With the Pontiff slain, there was no longer a clear ruler of the city. Most of the nobles had fled during the Order’s initial attack, abandoning the ordinary citizens to fend for themselves. The various crime lords who had stayed and joined in the fight were eager to divide up and lay claim to the various districts, but so far the presence of the Free City armies had limited their efforts to petitions and negotiations rather than violence.
I hope Captain Jendarme is as capable as Vaaler claims, Keegan thought.
The leader of Cheville’s forces had been given the difficult task of maintaining order within the city streets until a proper ruling body could be established. Over the first two days an uneasy truce had held inside the city walls, the natives and their liberators existing peacefully side by side.
Keegan knew the current situation was precarious. Technically Jendarme and his troops were an occupying force. Eventually they would want to return home, and the people of Callastan would want them gone. Smoothly turning over power to a responsible authority when they left would be no easy task.
I can’t worry about that right now, he reminded himself. There are more important things to focus on.
Taking charge as he so often did, Vaaler had organized an impromptu council to address the real issue: what to do about Cassandra and the Crown. He’d offered to delay the meeting another day or two, concerned about Keegan’s health after seeing the toll that summoning the mystical fog had taken on his friend. But they’d already lost enough time, and the young wizard had insisted on pushing forward as quickly as possible.
Now Keegan and everyone else who knew anything about the Keystone had gathered together in the spacious, and currently abandoned, council chambers of Callastan’s city hall.
Vaaler and Shalana were both there, sitting close together. Clearly their relationship had progressed into something more than friendship during the war against the Danaan, and Keegan was happy for his friend.
Andar and several other Danaan were also present; Keegan still found it hard to think of them as allies after all that had happened. But if Vaaler was willing to vouch for them, he wasn’t going to turn them away.
Jerrod had also joined them, limping across the room to take a seat on the side of the table beside Keegan, opposite Vaaler and the others. Scythe had used the Sword to heal the worst of the monk’s injuries, but he was still moving stiffly as he recovered from the brutal beating he’d received at the Pontiff’s hands.
Scythe and Methodis had been the last to arrive, the healer moving slowly and leaning on the young woman for support. She hadn’t left his side ever since rescuing him from the Pontiff. Keegan had never seen her so protective of someone, not even Norr.
She needed this, he thought. She needed to remember that there are things in this world worth saving.
Once everyone was seated, Vaaler was quick to get things going.
“We all know why we are here,” he said, dispatching with formality by not bothering to rise from his seat as he spoke. “We all understand what is at stake.”
Keegan noticed his eyes flick over toward Methodis as he spoke. Scythe answered with a barely imperceptible nod, confirming she had already explained their mission to the healer.
“You need to find Cassandra,” Methodis agreed. “And Scythe has assured me you mean her no harm.”
“She has to be stopped,” Jerrod said. “Hopefully we can convince her of this. If not, I do not know what will happen to her.”
Keegan frowned at the monk’s brutal honesty, but it didn’t seem to bother Methodis.
“I would help you if I could,” he said. “But you already know as much as I do.
“She was looking for passage to a remote island marked by a massive black obelisk.”
“It’s called the Keystone,” Keegan said. “It’s where the Old Gods created the Legacy.”
“Scythe has told me of your quest,” the old healer assured him. “But though I helped Cassandra escape the city, I do not know how to find the island. Bo-Shing claimed he would take us there, but he never divulged the location to me.”
“I think there is enough information in the ancient Danaan texts for us to find the Keystone,” Andar said.
“Even if you’re right,” Methodis objected, “you’ll never catch her. There is no ship faster than The Chaos Runner. Bo-Shing might already be there.”
“If that was true, the Legacy would no longer be standing,” Jerrod insisted. “We still have time to stop her.”
“You said there was another way to get there,” Keegan said, addressing Vaaler. “Using magic.”
“It might be possible to create a portal to cross the Burning Sea in a fraction of the time it would take by ship,” he agreed. “But as I warned, the ritual is incredibly dangerous.”
“When the ancient wizards used Old Magic to bend the laws of space and time,” Andar explained, “they could only travel to a place they had visited many times before.”
“None of us has ever been to the Keystone,” Scythe noted.
“I’ve been there in my dreams,” Keegan reminded her.
“It’s not the same,” she insisted.
“No,” Vaaler agreed. “It’s not. But Andar and I have been studying the passages that reference the Keystone. It may have properties that will make it easier to create a portal that leads to it.”
“The Keystone isn’t just where the Legacy was born,” Andar explained. “It’s the foundation the Old Gods used to create the entire world.”
“It’s the nexus where our world and the Burning Sea connect,” Vaaler added. “If we imagine all of our physical reality as a map, then the Keystone would be the zero coordinate.”
“Using this, can you open a portal to the Keystone?” Jerrod asked.
“I can’t,” Vaaler answered. “But I can show Keegan how.
“As I mentioned before, Rexol had me transcribe numerous accounts of wizards who attempted it. The details of the ritual are complex, but I think I remember them well enough to re-create them accurately.”
“Quit being modest,” Shalana told him. “You never forget anything.”
Keegan knew it was true. During the time they both served under Rexol Vaaler had always been the better student. The arcane words and symbols needed to channel Chaos into a specific spell had come easily to him despite the irony that he himself had no magical ability whatsoever.
“How long will it take?” Keegan asked.
“Probably two days to make all the preparations,” Vaaler estimated. “Will you be ready by then?”
A fair question.
Just the thought of attempting to summon Chaos again—to try to control the power of the Ring so soon after his last ordeal—brought on a fresh wave of exhaustion. But there was no other who could do this, and they were running out of time.
“I’ll be ready,” Keegan promised.
“You won’t have to do this alone,” Andar promised. “I and the other Danaan mages will stand with you. You can draw on our power to help sustain yourself.”
“How many can pass through this portal?” Jerrod asked.
“In all the accounts I’ve read, only the wizard who created it,” Vaaler admitted. “But in theory it should be possible to bring along another though it will make the ritual even more dangerous.”
“Speaking in my professional capacity,” Methodis chimed in, addressing the monk, “you’re in no physical state to go with him anyway.”
“I’m not the one who needs to go,” he answered, and all eyes turned to Scythe.
Keegan saw her jaw clench, and he spoke up quickly before she could reply.
“I’ll go alone. I’ve carried both the Ring and the Sword before.”
“Don’t be stupid!” Scythe snarled. “The Sword is my burden, not yours. I’m coming with you.”
“This is not the time for foolish bravery, Scythe,” Methodis chided. “There are others more suited to this than you.”
“I thought you told him everything,” Vaal
er said.
Scythe shot him a fierce glare. Then her face softened as she turned to Methodis.
“Keegan and I share a powerful bond. It’s hard to explain, but it’s real. Our fates are bound together. I can’t let him face this alone.”
To his credit, Methodis didn’t argue or protest. Whether that was because he simply accepted what she said, or whether he simply knew her well enough to realize she was too stubborn to change her mind, Keegan couldn’t say.
“Then it’s decided,” Jerrod declared. “Vaaler will prepare the ritual, and Keegan and Scythe will go through the portal and fulfill their destiny.”
And if we fail, Keegan silently added, the entire world is doomed.
—
Methodis didn’t speak as Scythe escorted him back to his shop. Despite their years apart, she knew him well enough to see that he was carefully considering everything he’d heard at the meeting.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything,” she said. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”
“It’s all a bit much to take in at once,” he agreed.
Scythe was relieved there was no hint of anger or disappointment in his voice. But she picked up on his concern.
“I’ll be okay,” she promised.
“You always say that,” Methodis reminded her. “Even when it’s not true.”
“I have to do this,” she said.
“You really believe this is your destiny, don’t you?” he asked, smiling softly.
“After all that has happened, I’d be a fool to deny it.”
“I care about you, Scythe,” he said, “but you’re not a child anymore. You don’t need my permission to do this.”
“No,” she admitted. “But I’d like your approval.”
“I’m still not sure what I think of all this,” Methodis said. “I need time to process it.
“But I trust your judgment, Scythe. If you believe this is something you have to do, then do it with my blessing.”
Scythe smiled and took hold of Methodis’s arm, wrapping herself around it. He wasn’t a tall man, so she was able to rest her head on his shoulder as they walked.
She closed her eyes, allowing herself to slip back into her youth, when Methodis would hold her close, making her feel safe from whatever the world could throw at her.
After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Methodis spoke again.
“You said you and Keegan share a bond.”
“We were both born under the Blood Moon,” Scythe said, choosing her words carefully as they walked slowly down the street arm in arm. “We are both Children of Fire, each touched by Chaos in our own way. And we share a destiny to save the world.”
“I wonder if there’s more to it than that,” he said.
“Isn’t that enough?”
“You clearly care about him,” Methodis told her, meeting her evasions with bluntness. “But I can see you fighting against your feelings.”
Scythe lifted her head from his shoulder and let go of his arm.
“I lost someone very close to me recently,” she answered tersely. “I need time to grieve.”
“We need to grieve to heal,” the old healer agreed. “But don’t use your grief as an excuse.”
“An excuse?”
Methodis stepped in front of her and turned to face her, forcing her to stop in her tracks.
“I think you’re afraid, Scythe,” he said, his words earnest but not harsh. “You lost someone you cared about. Now you won’t let yourself care about Keegan because you’re afraid you’ll lose him, too.
“But shutting him out isn’t the answer. If you close yourself off as a shield against pain, you’ll never know happiness.”
“It’s too soon,” Scythe insisted. “We’ve been through a lot, but Norr’s only been gone a few weeks. I can’t just run off and seek comfort in the arms of someone else.”
“Why not?”
“It’s…it’s not appropriate.”
Methodis chuckled softly. “I’ve never known you to be ‘appropriate,’ Scythe. The pain of his loss might still be fresh, but if being with someone else helps you feel better, you shouldn’t fight against it.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” Scythe said, stepping around him and resuming her methodical pace.
“It always is,” Methodis said, falling back into step beside her. “But you know me; I can’t help sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
“I’m supposed to help Keegan save the world,” Scythe continued, the words coming out in an unexpected flood. “But nobody has any clue how that’s going to happen!”
“And you think you know?”
“What if he has to sacrifice himself? What if Keegan’s destiny is to become a martyr to save the world? What if I have to help him do it?”
“All the more reason not to shut him out now,” Methodis said gently. “If you only have a short time left, you must make the most of it.”
He didn’t say anything else, he just walked along with her.
Keegan’s not the only one who might become a martyr, she thought, but she didn’t have the courage to say the words aloud.
After a few more strides she once again took his arm and laid her head on his shoulder. She still wasn’t sure what to do about Keegan, but Methodis was right about one thing: If time was short, she was determined to make the most of her last moments.
The Chaos Runner’s prow knifed through the storm-tossed sea, riding the waves like a living creature. With each rising swell, it seemed to gain momentum despite the ferocious headwinds, leaping forward as the crest broke to attack the next surge.
Cassandra stood on the top deck, braving the wind and rain as Bo-Shing relentlessly drove his vessel through the gale. Any triumph she might have felt at convincing the captain to leave Pellturna had long since been swept away by the storm. She clutched tightly at a length of rope wrapped around her wrist and lashed to the foremast, the mainsail above her pulled taut by the howling wind. The sack with the Crown was secured tightly at her back, tugging at her shoulders with each angry gust.
While his captain manned the wheel, Shoji shouted orders at the crew, his voice barely rising above the screaming of the squall.
That’s not his captain, Rexol said. It’s a demon!
Cassandra was too focused on settling her heaving stomach to argue with him. Knowing that the fierce storms were caused by the backlash of their enchanted ship had actually helped her deal with her nausea—for the first two days after leaving Pellturna she’d been able to keep her food down. But the storms opposing them had grown steadily worse, and this morning she hadn’t even tried to eat.
She saw Tork coming toward her, his gait calm as his body naturally rolled with every wild pitch and cant of the ship. The storm pummeling The Chaos Runner didn’t seem to bother him. Based on his demeanor, Cassandra wondered if he even noticed it at all.
“The Kraken’s Eye!” he shouted in her ear once he drew close. “I told you you’d see!”
Pushing out with her awareness, Cassandra saw that the tempest that assailed them was only the edge of the weather front. The sky above them was already dark and hard and cold rain pelted them like stones thrown from the sky. But ahead the clouds were pitch-black and the deluge was like a solid wall of water.
But Cassandra barely registered the monsoon they were bearing down on. Instead, her focus went to the massive cluster of whirlpools and maelstroms dead ahead. The largest was easily fifty feet across, a whirling vortex crawling across the ocean like a hungry maw. A dozen more, each large enough to swallow the ship on its own, circled slowly around it in seemingly random patterns.
Every few seconds, whirling waterspouts shot up and danced atop the surface before crashing back down with enough force to snap a ship in half. The largest waves crested at well over fifty feet, and Cassandra knew a broadside hit from even one of those monsters would surely sink The Chaos Runner.
“We’re not seriously going through that, are we?
” she shouted.
“Your island is on the other side,” Tork answered. Then he smiled. “Done it before. Once.”
With that he turned and headed toward Bo-Shing, moving with the same preternatural calm. He reached the captain’s side and began giving quick, curt instructions. Bo-Shing never hesitated and never questioned him. With each order, he spun the wheel exactly as Tork demanded.
Cassandra wrapped the rope around her wrist a few more times to guard against a rogue wave sweeping her overboard as they plunged headlong into the Kraken’s Eye.
—
“Twenty-eight degrees to port! Sixteen to starboard! Thirty-seven to starboard. Twelve to port!”
Orath struggled to keep up with Tork’s shouted instructions, the ship’s wheel fighting against his efforts to constantly change course in the raging waters. When he had devoured Bo-Shing, some of what the man was—including his skill as a sailor—was preserved, passing into Orath’s mind. But though he had the technical knowledge, he lacked the pirate’s natural instinct and years of experience. Without them, the Minion feared, they’d be swallowed by the sea.
Cassandra and the Crown stood on the deck behind him; so close he could feel the Talisman’s power thrumming in his chest above the fury of the storm. For a moment he considered letting the ship sink: If The Chaos Runner went down, maybe he could get his hands on the Crown before it plunged to the bottom of the ocean.
But what if Cassandra survives the wreckage? Don’t underestimate her like the others did!
“Hard to port! Hard to port!”
He cast the plan aside even as Tork barked out a new course, forcing him to turn the wheel hard to the left. Calling out orders with Bo-Shing’s voice, he relayed every new change of direction to the crew, leaving it to Shoji to see that they trimmed the sails and manned the rigging to keep them on course.
Ahead of them a waterspout erupted skyward, then smashed back down like an angry fist, narrowly missing the ship. Had they not changed course, they would have been directly in its path.
Tork can see what is coming before it happens. He can guide us through to the other side!
Chaos Unleashed Page 32
