by James Wisher
“You need to stop thinking about her as a sword,” John said in a soft, calm voice, like someone trying to soothe a horse in danger of bolting. “Damien told me about her once. Lizzy can bring him into her world. He described it as an endless night sky. In that place she’s as real as you or me.”
“You know Damien better than just about anyone. What do I do? I love him so much, but I can’t even get him to look at me that way.”
“I don’t know, Princess. I doubt there’s anyone or anything in the world that could change Damien’s feelings toward Lizzy.” John squeezed her shoulder. “He’s my best friend and when I see how happy he is anytime he mentions her…I don’t think I want to try and change his mind.”
Karrie sniffed. So much for making an ally out of John. Heaven’s mercy! She was competing with a sword.
Chapter 12
The instant the door closed behind him Damien rushed back to the throne room, drawing the occasional concerned look from a passing servant. The guards opened the doors for him as he approached. Inside, Uncle Andy and the archmage stood together at a table with a map of the Western Ocean. The throne room was empty except for the two of them. He would have expected military strategists at least to be part of the meeting.
Uncle Andy and his master both looked up as he entered. The king had dark circles under his eyes and pale skin. His clothes were wrinkled and Damien suspected he’d slept in them. His master stared at him with bright, eager eyes. Unlike Uncle Andy it appeared the archmage relished the coming challenge.
“Where have you been?” she asked. “I sensed your soul force earlier then you left again.”
“Sorry, Master. I took John up to the royal quarters. I’m glad he’s here. If anything should happen while we’re gone his healing skills will be useful.”
“So you figured out why I called you back. If I’m going to meet with representatives of the Old Empire I want my strongest sorcerer with me.”
“When do we leave?”
“Now.”
“Don’t do anything aggressive until we hear what they have to say,” Uncle Andy said. “Maybe they only wish to establish communication and trade.”
“We won’t attack first, but if the empire only wants to talk and trade I’ll eat my robe. Come on, Damien. Sasha’s waiting for us in Valcane with Admiral McAllan.”
“Sasha?”
“Sorry, High Sorcerer of the West. I need to introduce you to them one of these days so you’ll know who I’m talking about. Let’s go.”
“Be careful, both of you,” Uncle Andy said. “The kingdom can ill afford to lose either of you.”
Damien followed his master out of the throne room and into the courtyard. The archmage conjured an eagle with a high-backed chair growing between its wings. She levitated up into the chair and the eagle lashed its wings, rushing skyward. Damien simply leapt up beside her and flew on his own without a steed.
The eagle turned west and a little south and soared along at about half of Damien’s top speed toward Port Valcane. Damien had never been to the ocean before and despite the situation he was eager to see the vast expanse of water. Jen had told him about it of course, but hearing about it and seeing it were two different things.
Damien accelerated up beside his master. “Do the admiral or high sorcerer have any thoughts about the approaching ships?”
“They have lots of ideas. None of them particularly useful. The admiral wants to sail our meager fleet out and sink the ships before they get close to the kingdom. That’s what he says anyway, but the truth is he’s never had a real naval battle and he thinks this is his chance. Sasha wants to send sorcerers out to do basically the same thing.”
“Aren’t they curious what the imperials have to say? I mean, we haven’t had contact with the Old Empire in over four hundred years. We can hardly judge them by the actions of their ancestors.”
The archmage smiled and shook her head. “Just when I think I have you a little bit figured out you say something that surprises me. You’re right, of course. We need to talk to them even if it’s just to see what the empire intends. After we talk we can decide whether to sink them.”
They flew southwest for most of the day. The temperature gradually warmed as they neared the ocean. The port sprawled for at least a mile along the coast. Damien’s eyes went wide at the sight of the sun sinking into the endless expanse of blue. Oranges and purples danced on the water. He’d seldom seen anything so beautiful. He only wished he could have shared it with Lizzy. He soaked up every detail so when he saw her again he could show her the memory.
The archmage’s eagle descended toward the city. Damien forced himself to look away and follow. She guided her mount to the docks. A huge stone-and-timber fort sat at the northern edge of the city, right on the water. It had its own docks and six three-masted sailing ships bobbed in their slips. Was that the extent of the kingdom’s fleet?
The eagle settled inside the wall twenty feet from the keep. The archmage flew down from her mount and Damien landed beside her. A small door beside the keep’s main door opened and two people emerged, a man with a drooping white mustache, blue-and-silver uniform, and a short curved cutlass at his hip. A step behind him came a broad-shouldered woman in blue robes with long white hair. Damien stayed a step behind his master, not certain how formal the meeting would be.
“Admiral McAllen, Sasha.” The archmage inclined her head a fraction. “No new reports I assume.”
The high mage nodded back. “Lidia. No, we’ve heard nothing new from Lookout Island.”
“My fleet stands ready to attack at the king’s command.” The admiral had a gruff, blustery way that bordered on comical. Not that Damien so much as twitched while the others talked. He had no place in this conversation. Better to keep silent.
“His Majesty appreciates the thought, but he prefers to try and make peaceful contact before resorting to violence. My apprentice and I will be flying out to meet them in the morning.”
“Just the two of you?” Admiral McAllen looked at the archmage then at Damien, then back. “Is that prudent?”
“I think we’ll be okay, Ken. Damien’s stronger than he looks.”
Sasha turned her gaze on him. “The demon slayer. I’ve heard so much about you. You gave one of the most impressive displays we’ve seen in the final test in many years.”
“Thank you, High Sorcerer.” Damien bowed.
“And polite as well. Is there no end to your gifts?”
Damien didn’t know if she was mocking him or teasing him. He’d noticed most sorcerers seemed unable to remain serious for long periods. He didn’t know if having so much power made them careless or if they all just suffered from the same character flaws. Either way he wasn’t stupid enough to rise to the bait.
“Enough, Sasha.” His master appeared especially short on patience this evening. “We need rooms. I, for one, am exhausted. We’ll need all our wits for tomorrow.”
Chapter 13
After days of exploring every inch of the pyramid, the black stone walls all began to look the same to Connor. Though he hated to admit it, doubt had begun to seep into his mind. The artifact he sought might not be hidden in this particular pyramid after all. Maybe he’d gotten his hopes too high. According to his research ten pyramids circled the haunted lands. That made the odds of any given pyramid being the one he sought quite long.
Connor left the hall he’d just searched for the fifth time and returned to the central chamber. A red-stained iron cauldron sat in the center of the room, directly beneath a hole in the ceiling. All the blood channels in the roof’s altar drained through that hole and the blood and life force of the sacrifices gathered in the cauldron.
He ran a finger around the rim of the iron vessel. Dried blood flaked up like rust. How many lives had drained into it over the years, the decades? People called the former ruler of the haunted lands the Mad King, but Xanatos Alexious VI wasn’t mad; he was a genius. A genius determined to live forever and with the will to m
ake it happen. Connor admired that determination, admired everything about the great king.
Many people wanted things that were hard to accomplish and they gave up, believing them impossible. King Alexious found a way. Granted, a case could be made that murdering the population of half the continent wasn’t an acceptable method to gain what he wanted. If the scattered records Connor had read were accurate, many of his people objected, violently, to being used as fuel for the single largest feat of sorcery in history.
Those people served as the first sacrifices.
Connor sighed. Another fact his research had turned up: King Alexious hadn’t intended to stop with just half the continent. He’d intended to sacrifice all life in the wild lands beyond the mountains, in what was now the kingdom, along with his lands to the east. The savage tribes of goblins and ogres that infested the kingdom before the colonists’ arrival held the pass while the Ice Queen sent her armies south. King Alexious had been forced to activate the ritual before he’d completed his preparations and only managed to do the job half way. Connor intended to finish the task and take his place beside King Alexious at the Horned One’s side.
Connor hissed when an iron spur sliced his finger. His fresh blood glistened on the rim of the cauldron. A flicker of power awakened and a ruddy glow filled the chamber. Connor backed away from the cauldron and gathered his power. He had no idea what might happen next and didn’t intend to be taken by surprise.
The room shook and a beam of corrupt black energy shot up from the empty cauldron. When the anti-light vanished the cauldron slid back, revealing a set of stairs leading down into hidden chambers below the pyramid. The meager light from the entrance didn’t reach into those stygian depths. His enhanced sight allowed him to see in near darkness, but in the absolute absence of light below the pyramid even Connor needed light. Though it seemed a sacrilege, Connor conjured a glowing globe and sent it down ahead of him. He paused a moment to make certain his binding on the demon guardian still held firm and it did. Connor didn’t need the creature breaking free and attacking him in the catacombs where he had no hope of escaping.
Connor’s heart raced and sweat beaded on his neck as he descended into catacombs that hadn’t seen the passage of a human being in over a thousand years. What wonders or horrors or both lurked below? Like a child on solstice morning he hurried down, eager to discover what gifts awaited.
At the bottom of the steps a single vast room spread out in all directions. Shelves filled with books and artifacts lined three walls. Two large stone tables tried and failed to fill the otherwise empty space. It resembled his library writ large. Connor ran to the closest shelf and reached for a tome bound in black leather. His eager fingers stopped inches from the thick volume. Keen though he was, Connor wasn’t stupid enough to touch anything in this place without first checking for traps.
Streamers of black soul force shot out in all directions, brushing over everything in the room. The books all had a thin coating of some poison Connor didn’t recognize. The artifacts were charged with demonic energy that would kill any normal human that touched them. Lucky for Connor he wasn’t a normal human. His seeking tendrils found a small oval depression in the blank wall.
He rushed over to the little divot. No poison or lethal energy protected the oblong depression. He ran loving fingers over the smooth stone. This had to be what he sought.
Connor slipped the amulet from around his neck and pressed it into the oval. It fit perfectly. Another rumble shook the pyramid as a portion of the wall slid aside revealing a two-foot-square mirror of black glass. Clouds swirled in the depths of the mirror and slowly a face resolved. Cold and arrogant, with a hooked nose and eyes as crimson as Connor’s own, the face offered a disdainful sniff.
“Name yourself, boy.”
Connor stiffened at the insult. “I am no boy and I don’t take orders from spirits. If you want my name, share yours first.”
A faint smile curled the spirit’s thin lips. “You’ve got a spine at least. I am Dominicus Lucious, governor of the western provinces. I dared speak against our king and his plans. This is my reward.”
“My name is Connor Blackman. Tell me of King Alexious’s backup plan in the event the ritual failed.”
“Backup plan? Our lunatic ruler had so many plans you can’t even begin to imagine. If you wish to know about one in particular you’ll need to offer more than that.”
Connor ground his teeth. If he had more to offer he wouldn’t need the spirit’s help. “I don’t know anything else. It took me years to piece together what little I do know. The journals and histories mention a backup plan in case the grand conjuring failed. No specifics or other useful information.”
Dominicus nodded. “I heard of a plan, perhaps the one you speak of, but as I was not one of the king’s favorites I know little more than you. My spies in the palace spoke of a demon army marching to war and consuming everything in their path. How he planned to accomplish the summoning I don’t know.”
It took all Connor’s self-control not to smash the mirror to shards. What had he expected? That a regional governor, a man obviously an enemy of the king, would be privy to any of his deep secrets? The information he needed lay elsewhere, perhaps in the pages of the many books lining the wall. It would take time, a great deal of time, but Connor had no other choice. He covered his hands with a thin soul force barrier, grabbed a book, and settled in to read.
Chapter 14
Damien joined his master on the wall surrounding the navy fort. Dawn had come and gone not long ago. The archmage stood silent in the cool morning breeze, her blood-red robes swirling around her, her gaze traveling over the ocean. She made no comment when he moved to stand beside her. Damien closed his eyes and breathed deep, enjoying the salt air and the crash of waves on the breakers. He’d slept well. His thin cot left much to be desired, but a little conjuring had taken care of it.
“Shall we head out, Master?”
She turned to face.The circles under her eyes looked dark than usual this morning. Had she gotten any sleep?
“I suppose we should. Are you ready, Damien?”
“I believe so, Master. All I’m supposed to do is stand beside you and watch for potential attacks, right?”
“Yes, but just because the job is simple doesn’t make it easy. The histories say imperial sorcerers were known for their subtle conjuring.”
“Perhaps Mistress Sasha should join us. Three pairs of eyes are better than two.”
“I considered that, but I don’t want to risk three of the kingdom’s most powerful sorcerers at once. If, heaven forbid, something happens to us, the king will need all his high sorcerers to help deal with the empire. No, it’s just you and me, Damien.”
He smiled and patted her back. “We’ll be enough, Master. I’ll bring you back to Lane safe and sound, never fear.”
The archmage laughed and Damien feared he had offended her. “My daughter said you were an odd combination of sweet and tough. I begin to understand what she meant. Enough lollygagging.”
The archmage conjured her eagle in front of the wall and leapt onto its back. They flew west together at a good clip. Lookout Island waited about two hundred miles off the coast and they reached it an hour later with no difficulties. The island was fair sized, but not huge. A wooden fort surrounded by a log palisade had been built on the north edge. A dock jutted out into the ocean for supply ships. Damien and his master landed there.
Her eagle had barely vanished when a wild-haired man in his sixties burst from the gate of the fort and strode toward them. He wore ragged canvas pants and a torn, gray tunic. He waved as he approached like they couldn’t see him otherwise. Damien saw no soul force, which meant the man was a sorcerer. That shouldn’t have surprised Damien. It seemed sorcerers ran the gamut from “a little off” to “complete nut.” This guy looked like the nut had struck him on the head.
“Lidia, what took you so long? Damn ships show no sign of changing course. What are we gong to do?”
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“Isaac, relax. My apprentice and I are flying out there just as soon as we get a first-hand account of what we’re dealing with.”
Isaac turned intense blue eyes on Damien. “And who might you be?”
“Damien St. Cloud, sir.” Damien bowed to the eccentric sorcerer.
“The demon slayer? My apprentice mentioned you. I believe you were yearmates.”
Damien winced at the demon slayer announcement. Even out here they knew about that? “You’re Jaden’s mentor?”
“That’s right. He’s the one that first spotted the ships. Come on, you two have a lot to talk about and we can have something to drink.” Master Isaac spun and marched back the way he’d come.
Damien glanced at his master. “How long has he been on this island?”
The archmage fought a smile and lost. “Isaac’s been here close to forty years. He’s never returned to the mainland since he was first posted.”
“That explains it.”
The interior of the fort was basic, but comfortable. Each person had a cot and footlocker except one hammock, and Damien had a fair idea who that belonged to. The warlords stood at attention when the archmage entered and fled the moment she dismissed them. Jaden sat by himself at the long, rough-hewn table, looking for all the world like he wished he could escape with the warlords.
“Hey, how’s island life agreeing with you?” Damien asked.
Jaden managed a weak smile. “It was great until those ships showed up. It’s been crazy ever since.”
“Hopefully the archmage can straighten everything out and you’ll be free of us. Don’t worry, she doesn’t bite.”
The archmage sat facing a faintly trembling Jaden. “Tell me about the ships.”
“There’s four of them, each with three masts. Each has a ballista mounted in the front. I didn’t get close enough to make out any details. As far as I can tell their course hasn’t veered more than a few degrees since we first spotted them.”