Rides a Dread Legion Free with Bonus Material Page 13

  Who are those I need to seek out Pug began, but saw the dragon heads eyes were closed.

  Pug glanced around the room and saw the silent companions watching him. They could provide no further aid to him, so he merely nodded a farewell and transported himself back to his study.

  His wife was waiting and said, Oh, there you are. I felt you depart and was about to get very angry with you.

  He could tell Miranda was making light, but she did exhibit genuine concern. I went to see the Oracle, said Pug flatly.

  The tightening around her eyes communicated she understood he had heard nothing good.

  We need to find someone who knows a great deal about demons, said Pug.

  Magnus and Miranda stood, while Caleb sat opposite his father. Pug had just finished recounting the Oracles warning and Miranda said, Youre right. We need a demon master.

  Magnus shook his head. They aredifficult to find.

  All understood that mastery of demons was one of the three forbidden arts; the other two were necromancy and arcane life. All were seen as being outside the bounds of respectable magic, dark arts that required misery and pain at the least, death and the rending of the very soul at the best.

  Leso Varen, also known as Sidi, Pugs longtime adversary, had been a necromancer, as had a magician named Dahakan, whom Nakor had angered. And so had the false dark elf prophet, Murmandamus. In Pugs lifetime, he had encountered three magic-users who used the precious life force of others for their own dark purposes. Animating the dead to do their bidding had been the least of their offenses. Stealing fleeing spirits as bodies died created disharmony of staggering proportions in the universe.

  Arcane life was the evil distortion of living creatures, modified to the magicians whim. Humans given animal powers, or animals blended into improbable creatures. Only necromancy was more evil.

  Demon masters were more of a mystery, for often the advantages they realized from their control of demons came at a high price. Controlling demons in and of itself was not seen as inherently evil, but it was still considered a dark art, as there was little good one could achieve with a demon minion.

  Pug sighed. We need to send word through our agents to start reporting back any rumors of demons or summoners.

  Caleb rose and said, Ill send word out at once. As he started to leave the room, he paused, and said, I think I remember some mention of something He returned to his fathers desk, which he occupied when Pug was not at the school. Rifling through papers, he said, Yes, a report from Muboy. A magic-users banishing demons for a fee. He smiled ruefully. They appear fortuitously and then the magician arrives.

  Magnus said, A confidence scheme, no doubt.

  We should still investigate, said Pug. To Caleb, he said, You are in charge. Im going to see to this myself. To Miranda, he said, If you dont mind, Miranda, see if theres anything at Stardock on demon lore. To Magnus, he said, And you should talk to the monks at That Which Was Sarth.

  Both nodded agreement, and Miranda vanished.

  Pug turned to his sons and said, I was about to add, after lunch.

  The sons chuckled, but in the wake of what their father had just told them, it was false mirth.

  CHAPTER 8

  DEMON MASTER

  Gulamendis froze.

  The sight that greeted him as he stepped through the portal to Midkemia was unexpected. He stood silently with his travel bag thrown over his left shoulder, and his brothers staff in his right hand. He drank in the vista, in wonder. He knew the Regent Lord had ordered geomancers away from repairing the bastions of Andcardia to constructing a new city on the ancient world they thought of as Home, the planet of their origin.

  When his brother had told him of finding this world, Gulamendis was halfway convinced Laromendis 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. That made him know 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 a moment after we arrived. Looking out over the valley, he said, It isremarkable.

  Gulamendis nodded, saying nothing, as he looked down the trailrather now a roadto the walls of the city. For that was the other remarkable thing; he only had his brothers brief description of this valley in mind but what he saw now was something entirely unexpected. With a cursory farewell to Astranour, Gulamendis moved purposely down the hillside.

  Massive walls had already been erected, a third of the way to encompassing the vast floor of the valley. The geomancers must have exhausted themselves and their apprentices to have accomplished so much in so little time. Not too far away, at the current end of the wall, he witnessed a half-dozen geomancers enchanting massive piles of rocks, moving them into place by force of their minds, while others readied the spells that would cause the fundamental essence to flow into liquid, to be coaxed into new shapes, then to be re-hardened as the magicians desired. The magic was complex, requiring decades of study, and Gulamendis was always impressed, not only with the sheer force of it, but the artistry. Not only was simple rock turned into building material, it was lent a beauty and elegance that was the hallmark of the Taredhel. The wall was off-white in color, with a parapet, but the merlons between the crenels were a deep yellow, almost goldenrod color. From the distance, everything looked white and gold. Barely a tenth completed, the city already spoke to the world of its splendor. It would be the new capital for all elvenkind on this world.

  In less than a week the outlines of the new city could be seen. Not named yet, he could hear people say, ebar, in the ancient language, Home, and he suspected that might come to be its name, no matter what the Regents Meet might decide. Even while he walked, Gulamendis had a sense of the magic everywhere, a faint vibration in the fundamental fabric of this spacewhat the mancers called the loops of beingwhere elven will was being imposed on rock and mud. Vast boulevards were being cleared with flashes of blinding white light; he could imagine the heat as the incindiari, the magicians specializing in fire magic, burned away acres of undergrowth and detritus. Arboris had already worked their arts on the trees, literally commanding them to uproot and walk to where those magicians wanted them.

  Gulamendis understood the scope of his races power, and 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 to contemplate.

  As he watched, Gulamendis saw a team of drovers direct carts down a pathway toward a leveled patch of land. He knew that only hours before geomancers had fashioned the building pad with magic, completing in minutes what would have taken hours for workmen using picks, shovels, and drags to accomplish.

  The massive horses were urged slowly forward, while the cleverly contrived carts gently tipped backward, depositing large rocks, some qualified as small boulders, in a roughly straight line. Lingering to observe magic with which he was barely familiar, Gulamendis was fascinated. These masters of the arcane controlled the very stuff of the world: the rock, soil, crystal, and sand.

  Three younger magicians walked purposely to a position along the line of rocks, and as one they incanted a spell. Before the Demon Masters eyes the rock grew soft and began to flow. Two Master Geomancers, supervised by a Grand Master, moved to positions between the three younger spellcasters, and they began to control the rocks. A wall of stone rose up, liquidlike runny clay. When it was at the app
ropriate height, the Grand Master began his arts. First the surface smoothed, until it became an unbroken, almost eggshell-white flat, and along the top decorative designs appeared, carvings that would have taken an artisan with chisel and hammer months to achieve. Gulamendis understood the theory behind this craft, and knew that like his own spells that had been created to contain other spells, patterns such as this were combined and then unleashed in a series by simply incanting the master spell. Still, it was a wonder to behold.

  Then came the crowning touch, as those patterns atop the wall were turned a reddish-gold color that the Demon Master knew was a blend of copper and gold. And he knew it was not a paint or gilt, but that this Grand Masters art allowed him to transmute what was once rock into a patina of metal.

  The Taredhel were unmatched when it came to the arcane arts, and their control over the very elements of the world was breathtaking. Centuries of craftsmanship, passed along to artists, resulted in this spectacular creation. It was more than just a wall to a dwellingone destined for someone of rank, given the size and splendor of the first wallit was the near effortlessness of it that stunned the Demon Master. It was a testament in action, the legacy of scholars, artists, and masters of craft combined and handed down through generations. Like all those of his race, these magic-users took quiet pride in their efforts, but sought no praise, for to them it was what was expected. To do less was to court shame.

  Gulamendis turned away. To one who labored for the most part in solitude, whose area of expertise were the darker arts, there was something almost too bright here, as if one might stare into the sun until one was blind. Not for the first time, the Demon Masteramong the most despised of beings to his own kindwondered at his peoples appetite for power. Unlike the Forgotten, who had lusted after their ancient masters might in a vain attempt to raise themselves up to the stature of the Dragon Host, the Taredhel only sought knowledge for its own reward, for after all, they were descendants of the Eldar, the true keepers of lore. Yet, not for the first time, the Demon Master wondered if there was much difference between the Taredhel and the Moredhel.

  Gulamendis was required to report to the senior magician at the site, Grand Master Colsarius, but after that he was mandated by the Regent Lord himself to discover if there was any demon presence on this world.

  Gulamendis didnt need to do much investigating; there was demon scent in the very air, but muted, faint, so distant that only one as sensitive to its existence as himself would recognize it. Magic had flavors and signatures, and if you knew the spellcaster well enough, youd recognize his handiwork as easily as seeing the masters mark on a sword blade or fine piece of jewelry.

  Still, it was the very faint, nearly absent, scent of demon that piqued Gulamendiss curiosity. He would have to go some distance from this place, as there was so much magic in play it 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 from oversight.

  He had his own agenda, one that he and his brother and a handful of others had sworn to see fulfilled, even should it mean their deaths, for no one better knew the destruction coming headlong toward the Taredhel than the Demon Master.

  Andcardia was lost, no matter what anyone still defending it might wishthe fervor in which the Regent Lord threw his remaining resources into building this city at the expense of defending Andcardia was proof he knew it, as well. That the Demon Legion would overwhelm Andcardia 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 was a portal, a gate between worlds, that provided easy access from the Fifth Circle to this one, and while it stood open, demons could be easily summoned, or worse, find their way into this realm unaided.

  He reached the end of the first completed section of the wall, through which this road passed, a huge gap waiting for majestic gates to be fashioned. Gulamendis had no doubt the Regent Lord would spend some time with the fabricators of those gates, ensuring their design and execution were as precise and ornate as they had been back on Andcardia. The Regent Lord fancied himself a man of taste and had taken a hand in the design of everything constructed by the Taredhel for over the last two centuries. Thats why every faade was framed with ornate moldings and cornices, and rooftops were peaked, every roof topped with a spire. Gulamendis was forced to concede his race had a taste for the ostentatious, and he was in the minority, preferring simpler, more elegant designs.

  He considered the reality he knew to be the Demon Gate. He and others in his calling had faced scorn and ridicule over that assertion, being accused of seeking to avoid complicity in the demon assault. But no matter whom he tried to convince, only a handful of magicians, almost to a man practitioners of the darker callings, believed him. One additional ally had proven a surprise, one of the ancient priests, the Elta-Eldar, for Gulamendis had made one observation in passing that had sent the ancient Loremaster to the archives.

  That ancient had sought out Gulamendis when he had been imprisoned. He had asked questions and offered insights, then left the prisoner alone to sweat out his days and shiver through the nights.

  It had been his apprentice, the Lorekeeper Tanderae, who had returned at last to speak on his masters behalf. Now Gulamendis saw the priest approaching.

  Gulamendis, he said in greeting.

  Fare you well, Tanderae? answered the Demon Master.

  As well as one might expect, given our current circumstances. He glanced around as if to see whether anyone else was listening. He turned to walk next to Gulamendis and put his left hand on the Demon Masters shoulder, as if two old friends were speaking of personal matters. Lowering his voice, he said, I suspect you have much to do, and need to be quickly about your business; Ill walk with you only a little way, for I also am hard pressed by many duties.

  I just want you to understand that much of what you have brought to the attention of myself and others has not gone unnoticed. You have our thanks.

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

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

  Gulamendis said nothing.

  Like yourself, I have witnessed the fall of the greatest race from glory to ruin.

  Still, Gulamendis kept quiet, as they walked past a circle of priests who were incanting 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 seen one created. Their fabrication was rare, yet now seven were being fashioned in this, the Peoples new home. He paused to observe this wonder, then finally he said, None living has not been a witness to tragedy.

  Tanderae nodded and was silent for a moment.

  The Priests finished their spell, and hovering in the air was a dull grey object, looking nothing so much as like a large piece of unfinished ore, lead or tin. 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, the stone would glow with the brightness of a star, and to look at it for more than a moment could blind a living being. But the magic would prepare the ground for the most holy of the Peoples artifacts, the living, breathing heart of the People, one of the seven great trees known as the Stars.

  Almost muttering, Tanderae said, I could be burned at the stake for saying this, but all of this is unnecessary.

  Gulamendis turned to study the Lorekeeper. He looked much as any younger male of the People: tall, regal, with broad shoulders and a haughty expression. His features were unremarkable, much like Gulamendiss: straight nose, deep-set eyes, a strong chin, and high cheekbones. His hair was dark, however, unlike most of the People, a deep red, almost brown in color. Unnecessary?

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

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

  Gulamendis nodded. Its impossible not to.

  We could excavate the Seven Stars, wrap the roots of those mighty trees, and magic them through the portal and plant them, and they would thrive here. This is their home, too.

  But we are a People who are wed to tradition.

  Gulamendis nodded in agreement. Entrenched beliefs were difficult to dislodge. So certain were those in power that some nameless demon master caused the invasion of this realm by the Demon Legion, it was only by fortunes favor he still lived.

  Looking around, to ensure no one was eavesdropping, Tanderae continued. You and your brother have lived on the fringes, my friend. Masters of Illusion are treated with indifference, but have no place on the Council of Magic. All of the builders, the geomancers, aremancers, the formers of thingshe indicated with a nod of his head the seven priests and magicians who now left the site where they had created the Star Stoneand especially the tarmancers, they have convinced the People over the centuries they alone are to be entrusted with advising the Regent. Overcoming their bias He left the thought unfinished.

  Quietly, Gulamendis said, Why are you saying these things?

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