The Long Look, page 25
part #1 of The Laws of Power Series
"Because this has to be done right, and you’re not a very good magician. Yet."
Koric took the knife Seb gave him and worked quickly. Twice seven bold strokes and the rest was just clean up and whittling. "It’s done," Koric said.
"But is it right?"
"Yes," Koric said, "it damn well is."
"Then why isn’t anything happening?" Seb asked, after a moment or two.
Koric looked at the glyph again, noticed the very slight changes in it that Tymon had asked for, and he said, "Because it’s not time."
Seb looked puzzled. "What do you mean it’s not time? Didn’t you summon a spirit?"
"No, not ‘a’ spirit. I do believe I called one in particular."
"So why isn’t it here?"
Koric grinned. He was beginning to enjoy himself. "Because it’s not time," he repeated, and that’s all the explanation Seb got.
"You’re like Tymon in far too many ways," Seb said. "I think I’ll drown you now and save us both the pain."
"Not yet. We’ve still work to do."
Seb nodded. Not yet. Always, not yet.
§
"He’s here," Galan said.
Prince Galan, King Aldair, Laras, Molikan, and Tals stood behind a large boulder, peering up the slope at the dark cave mouth. They stood like adventurers in a fairy tale, for all that several squadrons of mounted soldiers guarded their backs, deployed further down the slope.
"How can you be so certain?" Aldair asked.
Galan thought about it for a moment, and gave the only answer he had. "I feel . . . a link. It’s hard to explain, it’s as if we’re joined."
Aldair nodded. "A fate is on you, Cousin. Destiny marks you to destroy this creature . . . with our help."
Aldair looked as giddy as a young man in love. He seemed to be already imagining the songs that would be sung in their honor, now and to the end of time. Galan looked at him, then looked away. He didn’t feel giddy, or happy, or excited. He felt a little sick. He felt as he had felt since the Book, that he was not under a fate. He was under a shadow, and it grew heavier and darker by the moment.
GO!
So the shadow spoke. So Galan had to obey. Knowing what was happening, yet powerless to do anything about it, anything at all.
IT’S WHAT YOU WANTED.
Yes. It was what he wanted. The one thing that he thought would make his life all right again.
YOU HUMANS BIND YOUR HAPPINESS WITH OTHERS, WHETHER IN LOVE OR HATE. DID YOU NOT THINK YOU SHOULD, PERHAPS, FIND IT IN YOURSELF?
That was its way. Galan knew that without asking. I took you from your happiness.
YES. NOW I MUST KILL THIS MAGICIAN. IT WILL NOT MAKE YOU HAPPY. IT WILL MAKE ME VERY HAPPY. HAPPIER STILL IF I DESTROY YOU.
I deserve it.
The thoughts were unbidden and unstoppable. Galan almost felt as if the shadow was holding both parts of the conversation and himself no more than trickster’s doll carrying its thoughts back and forth.
YES, YOU DO. NOW GET READY. I WILL COMMAND THE STRIKE, AND THEN I WILL BE FREE. WHAT SHALL I DO THEN? HOW HAPPY WILL I BE? ENOUGH, PERHAPS, TO SPARE YOU? OR PERHAPS I SHALL NEED MORE HAPPINESS. PERHAPS I SHALL NEED EVERY LIFE THAT IS WITH YOU NOW. WE SHALL SEE.
Because he still wanted to, but mostly because he had no choice, Galan drew his sword and started up the hillside, and his companions followed his example. Aldair motioned his men to hold back, and they reluctantly obeyed.
They would be left out of the songs for certain.
§
Vor’s cage was of stone this time, a tumble of boulders at the right rear corner of cavern, with a hole barely large enough to see through. Food and drink had been shoved inside, but Vor had hardly touched them. The light in the cavern was dim; just a few guttering torches, but there was enough illumination to see his own sword, leaning against the stone wall several feet away on the left. He knew that the main entrance itself was further away, about ten yards to the right.
"I will escape, and then choose flight or revenge. That’s why he put the sword opposite the exit," Vor muttered.
"Exactly. What’s the point of power if you can’t have a little amusement from it." Tymon stood outside hole, smiling at him. His teeth flashed white in the darkness.
Vor was startled but he recovered quickly. "When I get out of here I shall show you power, Sorcerer."
"Brave words. Yet it wasn’t bravery that brought you to this sorry pass, was it? I seem forever to be capturing you, Lord Vor."
"You should have killed me when you first had the chance."
"But I’ve had so many chances, My Lord. Maybe simple thwarting you is more fun. After all, you’re more a danger to your master than you are to me. Or maybe there’s another reason. Could you care to guess?"
Apparently not. "I’ll make you eat those words."
"But would that change them? Do yourself a favor, Lord Vor. Stay in your prison this time. Or if you will not, take the right hand path and leave this place. You still can, you know. It’s up to you."
"Let me out now and I’ll choose."
"It’s not time."
Vor frowned. "Time?"
"Timing. Pacing. The proper order of things. Death, sooner or later. You, me, everyone. Well, then. Enjoy the show."
Tymon left, and Vor made his decision. The magician was mad. Clearly. Vor gave him no more thought except as a part of the goal, which was to get out of that hole, kill Tymon, and return to get Duke Laras back on track for history. Slowly, patiently, he felt around, finding the smallest stones and carefully beginning to work them loose.
It didn’t take nearly as long as he’d thought.
§
Galan and his party were still more than a bowshot from the ledge when Tymon appeared there. Galan knew the magician beyond question; the eagerness of the shadow ruling him told him so.
"More visitors. I believe you’ve already met my present guests."
Tymon pushed two figures forward, roughly shackled. Galan and Laras gasped almost on the same breath. Princess Ashesa and Duchess Mero.
"Come to your deaths, you gallant fools!"
Galan and Laras charged, without thought or conscious decision. The rest hurried after them.
"Highness, wait!"
That was Tals, but Galan paid him no heed. He could not. Tymon disappeared into the cave’s mouth and out stepped four armed...creatures. They stood nearly seven feet tall each, draped in crude robes, armed with swords and spears. They were mere stick figures grown large, creaking as they went on joints of rope and twine.
"By all the Powers..." muttered Aldair. "Black sorcery indeed!"
Galan met them a half-step before Laras, but it wasn’t because Sir Tals wasn’t trying to stop them both. The young knight finally gave up and contented himself by standing on Galan’s weak side, using his shield to turn blows meant for the prince. Aldair and the two Borasurean dukes soon joined them, forming a shield wall against the creatures.
Ashesa? Duchess Mero? This is so strange…
.
FOOL! THE MAGICIAN IS ESCAPING!
The shadow spoke, and Galan’s voice echoed. "The magician is escaping!"
Galan felt like a marionette. He almost started to look for the strings. He had no time to think of Ashesa and Laras’ duchess in Tymon’s clutches, or how it had come to be. The only volition he was allowed was that in pursuit of the magician. He decided to use it. "My Lord of Wylandia, can you and Molikan hold these creatures at bay until your men arrive?"
Aldair grinned fiercely. "If they don’t come soon there won’t be anything left of these abominations but kindling!"
Molikan just shook his head in exasperation. "We’ll do what we have to, Prince. Save your princess!"
Galan stepped back from the line. "Duke Laras—" he began, but didn’t get very far.
"I’m with you, Highness. I must."
Galan nodded. He’d expected no less. He glanced back at the creatures attacking them. Two men, even two such as Aldair and Molikan, would not be enough. "Sir Tals, stay with these gentlemen until aid comes. Follow when you can."
Tals clearly wanted to argue, but there was no time for that, either. He joined the line and together he, Aldair, and Molikan pressed forward hard, clearing the entrance of the creatures long enough for Galan and Laras to slip inside.
WONDERFUL!
For a moment Galan didn’t understand where the thought had come from. It was joyous, almost childlike. It took him a moment to realize that it was the shadow. Galan could almost feel it ahead of him, pulling him along behind like a child with a toy.
You like the darkness.
I AM THE DARKNESS.
Then let me go. You can be happy here.
HERE IS NOTHING. HERE IS NOT TRUE DARKNESS.
That much was true. There were torches along the passageway; their smoke made breathing difficult at times but Galan and Laras pressed on easily enough through the gloom. Too easily.
He’s waiting for us.
OF COURSE. IT DOES NOT MATTER.
He has Ashesa!
THAT DOES NOT MATTER EITHER. HIS DEATH IS ALL THAT MATTERS SO I CAN BE FREE AGAIN.
Her safety matters more than Tymon’s death! This isn’t what I wanted!
IT’S WHAT YOU ASKED FOR. ENJOY THE CONSEQUENCES; I KNOW I INTEND TO.
Galan tried to turn to Laras, to voice his worries, but he could say nothing. The shadow still held him fast. He looked at Laras, who smiled back tentatively. Galan could see that the man was frightened, but he controlled it well. Laras held a torch he’d taken from the cavern walls; the shadow made Galan hold back a bit even from that weak light.
How many will die today because of me?
I DO NOT KNOW, the shadow answered, as if the question was really meant for it. I AM AS CURIOUS AS YOU.
§
"Lord Vor is loose," Mero said. "What was Master Tymon thinking?"
"I guess we find out."
Mero and Ashesa and Lytea sat in an iron cage suspended about fifteen feet from the cavern floor. If Mero and Ashesa were worried about Lord Vor’s new freedom, Lytea wasn’t. She bounced and wiggled in her mother’s lap, and for each movement the cage shifted every so slightly back and forth at the end of its rope.
"’wing!" she said happily, though her small voice was nearly lost in the emptiness. Mero immediately shushed her but it didn’t make any difference. Together they watched as Vor retrieved his sword and looked slowly around. Even in the dim light it only took him a few moments to spot them.
"Well, well."
"Lord Vor," Mero said imperiously, "if you’ll be good enough to get us down."
Lord Vor seemed to consider the matter for a moment. "No," he said.
Mero glared at him. "How dare you!"
"How indeed? Normally I would obey you, Duchess, except for two things. For the first, I know this royal bitch is in league with Tymon, and you’re a fool if you don’t know it too. As for the other, it occurs to me that Duke Laras’ resolved to take his rightful place on Borasur’s throne is, shall we say, dwindling?"
"His rightful place . . . Lord Vor, I will not tolerate this talk of treason!"
"That’s another thing, now that you mention it. You were against this from the start, or would have been if you had known. Yet you will serve Duke Laras better in death, perhaps. Princess Ashesa’s death will merely remove the need for a marriage alliance that Borasur does not need. Yours, on the other hand, will put iron in Duke Laras’s spine as he seeks revenge for your death at the hands of Prince Galan’s lackey Tymon. Or so it will appear. Yes, I will indeed get you both down."
Vor swung at the rope holding the cage. It was thick and very heavy, and the first blow only parted a few strands. Nevertheless, they parted like the snap of an overstrung bow and the cage shuddered.
"It seems Tymon has hung us out to dry like washing," Mero said.
Ashesa nodded, and bit her lip. "So it does."
Ashesa suddenly stood as a few more strands parted.
"Patience . . ." Lord Vor said from below, but his back was to them as he stood just past where the cage hung, hacking at the thick rope. He’d be through it soon, and if the landing wouldn’t kill them it was safe to assume Vor would.
Perhaps Tymon has abandoned us. Or perhaps he’s once more left the choice to me.
Ashesa put her hands on the bar of the cage. "Mero, push," she whispered. Mero, not comprehending, put Lytea on her hip and followed Ashesa’s example. Ashesa whispered to her. "With me. First push, then pull, and in both cases brace your feet against the bottom of the cage, your hands on the side." Mero quickly caught the rhythm. The cage swayed more violently, then began to move slowly back and forth like a pendulum. Ashesa judged the distance to the wall, the distance to where Lord Vor stood cutting the rope.
Almost there. . . "Push!"
Lytea put her hand on the cage. "’wing?"
Ashesa smiled grimly. "Yes, Dear One. Swing."
§
The scream froze Galan and Laras in their tracks for the barest moment; then came the sound of metal crashing into stone. The two men took off down the passageway as fast as they could go, coming perilously close to crashing into low ceilings and sudden turns. The passageway suddenly opened out and Galan and Laras rushed out into an area of greater darkness. There were torches here too, but the size of the cavern dwindled their light to barely more than stars in a clear sky. They heard shouts from behind in the passageway. Galan was certain he recognized Aldair’s and Tal’s voices; the rest were lost in the general murmur.
"Prince, over here!"
Galan followed Laras and his torch around the perimeter of what appeared to be a lake; lying beside it was broken cage with a large rope tied to the top. Ashesa and Mero huddled inside; Mero held Lytea in her arms. They seemed badly shaken but not seriously injured.
The door was sprung. Galan and Laras together managed to get it open.
"It fell," said Ashesa.
"Lord Vor cut the rope," Mero said. "He—" she couldn’t finish.
The cage rested on a body. Galan saw it first, then Laras. "Lord Vor...help me, Prince!"
They got the women out of the cage and together managed to move the heavy iron grating off of the downed man, but it was far too late. "Tymon had him, too," Mero said. "He he cut the rope."
"And misjudged the weight, I think," Ashesa finished. "He died trying to free us." Brave, foolish man . . ."
Duke Laras embraced his wife and child. Prince Galan took two steps toward Ashesa, but the shadow held him back.
YOU’RE FORGETTING YOUR PURPOSE.
After today I think I will have to forget many things.
Galan could manage no more; the shadow pulled him away.
THIS WAY, FOOL!
Galan followed. He saw Tymon on a large platform of limestone some distance away. He sprinted in that direction, oblivious to the slippery footing and obstacles; he knew the shadow guided his feet, the darkness opened a way for him. He barely needed the extra light as more torches from King Aldair and his men filed quickly into the cavern.
"You think you’ve won," Tymon said.
NO. BUT SOON.
"No. But soon," Galan echoed.
Galan was closer now, and Tymon had not moved, either to threaten or to run away. When he spoke now only Galan could hear. "Tell your shadow I am here. He can leave you now."
LEAVE?
"Leave?"
TAKE YOUR SWORD.
Galan raised his blade. Almost at the same instant he felt the darkness flowing out of him, obscuring Tymon like a cloud crossing the face of the moon. Galan willed himself into action, striking, not at Tymon, but at the darkness. Then for a long time there was nothing but darkness, within and without, and the blow he struck seemed to last forever.
§
Tymon watched the shadow leave Prince Galan; it hovered over them both while time itself seemed to hesitate, losing its way in the darkness.
TRICKS AND ILLUSION. WHATEVER YOU MAKE THESE FOOLS THINK, YOU CANNOT ESCAPE ME. THIS DECEPTION WILL NOT LAST. YOU CANNOT STOP TIME.
No one can, Power. Not even you. Yet perception can alter if time does not, and altering perception is what I do best. Tell me you are not affected by what I have done.
IT DOES NOT MATTER.
I disagree. I think it matters to you.
NOT ONCE I KILL YOU!
The shadow struck at him. It reached out and around and through as if it would replace what life he had with darkness like a flow of lava surrounding a house. Tymon was not there. He stood a few feet away, shaking his head.
YOU CANNOT ESCAPE! It repeated.
I know. But I can delay. How long? Do you really want to find out?
DIE!!
The thing struck again, and again Tymon eluded it, if barely. How long, Power? How long until your spirit decides it cannot survive betwixt and between and locks you in a form you may not escape? Did you ever stop to think it might be too late already? That what you see and what you know as something separate from darkness, separate and unique, might not fade with time?
YOU MUST DIE!!
Yes, Tymon agreed, I must. But ‘when’ is not entirely up to you, is it?
DIE….
The thing was almost pleading now. It sounded as lost and afraid as a child, for all its power had anger had not lessened one whit.
If you want to go back to darkness sooner rather than, perhaps, never, you will listen to me.
The darkness was like a thunder cloud now, booming, noise and fury incarnate. WHAT DO YOU WANT???
When I am dead you will leave. You will save yourself into darkness while you still can. You will not seek revenge for what was done to you, now or forever. You will swear on the darkness that you wish to be that this will be so.
It tried, one more time, to kill Tymon. Tymon evaded it. Not easily, but he managed. He could feel the creature’s rage and fear shaking him like thunder.
I SO SWEAR!
Tymon nodded. Good. Now I will die.
§
Galan heard the muffled cry, felt his sword strike something, then fall from his nerveless fingers as he himself fell, landing hard on the stone. The jolt shook him to the teeth and, for another long moment, the world was spinning.
Galan heard people calling his name. He could not see them; their torches seemed very far away. The thunder was still booming; it was if a storm had formed within the depths of the earth with himself as the center. It was only when strong hands helped him to his feet that he realized the others had come.
