“It’s been blocked by that curse.” Cullen kicked the door with his boot, but it didn’t budge.
A thump hit the back wall of the office, and gears at the ceiling began to turn. A large door rose, worked by a primitive system of springs and pulleys, like an old-fashioned garage door. Iron bars separated them from the alley where the two Vizards stood laughing.
“This will learn you some real black magic—just what you came for.” Skrunt paused, overwhelmed by a wave of his own laughter. “Your powers will be a tasty treat for them scorpents on prowl tonight.”
“Too bad I have to visit family. Would be a good show, watching them all fight over these two,” Goibben said with a chuckle.
“If you only looked like us or tasted like Rotters.” Skrunt moved a hand to his temple and pulled at the edge of his mask.
The other Vizard did the same. They peeled off thin films of tissue. Only shreds of charred muscles and tendons covered their skulls. Sunken empty eye sockets stared blankly at the prisoners while smoke leaked from the Vizard’s mouths, frozen into grins.
An icy chill swept over Lyra, forcing her to her knees.
The Vizards walked away, their cackling laughter echoing along the stone walls.
Chapter Three: The Scorpent
Lyra aimed a strike from her ring at the bars of their cage. “Aboleo!” she stated aloud to be sure she directed deeper power from her heart aura. Nothing happened, not even a spark. “You try. Maybe a powerball, since I can’t—”
Before she finished her request, Cullen clenched and opened a fist. He stared at his empty palm. “I can sense my power following my will and moving into my hand. It stops just under my skin with a burning sensation. It’s blocked from transferring outside of my body.” He dropped his hand and aimed the apex of his staff at the metal containing them. His face screwed into a grid of lines and furrows, but both the quartz and sapphire remained dark. “Same thing. No external transfer.”
“What should we do?” she asked in a hushed voice. “Call for help? Are there any kind people here?”
“Probably not. They seem like a devious lot. But, perhaps we can barter for our release. Are you certain your magic was effective here in Terza before the Vizard enchanted us?”
“Yes. I sent a mental incantation out through my ring. Worked well to stun that tramp into letting go of you.” Lyra grabbed the bars and looked either way down the quiet alley. Her eyes strained, unable to penetrate the darkness lit only by a single bare bulb at the far intersection. “I just hope we only have to conjure some trinkets and not give away anything of value, like a staff or rings…or ourselves.”
Cullen nodded and cupped a hand to his ear.
She did the same. The familiar dripping of water from underground springs blocked her ability to hear much else. After a few minutes, she finally heard a banging sound, like trash being tossed in a bin somewhere a short distance away. “Help—” she yelled, then changed her tactic. “We’re sorcerers and will help you.” Her eyes locked on Cullen’s while they waited for a reply. The echoing drip-drip-drip continued for another minute.
Clanging started again from the same direction.
Lyra’s pulse quickened.
A muffled, shuffling sound drew nearer. From out of the darkness ten feet away, a pair of black eyes glinted at eye level in the dim light.
Lyra squinted to pick out other features, but the figure remained in the shadow. She held her breath and fixed on its stare.
Cullen motioned her behind him. “We’re sorcerers. If you let us free, we’ll conjure whatever treasure you wish.”
Lyra peered over his shoulder. The beady eyes continued to bore into their cage, but the being didn’t move or speak.
“Who are you?” Cullen demanded, clasping the bars and leaning forward.
A response came as a hiss. The menacing gaze jerked and moved fast toward them. Before Lyra could register what it was, a dark form darted along the stone floor and through the bars of their cell. Light reflected off a snake-like gray tail slithering inside.
It rooted in the dark back corner of the office.
Cullen grabbed his staff with both hands, drawing it behind his shoulder like a bat.
Lyra took hold of a broom, ready to fight the scorpent.
The clanking noise down the way started again.
From the shadows beside a desk, the same piercing black eyes glinted at them. No matter how long Lyra stared, she couldn’t make out even an outline of its shape. The dark body reflected no light.
The scorpent snarled.
The noise in the alley stopped.
Lyra’s palms perspired, causing her hands to slip down the broomstick.
The beast quieted to a low hiss, and the sound of metal scraping over stone began once more. Within moments, the noise seemed much closer.
The creature in the cage with them let out a spine-chilling call, half growling, half howling.
From the opposite direction and not far from the cage, something or someone shook what sounded like a baby’s rattle.
Footsteps thudded toward them. The clattering now seemed like many pieces of metal or a chain.
“Help us! A scorpent is in the cage with us! Please, help!” Lyra cried out, prompted by the human characteristic of the footfall.
No one responded, but the steps and scraping kept coming.
The eyes of the beast in the cage lowered to the floor, as if to pounce.
Lyra heard Cullen’s breathing, short and choppy. He wound his torso into a tighter twist, poised to swing the staff.
In one swift motion, the mysterious beast lunged from under the desk, and the jaws of a pointed snout clamped onto Lyra’s shin. Razor-sharp teeth pierced her skin. The force of the strike thrust her backward. Her spine hit hard against the cage bars.
She screamed and bashed the spine of what appeared to be a huge black rat, apparently not the scorpent as she assumed.
Its body was at least three feet long. On stumpy front legs, claws extended six inches from their origin hidden under dense fur. Those talons pinned Lyra’s ankles against the metal rails.
Cullen clubbed the animal. His staff thumped against the thick hide.
The oversized rat-beast only latched harder onto Lyra’s leg and snarled, pushing its weight against her. The metal of the cage dug into her back.
At the same time, the rattling sounded directly behind her. Held by the wicked rat, she felt something lightly trace her spine. A wave of nausea passed over her.
Unable to turn around, she looked at Cullen for a reaction.
Even in the low light, she noticed the color drain from his face. His arms dropped to his sides, no longer attacking the rat.
Suddenly, light flooded the area. A human-like male, neither Vizard nor Rotter, came into view, holding a torch high above his head. Tall and thin, but not skeletal like the Vizards, the skin of his face and hands was ashen-green and crisscrossed with wrinkles. He dressed in a dark tunic past his knees, his lower legs covered by rough leggings. A long gray ponytail hung from a small patch of hair growing only from the crown of his head. A gray strip of fabric spiraled the length and tied the hair together.
The man slowly stepped forward, lowered his flame, and slashed it in wide arcs. “Appel scorpio! Vanest parte et Terzadom.” His voice crackled with age, but the power of his words charged the air.
Wild rattles and hisses came from whatever stood behind Lyra. From the rapid movements of the torch light, it seemed to be attacking the man.
As if his spell affected more than the beast outside the cage, the rat-monster relaxed its haunches.
Cullen struck at its wide, humped back.
Lyra fought through her pain and cracked the broomstick over its skull. The wood splintered in half.
The metallic clanking sound reached the area just outside the cage and stopped. “Resto servat toos magia paro Mrinx,” the voice of an old woman called out.
The sapphire apex of Cullen’s staff sent out a shower of
sparks, as did the gems of both of their Alliance rings. Acting in unison, he and Lyra shot beams of blue and gold light across the rat’s neck.
The head severed from its body, but the teeth remained locked onto Lyra’s leg. Oppositely, the body went limp, freeing her from the manacle-like hold of the foreclaws.
Despite the sharp pain in her leg, Lyra managed to twist slightly to see what had happened behind her.
In the direction of the streetlamp, a dragon-size beast slid away. The stinging, hook-shaped telson of a giant scorpion curved high into the air above a snake’s tail turned up with a rattler. The torso of the monster crawled with eight pairs of jointed appendages, while its front end slithered in the shape of the head and neck of a snake.
Lyra’s mouth dropped open, realizing the danger that had been at her back, touching her spine.
“Thank you for saving us and restoring our powers.” Cullen approached the bars and gave a slight bow.
“Welcome you are,” said a stooped old woman. She bore the same features as the man, although from her bent posture, she seemed older. A ragged gray scarf bound her hair. Wisps of yellowed white frizz slipped out at her temples, so wiry that Lyra wondered if it was hair. The woman wore a loose black smock over a gray skirt, which grazed the laces of heavy ankle boots. Dozens of silver chains with massive pendants hung to her waist. They clattered as she inhaled deeply to catch her breath. She took a step closer, and Lyra noticed the pendants weren’t moving with the woman, but on their own. Silver faces grimaced while tiny arms reached for anything in their path, even climbing hand-over-hand up the other chains.
“Jest so you know…a price comes with everything here. I be Mrinx Meddlelocket. Whoever you be, your magic be my ownership now.”
Lyra shot Cullen a questioning glance. Filled with emotion, he couldn’t miss reading her thoughts…if the old woman allowed him to use his usual powers.
With a quarter turn of his staff, he replied with a voice that spoke in Lyra’s mind. Yes, I saw her living pendants. In order to control our powers, she has plenty of black magic. Maybe we can strike a deal with the witch.
“And what sort of deal might I interest you in trade?” Mrinx asked with a wry grin.
Cullen’s eyebrows raised, but sent Lyra no other communication.
She breathed shallowly, fearing the woman knew her every thought. No one had ever been able to read their private mental conversations.
“This here fella be my son, Lesot Lungshooter.” Mrinx motioned to the man holding the torch. “Named after his dear, departed father.”
Lyra glanced his way. Whatever lungshooting was, it sounded painful. Looking back to Mrinx, she said, “Thanks for keeping us alive.”
The old woman eyed Lyra. “Lesot heard your plea and into the alley we went, to scavenge for what the Vizards left to bait the scorpents.”
“Bait? What do the Vizards want with the scorpents?” Cullen asked.
“An ugly trade set up at least six hundred years ago, according to the Chthonic Tales of Terza. Once Vizards feed a scorpent, the monster will allow any of those skeleton folk to take a dose of its power. That maintains the Vizards, who be neither living nor dead.” The witch held up a large metal ring, about a foot in diameter and strung with dozens of keys.
“Undead…like zombies or vampires?” Lyra asked.
“Not for sure what you speak, but undead—yes.”
Mrinx picked through the clinking set. “Hmm. Not this one. Maybe…No. Here it is.” After selecting a small lever lock key, she inserted it in the padlock on the barred door. The lock opened, but she struggled to raise the shackle. “Drat! Rusted son of a fleegel!”
“Allow me,” Cullen offered, moving his hands near the lock.
“Leave no magic trail on the premises!” she exclaimed.
He gave a yank, but it would not separate. A second attempt also failed. “Are you certain it’s unlocked?”
“I am. My black magic will blast it apart, but those Vizards would be on my doorstep in half a hair’s time, forcing me to look into their blackened faces till my blood wouldn’t flow.”
Lyra bit her lip, her hope of freedom diminishing. Unable to wait longer, she scooted to sit on the floor and tried to pry apart the jaws of the giant rat’s bloody head. Stiff like iron, it was immovable. The muzzle had drawn away from the pointed teeth, a grimace the beast made in its last moments of life. Black pupils, now floating in pools of hemorrhaged blood, still followed her motions. Horrified by the sight, Lyra didn’t wait for assistance or approval. She placed both hands above the point of contact, channeling a portion of her aura into the injury. Golden light spilled from under her palms. When the glow reached the teeth that punctured her skin, illumination seeped into the crevices of the wounds. The golden film acted like a lubricant. Within moments, the head fell and rolled across the floor.
Lyra passed her hands above the gouges. The light swirled until the wounds closed, then lifted back into her palms.
Mrinx jerked. “Lesot, be sure to take that head since it’s tricked with her magic.”
Finally, on Cullen’s third try, the lock pulled clear, and he slid it off the metal bars.
Lesot pulled unsuccessfully on the door, also rusted shut.
Cullen pushed from inside, and it gave way with a loud creak.
Mrinx stepped into the cage and stooped next to Lyra. She held her hands above Lyra’s shin. “May I?”
Cullen kneeled beside them, fingering his dragon ring.
Lyra nodded and asked, “What is that rat-thing?”
“A king black degus—a consort to the scorpent. It weakens the prey to get a small piece of the take.”
“Why doesn’t a scorpent eat the degus?”
“They do look plump enough.” She chuckled. “But taste foul. Same reason they won’t eat Rotters.”
Although using a soft touch, the scratchy feeling of Mrinx’s rough skin against the thin scars made Lyra jump. A wide smile covered the old lady’s face. “Very turprentious! You be a good healer. Even down to the under-layers. Where be your power from?”
Lyra hesitated. “I inherited most from my grandmothers. The rest is from the brightest star of the Aries constellation, Hamal.”
“Ahh. Power passed through maternal lines—how I got mine too. But, stars…what?”
“Strong lights from distant planets. They twinkle like diamonds against the night sky.”
Mrinx tilted her head. “Sky diamonds. I’d wish to see those. They be in the world above? Dragonspeir?”
Lyra nodded.
With a hand on his mother’s shoulder, Lesot whispered in her ear.
“Right. We must move quick along to a safer place.”
Cullen offered his arm to help Lyra stand.
After the others left the cell, Lesot removed the body and head of the degus. He locked the door closed and doused his torch.
Lyra’s leg felt weak, so she leaned on Cullen’s arm while they walked.
Mrinx’s heavy ring of keys dragged her shoulder down and clanked along the stone.
“Allow me to help you with your load.” Cullen offered, holding out a hand.
She jerked her arm up, securing the collection to her sagging bosom. “No one carries my keys.” She lowered her voice to an agitated whisper. “It be how we Malificates survive, finding ways to steal from the Vizards.”
Cullen held up his palm, gesturing his acceptance of her wishes.
After taking a deep breath, she continued in a calmer tone. “The Vizards tolerate us, and the Rotters fear us. Both mock us with names like ‘sootwhores’ and ‘coalsuckers’ because they forced our ancestors to mining work. When those Malificates inhaled dust from the rare striped obsidian, we got magic. For a time, was all kept on the sly. After generations, the magic passed natural from mother to daughter and father to son. Still outnumbered, we kept digging new tunnels, but did them with our new powers—no grunt work for us anymore.”
“Shh,” Lesot turned from his place in the fro
nt of the group and spread his long, thin arms wide to stop them.
Ahead, a door creaked, and a thread of light spilled into the alley. A scrawny dog slipped out, something like a short-haired terrier with enormous ears. The door shut. The dog trotted up, and after one glance at Lyra, it ran back and scratched the door.
Lesot pulled Lyra and Cullen behind a couple trash cans.
The door opened, and a woman addressed the dog. “Toc, back so soon? What goes?”
“Son, must we look in every one?” Mrinx said loudly as she walked back to Lesot. “My feet be swelled.” Her skirt swirled in the direction of the open door. “Hallo to you. It be only us two. No trouble.”
“You must have hexed him just for kicks, you old carboneater. Watch yourself or I’ll summon the Vizards on patrol.”
“A good night to you,” Lesot called out. He gave a courteous bow and rose with a wave of his hand, shooting a puff of black smoke toward the woman. “Carbonatum en inflateum.”
The woman screamed as the cloud transformed into a pointed mass. Lyra and Cullen peeked above the rims of the bins in time to see her dart inside and attempt to pull the door closed, but not before Lesot’s dark arrow entered her mouth. She dropped with a thud onto the floor.
Mrinx grabbed the woman’s arm and pulled her quickly inside the open door.
The dog growled, but stayed at his mistress’s side. Her rotund form lay in a heap, her long hairless tail wound around one foot. Lyra now understood the meaning of lungshooting and followed Mrinx as she continued down the alley.
Cullen and Lesot stayed close behind. At a quicker pace, they turned a corner, and stopped at an unlit door. Mrinx unlocked it with ease, and they entered.
She turned as if to secure it. “Bolts, lockets, and tossels—firma en domina.” She never touched the structure, but her pendants danced wildly as they set the locks. She turned to her guests and motioned them to sit at a small wooden table.
Lesot lit a candle. Wisps of smoke twirled around the flame. Lyra wondered what sort of effluvial magic hung in the twisting threads.
Enchanted Bookstore Legends (5-book complete epic fantasy romance box set) Page 60