by Houpt, David
“I’m afraid I have only your word on that,” Lian replied, removing a coarse linen bag from his pack and holding it up in front of the skull. “Will you find it offensive to ride in a sack?”
Lord Grey chuckled, “I’ve been subjected to far worse, Your Highness. No, I won’t be insulted. You need your hand free.”
Lian maneuvered the skull into the sack, not the easiest of tasks with one arm, and asked, “Is there any hope that you’ll hold your tongue while we’re on the move?”
Lord Grey didn’t respond.
“Lord Grey?” Lian asked after several moments.
“I was taking a last look around before leaving this place, Highness. It holds many unpleasant memories for me,” Lord Grey replied from within the sack. His voice wasn’t muffled in the least.
I don’t buy that, Gem said. Tell him to be quiet. She suspected that Lian’s question had invoked a binding.
No, I’d rather not antagonize him. I suspect he’s compelled, but I’ll be polite about it. He said, “Lord Grey, are you bound in more than one way?”
The skull sighed again. “I said you’re perceptive. Yes, you can command my silence. There are other bindings, but I trust you’ll forgive me if I fail to describe them at this time.”
“No problem, sir,” Lian replied. “I prefer not to use compulsions, anyhow.”
“Because you don’t have the magical ability to impose them, no?” surmised Lord Grey.
Lian shook his head. “No,” he replied, not bothering to deny the accusation. “If you’ve been silenced, is there any way you can initiate conversation?”
“No. I’m compelled to remain dumb. Just don’t abuse the privilege,” he said.
“I won’t, Lord Grey,” he promised, his tone respectful as he addressed the skull. “Can I, um, command you to make the decision whether to speak if I have already given the order to remain silent?”
Despite the fact that the skull had no eyes, not to mention that he was also in a sack, Lian clearly imagined its narrowed eyes. “Why would you want to do that?”
“For example, what if you possess vital information, and I’ve unintentionally silenced you because I merely wanted your volume lower? I’d prefer that you have the choice of speech or silence.”
Lian, what are you doing? asked Gem worriedly. You may need to silence him.
Trust me. I know a little of bindings. I doubt that this one has any flexibility in interpretation, particularly by him, Lian replied to the sword.
Gem performed the mental equivalent of a blink. His guile surprised her.
“Well, Highness, I appreciate your confidence in my judgement, but you simply must be specific in your requests to me about silence,” Lord Grey said after a moment of thought. “The one who bound me was not inclined to place such modifiers on my enchantments.”
“Who bound you, if I may ask?”
“You may ask, young prince. However, I will not answer. That would, I think, be tantamount to revealing my identity.”
“So you aren’t compelled to answer me?”
“No.”
“Are you compelled to answer truthfully should you choose to reply?” Lian asked.
“No to that as well, which confirms the answer as true, does it not?” Lord Grey said. “May I remind you that we don’t really have time for you to interrogate me about my history right now, Highness? We should be on our way.”
How does that confirm his answer? asked Gem.
Because if he’s telling the truth, the answer really is no, and if he’s lying, he’s confirmed that he can lie, Lian responded lightly. Either way, he can lie, and this is something I needed to know before I could proceed.
Ah. I don’t recall you being this smart, boy, Gem said.
Are you kidding? Lian asked her, thinking of his encounter with the goddess. Could she have somehow influenced or expanded his mind?
What do you think? Don’t get a swelled head, you won’t fit through the doors.
Lian collected his pack and placed Lord Grey’s sack inside of it. Shrugging it on gingerly, he managed to get the straps over both shoulders. “Let’s go. I believe Elowyn indicated that up was a possible a way out, though I don’t quite understand how it could be.”
“I would imagine that he probably intended for you to enlist the service of one of the flying beasts that can be found on the higher levels. You will be glad to have me along, I am quite sure, before this is done,” said Lord Grey.
The prince retraced his steps to the exit of the scrying chamber, where he hesitated with one last, longing glance at Firavon’s fantastic spying device. Privately, he vowed that one day he would return to learn more of it.
As he exited the scrying chamber into the Waterhall, he could hear chanting far below. The Undead rats were excitedly making their way downward, hoping the noise represented food. Where previously they had looked askance at Lian, now they ignored him completely.
Lord Grey said softly, “I’ve woven a cloak about you, Highness. Most of the Undead cannot see you now unless they have been somehow directed against you.”
Lian wondered how he’d managed such sorcery without intoning any spells. It occurred to him that perhaps the ability was a function bound into the enchantments of the skull itself. If Lord Grey were indeed an aid to necromancy, as he suspected, that would have been a practical magic to add to the spell’s enchantments.
Stay alert, he reminded himself, laying aside his speculation about the skull and it powers for later consideration.
He took stock of his physical situation. His left shoulder was still completely numb, but the area around the joint was starting to throb in pain. He hoped this was a good sign.
As they trekked upward, he kept Gem unsheathed in his right hand, but the hideous creatures of the Tower seemed to ignore him for the moment, as Lord Grey had predicted.
On two occasions, Gem and Lord Grey both urged him to detour, their arcane senses perceiving unearthly danger. Demons are loose in here, too, lad, Gem cautioned along their bond, and I won’t be much assistance against them except where my edge is concerned.
What about the power you took from me earlier? Lian asked.
It wasn’t much. Elowyn never was a great magician, Gem replied. I drew only enough for one or two minor spells. I wouldn’t be expecting anything fancy like battle magics.
At length, they drew even with the upper bridge, three quarters of they way up the height of the Tower. During the time it had taken them to climb the long spiraling ramp, one of Rishak’s mages had magically ascended the open space in the center of the Tower.
The unfortunate man had encountered one of the demonkind, and in his struggle had no attention to spare for Lian, stealthily concealed in a passageway. The mage hovered in mid-air, surrounded by a blue-white shield that flashed reddish energy with every pass of the demon. He was chanting rapidly, sustaining his defensive magics. His tenor voice was almost cracking in fear.
From far below, a lightning bolt crackled upward to strike the demon, a hugely muscled man-shaped creature with long, blade-like claws. The bolt did not harm the creature, in fact it did little more than distract it; however, the demon bellowed with rage and dove toward the second mage. At the temporary reprieve, the first mage sighed in relief, stabilized his defensive magics, then descended cautiously, hoping to employ a mortal magical shot against the demon.
While all three were thus occupied, Lian took the opportunity to duck back into the corridor and continue his ascent. Pitching his voice as low as he could manage, he asked, “How many of those things are running around loose up here, Lord Grey?”
Lord Grey considered the question for a moment, then answered so quietly that Lian had to strain to hear his words, “What we just saw was probably one of the ward demons. I suspect that the first mage was searching for a way out of the Tower. You shouldn’t have as much trouble.”
“I hope not,” said Gem, just as quietly. “That hideous thing was a Third Order demon, at least.”
>
“Fifth, actually,” replied Lord Grey. “It is, I believe, a minor noble of its sort. The two who are battling it had better be first rank battle mages, or they’ll be dinner.”
“I was under the impression that you are a necromancer,” said Lian. “How do you know so much about demons?”
Lord Grey said, “I have served dark magicians of one sort or another for a very long time, Highness. Let’s just say that I’ve seen that kind of demon before.”
Lian wasn’t satisfied with the skull’s perfunctory explanation, but ignored it for the time being. Here in the upper quarter of the Tower were signs of the final defenders’ struggle against the rebel army. Scattered about were statues of men clothed in robes and others clad in armor. Many were shattered, but some were surprisingly intact, and amazingly detailed.
There were several creatures, in addition to a variety of spells, which could transform a man into stone, and Lian prayed that the figures he beheld had not been caused by permanent wards. Many of the petrification spells left the victim with assorted degrees of awareness, and he’d read that the sensation of being eroded away by time was excruciating.
Continuing up the curving outer ramp, he noted that the number of petrified men was increasing. Many were still locked in poses of battle, while others had fallen over.
“A Great Mage died up here,” commented Lord Grey.
“How do you know that, Lord Grey?” asked Lian.
“This many casualties represents more magic than one person could safely cast, Highness,” he replied. “I suspect that this is a result of a deathstrike dealt by one of the more powerful Tower sorcerers. Destroying himself completely in the casting of one last spell might have appealed to him as a more attractive alternative than continuing on to his afterlife, if that was what he thought he was doing, anyhow.
“You cannot actually avoid your afterlife; you can merely postpone it.”
Lian glanced back toward the pack. “I won’t ask how you know that.”
Lord Grey, predictably, didn’t answer him.
The ramp passed one last great hall, a singular one in this case, the final passage into the inner space of the Tower. It was carved with elemental scenes, like the entryways onto the four lower bridgeworks. I wonder if there are concealed halls for the other three elements up here somewhere, Lian speculated to himself as he gazed at the compellingly beautiful earth scenes of this fifth and final Earthhall. The lack of symmetry at this level bothered him, for Firavon had been enamored of the architectural concept.
The Great Doors entered the Tower from the south through the Earthhall, and the ramp began there. The ramp then circled counterclockwise past the Firehall, then the Airhall, and finally the Waterhall before beginning its ascent. When the ramp eventually crossed the first bridgeworks, actually the second set of elemental hallways, it first encountered the Firehall, then Air, then Water, and then Earth. When it climbed to the point where it crossed the bridgework that concealed the scrying chamber, precisely halfway up the six-hundred yard Tower, it first met the Airhall. The ramp at the level containing the third bridgeworks, four hundred and fifty yards above the floor, first crossed the Waterhall. Here at the top, the first entry cycled back to the Earthhall.
He could still hear a struggle taking place in the center chamber, a reminder to be as quiet as possible.
There was a throng of statues now, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to pass between them without causing a commotion.
“I fear that you might have to find another way, Highness,” said Lord Grey. He’d already made it abundantly clear that he could see despite his location in a sack contained within a backpack.
“I agree, but unless you know another way . . . ” Lian faltered. He wasn’t sure what they were looking for up here, but had hopes that his two eldrich companions would figure something out.
Fortunately, before the corridor became impassable, he reached the end of it. One of the statues had fallen across the doorway, and had recently shattered into powder and shards when the door had slammed shut. Pieces of that statue were scattered widely about.
“Did I do that?” Lian asked.
“Most likely. I can assure you that no one has Sealed the Tower since before the rebellion,” explained Lord Grey. “I would have heard the infernal din it makes.”
Lian nodded. “This will open for me, right?”
“As long as you carry the Key, Your Highness,” the skull said. “Once you pass through that doorway, it will be quite difficult for your pursuers to apprehend you, unless there are open passageways that I am unaware of that permit access to the upper floors. I confess that I do not know the entire design of the Tower.
“With a great deal of magical ability and stamina, as well as a willingness to risk encounters with malevolent defensive wardings, it is possible to penetrate these inner doors without possessing the Key, but it’s dangerous and time-consuming. I know of a Castellan who once Sealed the Tower and locked himself into his quarters. The door to his chambers had to be defeated, at great cost to the mages and their guards. When they finally managed to reach him, he was trying to destroy the Key. In its larger form, as it was when you found it, it is theoretically not invulnerable. However, Firavon built better than the mad Castellan was capable of breaking.
“I remember that several of the higher ranking mages were concerned that the Key might be cracked deep inside where they couldn’t detect the flaw.
“Alas, I digress, and my rhetoric may very well get you killed,” the skull admonished itself.
Lian approached the door and glanced back at his fresh footprints in the powdered statue fragments.
You’d better use up a little of that magic I gave you and remove the traces of my passage, he said mentally to Gem.
She replied by singing a few short melodic syllables, breaking into bell-like chords which sounded like wind chimes in the breeze. His footprints were smoothed away by a gentle zephyr which remained, redistributing the dust, after he’d opened the door and entered the chamber beyond.
Once he was through, he asked, “Do I need to reseal the door now?” As he awaited Lord Grey’s reply, he propped Gem against the wall and fumbled for the wand that Elowyn had made for him. He put it in his mouth and reclaimed Gem.
“No,” answered the skull. “The Tower will remain Sealed until you order it to Unseal.”
This room, too, was powdered with fragments of the statue, and he concentrated on the wand’s enchantment. His progress left no traces behind, and a small whisper of magic from Gem eradicated the prints closest to the door.
He realized that he’d been in the Tower for some time now, and it was imperative that he find a way out before Rishak’s mages managed to get reinforcements in. Rishak would know that some hostile entity was in the Tower, just not what or who.
He noticed that the room he had entered appeared to have been some sort of audience chamber, as he moved through it and into the next room. There were more statues here, but they were all shattered, and the pieces lay scattered forlornly about the room. Lian, concentrating on the wand’s magic, picked his way through carefully, not wishing to lose his balance.
The room was actually a grand hallway, with three doors. Choosing the far door randomly, he slowly opened it. Inside were more statues, most of them intact, but these were different from the ones he’d seen before. They were of several different varieties of creatures, predominantly winged, and didn’t seem to be of the proper proportions.
Lian stopped concentrating on the magic of the wand, and fumbled it back into his pouch. “Carvings?” he asked.
“Enchanted, whatever they are,” replied Gem.
“Agreed,” said Lord Grey with a smug tone. “They are enchanted most strongly. They will provide the way out, My Prince.”
He moved among them, examining sculptures of dragons, great birds, and unfamiliar creatures he assumed were conjured beasts. The floor was littered with debris, for some of the statues had evidently been b
roken, their pieces strewn about the chamber. The thought occurred to Lian that there weren’t enough pieces to account for statues of the size represented here, as if the statues were mere shells containing . . . what?
Lian, absorbed in his inspection of the beautiful carvings, lost his footing on one of larger broken pieces. His hand flew out reflexively to check his fall, and Gem fell from his grasp.
“No!” cried Lord Grey and Gem together, but too late, for his hand landed on the statue of a gryphon.
Musical, crystalline tones belled from the air around the statue, followed by a flare of electric green light. The statue cracked in a thousand places, like a hard-boiled egg rolled on hard rock. Bursting forth from its apparent imprisonment, the gryphon leapt from its pedestal. Its head was that of a great eagle, richly feathered in white. Its body was enveloped in shimmering golden feathers, and the talons on its forelegs gleamed. Its lionine hindquarters were a resplendent gilt, and its powerful tail lashed.
It hissed and fixed its eagle eyes on Lian, who hurriedly picked up his sword.
Narrowing its eyes, it glanced about briefly, then advanced toward the young man.
“Stop right there!” Lian commanded, fervently hoping that either the gryphon’s bindings or the Key of Firavon would afford him some authority over the beast. Gryphons were immensely powerful, equaled only by the dragonkind for sheer physical might. They were also highly resistant to magic; as a result they were difficult to summon and even more difficult to control.
It did stop, and cocked its head, as if waiting for sorcerous reinforcement to the command. None was forthcoming, so it continued its approach, moving with an agile, cat-like grace.
“Gilaeshar, don’t eat the boy. I believe he can get you out of here,” said Lord Grey, impatience apparent in his voice.
This time, the gryphon halted and settled back on its haunches. “Lorrd Grrey, iss it?” it hissed.
Lian started. He hadn’t realized that the creatures were capable of thought, much less speech.
“In the flesh, so to speak. This is the king of Dunshor’s son, Prince Lian,” he said.
