Melody shot him a look.
“What? It wasn’t me. Sounds like your superstitious rhetoric is skulking about.” Silurian grabbed Melody’s robes and pulled her behind him. “Something’s here.”
Melody mumbled something and her staff’s runes flared to life, casting their immediate area with an orange hue, but wasn’t strong enough to pierce the foggy haze clinging to the ground.
They stood motionless. Silurian’s eyes never stopped scanning. “Whatever that was, we need to keep moving. I don’t care to be stuck in this place after dark.”
“Yes, I agree.” Melody emitted a nervous chuckle. “Was probably just a rat.”
The cobblestone roadway twisted between oddly shaped buildings, no apparent thought given to its course. Several secondary paths branched off the road in either direction, but where they led to, neither Silurian or his sister cared to investigate.
His skin tingled. An inner alarm raised the hairs on his neck. The feeling was disturbingly similar to the one he had sensed before he confronted the possessed Voil wizard, Menthliot. This time the feeling wasn’t as strong, nor did he get the sensation that something awaited them. Rather, it seemed that whatever it was, meant them no harm at all.
He peered hard, but there was no way he could see into the gaping black holes riddling the listing buildings lining the roadway. Nor did he wish to enter the precarious structures. Whether it meant them harm or not, he wasn’t about to take any chances where his sister was concerned.
“Something watches us,” he whispered.
Melody stopped. She took a deep breath and said louder than was necessary, “Where?”
“I’m not sure.” Silurian tilted his head to indicate a three-story, brick building missing its far front corner. “It keeps moving about. I think it’s in there.”
They stopped and feigned being unaware of their stalker. Melody searched through the endless contents of her small bag. She pulled out a flat piece of hardened cheese wrapped in cloth, and with difficulty broke off a couple of pieces. She handed one to Silurian and stuffed the other into her mouth, before placing the remainder back in the bag.
She pulled out the stubby vial containing the green ichor, and held it to the pale sky. She looked at Silurian and raised her eyebrows twice in quick succession.
“What is it?”
“Cave blowing up stuff.” She carefully worried the cork free, and said absently, “I wish Rook was here.”
He gave her a puzzled look.
“We could use his bow to launch this through that upper window.”
He nodded and bent down to pick up a fist-sized chunk of broken brick. “Will this do?”
She considered the proffered shard. “It might, though I’m a little hesitant to waste this stuff. It took years to make this much.”
Silurian frowned at the near-empty vial.
“I guess it couldn’t hurt,” Melody said, more to herself and inverted the vial.
He watched on, expecting the contents to flow onto the brick, but nothing happened.
Melody gently shook the container, urging the gelatinous goo from its resting place. At one point she accidentally tapped the vial on the brick and took a quick intake of breath.
“Whew,” was all she said in explanation, and resumed worrying the green ichor along. Gradually a dollop oozed to the edge of the vial, enough to allow her to ever so cautiously coat the pointed end of the shard.
Melody nodded at her handiwork and handed the brick, goo side away from him, to Silurian. “Here, take it. Whatever you do, don’t drop it. And don’t touch the ichor.”
Silurian relieved her of the brick, holding it away from his body, eyes wide. He watched his sister patiently wait for the goo to settle back into the bottom of the vial before gently reinserting the stopper and placing it back into her bag.
She gave him a little smile. “Do you think you can reach the upper window?”
“Pfft,” Silurian replied, indignant. He walked nonchalantly across the roadway and took a few steps closer to the building in question. Making sure not to touch the green substance, he adjusted the brick shard so it rested comfortably in his palm. Leaning back, he took aim and threw.
As soon as it left his hand, he knew he had thrown poorly.
“Get down!” Melody’s cry of despair told him she knew it also.
He ran back and dove down beside her.
The rock impacted the building well short of the gaping window. It chinked off the wall and fell to the cobblestones, skittering several times before coming to a rest.
With each skitter, Melody flinched, but nothing happened.
“That’s odd,” she said, standing up. “There’s enough ichor to bring down that entire building.”
“You sure you used the right stuff?”
The look she gave him was answer enough.
Silurian studied the crumbling structure, trying to sense the other’s presence, but he no longer felt anything untoward. “Whatever it was, it’s gone now.”
“How do you know that?’
He shrugged. “I’ve always been able to sense things. Remember Thonk?”
Melody glared at him. “How can I not?”
“It’s weird, now that I think about it. I was never able to detect Hairy.”
“Hmm?” Melody replied, her attention elsewhere. “Come on. It’s getting dark.”
Silurian gazed at the sky. Night had taken a firm hold on Wizard’s Gibbet, but their eyes had adjusted accordingly. A three-quarter moon rose over the eastern row of buildings providing enough light to see by amongst the deeper shadows that clung to the buildings.
Melody located the errant brick and examined its surface. The layer of gelatinous substance still clung to the brick, together with small bits of dirt it had picked up. “That’s bizarre. It should’ve worked,” she muttered. Rummaging through her bag, she produced a dirty scrap of cloth and carefully bundled the shard into the depths of the worn satchel.
A short walk brought them to the town centre. The cobblestones spread into a square courtyard nestled between several long buildings. The rising moon squatted upon the far edge of the open area, a lone tree highlighted within its frame. The tree dominated the centre of the square, its skeletal branches soaring into the sky. Large stone slabs were piled beneath the barren tree’s lowest limbs.
“Gallows Square,” Melody whispered. “That tree is known as the Wizard’s Gibbet.”
Silurian swallowed, his eyes darting from the gallows slabs to his sister and back again as they slowly approached the tree. The brooding oak appeared alive, highlighted in the moonlight and shimmering in the mist. If what Melody had told him was true, the tree was over five hundred years old; its great trunk thrust up through the cobbles lining its base.
A shadowy form detached itself from the backside of the gibbet tree and slithered quickly away from them, disappearing within a dark alley on the far side of the square.
“What was that?” Silurian’s voice almost squeaked. As heightened as his senses were, he had barely registered the apparition’s presence.
Melody’s staff lit up.
A soft hiss came from their right, the eerie sound rapidly imitated all across the square behind them.
Silurian spun about, sword held in front of him, his gaze darting from one darkened doorway to a yawning black alleyway and up to a second story window. Black shadows slithered into the square, their lithe forms skulking across the paving stones, closing in around the wizard’s gibbet.
Turning slowly, Silurian and Melody backed toward the hangman’s tree as hundreds of shadowy forms creeped toward them.
Treachery
Alhena ascended the flight of exquisitely carved granite steps to the lower platform within the cavern of the Chamber of the Wise. Olmar waddled up the steps behind him, followed closely by Sadyra and Larina. Ensuring they didn’t tarry, a dozen, heavily armoured Gritian pikemen prodded them from behind.
He was thankful Olmar had restrained his urge to start breaking hea
ds when Jibrael demanded they be stripped of their weapons. Matters almost came to a head when the Enervator insisted Alhena’s staff be taken from him, but the messenger had quietly assured Olmar that everything would be okay once the Chambermaster heard what he had to impart.
The group milled about at the top of the steps, quietly awaiting the arrival of Chambermaster Uzziah. No one spoke, but every so often Olmar muttered something indecipherable under his breath. Alhena sensed the sailor and the archers were sizing up the men guarding them.
Alhena recognized most of the no-nonsense guardsmen. These men had been personally responsible for High Warlord Archimedes’ safety. Even though they had ultimately failed in their duty, mighty Olmar wasn’t enough to take them all on.
The great oaken doors at the far end of the chamber swung outward. Six additional guardsmen escorted Chambermaster Uzziah and Vice Chambermaster Io along with Vice Chambermistress Gruss and a hunched figure whose features were hidden beneath a black cowl. Jibrael was amongst the trailing guardsmen—the last two pulled the doors closed.
Olmar growled like an angry bear.
“Easy, Lunkhead,” Larina whispered, smiling up at Olmar, but his deadly glare did little to assure her that he would obey.
Sadyra bumped his leg just above his knee with her hip. “Aye, Midge, let Alhena deal with this.”
“Come, Alhena,” the chambermaster commanded as his entourage passed casually by them.
The chambermaster sat within the embrace of a highbacked chair. “Stand before us and present the events that bring you back here.”
The newly arrived militiamen fanned out across the platform, four of the guards remaining within easy reach of Olmar.
A sly smile passed between the two female archers, neither of whom were given much consideration by the Chamber Guard.
When the others were seated as well, except for the dark figure Alhena didn’t recognize, and the Enervator who had taken up a position behind Chambermaster Uzziah, Alhena held a palm out to stay Olmar, and moved to stand before the council members.
“Before we get started, why don’t you tell us about Silurian Mintaka. Where is he?” the chambermaster asked.
Alhena looked at Olmar and the archers. Not knowing how to say it in a way that would ease the shock, he said, “He is dead, Your Eminence. He died defending the people who followed him on his quest to reclaim the lost power of his sword.”
The council members regarded Alhena with stoic interest. The news of Silurian’s demise hadn’t affected them in the slightest.
“The Chamber doesn’t believe you,” the chambermaster spoke for the council.
Alhena threw his palms up, flabbergasted at the chambermaster’s lack of emotion. Silurian and Abraham had been close friends once upon a time. “Whether you believe me or not, the truth remains the same. Silurian Mintaka is dead. He died in the mythical Under Realm along with,” he paused to indicate Jibrael, “Your previous Enervator, Avarick Thwart.”
“Do not speak that name within these hallowed halls.” The chambermaster’s voice dripped with acid. “He facilitated Mintaka’s escape. The repercussions of his actions have left an irreparable scar upon the land. The news out of Carillon is that King Malcolm and the entire royal family have perished.”
Alhena’s face turned ashen.
“Aye. Too late do you see the result of your actions. The king’s death is on your head, Alhena Sirrus. What do you say to that?”
Several guardsmen tensed as Olmar bunched his fists and snarled.
Alhena heard Larina’s harsh whisper, “Not now, Lunkhead.”
Hoping the women could keep Olmar in check, Alhena addressed the chambermen. “That is preposterous. If Silurian had gone to Castle Svelte without the enchantment of his sword, he would have perished as well. There was nothing he could have done to prevent Helleden’s firestorm.” He struggled to keep his voice civil.
“If what you claim is true, then what would be the difference?” Abraham’s face was expressionless. “Silurian’s refusal to adhere to the Chamber’s decree has sealed Zephyr’s fate.”
The chambermaster’s statement didn’t make sense. Surely, he saw the emptiness of his accusation.
The hunched figure in the black cowl leaned in to whisper something into Abraham’s ear.
The chambermaster nodded several times before turning his attention back to Alhena. “Where is Rook Bowman?”
Alhena was taken aback by that question. He remembered Vice Chambermaster Solomon Io’s warning about strange occurrences within the Chamber. He glanced at Solomon, but the vice chambermaster looked away. Was that shame on his face?
Alhena forced himself to stare into the chambermaster’s eyes. “I do not know, Your Eminence.”
Abraham’s face behind his long, well-kempt white beard turned red. “Do not add perjury to your long list of offences, senior messenger. You left Madrigail Bay with him and two others not present with you now. One reportedly a demon.”
“How can you know that? We came straight here.”
Abraham leaned forward. “How dare you question the high bishop of Zephyr? You stand before me guilty of high treason, but instead of pleading for the Chamber’s pardon, you come before us with the intention of further deceit.”
The chambermaster’s actions were out of character. He was the religious head of Zephyr. He above most others should see the ludicrousness of his accusations. He was a man burdened with heavy responsibility and tended to come across as strong-willed, but he was also a man known for his patience. A man that would listen without judgment—whose level-headedness enabled him to mete out just punishment. The man seated before Alhena had gone mad.
Alhena searched for something to say to mitigate the rising tension.
Chambermaster Uzziah jumped to his feet, and threw him to the ground. “Seize them!”
Alhena hit the stone platform hard. Olmar roared and the sound of swords being pulled free of their scabbards resounded all around. Two high-pitched shouts echoed within the relatively empty cavern.
Alhena gathered his wits enough to look over at the broiling mass of confusion. Several guards struggled to pull Olmar off his feet.
Sadyra and Larina stood over two recently felled guards and braced themselves to face several more.
The sound of metal banging off something solid averted Alhena’s attention back to the scrum around the sailor. Olmar staggered beneath the weight of five large men, but he refused to go down. Spitting and trying to bite anything within reach, he was doing anything he could to relieve the pressure of the men pinning his arms and legs.
He let out a mighty roar and threw one of the burly guards off his right arm. He was about to pummel the man wrapped around his waist when the flat edge of a poleaxe whacked him across the forehead, the same metal sound Alhena had heard moments before. The blow stunned Olmar.
The guards worked together, taking Olmar crashing to the ground. With his arms caught up by several guardsmen, he was unable to break his fall. His massive head rebounded off the stone platform, and he went still.
“Midge!” Sadyra screamed. She feigned a punch to the head of the man in front of her and doubled him over with a hard kick to the groin, quickly followed by an elbow to the back of his neck as she simultaneously kneed him in the face. The man dropped motionless at her feet.
Beside her, Larina engaged another guard but he back-stepped away from her high kick and was joined by two others who used their combined weight to drive her off the stage.
Sadyra, caught between wanting to help Larina and needing to ensure Olmar was alive, wasn’t able to prevent another guard from driving into her midsection and taking her down. She scratched at his eyes, but his metal gauntlet drove into her cheek, smashing her teeth into her lips.
She spat blood into his eyes and tried to squirm free. A second blow hammered the side of her face. Her head rebounded off the floor and she, too, went still.
The figure in the black cowl pulled Alhena to his feet and dr
agged him from the stage.
Olmar regained consciousness to the sound of metal scraping on metal. As near as he could determine, he lay on a cold earthen floor within a dark room. The only light visible filtered through the edges of a small door in the wall opposite of where he lay, and from around a rectangular slot near the bottom of that same door. The musty room smelled of dampness and rot. Another unpleasant aroma assaulted his senses, but he couldn’t place the odour.
His head ached in three separate places, the worst of it originating at the back of his head where it had bounced off the stone platform.
“For the blessed gods.” He jerked sideways as something skittered by his arm and headed toward the door. The sudden movement made his head pound.
The only things he could hear were the scratching of tiny feet and the odd squeak from somewhere in the darkness behind him.
A faint gnawing sounded by the door. His addled thoughts focused and he realized the significance. The metal scraping had been the small slot at the bottom of his door opening and closing again. The unpleasant odour came from whatever slop his gaoler had left for him. The gnawing noise meant that the rodent that had brushed against him was eating his meal.
He forced himself to sit up, wincing as stabs of pain immobilized him. He crawled over to the door and, sure enough, a rodent squeaked its displeasure and scurried away.
The metal bowl felt filthy in his hand, but at least it was warm to the touch. He brought it close to his nose and almost gagged. He threw the bowl after the fleeing pest, the metal vessel clanging loudly off the rock wall before thudding to the dirt floor.
A throaty chuckle resonated from the other side of the door. “You’ll not be getting more ‘til the morrow,” the deep voice informed him as it moved off.
“Bloody ‘ell,” Olmar muttered. “I needs t’ get outta ‘ere and see t’ Pops and me lassies.”
He felt around the edges of the food slot, but there was no way his sausage-like fingers could pry at the thin gaps around its edges. He pushed at the cover plate. The outside latch rattled, but the slot was too narrow for him to put enough force behind his fingers.
Soul Forge Saga Box Set Page 49
