by Houpt, David
Lian forced himself to lie motionless despite the agony of reawakening limbs, to wait for the temporary loss of sight and hearing to recede. He had faith in what the goddess had told him, that he was not fated to die at the hands of the wraith.
Too soon, the wraith seized the squealing and shrieking rats, and hurled their ghostly forms one after the other into the flames. They vanished in a blue-white flare, and for an instant the protective circle actually flickered. The wraith advanced hungrily, then halted as the fire was quickly restored by the sword’s song. The effort required to do this was too great, however, and Gem sank to the floor, where she came to rest beside Lian’s hand. The radiance emanating from the heart of the emerald grew dim.
I knew that you would fail, sword spirit, the wraith gloated into Gem’s mind. Lian also heard the remark, but made no response. Sensation had returned to his right arm and both legs, though he couldn’t feel his left shoulder and arm at all. His hearing had also been restored, for the low, steady thrums of power that Gem was sustaining had become discernible to his ears.
Gem, show me the situation, he asked.
She did so, her mental touch saturated with exhaustion.
Do you have enough power left to enchant your blade’s edge? he asked, gathering the energy to force himself to his feet. The spell she’d used at the beginning of the fight with the wraiths had been quite effective. He felt a little better than he had in the vision, and wondered if the meal had strengthened him somehow.
I’m sorry, lad, but my magic’s almost completely depleted. It’ll be days before I can sing another spell, she said. When the circle collapses, which it certainly will with the next poor shade he throws into it, that’ll be it. You couldn’t have cut it closer, I can tell you.
He didn’t seem overly concerned at her admonishment. Sorry to have kept you, Gem. It’ll be all right, I promise. His words carried such conviction that she wondered briefly if the wraith’s touch had driven him mad. That happened sometimes, according to legend.
The wraith, meanwhile, had captured another ghostly rat, and returned to fling it into the circle of flames. It understood that the weapon’s arcane capacity was depleted, and it was impatient to finish its meal. Gem imagined that it was grinning gleefully, though she couldn’t actually see its features. It threw the rat into the flames, poised to follow and consume the remainder of the boy’s soul.
The resultant blue-white flash was slightly brighter than before, as Gem projected the remainder of her mana into it. Now, Lian! she exclaimed as she saw the wraith pursue the rat’s trajectory through the flames in anticipation of the final attack. Her senses weren’t blinded by the flares and flashes, as Lian’s and the wraith’s would be.
Lian seized the sword hilt and struggled to his knees, slashing at the wraith with every vestige of will he could muster. “Die, you shit!” he howled as the phantasmal robes were sliced by the Truesilver weapon’s enchanted blade. The wraith hurriedly reversed its course, darting back out of striking distance, clutching its arm against the wound. Pain was something to which it had become unaccustomed.
It had failed to notice the dozen or so spectral rats that had gathered at the periphery of the hallway, or perhaps it had ignored them except as additional ammunition for its siege. However, in its present state, wounded by Gem, the wraith finally revealed weakness. The rats weren’t exactly rats anymore, but they recalled enough of their former corporeal existence to realize that an injured creature meant a meal more often than not. Squeaking in a plethora of unearthly voices heard only in the mind, the rats swarmed the wraith with a vengeance.
Lian and Gem had no doubt that the powerful specter could defend against the tiny spirits, but Lian was determined that it would not have the chance. As it grappled with an ever-increasing number of the tiny phantoms, Lian approached and struck a mighty blow across the hood of its robe. The resultant howl of rage was again heard only in the mind, and the rats exultantly consumed every scrap of its supernatural essence that they could reach. Two of them turned to assess the human, but they were repulsed by the presence of the Truesilver that he both carried and wore.
Lian retreated from the melee carefully, clutching Gem out to the side so she could watch behind him. He located the proper stairwell as expeditiously as possible, and gratefully left the skirmish behind.
Chapter Four
“The fifth moon, Sina, is the celestial body associated with, and named for, the Goddess of Magic. Her consort, partner, and rival is Lushran, for whom the first moon is named. Lushran is the Lord of Magical Power, while she is the Lady of Song and Mistress of Magical Skill. Lushran’s great power would lie untapped but for the music which Sina taught him. Conversely, Sina’s musical talents would have remained the purvue of minstrels and storytellers without the raw energies that Lushran revealed to her.”
-- “Moons and their Gods,” heretical text from the
Western Kingdom of Thrace, author unknown
Gods, boy, you had me worried, Gem said wearily. I wasn’t exaggerating about my endurance. You couldn’t have come to any later, or he’d have killed you. The extent of her relief and love almost reduced Lian to tears.
Lian extended the psychic touch that signified a hug between the two of them, and said, She promised that I’d survive the wraith attack. Even so, I believe it was close; I still have no sensation in my left arm.
She promised? Who do you mean, Lian? inquired Gem, striving to conceal wariness and concern.
Lian smiled and shook his head. I don’t quite know, but she maintained that she was Dalgarin, the Southron goddess. She transported me to a distant land she identified only as Fulnor, then invited me to become her agent. She warned me that I am the only survivor of the family. So saying, grief welled up unexpectedly, suddenly reminding him that he was no longer in the strange, disembodied state of his vision. He leaned against the stairwell for a moment, wiping his eyes with the back of his gloved hand. Was I delerious? he wondered.
Gem made no reply, but projected wordless comfort to her charge. She wasn’t sure how to interpret Lian’s story. Thinking in parallel with Lian, she pondered, I think I’d prefer this to be a hallucination. Contact with the gods usually foretold suffering and woe. And Lian doesn’t need any more of either, she finished the thought.
Lian shook off the sorrow, with a promise to himself that he’d grieve later, and unsealed the passage leading to the scrying chamber. The hidden corridor was empty, not occupied by guardians of its own. He approached the end, his sight diminishing as the Banemetal-laced walls of the chamber momentarily subdued Gem’s enchantments. Elowyn had assured him that Gem, along with any other magics he carried, would resume their function once he crossed the threshold of the chamber.
Lian fervently hoped that Elowyn was correct, for the additional loss of Gem would be a sorrow he couldn’t endure. She represented the last of his family.
He was completely blind in the darkness momentarily as he crossed the threshold of the scrying room, but his witchsight returned in full force immediately upon entrance. That was unpleasant, said Gem wryly, with no further comment about the experience. Lian could tell that she was shaken, however.
He uttered the Aesidhe word for light, “Siein,” as his tutor had instructed, and the darkness in the room was gently broken by a steadily increasing glow. Slowly, the shadows in the chamber were banished by this magical radiance.
The chamber was an irregular hemisphere, representing a bas relief of the decoy fountain outside. The focal point of the room, at the center, was a marble throne before which sat the largest, clearest crystal ball that Lian had ever seen. Upon the throne perched a small jade cat, approximately the size of his thumb. Directly opposite the door was a chair, placed before a table and facing the outer wall. To either side of the throne was another chair, each stationed in front of its own table. Each inset table was carved from the wall, and each had a selection of instruments upon it. The first table to his right contained an inset collection of c
rystal spheres. Lian assumed that those were additional crystal balls. “Why would any one desire more than one crystal ball?” he asked Gem aloud.
She replied aloud as well. “It is my understanding that they don’t all necessarily perform the same function. Elowyn warned me to suggest you leave them alone.”
Lian realized that he didn’t possess adequate magical power to safely use such a device, as the effort could deplete even the most accomplished mages. Attempting to perform magic without adequate energy resources was a good way to get dead.
The station opposite the door consisted of a flat table, with pigeonholes cut into the wall in front of it. The holes contained an esoteric collection of divining paraphernalia. There were decks of cards, bowls full of rune-carved bones, and envelopes of what Lian assumed were rare herbs, preserved with magic. There was even an ancient human skull in one of the niches, blackened by some process to a dull unrelieved hue. Lian possessed a little more talent for divining than for magic, but he recognized few of the components contained here. He left this area untouched. However, he found the skull strangely compelling and broke his gaze away from it only with difficulty.
The final chair was situated before a complex array of levers, wheels, and lenses. The latter represented a multitude of colors and shapes, though all appeared opaque.
“Oh, gods,” Lian whispered sibilantly. He had a love of things mechanical, and had been anticipating the wonders of this room ever since his elven tutor had described it to him.
“Be careful, son,” Gem admonished. She didn’t share Lian’s absolute trust in his teacher, though she rarely expressed her concerns to her charge. Adrienne had filled her in on certain aspects of the assassin’s history, in warning, and she’d never forgotten nor disregarded the queen’s words.
He acknowledged her caution absent-mindedly, muttering to himself in wonderment about the complexity of the device. Gem, too, was begrudgingly impressed with the workmanship. After all, Firavon had been the Artificer-King, the only artificer in the entire history of the Theocracy to rise to the status of ruler.
Lian reluctantly directed his attention to the center throne and the small jade cat. He recalled that Elowyn had been fond of small animal charms. His magical talents were unusually weak for an elf, and he’d therefore utilized ritual magic to imbue his creations with enchantments that could be released when needed. The cat was typical of Elowyn’s work.
“That cat looks familiar to me for some reason,” he said, touching his chin with a gesture that his father Evan had often demonstrated when he was thinking. Gem was struck with the similarities between the two men, and felt a momentary pang of loss for the man who was, in a manner of speaking, her husband. The blade, sharing so much of Adrienne’s nature, shared in her love for Evan.
“If I remember correctly, I believe that Elowyn showed it to you a couple of years ago. He explained that he had created it for a rainy day, then put it in his pocket. He didn’t tell you what it did,” Gem said. Lian knew she remembered accurately, for she had an excellent memory, a trait she’d inherited from his mother.
“I’m going to take it, then,” Lian decided. “He must have left it for me.”
“Or as a trap in case the wrong person found this place. Perhaps he assumed that you would have enough wisdom not to touch it,” she said warningly.
“No,” Lian disagreed. “He wouldn’t presume that I’d be in a suitable frame of mind for caution. If it’s an ambush, I’m certain that I won’t activate it.” He continued, however, to study the figurine for a moment.
Finally shrugging, he stepped forward to pick up the cat. It instantly animated and bit him through the glove, drawing blood, before dissolving into greenish mist. He cried out and jumped back, far too late to avoid the pitfall.
“I knew it,” Gem began viciously, but abruptly ceased her tirade as the mist gathered and thickened into a likeness of Elowyn. The apparition began to speak.
“My apologies to you Lian, and to you also, Gem, for the surprise, but it was imperative that I confirm your identity. This was but one reason for the cat’s little nip; I’ll explain the others shortly.
“This room is the hub and heart of Firavon’s Tower. You know from my teachings that he constructed it so that he could spy on both guests and residents of the Tower. The assortment of lenses on the western table, that aspect of the chamber closest to the Waterhall, will permit you to visually survey the majority of the rooms in the Tower. Firavon’s system also will allow you to audibly observe many of those same rooms. At this end, the lenses are enchanted to penetrate most invisibility spells as well as to pierce nearly any illusion. At the other end, however, they are not enchanted at all, which makes them difficult if not impossible to detect magically.
“Be warned, Lian: Do not stay here too long. Although Firavon concealed its existence, it is not unreasonable to assume that others know of this chamber, in which case it will be a primary objective for invaders. There are two articles in this room you should take with you when you leave,” the small image said, turning to face the northern table.
“That skull is one. It belonged to a great mage from the distant past, a human who was reputedly one of the masters of magic. His identity has been lost to antiquity, and he refused to reveal it to me. He asked to be called Lord Grey, and I believe he will provide you with valuable assistance in the difficult days ahead,” the image said.
Elowyn smiled cynically. “I regret that I can’t assure you that he’s trustworthy. Indeed, he tried to take control of my body the first time I visited him. Therefore I suggest that Gem employ precautions against possession before you touch him bare-handed. Nevertheless, I feel it is imperative that you bring him with you.”
The small form of the elf shook his head, continuing, “The second item you need to take with you is the great crystal ball in the center of the room. That is the second reason I had my little cat totem bite you. When this illusion is complete, a portion of magical power will pass into you. It should provide you with enough power to command the sphere for a very short time.
“Unlike the skull of Lord Grey,” he explained wryly, “the crystal ball is an amicable enchanted item. It will readily grant you complete access to its capabilities, but I warn you not to experiment with its powers. You aren’t a mage, and I cannot predict how long my totem’s spell will be effective. My suggestion to you, my boy, is to command the sphere to reduce in size. It will immediately obey, and you should collect it and the skull without any hesitation.”
The figure of Elowyn appeared to sit down on something, but whatever he had chosen for support was outside of Lian’s field of view. “The sphere is Firavon’s Key, Lian. Even at this late date, there is advantage in concealing from you how I gathered this knowledge. Once it is diminished, you may use the Key to command all of the portals of the Tower to close, lock, and seal. I strongly suggest that you do so. With the Tower sealed, it will be very difficult for pursuers to locate and capture you.
“Now, any door will open for you, as long as you carry the Key regardless of whether you have any of my magical power left to you or not; however, should you misplace it you will be trapped inside the Tower, along with anyone else who had penetrated the outer doors. You may find it profitable to swallow it, therefore,” he said, and appeared to smile at Lian’s expression of distaste, as if he knew what his student’s reaction would be. “It’s just a suggestion.
“I am honored to have taught you. Your presence here, however, implies that my service to your father has failed, and that these are desperate times. I fervently hope that you remember your lessons and that you manage to escape. You have my prayers, Lian Evanson. Gods go with you,” the image finished as it vanished into green mist. The vapor swirled gently for a moment, and then suddenly leapt toward Lian’s face.
Before the prince could so much as gasp, it pierced his flesh. His skin began to crawl with thousands of tiny pinpricks, and he became aware of something just beyond the edge of perception fo
r each of his five senses. It was as if every object, sound, and sensation had another dimension that he’d never perceived before.
“Heh,” said Gem, for she could perceive magical talent. Her tone was a mixture of surprise and humor. “The pointy-eared bastard did it. Congratulations, my boy, you’re a mage.
“Now pick up that Key and let’s get moving.”
Resisting the urge to experiment with the great scrying sphere, he tentatively touched it. He perceived its awareness of his presence, but could recognize no sentience within it. He intuited that it was awaiting instructions, so he dispatched a mental command: Shrink.
There was no acknowledgment of his order, but the orb quickly shrank to the size of a marble. The stand upon which the crystal ball had been mounted also shapeshifted, transforming into a pedestal upon which the tiny ball sat.
“Gods,” whispered Lian in amazement, and plucked the ball from its support. When he did so, the pedestal seemed to liquefy and flow down into the flagstones, before it rose back up in the form of a dragon’s claw grasping what appeared to be a huge, lidded eye. The eye was nearly three feet in diameter. Lian drew well back.
“Now there’s something you don’t see every day,” commented Gem.
“What is that?” Lian asked, fighting the temptation to reach out and touch it. Remembering Elowyn’s instructions, he transmitted the thought, Lock, to the now marble-sized sphere. Beyond the soundproofed walls of the scrying chamber, he could hear and feel a large concussion coming from all directions. He carefully placed the Key in his pouch, fumbling one-handed with the closure.
“What in the gods’ names?” Gem exclaimed.
“I think that was the main gate closing, along with every other door in the Tower. I gave the command to lock,” Lian said. “Now, what’s that?” He pointed at the eye.
