Ghosts of Sanctuary
Page 39
“I have a hard time believing Longwell capable of treachery against his friends,” Cyrus said, “but I suppose it’s been a long time. Best we be on our guard.” And he looked around at his little band and nodded once.
Alaric nodded back, and so did the others, one by one. “Caution is always a wise mantle to cloak yourself in,” the Ghost said, and Cyrus noted that every hand that could hold a godly weapon was touching it, even if lightly.
“If you’ll follow me,” the guard captain said, and beckoned Cyrus forward, “my lord.”
“I will follow you,” Cyrus said, waving to the crowd as he began to pass, moving in the wake of the city watch formation as they threaded their way back through the crowd toward the Citadel rising in the distance.
64.
They were marched to the Citadel gates, which were open wide, guards standing on either side to allow them to stroll right through. Cyrus glanced at the guard standing to the side; a familiar face. It was the guard who’d sneered at him only the day before. He stared, mouth agape, at Cyrus, who maintained his amused smile and proffered a little wave as the line of guards dissolved and he was ushered in by the captain. The gates were closed behind them, the clanking of metal as they shut giving Cyrus an uneasy feeling, a strange punctuation to a day barely begun.
“Be at ease,” Alaric said. “On your guard, but unworried. The gates were closed when we visited, after all. I expect they are not open much of the time.”
“Speak for yourself with that ‘relax’ crap,” Vaste said. “I plan to panic fully, because now we’re totally trapped in here … with people who don’t have godly weapons and can’t use magic.” He blinked. “What do we have to fear again?”
“You taking inappropriate action,” Birissa said, giving him a slap on the bottom that stirred him into motion again as Cyrus moved to follow the guard captain into the Citadel.
The sprawling entry was the same as ever. Timeless, even, Cyrus thought, looking at the slightly glowing walls, still as flawless as if he’d passed through here only yesterday rather a thousand years ago.
“This place has not aged a day,” Curatio muttered to Alaric.
“No,” the Ghost said, and there was a trace of sadness in his voice as they made their way to the metal cage in the center of the entry, with sturdy chains rising up through the center of the building. It was secured along the back wall of the room, and Cyrus frowned. He’d ridden the contraption when first he’d come here, but it had been removed shortly thereafter. He’d not even noticed, given that it simply stood along the back wall, rising up a shaft through the floors above. “Save for perhaps that,” Alaric said.
They were ushered into the box, Cyrus looking around warily as the guard captain got in with them. Once they were in, the operator pulled shut two cage doors, both metal. The old one had been wood, but this one seemed to creak just as much, the black iron straining under their combined weight.
“Sorry,” Dugras said as it let a particularly loud squeal, “shouldn’t have had that second cruller this morning.”
“I doubt you’re the problem,” Hiressam said, looking around with an awed expression.
Vaste must have caught it. “Why, my good man. You look as though Cyrus Davidon himself might come jumping out at you at any moment.”
Hiressam let out a small chuckle, and the tension went out of his shoulders. “Very good. You are correct—what has yet to come can hardly top what has gone before.” A hint of the tension came back in his bearing. “Still … I find myself worried, nonetheless.”
“A smart quality in a warrior,” Cyrus said, looking up through the iron bars above them. “Especially when we’re suspended many levels above the ground in a confined space with no easy escape.” His own voice betrayed tension. Taking this contraption was perhaps not the best of ideas, given all the uncertainty inherent in their current position.
“Indeed, for all we know this is brand new,” Vaste said, “and the method by which the Lord Protector assassinates his enemies. They’re lulled into a false sense of security by the relief at not having to climb thirty floors straight up, and then—whoops! Someone drops the rope holding this thing up and it’s SPLAT! down at the bottom. What a tragic end for my beautiful arse. And the rest of me.”
“I have worked here for many years,” the guard captain said, looking somewhat insulted, “and in that time, we have never had an accident with this device.”
“So what you’re saying,” Vaste leaned toward him, “is that you’re due?”
The guard captain seemed to realize that arguing was a futile pursuit, and he shut his mouth as the box clanked upward. The sound was eerie, chain upon metal, and the air seemed to grow cooler the higher they climbed. Cyrus could see floors passing by now, nearly empty or completely so. The days of this tower being an administrative capital for the Confederation seemed to have passed. About a third of the way up, suddenly the floors ceased being occupied entirely and fell to near darkness, only the glow of the walls shedding any light.
Their rise slowed close to the top, and soon enough it stopped completely. The guard captain opened the gated doors on a small room that opened onto a balcony. Cyrus felt a pang of recognition as he looked at it; once upon a time he’d come along right after the Empress of Enterra had been pushed off it by a particularly cruel guard.
“Memories, eh?” Alaric asked, at his side.
“That’s the problem with a place that hasn’t changed,” Cyrus said as they moved forward toward grand doors that were manned by two guards in much more opulent dress than those of the city watch, their livery gold and their armor shining, as though it had never seen the wear of battle. “It does tend to bring them back.”
The doors were thrown open then, and inside lay a sweeping room with a throne against the back wall, grander than the wooden dressings of the place back when the Council of Twelve had made it their court. It was draped in finery, silks and curtains, and a glorious purple carpet lay across the entirety of the floor. Torches burned on small sconces within, and the air held the aroma of incense.
A man sat on the throne, draped in finery of his own, of a sort that reminded Cyrus, just slightly, of the King of the Elves and his brilliant rainbow garb.
“Nothing about this is familiar,” Vaste said, blinking as they all paused with Cyrus just outside the room’s entry.
“Your voice is,” came the call from the figure on the throne. At this distance, Cyrus was hard-pressed to tell that it was Longwell. The skin tone was right, but his features were indistinct. Cyrus took a couple careful steps into the room, slowly making his way forward. The figure rose upon the dais, pushing off the opulent arms of his seat. He stared down at Cyrus, an intensity to his expression. Cyrus stared back.
Where once there had been benches for people to sit in a gallery before the Council of Twelve, now there were wide open spaces, appropriate for a throne room where audiences were given, rather than a gallery where petitions could be heard and Councilors addressed with both grievances and requests. Everything about this room was different, and the finery made Cyrus feel cold, the very atmosphere chilling his skin.
“The décor is definitely an improvement,” Vaste pronounced.
“A compliment from my old friend Vaste,” the Lord Protector said, sounding amused. “A rare reward.”
“He remembers me,” Vaste said, clearly pleased. “Thank the dead gods someone does. Finally!”
“You are a hard one to forget,” the Lord Protector said, reaching the end of the dais. Something in his voice, his cadence—it was all wrong. Cyrus stared at him; the features were indistinct, lacked almost any weathering. Which would be expected—he probably hadn’t aged, not with Amnis, the Spear of Water, in his possession, but still …
Cyrus edged closer to the dais, but carefully, easing through the wide space of this throne room.
“Come closer, my old friends,” the Lord Protector said, almost a quiet awe seeping into his voice. “I see Alaric—not gone after a
ll, eh? And Curatio! And …” He took a step down. “Vara herself … returned from death at the hands of the God of War … Truly wondrous …”
There was a sort of naked hope in the Lord Protector’s voice that seemed earnest in his delight at seeing them all, and yet still … some small rankling suspicion ran through Cyrus’s body, tickling the back of his neck.
“It is us,” Cyrus agreed, now only twenty or so paces from the Lord Protector. He stared into the face, seeking signs of familiarity; clearly Longwell recognized them. Why, then was Cyrus having such difficulty recognizing this visage—albeit not entirely clear at this distance and somewhat hidden by the strange headdress framing his face.
Was this the King of Luukessia that he’d ridden with for years?
“Truly, it is …” The Lord Protector agreed. “Has Sanctuary preserved you all this time? You have not aged a day—any of you …”
Cyrus blinked. Longwell knew about Sanctuary?
“It has,” Cyrus said cautiously. The Lord Protector beamed down upon them, hands clear of any sort of weaponry. He looked into the face and …
It was not right.
“Who are you?” Cyrus asked, impatience causing him to ask it flat out. Vara thumped his vambrace at the bicep, albeit gently, but he barely noticed. He only glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and, by way of answering her reproach, said, “The features are wrong. The voice is wrong. And … where is Amnis?” Cyrus took another step forward. “Where is the Spear of Water, Lord Protector?” He glared at the man before him. “Who are you? And where is Samwen Longwell?”
The man stared down at him, and a cool expression fell over his face like a curtain dropping on a performance. “I haven’t the faintest of idea about Lord Longwell’s whereabouts … Cyrus.”
“You do know me,” Cyrus said, staring back at him. “You know us. Who are you?”
“Who I am is unimportant,” The Lord Protector replied. “What is important … is how we can help one another.”
“Let us end this charade,” Curatio said, and stepped forward, thunderheads boiling over his face, clouding it with anger. “I cannot perhaps do what I once could with magic, but what I have left should be sufficient to this task—”
He spun his hand and made a circle, throwing his palm out at the Lord Protector, who started to recoil as a blast of light hit him squarely. Gone in an instant were the glorious robes, gone then was the headdress that gleamed like a sun. The light in the room dimmed a little, but what was left showed the Lord Protector plain, and what remained …
Was a skeletal figure in dark robes, with navy skin, staring out at them from sunken eyes.
“Malpravus,” Cyrus said, and he drew Rodanthar instinctively. The only sound behind him was every other weapon being unsheathed, and the shouts of guards behind them echoing and ringing down the tower, though for good or ill, in surprise at Malpravus’s sudden unmasking or alarm at these intruders pulling their weapons at their master, he neither knew nor cared.
The old necromancer drew himself upon the steps to the dais, templing his bony hands back together, and looking at Cyrus with a glint in his eye. “Truly … it is good to see you again … dear boy. All of you, really.”
And into the moment of silence that followed, rang one voice, as Vaste shouted loud enough to be heard down on the street. “I WIN!” He pumped his free hand furiously, Letum clutched in the other, and looked at each of them in turn. “You all owe me SO. MUCH. GOLD. And also …” His face fell, and he slapped Letum into both palms, gripping the weapon tightly, ready for battle. “… Shit.”
Cyrus Davidon Will Return In
Call of the Hero
The Sanctuary Series, Volume 10
Coming Late 2018!
Author’s Note
Thanks for reading! Obviously after eight main books (now nine) and three side volumes, Cyrus and company are well known to most of you, as is the land of Arkaria. And what do you even do for a follow-up after having them face gods and something that feels like death itself?
Well, if you're me, you fast-forward them a thousand years, destroy their homeland, and leave them a hell of a lot of problems to solve. Because putting them back in a pastoral, peaceful, slightly different version of Arkaria where everything is beautiful and it's all glorious, firm troll arses and honey mead would be BORING. Though I'm sure our friends would enjoy themselves in such environs, you, the reader, would be bored out of your skull. I mean, I like to think I'm a decent writer, but creating dramatic tension out of a peaceful world would be like me spinning straw into gold, and last I checked, my name wasn't Rumple-anything.
So here we go – into a new world, with new challenges. Maybe it's a little dark or off-putting to you. I understand. Trust me when I tell you I'm setting up another epic story, one that will hopefully top the end of the story arc you saw in LEGEND (Volume 8). But it's going to take some time to set up, and honestly – I can't write books as large as CRUSADER and LEGEND anymore. They just kill me, for more reasons than one, and they also take forever to get out (some of you probably remember CRUSADER taking a year or LEGEND arriving months late – and thanks to those of you who didn't write me angry emails about that, cuz those books were GINORMOUS). So expect to see more reasonable sized works in the realm of AVENGER, CHAMPION and WARLORD in the future, which will keep you happy because they show up regularly and me happy because banging my head against the wall constructing doorstopper-sized tomes does not make me enjoy life at all. It makes me angry. And you won't like me when I'm angry, because the author gets angry – you probably guessed it – PEOPLE DIE. Including your favorite characters.
So let's keep the author happy, shall we? In an effort to keep the body count down to manageable levels and stave off anymore unfortunate incidents like that one time in the Dragonshrine with all the deaths and crying and yarghhhh – yeah, you remember that. Let's not do that again.
As has become somewhat standard for this series, I'm not going to be setting release dates, so if you want to know immediately when future books become available, take sixty seconds and sign up for my NEW RELEASE EMAIL ALERTS by CLICKING HERE. I don’t sell your information and I only send out emails when I have a new book out. The reason you should sign up for this is because I don’t always set release dates, and even if you’re following me on Facebook (robertJcrane (Author)) or Twitter (@robertJcrane), it’s easy to miss my book announcements because … well, because social media is an imprecise thing.
Come join the discussion on my website: http://www.robertjcrane.com!
Cheers,
Robert J. Crane
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Editorial/Literary Janitorial duties performed by Sarah Barbour and Jeff Bryan. Final proofing was once more handled by the illustrious Jo Evans. Any errors you see in the text, however, are the result of me rejecting changes.
The cover was once more designed with exceeding skill by Karri Klawiter of Artbykarri.com.
Thanks to Jennifer Ellison and David Leach for being my first readers on this one.
The formatting was provided by nickbowman-editing.com.
Thanks to John Clifford and Jennifer Ellison (J Ells) for reading ahead.
Once more, thanks to my parents, my in-laws, my kids and my wife, for helping me keep things together.
Other Works by Robert J. Crane
World of Sanctuary
Epic Fantasy
Defender: The Sanctuary Series, Volume One
Avenger: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Two
Champion: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Three
Crusader: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Four
Sanctuary Tales, Volume One - A Short Story Collection
Thy Father’s Shadow: The Sanctuary Series, Volume 4.5
Master: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Five
Fated in Darkness: The Sanctuary Series, Volume 5.5
Warlord: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Six
Heretic: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Seven
; Legend: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Eight
Ghosts of Sanctuary: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Nine
Call of the Hero: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Ten* (Coming Late 2018!)
A Haven in Ash: Ashes of Luukessia, Volume One (with Michael Winstone)
A Respite From Storms: Ashes of Luukessia, Volume Two (with Michael Winstone)
A Home in the Hills: Ashes of Luukessia, Volume Three* (with Michael Winstone)
The Girl in the Box
and
Out of the Box
Contemporary Urban Fantasy
Alone: The Girl in the Box, Book 1
Untouched: The Girl in the Box, Book 2
Soulless: The Girl in the Box, Book 3
Family: The Girl in the Box, Book 4
Omega: The Girl in the Box, Book 5
Broken: The Girl in the Box, Book 6
Enemies: The Girl in the Box, Book 7
Legacy: The Girl in the Box, Book 8
Destiny: The Girl in the Box, Book 9
Power: The Girl in the Box, Book 10
Limitless: Out of the Box, Book 1
In the Wind: Out of the Box, Book 2
Ruthless: Out of the Box, Book 3
Grounded: Out of the Box, Book 4
Tormented: Out of the Box, Book 5
Vengeful: Out of the Box, Book 6
Sea Change: Out of the Box, Book 7
Painkiller: Out of the Box, Book 8
Masks: Out of the Box, Book 9
Prisoners: Out of the Box, Book 10
Unyielding: Out of the Box, Book 11
Hollow: Out of the Box, Book 12
Toxicity: Out of the Box, Book 13
Small Things: Out of the Box, Book 14