Linkershim sotsi-6

by David A. Wells

  Alexander nodded thoughtfully. “I won’t be able to find him as long as he has that bone. Fortunately, neither will Phane, at least not with his magic.”

  She sat back down, deflated. “I understand. We’ll do everything we can to stop Phane from getting the bones.”

  “Thank you, Princess,” Alexander said with a bow as he vanished, slipping back into the firmament and then appearing on the battlements of Fellenden City right next to Abigail and Anatoly.

  Abigail did a double take. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”

  “It’s good to see you too, Abby. I’m on Andalia … and I’m planning to assassinate their king tonight.”

  “Are ya now?” Anatoly said, leaning over the railing to look around Abigail.

  “Believe it or not, I didn’t go looking for this particular fight … they dragged me to it.”

  “So you and Jack are just going to stroll into the Andalian palace and kill the king while his royal guard watches?” Abigail said.

  “Actually, Anja and I …”

  “Wait … Anja, the dragon whelp?” Anatoly asked.

  “She stowed away in human form when I left the dragon isle. Bragador knows, and she isn’t coming to eat me, at least not yet anyway.”

  “So where’s Jack?” Abigail asked, a hint of fear in her voice.

  “He’s playing the role he was born to play-the most popular minstrel in all of Andalia, maybe in all the world.”

  Abigail smiled, struggling to contain her emotions.

  “I’m glad to hear that Master Colton is well, but let’s get back to this assassination you’re planning,” Anatoly said. “After you kill the king, assuming you manage that, then what?”

  “Then we leave,” Alexander said. “This isn’t why I’m here. I need to know what Zuhl’s up to.”

  “We’ll get to that in a minute,” Anatoly said. “I’d like to hear your plan for getting out of the Andalian palace after you’ve killed their king.”

  “All right … Anja can turn back into her true form whenever she wants, but then she’d have to go home and she doesn’t want to do that, even though her mother and I both agree that it would be for the best. Once we kill the king, there’ll be only one way out-for her to fly us out. We escape and then Anja goes home where she belongs.”

  “Huh … well, it’s not a perfect plan, but it is a plan, provided the dragon isn’t too stubborn to cooperate,” Anatoly said.

  “About Zuhl?”

  “We have reports that the northern ocean is navigable, but dangerous,” Abigail said. “We had snow last week, the last of the season according to Mage Jalal. He predicts warmer weather over the coming days, so we’re preparing to move north. Zuhl’s force has abandoned the shipyards and withdrawn into the walls of Irondale. I suspect they’ll receive reinforcements before we arrive, so I’ve called on the Ithilian Navy to sail north and blockade the city.”

  “Where’s his countermove?” Alexander muttered.

  “I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Anatoly said. “We hit him pretty hard. He has to be looking for a way to hit us back.”

  “What does he want?” Alexander asked.

  “Iron Oak ships,” Abigail said, “but he hasn’t even tried to rebuild his shipyard.”

  “Not that one, anyway,” Alexander said. “I’ll be right back.” He vanished, moving his awareness to the Iron Oak Forest in a blur. Once there, he moved to the point where it met Irondale and the ocean, then followed the coastline west as fast as he could while still registering the landscape.

  “He’s got five more shipyards,” Alexander said, reappearing beside his sister a few minutes later. “Each looks just big enough to build one ship; all five are along the northern coast. The terrain is so rugged it would be difficult to get enough men to any of them over land.”

  “Well, at least we know what he’s doing,” Abigail said. “I’ll send scouts to map their exact locations and then we’ll get to work. Stay safe, Alex.”

  “You too,” he said. “Oh, I almost forgot, Phane has Isabel and Wren. They’re both safe for now, but his plans for them aren’t good.”

  “How did that happen?” Abigail asked, alarm in her voice.

  “Isabel pretended to switch sides so she could get close enough to stab him in the belly.”

  “You did well with that one, Alexander,” Anatoly said, nodding approvingly.

  “Unfortunately, Phane survived and she was captured. Then he abducted Wren from Blackstone to use as leverage against Isabel.”

  “What are we going to do about that?” Abigail said.

  “I’m working on it.”

  Abigail nodded as Alexander faded away.

  Next, he appeared in a war council room with a dozen officers, including his father and Hanlon. Both looked like they’d come from the battlefield several hours before and hadn’t bothered to get cleaned up.

  Duncan looked up, confusion ghosting across his haggard face, and then he smiled. “I’ve been worried about you, Son.”

  “I got sidetracked,” Alexander said. “Abigail is in Fellenden City with Anatoly and the rest of her army. She’s planning to move against Zuhl’s forces in Irondale soon. Phane has Isabel. She’s safe … for the moment.”

  “What does that mean?” Hanlon asked, worry evident in his voice.

  “He’s trying to turn her to the darkness, so he’s treating her like royalty. I don’t believe she’s in any immediate danger.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Duncan said, straightening up. “I’m sorry to say we’ve lost Warrenton, Buckwold, and Headwater. We suspect the Lancers will regroup before attacking New Ruatha … at least that’s been their pattern.”

  “Casualties?”

  “The bulk of our losses have been soldiers … we managed to get most of the people out before winter’s end,” Duncan said. “We’ve been fighting a retreating action since winter broke in the east. The first battle went our way-a lot of Lancers fell, but those that got through managed to break our lines and cripple our defensive emplacements. We retreated when they fell back to regroup.

  “Over the winter, we built a series of defensive positions between Buckwold and New Ruatha where we could make a stand against a charge. It’s been costly … we’ve lost nearly a legion, but we’ve killed a legion of Lancers as well. It also slowed their advance, giving us the time we needed to relocate the people. They’re not happy about being refugees, but they’re alive.”

  Alexander nodded sadly. He felt like he should be doing more, like he should be with his father, leading the fight for his home.

  “I’m in the capital city of Andalia right now. If my plan works, the force lances will lose their power tonight.”

  “I wondered why General Talia thought you were on Andalia,” Hanlon said, sitting forward. “As soon as Commander P’Tal heard where you were, he left Glen Morillian to find you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he shows up any day now.”

  “That’s good news. I could use his help.”

  “Back to your plan,” Duncan said.

  “I don’t have time to explain it right now, Dad,” he said. “Just be ready if the force lances stop working. It’s good to see you both. I wish I could stay longer, but I have a lot to do.”

  “Stay safe,” Duncan said as Alexander vanished.

  He found Jataan next, standing impassively outside a large tent in the midst of a hastily built camp, deep within the forests of the western province of Andalia.

  “Hello, Jataan.”

  “Lord Reishi,” Jataan said with a slight bow but almost no surprise.

  “Report,” Alexander said with a smile.

  “I arrived on Andalia with a company of General Talia’s best soldiers and a squad of Sky Knights two weeks ago. The soldiers have been organizing the local population into resistance units with significant success. The people who remain in this area are very motivated to fight but lack training and leadership. With our help, they’ve managed to destroy three slave camps
and draw a number of Lancer patrols into ambushes. At present, the Lancers have consolidated into two large camps along the edge of the forest and have stopped patrols within.

  “Where are you, Lord Reishi? I’ve healed and I’m ready to stand with you.”

  “I’m in Mithel Dour at the moment, but I plan on leaving tomorrow. If everything goes well, I’ll make contact with you before I leave. If you don’t hear from me by tomorrow night, make your way into the city and look for Jack.”

  “Understood.”

  “I’ll be glad to have you back at my side, Jataan.”

  Alexander returned to his body and opened his eyes to a mild headache. After a few minutes of quiet meditation, he returned to the firmament and thought of Tyr.

  The bull-necked man was looking at a number of suits of clothing being presented to him by a tailor while his wizard sat nearby.

  “I hate fancy clothes,” Tyr said.

  “Your customary attire would be considered an insult to the king,” the wizard said.

  “What about your robes?” Tyr shot back.

  “I’m a wizard … my robes are fashionable in any situation.”

  “Be careful, Edric.”

  “Of course, My Lord.”

  “Tell me again why I have to go to this thing.”

  “It’s known that you are in the city,” Edric said. “It would be considered a snub to the king if you did not attend.”

  “The king’s an idiot,” Tyr said. “He won’t know one way or the other.”

  “But the Babachenko will.”

  Alexander floated out of Tyr’s manor house and moved his focus to the palace. It was an enormous structure built into the top of a dam that held back a sizable mountain lake. The stonework was certainly accomplished by magic. The entire palace had a fluid, graceful design that was as beautiful as it was functional. At the very center sat a banquet hall built almost entirely of glass. Only the side walls were stone, while the ceiling, front and back walls were transparent, allowing an unobstructed view of the mountains reflecting off of the calm water to the east and the sun setting over the city below to the west.

  Water flowed from the lake into the palace through myriad conduits, some for consumption, some for utility, and some for power. The only ways in were the twin elevators powered by the controlled flow of water through an array of paddlewheels.

  Deeper within, Alexander found the forges, both coming to life as workers prepared to put them into service after so many years of disuse. He moved closer and discovered what he’d feared. The crystals Grant had found in the mine were being prepared to power the forges in a vastly scaled-down version of a heartstone chamber. The ranks of Lancers would soon begin to expand.

  He spent over an hour exploring the palace while servants worked frantically to prepare for the banquet. The guards wore different uniforms than the overseers or the Lancers, and they were alert and well organized. Still, their number was limited. Given the difficulty of reaching the palace in the first place, a large guard force didn’t seem warranted.

  Most of the upper chambers and passages were busy with servants and functionaries, but the palace had many levels below that were used for storage or simply not used at all. What he couldn’t find was an escape route. In every keep he’d ever seen, there was always some form of hidden way out, yet this palace seemed entirely cut off except through the twin elevators.

  Next, he went to the king’s chambers but slammed back into his body the moment he tried to pass through the wards protecting that part of the palace. His hope of hiding in the palace and killing the king in his sleep diminished. If he couldn’t move through the barriers around the king’s chamber with his clairvoyance, he knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t be able to physically enter that part of the palace. That left the banquet itself. Not his first choice, but the best chance he would probably get, all things considered.

  He calmed his doubt and returned to the firmament, this time going to the mine and the darkness within. He found an ancient city carved into the stone on many levels, with countless rooms, buildings, and bridges. The central chamber where he and Grant had turned back was a great chasm nearly three leagues long, reaching deep into the heart of the mountain. All along the chasm walls were structures built into the stone, some were platforms jutting out into the black with buildings resting upon them that could only be described as works of art, while others were vast networks of chambers cut into the stone with delicate grace yet structural soundness. As Alexander explored, he found many more of the crystals that glowed with the colors of life-the crystals that the Andalians were using to make force lances and slave collars.

  He delved deeper, finding chambers and statues that looked like they’d been created for the artistry of it rather than for any functional purpose. One enormous room held a forest, accurate in every detail, down to the needles on the fir trees and the birds on the branches, yet everything in the room was made entirely of stone, silver, and gold. Alexander could have spent hours in that room alone just marveling at the detail of it all.

  Occasionally, he came across creatures in the dark that he couldn’t identify, some so well-hidden that he would never have seen them were it not for their colors.

  Many of the areas in the vast network of chambers were lit by eerily glowing stones set into the walls and ceilings that cast just enough light to see by, while other places were black as pitch.

  As Alexander neared the far end of the chasm, he started to see the faint glow of light in the distance. Abandoning his cursory search of the underground city, he flitted to the light with a thought. A stone platform seemed to float in the darkness; the single bridge that used to link it to the rest of the structures had long since vanished, leaving only the abutment. Seven pillars of stone once stood in a circle on the platform. Six topped with softly glowing orbs remained, while the seventh lay broken and scattered in chunks. Just within the pillars was a magic circle cut into the stone, but instead of the customary seven symbols, there were dozens of symbols crowded between the inner and outer boundary lines. Near where the pillar had fallen, the stone floor was melted and deformed, wiping away a section of the magic circle.

  In the center of it all rested a low altar cut from a vein of quartz shot through with gold. Atop it was a broad bowl carved from the same piece of quartz. Alexander had seen something like this before. He approached and found the bowl empty except for dust and a few pieces of stone debris.

  As he was examining the altar, a mound of dirt that he hadn’t given a second thought to stood up, taking the form of a crudely sculpted humanoid.

  “Why are you taking them?” he pleaded. “They’ve done nothing to harm you. Please bring them back.”

  Alexander materialized before the three-foot-tall humanoid, wondering how the creature had been aware of him. “Hello,” he said.

  “Why are you taking them?” the humanoid said with such forlorn sadness that Alexander couldn’t help but feel sympathy.

  “I haven’t taken anything, but maybe I can help you. My name is Alexander.”

  “I’m called McGinty, or I was. Now I’m just alone in the dark. They made me too well and now they’ve gone.”

  “Who’s gone?”

  “The fay.”

  “I don’t know who the fay are.”

  “They’re the makers.”

  “They made all of this?”

  “No, they made those that made all of this.”

  “And who are they?”

  “The Linkershim. Why are you taking them?”

  “I’m not.”

  “But you’re a fleshling. You dig and you dig until you find the Linkershim and then you kill them. They’ve never done you any harm, yet you kill them. Why?”

  “Who are the Linkershim?”

  “They are the builders made by the makers.”

  “So the makers are the fay.”

  McGinty nodded.

  “What happened to them?”

  “They died,” McGin
ty said, sitting down dejectedly. “When the light went out of the world, they all died.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Before,” McGinty said.

  “Before what?”

  McGinty seemed confused … he was hard to read, since his colors were so faint as to be almost invisible and his facial expressions were made of clay. Alexander waited.

  “Before the fleshlings came.”

  “And I’m a fleshling.”

  “Yes. Why have you taken them?”

  “I haven’t taken anything.”

  “But you have … I saw you. You took three of them.”

  “The crystals are the Linkershim?”

  “Yes, why did you take them?”

  “I was with a man who took them, but I didn’t know what they were … I’m still not sure I do.”

  “You are a fleshling, and you took them. I tried to keep you out. I shook the world and I warded the entrance, but still you came. More will come and more Linkershim will die.”

  “The crystals are alive?”

  “They are Linkershim-they are all alive.”

  “How?”

  “Magic … the fay made them.”

  “But they’re just crystals, they can’t do anything.”

  “Not anymore,” McGinty said, starting to cry, though without tears. It seemed very odd for such an inhuman creature to behave with such humanity.

  “McGinty, tell me what happened.”

  “The first fleshling happened. He came into the underdark and took the memory. I tried to stop him, but I couldn’t-his magic was beyond me, beyond the defenses. When he left with the memory, the Linkershim stopped building, stopped moving … just stopped. I’ve been alone ever since.”

  “What’s the memory? I don’t understand.”

  “It was there,” McGinty said, pointing at the crystal bowl without looking. “I was made to protect it, to preserve the memory of the world, and I failed.”

  Alexander stared at the altar while the implications swirled around in his mind. The blood of the earth was the memory of the world, and he had a drop-just one, but Balthazar had said that a single drop was enough, that the blood of the earth was all one thing, one entity, separated by distance yet connected completely.