Dave Duncan – The Living God – A Handful of Men. Book 4

The ambience rumbled and Rap was back with Thaile again. Waves of black fire boiled above the Qoble Mountains, shaking the occult ramparts to their foundations. Thaile hurled power into them and the attack faltered. Then it ceased, as abruptly as it had begun.

But it had been close! Clearly the Covin had traced that rescue to its source. It knew its enemy now. How long could Zinixo tolerate a rival?

“Gods!” Rap said. “We can’t take much of that, can we? Summon your sorcerers, Keeper! All of them! We must organize defenses.”

Thaile nodded. Raim materialized, recumbent upon the grass outside the cabana. He had no clothes on and neither did the lovely Sial clasped in his arms. They looked up in shock and outrage. Sial screamed. Thaile snapped out a command and the two figures vanished again.

“I’ll bet he remembers that one!” Rap said under his breath. “Thrugg, you big monster!” But events were racing ahead too fast for friendly greetings.

“Rap!” the Keeper shouted. “Proclaim your war! You said you had friends? Bring them!”

Again Rap felt the surge of her power elevate him. Again he saw Pandemia spread out before him. He stood above it like a giant, a shining cloud in the shape of a man. He had been given no time to prepare his proclamation, and he bellowed the first words that came into his head.

“Sorcerers! I am Rap, king of Krasnegar. Today we destroy the Covin! Today we begin the new protocol! Today freedom dawns! Come and enlist in the cause of right!”

Bolts of lightning buzzed up at him from Hub and were deflected by the age-old defenses of the Accursed Land—how long until Zinixo analyzed this alien sorcery and took its measure?

“Come now and join the cause!”

For a moment the ambience was still, shadowy nothing, silent as a crypt. The world seemed to hold its breath. Then a familiar figure shimmered into view—a slim youth with golden skin and eyes of many-colored gem. He, too, bestrode the world with power, smiling an infinitely cynical smile.

“King Rap demonstrates a remarkable potency and heralds a spectacular cause. I am Lith’rian, warlock of the south. I place my powers and all the sorcerers of Ilrane at his disposal.”

God of Wonders!

“Come, and welcome!” Rap grabbed. A blizzard of shooting stars flashed in the ambience and the Meeting Place was filled with elves. A hundred? Well, several dozen, anyway. Too choked with relief and excitement to say a word, he bowed low to the warlock.

Lith’rian sighed. “Your Doctor Sagorn is a remarkable advocate, your Majesty. He bludgeoned me into submission with sheer loquacity.”

“I had sooner believe that Jalon inspired you with jotunn battle songs, your Omnipotence!”

“Actually it was what you did to the djinns that persuaded us. Exquisite barbarity!” Lith’rian chuckled. “And obviously you were correct about Thume.” Then he discovered Thaile and his big eyes widened in shock. He glanced apprehensively at Rap.

“Her Holiness, the Keeper,” Rap said.

“Your humble’ servant, ma’am!” The elf sank gracefully to one knee and bowed his head. Whatever his faults, Lith’rian always had style.

“And I am Raspnex,” another voice boomed, jolting Rap’s attention back to the ambience, “warlock of the north. I also join King Rap and my dearly loved brother of the south in their campaign.” The familiar ugly face twisted with what a dwarf regarded as a grin, showing teeth like quartz pebbles in a beard of iron turnings.

Raspnex! He was closer, just over the mountains, and with him were two other dwarves—and Jarga, by the Powers!and a goblin and a shadowy figure who might be another goblin, and . . . and . . . And then Thaile yanked them all to the Meeting Place. That last one had been a mundane.

“Shandie!”

The imperor was thinner than he had been, gaunt and glittering of eye, clad in a nondescript and none-too-clean Zarkian robe. He beamed at Rap quickly, and then glanced around the glade with understandable astonishment. Pixies were materializing all over, answering Raim’s summons. Half of them were still in a state of undress, emitting shrill squeals of alarm as they registered the presence of so many demons. The archons were calling out occult reassurance, but Rap blanked that from his mind.

“Keeper! This mundane is the imperor! Let him also speak.”

No sooner thought than done—Shandie staggered in confusion as the occult world opened before him.

“Summon your imps!” Rap prompted in his ear. There must still be impish sorcerers at large. “Proclaim the new protocol!”

Shandie was an old hand at making rousing speeches. As he announced himself the true imperor, a small voice spoke from the east.

“King? We had certain assurances from your mate concerning Imperor’s good intentions.”

Rap stared in delight at the tiny man. “Ishist, you old rascal! I gladly confirm the imperor’s good faith.”

“This is strange, Rap!” Thaile whispered. “The Covin is letting them come! Why does it not seek to block this assembly?”

“We come, then, King!” the old gnome said, clutching Rap’s occult hand. A horde of male and female gnomes pattered down into the Meeting Place, scores of them.

Horde of gnomes? A mob of gnomes? A dump of gnomes, perhaps? No matter! Their help was welcome. Rap spared a brief glance Hubward. The Covin was indeed holding its fire, as the Keeper said. Why? Had Zinixo panicked at this sudden revolution? Again no matter! The freedom fighters would be more effective if they were all gathered together. If nothing else, that would make control easier and desertion almost impossible.

Now voices clamored everywhere in the ambience, demanding admission. Rap recognized old Vog and Wurnk in the far—off Mosweeps, with a large herd of trolls. He brought them. Thaile had set the archons to work, also, pulling in scattered bands from all over Pandemia—djinns, imps, dwarves, even a dozen female goblins from the taiga. The sorcerers of the world were rallying to the cause, and the Meeting Place was filling up.

“Rap!” Shandie said. “How can you be sure all these recruits are what they seem? There must be Covin agents among them!”

Rap thumped the imperor on the shoulder. “No. They’re being vetted. They can’t come in unless they’re brought. Deception is impossible, just about.”

“Just about?”

“Impossible. By the way, your wife and daughter are here in Thume.”

Shandie’s face went rigid with shock.

“King Rap,” the Keeper said, “there is something going on in the north. That is what is holding the Covin’s attention.” Shandie was clutching Rap’s shoulders and shouting questions. The Meeting Place was a tumult as the various races organized themselves in groups, every group eyeing all the others with wary suspicion. The ambience flashed and rumbled as the archons brought in more, and more.

Rap tried to see what was concerning Thaile, but it was too far off for him, and there was too much going on in between. “Probably the Nordland Moot,” he said. “Perhaps they have some sorcerers there. Not too many, I expect.”

Thaile eyed him darkly. “What’s wrong?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Gath was somewhere in Nordland.

The God had warned Rap that he must lose a child in this war. Kadie was safe, here in Thume.

Still, Gath would never have managed to penetrate the thanes’ moot and he wasn’t a sorcerer, so whatever the Covin was up to could not concern Gath. If that Nordland diversion was keeping the Covin distracted, then it was a Gods-send and must not be interrupted. Meanwhile Shandie

“What? Yes, they’re quite safe. Ylo brought them.”

“Ylo?”

Rap needed no sorcery to recognize the apprehension. “Ylo’s dead. I’m sorry. Two days ago. He died defending your wife and child from the Covin. No, I can’t explain at the moment. And no, you can’t go to her. Now shut up! I’m busy. Inos is here, too, by the way. And Kadie.”

Shandie said, “Congratulations!” in tones to be expected of an imperor who had just been told to shut up.

The Meeting Place was becoming crowded, but the races were sorting themselves out in groups. Mostly pixies, of course, a couple of hundred pixies. Thirty or forty elves stood by themselves in aloof disapproval. Imps were rarer, perhaps twenty. With his incongruous black kibr swishing around his ankles, Shandie went stalking over to deliver an oration to them. Thirty djinns at least, and those chattering near-naked little folk were fauns. The dwarves had assembled as far from the elves as they could get, but Raspnex had them under control. The trolls had wandered into the trees, sampling as they went.

The fifty or so gnomes had vanished under flower bushes, out of the sunlight. Unfortunately they were upwind.

And merfolk! Sitting in a cluster by the edge of the lake—at least two dozen blue-haired merfolk! Rap had missed their arrival. As sorcerers they could use power to restrain their racial curse, but it was still an eerie sensation to see a group of merfolk in the crowd. In the army. His army!