Reuben turned to Donovan, “Don’t worry, okay? You’ve always kept your head down and done alright for yourself. Nothing has changed so much that it won’t keep working. When I get back, I’ll explain it all to you.” Reuben hated not letting Donovan know what was going on, it was not fair to him, but it was probably the best for his own safety if he had as little to do with Reuben right now as possible. He tried to smile at his friend, but his heart wasn’t in the deception.
“I see it, Reuben. You never were any good at making up a story. Just make it back. I’ll have a barrel waiting.” Donovan shook his head sadly, and grabbed Reuben’s hand, patting his back. “Just make it back,” he said. Donovan walked away quickly, still with a hunted look on his face.
Reuben waited until the footsteps of Donovan had faded away into the morning. Then he turned to look at Lucius, who was watching with downcast expression. Reuben groaned inside, “Look here, Lucius, I’m sorry. I’m not used to so much humor.”
Lucius eyes quickly sparkled, “Aha, I knew you weren’t really mad at me.”
Reuben was not sure if the light in Lucius eyes was from relief, or concealed hurt. Either way, he hoped that Lucius would settle down a bit. “Well, come on then, let’s get this over with.”
* * *
Approved for travel to the enigmatic realm of the unknown, Lucius and Reuben were waiting somewhat impatiently. The large storeroom with its portal platform was in the midst of being prepared. For all of the pomp and ceremony that were the watchwords of the council, this particular place was a holdout of utility and function. Usually, even at this time of the day, several workers would have been about in the large store room. For now, when such an important endeavor was about to take place, the room had been cleared. Reuben was quietly thankful for that, he did not relish the idea of meeting some of those good folk that he had treated rather poorly the last time he had been here.
Reuben paced about glumly, a feeling of trepidation at their journey growing steadily as the council finished their preparations. The chance encounter with Donovan and whatever undercurrent it belied had rattled him. He couldn’t shake the feeling, he felt on edge, like he was being watched by some hidden enemy. It was no use trying to talk to Lucius about it, for he was busy pouring over his gear, double and triple checking the bag’s inventory. Council members could be overheard nearby, debating casually about who would begin the portal channeling. Only Reuben felt uneasy, it seemed, so he kept it to himself. It was only natural, he told himself, to feel a little out of sorts. He tried to be excited like Lucius was, but it was no use. The enthusiasm just wasn’t there; he’d seen enough of adventure to last him for a good long while. The room they were standing in looked like any well-used warehouse would, beams holding rafters of the tall building. There was a series small windows that were situated along the top border, and a few skylights in the flat ceiling; together these were all that allowed light to filter through the dusty panes. Boxes and crates were scattered here and there in huddled groups. The last time Reuben had been here it had been full of coal and lumber. These were gone now, leaving only black dust in the corners of the room. They had been replaced by what looked like skeins of wool and tubs of butter. With the laborers absent, having been cleared from the place in anticipation of the upcoming moment, the stillness of the place lent a sense of foreboding. Any building, usually busy but left empty, can have that same quiet, that same feeling of movement stilled. So it was now, raising the hairs on the back of Reuben’s neck. His hand rested on the sword pommel attached to his belt, a simple blade, well worn but sharp and sturdy, that had been provided by Folson.
This room was not often graced by the presence of the full council. There was much to set up, for this was not the simple porting of goods or an emergency evacuation. It ought to have been celebrated with fanfare and ceremony. Reuben found it ironic then, that this trip was a closely guarded secret. If the populace knew what was going on here, that they were attempting to infiltrate the realm of the divine, and the reasons why, they would panic. The council members were fully busy with the precautions and checklists that they were pouring over with exacting care. Not that Reuben minded in the least. When attempting to cross into lands unknown, a little bit of tarrying to make sure you got there in one piece was worth the wait. For this feat, the full might of the council was needed. Folson would start the channeling. He had won out on the honor by weight of his position. It would be a minor feat of strength in and of itself, to remain steady within his powerful mind as the rest each added to the accumulating strength that was needed. Only a finely tuned and practiced mind might attempt the course of action about to be performed.
At last, the council members took up positions in a chalked circle around the large platform stone where the portal would form. Each had a small bag attached to their garment, either tied to a belt or worn as a satchel. Reuben watched carefully, he had seen a portaling before, but never so close. The council members all wore focused and serious expressions. The two travelers waited at the side, out of the way. Once the portal was established, they would step inside and be on their way; unlike some portals that could remain open for upwards of an hour, this one would only be open a few minutes. It was more than enough time to walk through, but they stood ready to move as quickly as possible. The power required to open and maintain the link was immense and could not be maintained for long. Reuben and Lucius watched, packs and gear held in hand and ready to move as soon as they got the word.
Stentor Folson reached into his satchel, pulling out the first Karthild stone. It was fairly large, about the size of a dessert plate, a black stone with white splotches. He whispered the words that would activate the stone and pressed his thumbs into the center, thin portion. Folson gave a quick jerk with his arms and snap went the stone. He let it fall, casting it into the middle of the rune stone; it was already smoking. As it landed, it flared and spat yellow sparks which bounced across the surface like water droplets on a hot pan. Quickly, the other councilors added their own stones in a series of cracking stone and hushed muttering. Each watched carefully at the pooling sparks through the clouds of white smoke. It was a careful business, some would crack the stones and toss them in, while others would say a few words over them and toss them in whole. To Reuben, it almost looked like they were building a campfire, adding tinder and kindling at first, and piling on more robust sticks as the magic caught and stabilized.
“We’re making progress, good job,” said Bregil, who was alert and cheerful. The magic was held on the stone, a pool of shining, golden light, that shimmered and tossed about from unseen winds. The rune stone held it back though, not allowing the pooled potentiality to spill over its unseen borders.
“Right, now for the hard part,” said Folson. He reached into a pocket and pulled another Karthild stone, green and translucent, “Ready?”
The rest of the council members nodded agreement, each holding stones of similar color as well, “Okay, I’ll hold it steady.” Folson snapped the stone, but this one was not added to the pool of light that had formed on the stone. When Folson broke the next stone, a slim stream of silver light slowly fell like a thread from his hands, spilling into the pool like a random tangle of string. The string was connected to a small glow between the cracked rock, gently held in Folson’s open palms. Next, Bregil, who stood across the circle from Folson, snapped his stone and held on as well. The thread from his stone was buffeted about on the surface like a leaf on a pond, until it tangled with Folson’s. Each man swayed slightly as the power united.
“Okay, go ahead, Vivian,” said Bregil. She nodded and quickly broke her stone, and the threads this time formed three points. As they tangled, a silver film formed in the densest tangles, especially towards the center, a second layer that blocked the amber light beneath it. As each added their load to the flow, it became increasingly more difficult to control the variance. Unity of purpose was always difficult, even among minds so often in communion. The council tried to be uniform
in purpose, the long sessions spent at the table had attuned them to each other’s minds. Despite their familiarity, there were always fluctuations; a moment’s distraction as a body part itched, a sudden twinge of muscle or thought. Even in the near perfect harmony, the most imperceptible variance had the potential to destroy the attempt, maybe even break their minds, having an effect on the psyche much the same way a diver rising too quick from the depths might experience. Concentrating furiously, Folson felt, after what seemed an age, the full potency flow in gentle waves between the members. He could almost have sighed for relief, the last few seconds before the power stabilized had been excruciating to hold onto, but there was no reprieve. With the accumulated potency, the members could now focus on the objective, the portal itself to the home of the gods.
Slowly the silver threads rose, haltingly at first, almost timid. They were like gossamer strands of spider web, broken and caught in the morning breeze. Gradually, they seemed to catch onto invisible points set within the portal stone, exposing once more the liquid amber light, still pulsing in its luminosity. A large sphere, taller than two men, started to take shape. It made Reuben’s eyes ache to look at. One moment it was translucent, frail threads splayed, and he could see the councilors on the other side, still working with fierce concentration. The next moment, the threads would fray and spread, creating a more solid, almost mirror-like form. The sphere of the portal looked both present and not present. As the councilors slowly established the link, there were fewer and fewer moments that Reuben could see through the sphere. For all of its opacity, it looked as solid as the morning mist he’d walked through on his way here.
Something was going wrong, Vivian was the first to feel it. It was like an itch that could not be reached. Not on her body itself, but the mind, there was something out of harmony, a point of conflict, an irritation. “Steady, Folson,” she said. Folson grunted acknowledgment and redoubled his focus on the task at hand. He could feel it too, a subtle nuance in the flow, the random patterns becoming ordered briefly before being dashed apart. Their effort had not been in vain.
“Just a little longer,” he thought, and then the final effort to open the portal. It was going to be close though, his thoughts were almost sluggish, and the shared power of the others was weighing him down, slowing his ability to focus, or react. He pushed the strain down, not allowing himself to panic. They were so close, and they must complete the task. The itch was growing stronger, a hot sensation now, that scribbled along in the mind with growing heat.
A burst of silver light, and the portal was established, a shining orb of light. “Whew,” said Folson, wearily. His shoulders were sagging heavily. As quick as their tired bodies would allow, the councilors retreated from the portal stone and down the steps to the floor, where Reuben and Lucius were waiting.
“Looked a little touch and go there, old man,” said Lucius, with a twinkle in his eyes.
Bregil, who was nearest to Lucius, threw his arm around the younger man’s shoulders, “Finest bit of work I’ve seen in quite some time.” He leaned heavily on Lucius, “You’ll get your own shot at it some time soon enough, you scamp. And the better for this business for it to take the tar out of you than me.” Bregil straightened up with a laugh.
Folson walked, a little unsteadily, over to Reuben, “Normally I’d say a few words, but what would possibly be enough?” He looked very worn out, dark circles under his eyes as if he’d been up all night. Just before he had looked as bright and cheerful as could be, even with the seriousness of the business at hand.
Reuben was about to respond, but stopped. “What’s that?” He was pointing towards a corner of the room. There, in sullen glowering hues of red, another sphere had taken shape, smaller than the one on the stone. It edges were ragged like a wound, and a low rumble of sound filled the room. As the councilors called for guards, the sphere pulsed crimson and black, it expanded rapidly, a large, deafening boom echoed in the warehouse. Through the molten doorway leapt several imps, followed by a smoke knight, portal closing and shearing part of its sweeping cape off in the sudden cessation. There was one brief moment, a pause in the space between heartbeats. Pupils widened and screams issued from every throat, either in fury or terror in a commingled moment of anger and fear. The imps dashed forward without thought, screeching, almost as scared as those they attacked. Councilors rushed to the doorway, passed by entering guards, fumbling for swords to repel the intruders.
Lucius fumbled with his pack, trying to locate his store of Karthild stones. Reuben stood nearby, sword drawn, protecting his ally. The guards clashed with the imps in battle. They were outnumbered, about two to one, with only five of their own fellows. Imps screeched wildly, their claws and teeth made horrible scratching noises on the metal breastplates worn by the guards. Fearing for their lives, the guards struck quickly, their blows cutting several imps down. Heart rending screams issued from one guard, whom the imps had managed to bear down, coordinating their attack and pulling him over with sheer weight of numbers. His fellow armsmen hacked at the imps, felling another two before the rest scattered and wheeled back to their master. The knight had not moved since entering the room. A final gurgle sounded from the downed guard, and the rest charged at the remaining forces. The imps scampered forward to meet them. The death of their comrade had emboldened the guards and with swift strikes all of the imps lay cloven on the ground. A heavy, expectant silence followed.
Reuben had downed two imps that had broken away from the skirmish and leapt at the councilors. Bregil’s arms were bleeding from the bites, but he was alive. Folson and the rest were unharmed. Lucius located his bag and pulled out a stone. Everything had happened in a space of much less than a minute. Three of the guards were unharmed, one injured but standing with his other men, and the poor soul who had already passed lay forlornly on the floor. Only the knight had not moved. The flames in its eyes burned steadily as the guards approached it. It carried a large pole-ax loosely in one hand.
The guards rushed at it but the knight was not caught in that moment, and went about its killing strokes with brutal efficiency. The sweeping crescent blade caught the first swinging sword, turning it aside with a violent thrust, then countering with a quick slash that caught the guard in his neck; the guard went down without a sound. A neat flick of the butt of the pole tripped another guard. In graceful fluidity the knight continued its swing up and overhead to let fall on the guard a savage blow to the chest that cleaved both breastplate and bone. The giant form, not bothering to view its handiwork, heaved the blade clear of the body and charged the remaining two with eagerness. The uninjured guard raised his sword in a block but his blade was a pitiful match for the weighted ax, which sheared its top off. A look of horror crossed the face of the guard briefly, right before the ax blade did on its return stroke, spinning the dead man on his feet to crumple to the ground. The last jumped at the knight with a cry of despair, itself cut short, a brief scream that was snuffed out in his life’s candle’s passage into darkness.
Reuben stepped forward, he had noticed that during the fight the enemy knight had not made a single vocalization. It had carried out its attack with silence, only the sound of metal hitting metal and the crunch of broken bodies as they fell around it, the macabre motif of its presence. The knight was still, looking down at the last guard’s fallen form. Its head snapped up sharply as Reuben approached. With a bellow, it charge forward. It was all Reuben could do to dodge out of the way in the face of the wild onslaught, barely escaping the strokes of the ax. He was far outstripped in the match up. His enemy had the reach advantage and used it skillfully, backing Reuben ever backwards, closer to a stash of crates. Reuben tried to close the gap, but each time was nearly caught by a vicious rake of the blade as the knight reeled in his grip, grasping the haft nearer the blade for better control. Seeing the tactic taken by Reuben, the knight held its weapon level, still advancing. The back of Reuben’s foot caught up against one of the crates and he anticipated what would happen
next. The large form lunged forward with a sideways strike. Reuben had to fall to the ground to avoid the blow. One foot stamped on the ground, catching Reuben’s sword and holding it down. Reuben looked up into the fiery eyes, waiting for the killing strike and hoping that he might choose the correct way to dodge. As the blade flew through the air, a figure darted out from behind the crates, executing a neat roll past the knight and thrusting with a dagger into its back. The knight roared in pain, its blow falling wide and smashing the crate next to Reuben, who leapt out of the way. The figure was short and quick, Reuben recognized Pim immediately.
Reuben saw Pim pull the blade out of the knight with a quick twist and wrench, which caused the armored foe to twitch. She went for another strike, but the knight reacted first, the haft of its weapon sweeping her aside and into the air. She landed heavily, several strides away, her head smacking against the hard floor. She went limp. Reuben shouted, trying to distract the knight from its next victim. He felt helpless to do anything. As the knight limped towards Pim, Reuben reached his sword again and picked it up. He saw with horrible clarity that he would never be able to reach the enemy before it struck out at the unconscious Pim. In the horrible moment of slowness, his eyes flickered at a motion in his field of vision, a small stone was sailing through the air. The time spent in battle had been just enough time for Lucius to act. The stone burst apart on contact with the knight, who was in mid-swing. A flash of white-blue light blinded Reuben for a moment, accompanied by a large peal of sound like a thunderclap. When he could see again, there was Pim on the ground, unharmed. The knight was nowhere to be seen. He rushed over to Pim.
“Pim, are you okay?” Reuben knelt at the unconscious form. He looked her over, she did not appear to be bleeding, but he had no doubt she was injured in some way. The haft had caught her and flung her like a leaf. The sound that he’d heard when she hit the floor sounded ominous. “Come on, not like this,” Reuben breathed hoarsely. “Get over here, help her!” Reuben yelled at the councilors.
Litany of Wrath Page 18