Gone. I tried to imagine what life might have been like had I left the Company sometime in the past. My imagination was not up to the task. I confess. I do not have the strength of personality to abandon everything I know, even when all that is just a meandering, unhappy path that, too often, wanders through the outlying marches of hell.
I was a zombie most of the day, carrying that hod for my young bricklayer while most of me was elsewhere, boldly adventuring across those fields of might-have-been.
Sometime late in the afternoon I told Lady, "I probably should tell you this more often. I love you and I'm glad Fate conspired to bring our lives together."
I stunned her into silence. I know Swan and Murgen gaped and spent some time trying to figure out if I thought I was dying.
The Voroshk had not overlooked us. They were cautious. They showed themselves briefly several times during the day. Their customary arrogance seemed in abeyance.
Once I left my own preoccupations behind I asked Tobo, "What do you suppose they're up to?" We had talked about it before but I am never entirely comfortable taking a sorcerer's motives at face value.
"Looking for hope. Or anything that will give them an edge. I expect that, right now, their world is more like hell than almost anything any priest ever imagined. Most of the surviving shadows from the plain must be running loose there. One family of sorcerers, however wonderful their weapons, just has no chance to stop what's happening. Not before the devastation reaches the scale of an end of the world catastrophe."
Once upon a time I might have felt bad for the Voroshk and the people of Khatovar. This time when I examined my soul I found not much more than indifference within me.
"How much longer before you've finished making all your modifications?" Lady demanded. She was anxious to head north. From oblique remarks I gathered that she wanted to rejoin the main force before disaster struck it. What she could do to avert a disaster was beyond me. She did not have enough magic currently to start a fire without adding flint and steel to the mix.
'Ten minutes, tops," Tobo replied. "There's this one last braided strand that needs reweaving and we'll have us not just a completely healthy shadowgate, it'll be the toughest there ever was. Tough enough that what happened to the Khatovar gate can't happen here. In fact, it's already all those things. What this spell rope is going to do is create a little pocket of darkness that's invisible from outside so killer shadows can be turned into invisible sentries. They'll be there ready to jump out at anybody who tries to get through who isn't already approved by us or Shivetya."
"Neat," I said. Lady scowled. She was determined to believe that we were placing too much trust in the golem.
She seemed unable to recognize that trust was not a large part of this equation.
She said, "We're going to have company in a minute."
I looked up. Two Voroshk sorcerers were coming down the slope, following the old road, inside what would have been protection if they had not blown up their own shadowgate. A third post-rider remained a dot above the horizon, a remote witness. I asked, "You think they did more damage getting through the barrier and onto the road?"
After only a glance, Tobo said, "No. I think they came in the far end and flew here, following the roads. The other one paced them from above."
Admirable stupidity, I thought. The two at ground level had no chance of getting back out before dark. Did they think we would protect them from the night? If so they were huge daydreamers.
The Voroshk dismounted a hundred yards away. They walked toward us like walking was a foreign experience. Riding the flying fencepost had to be a huge status symbol back in Khatovar. So huge, walking was never done where your inferiors could see you.
"How long now?" Lady asked Tobo.
"Fifteen seconds. After that I'll fake it for a bit. Then we all step back through the gate. Are Dad and the others alert?"
Alert was not strong enough a word. A variety of missile weapons were ready. So was one fireball projector but it would not see use while the Voroshk remained on the plain side. The barriers could be damaged by fireballs. Arrows and crossbow bolts, however, could pass through and the wounds they made would heal in moments.
Not that arrows were likely to accomplish much against these chunky old men.
They did seem overweight. They projected an aura of fatness behind the constant stirring of their black cloaks.
"There. I think that should do it," Tobo said.
Click. Click. Click . That swiftly we three backed through the shadowgate into our own world. Tobo sealed the way. We waited. The kid said, "One of these will be the father of our two troublemakers."
Probably. The Voroshk did appear interested in communicating. They knew someone on our side spoke the language of the forvalaka.
Their luck was in. Of all the Black Company people who could have been there with Tobo they got me and Lady.
They would get no happiness out of that, though. Their kind rubbed me the wrong way. I would make nothing easy for them.
48
The Shadowgate: The Warlords of the Air
These Voroshk, who actually introduced themselves—as Nashun the Researcher and the First Father—both spoke the language of Juniper. Nashun the Researcher had by far the best command. Neither had social skills of a sort likely to put a smile on the face of many mothers. It was clear that the demonstration of manners toward persons outside the family was an exercise with which they had little familiarity.
After the introductions I stated the obvious. "You people sure got yourselves into big trouble."
You could feel the Voroshk closing their eyes and sighing inside all that black material.
"We will survive," the boss Voroshk declared. He strained to keep anger and arrogance out of his voice. He had less success with confidence, which made me wonder if he did not really mean it.
"No doubt. What I saw of your family's capabilities impressed me. But honestly, you realize that your family's survival will require more than just fending off the shadows."
Nashun made a dismissive gesture with one gloved hand. "We come to you because we want our children back."
He spoke clearly and slowly enough that Lady caught that. She made a surprised little noise that might have been half a laugh.
"You're out of luck. They may prove useful. Nor have we any incentive to give them back."
Their anger seemed a palpable force.
Tobo felt it. He said, "Warn them that any power they use to try to break through will bounce back at them. Tell them that the harder they try the worse they'll get hurt."
I translated. Our visitors were not impressed by anything a boy said. Neither did they experiment. They did recall events at their own shadowgate. The Researcher said, "We are prepared to make an exchange."
"What do you have to trade?"
"You still have people on this plain."
"Go for it. They're covered. When the dust settles you'll be picking up dead family members." Of that I was confident. Because Tobo trusted Shivetya completely. "You're powerful but ignorant. Like an ox. You don't know the plain. It's alive. It's our ally."
Smoke should have rolled out of their ears. Goblin sometimes did that in the old days. But these men had no sense of humor.
Their desperation overcame their anger.
"Explain," Nashun hissed.
"You know nothing about the plain but you're arrogant enough to believe that your power will be supreme there. In a realm of the gods. Evidently you don't even know your own world's history. The people you're facing, that you believe you can threaten, are spiritual descendants of soldiers sent out from Khatovar five hundred years ago."