“Now that we’ve settle that,” Quinn said, a bit agitated, “I think it best we’re gone before a zombie army starts gushing out of that tunnel.”
A faint splashing sound echoed up to them, almost drowned out by the storm overhead. But it put a sense of urgency back into their lives.
“Follow me,” Tane said, striking out away from the stream and deeper into the forest.
“Where to?” Quinn asked. “Is this the way to Caeren?”
“No, to Bracklin,” he said quietly. “I’m going home.”
Chapter 45
Nizar stopped. All he could see was the shifting blackness of the night forest. Wind howled in the treetops, drowning out all other sounds. At least the rain had stopped soon after nightfall, allowing him to dry out his clothes with a prayer.
Finally, they’ve stopped for the night, he thought, gently wiping at his tender nose with the bottom of his veil.
The tugging in his mind had grown steadily stronger over the past few minutes, meaning he was gaining on them. He had stopped to make sure, and was reassured when the tugging remained constant. Now he only had to give them enough time to bed down for the night.
Once he judged they had gone to sleep, Nizar eased through the forest as quietly as he could. That meant very slowly for him. Even so, he made entirely too much noise to his suddenly sensitive ears. Surely they would all be roused.
A soft sound stopped him dead in his tracks. It came again, a snorting sound. His eyes rounded, having heard rumors about the vicious boars of the southern forest. They were said to be big as a lion, and twice as ferocious. Then the sound came again, and he recognized it as human.
Squatting in place, he peered into the darkness intently. Soon he found what he was looking for. A dark shape was slowly pacing back and forth, like a soldier trying desperately to stay awake and keep warm. Though he was glad to find them, the fact that they had posted a sentry made his task all the more difficult. If it was the elf...well, he didn’t care to consider that.
Moving in as close as he dared, Nizar said a silent pray to Dakar, asking for the ability to see in the dark. His prayer wasn’t granted. Some things his Divine Master just couldn’t provide. He only wished he’d been given a list beforehand.
Once I am made a High Priest, I think I’ll do just that for the priests under me, he thought. I’m sure that will impress Dakar, and make Mogens furious. Dakar will surely wonder why His other High Priest hadn’t thought of it first.
The cloaked sentry reclaimed his attention by bending over to check something on the ground. Long dark hair fell out of her cloak’s cowl.
Raven! Thank Dakar, I can make her obey, he thought. Now, do I order her to fall asleep, or help me capture the swordsmith?
The spell on Raven was subtle, so none of the mages and priests in Kestsax would discover it. But that subtleness also made it less powerful. She would undoubtedly obey, but if Tane or someone else asked her why, she might reconsider and turn on him. She still had free will, though undermined to an extent.
I’ll put her to sleep, just to be sure, he thought. He would’ve liked to have her join him and Tane, so she could be sacrificed upon Dakar’s altar. But foremost in his mind was the fact that Tane’s four companions were one and all capable of tracking him down. That thought didn’t sit well with him. I’ll put her to sleep, then use my powers to make them all zombie slaves while they’re asleep.
With that thought, Nizar eased closer to the cold camp. He needed to be close enough for Raven to hear his command to sleep, and not wake anyone else up with it. It took far longer than he liked, but finally he came within whispering distance.
“Go to sleep,” he whispered firmly as the sentry squatted over something she had dropped on a patch of earth cleared of leaves.
Her head came up instantly, hand flying to the hilt at her waist. Nizar froze. Raven shouldn’t have reacted like that. Then the sentry rose and pulled a straight sword, not the steppe sword Raven carried across her back.
The witch! What a fool I am!
Joelle cocked her head this way and that. She started to ease over to the line of bodies just three paces away. But she stopped short, turning back to study the dark forest again. Nizar held his breath, even as he tried to think of something to do.
If he rushed her, Nizar believed he had a better than average chance of laying hands on her before she could react effectively. If so, she would be his to command, a zombie slave. But that same rush would make too much noise. The others would be on him before he could do anything more. He could only enslave one person at a time, and he had to lay hands on them to do it.
Joelle looked as if she was going to wake one of the sleeping forms, causing Nizar’s blood to pound in his ears. He was too close to escape if they were alerted to look for him. But she changed her mind, easing back to retrieve what she had dropped on the cleared spot.
She’s casting bones, Nizar thought, wondering if the bones would tell her of his presence.
If she became engrossed by her castings, maybe he could sneak up on her. Not likely.
If only I had that staff Mogens uses to enslave people, he thought.
The High Priest didn’t like to actually touch any of the prisoners, so had enchanted a walking staff with the spell. Whenever it touched someone, that person became a zombie slave of Dakar’s. If Nizar had such a talisman, then he’d only have to get close enough to jab her with it.
But nothing says I can’t make one, he thought with rising optimism. Nothing to say I couldn’t enchant, say...a simple rock or stick.
Gently patting the damp ground around him, Nizar quickly located a bit of rotting wood about the size and shape of his thumb. Now he just had to determine the best spell to attack her with. He could kill her outright, but that would deprive Dakar of a slave. Unfortunately, he couldn’t guarantee her reaction upon being enslaved. She might stand up and begin moving about, searching for him, searching for her new master.
A sleeping spell to keep her quiet, then. After I bespell the witch, then I can enslave the others at my leisure.
Nizar centered himself and waited for the “connection” to his God. Once he had that mental confirmation of Dakar’s attention, he prayed for the enchantment needed. In less than a dozen heartbeats his prayer was granted.
Nizar looked up at Joelle with a predatory grin.
She was still squatting over the cleared patch of earth, rolling the enchanted bones in her hands. At the same time she was being alert to her surroundings. Nizar waited, knowing his time would come.
Joelle dropped the bones and bent over to study them. Nizar rose up and took careful aim. He had to hit her the first time. No second chances. Failure meant death.
He let fly.
The witch jerked. Nizar had lost sight of the stick in the darkness. He tensed, ready to bolt.
Joelle slowly fell over and curled up atop her enchanted bones.
After a silent prayer of thanks to his God, Nizar eased into the cold camp. He restrained himself from kicking the witch in the face. That could be done after he enslaved her and all her friends.
Squatting beside her sleeping form, he reached out to touch her. One touch, and she would belong to Dakar, and be Nizar’s to command. With Raven already enchanted, it would be three against three if he was discovered and he had to fight.
A movement to his left startled him. One of the others was stirring. It was the swordsmith, in the middle left of the sleeping foursome, writhing in some nightmare. Nizar suppressed a curse, for the fool would wake everyone up if he didn’t stop thrashing about.
Moving faster than he thought safe, Nizar hurried to Tane’s side and touched his forehead. Tane stiffened, then relaxed. Nizar grinned.
Mine! At long last, you are mine.
His fate secured, Nizar looked northward, toward Kestsax. Soon, High Priest Mogens wouldn’t be supreme among priests. He would have a rival, if not an outright successor. Did Dakar really need two High Priests?
B
ut first he had to deliver Tane Kyleson to his Divine Master.
“Do not speak, slave,” Nizar whispered, looking around and trying to decide who to enslave next. The keen-eared elf was the logical next choice. But which sleeping form belonged to the elf? “Rise up and be prepared to defend me.”
Obediently, Tane flung his cloak aside and rose. Nizar’s breath hissed through his teeth, for the fool’s cloak whipped over to strike the witch’s mate.
“What? My watch?” Armin said with a gravelly voice.
Nizar reached for the Vikon, to bespell him. But Tane was still rising, and bumped into Nizar. The priest fell backwards, landing atop Raven.
“Hey!” Raven cried. “Get off me, you dolt!”
“Intruder!” Armin cried.
The rasp of steel came to Nizar from all sides. They were all awake, except for the witch. Tane was his slave, but that left three against two. But Tane had no free will. The others were all trained and bloodied warriors. And the half-elf could see far better in the dark than any of them.
“Follow me, Tane!” Nizar commanded and scrambled from the midst of his enemies.
A shape darted in front of him. It was Raven. Frantically, Nizar tried to think of a command that would set her against her friends. But Raven cut him off with a bellowed battle cry.
“Ashtar! Ashtar! Ashtar!”
“Die, Ashtarite!” Nizar growled, pointing a finger at her as he prayed for a lightning bolt through her chest.
Raven dropped to the ground before he finished his prayer, rolling through his legs. Nizar fell face first. Rolling aside, he kicked out at her and scrambled for his feet again. She was rising between him and Tane, not even paying attention to the swordsmith.
“Tane, kill her!”
“Watch out, Raven!” Quinn cried. “Tane’s been magically enslaved by him.”
The half-elf’s warning was too late. Tane had a choking hold on her neck, and was straining to end her life. Raven clawed frantically at his arm and face as Quinn charged in to help her.
“Bastard!” Armin growled, coming in low to Nizar’s left.
In desperation, Nizar prayed for fire and cast it at the Vikon’s face. Armin cried out in surprise and pain, falling back. Raven cried out in battle joy.
A quick look showed that together Raven and Quinn had wrestled Tane to the ground. Nizar cursed under his breath, for he knew that Tane was not capable of defending himself against those two, zombie or not. Then Armin was back stalking him, sword in one hand and dagger in the other.
“Damn you all,” Nizar spat. “You will all pay for this! I swear it!”
With that, he raced into the forest.
Chapter 46
Joelle cried out, brutally brought back to the waking world. Armin was kneeling over her, his hand raised for another slap.
“Hit me again, and it’ll be the last thing you ever do,” she said, eyes blazing.
He had never hit her before. Blessed Maag, how dare that bastard strike her!
“Are you all right?” he asked, the concern in his voice registering.
Joelle stiffened. The last thing she remembered was being on watch, and casting bones. Why was she on her back with her husband leaning over her?
“Oh my Gods, I fell asleep,” she whispered, blanching. Nothing so horrible, so humiliating had ever happened to her before. What would the others think? Would they still trust her? “I’m so sorry, Armin. I didn’t mean to. You have to – ”
“Not your fault,” he interrupted.
She grimaced, though. He would never blame her for anything. He loved and adored her. He worshipped her. But not the others. But if the others didn’t know...
“Is she awake yet?” Raven asked, coming up from behind Armin to look down in her. “Ah, good, she is.”
Joelle steeled herself for Raven’s, quite justified, torrent of abuse and scorn. But nothing came forth. Looking closer, she didn’t see any contempt or anger in her face, only concern. And splattered blood.
“Is she all right,” Raven said, brow knitted.
“I’m fine,” Joelle said, sitting up and looking around. It was still dark. “What happened?”
“We were attacked by a priest of Dakar,” Raven said, glaring daggers into the surrounding forest. “The bastard enchanted you and Tane before we chased him off.”
“We were afraid you were a zombie, too,” Armin said, relief evident on his face. “Thank Maag you aren’t.”
“‘Too’ you said,” Joelle said, realizing Quinn and Tane weren’t standing over her. “Who was enchanted?”
“Just you and Tane,” Raven said, starting to rub her nose as if it ached. Joelle noted the blood staining her lower face was still dripping from her nose. “It looks like Tane is a zombie.”
Raven turned and pointed. Joelle peered into the darkness and saw two dark shapes beside a tree. One was tied to the tree, while sitting back against it.
“Quinn’s keeping an eye on Tane while we check on you,” Armin said. “Do you think you can help him?”
Joelle let Armin and Raven help her up, then rushed to Tane’s side. He was quiet, too quiet. Though he struggled, it wasn’t with any real determination. She saw no life in his eyes.
All my fault! Joelle thought, horrified. Now she recalled the voice from the darkness that at the time she convinced herself was imagined. Why would a priest of Dakar whisper at her? This wouldn’t have happened if I had awakened Armin when I heard that voice.
“Tane, can you hear me?” Joelle asked.
“Yes,” Tane said, and continued struggling.
“You have to do something, Joelle,” Raven said. “You’re the witch. Break the zombie spell.”
“I’ll try,” she said, all the while wondering if Witchcraft could break priestly magic. She wasn’t even sure Sorcery could. Kneeling beside him, she took a deep steadying breath. “Everyone be quiet and still.”
Joelle tapped her precious hoard of life energies, now so terribly small. Never before had she allowed her hoard to become so depleted. But the war had left her so drained at the end of each day, with nothing left to store for later use.
Changing her perspective to magesight, Joelle studied Tane in detail. Nowhere did she see any sign of enchantment. It was going to be just as hard as she thought.
Laying hands on his head, she began chanting a spell allowing her to “see” curses and such. She didn’t find a curse, but did note a faint hint of magic swirling deep in his head. It was so strange, pulsing like a heart.
“I found it,” she whispered, so no one would blurt out a question in their frustration and break her concentration. “It’ll take a moment, so don’t be alarmed.”
Armin knew that. He would never disturb her spellcasting. But the others were unknown. Raven was beside herself with concern, though trying gallantly to act as if she wasn’t. Quinn was fidgeting like a child.
Knowing she didn’t have the life energies to complete the spell, Joelle held up her hand to her husband. He immediately entwined his own fingers with hers. An instant later his life energies began flowing into her, being directed to her hoard. She took only what she absolutely had to have, but felt guilty nonetheless. Like herself, Armin was exhausted and could ill-afford to give anything up. And he had no ability to hoard the life energies she needed.
Opening her eyes, Joelle glanced around before beginning her spell. Armin was intent on her, watching for any sign of strain like a hawk. Quinn stared worriedly at Tane. Raven was staring round-eyed at the Vikon couple’s clasped hands, overwhelmed by her fears of magic-users.
Joelle pushed them all out of her mind. Tane became the only person in her universe. She was the physician, her magic the knife. The zombie spell was an arrowhead buried within her patient, a patient who absolutely had to survive intact. When she began “cutting” she would have to be extremely careful, for the mind was the most unknown part of the human body.
Chanting, she tightened her spell’s weave until it appeared to her magesight as
a single thin strand. Then with a subtle change in her chant, she eased the spell into Tane’s mind. She went in slow and careful, ready to jerk out at the least sign of trouble.
The zombie spell’s pulsing increased – doubling, tripling, quadrupling – in less than a dozen heartbeats. She paused. Watched. Waited.
Nothing else happened. Tane didn’t “feel” distressed to her, though his attempts to break free of the ropes increased in proportion with the spell’s pulse. She continued on, moving in on the strange geas.
“NO!” Tane screamed, almost breaking her concentration.
“Hold him tight,” Armin commanded. Someone fell across Tane’s legs, jabbing an elbow into her leg in their haste. Harshly, Armin said, “Cover his mouth.”
Tane’s next outcry came to her muffled, as if through someone’s hand or a thick gag.
Her spell touched the geas. And recoiled.
“Ai!” Joelle cried, then clamped down on her mouth and retreating spell.
That was a first. She had felt pain using magic before, but that was the first time it had felt like a white hot poker was thrust into her forehead. But if she was hurt, the enslaving spell holding Tane was damaged even more so. It wasn’t as bright to her magesight, and it pulsed slower, weaker.
She thrust again, harder, deeper.
Searing pain!
Again, she thrust. This time with all she had.
Joelle and Tane screamed as pain and blackness took them.
The next thing Joelle remembered was Armin cradling her, rocking her back and forth as he knelt on the ground.
“Tane?” she asked though a dry throat.
“Free,” Armin said.
Turning her head, she saw Quinn tucking a cloak around Tane’s sleeping form. Raven gently caressed his brow while speaking softly to him, like a mother to a child.
“Some wicked pirate you turned out to be,” Joelle said, unable to put the tartness into her voice she wanted.
Raven smiled. “And some wicked witch you turned out to be. Thank you.”
Chapter 47
Belly of the Beast Page 20