by T. A. Miles
“Are you all right?” Merran asked, his hair weighing flatter against his head as water streamed down his face. His face was cast silver blue in the surreal lighting.
Korsten nodded in reply, then said. “I am.”
They both looked above them. The demons were not descending.
Unfortunately, to notice seemed to be a curse. A black form dropped from the ceiling in the moment following the thought. Korsten and Merran both watched it fall and crash against the surface of the water seconds later. One inspired another, and another. The rain of arrows returned, only this time visibly.
A jolt of terror broke through Korsten’s disbelief at what he was seeing and hearing—demons dropping off the ceiling like overripe fruit. “Merran….”
“You’re a stronger swimmer,” Merran decided. “You lead.”
“Lead?” Korsten didn’t understand immediately, but as the first ripples of a waterborne demon became visible, he sorted it out. He moved over to Merran, quickly assessing the general area the demons were falling to and determining to swim opposite.
Merran took hold of the back of Korsten’s short jacket with one hand and Korsten began to swim. Before long, bursts of light flashed in the corners of his vision, accompanied by the thunderous echoing of the Blast spell when used at this proximity and in this way. He could hear the water being cut by the magic and he could feel the disruption as the water pushed and pulled erratically in the spell’s wake. He was uncertain how many demons if any Merran was effecting or what the results would be and determined not to fixate on it, concentrating solely on reaching some form of embankment.
His eyes began to adjust to the darkness, enabling him to gain a greater sense of the pool’s dimension. It was as a lake in area and depth the way he perceived it. Hopefully it had a shore. While Merran continued to work the one-handed spell, Korsten stayed on a straight course, determined to find one edge to the body of water and they could work from there. He thought he may have come to it sooner over later when a dark protrusion appeared before him. He swam up to it, taking the grip that was offered.
Merran drifted nearer, treading the water beside him and partaking of their new purchase as well. “Can we climb it?” he asked with his eyes on their pursuers.
Korsten glanced over the steep, slick surface of the rock before them and quickly shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Another Blast spell erupted from Merran’s hand. This time Korsten watched it rip across the surface of the water, expanding into a concussive flare that quickly dissipated, but not before highlighting the grotesque shapes of the Vadryn’s flung bodies. Others veered around it, perhaps under it.
The thought had Korsten wondering if there were passages beneath the surface of the water. He would rather find a space to get out above it, though. The idea of being pursued through inundated corridors by relentless demons was enough to send a quick jolt of panic through his blood. He set his attention back to the rock in front of them. He chose a direction and began to follow it. Merran followed him, as did the many forms in the water with them.
The black surface of the lake burst upward in front of Korsten before he’d gone far. Faced with a blur of motion, a vocalization from the source that he couldn’t decipher beyond abrasive, and the overbearing awareness of presence, Korsten instinctively shoved the beast with his forearm. The strong form gave very little, but enough that Korsten was able to follow through with his leg and finally a Blast of his own. The demon’s inhuman features flashed briefly at a near distance as it shrieked in shock and rage in the moment it was hurled back into the darkness.
“We can’t keep at this indefinitely,” Merran said, a reminder to them both.
Bobbing in the water, which remained active in the wake of their spell-casting, Korsten nodded. He then looked to Merran to more directly convey his alertness to their situation with another nod. He saw relief in Merran’s eyes in that moment; relief perhaps, that Korsten wasn’t in the state of panic over their situation that he might have been in at another time—the situation of demons attacking them. Or perhaps it was relief that they were both still alive. Korsten felt the latter himself. Turning toward the wall again, he continued exploring.
The demons continued thrashing in the water, determined to overtake their quarry and it seemed possible that they might. It may have been their intention to lure them to this trap—a chamber with no way out, where the Vadryn could chase them to exhaustion and eventually converge on them in a frenzy of slaughter.
It was in the midst of that grim line of thinking that Korsten’s hand dipped into an open space in the rock. He felt around it and came upon a metal rim. Looking up, he caught glimpses of bars in the sporadic flashes of Merran’s spells. His partner was tiring. The spells were being timed more carefully now. With that in mind, Korsten quickly assessed the features in front of him and determined that the bars were set into a wide, arched area. They were spaced too near for fitting a body through. He passed himself from one to the other, studying carefully. A deviation in the pattern of the bars helped him to descry a gate, taller than the water was high. He moved toward it, studying the hinges when he came to them and determining that the gate pulled open. As he maneuvered himself in front of it, his feet and legs scraped against a flat surface. He righted himself on it immediately, bringing himself waist high in the water.
He searched for a lock or a latch and found it to be simple in construction, and not locked. Pulling with both hands, he could only begin to coax the gate out of a stubborn hold within its frame. “Merran!”
Another Blast lit the area and sent demons reeling across the water. Merran joined him at the gate immediately afterward and together they managed to pull it open enough to slip past. The Vadryn nearest to them rushed in a thrashing of limbs through water to get to the gate. It was returned to its position easier than it was dragged out of it and there was now a barrier between them and the Vadryn, one which many long, oddly shaped hands latched onto with a morbid passion. Merran held the gate in place while Korsten used both hands to Bind it to its frame.
The Vadryn shook and hit upon the metal violently, but it held. Korsten stepped back and brought Merran with him by the arm as the demons shot their sinewy limbs through in enraged attempts to reach them. Clawed fingers scraped against the edges of Merran’s drenched coat, but they were both at a safe distance for the moment.
“I think this confirms that Morenne’s advance forces are here,” Korsten said somewhat breathlessly, his gaze caught on the display of feral agitation before them.
“If there was any doubt,” Merran said between breaths himself.
Korsten nodded, indulging himself with a little more air in their temporary respite. Looking around at shadowed dimensions that felt much nearer than those of the lake, he eventually said. “And now our task is to find another way out of here.”
It was Merran’s turn to nod, which somehow put a grim seal on their present circumstance, as if the only way out lay directly in front of them and to entertain optimism was folly. In this instance, Korsten hoped that his friend was wrong.
The coven’s public site was simple and yet impressive. Vlas stood at an open entryway overlooking an amphitheater of squared tiers concealed within an open-air structure that at a glance shared a similar facade to the other buildings around it. It had only one floor, however, which was the descent of narrow levels toward a central area with the raw cliff face as its back wall. A large chandelier adorned with very handmade bouquets of crystal hung from the ceiling three open stories above and there were sconces along the lower walls brandishing torches rather than lamps. There was a small, squared pool at the center of the lowest level of the floor and a rectangular tablet with archaic carvings of familiar emblems on plain display. It was a shrine to the gods, which was fitting. The Seminary had its own as well, as did many places within Edrinor, the largest difference being that most of them were discard
ed relics of past tradition. Of course, a coven of witches would pay proper regard to the gods. Vlas was not surprised in the least. And they’d made it accessible to the public, whom they apparently attempted to convert to their way of thinking … in retaliation against the rapid progress Indhovan was undergoing.
It made a fair amount of sense. But why Vaelyx specifically? Or were they all making more of this than what it was? Either way, Vlas wanted to find the man and learn for himself whether or not the greatest kink in their thread regarding the strategy in Indhovan was a group of rogue mages devoted to the past. According to Merran’s find with that ledger, Vaelyx had been aware of the Vadryn slipping into the city well before they were notified at the Seminary. Why had Vaelyx not shared it earlier? How did that coincide with his arrest and subsequent announcement that he had no further interest in assisting them at the Seminary? Furthermore, why did Irslan seem to know nothing of this? It didn’t take an overly pronounced imagination to understand that families often held secrets within them and at times members kept secrets from one another. So, was Irslan keeping a secret—to protect his uncle perhaps—or was a secret being kept from him, perhaps for his own protection.
What do you know, Vaelyx?
The question would linger unanswered for now. There were very few people present at the moment. A few of them sat at various levels, facing the shrine. They looked to be doing nothing more than that, as if they were simply in a place for rest or relaxation. Maybe they were waiting out curfew.
Vlas propped himself against the wall at his shoulder, resting a hand at his hip. Constable Imris stood beside him saying nothing for the moment. Her eyes were searching, though, so he let her be. If she was looking for a key individual for them to speak to, he didn’t want to interrupt.
He noticed a girl before too long—the girl. Dacia Cambir. She appeared as young and doe-eyed as she had at Irslan’s table the morning before last. Interesting to find her wandering into the building, having come in from the streets after dark, in direct disregard for the danger she had witnessed firsthand not very long ago. Was she a complete fool? Vlas had to wonder.
“There,” Imris said and Vlas redirected his attention to the individual the constable was looking at. “She speaks here often.”
The woman was sat at a level near the shrine pool with her back to them. Her long hair was worn down past her shoulders and light brown in color. Her dress was neither gaudy nor overly simple at a glance. Age was indeterminable at this distance and position.
Vlas pushed away from the wall and started forward, hesitating when he noticed Dacia Cambir making her way toward the same woman. The girl’s mother perhaps? Korsten had mentioned the crystals above the residence, which they all were agreed was a mark of the coven.
“What is it?” Imris asked, alerting Vlas to the fact that he was still hovering in contemplation.
He looked back at her, then toward the other two again before saying, “It’s nothing yet.”
He could feel the constable gracing him with the same look she’d bestowed upon other annoyances of the evening as he continued forward, toward Dacia and the coven’s public speaker. The girl had just begun a conversation with the woman when she noticed Vlas. Her eyes lifted and she proceeded to stare immediately, as she had at Irslan’s. Vlas ignored her, as he had done at Irslan’s.
“Madam,” he began, addressing the woman with her back to him, who was adjusting the crystal pendant her daughter wore, as mother’s did.
Quietly, the woman chided the avidly staring Dacia by speaking her name. The girl averted her eyes and then the woman looked briefly over her shoulder. Her features were strong and simple, her smile so vague and so tight it scarcely could be counted for expression.
“Master Mage,” she said, somewhat coolly. In the same whisper of disinterest she added, “Constable.”
“Ma’am,” Imris replied professionally.
“There’s to be a meeting,” the woman said and Vlas was quite certain this was the mother Korsten had described. “Are you here to listen?”
“No,” Vlas answered bluntly. “Are you Ersana Cambir?”
Dacia’s eyes flashed toward him again, in the same moment the woman raised her eyes to the girl and then said, with the same smile as before, “If this is about my daughter, I’ve already spoken with your associate.”
“And evidently did not listen,” Vlas said, making no mystery of his impatience. “You’re very lucky she’s still herself, but that’s not the reason I’m here.”
“Dacia,” Ersana said in the tone of instruction.
The girl took her leave obediently, casting a last look in Vlas’ direction as she went.
Vlas took silent note of the succinct exchange between mother and daughter, and then proceeded, stepping down a level and turning to face the woman, who sat as collected as anyone who was either completely ignorant, or keeping valuable secrets. “A man by the name Vaelyx Treir is a member of your coven.”
She looked at him, and denied nothing.
In her silence, Vlas continued. “How well do you know him?”
“As well as I know anyone with us,” she replied cryptically.
“Have you spoken with him lately?” Vlas decided to ask.
And now she answered with her tight-lipped smile and again, her silence.
“Did you assist his escape?”
“No,” she said calmly, looking at him directly this time.
“Do you know where he is now?” he asked, and before she could seal a verbal answer behind her thin lips, he added, “It’s vital that I speak with him.”
She surprised him by saying, “He has no desire to speak with you.”
Vlas looked to Imris, who returned the glance. She tensed visibly, but made no move to arrest Ersana. Vlas was glad for that. He had no interest in their politics beyond learning what Vaelyx knew that had altered his position so drastically from what it was before.
His focus returned to Ersana. “I’ll believe that when I hear it from his lips.”
The woman’s chin lifted marginally, enough to tell that she felt challenged in that moment, whether personally or on Vaelyx’s behalf was uncertain. “Why are you here?” she asked, as if to counter his challenge.
Vlas quickly sorted out that she didn’t mean there at the gathering place; she meant in Indhovan. “War sits poised at the threshold of this city,” he said, informing her if she wasn’t already informed. “Vaelyx Treir once fought for Edrinor, first as a soldier and later as a valuable informant to the Seminary at Vassenleigh. We are here because Morenne is making its move toward this place and we intend to turn them back. We have Vaelyx’s nephew to thank for recent information alerting us to just how urgent affairs are. Why didn’t Vaelyx alert us sooner? We know that he had knowledge of the Vadryn’s presence long before now. I’m assuming by your lack of panic that you have as well.”
Ersana watched him speaking with unwavering steadiness. She waited for him to finish, then said with disarming ease, “The answers you seek were left for you to find.”
“What do you mean?” Vlas demanded.
“They were left for Irslan, but you should be able to find them as easily as you found evidence of what Vaelyx knew.”
Vlas took that information, studying it while he studied Ersana’s calm, unworried expression. He did not suspect she was lying, but he needed more time to decipher her cryptic words, so he set them aside for the moment. He asked, “Are you not afraid of the Vadryn? Afraid for your daughter, at least?”
Her lips closed again and she said nothing as she took her eyes from Vlas at last and set them on the shrine below.
Vlas watched her for an extended moment, then looked at Imris, whose expression suggested she was just as puzzled as he was.
Cayri returned to Irslan’s following her meeting with Lady Tahrsel, deciding it better to reunite with Vlas than to attemp
t any further investigating on her own. She took the stairs from street level which fronted Irslan’s home, stopping to look over her shoulder toward the governor’s manor, which was only to be discerned from other structures by its height. Its overlooking location made its architecture all the more striking in a similar way that the sheer size of the constabulary held itself out amid its neighboring buildings.
“Lady Mage,” someone said in a voice that was not intrusive, but also not expected.
Cayri looked to Stacen at the door and offered him a polite greeting.
The man held the door open further, gesturing for Cayri to enter, which she did. The foyer was dimly lit, a small pocket of shadow preceding the front hall and the rooms beyond.
“Is Master Treir at home?”
“Yes, Madam,” Stacen replied.
“Will you take me to him?”
“Yes.” The reply came without reservation of any kind, so Cayri assumed she wasn’t asking Stacen to interrupt anyone’s sleep or other engagement. She waited for the man to secure the front door and take the lead. Along the way she inquired of her fellow mages, none of whom were reported as having returned to the house ahead of her. She had presumed as much, but hoped otherwise.
Stacen brought her to the library, where Irslan was sat reading. He set aside his book and began to stand, but Cayri urged him not to on her behalf. He remained in his chair, politely dismissing Stacen, who departed in silence.
“May I get you anything?” Irslan asked, following a pause whereupon the two of them observed each other.
“No,” Cayri decided. And then she moved toward the chair beside Irslan’s and seated herself on the edge of its cushion. “Actually, I’d like to speak with you.”