Broken Stone 02 - Warlock's Sun Rising

by Damien Black

  Adelko paused at that. Then he shut his eyes, focusing on his sixth sense. He could still detect the pervasive presence of powerful magic, but it seemed to have receded slightly. He imagined himself looking towards where Horskram was standing. All he saw were grass and sedge and weeds, and beneath those, cool damp earth…

  Keeping his eyes shut, he took a step forwards.

  He felt something solid beneath his foot. He took another step forwards, then another. By the time he opened his eyes he was standing next to Horskram, who was still smiling. Looking down he could see the waters of the Girdle, swallowing up the last fragments of the ford in its silvery gullet. He was suspended directly above it, with nothing to support him: the ghostly ground had vanished.

  ‘It’s safe!’ he called, still feeling very strange.

  They crossed in single file, Horskram leading the way. At the other side was a semi-circular clearing that abutted on the Girdle’s edge; some of its trees had been reduced to piles of cinder, breaking up what would have been a pleasing sense of symmetry. From the opposite side of the clearing a path led, picked out in small green gravel and lined with moonstones on either side.

  From up this path a squirrel appeared, its red furry form looking oddly normal as it scurried in their direction.

  Normality wasn’t likely to last long in a place like this. Sir Aronn gawped as it ran up to him and shimmied up his hauberk before perching on his shoulder.

  ‘Yon creature seems to have taken a liking to you,’ chuckled Braxus. ‘Probably thinks you’re another squirrel, what with your ruddy complexion.’

  ‘Mebbe ye shouldna have given him yer wine last night,’ said Kyra, her eyes meeting the Thraxian’s. The knight’s eyes lingered on her rather longer than Adelko thought necessary.

  Cursing, Aronn reached up to grab it, but the squirrel darted out of reach, scurrying up onto his head and nestling in his curly hair. The knight growled and was about to make another grab at it when Horskram stopped him.

  ‘Wait, it’s probably a messenger sent by the Earth Witch,’ said the adept. ‘Let’s watch what it does.’

  Sure enough, the squirrel hopped lightly off of Aronn’s head, scurrying back down his hauberk and then up the path. It stopped at ten paces and turned back to look at them, cocking its head.

  ‘It wants us to follow it,’ said Horskram.

  ‘Led by a knight-loving squirrel into the heart of a witch’s lair,’ said Braxus. ‘I’m not sure even I have the craft to put that into song.’

  They followed the squirrel, their boots crunching on the gravel as it led them deeper into the Girdle. They were certainly in need of a guide. The path led into a veritable maze of zigzagging routes, all picked out in the same green gravel and moonstones; without the peculiar squirrel’s help they would almost certainly have been lost. The trees were as varied as ever, though many had been badly burnt. They passed through open courtyards, decorated with rock pools and fountains; these teemed with animals that seemed possessed of the same queer intelligence as their guide, foxes and birds and wolves that appeared to whisper to each other as they passed. The whole place was suffused with silvery light that mingled pleasingly with the natural green and brown of the forest. Not all of it was so pleasant to look upon though: many times they entered scorched clearings that had fallen victim to Saraphi.

  The noon sun was putting the odd wreath of cloud to flight by the time they reached their destination. Adelko’s sixth sense told him they had reach the heart of the Girdle. He had half expected to see a glorious palace constructed of vines and boughs, but there was just a wide cave mouth from a shelf of rock that lined the opposite side of the clearing they were in. The path they had followed was the only entrance.

  The squirrel ran up to the cave and was swallowed up by its dark mouth. They waited, sweltering in the midday heat.

  Minutes slid by, and then a figure appeared from the cave. She was unnaturally tall for a woman, of a height with Aronn, and her body was thin and bony. A long cascade of white hair tumbled down her back, held in place by a circlet made of intertwining twigs punctuated with small white flowers. Her skin was the colour of the earth, though her features were Urovian, hard and angular like her body. It was hard to tell her true age, though she did not seem young. Her eyes were a russet red colour and conveyed an old sadness and world-weariness.

  She wore a green robe that at first he assumed to be decorated with embroidered leaves; as she stepped towards them Adelko realised they were leaves, bound together by some invisible force. They rustled softly as she drew level with them. Silver bracelets clinked on her wrists, and on her long slender fingers were rings carved of different types of wood.

  ‘Who disturbs my realm?’ The words were spoken absently, as if her attention were elsewhere. Her eyes roved over them, fixing on nothing and no one in particular.

  ‘People who would help you,’ answered Horskram.

  ‘Really?’ She turned her strange eyes on the adept as if noticing him for the first time. ‘Freebooters I see, all but one an outsider. Freebooters who destroyed my Golem I might add, weakening my defences in time of war.’

  Sir Aronn stepped forward angrily. ‘That thing you call a defence slew of two our brothers! We were busy ridding this forest of the beastmen who plague it when yon demon attacked us!’

  The Earth Witch gazed at him vacantly. Her face betrayed no emotion as she spoke: ‘A Golem is not easily controlled, sometimes it runs amok. My apologies for your loss.’

  ‘Apologies!’ exclaimed Sir Torgun. ‘Those men now seek the Heavenly Halls thanks to your demon and you offer us… apologies!’

  The Earth Witch favoured him with a crooked smile. ‘The Heavenly Halls are the paradise of your faith are they not?’ she asked. ‘Then mourn them not – for they are in a better place than this if your beliefs be true.’

  With a metallic whisper Aronn’s sword left its scabbard. ‘You kill our comrades and now you dare to mock us?’ he snarled. ‘By my troth, there’ll be a reckoning for this, now.’

  A harsh syllable dropped from the witch’s mouth. Adelko’s sixth sense flared, and he immediately thought of the forbidden books in the Abbot’s sanctum back at Ulfang. The grass around Aronn’s feet suddenly grew large and long, snaking up around his legs. He gasped as it closed on him at the waist, holding him fast. Sir Torgun whipped out his own blade and was on her like lightning, but before he could strike the Earth Witch uttered another word and evaporated into a wreath of pale mist. The knight’s sword sliced uselessly through it.

  ‘Put up your sword!’ Horskram commanded. Aronn began to cry out as the blades of grass, horribly enlarged, started to constrict him. Braxus drew his dirk and began hacking at them, but they were tough as old roots and he could not work at them fast enough. Aronn writhed, dropping his sword and trying to tear them apart with his bare hands.

  Sir Torgun did as he was told. The mist coalesced on the other side of the clearing next to the cave, resuming the Earth Witch’s natural form. If that was her natural form.

  ‘You are unwise to trouble me in my realm,’ she said calmly, as though nothing much had happened. ‘Sheathe your blades and I’ll spare yon knight.’

  The giant grass relaxed its grip on Aronn as blades were returned to scabbards. It wasn’t crushing him any more, though it still held him tightly.

  ‘We mean you no harm,’ said Horskram, holding up his hands. ‘My bodyguards are understandably distraught over their loss – it would help if you did not provoke them on the matter.’

  The Earth Witch rustled back towards them, the leaves she wore catching the sunlight and shimmering like emeralds.

  ‘Their loss?’ she asked distantly. ‘And what about my loss? Yon Golem took me many months to fashion – do you know how many hours I spent carving the magic words into its body? All that time… lost.’ She came to a halt, gazing off into the distance.

  ‘I understand the Sorcerer’s Script is not easy to master,’ replied Horskram carefully. Adelko cou
ld sense his mentor struggling to hide his revulsion. ‘And that you have lost a vital protector. But we are here to seek an alliance – we share a common enemy, one we would both see destroyed. If we unite and succeed, you will have no further need of… such protectors.’

  Adelko could almost hear the adept gritting his teeth as he spoke.

  ‘Aye?’ she replied. ‘And who would this common enemy be, pray tell?’

  ‘I think you know the answer to that question full well – Andragorix Silfrmund, the most notorious Left-Hand warlock these lands have seen in generations. I have been hunting him for many years now.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ she answered, sounding cold now. ‘Your kind are always hunting witches… such as I am.’ She held his gaze.

  ‘The Argolian Order has never tried to meddle in your affairs,’ said Horskram diplomatically. ‘We have left the Earth Witch at peace within her Girdle.’

  She laughed at that, though there was no humour in the sound. ‘At peace? Aye, only because my Girdle protects me.’

  ‘It did not do so just now,’ countered the adept, dropping the pretence of cordiality.

  ‘You are unusually gifted, that I’ll allow,’ she said. ‘You and your apprentice.’ Adelko started as she turned cold eyes on him. ‘Prophecies have foretold of both your coming.’

  The novice didn’t have time to reflect on that, for Horskram cried: ‘Then in Reus’ name, why are we standing here parlaying if you knew of our coming?’

  She returned her gaze to the adept. ‘The prophecies didn’t necessarily say your coming would be a good thing. And even if it is, I had to be sure – the Farseers of Norn were somewhat vague, like most of their ilk.’

  ‘Well, here we are,’ said Horskram, raising his arms with mock levity. ‘The ones the pagan prophets predicted, in all our shabby glory! Now will you accept our offer of help and tell us what you know about Andragorix or not?’

  ‘That depends,’ she replied coolly, glancing again at Adelko. ‘What kind of help are you offering?’

  Horskram sighed impatiently. ‘We need your Scrying if we are to find Andragorix. Tell us where he is, and we will seek him out and kill him for you.’

  Hearing his mentor talk about killing people always unsettled the novice; he also sensed a rising tension in Horskram at the mention of the word.

  The Earth Witch stood silently for a few moments, then nodded. ‘All right, I accept your offer.’ She nodded towards Aronn. ‘Can young hotspur there be trusted to keep his sword sheathed?’

  Horskram turned and looked pointedly at Aronn. His eyes were like burning coals, his face flushed blood-red, but he nodded.

  ‘Good.’ The Earth Witch turned towards the cave, muttering another word. The grass retreated, sinking back into the ground and resuming its normal size. Sir Aronn picked up his sword and sheathed it with an exaggerated gesture.

  ‘Follow me,’ she said, disappearing into the cave.

  Inside it was dark and dank. The air had a musty smell and it was cold; Adelko felt his sweat freeze unpleasantly. A faint light could be seen at the back of the cave, which sloped downwards at a gentle incline. It was coming from a peculiar moss that glowed with a dull green light. It reminded him of the Golem’s eyes and he made the sign.

  The back of the cave was a rock wall, but another word from the Earth Witch and it suddenly parted like liquid, revealing a rough passageway that continued downwards before bending to the right. He had never heard the language of magick used out loud before; the sound was hateful to the ear. He wondered how wizards ever got used to hearing it, let alone speaking it. Perhaps his mentor was right and there was no such thing as a good witch.

  The rock wall slicked back into place behind them. Everyone was on edge, but Kyra looked petrified. Adelko guessed she had grown up hearing tales of the Earth Witch and her forbidden realm within the Girdle.

  The passage twisted and wound back on itself like a rough spiral staircase. The temperature gradually rose again as they went deeper into the bowels of the earth.

  Eventually the tunnel levelled out and stopped turning. They followed it for several hundred paces before it opened out into a large cavern. They were standing on a shelf of rock, overlooking a rippling pool that spanned the entire length and breadth of it. In the middle was a small island on which sat a chair carved of stone that appeared to be set into it. Before the chair a slim rocky finger jutted upwards, in what Adelko supposed was a makeshift lectern.

  But it was the ceiling that caught his eye. Hanging from it were dozens of upside-down trees; strange glowing fruit hung from their boughs, casting a multi-coloured radiance across the pool, which shimmered and sparkled as it caught the myriad hues. Adelko thought of the folk tales his mother used to tell him, of how the North Wind would carry impious wanderers off to a fabled kingdom at the end of the rainbow. The more learned called it Celestian’s Seat, after the archangel who controlled the winds and weather. He felt he must surely be there now, so vivid and varied were the colours that stabbed his eyes.

  ‘Quite the spectacle is it not?’ asked the Earth Witch, a hint of pride entering her voice. ‘You’ll get used to it, your eyes just need time to adjust.’

  She murmured a few more words in the language of magick. The water bubbled at her feet, sending motes of coloured light skittering in all directions. A narrow ford arose from the pool, fastening seamlessly onto the island and lip of rock they stood on.

  ‘Follow me,’ she said again, walking across the ford.

  The island was about the length of two men in diameter. They clustered around the seat as the Earth Witch sat down before the finger of rock. Atop it was a small white orb of crystal, perfectly smooth. The chair and lectern were carved with scenes of sybaritic abandon, fauns and satyrs and nymphs cavorting amongst trees. Such faerie races had seldom been seen in the mortal vale since the waning of the Golden Age. Adelko wondered how old the chair was. Or the woman who sat on it for that matter, if woman she really was.

  Another word and the ford slowly disappeared again. The Earth Witch turned to look at Sir Aronn, as if to say don’t even think about killing me if you want to get off this rock. The burly knight just stared at her hatefully.

  ‘Now,’ she said, turning back to face the pool. ‘I’ll tell you what I know – and show you too.’

  The Earth Witch laid her fingers gently on the orb as she muttered another incantation. This time it was longer: Adelko fancied she was almost singing the words, though not to any earthly cadence. The lights above them suddenly changed colour to a silvery white, while the pool ceased to move and became a shimmering mist.

  The mists swirled and eddied for a minute while the Earth Witch continued to chant. Then they parted. Before him clear as day Adelko could see the lands of the earth spread out, as if from a bird’s eye view. He sucked in his breath as he realised they were looking at the Hyrkrainian Mountains, where they sloped down to meet the borders of the Argael. He mumbled a prayer.

  The Earth Witch muttered another word or two and moved her hand over the orb. She appeared to be using it to move the conjured image around: the vista grew suddenly larger, homing in on a stretch of foothills at the southwest corner of the forest. Next to him Vaskrian leaned over and retched into the pool. Kyra stumbled against the back of the chair, clutching at it with white hands.

  ‘That is a common reaction to a first experience of Scrying,’ said the witch without looking up. ‘Try not to be sick into the pool, it interferes with the vision.’

  His stomach churning, Adelko could see what looked like a wooden settlement on the foothills. Beside it a path snaked up into the mountains.

  ‘Wadwo fortress,’ explained the Earth Witch. ‘That’s his first line of defence. They built it six months ago, must be about two hundred of them garrisoned there. It looks like they’ve been taking prisoners too – women only as far as I can tell, that means Andragorix probably has them breeding.’

  ‘Breeding?’ asked Sir Torgun.

&n
bsp; ‘Aye, Wadwos live hundreds of years, but they have no womenfolk of their own. And they can only breed with mortal women when the moon is full.’

  ‘Ye Almighty!’ breathed the knight, making the sign.

  ‘The trail it guards takes you up into the ranges proper,’ she continued, ignoring him. ‘As far as I’ve been able to tell, this is where he’s got himself holed up.’

  The scene switched in a blur as she shifted it up past the trail to the upper ranges. ‘The peaks aren’t so high in this stretch of the mountains, you can probably get there in a couple of days on foot.’

  Muttering a few more words she touched the crystal and changed the angle so that they were looking at the mountains from the side. The scene blurred some more as she brought it into sharper focus, and then they were looking at where the trail emerged onto a broad rocky plateau. The shelf was crowned by five huge shards that stabbed the azure skies. They were fashioned from strange looking stones of alien hues, in bizarre interlocking patterns that made no sense to look at.

  ‘Those are just like the stones of the Watchtower we saw at Tintagael,’ breathed Adelko, ‘and the ruins we passed just before we entered the Argael!’

  ‘The Warlock’s Crown they call it,’ said Horskram. ‘Another relic of the blasphemous civilisation built by the Varyans.’ He made the sign.

  ‘Was it another one of their watchtowers?’ asked the novice, his curiosity returning to him.

  ‘No one knows for sure,’ answered the Earth Witch. ‘Could be, or it might even be a former palace or some other building. It’s been millennia since the Varyans walked the Known World, too long for us ever to know the truth.’

  In the centre of the plateau between the gigantic shards was a vast crater. The vision was flickering now; it was hard to see, but it looked as though there were several layers of floor below ground level.

  ‘My guess is he’s taken up residence in what used to be the basement or dungeon. The ground beneath the rock will be honeycombed with chambers, although as you can see much of it is ruined. He’ll be in there somewhere, most likely towards the bottom depending on how many levels have fallen in.’