Of course, there was a lot more at stake than just hurt feelings.
Sephi puzzled over everything she thought she knew. The Occultum’s attack on their party raised all sorts of questions in her head. She had assumed the Occultum had hired Bobby to get the Whispers, which was why she pretended to accept the job before she left. If they thought she would get the artifact for them, they had no need to retrieve it themselves.
Obviously, she had been wrong. The Occultum wouldn’t try to stop her if they thought she was working for them. That meant someone else had hired Bobby. A third group wanted the Whispers, aside from just the Council and the Occultum, but she had no idea who that could be.
As far as she knew, the age-old war between the Council and the Occultum only had two sides. Some other group of mages might want the Whispers for themselves, but if that was the case, they had kept their existence well hidden.
So now she had to worry about fighting off the warlocks and some other shadowy group, which made this whole mission infinitely more complicated.
Then she considered the tidbits of information she gathered from her conversation with Ekks. He knew everything about their quest: all their names, where they would be, and what they were looking for in the Valley. Someone from the Citadel had to have tipped him off, but this quest was supposed to be top secret. The Council had made that clear.
So one of the Council members must have let the details slip to an Occultum spy. The only alternative was that one of the Council members was compromised, but she didn’t even want to consider that. They were arrogant and calculating, but she doubted any of them were dark mage sympathizers.
At the very least, none of them were dark mages themselves, because the corruption that came from using dark magic was evident from a single look.
Whatever the hell was going on, she knew she could no longer trust the Council. She had to assume that any information she told them would get passed on to the Occultum.
Ekks had revealed one other thing, and in some ways, it had been worse than all the others. He said his boss didn’t want Ekks to hurt her. That meant someone in the Occultum had singled her out for some reason.
The fact that someone in the Occultum even knew her name was troubling enough. That they wanted to keep her unharmed meant someone had plans for her, which couldn’t bode well for her future.
All she had was questions with no answers, and she doubted she would untangle the frayed-up knot any time soon.
A few hours later, Magnus told Sephi to turn off into a narrow path that branched to their left. She had no idea how he could keep his sense of direction in this place. The canyon’s walls all looked the same to her. Just variations of striated rock, eroded away by a river so ancient, it probably never even had a name.
They passed beneath a natural stone arch, and the world opened up. A thin stream trickled lazily nearby, and on its banks sat the dusty ruins of Viscayne. Only remnants of the small research outpost remained.
Magnus had explained some of Viscayne’s brief, turbulent history while the wagon rumbled through the canyon. The part he knew about, anyway.
“Just over a thousand years ago, a group of about thirty mages and their human servants came here to study the strange energies in this valley. The restless souls of the dead roamed these passes, and the Council wanted to figure out why.” He paused and took in a long breath. “If you’ll notice, the research expedition built simple shelters out of sandstone blocks. The settlement had always been meant to be temporary, but several of the stone structures had survived the ravages of time.”
Sephi stopped the wagon by a crumbling wall, tired of the lesson. She gave Magnus a quick glance. “All right, Red. What are we looking for?”
He got to his feet and pointed past the edge of the settlement. “That.”
She craned her neck to see what he was referring to. Tucked away in a recess in the rocks, someone had carved a temple directly into the stone face of the cliff. A wide set of steps led to a series of columns which appeared to hold up a peaked roof.
The six columns were clearly decorative, though. Each of them bore the chiseled image of a different mage, so lifelike, they almost looked like they could spring to life at any moment.
As they approached, one of them did.
The stone sculpture itself didn’t move, but an ethereal shade of a man emerged from the rock. He looked exactly like his stone likeness, with his close-cropped hair, shaggy beard, and long flowing robe. He even had the curved stem of a pipe clamped between his teeth. Only he seemed to be made of translucent smoke.
Sephi could see right through him as he walked toward her group.
“Are you lost?” he asked.
She smiled at the specter, hoping to convey they were friendly. “No, we’re right where we need to be. Thank you.”
The man shook his head. “This is no place for tourists.”
Sephi smiled at him. “Good, because we’re not here to sightsee, although I love what you’ve done to the place. We just need to pop inside real quick and grab something. We’ll be out of your hair in no time.”
The man crossed his arms over his ghostly chest. “There’s nothing in there for you. I suggest you turn around and go back the way you came.”
“And who are you exactly?” she asked.
He straightened up proudly. “I am Cristoval the Dead, Speaker for the Damned, Guardian of the Black Soul, Warden of the Ironbound Heretic of Viscayne.”
“That’s a bit of a mouthful,” she said. “Well, listen, Dead Cris, I’m not looking to cause any trouble. We just need to talk to this heretic of yours, and then I promise we’ll be on our way.”
“Impossible,” Cris said. “No one is allowed inside.”
Sephi frowned. “May I ask why not?”
“No,” he said flatly.
She flashed him a wide smile. “Please?”
Cris sighed in frustration. “Clearly, you don’t understand the forces at work here, or you wouldn’t need to ask.”
It was Sephi’s turn to be frustrated. “Come on, man. I’ve had a really long day, and I’m trying to be nice. We already had an undead fight on this trip. I don’t want to have another one. Can’t you just meet me halfway?”
“You really are clueless,” he said. “I sacrificed my eternal soul to imprison the Heretic. I’m not going to let you just make that sacrifice pointless.”
Francisco stepped up to Cris. “It wasn’t just you who sacrificed yourself, was it?”
Cris lifted his hand, and five more specters emerged from their respective pillars. “We six damned ourselves, giving up the chance to reach Etherean to stay on this Realm. It was the only way to bind the Heretic’s soul here.”
“Why did you bind him, exactly?” Sephi asked.
“He discovered an ancient dark artifact hidden in the valley. The artifact held the secret to finding the First Mage’s lost tower. The only way to activate the artifact was to funnel massive amounts of dark magic into it. Going against everything the Council stands for, he dedicated himself to activating it, using torture and murder and blood.”
“Torture?” Sephi asked. “Why torture?”
Cris’s face wrinkled in disgust. “There is power in suffering, for someone sick enough to engage in such vile acts. He started with the servants, and when their deaths weren’t enough, he moved on to our own people. People he grew up with. People he cared about.”
“Obviously, he didn’t care that much about them if he was willing to hurt them,” Sephi said.
“Incorrect,” Cris said. “The more personal the sacrifice, the more power harvested in the ritual, allowing for great and terrible magic to be unleashed. In some cases like this one, the artifact required the most personal of sacrifices before it would open.”
“I had no idea,” Sephi said.
“Few do, aside from the Occultum,” Cris said. “The Heretic, whose name shall never be uttered again, tortured and murdered his twin sister, a woman he loved dearly. A wom
an I loved dearly. My wife.”
He gestured at the other five spirits, who stood silent on the steps. “He stole loved ones from all of us. So we made our own ultimate sacrifice to lock his black soul away forever. The things he knew will stay forever buried with him, as they must to keep the world safe.”
Sephi scrubbed a hand over the back of her neck. “That’s a bit of a problem. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I hear you, and I understand he was an evil prick. But the secrets he knows are the exact reason we need to speak with him.”
“That, I cannot allow,” Cris said. “Nor can I allow you to live if you persist on this quest.”
Sephi nodded wearily. “Yeah, I get it.” She turned toward Magnus. “Did the damn Council warn you about any of this?”
“They did not,” he said simply.
She frowned. “You think they didn’t know, or did they just not want us to know?”
He shrugged. “It’s hard to say.”
She looked at Francisco. “You got anything for a situation like this?”
He stroked his beard. “I’ve never tried to control a ghost before. I’m not sure I can even harm them.”
“At least have the decency to walk away when you’re scheming to attack me,” Cris said.
Sephi turned back to address the specter. “First of all, it’s rude to eavesdrop.”
“You’re speaking five feet away from me,” he said huffily.
She waved the comment away. “And second of all, you were the one who talked about killing us first. So double rude on you. I mean, did your manners die when you did?”
If the ghost had cheeks and blood to fill them, she imagined his face would be flushed with outrage. As it was, his eyes widened, and his brows drew down in a scowl.
“And third, we’re the good guys here. Doesn’t that count for something?”
“No,” he said. “Even if I had reason to believe you, which I don’t since I literally just heard you discussing harming us, my duty remains unchanged. All of us will stand guard here for eternity.”
She grimaced. “Eternity is a long time. Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“Our sacrifice is a noble one,” he said.
“But wouldn’t you rather go to Etherean and see your wife again?” she asked. “It kind of sounds like you’re just punishing yourselves for someone else’s crimes.”
Cris’s steadfast gaze faltered just a fraction. “I mean, that’s not how we see it.”
“Look, I’m just saying, there has to be another option here.”
He shrugged. “Not for me. None of this is my problem.”
“Well, you say that, but I’m pretty sure your big secret is out in the open,” she said. “We just fought a bunch of dark mages on the way in here. We managed to slow them down, but at some point, they’ll be back, and they’ll be coming for your precious Heretic, too.”
“They’re welcome to try,” he said.
“Don’t worry. They will. And I know you’re standing there all cocky like no one can get past you, but are you a hundred percent sure of that? Because they won’t stop until they get what they want, and I doubt they’ll ask nicely like we are.”
“Nicely,” he scoffed.
“Whatever,” she said. “My point is, someone is going to get the Heretic’s secret. Would you rather the Occultum get it or us?”
He shook his head. “For all I know, you work for the Occultum, too.”
“Son of a bitch,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Do we look like fucking dark mages?”
Just then, the ground began to rumble. The sound came from the direction of the entrance to Viscayne.
Sephi grabbed Echo’s arm. “Go grab the wagon and bring it over here. Quick.”
The Green nodded and sprinted toward Princess and the rest of their supplies. She hopped on the seat and urged the buru forward. Behind her, a horde of manticores burst into the secluded valley, carrying warlocks on their backs.
“I thought we killed those fuckers,” Sephi said.
Magnus shook his head. “It seems like they got reinforcements. Look.”
A huge shaggy mammoth lumbered into view. Blades as long as a man were fastened to the sides of its tusks, and on its back sat a man whose face was wreathed in what looked like swirling blue flames. Sephi couldn’t tell if it was an illusion, or if the warlock was so corrupted, it had engulfed his entire body. She had no desire to find out.
She looked at the ghost and pointed at the new arrival. “Now, that looks like a fucking dark mage. Time’s up, Dead Cris. You have to make a choice. Help us, or let those assholes win.”
Chapter 14
“You led them right to us,” Cris said, defeat in his eyes.
“Hey, don’t put that on me,” Sephi said. “Blame your decorator.”
“What?”
“I wasn’t the one who built some fancy-ass temple in the wall,” she said. “They would have found this place on their own eventually.”
He shook his head. “It was meant to honor our sacrifice.”
“Well, that’s great, but it’s not my fault.”
“Still, you’re the reason they knew we were somewhere in the Valley,” Cris said.
“They knew we were coming here. I’m pretty sure someone back at the Citadel is leaking information to the Occultum. There might even be a spy in the Council. Now do you want to discuss this some more, or do you want to hurry the fuck up and help me?”
Cris nodded. “Fine. Come with me.”
As they ascended the stairs, he gestured at the other five ghosts, and they surged forward silently to face the oncoming threat.
“You think they can take all those warlocks?” she asked.
“Let’s hope so,” he said. “If not, they will at least buy us time to do what needs to be done.”
Magnus and Francisco followed, and Echo caught up with them, panting for breath. “Did you see that dark mage on the mammoth?” she asked.
“He was kind of hard to miss,” Sephi said.
“Did you see what he’s dragging behind him?” Echo asked.
Sephi glanced back. The mammoth pulled a massive iron cage on wheels. Inside, a writhing mass of people pressed against the bars, screaming for help.
“What in the holy hell is that?” Sephi breathed.
“Fuel,” Francisco said angrily. “We have to save them.”
Sephi grabbed his arm before he could dart away. “There’s no time. We get the Heretic first.”
He scowled. “Persephone, they’ll be killed.”
“How many more will die if we don’t get to the Whispers first?” she asked. “Look, I don’t like it any more than you do, but we’ve got one chance at this. I need you to get the location of the lost tower. I promise we can try and help them after.”
The Night Brother let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine, but I will hold you to that promise.”
“Please do,” she said. “Now, let’s go.”
They walked through the door of the temple. The darkness was blinding after being out in the desert sun. Cris gestured with his hands, and green spectral lights sprang to life along the walls. They were in a small octagonal chamber. In the center was an iron sculpture of a man hunched over in pain, his arm outstretched above him as if he were warding off a blow.
“Nice statue,” Sephi said. “Now where the hell is this Heretic?”
“You’re looking at him,” Cris said. “We encased his flesh in molten iron as part of the binding ritual.”
“Was that absolutely necessary?” she asked.
“Yes,” Cris said. “His soul is bound to the iron. The raw element anchors him to this Realm.”
She shook her head. “Well, there’s an image that’ll haunt my dreams forever.” She clapped her hands together once. “All right, team. Let’s get moving. Magnus, you got any power left?”
He nodded. “I can fight.”
“Good,” she said. “Get outside and protect the wagon. We’re going to need it ready to go when this i
s done.”
Magnus bowed his head and marched toward the exit, his sword already in his hand.
Sephi looked at Echo. “Go stand guard at the entrance. Anyone tries to get in, you blast their asses into gravy.”
Echo nodded grimly. “They’ll get in over my dead body.”
Sephi clapped her friend on the shoulder. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. This valley has seen enough death for a hundred lifetimes.”
The young Green hurried to the doorway, readying her wands. Sephi watched her go, a sinking feeling in her gut. If anything happened to Echo, she would never forgive herself.
“Okay,” she said. “You’re up, Francisco. Talk to this prick, find out where the tower is, and let’s get the hell out of here.”
“About that,” Cris said.
“What is it?” Sephi asked. “We’re kind of in a hurry here.”
“I fear you were correct about the dark mages. They will stop at nothing to pry the Heretic’s secret from his corpse.”
“Yeah, so?” she asked.
“So for you to get his information is not enough,” he said. “When you leave, they’ll just get the information they need soon after. You have to take the Heretic with you.”
Her brow furrowed. “Gross. I’m not taking that monstrosity with me.”
“You don’t need his body,” Cris said. “Just his soul.”
“And how the fuck do we do that?” she asked as agitation swirled inside of her. Why did there always have to be something else to do?
“We shift the binding from the iron to something else. Something more portable. Do you have any enchanted iron on you?”
Francisco patted his robes down and then spread his hands helplessly. “I do not.”
Sephi sighed. “My dagger is enchanted, I guess. Will that work?”
Cris nodded. “That will suffice. There’s just one more little thing.”
Sephi growled in frustration. “Of course there is.”
“Binding him to the iron is not enough. We need another soul to keep him trapped.”
The Lost Tower Page 12