Time passed quickly, and then Ortis called a stop. They were down at the bottom of the cliff, and he had found Millie.
13
Two days at a hard gallop had taken its toll on Embril, and she was relieved when Lieutenant Jarhad reined them in for the night. It would only be for a few hours, but it would be enough time to apply Darby’s ointment, eat, and take a nap. The mantra had kept her alert so far, but it was only a short-term remedy. She needed a full night’s sleep, and it couldn’t be postponed much longer. Fortunately, they were making even better time than she had expected; Lieutenant Jarhad had kept them riding deep into the night and made them leave before dawn. It was a wise decision; the spells would unravel soon.
When she dismounted, she clung to the horse’s mane and leaned heavily against it until her legs were hers again. Behind her, Giorge hopped off as if he were born to the saddle, stretched once, and then assisted his mother to the ground. She staggered and leaned against Giorge for support, and a soft moan escaped from her. Embril cringed. She knew what that moan meant, and there was something she could do for her.
“Stay with me, Magdel,” Embril said. “I have something that will ease your discomfort.” But did she have enough of the ointment left? She had been using it quite liberally, perhaps even more than Darby would have recommended, and there might not be enough left for both of them. Still, there was only one more day of hard riding, and if she was desperate she could turn into a horse again.
“Darby! Elmer!” the Lieutenant called out from ahead of them. At first, she ignored him, but then she remembered that she was Elmer and sighed. “The Lieutenant is calling for me,” she said as she reached into one of the many pockets in her robe. She took out the little jar of ointment, and then brought the magic a bit sharper into focus so she could see the two shapes beside her. “Here,” she said, slipping the jar into the smaller one’s hand. “This ointment will help, but use it sparingly. We have more riding to do tomorrow, and I am also in need of it.”
“Thank you,” Magdel said as she accepted the jar.
Embril turned and hurried forward. She knew the Lieutenant by his size; there was only one other man in his patrol who was taller than he was, and that man was much bulkier. The portly outline of magic beside him was clearly Darby; none of the other men could match his girth. “Lieutenant?” she said as she half-waddled up to them.
“How long will these spells last?” he asked. “Darby tells me they’re already unraveling. Whatever that means.”
Embril nodded. It was a pointless gesture, since they couldn’t see her, but it was made out of habit. “All spells begin to unravel once they have been woven. Magic does not like to be confined.” She focused intently and studied how the magic was fluctuating around the two men. They had been the first two to receive the spells, and they should be the first to have them fail. There were chinks in the magic surrounding them, but the knots were still holding the spells together. How long they would remain intact was unclear, but there was little she could do to maintain them. Hours? A day? Two? She decided on a conservative estimate and said, “They will likely fail sometime tomorrow afternoon, perhaps a bit earlier than that.”
Lieutenant Jarhad’s magical outline nodded as he said, “All right. I’ll need you to go with me tonight. We will be checking out the fires, and if anything happens with your spells, I’ll need you there help to get us back. You can do that, can’t you?”
Embril frowned. She needed sleep—and wanted the ointment. “How far are we going?”
“To the river,” he replied. “At the pace we’re traveling, it will only take a few hours to get there.”
“If we go near the fires,” Embril muttered, “we’ll suffer from the Tween Effect—or worse. Are you sure it is worth risking?”
Lieutenant Jarhad shifted position. “Yes,” he said. “We have orders to find out what is tending to those fires. If it’s the fishmen, we need to be prepared to deal with them and their mushrooms. If it’s not them, we need to know what’s causing the Tween Effect. Either way, we’re going.”
Embril scowled, knowing that the Lieutenant couldn’t see her, and shook her head. It didn’t matter to her what was making the Tween Effect; if they got too close to the fires the mushrooms’ smoke could kill them—or worse, they might get so paranoid that they would kill each other. Even without the mushrooms, she and the Lieutenant had a strained, adversarial relationship. What would the paranoia do to that? There had to be a better way than riding up to the fires to see what was going on, but what was it?
“Well?” Lieutenant Jarhad demanded as he turned. “Bring your horse and join me.” Once he was mounted, he turned and said, “Darby, you will be in charge until we return. Rest for a few hours in that clearing—” he pointed at an opening in the trees about a quarter mile off the road “—then continue on this road until the spells give out. Make camp at the edge of the forest and wait for us there. Conceal yourselves as best you can. If we don’t rejoin you within three days, complete the mission.”
“Yes, Sir,” Darby said, turning away and calling out, “Tobar! Tend the horses. The rest of you, eat and rest in that clearing. Three hours!”
Embril didn’t go back to her horse. Instead, she looked at Lieutenant Jarhad waiting on his horse and thought about what she could do if the spells were lost. There was the Cloaking spell, of course; she could cast that from memory if she needed to, but she was in no shape for casting four of them and she had never tried it on a horse before. Or someone else. Could she do it? A few hours by horse at a hard gallop? That wasn’t very far, really. Perhaps….
“Tell me, Lieutenant,” she said. “Are you afraid of heights?”
The Lieutenant shifted in his saddle and looked in her general direction. “What do you mean?”
Embril rolled her eyes and asked, “Are you afraid of heights? Did it bother you when I held you out over the canyon?”
“Of course it bothered me!” he snapped. “You could have dropped me!”
Embril shook her head. “That’s not what I meant,” she clarified. “When you looked down, did it make you uncomfortable? Did the height make you dizzy? Were you disoriented or nauseous? Did it cause you any physical discomfort?”
Lieutenant Jarhad’s horse shuffled its feet as he turned it sideways and leaned forward. “No,” he snapped. “And if you’re thinking—”
“How would you like to fly, Lieutenant?” she asked. “We can make it to the river and back just as quickly, and we should be able to see what’s by the fires without getting too close to the smoke. It would greatly reduce the likelihood of being affected by the mushrooms.”
Lieutenant Jarhad fell silent for a long moment, and then asked, “Flying? Like what you did when you flew across that canyon?”
“Yes,” she replied. “We can leave the horses behind, do the reconnaissance, and then return to the horses and catch up with the others. If the spells concealing us fail, we will have a much better chance of escape than we would if we were riding the horses.” She could cast the Flying spell on herself easily enough without practice, but what about Lieutenant Jarhad? He didn’t know how to fly, and she didn’t have time to teach him. Could she incorporate him into her spell and carry him? Maybe they should tie a rope between them so he wouldn’t get lost? If he started flapping his arms….
“It would go more quickly if we didn’t have to ride around the trees,” he mused. “You’re sure it will work?”
No, Embril thought, almost laughing to herself. “I’m sure I could do it,” she said. “If you trust me and listen to my directions, then you should be able to do it, too.” She paused and thought for a long moment. “However, it would be easier to cast the spell without the other spells being wrapped around us. We may need to abandon them, and that would make it more time-consuming to rendezvous with the others. I won’t know for sure until I try to cast the spell.”
Lieutenant Jarhad thought for several seconds, and then said, “All right. Try it with these s
pells intact. If that works, fine. If not, I can always send Darby and Tobar to check out the fires.”
“I will need about half an hour to prepare,” Embril said. “And I will need Darby’s assistance,” she added as she shifted her weight and felt the protest from the lingering welts on her thighs.
The outline of Lieutenant Jarhad nodded as he turned his horse and led it toward the clearing. She walked after him, wondering if Darby had any more of his ointment handy….
14
Angus walked down the dimly lit corridor until he reached the door at the end. There was a snake’s head protruding from the door, and it reminded him a great deal of Symptata’s crest. Only Symptata’s crest had three snake heads with the top one poised to strike, not one. The shape of the snake was similar—a narrow angle to the jaws, bulges on the side of its head where the poison glands were located—and he couldn’t quite shake the peculiar feeling that they were somehow connected. But how?
Sardach coalesced in front of the snake’s head, and a thick tendril emerged from the whirling mass of his smoky form. He inserted the tendril into the snake’s head, and then stopped. Angus? Sardach thought. Are you at the door?
Yes, Angus said, a bit surprised that Sardach didn’t already know it. He had known exactly where he had been on the lift when he was invisible, so why didn’t he know his location now?
The tendril wriggled and the snake’s maw slowly closed down upon it. It seemed to hold Sardach’s tentacle firmly as the eyes of the snake began to glow red. Angus focused on the magic around him and smiled. It was a very simple spell, one that would impress many of Argyle’s visitors, but not Angus.
A deep, resonating voice bellowed through the corridor, and Angus almost jumped. “Who calls upon me?”
Say your name, Sardach thought to Angus.
Angus frowned. He didn’t want Argyle to know he was there. The whole point of the Cloaking spell was to conceal his presence from Argyle, and if he said his name, Argyle would know he was there. It would undermine at least a part of his plan, if not the whole of it.
Say your name, Sardach thought to Angus, this time sounding a bit more urgent.
Still Angus hesitated, unwilling to give away his presence. The snake bit down more firmly on Sardach’s tendril, and venom dribbled down the side of its coal-black surface.
If you wish to gain entry, Sardach said, Say your name. It is the only way.
Angus shook his head. It wasn’t the only way. He could destroy the door with the wand, and the little magic that protected the door could easily be subverted. But that would not only alert Argyle of his presence but also of his purpose. He sighed and half-whispered, “Angus.”
The snake’s maw seemed to ease for a moment, but a few seconds later, it clamped down with a viciousness that should have severed Sardach’s tentacle. But it didn’t; it passed through it as if it weren’t there, and the jaws clanged together. Venom oozed from its fangs and dropped to the floor in a small, sizzling puddle. The snake’s head stayed that way for several seconds before easing back into its original position and its eyes faded to dull, empty gems.
Sardach dissipated into his natural, cloud-like form and hovered next to him. One comes, Sardach warned.
A moment later, the door began to slide open. A wiry young man with a short sword held out before him stepped into the opening and stopped. He looked down the corridor and frowned. The tip of his sword began to shake, and he gulped. “Where—”
Sardach engulfed him.
The youth slashed about with his sword and grabbed at his throat with his free hand. He squawked like a strangled chicken as he fought futilely against Sardach’s clutches. He dropped his sword and began to sag.
Don’t kill him! Angus hastily thought as the youth’s eyes bulged and he slumped to the floor.
It is necessary, Sardach said. He would harm you.
Before Angus could reply, it was over. The young man lay sprawled and unmoving on the floor.
Come, Sardach said, fluttering through the doorway.
Angus glared at him and thought, You didn’t need to kill him. He could have been subdued.
Sardach barely paused to give Angus time to step over the body, and then led him into the chamber.
Angus hurried after him, and a few seconds later, he was through the antechamber and inside Argyle’s meeting chamber. It was a huge room with very high ceilings, and Sardach led him to a large throne in its center. It was an impressive throne. The armrests were made from human skulls plastered together, the seat was at eye level, and the back was composed of slabs of iron welded together.
Wait here, Sardach thought as he fluttered away.
Angus did not have to wait long before he heard the muffled rumble of an inarticulate shout followed by the heavy clomping of humongous footfalls. An eager yipping joined them, and Angus turned in their direction and backed away from the throne. As he watched, a giant wearing a frilly powder blue blouse, purple pantaloons, and black boots stomped into the chamber and cast his eyes about. At the giant’s side was a huge dog, one that was nearly as tall as Angus and much heavier. It had a spiked collar and slavered in anticipation. Argyle, Angus thought, drawing the magic close to him and—
There was something strange about Argyle. He was smothered in magic that radiated out from his center, and the core was no larger than Angus and shaped in much the same way. Magic, Angus thought. Argyle is a deception! The real force is buried within him! He stared at that core, wondering if he could somehow uncouple the strands holding the image together—no, not the image, the substance of Argyle. It wasn’t a mere illusion; it was something much more tangible, and the magic—
It wasn’t the magic Angus understood; it was like the magic of Symptata’s curse. It wasn’t even a part of the magic around him; it was something different, something separate and self-contained. It was also beyond his understanding.
Argyle stepped up to his throne and sat down. He frowned and turned to his side and hissed, “Where is he?” He seemed to listen for several seconds, and then turned to stare in front of him. When he spoke again, his tone was pleasant and his eyes were scouring the part of the room in front of him. “Angus? Sardach tells me you have my key. I would like it back, and if you give it to me, I will reward you handsomely for it. Why don’t you show yourself so we can negotiate?”
Angus smiled to himself and said nothing. He had come to know enough about Argyle’s duplicity not to trust him. There was no sense in relinquishing his advantage until the agreement was concluded. “I think not, Argyle,” Angus said.
Argyle’s dog’s head snapped in his direction, growled, and bared his teeth. Argyle put a restraining hand on its head and turned to Angus as he said, “Come now, Angus. How can I know for certain that you have the key I seek if I cannot see you and the key together?”
Angus frowned. It was a fair point, and yet, it was not enough to convince him to release the Cloaking spell. “Nonsense,” he said. “Sardach has already assured you that I have the key you seek. There is no further need for confirmation.”
Argyle kept one hand on his dog’s head and rubbed his chin with the other one. “You may have left it somewhere when Sardach wasn’t watching.”
“I did not,” Angus said, stepping softly to the side and watching the dog watching him as he moved. “You must take my word on that.”
Argyle rubbed his chin some more, and then he turned to Sardach, who was hovering beside him, and concentrated. After a moment, he half-shouted, “What!” He listened intently for a long moment, and then stood up and shouted, “What!” Another second or two passed, and then Argyle turned his head and shouted “If you won’t do it, Pug will.” He pointed at where Angus had been, snapped his fingers, and said, “Kill!”
Pug leapt toward Angus, barking and growling. Angus made the first motion of the wand as he stepped aside. Pug followed him, and he knew there was no chance he could activate the wand in time. Still, he started the second motion, and then Sardach appeared
in front of him and lunged forward, toward Pug. He solidified as he went, and wrapped himself around the dog, tripping him up. Angus hurried to the side, and when he turned back, he saw Pug writhing on the ground, yipping in agony. Then, quite suddenly, a dozen ebon spikes thrust out of its chest. A moment later, it sagged quietly to the ground.
“Pug!” Argyle shouted, taking a step toward the dog before stopping. “Sardach!” he bellowed, glaring at the elemental as it reformulated itself into the shape of a condensed cloud of smoke. “How—”
Angus is under my protection, Sardach thought, letting Angus hear it. You will not harm him. Sardach moved to hover protectively near Angus.
Argyle stepped forward and knelt down to pick up Pug. He cradled the dog in his arms like it was a small child and stroked the blood-soaked fur. There were tears in his eyes when he glared at Sardach, and a few seconds later, he said, his voice soft, resigned, “What are your terms?”
Angus held onto the wand, wondering if he would need it after all. He had expected to use it on Argyle, but if Argyle was willing to negotiate, and if Argyle satisfied the terms he had in mind…. “My terms are simple,” Angus said. “They will be easy for you to meet.”
Argyle let Pug slide from his arms and stood up. He walked back to his throne and sat down. He clenched his hands tightly together and rested his chin on them. “The terms?” he asked.
“I have no need for the key and will gladly hand it over to you,” Angus began. “In return, you and your minions will seek no vengeance upon me or those associated with me. The matter will be ended, and I will be free to leave and go about my business without interference from you or those associated with you. Finally, I am to be reimbursed for the trouble you have caused me. Gems valuing ten thousand gold should suffice. Do these things, and the key is yours. If not,” the wand was becoming difficult to manage, so he made the final gesture and pointed it at the far wall. Thunder reverberated through the confined space, and a strong breeze ruffled Angus’s robe and sent dust flying through the room. When he turned back to Argyle, the giant was cowering on his throne.
The Golden Key (Book 3) Page 34