The Vengekeep Prophecies

by Brian Farrey

  Talian stood and walked carefully across the slick obsidian. “Everything will be fine.” He held out his spellsphere. “Jaxter and I will be nearby. Just speak and the spellsphere will translate into the spiderbats’ tongue. It’ll appear as though the words are coming directly from you. They’ll consider it a great honor that you speak their language.”

  Callie eyed the spellsphere dubiously. “It’s that simple?”

  Talian considered for a moment, then did something terrible. He chose to be honest. “Not exactly. Remember, the spiderbats are magic-resistant. Their webs cancel out magic. I’m relying on that to hide what I’m doing from the Sentinels, otherwise they’ll just track us here and it’s all over.”

  We had made it out of Cindervale before the Sentinels arrived. Now that they had a lead on Talian’s location, it had become even more dangerous for him to use magic.

  “Also,” Talian continued, “the webs will dampen the spellsphere’s effect. We’ll need to be careful.”

  Talian nodded for me to join them and I slid across the obsidian, losing my balance and falling to the hard, rocky surface. Callie rolled her eyes and picked me up as Talian whispered to the spellsphere. The hot, white-blue glow returned to its core and Talian said, “Both of you. Touch the sphere.”

  Callie and I did as we were told. Although it looked hot, the sphere was ice-cold. I pulled back my finger and felt nothing but the lingering chill.

  Right. Can you hear me?

  The voice was Talian’s, but his lips hadn’t moved. I’d heard it in my head.

  Callie nodded. “Yes.”

  No, Talian’s voice said. Think it. This is how we’ll communicate once we’re in the caves.

  Callie nodded again and then I heard her voice in my head. Yes, I can hear you.

  Talian looked to me. Jaxter?

  I smiled. Present and accounted for.

  Talian’s hand closed around the glowing sphere. “Excellent. Now listen, the spiderbats are all about formality and protocol. Starting a dialogue with them can be tricky, but I’ll guide you. Just make sure you say exactly what I say, how I say it. Then let the spellsphere do the rest.”

  Callie looked unconvinced. To take her mind off it, I looked around and scooped up a small, perfectly round chunk of obsidian. “Here,” I said, dropping it into her hand, “our souvenir from the aircaves.”

  Callie snorted and pocketed the black marble. “Right. Because I’ll always want to remember this.”

  Talian nodded at the cave entrance. “Shall we?”

  We gathered our supplies and made our way down into the caves. The moment we crossed the threshold, we were met with a burst of hot, humid air. With only my small lantern and Talian’s spellsphere to light the way, we soon found ourselves in near total darkness. The rocks on the cave floor were jagged, a sharp contrast to the smooth rock at the entrance. As the hot air wove around us, it made a howling noise that echoed down the passage. Tunnels splintered off in various directions, but Callie and I kept our eyes on Talian, who led us directly forward.

  Although the air was stifling and both Callie and I were sweating, Talian seemed to be feeling it far worse. Even in the dim light, I could see he’d grown pale and his face practically glowed with a sheen of sweat. “You okay?” I whispered to him.

  He nodded. “When you spend a lot of time working with magical energies, they tend to linger in your body. This is how I know we’re getting closer to the spiderbats. Mages don’t fare so well in the presence of magic-resistant creatures.”

  The tunnel we followed curved to the right and opened up into a massive cavern that looked like the mouth of a cargabeast, with teeth of obsidian hanging from the roof and jutting up from the floor. Slung across the cavern ceiling was a gigantic, intricately woven web of clear, glistening silk. I spotted two spiderbats hanging from the thick strands of webbing, their underclaws gripping the silk tightly. They hadn’t seen us yet.

  Callie shuddered when she spotted the creatures and looked around. “I don’t see very many.”

  I nodded. “I knew they were dying out, but I didn’t realize their numbers were so sparse.”

  Talian, looking more nauseated than ever, leaned forward on a large pile of rocks. “Callie,” he whispered, “Jaxter and I will wait here. Go make contact.”

  Callie swallowed and I gave her hand a squeeze. As she stepped around the rocks and walked slowly toward the center of the cavern, I crouched near Talian. The light from the spellsphere was finally drawing the spiderbats’ attention. A few more took flight, their leathery wings snapping in the darkness as they hovered overhead. I counted six of them now and they all seemed to be giving Callie a wide berth.

  Just then, Callie froze, her eyes locked on the ground. Peering through the dark, I tried to see what she was staring at. Strewn about on the cavern floor were the bodies of several very dead-looking spiderbats.

  Talian closed his eyes and sent instructions to Callie in his thoughts. Callie paused, cleared her throat, and said, “I bring you greetings in the name of peace from the outside world. My name is Callie Strom and I humbly seek an audience with your queen.”

  She paused and listened to Talian’s voice in her head. “I come here with open arms”—she held out her arms to show they were empty—“and the knowledge that I, as a mere human, do not deserve such an audience. So it is with greatest respect and admiration that I—”

  A high-pitched chirping sound interrupted her address. A moment later, the spellsphere translated the sound.

  “Go away!”

  The voice was feminine and heavy with sorrow. More chirping and then, “We rrregrret the day we everrr saw humans!” the female voice cried out.

  From somewhere in the shadows overhead, we heard a stirring. Then a spiderbat, a bit larger than the rest, swooped down, grazing the top of Callie’s head, causing her to squeal. The large spiderbat landed on the cavern floor and crawled until it stopped at Callie’s feet. It chirped.

  “Humans hunt the spiderrrbats! Humans send beasts to capturrre the spiderrbats. We want nothing to do with humans. Nothing!”

  I could see Callie’s hands shaking nervously. But somehow, she summoned the courage to go down on one knee, look the spiderbat in the eyes, and say, “What’s happened?”

  Callie, I could hear Talian’s distressed thoughts, don’t break protocol. That is the queen spiderbat. It’s very important that you say only what I tell you and don’t—

  But Callie waved her hand behind her back at us, telling Talian to hush. “What’s happened?” she asked again.

  The queen’s wings fluttered softly as her legs thrashed about. “Two days ago, the beasts came. Sent by the mage.”

  At this, Talian’s eyes narrowed and we shared the same thought. What mage?

  “They took ourrr people,” the queen said. “Stuffed them into grrreat bags, killing those who rrresisted them. We arrre all that rrremains.” The chirping mixed with a gurgling sound and I realized that the queen was crying. “Ourrr husband! They took ourrr husband!”

  Callie shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty.”

  Talian growled to himself. Callie, you can’t just—

  The queen chirped loudly. “Yourrrr people did this!”

  “It wasn’t us!” Callie insisted. “We would never harm you. We came here because we need your help.”

  The queen paused, then emitted a short squeak. “Us?”

  Just then, two spiderbats dropped quickly from the web on the ceiling, dangling from a self-made strand of silk, and landed on the rock near my head. They chirped excitedly at their queen.

  “Please don’t hurt them!” Callie pleaded. “They’re my friends.”

  “Then why do the callow men hide in the darrrk?” the queen demanded as her two drones bared their sizable teeth at me and Talian.

  Callie straightened her posture and said, “Because I wanted to discuss this woman to woman.” She then told the queen the story of Vengekeep and how we’d come all this way to get
the spiderbat milk. She paused and said, “Maybe we can help each other.”

  The queen clicked and chirped, leaping up and flying directly in front of Callie. “How so?”

  “We could help you … rescue your people. Your husband. Get them back from these beasts. Allow us to show you that not all of our kind are your enemies.”

  Callie, Talian moaned. The extremely close proximity of the spiderbats and their strands of web were taking their toll on him. He could barely move, and even his voice in my head sounded weak. You are breaking all the rules of protocol. There’s no way—

  “Ourrr people arrre being held in Splitscarrr Gorrrrge,” the queen chirped. “If you get us what we rrrequirrre, then you shall have what you rrrequirre.”

  Callie stood and did her most elaborate curtsy. She backed away, then turned and joined us at the rocks. Together, we slung Talian’s arms across our shoulders and made our way back toward the exit of the caves. Behind us, we could hear the flutter of wings as the remaining spiderbats assembled and followed at a distance.

  “Bet you never learned that in your diplomatic lessons,” Callie said, shooting her sickened cousin a self-satisfied grin.

  22

  Talian’s Trials

  “A patsy should thank you for shifting the blame to them and giving them the chance to hone their skills at speaking quickly.”

  —Ancient par-Goblin proverb

  We spent the next three days walking northwest across some of the most desolate terrain in the Five Provinces. With no roads or paths to guide us, we knew where to go only by looking up, where the spiderbats flew high above, leading us to our destination. For the most part, we moved on in silence, stopping only once when we came across a patch of vegetation. We scrounged what little food we could find but, by the end of the second day, we were hungry and tired.

  Callie, having faced two of her greatest fears, walked with her head high, proud of her accomplishment. Talian had grown quiet and lagged behind us. I kept my concerns to myself. Now wasn’t the time to quarrel.

  An hour before sundown, we stopped at a stream near the edge of Splitscar Gorge. As Callie and I filled our flagons, Talian peeled off his boots and waded ankle deep to soothe his feet.

  “I don’t get it,” I said, dipping the neck of my flagon into the water. “You’re a mage, right? Can’t you just use your spellsphere to make us appear wherever the spiderbats are taking us? It would be a lot quicker.”

  Talian chuckled softly as he sat on a rock in the stream. “That would require a quickjump spell. And even if I had one in the spellsphere, which I don’t, quickjump doesn’t work that way. I can use it only to go places I’ve been, a place I can visualize in my mind. I have no idea where we’re going.”

  We rested a while longer in silence until, finally, Callie burst out, “Just spit it out, Jaxter.”

  I looked up innocently. “What?”

  She pointed at my hands. “You always rub your thumb and forefinger together when you’re trying not to say what’s on your mind.”

  I immediately stopped exactly what she said I was doing and slid my flagon into the holster around my waist. “It’s just … the longer it takes, the farther ahead Edilman gets. He’s probably in Vengekeep by now. We’re going far out of our way here to help out the spiderbats. Don’t get me wrong. What happened to them is terrible, but what’s happening in Vengekeep is terrible too.”

  Callie planted her fists on her hips. “You think I don’t know that? What was I supposed to say to the queen? ‘Real sorry to hear about your husband and all. Mind if I snatch a bit of milk while I’m here?’ You heard what she said. They hate people. She wouldn’t have given us the milk any other way.”

  Talian scoffed, his back to us. “If you’d just done what I’d told you—”

  “At least I did something!” Callie whirled on her cousin, her voice filled with fire.

  Talian wouldn’t look at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You know what I mean,” she said. Then she looked at me. “Jaxter, did I ever tell you why I moved to Vengekeep? Just before the new year, there was a fire at the lower school in Ankhart, where I’m from. Children were trapped in their classroom. While the village stood by gawking, waiting for the fire brigade to arrive, my parents ran into the building and rescued everyone inside. No one asked them to do it. They did it because they had to. But it was too much for them. They died of their injuries. They might still be alive if the people of Ankhart had helped them.”

  She walked right up to Talian and looked him in the eye. “That’s why I can’t stomach cowards. So tell us, Talian, why are you still here? You had your spellsphere with you in gaol. You could have escaped anytime. Why didn’t you? Why come with us? We wouldn’t want to keep you from hiding from your duties.”

  Talian’s shoulders straightened. When he stood, he did so slowly and deliberately. He fixed Callie with a hard stare that matched the one she was shooting at him.

  “Do you know what the Trials are, Callie?” he asked in a soft, dangerous voice. Before she could respond, he continued, “Most people assume the Trials are spent casting spells, mixing potions, and proving how adept you are at wielding magic. But that’s just one very, very small component. You know how you spend most of your time in the Trials? Thinking.”

  He stepped from the stream and slid his boots back on, all the while keeping his eyes on Callie. “Not just thinking. Brooding. From the instant you wake until you drop from exhaustion at night, you’re locked in a tiny room and forced to contemplate your responsibilities as a mage.

  “Because that’s what it’s all about. Responsibility. Hour after hour thinking about what it really means to wield magic. When you’re a mage, you’re held to a higher standard than council members, Castellans, even the High Laird. You have a responsibility to use your power wisely, to help the greater good. And after months of sitting in the darkness, the reality of that responsibility sinking in deeper and deeper with every passing day, the weight of it all threatens to crush you.

  “When I was twelve, everyone my age wanted to be Lotha’s apprentice. Everyone had dreams of casting spells and possessing that much power. We all thought it would be fun. Well, there’s nothing fun about it. Every time you cast a spell, you take a risk. Something could go wrong; someone could get hurt. And when I was riding home to Vengekeep, I couldn’t bear the thought of looking into everyone’s eyes as I arrived. They’d be expecting me to save them. To get out my spellsphere and take responsibility. And that scared me. So I ran.”

  He stood and walked right up to Callie, looking down at her. “Why am I still here? I’m still here because of you. Both of you. You shamed me. I ran to Cindervale because I didn’t want the responsibility. I never thought that two kids would charge out into the world, not even thinking about what they’d taken on. Only knowing that Vengekeep was doomed if they didn’t do something.

  “I didn’t use my spellsphere to escape the jail in Cindervale because I’d accepted my fate. No matter where I hid, the Sentinels would find me. I’d decided to just let the Palatinate do whatever it wanted with me. But then you two arrived. You showed me that fate can change. I ran because I figured a better mage than me would save Vengekeep. But I can’t run anymore. Because after months of having the immense responsibility of my position pounded into my head by the Lordcourt, I’m sickened that it took the two of you to really make me learn the lesson.”

  Without saying another word, he turned and walked toward Splitscar Gorge. We watched him walk away. Callie sat dumbstruck. I nudged her and we gathered our things. Loaded up, we sprinted to catch up with Talian.

  The tan stone walls of Splitscar Gorge rose on either side of us. The sun had started sinking on the horizon, painting the gorge with dark, foreboding shadows. High ahead, the spiderbats flew, guiding us forward among the twisting, rocky footpaths. We squeezed through a slim opening between two enormous rocks and found ourselves in a crescent-shaped canyon filled with boulders and weatherworn
mesas.

  Without warning, the spiderbats dropped from the sky and surrounded us. The queen perched herself on Callie’s shoulder. Callie went pale and I thought she was going to faint. The queen chirped and a moment later, the spellsphere translated.

  “Therrre,” she said. “Ourrr people arrre therrre.”

  We stared directly ahead into the canyon but saw nothing other than stones. No spiderbats, no mages, nothing.

  “I don’t see anything,” Callie said tentatively.

  “Therre! Therre!” the queen’s chirps insisted.

  Talian nodded, a grave look in his eyes. “She’s right. There’s something there, but we can’t see it. An illusion is hiding whatever’s in the canyon.”

  I squinted but saw only the canyon. It finally occurred to me that the spiderbats, being resistant to magic, could see past the illusion. But until we could see where her people were, we wouldn’t be much help to the queen.

  “Can you break the illusion?” Callie asked Talian.

  He closed his eyes, his brow furrowing. “I don’t know. It’s pretty powerful. I might—”

  Just then, the spiderbats leaped into the air, flittering about and squawking agitatedly. Before the spellsphere could translate their warning, we were attacked.

  23

  Xerrus

  “Evidence is the debris of a careless mind.”

  —The Lymmaris Creed

  I remember a flash of dark gray fur as my legs flew out from under me. My head struck a rock when I hit the ground. I winced as powerful hands pinned my arms and legs. As my eyes focused, I saw what looked to be a jackal crouched over me. But, although it had the head and body of a jackal, its thin legs and paws had been replaced with what looked to be human arms, hands, legs, and feet, all covered in the same gray fur. Dangling from its neck on a chain was a round, gold medallion with black sigils etched on the front.