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Concordance

Page 15

by Cameron Hayden


  I looked back, and saw a thin, scarecrow-like man in the dark corner of the cell, his face buried in his hands.

  My captor turned sharply to leave, his cloak billowing wildly behind him. I moved toward him, but the door slammed shut before I could continue. I knelt, looking through a small, barred window near the middle of the door.

  “What about my friend?” I shouted to him.

  The cloaked man stopped, and glanced back at me. I saw the full contours of his monstrous face. He was a twitching mass of writhing flesh. The best term I can use to describe him would be infested by some malignant creature. He was hardly human anymore.

  “Answer the High Priest’s questions, heed his words, and you may yet escape the same fate as her, Professor Rycroft.”

  I wore my surprise plain on my face. How could he possibly know my name? Had he gotten it out of Magister Annora? Were they torturing her? I didn’t get a chance to ask any of these questions—in an instant, the man disappeared into the shadows.

  I banged my closed fist on the iron door, shouting until my lungs felt like they’d burst.

  “It’s no use,” my cellmate rasped. I was so addled by what was going on that it took me a long moment before I realized that I recognized his voice. I scooted toward him, trying to get a good look at his face.

  “Titus?” I said, hardly believing it. It was Professor Titus Mettius, a good friend and colleague from the Acamedria.

  He looked up at me, and even in the dim, red light of the cell, I could confirm that it was really him. His wild, curly hair, dark green eyes, and strong jawline were unmistakable, but he had one major difference to his appearance: he was missing his glasses. From experience, I knew that was a problem, as he was nearly blind without them.

  He squinted at me. “Caiden? Caiden Rycroft?” he said. “What in blazes are you doing here?”

  A bit of life slowly crept into his voice. A glimmer of hope, perhaps, at the thought of rescue.

  I knelt in front of him. “I could ask you the same thing.” At that moment, I legitimately wanted to hug him just for existing. I decided to dispense with the lies, and tell him exactly what was going on. “I’m here with the Endrans, trying to enter Vor’aj.”

  Titus chuckled, coughing into his right hand, before looking up and smiling. “And we were here to beat you there.”

  “We?”

  “When you left, Chancellor Meridius was outraged. Called you a traitor, and demanded that the Endrans return you to Celosa. Of course, they denied all knowledge of you. Realizing that it was a lost cause, he ordered an expedition to Vor’aj, using what knowledge we already had.”

  “You wouldn’t have gotten far,” I interjected. From Antherion’s journal translations, I knew there were a variety of defenses that couldn’t be traversed through ordinary means. “There are spells and traps around the—”

  “Obviously, we didn’t get far,” Professor Mettius said.

  “We found your ship on the riverbank,” I said.

  Titus nodded. “The cultists attacked us using some kind of alchemy-based fire projectile. Water just made it burn hotter. Before we knew what was happening, they’d boarded the ship and slaughtered half the crew. A few of us, mostly the officers and some from the Acamedria, were taken back as hostages. When I was first thrown in here, there were six others. Now, it’s just me…and you.”

  “What did they do with the six of them?” I asked.

  “Four,” he corrected, then nudged at the maelstrom outside the back wall. “When they heard the screams echoing through the hallway, two of the men decided they’d rather go out on their own terms, and jumped. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered it myself. I can’t say why I’ve been left alive. I was questioned at length, mostly just about our mission.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  Titus blinked. “Everything.”

  “As in…”

  “The Corelight, you, our expedition. Everything.”

  “Why would you do that?” I asked.

  “They tortured me, Caiden. I’m not so attached to this fool’s quest as the others. If it was possible to find, it would’ve been found by now.”

  I cupped my hand over my mouth. “But these people have something now that nobody else ever has. Something that could break through the enchantments protecting the city.”

  “And that is?”

  “Me.” I held my right hand up, exposing the Corelight fragment on my palm. Its glow illuminated the cell, and Titus leaned in, trying to get a good look at it, despite his poor eyesight.

  “The Corelight shard,” Titus said. “Headmaster Trebellius told us you stole it.”

  “It’s fused to my hand, and I can’t seem to remove it.”

  “How is it the key to entering Vor’aj?” Titus asked.

  “It’s taken a while, but I’m starting to piece together more about the fate of the Shao Zhu—the ship where we found the Corelight shard. If you read the report, you know that it was found high up on Mount Glavos. Right from the beginning, there was a mystery begging to be solved. How did it get up there? And why was it so far from Shian territory?”

  “And you’ve figured it out?”

  I nodded, balling my hand into a fist, darkening the cell. “I think so. And it might help us get out of here.”

  I closed my eyes, and focused all of my attention to the shard. I tried to think back to the fight with the cloaked men, when I’d used the power of the Corelight instinctively. I tried to remember the exact emotions and mindset. It didn’t take long before I could actually feel the Corelight pulse in my hand, and a surge of static-like energy rush through my nerves. I opened my eyes, and found that I’d transported to the other side of the cell.

  Even with his poor eyesight, Titus saw and understood what had happened. He practically jumped to his feet, a wild, bewildered expression on his face.

  “That’s the power of the Corelight?!” he exclaimed.

  “The texts I’ve read describe it as the ‘Star of Motion.’ Consider the fate of the Shao Zhu. The captain’s log said it was fleeing some sort of enemy, and something was driving the men aboard mad. In a last, desperate attempt to escape, they used the Corelight fragment to move the entire ship and crew—but to disastrous consequence. The ship teleported far into the mountains, crashing into the side of Glavos, killing everyone. And centuries later, we find the Corelight in the hand of the captain.”

  “Gods below...” Titus said. “Does anyone else know about this?”

  “One of my colleagues from the Magisterium, Magister Annora, the woman brought here with me. She saw the Corelight fragment at work. As did the men who captured us.”

  A look of fright washed over Titus’s face. He looked like he stopped breathing for a moment. “You have to get out of here. Use that fragment to run, and go as far away from here as possible.”

  “I can’t leave you and Annora. And there could still be Celosans here we could help.”

  Titus put his hand on my arm. “Caiden, you’re not seeing the bigger picture here. Do you understand what you’ve described to me? The Corelight is the ultimate weapon of war. I’ll tell you right now, we’ve both been played for fools—I’d wager every penny I have that the Celosan military and the Magisterium both know exactly what the Corelight can do. Why else would they be so driven to acquire it?”

  “This isn’t the time for conspiracy theories, Titus.”

  “Listen to me!” Titus insisted. “Imagine what they could do with the Corelight? Transport whole armies directly into an enemy city. Who would be able to stand against the Magisterium with that kind of power? For the moment, however, the idea of these cultists getting their hands on it should terrify you enough.”

  “I admit, it’s a legitimate concern,” I said. “But I’m not going to leave you here to torture and death. I’m going to get them out, and I’m going to get you out. That’s the end of it.”

  “Caiden, please…” he begged.

  I looked back at the
door. “Stay here. I’m going to try to go through the door. I’d like to have more time to practice—the thought of my body materializing inside of solid steel isn’t particularly appealing, but I’m sure they wont leave us here alone for long. I’ll be back for you, I promise.”

  With that, and despite Titus’ protests, I stood in front of the door, and attempted a small jump five feet ahead of me. This was my first time trying to teleport through solid matter, and I have to admit, it was terrifying. I felt a lump in my chest as I prepared myself.

  I kept my eyes open, and activated the Corelight. Hard light filled my vision for a split second, and I was instantly on the other side of the cell door. Going through solid matter was much more disorienting and difficult than the jumps I’d done before, and this time, I was sick to my stomach, and my head throbbed. It was so bad, I moved back toward the door and slumped down, trying to reorient myself.

  Fortunately, there were no guards in the immediate area, and the cell was recessed into a corridor. I had no doubt that if I left the small alcove, I’d be spotted. Even having control over the Corelight, I didn’t know the layout of Azror’jir, and therefore couldn’t jump through anything that I could not see the other side of, lest I materialize inside solid rock.

  That meant my best bet was to sneak around the old-fashioned way.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The Throne of Nuruthil

  There are many ancient, dead languages in the world today—only understood by a handful of scholars and teachers, such as myself. The Temple of Nuruthil is called “Azror’jir,” a name derived from Illithûn (a bastardization of Illitharian, also called Deific), one of the oldest languages on Arkos.

  “Jir” simply means “temple” or “holy ground.” “Azror,” however, has a double meaning. It’s said to be the name of the greatest of the Seven Kings of Vor’aj, who constructed the city and was the first to pledge himself to the Mad God’s cause. His name meant “maze,” and thus Azror’jir literally meant “city of mazes.” Only after actually being there did I understand just how appropriate this name was.

  As I was deep inside the temple complex, it was difficult to get a true sense of scale for the structure. At the beginning, I knew only two things: first, that we were several levels underground; and second, that the temple was positively massive.

  According to ancient accounts, this temple had once withstood a six-year siege from the dragons. Supply routes were cut off, nearby farmlands were torched, and the walls of Azror’jir were under constant fiery bombardment. Nevertheless, the temple never fell, and the dragons eventually yielded. That fact alone should tell you everything you need to know about the temple’s ironclad construction: it was a fortress.

  I have to admit it had a certain dark, terrifying beauty about it. No part of the walls were blank or featureless; every square inch was covered in intricate, hand-carved stonework, crimson silk buttresses or curtains, and ornate obsidian statues.

  I couldn’t fathom the skill required to shape black glass into such detailed figures. There was the standard religious iconography: ships, sea serpents, astrolabes, compasses—things you might expect to find at a Celosan or Endran chapel, just slightly more embellished. But as I crept through the corridors, cautious of my every turn, the more traditional nautical figures gave way to grotesque monsters, tendrils, and catlike eyes.

  I realized that I was nearing something. I cannot say exactly why, other than that I felt it in my chest. A pressure, as if I were diving deep into the ocean. It was a crushing darkness that filled every bit of the air around me, and I could even feel myself moving sluggishly under the weight of it.

  Then I saw the source: a massive door surrounded by carved stone tendrils and eyes. Despite being solid stone, each eye seemed to be moving or staring at me. I would’ve turned away and found another route had I not heard Magister Annora’s voice from inside the chamber. She was sobbing and breathing hard.

  Cautiously, I moved closer to assess the situation. To my surprise, there were no guards at the doors, nor had there been many during my foray through the temple. That could mean that there weren’t that many people still residing here anymore.

  When I peeked around the doorframe, I instantly spotted Annora. She was standing in the very center of a massive throne room, longer across than the entire Concordance, with a ceiling higher than any building in Celosa Edûn. There were a hundred doors spread throughout countless levels of balconies that surrounded the perimeter—all empty.

  The floor was a glimmering mural of red and black, the walls were adorned with fine silks and shimmering silver fixtures. Fragrant incense burned beside enormous candelabra, and on the floor were temple offerings of gold and gemstones.

  And in the center of it all was a jagged throne that looked as though it was carved from ice. In fact, it was not ice at all, but some sort of crystal, similar to the quartz in the caves below. It glowed slightly, but did not illuminate the room. Rather, in an odd way, it seemed to be drawing light away from everything else.

  There were only three men inside. Two guards, each of them clad in metal from head to toe. They looked like royal soldiers, and each held a spiked halberd in their right hand, and a sword on their hip. Each used their free hand to hold Annora up, keeping her just off the ground.

  Their leader wore no armor, just red and black robes that dragged a foot behind him. I could see very little of his face or features, though what little of his skin was visible showed him to be unnaturally pale, with an unnatural decay that reddened his veins and flaked his skin. His fingernails were long and white, and everything about his presence exuded cold. He moved slowly and deliberately, putting his hand under Annora’s chin, and forcing her to meet his gaze.

  “I will ask you this again, child. For the sake of your companion, answer truthfully and no harm will come to either of you. Where is your ship? What is your mission? How many of you are there?”

  Annora was bloodied and bruised, her hair was matted, and when she spoke, it seemed to take every bit of strength to keep her voice steady.

  “Magister Annora Willhelm, Second Mechanized Infantry. Magisterium Commission Registry: four three three two five dash seven. My commanding officer is—”

  It appeared as though she’d repeated this several times already, and the pale man was growing increasingly annoyed by it. He touched his index finger to her forehead—not a strike, merely a touch—and Annora let out a blood-curdling scream as if she’d just been set aflame. When he let go, her pain subsided, and he spoke again.

  “I understand the Magisterium sent you. That much is obvious. But I want to know why, and to what purpose. Endra and Celosa have shown little interest in Vor’aj before. Why the sudden change? Tell me now, or when I’m done with you, there will be nothing left of you.”

  Annora glared at him defiantly. “My name…is M-Magister Annora Willhelm, Second Mechanized Infantry. Magisterium Com—”

  Again, he touched her forehead, and she screamed in agony.

  I couldn’t wait. Admittedly, rushing in was a dumb idea, but I didn’t think she could survive much more. I clenched my fist, and in the blink of an eye, I was standing between the pale man and Magister Annora. When I appeared, he staggered back, and I got my first good look at the man under the hood.

  He didn’t appear to be particularly old, though his body seemed used, if that makes any sense. He had a tattoo over his right eye, three straight lines that started on his temple and went down to his jawbone. His irises were a very light blue, almost white, and he was completely bald except for his gray eyebrows.

  There were intentional, equidistant scars running along his bald head, as if they’d been cut into his flesh and healed several times to make a pattern.

  All of this happened in the course of a second or two, and I grabbed hold of Annora’s arm and used the Corelight to jump away. I was successful, and we appeared near the entrance to the throne room. However, to my surprise, the two guards who’d been holding Annora had b
een transported with us.

  The guard to my right swung his halberd in my direction, swiping at my gut. I leapt back as the long, protruding spike scraped my stomach and tore my shirt along my abdomen. I tumbled away, trying not to stay on the ground too long, lest I be an easy target.

  I have to admit, I’m not the most physically impressive man. I’ve been scrawny since I was young, and have always preferred a good book to a fight. In fact, I don’t even particularly care for watching them. While my friends were at the Republic Coliseum watching the gladiators, I was content to sit at home and read.

  I tell you this to emphasize this point: there was simply no way I was going to beat either of these men in a fight. Even if I’d had a weapon. Even if they hadn’t been armored from head to toe. Even if I wasn’t exhausted from all the jumps I’d made.

  I knew this very quickly, but I also knew that I had one thing that many men did not have: a keen intellect, and a very quick wit.

  In the time it had taken me to get to my feet, I’d concocted a plan. A mad plan. A plan that might well get me killed. But it was all I had, and I knew I would have only one chance to try it.

  Both men came at me again. I was able to dodge the first halberd swing, and push the bar up high enough to block the second. The spikey, hook-like ends locked together, and I had a brief moment where the guards’ weapons were ineffectual. Using this time, I reached toward them, putting one hand on each of their chests. Again, the Corelight activated, and I focused on making the most precise jump I’d done up to that point.

  When I opened my eyes, the guards and I were about a dozen yards forward. I was mere inches from a solid wall, while the guards had materialized directly inside of the stone. They died instantly.

  I let go, and backed away, more than slightly horrified at what I’d done. I didn’t have time to dwell on it, however. I spotted Magister Annora on the floor back where I’d come from, and tried to jump back. However, whether it was due to my exhaustion, or simply the Corelight’s limits, I wasn’t able to.

 

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