by Ryk E. Spoor
“Probably more than that,” Toshi admitted. “We’re trying to figure all that out ourselves, but at least one of our allies said something about also having virtues associated with us—”
“Oooo, that makes sense!” Poplock said. “But keep the conversation down, please—if you distract me I might put the wrong symbols down and that would end badly.”
“Should we get the others set up?”
“Please do. I’ll give you some guidelights.” Poplock muttered and gestured, and suddenly a pyramid of light appeared, each of the five points glowing a different color: white at the apex, then light blue, crimson, green, and violet around the perimeter of the base.
Xavier looked up, nonplussed. “I suppose I can get up there, but if I’m in my not-here mode I don’t think I’m going to, well, be here.”
“Trust me,” Poplock said. “I’ve thought of that. Just jump up there—pretend there’s a little platform up there, because there is. You just can’t see it.”
The gray eyes closed. “Oh, yeah. I can see it now.” Xavier gave a somersaulting leap that took him fifteen feet up, brushing the ceiling, to come down atop what looked like empty air. “On station!”
Toshi nodded as the rest took their places. “The color associations are common?”
“Here, yeah.”
“Will I need to do anything?” asked the Watchland.
“Just…don’t move. I’ve got your circle done here, and you know that damaging a ritual circle can be a bad thing, right?”
“Yes, I’ve seen the results of one that was damaged during the ritual. ‘Bad thing’ indeed.” Jeridan looked carefully around him and then removed his sword, then sat down on the polished wood floor. “Now it should be safe.”
“Good call.”
Kyri watched the remainder of the preparations, the Toad carefully drawing complex circles around the four positioned at the points of the pyramid, and felt tension once more return. Poplock was much more skilled than he had been when first they met, there was no doubt of that. And if even half the stories of Xavier and his friends had been true, they would represent an immense amount of power.
But on the other hand, if they were right, Poplock was trying to break the bonds of one of the most powerful demonlords…bonds in use for years.
“Ready for you too, Kyri, Tobimar.”
Two more circles had been drawn—one on each side of the Watchland, a line facing towards the rising sun, if the room had been open to the sky. Kyri could recognize symbols for Myrionar, Terian, Chromaias, and the sketched pop-eyes of Blackwart, and saw others scattered through the symbolic pyramid. He’s invoking just about everyone on the side of Light in this. I think that double lightning bolt is the symbol of the Three Beards, and there’s the Triad, and definitely that’s the Hammer and Spear. The little Toad gestured with a tiny wand, sketching more mystical symbology into the air itself, following the lines of the pyramid and encircling Xavier as the boy sat in meditation. The others of the Five had also seated themselves. Only she and Tobimar stood, facing each other and the Watchland between them.
“Almost there,” Poplock said gravely. “Once this starts, though, it’s going to get dangerous. I can sorta see the enchantments in Jeridan, and they’re gonna be tough.”
“I can see them clearly,” Gabriel said. “They are strong. But I do not think they are stronger than we are.”
“Bet on it,” Xavier said. “We’re ready.”
Nike nodded. “Ready.”
“So am I,” Toshi said.
“Do it already!” Aurora said.
Poplock bounced a grin at that. “Okay! Watchland, get ready. This might hurt, or might not, but I can’t promise anything.”
The figure of the Watchland tensed.
Poplock Duckweed began to intone a ritual. It was a strange, patchwork ritual. Some of it, Kyri could tell, was in the peculiar language of the Toads, sound and motion interspersed. Other parts were in the more common language of Zarathan. Some words of Ancient Sauran were used, and even a few ancient phrases which clearly came from the old language of Kaizatenzei. Poplock invoked gods ancient and new, recited words of reinforcement and strength, murmured pieces of ancient prayers, and, once, touched the Gemcalling matrix on his arm, sending a glitter of power through the symbols.
The pyramid began to glow brighter, the previously invisible faces of the figure shimmering with five colors in constant interplay. White light surrounded her and Tobimar and the Watchland, flowing and shifting and running through the dozens of symbols invoking both magical power and deific assistance. Myrionar, stand with me, she prayed. Help to free the Watchland, my friend, your servant, from the grasp of our enemy. She could see Tobimar’s eyes also focus on something beyond him, praying.
Suddenly the Watchland gave a gasp and a grunt, and dark, sharp-edged mists swirled from within him, darting, slashing like knives of shadow or swarms of black, vicious insects at the circle enclosing him. She saw Poplock stagger, then hold Steelthorn up and shout words she did not understand in a tone that reminded her of Hiriista, the Magewright of Kaizatenzei.
Red-gold fire ignited in her circle, blue-white flame erupted from about Tobimar, the two channeling into and reinforcing the circle around the Watchland. At the same time, the circles around the five from Earth blazed to life, pure white from Xavier streaming out to encircle the entire pyramid, outlining its shape as the colors of the others welled out to the walls, lambent solidity manifesting.
“Got you!” Poplock shouted. “Living binding, master-ward, seal of the soul—I banish you from Jeridan Velion! By earth, by air, by fire, by water, by spirit, I abjure you! By passion and knowledge, judgement and trust, by truth I cast you out!”
The swirling, sawtooth-edged blackness surged, making the lines ripple, and a line of dark vapor streaked out, clawing and ripping at Poplock, who barely caught it on the shining silver blade of Steelthorn. For moments Poplock dueled what she now realized was a sentient, fighting spell with nothing but a mystical blade and his own will, cuts appearing by malign magic across his brown hide. The shadow-darkness rose higher, split in three, struck like a snake; Poplock evaded it, then reversed, barely keeping himself from crossing one of the mystic circles. A keening, hungry sound rose from the eldritch thing as it slashed out again, the Toad’s blade only barely parrying the razor-sharp gloom.
But then Poplock somersaulted over the next lunge and slammed Steelthorn down. To her astonishment the enchanted steel impaled the shadowy, half-living construct of sorcery. “To the Circle and then oblivion!” the little Toad bellowed, his voice far louder than Kyri would have believed possible. “By the power of the Five Elements and Five Virtues, be you sealed!”
There were gasps from the five around the pyramid, and Kyri saw that they were sagging, visibly weakening, as the energy was pulled from within them to streak to the circle surrounding Jeridan; with a subliminal shriek of fury, the black-bladed shadow was drawn back to the dark storm within.
Blood streaming from a dozen places, Poplock levered himself upright on Steelthorn, then raised his sword high; he no longer looked small or innocent or funny—he towered within the space of the pyramid, and his voice was filled with fury. “Begone and be obliterated by my will, by my magic, by my friends, by my teachers, by my name! Myrionar and Terian are with me, and by the Companions and Blackwart the Golden-Eyed himself, you are ENDED!”
The light of the circle imploded, crushing in on the seething darkness within, and the scream was not soundless. A detonation echoed out from that nexus, and Kyri was flung backwards to crack against the wall with stunning force. She made herself scramble to her feet, grasping at her sword, afraid for a moment that something new and terrible had been born.
But instead she saw Jeridan Velion, slowly raising his head from where he was sprawled. His eyes were wide, surprised, but clear, and they warmed when they met hers, and she knew it was the man she had come to save.
“Poplock? Poplock! Are you all right?”
/>
Tobimar was crouched over the limp form of the tiny Toad. “C’mon, Poplock!”
Vaguely, she could tell that the others were barely able to move; Xavier had fallen from above in the detonation, to land a short distance from Jeridan. The others, like her, were around the perimeter of the room.
She ran painfully to where Poplock lay. “Move away, Tobimar, please.”
She touched the little body, felt the faint pulse of life. “He’s alive, but very weak.” She heard her own relief echoed in Tobimars sigh. “I can take care of that.”
The healing power of Myrionar came in red-gold light and Poplock opened one eye. “Are we done here? Because that really hurt.”
As concerned shouts and pounding began from the locked doors, Jeridan Velion began to laugh.
Chapter 18
Tobimar watched as Xavier and Rion sparred. Rion wielded what Tobimar thought of as an Odinsyrnen sword and some others called a knight’s weapon—a fairly long one-handed blade, double-fullered along most of its length, with a dragon-motif hilt—and a small shield, slightly larger than a buckler, and wore chain armor with some plate elements. Xavier, of course, wore no apparent armor and used two swords. As usual, Poplock had put safecharms on the blades so they wouldn’t kill each other.
The two circled cautiously at first, but Xavier chose to go on the offensive quickly, striking out to disarm or create an opening—and nearly getting a sword in the face for his trouble. But Rion’s attempt to follow up on that ended up catching nothing but air, as Xavier backflipped rapidly away and landed in the Tor combat pose, prepared.
Rion is good, Tobimar realized. He’d seen Rion in combat in their trek through Rivendream, but here he was watching Kyri’s brother dueling Xavier, someone whose skills he knew well; the two of them had practiced together, sparred frequently, both during their travel from Zarathanton to Evanwyl, and in the few months Xavier had remained after Thornfalcon’s defeat. Rion was holding his own against an increasingly serious assault by the Earth native.
Rion was grinning at Xavier. “You’re not even trying. Where’s your real skill, your real strength?”
“Dude! I’m not trying to kill you here, and I want to leave Kyri’s house intact, too.”
Rion blinked, as did Tobimar; for Rion, the blink was more costly. Ow! That blow to the ribs must have stung. “Are you joking with me, Xavier?”
The gray-eyed boy glanced at Tobimar, then looked back to Rion, catching his opponent’s sword on one blade and turning aside a shield-bash with the other, then dodged back, leapt completely clear. “I can keep up with my friends. And your sister. So no, not joking.”
A sudden bright grin. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t something I can do!”
The swords slashed down, ten feet distant from Rion; but pearl-white light streaked out, extensions of blades and spirit. Rion’s eyes widened and he brought up his own sword and shield barely in time. Even so, the impact sent him sprawling; he rolled badly, turned aside to evade Xavier’s follow-up, and found his neck touching one of the bright leaf-green blades.
Rion flinched away from the blade surprisingly violently, but then laughed. “I asked for that, didn’t I? Well struck, Xavier.”
“Well, we’ll try that again when you’ve got your Justiciar mojo back; I’ll bet it won’t be so easy then.” Xavier’s eyes narrowed. “Hey, Rion, did I cut you? I swear I was careful—”
Rion’s hand came up, touched the bright red mark on his neck. “No, I swear you barely touched me.” His face darkened. “Is there…a special virtue in those blades you carry?”
“Well, Khoros said that I wasn’t ever going to find better blades. My sensei gave them to me. And Idinus seemed to think they were interesting.” Xavier started to hand them to Rion, glanced at the red mark and obviously thought better of it, settled for holding the slightly curved sword where Rion could study it.
Tobimar was, of course, intimately familiar with the weapons, which both Xavier’s sensei and the Spiritsmith called vya-shadu. At the base of Xavier’s blades was a symbol, parallel swords and seven stylized towers; the ones the Spiritsmith had forged for Tobimar incorporated a similar design but used the Seven and One of Skysand.
Rion’s eyes widened as his gaze focused on Xavier’s swords. It was a momentary thing, almost instantly hidden, but Tobimar was sure he had seen it. However, all he said was, “They’re beautiful. And I think I can sense…something there.” His gaze dropped. “I was made by…monsters. From monstrous things. Perhaps the reason I’m not a Justiciar again is because the holy power would burn me.”
“Might be right,” Poplock murmured to Tobimar. “You notice his—”
“Yes. Talk later.”
Xavier had put his hand on Rion’s shoulder. “Hey, c’mon. Maybe you’re right, but I’m sure you and your sis will work through that somehow. Your god’s into Justice, and it wouldn’t be fair if you couldn’t get back into your old profession, right?”
Rion looked at Xavier and gave a snort of laughter. “An unbeliever reminding me of the basics. All right then, no need for me to dwell on that.”
“Maybe we should do something less strenuous, anyway. I have a—”
At that point Toshi poked his head through a doorway into the practice yard. “Oh, here you are. Come on, we have something to discuss with everyone.”
Poplock gestured and a twinkle of light showed he’d dispelled the safewards. “Looks like we’ll be doing something a lot less strenuous, sitting in chairs.”
“Probably not as boring as a conference on Earth,” Xavier said cheerfully. Rion followed them, still not looking entirely happy.
Can’t blame him, Tobimar thought. What must it be like knowing you’re the creation of your own enemies?
Once more the table in Vantage Fortress was laden with food, and there were plenty of seats already filled by the others. “We’re all here, Kyri,” Toshi said. “Can we back up a little and let everyone know what we’re talking about?”
“Of course, Toshi,” Kyri said. She waited until Tobimar and Rion had seated themselves on either side of her, and Xavier had decided which dishes he wanted to be sitting near. “Toshi and I were discussing the critical time problem. If they were to set out immediately but had to go through Hell’s Edge to get to the Black City, it would take them several months; the distance is almost as far as getting to the Fallen Hills, and the last part of it would be going through Hell itself.”
“Although with two armies having gone through there recently,” Poplock said, “that probably wouldn’t be so much of a slowdown as it might be otherwise. I’d bet both the Empire of the Mountain and the State of the Dragon King are keeping supply lines open, too.”
The Toad scratched his head. “You might have trouble convincing them to let you through Hell’s Edge, though. You can’t just walk through…” He trailed off, seeing Xavier grinning broadly at him. “Okay, no, that won’t be a problem.”
Remembering how Xavier had been able to use his power to help him and Poplock literally walk right past Dalthunian guardposts, Tobimar had to grin along with Xavier.
“But I realized that there might be another solution, if you can manage to scale a few really difficult mountains.”
“Hey, wait,” Poplock said, and Tobimar continued, “Kyri, you won’t be able to escort them.”
“I don’t think it will matter,” Kyri said.
“Begging your pardon, Lady Kyri, but it might make things clearer if you finished telling us about this other solution,” Gabriel Dante said.
“Sorry, Gabriel—and Aurora and Nike. Poplock, can you get out a map for us?”
“Hold on…yes, here you go!” The Toad pulled a scroll of paper out of his neverfull pack—a scroll several times longer than the Toad and pack combined, a sight that always looked peculiar even though Tobimar ought to be used to it by now.
Unrolled, the paper was a detailed map of the known continent of Zarathan, with Artania also up in the northwest corner. Kyri l
eaned over it, pointing. “Evanwyl’s here; we’re just about in the center of that star-shape that marks the city. Way down here is Hell’s Edge. You do not want to go through the Gyrefell Forest; no one does. Even the Dragons warn against it.
“So you have to either go right along the base of Hell’s Rim until you get to Hell’s Edge, which will be a very rough journey, or you have to go south, catch the Great Road, and travel along here until you reach the Odinsforge Range and can take the northwest fork. That will be faster, although Dalthunia’s hostile territory and there’s no telling what you might run into there.”
Nike nodded. “Yes, we’re generally familiar with the map, although talking to someone who’s actually been through those areas will certainly be helpful.”
“Hey, I was through there not all that long ago,” Xavier pointed out. “But they’re right about it not being safe.”
“In any case, you can see that’s a long trip. But when I had my Raiment forged, and Tobimar got his new swords, we visited the Spiritsmith, and he lives here.” She pointed to a point on Hell’s Rim which was slightly north of the easternmost part of the circle of mountains, and thus part of the section of mountains not too far from Evanwyl.
“But he’s still on this side of Hell’s Rim, right?” Aurora asked.
“Technically, probably,” Poplock said. “But Kyri’s on to something. From one part of the plateau the Spiritsmith lives on, you could see straight into Hell, and we did see the…black glow, whatever you’d call it, when the Black City manifested.”
“That might work,” Toshi said slowly. “If you can actually see into this place you call Hell, then the mountain range must be considerably narrower there. Still high enough to serve as a bulwark against the things you mention live there, but if we can reach this plateau…Between me and Aurora, we could probably get us down from there with minimal noticeable power, avoiding calling attention to ourselves.”