Tears began to form on Zeren’s eyelids. “I … do not think I could do this.”
“You must,” Jetan said softly. “Or I shall be … a prisoner … for all eternity.”
Zeren’s whole body shook. “You are asking me to do a horrible thing.”
“I have done … horrible things,” Jetan said. “All those deaths … weigh in my mind. Nylius is but … using me. I want this … to end … on my own terms.”
Zeren bit his lip. He wasn’t sure if he could live with himself after this, but it was a task that was demanded of him. The Grand Magus was already dead, he felt. The guard had a bone sword, and it lay within easy reach. He grabbed the weapon by the hilt and slipped the blade out from the leather scabbard. “Farewell, Father.”
“Fear not, Styr,” Jetan said. “For I am … already dead. This body is but … a skin … my spirit wears. Farewell, and … may the gods… watch over you.”
The edge of the bone sword was made of chipped obsidian, a black, volcanic crystal that was brittle in combat, yet razor sharp when it came to cutting flesh. Zeren held the blade at the old man’s throat and let it slide, cutting through the arteries. Jetan choked a little before using his own Vis to hasten the blood flow. Zeren stood back and dropped the sword, while the Grand Magus bent over and fell to the ground, his vitae fertilizing the dirt floor around him. Zeren could see that unlike that of the mindless men, Jetan’s blood remained pure- for the strange plants seemed to exert a different effect when it came to those with the gift of Vis. The Grand Magus was somehow able to think independently, but could barely function physically. The old man’s body lay on its side and convulsed for a few moments, then finally lay still. Zeren just stood there for a long minute before his mind started to function again.
Looking around, Zeren noticed a small pouch lying on a stone table at the far side of the garden. Grabbing the purse, he emptied it as he walked over to a nearby otus plant. Zeren tore off a few leaves and a bulb from the stem before placing it into the pouch. Glancing at the dazed guard near the door, he walked out of the garden and made his way down the stairs. He came back out into the mess hall before making another detour to the opposite corridor. He passed by the old Magus who had been drinking wine in the mess hall, now fast asleep on the table.
The new passageway had once been partly open to the inner courtyard, but Zeren saw that clear glass walls had been installed which sealed it from the garden of twisted otus plants at the other side. As he walked over and stood in front of the transparent barrier, he could see dozens of men lying on the ground outside. These were the mindless men, and they were surrounded by the mutant plants that took away their thoughts and memories. Zeren knew he had to find a way to get in there. If he broke the glass it could cause a thunderous noise that would alert the Magi and their sentries. A door was slightly open at the other end of the passageway, and he turned and walked towards it.
Zeren could sense that there was someone in the room as he stepped inside. Three stone slabs that served as beds were in the center of the place, along with shelves situated along the walls, containing all sorts of powders, liquids and telling stones. An old man with a tattered robe was bent over the third slab, carefully examining a second man lying on it. Zeren immediately recognized the man on the slab, it was one of the mindless men he had wounded back in the tavern, for the man was missing an arm below his elbow. The creature had a deathly pale complexion, with purple veins evident all over its naked body.
The other man was obviously a healer, and he sensed Zeren’s presence even though he continued to keep his eyes on the subject lying on the slab. “Unless you have an urgent message from the Lord Executor, I advise you to leave. I am at a delicate stage in my observation.”
When Zeren didn’t move, the old healer finally turned in his direction. He wore obsidian goggles over his eyes, giving him a bizarre appearance. “Did you not understand me?” the healer said.
Zeren took a few steps forward and gestured with his left hand. The old healer was instantly pushed into the side of the room, pinning him to the wall. Zeren took the mask off his face and continued moving until he stood just a few inches away from the surprised healer. “I think I remember you,” he said. “Is it not Belgos?”
Belgos grimaced in pain. He could not move his arms. “Y-you are not a Magus. Who … who are you?”
Zeren smiled. The old man failed to recognize him since he was only a child when he left this place. Perhaps it was better that Belgos not know who he was. “It does not matter who I am. What is evident is that these creatures you have sired are the ones who caused the massacre in the tavern, not I.”
The old healer’s eyes narrowed. “You are … Grimgrin? But you have the Vis! That can only mean—”
“Let us not talk about me,” Zeren said tersely. “These mindless men. How were you able to create them?”
“The plants,” Belgos said. “For a long time I have been breeding different types of otus trees. A few cycles ago I finally grew the right crop, and I have been trying to perfect it ever since.”
“From where did you get such knowledge?”
“From the telling stones, of course,” Belgos said. “The Great Library has a collection of forbidden works deep in its dungeons. With the help of the Magi Order, I was granted permission to see them.”
Zeren scowled. “Why would you want all this?”
“This is my passion. Other healers just want to mend wounds and treat the sick,” Belgos said. “I want to create a new form of life. To perfect our flawed bodies.”
“You have taken their minds away from them,” Zeren said. “They are but tools and weapons now.”
“My work has barely begun,” Belgos said. “I must keep trying to breed new strains of the otus tree. If I can find the right growth that can allow these men to retain their minds, yet make them impervious to pain and injury, then their sacrifices will not have been for nothing, yes?”
Zeren glanced back at the man on the slab. “Is there a way to bring back their minds?”
“I have not found a cure yet,” Belgos said. “But give me time, and I shall do just that.”
“No,” Zeren whispered. “I will not allow you to turn more men into beasts.”
Belgos turned his attention to the man lying on the slab. “Awaken, Nine.”
The man on the slab opened his eyes and instantly sat up. Zeren was momentarily startled as he wheeled to face the mindless one. With Zeren’s concentration broken, Belgos could once again move his arms. The old healer grabbed a small pot from the nearby table and swung it at the back of Zeren’s head. Sensing the new threat behind him, Zeren quickly ducked down to evade the strike and kicked the healer in the stomach. Belgos dropped the pot and doubled over in pain. The mindless man continued to stare blankly at the side of the wall.
Zeren grabbed the old man by his arms and propped him up. “You are coming with me. Do not try to resist lest you want more pain,” he said before glancing at the man sitting on the slab. “You, Nine. Go back to sleep.”
The sporeman lay back down in a flash and then closed his eyes. Belgos had his wind knocked out and he gasped for air before his mouth suddenly clamped shut. Zeren used his mindforce to silence the old healer as he pulled him along by the elbow. There was another door at the opposite end of the room and both men stepped through. It was a deserted corridor and Zeren continued to guide Belgos alongside, before reaching another door. Although it was locked, Zeren saw a set of iron keys dangling from the old healer’s belt and he ended up going through a half-dozen keys before the door finally unlocked. After glancing briefly over his shoulder to make sure that no one was following them, he pushed Belgos into the next room before he walked inside.
The massive hall before them was evidently a reliquary. Gigantic bronze statues lined the sides of the place, just in front of the support pillars that held up the high ceiling. A few torches lined the sides, casting long shadows across the marbled floor. A slight breeze came in from the open
windows along the sides of the structure. It had been such a long time ago, and now Zeren couldn’t remember exactly where this hall would lead to. He had contemplated bringing Belgos via the other way, but the mess hall was too accessible to bluff his way while being accompanied by a stumbling old man.
Zeren gave a slight nod and his mindforce released Belgos’s jaw. “Where does this hall lead to?”
Belgos let out a long, painful sigh. “You … will not get away with this.”
“Tell me what I need to know, or it shall be very painful for you,” Zeren said.
“The door out there leads to the storerooms,” Belgos said. “After that, there is a rear exit which leads outside.”
“Good,” Zeren said, grabbing him by the arm once more. “Let us be off—”
A loud clanging noise reverberated across the once deserted hall. The door at the opposite end had opened, with Nylius and Elevis stepping into view. Zeren grimaced as he pushed the old man away. He could hear sounds coming from the other corridor that they had just come from. Zeren turned around and opened the door behind him. The previous corridor had no less than a dozen sporemen, making their way slowly towards him, weapons drawn. Zeren slammed the door shut and used the key to put the lock back into place.
Nylius took several steps forward. He didn’t have time to put on his armor, but his dual arming swords lay at his sides. “Styr, stop where you are and lay down your weapons!”
Zeren threw off his cloak while gathering his reserves of Vis. “You want my sword? Come and take it.”
Nylius let his own cloak slip off from his shoulders. “It does not have to be this way, Styr. You are my younger brother, and I do not wish to kill you.”
Zeren snorted. “Kill me? You and all your men have failed before and you will fail again.”
“Styr, listen to me,” Nylius said. “I have set a plan in motion that shall restore glory back to the Magi, and it would even cure our father’s ailments. You can still be a part of this. We can rule together, for neither the Watchers nor the nobles will be able to overpower us.”
“Stop calling me by that name,” Zeren said. “Styr is dead. I am Zeren now.”
Even though she was fully attuned with controlling the mindless men, Elevis sensed something was wrong as she could no longer sense the Grand Magus. She tapped Nylius’s elbow. “Lord Executor, something has happened.”
Nylius gestured at her to be silent. He felt that he could still sway his brother over to his side. “For once in your life, think! The entire city is against you, but if you swear loyalty to me, your own blood- then I can make all your troubles go away. All you have to do is to tell me where the guns are.”
“I denied the Magi Order before, and I shall do so again,” Zeren said. “I live my life by my own hand.”
“Scrounging around like a cornered ret is not much of a life,” Nylius said. “Come back to the fold. Father may still be Grand Magus, but I run everything here. You can indulge in whatever you wish, just as long as you pledge loyalty to the Order. All the ones who knew about our secret are dead now.”
Zeren grimaced. “You kept our father as a prisoner! You put him up in that garden as if he was one of your plants. Those things destroyed his body and very nearly his mind.”
Nylius’s eyes widened. “H-how did you? Did you go up to the tower to see him?”
“He told me all about you,” Zeren said, his voice trailing off.
“I cannot sense the presence of the Grand Magus,” Elevis said to the Lord Executor.
A flash of shock and anger spread over Nylius’s face. “Styr! What did you do?”
“The only thing I could,” Zeren said softly. “He wanted to die.”
Belgos stood up and grabbed the keys from Zeren’s hand before he tried to open the door. Zeren turned and punched him at the back of the head, his metal vambrace adding an extra bit of weight to his blow. The old healer fell face first onto the floor, the iron keys making a jingling clatter on the ground.
Nylius roared with rage as he ran forward, gesturing with both arms. The Lord Executor channeled a wave of pure force, hurling it ahead of him as he closed the distance. Seeing the shockwave coming right at him, Zeren used his own mindforce to slip sideways, just behind a statue as he drew his blade. Nylius’s power attack traveled past his brother, briefly lifting the unconscious Belgos off the ground, before it impacted on the obsidian door behind him, shattering it into little glass shards. Nylius leaped up into the air as he drew his arming swords before landing beside the statue of a long dead Magus. Both brothers were within melee range and they both began to circle each other, waiting for a weakness to exploit.
Zeren held his blade pointing forward, knowing that his hand was protected by the basket hilt. Nylius kept his right sword in an upright position alongside his torso, while his left arming sword was held across his body, slightly below his other blade. Zeren made a brief lunge with his longer blade, but Nylius flung his left sword out, parrying it away, before swinging his right sword in a following motion at Zeren’s exposed body. Zeren sensed the attack coming however, and slid backwards before Nylius’s blade could connect.
The battle between the two of them looked to be a stalemate, until a dozen sporemen began to pour out into the hall, some of them picking up the obsidian glass shards to use as weapons. Zeren retreated further into the sides of the great room, knowing full well he would lose if he allowed himself to be surrounded. Nylius knew his tactics, and he kept angling along his brother’s left flank, hoping to place Zeren in between himself and his allies. Elevis leaned along a pillar at the other end of the room, using her mindsense to send telepathic commands to each of the sporemen to surround the man they called Grimgrin.
Nylius sensed his chance, and he used a little of his Vis to slide forward at an angle. The Lord Executor feinted an attack at Zeren’s side before bringing his other blade on a downward thrust at his opponent’s thigh. Zeren was able to doge the attack somewhat by slipping away to his right, but one of the mindless men that ended up close was able to stab him in his upper right arm, the obsidian shard tearing through his leather shirt and leaving a deep cut across his triceps. Zeren groaned in agony and he nearly dropped the sword before he recovered by quickly moving backwards. Another of the sporemen stumbled forward and tried to stab him a second time, but he was able to kick his opponent away before his back collided with the side wall.
Zeren was in a bind and he knew it. One of the creatures tried to grab him, but he ducked away and sliced halfway through the sporeman’s arm, only to see his opponent turn towards him again like some mindless automaton that felt neither fear nor pain. A second mindless one tried to stab him again with a glass shard, but Zeren blocked the blow with his vambrace, held onto the sporeman’s arm with his free hand, and chopped the limb off with his broadsword. The dazed one just stared blankly at his stump.
The pain of the severed limb instantly manifested itself in Elevis’s mind. The young Striga had dwelled too long in possessing the subject’s mind and Zeren’s sudden attack had occurred before she could pull her mental tendrils out from the man she was controlling. She felt a numbness in her own arm as her brain had sensed that it was her limb that had been severed. Elevis let out a shrill cry as the flashes of pain drove her down on her knees, and the girl’s hold over the sporemen was suddenly broken.
“Elevis!” Nylius screamed as he momentarily retreated, giving Zeren a small gap with which to maneuver. Zeren instantly took the opportunity as he slipped in between two of the mindless men before facing another who stood in his way. Swinging his sword sideways, Zeren dashed forward and used an extra bit of Vis to empower the blow as it connected with the neck of the sporeman in front of him. The blade cleaved through the neck bone and his opponent’s severed head fell to the floor, the rest of the body toppling soon after.
Belgos was still getting up to his knees when Zeren grabbed him and held his neck in a vise grip with his free hand. The old healer gasped as he was suddenly
levitated into the air. Both he and Zeren made a jump up onto the open windowsill above. Staring at the outside, Zeren could see that it was a thirty foot drop onto the grounds below, so he leapt out into the void, using the last of his Vis reserve to cushion the landing. But just as he made the jump, his prisoner was suddenly yanked away by an invisible force, back into the hall. It was too late for him to try to get Belgos back, and Zeren ended up falling into the cobbled avenue, his sword clattering away. Getting up, Zeren felt a stab of pain in his ankle, for he seemed to have landed badly on it. Grimacing in pain from multiple injuries, Zeren limped over to where his weapon was and picked it up. Shouts and the banging of gongs could be heard all over the place. The alarm had been raised.
Sheathing his sword, Zeren moved as best he could towards the wall that partitioned the compound from the rest of the city. He glanced backwards, and could see a number of Magi with torches near the center, fanning out to search for him. He was nearly out of Vis, and the pain in his limbs kept him from rechanneling more of it. Moving along the walls, he saw that a leather rope line suddenly uncoiled itself on the far wall ahead of him.
Standing on the top of the wall was Ylira. She beckoned at him. “Come on!”
The pain in his ankle was sheer agony, but Zeren limped his way towards her. When he got to where the rope was, Zeren huffed as he used his arms and started climbing. Ylira wasn’t able to get a proper anchor because the rope length was too short, so she crouched down and used her body as a counterweight to hold the line in place. Zeren’s arms were getting painful as he hoisted himself up beside her.
Ylira gave him a slight smile as she started pulling the rope up. “I will need to throw this out to the other side before we can slide off, the drop on the other side is actually higher than…” Her voice choked off when an arrow suddenly embedded itself at the side of her neck.
“No!” Zeren screamed as she fell backwards. He was able to grab her by the ankle while she dangled, head downwards, blood oozing from her mouth. A few more arrows flew past him, and he took one at the side of his right shin, followed quickly by another in his thigh. Zeren yelled out in pain as he slid off the wall and into the darkened street below.
City of Delusions (The Dying World Book 2) Page 19