Darkvision w-3

by Bruce R Cordell

  Moving with a speed Iahn could scarcely fathom, Deamiel struck him.

  The violent blow hurled the vengeance taker back ten paces. The world spun around Iahn as he tried to regain his feet. He kept his grip on the hilt of his dragonfly blade and used it to lever himself upright.

  Blood streamed from his cheek, and his left arm and shoulder were partly numb. The vengeance taker had assumed the troll was the greatest threat, but… Deamiel was on him, hiccupping horrid laughter. It picked him up in both hands, so swiftly that Iahn failed to resist, and as easily as if the vengeance taker were but a child.

  Deamiel screamed. "Pandorym's blessing sings in my blood! Its will is mine, but… It… I… Pandorym! I am not…" Deamiel's arms shook with some sort of inner struggle. Despite the creature's difficulty speaking, its grip was slowly tightening on Iahn's suspended body.

  More importantly, Iahn saw the crystal on Deamiel's breast pulse in tempo with its speech, word for word. One arm still free, Iahn brought the steel hilt of his dragonfly blade down on Deamiel's amulet. The crystal exploded. The midnight blaze that blossomed from the amulet transfixed Deamiel, but Iahn was blown clear. The vengeance taker fell painfully for the second time in about as many heartbeats.

  Iahn did not stir when his senses returned. Instead, he studied the scene with slitted eyes. Deamiel lay near, still burning, its chest cavity an exploded, gory ruin. Not a pleasant sight, but he'd seen worse. Farther down the slope lay the crumpled form of the gray troll. Farther still, the mist-shrouded coach. Apparently, only an instant had elapsed since the amulet's destruction. As Iahn watched, the fog bank swirled, thinned, and blew away in ragged, evaporating streamers. The remaining elf archer was revealed, showing little concern. She moved cautiously, studied her elf comrade, then hiked up the slope to the troll. The crystal on her breast did not glow or flare. When she was close enough to Iahn, he sprang to his feet, catching one of her arms and twisting it painfully behind her back.

  Not all his skills brought death to his foes-some just delivered debilitating agony. Sometimes, final justice was not for a taker to dispense. Sometimes. "Submit," Iahn demanded. The elf said nothing, but stopped struggling in his grip. The vengeance taker jerked the elf closer. With his teeth, he grabbed the leather strand holding her amulet. He jerked his head back and stripped the amulet from the archer's neck. He didn't want to see a repeat of Deamiel's performance. As the amulet dropped to the earth, the elf convulsed violently in the vengeance taker's grip. Then, as if she'd been slipped an overpoweringly lethal dose from the damos, she slumped, her life departed. Iahn was too familiar with death's onset to wonder if it could be anything else. The vengeance taker lay the limp body on the ground and studied the scene. "Strange." The noonday light imparted brutal clarity, but no understanding.

  CHAPTER SIX

  "Give me that," Ususi said, motioning the uskura closer.

  Obediently, her expeditioner's pack settled into her outstretched hands. The wizard undid the ties and rummaged through the bag. She pushed aside silver spikes; a length of strong, lean rope; various vials whose contents ranged from acid to healing magic; and finally drew forth a tiny cylinder, just shorter than the length of her hand.

  She stared down the narrow hallway, and the white light of her delver's orb flooded the ancient darkness, revealing intricately carved walls. Fanciful demons-or perhaps not so fanciful-gave obeisance to a great emperor on the wall to her left, while slender humanoids, too fey to represent the mortal elves Ususi was familiar with, stood in elegant congress around a kingly figure on the right.

  The images fascinated Ususi, and she thought perhaps the image on the left represented Umyatin, the first Imaskari emperor. Umyatin had taken for himself the title "Lord Artificer." The demon on the lord artificer's left had a lion's head and a dragon's body. The demon to Umyatin's right was a midnight black centaur with an ebony unicorn horn emerging from its forehead. Its eyes burned with hellish glee.

  The lord artificer was reaching out to this one. Below the midnight centauricorn was a name, inscribed in Low Imaskari. "Mizar," it read.

  The wizard didn't recognize the name. The image on the right was more interesting yet. Each of the elegant, elfin humanoids who stood with the central figure carried a magnificent tome, seven in all. She wondered if the likeness represented Emperor Omanond. According to legend, Omanond was ultimately responsible for the creation of the seven items of Imaskaran arcane lore, the Imaskarcana. These were commonly described as tomes, though Ususi had read accounts indicating that the Imaskarcana took many forms. According to The Lore of Omanond, a history Ususi had perused within the exclusive stacks of the Purple Library, the creation of the Imaskarcana had been made possible through connivance with a devious extraplanar race. A more-than-mortal race. She had always assumed this referred to demons, but the creatures in the art before her possessed no demonic traits.

  The name inscribed below the creatures was "leShay." Again, Ususi couldn't place the name. Bother that. The identity and accuracy of the designs were secondary to the magical trap she sensed lurking in the flooring. Behind and above her stretched the winding, stair-strewn path she'd traveled throughout the Imaskaran ruin. The complex beneath the earth was in surprisingly good condition, which was both good and bad. Finding a well-preserved outpost of the Imaskari was good because it meant surviving enchantments might still power a functional gate into the Celestial Nadir. Finding a well-preserved ruin was bad because it meant a higher number of guardian enchantments and traps remained lethal. So progress was slow. For safety, Ususi checked each new section of flooring, walls, and ceiling with a sluggish, low-grade magical charm. Was it a waste of time when going swiftly might spell sudden death? The uskura certainly didn't complain. Ususi nearly smiled at the idea. She unscrewed the tiny cap of the cylinder she'd retrieved from her pack, and let a tiny dollop of red liquid fall onto the hallway floor. It was the last of the dye, and the drop was hardly visible. Ususi eyed the diminutive red dot. Perhaps she'd been too liberal with the dye on the first several traps she'd encountered. By comparison, wide stripes of warning dye painted all the previous traps she'd found in the complex. Sometimes, avoiding a mechanical or magical ambush merely required knowing where not to step. Once a trap's trigger was identified, remembering its precise location was as important as its discovery. She'd developed her warning dye as the perfect visual signal. Ususi had the ingredients to make more dye back in her coach, but she preferred to press forward as long as possible before returning topside. The wizard studied the tiny droplet and judged it a large enough reminder. Its location, coupled with the frieze of Emperors Umyatin and Omanond, would give her warning enough on her way back. On the other hand, if she came upon just one more trap, she'd have to decide whether to return to the coach to make another batch of red dye, or try her hand at deactivating it. Ususi had some experience in the deactivation of nefarious devices, but it was a dangerous business-far better to simply steer clear of the trigger. But some devices couldn't be avoided. For these, deactivation was the only sure method of getting past them. Because of her wizardly talents, ensnaring spells and blasting enchantments were far easier to eliminate than unthinking springs, levers, weights, and winches.

  Unfortunately, many traps dispensed with arcana and relied on simple mechanical principles. Confident the hallway before her held no further surprises, Ususi put the empty cylinder back in her pack. She remanded the pack to the invisible uskura and walked down the passage, deftly avoiding the trigger point. The radius of her magical light preceded her, bringing illumination where dark centuries brooded.

  Ususi held out her right hand, concentrating on her trap-finding charm. She supposed far more powerful spells might lay bare all the dangers in a large radius, but she didn't know them. She hadn't gone out of her way to find such spells-she preferred to save her greatest strength for potent spells of blasting. If she roused some guardian demon, she was ready, she hoped, to send it back to whatever netherworld had spawned it. A few more pace
s, and the carvings on either side opened up to reveal a great, rounded chamber. Like the hallway, its periphery was heavily inscribed with images, words, and symbols. Even the ceiling was carved with thick clusters of sigils.

  Ususi's breath caught when she spied the central feature of the chamber-a great stone annulus hovering unsupported in the air, measuring some ten paces in diameter. The ring slowly rotated, flipping end over end about once every two or three heartbeats. But the ring was not intact. A section of the hoop lay cracked and shattered on the floor. Two parallel creases appeared on the wizard's brow as she studied the debris. This could be a portal, perhaps leading into the Celestial Nadir, but it was damaged. First things first. Ususi renewed her concentration and scanned the room for traps.

  She hadn't come this far so cautiously only to rush into the arms of a slicing blade or to be crushed beneath a ceiling block. The annulus itself could be a devious deception… but no. The room was clear.

  Other than the rotating ring, one other exit presented itself. A flight of stairs led upward, the first upward set she'd discovered since entering the outpost. She wondered if it was an exit to the hills outside. It would wait. Ususi stood before the annulus.

  Inscriptions crowded the stone circle, many unreadable. One symbol was clear immediately-a ring within a ring, the interior circle slightly off center-one of the symbols associated with the Celestial Nadir! The wizard drew the keystone from beneath her jacket. She held it forth, presenting it to the annulus. As Ususi handled it, the stone flickered and brightened, giving off a glow all its own. Ususi paused. Again, she noticed the hazed darkness at the stone's core. She shook her head slightly, deciding to worry about that later. Ususi let her mind touch the stone, and through its interface, sought contact with the ring.

  She sought referents, points of synchronicity, answering reflections-even the smallest connection would be enough for her to try to gain control of the ring and force it open. Assuming it led to the Celestial Nadir. And if it was not broken beyond repair. But no.

  "Four dooms and damnation!" she yelled. The annulus was dead. If it had ever been a portal, its functions were stripped. Only residual magic elevated it above the floor. A sudden thud shook her from her anger. Ususi whirled and stared. The light of her delver's orb sent feral shadows fleeing across the chamber. The sound had come from somewhere back along the way she'd traveled. She'd either missed a guardian, and it had roused from agelong quiescence to chase her down, or something or someone else had entered the buried outpost from the exterior. The wizard cursed herself for not securing the entry. Either way… Ususi touched the orb that hovered at her brow and its light died. The radiance of the keystone trickled away, too, as she hung it around her neck, under her jacket. The wizard didn't need light to trace her steps back over her course. She closed her eyes in the darkness and invoked a spell of clairvoyant vision. Beginning with the hallway where the two ancient emperors locked eyes for lost ages, Ususi's wizard sight bloomed, a window of seeing. Through her dark window, everything was blurred and colorless. Details faded and distances were hard to discern. She traced her path, pushing her vision down the inscribed hall and into the square room with the pool of iridescent liquid-water with an enchantment against evaporation.

  The chamber was as empty as she'd left it. Farther yet, beyond the pool room, she found a bright red band of warning dye painted at neck height along the narrow passage. Something moved down that passage. It was… what was it? Identification was difficult because the image was blurred-it degraded the farther she forced it along. Whatever it was, it kept low, beneath the warning red stripe she'd placed on the wall. The figure used Ususi's system to its own benefit! She realized she'd marked a trail leading directly to her location. The wizard tensed but concentrated all her faculties on sharpening the clairvoyant image. A human? A man, definitely, but his skin was pale and marbled, not unlike her own. His outfit was familiar. Ususi let out an involuntary hiss and abandoned the vision. A vengeance taker.

  After all this time, Deep Imaskar had finally tracked her down. Ususi brushed her orb and light flooded the chamber. The vengeance taker was too close-he would see it! But her wizard vision was too slow and unreliable in an emergency. She had to see in order to escape. "Get up those stairs," she whispered to the uskura. Ususi pointed to the other exit in the chamber. She dashed after her retreating pack. How had they tracked her into this ruin? They must have been looking for her for a long, long time. Ususi reached the archway and had one foot on the lowest step. "Hold, fugitive!" The voice was strong and authoritative. It was the voice of a vengeance taker. It was a voice accustomed to its commands being followed, and for good reason. Ususi darted up the narrow stairwell. The steps were high, shallow, and dusty. She gasped for breath, but the air seemed to have fled the stairway. She slipped and fell on the steps, catching herself with one hand but taking half her weight on the other shoulder. A cry of pain escaped her lips, like a sob. Her mind twirled, images of vengeance takers she had known and stories she had heard of their retribution causing tumult in her mind. She was panicking! This was not her. Ususi Manaallin did not panic. Ususi grasped the edges of her fear, wrenched it into halves, and cast its husks aside. She was a wizard, trained by the Cabal of Purple. A single taker would not bring her down, she vowed. She scrambled to her feet and turned to face down the staircase. Better to confront your enemies than to suffer their attacks at your back, she knew. She counted herself lucky his attack hadn't already sprung. Then she heard a strange, reverberating pulse.

  It was a sound like-yet unlike-the noise of some of her own spells when she cast them-a hum like a rushing torrent heard in the rainy season, mixed with the high-pitched harmony of forlorn, tolling bells.

  The noise halted as instantly as it had begun, leaving behind silence, the smell of ozone, and a glow of glittering, white reflections that patted at the bottom of the stairs. The vengeance taker must be casting preparatory spells, readying his advance, she thought. Takers were moderate-ability sorcerers, after all-magic was part of the deadly training they received. Yet it was no spell she recognized.

  "Fugitive… Manaallin!" It was the voice of her pursuer. Yet his tone had shifted slightly. Ususi maintained her silence, waiting for the attack. Her hands were poised to release a torrent of destructive curses. "Ususi Manaallin-if you can hear me, I pray you pause. I haven't come so far to lose you now." The voice sounded strained, and its authoritative blare was dulled-by what? Ususi couldn't tell. He was crafty enough not to poke his head through the arch and look up the stairs-he must have sensed Ususi's spells ready to strip his flesh and worse. So instead, he seemed to be trying to draw her into the arms of his attack. Ususi yelled down the corridor. "It's a standoff, Vengeance Taker! I will not walk into your trap, and if you follow me up these stairs, it'll be the last act you ever take!" A chuckle answered her threat. The voice said, "Will you pretend you did not leave this painful blaze to catch me?" Another chuckle, somehow self-deprecating. Ususi didn't have the first clue what the taker was talking about. "Explain," she said. "Your ploy succeeded-you were clever in identifying every dormant trap in this molding ruin with your red dye-but even cleverer in failing to mark the very last one."

  Ususi recalled running low on dye when she entered the hallway of the two emperors. The wizard cocked her head, wondering. Could it be?

  Ususi carefully descended twelve or so steps to reach the arch that connected into the room of the annulus. The inscribed hallway was a blaze of white, syrupy light. Floating in its midst, like a fish in a bowl, was the vengeance taker. His arms struggled to reach a purchase they were not long enough to find, and his legs kicked ineffectually, failing to propel him in any direction at all. The vengeance taker was caught. Ususi nearly turned and dashed back up the stairs. Now was the time to make good her escape, before the man figured out how to free himself. If he could do so. Or, she could strike him while he was helpless. But how often would the opportunity to question a vengeance taker present itself? It couldn't hu
rt to discover how angry Deep Imaskar was with her for weakening the Great Seal enough so she could take her leave. Or why they'd waited so many years to send someone after her. Better to ask the vengeance taker. Ususi pasted a conciliatory smile on her face and approached the ensconced agent of those who wished her harm. "There are questions I'd like to ask you, Vengeance Taker."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Warian Datharathi disembarked from the sleek watercraft in the city of Vaelan. The dissolute son returns, he mused. He turned and watched the small crew as they opened the hold of the courier ship.

  First out was his horse, Majeed. Despite being on the outs with his family, being a Datharathi had its benefits anywhere Trade Authority offices or embassies operated. As one of the eleven most influential families in Durpar, Datharathi Minerals was partly responsible for paying Trade Authority upkeep. On the other hand, members of the Datharathi family enjoyed free passage on Trade Authority couriers.

  Previously known as Vaelantar, and like its sister cities of Ompre and Assur, the city was overrun by monsters flooding out of the Curna Mountains. But Durpar finally expelled the invaders in 1096 DR. In the three hundred years since those tumultuous times, the name Vaelantar was shortened to Vaelan. More importantly, Vaelan grew into the crown jewel of Durpar's trading empire, and enjoyed status as one of the most preeminent destinations on the Golden Water, or indeed, in all the Shining Lands. The Dolphin Pier was one of nine piers exclusively reserved for merchant traffic. Of course, many smaller and larger piers filled the coast in either direction: the private piers reserved for the personal yachts of the very wealthy, as well as piers set aside for the highly profitable ship-building businesses. Datharathi Minerals had, like many of the most influential merchant families, maintained interest in the ship-building trade. Beyond those were the ramshackle piers used by the fishers. Warian walked down the Dolphin Pier holding Majeed's reins. Beyond a press of warehouses, innumerable offices, and nearly as many wharfside taverns, the towers of Vaelan pointed proudly at the sky. The towers housed the most influential "chakas," as trading families were sometimes called. Any family with aspirations to challenge the predominance of the eleven greatest chakas that made up the Trade Authority first built a tower-or purchased the tower of another family whose fortunes were declining.