Mask of Spells (Mask of the Demonsouled #3)

by Jonathan Moeller

  Her ghostly blue eyes fell on Mazael.

  “The lord of war,” said Liane in her soft voice. “I knew you would come. You come with the rusted knight and the lady of the wolves and the chained dragon. You come with my sister.”

  “Yes,” said Mazael. “How are you talking to me now?”

  “The Sight showed me your dream,” said Liane. “Tell my sister that the time is almost here. Tell her that she must sound the Horn of Doom and Fate or all is lost.” The pale eyes stared unblinkingly into Mazael. “You must wake. An old spider comes for you. Be ready to fight, lord of war.”

  The dream shattered around Mazael.

  ###

  Mazael’s eyes snapped open.

  For a confused, disoriented instant, he could not remember where he was or how he had gotten there. Why was it so damned cold? Had the fire gone out? Then his mind snapped back into focus, and he remembered Skuldar and Armalast and Tchroth and everything else that had happened in the last few weeks.

  He remembered the dream of Marazadra and the warning of Liane.

  “Something’s coming,” said Romaria.

  Mazael got to his feet, yanking Talon from its scabbard. The others scrambled to their feet, Sigaldra with her bow, Adalar with his sword, and Azurvaltoria with magical fire already crackling around her fingers.

  “What is it?” said Sigaldra. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Something magical?” said Adalar.

  “Aye,” said Romaria. “The Sight. But I’ve never seen anything like this before. It’s almost like a soliphage, but…older, somehow.”

  “Older?” said Azurvaltoria, startled. “The soliphages are older than humanity.”

  “Can you detect anything?” said Romaria.

  “Not in this limited form,” said Azurvaltoria, waving a disdainful hand at her human shape. “Once it gets closer, perhaps, but until then…”

  “No need,” said Romaria, setting an arrow to her bowstring. “It’s coming closer.”

  Mazael started to answer, and then he heard the noise.

  It was a strange creaking sort of noise, like leather under stress, and it reminded him of the noise a man in leather armor made while walking. Yet the noise sounded wrong for that, and even as the thought crossed his mind, a peculiar musty smell came to his nostrils. It smelled like the dusty odor of the soliphages, overlaid with a smell like rotting flesh, or perhaps the stomach-turning odor of pus from an infected wound.

  “Gods and ancestors,” said Sigaldra, wrinkling her nose. “What is that?”

  “Ah,” said Azurvaltoria, blinking in surprise. “They’re still alive? I didn’t think it possible.”

  Adalar frowned at her. “Who? Who is still alive?”

  The answer came to Mazael in a flash. “A Spider Guard.”

  Azurvaltoria swore. It was the first time he had ever heard her do that.

  “What is a Spider Guard?” said Sigaldra.

  “That, I assume,” said Mazael as a dark shape came into sight, limping around a boulder.

  At first, he thought it was an old man wearing patchwork armor fashioned out of ragged plates of black and red steel. Yet as the man drew closer, Mazael saw something that looked similar to the Talisman of Marazadra resting against his chest, a spider of black metal with its fangs and its legs sinking into his sides and between his ribs. The smell of rotting flesh and poisoned blood came from the wounds in his torso, the wounds that never seemed to heal.

  The armor was not steel but chitin like the carapace of a soliphage or a hunting spider, and the man wasn’t wearing it.

  It had grown from within his flesh, erupting from his skin, and Mazael saw the ragged tears in the flesh where armor had ripped its way free.

  Blood trickled from the tears in the skin. The man had to be in tremendous pain, and his gaunt face was locked in an agonized rictus, his bloodshot eyes wide, his thin lips peeled back from his yellow teeth.

  “Trespassers,” croaked the man, stopping a dozen yards from them. “Trespassers in this sacred place.” He tilted his head to the side, mouth twitching, a vein throbbing in his forehead. “Yet the women bear the signs of the goddess upon their cheeks and brows. Many have come in these late days, preparing for the goddess and the wrath of her return.”

  “We have come to worship the goddess and prepare for her return,” said Mazael. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to fight this strange creature. The old man looked as if he was in too much pain to stand, let alone to fight, yet his movements were sure and steady, and his eyes did not blink. Mazael never liked to fight unless he understood his opponent, and until he understood this Spider Guard, he didn’t want to fight him.

  Not unless he had to.

  “Yes,” croaked the old man. “Yes, you are here because of the goddess’s return, are you not?”

  “You speak truly,” said Azurvaltoria, returning to her imperious mode of speech. “Now, at the hour of the goddess’s return, all her faithful must gather to execute her will. Let us pass, ancient and honored servant of Marazadra, and we shall…”

  “You,” said the Spider Guard, “are a dragon.”

  Azurvaltoria stumbled over her next word, caught off guard. It was the first time that Mazael had seen her taken aback.

  “You,” said the Spider Guard, pointing a clawed finger at Mazael, “have a taint about you.” Spines jutted from the side of his forearm, like ragged, serrated blades that had cut their way loose from his body. His pointing finger shifted to Romaria. “You have Elderborn blood. None of you are here to praise the goddess. You are her enemies, come here to hinder her return. You shall perish for your impudence.”

  “Try it,” said Mazael, “if you can.”

  The misshapen creature shrugged and pointed at him.

  Before he could react, faster than he anticipated, a blast of purple fire burst from the Spider Guard’s outstretched hand and slammed into Mazael’s chest. Pain exploded through him, and the impact threw him into a nearby boulder. He grunted and collapsed to the ground, trying to recover his breath and the strength to stand.

  The Spider Guard charged in a blur.

  ###

  Adalar had not expected the withered old man to move so fast, but the Spider Guard moved like lightning. He already had his talchweisyr ready, the hilt grasped in both hands, and that was the only thing that saved his life. The old man attacked, whipping his forearms like clubs, the razor blades jutting from their sides stabbing towards Adalar’s face.

  Adalar parried, and the raw power of the Spider Guard’s blow knocked him back, and he had to make a hasty dodge to avoid another sweep of the razor-lined forearms. Both Romaria and Sigaldra loosed arrows. Sigaldra’s arrow bounced off the black armor jutting from the old man’s right leg. Romaria’s arrow struck him in the chest. Adalar had seen her Elderborn bow drive arrows even through plate armor, but her shaft deflected from the metal spider on the old man’s chest. The metal spider seemed to ripple in displeasure and pain, its fangs and legs sinking deeper into the Spider Guard’s torso.

  Azurvaltoria cast a spell, throwing a burst of flame into the old man. The Spider Guard rocked back, hissing in pain and fury. His flesh sizzled and burned on his right arm and side, and even as Adalar looked, the burns started to heal, the flesh restoring itself.

  He stabbed the talchweisyr as hard as he could manage. The tip of the silver blade slipped into the Spider Guard’s ribs, jabbing between the legs of the metal spider, and the sword’s vibration increased as it siphoned away some of the Spider Guard’s magic.

  The old man roared in fury, his left arm coming up for a punch, and Adalar ducked, ripping away the talchweisyr. He avoided the Spider Guard’s blow by perhaps half an inch, retreating as the old man advanced. The burns from Azurvaltoria’s spell had healed completely, and while the Spider Guard did not look healthy by any means, he looked no worse than he had when the fight had begun.

  “The talisman!” shouted Azurvaltoria, casting another spell. “The talisman is his weak point.
Destroy the talisman!”

  Adalar had no idea how to accomplish that, and he had no time to think on it. The Spider Guard came at him again, both hands raised for a hammer blow, and Adalar could not find the proper footing to dodge. He had no choice but to raise the talchweisyr in a parry. The Spider Guard’s fists came hammering down, and Adalar expected to blow to drive him to his knees, perhaps even to break his shoulders with its force.

  Instead, he held the parry against the Spider Guard, and for a moment the old man’s rictus of rage and pain softened with bafflement.

  The talchweisyr had absorbed some of the Spider Guard’s unnatural strength, temporarily granting it to Adalar.

  He shoved, knocking the old man back, and chopped the talchweisyr down. The blade bit into the metal spider, which writhed again with pain, and the old man screamed in anger.

  ###

  Mazael heaved himself back to his feet, pain pulsing through him, but his rage matched his pain and started to swallow it. Demonsouled fury burned through his blood, and he felt it healing the injuries the Spider Guard’s magic had inflicted upon him. It also poured molten rage through his heart and mind, and he badly wanted to kill something.

  Fortunately, an enemy was near at hand.

  Adalar and the Spider Guard wheeled around each other, silver talchweisyr and black-armored fists flashing in a dance of violence. The young knight was holding his own against the Spider Guard, thanks to his excellent skill with the sword, though no doubt the talchweisyr had absorbed some of the Spider Guard’s strength. Romaria and Sigaldra stood side by side, shooting arrows at the Spider Guard whenever the opportunity presented itself, though the arrows seemed only to annoy the old man.

  Azurvaltoria stood on the other side of the fight, casting spells. Her fiery blasts hit the Spider Guard, and the impact of the burning bolts knocked the old man back. That gave Adalar an opportunity to land a hit, thought the Spider Guard seemed capable of regenerating any injuries almost at once.

  “The talisman!” shouted Azurvaltoria, catching Mazael’s eye. “Destroy the talisman! That is the only way to kill the Spider Guard!”

  He broke into a run, intending to aid Adalar.

  Adalar struck, again and again, hammering at the metal spider on the old man’s chest. That enraged the Spider Guard, and the old man continued his furious attack. At last Adalar stumbled, and the old man’s armored fist clipped the side of Adalar’s head. The young knight lost his balance and fell on his back, and the Spider Guard loomed over him for the kill.

  “No!” shouted Sigaldra, and her next arrow plunged deep into the Spider Guard’s exposed side. This time, the arrow hit hard enough that the Spider Guard grunted in pain, and the old man whirled, his bloodshot eyes narrowed with hate. Azurvaltoria hit him with a blast of fire to the back, but the Spider Guard ignored it. His right hand came up, purple fire crackling around his fingers. There was no way either Romaria or Sigaldra could get out of the way in time.

  So Mazael stepped into the path of the spell.

  It hit him with as much force as the first spell, but he was ready for it, and the killing rage was already in him. Pain exploded through him, but Mazael spun with the impact, keeping his feet, and charged at the Spider Guard. He just had time to see shock flicker across the old man’s face, and he swung Talon with both hands, chopping the sword into the Spider Guard’s chest. The blade of dragon claw bit deep into the metal spider, and the talisman jerked as if trying to crawl away from the danger. Mazael ripped Talon free as the Spider Guard stumbled, and by then Adalar had regained his feet, the talchweisyr coming around in a shining arc. His sword carved another gash into the metal spider.

  Mazael struck again with Talon, and his sword cut the talisman in half. The Spider Guard stumbled with a scream of pain, eyes wide, and the metal legs ripped free from his torso, lashing back and forth like ropes caught in a storm. The Spider Guard collapsed to his knees, and Mazael drew back his arms and swung.

  Talon took off the old man’s head, the armored corpse slumping to the ground. The smell of the poisoned blood was ghastly. Mazael stepped back, breathing hard, and Azurvaltoria took three quick strides forward. She held out her hands in a fan shape, and a jet of fire burst from her fingers, washing over the Spider Guard’s corpse. The dead man took flame, and the chitinous armor started to burn. Azurvaltoria nodded to herself, dismissing the fire.

  “Best to make sure,” she said. “Sometimes they can heal themselves even if their talisman is destroyed.”

  “Why didn’t you warn us?” said Mazael, fighting back his rage. His rage pointed out that Azurvaltoria had failed to warn them of the Spider Guards, that perhaps she had plotted to betray them all along…

  “Because I thought they had all died centuries ago,” said Azurvaltoria. “I didn’t think the damned things would have lived this long.”

  Mazael took a deep breath. “What are they, exactly?”

  “They used to be priests of Marazadra,” said Azurvaltoria, looking at the twisted corpse. “Skuldari priests. A millennium ago one of the high priests had the clever idea of making talismans in imitation of the Talisman of Marazadra and charging them with power. You can see the result. That clever high priest made himself a little army and attacked the Veiled Mountain with his Spider Guards. I had to kill them all, of course. Destroying their talismans with dragon fire was really the only way to do it. I thought I had gotten them all.”

  “Evidently not,” said Romaria.

  “No,” said Mazael, his rage cooling.

  “Perhaps the survivors withdrew here,” said Sigaldra, “to await the return of Marazadra.”

  “That seems likely,” said Azurvaltoria, “given that the Spider Guards seem to have the Sight. Maybe they saw a vision of the future and withdrew here to await Marazadra.”

  “The Sight?” said Mazael. “How did you know that?”

  “He knew I was Elderborn,” said Romaria. “He also realized that Azurvaltoria was a dragon, and there is no obvious way to see that.”

  “Other than my natural magnificence, of course,” said Azurvaltoria.

  “He said you were…tainted,” said Sigaldra, frowning.

  Mazael snorted. “I haven’t bathed in a while. And the gods know I’ve been hit by enough spells in my life. Likely that was what he sensed.”

  Sigaldra still frowned, but she nodded. She was a clever woman when she wasn’t blinded by intense hatred, and he hoped she would not figure out that he was Demonsouled. Here, in the midst of their enemies, was not the time for such a discussion.

  “So if the Spider Guards have the Sight,” said Romaria, “they will be able to track us.”

  “Undoubtedly,” said Azurvaltoria.

  “Then they will find us wherever we can go,” said Sigaldra.

  “Oh, the situation is not so dire as all that,” said Azurvaltoria.

  “Really,” said Mazael. “Convince me.”

  “For one, I can work a spell to mask us from the Sight,” said Azurvaltoria. “It will take some time to do properly, but once it is managed, the Spider Guards will have to be right in front of us before they can detect us. Additionally, the arrival of the Skuldari priests and the valgasts will hold the attention of most of the Spider Guards. I expect that one simply found us by accident. It was headed in the direction of the stairs to the Tower of the Spider when it stumbled across us.”

  “It is bad enough that we must fight the Skuldari and the valgasts,” said Sigaldra. “Now we must contend with those Spider Guards as well? The Prophetess has so many allies that I do not see how we can overcome her in battle.”

  “We don’t have to overcome her in battle,” said Mazael. “We just have to kidnap your sister. And maybe steal the Mask of Marazadra while we are at it.” He glanced to the east, wondering if Molly and Riothamus had gotten his message.

  “Easier said than done,” said Sigaldra.

  “Agreed,” said Mazael. “So we had better start, hadn’t we? Azurvaltoria, your spell.”


  Chapter 13: Barbarian Nations

  Sigaldra waited as Azurvaltoria worked her magic, threads of fire dancing around her fingers.

  Hope and despair and rage warred through Sigaldra. Just one of the Spider Guards had been a terrible foe. How would they fare against a dozen of the creatures? Against a hundred? Again she felt the hopelessness that had gnawed at her since the soliphage’s cave.

  And yet…

  They had escaped Veiled Mountain, hadn’t they? They had escaped Tchroth. Surely they should have died in both places. Certainly, Sigaldra and Adalar should have died in the Spire of Spells. If not for Adalar’s boldness and quick thinking, they would have died.

  On impulse, she stepped next to him. His talchweisyr rested in his right hand, but she reached down and squeezed his left hand. He blinked, and then smiled at her, and Mazael turned a startled glance in her direction. Once that would have embarrassed her, but they had been through too much together for her to care.

  “Are you hurt?” said Adalar in a low voice.

  “No,” said Sigaldra. “I’m not wounded. I’m exhausted and frightened, but I’m not wounded. I just…thank you, Adalar.”

  He blinked, puzzled. “For what?” For a moment she thought he was feigning puzzlement, but then she realized he really was baffled. There was such a thing as feigned modesty, but it was not in Adalar Greatheart. He neither denigrated himself nor put undue stress upon his accomplishments.

  It was an excellent quality in a man.

  “For getting us out of the Spire of Spells,” said Sigaldra.

  Adalar laughed a little. “I can hardly take credit. I took a gamble and it did not end with us splattered across the cavern floor. Simply surviving is thanks enough, I think.”

  “I would prefer to survive and be victorious,” said Sigaldra.

  “Yes,” said Adalar. “I cannot argue with that.”