Fiction
Halash, last of the great mages who had betrayed humanity to its Enemy, made his way over the Waste. Sometimes a kestrel, sometimes a tumbleweed or a gust of wind or a shadow, he passed, ever shifting to avoid the eyes of the Seers. Despite this, he still traveled faster than the swiftest horse, weaving across the dessicated earth, casting about for the one for which he carried a message.
Malin Vedditor, exiled general of Inres, reclined in his tent, straining his eyes to read poetry by the light of a dung fire. Exhausting as the Waste was, as it transformed even the smallest effort into a trial, he still could not sleep easy until he'd pushed himself to the edge of collapse. Reading poetry soothed and kept his mind occupies until the darkest hours of the night, when he could sleep at last. Still, he was alert enough to hear the whisper of motion outside.
Vedditor dropped his book, hand snapping to the sword lying by his bed. His eyes, only half-adjusted to the dark, made out nothing. Cautious still, he slipped to a sitting position. Straining, he at last made out an unmoving figure near the entrance. Garbed in brown, the man blended with the dry earth, the hide walls of the tent, and the night.
"Halash," Vedditor said. It could be no other: the high cheekbones and stark yet small chin belonged to a people long dead, yet Vedditor's guest looked young still. The tall black staff he carried only confirmed his identity.
Halash inclined his head. "I wish to speak with you."
Vedditor shivered. It was one thing to know the Shadow Traveler still lived, another to sit in his presence, feel his power. Vedditor had his pride, though, and he would deal with Halash as befitted his status.
"My sword is bronze from Old Andes. If 'speak' is a euphemism for 'kill,' I won't go easily."
Halash laughed and said, "You think that a magic sword could protect you from me? It might be useful against normal men, but not mages. I'm not here to fight you, though. Perhaps I could make this conversation more comfortable for you," Halash said. He sounded calm, unhurried, and he spoke Inres with no accent. The fire sprang up and burned cleaner, the smell abating. Halash sat cross-legged opposite Vedditor, then reached over to one of the water skins Vedditor kept in the tent. He held it out to Vedditor, who took it.
Suspecting, but not certain, Vedditor sipped, tasting sweet wine instead of brackish water. It brought back memories of cool breezes carrying salt and flower scents. He wiped his mouth, feeling grubby and tired, then drank again. "I thank you for the gift," he said, motioning with the skin in Halash's direction. "It is amazing how after deprivation, even something so simple tastes like perfection. Now, you've whetted my appetite. What do you want from me?"
"I am planning a war. I need a general."
It was a peculiar sort of honor, Vedditor supposed, that out of all the men in the world, Halash had chosen him. "Why do you need a general? You're the oldest living man in the world. You must have fought in more battles than I even know about. What use could I be to you?"
"Fighting in, and learning from, are two different matters. I have spent my life studying magic, not the art of war. And there is also a matter of aptitude, that I do not believe I ever had. I have never liked fighting."
"You?" Vedditor knew it was dangerous, but he could not resist the question or the tone of incredulity in his voice.
Halash smiled. "You know nothing of me. I have only ever fought to defend my teacher. Do not confuse me with the others. Many of them enjoyed battle, but they are all dead now."
Vedditor shivered at his tone. "You're offering me command. Of what army? What's your objective?"
"Revenge, of course. You should understand that. Revenge on the Seers."
"And what makes you think that you will be more successful than Uint? The Seers, the Andes, and their allies smashed the army he led out of the east, and the Enemy's old allies have grown weaker since then. Damoas hasn't been seen in centuries, the Seers have laid to rest most of the Dead, the Estrelues hunt down the wolves and the bears and the mammoths, the peoples in the East dwindle . . ."
"I am not Uint," Halash said, interrupting. "I command magic learned from my teacher Itself."
"No mortal has the power to rebuild the Enemy's armies on his own. Even in thousands of years of trying, It never succeeded at breaking humanity. What chance do you have? Do you still fear to go to the Seers' island? What will you do when they send the Guard to the battlefield? How do you intend to defeat them?"
"I have not been idle since Its defeat. The Seers will be defeated in due time. I cannot challenge them directly, no, but there are other ways."
"Then you can create an army like the one the Enemy led in Its past wars?"
"I can."
"Why not make me into your puppet, like It did to Damoas?"
"What I want from you, I am afraid I would lose if I possessed your mind. I need your mental habits, your insight into your enemies, your ability to lead men."
"And if I accept? What do you offer me?"
"Escape from this horrible place. Revenge against your enemies. Return from exile. Rule of the Seveles, if that's what you wish."
Halash's offer was tempting, Vedditor admitted to himself. However, he didn't believe it was real. He said, "I'm not the best judge of people's motives---how could I be, after I allowed my greatest ally, a man I considered a friend and confident, to betray and destroy me? Still, I don't believe you. The Enemy has ever sought to destroy all humanity within its reach. It hated us. You hate us. After I take your army from the Ice Pyres to the Seers' island, you won't just stop, you'll continue until every human nation is destroyed."
Halash didn't deny it. Vedditor continued, "I don't care, though. I have nothing left---my wife and children are dead and any hope I might have of regaining what I lost is a dream I dangle before myself so I don't feel tempted to hang myself. I'll take your bargain: give me an army and I'll sweep humanity into the sea for you, conquer everyone from the Ice Pyres to Sandalusian itself, then put them all to the sword. Just give me the chance to capture and torture my enemies to death before you kill me, and I'm yours."
Halash said, "Then we are agreed. If you wish, I know spells to ward off nightmares. Tomorrow, at dawn, I will lead you out of the desert, on the road to the Ice Pyres."
Malin Vedditor, exiled general of Inres, reclined in his tent, straining his eyes to read poetry by the light of a dung fire. Exhausting as the Waste was, as it transformed even the smallest effort into a trial, he still could not sleep easy until he'd pushed himself to the edge of collapse. Reading poetry soothed and kept his mind occupies until the darkest hours of the night, when he could sleep at last. Still, he was alert enough to hear the whisper of motion outside.
Vedditor dropped his book, hand snapping to the sword lying by his bed. His eyes, only half-adjusted to the dark, made out nothing. Cautious still, he slipped to a sitting position. Straining, he at last made out an unmoving figure near the entrance. Garbed in brown, the man blended with the dry earth, the hide walls of the tent, and the night.
"Halash," Vedditor said. It could be no other: the high cheekbones and stark yet small chin belonged to a people long dead, yet Vedditor's guest looked young still. The tall black staff he carried only confirmed his identity.
Halash inclined his head. "I wish to speak with you."
Vedditor shivered. It was one thing to know the Shadow Traveler still lived, another to sit in his presence, feel his power. Vedditor had his pride, though, and he would deal with Halash as befitted his status.
"My sword is bronze from Old Andes. If 'speak' is a euphemism for 'kill,' I won't go easily."
Halash laughed and said, "You think that a magic sword could protect you from me? It might be useful against normal men, but not mages. I'm not here to fight you, though. Perhaps I could make this conversation more comfortable for you," Halash said. He sounded calm, unhurried, and he spoke Inres with no accent. The fire sprang up and burned cleaner, the smell abating. Halash sat cross-legged opposite Vedditor, then reached over to one of the water skins Vedditor kept in the tent. He held it out to Vedditor, who took it.
Suspecting, but not certain, Vedditor sipped, tasting sweet wine instead of brackish water. It brought back memories of cool breezes carrying salt and flower scents. He wiped his mouth, feeling grubby and tired, then drank again. "I thank you for the gift," he said, motioning with the skin in Halash's direction. "It is amazing how after deprivation, even something so simple tastes like perfection. Now, you've whetted my appetite. What do you want from me?"
"I am planning a war. I need a general."
It was a peculiar sort of honor, Vedditor supposed, that out of all the men in the world, Halash had chosen him. "Why do you need a general? You're the oldest living man in the world. You must have fought in more battles than I even know about. What use could I be to you?"
"Fighting in, and learning from, are two different matters. I have spent my life studying magic, not the art of war. And there is also a matter of aptitude, that I do not believe I ever had. I have never liked fighting."
"You?" Vedditor knew it was dangerous, but he could not resist the question or the tone of incredulity in his voice.
Halash smiled. "You know nothing of me. I have only ever fought to defend my teacher. Do not confuse me with the others. Many of them enjoyed battle, but they are all dead now."
Vedditor shivered at his tone. "You're offering me command. Of what army? What's your objective?"
"Revenge, of course. You should understand that. Revenge on the Seers."
"And what makes you think that you will be more successful than Uint? The Seers, the Andes, and their allies smashed the army he led out of the east, and the Enemy's old allies have grown weaker since then. Damoas hasn't been seen in centuries, the Seers have laid to rest most of the Dead, the Estrelues hunt down the wolves and the bears and the mammoths, the peoples in the East dwindle . . ."
"I am not Uint," Halash said, interrupting. "I command magic learned from my teacher Itself."
"No mortal has the power to rebuild the Enemy's armies on his own. Even in thousands of years of trying, It never succeeded at breaking humanity. What chance do you have? Do you still fear to go to the Seers' island? What will you do when they send the Guard to the battlefield? How do you intend to defeat them?"
"I have not been idle since Its defeat. The Seers will be defeated in due time. I cannot challenge them directly, no, but there are other ways."
"Then you can create an army like the one the Enemy led in Its past wars?"
"I can."
"Why not make me into your puppet, like It did to Damoas?"
"What I want from you, I am afraid I would lose if I possessed your mind. I need your mental habits, your insight into your enemies, your ability to lead men."
"And if I accept? What do you offer me?"
"Escape from this horrible place. Revenge against your enemies. Return from exile. Rule of the Seveles, if that's what you wish."
Halash's offer was tempting, Vedditor admitted to himself. However, he didn't believe it was real. He said, "I'm not the best judge of people's motives---how could I be, after I allowed my greatest ally, a man I considered a friend and confident, to betray and destroy me? Still, I don't believe you. The Enemy has ever sought to destroy all humanity within its reach. It hated us. You hate us. After I take your army from the Ice Pyres to the Seers' island, you won't just stop, you'll continue until every human nation is destroyed."
Halash didn't deny it. Vedditor continued, "I don't care, though. I have nothing left---my wife and children are dead and any hope I might have of regaining what I lost is a dream I dangle before myself so I don't feel tempted to hang myself. I'll take your bargain: give me an army and I'll sweep humanity into the sea for you, conquer everyone from the Ice Pyres to Sandalusian itself, then put them all to the sword. Just give me the chance to capture and torture my enemies to death before you kill me, and I'm yours."
Halash said, "Then we are agreed. If you wish, I know spells to ward off nightmares. Tomorrow, at dawn, I will lead you out of the desert, on the road to the Ice Pyres."