Nakor said, ‘Maybe it’s in his nature, but the Nameless One did things that defeated his own purpose. He created a situation that resulted in his being cast out, imprisoned far away.
‘Seven gods once lived in balance, each according to its nature. Whatever the reason, the balance was upset. The Chaos Wars caused the destruction of two of the Controllers, for they had to act to preserve what was left of this world. The Matrix, Ishap, the most important god of the seven, is gone. The Good Goddess, Arch-Indar, is also gone, and the Nameless One had to be banished, confined by the other four. His counterpart is dead and the god who kept all in balance is dead, so the remaining four, Abrem-Sev, Ev-dem, Graff, and Helbinor, had to act. They had no choice.
‘So in the end, we’re left with a world out of control, unbalanced, lacking cohesion. This is why so many strange things occur on Midkemia. It makes it an interesting place to live, but a little dangerous.’
Pug said, ‘Is this speculation or do you know these things?’
Nakor pointed to the artifact. ‘Dominic?’
‘He knows,’ said the Abbot of Sarth. ‘That device was carried by the High Priest of Wodar-Hospur, the God of Knowledge. Reputedly, any question that a man can ask is answered in the Codex. But the price to carry it is extreme. It requires the combined effort of dozens of other clerics in the temple to combat the madness that results from the High Priest’s inability to dream.’ He looked at the Isalani. ‘Nakor, how did you escape the madness?’
Nakor grinned. ‘Who said I did?’
Pug said, ‘I have often thought you a little odd, but never have I judged you truly mad.’
Nakor said, ‘Well, the thing about madness is you can only be crazy so long. After that you either kill yourself or you get better. I got better.’ He grinned. ‘It also helped when I stopped sleeping in the same room with the damn thing.’
Sho Pi said, ‘How is it that you’ - he pointed to Tomas - ‘who wear the mantle of the Valheru, and you’ – he pointed to Pug - ‘who were the master of two worlds of magic, and you’ - he pointed at Nakor - ‘who possess this item, and Macros, who was Sarig’s agent, are all together at this point in history?’
‘We are here to help,’ said Nakor. ‘The gods may have planned it this way, but for whatever reason, we need to repair the damage done so many centuries ago.’
‘Can we?’ asked Miranda.
Nakor said, ‘We cannot. Only one being in this world possesses the nature to attempt this.’ He turned and looked at Calis. ‘Can you?’
‘I don’t know,’ answered Calis. ‘But I must try.’ His eyes returned to the Iifestone. ‘Very soon.’
Nakor said, ‘And our job is to keep him alive hong enough to try.’
Erik stood behind the lines, watching as his men repulsed another attack, waiting for another assault; Duko was good, and none of his attacks during the day had been wasted effort. It had taken every trick he knew and calling in the reserves for Erik to repulse him. Runners carried messages from the other areas of the line, and the news was not good.
The Kingdom was holding, but the entire line was sorely pressed. Patrick feared there was going to be a breakthrough eventually. It was the reason he was withholding the elements of the Army of the East that were camped below the eastern foothills. They stood ready to respond to any incursion. A small army had been sent to impose itself between any forces that might get through and the abandoned city of Sethanon.
It was late afternoon, and when Erik heard the enemy trumpets sound the retreat, he breathed a sigh of relief. A runner had returned from Darkmoor with his uniform, and he welcomed fresh clothing. He was covered in dirt, blood, and smoke, and while he didn’t take the time to bathe, a fresh shirt and trousers would improve his mood. After he had changed, Jadow came into the tent and said, ‘We’ve got word some of the enemy have slipped across the ridge line and are holed up in a little canyon a mile north of here.’
‘Get a squad and go root them out,’ said Erik. ‘If you need help, grab whoever’s close by, but get those men dug out of there.’
Jadow left and Erik sat down in the command tent. He pawed through the pile of reports and dispatches, and found nothing that required his immediate attention. He rose and left the tent and hurried to where food was being served to the men. He refused to move to the front of the line, so he was only a few feet away from getting his rations when a horseman rode up.
It was Dashel Jameson, who waved. Erik looked at the bubbling pot of stew with some regret as he left the line and said, ‘Hello!’
Dash dismounted. ‘The Prince sent me to tell you that the Earl of Loriel has been found other duties.’ Lowering his voice, he said, ‘If any other noble rides through and troubles you, I’m to . . . facilitate.’