At the Gates of Darkness. Raymond E. Feist
more speculation,’ answered the Warlock.
‘Can’t we—I mean, you—study the Lifestone now?’ asked Jim.
Pug shook his head in the negative. ‘It was destroyed before the demon could reach it.’
The High Priest’s face took on an expression of distress. ‘Destroyed?’
Pug raised his hand in a placating gesture. ‘Perhaps that’s the wrong word. The elf queen’s son, Calis, managed to unbind the confining magic and the trapped life energy within was set free.’
The High Priest appeared delighted at that news. ‘A blessing! The souls were freed to resume their journey to Our Mistress!’ He looked eagerly at Pug. ‘What was it like?’
‘It was difficult to describe, Holy Father. The Lifestone looked like a crystal, one that pulsed with green energies, but when it was…unravelled…a flurry of tiny green flames floated away, in all directions.’
The High Priest sat back and said, ‘Throughout our temple’s history, no such manifestation of the actual act of translation has been documented. The best we have are occasional reports that one of our priests, priestesses, or lay brothers and sisters might have glimpsed a tiny green flash.’ He sighed in resignation. ‘There are so few overt signs of what we do. Those of us who have been blessed by a visitation from our goddess…’ He looked into his wine cup and took a sip. ‘At times, it is difficult to convince the faithful. So few actually have experienced the divine.’
Pug resisted the urge to remark that he had experienced more than his fill of the divine. Several encounters with both the death goddess, Lims-Kragma, and Banath, the God of Thieves, Liars, and a host of other malfeasances had made it clear to him that the gods were as real as the chair upon which he sat; his faith was never an issue, but he certainly felt like their creature at times, and that thought left a sour taste in his mouth if he dwelled upon it too long.
The door opened and an elderly woman dressed in the garb of a priestess entered, followed by a younger woman in similar attire. ‘You called for me, Holy Father?’
‘Sister Makela, we have need of your knowledge.’
‘I am at your disposal,’ she said as Jim rose to offer the old woman his chair. She smiled, nodded her thanks and took the seat. She was as old as the High Priest, and frail in appearance, but she also shared the same lively gaze.
The High Priest outlined what had already been discussed. When he had finished, he asked, ‘Have there been any exhaus-tive studies on the exact nature of necromancy, specifically what use the stolen life force might have to a necromancer?’
Without a moment’s hesitation, the old woman said, ‘Exhaustive, no. Several volumes of opinion exist, and I can have them brought up from the archives if you wish, Holy Father. The evidence suggests that necromancers usually have one of two goals. The first is to control the dead, harbouring enough life energy to animate corpses and direct them.’
‘Why?’ asked Jim.
‘A dead servant holds several advantages,’ suggested the librarian. ‘It is impervious to death, obviously, and so can only be stopped by the utter destruction of the body. These “undead” can make prodigious bodyguards or assassins, and can be sent to places where the living can not long survive; for example, they can stay under water for a few hours, or in a cursed room, protected by poisonous vapour, or some other trap harmful to the living. Moreover, they can kill with plague or infection as well as weapons.
‘The difficulty they present is that they decay, as do all the dead, though life magic can be employed to slow their deterioration for quite some time.’
‘What’s the other reason to use life magic?’ asked Pug.
She sighed, as if she found the subject distasteful. ‘They may also use it to extend their own life, even after death; they could preserve their consciousness in their mortal shell, rather than journey on to our mistress to be judged.’
‘A lich,’ said Amirantha.
‘Yes,’ agreed Makela. ‘It is the ultimate act of defiance against our mistress and the natural order. But the toll is great, for the mind of the magic user who extends his life this way is always the first casualty of such evil; liches are mad from all our reports.’
‘Madness does not exclude cunning and purpose,’ observed Pug.
‘True,’ said the High Priest.
Amirantha looked at the librarian and said, ‘Is there any mention in the annals about ties between such magic and the summoning or controlling of demons?’
The woman regarded the Warlock in silence for a moment, then said, ‘Demons are creatures of the other realms; they are not answerable to the natural laws of our own world. We have had little experience of such practices, they are the province of other orders who serve Sung the Pure, or Dala Shield of the Weak.
‘They may possess such knowledge, but I do not.’ She looked at the High Priest. ‘Is there anything else, Holy Father?’
‘I think not, Makela. Thank you for your help.’
She rose, bowed slightly before the High Priest, then moved towards the doorway where her aide waited. As she reached it, she turned and said, ‘I have thought of one other thing.’
‘What?’ asked the High Priest.
‘A passing reference, nothing more: In ancient times a war was fought against a cabal of necromancers—which was a strange enough occurrence in itself since they tend to be solitary types—but it was their name that was most odd. They called themselves the Demon Brothers.’
Amirantha said, ‘Is there more explanation?’
‘No, only their name.’ She tilted her head slightly as she thought. ‘It was something I have always found strange.’ She looked from face to face as she said, ‘We always assumed it was simple propa-ganda, a name used to describe the cabal as evil. But the more I think on it, the more I believe it may have been more than this, for the accurate translation of their ancient name would be Brothers to Demons.
‘I hope this helps.’ She nodded, as her assistant opened the door for her, and they departed.
The High Priest said, ‘Perhaps this is of some use to you?’
Pug said, ‘A great deal, perhaps, thank you.’ He rose and Amirantha followed.
Gregori appeared and ushered them from the room, and then left them to their own devices in the large main hall of the temple. Jim asked, ‘What next?’
‘We go to Sarth,’ said Pug. ‘The Ishapians are usually accommodating, but not particularly helpful regarding this area, but now we have something specific to investigate.’
‘The Brothers to Demons,’ said Amirantha. ‘A very odd name for a group of necromancers.’ To Pug he said, ‘Do we need to advise those waiting for us at the island that we’re not returning immediately?’
Pug said, ‘I’ll see to it after we reach Sarth.’
‘Good,’ said the Warlock. ‘Samantha becomes very cross with me when I fail to show up for meals on time.’
For the first time in recent memory, Pug laughed loudly. Everyone in the temple turned to stare at the sound, and several of those before the votive candles glared, for laughter was not frequently heard in the temple hall.
Jim said, ‘Now would be a good time to depart, I think.’
‘Stand close,’ said Pug and he held out his hands. Each man gripped Pug’s forearm, one to each side, and suddenly they were in another place.
AMIRANTHA GAWKED AT THEIR