City of Torment as-2

by Bruce R Cordell

  "Nogah's theft of the stone triggered the Abolethic Sovereignty's awakening, not me," he replied, feeling warm blood in his cheeks.

  "Sure, the priestess started the ball rolling, but the damage could still have been contained," Seren said.

  "Problem is, you took off with the Dreamheart! Since then, you've continued to tinker with the relic, haven't you? It's directly connected to Xxiphu, idiot. The more you tried to save your little friend, the more the servitors of the Eldest stirred. If you'd given up the stone, Xxiphu might have fallen back into somnolence. Now it's too late."

  The woman's speech stirred him to anger. He said in a cold voice, "I don't have to explain myself to you. Now stand aside. I have an appointment with the Eldest."

  "I'm afraid not," said Thoster. "At least, not without handing over the stone." The pirate pulled his clicking blade from its sheath. Metallic disks inset flush in the blade whirred with golemlike precision. Poison pulsed within hair-thin conduits running from hilt to tip, whetting the blade's edge with an emerald sheen.

  Japheth eyed the captain's weapon, then looked to Seren. "You are against me too?"

  The wizard drew her wand and said, "You may be a natural charmer, my dark-haired friend, but you're not bringing the Dreamheart upstairs. If you do, the aboleths will take it from you, and all we've suffered to reach this nightmarish place will be for nothing."

  "Don't be too sure," the warlock said. "I've reached something of an accommodation with the creatures of this city." Which was technically true, though Japheth lied by omission. He had an accommodation with the denizens of Xxiphu only insofar as he shared something of the same power they called upon. That didn't make him and the Sovereignty allies any more than it made allies of opposing armies who brandished swords forged by the same dwarf clan.

  In any event, his admission didn't allay Seren's concern, it enflamed it. She exclaimed, "You've become a pawn of the Dreamheart!" "No. Listen, none of us have time for this kind of squabble. Aboleths are waking and hatching below, and the Lord of Bats is loose somewhere in Xxiphu too, looking for me so he can have his vengeance. I've wasted too much time already. Stand aside."

  Seren sighed, then hurled a magical orb of force toward his head. He turned sideways at the last moment. The orb struck his shoulder. It burst in a flurry of slashing shards.

  His blood made tiny ribbons in the air, but the cut was superficial. A few of the force shards scattered behind him. One caught Yeva in the stomach. The strange woman doubled over in pain. He saw Anusha draw her dream blade even as her helm shimmered into place over her head.

  Time to try out something more aggressive from his new pact. Even as Thoster charged around the limb of the pool, Japheth called on one of his new star-born powers.

  He finished the spell just before the captain made it into sword range. Inky black, frigid tendrils seemed to burst from the freebooter's body. The captain cried out in surprise and pain. The tendrils curled and wound back around their host instantly, so tightly that the captain's headlong dash ended in a sliding sprawl.

  That should hold the captain for a bit, Japheth thought. Long enough to deal with a lone wizard.

  Anusha rushed past him with her blade high. Seren incanted another spell, continuing to give no indication she was aware of the threat the invisible dreams in the room posed. He hoped Anusha didn't hurt Seren badly-but that hope did not prompt him to deflect Anusha's charge.

  Anusha swatted the wizard with the flat of her blade. On contact, Seren cried in astonishment. Her spell evaporated in a flash of harmless green fire.

  "Remember me, war wizard?" Anusha asked the confused Seren. "I saved your life down in Gethshemeth's watery lair. Don't make me end you now. One more spell, and I run you through with my blade!" Anusha's voice wavered, but was resolute.

  The wizard swallowed. She said, aIf Japheth the Stubborn would give up the Dreamheart, our quarrel would be done. If you care for the black-caped idiot, tell him to hand it over. For the world's sake!"

  This last seemed to deflate Anusha's enthusiasm to batter Seren into unconsciousness or worse. She looked back and asked Japheth, "Is she right?"

  The warlock frowned in exasperation. Based on his previous conversations with Seren, he doubted she cared much for Toril's fate. Time was too short for such distractions. "No, we must keep the stone. I need to use the Dreamheart to extract your soul from the Eldest's mind. It was the conduit that sucked you in, and it will serve the same function to pull you out. You and Yeva both."

  As if waiting for her cue, Yeva said, "Then the world can look after itself!" She touched two fingers to her temple. A bolt of hazy force seemed to arc from her brow and burrow into the wizard's.

  Seren threw her head back in shock. She dropped her wand and toppled backward, narrowly missing the pool.

  She lay still, save for her ragged breath and darting eyes. She seemed to be watching images Japheth couldn't see. Mental phantasms?

  Thoster yelled, "Godsdamn it, where did that come from?"

  The crew woman hadn't moved throughout the entire conflict. When Japheth turned and frowned at her, the woman's resolve broke. She said, "Sorry, Captain, I'm heading back to the ship!" The woman spun and dashed down the tunnel.

  The freebooter chose that moment to hurl himself on his stomach three feet closer to Japheth. He still had one hand on his blade, and he managed to shove its tip into Japheth's boot.

  "Blast it, Thoster!" yelled Japheth as he leaped back. A sting along the side of his foot told the tale. The blade tip had pierced his skin, which meant some of the venom had likely entered his blood.

  The captain struggled to free himself from his shadowy binding. In his fury, Japheth considered blasting the man with a curse. One curse in particular, swimming in his consciousness, desired to burst free… But no. He should save that one for a foe not already lying bound on the floor.

  "Leave the stone,*said Thoster. "In return, I'll give you the anti-venom. Otherwise you'll succumb to the poison."

  "I wonder," said Japheth. His cloak should shield him from the poison's effects, he believed-it had protected him against the bites of venomous bats and serpents in the past.

  But his foot tingled. He'd seen creatures struck down by Thoster's sword blacken in seconds under assault from its poison kiss. A slight numbness followed the tingles. He waited another few heartbeats. Nothing worse immediately occurred.

  Japheth announced, "It seems I'll survive your blow, Captain. Which means I bid you good-bye, until next time you ambush me." He moved around the chamber, giving the captain and the wizard extra clearance.

  "Release me from these visions, Japheth!" called Seren, her gaze darting.

  "I don't think so."

  Anusha said, "We're just going to leave them here?"

  "For now. The bonds will release the captain eventually."

  Yeva offered, "And the wizard will regain the use of her limbs and eyes soon enough."

  The muscles below Thoster's mottled scaled skin jumped and strained. He said, "Don't be a fool! You really think you can succeed? That thing's got you hoodwinked-admit it!"

  Curiosity forced Japheth to pause. He said, "I suppose you might be right. But I know my own motivations- nothing is controlling me."

  "Ridiculous!" said the wizard, her eyes finally finding the warlock. "By Szass Tam's throne, how would you know if the godsdamned relic was warping your mind? When you're captivated by an enchantment, you don't realize it. Even you know that much spell theory, I'm sure."

  "Hmm." Japheth considered. He looked at Anusha. He couldn't tell what she was thinking with her helm on, though he knew she had to be desperate to move on.

  "Well, answer me this, then," he said. "What did you do with Anusha's body when you chased me from my suite in Veltalar?"

  "We brought her aboard Green Siren" said Thoster. "She sleeps there now, guarded by Blackie. She is safe and cared for."

  "I thank you for that. And Green Siren is where?"

  "Docked at the o
uter edge of Xxiphu, outfitted for earth sailing, at least for a time. That way. Seren whipped up some fierce magic." The captain nodded toward the exit where the crew woman had loitered.

  Earth sailing? He didn't know exactly what that was, but he could guess. He gave an appreciative nod. The wizard was resourceful. If he was going to get out of there afterward, he needed to mend bridges, not burn them.

  Japheth made a snap decision. "Yeva? Can you release Seren?"

  "What?" said the woman.

  "Hear me out," said Japheth. "If Seren wants, she can accompany us. So can Thoster. They can make certain I don't accidentally relinquish the Dreamheart to the Eldest. We could use their strength… and they can make good on their promise to the monk."

  "I'm not sure I want to enter into the Eldest's presence," said Seren.

  "It's still sleeping, and its servitors are busy waking it. Help me."

  "You… would really have me?"

  "Of course. I intend to pry Anusha free from this place. But I don't want to 'doom the world,' as you implied I might, in the process. So, aid me instead of hindering me. What do you say?"

  The wizard's brow crinkled. "Very well."

  Yeva loosed her immobilizing mind lock with a blink. Seren stood, picked up her wand, and straightened her garments.

  The captain cleared his throat in an exaggerated fashion.

  "Are you in, Captain?"

  "Yes, though you're a fool. But let me loose, and I'll keep an eye on you like you said, in case your mind is less your own than you think. If so, cutting you down would be the least I could do."

  "I… appreciate that," said Japheth. With a thought, he released his spell. The inky tendrils faded like smoke.

  Thoster stood and nodded at the warlock. "Let's be going, then?"

  The wizard said, "Before you walked in, Japheth, I used this scrying pool to locate a shortcut from the throne chamber above us to where Green Siren is tied up. Just in case we live and need to beat a hasty retreat."

  Thoster laughed. "In case? Count on it. All of us are getting out of here."

  Japheth wondered. Besides the aboleths and the Eldest, the Lord of Bats was near. On the other hand, if Seren's shortcut proved passable, they wouldn't have to double back and come face to face with a vengeance-seeking Neifion. Anusha said, "The tide rises again, Japheth. I don't have much time left."

  Dread prickled Japheth's skin. Even though he'd renewed their alliance, the captain and Seren had stolen too much of his time.

  "Which way?" he asked.

  Anusha motioned toward one of the corridors. "This way" she said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The Year of the Secret (1396 DR) Xxiphu, Throne Chamber

  Raidon had nearly succumbed to psychosis once before. Right after he'd learned Ailyn had died alone, he'd tried to murder a mob of Shou. When he'd been prevented from that mad caprice, he'd resorted to starving himself.

  The intercession of the artificial entity Cynosure saved many innocents that day, his own vaunted self-discipline had crumbled before his rage. It had also been Cynosure who argued the monk into taking an interest in the needs of the world again, rather than allowing himself to waste away by going without food. Raidon's acceptance of Cynosure's premise was ultimately responsible for the semblance of equanimity he'd worn since then.

  But the mere appearance of composure was not a foundation on which sanity could long stand. Since the day he'd learned of his adopted daughter's death, he'd never regained the placid assurance a master of Xiang Temple should rightfully enjoy. He'd never forgiven himself for being absent when Ailyn needed him most. He had merely played the role of someone who seemed content through each gray day's dawning.

  When Raidon cut down Opal, his facade shattered. It didn't even matter that she was a puppet of the Eldest. All the desolation and heartache Raidon had walled away following Ailyn's death resurged. In doing so, it buckled the walls of his selfhood. His mind was like a smashed mirror. Each shard of his broken mind reflected only a limited view of reality. Events playing out within each piece were haphazard and unrelated.

  His mind was shattered. And Cynosure was not there to help put him back together again.

  So the Blade Cerulean leaped into the gap.

  The sword pumped Raidon with purpose and will. Instead of collapsing into a raving heap when Opal flashed away, the monk spun and leaped for the other advancing memories and caught dreams. He destroyed the possessed images by the dozen with cleansing fire.

  The man holding the blade was lost at sea. As the Eldest had used Opal like a marionette, Angul now directed Raidon. Each sweep and cut Raidon made was under the sword's sole direction. While Angul was used to overmastering the egos of its wielders, the blade rarely enjoyed such freedom in its choice of actions and enemies to engage. The blade relished the feeling. Though it was not given to introspection, Angul determined not to waste the opportunity. What need did it have for the conscious mind of Raidon Kane?

  When the corridor was cleared of every last foe, Raidon paused. Or rather Angul did. Angul relished the perfection of its new vessel, now the blade's to direct.

  The monk's body turned and sprinted up the corridor after a wisp of churning mist, Angul raised high in one hand. Raidon's throat screamed, "The Eldest wakes to the end of its interminable existence!"

  A sprint up a steep, winding slope finally saw Raidon into Xxiphu's throne chamber.

  Dozens of entrances like the one Raidon had passed through were arrayed along the floor of the vast chamber.

  Most vented white plumes.

  Thousands of cavities honeycombed the high walls of the throne chamber, each large enough to hold an adult aboleth in a comfortable bed of slime. Though most gaped empty, several hundred squirmed with the recently awakened. Each occupied berth burned with a purple flame.

  Self-scribing lines rayed across the floor, illustrating concepts that couldn't exist in reality. Flares of multihued light leaped from the crevices and canyons of the shifting diagrams. The inconstant light played on the bellies of the things that hovered Overhead.

  Aboleths circled above the writhing floor, flying in perfect formation. One creature followed the next through the air, creating a great ring that could have spanned a city bazaar. Each creature glowed with phosphorescent vigor.

  Some of the aboleths were human sized, others were two or three times larger. Many sported hides of brown, rust, jade, and even white. However, several were black as ebony, and these were large as dragons.

  Angul presumed these were elder aboleths, old beyond the reckoning of history and swollen with centuries of growth and fell power. They flew with their lesser kin in geometric formation, screaming out the repetitive stanzas of a magical working. The ritual they attempted sent shudders through the air with each revolution of their flying ring.

  The mist pouring in from the ground-level entrances was sucked into a vortex shaped by the spinning ring of levitating aboleths. The vapor was constricted to a rivulet of white so dense it seemed a liquid, which spilled upward toward the chamber's apex, into the darkness high above.

  The monk's eyes were blind behind a cascade of tears, but he did not stumble as he raced across the great floor of the chamber. He easily vaulted the undulating patterns. Angul's preternatural senses did not require Raidon's eyes to take in the wonders of the chamber.

  To the Blade Cerulean, the throne room was like a treasury laid out for ransack. Forged in Stardeep to put down a priest of the Sovereignty, Angul came close to being awestruck despite the blade's single-minded nature. For here were the creatures who the priest had served! The gathered aboleths in the chamber made up the Sovereignty itself! Only one being seemed missing from the tableau…

  Angul exploded in cerulean fire. A flaming blue sphere leaped from the razor-sharp tip. The blaze hurtled toward the ceiling as if hurled from a catapult. It dazed the eyes of flying and perching aboleths alike.

  The fire arced high and pierced the haze of shadow clinging to the
ceiling. In the light of the flare, something appalling was revealed.

  A gruesome shape was lodged in the ceiling. No, Angul saw. That assessment was incorrect.

  The thing was the ceiling. The flare's light revealed a bloated thing the size of a temple complex, one whose bulk stretched at least as wide as what should have been the roof. The creature's stony hide was as desolate as the dead face of a moon and seemed nearly as large. However, what moon ever possessed dead eyes for craters?

  Thousands of eyes speckled the gray expanse of petrified flesh, some small as coins while others were large as houses. Most were closed, but some stared blankly like the glassy orbs of corpses. These gazed into the empty space beneath the creature, down upon the circling aboleths, and across the prophecies scribed on the floor.

  It was the Eldest. It presided over its progeny as a statue might, without breath.

  Angul comprehended what was happening within the chamber: the last of the recalled thoughts and memories distributed throughout Xxiphu were splashing upward and being absorbed. Before, a single thought turned over once every ten thousand years in the thing's gargantuan brain. But now, hundreds of new sensations quickened beneath its hard carapace.

  Angul hesitated. The blade did not know fear. But the panorama of the throne room complete with the Eldest was beyond the blade's experience. Even Angul's arrogant belief that it was up for any challenge Anally slammed against stark reality. The Blade Cerulean's light dimmed. Angul recognized its strength alone could not hope to win the hour.

  It needed to join its power to the Sign's. To do that, Angul needed Raidon Kane after all.

  *****

  Jagged shards scraped and punctured him. The world was a broken mirror, and he lay in its ruins. An image showed in each shard. Some revealed a man named Raidon Kane. Some were of a girl named Ailyn. A few showed the likeness of a different child named Opal.

  If he didn't move, he felt hardly any pain at all. He'd learned that despite not really having a body, attempting to see the pieces as a whole was agonizing. When he tried to stand up to see more than a few splinters at once, pieces of him were flayed off by the crush of shards, each as sharp as a torturer's scalpel.