by Rod Walker
I said nothing. I wondered what it would be like to endure for centuries, dwelling in a twisted shell of body, with no company but the hungry shadows.
“Very well,” said the lich, its face settling back into the dead mask. “You are right. The secret of the Codex must be protected, at any cost. A hundred and fifty thousand is a small price, comparatively. Bring the Codex to the Western Gate tomorrow, at sundown. We shall make the exchange then.”
The fingers of its left hand twitched, and the lich’s image vanished.
I let out a very long breath. That could have turned bad.
On the other hand, it could have gone much better. The lich had acquiesced far too easily. If its priority was to protect the Codex’s secret, then what better way than to kill everyone who knew of it, starting with me? The more I considered it, the more certain I became. I might have made the lich laugh, but what weight did mortal life have for a soulless, ancient creature? It had, after all, killed Marcolio’s expedition, a hundred and twenty men and women, without the slightest hesitation.
My life meant nothing to the Surgeon and Marcolio. How much less then would it mean to an undead wizard?
But I was committed now. Even if I disappeared, if I eluded Marcolio and the Surgeon both, the lich would hunt me down. A mortal man might give up the pursuit after a decade or so, but a creature like the lich would not. No, I had to see this through. After sundown tomorrow, I would either be a very wealthy man, or I would be dead.
Simplicity itself.
Chapter 9: Double Dealing
Shortly after dawn, I presented myself at the gates of Marcolio’s mansion, a sprawling pile of gleaming marble and peaked gables. The footman sneered at me, but a bribe from my limited supply of coin convinced him to fetch Marcolio. The expense didn’t trouble me; by tomorrow I would be fantastically rich, or I would be dead.
I waited.
“I am displeased, master thief.”
I turned. Marcolio stood behind me, full in the sunlight and casting no shadow. His imp familiar perched on his shoulder, glaring at me with eyes like embers. Marcolio looked most unhappy, which should have frightened me, but I had just walked away from a conversation with a lich.
“Have I erred, lord?” I said, sweeping into a deep bow.
“You have warded yourself from detection,” said Marcolio. The imp’s muzzle pulled back, revealing teeth like needles. “I wondered if you had thought to…renege on our arrangement.”
“Certainly not, lord!” I said. “I am an honorable man of my word. You see, I had discerned the…ah, the book’s location.” Telling Marcolio that I knew the truth about the Codex would probably earn me a quick, fiery death. “Some of the city’s wizards sought to pry the knowledge from me. Had I not taken precautions, I would no doubt lie in a shallow grave, and would not live to bring you good news.”
The imp twitched, and a moment later, Marcolio’s face followed suit. Unsettling, to say the least. “So, you do know the book’s location?”
“I do, lord,” I said, “or, rather, I will.”
Marcolio tapped his boot. “Explain.”
“I tracked the book into the hands of the dockside thieves’ guild,” I said, improvising. “They’ve arranged to sell it to a rogue wizard, come sundown, at the Western Gate.”
Marcolio’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know the extent of the wizard’s power?”
“I fear I have little knowledge of the great arts,” I said, “but the thieves considered him to be powerful.”
The imp leaned over and whispered something in Marcolio’s ear.
“No matter,” said Marcolio, “there are only a few with greater arts than mine, and I will make certain preparations. You have done well, master thief. Assist me in claiming the book, and you shall have all the gold I promised you.”
I bowed yet again. “You are generous, lord.”
When I straightened up, Marcolio’s image had vanished.
“Two down,” I muttered, “one to go.”
Chapter 10: Triple Dealing
I threw a brick through the Surgeon’s window. A nearby hawker looked at me as if I had gone utterly mad, packed up his cart, and fled with undignified haste. The Surgeon had something of a deserved reputation, after all. But there was no way I would enter his rooms, not after what had happened the last time. So I resorted to simpler means of getting his attention, and flung another brick.
It had gone less than three feet from my hand when it exploded in a spray of red dust. I looked up, blinking, and saw the Surgeon standing on the balcony outside his door. The mottled, piebald face remained expressionless as ever, but I saw my death in his purple eyes.
“You know,” I said, “you should have negotiated. My corpse could tell you the book’s location, but you’d first need to obtain it.”
“The matter is easily rectified,” said the Surgeon, raising one hand.
“Or not,” I said, sweating. “The city’s lords may not care what you do in the dark of night in your own rooms, but if you start murdering upstanding citizens in broad daylight, they’re bound to take notice.”
“You are hardly an upstanding citizen. And I care nothing for the feeble lords of this miserable sty.” But the Surgeon did lower his hand. “You have a reason for imposing upon my patience, I presume?”
“Yes,” I said. “The book was stolen from me.”
“So you are a fool.”
“Truly,” I agreed. Considering I planned to double-cross three wizards of power, I couldn’t argue. “But I know who took the book, and what they’re planning to do with it.”
The Surgeon’s lip twitched. “I could still make your corpse talk.”
“You could,” I said, “but that kind of necromancy takes time to effect, does it not?” The Surgeon said nothing, and so I forged ahead. “And the book will be gone from Kalderon by tonight. I’m sure you could track it down with your arts, but…”
“Are they taking the book to the elven kingdoms?” The Surgeon’s mottled face began to twitch, his eyes blazing. “The thieves. Are they taking the book to the elven realms?”
That was the last question I would have expected. “I…am unsure.”
“They sent for it!” His voice turned ferocious. “They knew I was close, they knew I had almost obtained the key, so they sent thieves to deny me!” I heard his teeth grind. “I will not be denied! Not now, not after so long.”
“Ah…of course not.”
The Surgeon stalked down the steps and stopped before me, reeking of chemicals and rotten flesh. “Who took the book?” His cold voice rose to a shout. “Where are they taking it?”
“I would be most glad to tell you,” I said, trying not to step back. “But there is the small matter of remuneration…”
“Remuneration!” The Surgeon spat the word like a curse. He reached into his robe and pulled out a small pouch of stained leather, which he slapped into my hand. I opened the pouch a bit, and my eyes got wide. It held a half-dozen uncut diamonds, each the size of my thumb. “Is this sufficient remuneration, human worm?”
“Uh…yes,” I said, quickly pocketing the pouch. I had no idea where the Surgeon might have found those stones. “The book. The dockside thieves’ guild stole it from me while I slept. They will take it to the Western Gate at sundown, and sell it to…ah, those thieves of which you spoke.”
It was a feeble lie, I’ll admit, but the Surgeon didn’t seem to notice. “They seek to deny what is rightfully mine, what was stolen from me. No doubt they think to mock me, to snatch the key away when it lies within my grasp.” The muscles began to twitch beneath his face, and for a moment I feared he would strike me down then and there. But the Surgeon mastered himself, and said, “They will live with the rage, just as I have.”
With that, he whirled and disappeared back into his rooms.
I let out a long breath. That had gone better than expected. I was, after all, still alive. I patted the pouch of diamonds in my pocket and grinned. When the sun rose tomorrow, I
would either be the richest man in the city, or I would be dead.
Life is so much easier when it’s simple.
Chapter 11: End Game
One last thing to do.
I returned to the dilapidated little temple of Tiardura and retrieved the Codex. It seemed nothing more than an odd book, hardly some artifact wrought by the Mad Elves in the deeps of time, and certainly not a grimoire of power to rend the cosmos asunder. Though the ever-shifting text and diagrams did look strange.
I paused, and dropped one of the Surgeon’s diamonds in the bowl atop the altar. After all, my soul might very well meet the goddess tonight.
Best to get on good terms now.
Sunset found me waiting in the market square by Kalderon’s Western Gate. It was deserted, as I had expected. Most caravans came through the Northern Gate, from the Seven Free Cities along the coast. Only farms lay to the west, and few farmers came through the gates after noon or so.
No witnesses. That, and less chance of arcane backlash killing any passersby.
A groaning wind came from the harbor, hot and wet, blowing away the city’s stench. A stray dog limped through the square, paying me no heed. I glanced over the front of any empty warehouse, looked back, and then the lich was there.
The wind tugged at its black robes, outlining the ribs beneath its chest. I had expected the lich to stink of rotten flesh, but instead it smelled like dust and crumbling leather. I hardly noticed the smell, though, nor the empty black eyes with their red glaze. The lich’s mere image had radiated power. Its actual presence made my head ache, my ears ringing. The lich had claimed the power to sweep the city into the harbor, and I believed it.
“You have come,” said the dead man in its raspy whisper.
“Did you doubt it?” I said.
“No.”
“I trust you are an honorable man, and so have brought payment?” I said.
The lich gestured, and then it was holding a rough canvas sack. Bony fingers tugged it open, revealing the gleam of golden coins. “One hundred and fifty thousand gold coins, though it will buy you neither joy, nor happiness, nor even another heartbeat of life.”
“Yet I’ll take it anyway,” I said. “But there’s no way you can fit a hundred and fifty thousand coins in that sack.”
“It is enspelled,” said the lich. “The bag could carry an elephant, if you could squeeze it inside. You might find it necessary to melt them down. The empire that minted them has been dead a thousand years.”
I swallowed, took the bag, and reached inside. The gold was real enough, though the bag weighed nothing at all. I had heard of such enchanted bags before, though I’d never encountered one before. I stuffed it into my satchel. No sense dropping it, if I had to run.
“And now,” said the lich, “the Codex.” It held out a bony hand, the torn skin flapping from the yellowed bones of its wrist.
I hesitated, and pulled out the Codex Ars Arcanum. “It’s the genuine thing.”
“I know,” said the lich. “I have spent centuries staring at it, after all.”
“You damned treacherous vermin!”
I whirled, and saw the Surgeon emerge from a shadowed alley. Not one, not two, but six of those ghastly glistening flesh golems trailed after him. All semblance of control had vanished from the Surgeon’s expression, and his face twitched in consuming rage.
“You dare!” said the Surgeon, his voice rising to a shriek. “The Codex is mine! You will give it to me now.”
“The Codex is not yours to claim,” said the lich, calm as death.
“I will claim what I wish,” said the Surgeon, striding forward. The flesh golems spread around him, reeking of embalming fluid. “Do you think to hinder me, dead one? I know the making of the spells that hold your rotting shell together, and I know their unmaking.”
“Why do you want the Codex?” said the lich in a quiet voice.
The soft question hit the Surgeon like a blow.
“I was banished!” he screamed. “The high mages dared to question my research, forbade me to delve into the mysteries of life and death. And for that, they did this to me,” he jabbed his fingers at his mottled face, “and banished me forever from the elven kingdoms.” Spittle flew from his lips and yellow teeth. “The Codex holds the spells I need to undo my curse, to shatter my geas of banishment, and to take my revenge on those who did this to me!”
“The Codex will not fulfill your desires,” said the lich, “and it will bring you only death.”
“Death?” snarled the Surgeon. “I know the nature of life and death better than you. It is time for you to learn the nature of permanent death.”
“So, master thief!” rang out a commanding voice. “You think to double-cross me?”
That was rather the point, but I wasn’t about to mention that in this company.
Marcolio swept into the square, the ugly little imp perched upon his shoulder. In his right hand, he carried a gleaming black staff, the tip shining with a harsh blue glow. The imp hissed and flapped its wings, the barbed tail rising.
“Rowan, Rowan,” purred Marcolio, smirking. He leveled the staff at me. “I’m shocked at your utter lack of honor. You’ve brought this…undead relic and this gutter wizard to kill me, I assume? Fool. If you had any idea what you held…”
“We meet again,” said the lich.
Marcolio frowned. “I’ve never seen you before, corpse.”
The imp’s tail twitched.
“I wasn’t,” said the lich, “talking to you.”
The imp snarled a furious curse. “Still alive, damn you?” Its voice was low, brassy, like the deepest note of an organ. “After all these years, all these centuries, you ought to be dust.” The pinpoint red eyes brightened. “But you are dead, aren’t you? You gave up all the joys of mortality for undeath?” It laughed. “It pleases me to know what price your duties have exacted on you.”
“Perhaps,” said the lich, “but I still have my freedom, unlike others.”
The imp screamed in utter fury.
“What foolishness is this?” snapped Marcolio.
I had a suspicion, and it made me very worried.
“Slave!” said Marcolio, grabbing the imp’s leg. “I command…”
“Shut up!” roared the imp. “I am weary of your incessant bleating.” The stinger buried itself in Marcolio’s right eye, and the archmage shrieked, hands flying to his face. The imp flapped away, and Marcolio toppled to the cobblestones. His face turned blue, his lips black, and a moment later he was dead.
“Give me the Codex, now!” commanded the imp, landing. It stood not two feet high, but menace radiated from it, and the stones burst into flame beneath its feet.
“No,” said the lich. “For you are not really here. This is but an avatar. Your imprisonment is eternal.”
“Avatar or not, I have power enough to smash your bones to dust!”
Then the imp vanished, and in its place stood a prince of the hells, a towering shape with glistening red skin, wings like mountains of darkness, eyes like windows into the abyss. It must have arranged everything from the beginning, must have manipulated Marcolio into searching for the Codex.
And now I found myself trapped between an ancient lich, a maddened elven wizard, and a furious demon prince.
Not good.
The demon gestured with its talons, rumbling an incantation. The twilight sky darkened, turned the color of blood. Thunder boomed, black lightning flashing across the horizon. Both the lich and the Surgeon began spells of their own.
Then the demon bellowed, and fire began to fall from the sky. The surrounding houses began to burn, their roofs dancing with flame. Burning raindrops splashed against my cloak and shoulders, and I cursed, trying to beat out the fires. The burning intensified, and the cobblestones began to warm. I yanked out the Codex and held it over my head. Thankfully, the book was impervious to the flame. Both the lich and the Surgeon stood encased in numinous shells of blue light that blocked the fiery rain, and both
wizards were already casting spells, and the demon was incanting again.
And then magic exploded all around me.
Lightning slashed across the square, blindingly bright, followed by an explosion of emerald fire and a lance of shadow that screamed like a dying child. The earth heaved and bucked, some cobblestones exploding into dust, while others melted into molten lava. The Surgeon’s six flesh golems advanced on the demon, impervious to the burning rain, while a fresh stroke of lightning exploded from the lich’s bony fingers.
This had been a bad idea.
I clutched the Codex over my head, looking for a way to flee, but I saw no way to evade both the golems and the howling battle-spells. The demon flung a sphere of shadow at the lich, then turned its attention to the golems. The flesh golems were impervious to most magic, and they might have the raw strength to tear the demon’s avatar apart.
With the demon distracted, the Surgeon whirled and loosed a spell at the lich. Green-blue fire whirled over the lich’s bony limbs, and the dead wizard shuddered. For a moment, I thought the lich would disintegrate into a pile of dust and bones. But the undead thing steadied itself, a cloud of dust rising from its mouth, and unleashed a globe of dazzling light at the Surgeon. It struck the Surgeon’s wards and rebounded, ricocheting back and forth between his abjurations and the lich’s, ringing with the keening shriek of overburdened spellwork.
I turned to run, and the demon reached past the golems made a negligent gesture. A thunderclap rang in my ears, and the rush of air knocked me to the burning ground. The demon began chanting again even as the golems reached for it. There was a cracking, shattering noise, and floating blades of jagged obsidian, dozens, hundreds of them, began spinning in a ring around the demon. The blades whirled faster and faster, slashing through the golems’ hardened flesh like butter. The golems disintegrated in a spray of shredded meat and black ichor, leaving the demon standing in a pile of gore. It began to rumble another incantation. A wall of crimson fire exploded from the ground, thirty feet high and a half-dozen feet thick, and roared forward like a tidal wave. The Surgeon and the lich broke off their duel and began casting fresh spells of defense.