A Manifold of Bindings (The Scrolls of Azbel Book 2)

by John Mangold

  “Nia spoke of the conflict going on up there, between Santilis and another country. But she would not say who the other country was or who they fought. Is the other nation Furaxis?”

  No sooner had the name left her lips than Torrez spat on the ground once more, clearly out of reflex, leaving a perplexed look on his face. After a long pause, he spoke, rather slowly at first, as though he was not sure of his own words.

  “As long as I can remember, Santilis has been at war with…with that country to the north. It began long before I was born, something to do with a contested, sacred island now a blighted waste. I can’t remember the name, or maybe I don’t want to. All I know is that it was only one reason.

  “Furaxis…” Torrez struggled in vain to withhold the reflex and then spat once more. “They invaded numerous times, murdering all in the towns they assaulted. Their forces were always driven off but at horrible costs. When their military wasn’t assaulting our borders, they would send in assassins. Mangled souls who, it is said, are the twisted remains of captured Santilis citizens. That must be a lie. I have seen the work of their assassins up close. I see it still in my nightmares. No true Santilis citizen could do such things to their own countrymen, no matter how tortured they might have been. No, they are the same as Kaedis. They are his Spawn…”

  An uncomfortable silence settled between them, causing Maluem to speak.

  “So, what is this conflict over? What is it Santilis wishes to gain from Fur…from their enemy? Surely there must be some goal they hope to achieve. Is it this Island they wish to reclaim?”

  Torrez slowly shook his head.

  “No, it’s not that simple. The Island does play a part, but neither Santilis nor those bloodthirsty choats across the sea seem able to hold it. I doubt either side really wants to. All I can say for sure is that when Shelia and I lived in Santilis, it all made sense. The war, the losses, the constant sacrifices, all necessary for our eventual victory. If I hadn’t been cast out by my Auspex, we probably would be there now.

  “But, when we crossed the border, when we lost all our upgrades, everything about the war just became so surreal. Now the whole thing just looks like one never-ending meat grinder, mindlessly devouring up everything in its path. I guess it is the one blessing of all that has happened to us. We escaped that nightmare.”

  “Speaking of Shelia,” Maluem remarked as she looked up into the night sky. “When were she and Nia due back from their errand?”

  “I don’t know. Nia said their errand might take an hour or two.”

  “Well, the moons are now clearly in the sky, and, by their positions, I would say it has been six hours since they left. We had best get this contraption roadworthy and venture into town to find them. Their disguises may not have worked as well as we had hoped.”

  16.

  A Musical Escape

  “There are times in my life when my faith in humanity is shaken to its core,” Nia said as she considered the cell bars before her. “When it seems like the populace has lost sight of the elements that create a society. They seem blissfully unaware of the simple rules of decency, respect, or gratitude that holds the fabric of civilization together.”

  “Yes, Nia,” Shelia mumbled, her head resting on her hand as she sat next to the Doctor on the cell’s single bunk, “I think we have heard this before.”

  “Now, let’s take a case in point,” Nia continued ignoring Shelia’s response. “Who did the guards say reported our presence in this fair town?”

  “Nia, you know who it was-” Shelia said.

  “Oh yes, it was that nice old gentleman farmer, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, Nia-”

  “The one with the donkey…”

  “…Nia…”

  “…The Donkey with the wounded leg…”

  “…Yes, but Nia-”

  “…The donkey with the wounded leg that I so kindly healed so the ferd could get his produce to the market.”

  “Well, he did say thank you-”

  “Oh, yes, he did say that, didn’t he? Well, that makes everything so much better. He thanked us. Then he trotted off to the local police station and mortoged on us the first chance he got.”

  “Well, he did say he had a family to think of, Nia. Remember the wife and three children he told us of?”

  “Ah, of course, we must remember his lovely family that would surely starve if he could not get his wares to the village square. It is not easy to overlook such a heart-wrenching tale as that. Unless I am much mistaken, it was in the interest of his little family’s wellbeing that he convinced me to heal that nag’s leg, quite a well-crafted con.

  “Tell me,” Nia inquired of the guard nearest their cage. “Is that old farmer gag a ploy you use often? I would suggest you give your agent a raise! He is truly a skilled actor.”

  The guard with her desk closest to the cage let out a long sigh of exasperation.

  “Listen, Nia, we have explained this to you three times already! Clovis was telling you the truth. That mule of his has been lame for over a month now. I am sure he was very grateful to you for healing it. However, there were three murders reported in the big city west of here, and now we have had six disappearances in the last week. This is a small town, and things like that just don’t happen in these parts. Everyone has gotten more than a little edgy about it lately. Clovis was just being careful.

  “Besides,” she added with a bit of a stern look, “if it hadn’t been for the warrant out for your arrest, we wouldn’t have bothered to follow up on his report. What in Azbel does the military want with you anyway?”

  “Private Pinbrooke, is it?” Nia asked.

  “Now, Nia-” Shelia began.

  “Well, Private, if the high command didn’t think you should know, then who am I to question their wisdom. I suggest you stick to cataloging farm animal injuries and leave the important business to those above your station.”

  “Well, you obviously aren’t being sought after because they miss your winning charm,” chimed in a tall, young Sergeant perched on the edge of Private Pinbrooke’s desk. “You must have some bedside manner, Doctor.”

  Nia began muttering something dark about her physician’s oath when Shelia broke in.

  “Please forgive my companion, Sergeant…Artes…? She normally isn’t anything like this. It has been a tough week.”

  “Life generally is hard for those defying the law,” replied Sergeant Artes.

  “It really isn’t anything like that. You see, Nia…” Shelia paused, noticing the threatening glare Nia had fixed her with. “Well, let’s just say the Military has dire need of her skills. However, Nia has a practice of her own, and the timing has proven inconvenient. She only asked for a month to get her affairs back in order before she would report for duty, but the Officer in Charge didn’t see it that way, so…”

  “She has forsaken her License?” Private Pinbrooke piped up.

  “You could put it that way-” Shelia replied, giving Nia a rather sheepish look.

  “That is the only way to put it,” retorted the Sergeant. “So, how are you connected to all of this? The military is not looking for you. Have you been assisting this reprobate?”

  “Well, yes and no,” Shelia replied with a slight laugh. “You see, she is my sister. I know, the resemblance is hard to see, but if you look closely at our noses, and the way our eyebrows arch…”

  “Oh, give it a rest Shelia,” Nia growled. “Can’t you tell they don’t care about our lineage? Just let the lackeys get back to their jobs and allow me to suffer my incarceration in peace.”

  “Lackeys?” the sergeant repeated, suddenly rising from his perch.

  “Please, listen to me,” Shelia cut in quickly, approaching the bars of the cells to whisper to the two Police Officers. “I know this looks bad, but it really isn’t her fault. She gets in these moods every so often, and she can be a real pill. But, I know how to calm her down. Just let me have my Wheeled Fiddle. I am a musician by trade, and my songs always
soothe her nerves. If you let me play us all a tune, it will make our stay go much faster for all of us.”

  “I don’t know,” Private Pinbrooke said. “That isn’t regulation…”

  “Please?” Nia pleaded. “I promise it will be a treat. I have played all around the Capitol to rave reviews. Why I once received an invitation to play for the Prime Minister himself! It was quite an honor, and I would have loved to have performed at the Capitol Mansion, but I received a much higher calling as fate would have it. It’s a funny story, you see-”

  “Oh, for the love of Azbel, would you just give her the blighted Harp,” Nia snapped. “If nothing else, it will shut her up!”

  Sergeant Artes shot Nia a dark glare.

  “Let’s suppose we do give you back your instrument. You must first promise me two things. First, that you won’t try anything funny with it-”

  “Such as?” Nia demanded. “Shattering hardened steel with an instrument made of wood and tin, perhaps?”

  “…and that you will be able to use it to put a cork in your sister’s mouth.” finished Artes with a sneer.

  “I promise on both accounts,” Shelia quickly answered.

  With a nod, Private Pinbrooke retrieved Shelia’s device from a nearby metal locker. Once it was in her hands, a look of comfort came quickly into her eyes.

  “I really hate to be away from my dear Othris,” Shelia murmured as she caressed her musical instrument. Noticing the two Officers’ bewildered looks, she explained, “That is the name I gave my Wheeled Fiddle. It is a common practice of all the finest musicians.”

  “Curious how you adopted the habit,” Nia said from behind her.

  Ignoring Nia’s snide remark, Private Pinbrooke chirped up.

  “Why not play a little ‘Rooster’s Waltz?’ That was always a favorite of mine.”

  “That is a crowd-pleaser,” Shelia admitted as she adjusted the strings. “But a bit fiery for the current mood. I have a better tune to start with. I learned this one from an old gent who called it ‘The Broken Blossom Blues.’ Now, there is an interesting story behind it that goes…”

  “For the love of…you always play that miserable tune,” Nia objected, squeezing her eyes shut while jamming a finger in each ear. “Let me know when she plays something worth hearing.”

  Ignoring Nia’s harsh words, Shelia began spinning the instrument’s wheel, moving her fingers across a myriad of levers as she did so. With each movement of her fingertips, wondrous notes began to flow forth from her hands, filling the room with their soothing tones. Though no words accompanied them, they seemed to tell a tale as old as the sky itself, with a different interpretation for every listener. In a matter of ticks, the effects of Nia’s skill was becoming evident in both officers. Their postures relaxed, the tension in their muscles flowing out as the melody weaved a soothing tapestry about them.

  Private Pinbrooke slowly lifted herself from her chair as though in a trance. Her arms flowed around her as she began to dance to the music. Her form spun this way then that at the command of the rhythm as her feet sketched out a country box trot.

  Sergeant Artes watched her movements in amused surprise at first. But, as the Private’s dance continued, his eyelids became obviously heavy. His arms that supported him in his perch on the desk began to buckle until he lay utterly flat across the tabletop. His eyes were closed a tick later, his mouth emanating a steady flow of snores and unintelligible mumbles.

  As Pvt. Pinbrooke continued her performance. The heavy belt which carried her tools of office seemed to encumber her. At the subliminal coaxing of the tune, she slowly unbound the buckle until it slipped from around her slender midsection. With a casual swing of her arm, she tossed the belt across the room to land just outside the cell’s bars. She flowed with her dance a few steps more, then, as the tune slowly wound down to its conclusion, she spiraled down to the floor until her body was curled up in a neat pile at the foot of her desk. With that, the melody reached its conclusion, leaving the room silent, except for the two guarding police officers' snoring.

  With a smile, Nia pulled her fingers from her ears and moved quickly to the bars.

  “Perfectly done, Shelia, though I wish you could have coaxed her into tossing the belt a little harder,” Nia said as she reached through the bars to touch the discarded belt with her fingertips.

  “Well, the effect is very fragile, Nia,” Shelia began, a tone of hurt evident in her voice. “If I push too hard, I might shatter the effect, making it almost impossible to subdue them again.”

  “No, no, you did wonderfully, Shelia,” Nia said as she pulled the belt into the cell, the jailer’s keys off their latch and into her hand. “I was just nit-picking. However, we do need to figure out a new ploy. I am getting tired of playing the heavy in our little skits.”

  “But you do it so well,” Shelia shot back with a smile. “Besides, you seem to have drawn new inspiration from somewhere. I could swear you sounded a bit like Maluem-”

  “Yes,” Nia replied as she unlocked the door to their cell. “That woman appears to be a bad influence on me. Perhaps you two becoming her apprentices is not the wisest path. But, never mind that now. How long will these two be out?”

  “I should have put them down for forty-five minutes to an hour,” Shelia replied with a smile of satisfaction. “We should have plenty of time to take our leave.”

  “Well then, track down the last of our personal effects, and we will be on our way,” Shelia said with a nod. “The farther we are away when they come to, the better.”

  Moving quickly around the office, the pair gathered up what was theirs, along with a few items that seemed useful, and proceeded to the door. It turned out the jail was relatively small, with only two chambers between them and the outside door. As they approached the exit, they could hear the rain falling on the paved street beyond. It was an exhilarating sound for, at that moment, it represented freedom.

  However, just as Nia’s hand reached for the latch on the massive portal, Shelia gasped in horror. Following her companion’s wide-eyed gaze, Nia noticed that water seeping under the armored door onto the room's cement floor was quickly turning to steam. The vaporized water flowed up the portal's surface like phantom snakes, seeking a path to the outside. As the tendrils reached the top of the door, their serpentine forms flowed through seams in the massive door’s frame, disappearing into the world beyond.

  The building shook suddenly from a thunderous explosion, causing dust to fall from the ceiling. At first, both thought it was a frighteningly close lightning strike, but the sound of debris sprinkling the roof above told a different tale. With no windows in easy sight, it was impossible to understand precisely what was going on outside, but from the muffled yells that filtered in through the door, it seemed they were exiting into a fight. This could be just the distraction their escape needed or a tragic end to their journey. Both feared discovering what awaited them outside, but staying inside the jail until their captors awoke was not appealing either. Their choice had become, remain in the griddle or jump into the flame.

  Nia slowly turned the latch on the door, swinging its massive bulk outward. She had only a tick to notice the blinding illumination flowing in from what should have been a pitch-black exterior before their whole world exploded. Neither knew what hit them.

  17.

  Reunion Interrupted

  As they approached the town’s outer limits, Torrez deactivated a rune-switch on the vehicle’s dashboard, extinguishing the forward lamps. It was a risky tactic, given that neither of them had intimate knowledge of the town’s streets, but it was necessary to alert as few as possible to their approach. With no bright lights to attract the eye, their only signature now was the commotion caused by the B.B.’s internal mechanisms. Torrez took care of this next. Pushing down hard on a floor peddle, he disengaged the drive, allowing the buggy to coast freely. With a flick of a second rune-switch, the engine ceased its riotous warbling, leaving the whistle of the wind as their only co
mpanion.

  Even in the combined light of the moons, Maluem marveled at the town they entered. The layout of the skyline was magnificent in its eclectic nature. Highly advanced structures made their homes next to cabins similar to those in Camilos. The combination of the two created an oddly exotic scene, with advanced technology beyond her understanding bonded with architectural elements she had seen all her life. Maluem was captivated from her first glance.

  Some of the more modern-looking structures appeared to be designed for purposes they were no longer serving, possibly because the current owners had no idea what that original purpose was. A store’s pillars looked sufficient to bolster a castle's ramparts yet held only a light roof. Struts sprang from the facade of another robust enough to support an overhead bridge, yet their only burden was a Cobbler’s sign. Even to Maluem’s limited knowledge of architecture, these elements appeared surreal.

  What made all of this more confusing was trying to guess the age of any of the architecture. The complex structures looked to be stained by the passage of many decades, yet the more superficial structures squatting next to them appeared to be but a few years old. Each looked to be sculpted by a different hand, with aesthetics hardly complimenting its neighbor. If this town were a person, Maluem would strongly suggest they seek some form of therapy.

  Fat, cold raindrops fell from the darkening skies above, bringing Maluem back to the present with a jolt. This was all far too distracting to a woman who, at the moment, had more pressing matters to attend to.

  There will be plenty of time to make such academic observations of the architecture later. Maluem internally chided herself. Concentrate on the matter at hand, girl. You are the ferd that got them into this mess. You had better be the one that gets them out!