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, Glen Cook Dread Empire 03 Shadow Of All Night Falling 

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excited, again feeling that pull. The wizard tucked his wand under his arm,
wiped sweat from his brow with his sleeve, and stepped from the heart of his
creation. Symbols swirled as his passage disturbed them.
Nepanthe gasped. Varthlokkur heard her. "No need for alarm," he said tiredly.
"It's not your usual pentagram. It's not a protection against devils. You
might call it a Power matrix. It concentrates the Power so I can project it.
The symbols represent the demons outside. When I touch one I sting a soul..."
He paused, rubbed his temples. "I'm tired."
The Old Man withdrew his hand from Nepanthe's. "I'll get something to fresh
you up. Why don't you sit down for a while?" He left.
Varthlokkur massaged his temples for a full minute, then turned to the thing
he had wrought. "I suppose I'd better get rid of that," he mumbled.
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"Please don't," said Nepanthe. "Leave it for a while. It's beautiful. Like
watching the universe from outside."
Varthlokkur glanced at it, then eased into the Old Man's chair. "Guess it is.
Never thought of it as anything but a tool." He looked at her closely,
watching the light patterns dancing on her face. He chuckled. "The dress
becomes you. But aren't you a bit early? He won't be here till tomorrow."
Silence stretched. She could think of nothing to say. Moreover, she remembered
that pull of a moment earlier and was distressed by the temptation.
He rose, said, "Come here," and took her hand, pulled her from her chair. "Go
stand in the center of the pentagram."
Uncertainly, she did as she was directed, positioning herself at the heart of
a gleaming gold star whose points lay in the angles of the pentagram on the
floor. Varthlokkur spoke a few soft words, touched his wand to a silver
symbol. It clung. He moved it to her left ear. She started, controlled the
impulse, was surprised when she felt nothing. It had looked hot. Varthlokkur
spoke again. The symbol attached itself to her.
He repeated the operation, caught her other ear, then filled her hair. And
then he brought her out of his construct, to the mirror (which was just a
mirror at the moment) and showed her herself with stars in her hair.
She smiled, said softly, "I feel like a goddess. It's fantastic."
"Fitting. You're my goddess. I'll give you the stars of the night."
Her smile became a frown. She shook her head, more to rid herself of the
attraction she felt than as a negative. "I've made my choice. That's the end
of it."
"Not quite. Let me show you something. The divination I've mentioned so often.
That you've always refused to believe." He had finally realized that he had to
offer her something more convincing than his word as Varthlokkur, The Empire
Destroyer.
Eyes wonder-wide and disturbed, Nepanthe followed him to a table. He selected
several items and set them out in an order with meaning known only to himself.
He began chanting...
The castle groaned. Screams surrounded it. Dust showered from the shaken
ceiling. Varthlokkur slammed a fist into a palm as he looked up. He snapped,
"I'd thought them sufficiently warned."
Claws of terror seized Nepanthe's soul. "The magick! You've taken it apart!"
"No, don't worry. We've got other defenses that'll hold till I get it fixed.
Come over here, please." Back to the pentagrams they went, Nepanthe
cooperating because she knew the attack could be as dangerous for her as for
her captors. The Old Man arrived running with ale and sandwiches. He relaxed
visibly when he saw the defense already under control.
An hour later, Varthlokkur said, "They were more determined this time." From
the heart of his creation he touched symbol after symbol. Each wriggled away
from the contact. He told Nepanthe, "This causes a great deal of pain for the
demons. It breaks their will to attack. But they can't leave us while
Visigodred and Zindahjira bind them. We're balanced just now. I break wills
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about as fast as they recover. I hope the fact that I'm not bothering to turn
the demons around on their masters will scare hell out of those two. I hope
they'll get to wondering what I'm cooking up instead."
Still another hour later it had become evident that the attack might not break
down at all. Said the Old Man, "They may just try to keep it up till Mocker's
at the gate."
"Might be what they're thinking. Let me see. Ah, yes. Get me a pair of tongs,
please. Big ones. Thank you. Now, something silver and sharp. A needle-ah! The
arrow... What?" He grew even more pallid.
All three stared at the arrow dangling beneath Varthlokkur's mobile of bells.
Nepanthe saw nothing unusual. It just hung there, swinging slowly back and
forth. The Old Man, wearing a puzzled frown, took it down and handed it to
Varthlokkur. They didn't discuss whatever it was that had caused their
consternation.
Nepanthe moved closer when the wizard seized a symbol with the tongs. The
thing squirmed as if it were alive. It tried to escape. Nepanthe touched her
ear fearfully.
Varthlokkur noticed. "No, they're like this only inside the pentagrams, when
demons are near." With the care of a master tailor, he pushed the point and
shaft of the arrow through the struggling thing in the tongs. It stopped
wriggling. Its color quickly faded, and in a moment the tongs grasped nothing
but naked air. "Good. This shouldn't take too long." And, within half an hour,
he had done the same with all the symbols. "Better leave this up," he said
when he finished. "They may try again." He made certain a dully glowing symbol
was in place in every plane of his structure. "Now, about that divination."
Though he was near collapse, he led Nepanthe to the table where his
necromantic materials lay ready. Chants flowed across his tongue with the
heavy fluidity of quicksilver. His wand danced over the objects. Time passed.
A mist formed over the table. Soon things stirred in the mist, and a soft,
fluting voice spoke therefrom. Nepanthe, despite herself, found that she
couldn't tear her attention away.
Hours may have passed before it was over. And, when it was, Varthlokkur seemed
to be as amazed as she. And the Old Man couldn't close his mouth, so stunned
was he. Whole new vistas of perfidy and holocaust had opened to his more
ancient, less ignorant mind. Varthlokkur had hardly recognized the tip of the
iceberg of what must be going on.
After a long silence, Nepanthe asked, "That wasn't what you expected, was it?"
Her throat was almost too tight for speech. She was terribly frightened again.
Varthlokkur shook his head slowly. "No, it wasn't. That I didn't expect at
all. And yet you see the choices, yours and mine, and how soon they'll be
forced upon us." And Nepanthe, who had lived all her life with magic, could no
longer disbelieve. There was simply no defying such absolute revelations.
"And I have a choice of my own," said the Old Man. "But mine's already made."
His role in the Director's drama remained fluid, and within his own control.
"I'll stand by you, Varthlokkur. You'll do the same, Nepanthe, if you've got
any sense at all. Destruction is the only alternative." He turned to
Varthlokkur, his expression unreadable. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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