“Tell me where Taren is,” Nesnys said again after a few moments. “Your comrades are bleeding out, and my blade shall kiss each one of you in only a matter of time.”
“We don’t know where the bloody mage is!” a man near her shouted in frustration.
He cried out in agony a moment later from her thrust, his scream going on for a long time, gradually waning until it culminated in a delicious death rattle.
I’ll save the Atreus girl for last. She and I are far from done.
Nesnys laughed as she walked around the curve of the cage, allowing Willbreaker to scrape ominously along the rock. “I’ve an idea to jostle your memories.”
She sheathed Willbreaker and cast another spell. The earth trembled for a moment before it disgorged the sphere of rock. The cage hovered in midair, the crush of bodies barely visible through the narrow openings. Nesnys smiled at the crimson staining the gray stone, running down the sides. With a casual swipe of her hand, the ball rolled over the edge of the bluff and dropped.
She could feel its movement through the ground as the cage bounced and rolled down the steep slope, the rumbling louder than the ongoing battle. By the time it tore into the rear of the Ketanian troops, it had picked up tremendous speed. Men barely had time to voice a warning shout before bodies were hurled aside or crushed flat beneath the stone enclosure. It left a bloody trail of destruction through the ranks.
Nesnys wondered how brutal the bouncy ride was on those inside, and she imagined her prisoners bruised and bloodied, with broken bones and innards turned to jelly. She simply stood a long moment and savored the carnage as the cage slowly rolled to a halt.
That was glorious—even better than expected. I think some tongues are surely loosened by now. She spread her wings and dropped over the side, gliding above the path of broken bodies leading to the prison.
***
Elyas belatedly realized the wordless shouts and snarls he heard, which sounded like a madman’s, were actually his own.
He was in the thick of battle, the moments of pure joy he had felt in the arena magnified here as he crushed every foe before him. His father’s longsword rhythmically rose and fell, leaving a trail of corpses in his wake as he slew his countrymen.
This is murder—you must stop! You desecrate Father’s memory.
Elyas trampled the remnant’s objections, easy to do as the Soulforge armor’s bloodlust consumed him. Perhaps it was a failing of his own character, but blaming his actions on the armor’s influence was easy.
A short, squat warrior with a long, bushy beard bellowed a challenge before him, raising a battle axe in hand. Elyas kicked out, catching the dwarf’s shield and knocking him back a step. His sword swept down, cleaving through the dwarf’s helm. Another dwarven warrior turned after cutting down one of Elyas’s men but was too slow. Elyas stabbed him through the mouth, sending teeth flying amid the spurt of blood.
He saw a movement in his periphery and turned his head. A great boulder broke free of the bluff where the enemy commanders had been. It rumbled down the hill, gathering speed as it bounced and rolled, and carved a path of destruction through the Ketanian troops. Many men were crushed beneath, others tossed aside, the boulder finally rolling to a stop a mere twenty paces away.
The quaking ground caused the battle to momentarily pause, stunned defenders trying to wrap their minds around the sudden development. The bluff was hollowed out, the entire enemy command group simply gone.
Nesnys was circling the boulder overhead, and he knew his mistress had unleashed her great magic to cast down their foes. The sight of her made his heart surge, the desire to please her and deliver a great victory this day eclipsing all other urges.
He bellowed a wordless cry and charged another knot of dwarves, Nebaran warriors falling in behind him, inspired by both his fearlessness and his seeming invincibility in battle, along with the carnage Nesnys had just wrought.
A group of dwarves stood in shock regarding the enormous stone Nesnys had cast from the bluff. They turned too late to meet his charge. Two warriors fell in a heartbeat, helms cleaved open by the enchanted longsword. A third parried Elyas’s strike and slammed his leg with his axe, but the Soulforge armor turned the blow. He shield-bashed the dwarf in the face then ran him through, lifting the small man into the air impaled on the blade through his chest. Elyas slung the dying dwarf aside, knocking down one of his companions.
“Try me, Abyss-tainted.” A female dwarf in gleaming silvery plate mail rode upon the back of a large mountain goat the size of a pony. She had golden-brown hair and carried a massive warhammer that gave him pause. Something about her unnerved him—the wielder and weapon both—for she was a paladin of Reiktir. It took him a moment to realize that not only was the Soulforge armor wary of the paladin herself, but it also feared her weapon, its sentiments mixing with Elyas’s own emotions as if he himself felt that way.
How is it possible the armor can feel fear?
His rumination was cut short when the mounted dwarf charged. The beast grunted and lowered its head to ram him with its horns. Elyas dropped his shield and sidestepped at the last instant, then grabbed one of the animal’s horns with his free hand. He turned with its momentum and hauled down and back with all his strength, dropping low to bring all his weight to bear. The goat gave a surprised bleat as he yanked it off its feet. The paladin managed to strike a blow on Elyas’s pauldron before she was unseated, tumbling to the ground. The Soulforge armor crumpled from her blow, as it had done from no other. A stab of pain in his shoulder was overwhelmed by the armor’s feedback. The sensation momentarily staggered him as the armor reacted to the damage, almost as if it were a living thing that was injured. He felt it quailing from the paladin and her enchanted hammer.
The goat grunted and scrabbled to get back to its feat, but Nebaran spears and swords pierced the great beast, and it fell back to the ground, bleating as its life bled out.
After a moment, Elyas got the upper hand on the barrage of emotions, fighting off the feedback from the armor. He moved past the fallen goat to its rider. The dwarven maid rose to her feet, shaken but resolute, hammer and shield in hand to face him.
“Feamd sond, dun rabidu sraa!” The paladin held her hammer aloft, and a brilliant light ensconced her.
Elyas cried out, temporarily blinded, but worse, the Soulforge armor recoiled, its hooks of agony raking him, and he staggered, backing away, unable to face the paladin. The compulsion to flee was overpowering, and he found himself retreating against his will.
He blinked away motes of light filling his vision. When it cleared, he saw the dwarves had recovered their discipline. First a dozen, then a score or two moved in to surround their queen protectively. Somewhere within the red haze of pain and mindless fear generated by the armor, he had come to the realization that the paladin was the dwarven queen.
“Come to me, my champion.”
Nesnys’s call shredded through the tumult of noise in his head, and Elyas heeded immediately, relieved to turn away from the imposing paladin queen. He beckoned his men, who had fallen back in confusion at his own hesitation. Elyas shook his head to clear it and gave the bristling ring of steel around the dwarven queen a wide berth. He found a gap in the ranks of disarrayed defenders and plunged through, the gray hulk of the boulder looming large ahead, where he sensed his mistress awaited him.
Within moments, the unnerving confrontation was behind him, and he was cutting his way through his foes once more.
Chapter 38
Taren exited the portal and set foot in a world that should have existed only in a dream. He stared wide-eyed as he beheld the wondrous sight before him.
The vast sky was a bright pink-orange, a picturesque sunset that extended in all directions as if he were standing upon the pinnacle of a great mountain peak. But it was not the sky that stole his breath away—the floating islands did. He counted six of them from where he stood, islands of rock and soil floating in the sky like ponderous clouds. The islands loo
ked as if they had been cast into the air like clods of dirt by some monstrous titan, only to be suspended there. Some were little more than small shards of rock, while others were large enough to contain flora upon them. The surfaces of several islands had terrain features such as hills, covered with trees, bushes, and grass. The undersides of the islands were like inverted mountains, jagged chunks of stone jutting out as if they’d been torn violently from the ground. On the nearest one, moss and tree roots were visible along the underside. The setting was serene, silent save for a whispering breeze, again giving the impression of being above the entire world.
He and his companions stood upon their own island of rock, perhaps twenty paces across, forming a roughly square shape. A central metal plate affixed to the ground with an archway overhead formed the portal. The only other items of note on the island were piles of detritus surrounding the metal plate. On all sides, the rough stone edges abruptly gave way to open sky.
Taren’s companions were just as transfixed as he by the sight. Once Taren collected his wits, he joined Creel near one edge of the isle. After one brief glance down, he had to take a step away, overcome with vertigo, for an endless drop into nothingness yawned below. He had briefly glimpsed more islands floating much farther below, along with the tops of fluffy clouds.
“Reiktir’s beard,” Kulnor exclaimed. “’Tis unnatural.” He looked pale after gazing into the endless sky. “Stone should be anchored to the bones of the world, not… cast adrift in empty sky.”
“There appears to have been a battle fought here.” Mira prodded one of the piles of detritus with a foot.
A chunk of metal shifted with a scrape and clatter, then another piece rolled free, revealing the metal skull of an automaton. The remains of the construct were maintained and free of rust, unlike those in the Hall of the Artificers. An elbow joint moved easily when Taren nudged an arm with his boot. The construct’s chest had a large hole blasted through it, and the edges of the metal around the puncture appeared melted.
“Nesnys’s minions are already here,” he said grimly.
“Where do we go now?” Ferret asked.
“And by what means would we go anywhere?” Aninyel added.
“Over here.” Creel knelt by the edge.
Taren crouched down beside him and saw a thick iron chain stretching diagonally downward, extending out of sight where it passed through a bank of clouds. The chain was covered with rust and appeared to be anchored in some fashion to the underside of the island.
He shifted to his second sight and saw bright blue-white auras of magic surrounding each island, concentrated near their bases, the source of whatever enchantment kept them aloft. Down where the cable disappeared into the clouds, he could see another glow, indicating another isle.
Yet for all the magical spells placed on the islands, earth magic was exceedingly weak on this plane, a likely result of the landmass having been destroyed aeons ago, according to the brief information the gnome Flurbinger Flent had provided. The vitality of the plant life appeared as soft green auras, but even those seemed fragile, clinging precariously to the weak earth magic.
If I try to use my magic here, I might destroy this delicate ecosystem. These islands could lose whatever levitational force they have if I’m not careful.
“Look over here,” Ferret said.
A rough chunk of stone jutted from the ground, looking like little more than a rock spur from three sides, but on the fourth was a smooth metal face and a round button the size of Taren’s fist.
Before he could examine it further, Ferret tapped the button with her foot. It depressed with a loud click. A moment later, the ground thrummed beneath them, and the entire island gave a slight but thoroughly unnerving jolt. The chain grew taut, then some unseen mechanism on the underside of the island began winding up the chain. The clanking of metal seemed deafening in Kaejax’s eerie stillness.
Creel drew his sword, and the others readied themselves for potential attack. After long moments, an indistinct shape emerged from the cloud below, coalescing into a small metal platform connected to the chain with a railing on one side.
“What is that?” Creel eyed it cautiously but sheathed his sword when he saw it bore no attackers. “Looks almost like some type of ferry.”
“Aye, ’tis a sort of lift,” Kulnor agreed. “We use them in our cities to transport people and goods from one level to the next. But I’ve never seen one that goes at an angle like such.”
The chain clanked to a juddering stop, and the lift struck the base of the island, making it lurch with a sickening sensation. A ladder might have once extended down to the lift, but the stone appeared to have crumbled away and taken the structure with it long before. They faced a drop the height of a man down to the lift platform.
Aninyel hopped lightly over the edge and landed sure-footedly on the lift, causing it to sway slightly. “Seems somewhat solid,” she called up after stomping her feet and testing its stability.
Taren didn’t like the thought of trying to slip over the crumbling lip onto the small, unsteady platform.
“I’ll lower you all down,” Ferret offered. She extended her hand to Taren.
He took her hand, and Ferret swung him over the edge then squatted down, lowering him with ease. Loose pebbles broke away beneath the soles of his boots before he cleared the edge of rock and hung, toes just barely touching the platform before she let go. The lift swayed at his added weight, and Taren reached for the railing, his stomach not appreciating the motion. Aninyel gripped his arm to steady him.
Mira hopped down next, landing with the same grace as Aninyel had. Creel followed without drama. Taren could hear Kulnor grumbling up above before he was lowered down. The dwarf’s feet couldn’t reach the deck, so Creel grabbed him under the armpits and set him down. Kulnor immediately grabbed for the railing and clung to it like a drowning sailor as the lift swayed like a ship at sea.
“Careful, lass,” Creel warned when Ferret sat on the edge, sending loose pebbles cascading down.
“I’m fine,” she said, then hopped down.
Her feet struck with a loud, reverberating clang, and her weight made the whole lift jolt, dropping by a couple links of the thick chain. Taren lost his balance and staggered into Creel, bouncing off the monster hunter, then his foot was halfway off the edge of the open side of the lift, with only a yawning abyss below.
Mira grabbed him by his left arm and pulled him away, then Aninyel secured his right. Ferret and Creel were clinging to each other, and Taren wasn’t sure who was supporting whom. Kulnor knelt at the railing, clutching it with white knuckles. His eyes were closed, and he appeared to be praying.
“That’s what I was warning you about,” Creel said somewhat testily.
“Oops. Sorry ’bout that, everyone.” Ferret somehow managed to appear sheepish.
“So I guess this takes us down?” Taren studied a metal box attached to the railing containing a lever that selected between two arrows. He flipped it to the downward-pointing arrow.
The lift shuddered alarmingly and dropped about six inches. White-knuckled grips on the railing abounded for a moment until the chain began unspooling with a loud clanking from a large windlass anchored on the isle’s underside. The lift descended steadily at an angle but with an unsettling jittery motion. After a few moments, they sank into the cloud bank. Cool, wet mist enveloped them, and they had a few tense moments without any visibility. But then the lift slipped free of the cloud, revealing the sight below.
A large island, perhaps a mile across, spread out below them. Built on it was a large, blocky structure formed of glossy dark stone. Grass covered the ground, and trees and bushes filled the expanse, which looked as natural as if it were on solid ground rather than floating in midair. Situated at the rear of the compound was a good-sized pond. The lift terminated at a metal-sheathed stone pier jutting out from the edge.
The slow descent provided Taren time to scan the island with his second sight. He could discern n
o signs of life other than the flora. The island glowed subtly with its blue-white aura.
“I don’t sense anyone here,” he told his companions. “It seems devoid of living beings. But there could be automatons and other dangers.”
“Whoever was here didn’t go down without a fight.” Creel pointed at the lawn.
They were growing close enough to make out smaller details, such as scorch marks and small craters that marred the ground—what had obviously been a battlefield. More destroyed automatons had fallen, lying in smashed and partially melted heaps across the lawn, yet no sign remained of whatever attacker had wrought such destruction.
The lift jolted to a halt at the dock with a minor collision of metal. Taren hopped onto the dock once it stabilized, glad to be off the shaky contraption. Kulnor bolted for solid ground.
Creel led the way across the lawn, hand on the hilt of his sword, the others following. Taren scanned the foliage with both his physical and second sights, but nothing materialized to challenge them. He saw no sign of any animal life at all, and the island was utterly silent save for the sounds of the group—primarily Kulnor’s jingling armor and Ferret’s heavy footfalls and clockwork noises. The wind stirring the leaves and blades of grass made the only other sounds, forlorn and melancholy in this silent world.
From a circle of crushed white stone before the building rose a black obelisk, thrice the height of a man. Runes were carved upon its glossy surface, and it reminded Taren of the cube in the ruins of Ammon Nor through which they had first gained entrance to the Hall of the Artificers. None of them could interpret what the obelisk’s glyphs denoted, so they continued past it after a cursory examination.
The stone building was quite large, three stories tall with thick walls and narrow glass windows giving it the grim feel of a barracks. The double doors had been broken down—one lay five paces inside the entryway, and the other hung crookedly from its remaining hinge.
Trial of the Thaumaturge (Scions of Nexus Book 3) Page 32
