fissures of the Fumus Mountains, and of the djinns who stunt the trees, kill the game, and make the winds howl around the spire to the east. It is not by chance that all of these events crowd together. No, they are deeply related. Shall I return to my hermitage, as you call it, or do you wish to hear instead of the doom which hovers over you like a block of granite suspended from a cotton thread?'
'If you speak of Demontooth, then we will hear your words,' Grak said. 'It is but a half day away, unlike all the battles of glory many weeks march to the south.'
The nomads grunted their acquiescence and all of the others were silent. Handar's lips curved into a smile. 'Perhaps not the pomp and circumstance to which I am accustomed,' he said, 'but until you know better it will suffice.'
He paused, then continued. 'Despite the decay which has apparently rotted my craft, you must all know at least a glimmer of how it works, of the flame that is necessary to form the pathway between the worlds, of the resistance which prevents the most powerful demons from appearing here of their own choice. But do you know as well that with each passage into our world, the resistance is slightly lowered? Less effort is required to bring the next demon of the same strength across. When one returns, the barrier increases by a like amount. If the contacts are sporadic in space and time, the situation remains relatively static and no great harm is done. But concerted effort to flood us with demonkind could cause the barriers to fall, so that more powerful djinns could reach out and touch our minds with simpler flames. And as more come forth, the hurdle becomes lower still.'
Aeriel frowned. 'But such a process is unstable,' she said. 'Eventually, demons of inconceivable might could vent their great power as they willed.'
'The potential has been present from man's distant memories,' Handar agreed, nodding his head, 'But so long as demonkind viewed our intrusions and summons as a minor irritation from another world, then it did not matter. The mighty devils soon tire of?and destroy?the few foolish men who challenge them. But if for some reason, by logic that only their fiendish minds could follow, a demon prince came to covet our world and the hearts and minds that dwelled within it, then our peril would be great indeed. And if a prince did desire such a conquest, how would he proceed?'
Handar paused and noted with satisfaction the upturned faces and backs hunched forward, 'We cannot know for sure, of course, but it is plausible he would act as follows. First he would wait until in the random course of human events the craft of wizardry sagged into a nadir of petty exhibitions and traveling entertainments. Without great wizards to interpret what was happening, his designs would proceed undiscovered and unchecked for far longer than otherwise possible. He would direct his minions to act towards a common goal, once they succeeded in dominating the fools who dared too much. Rather than strutting these warlocks as comic puppets to be used and then discarded, the djinns would force their actions to be like normal men. And then, as these slaves moved among us unsuspected, there would come a time when a group of them would be alone with a man with some military power, perhaps an outland baron with few guards to subdue. After a hearty meal in front of a roaring hearth to keep out the cold, they would seize him and hold his head toward the flame and force his eyelids open until they had another subjugation. Or perhaps in a dungeon without food or hope until the will to resist weakened. I do not know the details; they are unimportant.'
'Bandor,' Aeriel interjected. 'From the beginning his possession was most puzzling.'
'From what Alodar has explained, he was probably the first of the ones who did not dabble,' Handar replied. 'With his peerage, the demons had control of the beginnings of an army. Far more important, it meant that there was opportunity for trusting lieutenants, neighboring barons, and captured opponents to be tricked and forced into submissions as well. And with each look into the flame and transferal, the resistance weakened, so that more could come. More demons to direct the growing chaos of war, to conquer greater fiefdoms, to bring still more into bondage. Under the guise of a mortal struggle, the demon power would grow from baronies to kingdoms and eventually the whole world.'
'But how do you know?' Duncan protested. 'It is a pretty theory and nothing more.'
'Yes,' Feston joined in. 'Except for the talk of the sorcerers, we would not even suspect that the revolt in the west is more than the well-understood actions of ambitious men.'
'A rebellion that swelled from a single barony to ally the entire west?' Handar replied. 'And one that fights with such ferocity that you cannot put it down? Kingdoms to the south who have squabbled among themselves for centuries suddenly uniting and thrusting at Procolon together? A resistance so weak that not only sprites but djinns of true power appear unsummoned about the base of the spire? These events are not random chance. We are faced with possession by design. There is more than the fate of the ruling class of Procolon at stake.'
'But if what you say is true,' Aeriel asked, rising to her feet, 'what can we possibly do against such power?'
Handar patted his fingertips together. 'We can at least hope to defeat them in battle. Not all of the men are demon-possessed, only the leaders. If we can crush the forces which march against Procolon and either slay or free the ones possessed, the resistance will return to its former values. Then it will be only imps with which we will have to deal. Once on our guard, we may be able to resist until the prince behind the attack loses interest and turns his attention to other worlds.'
'But that is no less than what we already strive for,' Basil cried. 'We hope to convince enough of these rough barbarians to the fair lady's cause so that we can crush the insurrection, as you say. Procolon's regular army battles Bandor in the west. With enough additional swords, we will also halt the thrust from the south. Demon plot or none, our course of action is the same.'
'If you could imagine the fate which will be ours if we fail,' Handar said, 'then you would not be so glib about what it is for which we will fight. Now they control only a few, but in the end it would be each and every one of us a slave. And for what perverted delights we would be the pawns, I cannot say. To shear off our own fingers and toes one by one, to labor for years to pound our towers and walls into fine sand, to float for eternities with no sight, touch or sound, to hack loved ones into pulp. The horrors they press upon the poor warlocks when they are bored can be only a small glimmer of what would be.'
Handar halted and a heavy silence fell on them all. Alodar saw Grengor and Duncan squirm as they imagined their own private hells. Aeriel bit her lip in pensive thought. Vendora stared at the slowly heaving chest of Grak the barbarian.
Grak broke the silence as he rose. 'It is well enough for you lowlanders to be so clear as to what you must do. But for my tribesmen, we have heard first a day of soft promises and now words of fear. We have had the devils among us for ages and they have given us no bother, so long as we stay clear.'
'The demons will seek you out,' Handar promised. 'They will concentrate first on the lowlands where there are more to possess, true. But eventually there will be no place in these mountains in which you can hide.'
Grak stared down at Handar for a long time in silence. 'You claim to be a great wizard,' he said at last. 'Show me some of your craft so that I may verify the truth of what you say.'
Handar returned Grak's stare with his chin extended. 'I have said I am a wizard,' he replied, 'and that is sufficient. As to the power of my craft, Alodar can demonstrate enough to make you tremble.'
Grak's nostrils flared. 'I have seen imps enough in my time not to fear their irritations. Work your spell, and we will see if I judge it to be great wizardry.'
Alodar looked quickly at the scowling face of the barbarian. Handar's manner had given Grak an insult that could not be put aside easily. And it would be uncertain that this first effort in conjuring would be startling enough to impress the proud nomad. Another tack was called for if he was to be convinced. Alodar looked at the sub-chief scratching his head to Grak's left. Without thinking, he reached down and rubbed the latest flea bite on his leg; then his eyes brightened with an idea.
'There are more products from the labor of wizardry than just fear,' Alodar said. 'Rest easy while I provide something that should benefit your tribe far more.'
Alodar knelt to the ground and rummaged through his pack. He withdrew a few clusters of pine needles and the roots from a painted daisy. He placed them in rough stone bowl by the fire. From the carcass of a freshly killed hare he dripped the fats and juices until the plants were covered. Into a wicker basket he scooped some ashes from the smouldering fire.
'All of this is unnecessary,' Handar objected. 'For a simple imp, you need only common flame.'
'I am ready now,' Alodar said. 'The rest is for what will come after.' He looked once more at Grak, breathed deeply, and turned his attention to the fire. As Handar had instructed, he let his eyes decouple and drift out of focus.
