The Titan's Tome

by M. B. Schroeder

  Chapter 32

  317 Br. summer

  “When Lilith came to Limbo and birthed her children, the native people adopted them, and helped raise them. Lilith’s children adopted many of the customs the Children of Chaos held.

  “Adam, spurned by his lover, remained on the Mortal plane. The titans took pity on him and asked the Sisters to temper him, so that one day he could die and be with his creator, the High One. But all things come at a price, and the titans paid it.”

  -The Titan’s Tome

  I n the morning DraKar escorted them to the portal. They were a sad group, broken, limping, and bruised. Khain stayed behind with Camry to stitch her arm because Morkleb hadn’t woken yet. The remaining cirKad outside the volcano lazed on the rocky outcroppings, their stomachs bloated. Madger carried Morkleb as DraKar kept them from view with a minor spell. He’d regained enough magic for that.

  Madger stared at the portal in the blue glow of her light orb, bitterly recalling how she had made sure to watch Golas manipulate the enchantment. She hadn’t meant her wariness to be prophetic.

  “This portal and the one on the Seventh plane are connected to one in the southern continent. The portal in the southern continent is the only one on the Mortal plane I didn’t make,” DraKar said.

  “Slear made it,” Seal added.

  “But he wasn’t a mage,” Madger said.

  “Icren were created by Chaos. The Icren-Lords could naturally dimension hop. As can the kadmoni.” DraKar nodded toward Seal. “Though, they weren’t created by Chaos.” He rolled a shoulder, winced from the still open wounds, settled his wings, and cleared his throat. “Slear found a way to make a permanent gateway with that ability.” He hesitated a moment. “It was the portal Golas used.” He pressed on before any of them could ask about it. “Because this one and the Seventh plane weren’t created by me, and are connected to the one in the southern continent, their destinations can be shifted.”

  “Who made these?” Madger asked.

  “Arkhed.” Speaking the name while on Limbo still made DraKar glance over his shoulder. “When you power this portal, you choose which portal you want to use on the Mortal plane.”

  “So Log Port?” Kharick asked.

  “Provided it isn’t night there. If it isn’t already open the warding won’t stop this portal, from Limbo, from connecting with it.” DraKar answered. “Put the cleric down and power the portal.”

  Madger did as he instructed. DraKar stepped forward as the runes along the edge of the circular gateway lit with white light. He took a knife from a hidden sheath and nicked the scar tissue on the back of his wrist and smeared the blood on the stone.

  The portal sucked at her magic and she manipulated it as best she knew how. The blood helped turn the portal toward the Mortal plane. “How do I change it to Log Port?”

  “Imagine the location, like a teleport spell.”

  “I don’t know that spell.”

  DraKar frowned, she was seriously lacking in instruction. “Here.” He reached out to the portal again, his power so faint he needed to touch it, and gave her magic a nudge to manipulate different parts of the weaving. Her magic was light and fluid, like the reflection of the sun on water. It drew him to her; wanting to bathe in it. “Think of Log Port, the sea, the temple, more specifically the old church where the portal is.”

  The heat of him rolled over her magic, directing, almost caressing, like he was the sun on a cold day and she wanted to lean into it. It made her suck in a breath between her teeth. She forced herself to concentrate on what he was telling her, to summon up the sights, and smells of Log Port.

  “Good, it isn’t night. Complete the weaving,” DraKar rumbled.

  She fed a little more magic into the portal and completed the weaving to connect to it to the one in Log Port. White magic sparked across the circular gateway and fully lit the cavern. Pulling away from her light, her magic, made his wings shudder, and he clenched his teeth, biting make a pained sound.

  “Go. And close it when you’re through.”

  Madger picked up Morkleb again. “Thank you.”

  DraKar looked away from her with a grunt and didn’t watch them leave. After the magic faded and left the cave dark, he turned and slowly walked away. He hoped they’d never see him again.

  ***

  Morkleb woke in a straw filled bed, the familiar scent of the ocean tinged the air. He sat up quickly, his breathing panicked, the last thing he remembered was attacking Madger because she was trying to kill someone.

  “Easy,” Seal coaxed and sat on the bed next to him.

  He tried to slow his breathing. They were in a small room, the crude furnishings marked it as an inn. “Madger!”

  “She’s all right. You took the worst of that fight.” Seal touched at the lump on the back of his head.

  “What happened to you?” Morkleb said and reached toward her bruised and swollen face.

  Seal allowed him to heal her and cupped his chilled hands. “Kharick has fists like rocks. We’re all fine,” she soothed. When he looked around, straining to see out the slats of the closed shutters, she added, “Log Port. Madger and Kharick are downstairs getting some food. We haven’t been back more than a day. In fact, we made it back here before we would have if the High Moon hadn’t sunk.”

  Morkleb healed his injuries as well. “Because time is faster in the Hells?”

  Seal nodded. “Do you feel up to going down and joining them? We’ll tell you what happened.”

  Morkleb swallowed. “Is Arkhed dead?”

  “Camry ran him through.”

  Morkleb let out a relieved sigh, and his ears sagged with the easing of his muscles. “Good.”

  Seal stood and tossed him a shirt. “I washed your robes too. We can go look for your parent’s ship after we eat.”

  Morkleb tugged the shirt on and they went downstairs to join Madger and Kharick. He healed them and ordered some food as well. While he ate, they told him what had happened while he was unconscious. He swallowed the last of his food and wiped at his mouth. “What do we do now?”

  Madger stared at the table. She’d lost the opportunity to ask about the Maze. She hadn’t been killed. “Back to mercenary work.”

  Seal chewed on the end of her braid and spit it out, turning to Morkleb. “What are you thinking? Go back to the temple? Start sailing with your family again?”

  Morkleb snapped his head up to look at her, his ears pricked and the chain chimed in the right. “You don’t want me with you anymore?”

  “I don’t think that be what she mean, lad,” Kharick said.

  “You still want to stay with us after what happened?” Seal asked.

  Morkleb gave a firm nod. “You’re my family too.”

  ***

  “How long will she sleep?” DraKar asked with a nod toward Camry. He sat in the padded chair he had slept in the night before.

  “I don’t know, but she needs to recover from Arkhed’s assault. Could be a day, could be a week,” Khain said.

  “I’d rather have her back on the Mortal plane before she wakes. Keep her unconscious until we’re ready to leave.”

  “Ah, as far as leaving… I need you to send me back to the Hells.”

  DraKar eyed the assassin skeptically.

  “Unlike you, I still have some tasks for me in the Hells,” Khain said with a flippant roll of his wrist. “I know Selien spoke to us all, though she didn’t mention what she told you. But she wants me back there.”

  DraKar grimaced. “I can do it, but the portal will put you on the Seventh plane. I didn’t leave much.”

  “I’ll have a talk with Charon.” Khain grinned. “You didn’t disturb the river?”

  DraKar gave him a sour look. “You know I can’t affect the River Styx.”

  Khain held up his hands. “Couldn’t be sure, with you controlling the Seventh plane.”

  DraKar snarled at Khain. “I don’t want it.”

  “Not up to you, it seems,” Khain laughed.


  DraKar grumbled unfavorable things about Khain and drank deeply of the Dark Water. “Before we go I’m going to destroy Arkhed’s labs and take some of his research to study.”

  Khain tilted his head, and asked, “Thinking of making your own army?”

  DraKar’s lip curled back. “No! But I don’t want anyone else getting it. Maybe I can find a way to reverse the process on the remaining cirKad.”

  Khain shrugged. “You’re welcome to try, but the augmentation is as total and complete as what was done to you.”

  A growl of derision boiled in DraKar’s throat, and he looked away. It was true, the healing by fire was as natural to him now as the blood in his veins. Even the cirKad’s auras, their souls, were somehow twisted to the Dark One.

  There were few cirKad left for DraKar and Khain to kill when they went back to the volcano’s caves. They checked the room where Arkhed’s body had been left, but nothing remained. All that was left of Slear’s corpse was dried blood and a few splintered bones the cirKad hadn’t eaten. DraKar gathered books Khain pointed out had been instrumental for Arkhed, and piled scrolls and notes into a large bag. They destroyed the labs, broke vats and spilled chemicals, and set fire to the remaining notes and books.

  Once DraKar was satisfied, they gathered Camry from the hut and went back to the cave at the base of the volcano, where the portal stood. DraKar powered the runes to open it to the Seventh plane.

  DraKar silently looked to the assassin; he had nothing fitting to say.

  Khain nodded, understanding DraKar’s ways. “I’ll see ya around, Old Blue. And be nice to your niece.” He slipped away before the sarpand could answer him.

  Chapter 33

  317 Br. summer

  “Sing the song of the lonely star,

  Bright and faire,

  Beyond compare.

  Seek her now,

  Lay your head on the down,

  And stare above to the lost,

  Those who paid the cost.”

  -Song of the Lost

  C amry woke in a bed festooned with pillows, sheets of silk, and tightly woven blankets. She couldn’t recall how she’d come to be in such expensive bedding, and sat up. Her head ached, and she groaned, pressing the heel of her palm against her temple. As it ebbed, she looked around, sunlight tried to pry its way in past thick green curtains. The room was decorated with tapestries that hung from the tall walls, depicting serene forests, lambs in a field, and a meadow of flowers. There was a large wooden wardrobe, intricately carved with floral patterns and beside it a writing desk, with a well-cushioned chair.

  She touched her arm, the scabs itched, and served as a reminder that she hadn’t dreamed what had happened in the Hells and Limbo. Gingerly, as though afraid she might shatter the quiet in the room, she slipped from the bed, her bare feet encountered luxurious carpet, and she scrunched her toes in it. She didn’t recall ever owning the nightgown she wore now, it was soft cotton, dyed a light blue that reached her ankles.

  She opened her mouth to call for Golas. He was always nearby, maybe in the next room.

  Camry choked on his name. Golas was dead. Impaled on Slear’s spear. A sob sputtered out instead and she quaked, holding herself.

  What would she do now? Where could she go? He’d been her only family left. She sat back down on the bed, biting her lip to keep from crying out in her loss. Was she being selfish? Thinking of what his death meant for her and not about what it meant for him? He hadn’t adhered to any religion. Would he find a heaven?

  She sniffled and wiped at her tears. He wouldn’t want her to waste time thinking of him. She needed to find out where she was.

  She padded quietly to the door and eased the iron latch open. It wasn’t locked, and she opened the door enough to peer out. An elf was seated across the hall from her door, reading, but looked up at the soft sound of the latch clicking open.

  “Glad to see you awake, Lady Camry,” the dark haired elf said. She stood and set her book aside. “Shall I assist you with getting ready for your day?”

  “Who are you?” Camry asked.

  “Loya.”

  “Where am I?”

  “Meerwood.”

  “Where is Meerwood?” Camry grumbled.

  “Northeast edge of the Unclaimed Lands.”

  “Mortal plane,” Camry muttered.

  “My lady?”

  Camry shook her head. “Never mind. Where are DraKar and Khain?”

  “Lord DraKar is in his chamber. I don’t know a Khain.”

  Camry scowled. “I want to see DraKar.” She opened the door to follow the woman, but Loya didn’t move. “Well?”

  Loya looked Camry up and down. “Are you sure you want to leave your chambers dressed so?”

  Camry fumbled at the nightgown. “No!” She edged back into the room. “Where are my clothes?”

  “We have a selection for you in the wardrobe. Would you like some assistance, my lady?”

  Camry grumbled under her breath and shut the door in Loya’s pristine face. Again, the stab of pain made her grasp at her head, and she worried over what Arkhed had done to her before he died. But it slid away again, and she went to the wardrobe.

  “What is this?” She began rifling through the clothes. Irrational rage filled her, she pulled out gowns, long straight dresses, delicate lace shirts, bejeweled skirts. “Where are my clothes?” She rushed back to the door and jerked it open to find Loya waiting where she had left her. “Where are my clothes?”

  Loya gestured at the wardrobe and the tousled clothes. “Are they not to your satisfaction?

  Camry made a sour face at her. “No, they are not to my satisfaction! I want real clothes, that won’t tear at the first hint of a bush, or try and tangle my legs when I run.” She turned from Loya and threw her hands up in frustration. “Who is responsible for all this?”

  “Lord DraKar.”

  Camry seethed. “Oh, he thinks he’s going to stuff me in a dress? He thinks he’ll placate me with a soft bed and … and…” she gestured at Loya, “servants? Why am I here? What does that sarpand think he is going to do with me?”

  Loya remained unfazed. “I am not sure what he thinks to do with you, Lady Camry. If you would like, I can see about finding you more … manly attire.”

  “Manly?” Camry growled. “Never mind. Get out. I’ll make do.”

  With Loya out of the room again, Camry pulled on a ruffled shirt and the least bejeweled and longest skirt she could find. Slipping on a pair of embroidered shoes, she edged toward the door. “This is ridiculous.”

  Upon opening the door, she found Loya patiently waiting. The dark-haired elf glanced at her attire, and while not mentioning that it clashed, did quirk an eyebrow. Camry chose to ignore the look.

  “Take me to DraKar.”

  “He hasn’t been taking any audiences since his return.”

  Camry gawked at her. “Not taking?” The words caught in her throat. “I am not an audience for him to turn away!” A mild tightening across her brow made her pause, willing the pain away before it became too great.

  “I am not to disturb him, Lady Camry.”

  “Just show me to his chambers, I’ll disturb him.”

  Inside DraKar’s chambers, the doors rattled as a fist pounded on them. The iron-bound double doors were locked, trying to seal away the outside world. The circular room was dark, shutters and curtains blocked the sunlight. The big sarpand stirred, turning to the noise, a snarl whispered in his throat. The doors rattled again as the muffled knock sounded through them.

  There was only one person in Meerwood who would disturb him in such a manner. DraKar thought about telling her to go away, to leave him alone. Sorrow from losing his brother had engulfed him, made him weary, his strength had fled as the grief had flooded in. Depression dragged at his mind, making him feeble, and wouldn’t allow him to focus on his magic that seemed so distant now.

  A third rattling, two fists this time and Carmy’s muffled voice screaming at him. Not i
n terror or worry, but with rage.

  DraKar stood from where he sat against the cool stone wall. He didn’t have the will to use magic to unlatch the door. His steps were slow and dragged across the floor. Khain had told him to take care of her. He fumbled at the lock and opened the door an inch.

  “What is it, child?”

  Camry’s anger melted at the sound of DraKar’s voice through the narrow opening. It was the quietest she’d ever heard him. His tone drowned in anguish, the power and authority gone. She hesitated, even afraid to touch the door again, feeling if she did, DraKar would break apart and drift away like ice crystals. Her concern instantly shifted from the frivolity of her wardrobe to the sarpand.

  “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” She hesitated before saying, “Let me in.”

  “Loya will see to your needs.”

  Camry scowled at the door as DraKar shut it. Loya had scurried away when Camry had begun pounding on the door. She wasn’t going to be ignored. She needed to know what happened on Limbo after she stabbed Arkhed. Was he really dead? Where was Khain? What happened to Golas’s body?

  The thought of her mentor brought hot tears to her eyes, and she slapped at the closed door again. “DraKar!” What right did he have to hide from her? A sob broke from her throat, memories of Arkhed’s vile touch on her mind surged up, and pain spiked her mind again. Golas had been left with that for a whole night. She slid down the door, her legs weak. Without Golas, she was utterly alone.

  The door eased open, and Camry looked up into the shadows where DraKar stood. She wiped at her eyes and stood to face him, her lip quivered, not knowing what to say. Her emotions were raw, her mind still weak from Arkhed’s torturous blow. Everything felt harsher.

  DraKar looked down at her, wondering what else he could offer. The lost look in her eyes reminded him there was something beyond his own grief. He stepped aside to let her enter and shut the door behind her. Walking away, he summoned up the resolve to light two candles with a minor spell. Normally something he wouldn’t have to think about now seemed like a heavy weight to lift.