"The spell, Jinn…," Mara said breathlessly, shaking her head as the ceiling buckled again. The enchanted torches were knocked from their sconces and buried, leaving the chamber in darkness.
Despite all, Jinn was most startled by the sense of urgency in Mara's voice, the earnestness in her ember red eyes. The night hag, in the end, was a selfish creature, devoted solely to her own interests and survival. The barest edge of fear in Mara was enough to put his boots in motion far faster than the threat of a tower falling on his head.
"Let's escape with our own lives first," he said as he bounded up the stairs two at a time. "Then we'll see to those of the Loethe family."
Stairs split beneath their heels as they ran for the surface floor, blinded and choking on dust, thunderous crashes booming from above.
Darvehsa strode slowly and deliberately through the ballroom, her gaze critical as she inspected every inch of every surface. Several times she clucked her tongue in disapproval, finding a smudge here, a patch of forgotten dust there. Even a casual glance at the long, velvet curtains revealed that they hadn't been beaten in days, covered in specks of lint and the occasional strand of hair. She picked at them meticulously, collecting the unwanted bits in a deep pocket of her apron, careful not to drop them on the finely woven carpet Lady Lhaerra had received from an old suitor in Calimport. As often was the case, Lhaerra had kept the carpet but done away with the man.
After inspecting the chamber to her satisfaction, Darvehsa sighed in satisfaction, folding her hands over her apron and looking proudly over the ballroom that had been filled but a few scant bells ago. She was grateful the Winterfirst party had been cut short, needing no more of the guests' messes to clean up, wincing at every spilled crumb or stray drop of hastily consumed wine. She shuddered at the thought of it and, with a silken handkerchief, took the double door handles and quietly closed them behind her.
Or course her arrival in the entrance hall meant no less of a daunting task, though her skills at maintaining the Loethe household were prodigious. The gleaming marble floor was rarely gleaming enough. The polished frames of old paintings often needed more polishing and occasional repair, the canvases themselves requiring almost yearly restoration to maintain the vivid colors of the family's patriarchs. Clucking her tongue again, she shook her head and imagined the eagerness of the younger staff to escape their duties and partake of their own celebrations. She didn't fault them entirely; however, she would have none of their excuses on the morrow.
Double-checking the locked doors, she took down a list of mental notes as she walked through the room, her heels tapping on the marble loudly in the shadowy gloom of late evening.
She paused as the resounding click of the bolts faded from the chamber, listening as a faint noise like panting reached the edges of her keen sense of hearing. Turning slowly, she spied a door at the far end of the chamber standing slightly ajar, enough to let escape the dim, flickering glow of a torch or candle. She approached it carefully as a pained gasp stretched into an almost longing moan from the shadows beyond the door.
Hesitantly she pushed the door open wider, gazing down a spiral stairway that wound around a highly detailed column of stone. Hollowed faces in the column, carved into a myriad of ghoulish visages, held small pots of glowing embers and candles that dripped thick from the frowning corners of stone mouths. Wax coated the tips of her fingers as she quietly descended the first few steps, straining to hear more, her breath held in little gulps of air lest they obscure the approach of something hideous from below.
Murmuring voices rose and fell in a harsh language that flowed rough on the air, grating in her ears even though their melody seemed to call her farther down. Deep and sonorous, the chanting was joined by heaving breaths; contented sighs; and short, desperate wheezes.
On a wide, stone wall, the glow of unseen torches brightened, casting dark silhouettes that danced and wavered on a field of flickering orange. A crowd of figures in shadow intermingled on the wall, their forms merging with one another in lustful and furious configurations. Hands were offered to gently stroke a curving cheek or raised to smash violently down on something wet and indiscernible. Whispered pleas could be heard among the throng and a scent of heavy perfume, incense, sweat, and blood filled Darvehsa's nose as she turned to swiftly ascend the spiral stairs, stepping lightly toward the entrance hall above.
The door had opened wider behind her, a shaft of pale light illuminating the door handle. Turning back, she clucked her tongue as she reached the top step. Annoyed by her discovery, she pulled a clean square of cloth from her apron and wetted it on her tongue.
Pressing down tight, she scrubbed a finger-long streak of crimson from above the brass door handle, cursing as the dried, rusty edges of the stain challenged her fastidious determination. At length she leaned back, studying the door before exiting the stairway and pulling the door closed.
Its edges matched the wall perfectly, the handle disguised as a candle sconce. Wiping her hands off on her apron, she tested the door's edge once more to be sure it was sealed before calmly glancing once more upon the entrance hall. Satisfied and deciding to use the dusty chamber as an example to her staff in the morning, she set off for Loethe Manor's kitchens, prepared to harass the staff there into working faster if they wished to rest at all before sunrise.
Books and loose pages fluttered down from the upper floor of the tower as Jinn cautiously ascended the hidden staircase. Freestanding shelves had fallen from above, smashing to splinters on the dark marble floor as he, Mara, and Quessahn rose from the archmage's secret library and into a sudden silence. Bits of debris still rained down, bouncing and skipping among shattered boards and broken artifacts. Dim shafts of light illuminated the dusty mist through the tall windows across the west and south walls.
A flash of alarm stopped Jinn in his tracks, noting a peculiar lack of shadow on the northern wall as loose rocks splashed into the circular reflecting pool to the south-the pool where the massive statue of Asmodeus had once stood.
"Move!" he yelled, pulling Quessahn behind him as he dashed toward the windows, trusting Mara to take care of herself. Something crashed into the marble where they'd been, the impact splitting the floor, spidery cracks racing alongside them. Cut off from the front doors, Jinn searched for a swift escape and made for the windows. Thinking quickly, he grabbed a chunk of fallen stone and hurled it at the glass.
As the stone bounced harmlessly away, Jinn cursed, having caused no more than a smudge of dust on the warded glass. He spun around, heart racing, eyes searching the clouded room for movement. Stone ground against stone in the dark and something large appeared in the gloom, flying toward them through the cloud of dust.
"Down!" he cried, ducking low as a section of shelving flew over their heads and crashed against the windows. Splinters and chunks of wood clattered all around them as he and Quessahn cautiously raised their heads and stood. Mara appeared at his side, her red eyes fixed on something in the dark.
"The statue, I presume?" Jinn asked.
"Yes and no," Mara answered. "An eidolon. The statue of a god, blessed by a god. Sometimes they think they are gods."
Heavy footsteps prowled slowly near the back of the chamber, a violet glow piercing the dust as a metallic smell wafted through the room.
"And we're stuck in here with it," Quessahn added with a cough. "Guess Tallus didn't want to be buried alone."
The violet glow intensified, becoming more distinct as the footsteps drew closer. The ebony statue's smooth surface had changed, a dense pattern of arcane and divine symbols shining across its massive frame. Purple light and mist issued from its eyes and smiling mouth, curling around the graceful horns sprouting from its brow. Jinn narrowed his eyes at the statue, caught by the pulsing sigils on the eidolon's brow as it approached. He was struck by the familiarity of the construct, though he was unable to place where or when he'd encountered such a monstrosity before.
"Spread out," he whispered to the others.
&n
bsp; No sooner had the words left his mouth than the eidolon charged, its long, lumbering stride covering the distance between them swiftly. Mara slipped into the shadows, cloaking herself in darkness, as Quessahn drew her ritual dagger, chanting softly and backing away. Jinn held his ground, holding the construct's focus long enough for the others to prepare their magic, their rhythmic voices lost as the floor and walls shook. A massive fist, trailing wisps of purple mist, came crashing down as Jinn rolled backward, flying shards of marble stinging his skin.
Rising in a crouch, he swung his blade, the steel ringing off the eidolon's rocky arm harmlessly, though he noted a tiny crack of bleeding light where he'd struck. The second fist came soon behind the first, and he leaped forward, hacking at the statue's face. Sparks flew from the edge of his sword, leaving a miniscule fracture in its wake. The construct loosed a deafening roar as an acrid liquid seeped from the tiny wound, burning Jinn's wrist as he attempted to escape the eidolon's reach. A mere step away from clear ground, the thing's swiping claws caught his shoulder and sent him tumbling into rubble.
Pain seared through his arm, his recent wounds burning as the acidic blood of the eidolon mingled with his own. He rolled onto his back as the construct knelt over him, an artificial sneer on its face as it pinned his legs. His sword lost in the debris, he stared into the thing's hellish eyes, helpless. A spark in the fiery twin pits caught Jinn's attention, dragging him back to the first battles of his physical existence, back to the days when eidolons were yet young to the world. As the construct's other arm rose to crush him, he knew some minute part of Asmodeus was aware of his monstrous servant, and Jinn morbidly wanted, more than anything, to capture the attention of the god.
Shrieking voices heralded several bolts of scintillating light that arced through the eidolon's body, causing it to twist and writhe enough for Jinn to escape its grip.
He crawled through the rubble, snatching up his lost sword and ducking low as Mara strode toward him, her hands spread in a fan of blue flames that charged the air with arcane energy. As swiftly as she appeared, Mara dissolved into the shadows as the eidolon thrashed toward her, its fist smashing the floor where she'd stood. Seizing the moment, Jinn's arm shot out, stabbing the ancient sword into a burning rune on the construct's side. As the steel grated against stone, the statue lurched violently to its side, pulling Jinn to his feet as he fought to hang on, his sword caught in the burning sigil.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the brief blur of a dark shape rushing toward him just before the world went black. Stars danced before his eyes, and a peculiar weightlessness held him for what seemed like an eternity. Yellowed parchment fluttered around him amid clouds of swirling dust as he fought to regain his sight, shaking his head slowly and finding himself in a sitting position against the far wall. The floor shook beneath him, and flashing lights filled the tower as Mara and Quessahn hurled spell after spell at the eidolon, none of their magic injuring the thing to any lasting effect.
A glimmer of shining steel protruded from the construct's ribs, just beneath its right arm. Jinn focused on the metal splinter and forced himself to stand. He winced as the right side of his body pulsed painfully as if it were made of a single bruise. He pushed the sensation to the back of his mind. He took up a length of fallen chain, a chunk of broken rafter dangling from its end as he charged at the eidolon's back. Mara slipped away into shadow as he passed, cold fragments of darkness clinging to his cheeks as he hurled the chain at the statue's head.
He missed and rolled beneath the swiping fist of stone that quickly followed. Muttering a curse as splinters dug into his side, he caught a brief glimpse of Quessahn in front of the eidolon, tendrils of darkness spewing from her palms. The spell briefly dimmed the molten energy of the construct, causing it to shriek, a sound like hail striking a tin roof, but the magic could not hold. The fist that had sought to smash Jinn reversed its course and struck the eladrin solidly. Jinn gasped as Quessahn's body flew through the air and crashed against the wall like a corn-husk doll.
The sickening thump of her body on the floor ripped through his gut, the sight of her senseless and bleeding awakening something within him. An image of her flashed through his mind, her smiling face looking up at him, a sea of waving green behind her. Her lips moved in the image, but he could not hear her words over his racing pulse, thrumming through his ears as he stood. Pangs of guilt and loss joined his bloodlust, though both gave way to a rage that burned from the depths of his pounding heart. Swinging the chain once around his fist, he dashed forward as the eidolon turned to present its curving horns. He hurled the chain again, wrapping it neatly around the statue's neck.
It whipped its upper body backward, roaring a sound almost like laughter as Jinn was pulled into the air, swinging at the chain's end. Black claws reached for him, but he swung his legs forward, pulling tightly on the chain as the room spun around him. The burning eyes followed him, hellish energy and caustic blood seeping from them as he turned through the air, whipping tight as the chain caught on the statue's left shoulder. The bright edge of his stolen blade glowed in the eidolon's side, the sword stuck, a thrust away from the statue's immortal energy.
The essence of a god, he thought. A shard of divinity.
Arms burning with the strain, he pulled the chain taut again and raised his legs, whispering a prayer as the hilt of his lodged sword came into sight. With a single thrust, he kicked the blade deep, sparks flying as the steel stabbed home into the fiery heart of the eidolon, shattering the god-forged splinter that had given the statue life. Power surged from the wound, washing violently through Jinn's body as the construct shuddered, purple mist steaming through the cracks and symbols across its stony skin.
The chain slipped from Jinn's fist, and he fell away, sliding across the marble floor as the burst of divine power wracked his flesh with pain. The eidolon's body quaked, falling apart in lifeless chunks through the chamber bathed in hellish light. Jinn gasped, a brief moment of pure clarity overcoming him. All the threads of his many lives were joined, fusing together like a winding road of long years, at their end the blazing light of the Astral Sea. The path of his soul from flesh to flesh, bound in blood for millennia, burned through his thoughts, every memory as fresh as when it was first crafted, the darkness of every death just as haunting.
He saw meaning and destiny in the whole of the pattern, his eyes torn away from the minute details of the individual lives he'd lived, and an unsettling calm overcame him. Somewhere in the long and winding maze of his soul, his fate had been written, and he was loath to look upon its conclusion…
In a heartbeat the vision was gone, leaving him trembling and struggling to breathe, his skull aching as the memories faded, and he felt empty and drained. He coughed and groaned, eyes burning as they adjusted to the dim light of the chamber.
Straining to right himself, he squinted through the dust and found Quessahn's hand nearby, her eyes closed and veiled in blood.
TWELVE
NIGHTAL 22, THE YEAR OF DEEP WATER DRIFTING (1480 DR)
"Quess."
Jinn whispered her name, gently cradling her neck and stemming the flow of blood from a cut on her forehead. Her skin was soft in his hands, pale and familiar like a recurring dream. The sight of one limp hand sliding to the floor nauseated him, the smell of her blood stinging in his nose like the scent of a fresh nightmare. He leaned close, her breath on his cheek and her pulse beneath his fingertips calming him as Mara stepped out of her clinging shadows, baring her fangs at the pile of smoking stone nearby.
"Is she dead?" Mara asked as she carefully inspected the book she'd taken from downstairs, gently turning the pages as if they would fall apart at any touch.
"No," Jinn answered. "But she'll need some time to-"
"Time we don't have," Mara cut in sharply, her crimson eyes scanning page after page in quick succession. "This spell Tallus was working on puts us all in danger, one dead eladrin is a small price to pay if need be-"
"She is aliv
e," Jinn insisted. "We're not leaving her."
"This isn't like you, Jinn," Mara replied, closing the book slowly. "You'd risk all the work we've done for one woman?"
"All the work I've done started with one woman," he answered quietly, brushing Quessahn's cheek as she stirred, though he imagined for a moment that it was a different face he looked upon, silver-eyed and cursed with immortality like himself. He'd abandoned her to fight the ancient war of his lost gods and he'd lost her, his Variel.
"Kehran?" Quessahn mumbled, coughing. "Is that you-?"
Her eyes fluttered open, squinting through the gloom until they found Jinn. At the sight of him, her face twisted slightly, a mixture of sorrow and disappointment that stabbed him far deeper than he'd expected.
"It's me, Quess, Jinnaoth," he answered. "Who is Kehran?"
"It's nothing… no one," she managed, rising on her elbows and wincing in pain. "Forget I said it. I'll be fine."
"The Loethe family is next," Mara said, her arms crossed as she stared at the deva, ignoring Quessahn. "We need to go to them. Now."
"She's right. Go," Quess said, wiping blood from her lip. "At the corner of Ivory Street and Gorl. Be quick…"
"Right," Jinn muttered, standing as the eladrin sat up, her left arm already darkening with early bruises. Looking from her to Mara, he turned on his heel and retrieved his blade from the steaming remains of the eidolon. "Stay here with Quessahn. I'll tend to the Loethes."
"I am riot a nursemaid," Mara growled. "And you have no idea what you're running into-"
"I understand," he said, fixing her with his golden stare. "Do your best. And find out what you can from that book. I expect we'll need to know exactly what we're up against, yes?"
Her red eyes flared bright, a fury boiling behind them that Jinn was glad to see, a fresh reminder that his ally could become his enemy after all was said and done. Given half a chance, with her vengeance against Asmodeus complete, she would sell Jinn's soul to the highest bidder without a flicker of regret; of that he was certain.
Circle of Skulls w-6 Page 14