Gingerly, he stepped over the corpses and poked about in the jumble of body parts until his staff uncovered the injured beast. Lying beneath the vast torso of a troll was a bцgnil, unable to free itself from the colossal weight. It looked rather like a stunted ore.
"Don't be afraid," Nudin reassured it in the language of Tion's beasts. "I'm not going to hurt you."
The bцgnil stuck out its tongue and fumbled for its sword.
"I'll make a deal with you," said the magus. "I'll get you out of your predicament, but only if you answer my questions. I want to know about your species: where you come from, what kind of society you live in, and how you employ your time when you're not invading Girdlegard." He produced a roll of parchment and an inkpot from his satchel. "Remember: I have the power to ensure that you speak nothing but the truth." The creature stared back at him with soulless eyes and blinked in confusion. It didn't know what to make of the crazy stranger who was proposing something more complicated than rescue or death. It still hadn't responded when a long black arrow bored through its throat and pinned it to the troll.
"Andфkai?" Nudin wheeled round and blanched. Even a confrontation with the tempestuous maga would be preferable to this. He watched in horror as four дlfar slipped through the magic girdle, effortlessly breaching the unseen barrier. The lead дlf set another arrow to his string and leveled the bow at Nudin.
Just you try it! Nudin's hastily conjured charm stopped the quivering arrow in midflight and sent it speeding back toward the archer. A look of panic crossed the creature's dark eyes in the instant before he died.
Nudin raised his left hand and killed two of the дlfar with searing bolts of light. He restricted himself to stunning the fourth дlf with the intention of interrogating him.
Stooping down, he examined their faces. Their elegant features reminded him of their cousins, the elves of Вlandur and the Golden Plains, whom Turgur admired for their flawless beauty. His gaze settled on the amulets fastened around their necks.
Protective charms, he muttered in astonishment, taking one of the crystals in his hands. The mystery of how the дlfar had crossed the girdle was solved. The Perished Land has found a way of sending its most lethal emissaries through the magic barrier. I must tell the council of this.
He disarmed the stunned дlf with a curse, then roused him from his faint. The creature's eyes opened, revealing fathomless pits. In the bright sunlight, Nudin could see that he possessed neither pupils nor irises. The magus held up the amulet. "Who gave you this?"
The дlf returned his stare.
Nudin invoked a truth spell to coax out his secrets, but the creature spoke in an unintelligible tongue. Like elvish, the language was melodious and elegant, but with a sinister, darker tone.
The learned magus was none the wiser. He stood up, took a few steps back, and incinerated the creature in a towering blaze. Its three companions and the bцgnil met a similar fate.
"It won't be long before the Perished Land renews its attack," he muttered fretfully.
Still, he thought to himself, there's no need to spoil the celebrations. The news of the amulets can wait until breakfast. After exhorting the sentries to be doubly vigilant, he retired to his tent.
That night Nudin was visited by the strangest of dreams.
Fog settled around his tent, pushing through the canvas and swirling around his bed. Tiny streaks of black, silver, and red rippled through the gloomy mist as it snaked through the bedposts, encircled the mattress, and contracted warily around the sleeping man. At last it was so close that Nudin appeared to be hovering on the glimmering cloud.
A wisp of vapor, long and spindly as a finger, slid toward him and touched his hand. The magus awoke at the soft, velvety touch.
"Don't be afraid," a voice whispered. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Nudin sat up slowly and examined the flickering mist. "Afraid? My name is Nudin the Knowledge-Lusty, not Nudin the Timorous," he informed it calmly. "Who are you?"
"The soul of the Perished Land," came the whispered reply. "It is time for you to make your choice."
"What choice? The Perished Land kills its enemies. Is that what you mean by choice?"
The mist rose a few inches and wrapped itself around Nudin's feet, stealing slowly along his legs. It felt warm and soft. "You can choose to rescue Girdlegard-or join the other magi in hastening its doom. That is your choice."
"The magi are committed to rescuing Girdlegard. You are its doom," the magus said firmly.
"My power can protect these lands and the races that inhabit them-men, elves, and dwarves," the mist replied. "I want to secure Girdlegard against the coming threat, but your magic won't let me." The mist arranged itself into a human face, opening and closing its mouth in time with the voice. "The tide of evil will soon be upon us, streaming through the Stone Gateway or surging over the western ranges to swamp Girdlegard and wash me away. The belt of mountains will stay standing, but everything within them will be destroyed."
"Why should I believe you? What kind of soul nourishes itself on the souls of the dead?"
"The greatest of souls," the voice purred. "I do not feed on them; I gather them to me for their protection. When the threat has passed, I shall release them to their gods. For now, while Girdlegard is in danger, I need their power."
"Be gone," Nudin commanded. "I have heard enough of your lies."
The mist began to dissolve away. "Listen to my proposal," it whispered. "I need your body. Lend it to me for a while and acquire my knowledge while I borrow your form. You will learn things beyond your wildest dreams, things whose existence exceeds the power of your imagination. I know charms devised by illustrious magi in faraway lands; I know nature, life, and the stars; I know mankind in ways that you will never glean from books. With my knowledge, you will be the wisest, most powerful magus in the history of Girdlegard and your name will be Nudin the All-Knowing." The particles melted into nothingness. "The All-Knowing…"
The All-Knowing… Nudin woke with a start, sitting upright in bed and glancing frantically round the tent. Unable to discover anything unusual, he told himself off for being foolish and settled back to sleep.
At breakfast the next morning he sat in silence, his mind on other matters, while his colleagues discussed their projects and plans.
He said nothing of his peculiar dream and omitted to mention his encounter with the дlfar, keeping the news of the amulets to himself.
The messenger arrived just as Nudin was preparing for bed. He read the letter and froze.
Lesinteпl, the elven kingdom of the north, was in the hands of the дlfar. They had breached the magic girdle and overwhelmed the unsuspecting elves.
According to the letter, the first settlements had been taken in a matter of orbits. The дlfar had overrun the kingdom before the elves had had time to raise a proper army, and the outcome of the battle had never been in doubt.
Now the northern pestilence was creeping through the exalted lands of Lesinteпl, destroying the blossoming beauty that centuries of nurture had elevated to its highest form.
Nudin hurled the roll of parchment to the floor and clambered into bed. In less than forty-eight hours, the council would meet to erect a girdle around the fallen kingdom. Already the дlfar were using their newly conquered land to send war bands into Gauragar, Idoslane, and Urgon to extend the boundaries of the Perished Land.
Nudin felt a stab of conscience. Unlike the other magi, he had a good idea of how the дlfar had breached the girdle. He tried telling himself that nothing could have stopped them, even if the council had known.
That's not quite true, his conscience contradicted him. If you'd shown them the amulet, they would have studied the inscription and erected a barrier impervious to its power. By saying nothing, you allowed the дlfar to advance.