Adventurers Wanted, Book 5: The Axe of Sundering

by Forman, M. L.

  Quickly, Alex carved a hole large enough for him to walk through. Once freed from his prison, he moved swiftly down a long hallway. There was only one other cell door, and when he looked inside, he saw his friend. With three quick strokes of the Axe, Alex was inside the cell and by Whalen’s side.

  Whalen’s prison wasn’t cold like Alex’s had been, but Whalen remained motionless. The only clue that he was still alive was that his chest was barely rising and falling.

  “Whalen,” Alex whispered. “Wake up.” He reached out and touched the wizard’s shoulder.

  The moment Alex made contact, Whalen sat upright on the cot, eyes wide open, gasping for breath.

  Alex took a step back in surprise.

  Whalen turned to him. “Alex? What are you doing here?” He looked around in confusion. “Where are we?”

  “In the grip of the Brotherhood,” Alex answered. “But not for long. Can you walk?”

  “I think so.” Whalen stood up with Alex’s help, and then squinted and held his hand in front of his eyes to block out the light shining from the Axe of Sundering. “How are you doing that?”

  “I’ll explain later,” Alex said. “We have to go. Now.”

  Alex slung Whalen’s arm over his shoulder and helped the old wizard from the prison cell. Together they stumbled down the hallway, past a dozen other cells—all empty—and through a dark wooden door. They emerged into what appeared to be the common area of the Golden Swan back in Telous.

  Alex stumbled to a stop in surprise. He helped Whalen sit down at a nearby table before he took a closer look at the room they had entered.

  The room was nearly an exact replica of the building he knew so well. Tables and chairs were placed around the room, though in the real Golden Swan they would be filled with adventurers gathering to talk and drink. Here, there was no one but Alex and Whalen. The room even had the same white walls, large windows, and emerald trim around the shutters—but instead of the image of a swan with emerald eyes hanging over the back bar there was a creature with three heads and six arms and a jaw opened wide as if to devour everything in its path.

  Alex felt a chill run down his spine at the sight of it.

  “The Gezbeth,” Whalen said, his eyes fixed on the image of the creature. “The symbol of the Brotherhood. It is as I feared.”

  “What is it?” Alex asked.

  “I fear we have arrived at the headquarters of the Brotherhood itself. We are in the very belly of the beast, Alex.” Whalen’s voice was low. He tapped his fingers on the table and frowned. “Something’s wrong. I don’t feel like myself.” Whalen closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, his face was gray. “It’s impossible,” he whispered. “My magic . . .” He opened and closed his hands as if he could grasp something that had already been taken away. “I felt it return to me when you broke the Orion stone, but now . . . the Brotherhood. . . . They haven’t taken my magic, but they have blocked me from using it.”

  “They did that to me as well,” Alex said. “Or they tried to, at least.”

  Whalen nodded to the Axe of Sundering Alex had slipped into his belt. It was still bright, but not blazing like the sun. “You broke the spell? How?”

  Alex rested his hand on the top of the axe. “I am Alexander Taylor, adventurer, wizard, and dragon lord.” He smiled at Whalen. “And you trained me well.”

  Whalen offered him a weak smile. “I am not sure how much I had to do with it.”

  “Nonsense. You have been an amazing teacher—and friend.” Alex sat in the chair opposite Whalen. “What is our next step? What do we do now?”

  “I believe I can answer that,” a voice said from behind them.

  Alex and Whalen both turned. Alex half-rose from his seat, his hand on the axe at his side.

  A man stood at the doorway. He was tall, and might have been considered handsome if not for the scar that ran down nearly the entire left side of his face. The wound bisected his left eye, leaving it milky white and cold. His right eye was dark and filled with cunning. He met Alex’s gaze with a smile.

  “Gaylan,” Alex said. He had seen the man’s face before in a vision. “Head of the Brotherhood.”

  Gaylan bowed. “I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Master Taylor. Master Vankin.” Magnus stood behind Gaylan, his hands tucked into his robes, a cruel smile on his face.

  “What do you want?” Alex demanded. “Why have you brought us here?”

  “Rest easy, Master Taylor,” Gaylan said. “I want nothing more than to talk. For now.” He strolled into the room, his black robes sweeping over the tops of his boots. Magnus trailed behind him like a dog. “I have wanted to talk to you for some time, now, so I was quite pleased when Magnus told me you both were in the dungeons below. I was less pleased when I ventured downstairs to find you both gone.” He flicked his hand in the air and Magnus stopped immediately. “Magnus here assured me his spell would keep you contained, but, well . . . clearly he was mistaken.” Gaylan dropped his hand back to his side, and Magnus crumpled at the same time. He hit the floor with a thud, blood dribbling from his nose.

  “Master, please,” he begged. “I—”

  Gaylan made another gesture, and Magnus’s words choked off into silence. A horrified expression crossed his face, and he put his hands to his throat as if he could force his words to emerge.

  “I am not interested in your excuses,” Gaylan said to Magnus. “Nor your failures.”

  Alex could feel the power radiating off Gaylan. He had faced many powerful creatures and wizards in the past, but Gaylan was something more. An aura of age and assurance surrounded him. Alex suspected Gaylan had not been defied by anyone in a long time.

  Gaylan reached the table where Alex and Whalen were and sat down. “Please, gentlemen. Let us be civilized while we still can.”

  Alex returned to his seat, slowly moving his hand away from the axe at his belt. Whalen looked between Alex and Gaylan with a worried expression on his face.

  “Now, I believe your question was regarding your next step, yes?” Gaylan asked. He placed his hands flat on the table. They were strong hands, but unscarred. Alex wondered if Gaylan had ever handled a weapon before, been in battle, or if he had always relied on his magic to do the work for him. If so, then perhaps Alex could use that to his advantage.

  “I’m thinking my next step is going to be to kill you,” Alex said.

  “Then you would fail,” Gaylan snapped. His gaze locked on to Alex and didn’t let him go. After a moment of tense silence, Gaylan’s face relaxed into a smile, though the expression didn’t reach his one good eye. “I suspect that would be a new experience for you, am I right, Master Taylor?”

  “What do you mean?” Alex asked.

  “I mean that considering all the adventures you have been on, you very rarely have faced a challenge that has defeated you.”

  “I worked hard—” Alex began.

  “—and you found much success, yes, I know. But I believe one can take the measure of a man by examining his failures more than his successes.”

  “I thought you weren’t interested in hearing about failures,” Alex said.

  Gaylan waved away Alex’s words. “I’m not interested in his ”—he pointed to Magnus, still silently quivering on the floor—“but I am very interested in yours. Not only have you failed to stop the Brotherhood on multiple occasions, but you still fail to understand what is truly going on here.” He shook his head. “Did you really think that these adventures of yours had no other purpose except to provide you with the opportunity to defeat monsters, gather treasure, and uphold some silly notion about honor?”

  “Do not joke about honor—” Alex began, hotly.

  Gaylan laughed. “And there is that temper I’ve heard so much about. I wondered when it would appear.”

  Alex clenched his jaw and tried to get his anger back under control. He needed to stay calm and level-headed. He could see that this battle with Gaylan would be won with words and not weapon
s, at least not yet.

  “Honor is more important than treasure,” Alex said, quoting one of the first truths he had learned about in the Adventurers Handbook .

  “No, power is more important than treasure.” The scar along Gaylan’s face twisted as he spat out the words. “I would think that you, of all people, would understand that. But once again, you have failed.”

  Alex opened his mouth, but Whalen put his hand on his arm and spoke instead. “You know we are powerful—we escaped from your prison. And we know you are powerful—we saw what you did to Magnus. You wanted to speak like civilized gentlemen, Gaylan, so dispense with the games.”

  “Master Vankin, I am surprised that you would lie to me.” Gaylan clucked deep in his throat. “Claiming to be part of a we when we all know that you are blocked from accessing your magic. You are useless. And you did not escape from my prison.” He pointed at Alex. “He did. He is the one who managed to summon his magic despite the wards placed on the cell and the spells that should have entrapped him. How did you do that, by the way? I’m honestly curious.”

  Alex kept his mouth shut.

  “Ah, I see . . . silence is to be your strategy,” Gaylan said. He leaned back in his chair. “A wise move. Very well. Then, if you would please follow me.”

  Gaylan stood up from the table and walked toward the tall windows along the far wall. He didn’t look back, as if he expected Alex and Whalen to follow without question.

  Alex glanced at Whalen, then, after a moment, they both joined Gaylan at the windows.

  Gaylan threw open the shutters and spread his arms wide as if embracing the view.

  On the other side of the glass lay a shifting kaleidoscope of colors. It made Alex dizzy at first, but the more he looked at it and studied it, he saw that what he had thought were just colors and shapes were actually small images of places, each one exquisitely detailed. Some places he recognized immediately: Mr. Clutter’s shop. The Oracle’s White Tower. The Tower of the Moon. Albrek’s Tomb. He also saw images that looked to be bird’s-eye views of Alusia, Vargland, Norsland, Thraxon, Nezza, Varlo. Other images flashed before his eyes, but they weren’t of places he recognized.

  “The known lands,” Whalen murmured, standing beside Alex. “All of them. But how—? Why?”

  “Gateway magic,” Gaylan said. “You have only just begun to discover it, but I have had centuries to perfect its use.” He reached out his hand, close enough to touch one of the swirling pictures, but he pulled back at the last moment. “One touch, and I am instantly transported exactly where I want to go.”

  “That is how you and the other members of the Brotherhood can travel through the known lands so quickly,” Whalen said.

  “And without much notice,” Gaylan said. “It’s beautiful. I designed the system myself.”

  “If only we had known what to look for,” Whalen said, “we might have discovered your headquarters earlier.”

  Gaylan laughed. “I very much doubt that.”

  “Why do you say that?” Alex asked.

  “Because this place,” Gaylan gestured to the building they stood in, “does not exist anywhere in the known lands. It is impossible to find unless you are a sworn member of the Brotherhood.”

  “If it doesn’t exist in the known lands, then where does it exist?” Alex asked.

  Gaylan nodded. “You are finally starting to ask the right kinds of questions, Master Taylor. It exists in a place between the known lands. A reality that is next door to the worlds that you know. By anchoring this place to the actual Golden Swan, I am able to eavesdrop on the adventurers who come and go from that place, learn the news of the different lands, keep an eye on my enemies, and evaluate who might be beneficial to my plans. You would be amazed at the amount of information I have been able to acquire without ever having to step foot out of this place.”

  He turned on his heel and headed for the windows on the opposite side of the room. He left the shutters open behind him.

  Alex was tempted to grab Whalen’s arm, touch one of the pictures, and escape while Gaylan’s back was to him. He had even extended his hand toward Whalen when Gaylan spoke without looking around.

  “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you. Seeing as how you’re not part of the Brotherhood, the gateway magic would split your soul into tiny fragments and scatter them to the winds. You would be lost before you ever arrived at your chosen destination.”

  Alex and Whalen exchanged a look. Alex lowered his hand.

  “Now this,” Gaylan said, “this is my favorite view of all.”

  This time when he opened the shutters, he did so reverently, as if what was on the other side was something so precious that it required the utmost protection.

  Alex approached cautiously. The view was remarkably unimpressive. The perspective was as if they were standing on a hill, and the land that spread out behind the window was barren of life, the sand a soft gray color. Nothing moved. Alex could imagine the silence from that place seeping through the window and into the room.

  He took a step closer. In the distance, though, was something that Alex thought he recognized: a low stone wall stretching from horizon to horizon.

  “A wall?” he whispered.

  “The wall,” Gaylan corrected. “The wall between life and death. I believe you’ve been there a time or two yourself.”

  Alex swallowed. “You created a gateway portal to the wall ?” He didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t. “You’re insane.”

  “I’m a visionary,” Gaylan said. “I did not rise to be the head of the Brotherhood by having small aspirations.”

  “Traveling to the wall like this . . .” Alex shook his head. Every bone in his body screamed in protest at what he was seeing. “It is an abomination.”

  “Which is why I’ve never done it,” Gaylan said.

  “What?” Alex turned to look at him in surprise.

  “Oh, the portal isn’t for me to travel there. It is for someone there to travel here. ” Gaylan’s smile stretched across his face, pulling his scar out of alignment. A strange silvery sheen appeared in his blind left eye.

  “But the amount of magic it would take to make that possible . . .” Whalen shook his head. “It is beyond the ability of any one man.”

  “Precisely,” Gaylan said, carefully closing the shutters.

  Alex breathed a sigh of relief at not having to see the gray lands and the wall. He remembered all too well the pull of the wall, the desire he had to cross over into the shadowlands. He would have been lost there once had his elf friend Calysto not pulled him back.

  “Where did you get the power?” Whalen asked quietly, not looking at Gaylan. “How are you harnessing it?”

  Gaylan regarded Whalen for a long moment, then turned his attention to Alex. “What do you think our purpose is? The Brotherhood, I mean.”

  “To sow unrest in the known lands. To wage war and rule over them,” Alex answered. He and Whalen had spoken many times about their theories regarding the Brotherhood.

  Gaylan shook his head. “Again, you disappoint me, Master Taylor. Such narrow vision. Such small goals.” He sighed. “Yes, controlling the known lands is important—even necessary—and the power we gain from that is certainly worthy of our time. But our goals in the known lands are not merely to sow unrest. We are looking for very special people to help with our very special project.” He nodded toward the closed shutters behind him.

  “Wizards,” Alex guessed.

  “Not just wizards, though they are high on our list. We search for magical people of all kinds, of all abilities and talents. We find them, we bring them here, and we, well, persuade them to relinquish their magic to us.”

  “The Orion stones,” Alex said, feeling numb. “You were using the Orion stones.”

  “They really were quite handy,” Gaylan said. “When Jabez stole them from me, it slowed us down considerably.”

  “He stole them from you?” Alex asked.

  “Jabez had once been my most faithf
ul servant,” Gaylan said. “I trusted him like my own son.” He stopped and then looked at Whalen. “Oh, but then he was originally your family, was he not? I should have known that he’d one day turn on me just as he turned on you. It seems neither of us could teach him the concept of loyalty.” Gaylan reached out and gripped Alex’s shoulder. “I must thank you for killing him.”

  Alex knocked away Gaylan’s hand. “I didn’t kill him for you.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “What are you saying?” Whalen asked. His face had gone pale.

  “You and Jabez were linked, mentally, because you were both wizards. But for many years, he hid himself from you. And then one day, that link was restored and you began to realize how evil he had truly become. It was almost as if he was challenging you to come find him. Does any of this sound familiar?”

  It did to Alex. Whalen had told him those same details in what seemed another lifetime.

  “That was you?” Whalen asked.

  Gaylan smiled coldly. “Again you failed to properly estimate my powers. By then, Jabez had stolen the Orion stones and had hidden the Axe of Sundering from me. I needed them back. I didn’t have time to do it myself, so I enlisted your help.” He gestured to Alex and Whalen. “However unwittingly it was offered. And now I have everything I need to complete my spell and split open the wall.”

  “You’re going to destroy the wall?” Alex asked in disbelief.

  “Of course. The Axe of Sundering is the only object powerful enough to break the barrier between life and death. And the wall must be split asunder. How else will my true master finally return from beyond the shadowlands and assume control of all lands—known and unknown? How else will those of the Brotherhood achieve the immortality we were promised?”

  “You’re wrong, Gaylan,” Alex said. “The Orion stones were destroyed along with Jabez, and the Axe has chosen me as its master. It will not work for you.”

  “But it will work for you, ” he said. “And that is all I need. Well, that, and the impressive amount of magic you can wield even when pitted against my own. I’m looking forward to adding your power to mine. And once I have your power, the Axe of Sundering will obey my command.” He reached out his hand. A dark black shadow gathered around his fingers. Small flashes of lightning streaked through the blackness. “Now, this will not hurt at all.”