A Crown Imperiled (36 page)

He pulled his consciousness out of the matrix and turned to see an elderly Pantathian in a finely-made red robe with black trim now being thoroughly soaked by the intensifying rain. ‘Welcome back, Pug,’ the Pantathian said.

‘Thank you, Tak’ka,’ returned the sorcerer.

‘It would be false should I say that you are any more welcome here, but we understand that you and your friends are fated to be here. Too much of our blood on your hands prevents me from offering more than tolerance and a modicum of comfort.’ He glanced skyward, ‘Though from your son’s willingness to soak in this soon-to-be-freezing rain indicates to me that creature comforts are not very important.’

Pug could not hide his amusement. If the Pantathian was unaware of a human sense of humour, he was naturally wry. ‘Oh, we appreciate comforts and I welcome tolerance. Perhaps at some time in the future we may discuss our past differences, or at least mine with your more murderous kin, but for the moment Magnus’s actions communicate a sense of urgency on his part and I defer to his judgment. As for the wet and cold, we’ve endured worse, and I expect we shall come though this, though a dry towel when we are done would be most welcome.’

Pug couldn’t tell if the creature was amused or not, as he did not understand Pantathian facial expressions. But Tak’ka answered, ‘That much can be done. La’th here will remain to provide for your needs should any arise.’ Without further words, the elder Pantathian turned and left the roof garden.

Pug actually looked forward to having the opportunity to sit and speak with the apparently gentle leader of the Pantathians. He had understood so little of these created beings, these playthings of an ancient dead Dragon Lord, Alma-Lodaka, who had become a goddess to this race.

But for now, he returned his attention to his son and re-entered the matrix.

Time inside the matrix became meaningless. Pug knew they stood a real risk of passing out from exhaustion if they didn’t occasionally monitor their real-world existence. Then he wondered how he would know what constituted ‘occasionally’, given the circumstances.

He watched as Magnus probed. He had remained an observer since his son had begun this exploration, for Magnus seemed more deft at discovering his way around this analogue of an energy field than his father would be.

Pug moved within the matrix without conscious thought to where Magnus probed the massive red castle construct. He thought it must be a protective barrier, the red castle representing something that was constructed entirely of energy, and prodigious amounts of energy at that.

They had tried moving around the barrier and learned that the illusion of size and shape was misleading. There was no ‘around’ nor ‘back’. Anywhere they ceased their ‘movement’ they were still confronted by the red barrier. The more obvious choices had been to ‘look’ in one of the windows, but that had proved pointless; there was nothing beyond the ‘window’. Pug deduced that it might have been some mechanism that allowed observation from within, allowing someone or something inside the matrix to observe what Magnus and Pug were attempting. But who or what that someone or something might be was beyond their understanding.

Now Magnus was probing the ‘lock’ in the door. Pug struggled to understand the concept. Here was an energy matrix, assembled in such a way as to imply it was a communication of some sort. But it seemed protected in a fashion that whoever placed it here wanted to be sure that only a particular person or group of people might be able to decipher it. That would imply that the information was sensitive.

Pug began an investigation of his own, exploring the limits of the matrix while Magnus continued his probing of the internal barrier. When he was at last convinced he had begun to understand something of the nature of this odd artefact, he gently contacted Magnus, who withdrew.

In a blink they were both conscious of being in the rain, drenched and chilled. They hurried to the entrance to the garden and found La’th waiting, though the Pantathian seemed on the verge of sleeping. He snapped out of his doze and handed them each a towel. ‘Is there anything you require?’

Father and son glanced at one another. ‘Something hot to drink would be appreciated,’ said Pug. ‘Coffee, tea, chocha, whatever else you might have.’

‘We have tea,’ said the Pantathian and he hurried down the stairs.

‘What concerns me,’ began Pug ‘is the incalculable energy contained within that thing.’

Magnus nodded. ‘Me too. When I first began I concluded that this matrix, is somehow an extension of the Sven-ga’ri, and I’m convinced it’s their attempt to communicate with us. I just don’t understand why, after all this time, and why here, rather than up in the Peaks of the Quor?’

‘When we unlock that barrier and if we are able to communicate with these beings, then perhaps we will have those answers. As for the first, I speculate that time may be different to them, and perhaps it’s taken them this long to appreciate what manner of beings surround them, and how best to reach out to us. As to why here than there, I do not even care to speculate on that question.’

Pug fell silent as the Pantathian returned with two mugs of hot tea. It was bitter and flavourful and warming and they were both grateful to have it. ‘How are you doing with that barrier?’

Magnus sipped his tea and Pug studied his son for a moment. Unlike his eldest son, William, who bore a strong resemblance to Pug, or like his youngest son Caleb, who had resembled his mother, Magnus barely resembled either of his parents, though Pug could see hints of Miranda around the eyes. His face was currently set in a very familiar expression of thoughtfulness as he answered, ‘It’s complex, obviously. It’s constantly changing but I’m beginning to discern a pattern, a repeating sequences of pulses that prevent a casual probe beyond that wall into whatever is hiding behind there. And then, there’s my dream.’

‘What dream?’

Magnus told him of his dream about Kalkin and the matrix.

Pug was silent for a moment, then said, ‘As frustrating as it has been to deal with the Trickster, we do arrive at the same purpose: preventing the obliteration of our world. But experience tells me to consider what filtered into your dream from . . . his dream, if that indeed was what it was.’

‘I think it’s true that this is a barrier, and the matrix . . .’ Magnus fell silent for a moment, then added, ‘Think of it as a lock, but one that has teeth and grooves within that are moving, and out there somewhere is a key that moves in synchronization with that lock, but any other key or lock pick will merely jam the lock, rendering it useless.’

‘Or destroy utterly whoever tried to pick it.’

Magnus merely shrugged.

Pug was thoughtful as he sipped his tea. After a moment, he said, ‘Still, the matrix did not manifest in such a fashion until you appeared, what, a day after you arrived?’

‘Less I think. I may not have taken notice of that aspect immediately,’ said Magnus.

‘So we might conclude that there’s a reasonable expectation that you are either supposed to be in possession of that key or able to pick that lock, correct?’

Magnus smiled. ‘Were our positions reversed in this conversation, Father, what would you say in answer to that?’

‘I’d say you were making rash assumptions. It could be that the arrival of any magic-user triggers that response.’

‘Or any non-Pantathian,’ offered Magnus.

‘Or demons on the island, or a flock of seagulls flying overhead . . .’

‘We should get back,’ said Magnus. ‘We have a few hours of daylight left, and while it’s cold now, it’s going to be brutal after the sun goes down. And I feel as if I’m almost ready to try to “pick the lock” as you say.’

Pug nodded. He followed his son out to where the now-totally-soaked and useless cushion lay and watched as Magnus sat on it anyway, and observed him enter his trance state.

A sudden concern struck Pug in the pit of his stomach as he recognized that his last living child was about to embark on what was perhaps a very dangerous exploration of magic. He quickly inventoried his own established spells of protection and realized he’d got sloppy lately.

Pug had almost died because of his own arrogance when confronting the demon Jakan when he was in the guise of the Emerald Queen. That near-death experience had delivered a harsh lesson, but it had proved instructive in preparing for potentially lethal outcomes.

Pug decided not to join his son in the matrix exploration but began to construct a spell of protection for the two of them. Of all spell-craft at Pug’s disposal, the most difficult was this, a spell to protect without warning. The difficulty arose that in the time between an attack manifesting itself and the target becoming aware, the target could already be dead before the defence could be deployed. Against arrows and sword, fire and stone, there was no way to protect without advance warning. But against magic there was always a momentary gathering of energies, sometimes less than a few seconds, but always there before the magic was unleashed. It was that fact that gave Pug the idea for this construction of magic.

The shield would engulf him and anyone close, Magnus in this case, and protect them from any magical damage Pug could anticipate. As a master of his craft unequalled on this world, save perhaps for his son, that covered any form of energy, fire, or other discharge that would instantly kill the unprotected. The trick, as Nakor would have called it, was to have it deployed the instant before the attack was unleashed, and that was where Pug concentrated. The instant a malevolent magic was detected, the shield would deploy, and in that instant was the difference between salvation and obliteration. The difficulty was he could only deploy such a defence in a single position, such as on top of this roof in this garden.

Pug fashioned his spell and put the magical ‘trip-wire’ as he thought of it in place, then let out a long sigh. As long as he stood there and didn’t move, he and Magnus stood a fair chance of surviving any trap that could be anticipated.

It was the ones he couldn’t anticipate that had him worried.

•  CHAPTER SIXTEEN  •

Journeys

N
AKOR SWORE.

‘We can run faster than these horses,’ he complained to Miranda.

‘Yes, but after a few hours we’d need to eat them. And there are enough Kingdom patrols between here and Sarth I don’t wish to have to explain myself to.’

‘Well, Martin gave us a pass,’ responded Nakor.

Arkan and Calis said nothing, content to let Nakor and Miranda do all the talking. Arkan was fascinated by the human landscape as they rode past farms and villages down the coast road from Ylith to Sarth. His only remark had been to comment on the richness of this coast compared to the Northlands.

Nakor was riding a bay gelding that seemed to slow down every time he stopped applying heel to barrel, determined to browse anything he could crop irrespective of Nakor’s wishes. Miranda had a speckled roan mare that seemed on the verge of breaking down due to an old spavin on her left hind leg. The elves had found a pair of bay geldings, one with a white blaze, both old enough they could not outride the other pair of mounts. So the best they could manage was a posting trot most of the time, with an occasional canter tossed in to break the monotony.

Nakor continued with his complaining. ‘I just wish we could have found better horses.’

Miranda smirked. ‘The good horses went south with the army, and the five-gaiters went with their rich owners anywhere the Keshians weren’t. Be glad we’re not riding mules.’

Life along the shore of the Bitter Sea was picking up slowly. Martin had tried to find them a boat to sail directly to Sorcerer’s Isle, but it had been impossible. The only boat available was the dinghy used to spot the water demons and even with a demon’s strength they couldn’t row that many miles.

So they found two horses not worth much and paid too dearly for them, and headed south. Neither Miranda nor Nakor worried about provisions, as they could hunt and forage. Neither was averse to eating raw meat and their taste was diverse. If it could be eaten, they’d eat it. And both elves were expert hunters so if provisions couldn’t be purchased, game could be killed.

As for other travellers, few were encountered. A few dispatch riders heading from Sarth to Ylith. Miranda had Martin’s report to take to the garrison at Sarth, as she would reach that city before anyone else. There just weren’t horses to spare and besides, Martin had to keep his entire force intact to face the Keshians in the middle of the city. The gods only knew how long that armistice would endure.

They had been on the road three days since the truce had been declared, and were determined to reach Sarth as quickly as possible. There they would find whatever craft they could to sail to Sorcerer’s Isle. Miranda was constantly battling her frustration at all those things she had once known how to do, as Miranda, rather than Child.

And that was another thing: she and Belog were thinking of themselves more and more as Miranda and Nakor, not as their true demon identities. The emotional wear of wanting to see Pug and Magnus, the mourning over the loss of Caleb and Marie, all of it was as real to her as if she had always been Miranda, and it was taking its toll. The original Miranda, despite years of life experience, had always been impatient and impetuous, perhaps a product of her childhood where she had to scramble to survive. Her mother had been a powerful magic-user, last known as the Emerald Queen, but called Jorma when she was married to Nakor in her youth. The real Nakor and Miranda had never really decided if that in some strange way made them kin, but it had never been an issue, for they were good friends. Her father was Macros the Black, but she had only met him a half-dozen times growing up. If there was ever a man less suited to be a parent, Miranda hadn’t encountered him, but in the end he had died heroically, and Pug had survived because of that, and for that she had always been grateful to her father.

She had never truly loved a man until she met Pug, or at least not in the way she had come to understand while with him. Before him there had been lovers, the last being Calis, which was why it was odd for Child to confront the elf prince and feel Miranda’s emotions at seeing his face. He had been a partner in many ways, in the first resistance to the demons and Pantathians when the Emerald Queen’s army had overrun Novindus. Before that she had been a vagabond, taking and leaving men as she found them. Some she grew fond of, but never enough to give up travel and discovery. A few she thought of from time to time, drifting for a moment on memories centuries old, but one thing she shared with people like Nakor, Amirantha and Pug was that most of the people she had loved.