She had been the last.
It had been a long time since Corthain had kissed anyone.
After the Battle of Dark River, he had been perhaps the most famous man in the West. And more than one Callian domn had a mistress or two on the side. But Corthain could not. The freeholders of his domnium depended on him. A mistress might mean a bastard child and a civil war in a decade or so. More than one Callian domn and Saranian lord had visited Moiria with an eligible daughter in tow, but Corthain had refrained. A wife meant political entanglements, and potential threats to his people.
And none of them had been anything like Rachaelis.
She was so strong. And utterly unaware of it. Corthain If he kept her alive long enough to join the College Liberia, every slaver from Araspan to Maratry would tremble in his boots. She had lost her father, survived the Testing, survived the Urthaag, survived Anna Marinius’s trap, and kept going. He had expected her to collapse into a weeping pile by now, but she kept going.
He couldn’t help but like her.
A shadow moved ahead, and Corthain’s hand tightened about his sword. But it was only a slave in a ragged orange tunic.
Besides. He had duties in Moiria, and she was an Adept.
But she had expressed a wish to leave Araspan, hadn’t she?
Later. He could think about Rachaelis later. Right now he had to focus on keeping her alive.
They reached the warehouse Temple, and Rachaelis opened the door. The Temple was deserted, the only light coming from a few candles below the statue of the Seeress. Sister Maria sat on a bench near the door, head bowed in prayer. She rose as they approached, and a weary smile spread across her face.
“Rachaelis,” said Maria. “Thank the Divine that you’ve come. You’re in very great danger.”
“Yes, I know,” said Rachaelis.
“What have you learned?” said Corthain.
“I have spoken with the Jurgurs, free and slave alike, among the faithful,” said Maria. “There are more than you might expect, Lord Corthain. Many loathe the demon worship of their fathers, and have come to the light of the Divine. Others believe the demons abandoned them at Dark River, and so have turned to other gods.” She shook her head. “I had thought that so many Jurgurs came to the Temple because of the great battle, because of the grim fate of their people. But I was wrong. They flee something here, in the city.”
“The blood shaman,” said Rachaelis.
Maria nodded. “Lord Corthain was right. A mighty blood shaman has come to Araspan. Some of the Jurgurs hold him in awe, others hate him, but all fear him. They fear him so much that they would not even speak his name aloud, for fear of drawing his attention. They say he has come at the command his high demon, to raise up a messiah for the Jurgur people. I fear your reasoning proved true, Lord Corthain. He wishes to transform Rachaelis into an Urmaaghsk, a host for his high demon.”
“His name is Maerwulf,” said Rachaelis.
Maria blinked.
“We investigated among the Jurgur slaves,” said Corthain. “A noblewoman named Anna Marinius bought up hundreds of Jurgur slaves. It turns out she was a blood sorceress and a disciple of Maerwulf. She drained the slaves of their blood to fuel her spells and sent rest to Maerwulf.” So Maerwulf could use their blood in his spells, or to transform them into Urthaags? Neither possibility boded well. “She tried to trap Rachaelis, but…it did not go well for her.”
“An Araspani noblewoman follows this Maerwulf?” said Maria, shocked. “I think little of Arapsan’s nobility, as you know. But I never thought they would betray the Conclave to follow a Jurgur blood shaman.”
“Maerwulf is no ordinary blood shaman,” said Corthain. “He is centuries old, has mastered blood sorcery to an unparalleled degree. And the high demon that commands his obedience is one of the darkest and most powerful of the astral realm.”
“How will you defeat such a foe?” said Maria.
“We must find him first,” said Corthain. “If he is not stopped, he will do far worse than just attack Rachaelis. Do the Jurgurs among your faithful have any idea where he might be hiding?”
“No,” said Maria. “His sanctum is protected by blood sorcery. Only his disciples can enter, and only when they bear some sort of talisman.”
“Wait,” said Rachaelis. “A talisman? Does it look like a silver claw clutching a black stone?”
“Yes,” said Maria. “They said it looked like that.”
“Anna Marinius had one,” said Rachaelis. “We took it with us after…after we escaped. The thing is enchanted with blood sorcery. I don’t know what it does, exactly, but it is powerful. Maerwulf must have made it with his own hands.”
“Then can you use it to trace Maerwulf to his lair?” said Maria.
Rachaelis sighed. “I don’t know. I tried, all day. I can’t fathom the nature of the spell upon the amulet. It’s almost as if it exists simultaneously in this world and in the astral world. Any spell cast upon the amulet gets drawn into the astral world, and its power dissipates there.”
Maria’s expression hardened. “I have heard of such a thing before.”
Rachaelis blinked. “You have?”
Corthain looked at her in a new light. “An interesting thing for a Sister of the Temple to know.”
Maria smiled. “I can help you find Maerwulf’s hiding place.”
“How?” said Rachaelis.
“You weren’t always just a Sister of the Temple, were you?” said Corthain. “I expect you had a rather more…adventurous youth.”
“You are correct, Lord Corthain,” said Maria. “I have been a Sister since I was fifteen. But as you said, I didn’t always tend to the faithful.”
She reached up and opened the front of her black robe. Beneath she wore a leather jerkin, greaves, and boots. Strips of a dull silvery metal covered the leather armor, and a mace hung from a loop in her belt.
“That armor,” said Rachaelis. “That’s…”
“An alloy,” said Corthain. “Called aurelium. Made from ore found in the mountains of Rhomaria, near Chyrsos. It disrupts the effects of magic. Someone wearing that armor could shrug off a blood spell, or maybe even a full blast of astralfire.”
“Very good,” said Maria.
“You were an Inquisitor,” said Corthain, “were you not?”
Maria nodded. Corthain heard Rachaelis’s breath hiss through her teeth.
“The Conclave is not the only group that opposes demons and blood sorcery,” said Maria. “And too often the Conclave only cares for the powerful and the wealthy. That is why the Temple founded the Inquisitors. We defend the faithful from ghouls, from demons, from blood sorcery and necromancy, and from all the forbidden arcane arts.”
“And sometimes you kill Adepts,” said Rachaelis. She seemed shaken.
Again Maria nodded. “Those who abuse their power, yes. The mission of the Inquisitors is to protect the faithful from the abuse of magic. All magic. Even the High Art. Too often the Conclave is accountable to no one for its actions. You’ve said as much to me.”
“You’re in danger,” said Rachaelis. “If Magister Arthain…if almost any of the Adepts learned that you were an Inquisitor, they would have you on the next ship sailing for the mainland. Or they would kill you on the spot.”
Maria shook her head. “I am no longer an Inquisitor. I tired of death and bloodshed, and wished only to become a Sister of a Temple, nothing more. I thought I could do some good in Araspan.” She chuckled. “And if there was one place on earth without blood sorcery, I thought, it would be Araspan.”
“You said you might know how to find Maerwulf’s lair?” said Corthain.
“I do,” said Maria. “Rachaelis, you said this amulet seems to exist halfway between the material world and the astral realm?”
Rachaelis nodded.
“Years ago, before the Jurgur invasion, I hunted a powerful blood sorcerer,” said Maria. “He knew we hunted him, and so found a way to construct a sanctum using blood sorcery.”
“I do not fully understand the mechanics,” said Maria. “Nor do I wish to. Blood sorcery is an offense to the Divine. But the blood sorcerer found a way to create a sanctum that existed half in the mortal world, and half in the astral realm. Only he could enter it. But he also created keys, amulets, that he bestowed upon his followers. With these keys, his followers could pass the spells and enter the sanctum, though only at twilight.”
“So that’s what it was,” breathed Rachaelis. “A key. So Anna could enter Maerwulf’s hiding place. Then it’s just a matter of finding a concentration of blood sorcery that powerful. The Adepts should be able to do it.”
Corthain shook his head. “Unlikely. If the Adepts were going to sense a blood spell that powerful in the city, they would have done so already. And you said yourself that the amulet dissipates any detection spells into the astral realm. Odds are that this sanctum will do the same thing.”
Rachaelis nodded. “So it could be anywhere in the city. Or anywhere on the Isle of Aras, for that matter.”
“It is simpler than that,” said Maria. “Maerwulf could not create such a sanctum anywhere. He needs a specific site. The blood sorcery to create the sanctum draws its strength from both the astral realm and the land of the site itself. The land must be…scarred, somehow, marked with blood and violence. It must have left a shadow upon the astral world.”
“How?” said Rachaelis.
“First, it must be a site where powerful magic has been practiced over an extended period of time,” said Maria.
Corthain shook his head. “That’s most of Araspan.”
“Second, it must be a site where people have died violently,” said Maria.
Corthain frowned. Araspan had a long and violent history. Numerous places in the city met both conditions.
“And, finally,” said Maria, “a demon must have been summoned in that location at least once. A powerful one, too. At least a greater demon or stronger.”
A strange expression came over Rachaelis’s face. “Like a high demon?”
“Certainly,” said Maria. She shrugged. “Again, that could be any number of places in Araspan. Adepts have communed with demons before. And I know that demons are summoned as part of the Testing. Every Magister knows the spells to summon at least a lesser demon…”
Rachaelis’s eyes got wide.
“Paulus,” she whispered.
“What?” said Corthain.
“Paulus summoned a high demon and he killed hundreds of people,” said Rachaelis. “I think I know where Maerwulf’s hiding place is.”
The Third Soul IV: The High Demon
At last Rachaelis has tracked her enemy, the blood shaman Maerwulf, to his otherworldly lair. Now Rachaelis must face him and destroy him, before he claims her body as a vessel for his high demon.
But a danger far greater than Maerwulf or his fanatical followers awaits Rachaelis.
For a high demon can have many servants…
Chapter 1 - The Ruined Tower
The broken ruins of Paulus’s tower jutted into the night.
“I should have figured it out sooner,” said Rachaelis, her mind racing. “Paulus wasn’t just in communion with a high demon. He summoned it into his body. He was an Urmaaghsk. The Adepts killed him, but I don’t think they destroyed the high demon. It must have retreated back into the astral realm.”
“You think Paulus’s high demon and Maerwulf’s are one and the same?” said Corthain.
She walked towards the ruined tower, Corthain at her right, and Sister Maria on her left. The old woman’s robe billowed behind her, revealing the aurelium-banded armor. Maria had always looked old, but vigorous. Now she looked…grim. Formidable, even. Rachaelis suspected that she knew how to use that mace very well.
“I think so,” said Rachaelis. “It must want something in Araspan. So it communicated with Paulus first. And when the Conclave killed him, it found a new follower in Maerwulf, and told him to come here.”
“It wants an Adept for a host,” said Corthain. “It chose Paulus first, and after he was killed, it waited for an Adept of sufficient strength to come along. So it chose you.”
“Lucky me,” said Rachaelis.
They stopped at the ruined gate to the shattered tower’s grounds. Paulus had been killed twelve years ago, yet the grounds beneath the ruined tower were still bleak, barren. Almost as if they had been blighted.
Or as if the presence of blood sorcery continued to poison the land.
Rachaelis cringed at the thought, fear creeping into her mind. She had seen enough of blood sorcery to last a lifetime. And this place was where her father had acquired his…affliction, whatever it was that Paulus had done to him.
She glanced at Corthain, and felt better.
Strange that his presence could reassure her so much. She had the High Art and he did not. Yet he was clever, clever enough to have found about Anna Marinius and Maerwulf when the Conclave could not. He might know how to use that sword, but his mind was his weapon, even more so than an Adept’s. And he had saved her from Anna's trap.
She realized that she would rather go into danger with him than even with Magister Nazim.
But she could think about Corthain later. Right now she had to focus on not getting killed. Or, worse, having Maerwulf transform her into an Urmaaghsk.
She stepped onto the barren ground, and immediately felt something wrong.
“What is it?” said Corthain, and Maria reached for her mace.
“It…” Rachaelis shook her head. “There’s something wrong here. I can feel it. It must be a…a scar on the astral realm, like Maria said. Something left over from what Paulus did. It’s little wonder no one’s ever claimed this land.”
“I thought the Conclave left the ruins here as a warning to anyone who would consort with demons,” said Corthain.
“Yes,” said Rachaelis, “but no Adept would want to live here. It’s…like the air itself is stained, somehow.”
“Scars in the astral world, left over from Paulus’s crimes,” said Maria, voice soft. “They seep into the mortal world here. Almost certainly this is where Maerwulf has hidden his sanctuary.”
“Let’s find out for certain,” said Rachaelis, taking a deep breath.
She lifted her hand and worked the spell to sense magic.
No other spells touched her senses, at least not at first. But a feeling of wrongness welled up through the spell, like poison seeping from an infected wound. Maria had been right. People had died here, violently and in great numbers.
And Paulus had summoned a high demon here.
She felt power, then, the faintest wisp of blood sorcery. Rachaelis crossed the grounds, the dead earth crunching beneath her boots, and stopped at the stairs leading up to the tower's main doors. Rubble choked the archway, giving it the look of a mouth full of broken teeth.
Corthain looked around, face blank. No doubt he had some dark memories of this place.
“Here,” said Rachaelis. “It’s here. Right here, in the arch. The gateway to Maerwulf’s sanctuary.” She put a hand on the charred stones and shuddered. The power made it feel…greasy, somehow, beneath her fingers. “But it’s…latent. Sleeping, almost. That’s why no one’s ever detected it.” She frowned and focused harder. “I think…I think the power only awakens when someone brings one of those amulets near, at twilight, like Maria said. Otherwise it’s almost undetectable.”
“How will you proceed?” said Maria.
Rachaelis looked at the archway. “We see if Maerwulf’s inside.”
###
“But you don’t even speak Jurguri,” said Corthain.
Rachaelis, Corthain, Luthair, Thalia, and Sister Maria had gathered in the room at the Red Water Inn. Thalia had been more than a little displeased that an Inquisitor, even a former Inquisitor, had offered aid, but Corthain pointed out that they needed all the help they could get.
“The amulet will let only one of us en
ter the sanctum,” said Rachaelis. “And I’m the best one to go.”
“Maerwulf is a Jurgur,” said Corthain. “Most of his disciples will be Jurgurs. They’ll be speaking Jurguri. Which you do not speak.”
“But I can use an illusion spell to disguise myself,” said Rachaelis. “And I can also turn myself invisible, if necessary.”
“Which will do us no good if you can’t understand what they’re discussing,” said Corthain. “I can disguise myself as a Jurgur well enough.”
“But you’re the Hammer of Dark River, and most of those Jurgurs are survivors of the battle,” said Rachaelis. “If even one of them recognizes you, you’re going to die. And Maerwulf might have warding spells within his sanctum, or more of those blood sigils. I can use silver astralfire to dispel them, if necessary.”
“But you don’t understand Jurguri, and I don’t think you have experience infiltrating an enemy camp,” said Corthain. “What will you do if someone starts to question you?
“Sending any one person is a terrible risk,” said Maria. “It is a pity that you both cannot go. Your strengths complement each other rather well.”
Rachaelis felt her cheeks warm at that. She hoped no one noticed.
“There might be a way,” murmured Thalia, “for both of you to go.”
“How?” said Corthain.
“A thoughtmeld,” said Thalia. “Like we did at Anna Marinius’s tower. Rachaelis goes through the gate into Maerwulf’s little den. But I use a thoughtmeld to link Rachaelis and Corthain’s minds together. And if I do it deeply enough, Rachaelis can share some of Corthain’s knowledge. Specifically, his knowledge of the Jurguri tongue. And it will also let Corthain see through your eyes and hear through your ears.”
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