City of Torment as-2

by Bruce R Cordell

  If he delivers the Dreamheart to the Eldest, nothing will keep it bound."

  "Seren and I can stop the warlock and take the Dreamheart from him," Thoster said. The man looked visibly determined, more so than the monk had ever seen him. But his features also bore the slightest touch of doubt.

  "Good," Raidon said, "though I advise not touching the stone directly. Watch his approach through the pool- he'll be here soon if he keeps his current pace."

  "We'll stop him," Seren said. Then her face pinched as if forcing out her next words. "You're sure you won't need help up there?" She waved vaguely toward the ceiling.

  Raidon moved to the exit that the schematic showed spiraled in an almost direct route to the upper cavity. He said, "Thanks for your offer, Seren, but it's better you stop and hold the Dreamheart here "

  "Very well. But don't sacrifice yourself, do you hear? I mean to collect what you promised when this is all over."

  Raidon surprised himself by laughing. "I will endeavor to stay safe."

  *****

  Encrustations of ice coated the tunnel ahead of Raidon. It wasn't so thick it blocked his way, but it promised to be a tight squeeze.

  The monk approached cautiously and angled his body to slip between two frosted glacier faces. Sidestepping through the narrow vent, he paused and looked into the ice. It seemed empty…

  Raidon drew on the Cerulean Sign, asking it to supply him with sight sufficient to see what was tainted.

  His eyes widened. He saw that Seren's earlier exclamation about the ice holding people was true. Raidon saw people of many races caught like flies in amber. And young ones too. He winced and looked away.

  A child's piping laughter sounded from somewhere ahead. He started, then said, "Who's there?"

  More laughter echoed down the cold vent, more distant than before. It was the innocent sound of a small girl- not unlike how his daughter used to laugh when she was at play.

  But the sound he'd just heard was not a memory-it was real. Unless he was finally losing his mind.

  "Did you hear that, Angul?" The bladed jerked in its sheath, angry at being confined and not in hand.

  The monk increased his sidestepping pace through the chilly constriction. Then he was through. The corridor ahead diverged. One path was the one Raidon had charted, it led up to Xxiphu's crown. The other passage he hadn't bothered to investigate in the chamber of seeing.

  It was down this passage a half familiar voice out of time asked, "Papa? Do you want to play?"

  His core temperature plunged as goose bumps swept across his skin. Raidon's mouth fell open. The light of the Cerulean Sign on his chest dimmed.

  "A-Ailyn?"

  A hint of movement flashed in the lesser tunnel. He spied the silhouette of a girl with unbound hair. "Catch me if you can!"

  "Who are you?" Raidon shouted down the tunnel. The girl's voice was like his daughter's, but not quite a match.

  Fading laughter was his answer.

  The monk sprinted into the corridor. It wasn't the tunnel that led to the Eldest. He knew following this diversion was a bad idea. Yet he couldn't stop. Despite being someone who fancied himself ruled by reason first and emotion second, sometimes emotion's need was equal to reason's. Or, he realized as the tunnel walls flashed past, sometimes brute emotion burst reason's bonds.

  "Stop!" he called.

  "Only if you catch me!" came the voice-even fainter, as if the distance between them had increased. Raidon doubled his already swift pace by deciding to throw all caution to the wind. If a pit or larger cavity opened in the corridor ahead, he wouldn't be able to stop in time to save himself from a fall.

  Angul twitched in the sheath again, as if trying to catch the monk's attention. But he was determined not to be distracted from finding out what farce was being played out on his account. He hoped it was not a farce… His heart beat more swiftly than his exertion alone could account for.

  He raced around a short curve in the tunnel and collided with a wall. He saved himself some pain by rolling into it and absorbing his excess momentum across his whole body.

  But Raidon had come to a dead end, and it was empty.

  The goose bumps returned. He shouted, "Who are you? Didn't you want to play?"

  Tm right here, Papa." The voice came from behind him.

  Raidon whirled, his heart in his throat.

  There stood, plain as day, a small human child, about five years old, with dark hair. In one hand she held a tiny, mahogany-handled mithral bell. She gave it a little ring.

  "I love the gift you brought me," the girl said.

  "I…" Raidon's mind refused to resolve what he was seeing. The girl looked like his lost daughter, at least in rough strokes. Long black hair, pale eyes, and upturned nose. But it wasn't her. Was it? No, of course it couldn't be.

  Ailyn was dead.

  "Many things are possible in Xxiphu," the girl said.

  Raidon released a short breath like the swift exhalation he made striking a foe. He said, "You can read my mind?"

  The girl who reminded him so much of Ailyn cocked her head. "Don't be silly. You're silly!"

  Raidon took a step forward. "Who are you really? You're not my daughter. She died a long time ago."

  The girl's face fell. She nodded dejectedly. "Yes. I died. All alone without you to save me."

  Anger warmed his face then. "You're not Ailyn! You hardly even resemble my daughter! What are you?"

  The five-year-old looked up and caught Raidon with her blue-eyed gaze, still watery with unshed tears. She said, "I know you're not my papa." The bell in the girl's hand melted, becoming a rag doll instead, with silver buttons for eyes. "But I have lost my Papa. Can you help me find him?"

  Raidon blinked, wondering just where reality ended and his own neurosis began. He wondered if his mind was being assaulted by some abolethic trick.

  The monk relaxed his shoulders and shook his head. "I'm sorry, child. I don't even think you're real." He began to move past the girl. "I have something very important I must attend to."

  "You don't think I'm real?" the girl screamed, her voice taking on the hearty volume of a child's tantrum. "I am here! I am alive!" The faux Ailyn reached forward and punched her chubby fist into Raidon's calf. Her hand moved right through his body as if she were a ghost.

  Pain exploded in his leg. He fell as the muscles in his limb gave out all at once.

  Luckily the girl didn't press her advantage. It took Raidon a heartbeat to shut the pain out. He rolled away and stood in a single, smooth motion. Back on his feet, the monk swept Angul free of its sheath. The pain was smoothed away by the sword's instant attention. Simultaneously, a portion of his anxiety dimmed, leaving him feeling clearheaded and calm.

  The image of the girl remained. Not merely a trick of the mind then, if Angul could sense it too.

  "You are real, in some sense," Raidon allowed, keeping the blade between himself and the small form. "But I am not your father, nor do I know where to find him. But-if you let me pass without touching me as you just did, I can come back for you. How does that sound?"

  The child's face grew hopeful. "Promise? I don't like it here at all. It's scary."

  "Yes. That it is. Now, step aside so we don't accidentally collide, all right? When I finish what I must do, I'll find you here. Is it a deal?"

  The temperature of the Cerulean Sign dropped. As it did, the girl's features shuddered. She gasped as if in pain.

  "What's wrong?" he asked. He took a half step closer.

  Angul said, She is a memory loosed by the Eldest's unconscious to delay you. It will not agree to your bargains.

  Sweep it away.

  "She's only a little girl," Raidon countered, his voice pleading. She is a remnant of a little girl, a hollow shell filled with aberration that must be purged, said Angul.

  "No!"

  The child in question raised her head. She lifted her arms in a manner Ailyn used to in order to beg a hug. "My name is Opal. Take me with you?"


  The temperature of his spellscar dropped further. He retreated a pace.

  "When I've done what I need to, your mind will be your own. Can you just stay here until then? It may be hard.

  Perhaps the hardest thing you've ever had to do. But if you stay put and do not follow me, I can save you."

  The girl's whole frame vibrated and she yelped. She blinked out of view for an instant, but then returned, her form translucent and hazy.

  Opal said, "It hurts. But I can try. If you hurry!"

  Raidon bolted from the room, leaving the little girl behind. Tears broke out on his cheeks. He wanted to sweep her up and hold her close against all the dangers of Xxiphu.

  But the best thing he could do for her was slay the Eldest, so that her mind would at least remain her own, even if she was only a lost dream. He hoped the creature's death would give her peace.

  When he returned to the place where the corridors diverged, he found Opal waiting. She stood in the center of the corridor with her shoulders slouched and her head drooping over her chest in a sorrowful pose. Her unbound hair fell across her features.

  "Opal, I told you to stay-"

  The girl loosed a raw hunting scream that no human throat could ever hope to achieve. Raidon's breath began to steam as the Cerulean Sign violently reacted to the sound reverberating in the corridor.

  The child slowly lifted her gaze. It was much changed from the frightened, tearful face Raidon had pleaded with moments earlier. Jagged lines of care etched it, as if the girl had aged decades in an eyeblink. Her mouth was unhinged and opened on a black void that reminded Raidon of what he'd seen on Xxiphu's crown in the schematic.

  The Eldest filled her like a hand inside a puppet.

  Kill her, Angul said.

  "No. I will not. I… cannot."

  Opal produced her hunting scream once more and advanced on him.

  Raidon raised Angul. The sword blazed with cerulean fire and attempted to sweep up and out in an arc that would have decapitated the child's image. The half-elf restrained the willful blade.

  "Leave her alone," he said, talking not only to his wayward sword but also to the foulness that controlled Opal.

  "I will find you regardless of wnether I disrupt this lone memory. Leave her, and I will not be forced to slay you when I find you!"

  You cannot bargain with the unconscious mind of the Eldest aboleth. You can only slay it and any puppets it creates.

  Raidon moved to his left, keeping Angul between him and the possessed memory. He said, "If I can avoid destroying her, I shall!"

  She need not kill you, only distract you long enough for the ritual to be completed.

  Raidon realized the Blade Cerulean, for all its headstrong ways, spoke the truth.

  A deep sound, like underground waters rushing below his feet, snatched Raidon's attention back down the corridor where he'd originally entered.

  The sound came from the two facing ice slabs lining the tunnel. The ice was cracking, breaking, and crumbling.

  It was a cave-in, except that as each piece struck the floor it shattered into motes of glowing steam. The mist immediately swirled past the girl and Raidon up the passage he intended to travel. In the void left behind, dozens of figures stood blinking in confusion. Confusion that lasted only heartbeats.

  The newly released memories rotated as if of one mind until each regarded the monk with smoldering eyes.

  They all simultaneously loosed screams, each as horrid as Opal's. In concert, the sound nearly froze Raidon to the spot and stopped his heart.

  Angul's flame dipped, then resurged twice as bright. Its warmth seared Raidon's flesh, chasing out the incipient chill in a painful instant.

  Opal, the closest of the advancing horde, leaped for the monk's throat.

  He sobbed as he cut the five-year-old down with a single stroke. Her scream caused the other images to pause.

  Opal's gruesome face fell slack and resumed her earlier innocent visage. She sighed, catching Raidon's eyes.

  "Why?" she whispered. Then her image broke into so many chasing sparks.

  Raidon watched the sparks fade out like campfire embers. He saw the other images, memories, and captured dreams resume their headlong charge. He was aware of his face turning red and his mouth distorting into the raving scream of a berserker. He took note of but did not feel tears stream from his eyes and reflect Angul's avenging flame. He fell upon the possessed figures like a blood-crazed predator.

  Raidon saw all of this from a distance, for he no longer seemed to inhabit his own body.

  Why? Because when he struck down the girl, who might as well have been Ailyn herself, Raidon went mad.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The Year of the Secret (1396 DR) Xxiphu, Gallery of Seeing

  Japheth walked up a sloped corridor crusted with steaming memories.

  His hands were steady and his vision unstained by dust. New abilities and insights swarmed in his blood, eager to manifest as spells should he call them. He was'almost elated, but couldn't quite allow himself that pleasure.

  Whenever he recalled the ultimate origin of his new spells, a chill shivered down his spine.

  One of those spells even allowed him to see Anusha in her golden armor, as well as Anusha's yellow-hued companion who walked ahead, without recourse to the tin of dust hidden in his cloak. Already his new pact was proving useful-above and beyond the usefulness of saving his life, of course.

  The warlock realized his hope was on the rise. He knew full well there could be, in fact likely would be, repercussions following the drastic choice he'd made. It was even possible he could fall into the same sort of servitude that marked the first pact he'd sworn to the Lord of Bats. Well, probably even worse than what he'd endured under the terms of his first pact, before he escaped its strictures. The alien stars cared less about mortal kind than even bloodthirsty Neifion.

  But no one had promised him his decision would be easy. He might hold on to his independence and sanity, or he might not. He wasn't naive, nor was his ego so inflated that he was going to promise himself a happy ending despite the reassurance he'd given to Anusha. No, he knew the risks. He accepted them in return for the chance to act a little longer on the stage, hopefully long enough to slip Anusha free of her dream form. And if fate was kind, perhaps even a little while longer.

  In the short term, he merely had to be careful none of his new spells squirmed out of his control.

  Anusha, who walked beside him, allowed her hand to fall into his. It felt warm and real. He was happy for the moment of contact. He knew she could only accomplish that much by paying careful attention.

  "I am thankful, you know," she said.

  "For what?"

  "That you came looking for me. That I'm not alone in this awful place. Even if we fail, I want you to know…"

  He knew pulling her into a hug risked breaking the illusion of her solidity. He just tightened his grip on her dreamwrought hand. He said, "I couldn't bear the thought of you down here by yourself. I had to come. There was no choice."

  Anusha smiled at that and looked him in the eye. "Once you wake me, holding your hand won't take so much concentration."

  "Yes."

  "Which means I'll be able to thank you properly."

  Japheth's heart jumped. Had he understood her meaning? He decided to interpret her words as his body wanted.

  He said, "I look forward to that."

  They grinned at each other like fools.

  Walking in the lead, Yeva raised a hand. She whispered, "Something odd ahead!"

  Japheth released Anusha's hand. They joined Yeva, who stood looking apprehensively around a bend in the corridor.

  "What?" Anusha whispered.

  "Another chamber ahead, filled with some sort of growth I haven't seen before. I heard voices too. Speaking Common."

  Japheth sidled up and leaned to gaze around the comer. The corridor spilled into a wider space that seemed, at least from his limited vantage, overgrown with creepers
thick with murky liquid flowing in spastic pulses. Overlarge pears or oranges the color of blood dangled from the growth.

  But his attention was riveted by the sound of conversation. He heard his own name!

  "Someone's talking about me!" he whispered. The voice was familiar.

  Flush in the confidence of his renewed power, Japheth proceeded around the bend despite Yeva's whispered protest.

  He advanced into a large space that held a circular pool and a dozen or more exits around the periphery.

  And as he'd half expected, Captain Thoster and the wizard Seren stood near the pool as if waiting for him. Near one exit, a woman slumped, obviously exhausted. She looked vaguely familiar-Japheth placed her as a crew member on Thoster's ship. The only one missing was the crazy monk.

  Recalling their last meeting, he raised one arm, fingers arranged just so, ready to cast.

  Thoster raised a hand too, but apparently in a friendly greeting. "Hoy, Japheth! We have to stop running into each other like this."

  The warlock studied the man, who looked far the worse for wear. He seemed to be suffering from some sort of body-wide skin condition. Seren, on the other hand, looked as dour as ever, though at least she'd changed into clothing more suited to exploring a dangerous, city-sized relic.

  "Indeed, Captain," Japheth finally said. "You seem to have the advantage of me. You have been waiting here to talk to me?"

  "In a manner of speaking, my friend," the captain said. "We're here on account of Raidon Kane, the last Keeper of the Cerulean Sign. He's gone on to take care of things above. But when we noticed you traipsing up from below, he asked Seren and me to have a chat with you."

  Japheth eyed the captain. The man obviously had more in mind than a mere chat. The warlock glanced back.

  Anusha and Yeva moved to join him in the chamber, but kept quiet as ghosts.

  Thoster and the wizard gave no sign they noticed the two dream images, though the woman by the exit drew her sword.

  The warlock addressed Seren. "So, what do you want to talk about? I don't have much time. The Eldest is waking."

  The wizard said, "Right. Your imbecilic experiments have caused Xxiphu to wake from centuries of sleep."