Jundag

by Chris A. Jackson

  “Once activated,” Lysethra explained, “the Void essence will flow down the core and through these portals, which connect with each of the seven participating cities. From similar portals in those cities, the essence will be released to the surface world. The mages estimate that it will take about two to three months to completely purge the surface of all life. Then the purge will be reversed, and the essence directed back into The Void. After that, we can colonize the surface at our leisure. And that is where you come in, sister younger.” Lysethra’s eyes flashed. “You will establish the first city on the surface world in the name of Xerro Kensho!”

  Jundag’s knees went weak, and he might have fallen if not for the magical compulsion to keep the baby in his arms safe. Your doomed world... Our new world... He remembered Calmarel’s words, and it all became clear. This plot went beyond invading his world, as Iveron Darkmist had planned—they meant to destroy it. Hopelessness threatened to overwhelm him, but he angrily shoved it back. His eyes darted around as he wondered how he might thwart their plan.

  How can you interfere when Calmarel controls every move you make? mocked the voice of his despair, sapping his resolve. He forced his panic aside; he had to pay attention, learn all he could about the citadel.

  “You know,” Lysethra continued as she beckoned them to follow, “participating in this has given me a new appreciation for wizardry. It takes such effort to learn, but the results can be extraordinary. I mean, look at Iveron; he was quite powerful and accomplished much with his magics, even more so,” she lowered her voice, “with those gems of his. You still have yours, don’t you, Cal?”

  Calmarel tossed her head impatiently. “Ivy was a fool! And yes, of course, I still have mine.” She patted the side of her robe. “Though why you insist that we carry them around is quite beyond me.”

  Jundag started, but the sisters didn’t notice. They were ascending stairs in a hurry, along with countless other nobles. No one took notice of just another slave. He felt his skin flush with the heat of anger; the gems had started this whole thing. He and his companions had gone into the depths of Zellohar to retrieve the gems. He had died so they could get those gems, and now Calmarel and her sister had two of them? That meant—fear tickled his spine—that perhaps Calmarel really had killed Avari, as she had boasted. Jundag had convinced himself that it was just another one of her lies, but...how else would they have gotten the gems?

  So lost was he in his tumultuous thoughts that he barely felt the tug of the leash as Calmarel pulled him into a large chamber, then out onto a balcony that overlooked the citadel’s central pit. Lysethra led them through the crowd of nobles to the side of a tall, skeletally thin woman with sharp features and deadly eyes. The woman flicked a glance over the sisters, then turned back toward the front. The mediator, he thought, seeing the bows that the sisters Darkmist granted her, and knowing that Calmarel would bow to no other.

  Looking around, he spied Grimlord Gorgoneye, saw him look down to the sleeping child in his arms. Jundag stiffened, then smiled a slow and deadly smile, and was gratified when the enemy noble blanched and moved away. That must be Druellae Gorgoneye, he thought, noting the woman beside the Grimlord who cast daggers with her eyes at Lysethra and Calmarel.

  Suddenly green lightening flared above, and was echoed below from the runes in the pit. The magical energies began to swirl in lazy cyclones that stretched and twisted toward one another. Slowly the light intensified and the velocity of the tempest increased. The very air became so charged with magic that it began to hum, and Jundag felt it prickle his skin. He cringed at the awe-inspiring display. All his life he had distrusted magic, and now his entire life was enveloped by it...controlled by it.

  Lightning erupted outside the balcony as the cyclone grew into a tornado and rose as a radiant column of light. Closer and closer the vortices approached one another, finally joining and pressing against the Void barrier.

  Then it happened. The Void barrier at the center of the vortex ceased to exist, and a torrent of Void essence—sheathed in the column of green magical energy—twisted and spun down through the core of the citadel. Despair gripped Jundag anew as he watched the Void essence flow out to destroy his world.

  Calmarel turned to him, glancing warily over her shoulder to where Lysethra spoke with the mediator. “You see, my pet,” she whispered with a smirk, “why your continued defiance is so futile? Your world is gone; my world is all that’s left. So you might want to rethink my offer...”

  They remained there a long time while the crowds filed out, watching the ebon Void essence flood down and through the seven portals below. And with every minute, Jundag felt his world slipping farther and farther away from him.

  “Dear Gods of Light, what’s happening?” Feldspar asked breathlessly as he rushed through Braelen’s study and into the sick room. Despite his years, he had raced here faster than the young messenger who had been sent to fetch him from the library. Braelen convulsed on the bed while the other members of the Royal Retinue attempted to still his thrashing limbs.

  "He’s failing!" Kenrah gasped. Across from her, Voncellia held the oldster’s other arm while trying to chant a spell of calming, which seemed to be having no effect.

  "Why don’t you do something?" Feldspar snapped at the high priestess of Demia, who stood off to the side. He was met by a bowed head and a shrug.

  “There is nothing to do.”

  "I...cannot—" Crellington began, struggling to hold the ancient wizard's legs. Then, as quickly as they had started, the spasms stopped.

  "NO!" cried Voncellia as their friend went limp. His rheumy old eyes stared off into space, as if peering into one of those faraway planes in which he took such delight during his life.

  "It is over," the high priestess sighed, extending her arms over Braelen’s body and bowing her head in prayer. "He has gone to the Keeper of the Slain."

  Kenrah’s sobs wracked her body as she bent her head over the old master's hand. Feldspar thought to go to her, but he had no comfort to give. He felt empty, as if Braelen had snatched up his own spirit as his left this world. Feldspar had watched many men die in battle, but none had affected him like this. Braelen had not been just a peer and a mentor, but a close friend, and Feldspar didn’t have many of those.

  And now I have one less, he thought helplessly.

  Kenrah’s gasp caught his attention. Even as she held the old man's hand, the flesh became insubstantial. The skin dried and crumbled, the fingers disintegrating into a powder as fine as talc. Indeed, his whole body crumpled as the uncounted years finally took their toll on the flesh that had been held together by magic for who knew how long. Finally, only a thin layer of powdery residue was left among the crumpled nightclothes and blankets. Master Braelen was truly gone.

  "I will inform Master Belregash," the high priestess wearily.

  “Why are you even here?” snapped Feldspar. “You couldn’t help, so why not leave this to your underlings?”

  The priestess turned a sharp eye on Feldspar, but her voice remained soft. “You were not the only ones to esteem Master Braelen.”

  Feldspar immediately regretted his anger; he might not have an abundance of friends, but Braelen had many.

  Wordlessly, she motioned for them to leave the chamber, and for her acolytes to prepare for the ceremony of passing over. The mages shuffled out and down the hall to the Royal Retinue’s study to stare at the empty chair where Braelen would never sit again.

  Avari strode toward the massive doors that led out of Zellohar Keep, barely noticing the dwarf who scurried up to DoHurley and whispered in the king’s ear. Rounding the corner and stepping outside, a blast of icy air slapped her in the face. Wind whipped through the inner courtyard, lashing through her thin clothes. Cursing, she dug in her pack for her cloak and pulled it on, but it was meant for warmer weather, and couldn’t repel this chill. Even Hufferrrerrr, whose body was covered with fur, was pulling on a cloak. Gods, it was cold! The spring equinox had been weeks ago, an
d the weather had been beautifully warm when they arrived here just two days ago. Now it looked more like a mid-winter blizzard was brewing.

  She squinted out into the courtyard and saw the dwarven guards huddled in the guardhouse, peering out at them.

  "This air is being most of the frigidity!" Hufferrrerrr called over the roar of the wind.

  "'Tis unnatural, I'm thinkin'!" DoHeney barked, squinting up at the slate-grey sky that darkened to black above the cliffs behind them.

  "It certainly is unseasonable!" Shay agreed.

  "Ne'r have I seen the wind blow inta the courtyard like this!" DoHurley said, looking up at the sky worriedly. "Even a winter storm usually gives us a bit o' warnin'. An’ the sky usually ain't so dark this early in the day."

  "Well, if we need to get to Refuge, we'd better get moving before it hits!" Avari said impatiently, her long strides leading them toward the gate. "I don't want to be on that narrow trail if it starts to sleet or snow."

  Their shouts of agreement were nearly lost in the wind, and the party followed through the great iron gate and to the head of the narrow path. A tempest coursed up the ravine, tearing at their clothes like unseen hands. The mages from Refuge huddled in terror, looking likely to topple off the cliff, so DoHurley insisted that they all be linked by rope tethers, the weaker folk between the sturdy dwarves. Regardless of the bindings, they pressed close to the wall of the mountain as they descended, lest the wind pluck them off the path like leaves from an autumn branch.

  The descent seemed longer than ever; they had to focus on every footstep just to stay on the trail. Finally they reached the valley floor, but it didn’t seem much warmer down here. Avari turned to speak to Hufferrrerrr, and stopped, mouth agape, pointing to the sky behind them.

  "What'n the name o' the Earth Mother?" DoHurley said as he stared aghast at the swirling black cloud that seemed to flow upward from within the Ironwall Mountains to tower over even the highest peaks. "It's gotta be the mother o' all storms!"

  An enormous bolt of black lightning exploded from the cloud, followed immediately by an unearthly crackle of thunder. Instead of a flash of light, darkness strobed across the sky.

  "That's no storm!" Prael called out over the wind. "No natural storm, at least."

  "Devil's work!" spat VerNolen, and the rest of the dwarves began to mutter and twist their fingers in a manner that Avari recognized as dwarven signs of warding.

  "Not devils, but the Dark Gods, I fear," Shay yelled above the wind. "It is too much of a coincidence; just as we discover that the cornerstones have left this earth, a mysterious storm materializes, an obviously magical storm. DoHurley, could this be a sign of the cornerstones’ destruction?”

  “Nay, lad!” The old dwarf’s tone was confident. “Them gems don’t do magic, they jist are magic. Someone else’s gotta do the doin’, if ye know what I mean.”

  “Well, I think whoever is doing this is using the gems. I know of no other source of power sufficient to conjure such a storm. And since we know that the Dark God worshipers have two of the cornerstones...” Shay’s words trailed off ominously. “What I do not understand is why they would take the gems to another plane in order to wreak such black magic on this world.”

  "Mayhaps they’re tryin’ ta freeze us ta death," suggested DoHeney halfheartedly as he rubbed his hands quickly up and down his arms to warm himself. Immediately a sick look twisted his face and he blanched.

  "Shay!" he gasped in horror. "Me poem! It's the Dark Scourge from me poem! I can feel it! It'll kill us all! Everythin’! The whole world!"

  DoHeney’s writing poetry? was Avari’s first thought. But the panic in the dwarf’s voice raised goose bumps on her flesh that had nothing to do with the wind's chill.

  "Calm yourself, DoHeney,” Shay said. “It is foul magic, to be sure, but it is no cause to—"

  "We'd best git ya ta Refuge!" DoHurley shouted as he waved his guards to encircle the group. "We gotta find out what in the name o' the Delver this storm is and how ta dispel it afore it’s too cold ta move."

  The group started across the vale en masse, save for a lone figure who strode ahead. Avari’s thoughts swirled in a tumult to rival the storm. The gems! she thought furiously. It always comes back to the gems!

  She had to concede that it probably wasn’t a fluke that the gems disappeared and the storm appeared. And she knew that two of the cornerstones were in the clutches of the Darkmist sisters. These were serious issues, of course.

  But what about Jundag?

  CHAPTER 21

  Irielnea surveyed the bustle in the foyer of Refuge with a critical eye. Crates of food and supplies were stacked high in the center of the room. Around the walls were piles of trunks, boxes, and bags; the personal effects of the Refuge guests. She watched in exasperation as a guest furtively looked around as he dragged a trunk toward the centrally located stores.

  “Master Dubresky!” she called out, startling the young man badly. “That trunk is far too large, and don’t you dare try to sneak it in with the essentials. You may take one small bag of possessions. If you want to take more, then you’ll just have to carry them all the way to Beriknor yourself.”

  They had only so many wagons on which to carry their supplies, and this was the third guest who had tried to slip in their extra luggage. She cast a severe eye at him and pointed toward the stairs. “Bring it back to your room please.” Shamefaced, he complied.

  Her sensitive ears picked up the sounds of shouts beyond the keep’s walls. “Oh good Gods of Light, we really do not need any distractions right now!” The unseasonable weather had hit them not two hours before, and she felt the hand of wizardry in it; thus, all was being readied to head for the lowlands. She could brook no delays.

  "QUIET, ye blasted fools! The situation's dire, but not so foul that we need be kept out in this infernal wind. Inside, quickly, afore me britches freeze to me backside!"

  Irielnea raised her eyebrows; who was that giving orders and demanding entry? Before she reached the door it slammed open, and her son and daughter and their friends stumbled in, shoving the door closed against the wind only with great effort. In the fore, Brok and Avari carried Voytek and Revria.

  “Mother!” Shay gasped when he saw her there. "What in the name of holy Tem is going on here? We must prepare to evacuate the keep!"

  "What do you think we’re doing?" Irielnea replied, irritated at her son's tone. "We're leaving for the lowlands. I wondered if the Dark Gods' minions would retaliate for your little expedition, but expected nothing this soon! What’s wrong with Voytek and Revria?"

  “We found them on our way here from Zellohar,” Lynthalsea said as she came forward. “They were not to come with us, and had left the keep several hours before us. But the storm overtook them and they took shelter in the woods. Thank the gods Tinarre was with them; he created a shelter in a copse of trees, so they’re just chilled, not dead.”

  “Well, Brok, you can tend to them in the parlor, if you would. It’s not quite fit out here for quiet work.”

  Brok smiled, bowed his head and headed for the parlor, Lynthalsea rushing ahead to open the door. Irielnea watched Avari hurry in, unceremoniously unburden herself of Revria, and rush back, trying to get Shay’s attention. But Shay was already pulling forward a gnarly old dwarf for introductions.

  “Mother, I am pleased to introduce to you our good neighbor, DoHurley, King of Zellohar Keep. Your Majesty, my mother, Irielnea."

  "Me pleasure, Mistress Irielnea," DoHurley said as he bowed low over her hand. “Please, jist call me DoHurley. 'Tis a shame to be meetin’ under such circumstances, but I’d like ta offer ye and all yer folk refuge in Zellohar Keep until this gods-forsaken weather blows over. We’ve got provisions enough ta last a year or so, and if this here storm goes that long, it won't matter much that we run outta the good tea."

  "Excuse me, Mistress Irielnea, DoHurley” Avari begged pardon as she inserted herself in front of Shay. “Shay, we have something to do...” She jerked her
head toward the stairs.

  "Yes. Mother, we must adjourn to the tower to conduct another scrying," Shay said. "This storm appears to be an attack by the nations of the Dark God, not any kind of retaliation. We think that the two cornerstones held by Iveron Darkmist’s sisters may be at the root of it, but we need more information. Would you please have some warm drinks and perhaps a bite to eat sent up to my workshop?"

  "Very well, Shay, but have a care what you stir up," Irielnea warned. Avari was already charging up the stairs two at a time, the rest following at only a slightly slower pace.

  Irielnea turned around, then stamped her foot and clenched her hands in frustration. “Master Imray, put that crate of blankets back right now, and remove your trunk before I have someone here turn you into a toad!”

  Once again, Shay’s workshop was crowded with the members of the party, with the addition of DoHurley, Hufferrrerrr, and Tinarre. Voytek—or rather Nazrael, a new and utterly obnoxious personality—and Revria had been brought up, wrapped in blankets and sipping hot cups of broth. Many more Refuge guests wanted to be included, but Shay refused them, insisting that too many wizards spoil the spell.

  Quickly, he glanced toward the far corner where Avari fidgeted and paced as well as she could in the cramped quarters. Around her were Hufferrrerrr, Tinarre and DoHeney, ostensibly keeping her company and out of the way of the spell casters, but Shay knew better. She had not been happy with his decision to search first for the gems, but DoHeney had calmed her down and maneuvered her away from the semi-circle of wizards around the scrying mirror.

  Marris had claimed the right to hold the diamond during this scrying, and she stood next to Shay, looking prouder and more capable than she had since her arrival at Refuge. At Shay’s nod, Revria mixed the spell components in her mortar.

  “Please picture in your minds,” he instructed the wizards, “a gem such as these two cornerstones, but red. We will search for the ruby first.”