Читать книгу The Complete Demonwar Saga 2-Book Collection - Raymond E. Feist - Страница 16

GULAMENDIS FROZE.

The feeling that greeted him as he stepped through the portal to Midkemia was unexpected. He stood silently drinking in the vista, his travel bag thrown over his left shoulder and his brother’s staff in his right hand. He knew the Regent Lord had ordered some geomancers away from repairing the bastions of Andcardia in order to construct a new city on the ancient world they thought of as ‘Home’.

When his brother had told him about finding this world, Gulamendis had been half-convinced that Laro was either feigning the discovery or perhaps deluding himself, but one breath here and he knew: this was Home.

There was a resonance in the air, a feeling of solidity underfoot, of being in touch with something fundamental, a faint but almost palpable energy that seeped into the core of his being. This was the world upon which his race evolved, the very core of their existence began here. Emotions he thought he no longer possessed rose up and threatened to sweep him away. It took him a moment to take another breath and step away.

‘It strikes everyone that way,’ said a voice to his right. Gulamendis saw a magician named Astranour standing beside the gate. He was an aremancer, one who specialized in creating and controlling the translocation portals and transporting devices employed by the taredhel. ‘My wife wept when we arrived.’ Looking out over the valley, he said, ‘It is … remarkable.’

Gulamendis nodded, saying nothing as he looked down the trail – now a road – to the walls of the city. He remembered his brother’s brief description of the valley, but what he saw now was something entirely unexpected. With a cursory farewell to Astranour, Gulamendis moved purposefully down the hillside.

Massive walls had been erected, already encompassing a third of the vast valley floor. The geomancers would have exhausted themselves and their apprentices to accomplish so much in so little time. Not too far away, at the end of the wall, he witnessed half a dozen geomancers enchanting massive piles of rocks, moving them into place with their minds; others readied spells that would cause the stones’ fundamental essence to flow into a liquid, be coaxed into any shape the magicians desired, and then re-hardened. The magic was complex, requiring decades of study, and the force it required and the artistry employed always impressed Gulamendis. Basic rock was not simply turned into building material, it was lent a beauty and elegance that was the hallmark of the taredhel. The wall was an off-white colour, topped with a parapet, but the merlons between the crenels were a deep yellow. From a distance, they looked white and gold. Barely a tenth complete, and their new city already spoke of its future splendour. It would be the new capital for all elvenkind on this world.

In less than a week the outlines of the new settlement could be seen. He had heard people call it, ‘e’bar’, home in the ancient language, and suspected that might come to be its official name, no matter what the Regent’s Meet might decide. As he walked, Gulamendis could sense the magic everywhere, a faint vibration in the fundamental fabric of this space, what the mancers called ‘the loops of being’. All around him, elven will was being imposed on rock and mud; vast boulevards were being cleared, with flashes of blinding white light, and he could only imagine the heat as the incendiari, the magicians specializing in fire magic, burned away acres of undergrowth and detritus. Arboris had already worked their arts on the trees, commanding them to uproot and walk to their desired locations.

Gulamendis understood the scope of his people’s power, he had seen evidence of it all his life, but never before had he witnessed so many practitioners of the arcane arts expending their skills so vigorously at the same time. It was positively intoxicating.

As he watched, Gulamendis saw a team of drovers divert their carts down a pathway towards a levelled patch of land. The building pad had been fashioned with magic only hours before; the geomancers completing in minutes what picks, shovels, and drags would have taken hours to accomplish.

The massive horses were urged forward slowly, while the cleverly contrived carts gently tipped, depositing large rocks on the ground in a roughly straight line. Gulamendis lingered, fascinated by the unfamiliar magic. These masters of the arcane controlled the very stuff of the world: the rock, soil, crystal and sand.

Three young magicians walked to a point halfway along the line of rocks and together incanted a spell. The stones grew soft and began to flow together before the Demon Master’s eyes. Then two master geomancers, supervised by a Grand Master, moved between the three younger spellweavers, and began to control the flow. A wall of stone rose before them, liquid like runny clay. When it reached the appropriate height, the Grand Master began to apply his arts. First he smoothed the surface until it became an unbroken, almost eggshell white, then along the top decorative designs appeared, carvings that would have taken artisans months to achieve with chisels and hammers. Gulamendis understood the theory behind this craft; his own spells were often designed to layer other spells, patterns such as this were combined and then unleashed in series simply by incanting the master spell. Still, it was a wonder to behold.

Then the Grand Master added the crowning touch as patterns transmuted on top of the wall, in a reddish-gold colour that the Demon Master presumed to be a blend of copper and gold. He knew it was not paint or gilt, and that this Grand Master’s power allowed him to refine the rock into a patina of metal.

The taredhel were unmatched when it came to the arcane arts, their control over the very elements of the world was breathtaking. Centuries of inherited craftsmanship had resulted in this spectacular creation. It was more than a splendid wall, it was its effortlessness that stunned the Demon Master; the legacy of scholars, artists, and magicians in action. Like all of the taredhel, these magic users took quiet pride in their accomplishments, they sought no praise, for to do less than their best was to court personal shame.

Gulamendis turned away. To one who usually laboured in solitude, whose expertise lay in darker arts, there was something almost too bright here, something that could cause sun blindness if one stared too long. Not for the first time, the Demon Master wondered at his people’s appetite for power. Unlike the Forgotten, who had lusted after their ancient master’s might in a vain attempt to raise themselves up to the stature of the Dragon Host, the taredhel sought knowledge for its own reward. They were descendants of the eldar, the true Keepers of Lore. Still, the Demon Master wondered if there was much difference between the taredhel and the moredhel.

Gulamendis was first required to report to the senior magician at the site, Grand Master Colsarius, but after that the Regent Lord’s mandate directed him to discover if demons were present on this world.

Gulamendis didn’t need to do much investigation; there was demon scent in the very air, but muted, so distant that only one as sensitive as he would recognize it. Magic had flavours and signatures, and if you knew the spellweaver well enough, you could recognize his handiwork as easily as spotting a master’s mark on a sword blade or fine piece of jewellery.

Still, this very faint sense of demon piqued Gulamendis’ curiosity. He would have to travel some distance from this place, as so much surrounding magic would make detecting the exact location of the demons more difficult. Once he was alone, far from here, he could deduce where to begin his search. Besides, it was a good excuse to get away.

He had his own agenda, one that he, his brother and a handful of others had sworn to see fulfilled, even should it mean their death, for they understood the destruction racing headlong towards the taredhel only too well.

Andcardia was lost, no matter what anyone still defending it might wish; the fervour with which the Regent Lord threw his remaining resources into building this city at the expense of defending Andcardia was proof that he knew that the Demon Legion would overwhelm them eventually. It was as inevitable as the surge of the ocean tide, and like the ocean tide, relentless. Still, much had been revealed and more could be learned, for Gulamendis knew one thing above all else: somewhere out there lay a portal, a gate between worlds, a path from the Fifth Circle to this one, and while it stood open demons could be summoned easily, or worse, find their way into this realm unaided.

He reached a huge gap in the first section of wall, through which this road passed. Gulamendis had no doubt that the Regent Lord would spend time with the fabricators of its majestic gates ensuring that their design and execution were as precise and ornate as they had been back on Andcardia. The Regent Lord fancied himself as a tasteful man and had taken an interest in the design of everything the taredhel had constructed over the last two centuries. Every façade was framed with ornate mouldings and cornices, rooftops were peaked, and every one topped with a spire. Gulamendis was forced to concede that though his people had a taste for ostentation, he was in the minority, preferring simpler, more elegant design.

He considered what he knew about the demon gate. He and others of his calling had faced scorn and ridicule over their assertion of its reality, accused of seeking to avoid complicity in the demon assault. No matter whom he tried to convince, only a handful of magicians, almost all practitioners of the darker callings, had believed him. One ally had proven a surprise, an ancient priest, the elta-eldar. Gulamendis had simply made one passing observation that had sent the ancient Loremaster rushing to the archives.

That priest had later sought out Gulamendis when he had been imprisoned. He had asked questions and offered his insights, eventually leaving the prisoner alone to sweat out his days and shiver through the nights.

It had been his apprentice, Spellmaster Tandarae, who returned at last to speak on his master’s behalf. Gulamendis saw the younger priest approaching.

‘Gulamendis,’ he said in greeting.

‘Fare you well, Tandarae?’ answered the Demon Master.

‘As well as one might expect, given our current circumstances.’ He glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then walked over to Gulamendis and put his left hand on the Demon Master’s shoulder. Lowering his voice he said, ‘I suspect you have much to do and need to be about your business; I’ll walk with you, for I also am hard pressed by duty.

‘I just wanted you to know that what you have brought to the attention of myself and others has not gone unheeded. You have our thanks.’

Not entirely sure where this was leading, Gulamendis said, ‘I only serve.’

‘Yes,’ said Tandarae with a slight smile, lowering his voice even more, ‘and yet there are those among the Lorekeepers, Loremasters and priesthood who would happily see you burned as a heretic.’

Gulamendis said nothing.

‘Like yourself, I have witnessed the fall of our great race.’

Gulamendis kept quiet as they walked past a circle of priests who were enchanting a Star Stone. Having been raised by his mother in a small town on the frontier of the Empire of the Stars, he had never before seen one created. Their fabrication was rare, yet seven were being fashioned in this, the People’s new home. He paused to observe the wonder, then finally said, ‘No one has escaped being witness to tragedy.’

Tandarae nodded and remained silent for a moment.

The priests finished their spell. A dull grey object, like a large piece of unfinished lead or tin ore, hovered in the air. It began to glow, slightly at first and with a pulse. Over the next minute the glow brightened and the pulse quickened. In less than an hour it would glow with the brightness of a star and to gaze upon it for more than a moment would blind you. But the magic prepared the ground for the most holy of the People’s artefacts, their living breathing heart, one of the seven great trees known as the Stars.

Quietly Tandarae said, ‘I could be burned at the stake for saying so, but all of this is unnecessary.’

Gulamendis turned to study the Lorekeeper. He looked much like any young male of the People, tall and regal, with broad shoulders and a haughty expression. His features were unremarkable: a straight nose, deep-set eyes, a strong chin and high cheekbones. His hair however, was unusually dark, almost deep auburn in colour. ‘Unnecessary?’

Tandarae knelt and gently rubbed his hand over the dirt of the valley floor, as if stroking a pet. He then picked up a loose clot of soil. ‘This is Home, Gulamendis.’ He raised it to his face, sniffed, and said, ‘The magic is already here.’

Standing again, he looked at the Demon Master. ‘We needed the Star Stones in the past to prepare the soil of an alien world and allow the Seven Stars to flourish.’ He took a long, slow, deep breath, and said, ‘The magic here is in the air. I know you felt it when you first came through the portal.’

Gulamendis nodded. ‘It was impossible not to.’

‘We could excavate the Seven Stars, wrap their mighty roots, magic them through the portal and plant them without the stones and they would thrive here. This is their home, too.

‘But the People are wed to tradition.’

Gulamendis nodded in agreement. Entrenched beliefs were difficult to challenge. Those in power were so certain that a Demon Master had caused the invasion that it was only by fortune’s favour he still lived.

Looking around to make sure no one eavesdropped, Tandarae continued. ‘You and your brother have lived on the fringes for too long, my friend. Masters of Illusion are treated with indifference, they have no place on the Council of Magic. Over the centuries, the builders, geomancers, aremancers—’ he nodded at the group of priests and magicians who were now leaving the site where they had created the Star Stone, ‘—and especially the tarmancers, have convinced the People that they alone should be entrusted with advising the Regent. Overcoming their bias …’ He left the thought unfinished.

Quietly, Gulamendis said, ‘Why are you saying these things to me?’

With a slightly sad smile, Tandarae said, ‘I have no magic, Gulamendis. My only gift is a prodigious memory. I speak without false modesty when I say that no Lorekeeper before me has been able to recall, word for word, every passage in every tome he has read. I know the history of our People better than any living elf, better than any who came before me.

‘And I can see a pattern.’

‘Pattern?’

‘We have much to talk about, but first you must find us a demon.’

‘I don’t understand?’

Taking Gulamendis’s arm, the Lorekeeper gently turned him towards a distant gate. ‘We both know that your obligation to report to the Grand Master is a formality. You’re a free agent, under direct orders from the Regent Lord. You have two tasks …’ He squinted a little as he studied the Demon Master’s face. ‘No, you have three tasks,’ he said softly. ‘You have one of your own, I see.’

Gulamendis stiffened slightly, but didn’t break a stride. ‘I am to seek out demon sign,’ he said. ‘If I find none, I rejoice.’

‘Oh, I suspect you’ll find some …’ He again studied the Demon Master while they walked. ‘Perhaps you already have.’ Gulamendis stopped, and Tandarae smiled. ‘My other gift is reading expressions.’ He waited for the Demon Master to speak, but when he did not, the Lorekeeper said, ‘Too long have we glorified power, Gulamendis. When it serves us, it is a grand thing, but to seek power for its own sake makes us little different from those we call the Forgotten.’

For a brief instant Gulamendis wondered if the Lorekeeper could read this thoughts, for his words echoed them. Weighing his response carefully, he asked, ‘What do you advise?’

Tandarae started moving towards the distant gate. ‘I will speak to Grand Master Colsarius, who will discharge your obligation to report. He will consider it a blessing to be saved from meeting a demon lover.’ He gave a wry smile and Gulamendis understood he meant the insult to be humorous. ‘There’s always the risk that he might take it upon himself to augment or extend the Regent Lord’s instructions, and I’d rather you weren’t distracted from your tasks.’

Gulamendis saw they were approaching the gate opposite the one through which he had entered the burgeoning city, and said, ‘What do you know of my tasks, Tandarae?’

‘I know the Regent Lord wants you to ensure we are not troubled by demons. And I’m guessing he will send someone with a great deal of experience to skulk through dark places to investigate a few other things too, such as how our kin on this world fare.’

Gulamendis was impressed. His meeting with the Regent Lord had been private, and held over the first good meal the Demon Master had been given in months. The Regent Lord had been adamant that Laromendis would remain hostage against his brother’s good behaviour while Gulamendis carried out two tasks; firstly to see if they were free of demon taint in Midkemia, and secondly to travel north and discover what he could about the elves living there, especially the so-called Elf Queen. Gulamendis suspected that the Regent Lord was in no hurry to surrender his authority to another, no matter what her lineage might be. She could claim to be descended from the true kings of the edhel, but it would take more than a garland crown and some rustic, leather-clad attendants to convince him to bend his knee before her.

Tandarae said, ‘And there’s something else, but I can’t tell what it is …’

Gulamendis preferred it that way. This young Lorekeeper was too adept at discerning truth from fragments and glimpses. He might prove to be a powerful ally, but he would make a deeply dangerous enemy. Still, Gulamendis wasn’t without his own talents in seeing a larger picture when enough information was available. He studied Tandarae and said, ‘You have great ambitions, my friend. Is not Master of Lore enough?’

The young elf smiled, but it was a pained expression. ‘I am a loyal friend. But the needs of my people come before any single elf’s desires.’

Gulamendis nodded and turned to walk through the gate. He understood completely. The young Lorekeeper meant to be the next Regent Lord. It now made sense why he had sought out the Demon Master. He wished the Elf Queen to know there were those within the ranks of the taredhel who were ready to acknowledge her as the rightful ruler of all the edhel. And they would aid her in exchange for certain considerations, such as being named her Regent Lord in Elenbar.

Gulamendis turned just as Tandarae was about to return to his other tasks, and said, ‘Why have this conversation? You already knew of my mission, yet you expose yourself, even if only slightly, by talking as you have. Why?’

The Lorekeeper turned back towards Gulamendis and said, ‘Do you know the Tome of Akar-Ree?’

‘I grew up in a tiny village on the frontier. As you can imagine, my education was not a formal one. I am self-taught.’

‘Impressive,’ said the Lorekeeper. ‘Your studies are among those forbidden for centuries, Gulamendis. What little we know of demons is either taken from ancient lore or won through bitter recent experience.

‘The Tome of Akar-Ree is a recounting of a great battle during the Chaos Wars, when gods and mortals struggled to seize the very heavens. Much of it makes obscure reference to things the reader is supposed to already know, but it holds some imagery that is open to a myriad of interpretations.

‘But there is one passage without a hint of obscurity, as clear as a clarion ringing in the cold dawn air: demons, beings of the deeper realms, were summoned to fight in that battle, and in answer, beings of light, from the higher realms, appeared. They came unbidden, for when a creature from the depths transcended, his counterpart would seek him out. When they met, they were both destroyed, or returned to their home realm, we don’t know which.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ whispered Gulamendis. He knew he was hearing something very important.

‘These higher beings, those in opposition to the demons, have many names, but they are most commonly called angels. Their glory is blinding and their power equal to their opposing demons.’

Gulamendis’s mind raced; he had summoned demons for years, yet this was the first he had heard of other beings, these angels.

Tandarae smiled. ‘You see the obvious question, don’t you?’

Gulamendis nodded. ‘Where are the angels?’

Tandarae shrugged. ‘Unless this ancient tome is a work of a master storyteller, then it suggests that the balance of our universe has been skewed since the time of the Chaos Wars. The host of demons who have destroyed our worlds should have been stopped by an equal number of angels, and the taredhel should have continued to live in peace.’

‘Why do you tell me this?’

Tandarae shrugged. ‘There may be no answer, or the tome may be apocryphal at best. But what if it is true?’ He placed his hand on Gulamendis’s shoulder and gently turned him back towards the gate, indicating the conversation was at an end. ‘You are about to travel widely, while the rest of us labour to build our glorious new city and plan our conquest of this world. You may meet all manner of beings on your travels, some may be wise, or powerful, or have access to ancient knowledge, and you need to know the right question to ask. Journey safely.’ He walked away from the stunned Demon Master without another word.

Gulamendis left the nascent city, unsettled by what he had just heard, and by what he knew was coming. He sighed to himself as he trudged up the hill, unsure if his tasks had just got easier or more difficult.