Jundag
Page 9
Shay moved. First one foot, slipping it carefully from one rune to another, feeling the change in the magical energies. Then his arms, slowly shifting their expansive arc to a beckoning gesture. Finally his other foot, lifting it off the silver rune, feeling the energetic tendrils reluctantly release their grip. With his toe hovering over its new position, he quickly reviewed the spell he would cast.
Shay took a deep breath...and lowered his toe to the rune of activation. Immediately, tendrils of energy quested up his leg to mingle with those from his other foot, which stood on the rune of power. He recited the incantation slowly, rhythmically—
"venduva mostraekum oyao drakonum"
—the tempo of the chant as meticulously performed as the words themselves.
"verianae koyano fodkhraeum moyano"
He increased the beat by half with each new line, changing his gestures to accompany the next phrase as it was uttered.
"daeus mashaerna daeus drakonus
sentientus mondreacus exokaena xerecus
mostraekum aperaenus servetori magianus"
As the cadence built, the magical energies bound by the pentagram intensified, arcing and shimmering and glittering. Motes of energy coursed through Shay and cascaded from his fingertips into the center of the pentagram, joining the forces already coalesced around the one physical component of the spell: a dragon’s tooth. Finally he shouted out the final word of the incantation—
"EXICUNDUS!!
—clenching his fists with such urgency that his nails pierced the skin of his palms. A blinding white flash filled the center of the room, rocking Shay back on his heels with its force. But as the smoke and dust settled, and his vision returned, he gazed in wonder at what his spell had brought into this world.
There, in the center of the pentagram, patiently waiting to perform his every command stood...nothing!
Shay’s heart plummeted to the depths of despair, then he looked more closely at the center of the pentagram. Wisps of incense smoke profiled a shape there, curling about its edges as it moved. Shay waved more smoke toward it and saw the outline of something large—at least a head taller than he, with wings that stirred the smoke as they furled against its back. The creature was a drakoll, a minor minion of the dragon-god Draco, summoned from the lower hell of Pytt. His heart soared with his success.
Shay had found the spell in one of the books he had taken from Iveron Darkmist’s study, and realized how advantageous it might be to have an invisible servant to watch over him when he left the keep, leaving him free to pursue his own thoughts without having to keep an eye out for his own safety. Granted, a drakoll was overkill for his needs, and it really didn’t need it to be invisible, but that was the way spell was written, and Shay was sure he could make this work to his advantage.
As the incense smoke dispersed, the figure faded until it was completely invisible; although Shay had expected this, it was still a bit disconcerting. But the spell was explicit in its design; the creature was bound to follow his commands.
"You will never harm me," Shay said resolutely. "You will—"
A rap at the door startled him, snapping his triumphant spirit. His standing orders were that he was never to be interrupted when in his workshop. What if the knock had been two minutes earlier? What havoc might he have wreaked had he miscast the spell? His anger flared.
"Stand there quietly until I return," he commanded his newly conscripted servant as he whirled toward the door. He jerked the door open just as the boy beyond was about to rap again.
"What is it?" Shay snapped.
"I, uh, was... I mean, I..." babbled the hapless boy, apparently taken aback by his master’s harsh manner.
"Stop drooling on yourself, you imp, and spit it out!" Shay realized that he was being callous—the lad was a good worker and always eager to do any sort of menial task assigned to him—but couldn’t seem to find it in himself to be sympathetic right now. "I am busy, and you are interrupting my work!"
"I...I’m sorry, sir!" the youth stammered, "but I was sent to fetch you. Mistress Lynthalsea said we have guests, and that you should come right away, sir."
"Guests! Why should I have to greet guests? Just another cast-off conjurer without a copper to his name, I would wager." Shay waved the boy out, his mind already returning to the commands he would give to his drakoll; he would have to hurry if he was to be done before DoHeney arrived. "Put the old dotard in a room somewhere and leave me alone. And tell my sister not to have me disturbed at the slightest provocation!"
"But, sir!" the boy ventured boldly, stopping the closing door with his boot. "Mistress Lynthalsea said it was urgent. A Miss Avari has arrived, with a woodling and some manner of beast I have never seen before. She says she must talk to you, and that it's urgent."
The mention of Avari brought Shay up short. What would she be doing here without first sending a message? All was well with Searest at their last communication. Avari did not tend toward exaggeration, though she was undeniably spirited when she had a cause to pursue.
"Sir?" the boy asked. "Shall I tell them you're coming?"
"Yes," Shay said slowly as he continued his musing, "I suppose I had better." He glanced over his shoulder.
"Tell them I will be down shortly," he said.
"Very well, sir," the youth said, bowing and hastily retrieving his foot before Shay slammed the door shut.
Shay walked back toward the pentagram, wondering what kind of scrape Avari had gotten herself into this time. She was impetuous, he had to admit as he recalled their first meeting, her off to avenge her father’s death with no more idea of the world outside her little farm than a newborn babe. More somberly, he recalled when she had gone hunting alone and been attacked by a foul minion of Darkmist’s.
All the more reason to have a protector, he reasoned as he looked to where his new servant waited.
"My additional orders to you are threefold: First, you will remain no more than five strides away from my person. Second, you will remain unnoticed, unless I command otherwise. And third and last, you will protect me from harm...be it intentional or accidental." Shay quickly added the last clause as he considered the forced service of the drakoll. It would not do to command it to protect him from attacks, only to fall off his horse and bleed to death while the creature waited for its release.
"That should do for now, I suppose," he concluded. "Make a discreet noise if you understand these commands."
A whuuf like the pump of a bellows emanated from the center of the pentagram.
"Excellent!" he said. He snatched up the gems one at a time, deposited each in a velvet bag, and slipped them into separate pockets of his robes. As he turned, he caught sight of himself in a mirror—robes damp with sweat, his hair disheveled and clinging to his forehead. No wonder the messenger boy had looked frightened. "A quick tidy-up and we will go see what our impetuous young friend has gotten herself into."
As he opened the door, the drakoll moved, lightning quick and utterly silent, flashing past him with the barest breeze to get through the door before it closed. Shay smiled, supremely pleased with the success of his spell, and headed for his chambers, his new bodyguard padding silently, invisibly and obediently behind.
Where is Shay? Avari wondered furiously as she paced the keep’s courtyard, gnawing on a ragged fingernail. What’s taking him so blasted long?
She barely noticed the others present—Lynthalsea and Irielnea, Hufferrrerrr and Tinarre—except when one of them told her to calm down, which only agitated her more. They had also tried to get her to come inside, but she couldn’t stand the thought of being cooped up right now. It would be stifling. Besides, how could she enjoy the comforts of Refuge when Jundag might be out there, imprisoned and tortured? Curiously, she had slept like the dead every night during the trip here: no dreams, no nightmares. But nervous energy burned in her like a bonfire, and she had to keep moving to prevent herself from screaming in frustration at the delay.
Where is Shay?!
"A fine day for a picnic!" Shay called out as he strode into the courtyard with a swirl of fresh crimson cloaks.
"Shay!" Avari gasped, whirling to grasp him in a fierce hug. "By the Gods, I thought you'd never get here! You've got to help me. I'm—"
"Avari, Avari, calm yourself," Shay soothed, disengaging himself awkwardly from the woman's desperate embrace. "What in all the realms has you so worked up?"
"I didn't know who else to turn to!" she blurted, heaving a ragged sigh. Now that Shay was here, she felt her first hint of relief. He would help her, as he had so many times before. He would share her burden. "No one else would understand..."
"Understand what, Avari?" Shay gave her a worried look as he guided her to a chair and gently pushed her into it. "What could bring you so far in such a rush?"
"It's Jundag," she gasped, the words tearing her throat like claws of guilt. "He's alive!"
Avari grasped her friend’s hands, her heart beating frantically in her chest as she waited for his response. But its rhythm faltered when no words of wisdom were forthcoming. Dismay overwhelmed her when, instead of seeing the light of understanding in his eyes, they went blank, as if some unknown being was behind them, drawing closed the shutters.
He didn’t believe her.
The smell of roasted meat wafted into Jundag’s cell even before he heard Tredgh’s steps, and he inhaled deeply, his mouth immediately starting to water. This would be his fourth such meal, and he anticipated it eagerly, even though he knew what it heralded: they were building his strength for the arena.
It seemed to take forever for his jailer to unlock the door and slide the huge platter in. Jundag pulled it toward him and began to eat slowly, savoring each bite. When one of these meals first came to him, several lifetimes ago, he had immediately wolfed it down and been sick, so unused was he to decent food. So he had learned to take his time, enjoy the moment, despite what he knew was to come.
To keep his mind busy, he contemplated the question that had been foremost in his mind: Was Calmarel’s child actually his? Knowing how she loved to torment his mind, this could very well be a lie. Though he couldn’t deny that the child could be his—once he had recalled that particular memory, it plagued him incessantly—it would be just like her to torture him with a clever fabrication.
After his meal and a rest, Tredgh retrieved him and brought him to what Jundag thought of as the preparation room. Here other slaves washed him and dressed him in his usual arena garb: a loincloth, leather bracers and a wickedly spiked belt. Then he endured the long walk through the tunnel toward the arena. A rumble of shuffling feet overhead reverberated through the rock. He squinted as he passed into the cavernous amphitheater, its polished domed ceiling reflecting crimson spell-light the shade of blood from a slit throat. He chuckled without humor; as a man on the surface world he used to think of happier things—sunsets, roses, beautiful girls, yeasty ale—but his time down here had changed him.
As Tredgh dragged him toward a cage on the edge of the arena floor, Jundag glanced up at the steep rows of seats. Only a few faces stared down, but that was usual. With each bout, more and more would arrive until, by the final bout of the day, the stands were crowded with drunk and jeering spectators.
Disgusted and uncomprehending of the cruelty of spirit it took to enjoy the depravities of death-sport, Jundag glanced around at the other slaves and beasts being made ready for the day's festivities. Nearly every race and type of creature from both above and below the earth was represented. He could tell which were newly captured by their coloration: recent arrivals still sported tans or hair bleached blonde by the sun. He glanced at his own skin, now ghostly pale from his long time below ground. Few were as pale as he.
Once in his cage, Jundag looked around but didn’t see Calmarel anywhere. She always attended his bouts, so he felt it safe to assume that his was later in the day, as were all the higher ranking fights. With a small amount of satisfaction tinged with disgust, he considered his rise in the ranks. At first, he had thought death would be an escape, and so, had allowed himself to be killed. He had found out how wrong he had been when Calmarel revivified him and tortured him to death three successive times as punishment. Now, he fought to win. Jundag settled down, his back to the arena, and waited.
CHAPTER 10
Avari fidgeted in her chair as Shay stood over her, his eyes closed, his fingertips lightly resting on her head. This was taking too long. Her eyes roved about the comfortable sitting room. The others were here, including DoHeney, who had arrived not long after Shay had appeared.
“Avari,” Shay said, not bothering to open his eyes, “this will not work unless you relax and focus.”
Heaving a deep sigh, she rolled her shoulders a couple of times, leaned back, and closed her eyes. Squinting into her own darkness, she concentrated on the visions of Jundag. His face, his anguish, his call to her... She shivered, but maintained control. After several long minutes, Shay removed his hands and took a seat. Anxiously, she watched his expression.
“Well, the good news is that I detect no signs of possession, and I also detect no defects in your mind, Tem be praised,” he said. “The bad news is that this gives us no explanation for your dreams and vision.”
“If I'm not mad, that narrows the explanations!” Avari protested. “Jundag is alive.”
"Avari, it is simply not possible," Shay said as he got up and began pacing in front of the wide hearth. "There is no reason why they would go to the trouble. What could they hope to gain by bringing Jundag back from the afterlife?"
"I don't know!" Avari seethed through clenched teeth, barely controlling her temper. She had placed so much hope in Shay, but his attitude seemed to suggest that she was just wasting his time. He seemed agitated, as if he had someplace else to go, something better to do.
She reined in her temper and tried to explain yet again. “The woman in my dream is Darkmist’s sister. I swear that when we saw her in Darkmist’s summoning chamber, she was wearing Jundag’s ivory pendant. And she’s wearing it in the dream. I don’t know much about magic, but I do know that the Dark Gods are associated with death magic. Darkmist was a Nekdukarr, for Eloss’ sake!”
“Ah!” Shay exclaimed. “So you see nothing new, nothing that you did not know already. Dreams often consist of old knowledge put together in new ways.”
“Except Jundag’s torture,” she countered.
“When you put Gaulengil into the flames not an hour ago, the emerald was clear,” Shay said as he pointed to the fire burning in the hearth.
“Well...” she countered, racking her brain for an explanation, “perhaps he wasn’t being tortured then! Perhaps it’s only—"
“Just when he’s being tortured, and you just happen to put your sword into a fire?”
Shay’s condescending tone infuriated her, and her hand strayed to Gaulengil's hilt. "If he's not alive, Shay, then how do you explain it?" Avari demanded. "I know I wasn't sleepwalking or dreaming!"
"Dreams can seem to be quite real," Shay explained, "and my estimation is that you were in the throes of one of these nightmares, and somehow—"
"Awoke in my study with Gaulengil lying where I'd dropped it in my dream?" Avari scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "What's gotten into you Shay? You never doubted my word like this before."
"It is not that I doubt your word, Avari," he assured her in a placating tone that agitated her more than if he had yelled it. "It is simply that I see no reasonable answer to your dilemma. If Jundag is indeed alive, though it is be
yond all reasonable supposition, there is nothing we can do about it!"
"Nothing we can do about it?" Avari shouted, clenching her sword's hilt in restrained fury.
"Yes, Avari," Shay reiterated calmly. "For if he is alive, he is in the midst of the nations of the Dark Gods. To retrieve him would require an army."
"Then I'll raise an army!" Avari spat, her tone defying rebuttal.
"Nay, lass," DoHeney interjected with a sorrowful shake of his head. "It'd take a good bit more'n an army ta git that deep inta the earth an' hit them dark-worshipers where they live."
"You see?" Shay said triumphantly. "Even DoHeney agrees wi—"
"'Sides," the dwarf cut in, producing a dagger and twirling it on a fingertip, "it'd be exactly what the slimy buggers'd be expectin'. My take is, we sneak in like we did last time." The mischief in DoHeney's tone spoke volumes.
"But it seems ta me yer wastin' a whole lot o' jaw flappin' here," he continued. "Ye don't even know if Jundag's truly alive yet. An' I'd wager half me purse that, with all the magical folks in this place, it wouldn't take a whole lot ta find that very thing out, if ye understand me thinkin'."
"We could get the opinions of some our guest wizards," Lynthalsea suggested. “And the priests, too. Oh, Shay,” she said in an exasperated voice in response to her brother’s scowl, “I’m not doubting your skills. I just think that the more heads we put to work on this, the better chance we have of solving Avari’s problem.”
"I suppose it would not hurt to seek additional advice," Shay admitted reluctantly.
"Good!" his sister said before he could renege. "We'll meet with them after dinner and see what we can do."
"Thank you," Avari said solemnly, nodding her thanks to DoHeney and Lynthalsea. "That's all I wanted in the first place."
Without another look at Shay, she turned on her heel and left the room, Hufferrrerrr and Tinarre trailing close behind.
Hoots and jeers of derision rang in Jundag's ears as he watched the loser of the last bout being dragged away. Buckets of icy water washed the blood into convenient gutters, clearing the floor for the next gruesome contest. He tried stretching to relieve the stiffness of hours of immobility, but was constrained by the confines of his cage. The announcer's voice boomed off the arena’s walls, and Jundag caught the name of Darkmist.