by James Wisher
He staggered back.
The monster opened its mouth.
An instant later the tip of a long blade burst from its open maw. Jen shoved the beast to the ground and ripped her weapon free.
“That’s the last of them,” she said.
Lon wiped the sweat from his brow. That had been far too close.
“How is he?” She nodded at the still-unconscious man.
“Alive, though I’m not certain if that’s a blessing or curse. Keep watch, please. I need to return to healing.”
Lon worked nonstop for an hour, sealing veins, mending flesh, and using every trick he’d learned to keep the patient alive. He hardly got one thing fixed when something else burst. At last, his soul force virtually depleted, a vein he thought he’d fixed ruptured again.
He had nothing left to seal it. Lon pressed his hand to the gushing wound, trying to slow it enough that his power could recover. The man’s heart stopped before he could close the vein.
Lon sat back, covered in blood. He’d failed.
Someone patted his back. He glanced over and found Jen crouched beside him. “You can’t win ’em all. Is that our guy?”
Lon looked at the dead man’s ruined face and quickly looked away. “I can’t tell. Wait. The description I received said David was known to wear a ring with his family’s crest, a red sword crossed over a black shield.”
Lon looked down. No ring graced the dead man’s hand. He sighed. It wasn’t David. “Could you check the other bodies for me?”
Jen nodded. She came back a minute later and held out her hand. “Like this?”
Lon opened his tired eyes. The gold ring in her hand had the right crest. “Damn it! The body?”
“He was in worse shape than this guy.” She set the ring beside him. “Sorry. We’re going out front to deal with those fire breathers.”
Lon stood up and pocketed the ring. “Wait for me. I find I have some anger I need to work off.”
Chapter 18
Once again Damien found himself flying out over the ocean. This time he was too focused on the mission to enjoy it. The archmage flew beside him, not bothering with her eagle for such a relatively short trip. Her shoulders were hunched up around her neck and she was clenching her fists and jaw. His master’s anxiety leached into Damien and he kept forcing himself to take deep breaths. He needed to be calm and focused, not jumpy.
Damien moved up beside her. “If you don’t relax you’ll break your teeth.”
With a visible effort she relaxed her posture. “Happy?”
To Damien’s surprise he found he was a little happy. “You know, this is the first time we’ve gone on a mission like a proper master and apprentice.”
She looked over at him and the fierce scowl eased a little. “I hadn’t thought about it. I guess I don’t make a very good master, sending you out on missions by yourself.”
Damien waved a hand. “I don’t mind. It’s just I’m interested to learn how the other students feel, watching a more experienced sorcerer work.”
The scowl returned, but with a mocking twist. “Are you calling me old?”
Damien grinned. All the tension had gone out of her. “Perish the thought.”
They shared a laugh then turned their attention to the matter at hand. The sorcerer keeping watch on the ships hung in the sky half a mile ahead, a multilayer construct in front of him. He must have sensed their approach as he turned to face them the instant they stopped. The young man bowed to the archmage and nodded to Damien. He looked of an age with Jaden and Damien, but Damien didn’t remember him from The Tower.
“Ma’am, they haven’t changed course or slowed. I haven’t seen any activity beyond what you’d expect for a sailing ship.”
“Where are they?” the archmage asked.
He pointed west and a hair north. Damien squinted, but couldn’t make anything out. The construct he saw earlier must have been the far-seer Jaden had been so eager to learn how to make.
“Keep watch and if anything should go wrong send a message to High Sorcerer Sasha in Valcane.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the sorcerer said.
“Ready, Damien?”
“Yes, Master.”
The archmage flew toward the ships. Damien strengthened his shield and his master followed suit. A minute later the four ships came into view. As they soared closer Damien made out more detail. Built from dark wood and sporting three masts like Jaden had said, the ships were bigger than the ones tied up at the navy dock back in Valcane. Men stood in the ropes and pointed at Damien and his master as they approached. In the center of each ship a big brick oven with a soot-blackened chimney jutted out. He’d never heard of such a thing on a ship and couldn’t imagine its purpose. Perhaps the sailors liked fresh bread. A little closer and the stench of rotten meat filled the air.
Standing in a raised area at the front of the lead ship, beside the unloaded ballista, a bald man in billowing white trousers and shirt waved at them. The archmage flew down until she was hovering even with the waving man.
He beamed at them. “Hello! Welcome to the whaling vessel Longshot. Please come aboard.”
The archmage landed beside the sailor and Damien joined her. If this fellow was a representative of the empire Damien would swim back to Lookout Island.
“May I offer you food, drink?” the sailor asked.
“No, thank you. Are you the captain of this vessel?”
“I am. Anton Velco at your service. Please call me Anton. You are from the Lost Colony, yes?”
“We haven’t been a colony for many years, but yes, we’re from the kingdom. I’m Archmage Lidia Thorn.” She nodded toward Damien. “My apprentice.”
He nodded but remained silent. If his master didn’t want these people to know his name Damien wouldn’t enlighten them.
“Are you representing the empire or have you crossed the ocean for your own purposes?”
Velco threw back his head and laughed. “The empire? There is no empire. A dozen factions circle and spit at each other like angry cats, leaving the rest of us to survive as best we can.”
“Then you’ve come for your own purposes. I’d be interested to know what could convince several hundred people to cross the vast ocean in hopes of finding something you weren’t even certain existed.”
Some of Velco’s good nature dried up. “I’m not certain it’s any of your concern.”
A slender woman with long dark hair and pale skin came up from the lower deck. She wore flowing blue robes that swirled in the ocean breeze. Damien detected no soul force so she had to be a sorcerer. She whispered in Velco’s ear and he nodded once. The woman stepped away, but remained on the platform.
“I apologize for the interruption.”
The archmage waved her hand in dismissal. “You were about to tell us why you crossed the ocean.”
“I’m not certain I was. What business is it of yours?”
“My king has dispatched us to discover your purpose. You may tell us or turn around. Refuse to speak and continue on your present course and I’ll be forced to consider you an enemy. Enemy ships go to the bottom of the ocean.”
Velco laughed again. “I think we have you a bit outnumbered.”
Behind him the sorcerer drew on her power, sending her robes flapping and surrounding herself with a blue aura. Power crackled around her hands and her eyes glowed. She was fairly strong, but not extraordinary.
“As you can see we have our own sorcerers.”
The archmage glanced back. “Damien.”
He knew at once what she wanted. Damien drew deep from his core. Golden power crackled around him. The deck planks vibrated and several nails popped loose. Even the ocean below trembled. The female sorcerer took a step back, her blue eyes wide.
“If you wish to go down this road I believe we can accommodate you,” his master said.
The opposing sorcerer hurried over and whispered in her captain’s ear. He said something back and she nodded. Her aura vanished and
the captain heaved a great sigh. “Very well. We wish to resupply in your kingdom. Our intention is to slay the Leviathan.”
Damien gaped. Of the five dragons, all the books regarded the Leviathan as the strongest. Sailors called the mighty sea serpent the god of the ocean. Having seen how badly even a weak dragon overmatched him, Damien couldn’t imagine how Velco might harm such a creature, much less slay it. If he had another hundred sorcerers in his service it wouldn’t be enough. He absorbed his power and relaxed. He didn’t need to fight these fools. They intended to destroy themselves.
His master must have had the same idea. “If you wish to commit suicide you’ve chosen an interesting method. Your odds of survival would be better if you turned around without resupply.”
“We know some tricks on our side of the ocean that you may not. I’m convinced we can accomplish the task. Are you satisfied? May we purchase supplies in your kingdom?”
“I’ll take your petition to the king, but I foresee no difficulties. Why should your gold sink along with your ships? My apprentice will guide you to our lookout post in case I don’t return before.” The archmage turned to Damien. “Don’t let them sail on until I return.”
“Yes, Master.”
She nodded once and leapt into the air leaving Damien alone on the whalers’ ship. The captain smiled. “Are you certain I can’t offer you something to eat?”
Chapter 19
Damien sat with Velco in his surprisingly spacious cabin. A little glass-fronted cabinet filled with pieces of bone carved into elaborate shapes or with detailed seascapes inlaid into them sat against the back wall. Damien perched on the edge of the captain’s bed while Velco reclined in the room’s sole chair. A small fold-up table occupied one corner. Beside it rested a two-shelf bookcase filled with charts and logbooks. On a small table rested a tray covered with dried meat, biscuits, and some sort of withered fruit. Damien found no poison, but still had no particular desire to eat any of it. Even the red wine in his battered tin cup smelled sour.
Damien took a nibble of dried meat just to be polite. “Why did you risk a fight with my master just to avoid telling her your intentions?”
Velco tore a chunk out of his meat. “I wanted to see what she was made of. I have to admit I was impressed. Would she have sunk us if I continued on without answering her?”
“No, she would have had me do it.”
Velco laughed and almost choked on his half-chewed food. When the captain could breathe again he said, “You don’t mince words do you?”
“I’m a warrior, not a politician. If I have something to say, I say it.”
“Ha! You and I are going to get along. How far to this island of yours?”
“I could fly there in half an hour, but sailing, maybe a day or two. I admit I have little experience with ships. Do you really think you can kill the Leviathan?”
“The sorcerers I’ve spoken with assure me their plan will work. No guarantees of course, but they seemed confident.”
“I don’t suppose you’d care to share?” Damien took another nibble of meat. If it took two days to reach the island he’d have to stomach the food for a little while.
Velco devoured a biscuit, mold and all. “Your master tell you to ask?”
Damien smiled. “Not in so many words, but she’d be disappointed in me if I didn’t try.”
“I hate to dash your hopes, but I don’t exactly understand the process myself. Something about suppression and negation. I can pilot a ship, plot a course, or kill a whale, but sorcery is beyond me. When the time comes I’ll do what they tell me and hope for the best.”
Damien shook his head. The captain had taken too big a risk to pin it all on hoping for the best. He either knew more than he let on or was desperate. Looking at the man Damien thought it might be a combination of both.
“Why risk it? This trip, hunting a dragon, my master’s wrath. What’s so awful in the Old Empire that you would make such a gigantic gamble?”
“Awful? On the contrary, things couldn’t be better. The guild’s business is doubling every five years. We’re rolling in gold.”
Damien just stared, not understanding. “And?”
“And what we’re not rolling in is whales. We’ve nearly hunted the safe areas clean. If we want to continue working we need to hunt out in the deep water where the big pods live.”
“And the whales aren’t the only big thing that lives in the deep ocean.”
“Yes, and the dragon doesn’t take kindly to us hunting in its territory. We’ve sent three flotillas out and only one came back with oil. The others vanished without a trace. The guild lost five hundred men combined on those ships. We can’t convince new crews to sign up unless we guarantee only shallow water hunting.”
“Right. You eliminate the Leviathan and a whole ocean opens up to you.”
“Exactly. This is our way of life. If we can’t find new hunting grounds we lose everything. I’ve staked it all on keeping our lifestyle going.”
“Including your life?”
“Including my life.”
Chapter 20
Connor slammed the useless history book on the hard stone table. He’d been reading book after book for a week and had nothing to show for it beyond an intimate knowledge of the functioning of the western province’s economy. Why had anyone bothered to put such useless tomes in a hidden room? Unless a thief was suffering from insomnia he wouldn’t have any interest in them. No one would have any interest in them beyond a governor or other administrator.
Wait!
An administrator. Where was it? Connor flung aside several books until he found the one he sought. He rifled through page after page of lists until he found it, a list of high-value slaves sent to the palace. He scanned the columns of names and numbers until he reached a note at the end. Included with this shipment: Three artifacts of unknown providence for storage in the palace vault.
The palace vault. If the artifact he sought was anywhere it would be in the vault. Connor collected his amulet from the niche in the wall. The hidden compartment slid shut, hiding the mirror away for however many hundreds of years it would take for another to find it.
Now that he had a destination Connor was eager to move on. He slipped the amulet around his neck and rushed up the stairs. His power had recovered, thank the Horned One. Some enchantment woven into the stone shielded the interior of the pyramid from the energy-draining effect outside.
He retraced his steps back to the exit, passing the snarling, still-trapped guardian as he went. The demon thrashed when he got close, but couldn’t escape the binding. Connor powered up his shield and stepped out into the desolate wasteland. Dry, acrid air parched his throat. Above, a dim spot of light showed where the sun struggled to penetrate the dismal clouds. A small winged silhouette passed in front of the light.
Connor frowned and turned back to reseal the pyramid. No bird would fly into the haunted lands. Animals had sense enough to avoid the unnatural place. If it wasn’t a bird—
A huge approaching power drew his gaze up in time to spot a black-scaled demon plunging toward the ground. Bat wings snapped open at the last second, flapped twice, and the beast settled light as a feather ten feet from Connor. Jagged horns jutted up from a head covered in bone spurs. Twin sanguine flames burned in deep-set sockets and a thick, reptilian tail thrashed behind it.
Connor tensed, ready to lash out. This monster easily overmatched the one he’d bound inside. If it came to a fight he wasn’t certain he’d win. That the demon didn’t attack at once argued a peaceful resolution remained possible. Unlikely, but possible.
“You serve the Horned One,” the demon said.
Connor nodded, equally surprised and relieved to be having a conversation and not fighting for his life. “That’s right. Do you?”
Bony lips peeled back, revealing three rows of razor-sharp teeth. “Focalor serves no master. I smelled the Horned One’s stench in your soul force.”
“Forgive my misunderstanding.
I assume you want something since we’re having this pleasant conversation instead of killing each other.”
“As if you could harm Focalor. Focalor wishes to know what brings a puny mortal to this place.”
“I’m looking for something.”
“Focalor is looking for something as well. Focalor cannot gain access to the pyramids so his search has been frustrating. Perhaps Focalor and the warlock can help each other.”
A demon that wished to work with someone rather than kill them on the spot. Of all the wonders Connor had seen this one surprised him the most. Having a demon to help deal with guardians and traps would make his task much easier. Of course once the demon found what it wanted Connor’s lifespan would be measured in seconds. But if he didn’t agree to work with Focalor his life wouldn’t last much longer.
“That sounds like an excellent suggestion. I’m Connor, pleased to meet you. What, exactly, are we looking for?”
“Focalor seeks a way back to hell. He has wandered this world in search of a gate, but has found nothing. The pyramids are Focalor’s last hope of finding one.”
“If you wish to return to hell fly west until you find a great stone citadel. The holy warriors inside will be happy to kill you.”
The demon flexed its wings and tensed. For an instant Connor feared he’d made a horrible mistake, but Focalor didn’t spring and rend him limb from limb. It shook like a wet dog and sighed.
“Focalor does not wish to return in defeat, but to stride through a gate like a returning hero. The other demons will see how great Focalor is and fear and obey him.”
Even by demonic standards this creature was insane. It also seemed to be searching for the same thing as Connor. If the demon helped him find the crystal gate key Connor would be more than happy to let it pass through the portal.
“I’m seeking a gate key as well. It seems our interests are aligned. We work together to find the crystal and when the portal opens you go through and leave me in one piece to use it as I wish. Agreed?”