by Matt Heppe
“What?” Yevin gave her a confused look.
“A great warrior used to say it all the time.”
Cam grinned at her. “Not yet. When the time comes we’ll sell our lives dearly. For now we are going to abandon the defense of the first floor. Ayja, get those javelins by the front door and take them upstairs. Yevin, grab that water cask. I’ll bring food. Hurry, now, before they attack all at once.”
Ayja grabbed the weapons and two water skins and took them to the stairs. Cam had several dried sausages and a day old half-loaf of bread. Yevin followed them with the water cask over his shoulder.
As they ran up the stairs there was a crash from the back of the house as another shutter was smashed in. “Move! Go!” Cam shouted from behind Ayja. She bounced up the last two stairs and made way for Cam to pass. Dropping one javelin, she took up her spear in a high guard, ready to defend the stairs.
“Drop the trap door?” she asked. Another shutter, maybe one that was broken before crashed open. The creatures screamed their high cries and ran through the house.
“No, we’ll kill them as they come up.” Cam pushed a javelin into Yevin’s hands and then took up a position next to Ayja. The stair came through the floor, and a rail protected it on two sides. The third side was the back wall of the house. Yevin stood opposite Ayja and Cam, ready to stab anyone who came up the stairs in the back.
“Here they come,” Cam said. A crowd of monsters appeared at the base of the stairs, led by four of the scrawny naked ones. They saw Ayja and Cam and screamed with rage as they raced up the steps.
Ayja braced herself and stabbed the first in the chest with her spear. The point sank all the way to the cross lugs and still the creature pressed upwards. Another ran past it and had its head split in two by Cam’s axe. Brains and bone and black blood sprayed as the creature fell into another coming up behind it.
Yevin stabbed the same one as Ayja, and it fell back. She wrenched her spear free just in time to recover and stab another. This one clutched her spear even as it was impaled and pulled, nearly dragging her down the steps.
Cam struck another monster, but it raised an arm at the last moment, and instead of losing its head, it lost the arm. It threw itself at him and wrapped its remaining arm around his left leg. Yevin stabbed it in the back, but even as he did so, another one climbed over it.
Ayja had to let go of her spear or be pulled down the stairs. More were coming, and at the bottom of the stairs she saw one of the armored men, if it was still a man. There was no room to draw her sword. Beside her, Cam struggled to drive one down the stairs with the haft of his axe.
Two more of the creatures had grabbed the edge of the landing and started climbing up the rail. Yevin stabbed one, but still it came on. There was no holding them. The ghuls felt no pain and had no fear. They couldn’t be held off. A man she knew from town charged up the stairs at her—not a man anymore, but one of them. Behind him came the creature in armor.
Ayja had no choice. She reached into the aether and plucked the strands of magic. Throwing her hands in front of her, she channeled her elementar power and sent a wall of fire into the creatures coming up the stairs.
They screamed, not in anger now, but in pain. High wails of agony as she threw a stream of fire into them. They fell back, engulfed in flames. She turned her fire on the two climbing towards Yevin and they dropped from the rails and fell down the stairs.
Next to her, Cam struck a ghul a blow with the haft of his axe, and it stumbled down the stairs into the others.
The armored monster yelled something and the creatures fled. Ayja extinguished her fire. Five of the monsters lay burning on the stairs. The smoke and the smell of burned flesh were overwhelming.
Ayja drew the fire from the corpses and the flames disappeared.
“You’re an elementar,” Yevin said, his voice filled with accusation.
“I had to do it,” Ayja said to Cam, half in apology.
“You did. You had no choice,” he said.
“You’re her. You’re Enna, Morin’s daughter. And you,” Yevin said, pointing at Cam, “you’re Nidon.”
“That’s my name?” Ayja said. “Enna?”
Cam stared down the stairs at the charred and ruined remains. He shrugged. “I never knew your real name.” He looked up at Yevin. “You know who we are. What are you going to do about it?”
Chapter Thirteen
Telea was alone again. Katrin and the serving girl with her had only stayed long enough to deliver her a meal and to light the room’s candles. As soon as they were done, Katrin had made her excuses and they’d departed.
The meal they brought looked delicious, but Telea had no appetite and left it untouched. How much harder had her task just become? What had the soldier Greylin said to the duke? During her journey from the Salador Pass she’d told Greylin about the danger of the summoners, but she’d never said or done anything that might have led him to believe her to be one of them.
She’d lost track of time, but it must have been very late. When she looked out the windows down into the city, there were few lights to be seen and even less noise.
There was a knock at the door. Telea turned, but it opened before she could even respond. Katrin stood at the door, her hands clutched together. “Ah… the duke, will see you now.”
“Really? So soon? I thought he would see me in the morning.”
“No,” Katrin said, backing into the hallway. “He’ll see you now.”
Telea strode to the door and then turned back to the table to fetch her cap and veil. The last thing she wanted to do was to make a bad impression on the duke. She’d been around court enough to know the unpredictable whims of those in power. She took a deep breath to steel herself for the task to come. Fixing the cap on her head she headed out the door into the dark hall.
Dark forms loomed out of the darkness, and strong hands grabbed her. Katrin screamed as men shouted orders. Telea lashed out, trying to break free, but she was thrown to the floor.
“Gag her! Gag her!” a man shouted, even though Telea hadn’t shouted or called out. At least four men held her down as rags were stuffed into her mouth. She twisted and turned, but they were far too strong.
Sudden light filled the hall as the shutters were lifted from lanterns. There were a dozen or more men there—all armed and in full harness. Telea was tightly gagged, and then her hands were bound behind her and her ankles tied together.
Two men lifted her and carried her down the hall. She didn’t struggle. There was nothing to be gained from it. She tried to spit the gag from her mouth, but it was far too tight.
Their path twisted and turned, and they took at least three stairwells downwards. The men surrounding her didn’t talk, and they held her with such force she could barely move.
What did they want? The men were uniformed, all with white tabards with the crossed black hammers upon them. This was no random act by a few people. These weren’t criminals. Someone wanted her arrested. But who? Why? She’d done nothing wrong.
Finally they brought her into a well-lit chamber. Her heart quailed when they lifted her upright. It was a prison. Cells lined the walls, but what set her heart running cold were the apparatus of torture surrounding her.
The men took her to a blood-stained wooden board set nearly upright against the wall. There were iron cuffs attached to the board, and the men untied her and chained her there. She was standing, her legs spread shoulder width and her arms outstretched to either side of her. Tears came to her eyes. It was hopeless. Utterly hopeless.
The men, still silent, left the room. Only two remained behind. They held drawn swords and stood close to her.
“Someone nicked that bit ’o gold,” one of them said.
“Shut your mouth,” the other said. “You heard the orders. She’s dangerous.”
Telea shook her head. No! There’s been a mistake.
Her ambassador’s badge was gone, ripped from the dress. Saladoran soldiers were no different than Bele
nese—even in a fight they could always find the gold. She would have laughed if her peril hadn’t been so great.
Duke Braxus, Haran, and two other men entered the room. They were dressed as before, but Haran carried a large, leather covered book with a leather pouch sitting upon it. He placed the book on a table filled with pliers and knives.
There was a third man with them. He was very tall, but almost gaunt, with a shaved bald head and a dark brown beard. This man’s hands were manacled, and a guard held him by the elbow. He seemed unconcerned with his surroundings, despite being a prisoner in a torture chamber. He, like Haran, wore long black robes.
The two guards with Telea saluted Duke Braxus. He gave them an absent wave in reply. He, Haran, and the third man stared at Telea. “Is this truly necessary, Scholar Haran?” Braxus asked.
“It is. Most assuredly it is, my Duke.” The scholar shuffled closer to her, peering intently at her. “Look! Look! Just as we saw before. Just as I warned you. She has the demon sign.” His raised his hand towards Telea’s face and aimed a finger at her. Telea twisted her head to the side as he poked her cheek, tentatively at first, and then with greater force. “Look!” he rubbed his finger against her skin. “It isn’t paint. It’s her skin.”
“It isn’t demon sign,” said the bound man. “It’s simply her skin.”
“What do you know, Scholar Sulentis?” Haran shot back. He shuffled to the table where he had placed the book, removed the leather pouch, and opened the heavy tome. “Look, look, look,” he said as he shuffled through the pages. “Here, right here.” He lifted the book so that the others could see.
Telea saw the page as well. Depicted upon it was a veden, its bat wings stretched out behind it and flames surrounding it. A crowd of summoners bowed down before it.
“Black! Black as night,” Haran said.
“That’s a veden,” Sulentis said. “She,” he paused, “is clearly not a veden.”
“Why is he even here, my Duke?” Haran asked, pointing at Sulentis. “Why is he here…this traitor…this man who has stolen your elementars. This thief.”
Braxus looked from Haran to Sulentis. “He’s here because I wish for him to be here. And while he has been a pain in the arse to me, he has only betrayed the queen. And he is a scholar. If he proves useful, I won’t have him killed.” He smiled. “Maybe I’ll make a gift of him to Her Royal Highness.”
“I shall endeavor to be useful then,” Sulentis said. “I fear the queen’s wrath would be most uncomfortable.”
“Don’t worry,” Braxus said, “mine would be much worse. Now tell me what you think, Scholar Sulentis.”
“I believe the story of your man-at-arms, Greylin. She’s Belenese and I’m concerned that we’ve done great harm by treating her this way.”
“And her skin color? It is a sign of—”
“Yes, yes, yes! It is a sign!” Haran said. “She’s a summoner. Look. Look. The veden is black, yes? Of course it is. A creature of night. That wasn’t why I showed you the picture. Look at the summoners in front of the veden. Look. They are dark skinned, every one. Just as she is! Just so!” He pointed an accusing finger at Telea. “And their hair. I thought them covered in snakes before, but now I see the many braids like hers.”
Telea tried to speak. She knew the people in the manuscript. They were of the Ashan. They were a dark-skinned people, but not all summoners were Ashan. And not all Ashan were summoners. She could explain. Despite all her efforts, all that came out were muffled groans.
“Let her speak, Duke Braxus,” Sulentis said. “Let’s hear what she has to say.”
“No!” Haran shouted. “That would be most dangerous. A summoner’s power comes from their voice! She will call a demon on us.”
“My Lord,” Sulentis said, “a visitor has arrived from Belen. This is a momentous occasion. Think of what it could mean if the East Pass is now open. Think of the possibilities.”
“Yes!” Haran exclaimed. “Invasion! Invasion by summoners and demons!”
“I think this has been a mistake,” Braxus said. “She doesn’t look dangerous. Greylin saw no danger in her. No demons.”
Haran unwrapped the leather bundle that had been atop the book. Telea saw her knife there. “Look! Look in the painting. The summoners all have knives like this one. And your man even admitted that they were taken in by her song. She enchanted them. And her companion! He killed men with his voice!”
“It’s the magic of song,” Sulentis said. “I’ve studied in the Great Library of Sal-Oras. I know much of magic, elementar and otherwise. There are many histories that speak of the magic of song and of blood. The singers do not command evil magic.”
Telea tried to speak again. She wanted to support this Sulentis. She thrashed in her bonds in frustration. The men all stared at her. She calmed herself and attempted to plead with her eyes. She made a soft sound with her voice. There was no magic in it though.
“I would let her speak,” Duke Braxus said. He looked at one of the guards. “Hold your sword ready. If she does some vile magic you will slay her.”
“Yes, my lord,” the man to her right said.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Haran said. “I can make her safe… at least I can drive the demons out of her. Or, wait, wait, I can… I can test her to see if there’s a demon in her.”
“What do you mean?” Braxus asked. “What kind of test?”
“Demons hate fire. If we burn her, any demon in her will be driven forth.”
“This is mad,” Sulentis said. “Burn her? She’s an ambassador of the Empire of Belen.”
Haran flipped pages through his tome. “Her blood. Her blood. We can take her blood and put it on a fire. That will do it.” His finger traced down the page. “Hemlock! Yes, a tincture of hemlock!”
“Stop this!” Sulentis shouted. “You’ll kill her! I want to hear what she has to say.”
“You don’t give orders here,” Braxus said.
“But—”
“Stop speaking, or I’ll have you removed.” Braxus turned to the guard. “Ready yourself.” He nodded to the guard to her left and said, “Remove her gag.”
Telea took a deep breath as the gag was removed. “I’m an ambassador,” she said. “We are all in danger. I must speak. Please, I beg you.”
The guard to her right held his sword against her ribs, ready to thrust. To her left the other guard held his sword ready to strike. “Who are you? Who are you really?” Braxus asked. “Be careful with your words.”
“I am Teleana Telas Tarsian. I’m an ambassador from the Emperor of Belen. Our party crossed the Great Salador Pass, but we were attacked by summoners who betrayed us.”
“Betrayed you?” Haran said. “Betrayed? Then you were with them!”
“Our embassy was made up of imperial ambassadors, singers, healers, and summoners. The summoners turned on us. Not all summoners were in agreement with our mission.”
“And what was that mission?” Sulentis asked.
Telea took a deep breath. Here was her chance… maybe her only chance to convince these men of the importance of her mission. “Five hundred years ago, just after the destruction of the veden, and their revenge on the spiridus, the summoners realized that their war, the Forever War, was lost. Even though they still held the war hammer, Dromost, they had no hope of winning against the combined might of the elementars and the singers.
“To sway the war in their favor, they came upon the desperate plan to open a gate to Dromost’s own world, a world of demons. They would bring an army of demons through the gate and use them to conquer Helna’s world.
“The opening of the gate required a huge blood sacrifice, more powerful than even that which was done to trap the spiridus. The tales vary, but some say that it took the willing sacrifice of thousands. And it worked. The Dromost Gate was opened.”
Telea paused to take a breath. None of the men interrupted her. “Shulazar was there,” she continued. “He was the greatest of the summoners, and the wielder of the Sou
lhammer, Dromost. The moment the first demons passed through the gate, he realized that something had gone wrong. The demons couldn’t be controlled.
“Shulazar threw himself at the demons, slaying them with the power of his hammer and his own blood sorcery. All the while he urged the summoners with him to close the gate.” Telea shook her head. “They couldn’t. Some powerful force held it open from the other side.
“Shulazar was alone with the demons, trapped in a great glyph. Finally, gravely wounded, he used the last of his own blood in a sacrifice that sealed his ward. The gate wasn’t closed, but no demon could pass his barrier.”
Telea’s mouth was dry and she licked her lips.
“So that’s where the Soulhammer is,” Sulentis said.
“What does this have to do with your embassy?” Braxus asked.
“Shulazar’s wards are failing, and there is nothing that can be done to shore them up,” Telea said.
“What about setting up new wards?” Sulentis asked. “Outside of those Shulazar established?”
Telea shook her head. “The summoners told us that it was impossible. The art of such a summoning was lost with Shulazar’s death. Not only that, but they don’t think they could find so many willing victims again.”
“Are there demons there now?” Sulentis asked. “On the far side of the barrier?”
“There were some trapped there when the ward was set. Finding themselves trapped, they fell upon one another, consuming each other until only one remained. It is a mindless brute of terrible power. They call it Gurrat. They say that with each demon it consumed, it became more powerful. They say it’s terrible to behold.”
“Does it wield Dromost the Soulhammer?” Braxus asked.
“No, it’s like an animal. A wild beast. It doesn’t recognize the Soulhammer. No more demons pass through the gate as the brute would consume any that would attempt it.”
“So what can be done?”
“We came to convince the King of Salador to bring Forsvar and the Orb of Creation to the Dromost Gate. Only a great warrior wielding Forsvar can defeat Gurrat. Only the Orb of Creation can close the gate.”