by Phil Tucker
Temyl moaned and made the sign of the triangle before scurrying across the ledge to climb onto the platform. "Enough with your musings! Let's get to the Portal room!"
Audsley shook his head. "I've told you, I'm not abandoning Lady Kyferin."
Temyl stepped back off the platform and placed the edge of his blade against Audsley's neck. "I ain't asking you. I'm telling you."
Aedelbert hissed as Audsley reached up slowly and pushed the blade away. "A foolish bluff, Temyl. Without me, you can't even get off this ledge."
The guard's eyes darted from side to side and then fixed on Audsley again. "But you don't need that damn firecat of yours, do you?" His voice was low and ugly. "Get us moving or I cut it in two."
Audsley rose to his feet. A deep and savage anger was arising within him. "You threaten Aedelbert?"
Temyl licked his lips, momentarily unsure of himself, then nodded. "Only 'cause you ain't listening to reason. Don't make me do anything unpleasant. Just take us to the Portals and nobody has to get hurt."
Audsley reached up to stroke Aedelbert's head. "I will take us to the Portal room. Not for fear of my life or that of Aedelbert, but so as to be rid of your craven company."
"Fine, whatever, just get us going." Temyl backed onto the platform. "And don't try to tip me off, either. I'll be watching you and your cat. Nothing funny."
"No," said Audsley, stepping up onto the platform. He considered wrapping Bogusch's jaw in his handkerchief so he could bury it somewhere, but chose to leave it behind. "In that we agree. There is nothing funny about this at all."
He took hold of the sword's hilt and commanded the platform to rise. They sped out into the chasm, flying between the two honeycombed walls, and slid smoothly back into the passageway that led out into the great central airshaft. The moaning howl of the wind caused the hair on the nape of Audsley's neck to stand on end, and he had to fight an urge to glance around wildly in search of an impending attack. Instead, he focused on the Portal tunnel below, descended, and took the platform all the way in to land beside one of the twisting columns.
Temyl nodded approvingly. "All right. Good. Now, open up a Portal to Ennoia somewhere. I know Ser Wyland won't understand this business any more than you do."
"Yes. Ennoia."
Audsley stepped off the platform and began scanning the runes over the doors. He could send the man anywhere. Bythos, perhaps. His own quiet form of treachery. How would Temyl know until it was too late? But no, he wouldn't besmirch his own sense of honor for a petty redress. Temyl would reap the fruits of his betrayal when he died and was cast down by the Ascendant to some lower station.
"Here," he said, stopping beside a Portal. "This should suffice."
He took a deep breath, studied the runes closely, and then coughed out the painful sounds -- but nothing happened. He felt Temyl shift impatiently by his side.
Audsley studied the runes again, modulated how he would pronounce the second one, and again spat forth the agonized sounds. This time the runes flared to life, burning a vicious red, and the stone surface melted into liquid black ink.
"Very good," said Temyl, gliding forward. "Thank you for that, Magister. Most kind."
Aedelbert hissed and spat out a tongue of flame just as Temyl lunged forward, intending to skewer Audsley in the gut with his blade. Instead, the guard yelped and drew back, reflex causing him to throw his arms up in front of his face. His heels hit the bottom of the Portal, and he fell back ignominiously into the black ink and disappeared.
Audsley gasped. He'd not seen that coming, not in a million years. "Oh, thank you Aedelbert. Oh, my precious friend, what would I do without you?" Aedelbert slipped down into his arms and accepted Audsley's caresses with dignity. "That cur! But why? I'd opened his Gate. Why...? Ah."
Covering his trail. Preventing the truth from reaching whoever came after. The coward!
Audsley held Aedelbert tight and backed away from the Portal as it once again reverted to stone. What a beast of a man.
"It's just you and me now, Aedelbert," said Audsley. "Well, and whatever is hunting us." He turned to survey the stark and fearsome expanse of the room, the hundreds of corpses, the ever-present mist. "Just the three of us in all of Starkadr." Four, he thought, if he included the blade.
Aedelbert thrust his head up to rub it against Audsley's cheek, purring deep in his chest as the magister scritched behind his wings.
"Our foe has only struck when one of our number stood alone. Which means I must be on my guard henceforth, though what I could do if this fiend presents itself, I don't know. I don't even have a sword."
Aedelbert considered him, then gave a dismissive mrhao.
"Yes, well, I know that a sword wouldn't be of much use. But, still, as a prop it could instill a false sense of confidence." Audsley cradled Aedelbert close. The dark was pressing in all around him. He turned quickly, but nothing was there but corpses as far as the eye could see. "Don't you worry, Aedelbert. I'll take good care of you, I promise."
What now? Would a defensive measure suffice? Should he attempt to barricade himself in some defensive corner until it was time to venture back down here to open the Agerastian Portal? No, if he was truly facing a demon, any blockade that he could create would easily be swept aside.
"Erenthil was loosing demons in hopes of turning back the Order of Purity," whispered Audsley. "Perhaps one such still roams these halls. That statue that Temyl spat upon in the uppermost room... Ah, Temyl, you have served us ill from the beginning! So, say that we face such a creature of untrammeled power and malice. How do we defeat it? The Sin Casters had means, I'm sure. After all, they imprisoned the demons to begin with. But to what end? I don't know. I don't know."
Audsley backed against the pillar. It felt good to have stone behind him as he stared out into the gloom. What he wouldn't do to have Tiron here! Or Ser Wyland, or Asho and Kethe. But no, it was just him.
Think, Audsley. Think!
"There has to be a solution. If this demon was released by Erenthil centuries ago, it was so that its power could be directed against the invaders of Starkadr. Does it see me as such? If so, there is precious little I can do to convince it otherwise. I am no Sin Caster, by any means."
But there was something... Something he'd read. "Bound them into objects of war," he whispered. That was what that solitary librarian had written in her journal.
Audsley's gaze settled on the blade imbedded in the platform. "Is that what you meant?"
He walked up onto the platform, knelt, and gingerly took hold of the hilt. Immediately the shadow presence leaped into being within Audsley's mind, only to be speared by a dozen lances of searing sunlight till it was transfixed in place. Audsley closed his eyes to focus more completely, and carefully withdrew a lance, allowing it to fade away into nothingness.
Who are you?
I am nothing. Merely your abused slave, whipped and impaled upon -
You are a demon. Aren't you?
There was a long silence. Audsley could almost feel the presence - no, the demon - thinking.
Is that your conjecture?
It is. You were bound by the Sin Casters, then freed and bound again into this sword. Why?
Audsley heard the demon snarl and plunged the lances of light deeper into its shadowy corpus.
Ah! I will speak!
Feeling slightly nauseated, even though it was a demon he was tormenting, Audsley withdrew the lances of light a fraction.
Indeed, I am become what your kind names a demon, though your taxonomy is primitive and your understanding limited by your own perception of reality. I do not know how long I have been bound, but it is true, I was placed within this blade so as to lend the platform on which you stand the power of flight.
A thousand questions bubbled up within Audsley, but he forced himself to remain focused.
Why were you bound? And to what end?
Originally? I, along with my brothers, was harvested and bound into the bones of Starkadr to power its fl
ight and other abilities. If Starkadr yet flies, then my brothers remain enslaved in the stonecloud's bowels.
Audsley released the hilt and staggered back, falling onto his rear. He stared blindly out at nothing as his mind spun.
Starkadr was powered by captive demons. Was it too much of a leap to assume that Aletheia was as well? The very thought revolted him, shocked him, thrilled him. Was that how Nous had emerged so improbably from the depths of the Eternal Sea? How Bythos was carved from the depths of the earth? How the very Solar Gates themselves still operated, centuries after their creators had perished?
Demons.
Audsley scrabbled forward and took hold of the hilt.
One of your number hunts me. Can I defeat it?
You cannot, said the voice, and Audsley heard glee within its depths. Not alone, unless you can bind as the Flame Walkers once did?
No, said Audsley.
Then you are at its mercy. The voice turned pensive. Unless you were to enlist the aid of others like myself. Compel us to fight our own brother. Not an impossible task, given your strength of will and determination...
Audsley snatched his hand back and cradled it to his chest. Was the demon telling him the truth? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Could he torture it until he was sure? Perhaps. But what assurance did he have that it would tell him truthfully how to defeat its brother, even under duress?
None.
Carefully he reached out and took hold of the hilt once more. How can you help me?
By making you the hunter, whispered the blade.
Why should I trust you to help me with anything?
Just as you compel me to carry you, so can you compel me to aid you. There was something falsely innocent to the blade's voice. Do you not wish to wield the power of the ancients?
Audsley frowned and stared straight ahead. Could he do so? Hunt this demon with Erenthil's creations? The very thought excited him. Could he reach across the span of time and take the baton from Erenthil, continue is his noble steps, an heir to his intelligence and creations?
Audsley bit his lower lip. He had to think. He had to puzzle this out using his one weapon: his mind. What to do? He could feasibly stick his head through the portal to the Hold and call for reinforcements. Ask Ser Wyland perhaps to join him, perhaps a squad of Hrethings. Strength in numbers. But no; he would simply be damning them to the same eventual death that had stalked poor Meffrid and Bogusch.
No; he had to tackle this dilemma himself. Dared he trust this demon? Of course not. He was no fool! And yet. What choice did he have? No. There were other avenues to explore first.
Grimacing, he took hold of the hilt once more and forced the demon to fly the platform up and out of the great Portal chamber, through the passage into the air shaft, then up, up, up until they reached the library level. He landed, stepped off with enormous relief, and hurried into the stacks.
Here he found an illusory sense of safety, but he didn't rest. He hurried into the hidden central chamber and lowered himself with great effort into the lowest level, Aedelbert gliding smoothly down beside him. Panting, he wiped the sweat off his reddened palms onto his tunic and considered the dead librarians.
"Oh! If only you were alive to answer my questions!"
He needed answers. He needed information. Knowledge was his only weapon, his only shield. "Aedelbert, please keep a wary eye out for unwelcome visitors, would you?" If anybody could detect the approach of a demon, it was his firecat.
Then he scanned the book spines once more, reading them out loud to himself as he walked the inner periphery of the tight circular level until he reached a set of books that seemed promising. He pulled six down in short order, considered dumping a corpse out of its chair so he could use the table, and instead sat on the floor and began to read.
The rasp of Aedelbert's tongue on his cheek awoke Audsley, who startled and knocked the heavy book from his lap as he reached up to fix his spectacles, half-expecting to see a demon looming before him. But he found no such thing. Instead, Aedelbert fluttered up to the high back of the closest chair and peered down at him.
"Oh," said Audsley. His neck was cramped and his generous posterior was numb. "Had I - did I sleep?"
His mouth was stale, his eyes felt sandy, and he winced as he shifted his weight. Spread out around him were a number of books, some open to key pages, others tottering in high piles. Audsley winced. His head hurt. He felt as if he had indulged in Sigean soulfire, but knew instead it was the strange and bewildering concepts that he'd absorbed over who knew how many feverish hours of reading. No, not reading – consuming.
Audsley blinked and removed his spectacles. The new knowledge came flooding back. The nature of demons, and how they might be lured forth through the Black Gate and tricked into being bound inside false hosts. The various categories of Sin Casters - no, Flame Walkers, as he now thought of them - ranging from the Artificers to the rather horrific-sounding Flesh Burners. A smattering of history, though he'd forced himself not to indulge. He'd understood perhaps a tenth of what he'd read, but the little that he'd absorbed was fascinating, perilous in its implications, and shocking in its suppression.
"How? Why?" He looked up at Aedelbert. "Why erase such knowledge from the world? Leave it bottled up here, lost and forgotten, left to wander adrift in the bowels of this stonecloud?"
Aedelbert gave no answer.
"Still," said Audsley, gasping as he levered himself to his feet, "it's not lost any longer, is it? We've un-lost it, which I suppose means it's been found, but 'found' doesn't do it justice. Ah, Aedelbert. Does this discovery imperil my soul or cleanse it?"
He turned with dolorous resignation to the rope. "I wish I could get that damned platform in here. If I continue climbing in and out of here, I'm going to lose my manly figure."
Twenty minutes later he clawed back out onto the top level, gasping and red-faced once more. He made his way somberly to the platform, ordered it aloft, and ascended to the sleeping quarters. There, he found a bathing room where a cunning series of sluices allowed warm water to pour down in copious amounts over his head, submerging him completely. He couldn't bear to wear his old clothing upon emerging, so instead he tentatively donned the dusty black robes of a Flame Walker. He cinched the belt around his tummy, slipped the sandals onto his feet, then repaired to the kitchen, where he fixed Aedelbert and himself a quick meal.
All the while, he kept listening. Turning at random moments to check the space behind him. He doubted there was anything he could do should the demon present itself, but he didn't want to be taken unaware. So it was an awkward and hurried meal that he took, then he descended to the Portal chamber to open the Portal to Agerastos.
Nobody came through. Audsley formed a triangle with his hands and whispered a blessing for Iskra's success, then mounted the platform and bid it rise.
"I am not, I will have you know, dear Aedelbert, accepting the demon's offer. I am merely investigating further. We're returning to the laboratories," said Audsley as they sailed through the murk. "To learn what we can of Erenthil's successes. He must have been fearsomely brilliant to have wrested control over the demons without his power. Or terrifyingly brave. Or both. Perhaps there is something there that will benefit us."
He could sense the demon's satisfaction oozing through its prison of light. Audsley steadfastly ignored it.
Once again they sailed between the honeycombed walls, through the isolated hexagons of luminous green, to the end where the largest labs lay. He parked the platform on the ledge, averted his eyes from Bogusch's jaw, and hurried inside.
All was quiet. The corpses still lay before the breached block of lead. It was telling, thought Audsley, that all three were missing their jaws. Had they unleashed the same demon that was hunting him now? Shaking his head, fighting the urge to constantly check the entrance, he moved amongst the tables, picking up sheaves of paper to read the notes, squinting to make out the ancient script. It was hard to understand, so he set the papers down and took up t
he metal gauntlet that he'd seen during his first visit.
"Most strange," he said quietly, turning the massive thing over in his hand. There were no segments to the metal, in the manner of common steel gauntlets; this one was continuous, as if had been cut from lambskin, and the metal was eerily supple. Upon inspecting it more closely, he saw runes carved around its hem, where it would end just before the elbow.
Demon runes.
Audsley gulped, took a breath, and then slid his hand into the depths of the gauntlet. Immediately a demonic presence filled his mind, roaring with rage and thrashing inside the confines of his skull. Audsley had grown accustomed to the near acquiescence of the platform demon and cried out, stumbled back, and immediately felt the demon begin to pry his mind apart. Summoning his will, terror stabbing through his gut, he threw lances of light at the darkness, multiplied them by a dozen, then a hundred, and in a matter of moments had the demon impaled.
You are in MY mind, and you will do as I bid! Never dare again to assault me, or I shall cut you into slivers of shadow with a sword wrenched from the heart of the sun itself. Do you understand?
The demon snarled and stirred, but then fell silent. It has been too long since a mortal tempted me.
Yes, well, that's no excuse to attack me. Audsley felt that last was a bit lacking in gravitas, but there was no time to dwell on that now. What is it that this glove does?
He got no answer. He stared down at the gauntlet and saw that the runes were now burning with fiery light along the hem. He flared his fingers and found the metallic glove a perfect fit. There was a nice heft to it, like that of a reassuringly dense dictionary.
Audsley frowned. It was awesomely impressive, but what did it do?
It was surprisingly difficult to read the incandescent runes, but the gist of them seemed to be something to do with binding. No help there. Carefully, he reached out and touched the table. Nothing happened, which was a bit of a relief. He'd been worried it might set the table on fire. He tapped the table harder, and the stone crunched beneath his palm.