by James Wisher
They crossed the street, the griffin construct in the lead and Eli bringing up the rear. He didn’t complain and Imogen found his lack of bravado a pleasant change from some of the people she’d worked with. Knowing your relative strength was an important skill for a sorcerer.
The alley between the two buildings was narrow and dark. Lon’s construct gave off enough light for them to see, but it also cast flickering shadows that made it hard to tell which movements were real and which illusions.
Imogen studied the hard-packed dirt, trying in vain to spot anything that might be an enemy’s track. She had no skill at hunting and since Lon kept his eyes ahead she doubted he did either. The scuff marks in the dirt could have meant anything or nothing for all she knew.
“Where’d she go?” Imogen asked.
If the others had any ideas they kept them to themselves. They were probably as confused as Imogen. She reached the end of the alley and caught movement to her left. She spun in time to see a swirl of cloth disappear inside a saloon.
Her jaw clenched. The bitch was playing with them. Whoever she was, Imogen would make her pay for the insult. She stalked down the loose boards that made up the sidewalk and pushed through the swinging doors. Inside sixteen bodies littered the floor. There was no blood, but she sensed no soul force either. The people were certainly dead, but what had killed them?
A gasp came from behind her.
“Heaven’s mercy. What happened?” Eli asked.
No one had any answers for him. A floorboard above them creaked. Maybe whoever lurked up there knew what happened.
Imogen blasted a hole in the ceiling and flew through it. Standing there barefoot and staring back at her with glowing red eyes was a petite woman with straight black hair, pale skin with black veins running close to the surface, and a deep blue dress. She held her hands behind her back and her blue-tinged lips were turned down in a slight frown.
Lon and Eli landed beside her. “You!” Lon’s lips peeled back in a snarl.
The girl’s solemn expression brightened. “We meet for a third time. How nice. The only shame is Master Connor forbade me to kill you.”
“You know her?” Imogen looked from Lon to the woman.
“Her appearance has changed and she’s become a warlock, but I’d never mistake the she-devil that captured me in Port Valcane then murdered one of our comrades.”
The three of them drew power at the same time. They’d obliterate the witch with a single combined attack.
The woman swung her hands in front of her body. She held one of the black urns.
Black lightning shot out. Pain filled Imogen as her soul force was torn from her body. Beside her Lon howled and Eli collapsed. Imogen and Lon slumped beside him a moment later.
The pain stopped and Imogen blinked up at the woman standing over them.
“You’re still conscious. How impressive.”
A second blast of lightning sent Imogen to oblivion.
Chapter 30
Damien, Jen, and Marie-Bell hovered over a small village named Shadows in the East, the third location described in the ledger. The second had turned out to be an abandoned hunting shack twenty miles from anything resembling civilization. There wasn’t any sign of cultists or guardians. The only living things in the vicinity were a pair of perfectly ordinary squirrels that growled at them from the branches of an old oak. If anyone had used that place for a meeting it was many generations ago.
“I know this place,” Jen leaned over the rail for a better look at the village. “My squad came here with Master Shen to fight soul force eaters and red scales.”
Damien had just been thinking this might be another bust, but if those monsters had been here they must have had a reason. It wouldn’t be unusual for a cult hideout to have monsters like that for guards.
Damien turned to Marie-Bell. “Do you sense anything?”
“No, but we’re still quite high. Perhaps something will stick out when we land.”
They descended to the town square, drawing looks from the few people out and about that morning. Damien waved at a little girl who ducked behind her mother’s skirt.
“You’re the one who’s been here before,” Damien said. “Want to lead the way?”
Jen nodded and strode toward the town hall. Hopefully the mayor or militia captain would know if anything strange was happening. Since they didn’t have a particular target in this town it probably wouldn’t do much good to check the inns and taverns, but depending on what the officials had to say it might be worth showing Smyth’s image around.
“Do you want me to check auras as well?” Marie-Bell asked.
“Please,” Damien said. “You were a huge help with that earlier.”
She lit up when he offered the compliment. Damien had a hard time believing she was older than him. When he interacted with her, Marie-Bell gave off the impression of a much younger person.
“Who should I check?”
Damien grinned. “Everyone.”
Though it was early the town hall doors stood open for the day’s business. Damien glanced around as he followed his sister down a hall lined with paintings. He kept his sorcerous senses fully awake and as sharp as he could make them. He didn’t intend to miss anything this time. The hall ended in an open set of double doors guarded by a pair of men armed with smooth clubs.
One of the guards, an emaciated fellow with lank brown hair, blocked their way. “The mayor isn’t seeing anyone until the meeting begins at nine. You’re going to have to wait.”
“We’re here on crown business,” Jen said. “And it won’t wait.”
The guard licked his front teeth as he thought. Finally he turned to his companion. “Go see if the mayor will see these… Say, who are you people anyway?”
The flow of soul force in Jen’s body surged an instant before she grabbed the guard by the tunic and lifted him off the ground with one hand. “I’m Jennifer St. Cloud. This is my brother Damien, apprentice to the archmage. The young woman behind him is Marie-Bell, a paladin of the fortress. Impress on your master that we are not of a mind to wait.”
Frantic now, the skinny guard waved at his companion. “Why are you still here? Go get the mayor. Now!”
“Thank you.” Jen set the first guard back on his feet as the second ran for a door set a little ways to the side of a raised chair, stumbling over one of the benches filling the chamber in his haste. Looking at that elevated seat one might almost think the mayor had pretensions to a throne, but of course he’d never admit that.
The messenger rapped on the door and when it opened he spoke with whoever waited on the other side. The young man nodded then waved them over. The three of them walked across the room and when they arrived the door opened the rest of the way revealing a heavyset man with dark eyes and a weary bearing.
“Come on in.” He stepped out of the doorway.
They entered a small office dominated by a large desk and three chairs. The mayor moved behind the table and slumped in his seat. “I’m going to have to get another seat in here.”
Damien waved the ladies to the two chairs already present then conjured a third for himself. When she brushed past him Marie-Bell whispered, “Evil,” and nodded to the mayor.
Damien raised an eyebrow prompting a slight nod from the paladin. So, maybe they’d found their cultist. Hopefully he wasn’t just an especially corrupt official. Damien wouldn’t mention anything for now. It would be interesting to see what the mayor had to say for himself if he didn’t know they were on to him. Damien sat in his conjured chair and slipped the lie block into the mayor’s mind. He’d done it so many times now it took almost no effort.
The mayor sat up and adjusted his collar. “Well, this is certainly our week for visiting sorcerers. How can I help you?”
“What other sorcerers have visited?” Damien asked.
“I only knew Master Shen. With him were a young man and perhaps the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. The woman wasn’t inclined to introdu
ce herself.”
“That would be Imogen, she’s an acquaintance of mine. What did they want?” Damien asked.
“They were looking for a sorcerer who passed through here a few weeks ago. I’m afraid I wasn’t much help.”
“Perhaps you can be of more help to us,” Jen said. “Has anything unusual happened lately in the vicinity? We have reliable information that the Cult of the Horned One is active in this region.”
The mayor flinched. Was it just a natural reaction or did he know something?
“No one has said anything to me about any unusual activity. This is a quiet community. Little of interest happens here.”
“Are you a member of the cult?” Damien asked.
“Of course n…Agh.” The mayor grabbed his throat and stared at Damien.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Damien conjured bindings around the mayor’s chest so he couldn’t get out of the chair.
“Help!” A gag appeared, but too late.
The door burst open and the two guards stared from the mayor to Damien’s group. Their moment of confusion allowed Jen to accelerate to warlord speed and knock them both unconscious. She dragged them inside and shut the door.
“Getting crowded in here,” Jen said as she sat back down.
Marie-Bell hadn’t even managed to get out of her chair before the confrontation ended. “The guards aren’t evil.”
“Just a pair of unlucky guys trying to do their jobs for someone they had no idea didn’t deserve their protection.” Damien conjured a sound barrier, something he should have done the moment the door closed, and removed the mayor’s gag. “Now where were we?”
The mayor licked his lips, his gaze going everywhere except to the three angry people staring at him. When he’d gathered his nerve the mayor said, “Okay, I’m a member, but it’s not what you think. I never killed anyone. The organization has changed. We’re not butchers like the old timers. It’s more of an information network. A lot of trade goods pass through here. I send information to my superiors in Port Valcane which they use to buy and sell goods to make the maximum profit. I get a cut of every deal. It’s easy coin.”
Damien leaned forward. “That’s all you do?”
“Ye…Agh.”
Damien shook his head. “Did you not notice you can’t lie to me?”
“All right. I don’t just send information about trade goods. I also tell them about people of interest passing through town.”
Damien’s fist clenched. “Did you pass along any information about Imogen and her team?”
“Yes.”
“Son of a bitch! If anything’s happened to them I’ll see you hang in the town square.”
“Please. It’s not my fault. I only provide information.”
“In that case.” Jen put her hands on his desk and smiled an evil smile. “You can provide us with a little information. For example the names and locations of your superiors and any other cult members you know about.”
Chapter 31
Morana flew east toward the haunted lands, her three unconscious prisoners in a black soul force bubble behind her. A black bubble. She smiled every time she saw an example of her new power. Connor had finally kept his promise and transformed her into a warlock like him. The pain had been exquisite, the results beyond her wildest dreams.
She felt no pain, hunger, or thirst. She could run naked through a blizzard without using her powers and have no discomfort. Her physical strength had increased as well. Not as much as Mikhail’s, but still far more than anything she’d ever experienced before. The change made her feel more like an ally instead of just a tool. Of course that was no doubt entirely in her own mind. Connor hadn’t shown any more interest in her after the transformation than he did before. Her duties hadn’t changed much either. She still worked out of Port Valcane. The main difference was she had to keep more to the shadows and back ways. Any sorcerer she encountered would know at once what she’d become. It was still a small price to pay for the increased power.
Below her the Barrier Mountains streaked by. Morana turned north toward the cavern where Connor had set up his new base. The shock of entering the haunted lands punched her in the chest. Her power started to drain at once. She needed to transport the prisoners to the cavern quickly. Connor would be angry if she arrived with corpses that couldn’t generate soul force.
Ten minutes later Mikhail’s armored form became visible outside the cavern entrance. Morana descended quickly, brushing past the black knight and gliding inside, giving him no chance to speak, thus sparing herself an unpleasant conversation. Despite her transformation, Mikhail still didn’t think much of her power. It would have been interesting to see which of them would win in a real fight. Morana feared it wouldn’t be her.
Her master’s presence descended from the chamber above. Connor landed in front of her, his expression cool as always.
“No problems, Morana?”
“No. They hardly even put up a fight. The urn is an amazing weapon. I see now why you wanted it so badly.”
“Indeed. Let’s see what you brought me.”
Morana gestured and the bubble vanished, spilling her three unconscious prisoners on the stone floor. Connor examined them with a faint look of distaste. “Not terribly impressive. The woman is strong at least, but the boy is hardly worth the effort of hooking up. Still, every little bit helps I suppose.”
Connor pointed at the prisoners and bands of dark energy surrounded their wrists and ankles, lifting them off the floor. He flew up a level and Morana followed. It never ceased to fascinate her when he connected another sorcerer to the matrix.
They stopped ten feet from a weathered old man with a gray beard who hung limp and unresponsive. The boy drifted over against the crystal-covered wall. When his wrists touched the blue crystal it grew around them, forming a sort of shackle. The moment the bindings had formed his soul force flow shifted from his core to the bindings. The power ran up and away as fast as his body generated it.
Connor repeated the process with the other man then the woman. Morana allowed herself a moment’s relief at Connor’s lack of reaction to the beautiful woman. It wasn’t just her that didn’t interest him.
When he’d finished his work Connor turned to her. “Excellent job as always.”
Morana beamed. “Thank you, Master. What should I do now?”
“Take Mikhail and return to the city. More prey will be arriving soon, assuming my agent knows what he’s talking about.”
Morana’s smile withered. “I don’t need his help. With the urn I can defeat any kingdom sorcerer.”
“This is no ordinary sorcerer and I’m not asking your opinion. Now go.”
Chapter 32
Damien, Jen, and Marie-Bell left the mayor and three other cultists in the town jail. They’d impressed upon the commander of the town guard the importance of the prisoners and what would happen to her if they escaped. When they’d finished Damien doubted the woman would let the mayor out while she still had breath in her body.
Damien sent an update to the archmage and the three of them settled in to wait for a reply. If the mayor had sent Imogen and the others into a trap Damien needed to check in on them. Fortunately the archmage must have been in her office as a reply arrived within the hour. Assuming Imogen and her team had gone to the next location on the list his master gave them they should have headed toward the mountains and a mining town.
They took off from the now leaderless town and turned north. They hadn’t gone far when Jen said, “Is this really necessary? The longer we delay getting to Port Valcane the longer the cult will have to find out about us.”
“That’s true,” Damien said. “But if Imogen, Eli, and Master Shen are hurt or in trouble we’re the closest group able to help them. I know you’re eager to hunt down the people responsible for killing Dad, I am too, but we can’t abandon our allies if they’re in trouble.”
“We don’t even know they are in trouble.”
“Also true, but
we do know they were flying into a potential trap. Look, if they’re fine this is at most a three-hour side trip. We fly up there, check in, and head over to the coast. But if they are in trouble, maybe we save their lives. Isn’t that worth a side trip?”
“Of course it is.” Jen slammed her fist on the transport’s rail. “I’m just so frustrated. I thought for sure we’d have found Smyth by now. How can it be so hard to find one grubby farmer?”
Damien laughed. “People that don’t stick out are the hardest ones to find. If he was a warlock or some other sort of evil creature everyone that saw him would have remembered and we’d have found him in no time. Try to be patient. We will find him eventually.”
A little over an hour later the mining town of Last Tailings came into view. Even from hundreds of feet up Damien sensed the wrongness of the place. There was nothing powerful. Instead it felt like the whole town was soaked in darkness.
He glanced over at Marie-Bell. She was biting her lip so hard he feared she’d draw blood. Her already pale skin was dead white.
“You okay?” Damien asked.
She shook her head. “Something horrible happened down there. I don’t know what. I don’t think I want to know.”
“We’re going down to investigate,” Damien said. “I can’t sense my friends’ soul forces from up here. Your skills would be a great help in the search.”
Her expression hardened. “I’ll help. It’s my duty as a paladin to investigate places like this and to help people in need. And if there was ever a place where people may be in trouble this is it.”
“Thank you.”
They descended and landed in the center of town beside a broken fountain that looked like no water had sprayed out of it for decades. The whole place had a worn out, used up feel. The oppressive darkness they’d sensed from above was twice as strong on the ground. Marie-Bell’s lips pressed tight together, but at least she hadn’t run for it yet.
“Where should we check first?” Jen asked.