Part 63 (1/2)

Kestrel reached out and grabbed at the thought as it flitted by. He closed his eyes and concentrated on where it was leading him. Astron would not challenge Caspar with wily words. He would use whatever solid facts he could and from them determine what must be done.

Kestrel s.h.i.+fted his focus as quickly as he could through the numbing haze of pain. Caspar-what was all that had been said about the prince in the times that Astron had spoken of him during the quest? He was a most powerful djinn with his weavings of matter, indeed perhaps the most powerful of all. But in Elezar's rotunda he had been chided for his lack of wit and unwillingness to challenge any wizard who sought-

Caspar was a powerful weaver, it was true. Kestrel churned the thought in his mind. But what was Caspar's strength of will? How well could he fare against the ar-chimage, or Phoebe, or even-?

”Surrender,” Kestrel yelled at the top of his lungs as he seized at the last chance. ”Surrender to him who will be your master. It is dominance or submission. There can be no in between.”

”You are no wizard-”

”Nor need I be. It is only a matter of will,” Kestrel gasped. The pain in his sides became excruciating. He thought he could smell the burning of his own flesh. But he lashed out with his mind, seeking the essence of the demon that held him, ready to twist and turn with his last dying gasp. There was nothing else to try.

Kestrel's sight dimmed into hot glowing yellows. Blindly, his thoughts exploded, not knowing exactly what it was that he sought. He felt his awareness expand in all directions, pus.h.i.+ng everything before it. All of his essence of being, his pleasures, his hopes, his fears, and everything of consequence boiled and churned, blasting all else aside.

Then Kestrel felt a resistance, something that slowed the outswell of thought that swirled midst the pain. Impulsively, he crashed against the barrier, at first skittering

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against the surface, but then striking it again and again. Visualizing mental arms and legs, he tore at the covering, trying to rip it asunder so that he could plunge inside.

The images whirled in his mind, but somehow even in the delirium of his pain, he stalked like a hunter, testing the seams of Caspar's essence one by one. He jabbed a finger into a dark creva.s.se; when he felt something softer than the rest, he thrust in his hand. Whatever was inside attempted to wither away, but Kestrel was quicker and grabbed and twisted as savagely as he could.

”Your minions might have victory,” Kestrel shouted, ”but you will not share in it, Caspar. I have come too far and changed too much to let it be so. I cannot weave, but it does not matter. My will is the greater because I fight for what I believe, not for some idle amus.e.m.e.nt to forestall an eventual dawn.”

Kestrel felt his fist rip and tear. A shudder coursed throughout all his body. He reached with his other hand and pulled at Caspar's being, spreading it open so that it was exposed. He felt a sudden wave of pleading protest, and then a smell of self-loathing that shook him to the core. Fear and submission flooded over him, drenching him in doubt and ultimate despair.

”Desist, master, desist,” Kestrel heard Caspar say. ”Stop your smiting. I am yours to command.”

Kestrel paused. He opened his eyes and blinked. He was lying astride Caspar's chest as the demon sprawled on the inky blackness of the node. Kestrel looked at his b.l.o.o.d.y hands where he had been ripping at the djinn's face; the flesh of one jowl was hanging limp and oozing green ichor.

Tears sprang into Kestrel's eyes. Mingling with the lingering pain, he felt a deep catharsis wash over him. After all these years, the burden was finally lifted. His first deceptions and every one that followed he could finally put aside.

He started to speak, but the node beneath him suddenly rumbled. There was a flash of light that lit the sky from the direction of Palodad's lair.

”Ah, even in my defeat,” Caspar slurred through the

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wreckage of his face. ”Even in my defeat, it sounds as if my master has still achieved his own triumph, whatever it was that caused him to direct me so.”

Astron's eye membranes snapped into place, but they did not help. The harebell pollen glowed with a white-hot intensity that was greater than any normal flame. Through a series of mirrors, the blinding glare ricocheted out of Palodad's lair and across the darkness of the realm in the direction of Astron's den, evidently a signal that the deed was done. Like a boiling sun, the sphere roared in incandescence , churning the air that surrounded it into waves of convective force. The metal platform on which it rested began to pool into a slaggy liquid. Nearby spars blistered and twisted. The wings of close-flying imps burst into flame.

But worst of all was the roaring hiss. Even though the air closest to the burning pollen had greatly expanded, it did not bubble away. Instead, sc.r.a.ps of parchment and small loose objects tumbled toward the flame, accelerating as they grew near. Then in a final rush, they vanished into the whiteness. The surface of the realm of daemon had been ruptured. Now its very essence was leaking away to the void of nothingness on the outside.

Palodad knelt down on his haunches and watched the sucking pressure increase its power. Oblivious to everything else and cackling at the top of his lungs, he s.n.a.t.c.hed imps out of the air and cast them into the flame.

”The rupture is but a beginning,” Palodad cried. He waved about the expanse of his lair. ”As more fuel is consumed, the opening will grow. Stronger will become the force pus.h.i.+ng every object into its ultimate dissolution. No matter where they hide, no one will be able to resist it. Eventually, all must tumble past Palodad, the one who reckons.”

Astron felt the wind pus.h.i.+ng against his back and rus.h.i.+ng into the orb of destruction. His entire body was alive with dancing sparks, but he no longer cared. Despite his last futile efforts, he had been unable to stop the mindless rush of his stembrain and to restrain the power that gave rise to the all-important spark. Now all he felt was the

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