L. Modesitt - Wellspring of Chaos

The carpenter turned back uphill and moved back across the hillside, still light-shielded.

Once he was a good ten rods away from the forces battling over the pavilion and again moving uphill beside the bushes, he released the light shield, blinking as light flooded his sight. For several moments, he had trouble seeing and was glad that the grassy slope offered relatively even footing.

Behind him, he could hear the clash of metal and the grunting of armsmen as the rebels and the loyalists renewed the conflict over the pavilion. He would have to leave that battle to the armsmen, at least for the moment, because he needed to find the second chaos-wizard.

The bushes ended, suddenly. Before Kharl the grassy slope leveled out. Ahead, a low white marble wall, less than two cubits high, and less than five rods away, encircled another larger stone pavilion. Behind or within the wall was the pillar of white chaos-and a far larger gathering of armed men, many of whom were looking downhill.

“Someone’s coming!”

Kharl quickly donned his light shield.

“He’s gone!”

“…vanished…”

“…just turned and ran, that’s all…”

“…don’t know…might have wizards, too…”

“…woulda seen ’em earlier…”

Kharl began to angle to his right, to where he could sense that there were fewer armed men, and slightly away from the chaos-focus. But he kept moving uphill and toward the remaining white wizard-and, he hoped, Ilteron and perhaps even Lord Ghrant.

“There’s an order-mage coming…look for where things seem blurry!” called out a voice.

Kharl tried not to hurry, to keep his steps and pace even, as he used his senses to make his sightless way toward the stone structure that rose in the center of the paved area enclosed by the wall and crowned the southern end of the ridge.

“Go find him! The mage! He’s got to be close.”

“You find him…”

“How?”

For their confusion, Kharl was most grateful. He tried to keep his breathing even and as quiet as possible as he neared the stone wall and the men who stood behind it. He could sense an opening farther to his left, and he eased in that direction.

The white wizard who stood less than ten rods away was the stronger of the two with Ilteron. That Kharl could feel. But…did he need to attack the other wizard? What he really needed was to destroy Ilteron. His only problem was that he didn’t know which of the armed men happened to be the rebel lord, and there were close to a hundred figures on the ridgetop.

Then…if Ghrant were dead, and Kharl killed Ilteron, and not the white wizard, the rebel lords would be able to continue the war. So Kharl had to deal with the white wizard-if he could.

“I know you are here, cowardly black.” The voice boomed across the ridge, and Kharl could sense the chaos that amplified it. “Lyras, skulking in the back hills once more will get you nothing.”

Kharl said nothing, moving along the stone wall, until he sensed a gap in the armsmen, one a good three cubits wide. He stepped up on the stone wall-and felt the reason for the gap-a fountain or pool behind it.

While he disliked using his tricks even to get to the white wizard, he hardened the water and carefully made his way to the far side of the pool, where he released the order-ties. Then he stood in his darkness, trying to gather himself together.

The stone pavilion was but another fifteen cubits before him, and he could sense both the white wizard and two other figures within the stone-roofed and columned structure before him.

“You have learned, Lyras…but you have not learned enough.”

Kharl thought. The white wizard could sense his presence in general terms, but not with any great accuracy, or fireballs likely would have been sent his way. Kharl eased forward, trying to figure out which man was which of those under the dome. There were three, and one lay on the stone floor, still alive, but dazed. That had to be Ghrant. But which of the other two was which?

“You said…there were no black mages in Austra.”

The surprisingly high voice came from the taller figure-Ilteron.

“It matters not. Black cannot stand against white, not in war.”

Could Kharl just harden the air around Ilteron’s face and head? If he made it tight enough, it ought to suffocate the lord, and it wouldn’t take as much strength.

Remembering Hagen’s words about speed, he twisted the order-and-chaos hooks together.

Ilteron staggered, his hands clawing at his face.

Kharl needed more strength. He could feel that the staff he held had strength, order, within it. Abruptly, the words of The Basis of Order made sense, and he wondered why he had not understood before. He…he had been the one to put that order there, as a tool. Perhaps Jenevra had as well, but the order in the staff was limited to what a staff could do.

He concentrated…not so much on breaking the staff, or even casting it aside, as reuniting the order that was his in the staff with that within himself.

A flow of darkness surged through him.

Crack …Without even his willing it, the staff had broken, and the iron bands that had bound it were no longer black iron, but gray.

The lower fragment hit the stones by his feet with a dull thunk , and without thinking Kharl dropped the useless other half.

“There!” Hssst!

A massive firebolt flared toward Kharl before he could try to harden the air around the wizard. Still trying to hold the hardened air tight around the dying Ilteron, Kharl flung up weaker, barely hardened air shields.

The firebolt flared around and past him, again burning his skin. But the worst of the fire flared into the rebel armsmen, and more than a half score flamed like torches. Kharl smiled coldly and stepped to the side, releasing the air shields.

“You missed!” he exclaimed.

Hsstt! Another firebolt slammed toward Kharl, and again he raised the deflecting shields.

More rebel armsmen flamed and died.

Kharl darted farther to his right. “You don’t aim very well!”

With the third splash of flame, there was a cry, “Back! They’ll flame us all!”

Kharl moved again. “Over here!”

Hssst! While the firebolt followed his voice, none of the armsmen were about to get close enough to attack, not when the odds were that they’d get burned to cinders.

Kharl could feel his breathing getting labored and his knees becoming weak.

Hssst!

Behind and around him, the armsmen backed away and began to run, slowly at first, then more quickly.

Kharl eased sideways and forward. Weak as he felt, he had to harden the air around the white wizard-and quickly.

“Your invisibility won’t save you. You can’t hide forever.”

The carpenter reached out and hardened the air around the wizard, but just around his head and neck.

Hssst! The firebolt flared directly at Kharl, perhaps because the wizard could follow the order-link.

Kharl threw up his hardened air shields, then sat down. His legs were rubbery.

Hssst! Another firebolt flared around him, the heat even greater.

Then a third and a fourth bolt followed, and Kharl huddled behind his shields.

The fifth bolt was weaker, and the sixth died before reaching Kharl.

The carpenter released his own air shields, and just sat on the stone, shivering and holding the shields around Ilteron and the white wizard until both were dead. His face burned, and his entire body throbbed by the time he let go of the force holding the hardened air around the two.

But the job was far from done.

After releasing the sight shield, Kharl glanced around warily. There was no one alive within the circular stone wall, but charred bodies lay everywhere, and the stench of burned flesh roiled his guts.