Gonji: Fortress of Lost Worlds Part 13

"Si, the last of my line," she explained to the staring quartet, "but always the people have expected their Archmage to be male, so Ive given them what they expect. I deliberated a long time before deciding to show you the truth, since it is the truth we all need now for mutual survival."

They rose, one by one, in deference to her, Orozco falling from his floating cushion to grope back up, flushed with embarra.s.sment. Domingo laughed and spoke words of comfort to him as she ushered her three sons-Hugh, Rowland, and Darien-to their places at the table, taking the head herself.

The sons were quiet and dignified, keeping their places and making only pa.s.sing comments as they ate, answering inquiries with monosyllables. Evidently brought up with strict attention to manner and protocol, they seemed nonetheless much different from one another in appearance.

"So sorry," Gonji said, "but you say you are the last of your line. Are these not, then, your true sons?"

"Oh, they are, to be sure," she responded. "What I meant was they are all of different fathers, you see. And none, sadly, seem to bear any special sorcerous gift." She smiled at them, and they seemed uncomfortable with her maternal hovering. "I am the last of a long line of Colicos adepts, by way of Greece. And last hidalgo of the Malagas-not hijo but hija, as you can see." She laughed heartily at her own jest.

A ceramic hookah with a multifaceted base was brought to her. This she smoked as she picked at her food. Wisps of blue smoke curled about her, patterns and recognizable shapes forming as her lips twitched with amus.e.m.e.nt.

She was a handsome woman, Gonji decided, and of indeterminate years. Perhaps sixtyish, but flattered by her days in the fashion of women who learned to master age by their very acceptance of times wearying progress. Her eyes were the hue of spring on the Mediterranean, full of wisdom, poise, and intelligence. Her wit was keen, and she seemed ever on the verge of telling one something he had never known about himself.

"So, conquistador," she addressed Gonji, "you find my favorite chamber rather vulgar, no?"

The samurais brow furrowed as he glanced around the tawdry surroundings, and he half shrugged.

Domingo laughed. "A little alchemy, a little earth magic-it goes a long way, doesnt it? Oh-I hope you dont mind the olla podrida. Its my cook, you see. He can never decide what to prepare when I say its to be a special meal, so he throws in everything he can think of."

They all agreed that the stew was succulent, then Captain Salguero spoke pointedly.

"You say youve plied alchemy?"

She sighed indulgently. "Si, capitan-quite forbidden by the Church, I know. But I love the l.u.s.ter of gold, and I make only enough to please myself. It is hard work anyway, make no mistake, and I would never create a flood of it so as to cheapen its value. No alchemist with even a jot of reason would ever devalue her own work. Greed confines one in her own gilded prison."

Gonjis eyes smiled. He was fond of matters of discipline and self-imposed ethics. It was difficult to reconcile this dowager-witch with the territorys image of the nefarious Black Sunday.

"Its amusing," Domingo went on pensively. "They search for El Dorado in the New World, and Ive created it here. I must be growing senile to be showing so much of myself to Spanish soldiers."

"What exactly happened to force you into action against Barbaso?" Gonji asked.

"What were we just talking about-greed?" she asked tellingly. "In the past, my ancestors protected this valley against incursion. Youd have found no criticism of my grandfathers spells when the bandit hordes plagued Aragon. We had a fine symbiotic relationship. They provided certain goods, did our trading for us, and lent us manpower and servants as needed. In exchange the Malagas kept peace in the valley, sometimes affected the weather to favor them, and even-probably ill-advisedly-granted them certain boons of our work from time to time."

"Now you destroy their crops and their game animals, deprive them of trade-not even a solitary chapman will come to this valley anymore-and you starve them out," Salguero grumbled.

"Oh, come now, captain. Theyre hardly starving, despite their posturing as the long-suffering oppressed. And by all the spirits, theyve stolen enough golden granadillas from my enchanted arbor to keep them robust for decades to come. And what about my oxen? The hybrids I bred-how many times did you and your men partake of their tender flesh?" She turned to Gonji. "My ancestors produced a beast of burden of unusual characteristics, wayfarer. A wonderful animal of prodigious strength and endurance, easy to train to all tasks. They possess the wonderful virtue of a long maturation, at which time they lay down and die, yielding in death the best meat youve ever tasted. We once had a large herd of them. I now have two left, thanks to the thieving denizens of this valley, and those two will not breed. I suppose theyd be gone if I found a way for them to butcher themselves after they died.

"My garden of miracles," she continued, heating up with her tirade, "theyve picked over everything there. Ive had to place it under constant guard. I have vines that dance to music-trampled under their feet in their eagerness to steal my singing blossoms for their ladies hair. And neither flora nor fauna dare stand in the path they beat to my orchard for the granadillas. They grow in frustratingly small quant.i.ties; nothing weve done causes them to proliferate. But eating just one of them produces hardiness, vigor, good health-many days nourishment. More than one-"

She drew back, eyebrows arched as she looked piercingly at the soldiers.

"More than one provides the languid narcotic effect they all crave in that foolish town. Euphoria and la.s.situde and endless good will-nothing that a good flagon of rum wouldnt provide, with the exception that rum releases its grip the next day, though not without the residual effects the granadillas spare them. Dont you people understand that respite from work is the just mans reward while escape is the fools dream?"

The captain bristled. "My men are forbidden to eat your bewitched fruit."

"Is that so? Well, we shall see." She engaged Gonji again. "This went on, you see, for a long time. Theres no remonstrating with an avaricious spirit. And then other things began to happen. Things even I would call evil. And all attributed to me. People disappeared. Monstrous apparitions ravaged their crops, their flocks. Hunters were murdered by fiends on the misty plains. And it was all my doing, so they said. And so they appealed to the Church, and the adelantado of this province sent these staunch lancers to destroy me."

"Our orders came not from Duke Cervera but from the High Office in Madrid itself," Salguero corrected, "and Ive seen nothing in this valley to convince me of your innocence."

"That is not my concern, captain."

Gonji stiffened at the sound of Cerveras name but forgot it at once as he moved to dampen the smoldering inferno the pair were stirring.

At that moment Luna Invierno tumbled into the room to curl up next to the witch. He grinned up at her like an innocent babe confident of a parents protection.

Stroking Lunas hair affectionately and purring down at him, Domingo caught Gonjis questing glance. "This is Paco. You wonder how, eh, wayfarer? How I was able to enter Pacos body, to share an adventure with you, to tilt at you so masterfully? Well, I dont think Ill tell you!" She laughed toward the ceiling in her throaty fashion, a laugh filled with gentle jest and warm camaraderie. But then sadness tinged her n.o.ble features, and she seemed to reflect aloud as she continued.

"Paco is my gracioso, my dear sweet jester, who drives away my melancholy moods with his pranks. Its a position of more honor than youd guess. His family has served mine thusly for generations. But poor Paco was born defective. Crippled, you see, his limbs twisted in such a pathetic fashion that his dear mother despaired of his life-and her own. I was moved by her pain. It became my own. I employed every arcane philtre and potion in my experience to render the child whole. I finally succeeded-thought I did-with a complex spell Id often been warned against. His body was made whole again, an athletic marvel, really, but... There was a price to pay, you see... But together we may become Luna Invierno-whole and mighty!"

The simple-minded jester grinned up at her trustingly, then laid his head in her lap. Her lips trembled slightly.

"Ive always thought I should have paid that price myself. More divine retribution for-evil practices, youd say, eh, captain? Ah, well... Ive tried to make it up to him. He seems to enjoy it when I a.s.sume control of his body and show him how to perform such nimble tricks as hes unable to discover for himself. His kindly spirit curls up in some dim recess and-I can fairly cry for the delight he seems to feel when we bound off together. Dont look at me that way, gentlemen. Between your reproach and my mawkishness were fouling the air in here."

The spell of her strange tale broken, the guests looked from one to the other uncomfortably, the powers she claimed over life processes making them ill at ease. Only Gonji could render comment.

"At least his innocence is preserved. Thats hardly the worst quality of the human spirit."

She gazed at him penetratingly. "They call you the Red Blade from the East, do they not?"

Gonji was mildly startled. Hed not heard that appellation in some time.

"Among other things," he replied.

Domingo nodded with matronly grace. "Come, gentlemen, let me show you some things that disturb me."

They moved from the salle into the keeps myriad halls and spatially distorted corridor network again, the witch guiding them through the ever-fascinating phenomena. It seemed they walked an amazingly long distance before exiting to the north bailey, which was surrounded by a series of fortified stone curtains that, to their gasping apprehension, extended forever into the horizon.

Buey and Orozco halted in their tracks, and the big soldier blurted an epithet, in wonder.

"New construction, you see," Domingo explained in amus.e.m.e.nt, gesturing for them to move on.

They pa.s.sed through a gatehouse in the nearest wall and into another ward. Supply wagons were strewn about. A long bakehouse occupied a portion of one wall, and on the opposite wall was a barracks. Mercenaries lounging outside took note of their employers pa.s.sing, saluting and posturing respectfully as they jostled and whispered. It was clear that her ident.i.ty was a revelation to most of them.

They pa.s.sed another bailey wall, and still the castles sprawl went on. The area encompa.s.sed could have accommodated the needs of a respectable-sized city. They at last pa.s.sed outside the castle proper, exiting beneath an immense drum tower to a large area warmed by some hidden source. It seemed as though winter had not reached these grounds in the least.

Here they pa.s.sed Domingos arbor and what she called her Garden of Miracles. And so it literally seemed to be, for it was a place landscaped by the hand of some artistic G.o.d. Bright and beautiful, even by moonlight, its floral patterns rivaled those of the Alhambra. Birds flitted about within its confines, setting swaying blossoms into mellifluous tinkling. Strange animals stiffened in alarm at their pa.s.sing, only to trot near the topiary border when they scented their mistress.

Domingo stopped and sniffed deeply at the heady aromas issuing from the garden. "There are more things in heaven and earth..." she began to quote, throwing up her hands in surrender to failing memory. "Ah, those perceptive Ingelese!"

A small unicorn approached the witch, and the men held their breaths to behold its delicate gracefulness. It seemed hardly to touch the earth as it padded forward.

Domingo stroked its muzzle through a break in the molded hedges. "All the wonders of the world fall before the sword. But soon you warriors will have nothing left to fight, and then youll destroy one another. And the magic will shed the darkness, and live again."

"Karma," Gonji said quietly. There was neither defiance nor rancor in his voice.

"Come, Red Blade," she said. "I think youll rather enjoy this. You, too, amigos-follow where you see me go. Have no fear."

She rounded a corner of the hedge and stopped before a spot where the bushes were cut square. Smiling impishly over her shoulder, the witch walked straight at the thick shrubbery-and disappeared as she struck its surface.

Gonji made to follow, seating his swords properly in his sash. Salguero touched his shoulder, a look of concern tugging the crinkles around his eyes.

"We risk G.o.ds judgment, I fear, Gonji, being parties to such sorcery."

"We bring no harm to anyone, senchoo, in exploring the worlds wonders. Come, lets see what shes about."

Gonji steeled himself and stepped into the hedge. There was a moment of vertigo and blindness. He sucked in a cold breath. A sensation of weightlessness, then his feet struck solid ground, his knees buckling slightly as though he had missed a stair. He caught himself, felt the sobering wash of icy wind about him, and saw the smiling face of Domingo.

They were on some lofty height in the night sky. He recognized the embrasures almost at once. It was the turret of the drum tower.

"Youd best move aside before your companions run you down."

He walked to the embrasure and peered down into the garden below. There he saw the small figures of his three companions speaking, and then Salguero inching forward toward the hedge. The captains arms appeared out of thin air over the stone turret floor. They were withdrawn sharply. Then Salguero came through in a rush, sword at the ready. He nearly ran into the witch, backed away and cast about for orientation. He relaxed when he saw Gonji.

Orozco tumbled through next, rolling to a seat, his pistol drawn. Next came Buey, roaring and raising a giant fist.

They could not help sharing a laugh when theyd gathered their senses.

Domingo escorted them down a dark winding stairway that coursed the central shaft of the great tower. She brought them shortly into an amazing room, lit by phosph.o.r.escent glows with no apparent source and bedecked with the arcana of her secret gramaryes, objects of her mystical crafts. The mildewed walls were covered with charts and scrolls and drawings filled with crabbed script in unknown languages. Flasks and retorts bearing murky fluids and unseemly life-forms lined the shelves. An enormous central work table, filled with geometric instruments and writing materials, piled high with parchments and dusty tomes, dominated the chambers center.

"Here is something wonderful that youll appreciate, Red Blade." Domingo circled her hands in opposing orbits, and immediately there appeared in the air over the table a fragile network of concentric spheres, constructed of a pellucid material interconnected by lines of thin web, rotating slowly at various speeds, the webwork elongating, shortening, and disappearing as necessary.

"The seafarers who sail abroad and chart their findings call their work cartography. But what would they call this? Worlds within...and without. Round, they are, you see, as is our world. Eh, we stand...here."

She pointed with a finger, and a shaft of white light leapt from the tip to enter the network and set a tiny spark glowing on one of the inner spheres.

"But this shows you little. Watch."

The witch mumbled in a low voice and performed a series of hand manipulations, working at objects in the air visible only to her. Beside the intricate display, another began to appear, its twin. But now on this new one, each of the delicate spheres began to peel open, to flatten into a plane figure, beginning with the outermost and continuing, each in turn, until the figure became a fanned-out conjunction of transparent maps, all rotating on the same axis. The perpetually moving figure came alive with scintillas, pinpoints of white light, where the turning planes touched one another at various points. The centermost featured the greatest display of lights, and as the guests watched, they noted that some of the lights were not stationary. These flitted from one map to another and still another, leaving traceries of light like shooting stars behind them.

"Corridors and gateways, you see," she explained, "from one sphere to another. Ours-there-is not one of the more active, but it is still connected at points to the others. Locating and using the gateways is all the rage in sorcery today. Some things seek to enter, to escape. Others merely to use our sphere as a stepping-stone to other worlds. This is all rather new to me. Ive taken little interest in opening gateways, but Ive been quite enthralled with the possibilities inherent in reshaping s.p.a.ces to suit my needs. My convenience, as youve all seen. But there are other powers, dread powers, that would map the gateways for their own aggrandizement. Oh, yes, captain, the things you would call evil are quite fond of using the gateways.

"In recent years, it seems travel between spheres has been facilitated by activity in regions of great knowledge, great sensitivity involving the gateways. The designer-G.o.d who set the spheres spinning, it would appear, created a world of infinite possibilities, maximum s.p.a.ce efficiency. Room for endless growth. Seemingly, that knowledge was lost for eons, so I have heard. Why, I cannot discern. But we live in an age of epochal change, and I submit that we also occupy an area-a rather large area-of considerable importance to the operating forces. Again, whether the guiding forces are good or evil, I cannot tell. Perhaps theyre simply...amoral, as I, eh, captain? Would that give you comfort or anguish?"

Salguero did not answer, rapt by the mystical phenomenon he observed, as were the others. But Gonji had been sifting through his memories and intuitions all the while, searching for the right words to frame his anxieties.

"Senora Malaga," the samurai queried with furrowed brow, "what other areas of...sensitivity, as you say, can you find on the map of our world?"

She nodded somberly. "Si, this is why I have decided to show all this to you, Red Blade. You know something of this...true nature of the cosmos, do you not? By your legend, you seem to have run afoul of the powers that hold sway near several of the most active gateways. See here-" She pointed to spots on the gently revolving planes. "The gateways open and close for various time spans-all much accelerated by the action of my construct, so that I may see the patterns unfold without waiting hours or even days. The patterns that I call, for descriptions sake, the 'most viable, are those which occur in the tightest and most symmetrical geometric figures. We are here-the western tip of a diamond of high interspheric activity. The giant you met stumbled through here-from one of the larger worlds, but at a point corresponding to the eastern point of the diamond."

Domingo looked at Gonji tellingly.

"Which is?"

"The Carpathians, on our world. Have I not heard you called Deathwind of Vedun? I know of Vedun, and of its past and present fate. All adepts do. Were you not a partic.i.p.ant in an action in which the ancient city was destroyed, once again?"

The color fled Gonjis cheeks, and he swallowed, though he gave no response. But Domingo continued.

"Once Urso came through, he found he could not return. Hostile powers were in control of the worlds which touched that gateway. The adept who conducted him through was abducted-or worse. I discovered our giant, starving on a barren fragment of an inhospitable world, as I explored the reaches of the gateway here. They touch, you see. The power that controls all points of the geometric figure-our diamond-can strike out at the entire area it encompa.s.ses. On all the worlds the figure touches.

"The north and south tips," she went on, "lie in northeastern France and-here-the African desert. At every point there lies a fortress. A castle or stronghold of ancient and nameless construction. I myself, despite an enormous body of family lore and a rich heritage of esoteric knowledge, cannot say who erected this place where we stand. Or why. Have you not given thought to the unstrategic position Castle Malaguer occupies? Have you not seen other fortifications in your journeys, weirdly situated, causing you to wonder what possessed their architects to sink the first pilings?"

In truth, Gonji had given no thought to Castle Malaguers site; the Spanish savannahs afforded little in the way of natural support to a fortress. But he had indeed seen castles standing in the most untenable positions. Had even joined the tragic defenders of more than one.

But now something else broke the surface of his memory.

"What do you know of a place called Akryllon?"

"Akryllon?" Domingo repeated in surprise. "That sank ages ago, didnt it? It should have. Dont tell me you seek Akryllon. Now there is a place that would fit your definition of evil, Captain Salguero. The Church could have fallen to crusading convulsions over Akryllon. It was an island, perhaps a continent. No one can say for sure. A place that loved power for its own sake above all else, at any rate. The masters of Akryllon would employ any means, however perverse, to set themselves over their fellows. What they could not control, they set about destroying. So the legends tell us."

"Its spoken of as a...floating island," Gonji said. "A mystical land that appears where it wills and defies efforts at locating it. Is it possible that so large a gateway between worlds might exist? Large enough for an entire island to pa.s.s through?"

Domingo tilted her head in consideration of what Gonji proposed. "Im not sure. Ive never seen so large a disturbance. But then, you must remember that Ive only mapped such worlds as Ive discovered. They are far more numerous. Perhaps even infinite. As I said, this is not a serious study with me, merely a recent avocation. I have my gardens and my art-Ive shown you little of that. But if Akryllon still exists, then it would surely fit your friends definition of evil. And yet I am not interested in mapping the relative moralities of a complex cosmic network. I simply had an intuition that you, Gonji, should be shown this evidence of the myriad wonders about us."

She peered off into the distance, her vision unfocused, reflective, as she went on. "Because...somehow...your aura, samurai, does indeed agitate the Powers that rule this strange interspheric universe. And there is no doubt in my mind that evil weaves in and out of the doorways to these many, connected, concentric worlds."

"With h.e.l.l at the center of it all?" Orozco asked, eyeing the twinkling plane in the middle of the display.

"Perhaps so," she said flatly.

Gonjis mouth formed into a grim, pensive line. His brow furrowed, and his intense gaze shone, as if he witnessed an epiphany, there in that haunting, mystical map that rotated gently in the air like a spiritual oasis.

Or a mirage.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Gonjis party rejoined the anxious troop of lancers early the next morning.

The sorceress provided an escort of mercenaries who accompanied them back through the valley toward Barbaso. They were troubled by no menace, common or astounding, as they made their way over the stamped snow. The gray sky was etched with a bright-seamed promise of the suns appearance later in the day.

"You trust her," Captain Salguero said, riding beside the samurai.

"Hai. Malicious deceivers rarely reveal so much of their secret selves, and with so much enthusiasm, neh? And you?"

"I suppose she won me over as well. But I dont like it. Weve probably all been bewitched-"

"Something in that wine," Orozco said, piping in from behind them as he removed his morion and rubbed his aching head.

The captain grunted in a.s.sent. "But I dont know how Ill manage to convince Barbaso of her honorable intentions, the truce and all. They want blood-"

Orozco snorted. "And golden granadillas."

The captains head tossed in amus.e.m.e.nt. "And I cant say that I approve of her dabbling in sorcery any more than I did before. Somehow I feel its a lost cause. Even if I convince Barbaso, what do I do about Holy Mother Church, and my orders?"