.”

They left at sunrise the next morning, though the colors of the dawn were hidden by the mountains before them. Still, by the time they'd crossed to the other end of Abron Mysti and started up the slopes of the mountains, the sky above them was bright enough to see by.

And bright enough to show Wizardell in all its splendor.

“It was some wizard, several hundred years ago, who did this,” Marja told him as they stepped into the straight-walled passage. “Gyran Pass doesn't quite extend all the way through to this side of the Bartop Mountains, and I suppose the wizard got tired of having to climb up along the side of Mount Mysti every time he came through from Colinthe. So he just sliced a huge gap in the mountain and finished the pass properly.”

Saladar nodded, raising his eyes briefly from the high walls of the gap to the still higher peaks of Mount Mysti towering above it. He'd heard the story of Wizardell, of course, but no story could match the sheer impact of seeing the place for himself. “Incredible,” he murmured.

“Yes,” Marja agreed, running her fingertips along the nearest wall as they walked. “I remember trying to gouge out a hole in one of the walls once when I was younger. I couldn't even make a good scratch in it.”

“Yes, he would have had to permanently strengthen the rock, or the wind and snow would eventually have broken it down.”
The things the right man can do with a heartstone,
Saladar thought, a touch of bitterness tainting the wonder in his heart.
Why can't I ever come up with ideas like this?
Resolutely, he shook the thought from his mind. “Where is this Lighttower that Cyng Borthnin mentioned?”

“At Wizardell's end, where the natural pass begins,” Marja explained, pointing ahead. “There was a natural column of stone at that spot, and the wizard decided to leave it standing. But he rounded it and carved out a room in the top with a door and windows where men could run a light to help guide travelers at night.”

“Does Abron Mysti do that?”

She shook her head. “There aren't enough nighttime travelers to make it worthwhile.”

“So when whatever it was got into the Lighttower, no one was there to see it.”

“Or to be killed by it,” she countered stiffly.

He grimaced. “There's that, of course. How close are we?”

“About a tenth league from the Lighttower itself, but we'll be able to see it as soon as we round this bend.”

Saladar nodded, drawing his heartstone out of his tunic and clutching it tightly in his hand. The straight walls bent slowly around … straightened out again … there was the Lighttower, fully as impressive as Wizardell itself—

And without warning a horrible wailing shriek exploded into the gap, filling Saladar's ears as it reverberated again and again from the stone walls.

Beside him Marja screamed, the sound utterly pale in contrast, as she flung herself cringing against the wall. Head ringing with terror, Saladar was only dimly aware of grabbing her arm and dragging her back, squeezing his heartstone with manic strength—

The wailing cut off as suddenly as it had appeared, though for several seconds Saladar's ears seemed to echo with the memory of it. Beside him Marja clutched unashamedly at him, her whole body shaking. Saladar held her to him, working moisture back into his mouth, letting the heartstone's soothing power flow into them both.

Even so, it was several minutes before either of them could speak. “I see your problem,” Saladar said at last.

Breathing deeply, Marja pulled back from him. But not too far. “Gods above and demons below,” she whispered hoarsely. “I had no idea. No
idea
.”

“Agreed.” Saladar licked his lips. “I take it beasts simply refuse to pass the Lighttower?”

“Beasts and people both.” She shuddered, violently.

Saladar glanced toward the Lighttower, now hidden again by the walls of Wizardell. “I can't say I blame them,” he admitted. “Still … has anyone actually been attacked?”

“I doubt anyone's gotten that close,” she retorted, a measure of spirit beginning to return.

He nodded. “Understandable. I suppose someone ought to find out for sure, though. You'd better wait here—”

“
Wait
a minute,” she snapped, stepping into his path. “Gods and demons, Saladar—are you insane?”

He sighed. “Look, Marja, no hunting beast would warn its prey like that, at least not before it was close enough to attack. If there's something trapped or stuck in the Lighttower, it can't hurt me down here.” He gestured toward the sheer walls rising above them. “By the same token, I can't do anything about it from down here … and it's pretty obvious I can't get up to the Lighttower from Wizardell.”

For a long moment she gazed up at his face. Then she exhaled in a long, tired sigh. “All right,” she said. “The way up to the Lighttower is only a short distance into Gyran Pass. I'll show you where.”

Saladar had sensed her offer coming, but he was still impressed. “Thank you, Marja. But I could be wrong about what's in the Lighttower—”

“You'll never find the path by yourself,” she cut him off angrily. “And I'd rather be with you than all alone here, anyway. Come on, let's get it over with.”

“All right,” he hesitated. “But perhaps I can make it easier for you. If you don't mind being deaf for the next half-hour or so.”

“You can do that?” she asked, looking wary.

“I know the spell. I've never tested it, but it's supposed to be perfectly safe.”

She grimaced. “I … all right.”

Stepping close to her, Saladar placed the point of the heartstone against her forehead. Giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, he began to speak the spell.

The shrieking began again as they came around within view of the Lighttower, and for the first few steps Saladar didn't think he was going to make it. Unwilling to risk deafness for both of them—there might be other dangers in Gyran Pass besides the creature in the Lighttower—he had had to settle for protecting himself with a strong calming spell. But it didn't help nearly as much as he'd hoped it would. Gripping his heartstone, mentally ordering it to slow his heartbeat to a less frantic pace, he clutched Marja's hand and forced himself to keep going.

It was almost a shock when he abruptly noticed they were passing the smoothly rounded base of the Lighttower.
Half-done,
he told himself as they kept going.
The hard part's half-done. From here on it'll be easier.

It wasn't really any easier, but it
did
turn out to be shorter. With the smooth walls of Wizardell giving way to the more natural contours of Gyran Pass, visibility around them changed dramatically, and without warning the wailing abruptly cut off as the Lighttower dropped out of sight behind a craggy hill.

Saladar stopped, his trembling knees refusing for a moment to continue. Marja gazed at him in silence, a mixture of concern and awe on her face. Giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, he got his feet moving again, and together they headed up into Gyran Pass.

They reached the path Marja had mentioned within a hundred paces, and Saladar had to admit that he probably
wouldn't
have found it on his own. From a totally ordinary cut between two boulders it stretched along an intermittent stream bed, twisting between scraggly trees and jutting layers of rock as it worked its way upward.

“We should be able to see the Lighttower from that rise ahead.”

Concentrating on his climbing, Saladar jumped at the sound of Marja's voice. “You startled me,” he muttered in vague embarrassment. “Your hearing's back, then? I was starting to wonder if the spell had affected your voice, too.”

She shook her head. “No. But it sounded strange when I tried talking without being able to hear—” She shivered.

“I'll have to remember that for next time.” Saladar took a deep breath. “Well. I thank you for you help, Marja, but from this point on I'd better go alone.”

“Why? Can't you protect me from whatever kind of beast is—?”

“It's not a beast. It's some sort of spiritual being.”

She seemed to shrink slightly into her skin. “What?” she whispered. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “It kept up that scream the whole time we were in sight of the Lighttower, without ever having to rest or even pause for breath. No physical creature can do that.”

Marja licked her lips, her eyes staring past Saladar's shoulder. “But what would a spirit be doing in the Lighttower?”

“That's one of the things I'm going to have to find out,” Saladar said grimly. “Maybe someone in Abron Mysti made an enemy of one of them—offended it somehow—and this is its way of taking revenge. Or maybe it was someone at the other end of Gyran Pass in Colinthe,” he added as she started to object. “It may not have been your fault—shutting off the pass hurts both towns equally.”

Marja shifted her gaze to his face. “Can you stop it? Destroy it, or send it back where it came from?”

He considered lying, but she deserved the whole truth. “I don't think I can destroy it. Spells of that power … well, if you don't do them exactly right, they can easily turn back against you.”

Marja's lips pressed together into a bloodless line. “Perhaps that's what the Wizard's Curse is.”

“Maybe part of it,” Saladar said shortly. Reminders of dark curses weren't exactly what he needed just now. “As for sending the spirit back”—he shrugged—“that'll depend on what kind of being it is and why it's trying to close the pass. And maybe on whether I can reason or bargain with it.”

Clenching her teeth, Marja straightened her shoulders. “Well, there's no point in standing here, then, is there? Let's go.”

“Marja—”

“Saladar, I have to go with you.” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “Nunisjan's dream, remember?”

He took a deep breath, exhaled it tiredly. He had no business taking her into danger like this, but he had to admit she'd earned the right to see what was trying to kill her town.

Besides which, deep down he knew he would welcome the company. The first time, he was quickly finding out, was harder on a man's courage than he'd expected it to be. “All right,” he sighed at last. “Come on.”

They topped the rise, and as Marja had guessed, the rounded top of the Lighttower was indeed visible through the grass and scrub. Saladar placed his heartstone between their two hands, hoping it would be able to keep both of them calm if the spirit started screaming again. Cautiously, they moved forward.

There were no windows on this side, but facing them from the rear of the Lighttower was the shaded opening of a doorway. The obvious direction for an attack to come from—though with spiritual beings that might not mean much—and Saladar kept his eyes on the black rectangle as they walked.

But the spirit didn't seem to be paying any attention to the approach behind it. No unearthly face appeared in the shadows; no ethereal form swooped down from the blue sky toward them … and as they continued on without even one of the well-remembered shrieks splitting the air, Saladar began to find the situation increasingly odd. And increasingly ominous.

Marja did too. “Do you think it's hiding?” she whispered nervously in Saladar's ear. “Waiting to ambush us?”

“I don't think so,” he murmured back. “I'm beginning to think it's incapable of attacking anyone.”

“That's good, right?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

They reached the doorway, and there Saladar paused and took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said, prying his fingers away from Marja's. “Wait here a second.”

“Saladar—”

“Just for a minute,” he assured her. “I've got an idea of what's going on, but I have to be sure.”

Setting his teeth, he stepped under the low lintel into the Lighttower … to find the spirit waiting for him.

Not that it had much choice in the matter. Spread-eagled against a glinting star shape larger than a man, its red eyes turned toward Saladar from the window where its imprisoning pentagram had been propped up; it glared at him in an eloquent silence of rage.

For a moment Saladar gazed back. Then, with a grimace, he half-turned back toward the doorway. “It's all right, Marja,” he called.

She came in quickly, a strangled gasp escaping her lips as she moved up behind him. “Gods above and demons below,” she breathed. “What
is
that?”

“The source of your trouble. As you see, I was right about Abron Mysti or Colinthe offending someone. I was just a little off as to who the offended party was.”

Marja stared at the spirit for a moment. “Whoever it was who was angry with us trapped that—whatever it is—on that pentagram?”

Saladar nodded. “I think it's called a Fury. Not a very intelligent type of spirit, from what I've heard, but relatively easy to trap. And perfectly adequate for terrifying people and beasts with.”

Marja inhaled raggedly. “Why isn't is screaming at us now?”

Saladar shook his head. “I don't know. Perhaps whoever brought it in here set up a geas as part of the spell so that it would only scream at people coming through the pass. Or maybe the fact that we got past it means it won't try to terrify us anymore. Either way, be grateful for small favors.”