Jundag

by Chris A. Jackson

  Calmarel’s smile faltered for a moment, and she kissed the baby to cover her unease, though there was no one but the child there to see. Breathing deeply, she quelled her nervous stomach, banished the trembling of her knees, gathered her child to her breast, and swept out the door.

  Jundag hung in the manacles, awaiting Calmarel’s arrival. Finally, a call from the corridor compelled his new jailer into motion, and the creature—even uglier than Tredgh had been—wrenched the door open so quickly it crashed against the stone wall. The tribesman spotted Calmarel’s sneer as she swaggered in. She caught her breath as if to yell, then slowly exhaled and turned narrowed eyes to her servant.

  “Grelsh!” Her deadly tone made Grelsh shy away as if she had whipped him. “If you expect to survive this job, you must know whom you serve. I expect you to learn my habits so well that all is in readiness when I arrive. I expect you to be so unobtrusive that I think the doors open themselves. Do you understand?”

  The beast nodded until Jundag thought its head might fall off, then slipped quickly through the door when Calmarel ordered it to be gone. Grelsh closed the door quietly and locked it behind him. Jundag steeled himself for the session, standing tall and staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched tight.

  Jundag sensed—rather than saw—Calmarel standing in front of him, not speaking, not moving, not preparing any of her tools. He continued to stare over her head, not acknowledging her presence, prepared for a standoff and fully expecting to prevail. She never had much patience, and—

  A quiet gurgle caught his ear, and he involuntarily jerked his head toward the source. He barely saw Calmarel’s triumphant smile, her glittering eyes watching him. Instead, he stared as she pulled aside her black robe to uncover a pale breast, swollen with milk. Clinging to the breast, tranquilly suckling, its eyes closed in contentment, was a pink-skinned baby with jet-black hair.

  She’s birthed it, he thought, willing himself to maintain a blank mien. She birthed a child, but that does not mean it is mine. She is a queen of lies. She lies to torment me, and I will not believe it. The hair...the hair is just like hers, and nothing like mine. She lies to torment me, and I will not believe it. The mantra had been on his lips for weeks, and he was convinced of its truth. She lies to torment me, and I will not—

  The baby opened its eyes.

  NO!!! his mind screamed, though his voice was paralyzed. It is a trick! An illusion! But try as he would to deny it to himself, deep down he recognized the truth. Despair welled in his heart even as tears welled in his eyes, his blue eyes, so like the baby’s. A poor, innocent babe—his child—destined to live a horrific life, under the ruthless control of a horrific mother. Tears spilled down his face. This seemed to please Calmarel, though not in the usual manner. Instead of taunting him, she said quietly, “Jundag, meet our child.”

  A low moan started deep down in his chest—the sound of his heart breaking—and built until it roared from his throat in a crescendo. The noise startled the baby, which opened its eyes even wider and clutched onto Calmarel’s breast as if for protection. But more than that, it startled Calmarel.

  “Be quiet!” she snapped as she moved a step back, simultaneously stroking the baby’s head to calm it. It settled in again, suckling, but keeping its blue eyes on Jundag. Jundag had no choice; the magic of the golden circlet around his neck forced him to swallow his moan, though he nearly choked.

  "Now listen carefully, Jundag," Calmarel said evenly. "Our daughter is destined for greatness. In addition to inheriting my talents, she’ll have the might of Clan Darkmist behind her. And she’ll have your will, Jundag. Your strength and courage. Your power!"

  She closed her eyes, and Jundag saw that she was lost in her own rapture. After a long moment, she looked at him again, triumph—and challenge, was it?—in her eyes as she looked directly into his.

  "Once before, Jundag, I asked you to join me, to wield your might and intensity in the name of Clan Darkmist. You refused. But now, this child binds us together, unites our strengths into a single being, so I offer you this chance again. Join me, and we’ll raise our child together, and she’ll become even stronger, more powerful, than either of us. Renounce your doomed world and embrace the Dark Gods. Become great in my shadow, and work with me to bring our daughter to even greater glory!"

  She watched him for a moment, a peculiar look on her face. She looked eager yet also...frightened? Jundag had never seen such an expression on that cruel face, and was unsure how to interpret it. He was restrained by the collar, which prevented him from shouting out an emphatic and automatic “No!” He looked again at the baby, and as if it read his mind, it reached out to him with tiny wriggling fingers. And it undid him. Jundag slumped, drained of energy, drained of tears, drained of hope.

  His gaze wavered, moving up from the child’s blue eyes to Calmarel’s black ones. He knew her to be brutal and merciless, and he couldn’t imagine taking a place beside her. But how could he abandon his poor, sinless child to be raised by such a beast? He felt as if his soul was being torn asunder. His thoughts flailed wildly; how could he resolve this? Then time was up, and Calmarel spoke.

  "You may answer with one word: yes or no."

  "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

  Rage propelled Calmarel up from the dungeons and to her quarters, where she kicked open the door and entered like a whirlwind.

  “Get out!” she screeched at the servant who was cleaning up the mess of swaddling clothes strewn over the bed. When the woman moved too slowly for the matriarch’s taste, she threw an unlit brazier at her retreating back. Slamming the door, she carefully opened her robes and pulled out the crying baby.

  “Shhhh, shhhh,” she soothed as she tiptoed to the crib beside her bed. She murmured an invocation to calm the child before laying it down. Tears wet the dark lashes that fringed the blue eyes, but within a few minutes the eyes had closed and the child slept peacefully. Calmarel watched for a moment, wishing she could so easily slough off the last hour. She trembled as she secured her door and sealed the room with another invocation; she wanted no intrusions. Then, despite the early hour, she threw herself on her bed. The echo of Jundag’s refusal rang in her head, wrenching her heart in a way she had never before experienced, inflicting more pain than even the childbirth.

  For the first time in her long life, Calmarel Darkmist lay on her bed and wept.

  CHAPTER 18

  No, Tinarre, you can’t come,” Avari explained. “I need you to go back to Searest and let everyone know that I might not be home for a while.” At the question in his eyes, she quickly held up a warding hand and continued. “I’m going to assume that this will all work out. But...if I’m not back in six months, then I’m probably not coming back. Brishalla has instructions on what to do in that case. Besides,” she added with a smile, “I’d never hear the end of it from Mayjen if I let you come, and you’ve got two little boys waiting for you.”

  The woodling nodded his head and smiled back at her. “As you wish,” he said. “Does Hufferrrerrr accompany you?”

  The leotaur snorted a laugh. “Of course! I am not yet having a female and kittens to return to. Besides, I am of the finding that Mistress Avari is much more of the problem in keeping out of trouble than offspring!”

  Avari swatted him on the shoulder, but smiled gratefully. She’d become accustomed to having Hufferrrerrr by her side, and the gods knew they’d need all the help they could get on this trip. She turned back to the table where Shay and Lynthalsea argued with the wizards from Refuge.

  “I am sorry, Revria, but you are too unstable to accompany us,” Shay said impatiently.

  Lynthalsea shot him an irritated look. “What he means,” the elf said quietly to the young girl, “is that this will be a dangerous trip, with few chances for rest or shelter, and miles of walking over rough ground. This would be difficult or impossible for you when you are very young or very old. Also, we may have to go into the city in disguise, and your shifting age could expose us. Do you understand?�
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  “When you put it that way, yes,” Revria sighed. “I’ll do what I can to help you from Refuge.”

  “That’s our girl!” Borgland said as he patted Revria’s head.

  “I’m not going!” protested Voytek’s newest personality; Avari had stopped trying to remember all the names. “I refuse!”

  “That’s all right,” calmed Lynthalsea. “You don’t have to.”

  “Borgland, Prael, and Marris, you are all coming with us, correct?” Shay asked in a business-like tone, nodding when they agreed.

  “As am I,” said Brok with a smile.

  “Well,” said the half-elf, “I’ll be there to heal any injuries that might be incurred, and I have a supply of potions, too, so we do not necessarily need you to—“

  “Shay, aren’t you always telling me that you can never be too prepared?” Lynthalsea asked as she crossed to stand next to Brok. “I think we’ll need all the healing powers we can get.”

  “Besides,” said Avari, “I thought you said that your concern was protecting the gems? It would be nice to have someone along whose concern was more about us.” Her tone was a little harsher than she intended, but she was piqued by Shay’s presumptuous attitude. She met his glare face on, and smugly noted that he was the first to cast his glance elsewhere.

  “VerNolen here,” said DoHurley loudly over the awkward silence, nodding toward the grizzled dwarf standing to one side, “has volunteered ta be yer guide. He was roamin’ the tunnels under Zellohar long before that Darkmist came, and he’s been reacquaintin’ himself with them since we moved back in. If anyone can help ye find this dark city, it’s him. But I warn ye, what absolutely must not happen, is fer me kinsmen ta be found sneakin’ around in a city o’ the Dark Gods. An’ that goes fer you, too, DoHeney!” The old dwarf shot his nephew a cautionary glance. “A lot more's at stake here than one man's welfare, me friends. If a war results from this mess, it'll be restin' on my shoulders and my doorstep, not yer own."

  “I may be able to help there,” Brok said. “Those who worship the goddess of beauty are gifted in the magics of illusion. DoHeney need not be recognized as a dwarf.”

  DoHeney looked a bit startled at this, but DoHurley grunted and looked satisfied.

  “All right!” said Avari, her spirit suddenly light. She’d grown so tired of sitting and waiting and planning; finally, they could take action. “Let’s go!”

  Jundag was puzzled. He was chained in the preparation room, having been fed, healed of the aches and pains that crept into his bones while he slept, then washed and dressed. But instead of the scanty loincloth for the arena, he was clothed in a black silk tunic that fell almost to his knees, tied at the waist with a silk belt.

  After a long wait, Calmarel walked slowly through the door and stared at him with an expressionless mien.

  “Grelsh, leave us,” she commanded without taking her eyes off Jundag. “I’ll be taking him away for a time. Keep to your duties in the dungeon, and I’ll summon you when I return.”

  “Yeah, mistress,” Grelsh mumbled as he shuffled out the door, glancing back as if uncertain whether this was a test or not. Once the door closed, she came closer until Jundag could smell the harsh incense that typically lingered on her after a lengthy visit to Xakra’s temple.

  “Look at me, and remain still.”

  He had no choice but to look into her eyes, where he spied a crafty glint. Her red lips crooked in a sly smile.

  “I know why you refused me yesterday,” she said. Her light tone confused him; he had expected excruciating pain for his rejection. “You thought to incite me to kill you, to relieve you of your torment. But it won’t work, my pet. I considered skinning you alive to punish you, but I’ve come up with something else...something I think will work quite nicely for my purposes.”

  She looked deeply into his eyes as if searching for something, then shrugged.

  “You have great strength, Jundag, a powerful spirit that refuses to be broken, despite my best efforts. But I’ve discovered your weakness, my pet. It’s love... A pretty useless emotion to my mind, but I know it’s quite revered on your precious surface world. And I could see in your eyes that you already love our child.”

  Calmarel whispered something and waved her hand over his manacles; they fell from his wrists, but her compulsion still locked his limbs. Pushing aside her robe, she brought out the sleeping baby and held it out to him.

  “Take her,” she said. “Protect her. Let no harm come to her, either by accident or by others. If you thought my previous tortures were painful, just let her get a scratch, and you’ll see what real agony is.”

  Jundag was stunned. Generally his automatic reaction was to resist Calmarel’s commands, but now he gave that no thought, and reached out for the child. It felt so light in his hands, and so fragile. She, he thought. A girl. Though his experience with babies extended only to holding his younger siblings when he was a boy, he instinctively tucked the baby into the crook of his arm, and was amazed at how natural it felt.

  “Follow me,” Calmarel said as she turned and opened the door. Then she stopped and looked back at him. “I almost forgot. You will care for our child, but you will also never attempt to harm me, nor try to escape. And when we’re in public, keep your eyes lowered; no need to have anyone comparing them with the baby’s. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Calmarel.”

  “Good. We’re going on a trip. There’s something I think you need to see.”

  Jundag followed Calmarel out into the city. Silently she guided them downward through the twisting byways. Passersby bowed and stepped quickly out of their path; clan nobles were not to be interfered with, and Calmarel in particular bore a dire reputation. Finally they entered a cavernous hall, and he knew where they were. This was where they had met Lysethra when she returned from the citadel, whatever and wherever that was.

  A shimmering portal stood in the center of the chamber. From a distance, its surface resembled a mirror, reflecting back an image of the dim hall. But as they got closer, Jundag realized that he could see through the reflection, like looking into a still pool and seeing both his own features and the depths of the pool beyond. Grey clouds roiled beyond that interface, and bolts of lightening shot forth, only to explode against some unseen barrier in a brilliant blaze of white light that caused all assembled to look away and shield their eyes.

  The frame of the portal was inlaid with metals and wreathed with gold-inscribed runes. And it was large; several rock trolls were lumbering through, hauling huge wagons loaded with supplies. They seemed to melt into the glass-like surface with no resistance. Jundag's skin prickled with the magic that emanated from the portal. Calmarel stopped and slipped a long black cord from her robe, then attached one end of it to the gold circlet around his neck.

  "We can't have you straying off unattended where we're going, my pet," she explained. He must have betrayed his nervousness, for she laughed lightly and tugged on the leash.

  "It’s perfectly safe. Do you think I’d risk my daughter if there were any question of harmful effects? Come on."

  And with that command, Jundag moved forward, gently tucking the blanket over the baby’s head as if the thin silk could protect her.

  Shuddering with revulsion, he followed Calmarel through the portal.

  CHAPTER 19

  Avari sniffed and huffed, attempting to stifle the sneeze that had been building since they entered Zellohar Keep's lowest cavern. The first whiff of sulfurous reek had released long-suppressed memories of her first time here, when she and her companions had unleashed a dragon’s fury by stealing the cornerstone it guarded. What fools we were to think we could pull that off, she thought in wry recollection. But we did! So maybe this trip isn’t as foolish as Shay says...

  She felt ill at ease. Although the dwarves insisted that Phlegothax was gone from this place, the shadows that leaped and lurched among the long-dead formations of flowstone and calcite disturbed her. And as they crossed the low bridge, shiel
ding their faces from the heat and fumes billowing up from beneath, she slowed, half expecting to see the dragon still curled around the stone spire ahead, to hear its roar of anger and feel the heat of its dragon-fire.

  "Brings back memories, don't it, lass?" DoHeney chortled with a nervous smile.

  "Yeah," Avari replied solemnly, "all bad."

  "Well, jist remember that ye weren't the one trussed up like a chicken an' floated over a sleepin' beast the size o' a house," he said, nodding toward the spire that had once held the enchanted ruby aloft. "And remember who was near dropped right atop the beast, thanks to a mutual pointy-eared friend o' ours."

  "I assure you, DoHeney, these pointy ears are quite as adept as they always were," Shay informed them from several paces behind. "And as I said then, when a dragon sneezes on you, it has a tendency to break your concentration."

  Low laughter rolled through the small company, easing some of their nervousness, though Borgland glanced around apprehensively and whispered “Dragon? What dragon?” Even DoHurley, leading the expedition thus far, was uneasy, his single good eye darting to and fro. On the far side of the bridge he stopped and motioned all to gather round.

  "This is as far as I come along," he said, his words tinged with regret. "From here on VerNolen will be yer guide. An’, o’ course, them magical stones yer carryin'."

  "Speakin’ of," said VerNolen. It was the first time he had spoken, and his voice was soft, as if he was accustomed to speaking only in a whisper. His careful and precise manner also bespoke of long hours slinking through potentially dangerous territory. Avari approved of him heartily as their guide.

  "Speakin’ of," VerNolen repeated, "perhaps ye can use them gems to point us in the right general direction. There’re several tunnels leadin’ out o' this chamber, and I'll choose the one that points us nearest the mark."