Sword and Sorceress 30

by Waters, Elisabeth

  His eyes narrowed. “Young and stupid. Lanyer and I were leading the ponies down a broad street, but we weren’t alone. We kept hearing noises. Then one the ponies pulled free and bolted down a side street. A shadow came out of nowhere and dragged it away. All we found was a bloodied stump of a leg lying in the street.

  “Then something grabbed the other pony. We panicked and ran, Lanyer in one direction and me in another. I saw him stumble and gash himself, but he was on the other side of the plaza heading into an alleyway. Then I saw something move, and I ran. I ran until I was free of Sarosar. I never went back.”

  “You never would have survived,” Jenna said. “I saw this shadow in my dream, too. It was deadly, perhaps the foul spirit of something evil that once lived there.”

  “And yet we’re going right toward it,” Trayn pointed out as they mounted up and turned east toward Harebridge and Sarosar. “I seemed to have learned nothing the first time. But I agree that we have to go. The feeling of being summoned was even stronger with the second dream. And if I must face this foul spirit again, what better company than” —he gave her a nod “—a Church exorcist of extraordinary talent.”

  The land rose, each hill rising higher than the last. It was almost noon when they crested a ridge and found themselves facing across the valley a cliff jutting upwards. The rock was striated gray and purple in wide bands that looked too regular to be natural. And atop the rock, tumbled walls and towers rose like broken teeth on the plateau above, a spectacle of ruination.

  “Sarosar,” Trayn said softly. “And across the valley to the east is Castle Harebridge where my family holds court. My room in the castle faced west toward the ruins. Imagine growing up with that in your window every morning.”

  “So how do we get up there?’ she asked, nodding at the city.

  “The old road with its big causeway spanning the valley is on the other side of the cliff, but it was largely destroyed in the wars. This side has a narrow switchback up the cliff just wide enough for one abreast.”

  Jenna stared at the cliffside. “I don’t see a switchback.”

  “No, you wouldn’t—not from here. You can see it clearly from the castle windows, but from the ground you would never spot it.” His voice took on an edge. “Just one of the many tricks of Sarosar.”

  Even forewarned of the mystery, Jenna was surprised at the completeness of the illusion. When Trayn led them to a spot between two bluestone uprights, it looked empty and unremarkable, but when they passed between the rocks, a path upward appeared before them. Trayn went first, leading his mount, then abruptly backed up, forcing her back as well.

  “I don’t think we should take the horses,” he said. “Shift what you need into one saddlebag and leave the rest down here. We need to travel light and fast.”

  As she packed her exorcism tools—salt, bread, and a ritual knife—into a small satchel, she noted the grimness underscoring his words and recalled a much younger Trayn tearing out of the ruins in panic.

  They climbed for the better part of an hour, then Trayn suddenly shuddered. “Tell the damn dwarf to get off my back,” he snapped. “I’m freezing.”

  She focused on him and saw indeed the pale outline of a short, stocky someone sitting on Trayn’s shoulders. “Dwarf,” she called. “Come talk to me.” She was used to the chill presence of spirits.

  The dwarf materialized beside her with a quizzical look. “Are you really doing something this stupid?”

  “We’re on the back way to Sarosar,” she confirmed. “Any thoughts, memories, or hearsay you can offer would be greatly appreciated.”

  Trayn half turned, saw that he wasn’t being addressed, and continued forward. He couldn’t see or hear the dead and was still getting used to Jenna’s one-sided conversations with the unseen dwarf who had joined their company.

  “You want my thoughts?” the dwarf snorted. “You’re daft—that’s my thought on the matter. What part of ‘cursed’ do you not understand?”

  “We understand the danger, but we have a purpose here. I’m determined to put his brother’s spirit to rest. It’s what I do.”

  “Daft,” the dwarf huffed. Then he looked up her slyly. “Someone ought to ask what two young bucks were doing at Sarosar in the first place. They would have been after something pretty specific for that kind of risk.”

  That set her wondering. Any son of Harebridge growing up next door should have been acutely aware of the dangers. They continued up the switchback. As they made the final turn and crested the plateau, the gray ruins came suddenly into view before them. Jenna took in the vast panorama of broken towers, crumbling walls, and random bits of glowing green. She grimaced, and it wasn’t just the visual devastation. An aura of bleakness hung over the scene like a storm cloud.

  “Only the desperate and the foolish forge on from this point,” Trayn said, his thoughts following hers. “And they mostly aren’t heard from again.”

  “Yet you and your brother tempted Fate by coming here,” she said.

  “An insane escapade,” Trayn admitted. “Lanyer wanted so badly to find certain talismans...” He gave a sigh and added awkwardly, “Trite though it sounds, we were after magic swords. We grew up with legends of such things. Lanyer thought we had a special advantage in the ruins, and I believed him. And why not? House Harebridge can trace its origin to House Har’Bre, the wizardly clan that ruled Sarosar. The blood endured, though not the magic. Lanyer was convinced that being of the bloodline would protect us.”

  “Gab and more gab,” Dwarf snorted. “Are we going into the city or not? Bad as it is by day, you don’t want to be caught here after sundown.”

  “Dwarf says we should do what we need to do before we lose the light. Sarosar is worse at night, apparently.” She saw Trayn shudder as he turned and led the way into the ruins.

  They followed a backstreet toward the city center. It was an uneasy progress, Trayn with drawn sword and Jenna straining her sense of the dead to the limit. She caught bleakness and more bleakness, but nothing more. Twice they passed under archways carved with the quartered chevrons flanked with tongues of flame, which reinforced the connection with Harebridge. Minus the flames, that was exactly Trayn’s family crest.

  Eventually, the street opened to a great central plaza.

  “Wait,” Jenna called softly as Trayn stepped forward. “There’s danger. I saw this place in my dream. The well over there is where one wizard-lord murdered the other...”

  “Sounds like my family,” he muttered.

  “...and beyond that, the alley where servitors were hauling baskets of treasure. And a great shadow.” She gave a shudder. “It was summoned with blood. The last of the wizard-lords called it up from a well and set it loose just before the city fell. I’m assuming a foul spirit of some sort, but I need to know more if I’m to exorcise it.”

  “I only saw a flicker of movement,” Trayn shrugged. “But the smell—I’ll never forget that smell.”

  “Like something dead and rotting?” Jenna guessed.

  He managed a thin smile. “I fear that’s your own experience talking. No, this was a sweetness like apple wine fermented a dozen times over. A sickening sweetness.”

  Dwarf spun around. “Sickening sweetness like apple wine—only one thing carries that stench, and it’s no dead spirit. Serpent-gods,” he spat. “That’s what we used to call them, but there was nothing godly about them. Just wicked big snakes from the Underworld they were, more shadow than not. And mean as green poison. T’ain’t no surprise the wizard-lords would try to raise one as a last desperate measure. But binding it here to keep killing—that’s foul. Daresay the conquering army got quite a jolt when they marched in and got a taste of serpent-god.”

  “What did the ghost say?” Trayn demanded. “Clearly something.”

  Jenna’s gaze swept the rubble-strewn plaza, coming to rest on the well. That was the center of the curse, the center of danger.

  Trayn followed her gaze. “What is it, Jenna?”

 
; She pulled herself back. “Dwarf says the shadow creature is not a spirit, but a giant snake from the Underworld.”

  “Giant snake,” he murmured. “It could have been. It hunted like a snake. I saw Lanyer running that direction, past the well. Perhaps the crypt I saw in my dream lies on the other side of the well. But we can’t get to that spot without crossing the plaza.”

  “And I’m a cabbage if it’s not smack dab in the middle of serpent territory,” Dwarf snorted.

  Trayn raised his sword. “Then our duties are clear. I shall fight and you shall raise the dead.”

  She shook her head. If he fought, he would die. “I don’t think any warrior can fight a serpent-god.” She looked questioningly at Dwarf.

  “About the only thing that works against serpent-gods is blood sacrifice,” he said. “Lots of blood.”

  “We’re not sacrificing anyone!” she snapped. Dwarf harrumphed and faded out.

  “A sacrificial victim can turn the snake aside?” Trayn guessed, putting together the one-sided conversation.

  “Yes.” She fixed Trayn with a stern look. “But don’t even consider opening a vein. Promise me not to do anything that stupid.”

  He shrugged. “I promise not to do anything stupid.”

  A disembodied laugh followed. “That’s a losing bet if I ever heard one.”

  Jenna pointedly ignored the comment and kept focused on Trayn. “We need a plan.”

  “More likely Mistress Brown Eyes and Sir Stupid need a brain between the two of them,” the gravelly voice came back from thin air.

  “Could you raise Lanyer’s spirit from here?” Trayn asked.

  Doubtful, but she cast around, seeking any spirits that might be hovering. It was surprisingly empty. Of course, the dead here had been dead a very long time. “Is the spirit realm of this city as quiet as it seems?”

  Trayn glanced over to be sure the words weren’t for him, then gave a sudden shiver.

  “Mighty peculiar,” the dwarf answered, materializing astraddle Trayn’s shoulders again. “With ghosts, they’re either there in front of you or hovering nearby. Some of them around but very faded. And no serpent-god in one realm or the other. But it’s no exactly dead, is it? Just shadow.” He cocked his head to one side and sniffed several times. “No wizard-lord residue neither. You’d think some of them would be lingering to watch over things.”

  “Keep watching for dead wizard-lords,” she told Dwarf, not wanting to encounter any of them in the spirit realm. “They are of Trayn’s bloodline, if that helps.”

  “Not, it doesn’t help,” Trayn shot back. “I prefer not to be reminded I’m descended from accursed wizard-lords.”

  “Then you should have chosen better parents, fool,” Dwarf hooted. “But no ghost of that bloodline anywhere in the spirit realm.”

  Jenna frowned. “No Lanyer?” Trayn paused, waiting for the answer to that.

  “No ghost of that bloodline,” Dwarf repeated irritably. “Are you deaf or just stupid?”

  But Lanyer’s spirit had to be somewhere. And Dwarf was a very strong ghost who would be hard to hide from. “But he came to Trayn in a dream,” she insisted.

  “Dreams and ghosts are realms apart. Dreams can be anything—past, present, or future.”

  “What did Dwarf say about Lanyer?” Trayn asked, stepping closer.

  “He senses no ghost of your bloodline lingering about. He doesn’t think your dream proves anything.”

  “It was more than a dream,” Trayn insisted. “You know that.”

  “And we need to go to the last place you saw Lanyer and try to raise his spirit. But I don’t believe we should die in the attempt.”

  On the word “die,” Trayn’s sword flew out of his hand, thumped him on the back, and came to rest, point down, in a pile of dirt. An invisible cackle followed.

  “Churl!” Trayn thundered, grabbing up his sword with a firm grip.

  The magic of this place was skewing everything she thought she knew about the dead. Jenna kept staring at the sword. “That’s an amazing amount of physicality for a ghost in the middle of the day,” she said slowly. “Dwarf, can you do it again?”

  “Don’t tempt the likes of—” Trayn began just before the sword left his hand a second time.

  “Yes!” Jenna exploded. “I have it. Dwarf can fight the snake.”

  The ghost materialized scowling, still holding the sword. “Me? Are you dafter than usual? I’m a dwarf. It’s a giant serpent. See the problem?”

  “But you’re also a ghost and a clever, ancient ghost with many tricks. And you’re especially strong in this place. All you have to do is draw it off. And”—she paused dramatically—“we’ll give you blood.” All ghosts drew strength from the blood of the living.

  Dwarf smacked his lips. “Yum. Might give me a bit of an edge at that. Wouldn’t mind an appetizer right now, in fact.”

  She ignored that invitation. “Then the plan is for Dwarf to draw off the serpent while Trayn and I run for the alleyway behind the well to raise Lanyer’s spirit. Then...” There was no “then,” she realized. She had no idea what would happen after that.

  “That’s what you call a plan?” Dwarf snorted. “I’m supposed to hold off a serpent-god forever, it seems. Idiots.”

  An insult, but no direct refusal. As much a sign of cooperation as one ever got from Dwarf. They prepared to move. Trayn did the honor, slashing his palm with Jenna’s knife to offer Dwarf his blood. Dwarf lapped up the blood, seeming to grow more solid to her, then marched into the plaza, yelling at the top of his lungs and banging the sword against the tumbled walls.

  “Damn him if he breaks my battle sword,” Trayn muttered savagely.

  Jenna shushed him. She felt more that saw something move, and the next moment, a long shadow boiled up from the well, bringing with it the heavy, sickly-sweet smell of overripe apples. It shot toward Dwarf, who danced back into a side street. They ran for the well while the great tail was still slithering out of sight, circled around, and kept going down the alleyway.

  The wall at the end of the alley was wrong. It hadn’t been in her dream. She thought back. There had been an archway, not a wall, and people had moved through it.

  “There’s no crypt, just this wall,” Trayn asked, coming up behind her.

  “Something is off,” she murmured. “This wall is not in the right place.”

  “But it’s solid stone.” He thumped at it with his still bloody hand. The hand hit once, but the second time passed through the stone. “What —?”

  She grabbed his arm and pushed. The surface gave way like a wall of thick molasses, pitching them forward into darkness and down a flight of steps. They picked themselves up at the bottom. “Damn good illusion to still work so well,” Trayn muttered.

  Wherever they were was dim, but not dark and she could see the steps were hewn into the bedrock. The workmanship was very different from the stonework of the city above—rougher, more primitive—and steps were awkwardly sized, as if intended for someone larger than human.

  She turned and stared. They had arrived at a chamber carved out of stone beneath the city. There were no windows, but the rooms were lit with the ruddy radiance of glowing jewels set in swords hilts and shields and scepters and bracelets and whatnot. The way these items of arcane power were piled haphazardly on the floor spoke to the haste with which this trove had been assembled. But she had seen that, she remembered. The servitors hauling baskets of treasure through the alley. And here it all was.

  Jenna’s eye wandered the room, taking quick inventory. Her guess was that there was more Old High Magic in this one room than had survived in the entire kingdom. And there seemed to be more chambers beyond.

  “Magic swords,” Trayn murmured behind her. “It’s actually true.” She turned and saw him staring across the room where an altar of sorts projected out from the wall. The whole area was thick with cobwebs, but atop the altar lay two swords, glowing red jewels in their hilts. Then he snapped back to business. “I think
this is the place where Lanyer appeared to me in the dream. A dim, crypt-like chamber covered in cobwebs. I saw this.”

  “Then this is where I’ll place the circle.” Jenna pulled the crock of salt from her satchel and began sprinkling it as a protective circle around the two of them. Outside the circle she sprinkled the last of the salt, then added a slab of bread. Drawing her knife from her belt, she pricked a finger and let three drops of blood drip onto the offering of bread and salt. “Lanyer of Harebridge,” she called, stepping back into the protection of the circle. “By dream you have summoned us to this place. Now in turn we summon you to speak to us.”

  She let herself sink to the floor as she slipped into trance. Raw, ugly pulses bombarded her from every direction. Angry spirits? she wondered, but no, it was nothing like that. She traced a pulse back to its source and realized the pulses were the red jewels giving off energy. She reached out further, but couldn’t feel the chill of the dead anywhere. The chamber was all magic and no death.

  Jenna let herself return to full consciousness. “Something is here, but not a ghost,” she said. “More like a vision or an echo from the past. But it must be connected to something close by.” Her gaze wandered about the room, from pile to pile of glowing artifacts, then back to the cobwebbed altar. “What’s that on your hand?” she asked.

  Trayn lifted a hand, half-covered in white. “It’s the one I used to feed Dwarf,” he said, shaking off the sticky strands, then gave a sudden yelp. He hopped up, frantically brushing at himself as he danced from foot to foot while tiny dots ran down his legs.

  Jenna jumped up as well to check herself. He was covered with spiders, but she was merely dusty from sitting on the stone floor. “They’re coming from the next chamber. I think they smell your blood.”

  “Don’t think spiders smell,” he retorted and with one wary eye on the floor, began tearing the cobweb covering from his hand. “I’ve taken no hurt. It could have been much worse.”

  “But exceedingly odd,” Jenna commented. “I’ve never seen spiders swarm before. It was as if they were—”

  “—magicked?” Trayn finished. “I think you were right about the blood. It triggered the attack.”