The Sleeper Sword (28 page)

“And my son,
yes.”

“You brought
him with you, where you can finish it without harm to your
world.”

“In a
nutshell.”

“What of harm
to the Plane?”

Torrullin
looked up. “While he has no power, he is no danger.”

“But if he
hears you have yours, it destabilises him, and his anger could make
him dangerous, it could even lead to an alliance with the Enforcers
- have you considered that?”

Torrullin
rose. “Yes, and he ponders it. The truth of my immortality causes
him to doubt there’s a way to get the better of me.”

“You’re
playing with our lives.”

“No, he is.
And that is why we need find the Numer fast; Margus won’t show his
hand until he has clarity on the doorway. Tial, you know a showdown
has to come.”

“Between you
two? It has nothing to do with us.”

“I mean
between the free peoples of the Plane and the Enforcers. Margus and
I may prove the catalyst to the confrontation, but sooner or later
you have to make a stand. You know that.”

Tial was
silent and in that silence thundered the hooves of Brenn and Zual.
Then, “Yes, it has to come.”

“And I shall
help you, I swear.”

“You have
other secrets, Torrullin, and it makes you hard to trust.”

“You shouldn’t
judge me by the colour of my skin.”

A loaded
interlude followed, in which Brenn and Zual arrived, dismounted and
closed in. Margus looked up from his broken chair, and trailed
nearer.

“I don’t judge
by the colour of your skin, Torrullin, for you don’t do it with me.
I judge by the colour of your magic.”

“My magic is
not the issue.”

Tial inclined
his head as he considered. “No, you’re right. It’s your past that
worries me.”

“While I know
you know nothing about me, I cannot refute that.”

Tial gave a
grimace. “I thought as much.” He faced his two lieutenants as they
came to a halt nearby. “Well?”

Brenn
shrugged, gaze moving between his leader and Torrullin, sensing
underlying tension. “No survivors, but signs of the Numer’s going
point in that direction.” He gestured in the general direction
Torrullin suggested.

“Good, we came
to the same conclusion.”

“How?” Margus
asked.

Tial gave him
an unreadable look. “I’ve followed this man many times; that and
logic tells me he’d head away from the border in the most direct
route.”

“There’s a
town not far from here,” Zual murmured. “Very liberal, many folk. A
Numer could be incognito there.”

Tial nodded.
“Good point. If we don’t haul him in, that’s where we’ll find him.
Mount up!”

He called his
horse, a beautiful roan he claimed to love as much as his daughter,
and vaulted into the saddle, heading out and leaving the others to
follow.

The next town
hosted a mixture of people, with a number of Enforcers casually in
evidence.

Tial explained
it was one of four neutral towns this side of Enforcer territory
where all could come for supplies. Growing quickly in the
advantages of neutrality, all manner of wares were for sale and all
manner of services, even an old-fashioned brothel. Unlike Bluebell
County, where money no longer featured, here was both coin and
barter.

Torrullin,
riding with Tial, whispered, “He’s here. You have to distract
Margus for me.”

“No problem.”
Tial gestured Brenn closer. “You and Zual make discreet
enquiries.”

Brenn
nodded.

“Take Margus
with you … like to the whorehouse. Keep him occupied there for a
time, understood?”

Brenn
frowned.

“We’ll fetch
you in a few hours.”

Torrullin and
Tial vanished around a leafy corner before Margus could
remonstrate.

“Not a good
idea, the whorehouse,” Torrullin said. “He won’t like it.”

“Really? A
good distraction then,” and Tial grinned.

Tial and
Torrullin made their way toward the residential area beyond the
business district.

It was akin to
the quiet, well-to-do suburbs of Galilan, Gasmoor and Farinwood.
The ideal home was much the same universe over.

They left the
horses at a drinking trough and continued on foot. Nobody would
dare steal a Deorc horse, Tial said.

People were
about, some intent and purposeful, others strolling, many
conversing. Some looked at the strangers askance, others with
indifferent curiosity, but no one asked their business.

Torrullin
remarked that this kind of co-habitation was ideal for a world to
thrive; heavenly peace was something found only in Aaru itself.

Tial agreed
after a moment.

Torrullin was
the bloodhound and led them unerringly to a large white house set
apart from its neighbours. A ten-foot wall surrounded the property;
a single metal gate gave access, firmly locked.

Everything was
silent.

Torrullin
glanced at his companion. “You need not accompany me further.”

“I told you I
seek him also. I’ve been waiting for this since I was six years
old. This man murdered my father; don’t leave me out of it.” Tial’s
dark face was resolute.

“You could get
caught in the crossfire, my friend.”

“So be
it.”

“You have a
daughter.”

“She
understands every time I ride out I may not return.”

Torrullin
nodded, understanding that kind of fatalism. “I thought you were an
entrant, not Plane born.”

“I am an
entrant. My father, my sister and I were killed together in an
accident, a fuel truck exploded. I was five, she was three. She
went straight to Aaru, bless her pretty little heart. My father and
I landed up here.”

“I’m sorry,
Tial.”

Tial did not
respond to that. “How do we get in?”

“Like this.”
Torrullin touched the gate and it swung open. They entered and
strode up the path through manicured lawns, perfect shrubbery and
well-pruned trees. The garden possessed the half-life apparel of
winter.

They came to
an ornate door and Torrullin touched the handle - it swung open.
They entered an overdone entrance hall, heavy dark furniture, a
patterned rug almost obscuring the beauty of the blond floor under
it.

A huge
stairway spiralled up to the next level and a man stood on the
landing, one foot poised to descend further. He was slightly
overweight and dressed casually in slacks and plaid shirt. His
brown hair was cropped short, military style, and there was a
tell-tale drinker’s flush on his cheeks and nose. Large, greenish
eyes, well-spaced.

“Who are you?”
he demanded in a gruff, authoritative voice. He descended to their
level, unafraid.

“Numer, we
would speak with you,” Torrullin said.

A muscle
twitched in the man’s cheek. “How did you find me?”

“Easily,” Tial
murmured.

“I know you.
You’re the Deorc leader.”

“Tial at your
service.” Tial sketched a mocking bow.

“You seek to
kill me, is that it?” The Numer smiled.

“Not yet,”
Torrullin said, taking command of the situation. “First we need to
talk.”

“About how you
broke into my house? A punishable offence, by the way - death,
actually.” The greenish eyes fixed on Torrullin. “And who are
you?”

If the Numer
were indeed a traveller through the spaces, his reaction next would
prove it one way or the other.

“I am
Torrullin.”

The man paled so badly and so swiftly he even lost the
unhealthy flush on his nose. His hands came up in a defensive
gesture. “
The
Torrullin?”

The Numer was
very familiar with the doorway. Excellent. “Ah, you know of me. It
proves you have been back to the round lands fairly recently.”

The man
snarled and threw his hands out. A bolt of iridescent green shot
out … to fizzle to nothing before it travelled two feet. He looked
at his hands in horror.

Tial
laughed.

Torrullin
stalked over, collared the man and dragged him into the massive
formal sitting room to the left of the entrance hall, where he
tossed him into an overstuffed chair.

Tial followed,
rubbing his palms in glee.

“What do they
call me back home, Numer?” Torrullin said into the man’s ashen
face.

“The
Enchanter, the-the One …”

“Correct. Your
power is as nothing, do you see?” When the Numer nodded, Torrullin
sat on the footrest before the man. “You know something, however, I
do not, and that makes you my new best friend. I want you to tell
me.”

“Y-you held
onto your power?”

“I am the
Enchanter.”

The Numer
nodded again, puppet-like, and sat straighter. He was not about to
die, he could stall …

“There are
other ways, Numer.”

The man
deflated. “We found it accidentally, a tear in the fabric of the
Plane. That is what you seek.”

Torrullin was
thoughtful. “It’s not sorcery?”

“I don’t know
enough to judge unequivocally, but I do know it requires sorcery to
negotiate safely. Most die trying.” He said the latter with a
satisfied air.

“That’s why
you formed the Falcon Isles,” Torrullin mused, “and that’s why you
created the netherworld in the centre of verdancy. Your enclave is
built over the doorway.”

“Yes, and
there are too many of us, even for you.”

Torrullin
dismissed that with a flick of his hand. “What kind of sorcery is
required to get through?”

“Why should I
tell you?”

“Because you
cannot afford to keep me here.”

The Numer
looked away and a flash of resignation flitted across his
dissipated features. “Gods, I hate this place. But I knew one such
as you would come, didn’t I? All things are now in place.”

Torrullin
stilled. “Speak plain, Numer.”

“My name is
Lazar, Enchanter - please call me Lazar. I hate being called
Enforcer and Numer; my identity is lost in those labels. I’m sure
you know how it feels, being hailed Enchanter at every turn.”

“I am that.
How can I hate it?”

“You aren’t
entirely truthful, but that’s not the issue, is it?” Lazar sighed.
“May I pour us a drink?”

He rose when
Torrullin nodded and headed to a sideboard under a window. Bending,
he opened the door, retrieved a bottle.

“No, thank
you,” Tial murmured.

Lazar poured
two liberal measures into tumblers conveniently placed atop the
sideboard and brought them over.

“Whisky,” he
said as he handed Torrullin a glass.

He knocked the
fiery liquid back with a shaking hand.

Lifting his
brows, Torrullin drank more slowly. Good whisky.

Lazar fetched
the bottle, sat with it on his lap and stared at it.

“A predecessor
found the tear generations ago. He entered in ignorance, but
managed to return after severe trails. He left here a young man,
returned a few hours later an old and tired man. The way back and
the time warp were discovered. The only reason he returned was over
a legend and the Plane needed to know of it.”

Torrullin
barked a laugh. “I think you mean prophecy.”

An expression
of fury filled his gaze, darkening them, and then he was back in
control. He grabbed the bottle from Lazar, poured, drank.

“What did it say, this
legend
?”

“The tear had
to be protected at all costs against a dark man, because he would
be evil, and was not permitted to revisit the evil on the round
lands.” Lazar looked at Tial as he said that.

“Dear god,”
Tial muttered, “that’s why you hate the Deorc.”

“We became
Enforcers after that incident at the tear and, indeed, that was
when the enmity began between our peoples. Unfortunately, the power
and authority has corrupted beyond the original ideal.”

“Darak Or,
Lazar, as in dark lord,” Torrullin sighed. “Not dark man.”

Tial sat
heavily as the implications hit home.

“I brought
him,” Torrullin added. “I brought the Darak Or.”

“Margus is
here?” Lazar lunged for the bottle.

Torrullin put
it out of reach. “I too needed to withhold his evil from the round
lands, Lazar, and from here I hope to send him on to the real
netherworld.”

“The Darak Or foretold is
here
?”

“Relax, he has
no power,” Tial muttered. This was wrong, all of it. Where was
revenge or justice now?

“That’s not
all,” Lazar said. “He’ll come with a Pathfinder … beware the
Pathfinder.” He stared intently at Torrullin, who read the
foreboding in those green eyes.

Torrullin
rose, paced away, and turned tormented eyes on Tial. “Prophecies! I
do it again! Margus has no power, but I do! All he has to do is
hold on! Pathfinder! Huh! Highway engineer!”

“Calm,
Torrullin. He knows nothing yet.”

Torrullin
ignored that and swivelled to face Lazar. “How do you get
back?”

Lazar inclined
his head. “It may be safer not to reveal that.”

“Tial will do
nothing with the knowledge.”

“It’s not Tial
who concerns me, Enchanter.”

Again
Torrullin stilled. “Point taken, but I shall go back, one way or
the other. You must know of new tellings in the round lands.”

“They await
you, yes.”

“I need to
know how to fulfil that, Lazar. You only hold back on the
inevitable. Make it easy for me and it will be over sooner.”

“What of
Margus?”

“Somewhere in
there is a way to stop Margus.”

“Very well,
Enchanter, be it on your head, for I’ve had enough of protecting
evil with evil. I’m not a bad man, but was forced to do things I
can never be proud of.” Lazar glanced at Tial, who glared back.

“I have been
there,” Torrullin muttered.