Ez Ozel: Prologue to Perdition

by Dave Oliver

  She sat there a moment to process what had just happened. A horrible monster had appeared and pointed at the floor. That didn’t necessarily mean she was going crazy. There were a bunch of monsters attacking the city right now too, so she convinced herself it made sense. She crept over to where the thing had been pointing and barely made out a trapdoor in the stone floor.

  Of course. It made sense that the Directorate would have a secret escape plan. She searched the crevices between the stones and found the small iron ring used to open the door. Relief filled her. The Directorate was a bunch of important people, after all. There was no way they would just let themselves be— The door opened and her mother stared right back up at her. Karedess looked into her cold and lifeless eyes. She screamed.

  Her screaming was stifled when she started to throw up. She kept heaving and expelling until she was so out of breath she thought she might pass out. Her vision was hazy with tears, and her throat was raw. She tried to bring her mind back into focus, as painful as it was.

  It didn’t feel real. None of this felt real. The kidnapping, Brint’s murder, the strong hero bringing her home, this attack, her mother… Maybe it was all a dream and she was still in the cart heading north. Maybe she had died on that trip and her brain was playing with the worst things it could imagine before it shut down. Anything would have been better than this.

  After what felt like forever, she mustered the courage to crawl back over to the trapdoor. Her mother must have been climbing the stairs. Her head was perched on one of the steps, which made her look up at the door. Her left arm was outstretched like she was trying to push at the door from underneath. She reached down to take her mother’s hand. It was cooler to the touch than she expected, which made Karedess recoil at first. She reached out again and held it for a moment. Her heart was pounding and her eyes burned. She was going to be sick again, but she had nothing left to throw up. She had to cry, but the tears refused to come. She squeezed her mother’s hand tightly and felt a sudden tug.

  Her mother’s body toppled down the stairs and into the darkness. Karedess shuffled away, her mother’s signet ring still in her hand. It must’ve slid off as she held tight. She hugged her legs to her chest and started to shake. It couldn’t be true. She’d come all this way. She’d done so much just to make it home. And now? What had it even mattered?

  She sat there rocking herself back and forth for a time until a loud explosion shook the building. It was followed by the scariest laughter she’d ever heard. It didn’t sound like Fierd’s laughter when he was in the middle of one of his mad fits, but it was just as terrifying, if not more so. That’s right—Fierd! She still had a friend, if nothing else. And Mair was like an aunt to her. She still had people to save and people she needed. She got to her feet. Her knees shook so badly she almost fell right back down. She tried to imagine how Fierd had felt when he saw everyone he knew killed at his home. That must’ve included his parents too, right? She could do this. She could be tough like Fierd. A pang of despair and grief made her feel stupid for thinking she could move past this for the sake of being tough, but she shoved it aside. She could grieve and be sad after she made it out of here.

  She left the Directorate’s chambers and headed through the central hall until she reached the main foyer again. She couldn’t bring herself to walk too quickly—her nerves simply wouldn’t let her without falling—but she got out of the courthouse as fast as she could. Once she was back outside of the main doors, she pulled them shut and looked around. The fire was much worse now, and there were lots more bodies out here than before. It was a good thing she’d gone inside, because a big fight must’ve happened here recently. That meant it could happen again too. She needed to find Fierd, wherever he might be by now. She remembered seeing him head east toward the castle after he killed all the pale people.

  She considered running home to grab her bow and help, but she realized that was a bad idea. Not only was she not good enough with it to be any real help, but Mair would just make sure she couldn’t leave. She had best find Fierd on her own. She started running east, steeling herself against the sight of all the corpses littering the streets. She’d already seen her worst fear come true; how could things get any worse?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Merrik brushed off the finest vestments he had, and he tightened them as snug as they would fit. Having this stiff doublet pressing against his back would help him keep an upright posture, regardless of how much his body demanded he look hunched and withered. He was straightening out the finishing touches when he noticed Alregon stirring.

  “I’m heading over to the bar,” Merrik said. “It’s early enough that there won’t be much of a crowd around him—if he’s even there yet. If he’s not, I’ll be one of the first waiting for him.”

  “Sounds like a good plan,” Alregon groaned. He rubbed the sleepiness out of his eyes and cleared his throat. “How are you feeling?”

  “Mostly terrible, but nothing debilitating. I should make it through the next few hours with clean breeches, I think.”

  “That’s good.” Alregon swung his legs out over the edge of the bed and yawned hard.

  Merrik had rarely seen Alregon so disheveled and weary. He had always been so well put together, even during their long trip out there. Seeing him first thing in the morning after such a hard rest was a bit of a paradigm shift. Sometimes he forgot that Al was a person like anyone else. It was a stupid realization—of course he was a person. All the same, it was weird thinking of him as anything other than the family attendant who just lived to serve him.

  “Feel free to take today off, Al. I’m just going to be sitting in a bar all day. If there’s anything you want to do or see, go nuts.”

  “Thank you. I think I’d like to see the mayor and learn more about this…interesting town.”

  “Easy, now. Don’t go too crazy.” Merrik turned and headed for the door. “I’ll likely see you tonight. Hopefully I’ll be able to learn all I need today.”

  “Good luck.”

  Merrik exited the flophouse and strolled across the street. He had been so tired yesterday, he hadn’t realized that the town square was just a thrown-together mess. Most buildings were haphazardly constructed with a mix of quality lumber and driftwood. Some had stone foundations, but most of them were finished with crappy wood too. It was easy to see the skeleton of Mizzen here even with all the piles of Midden built on top of it.

  There wasn’t much activity in town yet, but it was barely light out. A couple drunks were asleep in the dirt streets, and there was a fat horse drinking out of a broken beer keg. It was the largest city he’d seen without working plumbing, and he could really smell it out here. It’d had proper plumbing before the Prov attack, but these pirates must not have had the skill or care to maintain it. He entered the bar to see the groggy bartender taking chairs off of tables and putting them on the floor.

  “Early drinker, eh?” The bartender gave Merrik a small grin.

  Merrik smiled his best smile. The doctor’s potions seemed to be doing a great job at keeping his cough in check, so he might be able to act like a normal person here for a change.

  “Perhaps, though someone told me this is the best place in town to get breakfast.”

  “Someone lied to you. But I can get something fixed up if you want. The wife makes some fair eats.”

  Merrik sat at the bar top. “It can wait until you’re done getting ready. I’ll take your simplest meal whenever you’re done.” He normally wouldn’t have cared for the bartender’s convenience, but it wasn’t like he was in a hurry. After he’d eaten his food, what would he do then? It wasn’t like he could sit there and drink all day until this guy showed up. The doctor had some great solutions, but he didn’t trust them to work miracles.

  The bartender set out all of his chairs and wiped down the tables with a suspicious cloth that seemed to carry more of a suggestion of cleanliness than the real deal. Merrik got a good look at his surroundings while he waited.
Other than the flashy purple and gold cloth, he noticed various nets and wire strewn about the ceiling. It was probably meant as some sort of decor, calling back to the humble fishermen that started this town before the pirates came in. It felt a bit insulting, even to someone with no vested interest in the place, to have something so innocent and inconspicuous hanging in a pub that now mostly served pirates and thieves.

  Though as bad as these folk might have been, at least they weren’t slavers. Only the Amalgam were known to use slave labor, and they were the worst of folk, even among other Provs. They probably didn’t come through here often though. The Steel Presidio was on the far west side of Provenance. Wasn’t a very practical trade route to come to Midden.

  “You want a beer or anything while your food cooks?”

  Merrik toyed with the idea. “Some water in your cleanest glass, perhaps?” He slid five plats across the table, about five plats more than the bartender was used to getting for a glass of water.

  “You got it. I’ll get you an unused glass from the back.”

  The barman exited the main room through a rear door. “Need a breakfast cooked up for a customer,” he yelled loud enough to be heard through the whole bar. “Make it up real nice; he’s a good tipper.”

  Merrik shook his head and turned at the sound of the front door opening. Some folks were slowly pouring in and heading straight for corner tables as though they were arriving to their day job. They sat at their tables in a half daze with a general air of expectation to them. What could go so bad in a person’s life as to make them such a pathetic bar regular at this shit hole tucked so far away in a corner of the Commonwealth?

  He noticed one of them was carrying an old, worn amberarm. That made him more nervous than anything else he’d seen on this trip. Did pirates use those things? The only ones he’d ever seen were overdesigned antiques mounted on patrons’ walls. They were just as dangerous to the handler as they were to an enemy. Merrik figured he must just use it for intimidation.

  A large mug hit the table in front of him, snapping him from his thoughts again. It was easy to let the mind wander in this place. Not much else to do, anyway.

  “Clean as I could find.”

  “My deep thanks,” Merrik said, and the bartender went to serve his regular drunks. Merrik eyed the cold mug closely. There were small flakes of black and brown floating in the liquid, though not terribly many. He was lucky the water wasn’t brown though. He’d expected a drink so filthy it felt like it had pulp. It was time to test these elixirs. He took a deep sip and was delighted at how cold and refreshing it was, if a little tangy.

  The door opened again, and Merrik’s quarry entered. Merveille was just as ostentatiously dressed, though today he’d chosen a green theme for his ensemble. He looked around the bar but seemed disappointed. Not a very good early morning turnout for his magic tricks. He strode over to the bar and sat a couple seats down from Merrik.

  “I seem to be a bit early,” the mage said. “None of my regulars are here yet.” He turned to Merrik. “How about you? Are you a fan of magic?”

  “Can’t say I know much about it. Are you talking about illusions?” It was probably best not to tip his hand and reveal that he knew so much about what this man could do. It might spook him if someone started interrogating him about the conduit and where he came from right away.

  “Illusions? Pah! I’m talking about the real deal. Name a trick, and I can do it.”

  Merrik forced a chuckle. “How about cleaning this water?”

  “Simple!” The man scooted over to the seat next to Merrik and put his open palm above the glass. He raised his hand while closing his fingers at the tips, and all of the tiny flakes and bits flew out of the water and formed a small ball. It was about the size of a marble.

  He flung the ball across the floor of the bar. “How about that? Impressive, eh?”

  Merrik feigned surprise, though it certainly was impressive. “Very. What else can you do?”

  “Oh, you name it.” He turned his head to the bartender, who had just returned from serving the dregs. “Two beers, my good man.”

  The bartender rolled his eyes and turned to get the drinks.

  “What brings a man like you to this shit hole?” Merrik asked.

  “It’s not that bad, is it?” Merveille glanced around. “Bunch of lively folks, the fellas in the corner not included, and plenty of food and drink. I even got them to redecorate in my favorite colors.” He gestured at the hideous curtains strewn about everywhere. “What else is there?”

  “I suppose. I’d just have thought that if someone could conjure real magic, he would’ve set his sights higher than this small town. Ildia would probably suspect you of being a worshipper, but Ryten or Halcyon Bay would be more rewarding, I’d imagine.”

  “Ryten or Halcyon Bay, you say? Interesting. Where are they?”

  “Ryten is a ways west of here in the crux of the river Scarum. You’d need a horse, wagon, or caravan to get there. Halcyon Bay is way west, on Peona. You’d need a ship for that trip.” Merrik took a long drink, hoping the wizard would take the bait. He almost choked on the water. He’d never tasted water so fresh and clean. It was really cold as well. It was easily the most delicious water he’d ever tasted.

  “Sounds like Ryten might be worth trying out next. You know how to get there, friend?”

  Merrik grinned. “Know how to get there? I’m from Ryten. My group and I are just stopped over here before we head back.”

  “How fortunate! May I join you on your return trip? I can pay whatever you like.”

  “By all means.” He turned to face the mage. “But we need to make one stop before heading west.”

  “A quick errand? No big deal. Where to first?”

  “There’s something called the Azure Conduit just north of here. I need an expert to help me traverse it.”

  Merveille’s expression fell, and his jovial attitude became one of suspicious alert. He looked around the bar nervously. He got up from his chair, and headed for the door without saying a word.

  That could’ve gone better. The trade was fair enough, though his delivery was admittedly short on tact. He got up to follow and barged through the door after him.

  When they were both in the central square area outside of the tavern, he yelled to him.

  “You there,” he called. “Mage.”

  Merveille dropped to one knee, covering his ears. He slowly turned to look at Merrik, eyes narrowed.

  “I want no trouble,” he said, letting his hands fall. “Just let me be. I’m not hurting anyone.”

  “I know about the world you come from. Tell me, how does your magic work? Do you need it to get through the portal?”

  “Quiet,” the man replied sharply. He looked around to see who might be listening. “Not out here. Follow me.”

  Merrik let him get up and followed him down a long street. They entered the same hotel Merrik’s group was staying in. Merveille kept looking around nervously before leading the way up to his room. He ushered the old patron inside and quickly closed the door with a gentle click.

  “All right. What do you know about that conduit?”

  “I know it leads to another world. A world with magic.”

  “True,” Merveille said. “What do you want with it?”

  “I need magic. My body has been broken for my entire life, and I need to repair it. Medicine can’t do it, so I need to try mysticism.”

  The mage studied him a moment, then seemed to relax. “Well, that’s not a bad cause. Go then. You have my blessing or whatever to go into my world.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not? Just dip your hand into the water in the basin.”

  “Tried that. Nothing happened.”

  “Well that’s weird. I was able to go back and forth to get supplies after it initially yanked me through.”

  “If you could go back, why did you stay?”

  “Well here’s the thing…,” the mage said. “Magic is everywh
ere where I come from. All of the prana there is recycled and reused over and over.” He took a moment to think. “Imagine if the only air you could breathe came directly from a thousand other people’s mouths. It’s suffocating. It’s disgusting. It’s all we know.” He looked to the sky and took a deep breath. “But the air here is fresh and untapped. The sky around me positively crackles with so much unused energy I can barely stand it. How could I go back?”

  Merrik glared at him. “And you use it on cheap bar tricks?”

  Merveille shrugged. “I have to pace myself here—start small. I’m not used to tapping into a completely untouched prana stream. If a render were to come through here and cast a fire spell, he could ignite the whole planet accidentally. Good thing I’m a bender.”

  “What’s a bender?”

  Merveille gave a bored sigh. “There are three main klatches of magic in my world. We can be a render, a mender, or a bender. Renders destroy, menders create or heal, and benders manipulate.”

  “So you don’t know any healing magic?”

  “Of course I do. We all learn a little core magic from each of the primary disciplines when we’re still pods. I haven’t used any healing magic since way back then, but I know some.”

  “I have many ailments,” Merrik said. “Would you be able to—”

  “Oh no,” the mage said, raising his hands defensively. “I’m not looking to become some sort of mystical healing messiah here. First of all, it’s boring. Second of all, I’ve read your stories. The mystical healer always gets killed. Besides, my healing magic is only basic stuff from early schooling. If you had a bad cut or broken limb, I might be able to fix it. That’s about it, and even then it’d take me a long time to do a really shitty job. My basic mending and rending are really rusty.”