Relics- The Chronicles of Solomon Drake

by Robert York

  The tall Wizard regarded me with distaste for spoiling his moment. Granted, I couldn’t see his expression through the Janus mask, but I could read body language. I realized after a few moments that all eyes were on me. I gazed around self-consciously.

  “What,” I asked innocently. “After spending years in a Catholic orphanage it irks me when people don’t get Bible quotes right.”

  I heard the palpable disapproval rolling through the gathered assembly like the spontaneous wave at a football game. The tall Wizard raised the cross high in the air.

  “Ostendo Sum Thy Specialis,” the tall Wizard’s cacophonous spell rose up echoing off every surface of the stone ruins.

  The weather worn stone of the cross disintegrated, simply blowing away like desert sand shifting over dunes in a gentle breeze. What was revealed beneath the stone was a beautifully crafted Celtic inspired sword that was once held by an extremely famous king, Arthur.

  “Excalibur,” murmured Merlin in my mind.

  Judging by the tall Wizard’s posture, he gazed at the sword with what I assumed was avarice. I was fifteen feet away, yet I could feel the power radiating from the blade of this weapon. I was both awed and terrified. Awed for the swords beauty and power, terrified because this guy now possessed it. He didn’t care about the swords historical significance, nor did he appreciate it for what it was, a terrible weapon of immense power.

  “To see you brought low and beaten at your own game gives me immense pleasure,” the tall Wizard said relishing the moment. “Tell me Barnabas, how does it feel knowing you have been finally bested by a Wizard more cunning than yourself?”

  Barnabas remained silent. I didn’t know what he was waiting for. In the past, - when I witnessed a few of his fights - he’d always banter with his adversary before quickly vanquishing them. Was he scared? Was he being cautious because he didn’t have any of his magical tools at hand? Was he remaining quiet as to not anger the tall Wizard in order to spare the rest of us? His calm silence made me feel uneasy.

  “You always thought of yourself as the cleverest of all Barnabas,” the tall Wizard said. “But we know now that was never the case.”

  The tall Wizard lowered the sword passing it off to a Vampire that placed it into a wooden box held by one of the Yetis. The tall Wizard then raised a gloved hand, which he held out in front of him. Between his thumb and forefingers was a crystal, Tilly’s crystal to be exact.

  “Where is the soul essence that this vessel held,” the tall Wizard asked coolly.

  “If you are more powerful and more intelligent than I, you should know the answer to that question,” Barnabas replied curtly.

  The tall Wizard let out a chuckle filled with arrogance and contempt.

  “So brave yet foolish, haven’t you realized that you’ve lost,”

  The tall Wizard turned to one of the Yeti’s behind him, beckoning with a jerk of his head. The Yeti let out a grunt moving to the side. A pair of Yetis lumbered toward us dragging a body in each of their powerful hands. The bodies made no independent movements.

  They stopped in front of the field raising the beaten and bloodied bodies high in the air like a fisherman holding prized catches. The features of the bodies were so mangled they were unrecognizable. Glancing to my right I could see the expression on Barnabas’s face. He knew the deceased, three men and a woman.

  “Yes,” the tall Wizard oozed satisfaction. “You know who they are, your old friends Victor Felderbach, Rodfar Groakus, Zerial Thrum and last but not least Montagar Greybeak.”

  A feral chortle rose up from the throats of the Bogeymen, like the mocking laughter of a pack of ravenous hyena.

  “Greybeak proved to be the strongest of the four, he nearly died before he gave us the hiding place of the sword.” He said. “But, Zerial gave us the location of this,” he continued flinging a beckoning hand out to the side the way a game show model might showcase a prize. “She began talking the moment I applied the Searing Stone.”

  A Searing Stone for those of you interested is a nasty torture device. It’s a volcanic rock, which comes from the Mediterranean Sea near what use to be Pompeii. The stones are normally the size of a chicken egg. Sizes can vary however. The stones are polished to a mirror finish, and then magic runes are chiseled into its surface. An incision is made somewhere on a victim’s body and the Searing Stone is placed inside. The stone activates when it comes in contact with living blood. The longer it remains within the body the higher the temperature becomes. It is not uncommon for a Searing Stone to burn right through a victim’s body.

  One of the Vampire twins stepped forward a small box held in her hands. She stood next to the tall Wizard as he opened the lid with a flourish revealing an ornately made ring, A Signet Ring.

  It wasn’t much of a stretch to puzzle out that King Arthur once owned this ring. From what I’ve seen so far, this guy possessed two of the artifacts and was dangerously close to getting a third from me. Our only wild card was Oswald and Glum. As long as they evaded capture we could keep tossing monkey wrenches into his plans.

  Whatever they might be.

  “That looks nice, did you get that thing out of a Cracker Jack box,” I said, trying to get a rise from him.

  The tall Wizard stared in my direction. Then he said with no emotion.

  “We will see how funny you are when I peel the skin from your body,”

  He made a “get rid of those things” gesture with his hand indicating the bodies. The Yetis grunted, hurling them in the direction of a dense group of lurking Bogeymen. They fell on them like ravenous dogs, screeching and growling over the sounds of flesh being torn from bone. I didn’t have a clear view of what was happening and I thanked God for that. At that moment I realized that we’re all going to die. Whoever this guy was he wasn’t going to let us go. We were a liability to him. He was going to kill us no matter what happened and no one was going to come to our aid.

  That thought depressed me. Don’t misunderstand me; I’ve always known that I’d die one day, eventually. Just not so soon, I felt cheated in a way. Even though I was sort of a nerd that had horrible luck with women. I did however look forward to one day - as remote as the prospect might be - meeting a woman that tolerated my unusual quirks and lifestyle. A woman who loved me for me and of course my dashing good looks. - No chuckles please - A woman that looked a lot like Adrianna minus the fetish for blood drinking. Granted, if I watched the things that came out of my mouth when I opened it I could potentially live for quite a few centuries.

  I slumped visibly exhaling a deep breath. I had what the tall Wizard wanted, but I couldn’t let him have it. I let my eyes travel from one of my cellmates to another, Barnabas, then Wilmar, to Race, then Tilly. I completely overlooked Bart. My gaze rested on Adrianna, our eyes meeting. She stood calmly with her usual self-possessed nature, as though this situation was as inconsequential as picking up her dry cleaning. Given the world she was Lord and Master over a situation like this was quite possibly commonplace. Despite her mask of confident resolve I detected a glimmer of emotion directed at me. That made me smile. She did care about me. Given our brief time together I didn’t know if that emotion was akin to infatuation or if she genuinely had feelings for me. It was a shame that we’d never get the chance to see where our emotions or lust would lead us. We were after all standing on a sharp cliff overlooking the bleak endless chasm of death. I smiled a resigned smile. I detected a minuscule break in her composed emotional mask when she read the expression on my face. I turned my attention back to our captors.

  “Now,” the tall Wizard began again as he held out the crystal. “The location of the soul essence if you please.”

  His question was met with silence, save for the gnawing of sharp teeth on bone off in the distance to our right.

  “Must I resort to violence,” he said exasperated.

  “Apparently,” I replied.

  “Solomon,” Barnabas chided.

  “What,” I broke in before he could continue. �
��He’s going to kill us no matter what we do,”

  I turned to glare at the tall Wizard.

  “Isn’t that right,” I demanded.

  “Of course,” he said matter of factly. “But I assure you all that it will be quick and painless.”

  “See,” I said pointing at our captor.

  Have you ever found yourself in a position where you didn’t know what the hell you were doing? I was in that situation now. I just couldn’t stay quiet any longer. The odds stacked against us sucked. We were unarmed and imprisoned. Surrounded by hundreds of things that wanted to kill and eat us.

  “I detest using barbaric means to gain information from my captives but I am on a schedule and require the information,” he said coldly, then added “Now.”

  I grinned sardonically at him.

  “Even if I tell you where the essence is and that is a big if, you are still one relic short,” I countered. “Sort of throws off your schedule doesn’t it stretch.”

  The tall Wizard struck a mocking thoughtful pose as he crossed his arms tapping a gloved finger against the mask.

  “You’re right,” he said. “But you are operating under a false premise, I never indicated one way or the other that I didn’t have the crown.”

  The tall Wizard glanced to his left and the group of Yetis near him parted once again. This time what entered sent icy pangs of horror and sadness coursing through my veins.

  Mindlessly shuffling toward us was Glum. He looked like they beat him brutally with rubber hoses. His skin was a mass of welts and dark black bruises. Glum’s clothes were tattered and bloodied with one of his shoes missing. In his arms cradled like a sleeping infant was the unmoving form of Oswald Gleason. Oswald appeared to be as bad off as Glum injury wise that is. His left eye appeared to be gone and his left hand was swollen to twice its size mangled horribly. Given his position in Glum’s arms I couldn’t see the extent of his injuries, I knew he was in bad shape. The sound of his shallow labored breathing carried to my ears over the distance between us. He was still alive.

  The most unnerving thing about this sight was Glum’s eyes. They were gone. Well, not gone per say, but devoid of the irises replaced instead by a faint green glow. Over his right breast was something, a round metal object attached to his skin by large serrated hooks. The object was roughly the size of a teacup saucer glowing the same faint green as his eyes.

  “A mind taker,” Merlin said disgusted. “The work of the Dark Elves.”

  My emotions kept me from speaking, but my body tensed in rage and I wanted to kill that asshole with the mask. Frustrated angry tears flowed from my eyes. Glum gently placed his adoptive father on the stone floor in front of Barnabas then moved away, standing before us slack jawed. I noticed tears were flowing from his swollen eyes as well. Barnabas stared remorsefully down at his friend. Adrianna moved in behind him placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He didn’t even notice it. The other Vampire twin moved toward the tall Wizard carrying a box. I knew that it contained the crown. He placed his hand upon the lid caressing the wood. He turned to Barnabas gesturing for the crown to be placed by the other two relics.

  “Now, I hope that you understand the situation better,” he said. “I will kill each and everyone of you until I find the essence starting with this dandy fat body and his troll.” His extended index finger tracked over each of us like a marksman aiming for a bullseye landing finally on me.

  “And finishing with the smart ass,”

  We were fucked.

  The tall Wizard raised a disinterested left hand to Glum.

  “Kill him,” he said boredom in his tone.

  “Kill Oswald Gleason.”

  Glum lurched toward Oswald raising a powerful-balled fist above his head. Barnabas yelled for Glum to stop and I averted my eyes closing them tight.

  Chapter 25

  When I opened my eyes, I was standing in the familiar circle of light near the pool of quicksilver. Merlin leaned on his slender staff regarding me.

  “Why am I here,” I asked my head darting around. “What happened to Oswald?”

  “Rest easy young Solomon time passes quickly here but at a snail’s pace in the conscious world,” “Oswald remains alive for the moment, we must talk.”

  I composed myself.

  “About what,” I protested.

  Oswald is about to have his head caved in by Glum and he wants to have a chat. Someone needs to have a talk with Merlin about his priorities.

  “Since I know what you know I wanted to discuss what you thought was going on at this very moment,” he said patiently.

  “Haven’t you been watching everything through my eyes and listening through my ears,” I asked incredulously, “Oswald along with the rest of us are about to die!”

  “Yes I have and yes I know what is at peril. But the question you need to ask yourself young Solomon is have you?”

  Of course I’ve been watching and listening. Haven’t I? What the hell does he mean, “Do I know what’s going on here?”

  I paced around the pool of quicksilver. My head lowered in thought running events back through my mind.

  OK.

  We were trapped in a circle of magic that absorbs energy, which makes the barrier more powerful if we attack it. Our belongings and our weapons were taken away. Obviously our captors weren’t underestimating our abilities or taking any chances. Which possibly meant they were frightened of us. But, why be afraid when they had us surrounded and outnumbered by things that wanted to kill us. Most of the tall Wizard’s accomplices arrayed against us were Mid-Realm creatures. Who would benefit by using them in the mortal world as soldiers? Someone that either didn’t have enough muscle of his or her own or someone that didn’t want to call attention to themselves.

  Then of course there was the tall masked Wizard collecting the relics. Why was he collecting them? What was he going to do with them once he got them all? More importantly, how was he able to find out who the people were protecting the relics and how did he get close enough to grab them. That last question was singularly important, especially in Bialek’s case. Bialek lived in the magical equivalent of a fortress. His compound was well known throughout the magical community to be as impregnable as Fort Knox. Everyone including Barnabas had to send word to Bialek before they visited. Barnabas never just popped in to say hello. That’s why Bialek had the stone circle five miles away from his place. Bialek hated surprises. The magical defenses Bialek had arrayed around his place would’ve stopped an army. Judging by the bodies or what remained of them around the area, they had.

  Which meant...

  I turned abruptly to lock eyes on Merlin’s. A twinkle danced in his blue eyes when he saw realization in mine. A vulpine smile stretched across his face.

  “It was an inside job,” I said stunned.

  “Precisely,”

  “So, that tall Wizard is Bialek? Did he fake his own death,” I asked excitement in my tone.

  Merlin’s smile faded as he arched a reproving eyebrow. He let out a long-suffering sigh.

  “No, if you recall Tilly’s words after your encounter with the albino and the Vampire twins the answer lies there,” he said frustrated.

  I rubbed a hand over my face, thinking. Then I began.

  “Tilly told Barnabas that he saw Rham stab Bialek in the heart,”

  “Which means?”

  “The tall Wizard couldn’t be Bialek,” I said deflated. “Then who?”

  “Think on what you know,” Merlin said. “There were eight Wizards in the Octagon, correct,” Merlin asked.

  I nodded in agreement.

  “When you thought you were taking the crown to Stumpwater’s, Barnabas went to Orm’s home where he saw Orm’s body with his own eyes,”

  I nodded again.

  “You should be able to put the pieces together now,” Merlin encouraged.

  I glared at him frustrated. Couldn’t he just tell me the stupid answer instead on having me go through all of this supposition?
r />   “OK,” I said with just a bit of heat. “Barnabas is in the cell with me,”

  “One,” Merlin said holding up a crooked index finger.

  “Oswald is lying on the stone outside the cell in pretty bad shape,”

  “Two,” Merlin said raising another finger.

  “OK,” annoyance rising in my voice. “Could you not do that,”

  Merlin lowered his hand in disappointment.

  “Bialek is dead, that’s three,”

  “Orm is dead or at least Barnabas says he is and that makes four… Victor Felderbach, Rodfar Groakus, Zerial Thrum and Montagar Greybeak were killed and their bodies devoured by the Bogeymen, which accounts for the remaining four,”

  “Very good,” Merlin said in a sarcastic tone. “Now young Solomon, who is left?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. Then a thought occurred to me.

  “Well, we’ve accounted for everyone except the apprentices,”

  Merlin inclined his head in an encouraging manner.

  “Well, there’s me of course, but I didn’t do anything,”

  “Obviously,” Merlin chimed in.

  “Olivia is dead, Oswald didn’t have an apprentice, I don’t know if the other four had apprentices, so the only person we have yet to account for is James, Orm’s apprentice,”

  “Ah, now you’ve come to the heart of the matter,” said Merlin,

  “Heart, what do you mean by heart,” I asked. “Is James the tall Wizard,”

  Merlin moved around the circle of light my eyes and body tracking his steps.

  “Why did Orm pick up his ingredients at the magic shop,” Merlin asked.

  I thought about the morning where all of this started. Staying up most of the night with Abner and his pack, then manning the front counter sleep deprived as Oswald and Orm came in to do some shopping.

  “Orm said that he was punishing his apprentice, something about rusty carpet tacks,”

  Merlin nodded thoughtfully.

  “Had Orm ever come to pick up his ingredients in the past,”