The short walk through the dense pine forest helped his eyes to adjust to the light and by the time he was marching along the road to Greenglade the sun scarcely bothered him at all.

For once Tungdil appreciated the buzzing insects, sweet-smelling grasses, and sunshine: Anything was better than the Blacksaddle.

V

Enchanted Realm of Lios Nudin, Girdlegard, Late Spring, 6234th Solar Cycle That evening the six magi assembled in the conference chamber to prepare for the ritual.

First they took away the chairs, leaving the malachite table at the center of the room. Then they traced a large white ring on the marble floor around it and filled the circle with colored chalk marks. The symbols and runes would serve to bind the magic energy conjured by their invocation and stop it from dispersing before it could be used. From there they would channel it into the malachite table.

It took hours to complete the preparations. Not a word was spoken, for the work demanded absolute concentration and an incorrectly drawn symbol would oblige them to begin the process all over again.

Lot-Ionan was the first to finish. Stepping back, he gazed at the malachite table, recalling its curious past. He had happened upon it fortuitously in a shop selling odds and ends. The dark green stone had intrigued him and on further investigation he discovered that the mine from which it was quarried was located on the fringes of a force field. His experiments had confirmed the stone's special properties: Magic could be stored in the malachite and set free upon command. In the following cycles, Lot-Ionan's discovery had saved Girdlegard several times over, for without the table to help them harness and channel energy, the magi would never have been able to hold back the Perished Land. Generations of wizards had turned the power of malachite to their advantage; now the council would draw on it again.

Turgur straightened up and looked at the circle in satisfaction. He shot a glance at Nudin. "He's up to something," he said in a low voice to Lot-Ionan. "Keep an eye on him."

"On Nudin?" Lot-Ionan asked, astonished. "Whatever for?"

Just then Nudin rose to his feet and glanced in their direction. A look of suspicion crossed his swollen features when he saw the whispering men.

"I can't explain now. I'll tell you later," Turgur promised. "You'll second me, won't you?"

"Second you?" The white-bearded magus had spent his life studying spells and conjurations and was baffled by Turgur's hush-hush tone.

Before he could probe any further, Maira summoned them to their places. The moon and the stars were shining brightly as the six magi stepped into the circle. It was time for the ceremony to begin. The copper dome parted, sliding back to unite the wizards with the firmament above.

Closing their eyes, they held their arms horizontally and began the incantation that would conjure the energy.

Each spoke according to his or her nature: Maira singing, Andфkai hissing and spitting, and Sabora whispering, while Turgur enunciated his words with a pride befitting his character. Their voices combined in a complex chant beseeching and commanding the magic to come forth.

Only Nudin and Lot-Ionan spoke as one person, reciting their formulae ceremoniously, as if respectfully addressing a king.

Lot-Ionan had not forgotten Turgur's strange whisperings. He stole a glance at Nudin through half-closed eyes and was relieved to see that there was nothing the least bit unusual about his behavior.

One by one the symbols surrounding Maira the Life-Preserver lit up, sheathing her in an iridescent column of light that reached high into the dark night sky. The maga of Oremaira was ready.

The glow surged around the circle, bathing each of the wizards in light. By now the citizens of Porista would be staring at the palace, transfixed by the extraordinary sight.

So intense was the flow of magic that the chamber crackled with energy, purple bolts of lightning scudding between the columns.

Maira laid her hands on the malachite table and the others followed suit. Lot-Ionan noticed that Turgur, eyes fixed on Nudin, seemed incredibly tense.

The energy coursed through the magi and flowed into the malachite, the dark green crystal pulsing with light. The six waited until the glow had intensified, then lifted their hands from the cool surface and stepped away.

"Go forth!" commanded Maira. "Go forth and strengthen the unseen girdle protecting our lands!" She recited the formula, and the magic in the malachite did her bidding, shooting from the center of the table in a dazzling blaze of white light.

As it streamed upward, Nudin seized his staff and thrust its tip into the flow. The onyx absorbed the light. A black bolt sped from the jewel, striking Nudin. As the energy discharged into his body, the wizard writhed and screamed in pain.

"The blackguard has betrayed us!" Turgur raised his arm, intending to dash the onyx from Nudin's staff, but an invisible shield protected the jewel.

As the last of the magic flowed into the onyx, the malachite grew dull and the light of the circle was extinguished. The ceremony was over: The energy had been harnessed and released. Nudin staggered back in exhaustion and leaned against a marble column for support.

Lot-Ionan turned to Turgur for guidance. The fair-faced magus had obviously suspected that something was awry. "He betrayed us!" Turgur raged furiously. "Nudin betrayed us to the Perished Land. If only I'd seen it sooner."

"Explain yourself, Nudin!" stormed Andфkai, striding purposefully toward him. She gripped him firmly by the shoulders and for a moment it seemed as though she might strike.

He beat her to it.

His fist raced toward her chin with such speed that she had no opportunity to defend herself. Andфkai the Tempestuous flew several paces through the air and slammed down on the malachite table. She lay motionless.

"You'd better tell us what you've done," Lot-Ionan commanded sharply.

Nudin drew himself up and smoothed his dark robes. "Be quiet, you old fool," he retorted, directing his onyx-tipped staff at Lot-Ionan's chest.

The four magi reacted immediately, steeling themselves to deflect a magic strike. Whatever was ailing Nudin had clearly affected his brain. Madness was not uncommon among wizards.

"Tell us what you've done," Sabora urged him. "This isn't about power, is it, Nudin? Was this meeting a ploy to increase your own strength? If Turgur's right, you're more foolish than I thought." She looked to the others for support. "Lay down your staff before it's too late."

"It's too late already," he informed her. "You made your choice. For hundreds of cycles you've been fighting it, when all you had to do was listen. Much of what it says is true."

"'It'?" Maira queried, horrified. "You don't mean the Perished Land? Are you saying you talked to it?"

"I learned from it," he corrected her. "I can't protect Girdlegard without changing it first. It's up to you whether you decide to help me."

Lot-Ionan reached for his staff. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing to consider. "Your actions today have turned five friends against you," he said sadly. "Your thirst for knowledge and power has led you astray. You should never have listened to the voice of destruction."

"You are wrong to call it that." Even as Nudin began to speak, his left eye and his nostrils dribbled blood, leaving thin crimson streaks on his doughy face. He faltered.

"Can't you see what it's doing to you?" Maira said gently. "You still have the power to renounce it, Nudin."

"N-no," he stammered, agitated. "No, never! It knows more than all my books put together, more than all the magi and scholars combined." His voice took on a hysterical edge. "It's what I dreamed of. Don't you see? There's no choice."