The Hidden City. David Eddings

Gods could do, they could also undo, and the spell which hath returned Klæl was implicit in the spell which did cast Klæl out. Clearly, some mortal conversant with the spells of the Elder Gods hath reversed the spell of casting out, and Klæl hath returned.’

      ‘Can he – or it – be destroyed?’

      ‘It is not “he” of which we speak, nor do we speak of some “it”. We speak of Klæl. But nay, Anakha, Klæl cannot be destroyed – no more than can I. Klæl is eternal.’

      Sparhawk’s heart sank. ‘I think we’re in trouble,’ he muttered to his friends.

      ‘The fault is in some measure mine. So caught up was I in the birth of this latest child of mine that mine attention did stray from needful duties. It is my wont to cast Klæl out at a certain point in the making of a new world. This particular child did so delight me, however, that I delayed the casting out. Then it was that I did encounter the red dust which did imprison me, and the duty to cast Klæl out did devolve upon the Elder Gods. The casting-out was made imperfect by reason of their imperfection, and thus it was possible for Klæl to be returned.’

      ‘By Cyrgon?’ Sparhawk asked bleakly.

      ‘The spell of casting out – and returning – is Styric. Cyrgon could not utter it.’

      ‘Cyzada then,’ Sephrenia guessed. ‘He might very well have known the spell. I don’t think he’d have used it willingly, though.’

      ‘Cyrgon probably forced him to use it, little mother,’ Kalten said. ‘Things haven’t been going very well for Cyrgon and Zalasta lately.’

      ‘But to call Klæl!’ Aphrael shuddered.

      ‘Desperate people do desperate things,’ Kalten shrugged. ‘So do desperate Gods, I suppose.’

      ‘What do we do, Blue Rose?’ Sparhawk asked. ‘About Klæl, I mean to say?’

      ‘Thou canst do nothing, Anakha. Thou didst well when thou didst meet Azash, and doubtless will do well again in thy dispute with Cyrgon. Thou wouldst be powerless against Klæl, however.’

      ‘We’re doomed then.’ Sparhawk suddenly felt totally crushed.

      ‘Doomed? Of course thou art not doomed. Why art thou so easily downcast and made disconsolate, my friend? I did not make thee to confront Klæl. That is my duty. Klæl will trouble us in some measure, as is Klæl’s wont. Then, as is our custom, Klæl and I will meet.’

      ‘And thou wilt once more banish him?’

      ‘That is never certain, Anakha. I do assure thee, however, that I will strive to mine utmost to cast Klæl out – even as Klæl will strive to cast me out. The contest between us doth lie in the future, and as I have oft told thee, the future is concealed. I will approach the contest with confidence, however, for doubt doth weaken resolve, and timorous uncertainty doth weigh down the spirit. Battle should be joined with a light heart and joyous demeanor.’

      ‘You can be very sententious sometimes, World-Maker,’ Aphrael said with just a hint of spitefulness.

      ‘Be nice,’ Bhelliom chided mildly.

      ‘Anakha!’ It was Ghworg, the God of Kill. The huge presence came across the frosty meadow, plowing a dark path through the silver-sheathed grass.

      ‘I will hear the words of Ghworg,’ Sparhawk replied.

      ‘Have you summoned Klæl? Is it your thought that Klæl will aid us in causing hurt to Cyrgon? It is not good if you have. Let Klæl go back.’

      ‘It was not my doing, Ghworg. Neither was it the Flower-Gem’s doing. It is our thought that it was Cyrgon who summoned Klæl to cause hurt to us.’

      ‘Can the Flower-Gem cause hurt to Klæl?’

      ‘That is not certain. The might of Klæl is even as the might of the Flower-Gem.’

      The God of Kill squatted on the frozen turf, scratching at his shaggy face with one huge paw. ‘Cyrgon is as nothing, Anakha,’ he rumbled in an almost colloquial form of speech. ‘We can cause hurt to Cyrgon tomorrow – or some time by-and-by. We must cause hurt to Klæl now. We cannot wait for by-and-by.’

      Sparhawk dropped to one knee on the frozen turf. ‘Your words are wise, Ghworg.’

      Ghworg’s lips pulled back in a hideous approximation of a grin. ‘The word you use is not common among us, Anakha. If Khwaj said, “Ghworg is wise”, I would cause hurt to him.’

      ‘I did not say it to cause you anger, Ghworg.’

      ‘You are not a Troll, Anakha. You do not know our ways. We must cause hurt to Klæl so that he will go away. How can we do this?’

      ‘We cannot cause hurt to him. Only the Flower-Gem can make him go away.’

      Ghworg smashed his fist against the frozen ground with a hideous snarl.

      Sparhawk held up one hand. ‘Cyrgon has called Klæl,’ he said. ‘Klæl has joined Cyrgon to cause hurt to us. Let us cause hurt to Cyrgon now, not by-and-by. If we cause hurt to Cyrgon, he will fear to aid Klæl when the Flower-Gem goes to cause hurt to Klæl and make him go away.’

      Ghworg puzzled his way through that. ‘Your words are good, Anakha,’ he said finally. ‘How might we best cause hurt to Cyrgon now?’

      Sparhawk considered it. ‘The mind of Cyrgon is not like your mind, Ghworg, nor is it like mine. Our minds are direct. Cyrgon’s is guileful. He threw your children against our friends here in the lands of winter to make us come here to fight them. But your children were not his main force.

      ‘Cyrgon’s main force will come from the lands of the sun to attack our friends in the city that shines.’

      ‘I have seen that place. The Child Goddess spoke first with us there.’

      Sparhawk frowned, trying to remember the details of Vanion’s map. ‘There are high places here and to the south,’ he said.

      Ghworg nodded.

      ‘Then, even further south, the high places grow low and then they become flat.’

      ‘I see it,’ Ghworg said. ‘You describe it well, Anakha.’ That startled Sparhawk. Evidently Ghworg could visualize the entire continent.

      ‘In the middle of that flat place is another high place that the man-things call the Tamul Mountains.’

      Ghworg nodded in agreement.

      ‘The main force of Cyrgon’s children will pass that high place to reach the city that shines. The high place will be cool, so your children will not suffer from the sun there.’

      ‘I see which way your thought goes, Anakha,’ Ghworg said. ‘We will take our children to that high place and wait there for Cyrgon’s children. Our children will not eat Aphrael’s children. They will eat Cyrgon’s children instead.’

      ‘That will cause hurt to Cyrgon and his servants, Ghworg.’

      ‘Then we will do it.’ Ghworg turned and pointed toward the landslide. ‘Our children will climb Klæl’s stairway. Then Ghnomb will make time stop. Our children will be in the high place before the sun goes to sleep this night.’ He stood up abruptly. ‘Good hunting,’ he growled, turned and went back to join his fellows and the still terrified Trolls.

      ‘We still have to proceed as if things were normal,’ Vanion told them as they gathered near the fire a couple of hours past noon. The sun, Sparhawk noted, was already going down. ‘Klæl can probably appear at any time and any place. We can’t plan for him – any more than we can plan for a blizzard or a hurricane. If you can’t plan for something, about the only thing you can do is take a few precautions and then ignore it.’

      ‘Well spoken,’ Queen Betuana approved. Betuana and Vanion were getting along well.

      ‘What