“Interesting. Why don’t we step into my office?” The bard got up and made a show of groaning in pain and straightening his back with a pop. He walked back to a corner table and slid in. “Come, come. Fewer prying eyes and ears back here,” he said in a stage whisper.
Malek sat down across from Angus. He sipped his wine and regarded the old man. There’s more to him than meets the eye—he’s a lot more vigorous than he makes out to be. Maybe it’s a play for sympathy. An aura of magic seemed to surround the bard—hard to pinpoint its source without concentrating, but Malek could sense it. Many bards were reputed to be able to work spells, especially with their music.
“Can you aid me in my quest? I can pay you for your knowledge.” Malek jingled his heavy coin purse and noted the flicker of greed in the bard’s eyes.
“I may have come across certain… knowledges in my travels. Why would you seek such a door? You might not be prepared for whatever horrors might lurk on the other side.”
Malek wondered how much he should tell the old man. Not knowing if Angus was motivated by mere greed or not, he decided to share the basis of his quest. Never hurts to have a sympathetic ear.
“I am apprenticed to a mage—Master Magellan. I hail from Northbrook, a village that lies many leagues from here. One day, I went into town to purchase supplies, and when I returned, I found my master was gone—captured in fact, by a strange band of men from another world.”
“And you met these men?” Angus watched with great interest. “What makes you think they are not of this world?”
“A local shepherd boy watched as they escorted my master ungently away from his tower. They marched through a magical portal of some sort and disappeared.”
Angus listened quietly for a moment. “With magical means, they could have teleported elsewhere in Tyndaria.”
“I don’t think so. I did some research on the sigil they bore: a crimson eye in the center of the palm of a hand. There have been sightings around the realms on occasion, and according to legend, once these people have acquired their quarry, they seem to abruptly disappear—depart this world altogether, it would seem.”
The bard took a long draught from his tankard and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Mayhap you are right about that. I’ve seen a mark like you described before. Those that wear it are not to be trifled with lightly. A young lad like yourself wouldn’t last long in the place they have gone to. It is a bizarre, vile place of necromancers and rogues. Demons and celestials brush shoulders in the streets there and think nothing of it. And there are even stranger creatures there too…” Angus trailed off, his eyes haunted.
“Tell me of this place, Angus. I am still under the tutelage of my master, true, but I do have some talents of my own.”
Angus stared into his tankard for a moment. “That is a long telling, and this old man finds his throat going dry.”
Malek waved to the barkeep, who quickly brought Angus another tankard of mead as if the request was expected. “Well? I don’t have anywhere else to be.”
Angus drank deeply and leaned back in the corner, looking comfortable, his hands folded across his substantial belly. “Very well, then. Many millennia ago, there lived two brothers. They were blessed of the gods. Many believed they were gods themselves, even…”
***
Malek yawned and made his way back to his room. He could feel Angus’s gaze on his back as he walked down the hallway to the handful of rooms the inn offered.
The old bard had promised to meet him near the standing stone just outside of town in the morning. Malek thought back to his encounter with the wild dogs gnawing on the bones that afternoon and shivered. That place has an ill aura to it.
Malek’s mind was still reeling from the bard’s lengthy story. His studies had always mentioned different planes of existence but had never mentioned that city—Nexus of the Planes. He could hardly believe that the next morning he would be exploring what promised to be a fascinating and dangerous place—a different world altogether.
He undressed and slipped beneath the bedcovers. Reaching into his satchel, he removed his master’s journal, which he had brought with him. Once again, he opened it to the page he sought. Magellan’s neat lettering filled the page.
“I am making some progress training Malek. His power is tremendous, yet he has difficulty controlling it. Today, he attempted to light a candle in my laboratory with magic. He succeeded in that, but the rush of power was uncontrolled and set the curtains on fire. Fortunately, I was able to get it put out before it destroyed any of the laboratory.”
Malek smiled at the memory of that day. He was carrying some gold and trinkets salvaged from Magellan’s home, which he thought might aid his quest, but the journal carried the most weight, making him feel almost as if his master was there with him in spirit. He vowed once again to find the old mage so he could resume his training. Malek was aware of his own power but even more aware that he could be a danger to both himself and others if he wasn’t careful. With a sigh, he turned back to the ominous end of the entry.
“It is vital I help Malek control his power—others will seek him out and try to subvert his good nature and use him as a tool, either for good or ill. Yet I cannot shake the premonition that my own past will someday soon catch up to me before I am satisfied with the lad’s training. For the Nexus of the Planes’ darkness casts a long shadow, and its lord’s justice a very long and brutal reach.”
A rough sketch of the crimson eye in the palm of a hand stared up at him from beneath the passage. He shuddered as a chill ran down his spine. Thus far, his quest had been long and boring as he followed the scant clues, which eventually had pointed him to Angus the Adverse here in the picturesque village of Hollowcliff. He knew that his uneventful travels would all change and he would likely find himself in harm’s way.
I just need to control and conceal my magic as much as possible. Best to avoid any conflicts.
He set aside the journal and lay back on the lumpy bed. Sleep took a long time coming, but once it did, his dreams were filled with wondrous and terrible creatures in the ever-changing city-machine of Nexus.
***
Angus remained in the inn for a time after Malek had retired to his room—another foolish youth in search of the Twilight City. The young man seemed more capable than the last few that had come to see him. Although young in years, he seemed confident. Something unusual about the young mage bothered Angus, something he couldn’t put his finger on. He pondered the matter for a while.
There is great power in this one, wild and not easily controlled. He thought of a crumbling dam holding a torrential river at bay. Perhaps this one will prove to be a surprise. The bard was rarely surprised anymore at that point in his long years.
“One such as you will draw the powers’ interest in Nexus. I wish you luck, lad, for you shall need it.” He was tempted to grant Malek passage, but he felt the familiar hunger gnawing at his insides. The more he pondered the young man’s nature, the more he wanted to devour and taste his mysterious essence.
You may prove a fulfilling meal indeed, my young friend.
***
Malek approached the crossroads apprehensively, alert for any sign of the vicious dogs he had encountered the previous day. All was quiet, however, and he couldn’t see any sign of the animals or the prizes they had been gnawing on. The pathway was clear, and the approaching light of dawn seemed to turn the standing stone a pale purple color. The place didn’t hold the menace it had the prior day. His fears from the afternoon before seemed foolish in the light of dawn.
He looked around for the bard but didn’t see any sign of Angus yet. I hope he isn’t still sleeping off all those tankards of mead. The bard had easily put down a number of tankards that Malek himself had purchased. He didn’t doubt the man had drunk plenty more before and after Malek had stopped spending his coin. Come to think of it, all that booze barely seemed to faze the old man. He could probably drink a company of dwarves under the table.
/> “Top o’ the morning, lad!” The voice startled Malek, coming from just behind him.
Malek whirled to find Angus standing a couple paces away, regarding him with a clear gaze, untainted by any aftereffect of the alcohol. How did he sneak up on me like that? If he was a cutthroat, I’d have a knife in my back right now.
“Oh, you… uh, startled me, Angus.” He tried to will his racing heart to slow.
“Did I, now? I guess this old man still can move quietly when he wants to. A life of adventuring teaches hard lessons that are not easily forgotten.” Angus smiled a toothy grin.
Wasn’t he missing teeth yesterday? Malek wondered whether the old man was standing straighter, too—he seemed more hale. Malek shrugged off his nervous thoughts and looked around. Nothing but the still forest was around them. “So, where’s this portal?”
“You’re standing right next to it.” Angus gestured to the standing stone.
“This stone? How’s it activated?” Malek examined the standing stone closely with renewed interest. It was about eight feet high and half as wide, covered with moss and faded carvings of some sigils he didn’t recognize. He placed his hands on it, extending his senses, feeling for the flow of magic. After a moment, he could feel it—ley lines of magical energy flowed around him and converged in the stone beneath his hands.
This is it! I can feel it.
Attuned as he was, Malek also felt something else, another source of magic. However, where the ley lines radiated clean earth magic, the other seemed to radiate darkness and corruption. He whirled to find Angus, or the creature that had called itself Angus, on the verge of attacking him.
The old bard stood about a foot taller than before, lean and long of limb, although he still had a small potbelly. His maw was extended like an animal’s, and his bony fingers sported shiny black talons. Nubs of broken-off horns protruded from the crown of his elongated head. His eyes glinted a sinister red from the hollows beneath his heavy brow ridge.
Malek instinctively drew in the power flowing from the ley lines around him. It swelled within him, washing through his fear and nervousness, until all he felt was the warmth of the magic flowing in his veins. He raised his hands defensively.
“Get away, fiend!” he commanded.
A shield of force sprang up between them, fed by a steady stream of the power he was drawing from the ley lines.
Angus fell away with a hiss. Long, sharp teeth protruded from his maw, and his forked tongue darted in and out of his mouth. “Foolish mageling,” the creature growled. “You know not who you face.”
“Fulfill your bargain, Angus the Adverse, or whatever your name is, lest I destroy you. What of the bones I saw here yesterday—were those the remains of your last victims you promised to help?”
“Fools always get their comeuppance,” the fiend scoffed. “I should peel the flesh off your bones as well.” Saliva dripped from his maw as he slowly circled Malek, talons twitching and raised as if to strike, yet clearly hesitant to test his power.
Malek was getting a heady rush from the power and felt no fear. He let the shield diminish. “I say again—fulfill the bargain, and I let you live.”
“The mageling has a high opinion of himself. What can you do to one such as I?” Angus darted in and slashed at Malek.
Malek stood his ground. Magic manifested as a bright blue glow, exploding from his hands and bathing Angus in a blue stream of flames. The creature screeched in pain and anger and reared back, tumbling bonelessly across the ground as if to smother the flames.
Angus picked himself up after a moment and snarled at Malek. His filthy clothes now were merely blackened rags clinging to his body. “Very well, mageling. I shall show you the key. Know this: the powers of Nexus will be attracted like moths to a flame if you are so foolish as to display your power this openly on the other side. Except these moths will have teeth and claws to rend and tear your weak mortal flesh.” He growled again in fury.
“Open the portal. I trust not any advice from your lying tongue.”
“Such is your foolishness, disregarding advice of those that have survived that place.” Angus shuffled forward but cringed away as Malek let a short blast of flames loose to dissuade Angus from any further treachery.
Malek stepped back, allowing the fiend to approach the portal. Angus suddenly plunged his hands into the stone. He growled something in a language Malek couldn’t recognize and drew his hands apart. The stone flowed around them like liquid. Suddenly, blue fire blazed, and the interior of the stone collapsed in on itself, revealing a rift as black as pitch, seeming to absorb all light. Angus pulled his hands free and scurried aside. The runes on the standing stone flared a bright orange light.
“Very well. Travel to the Twilight City and meet your end there, foolish mageling.” Angus’s toothy maw seemed to twist into a smirk.
“Begone. I’ll torch your arse if I ever see you again.”
Malek’s gaze remained riveted to the portal. It drew him as the power flowing through his veins drew him. The fiend had mentioned moths and flames—that way led to danger and self-destruction, he knew. However, it also led to knowledge, and he had to find his master, whatever the price.
I can’t allow this fiend to prey on more travelers like this, he decided.
Malek whirled, intent on destroying the evil creature, but Angus was gone. Malek couldn’t sense his foul presence anymore. With a curse, he let the power subside, allowing the ley lines to return as diverted rivers and flow around him, uninterrupted once more. Heeding his master’s warning about holding too much power, he released the energy up into the sky. A watcher would have seen a pillar of flame arching toward the clouds and might have thought the gods themselves were at work.
Far from that. Just a curse I carry with me. Very well—time to visit this crossroads of the planes.
Taking a deep breath, Malek stepped inside the portal.
Chapter 3
Nera almost didn’t notice the cowled figure until it was too late.
She had overslept and was rushing to get to the foundry, not wanting to feel an overseer’s lash for the second day in a row. Her head was pounding from the ale the night before. She hadn’t intended to drink so much after her shift, but with the stress of the day and her worry for Arron following his accident, she let her guard drop. In the morning, she hadn’t wanted to roll out of bed. She quickly stifled a pang of guilt for not having taken the time to visit Arron.
Nera cleared the crowds, breaking into a jog as she entered the Industrial District, clustered around the base of Foundry Hill. A quick glance at the chroniker mast indicated it was nearly dawn. She figured she’d just make it on time. Her eyes were on the foundry when the cowled figure suddenly appeared before her.
The man wore a sand-colored cloak, its cowl up, and hissed at her. “A word, if I may?”
Nera spun away, her reflexes taking over, and avoided the clutch of the man’s hand. “Piss off! Who are you to accost me?” she growled, showing her pointed canine teeth. Aggressive beggars and bold cutpurses were usually taken aback by her appearance. Her hands instinctively went for the hilts of daggers that weren’t on her hips.
“You work in the foundry, yes?” the man asked unperturbed, his voice a sibilant hiss.
Nera peered under his cowl and saw black eyes like onyx and bony protrusions jutting from his forehead. The creature’s lips were a plum color, and black claws filed into points grew from his bony fingers. Not a man at all—plane-cursed like me… or something worse. She felt a sense of wrongness coming off the creature and immediately decided she didn’t want to have anything to do with it. This one is bad news.
“I have to be on my way,” she murmured, trying to edge past the creature while keeping her eyes on it, alert for any sudden moves.
The cloaked figure gestured like a conjurer, and suddenly brilliant gemstones filled its hand, a small fortune’s worth. “This could be yours if you agree to perform a small task.”
“What kind
of task?” Nera asked guardedly. The glint of the jewels convinced her feet they hadn’t anywhere better to be right then.
The creature smiled, its face curling upward as if it had no facial bones—like some type of demonic mummer—which sent a shiver down Nera’s spine. “Merely deliver an item to the foundry.” A small vial appeared in the creature’s other hand. “When you place the mana in the furnace, simply drop this vial inside as well. You can have these trinkets right now… Perhaps they are enough to convince a magister to remove that collar early.” The black eyes gleamed.
Nera eyed the gems and the vial, tempted by the offer. She had never been known to turn down an offer of easy loot. The promise of an appealing bribe for a magister was almost more than she could resist, but another glance at the creature’s face caused her to shudder again. The simple wrongness of the creature made her back away. She hadn’t survived as long as she had on the dangerous streets by making pacts with demons.
“I cannot. If they catch me doing something like that, this collar will never be removed.” Nera spun on her heel and dashed toward the foundry.
Balor’s balls! I’m gonna be late now.
The creature made no reply, but she could feel its wicked gaze on her back as she sprinted across the square toward Foundry Hill, hoping to make it on time.
***
“Are you awake?” Nera stood over the pallet on which Arron lay amongst dozens of others in varying states of ill health. She had come straight to the Beggars’ Temple after her shift ended at the foundry. Her nerves had been frayed all day since the creature had accosted her that morning. She did think to mention the incident to the Watch but was pressed for time and not anxious to feel the lash for being tardy had she spoken to a guard. She suspected the Watch would have sent her on her way with a rude slur and perhaps the back of a gauntlet before they even heard her out. To her relief, there was no sign of the creature after she got off shift.
The Twilight City Page 3