The Titan's Tome (The Mortal Balance Book 1)

by M. B. Schroeder

  Golas put a shield around her and crafted one for himself. He broke Madger’s larger, encompassing spell so they could escape. The giantess went down with a cry, clutching her head. The fliers dove toward them and Golas dragged Camry away with the shield spell. Sacrifices had to be made.

  Kharick gave a shout and swung his ax and hammer at the cirKad now able to reach them. Seal clambered to her feet and took a protective stance beside him, throwing small knives. Neither were able to land a killing blow.

  A cirKad crashed into Golas and Camry, sending them tumbling away from each other. The shields held but they were only bubbles of protection, unanchored. Golas rolled over, his pale blue eyes widened in fear as the creature crashed into the barrier. He fired spears of magic, as it pummeled his shield, biting and clawing to get past it. The spells ripped through its body but didn’t slow its attacks. Desperate, Golas engulfed the whole monstrosity in a ball of blazing fire. It screeched, the long maw chattered with needle-like teeth. Finally, it flopped off him and died, charring the grasses around it.

  Camry rolled to her feet. She couldn’t use her abilities with Golas’s spell around her. If she opened herself up to the magic, to wield it, she would destroy the shield and Golas’s concentration with it. The magical barrier fit snuggly over her, moving with her, so she could still use her weapon. She pulled her sword, but before she could swing it, one of the fliers smashed her to the ground. Only her mentor’s shield saved her from being skewered by the long talons.

  Golas was trying to kill the fliers assaulting them, but he couldn’t keep up with the numbers, as the whole flock bore down on them. He began casting vast destructive spells, sending ash from the corpses floating like snowflakes, but nothing deterred the ones that remained.

  “Filthy beasts!” a voice boomed, the sound deep, like an ocean wave crashing while underwater.

  Hope flared in Golas’s breast, as he looked for the speaker. A large Icren-Lord, towering close to thirteen-foot, with bat-like features, tall wide ears, dark eyes, and wings folded over his shoulders, had crested the rise. He wore leather armor with dark metal plates riveted to it over his slick gray fur. Carrying a spear, tipped with the same metal as his armor, the Icren-Lord took to the air.

  “Help us!” Seal screamed.

  “Slear!” Golas cried out, recognizing the immense Icren-Lord who’d helped him escape Limbo the last time he’d been there. Before he could fully appreciate how quickly the creatures fell to the spear, Camry shattered his shield spell. With a curse, he collapsed to his knees and was distantly aware of the booming of her power in full release.

  Camry couldn’t bear waiting for Golas to get the creature off her any longer. The weight wasn’t crushing her because of the shield, but the spell was anchored to her so it would move with her, like armor. It couldn’t stop her from being pushed over or held down, and she couldn’t stand with the flier on top of her. The shouting voices, indistinguishable past the thundering flapping of the creature’s wings and its infuriated cries, were the last push she needed to use her own power to fight back. Golas had left the rest of the group defenseless. If they were calling out for help, she needed to go to them. She broke the shield, and hit the creature on her with her power, though it still slashed at her arm, leaving a deep wound from shoulder to elbow before it died.

  Golas was smashed to the ground as two of the creatures fought over him. Their talons kicked and slashed at him, until the blows, combined with the shattering of his spell, rendered him unconscious.

  Morkleb struggled from the river as Madger recovered from the breaking of her spell. She grimaced and crafted another shield around them, including Morkleb in the protection. The cirKad around them screeched and took back to the air, fleeing before the Icren-Lord could reach them.

  Camry cleared the creatures around her; the heavy crashes of magic she channeled shredded their bodies. She looked for Golas as the fliers began to turn away, but didn’t see him on the river bank. “Golas!” Her voice echoed down the valley and off the river.

  “They took him.”

  Camry whirled on the Icren-Lord, her eyes flaring with her power. “Who are you?”

  “Slear,” DraKar called as he flew across the river.

  Slear gave a little nod toward DraKar, the sarpand had introduced him.

  “Where is Golas?” she demanded.

  “The Fallen has him,” Slear answered and gestured to the volcano with his spear.

  Camry looked back and saw the mob of creatures leaving the valley, the grasses crushed from their assault and covered by dead bodies. DraKar landed and took a few steps toward the Icren-Lord who topped him in height. The two clasped forearms in greeting.

  “We have to get Golas back,” Camry insisted, trying to get the two’s attention.

  “He nearly got us all killed!” Seal screeched as they joined them.

  DraKar flinched away from her shrill voice. Damn that old elf. “We will.”

  “Why are we waiting?” Camry raged.

  Slear moved to block Camry from Seal. “Peace, little Tseyla.” He knelt and opened his arms to her. She collapsed against him and he held her as he had since she was a baby.

  Madger shared a questioning look with Kharick. Whoever Slear was, Seal trusted him, and he seemed able to calm her.

  Morkleb gestured to Camry’s arm. “May I?”

  She looked at the deep slash, the muscles were cut, and she wasn’t able to move her arm. The pain from it had been pushed aside by her panic during the battle and worry for Golas. She gave a nod and he placed his hands on either side of the wound. The bleeding stopped, the muscles knit back together and the skin stitched closed, leaving only a pale line of new skin and stiffness.

  “I’m sorry,” Camry murmured. “I’m sorry Golas did that to all of you.”

  “He’s always been a coward,” DraKar said with a scowl.

  Morkleb’s ears shivered and twitched back and forth, he’d been afraid too, terrified, but he’d never thought to leave any of them behind. He glanced over his shoulder at the seething aura around DraKar, not even him. The pitch black of the sarpand’s aura had fully succumbed to the dark smoke. He no longer had the signature of the Hells on his soul. How was that possible?

  Slear stood and stepped back from Seal. “Come. We’ll go back to my home and then you can tell me what brought all of you here.”

  “Khain is here too,” DraKar said. “Probably trying to find a way under the river. Lucky the Fallen hasn’t improved the cirKad, seems the river was enough to deter them this time. Though, the fliers were worrying.”

  Slear nodded, Khain would find them. “They may drown, but I think the Fallen pulled them back so they wouldn’t try to enter the ruins. The wards still hold over the remains of the citadel.” He looked past them, toward the volcano, and a shadow of anger darkened his features. “We’ll need to regroup quickly to free Golas. It won’t be easy to get him back.”

  “How do you know Golas?” Camry asked.

  “I helped him return to the Mortal plane the last time he was here.”

  They walked to the top of the tall hill where the ruins of a vast citadel stood sentry. The diffused light from the sunless sky cast small ghostly shadows around the remaining pillars and foundation stones. From the hill, the sea of grass stretched to the horizon all around them. Only the volcano blemished the view. The grasses shimmered and waved with the wind, mirroring the gusts like waves on an ocean.

  Seal looked over the low broken stones, all that remained of the sprawling citadel and homes of the ancient icren. Most of the ruins had returned to the ground after the First Limbo War, after the remaining icren sacrificed themselves, and only the handful of Icren-Lords remained.

  “We kill him this time,” DraKar said. “It’s what Armagon said to do.”

  Slear sighed and nodded. He looked around, ears swiveling. “Where is Armagon?

  DraKar took a breath to fully recover from the fight and to bolster himself. “Dead.”

&nbs
p; Slear made a sympathetic sound. “I’m sorry.”

  “He’s free.”

  Slear nodded solemnly, “Good.”

  He led them down the hill, away from the sight of the volcano, along what had been a street long ago. The street had been wide enough that four wagons could have traveled through with ease. Crumbling stone structures on either side were beyond recognition.

  “Why is Khain trying to find a way under the water?” Camry asked as they walked.

  “Water, pure water, undiluted and running, dissolves him,” DraKar explained. His voice was steady and even like he was reciting text. “It doesn’t kill him, but it is the only thing that hurts him. He can only escape it by sinking and seeping away through the bottom, if not in a water-tight container.”

  “And those creatures? They’re like him?”

  “No. The cirKad obey their master. Alchemy made Khain, a mixture of chemicals and magic. The cirKad were crafted by taking kadmoni and twisting them with the same type of alchemy. They cannot swim and would drown in the river until enough corpses made a bridge,” DraKar answered.

  Camry turned to look at Seal. “The kadmoni?”

  “If we’re lucky, they don’t know I’m here,” DraKar grumbled.

  “Are they going to attack us too?”

  “No, the children won’t bother with you.” Slear answered. “Just DraKar.”

  “Why?”

  DraKar’s tail lashed back and forth. “Because Armagon and I brought an army of demons here.”

  “The Second Limbo War,” Seal said with a dark look up at him.

  “Easy, lass,” Kharick cautioned. “We be in no position to fight among ourselves.”

  At the base of the steep hill was a home that showed signs of having been rebuilt several times. The stones were mismatched in size and color, and the walls didn’t match in height. The roof was thickly thatched with the native grasses, and a chimney stood tall on one wall, cold and smokeless. The door was made of more tightly bound grass, with mud slathered over the bundles, and it looked like it needed another coating.

  Slear motioned for them to enter. Inside the hovel, everything was built to accommodate him. The furnishings were even large for Madger.

  “Sit,” Slear offered, and laid out pillows for them. He passed out mugs filled with a dark liquid.

  Camry startled at the strong alcohol scent. “What is this?”

  “Dark Water,” DraKar answered and drank deeply.

  She sipped at the lip of the large mug and gagged on the drink.

  Slear chuckled. “Something lighter? Some wine?”

  Camry nodded with a grimace, as tears stung her eyes from the Dark Water. Morkleb asked for the same, while Kharick drank with an appreciative raise of his eyebrows.

  “Water?” Madger asked.

  Seal stayed close to Slear and sipped the strong alcoholic drink. “You can’t let anyone know I’m here, or I was here,” she whispered.

  Slear glanced at DraKar. “I understand.”

  “Will we be attacked here?” Morkleb asked.

  “No, the wards on the ruins keep the Fallen’s forces at bay.” Slear finished passing out the drinks.

  Madger jumped and nearly dropped her cup when Khain rose up fluidly from the fitted stone floor. “Earth’s bones.”

  Khain gave her a bemused grin before turning to DraKar. “We’re missing one. Did you leave the old elf on purpose?”

  A flicker of a snarl exposed DraKar’s fangs before he settled his features. “He was across the river with the others.” He continued to drink and refill his mug, wishing he could forget his brother’s death. That he could leave Golas to Arkhed, and not face the twisted icren without Armagon and the NecroKwar.

  “He broke my shield to flee,” Madger muttered.

  “Nearly lost us all cause of it,” Kharick added.

  Camry frowned and tugged at her torn sleeve. “I broke the shield he had over me so I could fight. He lost control of his own shield.”

  “Ahh,” Khain intoned. “Well, I tracked him for as long as I dared. Ark—”

  “Fallen!” Slear snapped. “Don’t invite his attention.”

  “Apologies, the Fallen has Golas locked in one of his deeper caves. He doesn’t have him in the labs yet, but that may depend on how long he’s entertained by his new toy.”

  Camry turned sharply to him. “Entertained?”

  “Would you rather I tell you what is likely happening?”

  Camry turned away from the dark man. “N-no.”

  “Armagon is dead and we don’t have the NecroKwar. Now the bastard has Golas,” DraKar grumbled.

  “I did feel a disturbance with the NecroKwar,” Slear muttered. “Armagon had it?”

  DraKar gave a single nod and took a long drink.

  “Can’t you kill him like you did Asmodeus?” Camry demanded.

  Slear startled. “You killed the devil king?”

  DraKar glowered at his empty mug. “Refill this and I’ll explain. Then we can figure out how to beat a mentalist that I have no defenses against. If he doesn’t best me with magic alone.”

  Madger looked up from her still full cup in surprise. “Mages can’t be mentalist.”

  “The Dark One’s Touch didn’t only twist the Fallen’s body. It affected his mind as well. He can’t use magic and mental abilities at the same time, but he is competent in both. But he does favor mentalisim now to control the cirKad,” Slear said.

  Madger blinked and went back to staring at her water. She’d read about all this before. The swords, the Icren-Lords, the Fallen, the First Limbo War. Her breath caught, the Titan’s Tome. The water sloshed from her cup as her hands shook.

  Kharick laid a thick hand on her wrist. “We’ll be all right, lass.”

  Madger closed her mouth tightly and nodded. Now wasn’t the time to bring up the lost book and her murdered family. She shoved away her emotions and took a drink, trying to drown them.

  Armagon was dead. She hadn’t gotten to speak with the person he mentioned who might have helped her reach the Maze. Perhaps she would die while trying to end the creature touched by the Entity of Evil? That would be worthy of the Ancient’s attention, wouldn’t it?

  “Could the kadmoni help us?” Morkleb asked.

  “No,” Seal answered.

  “They barely survived fighting him before. They won’t come out of hiding to fight him now. Nor would they side with DraKar,” Slear said.

  DraKar took another long drink and recounted everything to Slear, from what Armagon had told him about Sadria and first picking up Death’s sword. He explained what he knew of before he’d been rescued and what had happened until they’d reached Limbo. Though he omited Selien’s identity. Slear kept DraKar’s mug filled with the strong alcohol, as the tale unfolded. By the end, the mask had slipped from the sarpand’s face and his scaled features creased with worry and regret.

  The light had faded from the thistle colored sky, leaving it a deep purple, with swirls of ebony and deep blue, as though a painter had casually mixed all the colors together. Slear lit several tight bundles of dried grass in the fireplace and brightened the room with two oil lamps. Kharick and Morkleb had begun to doze, Seal and Madger sat quietly, staring into the past.

  “My brothers are dead too,” Slear muttered. “Only Aerdoan remains, but he’s distant, trying to mind the Balance that isn’t his to mind.” He noted the bleary look in DraKar’s eyes and said, “Take the chair near the fire.”

  Camry wasn’t as intoxicated as DraKar. “Will you tell me about the icren that lived here? Why is the race on my realm different?” With DraKar asleep, they wouldn’t be planning a rescue. It didn’t seem fair to leave Golas with Arkhed overnight. But none of them, besides Khain, was in the condition to fight after fleeing the horde of creatures.

  Slear smiled down at her from where he stood, the alcohol made his dark eyes swim. “Tell her Khain. Try not to embellish too much. I need to find my bed before the floor finds me.”

  M
adger stirred and set down her empty cup. She settled against the wall to listen, perhaps the tale would be similar to what was in the Titan’s Tome. Seal’s eyes were drooping and her cup rolled from her fingers.

  With the snores of the drunken men rumbling around them, Khain settled next to Camry to tell her the story. “The icren were originally from Limbo, ageless, and children of Chaos. They lived without an enemy here for ages. But one was curious and began traveling beyond his realm, skipping through the different planes like a child hopping stones in a lake. There were many wonders for him to discover, and he became brave and traveled to a dark realm where no one else would go.

  “There he encountered the Dark One, an evil so pure, simply looking upon it twisted the icren. The Dark One’s desires became the icren’s, and he was shunned by his brethren for his evil deeds. Outcast from his race, he became the Fallen. He began taking his brothers and sisters, and twisting them, converting them to serve the Dark One, like him.

  “It began the First Limbo War. The Dark One was poised to rule this realm, the icren were dying, their race almost gone.

  “The Sisters, Life and Death, knew if their Brother took this realm from Chaos, it would begin a cascade, breaking the delicate Balance. Already, the Dark One was crafting creatures to take over their realm, the Mortal plane. The Sisters came to the remaining icren and offered them a bargain, something to keep the Balance in place.

  “For the price of all icren, save five, they would help stop the Dark One. Two swords would be forged, the NecroKwar and the Alisande, with them they would bind the Dark One in sleep. The last five of their race would become Icren-Lords and would guard the weapons.

  “The icren agreed, and with the blood and souls of their kin, forged the swords, binding the Dark One to sleep. In time, two of the Icren-Lords could not bear to live for so long among so few. The Sisters took pity on the pair and brought them to the Mortal realm, tempering them to the icren you know today.”

  Madger’s eyes drifted to Morkleb, her lids heavy and finally succumbed to her exhaustion.

  Khain looked down at Camry, curled up on the pillow, asleep. He sighed and muttered, “No one listens to me.”