If the warlock thought his problems were gone, he was wrong; he definitely had a very real problem. Sterren looked up, wondering if Vond knew. The storm broke suddenly, and sparkling blue rain spilled heavily down, soaking him instantly. He looked up, blinking, and saw Vond hanging in the sky, cloak spread, head thrown back, laughing wildly as the sheets of rain parted before him, leaving him untouched and dry.
CHAPTER 23
Eventually, of course, Vond landed again. Sterren was stubborn enough to wait for him.
He was not stubborn enough to wait out in the rain, though. He ducked into the little farmhouse and tried in vain to dry off, glancing out the windows every so often to see if Vond had tired of playing with the storm.
The clouds were rained away completely somewhat before sunset, but the warlock stayed aloft, whipping the winds back and forth, sending sprays of sand and rock hither and yon. The besieging armies were long since gone, leaving behind scattered bits of equipment and trash, strewn across a sea of mud.
Sterren saw no bodies, but he suspected a few might be out there. He noticed that much of the village surrounding Semma Castle had been flattened, not just the sappers’ ramshackle structures or the lightly built shops, but the solid original houses as well.
The sun was down, and the last light fading, when the warlock finally settled to earth.
“Hai,” Sterren called from his shelter. “Congratulations!”
Vond turned, spotted him in the window, and bowed. “Thank you, my lord,” he said. He smiled. “Gods, that felt good! To be able to let myself go, use all the power I wanted, without worrying about those damned nightmares, it was wonderful!”
Sterren did not bother going around to the door. He hoisted himself up into the window and was about to drop down on the outside when he felt an invisible grasp close about him and pull him free of the frame.
He floated smoothly over and found himself hanging in the air in front of the warlock.
This was disconcerting, but not particularly uncomfortable. Sterren flexed a little and found he could move freely, but that no matter how he moved he remained floating in the same spot, a couple of yards from the warlock’s face.
“Hello, there,” he said.
“Hello,” Vond replied, grinning broadly.
Sterren shifted, getting a bit more comfortable in his unnatural elevation. He considered carefully exactly what he ought to say and finally just asked, “What happened?”
“Well,” Vond said thoughtfully, “I’m not sure of all the details. Somehow, though, I tapped into the buzz, and then I had all the power I wanted, all at once.” He waved at the desolation on all sides, displaying his handiwork.
Sterren nodded, contemplating the wasteland. “And you aren’t worried about nightmares?” he asked. “What if this new source is just like the one in Aldagmor, in the long run?” While the warlock had been reveling in his new power, Sterren had spent much of the storm considering the various possibilities and he felt that it would be unfair to not point the many possible dangers out to Vond.
Vond shook his head. “It isn’t. It can’t be. I’d know.”
Sterren didn’t reply, but the warlock read his doubting expression.
“You think I’m being reckless, don’t you? Don’t worry, Sterren, I’m not. I tell you, I know this new source isn’t like the old. Whatever the Source in Aldagmor is, it’s conscious, or at least run by a conscious entity, I’ve known that since I was an apprentice. We warlocks always have a vague feeling of contact, of communication, when we use our magic, and besides, surely the nightmares and the Calling to go to Aldagmor are sent by something.”
Sterren nodded. He had to admit that much.
“Well,” Vond said, “This power source does not seem to be conscious, it’s just raw power. When I used the Aldagmor Source, as I told you, it was like listening to a whisper, hearing it but not catching the words. Using this new source is like listening to the hum of a bee, there are no words, just sound.”
“But if that’s so, then why aren’t there any warlocks here already, drawing on this source?” Sterren asked. “They don’t even have a word for warlock in Semmat!”
“I can only guess,” Vond said.
“Guess, then,” Sterren said.
Vond waved dramatically. “Warlockry, my dear Sterren, first appeared on the Night of Madness, back in 5202, you know that. That was when the Source first appeared in Aldagmor. It created warlockry, all at once; warlocks appeared spontaneously, hundreds of them. It was... well, it was as if the thing let out one shout, to get people listening, and then its voice died away to that whisper I keep talking about.”
Sterren nodded.
“Well,” Vond continued, “this new source never shouted. There’s no telling what it is, or how long it’s been there, but it could mean a whole new existence for warlocks, because if it’s not conscious, then it won’t cause any nightmares or compulsions, now, will it?”
“I don’t know,” Sterren said, “and neither do you. Maybe it’s just sleeping. Maybe the one in Aldagmor was just sleeping there, all along, until it woke up in 5202, and this one could wake up tomorrow.”
“Or it could sleep for another thousand years, if you’re right,” Vond said, “But you aren’t. I can feel it, I tell you; this new source is dead, not just sleeping. It was never alive and never will be. It’s totally mindless.”
“You’re the one taking the risks,” Sterren said, “so it’s none of my business, really, but Vond, I wouldn’t put that much faith in it if I were you. How do you know it isn’t sleeping? You can’t know. Your feelings could be wrong.”
Vond shook his head. “No, you don’t understand what it’s like. I can use the power itself to tell me whether it’s conscious, sleeping, alive, dead, whatever. It’s mindless, empty, like a... a running stream, or a millwheel grinding.”
Sterren was still uneasy, but saw no point in further argument on that particular subject. Vond was clearly not eager to consider any negative aspects to his situation just now, and after all, anything Sterren could say would be mere guesswork. “I hope you’re right,” he said.
“I know I’m right,” Vond replied.
“If you are,” Sterren said, nettled by Vond’s certainty, “then why hasn’t anybody found this thing before? Even if it never made its own warlocks, the way the Aldagmor Source did, there have been warlocks for twenty years, and you can’t be the first one to ever come south.”
“I may be the first one to ever come this far south,” Vond replied.
Sterren conceded the point, but said, “Even so-”
Vond cut him off. “Maybe,” he said, “I’m somehow different. Perhaps I’m unique, the only warlock who can use this new source, it is a bit different, after all, and I might never have... have listened to it, if you hadn’t suggested it.”
“Did you ever think you weren’t like other warlocks before this happened?”
“No, not really. I was getting very powerful, of course. The power increases with use as one becomes attuned to it, better able to listen in to the Source, as it were, and I’d been listening very closely for quite some time. Lord Azrad hired me to dredge the harbor last year you know, and I did it singlehanded, and... well, after that, the whisper was more of a mutter, and then... well.”
“The nightmares,” Sterren said.
“Eventually, yes. And then you came along, and here we are.”