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

by John Mangold

  Thayne stepped confidently forward onto the disc next to Maluem. However, as he transferred his weight from the platform, he suddenly lost his balance. In a flailing stumble, he staggered into Maluem, nearly causing both to tumble off her floating disc. It was only a desperate grasp onto Maluem’s staff that saved Thayne from falling into the darkened waters. He swiftly regained his composure, turning away to look down the tunnel ahead in an apparent effort to mask his embarrassment.

  “So, do we paddle, or will the current move us?” Thayne asked in a rush of words.

  “I am certain I can provide all the motivation our craft requires,” Maluem replied as she cast a backward force spell, sending the craft gliding quickly along the water’s smooth surface. It surprised her how much this simple spell seemed to tax her, but she figured this was only due to the exertions required to maintain the disc’s form in the water.

  During their journey, Maluem cast this same force spell to correct their course down the river. Each time, the casting taxed her far more than expected. The final time she cast, she caught a glimpse of a thin sheet of ice forming on the water’s surface beneath them. Maluem knew what this meant. She was drawing more from the air around her than from her incomplete Focus Point. If she did not know better, she would suspect that her connection with the staff had been severed somehow.

  As she scanned the water ahead, expecting Volo’s glow to appear at any moment, a strange shadow took form from Thayne’s Torch. Drawing nearer, she could see that it was a heavily rusted ladder leading up along the wall to a metal platform suspended from above. From there, a second ladder rose up to a blank spot on the tunnel’s ceiling, the only detail of note, a small box bolted at its center.

  “That’s the one, Dove,” Thayne called out. “That will lead us up to the lowest levels of the holding cells. Steer us over close so we can climb up.”

  As they approached, Thayne leaped from the disc and latched onto the ladder with exceptional dexterity. Turning back to Maluem, he outstretched his arm to offer a hand up. However, Maluem quickly rebuffed his offer with a shake of her head. As the disc drew near, she slid her staff back into its carrying case on her back and climbed up after him, mindful of the many rungs that seemed rusted to the point of structural failure. As they reached the platform, Maluem glanced down and rescinded the energy invested in the craft below. In a pulse, it was gone, dissolving like snow in hot water.

  “I cannot understand where Volo has gotten off to,” Maluem commented more to herself than Thayne. “Perhaps the ferd missed the ladder and continued on down the tunnel. I should call him back,” she remarked as she began reaching for her staff once more.

  “No,” Thayne suddenly exclaimed. “Best leave him be. Volo probably went on above to make sure the path is safe. If you pull him back now, we won’t have any idea what we are walking into.”

  “Above?” Maluem repeated. “Above where? There is no passage upwards from here, only this strange block mounted to the ceiling.”

  Without answering, Thayne pulled forth a cumbersome looking weapon from a satchel he had been wearing across his back. The device had a robust wooden grip with a short wooden stock attached. Both were bolted to a mechanical device with a large, cavernous barrel defining its far end. With a sudden, brutal lunge, Thayne slammed the butt of the weapon against the small, rusted block, breaking it free from the pitted surface above. As it fell, the point where it had been bolted slowly disintegrated, like falling sand, leaving behind a metal portal where none had been before. When Maluem looked down to examine the piece that Thayne had dislodged, she could see a marking on its underside that seemed vaguely familiar, like a crest of some sort. However, before she could examine it any closer, Thayne kicked it off the platform into the water below.

  “Intriguing,” Maluem commented. “I don’t think I have ever seen a camouflage spell quite like that. How did you know the best method to remove such an arcane artifact?”

  “Spell? Artifact?” Thayne repeated in a mocking tone. “Wrong on both accounts, Dove. That was nothing more than an old cloaking projector. A simple, mechanical device designed to conceal a hazardous access point from prying eyes.”

  “A solid answer,” Maluem admitted. “Although, I am curious as to what side of that hatch is deemed the hazardous area. I would think the eyes that need shielding would be on the other side of this portal.”

  “You will change your mind once I open it,” Thayne shot back.

  Before Maluem could delve deeper into Thayne’s dubious explanations, he was sliding through the overhead hatch, entering the level above. She stopped for a moment to give a final look down the tunnel’s darkness for Volo’s approach, but her concentration was shattered by Thayne’s urgent words from above.

  “Volo is already up here. He went on ahead to find Cruentus’ cell. Now get yourself up here. I need to get this hatch closed before someone stumbles upon us.”

  None of this seemed right. Why would Volo move on without consulting her first? Why didn’t Thayne want her to see the markings on that device? At this point, she had little choice but to keep moving forward. Still, a little voice in her mind told her to be wary. Something was at work here that she did not fully perceive, something that could bring about the downfall of her entire party.

  32.

  An Escape Interrupted

  As Maluem breached the far end of the portal, she immediately understood Thayne’s meaning. The stench of urine and fecal matter hit her like a physical force. The sheer weight of it nearly drove her back into the passages below. She could not help but envy Volo, as in his current form, he would not be subject to such hideous odors. For such an advanced society as this, their prison cells were in an appalling state.

  Looking around, she found the architecture much more familiar. The arching ceiling and curving walls were made of a rough-hewn masonry that would have been right at home in Camilos. The only detail that deviated from its southern cousins was a line of mechanical lights running down the ceiling's center. From their dull, sickly glow, it was apparent the devices were either in desperate need of repair or woefully underpowered. This proved to be no obstacle as Thayne’s electric torch illuminated the passage ahead quite well.

  As they progressed down the hall, Maluem could perceive many cell doors sunken into the left and right walls. All of these appeared to be dark, with no sign of life from within. On more than one occasion, Maluem thought of peering into the tiny, barred windows set into a chambers' heavy steel doors, but she thought better of it. Any poor soul inhabiting one of those wretched cells would surely cry out for release, a favor they had neither ability nor time to grant. Furthermore, the clamor that would surely result would more than likely earn all of them similar accommodations before any rescuing could be achieved.

  Maluem’s mind once again became preoccupied with Volo’s recent scarcity. At every turn of the passage, she hoped to see the familiar glow of his flame apparition form illuminating the way ahead. Yet time and time again, she saw only the choking darkness ahead. She began reaching back for her staff, deciding that whatever he might be observing was not as important as verifying he had not stumbled into some form of a trap when a hooded figure lunged from the shadows of an intersecting hallway.

  Throwing both hands out, palms flat towards their aggressor, Maluem cast an illumination spell on the surrounding walls and floor, filling the section of the cell block with blinding light. The spell was simple enough, one of the earliest she had learned, yet now that elementary casting nearly drained her completely. She had only a moment to muse at this before a familiar female voice called out.

  “Hold! I really don’t want to be blinded and shot, if that is quite alright.”

  “Shelia, you scared us near to death,” Maluem yelled as she lowered her illumination spell.

  “I did what to you?” Shelia replied, eyeing the business end of Thayne’s rifle, which was currently pointing directly at her head.

  “Ease back, brave knight,” Malue
m commented as she pushed the barrel of the weapon down with the palm of her left hand. “I am reasonably certain she is friendly. Shelia, have you seen any sign of Volo? We believe he went on ahead to find the cell we seek.”

  “No, we thought he was still with you,” Shelia replied. “We did find the chamber holding Cruentus, but it is going to be tough to get that cell door open. Torrez is looking at it now. I came back to retrieve you two.”

  Following close behind Shelia, Maluem and Thayne made their way through two more junctions before entering a long hallway with only a single door at its end. In the harsh light of Thayne’s electric torch, Maluem spotted Torrez’s form standing in front of the locked portal. Flanking the opening in the barren wall, two guards in elaborate armor sat inanimate on the floor, their cruel-looking bludgeons lying across their laps. The pleasant, sleeping smiles on the guards’ faces, along with the expression of pride on Shelia’s, told Maluem exactly whose handiwork was responsible for removing that obstacle.

  As they approached the door, Torrez looked back, his face grim. It was apparent he had not been able to overcome the next blockade to their progress. Maluem moved closer, causing Torrez to slowly step aside, allowing her a clear view of the object of his aggravation. Peering closer, Torrez twisted the ring on his right hand and held his palm out to a small latching device on the door as though to grasp it. However, a patch of skin on the back of his hand glowed brightly with a red warning rune of spell detection.

  “It’s a pretty complex lock,” Torrez explained while staring at the door handle. “But I am certain I can pick it. What worries me is that something is setting off my Spell Sensor Binding. There is a mystical trap set in this thing, and I have no idea how to keep it from tripping.”

  “Why didn’t you just get the key off of the guards?” Thayne offered.

  “Because those guards don’t have any keys,” Shelia replied. “Those two are only here to stop escape attempts and provide additional security for troublesome inmates. The foreman is the only one who holds the keys, and I don’t feel like asking him to borrow his set, do you?”

  With a grunt, Thayne stepped through the group and reared back with his weapon held in both hands, clearly intent on smashing the lock from the door as he had the cloaking device earlier. Lacking any kinder way of stopping him or the strength necessary to counter his momentum, Maluem cast a force bubble spell between Thayne and the door, sending him sprawling back. When he took aim at the lock, Maluem stepped into the device's path, blocking his attack.

  “Thayne, stop! You cannot deal with all such locks in the same way! Torrez is quite correct. There is a spell within this device, a trap spell.”

  “So what?” Thayne demanded. “Let me smash the thing and be done with it. If I blast it from a distance, it won’t have the range to hurt any of us.”

  “Let us suppose you do,” Maluem countered. “And we are fortunate enough that whatever spell it contains is one with a limited area of effect. We have no idea what it will do to the woman we intend to liberate, do we? This whole venture will be a failure if she is killed by our own fumbling. Furthermore, all spells are linked to the caster. None so much as trap spells. If we set this trap off, regardless of what it does or does not do to us, the caster will know the door has been breached. I am certain we will be visited by a large group of furious guards directly after that.”

  “So what do you propose we do? Stand here until the guards agree to let us in?” Thayne shot back.

  “Have any of you ever seen a Passive Spell Breaker?” Maluem asked the group. “No? Then allow me to display a little of the ‘flimflam’ we Sorcerers are so well known for. First, we must reveal the nature of the device. We need to learn how many contacts this spell retains with its caster if we are to block them. This is easily accomplished with a Clarity Spell, like so.”

  With a quick incantation and a wave of her hand, Maluem cast her version of this spell. The results were slightly different for each Sorcerer, depending on the school of magic they were strongest in. It merely caused the connecting tendrils every spell maintains with its caster to become visible to the naked eye for a short time. As her hand completed its pass, a sinuous thread took form in the air, made up of floating ice crystals. It started deep within the lock, running down the dimly lit tunnel to disappear in the gloom.

  “These tendrils are mere place holders,” Maluem explained. “Their physical form is influenced by the nature of my powers. Now that we have established the number and disposition of the links, we apply the spell breaker. Our goal is to convince the caster that the spell is still in effect while simultaneously convincing the spell that it has successfully executed its primary function. This takes a delicate balance of five spells, one to break and four to deceive. These I shall scorch in turn.”

  As Maluem spoke, her fingers traced the runes of the spells she desired to cast in the air before her. One in the center of her view, then each hand traced two spells each, one floating above the other. The exercise proved to be quite a strain on Maluem as she had to cast the Scorch spell while simultaneously casting each of the individual incantations for each of the five spells. The intense amount of energy she was pulling from the air around her became quickly evident by the thick layer of frost forming on the locked door, as well as the puffs of steam from the party’s exhaled breaths. Her efforts complete, Maluem had crafted five runes, scorched into the air in the pattern of an ‘X.’

  “Now comes the secondary challenge, the pattern of activation. These spells must be released in the proper succession and tempo to achieve the desired effect. Failure means the caster is warned, the spell activates, or both. If I was given the proper time, I could infer the exact rhythm of the Spell Breaker’s activation from the trap itself. However, since we are pressed for time, I have no choice but to improvise. And so, with a quick prayer for a large portion of luck, we execute our Spell Breaker.”

  Moving her hands in a flurry of motion akin to a dance, Maluem’s fingers flowed across the floating Runes, activating each in turn. With a flash of light and a gust of frigid air, each spell responded as ordered. The tendril was cut while two icons chased its retreating form and froze it. At the same time, the remaining two spells flowed into the lock and disappeared from view. All in the group drew in a ragged breath as they watched the ice-laden tendril, fearing that it might snap back into the darkness, alerting the spell’s hidden master. Yet, as they watched, the now truncated thread shrunk, not an inch, slowly fading into the surrounding dark.

  “That, my Acolytes and accompanying philistine, is how a Passive Spell Breaker is properly cast, in theory, that is,” Maluem said.

  “What do you mean, in theory?” Shelia inquired.

  “You never cast one before, have you?” Torrez put in.

  “Not as such,” Maluem replied, struggling to catch her breath. “However, I have studied them in-depth, and I believe this exercise has proven the theory as sound. Now, Torrez, please demonstrate your lock picking arts to the group. I might remind you that speed is of the essence as our time is surely fleeting.”

  With a thin smile still on his face, Torrez set to work on the imposing lock. In truth, Maluem felt she could have had a go at the device; she had received a great deal of unintentional training in lock picking during her years in the Archives of Camilos. However, this lock seemed a bit more mechanical than any she had run into before, so Torrez logically was the better choice to defeat it.

  More to the point, though, Maluem was far more fatigued by that Spell Breaker than she had anticipated. She knew it would be challenging, seeing as she had never cast one previously, but she had also expected a fair amount of assistance from her staff and Volo. Neither of these sources seemed to be very forthcoming at the moment. The latter was utterly absent in all intents of the word.

  Maluem could not understand where the man could have gotten off to. The only possible answer that fits both his disappearance and the lack of energy flow from her staff was that the Urendite Cr
ystals, powering her partial Focus, had failed. This would vastly limit Volo’s influence on the world around him, along with her ability to store or retrieve power from the staff.

  What actually concerned her was what could possibly cause a phenomenon such as this to occur? If these crystals were to prove as fickle as every other device this mechanical world produced, it could prove quite vexing to Maluem, but it could also prove fatal to Volo. That would not stand. If this was a sign of things to come, she and Torrez would have to produce a more reliable alternative.

  As she pondered this, Maluem softly pulled a sampling of magical power from each of her two new Acolytes in turn, being careful to drain neither of them too deeply. She had no intention of leaving them dry in the face of a potential confrontation. To her pleasure, both were quite forthcoming with their small gifts of energy. Knowing how she had often held back parcels of mystical force when she was an Acolyte, Maluem appreciated their faith in her. It was a trust she knew she had not yet fully earned, and she had no interest in betraying it.

  With a loud crack, the cell door’s lock succumbed to Torrez’s considerable mechanical skill. As Maluem approached his crouched form, she watched him readjusted the ring on his left index finger, deactivating his Discerning Binding. That particular bound spell she knew to cause the nerve endings in his fingertips to become hypersensitive. When she first deciphered the rune combination, she thought such a spell was without practical purpose. She had not considered its usefulness in detecting the subtle movements of tumblers in a lock. Using the binding in such a way provided him a sense of touch any professional safecracker would envy. With an appraising glance towards her pupil, Maluem made a mental note to keep a watchful eye on him should locked valuables be within reach.