Frost approached the cottage unseen as he made his way nearer, staying to the trees. He noted he was not the only one to do so. Even in the late daylight, it was clear the woods had been trampled by a good many footfalls and horses hooves; twigs had been snapped, holes had been dug as makeshift privies, meaning some visitors had stayed for a time.
Sharryl and Rosivok went ahead. When they were sure there was no one inside, Frost went around and entered through the open doorway. He was greeted by two stools and a chair that had been hacked and broken to pieces, and the damp, musty smell of the forest during the rains filled his nose as he breathed.
Shassel, Frost knew, drawing another breath as he looked about, noticing the faint smell of rot mixed in. She had been taken, but not without a struggle of some sort, which meant she was aware and able when they made the attempt, which meant it should have failed. Even old and frail she was resourceful, and a match for any troop of brigands.
Frost found little in the way of clues as he searched the room, aided by his Subartans. Especially, he found no fresh blood, which was some small comfort. Of great discomfort was the thought of Andair and Gentaff holding Shassel somewhere, making her suffer. She would not be asleep as the twins had been, she was much too valuable awake. The king and his sorcerer would be interested in anything she might be coerced into saying.
"Frost?"
He spun with his Subartans; it was the boy, Muren, the one he had used twice now as messenger. He entered gingerly, glancing about as if somethinga Subartan or worsemight jump at him from the corners.
"Stop there," Rosivok said.
The boy did. "She is gone," he said.
Frost nodded. "So I see."
"What will they do to her?"
He'd asked the question evenly. The boy apparently liked Shassel well enough to be concerned, but he was reluctant to show it fully. Habit, Frost thought, to show only the most tentative attachment to those who worked magic, or who might, as they were usually more curse than blessing to have around. It was not a baseless fear, after all.
Frost turned and went to examine Shassel's bedding for anything unusual, but found nothing. "She will be ransomed, no doubt."
Now the boy nodded. "Oh."
"But they must keep her alive to do that," Frost said. "Andair and Gentaff are many things, but neither of them is stupid."
"Andair?" Muren said, looking about nervously.
"Yes, and Gentaff," Frost repeated, still looking about on the floor, in the corners.
"But they did not take her," Muren said.
Frost looked at him. "That is what I have been led to believe. Are you sure?"
"Yes," the boy replied. "I saw them; they came in the night, but I recognized the markings on their horses."
"Who?" Frost asked, suddenly impatient.
"They were Grenarii."
Frost felt rage taking control of him as the words faded in the air between them. A flood of thoughts rushed in, all falling into place. If the Grenarii had taken her it was possible Andair had somehow known about it, and simply used that information to his advantage. Had simply lied. Such was not unusual for Andair. He has tricked me yet again!
Sharryl and Rosivok stood close to Frost now.
"The Grenarii have made a grave error," Frost said through gritted teeth, as he turned to look from one Subartan to the other. Both nodded.
"Are you going after her?" Muren asked.
Frost felt an urge to kick something, to destroy something. He fought it. "Yes."
"I saw the road they took. I followed as far as I could, but they had horses, and . . ."
"Yes, boy, good. You may show us."
"Will we return to Wilmar's holdings first?" Sharryl asked.
"It would be wise," Rosivok agreed. "If Andair and Gentaff know of this, they are sure to expect you. If they learn that you have fled north after the Grenarii instead, they may abandon their plans."
"And attempt new ones," Frost added.
Rosivok nodded.
"The twins," Sharryl said.
"It is impossible to know what Andair has in mind," Frost said, fighting hard to control his frustration. "I know only that the Grenarii have taken Shassel, and I will not allow that to endure. She must not come to harm. Wilmar and Tramet are charged with tending to the twins. They will have help. Dorin and Dara have been captured by Gentaff once already, so they will be keen to any fresh attempts at trickery, or force. We will trust together they are up to the task, at least for now.
"As for Andair, he has tried to make it known that he has Shassel. He would not spread such a dangerous lie unless he is prepared for me to visit him again, to bargain for her return, or fight for it. He must wait a little longer than expected. Then, he will get more than expected."
Frost stayed his own tongue. The taste in his mouth was sour enough to kill a man, and seemed to get worse as he spoke. Now, only the pain inside spoke to him. He stepped out of the cottage once more, then turned to the boy, Muren, in the doorway behind him. "Tell no one," he said. "When I return, you will be well rewarded."
"Shassel's return will be reward enough," the boy replied, stalwart as could be.
Frost nodded. "Good boy," he said. "I believe you may actually mean that."
"Once and half again," Muren replied.
Frost signaled his Subartans, and they gathered their horses to go.
"I bring you word, Lord Kolhol, of treachery and deceit, of a dangerous threat, but also unexpected opportunities! News that might save your kingdom, and yourself."
"Did I hear that first part right? Do you threaten me?" Kolhol asked, leaning forward and glaring at the smallish peddler that stood before himan older man, not quite Kolhol's age, narrow eyes, weak chin, well dressed for traveling but properly disheveled, someone who had just made a long, hard and hurried journey on horseback.
"I would never do that," the visitor said. "I am here to serve you as any man of my means could. Out of conscience . . . and need. I have heard you can be a generous man, when the reasons are good ones."
Kolhol raised his brow and used two fingers to stroke at his short, thick, graying beard. "You think your news that valuable, do you?"
"I do, that I do," the other said.
"Then speak, and if I find this news to be as you say, you shall have twice its worth. If notwell, you will not like that at all." Kolhol smiled, but stopped short of a chuckle.
The visitor seemed undaunted. "We should speak in private, my lord."
The king frowned, considering the request, then he shrugged and waved the many in attendance in the great hall away from his throne, except for the two large and armored soldiers that stood guard on either side of him. They would stay. "Go on," he said, leaning forward.
The visitor leaned nearer as well. "It is not my place to ask, but I must, you see: Have you ever wondered at the ways of your son's mind? The truth of his heart? The goals he has set for himself?"
"Constantly," Kolhol said. This fellow couldn't know the half of it, and probably shouldn't. "Go on."
"And your court wizard, Tasche, have you ever"
"More so. We each have our own ideas about things; many of theirs are wrong. I have my doubts about them both, but I wonder why I must discuss them with you?"
"You need not. I needed to know whether you trusted them."
Kolhol saw the look in the other man's eyes, a little too steady, too calculating. "And as I do not?"
"I would call you wise. I do not know all the facts, but it would serve you to wonder whether Haggel and Tasche are hatching a plot to do you harmperhaps imprisonment, or even death. They have gone to great lengths to do whatever it is they are up to, even as we speak."
Kolhol sighed. He had known or guessed most of this, and the rest . . . "You mean you do not know their plan, either?"
"I do in part. They have captured an aging adept named Shassel from her cottage in Briarlea. They apparently intend to use her to help them with a spell designed to summon some powerful and most offensive creature or other, an ally from the darkness. Then they intend to send her back."
"I wondered where those two had gone," the king remarked. This was as good and foolish an explanation as any. "They were seen returning. But instead of coming here they have since traveled east, into the Maardre Forest. That must be where they plan to try this spell you speak of."
"You had them followed?"
"Of course."
"Then you do not doubt what I say, that they plot against you."
Kolhol shook his head. "If any of this was to benefit me, they would have told me about it, and they would be here, not hiding in the forests."
"My very thoughts," the visitor said.
Kolhol shrugged. He would deal with Tasche and Haggel soon enough, in one fashion or another. "You say there is more?"
"Yes. Much more. As luck would have it a man named Frost, a most powerful sorcerer to begin with, has returned to Briarlea after many years' absence, and he is in possession of the Demon Blade."
"The Blade?" Kolhol said, sitting forward. He had heard rumors, many rumors lately, but there were always rumors.
"Shassel is family, so it is not unreasonable to expect that sooner or later Frost will come looking for her. He might be a natural ally for you. He despises Andair."
Kolhol's mind was racing. "A powerful sorcerer?" The other nodded.
He might just be a fine replacement for Tasche, Kolhol thought, if it should come to that. Kolhol tried not to drool. "I am intrigued. This may be great news indeed."
"I must warn you, my lord, this Frost is a capricious sort, unpredictable, dangerous. Controls would be wise."
"Agreed," Kolhol replied. "But what controls such a man? Wealth, certainly, and power, but others can offer him that. What does he want?"
"Other than Shassel, and Andair's hide?"
"Yes, I see," Kolhol agreed, rubbing his chin once more; then he began to chew at his thumbnail. He stopped so he wouldn't accidentally chew it off, then sat back once more as satisfaction spread through his mind like the warmth from a fire. "If I were to capture this Shassel away from those two fools, Frost would be forced to do my bidding."
He saw a new and curious look in the visitor's eyes now, as if somewhere in the man's mind he was talking to himself in earnest. "Your thoughts?" Kolhol asked.
"You know best, of course, my lord," the other answered, adding a gracious bow. "But you might be better off rescuing her."
That did make better sense. He needed to think. "Pay him," Kolhol said, waving to one of the servants waiting at the back of the room. As soon as the gold had been counted out, Kolhol told the visitor to be on his way. He was gone an instant later.
"Call Captain Durret before me," Kolhol told the guard on his left. The soldier acknowledged the command and rushed out of the room.
Durret was an able soldier, a man Kolhol had fought alongside in the past and shared more than enough ale with, a man who got things done, and done right. He would have Durret take as many men as he thought he would need to collect this Shassel and return her to him, unharmed. He would have him collect Haggel and Tasche as well. No matter what that required.
"Isn't there some means to shut her up?" Haggel said, pulling at the door on the old keep at Maardre.
"There is, but not yet," Tasche answered, glaring at Shassel as two soldiers carried her in and laid her on the floor as quickly as they could. They wore strips torn from blankets wrapped around their hands to keep from being burned, a consequence of holding onto Shassel this past day and a half. Though the warmth, some of the men conceded, was partly welcome considering their general condition. While they continued to improve, the men looked abhorrent: their skin greenish-brown and mildewed, rotting clothing, snot running out of their noses between bouts of coughing and hacking, their hair falling out in clumps. All particularly unsightly, so far as Haggel was concerned. He remained eminently pleased that he had not entered the cabin with them that night, not until Shassel had been hobbled by Tasche's binding spell.
"We rest tonight," Tasche said. "I will need most of the day tomorrow to prepare. By the end of the day I will be ready to do all that must be done. Once the spell is completed, I assure you, she will be silent."
Not a moment too soon, as far as Haggel was concerned. She hadn't stopped riding, degrading and threatening him, his father, Tasche, the soldiers and every man, woman and child in Grenarii since they had left her cottage in Briarlea.
"There are ghosts here," she said now. "I will speak to them. They were wronged by your family, young fool Haggel. They will want your blood when I am through."
Haggel glanced up and about reflexively, part of him expecting to see something in the shadows and corners of the large hall. The lord who built this place had been dead for years and the lands had gone back to forest. The walls that once protected the castle were but tumbled remnants now, though the keep still had a roof, or most of one, which made it suitable enough for their purposes. Haggel didn't know what had happened to those that once lived here, and he hoped he wouldn't have to learn.
"I will tend to any ghosts that bother us," Tasche said, haughtily. "I fear no such things."
"Fear comes either from ignorance or wisdom," Shassel said. "You lack the wisdom even to tell the difference."
Tasche's light brown face turned florid at this. He looked about to explode. Haggel shook his head in frustration. "This is all I need," he said. "If you fall apart, everything does."
"Yes, yes, yes," Tasche said, looking too much like a scolded child for Haggel's tastes; he'd been that too many times himself.
The two of them just stood there. Haggel thought it an awkward moment. He was nervous about absolutely everything: the spell Tasche was counting on, the very idea of defying and likely imprisoning his fatherat least for a time, the idea of actually assuming the throne of Grenariias opposed to thinking about it. And then there was Shassel and her threats, and Frost, whom they knew almost nothing about. The one thing he didn't doubt was his own destiny to rule as no one had ruled before. Somehow. Soon. It was getting there that posed most of the difficulties.
"We need a good night's sleep," Haggel said finally.
"Not so likely to happen," Shassel said, adding a laugh that was more a cackle.
"A good night's sleep," Tasche affirmed. Then he added, "To forget about the old woman and her big mouth!"
"She will not forget either of you," Shassel told them.
Tasche was glaring again, turning red againor still. Haggel had had enough. He shook his head and went to find a suitable place to lie down for the night. The lord's old bed was still usable, though fresh stuffing would have been nice. He lay down and fell asleep quickly, as he always did, though he slept uneasily, dreaming of ghosts chasing him. He woke up screaming when they caught up to him, then realized where he was. He peered into the quiet darkness but saw nothing, and went back to sleep. The third time he woke up screaming he gave up and decided to sit up the rest of the night. Which proved boring, so he woke Tasche a little early, and asked when the spell-working would begin.
"I want to watch," he said.
"There is not much to see," Tasche replied bleary-eyed, after grumbling that the sun had not quite risen yet. "A lot of concentrating, a lot of reciting and confirmations, a little testing, more reciting, more building, more overlaying, and so on."
Haggel shrugged. "What can I do to help?"
"It is a most difficult and dangerous task I am undertaking," Tasche replied. "You can see that I am not disturbed."
That was what soldiers were for, but Haggel only had a handful of those, and none was in very good shape. Still, out here in the middle of nowhere there were no distractions anyway, which made the job palatable even for a prince.
"Very well, get to work. I grow anxious."
"So do I, but I haven't had breakfast."
"You don't need it," Haggel said, making a show of sizing up the enormous proportions the wizard expressed.
Tasche frowned condescendingly. "Food is strength, and hunger is a distraction."
Haggel tried to think of a response but decided it was too much trouble. "Then eat!" he said, throwing up his hands. He left Tasche alone and went to awaken his men.
"Can we get on with this?" Haggel asked Tasche. "It will be dark again before long."
Tasche turned on him, clearly irritated. Haggel didn't care. The bugs in the forest were eating them alive, the fresh food was nearly gone, and he was bored silly; but mostly he was dying to get a look at Tasche's most powerful, incredible, boundary-crossing, sorcerer-snubbing aberration of darkness that was to come from this most difficult spell-working Tasche claimed to have spent so many years on.
"It goes well," Tasche said through his teeth.
"I am impatient," Haggel said. It was about time, and Tasche knew it. But now, as he studied it, Haggel wasn't sure he liked the look on the other's faceone he was not accustomed to seeing there. Concern? Consternation? Fear?
"What's wrong?" Haggel asked.
"Nothing, nothing is wrong," Tasche snarled, turning back to the staff laid before him on the floor and the smoldering earthen pots set one to either side, each the size of a man's head. Whatever was in them smelled horrible, like burning dung with some sort of sour plant, surely poisonous, mixed in. The smoke curled about Tasche and drifted through the poorly lit room keeping company with the echoes of Tasche's chants as he went back to him.
"How much more is there?" Haggel asked honestly.
"Indeed, we are ready, if that pleases my prince," Tasche said with venom.
Haggel dismissed it. "Good," he said.
Tasche got slowly to his feet, then instructed the two soldiers present to pick up the bowls. "Follow along," he told them. Then he nodded toward Shassel.
"Bring her," Haggel commanded, and the other two guards wrapped their hands, picked her up, and followed the others outside.
They walked well into the woods and away from the old walls and keep until they reached a large clearing, now knee-deep in brush and shrubbery, where grain had once been grown. The sun had just disappeared behind the tops of the trees to the west and the clearing was already cast mostly in shadows. When they reached the middle Tasche bid everyone halt. Then he had the two soldiers carrying the pots tramp some of the ground cover flat, an area oval in shape, eight paces across and six wide. Next they were told to place the pots at either end of the trampled spot, and Shassel was laid length-wise in the middle, head and toes pointed at the pots.
Now Tasche strode forward, placed the point of his staff in the earth beside Shassel, and began to chant once more. The chants went on for several moments, the same four, repeating. Haggel had no idea what the sorcerer was saying, the words were not familiar, but it sounded quite dire. Haggel guessed that was probably good. He tried to grin at the tension, then he jumped as he heard a yelpfrom Shassel.
"What are you doing!" she screeched "Are you an idiot, or a fool, or both?"
"Silence!" Tasche shouted at Shassel. "Why?" the old woman asked. "I hear you well, and I cannot believe what I am hearing. Even I would not attempt such a thing. If you continue with this madness, you will destroy all of us, perhaps many more!"
"I refuse to listen to you," Tasche said. "You would say anything to save yourself and to change the course of this night. You have only your life to concern you. I look to the future of this realm and the destiny of its prince!"
Shassel coughed. "Who would say anything?"
"Tasche is right," Haggel said. He leaned over so as to spit on Shassel's prone form, but at the last instant thought again. "We expected you to try and save yourself. We did not expect it would be such a pathetic attempt."
Tasche sent Haggel an approving nod.
"You want to see pathetic, allow your half-witted sorcerer to continue," Shassel answered. "You will be sadly enlightened. He does not know what he is about. He has bits and pieces of the spells he needs to bring forth a creature of the darkness, but he does not know what sort of beast he will conjure. He is making much of this up as he goes, guessing, rounding, blundering. He does not have the mastery required to do what he is attempting, not on such a scale."
"I do!" Tasche howled.
"Do not!" Shassel snapped back.
"My skills are greater than you know!"
"Your eagerness exceeds your talent."
"Shut up!" Tasche boomed. "Just shut up!"
"You are insane," Shassel told him. "You don't know what the darkness holds, what beings you would conjure. You are like a boy groping with his hand in a murky pond. You might well catch something, but you will not know what until it is in your midst. That should worry you, Tasche, and you, Haggel, but I fear put together you have not the head to know it!"
Tasche made a clear and desperate attempt to collect himself. "I have been preparing for this moment for half my life," he said, to Shassel, as far as Haggel could tell. "I have everything I need."
"And I have been preparing to lead Grenarii for most of mine," Haggel added, supportive.
"The time is now," Tasche said.
"The time has come," Haggel said.
"Your time has run out unless you cease this madness," Shassel said. "If you persist I shall have my revenge one way or another."
"No more from you!" Tasche boomed, eyes on fire now, obsessed, another look Haggel had not seen before. He growled the final phrases of the spell beneath his breath, keeping them from the ears of Shassel and Haggel alike. Then he raised his staff and raised his voice in a long, low moan that climbed until Haggel thought the sorcerer would strangle himself. Tasche went abruptly silent and the two earthen pots boiled over. They spewed rancid smoke and brown foam that rolled down the sides and steamed up in clouds over the grass.
A shroud of darkness emanated from the staff, growing to envelope Shassel, the pots, Tasche, andbefore he could move awayHaggel and the soldiers as well. The darkness grew further until it was as tall as the forest's oldest trees and far enough across that Haggel could not determine its edge anymore.
And with that darkness came heat like that of a dozen summer suns; it flowed over Haggel on a harsh, dry breeze and made his scalp and spine tingle.
Haggel heard Shassel calling outwords garbled by the sound of the boiling pots and the hot wind and as it picked up, causing clothing to flutter and snap and the surrounding bushes and grass to bend. Tasche suddenly faltered as if he'd been struck hard in the gut, and his staff wavered. The darkness grew uneven, thickening here, thinning there, all of it mixing and swirling while the hot winds grew to violent gusts. Tasche screamed as if his voice were being torn from his throat, a sound unlike any Haggel had ever heardthe sound of rage, that was the bulk of it, but seared with something more disturbing, something akin to panic.
"There!" Tasche shouted, straightening and glaring down at Shassel as the darkness seemed to solidify and the winds again came in a hot and steady stream. "Now I have turned your strength to me, your essence, your life!"
Haggel looked on in awe as Shassel died, glowing bright white for an instant, then turning a charred and withered gray before her body burst into flames. The brightness flowed to Tasche's staff, followed by the fire. Then the winds ceased, and the air grew suddenly cold.
Just beyond the pots a great and utter blackness existed now, surrounded by silence, a hole in the universe, and from it stepped the beast.
Tasche shook himself loose from the trance that had gripped him. His heart was pounding as he used his sleeve to draw sweat-soaked hair out of his face. Still more sweat dripped off his chins and ran hot down the rolls of fat inside his robes, making the cloth cling to him. His head was pounding, his hands were shaking, his eyes burned, but he had done it!
The creature materializing before him was more incredible than he could have hoped. A hideous thing that towered above him, easily as tall as six men, and broad as a building. It glowed like the coals in the heart of a campfire, smoldering black lace over molten crimson that flared ever brighter in dozens of spots as the winds swirled around the beast. Its limbs were massive, like ancient trees, and all four of them ended in claws that appeared more reptilian than any a warm blooded creature might have, and each talon had a dry, dull sheen like freshly fired iron.
Tasche turned to Haggel and found exactly what he was looking for, a face filled with awe, astonishment, and terror. This was the look that would find the faces of all those who sought to oppose them. The last expression for hundreds, perhaps thousands of fools.
But for now another task awaited. He must control the beast, and he had carefully prepared the spells designed to do just that. He need only . . .
"Tasche!" Haggel shouted.
Tasche felt a jolt of annoyance as he turned. "What?"
"What is it doing!" Haggel said pleadingly, like a child. Tasche winced at a stiffness in his neck. He didn't have time for this. He turned and looked as the smell washed over him, a stench like rotten meat thrown into a fire, but with it came the more familiar, more palatable aroma of a hearth fire, of wood burning. Tasche narrowed his gaze against the wind and blowing smoke and saw that the forest itself was on fire. And the fires were spreading.
"It is . . . moving," Tasche answered after a long, intense pause. He watched the incredible creature shift from one side to the other, pivoting its whole body to compensate for the lack of any neck. It had no eyes in the normal sense, only two great, blackened holes in its bulbous and glowing head. Whatever it was looking for, Tasche decided, it had apparently not taken notice of Haggel or himself. Not yet.
"Is this supposed to happen?" Haggel yelled even louder, shielding his face with his sleeve against the growing walls of flames that snapped all around them now.
"It is the energy from the creature or my spells combined with it that has gone slightly . . . er, awry."
"Awry? The whole forest is on fire!" Haggel shouted, backing away from Tasche, the beast and the center of the clearing, following his men.
"Not the whole forest," Tasche said. "A good deal of it, perhaps, but a few trees will not be missed . . ."
"All of them will be!"
Tasche tried to breathe and forget the cowardly prince. He had to concentrate. He tried to remember the spells he had so carefully prepared and memorized, yet now they somehow seemed to go missing in his brain. Or parts of them did.
Tasche watched the beast take several steps, getting its balance, then it began to wander about, apparently aimless. The whole forest will catch, Tasche thought wearily, working at the parts of the controlling spells he could recall. The rest was coming back to him, he just needed a moment. If only the fires would stay away long enough to . . .
To his sudden surprise, that was what happened. Indeed, the flames began to disappear. As the beast moved about, it was somehow absorbing all the energy from the flames its worldly birth had created. Then, like water down a hole, the fires rushed to it and vanished, leaving only smoke and smoldering remains in its wake. In moments the fires were all but gone. But the beast kept walking, wandering here and there.
"Is that supposed to happen?" Haggel asked. "Is any of this supposed to happen?"
Tasche forgot the next line of the spells as he watched wide-eyed with wonder. As the beast walked through unburned forest every living thing around it was turning brown and dying, as if all living energies were being absorbed. And Tasche had begun to notice another effect as wellthe farther the creature walked, the larger it grew.
"It is . . . more than I expected," Tasche admitted, blinking as he racked his brain for the knowledge he had put there. More pieces came to him, reason overcoming the combination of dread and astonishment that sought to paralyze his thoughts.
"Do something!"
"I have the controlling spell at hand," he told Haggel with as much determination as he could manage. "It is not too late. We will have this beast at our beck and call!"
"Good," Haggel said, as Tasche raised his hands, waved his staff, and recited the four final phrases his spell required.
"At least it hasn't seen us yet," Haggel said, from at least twenty paces behind Tasche, and still moving further back.
No matter, Tasche thought, as he added his binding phrase and initiated the controlling spell . . . Soon enough now it
Tasche swallowed as the beast turned, struck by the controlling spell just as it should be, but not slowed, not still, as it should have been. It kept turningtoward its master.
"Well, it sees us now!" Haggel howled, clearly not as pleased by the result as Tasche.
Tasche repeated the binding phrase, which was surely the problem. "Do not fear, my prince, the spell is working!" he said. The beast took two giant steps toward them. "In a moment everything we have worked for will be realized," Tasche went on, holding his staff high before him and waving it again. Waving the beast to halt.
"Are you sure?" Haggel asked, still further away.
"Yes, II" The words caught in his throat as the beast lumbered toward him, picking up speed. Tasche stepped quickly left behind a tree he knew was much too small. But in a related way the move was a good one. He watched as the beast reached out with one massive, black claw and snatched a screaming, writhing Haggel up off the ground instead of him. A hole opened in the beast's face, somewhere below its eyes, and Haggel vanished inside.
Tasche heard a fresh screama sound that seemed exotic and strange as it found his ears, as if it belonged to someone elsethen he realized it was him, and he screamed again as the beast tore the tree out of the ground and stared down at him. Tasche felt his throat seizing up. He tried all the same to repeat the last two phrases of the controlling spell, changing them slightly, hoping . . .
It should have worked! he thought. He had done everything right. Had done all that was required. He should be in control of the beast by now, completely.
He repeated the spell and fed it everything he could. Felt the fat on his body melting off as he let go of any constraints and let the spell feed freely on his reserves.
The beast raged as it reared back. It howled with a sound that seemed to come from the earth itself, a sound like the ground opening up. Yes, Tasche thought, straining desperately. But then the beast came around again, fighting the spell off. It reached out, and Tasche felt himself swept away just as Haggel had been, felt the hot claws of the beast wrap around him and tighten unmercifully.
Darkness met searching pain for an instant as he was consumed, but suddenly the pain vanished. He waited, but the end Tasche expected did not come after that. He still existed, but where?
Then he knew. He felt himself a part of the mind of the creaturea dim seething mind much like its bodyand though he could not remember much about whom or what he had been, he knew he still lived, somehow.
The spell! He remembered that much. My spells were not a total loss, he thought, gloating, aware of the spell itself still resonating around him. Some part of his former mind knew this was perhaps not the happiest of results, but he tried not to dwell on that. There was much to think about.
Already he found it difficult to tell which parts were of him, and which were of the dim consciousness of the creature itself, but that seemed to matter less and less the more he thought about it. The creature burned with strength and magic, it seethed with fire, with life and death. It called itself . . . Tasche? Yes, that was it. Or that would do. The thing had too little a mind and too vague an identity to argue. They were all and one, whoever they were. Tasche will do!
Tasche could not recall precisely who had summoned them here, but they had been summoned to take life, all life, everywhere it could be found. Everything, every bit and breath. That was why they existed. And as long as they could find more life they would not die.
There had been another, though. A prince? The term meant nothing. That other's essence had been dismantled and made a very small part of the whole.
And yetthere had been another before that . . . hadn't there?
Yes. They remembered . . . a someone. Tasche remembered. Someone much larger.
Another whose voice Tasche could hear somewhere deep within the nether reaches of his consciousness. But who?
No name came forth, no true memory, not now at least. But a part of Tasche was sure this other had been there when they had been given birth from one universe into another. This other, she is . . .
A she?
Tasche's mind began to reel at the vastness of such thoughts. Tasche needed simplicity, needed to move on, needed to do what they had come here to do. A welcome distraction caught his attention, and he strode toward it.