The web of wizardry (18 page)

"And we had hoped not to become deeply involved," Lira said with a bitter little laugh.

"In the war against Markuand? But I thought your Web was of white wizards, who ever worked for good."

"And is war good? At first we agreed to advise the King and the Royal Conmiander, no more. But these Markuand, the wizard genius who guides them—" She broke off, clasping her hands at her breast, her large eyes filling with tears.

"Lira?" Danaer put his arms about her, wanting to ease this agony which seemed to be torturing her. She began to moan, speaking aUen words in a sibilant speech. It was not Sarh, but perhaps some wizard language. Danaer resisted the urge to flee, refusing to leave the woman in such anguish. Gradually Lira's pain eased, and she ceased mumbling those eerie phrases.

Danaer felt cold, though they sat in bright sun. He guessed at what had happened. "You have seen to Deki? To Laril-Quil?"

"Hunger and death, Danaer. Oh, to see children dying of hunger! We must help them." She sighed and smoothed her gown over her knees. "At least Branra achieved his goal..."

"With your protection?" Danaer studied her face. "Did you guard him against magic? Did he confront

both assassins and the evil sorcery of Markuand—as I did?" Lira did not answer, but there was a gleam in her eyes that suggested he touched the truth. "And did Branra also hear leaves and jewels where there were none?"

Lira was startled by those questions. But before she could say anything, a frantic scream cut the air. Ulodovol, crying for help!

"To me! To me! My Web—aid me!"

Danaer and Lira raced toward the Httle room. But a single stride across the threshold was all that Danaer could make. He froze in place, his hand on his sword, his jaw dropping.

The chamber swarmed with monsters!

Clawed hands appeared out of nothing—disembodied. Fangs and venomous horns and bulging eyes . . . monsters and demons whole and in pieces, and evil beyond comprehension.

Everywhere at once!

Ulodovol was in their midst, the brazier overturned and blue flame licking at the stone floor and his feet, like a many-headed snake. The elderly wizard gesticulated wildly and flung words of conjury at the slavering things surrounding him, holding them at bay for heartbeat by heartbeat—countermanding this magic.

Bravely, Lira ran to him, kicking aside blazing embers, stamping on the smoldering cloth of her master's hem. Without hesitation, she placed herself back to back with Ulodovol, her own sorcery echoing his as the demons ringed them both.

Danaer's blood pounded with superstitious terror. Then he read Lira's own fear, despite her courageous defiance. He cast away his natural dread, finding strength he did not know he owned.

Drawing, Danaer began to strike out at the gibbering abominations, slashing right and left with all his sinew.

These were no fog demons! The sword struck, and to Danaer's shock, he felt a resistance—though not flesh and bone. Howls battered his ears. A filthy gray-purple spurt of . . . blood? . . . splashed his tunic and hands and the walls of the chamber.

The thing fell, flopping obscenely, a severed limb spewing unnatural gore. For a heart-stopped moment Danaer was rooted, unable to move.

Other creatures renewed the attack. More of them were forming out of thin air, circling the three mortals. They closed particularly upon Ulodovol. The old wizard sank to his knees, barely coherent, fighting back their magic. Lira wept but maintained her precarious balance, desperately chanting spells through her sobbing.

A great hairy dog-thing materialized, jaws carmine and dripping, and leaped at Danaer. He had no time to stab or slash, but quickly raised the sword to protect his throat. A tremendous force hit the blade, knocking Danaer backward into a table.

The furniture broke under him, the dog-thing scrabbling and snarUng and trying for his throat as it bore him down. Danaer tightened his grip on the sword hilt and twisted it aside, then thrust up into the creature's belly.

Fangs sank into Danaer's forearm as the demon-dog collapsed. Its stench was suffocating, and Danaer struggled to get free of its crushing weight. The animal that never was contorted in its death throes—if such a thing could die! Danaer was drenched in the beast's vitals and ichor, and his own blood welled from its vicious bite.

Through the confusion of monsters and a rising smoke of illusion formed by Ulodovol and Lira in their magic, Danaer saw the Royal Commander and Nurdanth and Yistar. They stared incredulously from the doorway as Danaer had done.

The distraction proved a new weapon for the sorkra. The attacking demons were suddenly swept by an enveloping smoke, and from the smoke were coming other beasts—true and natural animals, obeying the will of Ulodovol and Lira. Ecar and golhi and woods wolf and eagle formed in smoke and fell upon the demon things.

There were other things in the smoke: people. Danaer gazed into castles and villages of The Interior, into Krantin's palace and the King's own court. In each

scene there was a wizard of Ulodovol's Web. And each fought this same battle against the beasts of nether regions.

The visions enlarged to include the snows of Irico and the marshes of Sarlos—and here too were members of the Web, and here too were the attacking demons of Markuand's wizard!

Malol te Eldri and his fellow officers were steeling themselves to enter the fray, drawing swords, moving forward bravely. Even as they did so, Ulodovol came back to his feet, raising himself to his full, impressive height.

"Away!" he shrieked, his bony hands clutching the air and flexing in warning. Lira dupUcated his cry, flinging her own counterspells.

And the creatures of Bogotana were banished, all the furies melting instantly—as did the animals and the visions in the smoke.

The small chamber was left to the humans, and the four soldiers gawked at one another, stunned by what they had seen. Then Ulodovol toppled toward Lira and she called in alarm, "Traech Sorkra!" For a moment she bore all his weight. At once the men moved to help, finding the old wizard an easy weight. His physical strength seemed utterly spent, but his mind was clear, and he continued to mutter incantations to insure that the demons could not return.

They laid the wizard on a cot, but Ulodovol waved a hand weakly, indicating he wished to be propped into a sitting position against the waU. Lira knelt by her mentor. Tears wet her cheeks and his garment as she said, "Traech Sorkra, you defeated him! You defeated him and his minions!" Her reverence came through her shaking voice.

Ulodovol managed to raise a blue-veined hand and touch Lira's curly hair. "It was the Web, my dear. I could not have succeeded without the Web, and without your courage, young man. My blessings on you ..."

Danaer had been sucking at the bloody bite on his arm. The officers reacted to Ulodovol's praise with approving nods of their own. Danaer hoped his apprehension did not show in his manner; but what would

these compliments serve if the bite had been filled with poison? Would he die, writhing in agony as the creature had?

Where was the beast he had slain? No entrails were on the floor, nor was there trace of the purplish blood. The only mark of the demon thing was the oozing wound on Danaer's arm.

"They attacked the King," Malol said, aghast, the memory of the smoke images coming home to him. "The King!"

"Yes, it was a most fearsome testing of our Krantin, Royal Commander." Ulodovol spoke weakly, pausing often. "You cannot know its vehemence. How . . . how powerful he is, this Markuand wizard, to conjure such illusions . . ."

"Hardly illusions," Yistar murmured, anxiously looking at Danaer's arm. "Not to draw blood. Get to the surgeon ..."

Danaer did not move, fearing that the hurt would have no healing by mortal medicines. "Master Ulodovol, I thought ... I thought you saw through the powers of other sorkra of your Web. Yet there were no Markuand wizards among us . .."

Lira gasped, her eyes meeting UlodovoPs, their mutual dismay obvious. With great reluctance, she said, "That is so, Danaer."

"We have suspected, since you rode to Siank Zsed, that the Markuand wizard has his allies even in Krantin, among us," the old man muttered. His head dropped back against the wall and his rheumy eyes closed. "Sorkra, our own people—helping the enemy. All around us, as those beasts came into being all around us, through the help of Markuand's minions."

"Treachery, in our midst," Nurdanth whispered. "At our backs . .."

"And how to protect the King?" Ulodovol shuddered violently. "I must remam here, close to Kirvii and the palace. But . . . but I was to accompany the trek to Deki, to guard against the magic of the enemy wizard."

"We will deal with the Markuand, be he soldier or sorcerer," Yistar said proudly. But the Captain's ruddy

complexion was unusually pale, and there was a crack in his voice Danaer had never heard before.

A curious group of soldiers had clustered around the door, and Yistar vented his rattled composure by bellowing at them and chasing them away. As he did, Malol was saying, "We cannot spare you, Traech Sorkra. The King must be kept safe. And you are not fit for such an arduous journey. The caravan—and Deki—will have to do without your skills."

Ulodovol sighed and patted Lira's shoulder. "I fear there is wisdom in that. Age and infirmity are my burdens. I must not tax my body, or my powers. There may be much evil yet unknown to be dealt with in the future. I will send Lira Nalu in my place. Our Web will help her, and me, while I ferret out these traitors. We must find the Krantin-Y who would give us to the enemy, find them, crush them and their magic ..."

"You shall. Master," Lira assured him. But Danaer sensed her dismay. She accepted the awful responsibility Ulodovol had put upon her, and without question. Yet there was doubt in her face, which she hid poorly.

The old wizard beckoned the officers close, wanting to talk of strategy and protection for King Tobentis. Lira spread a robe over the thin legs, then drew back. Though still much worried about her master, she took Danaer's arm and led him aside. She examined his wound intently, then began passing her talisman over the bleeding punctures. The obsidian pendant felt oddly cool on the fang marks, and to Danaer's surprise, the swelling subsided at once. Blood clotted and scabbed and fell away before his amazed eyes, the arm healing—whole!

A wound of black wizardry, cured by Lira's own magic!

"Sorkra, I ... I give you thanks again. I thought I would die from that brute's ravaging."

"It could have happened." Lira gazed up at him, as concerned for his hurt as she had been for Ulodovol's frailty. "It was sorcery most powerful, and it might well poison you. Not now. You have courage beyond most men, for few would have risked those demons' teeth and claws. And had you not distracted them at the

height of the Markuand wizard's attack, I do not know if Master Ulodovoi could have defeated him. You turned the battle for us, Danaer."

He chuckled nervously, probing his arm. "It was my battle as well. But because of your arts, now I will ride with the captain, not languish in some healer's tent, dying of venom."

"And I will go to Deki with you." That was not a happy statement.

"It is too hard a journey," Danaer said. A Destre warrior woman was bred for war from girlhood. But Lira was made for more tender existence. "You are gently born—"

She cut him off with some pique. "I am not. I am a commoner, a tanner's child. The Web makes no distinctions of age or sex or birth. A sorkra serves where needed, and where the Traech Sorkra bids. I am needed on the trek to Deki. I will go willingly."

Her retort was too fierce. Danaer remembered his first caravan raid, when he was but an unblooded youth—and he knew that Lira quaked inwardly. Pride would not let her admit her fright, though.

Suddenly Lira favored him with a warm smile. "You fear for me? You must not, my Sharp Eyes. No sorkra is ever alone; my Web will go wherever I go. Others will comfort me and guide me, our minds speaking together."

"It was not only your mind which interested me," Danaer said, indulging in a grin.

Lira's full, throaty laugh made the officers glance at them both for a moment before they returned to their whispered conference with Ulodovoi. In her easy acceptance of his remark. Lira was indeed like a Destre woman—unafraid of life's pleasures. "Then how dare I fear for the safety of my body when I have your sword to protect me?"

"On my faith, I will protect you—from swords or magic."

Her smile faded, and Lira caught at the thong about her neck. She pulled off the talisman, then lifted aside Danaer's helmet. He saw what she wished and bent his head, letting her slip the shiny black stone down to rest

upon his chest. The medallion was carved with the head of a man. "Is this your god?" he wondered, touching it carefully. "You must keep a holy thing for your own sake. ..."

"No, it is not my god," Lira said. "And wearing it will offer no offense to your Argan, I promise. Rasven is . . . not divine. But I want you to wear his image always. Give me your oath on it."

She was most determined, and Danaer did not refuse. Perhaps the talisman meant more magic, but after what he had felt of Markuand's wizardry, he would take Lira's black stone as a help against worse evil. It was not a man's adornment, and Danaer began to feel embarrassed by the trinket. Lira did not object when he sUd it inside his shirt, against his skin. She led him outside to the porch.

Breeze played at Lira's long gown, whippijig her white ribbons and tousling her hair. Sweat beaded her brow, the aftereffect of her struggle against demons. Danaer looked at her steadily, relishing the sight, even that honest sweat. Kandra had touched him but little, despite her sexuality. He had been roused to delight by many a woman of ease and her carnal offerings. Yet Lira's power over him was different.

Lira might have read his thoughts. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips. Even the kiss was not what he expected. She did not give him moist promises with her laughter. This was a kiss of sweet longing and modest uncertainty, bound into one heady moment. Before he could embrace her, Lira was gone, back into Ulodovol's room.