Mask of Spells (Mask of the Demonsouled #3)

by Jonathan Moeller

  “Dear gods,” said Sigaldra, her fingers digging into his chest. “If this wasn’t so terrifying, it might be enjoyable. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone climb anything so fast.”

  “Aye,” grunted Adalar, sweating from the strain of climbing with Sigaldra on his back. He had spent a lot of time climbing ropes and siege ladders during the wars in Mastaria, and this was easier by far. It would have been an exhilarating feeling, had he not been conscious of the thousand-foot fall from the side of the Spire.

  “How long will the magic last?” said Sigaldra.

  “I…don’t know,” said Adalar. Azurvaltoria hadn’t mentioned that.

  Even as he spoke, he slapped his left hand against the wall. It gripped…but he thought it didn’t grip as tightly as it had before. The talchweisyr might be holding a portion of the soliphage’s power, but perhaps the power drained away after a few moments.

  And if Adalar did not have solid ground beneath his boots when the power dissipated, he and Sigaldra would plummet to their deaths.

  He slipped a little against the slick stone of the Spire of Spells.

  “Adalar,” breathed Sigaldra.

  “Hang on,” said Adalar, and he started climbing as fast as he could manage, his arms and legs screaming with the strain.

  ###

  Again Rigoric’s greatsword hammered down, and again Mazael danced to the side, avoiding the sweep of the massive blade. Another of Romaria’s arrows sprouted from the Champion’s side. Rigoric flinched from the impact but showed no other sign of discomfort. He continued his implacable advance, attacking Mazael again and again.

  And as he did, Mazael realized how he could defeat the Champion once more.

  He caught Azurvaltoria’s eye, and she nodded. She, too, had seen the weakness in the Champion’s attacks.

  Mazael wheeled to the side, the railing on his right. Rigoric attacked again, and Mazael had to dodge, putting the railing to his back and limiting his room to maneuver. The Champion raised his greatsword and brought the massive weapon hammering down, and Mazael had no choice but to raise Talon to block. The sword of dragon talon deflected the greatsword, but the raw power of Rigoric’s strike knocked Mazael to his knees.

  He hit the ground hard, and Rigoric loomed over him for the kill.

  Azurvaltoria’s blast of magical fire hit Rigoric’s back with the force of a ballista bolt. The blast lifted Rigoric from his feet and slammed him into the railing, flipping him over. At the last minute, Rigoric grabbed the railing with an armored hand, but Mazael surged to his feet and brought Talon down, hammering the pommel into Rigoric’s wrist.

  Bone cracked, and Rigoric lost his grip and fell from the walkway, tumbling to the plaza below.

  Mazael looked over the railing and saw Rigoric fall into the crowds of valgasts streaming through the plaza, disappearing in their midst. Even from several hundred feet up, he still heard the clang as Rigoric hit the ground.

  “Think that killed him?” said Romaria, coming to his side.

  “Probably not,” said Azurvaltoria. “The Mask of the Champion bestows considerable power upon its bearer. The only way to permanently kill Rigoric would be to chop off his head and physically remove the Mask from contact with his flesh. Otherwise, the Mask will regenerate almost anything.”

  “If he wants to try again, he’s welcome,” said Mazael, stepping back from the railing and looking for new foes. So far, no one else had managed to get this high, not even motaylakars. If they started running now, right now, they ought to reach the Tower of the Spider before anyone could stop them.

  Yet there was still no sign of Adalar and Sigaldra. Mazael intended to wait as long as possible, but if they waited too long, they would get overwhelmed by waves of valgast warriors or the Prophetess’s magic…

  “What?” said Romaria, as surprised as he had ever heard her.

  Mazael turned and saw Adalar and Sigaldra climbing up the side of the Spire of Spells.

  Without the benefit of a rope.

  ###

  Sigaldra resisted the urge to grip Adalar as tightly as she could. She felt his chest expand and relax with the rapid draw of his breath, felt the quick drumbeat of his heart as he labored. His face had turned red from the effort of climbing, and she wished she would have done something to help him.

  She couldn’t, though, so she held him as loosely as she could, which was all the more terrifying as his hands began to slide against the stone. The trapped magic of the dead soliphage was fading, and once it vanished, they would fall to their deaths in Tchroth below.

  At least it would be quicker than whatever the valgasts would do to them.

  “There!” said Adalar, and Sigaldra looked up. A walkway stretched from the Spire of Spells, and she spotted Mazael, Romaria, and Azurvaltoria atop of it, all three of them running closer. Adalar grunted and managed to make himself climb faster, and then his hands and feet started to slip against the wet stone.

  The magic had almost about failed.

  They were so close.

  “Jump!” shouted Sigaldra, and she reached for the stone railing, catching it in her hands. Adalar followed suit and caught the railing, his feet kicking as his scrabbled for purchase. Her shoulders screamed with pain as she strained with all her strength to lift herself, but she could not quite manage to do it. The stone of the railing was too slick, the weight of her armor and weapons too heavy, and her arms were tired from all the archery she had done today. Sigaldra screamed as she felt herself start to slip…

  Hard hands closed around her wrists and yanked, and Romaria pulled Sigaldra over the railing and onto her feet. Sigaldra caught her balance, breathing hard, and saw Mazael pull Adalar onto the walkway.

  “How the devil did you do that?” said Mazael as Adalar regained his balance.

  “Talchweisyr,” said Adalar, trying to catch his breath. “Azurvaltoria explained. I killed a soliphage. The talchweisyr took some of its magic…”

  “Ah, clever,” said Azurvaltoria. “The sword temporarily granted you the soliphage’s power of climbing a sheer wall. You timed it quite well. The power dissipated completely the moment you jumped from the side of the Spire of Spells.”

  Sigaldra let out a shaky breath and managed to smile at Adalar. He smiled back.

  “I never want to do that again,” said Sigaldra.

  “No,” said Adalar. “I think under other circumstances, it might have been…”

  “We can discuss it later,” said Mazael. “Run!”

  They sprinted towards the dark mass of the Tower of the Spider. The walkway passed close to one of the Tower’s balconies, so close that Sigaldra could have reached out and touched the black stone.

  Jumping over to it was a trivial matter. They scrambled onto the railing and jumped, and Adalar caught Sigaldra, helping her over.

  “This way,” said Azurvaltoria, heading towards the narrow doorway on the far side of the balcony.

  The door opened into a narrow, steep stairwell. Sigaldra supposed it climbed all the way to the peak of Mount Armyar and the Heart of the Spider itself.

  “I can hear them coming,” Sigaldra said. The shouts and battle cries of valgast warriors echoed up the stairwell. The Prophetess or the high priests must have realized their plan and sent their warriors to block the Tower of the Spider.

  “Let me worry about that,” said Azurvaltoria, flexing her fingers as fire blazed to life around her hands. “Start running. I’ll catch up to you in a few moments.”

  “Very well,” said Mazael. “Come on!”

  They ran up the spiral stairs. Symbols of purple fire glittered upon the wall, casting their eerie glow over the stairs of black stone. Did the chambers of the Tower’s upper levels hold enemies, or were they deserted?

  She also wondered what Azurvaltoria intended to do to slow down the approaching valgasts.

  The answer arrived a moment later.

  The entire Tower shook, trembling like a rung bell, and a roaring, rushing sound filled Sigaldra’s
ears. She lost her balance, hit the curved wall, regained her feet, and looked back just as a hot wind howled up the stairs, tugging at her clothes. A blaze of orange-yellow light seemed to fill the stairwell, and for a moment Sigaldra feared the fire would erupt through the entire Tower and kill them all.

  Yet the light did not climb any higher, though the hot wind grew stronger.

  A moment later Azurvaltoria came into sight, running fast and breathing hard.

  “What did you do?” said Mazael.

  Her white smile flashed. “I set a few things on fire.”

  “It’s what you do best,” said Sigaldra, and Adalar coughed out a laugh.

  “We all have our talents,” said Azurvaltoria. “Suffice it to say that I used a spell of sufficient power that even the Prophetess and the valgast high priests, working in tandem, shall take some time to unravel it.” The white smile widened. “That is the delightful thing about a confined space, you see. It focuses heat so marvelously.”

  “It is getting warm,” said Mazael. “Do we need to flee before we cook alive?”

  “Certainly not,” said Azurvaltoria. “Well. I do not. You might find it uncomfortable before too much longer, though.”

  “Then let us be on our way,” said Mazael, and they hurried up the steps.

  Sigaldra felt a wave of fresh hope. For the first time since they had begun this mad chase, they were ahead of the Prophetess. Always before they had been forced to react, forced to respond to her plans. Now they had gotten ahead of her, and they would block her path.

  At last Sigaldra and the others the chance to set an ambush for her, rather than the other way around.

  Her hand clenched into a fist as they climbed.

  At last, she would have the opportunity to rescue Liane.

  Chapter 12: Spider Guard

  They climbed the stairs for hours.

  At first, the stairs circled through gleaming black rock, the substance of the Tower of the Spider. The air grew hotter and hotter from the fire raging further down the stairs, and Mazael wondered if Azurvaltoria had miscalculated. From time to time they passed sealed doorways in the stone walls, their surfaces glowing with purple glyphs, and Azurvaltoria urged them to leave the doors alone.

  “What is behind the doors?” said Mazael.

  “The tombs of soliphages,” said Azurvaltoria. “They usually live forever, but sometimes something kills them.”

  “Like us,” said Romaria.

  “Precisely,” said Azurvaltoria. “The valgasts, you will remember, regard the soliphages as sacred messengers of their goddess. So when they happen to find a dead soliphage, they take the carcass and entomb it here. Simply by walking through the Tower, we are blaspheming upon sacred ground.”

  Sigaldra quite deliberately spat upon the floor, and Mazael laughed.

  “But do not touch the doors,” said Azurvaltoria. “Sometimes the spells upon the Tower raise the dead soliphages as undead creatures. As undead, they are even more dangerous.”

  Sigaldra shuddered, no doubt remembering her brief imprisonment in the soliphage’s cave.

  “We won’t touch the doors,” said Mazael. “We can’t afford to linger.” Sooner or later Azurvaltoria’s fire would end, and the valgasts would swarm after them in pursuit. Or the fire would keep raging and cook them in the stairwell like an animal trapped in a chimney.

  The walls changed from the gleaming black stone of the Tower of the Spider to the familiar gray rock of the mountains of Skuldar. The air grew cooler with every step from the Tower they took, and Mazael felt the sweat on his forehead grow chill.

  “How far does this stairwell climb?” said Sigaldra.

  “All the way to the slope of Mount Armyar,” said Azurvaltoria. “At least another mile, I expect. The Heart of the Spider is atop Mount Armyar, and Tchroth is rather deep underground.”

  “At least we will be ahead of the Prophetess for once,” said Adalar.

  “About that,” said Romaria, glancing back at Azurvaltoria. “Are you sure this is the only way to the Heart of the Spider?”

  Azurvaltoria shrugged. “It is the fastest way I know.”

  “That’s not the same thing as being sure this is the only way,” said Romaria.

  “No,” said Azurvaltoria. “The Prophetess could take the foothill paths, but they are slow and steep. It is possible the valgasts dug another tunnel to Mount Armyar. I would not put it past them. It is the sort of thing they would do.”

  Sigaldra scowled in frustration. “You mean she still might be ahead of us?”

  “Possible, but not probable,” said Azurvaltoria. “However, I am certain this is the fastest route to the Heart of the Spider.” She pointed at the ceiling. “There is no more direct route than a straight line. I expect we shall either arrive slightly before the Prophetess or almost at the same time.”

  “That doesn’t give us much time to lay an ambush,” said Mazael.

  “No,” said Azurvaltoria. “So I suggest we keep climbing.”

  The purple glow faded, and soon Azurvaltoria had to summon a spinning ball of yellow-orange light to illuminate the stairs. On and on the steps went, circling ever higher. None of the others spoke, as they had no breath left for speech, their whole effort bent towards climbing. Mazael’s hips and knees burned from the effort, but he ignored the discomfort, Talon ready in his fist. He feared that the Prophetess would find a way through the dragon’s fire and storm up the stairs to attack, but he also feared what they would find on the slopes of Mount Armyar itself. Based on what the Prophetess had said in her speech to the valgasts, it sounded as if some of the soliphages or the valgast priests had already gone to the Heart of the Spider to prepare the way.

  He didn’t know what they would face on the slopes of Mount Armyar, but he intended to be ready.

  He hoped that Timothy and Earnachar and Basjun had found their way back to the Grim Marches, that Molly and Riothamus had received the message and understood.

  Several hours later, Mazael blinked, holding up one hand in the flickering glow of Azurvaltoria’s light.

  “A breeze,” he said. He felt the cold air against his face and whispering past his ears.

  “I am not sure,” said Romaria, “but I think I see light ahead.”

  “You do,” said Azurvaltoria, dismissing her light. Sudden darkness flooded the stairs, but in that darkness, Mazael saw the faint glow of daylight. “Be ready. We are almost to the surface. It is possible the Prophetess or the valgasts left someone to await their coming.”

  Mazael nodded and raised Talon, while he heard the creak of Romaria’s bow and the rasp of metal as Adalar drew his talchweisyr.

  Then an idea came to him.

  “Wait,” said Mazael. “Azurvaltoria, call the light back for a moment.”

  He heard the creak of her leather coat as she shrugged, and then the light shimmered back into existence over her fingers. In the fiery light, he looked at her face, with its black eyes and sharp features.

  At the blue spider painted over her features.

  Both Romaria and Sigaldra still had the blue spiders painted upon their faces. The spiders had blurred a little from the sweat of the fighting and running and climbing, but they were still visible.

  “What is it?” said Romaria.

  “You’ve still got the blue spider painted on your face,” said Mazael.

  “Do you think to bluff the valgast guards?” said Sigaldra. “Surely they will know that we escaped from Tchroth.”

  “Will they?” said Mazael. “There hasn’t been time to send messengers.”

  “No,” said Sigaldra, comprehension coming over her face. “No, there hasn’t.”

  “Can they communicate through magic?” said Adalar.

  “Some of them can,” said Azurvaltoria. “Though given the chaos we have left in our wake, it is possible no one has thought to warn the valgasts already at the Heart of the Spider. I think it is worth trying to bluff our way through any guards.”

  “I’m glad yo
u approve,” said Mazael, “because that is what we’re going to do. Dismiss the light.”

  Azurvaltoria made the light disappear, and Mazael resumed climbing, taking careful steps in the dim glow. Step by step the light ahead got brighter, and the cold breeze against his face stronger. Soon Mazael had no difficulty seeing, and he also heard the snarling rasp of valgast voices raised in argument.

  He took a deep breath, went around the final revolution of the stairs, and stepped into the daylight.

  After the gloom of Tchroth and the dark caverns of the underworld, even the overcast morning seemed dazzlingly bright. Mazael found himself standing upon a terrace carved out of the slope of a mountain, the mountains of Skuldar spreading away to the south. Heavy gray clouds hung low overhead, flashing with lightning from time to time. A dozen tall standing stones encircled the stairs in a wide ring, their tops carved in the shapes of spiders, their sides adorned with both Skuldari and valgast glyphs. Mazael had seen hundreds of similar shrine stones scattered through Weaver’s Vale and the city of Armalast itself.

  A half-dozen valgast warriors in bone armor stood guard, overseen by a pale-skinned valgast wizard holding a skull-topped staff. The valgast warriors hissed in alarm, drawing swords or leveling spears, and the valgast wizard’s expression tightened. Mazael kept his stance loose and unconcerned, though he did not relax his grip upon Talon. The others came after him, stepping onto the terrace, and the valgasts’ confusion seemed to increase at the sight of the blue spiders upon the faces of the women.

  “What is this?” said the valgast wizard.

  “We are the emissaries of the goddess,” said Azurvaltoria in an imperious tone, “come to witness her resurrection and rebirth in the mortal world…”

  “The humans were not to come yet,” said one of the valgast warriors. “You…”

  “Silence!” said Romaria in a fair imitation of Azurvaltoria’s commanding voice. “Do not presume to question the emissaries of the goddess, warrior. We have come to witness the return of the goddess. Some of our fellows from Armalast have come to the Heart of the Goddess already.”