Seductive Silence
Page 9
Chapter 9
Novanostrum walks along the single path through the dead forest. Overhead, the hazy sky grows dark as the sun sets. As his sandals crunch the chalky grass at the edge of the narrow trail, he thinks back to his last visit to the Deathstretch.
Almost as if triggered by his memory, the white leaves and chalky fruits begin to bloom and grow before his eyes. Novanostrum pulls his staff from his sleeve, readying himself for the inevitable onslaught.
A pair of eyes peeks from a white bush before the white anaconda springs forward. Novanostrum dispatches it with a fireball, barely breaking his stride.
Tentacles, fanged and clawed beasts, hideous oversized birds, they all meet similar fates as Novanostrum blasts his way down the path.
Finally spotting the reason for his incursion into this accursed place, Novanostrum approaches the small cabin and knocks on the door. It takes a moment, but finally the door is opened by a man literally cloaked in shadow. Upon recognizing his visitor, he pulls his hood back, revealing his head and turning his shadowed cloak into merely a dark garment.
“Hello, Father,” Novanostrum says.
“Aristhmus told you I was alive?” Stronom asks, motioning for his son to enter the cabin.
“Aristhmus...what? No, I recognized your handwriting.”
“I see. And how did you find this place?”
“You were easy to find, once I knew what I was looking for,” Novanostrum says as he lowers himself onto a wooden stool. He notices Risma standing in a doorway, smiling.
“Welcome home,” she says.
Zanther and the Quester of Righteousness sit across from each other in the galley of The Rakehell as it plies its way across the clear, starry night. Zanther tries to eat a bowl of stew, with limited success.
“So you’re the one and only Quester of Righteousness,” Zanther says as he feels a spoonful of stew plop onto his leg.
“And you are Zanther Maus. You probably don’t remember me, but I remember you; you were the only one to best me in a fight.”
“Pretty sure I’d remember fighting the Quester of Righteousness,” Zanther says.
“We were children, then. It was a longknifesmanship competition. You beat me in the final round.”
Zanther laughs nervously. “Well, I hope you’re not holding a grudge after all these sunspins. After all, you proved your superiority pretty well back there when you killed the Vinch. After being blinded, no less.”
“A grudge? Hardly. Actually, I’m a fan. I read about you and your father’s exploits in the Kleighton Gadabout. You inspired me to become the Quester of Righteousness in the first place.”
“Right. I see. How does one go about becoming the Quester of Righteousness, anyway?”
“All you need is the Longknife of Iniquity and the blessing of a king or queen. Madra’s father named me Quester after I defeated the Ogremage of Resgard Pass; the beast who killed the previous Quester of Righteousness.”
“Sounds like non-stop good times.”
“Oh, it was. Saving women and children, killing beasts, searching for magickal treasure, and the women, don’t get me started on the women--it got to the point where every night--”
“Yeah, I get the picture.”
“I’m not quite sure you do.”
There’s a knock at the door. “It’s just me,” Madra says as she walks into the room, “here, Zanther, hold this for a tick,” she says as he reaches out toward her hand and grasps the handle of something heavy.
“Zanther Maus, I hereby name you Quester of Righteousness,” Madra says.
“Wait, what?”
“You see, I’m retiring,” the previous Quester says, “Desa and I are going to live in a cave on the edge of the Willowood, far from men and beasts and all the other worries of the world. I hear she even has a pet dragon.”
“That’s all well and good,” Zanther says, “but I don’t really want to be the Quester of Righteousness.”
“It’s kind of late for that now, don’t you think?” the previous Quester says.
“Well, I--”
“Nonsense. You’ll do fine. Now let me tell you a little about the Longknife of Iniquity. It was forged in the flames of High Hell. When you hold it in your hands, you are immune to the effects of any magick used against you. It’s cursed, of course, but--”
“Cursed?”
“Yes, well, every time a new Quester is named, the Malevolent One is set free. It’s always the First Trial of the Quester of Righteousness to defeat him and send him screaming back to his prison.”
“Uh, what?”
“The Malevolent One. You must defeat him.”
“Any advice on how to go about that?”
“Well, one of the rules is that I’m not allowed to help you with the specifics. You have three days until his release, though, so you should able to prepare. I recommend you talk to a fellow named Crickadee. He helped me quite a bit.”
Madra puts her hand on Zanther’s shoulder. “I know you’re not thrilled about this, but it’s my duty as Queen of Claustria to name the new Quester of Righteousness and you’re the most qualified. Should you succeed, I will marry you; you will be the Royal Consort to the Queen.”
Zanther sighs. “And if I refuse?”
“You’ll suffer a terrible, torturous death,” the previous Quester says.
“No, not that,” he grasps Madra’s hand, “I meant the wedding.”
“You’ll suffer a terrible, torturous death,” she says.
Books in the Vicious Magick series:
Vicious Magick
Livid Steel
Seductive Silence
The Legend of Zanther
Mystickal Melody
Knives and Needles
Toil and Trouble
Dearly Detested (coming soon)