by Randy Nargi
“You’re right, of course. But it is clearly some sort of magic.”
“Yes. But the magic is affecting the physical structure of this keep.”
“I don’t think that is possible.”
“It could be like the polymorph ring, but on a much larger scale.”
“An illusion?” asked Wegg.
Bander said, “That makes sense. We would all experience an illusion the same way. Unlike mind control which would affect us all differently.”
“Exactly,” Bryn Eresthar said.
“But an illusion…?” Faramir Boldfist mused. “Don’t that mean that something’s not really there?”
“Or it could be obscured,” Bander said. “But you’re on the right track.” He hefted the werris. “Let’s try this again.”
They walked back into the corridor. Bander kicked open one of the doors and entered a dusty chamber. He walked right up to one of the large windows and swung the axe at it. Instead of producing a shower of glass, the blow connected solidly with what felt like a wooden wall. Bander swung again. And again. And kept working at it. Soon there was a man-sized opening in the window and they could all see that it wasn't a window at all. It was a passage into another room. And it was the scene of a horrific battle.
NEVER SURPRISE A MAGE, NIAM REMINDED HIMSELF. He had discovered a servants’ hallway that led to a concealed entrance to a library on the upper floor. And when he had slipped into the room he saw Meomannan Quill.
“Grand Guild Master!” he had called, which caused Meomannan Quill to whip around and come close to blasting him with a spell.
Niam held up his hands. “It’s me, Niam.”
“Liam, yes, of course. Glad you made it this far.”
“It’s Niam, actually.”
“Indeed. Tell me, have you seen the others?”
“No, but I did see Morin of Thect. Actually, I heard him.” Niam explained how he had followed Gredarl Kar to the undercroft and overheard Morin talk about his plan to detonate the second Donden Cage here.
The mage leaned back on the library wall, clearly stunned. After a moment he asked, “Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. I did not linger long after I heard what he was planning.”
“Of course, how could I have been so stupid? This whole thing was a trap. He knew I would summon the other Grand Guildmasters to bring him to justice.”
“We need to find the others and evacuate,” Niam said.
Before Meomannan Quill could respond, the far door banged open to reveal Chiran Hemmig.
“Meomannan Quill, I should have known you were behind this,” Chiran Hemmig spat.
“Oh please, Hemmig. Save your lies. There’s no one here to try to sway.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re on the wrong side of this, Guild Master. The old order is crumbling. We are the future.”
“You, sir, are not the future. You are villains and renegades. You sow destruction and murder and chaos. And I will not allow—”
Too late, Niam saw what was happening. He tried to yell a warning, but as he did, a blur shot from behind the curtains by the window. It was Neeth, Asryn’s hulking guard. Chiran Hemmig had distracted Meomannan Quill so that Neeth could strike. And the big guard moved like a lightning bolt, tackling Meomannan Quill to the ground.
Neeth moved to help the old mage, but Chiran Hemmig jumped in front of him, sword drawn. “Not so fast, you little bastard.” He swung his sword in a massive chop which connected with Niam’s own blade. The impact was so powerful that it wrenched the short sword from Niam’s grasp.
Meomannan Quill screamed in pain as Neeth wrenched his arms backward. It was just a matter of moments before the guard would rip them from their sockets.
But then a magic bolt sizzled through the air and smashed into Neeth. Then another. The guard flew back and tumbled off of Meomannan Quill.
Niam looked back and saw Hirbo Thrang at the other end of the library. The mage appeared to be injured himself, swaying on unsteady legs, but he didn't let up his barrage.
Chiran Hemmig roared in anger and slashed at Niam. Niam dove behind an overstuffed chair, but Chiran Hemmig keep hacking, slicing the chair and sending stuffing flying in his attempt to butcher Niam.
Frantically, Niam tried to scramble away, but Chiran Hemmig was upon him, trapping him against a heavy bookcase.
"Die, doldar scum!" He lifted his blade over his head, but before he could bring it down, he yelled in pain and crumpled to his knees. Niam saw that he had two daggers sticking out of his lower back. Medgal stood behind him, breathing heavily.
“Aim for the kidneys,” he said. “That’s what my old dad always told me.”
“Thanks, kid.”
Niam got to his feet and looked around the room. He saw Neeth’s dead body and Meomannan Quill’s almost-dead body. Hirbo Thrang was trying to help the older mage to his feet.
Niam told Medgal to stay clear of Chiran Hemmig who was on the floor dying in an unspectacular fashion. Niam found his short sword and sped up the process with a merciful blow to the neck.
“Sorry about that,” Hirbo Thrang said. “I was hoping to take care of him too, but I’m too damned weak.”
“That’s fine.”
“Who’s your young savior?” Meomannan Quill said. “Just looking at him, he appears to be one of the enemy.”
“Technically, he is. But I think we have some sort of truce. His name is Medgal.”
Medgal bowed. “I just want to go home.”
“And where is that?” Niam asked.
“Dunbeck, originally. My mother still lives there.”
“I’ll tell you what, Medgal. If we all survive this ordeal, I’ll make sure you get back there.”
“I’d like that. I don’t think I’m cut out to be a guard.”
“Where’s Bander?” Hirbo Thrang asked.
“No idea. But we need to find him.”
“Before noon,” Meomannan Quill added.
“Why?”
Meomannan Quill said, “Because I fear that is when Morin of Thect plans to activate the second Donden Cage.”
“What?” Hirbo Thrang’s eyes widened.
“I overheard him,” Niam explained. “He’s going to detonate it here.”
“At noon?”
“Most likely. From the research I read about the Donden Cage, it only works when the sun is in certain positions. My guess is that he will use the artifact at noon.”
Hirbo Thrang made his way to a window and looked out. “From the looks of those shadows, it’s pretty close to noon now.”
“Then perhaps we should stop jabbering and find the rest of the team,” the old mage said.
Chapter Forty-Two
THE TWO SIDES APPEARED EVENLY MATCHED. Bander watched as his doldar mercenaries fought against a smaller contingent of Gredarl Kar’s battle mages and guards.
The mages had the advantage of ranged spells, and the room was filled with magic bolts and lightning bolts and even small fireballs. But they had to be careful since the room was crowded. They risked killing their own men.
The doldar had the advantage of speed and agility. They vaulted off walls, jumped, rolled, and generally made themselves difficult targets to hit. At the same time, they struck with speed and surprise. When they managed to hit a mage, they would break his or her concentration enough to interrupt the spell being cast.
“Now this is what I’ve been waiting for!” Faramir Boldfist roared in glee, pushed his way through the opening in the wall, and jumped into the fray.
“Wait,” Bander called. “We need to get through this chamber.”
The room was maybe ten or twenty yards long and half that wide. It was some sort of parlor filled with various tables, divans, benches, and other seating areas. Carved wood pillars were spaced every fifteen feet or so. A set of huge double doors took up a good part of the far wall, guarded by four men.
Bryn Eresthar snatched up a bow and some arrows from a fallen guard and started peppering the battle mages w
ith arrows, trying to clear a path.
Bander swore and then barreled into the room himself. He swung the werris in big arcs, slicing apart guards and even a few mages. His natural magic resistance protected him from any stray spells. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to get him through.
He was almost at the far doors when behind him, he heard Wegg cry out in pain. A magic bolt had caught the healer on the shoulder, knocking him to the ground.
Bander turned and pulled him up. “Haven’t you ever been hit by a spell before?”
The mage who had attacked Wegg readied another spell, but before he could cast it, Bryn Eresthar shot him in the throat.
But then two of the guards at the door charged. They were both armed with sabers, and they looked like they knew how to use them.
Bander eased Wegg down and flung the werris at the nearest guard. The axe wasn’t really meant to be thrown and it wasn’t weighted properly, but it did the job, burying itself into the man’s shoulder. Bander was on him a moment later, jerking the guard’s head and snapping his neck.
At the same time, Faramir Boldfist struck. The big warrior moved quickly for his size and he attacked ferociously, using his mass and strength to overpower the other guard. His blade cleaved down on the man’s neck, severing his artery and spraying blood everywhere.
A pair of doldar who had been circling around towards the doors saw their opportunity with the remaining guards. The doldar attacked with their nightswords, thin-bladed curved swords blackened by a special process known only to the sword smiths of Thindrel. In a flurry of blades, the guards were cut down.
“Cover us!” Bander yelled to Bryn Eresthar.
He dragged Wegg through while Bryn Eresthar shot at any enemies who were focused on the door. They all made it into the next room, which was a hallway leading to a staircase.
“The Cage has to be up there,” Bander said. He turned to Wegg. “Can you walk?”
“I think so. My arm is numb, but I should be able to move.”
Bander instructed the doldar to wait at the staircase and stop any pursuers. Then he led his team to the top level of the keep.
AFTER SHE HAD LEFT THE BALLROOM AND WHAT REMAINED OF RAGGUR NIL, SILBRA DAL MADE HER WAY ALONG A CORRIDOR AND UP A NARROW, CROOKED FLIGHT OF STAIRS. At the top was another corridor which turned a corner and opened into a vestibule with high ceilings and wood-paneled walls.
“I have been waiting for you,” a low, rasping voice said from behind her.
She turned and saw a shrouded figure, tall and thin, with a sharp, severe face and otherworldly sunken eyes. It could only be Morin of Thect.
Acting purely on instinct, she let loose a fyrwael spell at the dark mage. Immediately, a wall of magical fire flashed into existence.
It should have knocked him back. It should have burned him badly, but Morin just stepped into the flames and spread his arms. He inhaled loudly and sucked the fire into his body.
Silbra Dal could not believe what she was seeing.
But she did not relent. She flung a barrage of magic bolts at Morin. They flew straight and true and smashed into his chest. The dark mage was knocked off of his feet.
Yes! Silbra Dal let the magical power flow through her. She prepared for another attack.
Morin stood upright.
How could this be possible? Anyone else would have been completely destroyed by her attack. But the dark mage just leered at her.
“You are even more powerful than I thought,” he whispered. “Good…”
She screamed in rage and gathered all her power. Then she released an awhyll spell which tunneled into his body. Any second now an unnatural fire would ignite inside of Morin. Within a second or two, the heat would become so intense that his blood would boil and his internal organs would cook in their own fluids.
But that’s not what happened.
He just closed his eyes and absorbed the spell into himself. For a moment, he looked faintly ill, but then he opened his eyes and belched. A small puff of smoke billowed from his mouth.
He nodded at Silbra Dal. “I regret that I don’t have more time to spend with you, my dear.” He pulled something from the folds of his cloak. “You would have made a worthy apprentice.”
And then—in an instant—he was upon her. One hand closed around her throat, squeezing the life out of her. The other hand shot up and snapped something around her neck. It was cold metal. And it burned.
A relorcan collar.
She staggered back, pulling at the collar, trying to rip it off.
But it was locked tight.
Morin took a few steps back, out of range of the relorcan. Then he cast a spell.
It hit her like a bucket of ice water. Her skin felt like it was freezing. Sharp needles of pain spread throughout her body. She fell to her knees and then back down on the floor. The pain spread, gradually turning into numbness. And then she could not move. Anything. Not her arms, her legs, her fingers. She could barely blink.
Morin walked over, straddled her. He had something in his hand. Something jagged and sharp. A blade.
He tugged at the straps of her breastplate—Bryn Eresthar’s armor—and ripped it from her body. Then the blade flashed and cut into her chest, right near her heart. She was numb, so could barely feel it slice through muscle and tissue and even her breastbone. But she saw the blood. It seeped from her chest and soaked into her tunic.
Morin withdrew a metal box from his belt pouch. It was adorned like a jewelry box. When he pressed a button on the box’s front, the lid sprang open.
“It’s better for you if you relax. Don’t fight it.”
He tipped the box over and Silbra Dal saw something fall out. It was bristly and black and the size of her fist. It almost looked like a very large spider.
“Almost complete,” Morin said in a soothing voice.
She thought she heard some chittering and felt a tickle in her chest. She wondered if the spell was wearing off and her sense of touch was returning.
“Done,” he said. Then he reached over to her neck, opened the collar, and pulled it off. “You will obey me. And that is all you will do.”
She knew that she should attack him, cast a spell, do something—but she couldn’t. She could sit up, however. And she was starting to be able to feel the cold stone beneath her.
She looked down at where he had cut her and almost vomited.
There was a gaping wound in her chest.
And something else in there.
Something alive!
It was vile. Like a crab or a spider. But with a single eye. Looking up at her.
She almost fainted.
What was she going to do? She had to remove it.
Tentatively, she moved her hand closer to the wound.
“No!” Morin commanded. “You will leave the siddith in place.”
And as he spoke, she was certain that she would obey. She had no choice.
She knew just a little about siddiths. They were rare parasitic creatures that could be used to control their hosts. And, as far as she knew, once a siddith was implanted, there was no safe way to remove it. The host inevitably died.
Morin leaned over her. “This is what I command you to do…”
Chapter Forty-Three
“BANDER!”
He turned to see who was calling his name. It was Niam—and he was with Meomannan Quill, Hirbo Thrang, and a boy dressed as a guard. The group had emerged from a corridor at the top of the landing.
“Who is this?” Bander asked, motioning at the boy.
“His name is Medgal. He used to be one of Gredarl Kar’s guards, but he’s on our side now.”
Bander nodded. “Where are the others? Jaden? Silbra Dal?”
“Haven’t seen either of them,” Niam said.
Meomannan Quill said, “The last I saw of Silbra Dal was in the courtyard. She destroyed more than four dozen battle mages before my eyes. But that was a good hour ago.”
“How are you feeling?” Bander ask
ed Hirbo Thrang.
“Still a bit weak. There’s something strange about this place.”
“Indeed. We were caught in an illusion for a half hour.” Bander raised the scrying crystal. “And this has stopped working.”
“Mine as well,” Meomannan Quill said.
Bander said, “The last I heard from Dusk was that your mages had located the second Donden Cage. It is here. Somewhere on this floor they think.”
“It’s worse than that.” Meomannan Quill said. He quickly recounted what Niam had overheard and shared his fear that the artifact would be detonated at noon—which was minutes away.
“We need to split up so we can cover this entire floor. It’s either here or in one of the towers—”
“Begging your pardon, sir,” Medgal said. “I think I know where it might be.”
“Hurry, boy, speak,” Niam said.
“Gredarl Kar’s study. I bet it’s in there.”
“Where’s that?” Bander asked.
The boy pointed to the door at the top of the landing. “That way. Through the long gallery.”
“And why do you think it’s there?”
“That’s where they had all their meetings. All the powerful folks. Especially Morin.”
“What do you know about Morin?”
“Not much, sir. I just know that he has been the one in charge. And he scares me to death. I’ve never seen a dark mage before.”
“Do anyone say anything about a magical device in this study?”
The boy looked at the ground. “No…”
“Then why do you wish us to go to the study?”
“About an hour ago all of us guards were ordered up to the gallery. We were supposed to hold it at any cost. But there’s nothing in that gallery. Just some old paintings. But it leads right to Gredarl Kar’s study. I think that’s what we were supposed to protect.”
“Do you trust him?” Bander asked Niam.
Niam thought for a moment and then said, “I do.”
“Let’s go see what we’re up against. Lead on, kid. Show us this study.”
Medgal motioned for the group to follow him. The stairs ended in a wide hallway that stretched north and south with doors every twenty feet. The bodies of a half dozen guards were strewn about. But there was no sign of their attackers.
