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

by John Mangold

  “Do not fret over such matters. Lord Izzagu is quite aware of her whereabouts, and he will inform you when the time is right. You need only provide the transportation and the eternal silence of any minions who partake in my Lord’s tasks. For this, you will gain what no ruler of Santilis has possessed in generations, the complete freedom to command as you see fit.”

  “How do I know your master is capable of what you promise,” Khan Lothair demanded, showing the first inkling of real emotion since he arrived. “How do I know he can protect us from the wrath of Lord Daimos?”

  With that, the scout walked forward until his chest touched the metal bars. Then, with inhuman intent, he pushed himself through them. What bones were left intact snapped as his body forced itself between the impossibly tight spacing of the unforgiving bars. His skull warped then cracked as it collapsed inward, vital fluids draining out of broken nose and jaw. Yet, for all this self-inflicted devastation, the walking corpse kept its feet, pressing onward until its now ruined form stood impossibly on the other side of the bars, its empty sockets staring directly into the Khan’s clockwork eyes. The emissary imparted its final response to Lothair before collapsing in a shattered heap on the floor.

  “Because all things are possible for Lord Izzagu.”

  30.

  A Moment to Practice

  “I do not consider myself to be particularly dim,” Maluem exclaimed for what felt like the thousandth time. “Yet, I still do not understand your protests, Thayne. Was it not your boast that you could get anything my heart desired? Well, I desire to retrieve this ‘Cruentus’ from the holding pens of your Coliseum. Why can you not make this so?”

  “I can do this, Dove,” Thayne replied, his right hand massaging the bridge of his nose. “What I have been trying to explain for the last hour is that there is no way the mob of us can do this together. If all of us try to sneak in through the abandoned city tunnels, we will be copped before we clear the inner walls. We must keep the group small. At best, this is a two-man job. The only question I need to be answered is, who should those two bodies be? Now, to my mind, the best plan is for Maluem and me to go and Shelia and Torrez-”

  “…can sit here and wait?” Torrez finished for him. “Not a chance Thayne. You will need me to get past those locks on the cell doors unless you have picked up some new skills during our absence.”

  “Torrez, be reasonable,” Thayne started. “You can show me how to pick those locks. Besides, I need Maluem to control this skrite once we get her out. You and Shelia would just be getting in the way-”

  “Is that so,” Shelia piped up. “Well, I believe there will be guards in those cell blocks. How will you be dealing with them? I don’t think that winning charm of yours will get you as far as you think.”

  “Come on now, Dove, aren’t you stretching your skills a bit?” Thayne asked.

  “Not a bit,” Torrez replied for her. “She has grown quite strong with that Wheeled Fiddle, Thayne. Outside of fighting every guard in the place, she is your best at a speedy exit. Her methods would be a damn sight quieter too.”

  “Wheeled Fiddle,” Thayne repeated. “Why couldn’t you have studied a more useful skill? Maybe something in the stealth schools of training? A group this large, and we don’t have a decent scout amongst us.”

  “You seem to be forgetting me again, Thayne,” Volo put in.

  Since the Eyes of The Lords rarely ventured into this part of town, it was determined that Volo could make his presence known. Maluem still smiled to think of how Thayne nearly bounded out of his skin when Volo first made his appearance.

  Standing on the opposite side of the table from Maluem, Volo had changed his projection so that his clothes matched the average Santilis citizen's casual attire. He now wore a simple buttoned shirt, slacks made of a hearty brown cloth, and a lightly armored jacket that came down to his waist. Torrez informed them that this was a popular look amongst the youth in Santilis. Although Maluem could not bring herself to tell him, the style suited him quite well.

  “Yes, how could I do that,” Thayne replied with a glare out of the corner of his eye. “Look, Volo, I’ll grant you that you could sneak into an area or two, but what if you set off a ‘sniffer?’ They may have them in the deeper levels, for all I know. That would bring us a whole lot of unwanted attention very quickly. Besides, as Torrez pointed out, we may need to do a bit of scrapping. In your state, I hardly see how you could do much good.”

  In the blink of an eye, Volo transformed from human to flame apparition, and then back again, leaving only a scorch ring on the floor to betray his metamorphosis. Still, from Thayne’s suddenly pale complexion, Maluem knew Volo’s brief display had achieved the desired effect.

  “I can be a bit imposing when I need to be,” Volo replied with a smile. “Besides, I have managed to avoid detection thus far. If we run into any of these ‘sniffers’ as you call them, I will just have to pull in my projection. If it comes to a fight, well, stealth will not be an issue at that point, will it?”

  “Thayne,” Maluem cut in. “Whether you realize it or not, the decision has already been made. We shall need each member of the group. However, to your point, we will not be able to enter en masse. So, I suggest we split the party up. Torrez, you were a professional mechanic of some stripe before you left Santilis. Would the Coliseum require artisans of that sort right now?”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Torrez replied. “But I am a slate now. Without my identification augmentations, I would need a slew of work permits just to get past the doors.”

  “Well, Thayne, you have already expounded quite eloquently on your abilities to obtain illicit wares. Is it beyond your disreputable talents to procure counterfeit worker’s notes?”

  Thayne fixed Maluem with a rather nasty glare.

  “She means can you get some forged Work Permits for us?” Shelia offered at his silence.

  “I understood her well enough, Dove,” Thayne replied a bit too smoothly. “But I still think it would be a sight easier if only Maluem and I-”

  “That battle has been fought and lost, Thayne,” Maluem interrupted. “Will you complete the task before you, or should we procure a more competent scoundrel to fulfill this quest’s requirements?”

  “I can have them by tomorrow morning,” Thayne replied, his smooth demeanor wearing thin.

  “Very well,” Maluem replied with a short nod. “We will require papers for Torrez and Shelia, identifying them as highly skilled mechanics. They will enter the building from the surface and follow Thayne's directions to access the Cell Blocks. Meanwhile, Thayne, Volo, and I will approach through the tunnel networks. Barring any catastrophes, we should be able to reach Cruentus’s cell and affect her release without raising any alarms. Now, the only question I see as unanswered is when.”

  “Four days from now,” Thayne stated, punctuating his statement by spitting on the floor. “We will use the Arcturus artillery attack from Furaxis as a diversion for our operation.”

  “Four days?” Maluem repeated in disbelief. “I thought you said you could get the paperwork we need by tomorrow. What could we possibly gain by delaying this rescue an extra three days?”

  “For two reasons, Dove,” Thayne replied, placing emphasis on the word he recognized was annoying Maluem. “First of all, NuSam traditionally gets more than its fair share of attention from enemy artillery strikes due to it being our nation’s Capital. We have not seen one in the last four weeks, meaning we are well overdue.

  “Second, in four days, it will be the twentieth of the month of Arcturus. That is the historic date when Fur…they…mounted their infamous Arcturus Invasion, nearly taking NuSam along with the entire eastern territories. It is has become a tradition for them to attack us on that date. Kulk, throw in a few bands and a feast, and you could call it a chud-blasted holiday! With most of the police and military preparing for incoming shells, we should have no trouble getting in and out with a minimum of interference.”

  “This is hardly id
eal,” Maluem protested. “As Torrez has already explained, we are currently being hunted by the Royals, and Azbel knows who else.”

  “Yes, Maluem does tend to be rather popular wherever she goes,” Volo quipped.

  “Understandably,” Thayne replied with a thin smile.

  “Inane banter aside,” Maluem persisted. “The point I am attempting to make is the longer we tarry, the more likely we are to be discovered. We will have little choice but to contain ourselves in this humble, two-room flat for the next few days. What would you propose we do with ourselves during that time?”

  “I don’t know, Dove,” Thayne replied as he slid into his coat. “You are some form of Bocor, aren’t you? Why not practice a bit of your hocus-pocus. Maybe a card trick to distract the guards? In the meantime, I will use my ‘disreputable talents’ to get the paperwork and tools we will need. It may take me a day or two to rustle it all up, so do not get antsy and wander outside. I am fond of this hovel, such as it is, and I would rather not lose it to any of Maluem’s many admirers.”

  “Hocus-pocus, is it?” Maluem muttered as Thayne made his exit. “Volo, I have a task for you. Drop your projections and follow our benevolent host. I would very much like to know who he is contacting to sponsor our little scheme.”

  “Maluem, isn’t that a bit paranoid?” Torrez replied. “Thayne would never-”

  “Would he not,” Maluem cut in. “I have had a bad feeling about that man since we first met. Every time I am near him, I feel as though my skin has been soiled, somehow. Something is telling me that his intentions are duplicitous, intent on leading us to a bad end. I would have these concerns proven true or dispelled before we leave this building.”

  “Maluem, Thayne is the one that helped Shelia and I escape from Santilis,” Torrez pressed. “We would both be dead if it weren’t for him. He has never done anything to make me doubt his intentions in any way.”

  “Shelia, would you care to back your husband’s testimony?” Maluem inquired.

  Shelia looked to Torrez and then back to Maluem. Her mouth opened and closed several times, yet she made not a sound. At last, Shelia simply gave up her attempts with a shrug and looked apologetically towards her husband.

  “As I suspected,” Maluem nodded with grim satisfaction. “Move quickly, Volo, before Thayne gets too far. Keep an eye out for any possible detection. We will gain nothing if you give yourself away. Report back as soon as you can.”

  In a blink, Volo was gone. Maluem uttered a silent prayer for his safety, hoping she had not just ordered him to his doom. However, she just as quickly realized that the only mortal part of him was still resting securely in the case leaning against the wall. As long as she did nothing foolish, Volo was as safe as possible. The more realistic fear would be that he might unknowingly lead danger back to them. To this, she could only trust his good judgment as well as their opponent’s incompetence. Up until now, those both had proven reasonably abundant in supply.

  “Now, as Thayne suggested, let us work on some sleight-of-hand, hocus pocus,” Maluem remarked as she turned back to face her Acolytes.

  For that first day, Maluem worked solely with Shelia, learning of her innate ability to draw energy from music, bending its enthralling effects to her will. At Maluem’s insistence, Shelia used her instrument to put her Master under a simple hypnosis spell. It was more than a bit disconcerting to Maluem when she awoke to find herself standing on her head in the corner of the room. It took a considerable amount of self-control to keep from becoming cross with her Acolyte. After all, Shelia was only following Maluem’s orders. Still, Maluem was quite thankful Volo had not been there to witness how easily she had succumbed to it.

  The following day Maluem worked with Torrez. Since she was already familiar with Torrez’s affinity with machines, she concentrated on the spell bindings that decorated each hand's index finger. Torrez explained that these were the gifts of his Auspex during his training. Evidently, it was a signature method his master had devised and applied to all his Neophytes. This made the Auspex followers very useful to their Master, without the student gaining more knowledge than strictly necessary. A neat little insurance policy against the student becoming future competition. Maluem’s late Master Dominic would have approved.

  By turning the ring, Torrez could activate each spell set in the ring, allowing him to accomplish routine mechanical tasks. One even turned his skin to steel, evidently to protect his limbs from hazardous machinery. It was a simple yet elegant way to grant the individual access to complex spells with very few spell bindings. Maluem could not help but admire the ingenuity behind the design.

  She and Torrez went through each setting, outlining how the rune’s meanings were changed each time the ring was turned, aligning a new symbol at its head. This knowledge seemed to bring a bit of comfort to Torrez. It appeared that since Maluem had spoken of the darker side of Spell Bindings, Torrez had been reluctant to use his rings. Knowing their full meanings removed any fears that sinister intentions had been hidden within them.

  On the third day, Maluem turned her attention to the healing spells that the tome Nia had given her contained. She had made a point to study the book every night, going through its chapters relatively quickly. The text was easily absorbed, though the tongue of the language was somewhat foreign to her. But what was most difficult was the nature of the subject. Spells rarely can be mastered simply by reading them. One must cast them, get used to how they tax you, and witness what you gain from the energies invested in internalizing their incantations. This was difficult to achieve for these spells as they all required the caster to have a wound to heal. What was more, they almost all needed the Sorcerer to be in physical contact with his or her subject. This was an obstacle Maluem had rarely managed to clear. The only times she had achieved any success was with Volo and Nia, the latter only due to the situation's urgency.

  It was in the former instance, Volo, that Maluem pinned her hopes. After their brush with the Bounty Hunters, she recalled that she had lost all revulsion from touching him. This might have been due to the camaraderie they shared from facing life and death side by side. Considering all she had been through with the Entwhistles, this would surely be true of them as well. Still, she was loath to try it, deciding instead to inflict a wound on her own arm and then use a spell to heal it. This seemed simple enough.

  However, just before she drew the blade across her skin, she was fortunate to find a previously overlooked note in the book’s preamble. In this brief paragraph, the author explained that healing spells could not be applied to the caster. Apparently, there was a level of control that could not be sustained when casting on oneself. Maluem did not quite understand all the issues at hand, but she better understood why Nia could not heal herself that fateful night. Interaction between two people, it seemed, was mandatory for the mystical healing process.

  After much cajoling, Maluem was able to talk Torrez into inflicting a small cut on his arm. After explaining to each of them how she would cast the healing spell, Maluem grasped Torrez’s arm with the full intention of putting the lesson to practical effect. However, as soon as her hand touched his skin, the age-old revulsion swelled up like a wave. Her head immediately began to spin as though the room was set on a whirling spindle. Her knees began to buckle underneath her as she quickly recoiled her hand, the wound left unhealed.

  Quickly explaining this away to lack of sleep, Maluem bolstered herself to try again. Her excuse held some validity as she had been restless the previous nights due to Volo being absent for so long. Yet, even to Maluem, this excuse felt a tad weak. As she reached out to grasp Torrez’s arm once more, nausea returned even stronger than before, driving her to stumble back against a nearby chair. It was all she could do to keep from retching on Thayne’s garishly decorated floor, not that any damage would have been done.

  “Maluem, maybe you are pushing yourself too hard,” Torrez remarked as he moved to get a bandage for his wound. “Nia said that your fear of contac
t was deeply rooted-”

  “Nia said that, did she? Please elaborate. What all did she say?” Maluem cut in.

  Both Torrez and Shelia looked at one another nervously.

  “She…just that…” Torrez started clumsily, ending with an awkward silence.

  “Out with it,” Maluem commanded, forcing herself back to her feet. “I know the woman was in my head, learned of my weaknesses, my fears. What did she choose to impart?”

  “She only said that you have a deeply rooted fear of contact with others,” Shelia replied. “She said she tried to sense its source when she was healing you, but it went far too deep. She said a wound that old cannot be healed by any spell or ointment. The only cure was time and…”

  “Time and what?” Maluem demanded at her silence.

  “I…uh…I don’t recall the rest…” Shelia stammered, looking to Torrez with a pleading look.

  “Nia…could be a bit difficult to understand at times. Her northwestern accent could be tricky to follow,” Torrez offered.

  Maluem only nodded, studying her two Acolytes with critical eyes. It was a load of rubbish, she knew it. But it was apparent they were not going to explain further, not now at any rate. No matter, Nia’s words held more than one truth within them. Time was a potent cure for many ills, not least of all locked tongues.

  “I have an idea,” Shelia piped up, breaking the tense silence. “When you were going over Torrez’s spell bindings, you mentioned how one spell can be used in combination with another, like when his right ring is set to one spell and his left is set to another. What if you combined that healing spell with something else, something that would keep you from having to touch your patient?”

  “Good thinking,” Torrez chimed in, eager to change the subject from Nia’s prophecies. “Something that would carry the effects of the spell to the wound. Maybe if you attach it to one of your force spells?”