The Way Between the Worlds Read online

  Mendark now sees an opportunity, reaches into Yggur’s mind and frees him from Rulke’s possession of long ago. The tide begins to turn; the allies realize that together they can defeat Rulke, if they have the courage. They attack. Rulke flees to the top of the tower. There they corner him and hurl him out, but he curses them with a foretelling—that when the dark side of the moon is full in hythe (midwinter’s day) he will return and Santh will be his.

  Shand replies with a riddle, “Fear the thrice born, but beware the thrice betrayed,” then Rulke vanishes. Finally Shand takes the Mirror, “in memory of the one whose birthright it was’, though no one knows what he means.

  Volume 3 DARK IS THE MOON

  In Thurkad, there comes a tremendous storm and Maigraith finds the Whelm waiting on the roof of Yggur’s fortress. In a flash of lightning Rulke appears, exulting in his freedom. He commands the Whelm, or Ghâshâd as he calls them, to make a show of his strength. Seeing Maigraith, he orders the Ghâshâd to guard and protect her with their lives. Maigraith is equally captivated by him, though she has no idea why.

  The Ghâshâd spread terror throughout the land, turning the armies of Yggur on one another. Maigraith escapes and is saved by Vanhe, one of Yggur’s few surviving officers. In a hopeless gamble Vanhe uses Maigraith as a figurehead against Thyllan, who is besieging Thurkad with an overwhelming army. Surprising even herself, she humiliates Thyllan in a one-on-one struggle. The soldiers rally around her.

  In Katazza, Yggur is desperate, now that his great enemy, Rulke, is at large. Mendark convinces the company to try to seal the gate into the Nightland, even knowing that this must trap Karan and Llian there. They draw power from the rift but at the last minute Yggur’s nerve breaks. The attempt ends disastrously, bringing down the Great Tower. The survivors set out across the Dry Sea on foot.

  Karan and Llian are hurled apart in the gate. Llian lands in an alien palace, bitterly reproaching himself for helping Tensor. He comes face to face with a colossal construct, a complex device of unknown but deadly purpose. Later Karan finds him, Rulke returns and they feel an attack on the gate, the company trying to seal it. To defend the gate Rulke has to draw on the energy holding the Nightland together. It begins to collapse around them. Eventually Rulke wins and tempts Llian with the offer of secret knowledge.

  Karan, finding Rulke and Llian together, is troubled. She manages to escape through the gate to Katazza. Rulke catches Llian, interrogates him about the Histories, puts a hidden compulsion on him, to bring Karan when he calls, then allows Llian to escape to Katazza too.

  Karan is suspicious about his escape, at first. They catch up to the company, who also mistrust Llian now. The Dry Sea is unbearably hot, and their progress hindered by salt-storms that last for days. Yggur, who lost most of his sight at the rift, is bitter and harries Llian constantly.

  In order to counter Rulke’s construct, Shand proposes that they remake the golden flute, banish Rulke and seal Santhenar from the other worlds forever. It is an exciting, impossible proposal, but they will need four things: the right kind of gold; the way to make the flute; the way to use it; the one to use it. Perhaps the Mirror has some of this information. Mendark demands it but Shand refuses, pointing out that it cannot be used save by one who knows the use of it, and that way lies only within the Mirror. Llian is consumed by this paradox, but Shand will say no more.

  The others agree to remake the flute. But first they must have gold for its forging, and only red gold of Aachan will suffice.

  Tensor confesses to Karan that, when she was a child, he recognized a great danger in her; that she was triune. He wanted to send her away to die, to rid the Aachim of the menace. However the Aachim took her in, so he blocked the development of her triune talents. He begs her forgiveness. Karan is shocked. It explains why she has been hunted all her life. She cannot forgive him.

  The company finally return to Faranda. Yggur hurries back to Thurkad, desperate to find Maigraith. Mendark and Tallia go east on Pender’s boat. There, Mendark sets out alone to Yalkara’s abandoned fortress, Havissard.

  Mendark finds Havissard to be a very strange place. Eventually he gets inside but the Aachan gold he came for has recently been stolen. Soon after, he is attacked without warning. He manages to escape Havissard but has to renew his failing body to save his life. The renewal turns him into a hideous travesty of his former self.

  Maigraith leads an army to Bannador to liberate Bannador from the Ghâshâd. The expedition is nearly a disaster, for the Ghâshâd are able to link their minds into a communal will to control the other army. In a desperate struggle, Maigraith just succeeds in breaking their control.

  That night Faelamor returns and lies, saying that Yggur is dead. Suddenly all that has driven Maigraith seems pointless. Faelamor wakes an old compulsion and soon Maigraith falls under her liege’s thrall again.

  They go to the rugged forests of Elludore. Faelamor is sure that there is a way to break the Forbidding. She calls the Faellem, who are far away. It is now a race against Rulke and Mendark. Faelamor makes a gate to Havissard, a continent away. While she searches for something there, Maigraith wanders, curious to see what Yalkara was like. She finds a writing tablet. The last thing Yalkara wrote was a name—Aeolior. For some reason she can’t explain, Maigraith keeps the page.

  Faelamor finds what she is looking for—the Aachan gold. But in the library, one of Yalkara’s journals disturbs her greatly. The writing is in a script that is terrifyingly familiar. She has no time to consider it further, for Mendark appears, and in striking him down she loses the journal.

  Karan is haunted by what Tensor told her about herself. Karan and Llian travel to Chanthed, where Llian is now received with honor. However, in the library he discovers that drawings he was looking for, from the time of the Forbidding, have been stolen by Faelamor.

  In Tullin Karan’s nightmares begin again, and Rulke is always in them. Karan thinks that Llian is spying for Rulke. She tries by a link to snatch control. Rulke attempts to compel them both but Karan knocks Llian out and the compulsion fails. Shand arrives home and, thinking Llian possessed by Rulke, forces Karan to reject him. They take a now despairing Llian to Gothryme. The country is devastated by war.

  One day they learn that the Ghâshâd have occupied Carcharon, an old stronghold built by a mad ancestor of Karan’s, high in the mountains. Shortly they are summoned to a meet in Thurkad. Mendark is returning by ship from the east. Llian, knowing he is mistrusted, is in despair.

  The company meet. So far their efforts have been fruitless. No Aachan gold has been found. Yggur, who is even more suspicious of Llian now, sends him to the execution yard. Karan manages to free him and they escape back to Gothryme.

  In Gothryme, Rulke begins calling Llian again, demanding that he bring Karan to Carcharon. Mendark appears unexpectedly and, discovering this, interrogates Llian, resorting to powerful charms to get at the truth. Between the two of them, Llian is in agony.

  Finally Karan wakes to what is going on. Drawing the truth from Llian, she is mortified to discover that all along he had been protecting her from Rulke. They are reconciled. Karan knows there is only one way to end Llian’s torment. She must go to Carcharon. Llian refuses to let her go alone. He is convinced that the time of the foretelling is at hand, for hythe is only a few days away now.

  Llian challenges Rulke to a telling. If he wins, Karan and he are to go free. If he loses, they will do what Rulke wants. To Llian’s surprise Rulke accepts the challenge. Three Ghâshâd will adjudicate, including Idlis the healer.

  Rulke’s tale is a barbaric splendor, the story of how a hundred Charon conquered a world, Aachan. But Llian sees that the tale jars against the codes of the Ghâshâd. Rulke put his own glory before the security of his people. Llian makes a new tale to take advantage.

  Llian’s reply is a tale of a servant race who served not wisely but too well. This tale strikes a chord in the Ghâshâd, wakening their deepest fears, as Llian intends. Rulke is enraged, accusing
Llian of cheating, but Idlis’s casting vote gives Llian the victory.

  Rulke sends Llian through a gate but it goes wrong, dropping him into the snow below Carcharon. There he is found by Tallia and Mendark. Llian’s reappearance, alone, confirms Mendark’s suspicions.

  Karan is the triune Rulke needs to seek out the Way between the Worlds. He tries to coerce her but she delays, sensing that time is important. Rulke forces her to choose between aiding him and seeing Llian tormented. She makes a bargain—Llian to be freed of the compulsion first. Rulke has no more time, and he agrees. Karan, believing that Llian is safe, agrees to do what Rulke wants.

  The dark full moon rises, and it is hythe—mid-winter’s day. The weight of the prophecy crushes the company. Rulke’s victory cannot be averted, Shand tells them. The one who was to be the Restorer is dead.

  PART ONE

  1

  The Arrow

  The construct, a menace that warped even the light around it, slowly revolved above the decapitated tower of Carcharon. Rulke stood tall on top, holding his levers in one negligent hand. The other was thrust out at the rising moon, whose dark face, mottled red and purple-black, had just heaved its swollen mass over the horizon. That was a hideous omen. The moon had not been full on hythe, mid-winter’s day, for 1,830 years. Rulke’s foretelling was already coming to pass.

  When the dark moon is full on mid-winter’s day, I will be back. I will crack the Forbidding and open the Way between the Worlds. No one has the power to stay me. The Three Worlds will be Charon evermore.

  Karan, chest-high beside Rulke, was a stark white, staring shadow surrounded by a corona of flaming hair. Llian wept for her, but even if he could step the air between them there was no way to wrest her free. No one would help him now. He was a pariah, accused of betraying Karan to Rulke, accused of being Rulke’s spy. Nothing would convince the company otherwise. Wherever he looked he received dark looks in return, especially from Basitor the Aachim, who blamed him for the destruction of Shazmak. Basitor would kill him given the least opportunity.

  Llian had only one friend left, little Lilis, but what could she do? The most powerful people of Santhenar were here but not one of them—not Mendark, not Yggur or the crippled Tensor, not Tallia or Shand or Malien—had the courage to strike at Rulke.

  The construct rumbled. The tower wobbled. Wavering discharges rose up from the spiny protrusions embedded in the walls. The Ghâshâd guards, stick-men and stick-women, resumed their posts, pacing with stiff-limbed gait. The red glare from inside faded and flared, faded and flared.

  Llian eyed the construct. It was an impossible thing, made of metal so black that it stood out against the night sky. There was nothing on Santhenar to compare it with. It required no beast to pull it; it had no wheels; and yet it slipped through the sky like silk. It hung in the air like a balloon, though Llian knew it was heavier than a boulder. Its sides bulged in complex shapes that were alien, then curved away into corrugations underneath. The long front soared up to a flaring binnacle crammed with knobs and wheels, behind which was a thicket of levers, a place to stand and a high seat of carven serpentine.

  Llian knew that the inside was just as strange, equally packed with controls and glowing plates, for he had seen it in the Nightland. Evidently Rulke preferred to ride on top where he could display, and dominate.

  “Karan!” Llian sang out in anguish. His voice echoed back across the amphitheater to mock him.

  Karan must have seen him standing there on the rim, for she went quite rigid. At the same instant the construct lurched beneath her. Her arms thrashed. Llian thought she was going to go over, but Rulke jerked her back. She looked up at him, looming head and shoulders above her, and spoke. Her words were not even a sigh on the wind.

  Yggur adjusted glasses as thick as bottle ends. When Rulke first appeared Yggur had resolved to face his fears and die, rather than be overcome by them yet again. Already that resolve was weakening. “Look at them together,” he said, grinding his teeth. “He has possessed her mind. I can feel it, the way he possessed me for so long.”

  “I hope so,” replied Mendark in an even more chilly voice. “Otherwise Karan has betrayed us and must suffer for it.” He looked more haggard, wasted and bitter than ever.

  The way they talked was horrible. Llian was stabbed all over by pain pricks, as if his blood had crystallized to needles. He sucked at the air but could not fill his lungs. Everything wavered; he felt faint.

  Yggur’s cheek began to twitch, then locked rigid in a spasm that twisted up one side of his face. Remembering that Yggur had once been mad, Llian wondered if he was cracking again.

  Yggur clutched at Malien’s arm. “Who is your best archer?” he gasped.

  “Basitor has the strongest pull by far. But I should say Xarah is the most accurate at this distance. Xarah!”

  Xarah came forward. She was small for an Aachim, not much bigger than Karan, with limp hair the color of mustard and a scatter of freckles on her cheeks. She looked much younger than the others.

  “You are the best among you?” Yggur asked, his fists clenched, his knuckles white.

  Xarah looked down at the snow, fingering a bracelet on her wrist. She knew what was going to be asked of her. Then she gazed up at the construct, gauging the distance. Only Karan’s head could be seen now.

  “The best that is able,” she said. “I can hit any target in Carcharon from here.”

  “And on the construct?”

  “An uphill shot, but I can do it.”

  Yggur followed her gaze. He spasmed again, tried to take control but failed. “Then put an arrow in Karan’s eye, for pity’s sake! For her and for us.”

  She did not move. “Do it this minute!” he shouted, and there were flecks of foam at the corners of his mouth. He looked as if he had just fought a monumental battle with himself, and lost. He would do anything to avoid Rulke possessing him again.

  Xarah shivered. She looked up at Malien, her midnight-dark eyes expressionless in the red light.

  Malien put out her hand. “Stay, Xarah!”

  Mendark looked thoughtful. “Rulke has made an error of judgment. If we were to neutralize her, it might cripple him.”

  Llian staggered between them, the ice-crusted manacles tearing his legs until the blood flowed. He took no heed of that pain; it was nothing beside what he was feeling inside.

  “No!” he screamed, crashing into Mendark, who pushed him away.

  “Don’t interfere, chronicler!”

  “But Karan—” Llian wept.

  “It’s a choice between her life and our world, Llian!” But still Mendark stared at the construct and did not give the order.

  Nadiril the librarian was bent right over on his walking staff, looking frailer than ever. Shand, a head shorter beside him, held his arm. Lilis stood by Nadiril, hopping from one foot to another, crying, “Stop them, Nadiril!”

  “This deed will come back to haunt you, Yggur,” said Nadiril. “She—”

  “Just do it!” Yggur screamed.

  “No more will I do evil,” said Malien softly, “even if the greatest good comes out of it. Xarah, put down your bow.”

  Tensor slid his legs over the side of the litter and with a convulsive wrench forced himself to his feet. He was as gaunt as a skeleton now, the once huge frame nothing but bone and sinew that was all twisted from Rulke’s blow in Katazza last summer. Llian tried to claw his way over the snow but Basitor’s huge foot slammed into the middle of his back, pinning him down.

  “A chance,” Tensor rasped. “A chance sent for my torment! What evil did my forefathers do that I should suffer so? Do you give the order, Malien?”

  “No!” she whispered, and a tear froze to crystal from each eye.

  “You have always been true,” he said, clinging to her for a moment.

  Tensor took a lurching step toward Xarah, and another. He wavered toward her like the grim reaper, an animated skeleton covered in skin. She watched him come, the long bow hanging from on
e hand, the red-feathered arrow in the other. At the last moment she tried to put them behind her, but the look in his eyes paralyzed her.

  Tensor plucked the bow from one hand, the arrow from the other. The arrow went to the bowstring. The string was drawn back. Llian’s arms and legs thrashed as if swimming in the snow, but Basitor’s boot held him in place.

  “I’m sorry, Karan,” said Tensor ever so gently.

  “Shoot, damn you!” cried Yggur, shaking so hard that his head nodded like a child’s toy.

  Karan’s red hair looked to be on fire in the boiling glare from the tower. Her face was a white blotch, but Llian had no doubt that Tensor could hit her eye from here. Before he even released the arrow, Llian could see it flying straight and true toward her lovely face, to spear straight through her skull with a shock that would carry her backward off the construct and down, down dead onto the rocks at the bottom of the gorge.

  “No!” Llian shrieked with every fiber and atom of himself, broadcasting his love and terror across ridge and valley and mountain, trying to speak back across the link Karan had closed down only a few days ago.

  The company stopped their ears against the curdled shriek. Twisting around, Llian sank his teeth into Basitor’s calf. Basitor yelped and sprang backward. Tensor did not even shiver. He stood up straight, sighted along the arrow and let it fly. It disappeared into the night.

  At the same time the construct lurched sideways like a puppet whose strings had broken. It shuddered in the air and fell like a rock. Rulke was suspended above it for a moment then stood up straight and tall, his hands dancing. The machine slammed into solid air, bounced, drifted around in a circle and veered back toward Carcharon, listing like a sinking yacht. Karan was nowhere to be seen.