Trial of the Thaumaturge (Scions of Nexus Book 3)

by Gregory Mattix

  “I second that.” Taren was helped down the steps by Mira. He looked to have a head wound, judging from the caked blood, and wasn’t able to put any weight on his right ankle. “Too disoriented to use magic… but I think we’ll need it to get the control rod back from that bastard and then get out of here.”

  “Have a seat, lad,” Kulnor said, “I’ll tend to ye. Creel, ye too.”

  Neither man complained at the dwarf’s orders.

  Although Ferret wasn’t seriously wounded, her bumps and bruises were taking a toll. “I could use a bit of that goodness once they’re fixed up, if you don’t mind.”

  She didn’t know if Kulnor heard her, for he was already tending to Taren, calling on his god for healing.

  Just then, the floor began rumbling. The drain aperture opened, and water began spewing out again.

  Ferret groaned. “Just when I thought we were finished with the bloody water for a bit.”

  Chapter 48

  Nesnys was alerted the instant her magical warding was disturbed in the portal room. She dispatched some of her minions to investigate, although several were already in place to guard the portal. She almost hoped her enemies had arrived to challenge her, for after suffering her second military defeat in a matter of days, her rage and frustration were boiling over, and she yearned to lash out violently.

  After having arrived in the Hall of the Artificers with Elyas a day earlier to find the intruders gone already, she later learned Taren and his friends had destroyed Taananzu and departed Kaejax Outpost with the control rod in their possession. She arrived too late to catch the mortals, who had unsurprisingly managed to disappear once more. Following that aggravating discovery, she later returned to the battle to learn her army had surrendered, which wasn’t a total surprise. Yet after those two failures, the possibility that Shaol would punish her severely was looming large over her head like an unseen executioner’s axe.

  Perhaps now the mortals foolishly return here. The prospect of bloodshed raised her spirits—she desired nothing more than to take out her ire with riven flesh. Anticipation built as she walked to the portal room, taking her time to savor the thought. She was disappointed when that opportunity failed to present itself.

  Colonel Cornix stood panting before the portal, looking as though he’d run some considerable distance. He was held at bay by a forest of bestial mandibles and claws, his dark eyes wide and fearful.

  At a command from Nesnys, her summoned servants drew back. “Report,” she snapped.

  Cornix withdrew from his belt a ruby-tipped rod crafted of Abyssal iron. He gave her his insolent smile and offered her the rod with both hands, bowing as he did so.

  “I have recovered the control rod you seek, Warlord.”

  Nesnys took it from him, studying it intently while masking her sudden glee. Her fear and anger evaporated as she examined the control rod, sensing the potent magic infusing the item. “And what of the mageling and his friends?”

  “Dead, Warlord. Or soon to be. I flooded the tunnels in Shirak so they couldn’t pursue me. Nor can they reach the portal chamber. If they somehow survive drowning again, they will be trapped.” He pulled the artificer’s ring from his finger and also handed that over.

  “And Bliezahr?”

  “I lost contact with him prior to encountering the boy and his protectors. I assume they must have defeated Bliezahr.”

  Nesnys grunted. The loss of her last remaining lieutenant was no matter at such a late stage. Even though Taren never ceased to surprise her, if he managed to enact yet another miracle, he would still be too late now that she had the control rod in hand.

  She nodded slowly, eyes affixed to the ruby as she quickly ran through a number of possibilities. “You have done well, Colonel, and shall be rewarded appropriately. Leave me now—I have work I must complete.”

  Cornix bowed and retreated from the portal chamber, eyeing her servants warily as he kept his distance.

  I no longer need my damned sister’s whelp. He has vexed me for long enough, but now the moment of our glory is at hand.

  She prepared for a communion with her lord, confident Shaol would approve the activation of the Tellurian Engine. The thought of the destruction soon to unfold made her pulse race with excitement.

  ***

  Elyas overheard Cornix’s report and Nesnys’s reaction. He waited outside the portal room, standing in the shadows. Some of the demons Nesnys had summoned shuffled past, ignoring him, thinking him one of their own, he suspected, because of the armor. The creatures were horrific in appearance, but he ignored them, for fear was a forgotten weakness.

  Taren is likely dead. Trapped on some far-flung plane. Sorrow seeped through the pain of his aching head—sorrow and another emotion: guilt.

  You have failed him! the remnant inside him raged. It had grown in strength of late, especially since he had encountered Taren at the gates of Carran, as if his presence emboldened the remnant. Nesnys had been preoccupied much of the time since then, and with her inattention and slackening of control, the remnant seemed to grow in strength, or at least desperation. It was your duty as his older cousin—no, his brother—to protect him from harm. And look what you’ve come to—consorting with the enemy. A traitor to your own people. Ma and Da would be ashamed, and rightfully so.

  There is nothing I can do now, he protested weakly.

  A sorry excuse—Taren hasn’t given up on you, even though you are undeserving of his love and loyalty.

  Cornix left the portal room, not seeing Elyas in the shadows. A number of Nesnys’s demons trailed out after the colonel.

  Leave me be. He managed to shove the remnant away, although he could sense it there, just out of his reach, regathering its strength for another assault on his mind. Elyas pushed away from the wall he leaned on, gritting his teeth at his pounding headache.

  I’ve gone mad, conversing with myself like this. The thought didn’t scare him as much as he would have expected. Instead, he wondered if there was any solace to be found in the depths of madness.

  Nesnys strode out of the portal room and saw him immediately. “There you are. Walk with me.”

  Elyas fell into step beside her, basking in the barely restrained ebullience pulsing through their link. He had been avoiding her since she brought him to the Hall of the Artificers because of her ill temper.

  Perhaps she has a task for me. The thought of pleasing her made his headache subside somewhat.

  “Indeed I do,” she said aloud, obviously reading his thoughts through the helm’s connection. “I go to commune with Lord Shaol. With his approval, I shall activate the Tellurian Engine. Our enemies will seek the opportunity to strike at us before it is too late. Even now, the final grains of sand trickle through the hourglass—the hour of their destruction is near at hand. Take charge of the defenses until I return. Once our final task is complete, we shall gaze down upon the ashes of this world. You shall stand at my side as we move onward to further conquests.” She smiled and ran her talons down his breastplate, the abrasive sound loud in the confines of the corridor. A hot flash of her lust spiked through the link between them, and he felt his own desire swell in return.

  Nesnys laughed. “Time enough for that later, my champion. Hold here until my return, and destroy our foes if they surface.”

  Then she was gone in a shimmer like a heat haze, leaving Elyas alone in a hall filled with monsters and a head filled with tormented thoughts.

  Chapter 49

  Taren’s vision cleared, and the awful headache disappeared. The double Kulnor resolved into one dwarf as he removed his hand from Taren’s blood-caked head and stepped away.

  “Thank you, Kulnor. I feel much better.” Gingerly probing his wound where his skull had been cracked, he found only smooth skin amid the crusted blood. Even his shattered ankle had stopped aching. It felt a bit stiff when he put weight on it, but it was mended well enough.

  Kulnor bobbed his head. “’Tis nothing, me friend. Reiktir favors us in our quest.
What about ye, lass?” he asked Mira.

  “I’m fine, thank you.” Mira smiled, and her relief was palpable since Taren had been healed. She had her share of minor cuts and bruises but was uncomplaining as usual.

  Kulnor went over to tend to Ferret, who had somehow survived having her throat cut with little more than a line across her neck that had wept blood. Taren hadn’t had a chance to puzzle over her survival yet. She did look quite bruised and battered, however, mostly from the flood.

  Creel lay on his back beside Ferret, dripping blood steadily into the rising pool of murky seawater below.

  “Now, let’s see if we can’t do something about that water,” Taren said.

  The group had been forced to retreat to the uppermost catwalk as water poured steadily back into the laboratory, the chamber’s drain mechanism reversed somehow. Now that he could focus again, he reached out with his second sight to study their predicament.

  He had felt utterly helpless during the fight with the Nebarans, his head splitting and vision doubled. He’d tried to reach his magic, but it had eluded him. Fortunately, he had ever-faithful Mira to protect him, and the Nebarans had been both close and numerous enough to be able to strike at them effectively with a few tosses of Lightslicer.

  Taren tried not to think about Aninyel’s absence, for he had an ill feeling about that.

  “No sign of the elf. I went back and looked,” Kulnor had told them right after the battle finished. He had shaken his head, face grim. “She must’ve shut the door up top o’ the tunnel and kept the ocean from spilling down on our heads.”

  One problem at a time. First, I must do something about the water here.

  He assumed the Nebaran cutthroat had activated some mechanism on the other side of the door to keep them from pursuing by flooding the laboratory. His second sight showed the magical emanations of what was likely some type of control room for the pump on the other side of the door. Worse news, though, was that the escape tunnel outside was flooded as well.

  Taren sighed. “That murdering bastard flooded the tunnel behind him.”

  “Would it be possible to swim to wherever the Nebarans came in from?” Mira asked. “Or travel in one of your magical globes?” She was sitting near him on the steps, massaging a cramp in her calf.

  “If we knew where exactly that is. But this I should be able to stop.” He waved at the water, which was already past the lower walkway and rising fast.

  The loud thrumming sound reverberated through the dome as the machinery pumped the ocean back inside. I can’t physically reach the machine from here, but it shouldn’t be too hard to disable it. The machine glowed a bright blue-white on the other side of the wall. He gently touched the magic, feeling around the enchantments as he would a tangle of yarn. Once he found a likely point, he siphoned off the magic, and the layered spells unraveled swiftly. The machine sputtered and died, and the laboratory became blessedly quiet. He gauged the water level and noted it held steady.

  “Ah, the quiet is nice,” Ferret said. “As is not having to be afraid of drowning in the next few minutes.”

  “One more problem out of the way,” Taren said. “But I think another has reared its ugly head. Did anyone see what became of the obsidian bomb before the demon brought the dome down?”

  He was met with grim looks and head shakes.

  Taren extended his second sight outward until the upper chamber was in view. As he expected, the bright glow of the bomb was there, glowing like a star. He saw no significant signs of life, however, save for some tiny marine creatures, which made the pain in his heart more acute.

  “All right,” he said, “we’ll have to return to the upper dome and retrieve it. And see about Aninyel.” Those last words came out unsteady.

  The others exchanged unhappy glances.

  “Creel, let me try to aid ye,” Kulnor said. “Ye’re leakin’ like a wineskin used for archery practice.”

  “It won’t do much for me, but you’re welcome to try,” Creel responded.

  While Taren considered how best to get back up top, he curiously watched the warm white aura of Kulnor’s magic when applied to Creel. Instead of flowing into the monster hunter and slowly dissipating as it had for Ferret, Kulnor’s clerical magic was met with some type of magical resistance that rebuffed it. Only thin tendrils made it past Creel’s innate defenses.

  Kulnor frowned afterward. “Ye weren’t jesting about that.”

  Creel sat up and clapped the dwarf on the pauldron. “Afraid not. That did ease my wounds a bit… should give me a boost in mending up. Just need a bit of time. A few days should suffice.” He gave a half smile.

  I wish more than anything we had a few days. And that bastard hadn’t stolen the control rod. And Aninyel hadn’t…

  He roughly thrust that disturbing thought aside before it could break him. “Kulnor, Mira, I’ll need your help. I think I can get us in the upper dome without drowning. We’ll be back in a few minutes,” he added when Ferret looked about to protest.

  “Aye, we won’t be going anywhere,” Creel said. “Take a load off, lass.” He passed her his flask.

  Ferret sighed but accepted a sip of the spirits.

  Mira and Kulnor joined Taren on a level expanse of walkway, and he summoned a protective sphere around the three of them. Once that was complete, he began opening a gate to the flooded upper chamber. A ferocious sizzling and hissing started the moment he carved the fiery lines in the air, and steam billowed through the rents. The instant the gateway was fully formed, seawater began gushing through. He directed the defensive sphere forward until it pressed against the gate and held the water at bay. The trio slowly advanced, the sphere squeezing smaller so they could pass through the gateway. Once through, Taren put up a wall of force before the gate to prevent more water from pouring through. Maintaining three enchantments at once was taxing, but he knew he could manage for a few minutes.

  Murky water now entirely filled the vast domed chamber in which they had been attacked by Bliezahr earlier, the combination of nighttime as well as the silt stirred up by the deluge making it nearly pitch black. The orange crystals did little to illuminate the area. Kulnor cast a simple light spell, and silvery light emanated from his holy symbol, casting the flooded room in stark relief. Chunks of algae and seaweed floated in the water like slimy clouds in the sky. Fish swam through the water, scales glittering in the light, and shied away from them as they moved farther from the gate.

  “Look.” Mira pointed.

  Bliezahr’s monstrous carcass lay on the ground, legs splayed out amid a black ichor stain. The fiend’s severed head lay a couple paces away.

  “Good riddance,” Kulnor said. “The elf—” He made a choking sound when his eyes alighted on something.

  Mira gasped, and Taren felt gut punched when he saw Aninyel. He had known her survival was long odds, but laying eyes upon her was a crushing blow nonetheless.

  Aninyel was suspended in the water, her hair unbound and flowing loosely around her, stirred by the currents. Illuminated by Kulnor’s light, her hair gleamed like a silver halo. One of her legs was badly mauled, but her face held a look of utter peace. With the pallor of death upon her, she looked much like Taren’s idea of a celestial, beautiful and serene.

  “Oh gods… we can’t leave her here like this. Kulnor.” Taren couldn’t stop the tears from flowing.

  “Aye. I’ve got ye, lass.” Kulnor’s eyes looked wet as well.

  Aninyel bobbed against the edge of the sphere when they drew near. Taren briefly opened a small slot for Kulnor to pull the elf inside, although a spurt of water came through as well before he could seal it shut again. The dwarf cradled the fallen elf reverently in his arms.

  The obsidian bomb was easy to spot with his second sight. It had been shoved up against one wall during the flood. He opened another small gap, and Mira retrieved the heavy stone. It glowed faintly orange, its fiery heart shrouded by darkness, as always.

  They returned through the gateway to the
laboratory, and by the time all was said and done, they were soaked and miserable.

  “I’m sorry, Taren,” Mira said with a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know she was a good friend to you.”

  “She was,” he said, barely more than a whisper, eyes locked on the elf’s serene face.

  Kulnor set Aninyel’s body gently down on the floor. He knelt by her side and murmured a blessing for her.

  “She was a damn good fighter,” Creel said. “Tough loss.”

  “Aye… I liked her a lot,” Ferret added. “She won’t be forgotten.”

  “She loved a challenge,” Taren said. “And I know she must have seen her final act as her greatest one, for she not only slew Bliezahr, but also sealed that upper door and saved us all from drowning.”

  With heavy hearts, they rested for a time, allowing Creel to better recover from his wounds and the rest of them from their weariness.

  “Any thoughts on how to catch up with that Nebaran whoreson?” Creel asked after a time. “Wouldn’t surprise me if he’s back in the Hall of the Artificers by now.”

  Taren nodded. “I think that’s likely. Even if we could pursue him through those tunnels and search for the other portal, it would waste precious time.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Creel asked. “Can you make one of those gates to take us back to the hall? Either that or travel back through Kaejax?”

  “I can’t make a gate to pierce the planes. It might be theoretically possible, but the amount of magic to do so would be phenomenal. And I’ll need to conserve strength for the fight that awaits us.”

  “Just the six… nay, five of us against Nesnys and her forces?” Ferret asked. “They’ll be expecting us now.”

  “Aye, I don’t much like those odds,” Kulnor added. “I’d feel better marchin’ a small army in there and kicking their arses all over that rusty hall.”

  “That’s what I plan to do,” Taren said. “With this.” From the pouch on his belt, he withdrew the artifact his mother and uncle had given him upon departing Nexus, the Bracer of Fellraven.