Robert Hughes - The Power and the Prophet

Serphimera was up on her knees, staring around at the empty cavern. She could see now. The patterns of light and shadow were different, since the source of their light had shifted over to the wall. She’d come to realize that it was through no fault of her vision that she couldn’t see the shapers. They were hidden from one another and from her. At the moment, there was little she could do to help Pelmen except keep quiet. The shapers were using silence as a weapon. She didn’t know what effect it might be having on them, but to her it was tortuous.

Flayh broke the tension. “You are skilled, Pelmen, in forcing others to play your game. But isn’t it rather childish? You’ve bloodied my lip like a schoolboy. Doesn’t it strike you as silly for the two foremost powershapers in the world to resort to bare knuckles?”

As Flayh spoke, Serphimera felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She almost reached up to pat it.

Such a gesture would surely draw Flayh’s eye.She fought the temptation as Flayh continued. “Very well. If you so choose, follow my voice and strike me again. Come ahead. I’ve chosen to battle you on my terms.”

The hand remained on Serphimera’s shoulder. Pelmen was not responding to this challenge. Flayh’s image flickered into view and abruptly disappeared again. The voice continued from another part of the cave. “I know why you’re here. Those poor, howling beasts outside have given you away. They wanted me to free them, you realize. When I wouldn’t, they sought out you. And you, replete with moral obligation and ethical sensibility, naturally have agreed.”

“It had nothing to do with the dogs,” Serphimera said, and Pelmen’s invisible hand clenched slightly on her shoulder. She assumed he was trying to silence her, but she saw no need to be quiet now. After all, Flayh could see her clearly.

“Ah,” Flayh said. “The woman with the healing touch, I assume? None other than our crazed, dragon-loving priestess. What an unlikely couple! The two of you make a formidable alliance. You realize, of course, that if you follow through with your use of this object, your partnership will be permanently dissolved?”

“We think it’s worth the price,” the woman responded serenely. She wondered why Pelmen didn’t act.

Flayh chuckled. “Serphimera, you’re so transparent. Keep me talking while your lover prepares to subdue me, isn’t that your intention? But I’m talking to him. Pelmen, is it worthwhile to you? Certainly you’ll be killed; you’ve already accepted that sacrifice. But do you want to see her killed, too? She will be, you know. Think of it—all those powers my artistry has rendered into canine form, along with all the other powers who choose to go, departing in a single instant through that little crystal object. Why, the power vacuum that creates will lift the top off this mountain. It will take us all. And tell me now, is all this necessary just to defeat me?”

Pelmen spoke. “Your ego is enormous, Flayh.”

“Ah-ha!” Flayh crowed. “So he does have a voice.”

“I’m not surprised that you believe history revolves around you. It’s a common fault of man. And you, Flayh, for all your power, are certainly common.”

Flayh’s laughter rang out of another section of the cave. Pelmen’s hand left Serphimera’s shoulder. She immediately felt lonely.

“So you’re doing all this out of purer, grander motives, is that it?” Flayh asked. “Would you like to tell me what you hope to achieve?”

“We’d like to change man.”

Flayh laughed again. This time he seemed genuinely amused.

“Now who’s being egocentric? History revolves not around Flayh, oh no. It centers instead on Pelmen the Player!” When Pelmen did not respond, Flayh went on scornfully, “You think this act of yours will accomplish that?”

“We believe so.”

“How? A few words muttered in darkness, a ritual blood-letting, an explosion on a distant mountain peak? Why should that change man? It will please those hounds out there, no question about that. It will suck away my power and Mar-Yilot’s and your own. But it won’t change man. Most people pay no attention at all to the powers. Magic won’t be missed. And power will revert back to where it resided before your interference—to the hands of the Merchant League. You won’t change man, Pelmen. You’ll only exalt mediocrity. There’ll no longer be means for a man to soar to the heights.”

“You’re wrong, Flayh. Quite wrong. But I doubt you could comprehend the joys of soaring under the Power’s control.”

“Ridiculous,” Flayh grunted. “Meaningless words. Your powers arc great, Pelmen, but greatest of all is your power of self-delusion. Your time in Lamath affected your mind. You’ve been influenced by those fanatics who hungered only to be swallowed by the dragon. What a fool you are, Pelmen, to have had such power and wasted it in foiling me! You could have been king over three lands at once! Now I will be, instead. Because, while you’ve agonized over the responsibilities of power, I’ve learned how to use it.”

“As you see,” he finished, and once again his voice had shifted over a wide space in an instant. “You surely understand by now that I could, at any moment, dart over to that beautiful object you’ve labored so hard to assemble, snatch it up, and begone with it back to my tower.”

“Why don’t you?” Pelmen asked.

“Because it seems evident I must kill you first. Otherwise I should have to contend with your repeated attempts to overthrow me. Is that not so? And I must remove dear Serphimera from the picture as well, for who can say? She may have the power in her fingertips to resurrect the dead. While I have you here together, it would be inefficient of me not to dispose of you both. Inefficient and dangerous to the new state.”

“Meaning yourself,” Pelmen said.

“Of course. But don’t fear too much for the land’s future,

Pelmen. I will be a benevolent despot. I can be a good ruler when my authority is not being regularly challenged.”

“But that’s just the problem, isn’t it, Flayh?”

“What do you mean?”

“There will always be someone to threaten you.”

“You think so?” Flayh asked. Then the light disappeared.

While the two men had argued, Serphimera had decided to act. She was tired of being the only participant in this confrontation who could be seen. She’d remedied that, creeping unnoticed to the glowing object, snatching it up and hiding it beneath her voluminous robes. She kept her grip on it, though, so she was ready to wield it as a weapon.

Pelmen and Flayh both shouted in surprise and dashed toward the spot where the jewel had glowed.

Serphimera had turned her body toward the source of Flayh’s voice, and now she felt Flayh brush against her. How did she know it was he? Smell, perhaps? The boniness of his body, so different from that of her lover? Somehow she knew, and she stabbed upward with the object, burying its point deeply and drawing a scream from the pierced shaper. She jerked it free and stabbed again, this time toward what she thought was his throat.

Flayh’s death rattle both relieved and terrified her. The life force of a shaper had been expended, and she had not been obliged to kill her love!

She was certain, however, that neither she not Pelmen would survive the aftermath. The mountain rumbled and the dogs howled. For one horrible instant, she feared she’d be forced to witness the cataclysmic events she’d set in motion. It was blessedly brief, however. She passed away into darkness.

Noise and light sundered the mountain. The bodies of thousands of dogs dropped lifeless into the snow.

The proud, ancient firs of the forest fell prostrate in obeisance. The earth trembled with excitement, the clouds parted, and the sun and stars chorused together in jubilation. Myriads of powers, long lost and lonely, were in that moment reunited with their Maker. And in the process, that fabulous jewel wrought from six perfect diamonds was smashed into powder. The Power’s gateway had opened and closed.