Return of the Sorceress (25 page)

Elidor almost heeded the urgings of his despair. But then he thought of Davyn, who had somehow disappeared before they attacked the many-headed monster. He thought of Nearra, who might even now have had her identity overtaken by the spirit of Asvoria. He thought of his mother, Alloria of House Royal.

Most of all, he thought of his father, Matunaaga, chief of the Tribe of the One-Eyed Crow. After leaving the Sivanesti, Elidor had spent some time with his father’s people, learning their ways and customs. Above all else, the Kagonesti valued personal honor—and they never gave up, no matter how hopeless the odds.

Elidor looked into the eyes of his other self and allowed his shoulders to slump.

“Very well,” he said in a small defeated voice. “I surrender.”

His doppelganger laughed. “Of course you do. Was there ever any doubt?” He started forward, sword tip still circling. “Now stand still, and I’ll do my best to make sure this doesn’t hurt.” He grinned. “Much.”

But before the Silvanesti Elidor could fulfill his promise, Elidor threw his knives with blurring speed. One blade flew toward the black-robed kender, while the other streaked toward the wild centaur. Both daggers pierced their targets’ throats at precisely the same instant.

As the evil Sindri fell, the shadow hand gripping the true Sindri faded from existence, and the kender fell to the ground gasping for breath, but still alive. The feral centaur stumbled backward. As her dark counterpart collapsed, Ayanti got to her feet, only slightly the worse for wear.

“Blast!” the rogue Catriona swore when she saw what had happened to her companions. The real Catriona took advantage of her other self’s momentary distraction to make a sweeping kick and knock the doppelganger off her feet. The rogue Catriona fell hard, slamming her head against the stone floor. She didn’t get back up.

Elidor turned to his other self. The Silvanesti gaped in astonishment, unable to believe that circumstances had turned so completely against him so quickly. But he regained his composure and smiled once more.

“Well played,
Brother.
But you just threw away your weapons, while I, as you can plainly see, am still very much in possession of mine. You might have been able to save your friends, but you won’t be able to save yourself!”

“Elidor!” Sindri shouted. “I think I’ve figured out this spell! All we have to do is close our eyes and keep them closed!”

Elidor didn’t take his gaze off his other self—and especially his other self’s rapier.

“Are you insane?” Elidor said. “If I close my eyes, he’ll run me through!”

“Trust me!” the kender pleaded. “It’s the only way!”

Elidor considered. Sindri was a kender, and he could be childlike and impulsive at times, but he was also his friend. Elidor knew Sindri would never ask him to risk his life without good reason.

He took a deep breath. “All right,” he said at last. “But if I die, I’m never going to speak to you again.”

Elidor closed his eyes and waited to feel the Silvanesti’s rapier pierce his heart.

    M
addoc leaned on Davyn for support as they walked down the corridor. The lantern Davyn held did little to dispel the hallway’s gloom.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been on this level of the keep before,” Davyn said.

“You haven’t,” Maddoc confirmed. “I usually leave the entrance to this level sealed.”

“For my own safety?” Davyn asked. “When I was a child, that’s what you always told me whenever I asked about a locked door or a sealed-off level.”

“And with good reason,” Maddoc said. “A sorceress’ stronghold contains all manner of dangers for a curious little boy.” He patted Davyn’s arm. “But you’re a man now, my son, or close enough to make little difference. And tonight I have need of a very special room that lies on this level.

“I did not anticipate that you and your companions would come to Cairngorn Keep of your own accord. I’d hoped to have more time to recover my strength after Shaera’s death before I next attempted to gain control of Asvoria. Still, one shouldn’t complain when Fortune smiles upon one, yes? But if I am to
perform the Rite of Emergence tonight then I’m going to need to build up my mystical strength fast.”

“But how?” Davyn asked. An awful thought occurred to him. “Do you plan to … to borrow the strength of another?”

“Worried that I released you from the Gallery’s enchantment merely to be a magical snack?” Maddoc chuckled. “Though I’ll admit to knowing how to work spells designed to transfer the life energy of one being to another, I’d never do such a thing to you, my son. Besides, the kind of energy I need isn’t the sort that can be found in a normal mortal. I need the kind of power that can only be retrieved from another mage.”

Sindri?
Davyn thought. Was Maddoc planning to steal the life force of the little wizard? Was Maddoc even aware of Sindri’s growing powers?

As if reading Davyn’s mind, Maddoc said, “And I don’t mean the kender who styles himself as a magic-user. A telekinetic ring and a penchant for stealing small objects hardly adds up to mystical might.”

“Then who?” Davyn asked. “The only other mage in the keep is Asvoria, and if you drain her power, she’ll die, and her magical knowledge will be lost to you forever.”

“True, but you’re forgetting something, my boy. There’s one other wizard inhabiting the keep at this moment.”

Davyn frowned in confusion. “Who?”

Maddoc smiled enigmatically. “Me.”

They continued walking for several more minutes. Maddoc moved so slowly, at times it felt to Davyn as if they were standing still. But eventually they came to a large oak door.

“This is it,” the wizard pronounced. “The Chamber of Hours.” He turned to look at Davyn, his expression deadly serious. “Once we enter, I require only that you keep the lantern burning and assist me physically should my body weaken. But I warn you:
where the Gallery is a place of illusion, this is a place of Time—of yesterdays and tomorrows, of pasts that never were and futures that may or may not come to pass. It is disorienting, even to one schooled in the mystic arts. Try your best not to become entangled in anything you see or hear inside. But make no mistake. Unlike the Gallery, the visions in the Chamber can take on physical reality at times, which makes them extremely dangerous. Do you understand me?”

Davyn didn’t, but he nodded anyway.

“Good. Then let us proceed.”

There was no knob or handle on the door. Maddoc pressed his hand flat against the wood and whispered a few words of magic. The door swung open without a sound.

Since he held the lantern, Davyn started forward, but Maddoc stopped him.

“Best to let me enter first. Just in case.”

Davyn wasn’t about to argue the point. Maddoc shuffled past him and Davyn hesitated a moment before following.

Unlike other rooms in the keep, the walls and floor of this chamber were made of polished white marble, and the shiny surface reflected and intensified the lantern light. Davyn squinted and averted his eyes from the glare. He blinked several times to adjust his vision and then examined the room. The Chamber of Hours was aptly named, for the walls were lined with timekeeping devices of all sorts: sundials, hour glasses, water clocks, counterweight clocks, there was even a large black globe covered with pinpoints of silver.

Davyn pointed at the globe. “What’s that?”

Maddoc opened his mouth to answer, but instead of words, what came out was a low-pitched groaning sound unlike anything Davyn had ever heard before.

“I don’t understand. Is something wrong?”

Maddoc frowned so slowly that Davyn had to watch closely to detect the movement of his brow. The wizard then reached a hand toward Davyn, the motion also taking a ridiculously long time, as if the wizard was moving through thick molasses. Finally, after what seemed like several minutes, Maddoc’s fingers came in contact with Davyn’s arm, and suddenly the wizard was moving and speaking normally again.

“Forgive me, Davyn. I should’ve been more careful to remain in close contact with you. Time flows quite differently in this room, and navigating in here can be tricky.”

“You mean that strange noise you were making—”

“Was the sound of my voice, but slowed down many times to your ears. I heard your question and started to tell you that the globe is a magical device for measuring and predicting the movements of the stars, but I barely got out the first syllable before we were caught in different time streams. But as long as we remain in close proximity to one another, our personal time senses should remain synchronized.”

“Uh, good.” Davyn said. He pointed to a large symbol carved into the marble floor. “What’s that? It looks like a sideways figure … like the symbol of Mishakal, except it’s not blue.”

Maddoc laughed. “There are no symbols of the goddess in this keep! This, my son, is an ancient representation of the concept of infinity,” the wizard explained. “And it is the center of the Chamber’s power, the power to manipulate Time itself.”

Davyn looked at the symbol. “You have all these wonders are your disposal—the paintings in the Gallery, this chamber—why do you need to resurrect Asvoria at all? It seems that by taking over her keep, you’ve inherited so many of her secrets already.”

“Having access to some of Asvoria’s playthings is not the same as fully understanding them,” Maddoc said, “let alone being able to create such wonders myself. I understand only a fraction of
the magic this room is capable of. I only hope that fraction will be enough to help to succeed in what I am about to attempt. If not …”

“You won’t have the mystic strength to complete the Rite of Emergence?” Davyn asked.

“Yes, but that will be beside the point, for if I fail, there’s an excellent chance that neither of us will leave this chamber alive.”

Davyn grimaced. “Thanks for trying to bolster my spirits,” he said sarcastically.

Maddoc chuckled, then said, “Prepare.” The wizard began reciting an incantation in an ancient language. Davyn had heard Maddoc cast many spells over the years, but this was different. Sometimes his chanting proceeded at normal speed, sometimes it was slow and drawn out, and other times the words flew out of the wizard’s mouth in a high-pitched chatter, making him sound like a black-robed chipmunk. Davyn, mindful of what Maddoc had requested, held the lantern steady and kept his other hand on Maddoc’s shoulder, prepared to lend the mage physical support should he require it.

In response to the wizard’s incantation, the infinity sign began to glow with a soft yellow light. And then, though Davyn had been sure the symbol was carved into the marble floor, the infinity sign began to rise into the air. When it was at eye level, it tilted toward them ninety degrees, and then stopped. It now looked as if the infinity sign had been drawn into the air with lines of glowing fire.

Maddoc continued chanting and now added complex hand gestures to the spell. The symbol’s glowing outline slowly started to fill in with yellow energy. As this happened, Davyn became aware of the sounds of the clocks in the room—the tic-toc, tic-toc; the soft rushing-gurgles of the water clocks; the gentle shhhhhhh
of sand flowing through narrow bottlenecks of hour glasses; and even the noiseless movement of shadows across the faces of sundials. He heard them all, and as the sounds continued to increase in volume, the infinity symbol’s energy built up until it was blazing like two miniature suns hovering one next to the other.

Maddoc stopped chanting and his hands fell limply to his sides. His knees began to buckle, but Davyn caught him before he could collapse, and with Davyn’s help, the wizard remained standing.

“We did it,” Maddoc wheezed. “Though it was a near thing toward the end.”

We
did it. Maddoc had never referred to his son as if he were a partner—an
equal
—before. It surprised, confused, and pleased Davyn all at once.

“Now what?” Davyn asked, speaking in a hushed, respectful voice, for he realized that he stood within the presence of Time itself.

“We begin seeking the proper instant in all the countless moments of eternity.”

Maddoc waved his hand weakly, and twin images appeared within the glowing depths of the infinity sign. They were scenes of Maddoc, not as he was now, but before the death of Shaera, strong and healthy. The wizard stood in the courtyard of Cairngorn Keep, holding out a baby bird for a little brown-headed boy to examine.

With a start, Davyn realized that the little boy was he. “This is an image of the past, isn’t it? I remember this day. I found a dead baby bird and brought it to you so you could fix if with your magic, and you did. You brought it back to life.”

“That’s what I allowed you to believe,” Maddoc said. “I could not heal the bird’s injuries, but I could reanimate the corpse. The body was fresh, and you were young enough not to notice the difference. I disposed of the undead creature later, when you’d gone off to play elsewhere.”

Davyn was appalled to learn the truth behind one of his most treasured childhood memories. “But why would you deceive me like that?”

Maddoc smiled. “Because I could not stand to see you so sad. Nor could I bring myself to disappoint you when you came seeking my help.” The wizard waved his hand and the twin images blurred and faded. “But the past is of no use to us right now. We seek the future.”