Jundag

by Chris A. Jackson

  Shay gave his friend a pained smile, then moved quickly to stop the mages from touching his things.

  "Damn!"

  Shay’s curse woke DoHeney. He had been watching as they prepared for their scrying, but it had taken so long, he dozed off. Avari sat in a chair at the center of a silver pentagram set into the floor, staring anxiously at the huddle of mages around the mirror. Stretching, DoHeney got up and ambled over to see what progress they had made. The mirror misted red...blue...green.

  “That’s right pretty,” the dwarf said. Several pairs of eyes turned to him in annoyance, so he shrugged and shut up.

  "Perhaps a bit more of the baser metal," Revria suggested. An old woman now—it was just before noon—she sat at a table scattered with various open jars and boxes. In front of her was a wide ceramic mortar into which she sprinkled a touch of zinc. Acrid smoke fumed from the mortar and she coughed politely.

  "No. I am just not very good at scrying," Shay said in frustration, shaking his head and stepping away from the mirror.

  "My guess is that something is amiss with the focal point," Prael said, turning toward Avari. "The positioning of the blade?"

  "How about this?" she suggested, repositioning the sword from balanced across her knees to vertical, the hilt in her hands, its gem pointing skyward.

  "Perfect!" Prael said. "Try again, Shay. The gem of the blade was outside the pentagram."

  Shay sighed and repositioned himself at the mirror, motioning to Revria to start again. DoHeney watched over her shoulder as she wiped the mortar clean, then murmured to herself as she deposited the requisite ingredients. First the powered metals: copper, then zinc. The next component, a dollop of viscous acid, sent up a cloud of vapor that made DoHeney’s eyes water. He nearly gagged when she plucked the last component—the eye of a hawk—from a jar of alcohol and daintily placed it into the pool of muck in the mortar. As the concoction continued to smoke, Shay stared into the mirror and began murmuring an incantation. Spread out on either side, the other mages emulated him.

  Instantly the mirror roiled with colored mists, then settled to black. DoHeney crept closer for a better look. Out of the dark surface a swath of lights glittered faintly, gradually intensifying as the vision strengthened.

  “Ahhhh,” Shay breathed with satisfaction. “It is not Jundag yet, but we are getting something.”

  "What is it?" Avari twisted in her seat, trying to see around the mages without leaving the pentagram.

  "It looks like the lights of a city at night, but with the buildings stacked too high," Marris said. “It’s daytime here, so this must be on the other side of the world for it to be night.”

  "It ain't night.”

  Several of the mages flicked glances at DoHeney following his pronouncement. The dwarf ignored them, staring at the view in the mirror as his gut twisted uneasily.

  “It's a city o' the Dark Gods," he said quietly. “Built far underground, inta a giant column o' stone. There be ancient tales of such cities among me folk. Tales to scare dwarflings inta behavin': ‘Don’t let the dark worshipers git ya!’ But I never thought ta see one."

  "But why can't we see Jundag?" Avari asked.

  "We're being blocked." Shay explained. "It seems that Jundag is in this city, but some force prevents us from focusing more closely. Everyone, concentrate..."

  The mages repeated the incantation in unison, but the vision was unchanged.

  “It’s no use,” said Corillian, Voytek's most recent persona, a shy young woman from the sound of his strained voice. “We don’t have the power necessary to break through the barrier.”

  DoHeney waited several long moments, hoping that his instincts were wrong, but to his great disappointment, Shay remained silent.

  “Well, Shay,” the dwarf said loudly, startling the mages. The view in the mirror wavered, then disappeared. “Mayhaps ye can use them cornerstones ta boost yer power. Ain’t that why ye’ve been practicing with them, ta cast more powerful spells?”

  Shay turned around to glare at DoHeney, but DoHeney glared right back.

  “Of course!” Avari jumped up, and in her excitement kicked over one of the five candles at the corners of the pentagram. “The gems you got from Darkmist! Shay, you always said how powerful they were. You can use them to see Jundag!”

  “Something to boost the spell’s power; it sounds like just the thing we need!” Marris exclaimed, her enthusiasm echoed by the other mages.

  DoHeney smirked as Shay glanced helplessly around at his colleagues, who were slapping hands and miming breaking down walls; there was no way for him to back out now. Lynthalsea caught DoHeney’s eye, her brow furrowed with worry. Ah, lass, so ye’ve noticed his obsession, too. Brok stood beside her, and bent to whisper in her ear. DoHeney winked at her and nodded; she seemed to understand, and relaxed a bit.

  "Of course!" Shay said in a tone suggesting that he had forgotten all about the gems and was pleased with the suggestion. He dipped into a deep pocket and withdrew a black velvet bag, which he—a bit reluctantly, DoHeney thought—held out to Prael. "This is one of the enchanted stones we recovered from Zellohar. You hold one, I the other, and we will repeat the incantation."

  "I really don't think I’m the proper one to handle the gem," Prael objected politely, holding his gloved hands up before him.

  "Oh, they are harmless if handled correctly, Prael."

  "It’s not that I fear their touch, Shay," the red mage said. "It’s that I assume that physical contact is required to use the artifact. And I... Well, I...

  Lynthalsea gracefully stepped in for the embarrassed mage. “Prael’s condition prohibits him from touching certain things, specifically, anything that is not red in color."

  DoHeney thought that Shay looked rather startled—and a little embarrassed himself—at being caught unaware of such a significant condition in one of his guests, given that his sister seemed to be well-versed in the details.

  "And all this time I just thought you had no fashion sense." Borgland laughed, but held out his hand to Shay. "I will serve in your place, Master Prael."

  Borgland and Shay unwrapped the gems, and all resumed their positions. Borgland’s eyes widened with pleasure as he took the diamond in hand, and the other mages looked on jealously. Shay nodded to Revria, and they began once again.

  The glittering lights appeared as before, but now they shifted and warped, as if viewed through a distorted pane of glass. Then the scene raced toward them so quickly that DoHeney caught his breath and braced for impact. But they simply flew through the column of stone as if it were permeable, passing through caverns and hallway as they penetrated farther and farther into the city. Finally their passage slowed and the view snapped into focus: a long stairway lit by glowing braziers affixed to the stone walls. Myriad beings—some cloaked, some barely dressed, all pale—walked or ran up and down the stairs. In the center of the scene was a large litter being borne up the stairs. And there at the head of the litter, straining under its weight, was Jundag.

  Avari let out a low, mournful moan that seemed to reverberate throughout the room; the rest of the company remained silent. DoHeney was the first to voice what they were all thinking.

  “By the Delver’s dirty toenails, would ya look at them scars.”

  A sob caught in Avari’s throat. “To them he's just a beast of burden! An ox to whip..."

  "I think not, Avari." Brok’s voice was calm, soothing. "He has undoubtedly endured great injuries, but despite the scars, the wounds are well healed. Also, he looks quite strong and otherwise healthy; one cannot remain so under a steady regimen of neglect. But he does appear to be quite...soul weary."

  “Look at his eyes,” she said quietly. “They’re so...hard, so desperate. That’s not the Jundag I knew...”

  “Aye,” DoHeney agreed, “the lad’s seen some hard times.” He shook his head regretfully. How could they have known? They had seen Jundag die; usually, fallen comrades don’t rise again. Bloody dark-worshipin' scum, he thought in
disgust. They don’t know to leave the dead alone. He squinted at the scene in the mirror, looking beyond Jundag’s shoulder to the litter.

  “Can we see who’s the lad’s haulin’ about there?” he asked.

  Shay nodded. The view shifted. Leaning back against the cushioned brocade seatback was a woman with pale skin and ebony hair. A hint of a smile crooked her lips as she placidly stroked a large spider that crawled across her hand.

  "That's her!" Avari cried. "That's the woman at Zellohar! Darkmist's sister, remember?"

  "How can you be sure?" Shay’s tone was skeptical. “It was over a year ago that—“

  "Nay, lad, that's the one all right, as sure as yer ears have a point on 'em," DoHeney confirmed, recalling the encounter with Darkmist’s sisters in the Nekdukarr’s summoning room. He squinted as something caught his eye. "Look at the amulet hangin' 'round her neck! I saw that a time or two on Jundag, and it seems that I remember—"

  "That's it!" Avari surged to her feet, barely remaining within the pentagram. "Jundag’s medallion! She was wearing it at Zellohar, and she’s wearing it in my dreams! And that spider pendant, too!"

  "That is the symbol of Xakra, the Tangler," Brok said, squinting at the image. "But the thorned chain around her neck is the icon of Pergamon, Lord of Pain."

  "She worships two gods?" Shay asked.

  "It is not unheard of, Master Shay," Brok said. "Some say that the leaders of their cities hold favor from all of the Dark Five."

  "It's just like in my dream,” Avari continued, “except that it didn't glow like—"

  "Uh oh," Borgland interrupted as he stared at the spider pendant that glowed ruddy red. "I think we've been discovered, Master Shay. We'd best make a hasty retreat, lest our unwary subject—That's it, she's noticed! Terminate the spell!"

  Shay spoke a quick word of cancellation just as the woman’s lips began to move. Immediately, the view faded. Only their own pale visages stared back at them from the mirror.

  "By The Maker's brass balls, I need a drink!" DoHeney exclaimed. He spun away from the mirror. "An' me thinks ye all could use a little jolt, seein’ as ye did all the work. Besides, we got a lot ta jaw about, so we might as well get in the mood."

  "Yes," Shay agreed, retrieving the enchanted diamond from Borgland and sequestering both gems carefully away in his robes. "I could most definitely do with a drink, and we most assuredly have a great deal to discuss. Ladies and gentlemen, if you would accompany me, my cellar is at your disposal."

  Calmarel swore under her breath, her invocation dying on her lips. Someone had been spying on her—her spider pendant was never wrong—but whoever was peeking in on her had noted her discovery and terminated their scrying. Who could it have been? Her mind raced with the possibilities...

  "Jundag! Back to the castle, quickly." The litter lurched as the tribesman heaved it around to point back the way they had come. "Careful, you dolt!"

  She heard him mumble something, but abstained from rebuking him; she had more important things to worry about. Calmarel wracked her brain as she considered potential spies; one name kept popping to the top.

  Grimlord Gorgoneye?

  She had embarrassed the warlord badly during the last tournament. His loss undoubtedly would also place him in a difficult spot with the Gorgoneye matriarch when she returned from the citadel; losing that much gold on a bet brooked unspeakably poor judgment. Perhaps he was handling his humiliation by planning to assassinate the one responsible.

  That must be it! she thought confidently. It’s what I would do, though not in such a clumsy manner. But the mediator will never let him get away with murdering a member of the council... A twinge of unease pricked her mind. The mediator was busy overseeing construction at the citadel. Petty inter-clan squabbles might be overlooked in the shadow of such overwhelmingly important matters.

  For one of the few times in her life, Calmarel felt the growing nausea of panic. She was in no condition to defend against an attack, and Lysethra was now back at the citadel. Her best course would be to retreat into Castle Darkmist. There she could martial her defenses, surround herself with loyal clansmen, and have her wizards perform a few careful scryings of their own to see just what her rival in Clan Gorgoneye was up to. In her present condition there was no such thing as being too careful.

  "How is he?" Feldspar whispered, edging quietly through the door into the sick room.

  "Much the same," Kenrah said, stifling a yawn.

  She and Voncellia sat in armchairs near the foot of the bed, haggard but attentive, as an acolyte from one of the temples hovered over Braelen. A tiny incense brazier hung inches above the old mage's face, emitting anesthetic vapors that drifted gently down to ease his rest. Feldspar was no healer, but Braelen’s ashen skin and labored breathing seemed worse.

  We’ve not much time, he thought worriedly.

  "I think the key to this malady lies in the spell Braelen used to extend his life" he said quietly, "though I’ll need to see his actual notes to be sure. They should be in his personal spell books, but,” he glanced back through the door into the study, at the bookshelves packed with hundreds of journals and spell books handwritten by Braelen himself, “I’ve no idea where to start looking. I’ve got to speak with Braelen!”

  "Excuse me, sir, but you cannot disturb the patient."

  Feldspar turned to look at the acolyte, a young man not even capable of curing his own acne yet, though apparently quite confident that, as the healer-on-site, his word was indisputable. But the brashness of youth was no match for Feldspar.

  "Don’t you dictate to me, boy! The only way to possibly save Master Braelen is for us to get the information we need."

  The acolyte quailed slightly, then recovered and crossed his arms. "My mistress said that no one should intervene—"

  "Then go tell your mistress!” Feldspar said, flapping his hands toward the door. “If she thought he could be saved through entreaties to the gods, she’d still be here herself. All you’re doing is keeping him comfortable until the end. What we want to do is prevent the end. Understand?"

  The youth glared obstinately back at Feldspar, then glanced at the sick bed. Whether it was the boy’s own assessment of the situation, or fear of the three powerful and obviously agitated mages now standing in front of him, Feldspar didn’t know and didn’t care, but the acolyte stepped aside with a curt bow, moving to the corner to observe the proceedings.

  Feldspar nodded, pacified by the young man’s acquiescence.

  “Do you need him to speak?” Kenrah asked as they moved to the bed. “Or will his thoughts suffice? I can read his thoughts without actually waking him, though he will need to be less-heavily sedated.” She motioned for Voncellia to remove the anesthetic incense, then sifted through the pockets of her robe and pulled out a slim rod of gold.

  Feldspar smiled at his colleague. Kenrah could be temperamental and often lacked prudence, but she had an unerring knack for always having the right spell on hand. "His thoughts should be fine," he said, “better, in fact. If he can provide the answers I need, I won’t have to spend hours riffling through books and trying to decipher his handwriting."

  Kenrah twirled the rod along her fingers as she whispered the incantation. The rod vanished in a twinkle of light and a shimmer of multi-hued dust that settled onto the comatose mage.

  "Go ahead, Feldspar."

  Feldspar leaned close, placing his mouth near Braelen's ear, "Master Braelen, this is Feldspar. I need to ask you some questions, but don’t try to talk. Just think the answers."

  Braelen’s eyes fluttered but did not open, and his breathing shallowed. Kenrah nodded—Braelen heard and understood—so he continued.

  "You mentioned the plane of discord. You were referring to The Void and not Xakra’s home plane, correct?"

  Kenrah nodded again, "Yes, that’s correct."

  Feldspar felt a thrill of satisfaction; his hunch had played out. "Good. You used Void essence in your spell to disrupt the continuity of the aging
process, correct?”

  Kenrah nodded.

  “Excellent. So, the Void essence must be fluctuating somehow, perhaps a cyclical—“

  “No!” Kenrah said, shaking her head vehemently. “He seems quite adamant that this is not a simple intraplanar fluctuation. He calculated the tides and natural inconsistencies of The Void's boundaries and worked them into the spell. The disturbance has to be interplanar. Something is drawing Void essence out of The Void. He can feel it."

  “But how would one do that?” Voncellia wondered. “It would take vastly more complex magic than one person—“

  “He says there are two places from which the disturbance may originate,” Kenrah interrupted. “The Void is bordered by Lair and Pytt. The Void would have to be approached from one of those two planes."

  “Yes,” Feldspar remembered. “Braelen sampled The Void from Lair; he noted it in the journal I read in the library, along with the coordinates. Thank you, Master Braelen.” Feldspar laid a comforting hand on his old friend’s shoulder. “Rest easy.”

  He motioned to the acolyte to replace the soothing incense, and the wizards backed away from the bed and out into Braelen’s study. The rest of the Royal Retinue had gathered, and he briefed them on what they had learned.

  “It’s amazing,” he said. “Even comatose, Braelen’s mind is sharp. What’s wrong?” Feldspar raised his eyebrows at Kenrah’s somber expression.

  "He's worried," she said, “like I've never seen him."

  "Understandable, don't you think?" Voncellia commented. “Considering his condition—"

  "No, he’s not worried about himself,” Kenrah argued. “He's worried about us, he’s worried about the Realm. Hell, he's worried about the entire world! I think this disturbance is much worse than we can even imagine."

  CHAPTER 15

  Lynthalsea bid good afternoon to the refuge guests as they filed out of the wine cellar.