from human affairs, intervening in the world only when summoned by elaborate invocations, and even then usually offering little more than advice and the occasional petty miracle. Had this somehow changed? The whole universe seemed to be turning topsy-turvy around him.
Valder found himself wondering whether perhaps he wasn’t lying delirious in a coastal marsh in the summer of 4996, imagining it all. He had led an ordinary life for twenty-two years, boring and predictable — born to a soldier and his woman of the moment, raised in an assortment of camps and villages, signed up at sixteen and trained as a scout, and assigned to the western coast where nothing of importance ever happened. Then, suddenly, everything had shifted. The enemy had attacked, seemingly out of nowhere, destroying his home unit and driving him into the wilderness, where he found an old hermit who had enchanted his sword and thereby granted him the possibility of eternal life — or of a rather nasty doom. That enchantment had made him an assassin, prowling the streets of northern cities and camps that most of his former comrades never knew existed. Former comrades, because his work as an assassin set him apart.
All that, however, seemed logical and coherent compared with the news that demons were attacking eastern Ethshar and the gods themselves counterattacking. The world had always been fraught with magic, controlled by unseen forces, but those forces had been predictable unless manipulated by men and women. The gods had never been prone to whims.
What would this superhuman conflict mean to the world, to the war — to Ethshar and to Valder?
The cheering in the inner room had spread, become universal, and then died down again. Now Valder heard the unmistakable tones of orders being given, and a stream of men and women began pouring out past him. Among them was Kelder, who spotted Valder and paused, stepping out of the onrushing human current for a moment.
“Go get some rest,” he said. “None of us can do anything right now; it’s all in the hands of the gods. That’s not just a pious saying anymore, but the literal truth. Go back to your room and get some sleep, so you’ll be well rested if we need to move quickly. Everyone is getting this same order — wait and be ready. Go on.”
Reluctantly, Valder got to his feet and went. He was not in need of sleep, but he sank back on his cot again nonetheless, one hand slipping down the side of the mattress to grip the rope webbing beneath. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, until he knew every joint in the vaulting and the shape of every stone.
The universe was coming apart in the east, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Eventually he must have dozed off, because he was awakened by a knock on the door.
“What?” he managed to say in reply.
“Everybody in the upper court — General Gor has an announcement. Everybody up!”
Whoever the messenger was, he had a voice like an avalanche. He roared off down the corridor, rousing all and sundry.
Valder was still fully dressed and, at this point, cared not at all about his appearance, so that he rose immediately and without ceremony headed for the upper court, hoping to find a spot where he could hear the general directly, rather than needing to rely on relays.
That hope did not last long once he reached the top of the stairs; his corridor, not surprisingly, given its out-of-the-way location, must have been among the last to be called. Men, women, and even children jammed the courtyard, and some were standing on the surrounding ramparts as well. He squeezed to one side to allow the people behind him to emerge and looked about for General Gor, hoping that he would be able to follow the proceedings from where he was. The din was unbelievable, even under the open sky, as everyone present seemed to be trying to guess what Gor was going to say.
Valder saw no point in that particular game, since a brief wait would tell all. He was more interested in trying to figure out who all the hundreds of people were. There seemed to be far more present than he had thought the Fortress housed; had some been summoned in from elsewhere?
Before he could pursue this line of thought, he was pushed back by guards emerging from the stairway door; to his surprise, immediately behind them came the general himself. Once out in the sun — for the first time Valder noticed that it was late morning; he was unsure of what day — Gor turned and ascended one of the emergency ladders to the battlements. To his surprise, Valder found himself standing almost directly below, in the front row of the entire mob. He had expected General Gor to appear elsewhere, as had, apparently, almost everyone else; it took several minutes for the noise to fade as people gradually noticed Gor’s arrival.
When at last the roar of conversation had died to a dull muttering of breath, shifting feet, and rustling garments, Gor took a deep breath and announced in a powerful, carrying bellow, “I am Gor of the Rocks, heretofore High Commander, Field Marshal, and General Commanding the Western Forces of the Holy Kingdom of Ancient Ethshar.”
Valder wondered at this formality. Surely all present knew who Gor was!
“I have come here today to tell you several things. The world in which we now live is not the one we have all known for so long — and the time has come to reveal that most of you did not know the old world as well as you thought you did.” He paused to catch his breath and a low murmur swirled through the crowd.
He looked about and hesitated, then shouted, “The war is over!”
If he had intended to say anything more right away, he never had a chance; the wave of cheering battered at him like a storm wind. He grinned and looked out at the sea of faces and flailing arms, mopped perspiration from his brow with his sleeve, then folded his arms and waited for the noise to abate.
The noise did not abate for several seconds, during which time Gor said, apparently to himself but loudly enough that Valder, almost beneath his feet, managed to catch it, “Oh, gods, I have always wanted to live to say that!”
Finally, after a solid minute, the cheering subsided; Gor raised his arms for quiet and, when satisfied with the lessened sound level, he said, “I’m sure that most of you have heard that our ancient enemy, the Northern Empire, unleashed the demons of Hell itself upon the eastern marches of our nation. This is true, and I’m sorry to say that at first the attack was a great success — if any of you had family or friends to the east of the southern mountains, I’m afraid that they are almost certainly gone, as what fragmentary reports our magicians can provide indicate that all the eastern lands, from the Empire’s borders right to the southern edge of the world, are now a burning waste. General Terrek is dead, and his armies destroyed.”
He paused to allow that to sink in; shocked murmurs arose and died. The earlier elation was gone, and Valder was sure that many of the people were now wondering whether the war had ended in victory or defeat. For his own part he was sure, from Gor’s face and the fact that the Fortress itself still survived undamaged, that at worst a truce had been arranged.
Gor continued, “The fact that our vile foes resorted to demonic aid, despite the horrible price such aid always demands, shows us that, as we had thought, their situation had become desperate and their cause hopeless by any other means.”
He paused again, then continued, “Many of you may also have heard rumors about divine intervention, and I am pleased to say that these stories, too, are true! The gods themselves, in all their glory, intervened on behalf of their chosen people! The theurgists tell me that an ancient compact prevented both gods and demons from interfering directly in human affairs and that, once that compact was broken by the northerners and their demonic mentors, the gods were free to unleash divine retribution for centuries of injustice and evil. We have established this divine intervention by every means at our disposal: divination, clairvoyance, oneiromancy, and every variety of verification we could devise. There can be no doubt at all of the effects, but we will probably never know the details — only the inhabitants of the Northern Empire were witnesses to the final conflagration, and in the past day the Northern Empire has ceased to exist!”
He paused there for the inevitable renewed cheering. When the crowd had calmed down sufficiently to allow him to continue, Gor said, “The gods have achieved in a single day what we could not in all these centuries of war! The Black City, capital of the Empire, has been blotted from the face of the world as if it had never been, and the other northern cities lie in ruins or worse. The Imperial Army is broken and scattered. The demons have been forced back into the Netherworld — and, that being done, the gods in turn have retreated into Heaven, swearing never again to interfere so directly in human affairs. The openings from the world into both Heaven and Hell have been permanently sealed; there can be no more prophets, no more shatra, no more night-roving demons, no divine messengers, no unsought miracles. Let us all offer a prayer of gratitude to the beings that forsook their nonviolent principles to defend us against evil!”
That roused a cheer, followed by a moment of confused muttering. When Gor judged that the faces turned
