Duane, Diane - Middle Kingdoms 01 - The Door Into Fire

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Tale of The Five Vol 1 - The Door Into Fire

by Diane Duane

Version 1.0

A #BW Release

Aye, night commes and Hee risith from the Flame; Lyoun and Eagle

loudlie cry His name: The Phoenix that schall spurn the shatter'd

Spere. Hys Fire shall fede upoun his darkest Fear: But nott yntil

the Starres fall owt the Skye, Dawn corns up Blue, and our Daye be

past by

—rede fragment, Healhregebocan, IV, 6-12

Smiths and sorcerers come both from the same nest.

Chronicle of the White Eagle, XII, 54

Herewiss sat cross-legged on the parquet floor, his back braced

against the wall, his eyes closed, and concentrated.

Part of the problem was that he couldn't stop thinking of the

thing resting across his upturned hands as a sword; a noisy

feeling of weaponness trickled through him from it. It knew that

it was a sword - that was the problem. It was good Darthene steel,

folded on itself in its forging the required sixty times, and

sealed with the Mastersmith's hallmark down on the rough tang of

the metal. It knew that it was destined to be a killing weapon, an

elegant, finely polished thing, soft of back, hard of edge, with

the Mastersmith's distinctive forging-pattern embedded like waves

in water within its silver blade. It knew what it was for —

woundings and death, the abrupt soft parting of flesh beneath its

stroke, the sudden crunch into cloven bone. The taste of pain,

like wine. It lay there across his hands, and waited to be

presented with slayings as a banqueter waits eagerly for the first

course.

No, dammit, Herewiss said to himself, and pulled away from the

perception. Sometimes I wish I weren't so sensitive. How the Dark

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Tale of The Five Vol 1 - The Door Into Fire

can something dead know so well what it's for?— This is

ridiculous. I should be able to impose my will on a piece of

steel, for Goddess's sake. Maybe this way . . .

He took a moment to clear his mind out, and then concentrated on

seeing the thing in his hands, not as a sword, but as a great

number of particles of metal that just

toward the dancing sparks of steel, into them, through them, and

out again, and back in - winding the soul-stuff through the

structure, beckoning it in and around, luring in onward with

promises of Power about to be achieved. The Flame followed after,

hopeful. Herewiss tangled the bit of himself like a bright cord,

weaving it through itself again and again, drawing it finer and

finer, silver wire thinning out to silver web, and always followed

by that faint blue flow of Fire. Finally the steeldust glitter

could hardly be seen at all for the sorcerer's weave stranded

through it.

Herewiss stood back a little, then cut the web's attachment to him

with one sharp word.

It hurt. He had expected it to, but he had no time now to deal

with the ache. The entangled soul would start undoing itself

almost immediately if he didn't bind it. He spoke in his mind the

word that would activate the binding sorcery, and it heard him and

responded on the instant, the hard dark links of restrainment

drawing in close around the shining bar, snicking in cold and

tight like a sudden scabbard, prisoning the soul-stuff within.

He stepped back to make sure that the sorcery would hold without

his immediate supervision. It did. He poked at it once,

experimentally; it resisted him.

Satisfied, he broke trance and opened his eyes.

He had to blink for a few moments; his eyes watered with the

seeming brightness of the tower room. It was full of smith's

furnishings: the middle of the room was taken up by the forge, a

wide brick pit with a downhanging bellows, and there was a pedal-

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Tale of The Five Vol 1 - The Door Into Fire

powered grindstone in one corner. Anvils, ingots, and scraps of

metal were everywhere. A number of blanks of the Darthene steel

were leaned up in a row against one wall, like so many barrel-

staves.

The fire in the forge was out, and the tools were racked up on the

walls. Halwerd, his son, was also sitting on the floor, over

against the other paneled wall beside the window; he had taken off

his apron, and was doing an elaborate cat's cradle with a piece of

string. Herewiss never tired of the joys of having a smaller

version of himself around, and spent a few minutes just watching

the child. Halwerd sat there in his greasy green tunic, all dark

curly hair and fierce concentration. He flipped his hands, and the

cat's cradle turned suddenly into a mess. 'Dark!' he said.

'You're too young to be swearing,' Herewiss said with affection.

'I'm nine,' Halwerd said, as if that should have been enough. 'Did

it work?'

'Yes.'

'It doesn't look any different.' The boy gazed across the room,

and Herewiss looked down at the piece of metal he held.

'No, it doesn't. Well, we'll see if it holds up tonight. It's Full

Moon; this is a good day for it. Though I could wait for the

Maiden's Day Moon. What do you think?'

Halwerd considered gravely. 'Do it tonight.'

'All right.'

Herewiss got up, wobbling a little from the backlash of the

sorcery. 'Oh my,' he said. 'I must be getting better at this, the

backlash is hitting me faster than it used to.'

'How many swords is this now?' Halwerd asked, starting the cat's

cradle over again.

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Tale of The Five Vol 1 - The Door Into Fire

'Twenty-three. No, twenty-four. Cheer up, Hal, maybe this'll be

the last one.' Herewiss tossed the sword blank clanging on to the

worktable and looked around him as he stretched. He was a tall,

slender man, lean and lithe and dark-haired, with a finely

featured face and a mouth that

smiled a great deal. His arms and shoulders were slightly

overmuscled from much work at the forge; but the effect was not

unpleasant. At first glance he gave an impression of spare,

restrained power, the taut strength of youth. But his deep blue

eyes were beginning to look weary, and his face was gradually

acquiring frown lines. 'Be nice to turn this back into a bedroom,'

he said, 'and get all this mess out of here, Dark eat it—'

'Grampa would say,' Halwerd said, '"you're not a good example.

Watch your mouth."'

'So he would. Listen, Hal—'

A pigeon landed on the windowsill with a clapping of wings. It

strutted there, fluffing its gray-and-white feathers and looking

confused. Herewiss looked at it, momentarily startled, and then

unease began to trickle coldly down his back. It was one of the

homing pigeons that he had given Freelorn for use in emergencies.

'Hold still, Hal.' He walked smoothly around the forge to the

window. In one quick motion he grabbed the pigeon before it had a

chance to shy away. Stripping off the steel message-case, he threw

the bird out the window, and fumbled at the little capsule with

suddenly sweaty hands.

The stiff hinge cracked open, and the expected roll of parchment

fell out on the floor. Herewiss picked it up, unrolling it, and

the throbbing in his head quickened pace. The message said:

AM HOLED UP IN OLD KEEP THREE LEAGUES SOUTH OF MADEIL. A FEW

HUNDRED STELDENE REGULARS AND ABOUT SEVEN HUNDRED CONSCRIPTS

BESIEGING ME AND THE GROUP. I NEED A COMPETENT SORCERER TO COME

GET ME OUT OF THIS RABBIT-HOLE. HAVE ENOUGH FOOD TO LAST US A FEW

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Tale of The Five Vol 1 - The Door Into Fire

WEEKS, BUT MUCH LONGER THAN THAT AND IT WILL BE BOOT-CHEWING TIME.

GET ME THE DARK OUT OF HERE AND I'LL BE YOUR BEST FRIEND. THE

GODDESS SMILE ON YOU. FREELORN AS'T'RAlD ARLENI.

'"High Lord of all Lords of Arlen", my—! You know, I am a bad

example, Hal. Listen, did you see where your grandfather was?'

'He was down in the writing room a while ago,' Halwerd said. 'What

happened?'

'Your Uncle Freelorn may be back for a visit in a month or so,'

Herewiss said, heading for the door, 'but I have to go and get him

first. Forget it, Hal, go get yourself some nunch.'

'All right.'

Herewiss loped down the long paneled stairway that curled around

the inner wall of the tower, and hit the bottom of the stairs

running. He went down the south corridor at full speed, ignoring

the surprised looks of household people and relatives, and ducked

into the sixth room to his left. It was a bright place and warm,

full of rich carving work, typical of the Woodward. The fireplace

was framed in the wings of carven sphinxes, and two-bodied dogs

guarded the corners where the moldings met. Over one closet was

carven in slightly frantic figures the history of the sixteenth

Lord of the Brightwood, who had married a mermaid. The sunlight

gleamed from the woodwork, and from the great brassbound table

which stood on eagle-claw feet in the middle of the room; but its

surface was bare, and no-one had been working there for some time.

I hope he didn't go out, Herewiss thought. Damn! He ran out of the

room again, turned left and headed to the end of

the south corridor. A stair led down from it to the central hall

of the Woodward, where the Rooftree grew. He had no patience for

the stairs, but hopped up on to the central banister, which had

been polished smooth first by its craftsmen and then by the

backsides of generations of the children of the Ward. At the

bottom of the stairs he took a bare moment to nod courtesy to the

Tree before he loped off across the tapestried hall, and out into

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TaleofTheFiveVol1-TheDoorIntoFireTaleofTheFiveVol1-TheDoorIntoFirebyDianeDuaneVersion1.0A#BWReleaseAye,nightcommesandHeerisithfromtheFlame;LyounandEagleloudliecryHisname:ThePhoenixthatschallspurntheshatter'dSpere.HysFireshallfedeupounhisdarkestFear:ButnottyntiltheStarresfallowttheSkye,DawncornsupBlu...

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Duane, Diane - Middle Kingdoms 01 - The Door Into Fire

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