Creation Mage 6

by Dante King

  The witch didn’t seem all that offended by Leah’s words, but then Leah had also handed her a fat purse of coins. The witch led us along the disused and dusty sewer tunnel until we came to a phone box-sized booth cut out of the rock. It was a rough contraption made from hammered copper.

  “Inside,” the witch croaked at us from under the brim of a shady hat.

  We did as we were bid. Things were very tight. Leah was pressed up close to me, her ass squashed firmly against my groin.

  “How long will this take?” I asked.

  Leah wriggled her ass back into me, rubbing up against my other magic staff and said, “Not long enough for what you have in mind.”

  The witch rolled her eyes at us. “When was the last time you nauseating lovebirds ate?”

  I frowned. “I don’t know. An hour ago, maybe.”

  The old crone harrumphed bitterly. “Well, just damn well try not to vomit in here, you hear?”

  She stepped back and made a gesture. The open side of the bronze capsule closed, leaving us in impenetrable, inky darkness.

  “What did she mean by ‘try not to vom—” I said.

  The capsule exploded upward like a cork leaving a prosecco bottle. My words were lost, crushed back down my throat by the G-forces suddenly pressing down on us. The world was utterly black. The only sound was the occasional scrape as the capsule made contact with the sides of the shaft.

  It was the longest six seconds of my life.

  With a stomach-lurching suddenness, the hellride came to a halt. There came a grating sound of stone, and the door slid open. Leah and I fell out, landing on a rough floor.

  I rolled over, trying to get at least some of my breath back and saw the battered copper door of the capsule slide shut behind us. Then, a section of stone wall, out of which we had apparently just emerged, slid back into place and the capsule was gone. The masonry covering the secret entrance to the capsule shaft was so well hidden that even a second after it had closed, I could not be entirely sure where it was.

  “Where-where are we?” I managed to ask. “The base… The basement of the Castle of Ascendance?”

  Leah had gotten shakily to her feet and was leaning against the cool stone wall with forehead. Somehow, she was grinning.

  “Yeah,” she said in a breathless whisper. “Gods, but isn’t that fun?”

  I burped and winced. “Oh yeah, lots of fun,” I said acidly.

  When we had recovered our poise and breath, Leah led the way up a spiral staircase. We paused at a heavy oaken door, and the female Chaosbane said, “You go ahead and lead the way.”

  “Why me?” I asked. “I don’t know where the fuck I’m going.”

  “Neither do I!” Leah said delightedly. “It’s only fair that we get to share responsibility for our fate, isn’t it?”

  I couldn’t really argue with that—one lost person’s guess was as good as another’s, I supposed—so I pushed the door carefully open and we exited the basement.

  We had taken perhaps four randomly selected turns, walking down the quiet marble corridors about as conspicuously as a couple of foxes in a chicken coop, when we ran into someone who was most assuredly not an Inscriber.

  “Halt!” a voice cried.

  We had entered a particularly ornate and luxuriously appointed corridor. There were busts and statues of important-looking men and women with their regal noses stuck high in the air. Many were adorned with vine leaves and little crowns.

  At the end of the stretch of white marble corridor, a group of half a dozen tall, armored women, attired from head to foot in flashing mail and gleaming plate rounded the corner.

  “Halt, in the name of Queen Hagatha!” one armored woman called once more.

  There were two possible options. Flee in the opposite direction and proclaim your guilt with the very first step you took, or remain where you were and try to talk your way out of the pickle you had suddenly found yourself in.

  We opted, on this occasion, for option two.

  “Oh look,” Leah said in her tranquil voice, “Arcane Knights!”

  “And they are…?” I asked.

  “Mages who are very, very powerful and very much intent on protecting the Queen,” Leah said calmly.

  “The Queen?” I asked in a low, urgent voice. “You don’t mean we’ve just walked smackdab into Queen Hagatha?”

  “So it would appear,” Leah said. She made a little noise of recognition in her throat, and her eyebrows rose up into her pink hair. “Yep, there she is.”

  It was the first time that I had ever laid eyes upon the most powerful being in the Avalonian Kingdom, Queen Hagatha. As far as queens went, she was nothing like the kindly, doddering old biddy who was running the Brits back on Earth.

  She was incredibly beautiful, with bright red hair kept back from her finely boned, well-proportioned face by a golden crown. She was an elf of some kind, pointed ears poking out from the bright red tresses proclaimed that much.

  While I noted the Queen’s beautiful attributes, Leah and I were neatly surrounded by the six Arcane Knights accompanying her.

  “State your business!” commanded one of the Arcane Knights, while the Queen gazed at the two of us with a suitably imperious set of green eyes. “Speak clearly and speak quickly!”

  The words started coming out of my mouth before I was even aware of what I was going to say. All I knew was that I needed to cut off Leah before she said something that got the pair of us evaporated, obliterated, or squashed into jelly.

  “Uh, Your Majesty,” I said, directing my words at Queen Hagatha, “you’ll have to excuse us, but we’ve managed to get a little bit lost.”

  “You dare to speak directly to the Queen?” spat the Arcane Knight, who was a handsome nymph woman with a brown bob, deep blue eyes, and skin the color of honey. “Your impudence is astounding!”

  Before things could go properly pear-shaped, the Queen unexpectedly stepped in.

  Her voice was as cool, clear, and light as a good rosé wine.

  “That’s enough, Braya,” she said, and the Arcane Knight closed her mouth immediately. “Let them explain themselves. Then, if I am not impressed by their reasoning for being here, you can berate them until you’re sore in the throat. Besides, these are clearly two of my loyal subjects. If I cannot make time to hear them out, who should I make time for?”

  “Thanks very much, Your Majesty,” I said.

  The Queen ran those haughty, perceptive green eyes of hers over me again. “Do not thank me yet, stranger. And speak your piece fast. I am meant to be meeting some ambassador or other from some far-flung place and really should not be late.”

  “Then I’ll be brief, Your Majesty,” I said. “We’re just a couple of students who got let in by the guys on the front gate so that we could talk to some Inscribers as part of a bit of research we’re doing back at the Mazirian Academy.”

  “You’re students?” the Queen asked. “Of the Mazirian Academy?” She seemed somewhat surprised at that, and rather than speak the name with disdain, it came out bearing a marked amount of interest.

  I lowered my voice and continued conspiratorially. “In all honesty, I was hoping to ask them a few questions and leave. I’m eager to get to an inn for some food, but we got lost, and here we are.”

  The Queen looked at me more than a little skeptically. I was aware that she wasn’t some empty-headed figurehead, but a savvy woman in her own right. I was hoping, though, that her pressing business might stop her asking for our names.

  “Who are you?” she asked in her cool, calm voice.

  “I’m Qildro Feybreaker,” I lied. I thought it would be prudent to leave the name of Justin Mauler out of this. I also thought that the sooner we parted ways the better. “Look, Your Majesty,” I said, pressing on, “if we could have one of your Arcane Knights here show us to where the Inscribers work, then we could be on our way and out of your hair.”

  “Very well, Qildro Feybreaker,” she said. “I’ll allow you and your friend
to go on your way in the company of one of my very own Arcane Knights.”

  “I owe you one, Your Majesty,” I said. “Although, I’m not sure what I could give you to repay the favor.”

  The Queen’s bright emerald eyes narrowed. A phantom smile played across her clever lips. “I shall think of something, I am sure,” she said, “should our paths ever cross again.”

  I bowed, not wanting to push my luck.

  “Eliz,” the Queen said, “escort these two to the Tower of Inscription. Tell the Inscriber with whom you leave them to conduct them to the gates after they are done.”

  “Yes, Majesty,” Eliz the Arcane Knight said.

  Queen Hagatha gave me one last look; it told me that while she was a queen, she was also, first and foremost, a beautiful young woman with desires like any other woman.

  “Come,” Eliz said brusquely as Queen Hagatha disappeared down the corridor.

  The Arcane Knight led Leah and me through a maze of corridors that we could never have hoped to navigate by ourselves. She knocked on an elaborately carved, all-metal door at the end of a straight hall with no windows. A window in the door snapped open, and we were admitted inside.

  We entered a large round room carpeted with plush rugs and a selection of warmly colored tapestries hanging on the walls. A fire blazed in the spacious hearth. A selection of mismatched, squishy armchairs and a sofa were spread around the room. The smell of baking filled the air, and I located the source of the stomach-rumbling smell as a large tea trolley in one corner stacked high with scones, tea, and those little quartered sandwiches that I could go on eating indefinitely.

  It was also, I couldn’t help but notice, full of little old women.

  “These are the Inscribers?” I asked Eliz.

  The Arcane Knight nodded curtly. “Choose one, Qildro,” she said, “so that I may pass on the Queen’s message and return to my duty.”

  Her tone suggested she wasn’t impressed with being relegated from Arcane Knight to errand girl.

  “Actually,” Leah said, pulling a scrap of parchment quickly from one pocket and pretending to read something off it, “we were meant to chat with someone specific…”

  “Gertrude,” I chipped in, filling in the deliberate pause that Leah had left at the end of the sentence.

  The Arcane Knight sighed impatiently. She scanned the room.

  “There,” she said. “There is Gertrude. Come on.”

  Eliz led us over to a particularly wrinkled old dear who was enjoying a short nap in an armchair nearest the fire. The tall Arcane Knight attempted to rouse the small, slumbering figure—complete with purple perm and round spectacles hanging about her neck by a silver chain—with a couple of subtle coughs. Then, when that did not work, she gave the chair the old woman was sitting in a surreptitious kick.

  The old Inscriber awoke with a snort and looked up. She slipped her glasses onto her nose and peered owlishly up at Eliz.

  “Tell me, Knight,” she said in a creaky voice, “is it common practice for those of your order to go around rousing weary old women who are trying to catch up on some much needed sleep?”

  Eliz colored under her helmet. With a jerk of her head, she nodded at Leah and me.

  “These two are from the Academy,” she said.

  “The Mazirian Academy,” I said, putting the gentlest strain on the second word.

  The old woman’s eyes seemed to sharpen at that.

  “Quite,” Eliz said. “They wish to talk to you, Inscriber Gertrude. When you have helped them with their inquiries, please take them to the front gate and release them back into the city. Those are the orders of Queen Hagatha, Inscriber.”

  “Yes, yes,” Gertrude said, “run along with you now, you great kicking brute.”

  Eliz’s jaw worked, but she said nothing. She turned on her heel and marched across the room and through the door.

  Once the Arcane Knight had disappeared, Gertrude got up from her chair.

  “Follow me to my workshop, you two,” she said. “And bring us some tea.”

  Ten minutes later, we were settled in the privacy of Inscriber Gertrude’s workshop. It was a tight space, filled with clutter of all sorts; paraphernalia of various magical purposes, stuffed animals, and heaps of scrolls lying all over the place. There was also a door at the back of the workshop that I imagined led to the old girl’s private sleeping quarters.

  Cups of tea steamed in front of us. Leah was munching loudly through a scone slathered in jam and clotted cream.

  It was the first time I had met an Inscriber. I had never had to visit one, not like everyone else, because I learned my spells the fun way. I grinned slightly at that. No tests or anything of the sort for me, just hardcore, no-holds-barred sex. It was lucky for some, all right.

  Gertrude was a convivial old bird, as pleasant as anyone that I had ever met. With a cup of tea at her elbow, a scone on her plate, and company that weren’t wearing tinsuits, she was hospitality itself. I wondered if all Inscribers were like her and, if so, where their reputations for being hardasses stemmed from.

  “Gertrude,” I began after we had exchanged a few pleasantries, “I’m—”

  “I know who you are, Justin Mauler,” the little old woman said. She was sitting with her hands in her lap. Her face had been softened and lined by time and many frowns and smiles, but I imagined that she must have been quite a firecracker in her day. Her eyes were bright chips of blue set behind her glasses.

  “I know who you are,” she said again, “and I know who your friend is. She has the Chaosbane look as clear as day.”

  Leah licked her plate and smiled sweetly.

  “The question is,” Gertrude said, “why is the son of Zenidor and Istrea here to see me?”

  “You did know my father and mother then?” I asked.

  “Oh yes,” the little old lady said. “I was one of your father’s conquests, many many years ago—a mature woman who showed him a few tricks. Although, maybe he was one of my conquests? It’s hard to recall sometimes.”

  I snorted.

  “You saucy wench!” Leah said. “Bravo, I knew I could tell that you and I shared a kindred thread in our souls!”

  Gertrude giggled.

  “I’ll cut to the chase, Gertrude,” I said, handing my scone to Leah, who had been eyeing it like a rattlesnake watching a gopher hole. “I’m not sure how much time we’ve bought ourselves.”

  Gertrude nodded and sipped her tea, as if this was all a typical day for her.

  “Now, you know who I am,” I continued, “but do you know what I am?”

  “If you allude to the kind of mage that you are, Justin,” the old woman said, “then yes I do. You are a special and rare type of practitioner, indeed.”

  “Okay, so you know I’m a Creation Mage,” I said, my voice low. “And I assume that you know what that entails—how I learn new spells etcetera?”

  The old woman nodded once more.

  “Well,” I plowed on, while crumbs flew from the chair next to me, “I’ve been a little over-zealous in, ah, cultivating new magic. I’ve run out of spell slots. A very reliable source recently told me that you were the woman to come and see about opening new ones.”

  Gertrude’s eyes crinkled up as she smiled at me over her teacup. She set the teacup down and pushed the saucer away.

  “I assume that your ‘source’ is none other than your father?” she asked.

  Seemed pointless to deny it, so I nodded.

  The old woman pursed her lips and muttered, “He really is a marvel.” She cleared her throat, and the ice-chip gaze locked on to mine. “Justin, I think you’re right in saying that you don’t have much time here so listen to me very carefully. You too, glutton!”

  Leah jerked up, inhaled a scone crumb, and started choking. I whacked her on the back until the fit subsided.

  “Sorry,” she gasped. “Love a scone. Continue.”

  Gertrude turned to me once more. “The most expedient way for you to open up some spell slot
s is by acquiring three relics of power.”

  I recalled my father mentioning something about relics, but he couldn’t tell me much about them.

  “And where can I get my hands on some of these relics?” I asked.

  “Thankfully,” the old Inscriber said, “the Castle of Ascendance itself holds a vast collection of such items. Unfortunately for you, these relics are all held tightly under lock and key, ward and curse, monster and demon.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less in this joint,” Leah said.

  Gertrude ignored her.

  ”The first relic will open one slot,” the old woman explained, “the second relic will open a second slot, and the third will provide three more slots.”

  “Three relics, five spell slots?” I clarified.

  Gertrude nodded her permed head.

  “Then, you will find yourself running up against yet another thaumaturgical roadblock,” she said.

  “Do you have any recommendations as to how to deal with that, when I come up against it?” I asked.

  “At that point, it’ll require more than what I can do, or any of the Inscribers here in the Tower of Inscription,” Gertrude said.

  “I can’t just find some more relics?” I asked.

  “More relics won’t help. You’ll need to find a Legendary Inscriber, and those aren’t just rabbits you can pull from a hat, Justin Mauler.”

  Leah and I sat and looked at one another for a moment or two. It seemed like this little clandestine mission of ours had borne fruit, just not as much as I, personally, was hoping for.

  There was a soft sound of metal scraping on wood.

  The sound of a door being pushed carefully open from behind us.

  Leah was on her feet a millisecond before I was, but before I had conjured my father’s black crystal staff, the two of us heard an unexpected but familiar voice call from the back room.

  “Gertrude, dear, do you think this dress makes my breasts pop?”

  Out through the door, dressed in a slightly different, but just as dazzling, white gown came Mallory Entwistle. She acted surprised to see me and Leah sitting with Gertrude in her workshop, but it was clear that the radiant Holy Mage had been expecting us.