by Dave Skinner
He admired himself in the looking glass. No lines marred his face. Perhaps there were a few small wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, but they had been there when he set the spell that preserved him and his tower.
After all, it had taken him three hundred years to find and obtain the crystals and the wealth he sought. His blood-magic had kept him young in those days, but after locking himself away, it was no longer necessary. Blood-magic had kept him young and blood-magic, along with the crystals, had allowed him to secure all the fantastic treasures that now graced his home, and would continue to grace it through eternity until the end of all.
From the way things looked these days, the end of time was not too far away. He estimated another thousand years would see the death of this world. Before then he would have to find another dimension, move there, and lock himself away again. Before the demons he had stolen the crystals from could detect them, if they still searched after all this time. But before that, he had to figure a way to overcome the backlash from his own spell.
Originally he felt that two or three thousand years would be a fine life span. Now he knew it was not. When he secured his tower, he did not care about the devastation breaking the spell would cause. It would be a fine way to end his life. After all, nothing except his own will or the Sword of Sacrifice could open the tower and break the spell. He would not do it until he was ready, and the sword was guarded by a dragon. It was safe.
***
“It looks brand new,” Nailmoe told him, stating the obvious.
The tower shot straight up out of the earth forcing Adamtay to strain his neck as he tried to view the top. It shone in the sunlight, sparkling with rippling colours as if finished yesterday. Even at ground level and close up it showed no signs of age. What they had seen as wear from a distance the other day had turned out to be an impressive accumulation of small animal and bird carcases.
“Magic,” Nailmoe said, again stating the obvious. He stretched his hand out. “I am stopped from touching the door. It feels like there is a force holding me away.”
Adamtay tried with the same result. He pulled the Sword of Sacrifice from its scabbard. Nailmoe moved out of his way. He had developed a strong respect for the sword after seeing it slice through the dayskin of the men who had tried to stop them earlier. Adamtay reached out and slashed the sword across the door. It left a mark.
“We may not be able to reach it, but the Sword can. I am going to see if I can cut around the door.” He inserted the point of the sword between the door and the jamb on one side. With a strong pull he ran the blade down from top to bottom. The blade slowed slightly at the latch but was not stopped. Adamtay repeated the movement across the top and down the other side. The hinges cut as easily as the latch.
“I still cannot touch the door,” Nailmoe reported as he pulled his hand back. “Maybe you have to cut all the way around. Try the Sword across the bottom.”
Adamtay ran the blade across the bottom of the door. Nailmoe tried to touch the door, but was repelled. “How are we supposed to open it if we are unable touch it?”
Adamtay considered the question, and then stabbed the sword into the centre of the door. With the blade driven part way through the barrier, he twisted the sword to give it purchase and gave a mighty yank. The door pulled away. From inside the tower and far above their heads they heard a blood-curdling scream.
“Oh, that doesn’t sound good. Do you think the wizard preserved himself as well as the tower?” Nailmoe reasoned, looking skyward.
“If he did, he is in trouble. The door just turned to dust.”
“And the tower is beginning to crumble,” Nailmoe screamed. He yanked Adamtay through the doorway into the tower, as a large block crashed down where they had been standing.
They had entered a circular room with a stairway running up one wall. In the centre of the room, on a raised pedestal, sat a number of glowing crystals. Before they could move, a large block of stone crashed through the ceiling of the room and smashed to rubble on the floor.
“Hurry!” Nailmoe cried as he sprang towards the crystals. Adamtay was right behind him when he reached the pedestal and started stuffing crystals into the pouch he carried.
Another scream sounded from above. A figure appeared at the top of the stairs. Adamtay had a fleeting glimpse of long scraggly hair, blackened teeth, and long claw-like nails. He stepped forward with his sword in hand just as a number of blocks crashed down on the creature. The stairway collapsed, hurling it and everything else to the floor. More of the tower crashed through the ceiling.
“Get out!” Adamtay screamed. He spun back to Nailmoe who was reaching for the last crystal. Adamtay grabbed him and yanked him away as a block crashed down on the pedestal, shattering it and the remaining crystal. Adamtay and Nailmoe sprinted for the door, dodging pieces of the disintegrating tower. They charged outside as part of the wall around the doorway broke away. Bent over, shoulders hunched, expecting to be crushed at any moment, they ran until the chaos around them subsided.
When they finally stopped and looked back, the tower was a pile of blocks that were quickly turning to dust, crumbling away before their eyes.
“Are you okay?” Adamtay asked.
Nailmoe patted himself all over as he brushed dust off his clothes and out of his hair. “Physically I seem to be fine, but I’m positive I’ll have nightmares for the rest of my life.”
Chapter 47
“Come,” the demon lord commanded.
The guards pushed the large doors to the throne room open, and thrust him through the minimal opening. He staggered, recovered, and grovelled his way across the floor towards the throne. The demon lord was looking out the windows to the left of the throne. Ratner chanced quick furtive glances at Transgarin as he traversed the long room. As far as he could tell the lord was not angry. Flames were not evident between his massive horns, black blood was not oozing from his eyes or ears, and he could see no drool dripping from his snout, and he distinctly remembered those characteristics from the last time he was here. Ratner allowed a kernel of hope to blossom in his chest, but kept his eyes cast downward on the warm stone beneath his feet to be safe. He felt the heat when Transgarin cast his gaze upon him.
“You sent for me, My Lord?”
“Ratner, come closer. How nice it is to look upon you after all this time. How long has it been?”
“Two thousand and three hundred years, My Lord.”
“And do you remember why you have been away from my court for such a long period of time?”
“Certainly, My Lord, I could never forget such a transgression.”
“Remind me.”
Ratner tried to find some saliva to swallow, but his mouth stayed dry. If Transgarin had actually forgotten his transgression, he did not want to remind him, but to not comply with the lord’s command was also not advised.
“It was the loss of the crystals, Lord. I was on guard when they were stolen.”
“You were asleep when they were stolen, you mean.”
“I swear My Lord; the wizard cast a sleeping spell upon me. That is the only explanation I have been able to reason out.” In truth, he had been asleep, but as miserable as his life had been for the past twenty-three hundred years, he was not ready to give it up, and admitting he had been asleep would see his life ended. Of that he was sure.
“I have never believed you, Rat, but because of your years of service I gave you the benefit of my doubt. Today this affair has entered a new phase.”
Ratner waited but finally had to ask. “Has something happened, My Lord?”
“Yes, Rat, something has happened. I can sense my crystals again. They are no longer hidden from me, and I am sending you to find out what has happened. Do not try to retrieve them. I do not want to see them lost again. Simply find out what has happened and return here with the information. Is that clear?
“Yes, My Lord.”
“Good.” Transgarin tossed something to R
atner. “This will guide you to what I sense. And Rat, if you fail me in this, I will personally suck your brains out through your horns. Now be gone.”
The throne room disappeared and Rat found himself standing on a hilltop, knee deep in dust, and surrounded by creatures that were milling about and scrounging through the dirt. He managed to kill three before the rest escaped. It was a mark of his luck returning, to have a food supply waiting for him although the shells of two of these animals proved difficult to open. He had to remove limbs and heads to get at the meat.
He tore off a few succulent pieces and, as he ate, he considered the item Transgarin had thrown to him. It was a black sphere that easily fit into his hand, about half the size of the heads of the animals he was eating. When he arose to grab another piece of meat, he noticed that the sphere sparked with an internal light. Experimenting, he realized the spark occurred when he turned towards the centre of the dust pile. He pondered the meaning of this while he finished the rest of his meal. Transgarin had told him the sphere would lead him to the crystals, therefore he reasoned the flare of light could be an indicator of which direction he had to travel to find them.
It took Ratner some time to figure out where to search. He was not at his best considering that he had spent the last twenty-three hundred years existing on scrapes in an area famous for erupting volcanoes and noxious gases. He had not been an exceptionally bright or loyal demon before his excommunication. The food he had devoured was helping him revive, and he felt that his thoughts were quieting. He was getting himself under control, but in truth he was as mad now as he had ever been. Despite his madness, he knew he should not anger Transgarin again, so he searched diligently for the crystals.
Eventually, he found some shards and the shattered remains of one crystal buried in the dust. When the orb refused to spark significantly when held in any direction, he reasoned he had done his best and, after prowling around the surrounding area for the night, he returned to Transgarin.
The demon lord was sitting in the same chair, in the same position, with the same expression on his snout when Ratner was allowed in through the throne room doors. He grovelled his way forward, and laid the broken crystal and fragments within Transgarin’s reach.
“Are they all broken?”
“This is the only one I found, Lord.”
“The orb did not detect any others?”
“It only sparked for these pieces, Lord.”
“Tell me everything that occurred and all that you observed, Rat. Leave nothing out. Your continued existence depends in it.”
Ratner recounted every nuance of the trip, even down to the taste of the meat. When he was finished, Transgarin considered the tale before calling his chamberlain to him.
“Fufflorcain, arrange a room for Rat, and have him supplied with food. Put guards on the door, we would not want him to wander off. Also I want a squad of orcs ready to accompany him in a fortnight.
“Rat, I am sending you back to retrieve the other crystals. I will create something that will allow you to find them, no matter how far away they have been taken. I will also send a compliment of orcs for you to command. They will be charged with killing you if you mess up in any way. Do I make my wishes clear?”
“Yes, My Lord, I will not fail you.”
“This time, Rat, you will not fail me this time.”
Chapter 48
When Manda and Mearisdeana got back to the camp, Manda was surprised to see that the fire was out. Tyhan met them as they arrived. “Captain, something you should see.”
He led them down the beach and around an outcrop of rock. He pointed across the water at a light flickering in the darkness. “We have neighbors,” he whispered.
Across the dark waters Manda saw the unmistakable light of a fire. She was about to say ‘One boat will not be a problem’ when her peripheral vision caught sight of another, and then another, and then more, lots more. All the islands appeared to be populated.
“Pirates,” Manda swore.
“We are going to have trouble trying to slip out of here tomorrow morning. Even if we get past the closest island, we will not know how many others are occupied once the sun is up.”
“Not all the islands have fires,” Mearisdeana informed them.
“You can see the islands?”
“Yes, I can see quite a few of them.”
Manda considered their options and made a decision. “We go now.” she announced.
“I will get the men ready,” Tyhan said before he sprinted away.
The sky was ablaze with stars by the time they were ready. The need to be noiseless made the packing and loading of the ship a slow process. Things were done cautiously, but eventually they were ready.
Manda had experienced sailors on the oars. Bray and Ran were tasked with raising the anchors along with three other men. They could not winch them up for fear of noise, so four of them dragged the anchors up hand over hand while the other one coiled the chain. When they were finished, they joined the line of signalers behind Mearisdeana.
She stood at the bow with men spaced out in a line behind her, stretching back to Manda at the wheel. Later some of the men commented that they felt like puppets. Mearisdeana raised her arm to indicate the direction to take and puppets mirrored her action. Manda steered in the direction indicated by the closest puppet’s actions. Ahead of the Red Witch was a black hole to Manda’s eyes, and as long as it remained nothing but a black hole she was happy. Unfortunately her imagination wanted something more. Visions of her ship crashing into an island that was suddenly too close to miss plagued her. She had to trust the puppet she could see.
They crept silently along on muffled oars. As the protective arms of the harbour were left behind, the ship turned starboard away from the closest of the fire lit islands, past two black unlit islands, followed by three quick turns to port, starboard and port again until a final swing to port put them back on the open waters of the lake. Manda was back in her element, steering by the stars, taking them away from the islands, and then swinging to port to run along beside the string of Chimneys barely visible in the starlight, but keeping well away from their dangerous, often rocky, coasts.
When the last turn to port fell behind them, they raised the sails and abandoned the oars. With a sigh of relief and a prayer to the Mother, Manda ran them smoothly down the length of the Chimney Islands. The sun was climbing out of the lake when the tip of Pointer Island appeared. Manda made for a sheltered, hidden cove she knew of, slightly past the point, on the leeward side of the island.
With Pointer Island clearly visible Manda gave a piercing whistle to wake the crew. All had remained on deck, but many had succumbed to the boredom of a sailing ship at night, lying down on the deck beside their posts or stretching out on an oar bench. Now they rose bleary eyed and slow moving. Tyhan started calling orders. Soon the crew was scampering to chores with their usual efficiency. Manda felt her fatigue in every muscle, but she smiled, thankful for Tyhan’s competence and a well-trained crew.
She maneuvered the Red Witch into the cove. They had sheltered here before, and the crew knew what she intended without her having to issue orders. This sheltered inlet was graced with a wide sandy beach that dropped off into deep water almost immediately. If she ran the ship up on the sand it could not be seen by passing ships. With skill and a feel for appropriate speed displayed by few other captains, she did exactly that. Immediately a rope was stretched out from the bow to a large tree growing at the edge of the beach. The Red Witch was secure. Manda allowed exhaustion to flood over her. She heard Tyhan issuing orders and setting a watch as she made her way down to her cabin and into her bed.
An insistent knocking and the calling of her name pulled her from sleep. She recognized Tyhan’s voice and knew that he would only awaken her if it was necessary. She rolled out of bed and, realizing she was still dressed, made her way to the door.
“Sorry to wake you, Captain, but there is something yo
u need to see.”
She nodded and he led her to the bow of the ship. They scrambled down the rope that secured the ship to shore, and he led her along the beach and onto the spit of land that hid them from the lake. The trees were thick there. In the gloom they cast, she made out someone crouched at the top of a hill. He turned as they made their way up the rise. She recognized the big passenger with the dark complexion. Ran.
Manda had not spoken to him during the trip. She had observed him doing shipboard chores, but had not had reason to speak to him or the other male passenger as she had with their companion, Mearisdeana.
He smiled at her as she scurried up the last few feet. She remembered that smile from the tavern at Delvingford where he had winked at her, and felt her face start to flush. She attempted to stand up, but he reached out and stopped her by grabbing her wrist. She started to wrench her arm out of his grasp, but he had already let her go.
“Cover your hair first,” he advised softly as he reached up to his cloak and flipped it from his back to hers. The movement was fluid and graceful. It reminded her of water moving around a ship. He settled the cloak’s hood on her head and then shimmied up to the crest of the hill on his stomach. She followed his example.
Looking out at the lake she involuntarily gasped. A line of five ships was passing their vantage point. Large ships capable of carrying large crews. Their names were undecipherable, but the flag they all flew could not be mistaken. She had run from that flag at times, and had known captains who had lost everything to the ships that bore it. It showed two crossed swords on a blood red background, the flag of Yucan Vee, leader of the pirate armada.
“Ten have already passed,” Ran spoke quietly as he slipped back down below the hill’s crest.