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but said he'd let it pass since you had fought with valor and everybody was
half crazed with fatigue by the time the battle ended. He stipulated that I
was to
'kick your ass' for awhile to teach you a damn good lesson, though."
"I'm offering no excuses, my lord," Giorgini replied evenly. "I screwed up and
I'll admit it. It won't happen again."
Boreas paused to study Giorgini, and the look seemed to read his very soul.
Giorgini had been up here for months and had dealt with Boreas many times
before. He met the probe squarely, unafraid.
"You have attended enough of our council meetings to know what I require."
"Sarnak."
"You say that so lightly. Have you any idea what it means to us of Bore's
blood?"
"Boreas, I don't feel it the way you and your people do, but I can understand
it. And I have a score of my own to settle with him, so I will help as best as
I can."
Again there was silence as Boreas turned to regard his harbor, and then
glanced at his castle overlooking the city. It was made of stone, cut and
polished to such a brightness that at night it seemed to be made of ice, and
here in the early morning sun shimmered with the color of blood-red gold.
"Giorgini, before I decided to bring you into my service I investigated you
and the other outlanders very thoroughly. I know that you are capable of the
same kind of talent as Jartan's farsearch specialist, Kochanski."
Giorgini was impressed. That meant that Boreas knew he had been the radar fire
control operator in the old B-29 they had flown back in China, while Kochanski
was radar.
"I could direct the guns by radar. I'd track them as they came in, then use
the information to train all the guns. Kochanski used long-range radar for
navigation and detection. But the jobs were similar, and from what you've told
me it seems that what we learned on Earth enhances certain skills here on
Haven."
"I freely admit that we have already learned several things from you," Boreas
replied, "although your knowledge and talents in other areas need vast
improvement."
Giorgini nodded.
"However, it is your potential as a farsearcher that I require. I am assigning
a team of my best sorcerers to assist you in one task to the exclusion of all
others."
He hesitated as if having trouble saying the word, so Giorgini supplied it.
"Sarnak."
"Yes. He has seemingly vanished from the face of Haven. I have had scores of
spies at work for months and they have found no trace of him. It was thought
that he might go to his uncle Tor's realm after his death, but nothing has
been heard even there."
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"Giorgini, Sarnak's death must be at my hands. I must find him before someone
else kills him--and I will do anything necessary to achieve it."
Giorgini had his shield raised to the maximum and was still being overcome by
the wave of cold and hatred emanating from Boreas.
"My lord. Your aura," he gasped.
Instantly Boreas regained his control. "Find him for me, and you may name your
own reward."
Giorgini nodded in an outward show of calm, but underneath he was terrified.
God in heaven, he thought, I don't even know how to start.
And he shivered again.
"The god, Jartan."
Mark, Ikawa, and their companions came instantly to attention, as did the
eight hundred other sorcerers and demigods assembled in the vast planning
room.
A pillar of light congealed at the apex of the horseshoe-shaped conference
table where the demigods sat, facing the assembly.
The form wavered and coalesced into the brightly glowing image of a man.
"Be seated," Jartan intoned, and the group settled into their straightback
chairs.
Already the whole operation bore in Mark's mind a remarkable resemblance to a
bombing mission planning session. The walls behind Jartan were lined with
charts and maps. The one remarkable new twist, however, was the three
dimensional image that appeared to float in the middle of the room.
A green-blue ball several feet across occupied the center of the horseshoe.
Upon it, in absolute detail, was the planetary surface of Haven. When he had
first entered the room, Mark had gone up to the globe to touch it, but his
hand went right through the image.
When he drew close, he was amazed to see that the fine detail was even three
dimensional, showing the rise of mountain ranges, cities, rivers, and even the
most important roads. Examining the city of Landra and concentrating on the
image he was startled when a small pie-shaped section in the area around
Landra rose out of the globe, drifted out for a foot, then increased its scale
a hundred times, so that individual buildings were now easily discernable. He
concentrated again on this section. Again a segment rose out another foot,
expanding out a hundredfold so that the finest details of Allic's still
damaged palace hovered before him.
He withdrew his thoughts and the first segment retracted to the second and the
second back into the main
globe. He could have spent days examining the world thus, but the room was
filling quickly and there had not been time. Now he wished that he had spent
more time examining a couple of the other displays.
For a while the green globe of Haven occupied the center of the display.
Around it, in varying sizes, were thirty other worlds, some only a foot in
diameter, one--a gas giant up toward the ceiling and orbited by a dozen
moons--several yards across.
Each of the other globes had at least one green dot upon it; several had a
dozen or more. He noticed a couple that had flashing yellow spots on their
surfaces. But there was one, off at the very edge of the display, nearly five
feet across, with a single grey moon orbiting it, that had half a dozen dots
upon the surface. One dot was still flashing yellow, one dot was a steady red,
the other four were flashing red.
Without asking, Mark could sense this extraordinary meeting had been called
because of whatever was occurring on that world. They had rushed here almost
nonstop, spending one evening in Landra as Allic called in his remaining
sorcerers, then winging northward. With only the most hurried of stops for
food and a snatch of sleep they had flown through the day and far into the
night. There had been no rest even then, just time to change uniforms, shave,
shower, and then appear for this predawn meeting. Now they would finally get
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some answers.
"My friends, we face a most dangerous situation." Jartan began evenly, his
voice edged with concern.
"Many of you might know small parts of the story."
There was a stirring in the room as the assembled men and women looked at each
other. There was going to be action, that was obvious.
"Gorgon has always been a threat to our realms. For those of you with memories
before the Great War, you will recall that he has been met on more than one
field of action."
At the mere mention of the demonlord's name, Mark felt the cold chill of the
nightmare returning. The dream was always the same, the demon closing in,
leering. The horror of it was that he was paralyzed like a fly in a web,
unable to move as the demon tore open his body and pulled the still pulsing
heart out of his chest.
"Some of you have personally fought Gorgon and his demons. Many of you have
seen the spirits of your friends dragged off to torments undreamed."
Mark nervously slipped a sidelong glance at Allic and could see the slightest
of tremors crease his features. Palms damp with sweat, Mark leaned back and
tried to stare straight ahead.
"Working together, we Creators have been able to erect barriers to protect
Haven. A fair part of our
Essence has gone into the creation of these walls."
"Yet there are ways he could enter. Small openings can be created through
which he and his most powerful demons may reach out and speak to those foolish
enough to hear him. Always he has been probing in such ways, ready to seduce
someone into becoming his confederate. His lesser demons can even slip through
such narrow openings, to act as his messenger or his instrument of terror and
spying. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]