A Manifold of Bindings (The Scrolls of Azbel Book 2)

by John Mangold

  “My minion requires healing,” Izzagu replied through the mouth of the sailor. “If you might supply some metal for him-”

  “Yes, Izzagu, I recognize the binding. An iron golem, hardly original, is it?”

  Stretching his arm out to the docks at his right, Daimos motioned towards a large generator sitting by a ship’s bow. With a flick of his wrist, the device floated upwards like a bubble in the ocean, then followed his pointing finger as he swung his arm around to point at the machine man’s feet. The machinery had barely touched the ground before the giant was upon it, absorbing its mass into his own.

  “That should give your lackey something to feed off of.”

  “His name is Fortis,” Izzagu corrected, drawing pleasure from irritating Daimos. “You would do well to remember that.”

  “You would do well to remember your place,” Daimos replied. “I have provided you with a voice, your minion with sustenance. Now, you will provide me with an answer. Why are you here?”

  “I go where my whims take me. Currently, that means crossing the border between our realms.”

  “These lands are my own Izzagu, and what goes on within them is of keen interest to me, particularly when a fellow Sorcerer Lord decides to wander into them. So, my question stands, and you will answer.”

  “Invisus did not impede my travel in his realm.”

  “What Invisus allows in his pathetic fiefdom of Camilos does not concern me. If not for the demon incursion in the Asaga Deserts, I suspect he would have put an end to your wanderings long ago.

  “Furthermore, how you choose to rule or neglect your own lands of Enox is your business. However, if you tended to your own populace a bit more and chased young Sorcerers about much less, your realms would enjoy some semblance of stability. Tell me, when is the last time you checked your technology restraint bindings? From what I have observed, they are performing poorly, at best.”

  “You know of her?” Izzagu growled, ignoring Daimos’ jabs for the moment.

  “Izzagu, has there ever been a time when you knew more than I? Of course, I know of her. She and her little band of miscreants should be approaching the outskirts of Atalta as we speak. I have arranged something of a greeting for her. Tell me, what interest does this woman hold for you? Considering your current condition, I doubt she would find you the least bit attractive.”

  “Don’t you go near her Daimos, do you understand me?” Izzagu roared through the sailor’s gruff throat. “Maluem must not be hindered-”

  “You would challenge me?” Lord Daimos interrupted. “For once, think before you act, Izzagu. You were never much of a threat, even when you were at your peak. Look at you now, a pale shadow of your former glory. Don’t forget, it was I who saved your miserable soul after your hopelessly misguided experiment, I who provided that body you now inhabit.”

  “That is a fact I can scarcely forget,” Izzagu growled once more. As he spoke, the Gargoyle moved slowly up on Daimos, its body in a low crouch as though it were preparing to pounce.

  “Izzagu, tell me that you did not use a Wyvern to create that sickly thing. You are aware of their traits. Of the reason that they have been hunted to extinction in every corner of this cursed planet.”

  “I know what I am doing, Daimos! You need not concern yourself with my servants or my schemes. You only need to know that if you should hamper Maluem in any way-”

  “Enough,” Daimos interrupted. “I receive my orders from a higher source than you, Izzagu, one you would fear if you had the common sense to do so. Maluem is beyond your reach and will remain so until she exits my lands. At that point, you will be free to harass her as you choose. Until then, I suggest you adjust your schemes and make certain not to test my barriers again. If I should catch you at it a second time, I will cure you of all your ills in one fell swoop.”

  With a snap of Daimos’ fingers, the longshoreman’s skin set alight with a bright blue flame. It took only two ticks for his flesh to be turned to cinders, a third to dissolve his bone. By the fourth, only a small pile of gray ash sat on the gravel laden shore. In a pulse, the smoke vanished along with Lord Daimos. One pulse more, and the waves lapped at the beach once more, a frigid breeze flowing across the lonely scene, carrying with it the terrified cries of a distant family.

  Izzagu knew they would be searching for the Longshoreman soon, and it would be best if they did not find Izzagu standing there, not unless he wanted to waste his time cleansing this minuscule settlement. As entertaining as such destruction might be, the time lost would not be worth the fraction of release it would bring him. Taking one last look at where Daimos had stood, Izzagu prepared to return to his own country.

  Soon Daimos, Izzagu the Sorcerer thought bitterly. Very soon, my ills will become your own. Then we shall see who will be giving the orders and who shall take them.

  23.

  A Royal Welcome

  Once across the border chasm, the rogue trail twisted its way through the mountain passes far above the more legally recognized road below. At one point, the trail snaked along a precarious edge, providing them with a panoramic view of what Shelia and Torrez referred to as a highway far below them. With darkness still lying heavily in the early morn, it was impossible to make out any travelers on the massive roadway. Maluem was mesmerized by the stream of lights that defined the distant concourse. She strained to get a better look, but the view proved fleeting as their path twisted away, curving around the mountainside.

  With only darkness and trees ahead, Maluem turned her attention to the gifts Nia and Kym gave her before their departure. A basic glow spell provided all the illumination she required to peruse her small packages. Kym’s bundle proved most pleasing, as he had brought the clothing which she had been forced to leave in Venustus. She was quite surprised to have back the armored corset that had served her since her initial banishment from the Camilos National Archives. However, what she truly prized was wrapped in Master Dominic’s map, the ingenious lock-pick she had used to free herself and Volo from her father’s clutches. Doubtless, such a tool would prove its worth to her many times more before she would agree to part with it.

  The one gift Nia had given her was a bit more curious. Peeling back its plane paper wrappings, she found a careworn tome with a well-worn leather binding. The book's title was deeply embossed into its front cover in a utilitarian font, but its meaning was a mystery to Maluem, Asklepios’ Panacea. Opening the tome to the first page, Maluem found a short motto carefully inscribed in ornate script.

  If you wish to destroy, first learn to heal.

  This simple motto seized Maluem’s gaze. She had spent so much of her life trying to gather power, building a base of magical prowess that would prove her worth to the world. Yet, for all she had amassed, how many times had she come up short, wishing she knew more about a neglected art, a specific mystical art.

  Thinking about this, her thoughts easily flowed to her recent encounters and where they had left her. Her own injuries she could shrug off, chalking them up to her own incompetence in combat. But those of a comrade, injured by Maluem’s clumsy hand, those were quite different. She would not be in that position again. Like it or not, she must learn the healing arts, even if it killed her in the process.

  Flipping the book open, she was surprised by a leaflet that fluttered out from between the front two pages. The wind quickly caught it, sweeping the scrap off into the oblivion of the wilderness. Thrusting her hand outwards, Maluem caught the parchment with her fingertips. Gingerly, she reeled her arm in, even as half of her body still hung outside the rumbling vehicle. Slowly she retook her seat and positioned the leaflet close to her eyes, straining to examine the prize she had risked so much to retain.

  The paper itself seemed to be of very advanced manufacture. It had a row of uniform holes running down both sides, while at the top and bottom, the paper had been ripped along predefined, minuscule incisions. However, the print was the most enigmatic detail of all. It was extremely rudimentary yet in n
o way crude. In fact, it displayed a level of perfection Maluem felt no human hand could achieve. What made this even more fascinating was that each letter was composed entirely of barely perceptible dots. As fascinated as she was by the note's technical aspects, it was a while before she even bothered to read it.

  To my daughter:

  I pray your faith in the military does not fail you, as mine once did. It may be that your eyes will be able to see the truths behind this never-ending conflict our leaders have created, truths that have evaded me my entire life. I wish this to be so, for your sake more than my own.

  To that end, I hope that this elementary tome of healing spells will assist you in your journeys. It is a beginner’s text, to be sure, but it has served me far better than any other book I have ever owned. I inscribed a simple motto within, take this to heart. It is an axiom which you will find more truthful than anything the government will teach you.

  Always know that, though our paths may part, and our beliefs may conflict, my heart and my wishes will always be with you. There are no heated words that could pass between us that would change my affections for you. I will always be proud that you are my daughter.

  Your father,

  Mateo Fyfe

  Maluem’s blood ran cold as she read the short contents. This book had been given to Nia by her father, a man she left behind when she forswore her allegiance to Santilis, taking on her current role as a savior to the expatriated masses. Why would she have given this book to Maluem? Was this a sign of her faith in Maluem, or was there another message to this gift? One hinting at the broken relationships both she and Nia had with their respective fathers? Was she trying to tell Maluem something in the most subtle way she could? If so, what?

  These questions would have driven Maluem mad had it not been for a sudden glance up. The light around her had been growing slowly brighter as the dawn closed in. But, with a sudden rush, the illumination on the paper in her hand increased tenfold. Her eyes flickered upwards for just a moment, simply to find the source of the light. Maluem was in no way prepared for what met her gaze, her first sight of a Santilis city.

  The city itself spread across the valley thousands of feet below their current path, yet the tallest buildings soared up past their current vantage point, stabbing through the ominous clouds above. The buildings themselves were marvels of techno-magical construction, each one looking as though it could house an entire Camilos village all by itself. Looking at them, Maluem could not help but wonder how such massive structures would not sink into the soil below them.

  Each monolith was a breathtaking monstrosity, with vast square bases that encompassed many acres. Yet, their architecture was incredibly eclectic, as though a different architect had worked on each section, designing but twenty floors or so before the next craftsman took over. The result was the appearance of stacks of buildings, bonded together, one atop another, bringing a monumental colossus of glass, steel, and light into reality. As Maluem gazed down at the insane spectacle, at the massive structures and the web of brilliantly lit avenues that ensnared their bases, her mind was drawn back to the lost city beneath the river of Aragina.

  Could this be what that drowned ruin had once been, Maluem thought to herself. The technology is remarkably similar if less elegant in its lines. Might this incredible metropolis mark a rebirth of Azbel’s ancient glory?

  Looking to her right, she could easily see Volo and the Entwhistles illuminated by the city’s mesmerizing lights. From the expression on Volo’s face, he was every bit as captivated as Maluem. Shelia, on the other hand, seemed to take no notice of the vision before them. Her amusement was drawn from the reactions of Volo and her new master. At long last, she could hold back her mirth no longer, allowing it to spill out in hearty laughter.

  “I am sorry, Maluem,” Shelia put in at Maluem’s reaction to her outburst. “I forgot you and Volo have never been outside your home country before. I grew up in a place much like this one, so I rarely get to see someone witnessing this for the first time. Do you think it is impressive?”

  “Impressive is a vast understatement,” Maluem replied, turning her eyes back to the magnificent megaliths. “You say you call these settlements cities?”

  “No, this is what you would call a city,” Torrez replied, “This is what we would call a town. Atalta is one of the larger towns in this area as it guards the southernmost trading route, but it still only houses a mere fifty thousand. The real city lies to the northeast of here, the capital city NuSam.”

  “Fif…fifty thousand, you say,” Volo stammered. “People?”

  Shelia nodded, the look of amusement returning to her face.

  “No wonder they built such enormous structures to house them,” Maluem broke in. “What manner of Archi-Sorcery did they employ to construct these contrivances? It must have taken incredible skill to complete. The Grand Masters of Camilos would turn bright green with envy if they could see this!”

  Shelia shot Torrez a worried glance then opened her mouth to reply, but her words were suddenly drowned out. A thunderous roar issued from above them, drawing all their eyes skyward.

  From the low hanging clouds, a massive form suddenly appeared, hovering inexplicably in the air. Maluem thought it to be some great demon until the contraption came fully into view. The glass windscreens at its front, as well as the heavy metal plating along its sides, revealed it to be of human construction, yet how it managed to levitate was a complete mystery to her. The only clue was that, at each corner of the armored vehicle, it sported a massive contraption with huge armored slats that swiveled this way and that as it moved. It was from these that the cacophony of noise emanated. As the flying carriage approached, Maluem caught a glimpse of a large, official seal painted on its flank: A stylized electro-sword displayed vertically with a set of mechanical wings spread out behind it.

  “Kill the lights!” Shelia screamed, but Torrez was way ahead of her.

  With a sudden lurch, Torrez veered the B.B. off the narrow roadway. In an instant, they were thrown into darkness, yet Torrez made no effort to slow the vehicle down. Maluem began to fear that they would inevitably hit a tree or a boulder in the all-encompassing black. She moved her hands to begin an illumination spell, but Shelia quickly grasped them while hissing a command for her to remain silent. With a final jolt, the B.B. came to a halt, though by Torrez’s piloting, or collision with an obstacle, Maluem could not tell. She opened her mouth to protest Shelia’s brusque contact but found the words stuck in her mouth.

  Suddenly, the woods around them became flooded with a blinding light. The branches above them whipped furiously as a sudden downward rush of air threatened to throw them from the vehicle, the roar of the flying carriage filling their ears to bursting.

  Maluem shaded her eyes as best she could, but she could not see where the encroaching machine was. The brilliant light and the thick branches above completely obscured her view. Something told her that this was a good thing. If the surrounding trees kept her from viewing what hovered overhead, surely those above could not see her group below. Pulses seemed to draw out into hours until, at last, the light swept off into the wilderness beyond. Silence returned, only to be broken a pulse later by the sudden gasps of Torrez and Shelia.

  “I thought we were copped for sure!” Shelia exclaimed.

  “They were looking for us,” Torrez said, punctuated with a groan. “They had to have been.”

  “Oh, that’s ridiculous! How could they have known-” Shelia began.

  “Maybe that Sergeant Mitchell blew the whistle on us,” Torrez interrupted. “You heard what he was saying about Maluem. Maybe he changed his mind!”

  “Think for a moment!” Shelia shot back. “Do you really believe the Border Patrol would have paid some Enox slate any mind? I doubt they would know where Ortus was, let alone care if someone wiped it off the face of Azbel.”

  “Well, how do you explain it?”

  “Maybe it was just a standard patrol,” Torrez suggested. �
�Maybe they got wind that this is a good smuggling route, and they are keeping an eye on it. Remember how abandoned that crossing looked? Maybe-”

  “I hate to break in on all this brilliant supposition,” Maluem put in speaking over Shelia. “But would one of you care to explain to us ‘slates’ what in Azbel just happened?”

  “Maluem, that was what we call a Gorgon,” Torrez replied. “It is what you might call a flying, armored carriage. Only two groups have access to such vehicles, the Military, and the Royal Houses. That one bore the crest of House Captus, the current occupiers of the Santilis Throne, and, unless things have changed drastically since we were last here, they don’t waste time with routine border patrols.”

  “Maybe they are assisting the local Immigration Forces-” Shelia offered.

  “Royals don’t assist anyone, not even each other,” Torrez retorted. “If they are spending their precious resources to look for something out here, you can bet it is for their own personal benefit.”

  “So, if news of the devastation of two villages on the Enox, Camilos border would not interest the Santilis Royals, why would they expend resources scouring their border for the brigands responsible?” Maluem asked.

  “Well, they wouldn’t be worried about the slaughter itself,” Torrez replied. “But they might be intrigued by an Auspex powerful enough to single-handedly level two towns. Someone of that caliber couldn’t be left to simply wander into the country unchecked.”

  “So, let us assume that Sgt. Mitchell informed the Border Guard of our passing-” Maluem began.

  “Oh, Nia would never allow him to do that!” Shelia interrupted.

  “Then another unit commander perhaps,” Maluem countered. “Clearly, someone made this ‘House Captus’ aware of our arrival. What do you suppose their intentions are for the likes of me? Capture?”