Sagaria (57 page)

Fariam sighed. “I had hoped this time would not come while I was alive.”

He fell silent. After a moment, Renada took up the explanation. “Our opening of the portal has been only partial. Passing through here will lead you only to the Shadow World. You cannot stray to find yourselves in the Earthworld, or even elsewhere in Sagaria. There is just the one possible destination. According to those ancient mages who ventured there, the portal places you within a couple of days’ walk of the palace of the Shadow World’s ancestral masters. We believe that Arkanamon has seized the palace for his own.”

Sagandran nodded. He’d read in magazines about black holes and wormholes in space. It sounded as if the portal was a sort of magical equivalent of one of those, only that the wizards had somehow managed to calibrate it.

“When you enter,” Renada was saying, “you’ll discover yourself, at first, in a place of …” she struggled to find the expression she was looking for, “semi-existence, if that conveys what I mean. It’s also a haven for every human thought and idea that has never been expressed in any of the real worlds. Be very careful what you think while you’re traveling through this intermediary region. The thoughts and ideas are like mental parasites, forever seeking to find a mind they can attach themselves to. Some of them are lovely, but most of them are hideous. You could be in danger of losing your lives if your guard slips and you allow them to creep into your mind. You might never be able to get them out again. If you do, they manifest themselves in reality. Fantasy becomes reality instantly.”

Sagandran shifted from one foot to the other.
It was easier to understand when it was just about wormholes,
he thought resignedly.
Oh well, I’m sure it will all make sense when we get there.

“After you have entered the portal,” Renada continued smoothly, “we shall seal it up again. This means that you can’t use it to return to Sagaria.”

Samzing, who’d looked to be dozing off as he leaned on his stick, twitched into wakefulness. “Eh? What do you mean? How are we supposed to get back then? Is this a one-way trip?”

“I hope not,” said Renada. Her smile now was wistful and concerned. “To return, you will have to find a portal in the Shadow World. I do not envy your search.”

Her sad voice drifted away in a falling cadence.

“There is nothing further we can do to help you in your quest,” said Fariam, spreading his hands as if surrendering to the dictates of fate. “None of us has ever been to the Shadow World. The mages who built the portal ventured there, but they’ve long since gone. However,” he said, reaching into a pocket of his robe, “I can give you this.”

He held out a bracelet to Sagandran, who, after a moment’s hesitation, took it. The bracelet was a plain band made of a blue metal he didn’t recognize. It weighed very little and seemed cheap and tinny. Anodized aluminum, perhaps, like the kind of trinket you might get out of a lucky gumball machine, but he knew that the value of the ring must lie deeper than its appearance. Fariam would not have given it to him with such solemnity otherwise.

He looked up at the old magician inquiringly.

Fariam gave a thin smile. “The bracelet is enchanted. It can reflect back on the caster the most powerful of killing spells. But it can be used just once, so shield yourself with it only when you see no alternative means of protection. It’s a last-ditch defense, if you need it, to keep the Rainbow Crystal out of the hands of Arkanamon. I hope you will never be forced to rely upon it, that you will encounter no danger so grave.”

Sagandran nodded, slipping the bracelet onto his wrist, unable to find words to respond. He knew that if he tried to speak, the sudden terror that Fariam’s statement had struck into him would be all too plain.

He was distracted from his fears by the arrival amid a flurry of white robes, of Deicher, the one who had been all too keen to go with them into the Shadow World. Sagandran’s spirits sank at the sight of him. There was only one reason he could be here. Fariam had finally given in to Deicher’s appeals. Sagandran had disliked the man the moment he’d first seen him and, if anything, his distrust had deepened. There was something about the magician that made his skin feel dirty; just being in the same room as him gave Sagandran the illogical urge to go and wash his hands very thoroughly, with lots of soap.

Deicher announced his presence with a smug smile and a question. “Are we all ready to go?”

“I believe we are,” said Sir Tombin gravely, his face a mask. He clearly resented Deicher being among them as much as Sagandran, but he was more skilled at hiding it.

“Then please step toward the mirror,” said Fariam, his hands moving nervously.

“What about Flip?” Perima cried. She looked to Snowmane as if for confirmation. “He’s not here yet. We have to wait for him.”

“There’s no time,” said Renada anxiously. “This gateway stays aligned with its counterpart in the Shadow World only intermittently. We told you. If you don’t go now—”

“She’s right,” boomed Deicher, still grinning complacently. “We can’t afford to tarry.”

Then why were you so late arriving?
thought Sagandran. He was just about to voice the question when Fariam spoke.

“Perhaps it’s just as well. The Shadow World is a dangerous place for anyone, but most of all for the little adventurer from Mishmash.”

“No more dangerous for him than for the rest of us,” said Perima, her gaze flat and suspicious.

“But he’s so small,” replied Fariam. “So easy to lose. So weak. Those same senses of mine that predicted you will need Snowmane are also telling me that Flip would only be an encumbrance, and that he would certainly meet his doom if he were among you.” The Grand Master spread his arms as if no further explanation were needed.

Sir Tombin nodded, coming to a decision. “Alas, this is true. Look at the way he’s wandered off, when he knows how important it is to be with us. He’s unreliable. I shall miss his company dreadfully but, as Fariam said, our mission will be easier without worrying about him the whole time. He’ll be safer here.”

Sagandran opened his mouth to argue, then realized that he didn’t have an argument to offer.

Glancing across at Perima, he saw that she’d come to the same conclusion. “I suppose so,” she said slowly. “I suppose so.”

“I hate to interrupt this earnest discussion,” said Deicher in a voice that indicated otherwise, “but the portal appears to be beckoning us.”

It was true. The pulsing light of the great portal was increasing in intensity, the pulses coming more rapidly. In its flickering light, Snowmane’s flank looked pale blue.

“Please go up onto the platform.” Fariam spoke in a low voice, as if he were still unhappy about something that he didn’t want to admit. “You will know when it is time to enter the portal.”

Persuading Snowmane to ascend the platform wasn’t easy. The steps had been designed for human feet, not horses’ hooves, but it was accomplished after a minute or two of earnest coaxing from Perima. At last, the disparate band was there beside the gateway. The crystal was now flashing so swiftly, it seemed almost to be giving a steady blue glare. The platform wasn’t quite large enough for all of them, especially with Snowmane there. Sagandran had to cling onto Samzing’s arm to stop himself from toppling off the edge. Deicher had placed himself firmly in the middle of the company, between Sir Tombin and Snowmane, both of whom looked as if they wished the magician had chosen somewhere else.

Now the portal had picked up the pulsing blue of the crystal, resonating with it. The mirrored surface was a turmoil of rapidly flashing light, building to an ever greater brightness. Sagandran glanced at it once, was dazzled, and looked away again hurriedly. The whole Dimension Room was becoming a cauldron of blue brilliance.

Fariam raised his robed arms. Even though he was small and bent and old, his figure in this moment bespoke great majesty. Renada, standing beside him, was a full head taller than the Grand Master, but somehow seemed much smaller.

Sagandran, screwing his eyes up against the relentless glare, watched as the old wizard began to intone words of magic that were not so much heard as
felt
, like the blast of a great rush of wind.

The portal, and the platform with it, started to tremble in time with the pulses of light. Every tooth in Sagandran’s jaws was trying to leap clear. Then there was a thunderclap of sound that battered the ears, and the room was lost to Sagandran in a blaze of blue light.

“Hurry, hurry!” wailed Memo, leaping up the long flight of shining marble stairs ahead of Flip.

“I’m hurrying as fast as I can,” puffed the Adventurer Extraordinaire. There was a pain in his side like a dagger wedged between his ribs, but he forced himself to climb faster. The memorizer had told him that this was the way to the Dimension Room where the portal had been mounted, and Flip hoped beyond all hope that Memo was right. If not, there was no way Flip was going to be able to move another inch.

“Not far now,” cried the memorizer. Peering upward, Flip could no longer see him, then Memo popped his head over the lip of a step to look back down at him. From this distance, Flip couldn’t see the little creature’s head, just the thick-rimmed spectacles.

One more step. Take a breath. A couple of paces forward. Reach his paws above him to grip the corner of the next riser. And
pull
.

Memo reached down a paw in a futile attempt to help him up the final step. Flip would have been better off without it, but hadn’t the breath to say so.

At last, he was on a landing. All he wanted to do was collapse in a heap for at least a week, but drawing on reserves of strength he didn’t know he possessed, he tottered forward toward a great door. Luckily, the door was slightly ajar, leaving just enough space for the two small companions to squeeze through. A ray of blue brilliance was streaming from within.

Flip instinctively put his paws up to shield his eyes. For some reason, there was a powerful reek of seething resin, as if fresh pine logs were being slowly roasted. The air was full of incomprehensible, rhythmically spoken words that seemed to buffet his body. Leaning forward, he forced himself into the chamber like someone walking into the teeth of a gale. Behind him, Memo clung to the door jamb to save himself from being swept away.

Looking up with eyes filled with tears, Flip caught a glimpse of a great construction that seemed to be roaring at him. The light from it was so bright. He could just discern the silhouettes of a few figures standing in front of it. One of them had the shape of an enormous frog …

“Stop!” he screamed, his small voice cutting through the blast of sound. “Stop!”

The din quietened, as did the intense blue flare, then both began to steadily weaken. The chanted words-that-were-not-words trickled to a halt. The gale lessened to a breeze.

Fariam turned, arms still held high, to stare at the intruder.

“Stop,” Flip repeated.

“It’s too late,” said Fariam calmly. “You’re too late. Your friends must leave for the Shadow World.”

“Wait,” protested Flip, racing painfully across the floor of the Dimension Room to the platform. As his vision cleared, he was able to see Sir Tombin, Perima and the others. “They can’t go the Shadow World, not with him.”

Still running and striving to maintain his balance, he pointed at the bulky figure of Deicher.

“He–he’s a
black-robe!
”

Deicher looked around him, then decided to ignore the accusation. “We don’t have time for this. Your little friend – something’s clearly affected his brain. He’s babbling nonsense. Don’t listen to him.”

Sir Tombin stared at him. “Our friend is not always fully encompassed in the mantle of wisdom, but—”

“Why do you say this, Flip?” asked Samzing urgently, nudging Sir Tombin to silence.

“Because I saw him, we saw him,” Flip replied, pulling up Memo beside him. “Down in a cell far below the ground, beneath the temple. He had a stone that glowed and he was speaking to someone through it. Not just any someone, either. It was Arkanamon! We heard it with our own ears, I tell you.”

Flip stopped, conscious he was beginning to sound as if he were, as Deicher had said, babbling incoherently.

Memo took over. “It’s true. I was there too. He’s a black-robe, just like my friend here said.”

Deicher sneered. “So we have two little mad creatures, not just one. Must we stand here being subjected to the senseless blatherings of these, these
things?
”

The word drove Memo to a new crest of righteous fury.

“We are not ‘things’! This is my friend Flip. He is not a thing. I am not a thing either. I’m a memorizer and I have a name. I am called Memo, and I have been enslaved far too long by a false master, by a vicious, mean—”

“Black-robe!” shouted Flip.

Deicher huffed his shoulders pompously. “I can’t believe you’d listen to—”

“They’re not things,” said Sir Tombin, his voice becoming unaccustomedly steely. “No one is a thing.”

“It was just a manner of—”

Tiring of this, Sagandran yelled at the top of his voice, “Flip would never tell a lie!”
Not about something important like this, anyway
, he added silently.