Wrath of a Mad God (24 page)

Pug recalled just how arduous the conditioning he, Nakor, Bek, and Magnus had endured had been. “How can they hope to prepare an army of nonmagicians to invade?” he asked quietly.

“They don’t,” said Martuch. “We Dasati do not change to exist in the new world; we change the world to our liking.”

“How?” asked Magnus.

“By magic,” said Hirea, as if it were an obvious answer to the question.

“But,” said Pug, “magic on that scale…” He fell silent.
“The Dark One does not need so many lives merely to open rifts to the first plane of reality, or to move armies through them; he needs millions of lives so that he has enough power to remake worlds!” Pug fell silent. Magnus looked down at his father and saw a man nearly overwhelmed by the enormity of what confronted them. “Father?”

“This attack today, it’s not to conquer, but to confuse.”

“What do you mean, human?” asked Martuch.

“Your TeKarana has an ally, an insane necromancer by the name of Leso Varen. He’s a body stealer, and is somewhere within the Empire of Tsuranuanni. My wife and others are trying to track him down, but he could have taken the body of anyone. They’re looking for signs of his death-magic, but until he reveals himself…”

“How do you know they are in league?” asked Hirea.

“Because they have similar goals: wholesale destruction and death on Kelewan.”

“Why would any human desire that?”

“He’s mad,” said Magnus.

“But he’s not stupid,” said Pug. “If he sees a gain by throwing open the gateway to Kelewan to your people, he will. And no Dasati would ever understand what he must have told them.” Martuch and Hirea both were paying rapt attention.

“He knows enough of the Tsurani to realize that if the Dark One’s agents attempt to establish a foothold to begin changing that world, the Emperor could order a million warriors to swarm the position, each willing to die for the Empire. And the combined might of the Assembly of Magicians and every magic at the disposal of every temple would also be unleashed on the invaders. It might wreak havoc on the Tsurani, but they would shut down any foothold on their world as soon as it was detected.” Pug fell silent for a moment, considering what he had just said. “The Dark One needs time to establish a large enough presence on Kelewan so that the entire might of Tsuranuanni, a million warriors, thousands of magicians and priests, all together, can’t stop him.”

“That means chaos,” said Magnus.

“Yes,” agreed Pug. “He needs to plunge the Empire into chaos so that they cannot respond to his incursion.”

“How?” asked Martuch.

“By killing the Emperor,” said Magnus.

“Or obliterating the Assembly,” said Pug. “Varen cannot dislodge the temples, they’re too scattered and it would take too long. So it must be the Emperor or the Assembly.”

“Or the High Council,” suggested Magnus.

“Yes, that could be his…” Pug stood up and looked at Martuch and Hirea. “I must speak to Nakor, tonight.”

“Impossible,” said the old fighter. “We already said our official farewells as mentor and trainer. You can’t go alone. There is no reason for anyone, let alone two Lessers, to come requesting a meeting with the Lesser of a recruit to the Imperial Guard.”

“Is there a way of keeping track of what the recruits are doing, in case an opportunity presents itself?” Pug asked.

“It’s possible,” said Martuch. “Members of the White are gathering in key locations throughout the Empire, but especially around the palace of the Karanas, the TeKarana, and the Dark One’s Temple. We have not told anyone of what you have revealed about the Gardener and the Bloodwitches. For the time being let everyone believe we are under the guidance of a single, wise intelligence.” He sounded tired as he added, “We must do what we must: there are no options, and we cannot choose our time. If we are to strike soon, then it will be soon.”

“Ready or not,” said Magnus.

“If I can reach Nakor, perhaps I can at least contribute to your being more ready than not.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Martuch, standing up. He moved toward the ladder leading up to the surface. “Rest for now. I fear that in a short time we may either have no time to rest, or be resting for eternity.”

Hirea waited until his friend had departed, then said, “What you told us about the Gardener weighs heavily upon him. The Gardener was the one we believed was going to deliver us from the Dark One’s madness.”

Pug considered his next words carefully. At last he said,
“You may still be right.” When Hirea looked at Pug with a curious expression, he added, “Before he left us, the intelligence that was Macros, that tiny bit of him which had been placed in the Dasati body, led me to believe that Nakor is the key to this. ‘Find Nakor,’ he said, and I believe that is the key. Nakor and Bek.”

“Bek,” said Hirea, almost as if it were a question. “I have trained many warriors, human, some among the greatest of my lifetime, but that one is not a natural being. From what I know of your race, no human should be able to do what he does, and now, no Dasati can do what he does.” He looked at Pug. “What is he, really?”

“I think he’s a weapon,” said Pug. “But only Nakor knows for certain.”

Hirea removed his sword belt and laid it on an empty bunk. He stretched out on another. “Then we must wait.”

Pug said, “But not for long.” To Magnus he said, “No matter what Martuch finds out, tonight we must find Nakor.”

Miranda was nearly frantic at the reports coming through the rift from Kelewan. A massive assault was under way in the Holy City. Despite the estrangement between her husband and the leadership at Stardock, many of those at the Academy were still friends or agents.

From all reports, a wave of thousands of Dasati had literally erupted through a rift in the chamber of the High Council. No Tsurani in that room or within half a mile of it had survived. The Imperial Guard, except for those around the Emperor at the old Acoma estates, had given their lives defending the Tsurani nobles. Alenca and half a dozen Tsurani Great Ones had died within minutes of the start of the assault. Others had arrived in response to the alarm and most had been killed as well. Most magic appeared to have no effect on the Dasati, though one enterprising magician who survived managed to do so by the expedient method of dropping a massive stone statute on two Deathknights. Thinking back to her own encounter with the lesser Dread up near the Peaks of the Quor, Miranda wondered
why she hadn’t thought to use her powers to pick up a boulder and drop it on one. It might have worked.

Miranda sat back in the chair usually occupied by Pug, feeling overwhelmed. Caleb entered a few minutes later.

“More word from Kelewan.”

“What?”

He handed her the message. “The last Dasati died less than two hours ago. Some were weakened, apparently, by exposure to the Tsurani sun or because of something in the air that sickened them. Whatever the cause, the last Deathknight was overwhelmed in a market square by a dozen merchants who tore it apart using tools and kitchen implements.”

“It’s nice to know they can die,” said Miranda bitterly.

“What else do we know?”

“There are as many as fifty thousand dead or wounded.”

“Gods!” she exclaimed. “That many?”

“It’s estimated that ten thousand Dasati came into the city in three locations, two in the Imperial Palace—one right in the heart of the High Council’s meeting chamber, while they were in session, one in the center of the administrative suite where all the palace functionaries work, and the third in the richest merchants’ quarter in the Holy City.”

Miranda had already read a report which indicated that the High Council had been sitting when the attack came. She still had no word on the sum of the damage, but given the number of dead and wounded Caleb relayed, she was certain the damage had been appalling. “Varen.”

“How do you know?”

“The Dasati could not have known how to do this much harm in so focused a way. Varen had to have told them. In a single attack they’ve decapitated the Empire of Tsuranuanni.”

“There’s still the Emperor,” said Caleb.

“But who is there to command?” Miranda stood and began to pace as was her wont when under stress. “Eldest sons? Daughters? Wives? The leadership of every house in the Empire has been disrupted, which means every political party and every clan as well. Right now the balance of power in the Empire is
completely overturned, and for every house that has an eldest son groomed to rule and step into his father’s place, there are a score who are torn by grief and without effective leadership.

“This is a far worse disaster than had the Emperor been slain.”

Caleb said, “At least he lives.”

“Yes, and that gives the Tsurani a single advantage.”

Caleb asked, “What is that?”

Miranda turned and said, “Blind obedience.”

Caleb’s expression turned doubtful. “How does that become an advantage if there’s no effective leadership?”

“The Tsurani need generals. We can give them generals. They just have to be ordered to obey foreigners—”

“And if the Emperor orders them to obey generals from Midkemia, they will,” finished Caleb.

Miranda said, “Now, how is that meeting Tomas asked for coming along?”

“Everyone who is willing to come will be here by sundown.”

“Good, I don’t know exactly what Tomas will say to everyone, but I have a pretty good idea. I’ve only met him a few times, but from what your father has said about him, he’s hardly a man to panic, but I think he’s worried, Caleb.”

“Did Father ever speak to you about the Dread?” He sat down in a chair in the corner.

Miranda sighed. “There are lots of things your father doesn’t talk about, mostly from the early days. I think it has to do with a lot of different things.”

“Such as?”

Caleb was not the sort to probe idly, so his mother knew him to be genuinely interested. She realized once again how different he was from Magnus and his parents. As the only member of the family without the ability to practice magic, he was always somehow detached from their shared experiences, no matter how much they tried to include him in their lives and how much they loved him.

Miranda said, “I don’t have much time before Tomas’s meeting, but I can speculate a little.” She closed her eyes as if remembering something, then said, “I also haven’t talked a great deal about my youth, and I am older than your father.”

He grinned. “You’ve told us not to remind you.”

She returned the smile, for while she was truly not vain, she played the role as a way of nettling her husband and children. It was one of her failings, but a tiny one. “What you remember, it’s real. It doesn’t matter how accurate your memory of something is, it is real to you. What you perceive as reality
is
reality.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” said Caleb.

“I have no doubt, because of all of us, you most of all live in a real world, Caleb. You don’t deal in the abstracted concepts of magic. You live a life of things you can touch, see, smell. You are out in the forests hunting, tracking—” She interrupted herself.

“If you see bear tracks, let us say. Artfully fashioned, created by some manner of bootmaker, it’s a pair of boots worn by a man to make it look as if a bear had passed.”

Caleb shook his head. “The depth would be wrong, because a bear weighs—”

Miranda raised her hands. “That’s not the point. Let us suppose I use magic to create perfect bear prints and you encounter them. What do you think?”

“Perfect?” he asked, not sure that was possible. Shrugging, he said, “Fine, I find these perfect bear tracks. I think you’re a bear.”

“Exactly. You follow them expecting a bear and until the moment you discover I was making the tracks, you think ‘bear, bear, bear.’ And then when you discover it wasn’t a bear, what happens?”

“I don’t know. I’m supposed to laugh at the joke?”

She almost rolled her eyes, but resisted the temptation. “Until the moment you discover I made the tracks, if your brother showed up and asked you what you were doing, you would say you were tracking a bear. But from the moment you discover I made the tracks, you think ‘Mother made the tracks.’” She looked him in the eyes. “Do you understand?”

“I’m not entirely sure I do.”

“Your perception changed. From that moment onward, whenever you think of that set of tracks or tell the story to someone else, it’s ‘Mother made those tracks.’ You might even tell
someone, ‘I thought it was a bear,’ but in your mind there was no bear.”

“There was no bear,” said Caleb, now looking more confused.

Miranda laughed. “If I hadn’t given birth to you, I’d wonder who your parents really were.”

“I’m not stupid, Mother.”

“I know,” she said, laughing harder. “It’s just that you like only the real world of things you can touch, feel, and smell.” Her humor vanished. “Your father lives in a world of the mind, more than anyone I know, including myself or your grandfather. He may someday be eclipsed by your brother, but Magnus has a lifetime of experience to go through to catch up to your father. Your father is like others, though, in that his life experiences are real to him, and his perceptions of those experiences may have changed,
but not his feelings about them.
”

Caleb suddenly understood. “So I can remember how I felt when I thought I was tracking the bear, even if now I have stopped thinking of it as a bear!”

“Yes! Your father went through a great deal of pain and suffering in his youth, and he’s endured much since then, but the tribulations he faces now are being faced by a man with a lifetime of experience and hard-earned lessons.

“But the feelings of his youth, muted they may be, are still the feelings of his youth, and are remembered the way he felt at the time he lived them. Did he ever tell you of Princess Carline?”

“Not that I can recall.”

“She was the daughter of Lord Borric, and by adoption Pug’s ‘cousin’ of sorts, but when he was a lad in the kitchen at Crydee Castle, he thought himself in love with her. Fate conspired to give him the opportunity to press his suit, and then took it away from him, when he was captured by the Tsurani. She eventually wed a friend of his and became Duchess of Salador, and she died. But somewhere within your father is a tiny memory, a distantly recalled echo of a boy’s love for an unobtainable princess.” She paused. “He misses his wife,” she added calmly.