Magics - Riddle Of The Seven Realms Part 61

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As Astron slowly let the sc.r.a.p fall back to the floor, a swarm of imps buzzed up from the stairwell, but he paid them no heed. The sky was almost as bright as day in the realm of men, so many djinns had Caspar rallied to his side. With what meager forces Elezar had left, it was doubtful he would have any more need for his tiny entertainers.

Only if Palodad were swift enough to test the pollen and show it blazing in triumph would any who followed Caspar pause and reconsider that the basis for the confrontation had indeed been won. Otherwise Elezar was lost, and, in the end, all who strove for him as well.

Astron looked at the sphere of bright lights converging on the darker knot of men and beings from other realms, now standing off in the distance and awaiting the strike. He reached out once with his empty hand, then pounded his sides in frustration. Astron, wingless Astron, the one who walked! In the end, he was reduced to being a mere spectator while others decided the fate of the realm.

Astron pushed against the tug of his stembrain. It continued to stir and boil. There was something that still bothered him, some additional conclusion that could be drawn from all that he had learned. He settled on the cushion, not bothering to bat away the imps as they swarmed about his head.

"Reality is a bubble," he muttered. "I have seen realms created, merged, and destroyed. Aleators like Centuron believe that such destruction is preordained. Either the will to believe decays the pressure within or the bubble is pierced from-"

Astron stopped. The already high state of agitation of his stembrain grew with a deep terror he had never felt before. Why the knowledge of fire in the realm of daemon held such power suddenly became clear. He knew why it was the ultimate precept, the greatest of them all.

Astron bolted to his feet and ran back to the open portal. "There is a reason why there is no fire in our realm," he shouted in panic, "a reason most profound. Fire breaks down the barrier that keeps a bubble whole; it creates an opening in the surface that protects it from the void."

Astron looked at the still brightening sky. He knew

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that the distances were still far too great for his voice to carry, but he felt he had to continue on. The battle between Elezar and Caspar suddenly was of insignificant consequence compared to what really was at stake.

"For all the other realms, the opening is to our very own," he yelled. "The pressure on both sides of the breach is the same. Except for creating a portal of transport, nothing else happens as a result.

"But a flame in the realm of daemon-think of it! When it pierces the skin of the bubble, where then will it lead? Not to another of the realms; other flames already provide those connections. No, it can only be to the void. Like the spheres of the aleators that surrounded the talismans, a small rupture lets out the essence inside. The realm of daemon would collapse into nothingness just as surely as if we had ceased to believe.

"It is not only our own universe that would wither away," Astron said. "All the other realms are connected to ours by the other flames. Like the merged realms of symmetry, they would all vanish as well, first oozing into ours and then following us into the chilling void. It would mean the end of every thing, all of existence, all that there is."

Astron shook his head and tried to regain a measure of control. The battle of warring princes for supremacy in a single realm were only shadows of what confronted him. The death of a single realm or two was nothing compared to the end of them all!

"But who would wish such a fate on all of existence?" Astron wondered aloud. "Who could be so tired of living that he would succ.u.mb to the great monotony in such a fashion? Who would have the power to manipulate-"

He stopped and tried to look beyond the glare of the djinn light. "Oh, what have I done?" he shrieked. The greatest insight of all descended on him like a weight of the densest matter. "Nimbia, Nimbia," he moaned. "I have sent you to the worst possible place.

"It is Palodad." He whirled and explained to the buzzing imps. "Palodad, the one who reckons, is behind it all. I now understand it so clearly. He is the old one like Cen-turon whose only desire is to see the final end. He is the

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one who controlled events that combined two realms. He is the one that cut away the beliefs of all the aleators so that they vanished as well. Yes, who else but a demon would design an almanac with entries beyond the lifespan of a man. Who else but a demon would think it important to change the format of the entries so that the user would not get bored over such a span and succ.u.mb to the great monotony. Who else provided Jelilac with the calculation of where his spinner would come to rest.

"It is all part of his plan, the same one that he constructed to get harebell pollen to him for the final step. It is Palodad who has computed everything along the way. Caspar's challenge, sending me on the quest, instructing Camonel merely to appear dominated by Phoebe while retaining allegiance to his prince-there was no other wizard involved at all. It is Palodad who must be stopped; Caspar is merely a cog in his machine like the rest.1'

Astron looked at the converging djinns. Somehow Caspar's rush must not only be halted but pierced as well. He had to get to Palodad's lair and stop the pollen grain from being ignited. Once it was ablaze, it would be the beginning of the end. He was the only one who knew the true peril. Not only Nimbia but all of existence was forfeit if he should fail.

He looked at the imps still swarming about him and grabbed at the thought that sprang into his head. "Servants of Elezar," he commanded. "Each of you, grab hold of my flesh where you can. Together you will transport me across the realm."

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE.

The Final Computation

KESTREL watched Caspar's demons zoom in for their first attack and hetd his breath. His pulse raced. What he had chosen to do was right, but he could not keep the chilling reality of the most likely outcome from his thoughts. Even with a score of wizards from each of the realms of men, fey, and skyskirr, Elezar's forces were spread far too thin. The hastily constructed inner sphere of lesser devils that faced the lightning djinns was outnumbered at least three to one.

Kestrel pressed his foot down on the unseen blackness beneath him, still not quite believing it was there. He and the legion of reticulates stood in relative darkness on what Elezar had called an unoccupied node. Scattered throughout the realm were many such points, the prince has said, loci that remained fixed in the sky and did not fall toward whatever tugged on everything from below. On them, the djinns and lesser devils acc.u.mulated and weaved their meager treasures of matter, transforming the blank nothingness into elegant distractions that forestalled the great monotony. Kestrel pushed aside the wonder of it all. For now, although surrounded by Caspar's forces like the rest, Abel and the others were ready to act in synchrony, and that was all that mattered.

Near the center of the spheres of converging attackers, not far from Astron's lair, Elezar blazed with a brilliant light, no longer hiding, but daring Caspar to come forward. In the direction of Palodad's domain Kestrel had deliberately posted the fewest of the defenders in the hopes that, when the lightning djinns did swoop

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for the kill, their path would be directly through the middle of the two lines of waiting warriors.

The already-bright sky suddenly blossomed into splashes of intense color. Simultaneously, Caspar's lieutenants unleashed bolts of searing energy at those who rose to fight them. Kestrel saw two devils and a smaller demon immediately enveloped in crackling tendrils of plasma, their shrieks of pain blotted by the rumble of the blow. He clenched his fists. Soon, one way or another, he would experience the fate of the hero.

More demons streaked outward, ducking past the spray of ichor and bone and launching strikes of their own. Behind them, broodmothers beat the air with heavy wings, carrying wizards in their outstretched talons. Caspar's lesser devils swooped in behind their lieutenants, eyes wide with the choice of targets and sticky drool streaming from their chins as they contemplated the l.u.s.t of battle.

Bursts of light flashed into incandescence. Kestrel had to shield his eyes with upflung arms. Three more defenders exploded in b.a.l.l.s of boiling flesh, then a half dozen more. The deep booming laugh of Caspar's lieutenants resonated with the rolling echoes of the explosions.

Still Elezar's defenders rose to meet the attack. The broodmothers climbed unrelentingly upward and the wizards they carried projected their wills. Kestrel saw the arm of one of Caspar's lieutenants suddenly jerk in a spasm. A half-formed streak of energy sputtered and flew wide of its mark. The djinn scowled and turned his head to launch another bolt at the one who had interfered with his thoughts. Before he could, a brown-skinned devil soared past his outflung arm, blasting out with three sharp stabs of crackling pain. Elezar's smaller devils closed in on the mightier djinns. Even tiny imps harried them in vicious swirls, biting earlobes and cheeks when flailing hands could not keep them away.

But then a random blast ricocheted from a defensive shield and struck a wizard from the realm of the skyskirr squarely in the chest. One of Caspar's minions shook his head at the sudden release from sluggishness. With a

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wild yell, he waved to the others, indicating whom they should attack.

All around the enveloping sphere, the word pa.s.sed as fast as the bolts of plasma. Elezar's demons were ignored; the strikes were aimed at the broodmothers and the loads that they carried. The defending demons swooped to intercept the new focus of attack, but the first were blasted out of the way. One wizard fell, then two more. The others tried to maintain their concentration, but each misdirected bolt now did not stray as far from its intended target. The uprush of defenders halted. Gradually they began to give ground.

The warriors on the dark node stirred uncomfortably, but Kestrel indicated for them to be still. He glanced at Elezar and then back to the crumbling defense. Just as it looked as if the thin surface of protection would be pierced in a half dozen places, he saw the prince give the sign. The broodmothers and other demons along the deliberately weakened corridor suddenly turned in mid-flight and began to dive. With wings folded, they plunged toward Elezar, shooting directly between Kestrel and the two lines of reticulates.

For a moment Caspar's minions hesitated. Then, with a shout of triumph, they came plunging after. The lieutenants saw the collapse. As Kestrel had hoped, they abandoned their own battles to join in the destruction of Elezar the prince. In an undisciplined riot, the mighty djinns circled to where the resistance had suddenly become nonexistent and poured down the corridor, striving to be the first to strike a blow at the one who waited below.

Elezar released two tremendous blasts of power of his own just as the first of Caspar's devils sailed into Kestrel's midst, forcing them to stop and hastily throw up their wings to shield off the blast.

"Now," Kestrel shouted. "Demon of many heads, close your ranks just as we have planned."

The reticulates on the ends of the two rows nearest the djinns smartly heeled and rotated their lines inward. Like the lid of a box, in synchronized step they closed off the path to Elezar, presenting a perfect repet.i.tion of

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the lines that flanked the demons on either side.

More of Caspar's lieutenants raced up in a flurry of wings. Crashing into one another, they looked puzzled at the silent lines of men linked together and marching in perfect step.

"And the bottom," Kestrel shouted when the last of a dozen had come. "Seal the one remaining means of escape and then they are ours. What can be the hope of a single djinn, no matter how mighty, against a foe with eight score heads and twice as many arms with which to unleash his awesome power?"

Kestrel bit his lip as he peered over Abel's shoulder. The lines of reticulates swung shut just as had the ones in front. For a precious moment, none of the djinns within the box moved or released any of their energy.

"Yes, eight score bodies all connected into one," Kestrel prattled on. "It must be so. Look at the unity in movement. Surely that would be impossible if each were somehow disjoined. One hundred and sixty torsos and hence one hundred and sixty times the strength. You have met your superior, minions of Caspar. Surrender now so you can observe the extent of this power."

Kestrel reviewed his logic quickly. The demon mind freezes with the unusual, and it does not immediately consider the possibility of falsehood. With just a moment's more hesitation, a major part of Caspar's strength would be neutralized.