Sign of chaos

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Book by Roger Zelazny - Sign of chaos, page 31

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within the chamber," she continued, "the advantage of surprise will only be
momentary. I can't say for certain what they might hit us with. Better to
approach along one of the two hallways and give me a chance to assess the
situation. Since there is a possibility that they could note our approach
along the lower hallway, the upper one would be best for all our purposes."
"All right," I agreed. "Ghost, can you put us back a distance in that
upper hallway?"
The circle spread, tilted, rose, stood high above us for a moment, then
dropped.
"You are . . . already . . . there," Ghost said, as my vision swam and
the circle of light passed over us, head to toe. "Good-bye."
He was right. We were on target this time. We stood in a long, dim
corridor, its walls of dark, hewn stone. Its one end was lost in darkness.
Its other led into an area of illumination. The ceiling was of rough
timbers, the heavy cross-beams softened by curtains and plumes of
spider-webbing. A few blue wizard globes flickered within wall brackets,
shedding a pale light that indicated they were near the ends of their
spells. Others had already gone dead. Near the brighter end of the hallway
some of these had been replaced by lanterns. From overhead came the sounds
of small things scurrying within the ceiling. The place smelled damp, musty.
But the air had an electric quality to it, as though we were breathing
ozone, with an edge-of event jitteriness permeating everything.
I shifted to Logrus Sight, and immediately there was a considerable
brightening. Lines of force like glowing yellow cables ran everywhere. They
provided the additional illumination I now perceived. And every time my
movements intersected one, it heightened the overall tingling effect I
experienced. I could see now that Jasra was standing at the intersection of
several of these and seemed to be drawing energy from them into her body.
She was acquiring a glowing quality I was not certain my normal vision would
have detected. When I glanced at Mandor I saw the Sign of the Logrus
hovering before him also, which meant that he was aware of everything I was
seeing.
Jasra began moving slowly along the corridor toward the lighted end. I
fell in behind her and slightly to her left. Mandor followed me, moving so
silently I had to glance back occasionally to assure myself he was still
with us. As we advanced I became aware of a certain throbbing sensation, as
of the beating of a vast pulse. Whether this was being transmitted through
the floor or along those vibrating lines we continually encountered, I could
not say.
I wondered whether our disturbing this net of forces was betraying our
presence, and even our position, to the adept working with the stuff down at
the Fount. Or was his concentration on the task at hand sufficiently
distracting to permit us to approach undetected?
"It has started?" I whispered to Jasra.
"Yes," she replied.
"How far along?"
"The major phase could be completed. "
A few paces more, and then she asked me, "What is your plan?"
"If you're right, we attack immediately. Perhaps we should try to take
out Jurt first-all of us, I mean-if he's become that high-powered, that
dangerous."
She licked her lips.
"I'm probably best equipped to deal with him, because of my connection
with the Fount," she said then. "Better you don't get in my way. I'd rather
see you dealing with Mask while I'm about it. It might be better to keep
Mandor in reserve, to lend his aid to whichever of us might need it. "
"I'll go along with your judgment," I said. "Mandor, did you hear all
that?"
"Yes," he replied softly. "I'll do as she says."
Then, "What happens if I destroy the Fount itself?" he asked Jasra.
"I don't believe it can be done," she answered.
He snorted, and I could see the dangerous lines along which his
thoughts were running.
"Humor me and suppose," he said.
She was silent for a time, then, "If you were able to shut it down;
even for a little while," she offered, "the citadel would probably fall.
I've been using its emanations to help hold this place up. It's old, and I
never got around to buttressing it where it needs it. The amount of energy
required to attack the Fount successfully, though, would be much better
invested elsewhere."
"Thanks," he said.
She halted, extending a hand into one of the lines of force and closing
her eyes as if she were taking a pulse. "Very strong," she said a little
later. "Someone is tapping it at deep levels now."
She began moving again. The light at the end of the hallway grew
brighter, then dimmer, brighter, dimmer. The shadows retreated and flowed
back repeatedly as this occurred. I became aware of a sound something like
the humming of high wires. There was also an intermittent crackling noise
coming from that direction. I increased my pace as Jasra began to hurry. At
about that time there came a sound of laughter from up ahead. Frakir
tightened upon my wrist. Flakes of fire flashed past the corridor's mouth.
"Damn, damn, damn," I heard Jasra saying.
She raised her hand as we came into sight of the landing where Mask had
stood at the time of our encounter. I halted as she moved very slowly,
approaching the railing. There were stairs both to the right and the left,
leading downward to opposite sides of the chamber.
She looked down for only an instant; then she threw herself back and to
the right, rolling when she hit the floor. Taking out a piece of railing, a
ball of orange flame fled upward like a slow comet, passing through the area
she had just quitted. I rushed to her side, slipped an arm beneath her
shoulders, began to raise her.
I felt her stiffen, as her head jerked slightly to the left. Somehow, I
already knew what I would see when I turned that way.
Jurt stood there, stark naked save for his eye patch, glowing, smiling,
a pulse away from substantiality.
"Good of you to drop by, brother," he said. "Sorry you can't stay."
Sparks danced at his fingertips as he swung his arm ip my direction. I
doubted that shaking hands was foremost; in his mind.
The only response I could think of was, "Your shoelace is untied,"
which of course didn't stop him, but it actually had him looking puzzled for
a second or two.


CHAPTER 12


Jurt had never played football. I do not believe he expected me to come
up fast and rush him; and when it happened, I don't think he anticipated my
coming in as low as I did.
And as for clipping him just above the knees and knocking him back
through the opening in the railing, I'm sure he was surprised. At least he
looked surprised as he went over backward and plummeted, sparks still
dancing at his fingertips.
I heard Jasra chuckle, even as he faded in mid-fall and vanished before
the floor got to spread him around a bit. Then, from the corner of my eye, I
saw her rise.
"I'll deal with him now," she said, and, "No problem. He's clumsy,"
even as he appeared at the head of the stair to her right. "You take care of
Mask!"
Mask was on the opposite side of the black stone fountain, staring up
at me through an orange and red geyser of flames. Below, in the basin, the
fires rippled yellow and white. When he scooped up a handfiil and worked
them together as a child might shape a snowball, they became an incandescent
blue. Then he threw it at me.
I sent it past with a simple parry. This was not Art, it was basic
energy work. But it served as a reminder, even as I saw Jasra perform the
preliminary gestures to a dangerous spell purely as a feint, bringing her
near enough to Jurt to trip him, pushing him backward down the stair.
Not Art. Whoever enjoyed the luxury of living near and utilizing a
power source such as this would doubtless get very sloppy as time went on,
only using the basic frames of spells as guides, running rivers of power
through them. One untutored, or extremely lazy, might possibly even dispense
with that much after a time and play directly with the raw forces, a kind of
shamanism, as opposed to the Higher Magic's purity-like that of a balanced
equation-producing a maximum effect from a minimum of effort.
Jasra knew this. I could tell she'd received formal training somewhere
along the line. That much was to the good anyway, I decided as I parried
another ball of fire and moved to my left.
I began descending the stair-sideways-never taking my gaze off Mask. I
was ready to defend or to strike in an instant.
The railing began to glow before me, then it burst into flame. I
retreated a pace and continued my descent. Hardly worth wasting a spell to
douse it. It was obviously meant for show rather than damage. . .
Well. . . .
There was another possibility, I realized then, as I saw that Mask was
simply watching me, was making no move to throw anything else in my
direction.
It could also be a test. Mask might simply be attempting to discover
whether I was limited to whatever spells I had brought with me-or whether I
had learned to tap the power source here directly and would shortly be
slugging things out with him as Jurt and Jasra were now obviously preparing
to do. Good. Let him wonder. A finite number of spells against a
near-limitless source of energy?
Jurt suddenly appeared upon a windowsill, high and to my left. He had
time only for a brief frown before a curtain of fire was rung down upon him.
Both he and the curtain were gone a moment later, and I heard Jasra's
laughter and his curse, followed by a crashing noise off to the other side
of the chamber.
As I moved to descend another step, the stairway faded from view.
Suspecting illusion, I continued the slow downward movement of my foot. I
encountered nothing, though, and finally extended my stride to pass over the
gap and on down to the next stair. It also vanished, howevex, as I shifted
my weight. There came a chuckle from Mask as I turned my movement into a
leap to avoid the area. Once I was committed to jumping, the stairs winked
out one by one as I passed over them.
I was certain Mask's thinking must be- that if I had a handle on the
local power, reflex would cause me to betray that connection here. And if I
didn't it might still cause me to waste an escape spell.
But I judged the distance to the now-visible floor. If no more stairs
vanished I might be able to catch a handhold on the next one, hang a moment,
then drop. That would be perfectly safe. And if I missed, or if another
stair vanished . . . I still felt I would land reasonably intact. Better to
use an entirely different sort of spell on the way down.
I caught the rearward edge of the farthest stair, dangled and dropped,
turning my body and speaking the words of a spell I call the Falling Wall.
The fountain shuddered. The fires sloshed and splashed, overflowing the
basin on the side nearest Mask. And then Mask himself was thrown backward to
the floor as my spell continued its course of descent.
Mask's arms rose before him as his body seemed to sop up the swirling
glow, his hands to expel it. There was a bright arc between his hands, then
a shieldlike dome. He held it above him, warding off the final collapsive
force of my spell. I was already moving quickly in his dirsction. Even as I
did so, Jurt appeared before me, standing on the far lip of the fountain
just above Mask, glaring at me. Before I could draw my blade, throw Frakir,
or utter another spell, however, the fountain welled up, a great wave
toppling Jurt from its side, sending him sprawling upon the floor, washing
him past Mask and across the chamber toward the foot of the other stair,
down which I now saw that Jasra was slowly descending.
"It means nothing to be able to transport yourself anywhere," I heard
her say; "if you are a fool in all places."
Jurt snarled and sprang to his feet. Then he looked upward, past Jasra.
. . .
"You, too, brother?" he said.
"I am here to preserve your life, if at all possible," I heard Mandor
reply. "I would suggest you return with me now-"
Jurt cried out-no recognizable words, just an animallike bleat. Then,
"I do not need your patronage!" he screamed. "And you are the fool, to trust
Merlin! You stand between him and a kingdom!"
A series of glowing circles drifted like glowing smoke rings from
between Jasra's hands, dropping as if to settle about his body. Jurt

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