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

by John Mangold

  Letifer’s synthetic mouth twitched in a way that Skylla knew to be a tragic attempt at a smile. She knew her husband well enough to know his feelings for her mirrored all she held for him. That he derived his own twisted enjoyment from their sparring matches only heightened her own depraved amusement at the pain each strove to inflict. Such thoughts of her husband invoked emotions within her that she could not easily set labels to, but she knew that the term ‘loathing’ was, in its turn, becoming an inadequate description. As he opened his mouth to reply, she felt her pulse quicken involuntarily.

  “Why does she not speak directly,” Letifer asked of the empty chamber. “Surely the Empress has much knowledge on the topic of imperfection to share with me. We both know it is a subject she is intimately familiar with.”

  Skylla felt the plasma grow thick in her veins. Letifer’s every word brought new fire to her soul, fueling a tiny flicker into a raging inferno. But, she was not prepared to let him see the effects he had on her, not just yet. She raked him over time and again with her scathing glare as she slowly drew nearer to him.

  From his well-crafted legs to the artistic work on his shoulders and chest plating, his royal garments were tailored to display every aspect of his idealized mechanical form. By his outward appearance alone, it would be easy to believe he had indeed obtained perfection, but Skylla knew it to be a farce. He was deeply flawed with the curse of flesh, but thanks to the Emperor’s servants' efforts, he was a few steps closer to their shared goal.

  “The High Emperor wishes someone as flawed as me to speak directly to him? Such familiarity, even if I am his wife. Does he desire counsel? True, I do possess knowledge few possess, such as the direct orders from our Lord Daimos, commanding us to seek out a young Sorcerer and detain her. Yet, what has my husband done to achieve this goal? Or should I ask, how has he managed to spectacularly fail this time?”

  “I grow weary of this game, wife,” Letifer replied as she grew close enough to feel his filtered breath on her synthesized skin. “Let us end it. The day has tested me enough already. Our ‘Eyes’ have told us precious little of the events on the southern border, and all I will have to show from my interrogations is a pile of recyclable parts. Yet, perhaps now that they have been reduced to their base components, those choats might actually prove useful.”

  “Oh, please, Letifer, do tell me more. You know how your pathetic flailing amuses me deeply,” Skylla cooed, the anger in her husband’s voice causing her pulse to grow faster still.

  “Do not lose yourself in these diversions, wife,” Letifer replied in a tone that never failed to make Skylla’s few remaining skin cells twitch. “Or, you may not find my reactions very pleasant.”

  They were so awfully close now, their lips but a hair’s width from touching. Even without physical contact, Skylla could feel her husband’s heart pumps throbbing, causing her own to match their hypnotic rhythm. Her lips moistened, parting slightly as she imagined what would happen next.

  “Answer your wife’s question, Letifer,” A booming voice demanded, filling the hall as though it came from the ceiling above. “What have you done to fill my orders?”

  Neither Letifer nor Skylla needed to turn around to know who the speaker was. It was a voice that had spoken to them since they were children, introduced to them in the earliest years of their role in the monarchy. It belonged to the being that was responsible for the power they currently possessed. It belonged to Lord Daimos, he who was worshipped above all. Both moved in unison to take a single knee before him, heads bowed to their speaker. It was the accepted position to greet their Lord and Master, though neither could say for sure if they performed this voluntarily.

  A stolen glance up filled Skylla with the full majesty that was their Lord. He was a vision of perfection, with nary a sliver of the cursed flesh anywhere on his form. Jealousy coursed through her veins as never before. How could he achieve this yet fail to teach his ‘children’ how to do the same? How long had he guided the monarchy, yet refused to pass on such secrets? How much longer would he deny his loyal dogs this scrap of knowledge they so desperately required. How long until they would need to take it by force if that was even possible. This she pondered in silence as he glided towards them.

  “To our Lord from which all our blessings flow, we offer our loyalty, our blood, our very souls,” The pair intoned in the traditional greeting to their benefactor.

  “Truly, through such offerings shall you and your line be rewarded,” Lord Daimos replied in form. “Now, my son, kindly answer Skylla’s question. What have you done to achieve the objectives I assigned you?”

  “Lord Daimos, it is believed that our forces spotted Maluem in the southern mountain range,” Letifer began.

  “Then, she is in your custody, correct?” Daimos filled in for him.

  “No, Lord,” Letifer began. “It seems that she was able to cause some serious casualties to the pursuing unit before stealing a Gorgon-”

  “She stole a Gorgon,” Daimos summarized. “A savage, from Camilos, stole one of your highly advanced Gorgons. Do I have that right? Is this what you are asking me to believe?”

  Letifer grimaced as he caught sight of his wife’s amused expression out of the corner of his eye.

  “Yes, my Lord. But it appears she did not make it far. The wreckage of the stolen craft was found some two hundred miles northeast of here. Our troops are scouring the area for the corpses as we speak-”

  “The same troops that managed to lose her in the first place?” Daimos asked.

  “No, my Lord, that unit is scheduled to be cleansed-” Letifer replied before Daimos interrupted again.

  “Well, that is a step in the right direction. A step that would not have been necessary had your recruiting practices been more stringent. Have you given no thought to the other hounds which pursue your target? Your grasp on power is not so secure that another could not rest it from you, given the proper assistance, assistance which Maluem might yet grant.”

  “As you command, my Lord,” Letifer muttered.

  Skylla’s smile grew as she struggled to restrain her laughter.

  “They might already have her,” Skylla chimed in with a giggle, momentarily forgetting her place. “House Vypin’s ‘Eyes’ have ever been sharper than those of my husband.”

  “If Vypin had achieved Maluem’s capture, I would not be wasting my time speaking to the two of you, would I?” Daimos stated, his harsh tone stunning her into silence. “My time would be better vested in the future ruler of Santilis than wasted with those who lack the fortitude to maintain it. This, I trust, you understand. So, my dear daughter Skylla, since you harbor such a strong desire to be heard, why not inform me what you have done to assist your husband in achieving this objective?”

  “My Lord, this was not my task,” Skylla responded, her head still bowed to conceal the look of terror now frozen in her features. “My resources have been terribly strained as it is by-”

  “Your resources are those of your husband,” Daimos broke in. “You will support your spouse as he is required to support you. Only through this will you both succeed. By refusing to do this shall you both fail me, and I know you do not wish to do that, do you?”

  “No, my Lord,” The two responded in unison.

  “I thought not, since I am certain you still remember the torments such shortcomings earned your predecessors. Now, you can be certain Maluem did not die in that wreckage, so we can only surmise she is continuing in her trek northeast to NuSam. Pay close attention to your ‘Eyes’ in that city. She may be concealing her movements, but I am confident she will inadvertently give you a sign. Claim this woman for me, Letifer. The rewards for your success will be boundless, as will be the penalties for failure.”

  With that, he was gone. No swoop of wings, no whoosh of a magic spell taking effect, no pop of a transporter activating, he was just gone, leaving only the Royalty of Santilis still kneeling on the highly polished floor.

  “I will find this ‘Maluem
,’” Letifer said. “And if she is as powerful as I believe her to be, I will turn her powers to our will, ridding us of our benevolent Lord.”

  “And I shall see that you do, dear love,” Skylla replied. “For only then will we be able to claim our birthright, instead of the measly scraps cast from our lord’s table.”

  26.

  Assistance from Beyond

  Maluem sat looking out of the window of an abandoned building on the outskirts of the city called ‘NuSam.’ Shelia had warned her that the last ‘City’ was but a shadow of the one they were headed for. At the time, Maluem thought this to be a mere boast. She was proven entirely wrong. From where she sat, an endless forest of monolithic monstrosities spread out before her, oppressing all beneath them by their mere presence. Imaging how mere mortals could build a handful of these edifices was mindboggling, but to see them in numbers such as this left her speechless.

  Everywhere her eye led her, she found more technological marvels to ogle. Machines whizzing by on the nearby street, carrying passengers here and there at breakneck speed. Contraptions at every crossing, of which there was an endless number, spewing information out to whoever passed by as though it were water, creating a mind-shattering cacophony with their limitless droning. How any of the denizens of this metropolis retained their sanity was beyond Maluem’s guess.

  There were even strange mechanical oddities buried within the skin of the people who passed by. Some items seemed to require the replacement of entire limbs in order to provide the user with the desired effect; others were merely sunk deeply into the user’s existing flesh. These pedestrians were dependent on their surgically implanted enhancements, relying on them to improve their sight, reflexes, speed, strength, or aiding them to breathe the befouled air that sustained them.

  The air. That was something all had neglected to warn Maluem about. To say that it was noxious was being overly charitable. Wherever they traveled, a sickly mixture of exhaust and caustic fumes permeated everything, choking any fresh air from the lungs. Both Shelia and Torrez denied smelling anything, but Maluem could tell that it had taken them a bit by surprise. They had most likely never breathed the air in Santilis without some form of ‘augment’ in their body assisting them. Maluem had to remind herself that the pair had had such devices removed from their systems only after leaving their native country.

  Yet, what bothered Maluem more than the gaseous corruption she was forced to breathe in, was the heat. She could not tell if it was an effect of being so far north or from the exhaust gasses of all the buzzing machinery, but the air felt unnaturally warm to her. If the choking fumes did not disintegrate her composer, the omnipresent heat was sure to do so.

  Having little other recourse, Maluem decided to shed the greatcoat Nia gave her, rolling up the sleeves of her blouse nearly to her shoulders. This elicited some remarks from Torrez since this placed Maluem’s tattooed forearms on full display. Still, if they remained inside, he had been willing to compromise, not that Maluem would have done otherwise if he had not.

  The only member of their group who was truly immune to the atmospheric conditions was Volo, and he had been relatively silent of late. Torrez had advised Volo to keep a low profile for a while, to avoid any unwanted attention, and Maluem was sure this was sage advice. Even so, she still would have liked to have seen him, just to be positive he was still within her staff. Knowing what effects crossing the Santilis border could have on Volo had made her a bit paranoid when it came to his wellbeing.

  Thinking about this made Maluem a little more annoyed. Ever since the Gorgon wreck, she had taken an ever-increasing dislike towards the technological trappings that now surrounded her. Every gadget she encountered appeared far too fickle and fragile for her liking. Even the ‘Cargo Sled’ they had used to escape the crippled Gorgon barely made it to the ground before its innards failed them. Had that gizmo failed but a few feet farther from the ground…well, she just did not want to think of what would have happened to all of them.

  “So, where are we headed?” Shelia asked, breaking Maluem’s concentration on her inner worries.

  “How do you mean,” Maluem replied. “I thought that was what Torrez was determining, where to meet this contact of his.”

  “No, I mean, what is our overall goal? I know you are seeking the next piece of this Staff of Dorjakt’s and that you feel it is to the North of Enox. Did that page you stole tell you any more than that?”

  “Stole?” Maluem repeated.

  “Well, you know what I mean… The one you found…in Camilos?” Shelia attempted before blushing and trailing off into silence.

  Maluem looked at Shelia appraisingly for a moment. It was not too long ago that she would have welcomed any possible way to scare the Entwhistle’s away from her and the idea of being her Acolytes. Yet now she feared what she was about to tell Shelia would surely convince the woman that her new master was insane. However, there was no avoiding it; the Entwhistles were bound to learn the truth sooner or later.

  “The torn page has not been my sole guide on this quest,” Maluem began. “To be perfectly honest, it has merely provided a bit of confirmation to my true source. You see, what set me on this path was something somewhat harder to explain. I have been having visions, intermittent at best, ever since I was released by Master Dominic. These gave me my first view of the device I seek to piece together, instructing me on what is to be my next goal.”

  Maluem paused, looking into Shelia’s eyes, expecting to see either stark fear or barely restrained laughter. To her pleasant surprise, she saw neither. The woman looked back at her as though Maluem had merely described witnessing a brilliant sunrise. As she pondered this, it occurred to her that, considering all that had transpired recently, Volo’s sudden appearance, the battle with Delilah, Shelia’s near-death experience, Maluem’s visions probably did not rate so much as a raised eyebrow. Taking courage in the woman’s silence, Maluem plunged on, giving her a brief synopsis of each of her visions.

  “Now, recently, I was shown an island where a lone sentry stood amongst a field of…heavy…snow. The whole area had a sickly feel to it, if you take my meaning, as though the air itself was pregnant with sickness. Since I could see no mainland in my vision, this island would have to be far offshore. Something tells me it would have to be off the northern border of Santilis. However, on reflection, it could be off the eastern shore.

  “If I am not mistaken, as far north as that would be, temperatures would be a bit too high to support snow. But, if it was the eastern shore, we would already be too far north-”

  “Does the ‘The Tear of Azeza’ ring a bell at all?” Shelia interrupted.

  “If you mean to ask me if Azeza sounds familiar, I do remember encountering that name during my exploration of the forbidden archives. Why do you ask?”

  Shelia did not answer directly, only nodding as she posed a second question.

  “Tell me, Maluem, have you always had these visions when you were at your weakest?”

  “Not all of them,” Maluem answered, becoming a bit put out that her Acolyte seemed more interested in quizzing her master than assisting her in deciphering her vision. “My first vision came to me while I was meditating.”

  “But the others, what state of mind were you in when you had them?”

  “I could not tell you with any accuracy, Shelia. Am I to believe that you have inferred a pattern from these sporadic epiphanies?” Maluem replied. In truth, she knew exactly what state she had been in during most of her trances, but she did not like the direction this discussion was taking.

  “Could someone be feeding you these visions? Maybe, when your energy is low, your mind might become vulnerable to outside influences. I have heard of narcotics which have such an effect, boosting an Auspex’s clairvoyance ability while leaving the caster vulnerable to external suggestion-”

  “I am dependent on no potions to access my powers, I assure you,” Maluem interrupted.

  “No, I didn’t mean to imply that
,” Shelia explained. “I just meant that perhaps during these periods, when your energy was drained-”

  “I was able to reach a deeper meditative state,” Maluem interrupted. “That when I was unconscious, my soul was at a more placid state, allowing me to align my thoughts in ways my conscious mind could not manage while encumbered by my daily worries?”

  “Yes, that is possible,” Shelia reluctantly agreed. “Your mind would be at a very relaxed level at that point. However, how did you learn of Dorjakt’s staff before your first vision? If your initial episode did not reveal it to you, where did you first see it?”

  Before Maluem could properly digest the question, let alone formulate a response, Torrez exploded into the room with a crash. The sharp crack of the door striking the wall shattered the silence, causing both women to jump to their feet in alarm. Maluem shouted in anger and shock at his boorish entrance, but in truth, she was relieved by his distraction, affording her a bit more time to formulate a response to Shelia’s last query.

  “Well, it took forever, but I finally managed to track down one of the old gang!” Torrez announced as he strode into the center of the room. He had a small contraption in his hand that he claimed could be employed to communicate over vast distances, but he had to go up on the roof of the building so that it would function properly.

  “At last,” Shelia groaned. “What took you so long?”

  “What do you expect?” Torrez asked in return. “Without a decent interface, it’s near impossible to do anything in this city! These gadgets weren’t built for slates.”

  “Slates?” Maluem interjected. “You mean people like us, people with none of these ridiculous contraptions crammed into our bodies?”

  “Ridiculous?” Torrez repeated. “Well, as foolish as those augments seem, it is hard to survive in Santilis without them. To be properly registered, you have to have an Identification Circuit implanted in your forearm. If you don’t have that, you can forget about getting any doctor to operate on you to get further enhancements. Without the right professional augments, you can forget about getting any type of work. Furthermore, even if you manage to get hired, you have to be registered to get paid, bringing us back to that Identification Circuit.”