The Complete Riftwar Saga Trilogy: Magician, Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon

When everyone at the table still appeared not to comprehend what he was alluding to, Tully continued, like a patient teacher lecturing a group of promising but occasionally slow students. ‘The ship’s appearance may be the product of chance and, if so, is only a cause for curiosity. But if it was by design that it came here, then we may be in peril, for to move a ship to another world is an order of magic beyond my imagining. If these people, the Tsurani as they call themselves, know we are here, and if they possess the means to reach us, then not only must we fear armies that rival Great Kesh at the height of its power, when its reach extended to even this remote corner of the world, we must also face magic far greater than any we have known.’

Borric nodded, for the conclusion was obvious, once pointed out. ‘We must have Kulgan’s counsel on this at once.’

‘One thing, Arutha,’ said Tully. The Prince looked up from his chair, for he had been lost in thought. ‘I know why Xomich tried to run from you and your men. He thought you were creatures he knew in his own world, centaurlike creatures, called Thun, feared by the Tsurani.’

‘Why would he think that?’ asked Lyam, looking puzzled.

‘He had never seen a horse, or any creature remotely like it. I expect these people have none.’

The Duke sat down again. Drumming his fingers on the table, he said, ‘If what Father Tully says is true, then we must make some decisions, and quickly. If this is but an accident that has brought these people to our shores, then there may be little to fear. If, however, there is some design to their coming, then we should expect a serious threat. Here we are the fewest in number of all the Kingdom’s garrisons, and it would be a hard thing should they come here in force.’

The others murmured agreement, and the Duke said, ‘We would do well to try to understand that what has been said here is still only speculation, though I am inclined to agree with Tully on most points. We should have Kulgan’s thoughts upon the matter of these people.’ He turned to Pug. ‘Lad, see if your master is free to join us.’

Pug nodded and opened the door, then raced through the keep. He ran to the tower steps and took them two at a time. He raised his hand to knock and felt a strange sensation, as if he were near a lightning strike, causing the hair on his arms and scalp to stand up. A sudden sense of wrongness swept over him, and he pounded on the door. ‘Kulgan! Kulgan! Are you all right?’ he shouted, but no answer was forthcoming. He tried the door latch and found it locked. He placed his shoulder against the door and tried to force it, but it held fast. The feeling of strangeness had passed, but fear rose in him at Kulgan’s silence. He looked about for something to force the door and, finding nothing, ran back down the stairs.

He hurried into the long hall. Here guards in Crydee livery stood at their post. He shouted at the two nearest, ‘You two, come with me. My master is in trouble.’ Without hesitation they followed the boy up the stairs, their boots pounding on the stone steps.

When they reached the magician’s door, Pug said, ‘Break it down!’ They quickly put aside spear and shield and leaned their shoulders against the door. Once, twice, three times they heaved, and with a protesting groan the timbers cracked around the lock plate. One last shove and the door flew open. The guards stopped themselves from falling through the door and stepped back, amazement and confusion on their faces. Pug shouldered between them and looked into the room.

On the floor lay Kulgan, unconscious. His blue robes were disheveled, and one arm was thrown across his face, as if in protection. Two feet from him, where his study table should have stood, hung a shimmering void. Pug stared at the place in the air. A large sphere of grey that was not quite grey shimmered with traces of a broken spectrum. He could not see through it, but there was nothing solid there. Coming out of the grey space was a pair of human arms, reaching toward the magician. When they touched the material of his robe, they stopped and fingered the cloth. As if a decision had been made, they traveled over his body, until they identified Kulgan’s arm. The hands took hold of him and tried to lift his arm into the void. Pug stood in horror, for whoever or whatever was on the other side of the void was trying to pull the stout magician up and through. Another pair of hands reached through and picked up the magician’s arm next to where the first held him, and Kulgan was being pulled toward the void.

Pug turned and grabbed one of the spears from against the wall where the shocked guards had placed them. Before either of the men-at-arms could act, he leveled it at the grey spot and threw.

The spear flew across the ten feet that separated them from Kulgan and disappeared into the void. A brief second after, the arms dropped Kulgan and withdrew. Suddenly the grey void blinked out of existence, with a clap of air rushing in to fill it. Pug ran to Kulgan’s side and knelt by his master.

The magician was breathing, but his face was white and beaded with sweat. His skin felt cold and clammy. Pug ran to Kulgan’s sleeping pallet and pulled off a blanket. As he was covering the magician, he shouted at the guards, ‘Get Father Tully.’

Pug and Tomas sat up that night, unable to sleep. Tully had tended to the magician, giving a favorable prognosis. Kulgan was in shock but would recover in a day or two.

Duke Borric had questioned Pug and the guards on what they had witnessed, and now the castle was in an uproar. All the guards had been turned out, and patrols to the outlying areas of the Duchy had been doubled. The Duke still did not know what the connection between the appearance of the ship and the strange manifestation in the magician’s quarters was, but he was taking no chances with the safety of his realm. All along the walls of the castle, torches burned, and guards had been sent to Longpoint lighthouse and the town below.

Tomas sat next to Pug on a bench in Princess Carline’s garden, one of the few quiet places in the castle. Tomas looked thoughtfully at Pug. ‘I expect that these Tsurani people are coming.’

Pug ran a hand through his hair. ‘We don’t know that.’

Tomas sounded tired. ‘I just have a feeling.’

Pug nodded. ‘We’ll know tomorrow when Kulgan can tell us what happened.’

Tomas looked out toward the wall. ‘I’ve never seen it so strange around here. Not even when the Dark Brotherhood and the goblins attacked back when we were little, remember?’

Pug nodded, silent for a moment, then said, ‘We knew what we were facing then. The dark elves have been attacking castles on and off as far back as anyone can remember. And goblins . . . well, they’re goblins.’

They sat in silence for a long time; then the sound of boots on the pavement announced someone coming. Swordmaster Fannon, in chain mail and tabard, halted before them. ‘What? Up so late? You should both be abed.’ The old fighter turned to survey the castle walls. ‘There are many who find themselves unable to sleep this night.’ He turned his attention back to the boys. ‘Tomas, a soldier needs to learn the knack of taking sleep whenever he can find it, for there are many long days when there is none. And you, Squire Pug, should be asleep as well. Now, why don’t you try to rest yourselves?’

The boys nodded, bade the Swordmaster good night, and left. The grey-haired commander of the Duke’s guard watched them go and stood quietly in the little garden for a time, alone with his own disquieting thoughts.

Pug was awakened by the sound of footsteps passing his door. He quickly pulled on trousers and tunic and hurried up the steps to Kulgan’s room. Passing the hastily replaced door, he found the Duke and Father Tully standing over Kulgan’s sleeping pallet. Pug heard his master’s voice, sounding feeble, as he complained about being kept abed. ‘I tell you, I’m fine,’ Kulgan insisted. ‘Just let me walk about a bit, and I’ll be back to normal in no time.’

Tully, still sounding weary, said, ‘Back on your back, you mean. You sustained a nasty jolt, Kulgan. Whatever it was that knocked you unconscious packed no small wallop. You were lucky, it could have been much worse.’

Kulgan noticed Pug, who stood quietly at the door, not wishing to disturb anyone. ‘Ha, Pug,’ he said, his voice regaining some of its usual volume. ‘Come in, come in. I understand I have you to thank for not taking an unexpected journey with unknown companions.’

Pug smiled, for Kulgan seemed his old, jovial self, in spite of his wan appearance. ‘I really did nothing, sir. I just felt that something was not right, and acted.’

‘Acted quickly and well,’ said the Duke with a smile. ‘The boy is again responsible for the well-being of one of my household. At this rate I may have to grant him the title Defender of the Ducal Household.’

Pug smiled, pleased with the Duke’s praise. Borric turned to the magician. ‘Well, seeing as you are full of fire, I think we should have a talk about yesterday. Are you well enough?’

The question brought an irritated look from Kulgan. ‘Of course I’m well enough. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for the last ten minutes.’ Kulgan started to rise from the bed, but as dizziness overtook him, Tully put a restraining hand on his shoulder, guiding him back to the large pile of pillows he had been resting on.

‘You can talk here quite well enough, thank you. Now, stay in bed.’

Kulgan made no protest. He shortly felt better and said, ‘Fine, but hand me my pipe, will you, please?’

Pug fetched Kulgan’s pipe and pouch of tabac and, as the magician tamped down the bowl, a long burning taper from the fire pot. Kulgan lit his pipe and, when it was burning to his satisfaction, lay back with a contented look on his face. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘where do we begin?’

The Duke quickly filled him in on what Tully had revealed, with the priest adding a few details the Duke overlooked. When they were done, Kulgan nodded. ‘Your assumption about the origin of these people is likely. I suspected the possibility when I saw the artifacts brought from the ship, and the events in this room yesterday bear me out.’ He paused for a moment, organizing his thoughts. ‘The scroll was a personal letter from a magician of these people, the Tsurani, to his wife, but it was also more. The seal was magically endowed to force the reader to incant a spell contained at the end of the message. It is a remarkable spell enabling anyone, whether or not they can normally read, to read the scroll.’

The Duke said, ‘This is a strange thing.’

Tully said, ‘It’s astonishing.’

‘The concepts involved are completely new to me,’ agreed Kulgan. ‘Anyway, I had neutralized that spell so I could read the letter without fear of magical traps, common to private messages written by magicians. The language was of course strange, and I employed a spell from another scroll to translate it. Even understanding the language through that spell, I don’t fully understand everything discussed.

‘A magician named Fanatha was traveling by ship to a city on his homeworld. Several days out to sea, they were struck by a severe storm. The ship lost its mast, and many of the crew were washed overboard. The magician took a brief time to pen the scroll – it was written in a hasty hand – and cast the spells upon it. It seems this man could have left the ship at any time and returned to his home or some other place of safety, but was enjoined from doing so by his concern for the ship and its cargo. I am not clear on this point, but the tone of the letter suggested that risking his life for the others on the ship was somehow unusual. Another puzzling thing was a mention of his duty to someone he called the ‘Warlord.’ I may be reaching for straws, but the tone leads me to think this was a matter of honor or a promise, not some personal duty. In any event he penned the note, sealed it, and was then going to undertake to move the ship magically.’

Tully shook his head in disbelief. ‘Incredible.’

‘And as we understand magic, impossible,’ Kulgan added excitedly.

Pug noticed that the magician’s professional interest was not shared by the Duke, who looked openly troubled. The boy remembered Tully’s comments on what magic of that magnitude meant if these people were to invade the Kingdom. The magician continued, ‘These people possess powers about which we can only speculate. The magician was very clear on a number of points – his ability to compress so many ideas into so short a message shows an unusually organized mind.

‘He took great pains to reassure his wife he would do everything in his power to return. He referred to opening a rift to the ‘new world,’ because – and I don’t fully understand this – a bridge was already established, and some device he possessed lacked . . . some capacity or another to move the ship on his own world. From all indications, it was a most desperate gamble. He placed a second spell on the scroll – and this is what caught me in the end. I thought by neutralizing the first spell I had countered the second also, but I was in error. The second spell was designed to activate as soon as someone had finished reading the scroll aloud, another unheard-of piece of magical art. The spell caused another of these rifts to open, so the message would be transported to a place called ‘the Assembly’ and from there to his wife. I was nearly caught in the rift with the message.’

Pug stepped forward. Without thinking, he blurted, ‘Then those hands might have been his friends trying to find him.’

Kulgan looked at his apprentice and nodded. ‘A possibility. In any event, we can derive much from this episode. These Tsurani have the ability to control magic that we can only hint at in our speculation. We know a little about the occurrences of rifts, and nothing of their nature.’

The Duke looked surprised. ‘Please explain.’

Kulgan drew deep on his pipe, then said, ‘Magic, by its nature, is unstable. Occasionally a spell will become warped – why, we don’t know – to such a degree, it . . . tears at the very fabric of the world. For a brief time a rift occurs, and a passage is formed, going . . . somewhere. Little else is known about such occurrences, except that they involve tremendous releases of energy.’

Tully said, ‘There are theories, but no one understands why every so often a spell, or magic device, suddenly explodes in this fashion and why this instability in reality is created. There have been several occurrences like this, but we have only secondhand observations to go on. Those who witnessed the creation of these rifts died or vanished.’

Kulgan picked up the narrative again. ‘It’s considered axiomatic that they were destroyed along with anything within several feet of the rift.’ He looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘By rights I should have been killed when that rift appeared in my study.’

The Duke interrupted. ‘From your description, these rifts, as you call them, are dangerous.’

Kulgan nodded. ‘Unpredictable, as well. They are one of the most uncontrollable forces ever discovered. If these people know how to manufacture them and control them as well, to act as a gate between worlds, and can pass through them safely, then they have arts of the most powerful sort.’

Tully said, ‘We’ve suspected something of the nature of rifts before, but this is the first time we’ve had anything remotely like hard evidence.’

Kulgan said, ‘Bah! Strange people and unknown objects have appeared suddenly from time to time over the years, Tully. This would certainly explain where they came from.’

Tully appeared unwilling to concede the point. ‘Theory only, Kulgan; not proof. The people have all been dead, and the devices . . . no one understands the two or three that were not burned and twisted beyond recognition.’

Kulgan smiled. ‘Really? What about the man who appeared twenty years ago in Salador?’ To the Duke he said, ‘This man spoke no language known and was dressed in the strangest fashion.’

Tully looked down his nose at Kulgan. ‘He was also hopelessly mad and never could speak a word that could be understood. The temples invested much time on him—’

Borric paled. ‘Gods! A nation of warriors, with armies many times the size of our own, who have access to our world at will. Let us hope they have not turned their eyes toward the Kingdom.’

Kulgan nodded and blew a puff of smoke. ‘As yet, we have not heard of any other appearances of these people, and we may not have to fear them, but I have a feeling . . .’ He left the thought unfinished for a moment. He turned a little to one side, easing some minor discomfort, then said, ‘It may be nothing, but a reference to a bridge in the message troubles me. It smacks of a permanent way between the worlds already in existence. I hope I’m wrong.’ The sound of feet pounding up the stairs made them turn. A guard hurried in and came to attention before the Duke, handing him a small paper.

The Duke dismissed the man and opened the folded paper. He read it quickly, then handed it to Tully. ‘I sent fast riders to the elves and the dwarves, with pigeons to carry replies. The Elf Queen sends word that she is already riding to Crydee and will be here in two days’ time.’

Tully shook his head. ‘As long as I have lived, I have never heard of the Lady Aglaranna leaving Elvandar. This sets my bones cold.’

Kulgan said, ‘Things must be approaching a serious turn for her to come here. I hope I am wrong, but think that we are not the only ones to have news of these Tsurani.’

Silence descended over the room, and Pug was struck by a feeling of hopelessness. He shook it off, but its echoes followed him for days.

• CHAPTER SIX •

Elfcounsel

PUG LEANED OUT THE WINDOW.

Despite the driving rain that had come in early morning, the courtyard was in an uproar. Besides the necessary preparations for any important visit, there was the added novelty of these visitors being elves. Even the infrequent elf messenger from Queen Aglaranna was the object of much curiosity when one appeared at the castle, for rarely did the elves venture south of the river Crydee. The elves lived apart from the society of men, and their ways were thought strange and magical. They had lived in these lands long before the coming of men to the West, and there was an unvoiced agreement that, in spite of any claims made by the Kingdom, they were a free people.

A cough caused Pug to turn and see Kulgan sitting over a large tome. The magician indicated with a glance that the boy should return to his studies. Pug closed the window shutters and sat on his pallet. Kulgan said, ‘There will be ample time for you to gawk at elves, boy, in a few hours. Then there will be little time for studies. You must learn to make the best use of what time you have.’

Fantus scrambled over to place his head in the boy’s lap. Pug scratched absently behind an eye ridge as he picked up a book and started to read. Kulgan had given Pug the task of formulating shared qualities of spells as described by different magicians, in the hope it would deepen his understanding of the nature of magic.

Kulgan was of the opinion that Pug’s spells with the trolls had been the result of the tremendous stress of the moment. He hoped the study of other magicians’ research might help the boy break through the barriers that held him back in his studies. The book work also proved fascinating to Pug, and his reading had improved greatly.

Pug glanced at his master, who was reading while puffing great clouds of smoke from his long pipe. Kulgan showed no signs of the weakness of the day before and had insisted the boy use these hours to study, rather than sit idly by waiting for the arrival of the Elf Queen and her court.

A few minutes later, Pug’s eyes began to sting from the pungent smoke, and he turned back to the window and pushed open the shutters. ‘Kulgan?’

‘Yes, Pug?’

‘It would be much nicer working with you if we could somehow keep the fire going for warmth but move the smoke outside.’ Between the smoking fire pot and the magician’s pipe, the room was thick with a blue-white haze.

The magician laughed loudly. ‘Right you are.’ He closed his eyes for a moment, his hands flew in a furious motion, and he softly mouthed a series of incantations. Soon he was holding a large sphere of white and grey smoke, which he took to the window and tossed outside, leaving the room fresh and clear.

Pug shook his head, laughing. ‘Thank you, Kulgan. But I had a more mundane solution in mind. What do you think of making a chimney for the fire pot?’

‘Not possible, Pug,’ Kulgan said, sitting down. He pointed to the wall. ‘If one had been installed when the tower was built, fine. But to try to remove the stones from the tower, from here past my room, and up to the roof would be difficult, not to mention costly.’

‘I wasn’t thinking of a chimney in the wall, Kulgan. You know how the forge in the smithy has a stone hood taking the heat and smoke through the roof?’ The magician nodded. ‘Well, if I could have a metal one fashioned by the smith, and a metal chimney coming from the hood to carry the smoke away, it would work the same way, wouldn’t it?’

Kulgan pondered this for a moment. ‘I don’t see why it wouldn’t. But where would you put this chimney?’

‘There.’ Pug pointed to two stones above and to the left of the window. They had been ill fitted when the tower was built, and now there was a large crack between them that allowed the wind to come howling into the room. ‘This stone could be taken out,’ he said, indicating the leftmost one. ‘I checked it and it’s loose. The chimney could come from above the fire pot, bend here’ – he pointed to a spot in the air above the pot and level with the stone – ‘and come out here. If we covered the space around it, it would keep the wind out.’

Kulgan looked impressed. ‘It’s a novel idea, Pug. It might work. I’ll speak to the smith in the morning and get his opinion on the matter. I wonder that no one thought of it before.’

Feeling pleased with himself for having thought of the chimney, Pug resumed his studies. He reread a passage that had caught his eye before, puzzling over an ambiguity. Finally he looked up at the magician and said, ‘Kulgan.’

‘Yes, Pug?’ he answered, looking up from his book.

‘Here it is again. Magician Lewton uses the same cantrip here as Marsus did, to baffle the effects of the spell upon the caster, directing it to an external target.’ Placing the large tome down so as not to lose his place, he picked up another. ‘But here Dorcas writes that the use of this cantrip blunts the spell, increasing the chance that it will not work. How can there be so much disagreement over the nature of this single construction?’

Kulgan narrowed his gaze a moment as he regarded his student. Then he sat back, taking a long pull on his pipe, sending forth a cloud of blue smoke. ‘It shows what I’ve said before, lad. Despite any vanity we magicians might feel about our craft, there’s really very little order or science involved. Magic is a collection of folk arts and skills passed along from master to apprentice since the beginning of time. Trial and error, trial and error is the way. There has never been an attempt to create a system for magic, with laws and rules and axioms that are well understood and widely accepted.’ He looked thoughtfully at Pug. ‘Each of us is like a carpenter, making a table, but each of us choosing different woods, different types of saws, some using pegs and dowel, others using nails, another dovetailing joints, some staining, others not . . . in the end there’s a table, but the means for making it are not the same in each case.

‘What we have here is most likely an insight about the limits of each of these venerable sages you study, rather than any sort of prescription for magic. For Lewton and Marsus, the cantrip aided the construction of the spell; for Dorcas, it hindered.’

‘I understand your example, Kulgan, but I’ll never understand how these magicians all could do the same thing, but in so many different ways. I understand that each of them wanted to achieve his end and found a different means, but there is something missing in the manner they did it.’