The Ruin, page 26
"Yes," Firefingers replied. "It seems our best remaining hope."
"I agree," said Tamarand, "so how shall we begin? We need a structure, something to guide our individual efforts and link them into a greater whole."
"I suggest," said Firefingers, "the Great Pentacle of the Hand and Stars in conjunction with the Binder's Eighth Sign."
"A sound choice," said Nexus, and contentious as the mages of Thentia generally were, with the most powerful human warlock and dragon wizard already in agreement, for once, no one pushed for an alternative.
"In that case," said Firefingers, "I'll ask everyone to move back a fair distance. I need room."
They ceded him the greater portion of the meadow, whereupon he whispered under his breath and snapped the fingers of both hands. Streaks of blue flame exploded into being to race along the ground. Will flinched, fearing an uncontrollable grass fire, but the blaze didn't spread in the usual manner. Rather, it drew straight lines and arcs, sprang over spaces Firefingers wanted clear, defining a complex, symmetrical geometric figure further adorned with sigils and writing. Even when the design was complete, the flame, leaping no higher than the surrounding blades of grass, confined itself to the same narrow pathways, preserving the intricate form's precision.
"Now," said Firefingers, "all of you who can help, take your places."
To Will's surprise, Sureene, Drigor, and Pavel headed for the pentacle along with all the mages, two-legged and reptilian, leaving only Dorn, Jivex, and himself to wait and watch outside. Apparently even practitioners of divine magic had something to contribute to a "grand divination."
The spellcasters took care to step through gaps in the lines and curves of flame. Once everyone found the place he wanted to stand, or was supposed to, Firefingers waved his hand, and the openings sealed themselves.
"My turn," Nexus said. instead of whispering as his human colleague had, he roared words of power at such a volume as to echo from the surrounding hills. At the end of the incantation, he spat flame.
Normally such a blast flared and died, though it might leave secondary fires burning in its wake. But Nexus's exhalation hung as a bright, seething golden cloud in the air, which gradually shaped itself into a spherical construction of arcs, lines, and glyphs somewhat resembling the design beneath it on the ground, but rendered in three dimensions instead of two.
Or maybe it was a single rune floating in the air, or a scroll without any writing on it. It flickered from one form to the next. Sometimes Will could even see multiple shapes simultaneously, a phenomenon that made a mockery of comprehensible sight and threatened to give him a headache.
"Now," said Firefingers, "let's begin."
He chanted, and one or two at a time, the other spellcasters joined in, but they didn't all recite in unison. Each had his own incantations, with their own rhythms, pitches, and peculiar inflections. The result should have been cacophony, or at least a muddled drone. Instead, all the diverse voices combined into a sort of mellifluous contrapuntal plainsong.
During the moments it was visible, the globe of fiery lines shifted. One word or symbol melted into another. A triangle, defined by radii extending through the center of the construct, vanished, and a trapezoid appeared in its place. Will could only assume the spellcasters were taking their cues from the ongoing transformations, and that was what enabled them to declaim in harmony.
Writing, dancing through changes like the structure of the sphere, began to appear on the floating scroll. The chanting grew quicker, louder, more insistent. The human spellcasters slashed their arms through mystic figures. An ivory wand in Darvin's upraised hand pulsed with radiance. Motes of shadow spun around Scattercloak like angry wasps.
A heaviness congealed in the air. Will could tell he wasn't really having difficulty breathing, but it felt like it anyway.
A fourth form appeared in the dazzling inconstancy suspended at the center of the pentacle, winking in and out of view like the globe, rime, and page. At first, it manifested so briefly and was so blurry that Will couldn't make out what it was. Gradually, though, it grew clearer.
It was a barren valley, seen from high above. Dark, snowy mountains surrounded it, and a gigantic castle stood toward one end. Dragons the color of ink, like skull wyrms but sprinkled with scales of a lighter shade, glided near the citadel. •
"They've got it!" Jivex cried.
Then the illusory landscape vanished, replaced by a sphere, and despite his ignorance of magic, and difficulty discerning the details of a figure sketched in flame, Will realized that it was a different globe than before. Though he couldn't say why, it was nauseating to behold, like some heinous act of torture.
At the same instant, the feeling of weight in the air altered, too. Before, though unpleasant, it hadn't seemed especially alarming. Will had trusted that the wizards had it under control. But it was soon plain that they didn't. Even a person devoid of magical aptitude could sense it tilting out of balance, like rocks on the brink of tumbling down a mountainside and crushing the travelers below. Like rocks that wanted to fall.
The complex harmony of the ritual shattered as dragons howled, and humans screamed. Drigor staggered, chin dark and wet with the blood streaming from his nostrils. Baerimel doubled over vomiting. Moonwing collapsed and thrashed, argent wings and tail hammering the ground. Though stricken like everyone else, Pavel just managed to scramble clear and avoid being squashed.
The fiery orb swelled. The lines on its surface reconfigured themselves into ovals that somehow appeared to stand out from the globe, and likewise seemed larger than they should have been.
It's turned into something that's all mouths and jaws, Will thought. It's reaching out to swallow us.
Somebody needed to stop it, but the spellcasters were incapacitated. Will pulled his warsling from his belt and whipped a lead pellet at the sphere, but the missile flew right through the construct without disrupting it. He turned to Jivex, but the faerie dragon shook his head to indicate that he, too, had no notion what to do.
Then, shuddering and twitching, Nexus nonetheless manage to fix his luminous eyes on the orb. He growled a single word of power, and the sphere vanished, as did the lines of flame on the ground. The terrifying sense of malignancy enveloping the field disappeared in the same instant.
The spellcasters started shakily picking themselves up off the ground to adjust vomit-soiled and bloodstained garments, recover dropped talismans, and gingerly inspect the chewed tongues, bitten lips, and bruises sustained in their seizures and falls. All but Moonwing. The silver still lay where he'd dropped, but wasn't moving at all.
When he noticed, Azhaq lunged to his comrade's side. He peered down at the other shield dragon, then said, in a bleak, flat voice, "He's dead."
"I'm sorry," Havarlan said. "We'll remove him to a place where he can lie peacefully for the time being. But then, I think, we must continue our deliberations."
"Yes," Azhaq said. "He deserves better, but I understand."
Will supposed it was just as well they were taking a break. Brandobaris knew, most of the wizards, priests, and even dragons looked as if they needed one. Still, by the time Azhaq, Havarlan, and two other silvers came back from removing Moonwing's body, they'd managed to compose themselves. The mood, however, was even more palpably glum than before.
"What's the matter?" Will asked. "I'm sorry about Moonwing, too, but at least he didn't die for nothing. We saw the old elves' fortress, right? We actually saw it."
"We glimpsed it," Firefingers said. "But not clearly or long enough to determine its location."
"But if you did that well the first time, the next attempt is sure to work."
"Alas, no," Nexus said.
"Damn it!" said Will. "I'm tired of you people telling me that."
"No more tired," the gold replied, "than we are of saying it. But the wards are too strong. We're fortunate our initial effort to penetrate them didn't kill us all. A second would only result in further casualties."
"Cowards!" Jivex shrilled. "With the future of our people, of all the world, in jeopardy, dragons and wizards worthy of the name would try anyway!"
"l would gladly hazard my life," said Tamarand, "if I thought there was the slightest chance of it helping. So, I believe, would every one of us assembled here. But we mustn't destroy ourselves in mindless pursuit of a strategy that simply can't succeed. We must do what we've done again and again over the course of past several months, whenever a plan came to nothing: Formulate a new one."
Jivex gave a scornful sniff, but held his peace thereafter.
As threatened, the mages and drakes commenced an endless discussion too full of esoteric concepts and terminology for Will to follow. But he gleaned that no one had anything to propose that others didn't disparage as a flawed and futile waste of time.
It dampened whatever hope he had left, and bored him in the process. Eventually he sat down on the cold ground, and as Selыne progressed across the sky, and the spellcasters droned and bickered on, he found himself nodding off and jerking awake again.
Until Vingdavalac gave his wings, more yellowish than bronze-colored due to his relative youth, an irritable snap. "Is that it, then?" he demanded. "Are we beaten? Do we just go back to the havens, and sleep until we starve? At least that way, we won't run mad and commit atrocities."
"No!" said Tamarand. "I didn't rise up against Lareth merely to preside over our extinction!" He grimaced. "Not until I'm absolutely convinced of the necessity."
As the debate meandered on, Dorn, who'd stood mute and pretty much motionless since the conclave began, abruptly pivoted and stalked to Pavel's side. Will scrambled to his feet and hurried to join them.
"Figure it out," said Dorn.
Pavel gave him a quizzical look. "Surely you realize I would if I could. But our allies are some of the most learned wizards in all Faerыm. If they can't see a way… " He spread his hands.
"Look," said Will, "you're a fraud and an idiot, we all know that. But you claim you understand the concepts wizardry is based on, and occasionally, inexplicably, through the intercession of Lady Luck herself, I can only imagine, it's that pox-addled brain of yours that stumbles onto an idea when people far more intelligent-which is to say, most of them-are stymied. You're the one who worked out how to use Sammaster's folio, right? So don't just stand there like Blazanar's scarecrow. Earn your keep for once, and think."
"I'm trying," Pavel said. "I have been right along, and if the two of you will stop pestering me, I'll continue."
Will was sure the priest had indeed been pondering the problem_ Still, after the exchange, his demeanor altered. He frowned and stared down at the ground, not at the drakes and warlocks. Will sensed that he'd stopped attending to them in order to follow where his own thoughts led.
But for a while, nothing came of it, just as nothing resulted from the wyrms and magicians rambling on and on. Probably, Will thought, because nothing could. Some dilemmas had no solutions, and this appeared to be one of them.
Then Pavel's head snapped up, and his body straightened. "I have an idea," he said, and everyone turned to peer at him.
"We're listening," said Azhaq, plainly skeptical that a mere human priest might have achieved an insight that eluded dragon sorcerers.
"First," Pavel said, "assume Brimstone made it through to the other side of the gate."
"Based on what we found inspecting the wreckage," said Nexus, "that's a highly optimistic assumption. But continue."
"Next," Pavel said, "consider that Brimstone is a vampiric drake. Supposedly, such creatures must stick close to their hoards or perish. Yet he wanders freely, and I believe I know how.
"I'm sure you all noticed the jeweled choker he wears. I think he enchanted it to embody the entire hoard. That's one of the basic principles of magic, isn't it, that a fragment maintains a fundamental identity with the whole from which it derives?"
"Yes," said Darvin, "but so what?"
"Will, Dorn, and I have been to Brimstone's cave in Impiltur. We've seen his treasure, and it fills an entire chamber. Which is to say, the hoard isn't merely a collection of coins and gems but virtually a place in its own right. By the laws of wizardry, the exact same place where he is now."
"By all the mysteries," said Nexus, "go there, and with the proper enchantments, we can open a new portal to translate us into Brimstone's presence. That's brilliant." He lowered his tapered, gleaming head in a gesture of respect.
"In theory," said Darvin, scowling. "But you said it yourself, my lord, the priest's speculations are wildly optimistic. You don't know for a fact that the collar has been made analogous to the entire horde, do you, Master Shemov?"
"No," said Pavel, "but it makes sense."
"So already," said the plump little wizard, "there's one way this scheme could go awry. We might also run afoul of more of the elf wizards' wards."
"That, I doubt," said Firefingers, scraggly white brows knitted in thought. "We know they themselves used teleportation magic to travel to and from their citadel, so it seems unlikely they left defenses in place to prevent that exact thing."
"Well… maybe," Darvin said. "But my gravest concern is the likelihood that Brimstone failed to reach the proper destination. If we fling ourselves after him, we might wind up nowhere at all, or on some plane inimical to life."
"Maybe we will," said Dorn. "But you folk have babbled most of the night away, and this is the only worthwhile idea anyone has come up with. So now each of us just has to decide whether he's willing to take the risk. I am."
"As am I," said Tamarand. "If it kills me, so be it. Better to die trying than to lose myself to the Rage, or waste away in my sleep."
Other dragons clamored, each declaring himself of the same mind.
"Our king," said Celedon, "sent Drigor and me to observe your endeavor and assist however we could. So, with your permission, we'll tag along."
That left the Thentian spellcasters, and from them, Will anticipated less unanimity. Though each commanded formidable magic, a number were sedentary scholars, not battle wizards inured to peril and hardship. The world as they knew it might be in jeopardy, but unlike the dragons, they weren't worried about insanity overwhelming them, and in addition to all that, they'd rarely agreed on anything in all the years he'd known them.
Yet they surprised him. Starting with Firefingers and Baerimel, each, even Darvin, albeit with a petulant, grudging air, declared himself willing to make the attempt. Maybe, after laboring to foil Sammaster's schemes for the better part of a year, they simply had to see firsthand how it would all work out in the end.
"Bless you all," said Tamarand. "Whatever befalls us, it will be an honor to meet it in such a company. Now, I suggest you small folk go home to sleep. We'll fly for Impiltur in the morning."
Jivex spat, suffusing the air with a flowery scent. "Apparently everybody just takes it for granted that I'm coming along."
"Well," said Will, "aren't you?"
"Of course!" the faerie dragon replied. "Someone of sound judgment has to lead."
CHAPTER TWELVE
5 Nightal, the Year of Rogue Dragons
Something had changed, but at first Taegan didn't know what.Propped against a lump of rock, he'd been half sitting and half lying, attempting with only limited success to escape from hunger, cold, dirtiness, anxiety, and boredom into the trance-like state of vivid memory that was an elf's equivalent of slumber. Raryn lay snoring to one side. Kara's eyes were closed as well, but even so, it seemed likely she was awake, for she crooned under her breath. Brimstone was deeper in the cavern, out of view. Taegan had scarcely seen him for two days, and suspected he was keeping his distance in an effort to control his blood thirst.
Accordingly, when his intuition whispered that something was amiss, the avariel pivoted to see if Brimstone was slinking forth from his seclusion. But he wasn't, not even as a cloud of smoke and embers.
Taegan then realized what had actually snagged his attention: the alteration in Kara's singing. Before, the wordless melodies had sounded like lullabies and wistful ballads. The tune waxed louder, accelerated, assumed a driving tempo, warping into one of her battle anthems.
Taegan had never known her to sing such a song except in combat. Perhaps it was harmless, but he was leery of anything that might cause her to dwell on thoughts of violence.
"Kara?" he said.
She didn't answer, just kept singing. He repeated her name, louder this time. That prompted Raryn to open his eyes, but still failed to elicit any acknowledgment from the bard.
Was she asleep after all? Singing in the throes of a dream or nightmare? Taegan rose, walked to her, clasped her shoulder, and gave it a gentle shake.
Her eyes flew open, and the pupils were diamond-shaped. Her song became an incantation. Taegan reached to cover her mouth, but was an instant too slow. Something he couldn't see slammed him in the chest and hurled him across the chamber to crash into the opposite wall.
Kara surged to her feet, nails lengthening into talons, scales sprouting across her cheeks and brow, her moon-blond tresses shortening. Raryn scrambled to interpose himself between her and the elf.
"Don't!" he said. "Taegan's your friend. We're both your friends."
She crouched, and heart pounding, throat clogged with dread, Taegan waited for her to finish expanding and melting into dragon form. But Raryn's plea must finally have registered, for she straightened up instead. The claws dwindled, and the scales faded.
"Are you hurt?" she asked.
Taegan rose and shook out his pinions. His feathers rustled. "It doesn't appear so."
"I'm so sorry!"
"It's all right."
She glared so furiously that he wondered if she might attack again. "How can you say that? Of course it isn't 'all right!'"
"It is," Raryn said, "so long as you can rein the frenzy in." "That won't be much longer."
"It may be long enough," Taegan said. "An opportunity could present itself at any moment. We simply have to be ready."
