As to those whose magic was kindled, be it black, red, or white, they were awakened, they knew resurgent hope on the Night of the Eye And they turned their steps toward Wayreth Forest.
Chapter 22
The Bastion
Will this cursed night never end?" demanded Kalrakin, stalking through the largest room in the Tower, the Hall of Mages. The ceiling was lost in the vast black space, obscured by shadows; the sorcerer's words echoed as he threw back his head and shouted skyward. "Those moons taunt me, vex me. If they would but come closer, I would smite them all!"
Wild magic pulsed suddenly, a flash of light emanating from the white stone he perpetually held in his hand. In that blink of time, he teleported, coming to stand again in the banquet hall where he had first encountered the Master of the Tower. He found food on the table, as usual, but the wizard disdained the splendid feast, knocking over a pitcher of milk in contempt, tumbling a bowl of fruit so that apples and melons rolled across the floor.
"Come to the door, my lord. I see the pink of dawn in the east." Luthar called from the anteroom. "This night is ending, at last!"
"It is about time!" snapped Kalrakin. "And Luthar…?"
"Yes, lord?"
"I have been thinking. I want you to call me 'master,' not lord," Kalrakin declared haughtily. "It seems more fitting, somehow, since I am the new master of the Tower of High Sorcery."
"Very well, my lo-Master," answered the other sorcerer, glancing nervously over his shoulder as Kalrakin approached. Luthar stepped back from the open door to let his companion see the fringe of light coming into view above the eastern horizon. "It is welcome, the sun, is it not?" he asked.
"Welcome in that it signals the conclusion of this accursed night!" snapped the sorcerer. "And the departure of those three moons that so vex my thoughts and my dreams!"
"Do they worry you very much, those moons?"
"No! They insult me-that is all. Of course, they signal their wizards who will come here, soon enough. The white-robed wench I chased away will certainly return, with all the assistance she can gather. But when they come, they will die. The moons taunt me, and for this insult I shall exact keen revenge!"
"How, Master?"
"When the wizards come, I will meet them with a surprise."
"What do you have planned?" Luthar asked, looking around nervously.
"Come!" Kalrakin seized the shorter man's shoulder in an iron grip. Wild magic swirled around them then they vanished, appearing in another second far above the ground level, standing side by side on the outer parapet of one of the tower's loftiest balconies. This was one of several perches supported by cantilevered beams, outcrops that jutted to the sides of the spire like a multitude of short, stubby branches. This platform was a small half circle, surrounded by a crenellated rim of carved black marble near the top of the north spire. Behind them a single door made of the same black stone as the tower's surface offered entry back into the spire.
"Please, Master-you frighten me!" Luthar gasped, cringing from the edge, pressing against the stone door that would allow passage back inside.
"I shall kill them slowly when they come-the red and the black will certainly die as painfully as possible. The white wench appeals to me-I think I may keep her alive for a time… after I cut the little bitch's tongue out, of course." He laughed dryly. "I will not have her casting any foolish spells."
"No, er, of course," Luthar said, with a sideways look at his master. The pudgy wizard looked a little pale. "But she seems like such a child-a mere girl! Surely her spells are foolish, as you say-and she is no threat?"
"Don't be beguiled by her appearance," warned the tall mage.
"I'm not beguiled!" Luthar insisted. "It is you that has an eye for her, after all!"
Kalrakin snorted. "I might find a use for her, that is all. Even you have your uses, old companion."
Luthar looked stricken at this remark but bit his lip and remained silent.
"You need more sun!" declared Kalrakin. "Come out here in the open, and savor my work."
"I can see very well from back here, Master."
Turning his back, contemptuously, on the other man, the master of wild magic studied the broad vista. "When these wizards of the three moons come to challenge me for this tower, I intend to greet them properly-in the form of a guardian at our gate. That should put them at their ease. And with a little fortune, all of them will be dead before they even reach our tower."
Stepping forward, Kalrakin placed his hand against the smooth, sun-warmed black marble forming the parapet of this high platform. He closed his eyes and drew upon wild magic, pulled it up from the depths of the world, summoned it through the foundation and walls of the Tower. He called that ancient sorcery to him, imbibing it like a powerful drug-even as its toxicity shook the tower. The ancient structure shuddered and writhed, and this brought a fierce grin to Kalrakin's face. The Irda Stone was like a hot ember, a powerful pulse in his hand. He squeezed and caressed the stone.
The stone barrier began to soften and the wizard pushed slowly, bending the rock to his will, changing its shape, cracking it loose where he wanted it to break. He watched in glee as the entire rim of black marble tumbled away, leaving only a thin fragment of the original balcony. Kalrakin now stood at the very edge of a smooth platform, nothing between himself and a drop of several hundred feet. Luthar gasped and shrank back, but Kalrakin relished the sight of the marble tumbling below. He saw the stone crash into the ground far below, felt the tremor through the soles of his feet.
"That is a start," he announced. "Now, to the next."
He turned and entered the Tower with the still-trembling Luthar close behind. The corridor here was a ring surrounding a plunging well of space, with doors to a pair of similar balconies on the right and left, spaced evenly a third of the way around the outer wall. Shards of stone were scattered across the floor, rubble that marked where Kalrakin had torn a section of railing away in an earlier outburst. Here stretched a perilous drop of several hundred feet, a yawning gap plunging into the central atrium of the north tower.
Ignoring the potential danger, Kalrakin made his way to the closest of the doors on this level, leaving Luthar to edge slowly behind. The stout sorcerer inched along the wall, as far as possible from the broken railing, arriving at another, red parapet, surrounded by a ring of rose-colored marble.
His eyes wide, Luthar watched as Kalrakin strutted back and forth across the parapet.
Again, Kalrakin called on the wild magic, which surged through the sorcerer's flesh, expanding and destroying the stone, until this platform, too, tumbled to the ground. In a few moments he had destroyed the third crenellated wall, tearing the white marble cleanly away from its seamless black foundation.
And still the magic flowed through him; it had become a surging torrent of power quickening his heart, tightening his sinews. His jaw remained clenched, teeth bared in a rictus grin that terrified his comrade-who continued to watch from a cowering safe distance.
Kalrakin now turned his magic to the stone walls of the tower, leaping from a parapet to cling to the smooth outer surface of the spire like a human spider. The wind whipped his beard, his tangled hair, and his filthy robe, as he clawed his way down the wall. The wild magic was strong, and he never lost his foot- or handholds. Halfway down he paused, dangling by one hand as he admired the broken stones scattered on the ground below.
Luthar peered down. In less than a minute Kalrakin had climbed to the ground. Standing below, once again Kalrakin summoned the destructive wild magic, focusing it on the rubble. The stone in his hand glowed especially bright in the daylight as the sorcerer drew the shards of red, black, and white marble together, bending their shapes with his will, assembling them in what first looked like simply a chaotic pile of multicolored stones. Now the master of wild magic began to sculpt with care, precision, even affection. From large wedges of black stone he created a pair of massive, knobby stone boots-boots that each stood five feet high.