Baleful Signs (Dagger of the World Book 3)

by K. L. Reinhart

  It doesn’t matter what the Arcanum thinks when he sees me, Terak thought. All that matters is that he can save her—and also might know about the Ungol, and how best to beat these things.

  Terak’s feet hit the Lore Halls, and the musty smell of old incense filled the air, making him sneeze. The back of his teeth once again ached in sympathy for the residual magic left lingering in these stones. The elf passed by archways that led into study-cells, libraries, and large workshop rooms where strange circles were inscribed on the floors and the most dangerous magics were experimented upon within.

  At the end of the wide hallway was a simple wooden door with a bluish light streaming from inside. The Chief Arcanum’s personal study.

  “Chief!” Terak called, as his feet carried him closer—

  He heard loud and angry voices issue from inside the study.

  “The signs are clear! The Blood Gate is opening!” hissed somebody—and Terak was surprised to recognize the voice of his own mentor, Father Jacques.

  “Don’t talk to me about signs, External!” rebuked the proud tones of the Chief Arcanum. “Who do you think has devoted his life to the study of the Gate! It’s impossible! All my calculations predict it shouldn’t open for another year, at least!”

  “Nevertheless, the sky burns, Arcanum,” Terak heard the Chief External growl back, just as he entered the study with Reticula in his arms.

  “Terak!” Father Jacques said, but just as quickly saw the gravity of the situation as his eyes fell on the unconscious form of Reticula. “Arcanum, clear a table. This novitiate is injured.”

  “That is not allowed into my personal domain!” Behind the Chief External, the Arcanum was already standing in the long room. Its upper walls were lined with shelves, and its work benches were filled with books, crystals, and the arcane tools of the Arcanum’s trade.

  By that you mean me, I take it? Terak thought, his eyes glaring with hatred at the Arcanum. The old man with a wiry gray beard and sallow skin was hunched over and appeared almost frail, but every time the elf drew near him, Terak’s whole body ached with the nausea he associated with magic. He wondered if anyone else felt the same around magic. Probably not, he thought as he continued to glare fiercely at the man.

  “This is no time for your petty prejudices, Arcanum!” Jacques snapped back.

  “Petty!?” The Arcanum straightened where he stood, losing his frail demeanor, and a fizzing miasma appeared in the air around his form as his magical rage seeped. Terak saw the nearby jars on the worktables shake and wobble with suppressed energy.

  “That null will destroy us all, and I want no part of this!” The jars started to shake and gyrate across the table. “You may be favored, Chief External, but know this: I am still a Chief of this keep. And if you wish my aid in stopping the Blood Gate, then get that novitiate out of my rooms, now!” The Arcanum’s voice boomed, and a book fell from the shelves behind him as waves of power radiated from the man. “I have serious matters to attend to, such as the defense of the Black Keep!”

  Terak started to growl. Reticula murmured in his arms. There was another novitiate’s life at stake! He could have thrown himself at the old man were he not keeping Reticula from falling to the floor.

  But before Terak could say anything to make the situation worse, Father Jacques had made up his mind.

  “Terak, bring the girl and follow me. And Arcanum?” The Chief looked around at the old man. “We will discuss this matter later. Your obstruction, I fear, will be the destruction of us all—not Novitiate Terak!”

  And at that, Jacques swept past the elf and through the door of the Arcanum’s study. Terak gave the Arcanum one final stare of hatred—which appeared completely mutual—and followed his mentor, the Chief of the Enclave-External.

  The Chief External wasted no time in taking the pair to the nearest entrance to the washer’s stairs. The winding network of passageways and hidden stairwells honeycombed the Black Keep. The house staff under Chief Hospitality only used a tiny fraction of the network. The rest was the domain of the Enclave-External.

  “What happened? How was she injured?” Jacques barked as he jogged through the dark corridors. He threw a three-fingered gesture to create a small ball of glowing blue light that lit their way past cobwebs and dust-balls.

  “The Estreek, sir,” Terak said as he raced to follow. “She got bit—I found her just in time.”

  Jacques made a low moan in the back of his throat, and his feet slowed. “Terak . . .” his words came back, traumatized. “If she was bitten by the Estreek, then I fear that she is already beyond our care.”

  “No!” Terak hissed back, struggling with whether to tell his mentor the truth or not. How could I? The Arcanum already wants me dead for being a null, and if Jacques finds out that I have made a friend of an Ungol spirit . . .?

  “Please, sir. We have to try,” Terak pleaded, and the urgent tone in his voice was enough for the Chief External to pick up his feet once more.

  Their passage moved up through the Keep, and all of the sounds of battle and mayhem outside dulled then finally disappeared completely. Another couple of snaking stairwells and Terak suddenly recognized where they were. It was only a turn in the corridors to get to the very rooms where he lived and worked.

  “Here, by the chairs . . .” Father Jacques said. He pushed open the simple wooden door, before pausing, blinking at the signs of devastation all around. “Uh . . . Terak?”

  “I can explain—” the elf said, although he wasn’t sure how he was going to.

  “Never mind.” Jacques seized the legs of the novitiate and he helped lower her onto one of the worktables that had been scored by the Mordhuk’s claws. Terak hoped that Jacques was too caught up in treating Reticula to notice.

  The novitiate moaned as she was settled down, with Terak bundling one of his old cloaks underneath her head. Jacques carefully inspected the wound.

  “Dear Moons . . .” Jacques coughed when he saw the ugly black rose on her shoulder. To Terak’s eyes, it had deepened in shade and spread a little, but nowhere near as fast as it would have had the Mordhuk not attempted to heal her.

  “The Estreek are a common threat near the Gates to Ungol,” Jacques said as he rummaged in the storage boxes behind them. He returned with handfuls of vials and ointments. “You could say they are like rats to the Ungol—or hyenas . . .”

  Terak wondered how Jacques knew so much about the nightmare realm.

  “But their bite means certain death to any Midhara creature in moments.” Jacques was shaking his head as he selected a pale white-yellow cream to apply to Reticula’s shoulder. “You have to get a healing charm to them straight away. How this young woman is still alive is a miracle.”

  Terak nodded. He didn’t believe in miracles. It wasn’t something that the Path of Pain allowed him to believe. He wondered whether the Chief External would still call it a miracle if he knew the truth—that the precious time came from the tongue of the Mordhuk.

  The Chief checked her temperature, and gently pulled open her mouth to inspect her tongue and lips. He pulled open her eyelids to watch as Reticula’s pupils widened and narrowed a little.

  “Hmm.” The Chief did not appear happy with his prognosis. “She will die, Terak. There is nothing that I can do to stop the spread of the Estreek’s poison through her body—even if it is moving far slower than normal.”

  No. “There must be something!” Terak said. “Mercurial water?” He thought of the silvery liquid that could seemingly heal any injury.

  But Jacques was shaking his head. “I am afraid not. The poison of the Estreek is a magical one, an Ungol one. It does not come from this plane but another world altogether. Only healing from the other planes could be powerful enough now, at this late stage . . .”

  Terak bared his teeth and hissed in frustration. “So, you’re saying that’s it? She will just die in front of us?” The elf refused to believe it. “There must be something we can do. Didn’t you yourself tell me that a
ll you need is courage and to walk the Path?”

  “Terak . . .” Jacque’s tone softened as he shook his head. “We are in the middle of the end of the world. You must realize that now is the time that the Enclave has been preparing for, for hundreds of years!”

  “What are you saying?” Terak’s voice was low. “That there is something that could heal her, but you won’t allow it?” Terak’s temper finally broke. “That you’re too busy!?”

  “Novitiate!” The Chief External’s reprimand was sharp, and the tension between student and mentor crackled like the lines of power that had radiated from the Chief Arcanum. But a final look at the young woman lying on the table appeared to make up his mind.

  “Okay. There is one healing that could save her life, but it may be impossible for any of us to get it now,” he said severely. He cast a glance up to the still-open window, where the light of the sky beyond remained that baleful purple.

  “I can get it,” Terak promised.

  Father Jacques looked at him for a moment longer. “Perhaps you can,” he said. He wiped his hands over his eyes before he continued. “The only healing I know of that can help her now is the Demiene Flower that resides in the Crystal Forests.”

  Terak had never heard of it, and when he said as much, Jacques chuckled wearily. “I am not surprised. The Crystal Forests lie in the Aesther.”

  Oh. Terak rocked on his feet, as frustration crashed down through him. The Aesther was the upper world to the Ungol’s lower, with their own world of Midhara in the middle.

  But I managed to get into the Loranthian Shrine, which no one had ever done, he reminded himself. I have killed orcs. And mages.

  And there was only one path ahead, or so the Book of Corrections told him. The right one and the wrong one.

  “How do we get to the Aesther?” Terak said firmly.

  Jacques looked at his novitiate for a long moment before shaking his head. “We don’t. Not at the moment.”

  “What?” Terak burst out. The Chief’s expression darkened. So he added a little more respectfully, “Sir.”

  “The problem is the Baleful Signs, up there,” Father Jacques said, as he nodded to the window with its purple-laden sky beyond.

  “The what?” Terak shook his head. He was aware that every second they wasted was a second that meant Reticula was closer to death.

  “Baleful Signs. We have translated almost half of the Loranthian Scroll, and it states that there are five Baleful Signs that occur whenever the Blood Gate fully opens. One is the light of the Ungol that comes from the Gate.” Another wary look up at the window. “Next, the plagues issue forth, one of which is the plague of creatures such as the Estreek, flooding through the realms.”

  “And the other signs?” Terak said, struggling to maintain his composure. Just what does a load of portents and omens—no matter how dangerous—have to do with stopping us from getting those flowers?

  Jacques shook his head. “The meaning of the other Baleful Signs is hard to decipher. The scroll mentions a plague that affects the lungs of man and woman and then a plague of darkness.” Jacques rubbed the nub of his missing finger on his left hand. “I fear that we have already had the Ungol-light and the first plague. Who knows how long until the others arrive?”

  That is what the Mordhuk was trying to tell me! Terak realized sullenly. When it had led him out of these very rooms, it had made him look to the purple-and-red glow on the northern horizon—in the direction of the Blood Gate.

  “And the final Baleful Sign?” Terak asked.

  “The arrival of the Gatekeeper—an Ungol spirit of such immense power that it is the herald of the nightmare armies,” the Chief External said. “As soon as they arrive, the legions of the dark will follow.”

  Outstanding, Terak thought.

  “The Baleful Signs are indicators that the worlds are coming into alignment,” Father Jacques stated, “although it is far too early yet, or at least it should have been. We haven’t even begun to understand how the amulet you recovered will help us dismantle the Blood Gate.”

  Terak nodded. Jacques spoke of the amulet that a fellow Brother of the Enclave-External had retrieved in the city of Aldburg—and had been killed for.

  “You see, now that the Baleful Signs are here, any travel between the realms is going to bring the attention of the Ungol,” Jacques stated. “We cannot risk any enchantment or act of magic that would carry you through the realms. It would just be opening another door for the Ungol forces to step through.”

  Terak winced, gritting his teeth. Despite everything that the Chief was saying, it was still a hazard that he was prepared to take.

  “Chief-sir.” The novitiate cleared his throat. “It seems to me that, while we do not know how to proceed to close the Blood Gate, we do know how to save one of our own.” Terak nodded to Reticula at his side. “That has to be the right path, doesn’t it?”

  Jacques appeared to consider the assertion for a moment, before he once again scratched the nub of his missing finger in agitation. “I applaud your bravery, Novitiate, but some things are not for you to decide—or for you to risk,” he added heavily. “The entire Enclave will now be concentrating on unlocking the power of the amulet and seeking to close the Blood Gate. We cannot endanger that.”

  Terak glowered, and he could feel his lips curling in a hiss of elvish anger. “But . . . but you said there was one way that we could help her?” He cast another look at the form of Reticula on the worktable, where she was moaning in her sleep, as if stricken with dark dreams.

  “I said that I cannot allow you to travel between the worlds, but that does not mean that there are no Demiene Flowers in this world.”

  Terak’s heart surged with hope.

  “That will still be a dangerous journey.” The Chief straightened his back and squared his shoulders. “You will have to return to Everdell Forest. You know that the elves of the Six Families—your people, Terak—have long had a strong association with the Aesther.”

  Terak nodded. It was something that he had been told, at any rate.

  “The Second Family of Everdell has a supply of the Demiene Flowers. You will have to win it from them by whatever means you feel is necessary to secure Reticula’s life.”

  Terak breathed. He knew what Father Jacques was saying. That he would be on his own if he took this journey. And that the elvish lord Alathaer of the Second Family hated everything about the Enclave.

  “But for once, your difference here in the Black Keep may prove your strength in the Everdell,” Jacques said seriously. “As an elf—”

  As an elf that has never been taught the ways of the elves at all? Who has no idea who my real parents even are? The familiar feelings of hurt and betrayal surged in Terak’s heart, but he pushed them down. His friend’s life was at stake. His own discomforts were small things to consider.

  “You won’t come with me?” Terak said firmly, interrupting his mentor.

  The man cast another weary smile, and for a moment he looked far older than any of his years. “The Baleful Signs are here, Terak. I have to try and convince the rest of the Chiefs—and Brecha, and any kingdom that will listen to us—to march against the Blood Gate. Even if we do not yet know how to close it, we cannot sit back and wait for the end to come.”

  Terak winced. Was there a slight rebuke there? That he was prepared to go on this quest to save his friend’s life while his mentor stayed to confront the greatest evil that their world knew?

  But this is a mission that I can win, Terak convinced himself. And it was one that he would choose over any other, if it meant saving Reticula’s life. Terak was well aware that he knew nothing about Loranthian Amulets or Scrolls, or even the Blood Gate.

  But I can use my wits and my blade to save a life, he promised himself. Even if it was the only thing that he could do.

  “Where do I start?” Terak said.

  5

  The Attack Dogs of the Ungol

  Terak’s journey started in the milky-g
ray light of dawn, as the Black Keep woke to clean its wounds and mourn its losses. A pall of graying smoke clung to the dark-slated rooftops, towers, and chimneys of the Enclave as the Magister ordered all of the dead—and the Estreek—to be burnt outside the walls.

  “It is the poison,” the Chief External whispered somberly to Terak as they made their way through the back-corridors and hidden galleries to the Water Gate. “Even in the bodies of our fallen friends, the poison will fester, and no good thing can come of the land that they would be buried in.”

  Terak nodded, once again feeling a moment of guilt at what he was about to do: leave his fellow Brothers and Sisters as they faced their tragedy.

  The attack by the Estreek hadn’t been overwhelming, but it had been sudden and insidious, the novitiate knew. Even if the Estreek were comparatively easy to kill—a sword thrust cut them in two, a shield smashed their delicate inner bones, or even simple battle magic destroyed them—the feathered serpents had struck the dark halls and corridors like a plague. It had taken the Enclave long into the early hours of the pre-dawn before they had hunted down every last Estreek and piled them outside the walls.

  But apparently that wasn’t all that had caused alarm last night. The sound of running footsteps came from behind them. Terak flinched instinctively. Only the Enclave-External and the Chiefs knew that he was even alive. To the everyday Brothers and Sisters, Terak or “worm” as they had called him, had lost his life in some unknown calamity.

  Father Jacques and Novitiate Terak descended the steps that led to the underground river that flowed through the Cliffs of Mourn beneath the Black Keep. Here, there was a slick ledge of stone blocks beside the roaring torrent. Vast iron and wooden wheels churned ceaselessly, powering the Black Keep’s smokers and bellows, fires and water systems. The weir ended in the ironwork of the Water Gate itself, one of the few entrances that was technically unguarded in and out of the keep’s walls.

  “Chief-sir!” a voice had to shout down the stairs as a Brother in black robes raced to catch up with them. Terak had never seen him before. He wore the uniform black robes, hood, and cloak of the Enclave order. The fact that he even knew who Father Jacques was indicated that he must be another secretive member of the Enclave-External, like Terak.