"I know you serve my sister, that you see and hear things others might not." Morgan reached into his pocket and withdrew the gold sigil. He tossed it. The amulet clattered to the floor. Duk-cho's eyes widened. "Her informant will not be coming back. You tell her next time she is curious to come herself."
The old apothecary made smoke circles with the stem of his pipe. The scent of opium was cloying.
"Naylor overstepped himself. He was only to watch." The old man's penetrating gaze went to Julienne. "So, your whore survived. Interesting how you've kept her alive."
"I have my ways."
Duk-cho inclined his head. "How long will this one last before you put hands around her throat and strangle her?"
Morgan wisely let the cutting remark pass.
Duk-cho curtly nodded at Julienne. "You are welcome in my house," he said in bad, but understandable English.
Not sure how to respond, Julienne bowed her head in response. It was best to watch, listen and remain silent.
"Megwyn is not the only one wanting information," Morgan huffed, his tone changing from cordial to hostile. "I have heard of Xavier's plans for a pilgrimage. Where and why? Do not lie to me. I know you must have heard many things while you were tending his wounds."
Duk-cho's cheeks sank in as he took a hard pull from his hookah. His frustration was apparent in the amount of smoke he exhaled.
"Uan-li has let fear loosen her lips," Morgan prodded.
"Were I truly a follower of the Dragon, I would say nothing."
"But?"
"To say all would cost time."
"Make time," Morgan demanded.
"Xavier follows the revelation of the Dragon, who has promised a greater power than any he has ever known. He journeys, even as we speak, to the center of eternity." Duk-cho smiled deviously. "Your sister plans to reap the benefits of his discovery."
"Physical endeavors are almost beyond him," Morgan pointed out. "His own burnout is nearing."
"The time to abandon this realm and give himself to the dark devouring of death is drawing close for him," Duk-cho agreed. "But not for your twin. She is not looking forward to dying. Neither does she relish inhabiting a rotting body. She wants what Xavier seeks and to claim his place as Arch-priestess of the cult when the time has come."
Morgan's brow creased in thought. "Center of eternity?" he repeated. "You speak in riddles."
"It is destiny that takes him there. When two merge, one shall know true eternity." Duk-cho smiled and puffed on his pipe. His eyes turned toward the colorful silks hanging from the ceiling. "And when one has that power at beck, you are going to be the first to bow."
"They will not see such," Morgan countered gruffly. "Ever!"
"Or you'll what?" Duk-cho purred. "Destroy them? You've had your chance and never could. You are too weak."
Morgan took an angry step forward. Julienne quickly caught his arm, holding him back. She could feel his frustration and tension bubbling beneath the surface of his demeanor.
"He's an old man," she reminded gently. "He's just goading you on. Let his words pass, please."
To her relief, Morgan did not pursue his impulse. He nodded his head. "You are right." He looked again to the old healer. "Mark my words, old one. The chance will come again, and I will not hesitate," he growled. "I have been too merciful in the past, but no more will I attempt to temper my wrath."
Duk-cho's own tolerance had come to its end. "I will speak no more this day," he said, closing his eyes and taking a deep draw off his pipe.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Xavier sat alone.
Behind him slept Azoroath and the slaves who made up the rest of his caravan. Bone tired, the men had gone immediately to sleep, some not bothering to consume the night's ration of bread and meat taken from the giant lizard Azoroath had killed with his slingshot.
The last few days of travel had been rough. To cross Gidrah in fourteen days, Xavier had calculated they must travel sixteen to seventeen hours a day, so little time was wasted on rest. The food his slaves had packed was well preserved and fresh meat was plentiful, if hunted. The single obstacle to achieving their goal, aside from sheer exhaustion, was the lack of water.
The supply he had brought was nearly used up, despite severe rationing. When it was gone, there would be no more. Traversing the wastelands with adequate water was difficult enough, as the liquid was sweated out as fast as it was consumed. Traveling without would soon dehydrate and weaken their bodies. Already, he had been forced to kill two of his eight eunuchs to lighten consumption.
We must make it, he thought. He did not care to contemplate the repercussion of failure.
Hovering on the edge of his camp, always close but never approaching, were Ha'rak's warriors. A constant shadow, they marked the days. Accustomed to the extreme heat of the wastelands, the trolls were not affected by it. They could afford the exertions of hard travel. Like coursing hounds, they were counting on the prey panicking and running itself to exhaustion.
The old sorcerer smiled. The trial the Dragon had set was a difficult one. Were he younger, he would have excelled at the crossing. But the centuries had been unkind to him, and his body was in decline. Azoroath, while competent, was undesirable as a constant companion.
Xavier rested his hands in his lap. One was white, fingers long, unbending. The other was hugged by leather as black as his heart.
Azoroath stirred.
"Lord Xavier?" said he. "Have you not slept?"
The sorcerer wearily shook his head. "Sleep eludes me. I am so very close to gaining again what I have lost. When I am restored, Azoroath, you will witness the great days of the past reborn under my hand."
"I believe so, Lord," Azoroath answered.
Xavier already suspected his servant planned to have the scrolls for himself.
And he was prepared.
Chapter Thirty-Five
All knew when they entered Xavier's territories. A stone wall faced with corpses confronted all daring to venture into the dead lands.
Julienne grimaced. "It's horrible."
Perched behind a part of the wall that had collapsed, she scanned the strewn remains of the many victims of the cult of Ouroborous. Some had died quickly in ritual sacrifice. Others had suffered a slower, more painful death. These unfortunates were nailed to crosses of wood and hung upon the wall like human ornaments.
It was a sight she well recalled. The wall was her first true example of the occult war. Chills went up her spine when she kicked aside a mound of bones so she could pass through the grisly pile. She cursed her tired legs as she and Morgan began to climb a second, steeper incline, passing under one arch still intact along the girth of the great wall.
There she set eyes upon the hulking shape of Xavier's sanctuary for the third time.
"I hate this place," she whispered, peering through the haze. "Why are we here?"
"Spying," Morgan told her. His hold on the strap across his shoulder tightened as he peered through the thinning fog for signs of life. He quickly spotted several Jansi positioned along the wall--Xavier's sanctuary was well guarded. He made a hushing motion and directed her attention to the warriors.
"Getting inside is not going to be easy," he murmured. "We are going to have to do this the hard way."
"What's that hard way?"
"We kill them."
She gave him an incredulous look. "There's a dozen men lined up there. Unless that thing fires multiple arrows, I don't think you have a chance, no matter how good you think you are."
"I want to know what Xavier is up to."
"And you just have to get inside there?"
"I need to go into the chambers below ground where he does his spell work. If he has been summoning the Dragon to guide him, the answers may be there."
"So, why don't we just waft on in there?" she asked sensibly. From what she had seen so far, it should be that damn simple. "That's how you people seem to travel."
"Easier said than done." He drew her att
ention to several strange symbols drawn on the wall. "These are symbols of protection," he explained. "They are all over the place, and they bar other magical elements from crossing the barrier they erect. One may only observe, but do no harm from the outside."
"Why is this getting more complicated?" she sighed. She was getting cramped hunched down behind this damned rock. If they were going to go somewhere, they needed to do it before she froze to death. God, how she hated this damned world.
"Put up your hand," he said. "Palm out."
She raised her hand. "Like this?"
Morgan placed his against hers. "Now push."
She tried, but his hand held hers immobile. She pushed harder, but still could not move it.
"That is what I am trying to teach you about spell casting. One immovable force meeting another. If both are equally strong, neither moves." He suddenly struck her arm at the elbow, knocking her hand down. "So, you find your enemy's weakness and exploit it."
"Which means?"
"I have not got time to sit here all day casting counter-spells. So, if we want to cross the barrier, we do it on foot. If we want to get inside, we kick down the fucking door. Once we're inside the barrier, it can then be attacked from within with counter-spelling."
"I understand," she said, putting a hand on his arm. "But I know a way inside without having to pass those assholes."
He appeared skeptical. "How?"
"When I was trapped in that place, I followed the tunnels underground. Some of the women slaves hid me, helped me. They showed me a crack in the foundation, one that got me out of there. We can go in that way and retrace the path."
Morgan gave her an admiring look. "Woman, you are already proving valuable."
"Glad you think so," she shot back. "It's about time you thought I was worth something."
"Here is what I think you are worth." Dipping into his sash, he took out the ring Xavier had created. Before she could say a word, he caught her hand and slid it onto her finger.
"What?" she started to say.
He hushed her. The intensity of his gaze on her face was serious. "You know whosoever holds this owns me. I cannot take it from them, but it can be taken from me. I want you to keep this for me--just in case something goes wrong. I know you would not use it against me."
Heart in her mouth, pulse beating in her head, she was sure she was about to faint. What the ring symbolized was the bond between himself and another woman and the child they had sired. She still wasn't sure how she felt about that part of his past. It was true he had confessed his sin, asked for her forgiveness and understanding. But this ring was still a symbol of how far he would go when threatened.
"Are you sure I should carry it?" she asked nervously. She could not fail to notice the finger he chose to put it on--the third finger of her left hand. It was a little big, but it felt right being there.
"Yes, I am." He briefly touched her cheek. "Let no one take it from you."
Her heart almost dropped to her feet. "I won't," she promised.
If he were to touch her stomach, he would feel her trembling inside. The butterflies were all tied up, fluttering wildly. She was afraid to have it, yet oddly honored. I'll fight to the death to keep it safe.
Letting her hand drop, he rose to his feet. "Are you ready?"
"Yes." Gulping, she stood as well. "I'll show you the place."
"Lead the way, caile."
Letting memory be her guide, she led him in a wide path away from the wall, circling it until she found the bluff shielding the rear of the sanctuary. Two Jansi loitered near the crack. Apparently, the secret escape route was no longer a secret.
"Damn," she muttered, thinking he would surely relent and leave this evil place.
She was wrong. In a moment, his dagger was out of its sheath; and he moved into action, killing both men before she could even think to blink. He moved with such inhuman grace and speed she hadn't been aware of his intention until after the act was committed. The first man had not yet begun to fall before the second drew his last breath.
Closing her eyes, she drew a deep breath. Though she could not condone carnage, what he'd done was necessary.
This is war. She gritted her teeth. And in war, people die. How many mortals did they slaughter?
She didn't know that answer. She was just glad he was on her side. Would her world be like Sclyd if he'd taken the opposite side? As if in reply, a foul, cold breeze swept across her clammy skin. She shivered violently.
Forcing herself to swallow her fear, she stepped over the corpses and wiggled through the narrow gap. She'd forgotten she'd had to climb to get through it from the opposite side so went tumbling, striking the ground with an oomph! She lifted her eyelids a fraction, seeing nothing at first but impenetrable blackness. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the strange, half-lit gloom.
On hands and knees she scrambled forward a few feet. Morgan dropped down, infinitely more graceful. He looked around, putting out a hand to touch the glowing walls. The phosphorescent goo was thriving, eating away at the stone.
"I see entropy has settled in. No getting rid of it now."
"What's that?" she asked, refusing to touch the stinking lichen. It was absolutely nasty, crawling with mutated insects.
"Part of the marbh saol, the virus that travels on the night mists. By the time it is done, everything will be eaten away. There is no way to stop its growth or the sterility it carves into the land." He sighed. "One day the whole of Sclyd will be nothing but dead space."
"Can we get out of here?" she asked. "I really, really hate this place."
"Lead the way."
There was only one way to go.
Once more relying on memory, Julienne led him to the secret entrance to the bedchambers of Xavier's slaves. "Here. There was a door right here."
Well, there had to be a door, as it was also the end of the tunnel.
"Where?"
"Here." She insisted. "It was here."
"Did it perchance open into the tunnel?"
Her hand flew to her mouth. Of course the door had opened into the tunnels. "It did," she admitted sheepishly. "How do we open it?"
"These things are usually designed to be opened from both sides." He began to examine the wall, locating a small lever and pressing it. The door cracked, allowing them to insert their fingers to pull it open.
Julienne crawled through, eagerly inspecting the small cubicle where Kira had slept. The pallet on the floor was empty. So were the rest of the sleeping cells.
She hurried into the area of the chamber where the women had gathered to prepare their food. It, too, was abandoned. Torches black with caked pitch guttered, close to extinguishing. No fire had burned in the hearth for weeks, and the eating and drinking utensils were left where their owners had put them down--there was still evidence of a half-eaten meal. It was clear the women had been herded away like cattle quite a while ago. The food was moldy, stinking.
"They're gone." She walked over to the straw mat where Kira had sat, ladling soup. Loose bits of a broken ceramic bowl crunched under her boots. She dropped to her knees.
"This is where they helped me. Fed me." Her hand went to her face. "Cleaned those slices in my face, showed me the way out of here." Her vision grew blurry. "They helped me out of this damned place." Wiping the tears away, she glanced up at him. "What did that bastard do with them?"
"I do not know." He hitched up his crossbow so the heavy weapon set more comfortably across his back and made a quick gesture. "We need to keep moving. A lot of Jansi against two of us will not be good odds if we are discovered."
Stifling a sigh, she thrust memories of those times from her mind. It was better not to wonder what might have happened to the women. Swallowing, she pulled herself to her feet. "I'm not going back down there unless I get some light."
He beckoned to her. "You shall have your light."
Taking her hands, he moved them together, palm up, left cupping right.
"Fir
e burning ever bright, turn thy darkness into light. Bring thine energy from inside, eyes to see, mind to guide."
At his spell, a small, luminescent ball appeared on her palm. Its brilliance hurt her eyes at first. There was no heat against her skin, only a sense of pressure. Testing its solidity, she moved the hand it hovered above. The globe floated, easily mimicking her movements.
"That's amazing," she breathed. "How long will it last?"
"As long as you hold concentration, it will guide you."
Down a staircase, back into the hated tunnels. She had no idea how far they walked. It seemed like the caverns snaked underground for miles. When they passed the charnel room where her body had been dumped, she clenched her eyes shut, clamping her hand to her mouth to deaden the smell. The fumes still assailed her nostrils, and she grimaced. She could hardly stand to be back in this chamber of horrors.
When they entered the silence of the dungeon, Julienne could not help recalling the wicked tools of torture, the pit with its glowing red coals--a thousand little red, evil eyes. More than any image, the Iron Maiden was most prominent in her mind, and her eyes gravitated inevitably to the great metal lady. That's where that thing had sat waiting to attack, to share her body.
She gasped in shock. A hand, clenched and contorted, protruded from the gaping mouth of the Maiden. The person trapped inside had been left there to slowly starve to death. Fresh terror birthed in her breast, her mind threatening to shut down her senses. Swallowing hard to keep the rising wave of nausea at bay, she turned away from the horrible vision.
The globe above her hand flickered, threatening to extinguish itself. She hastily whispered the words Morgan had used to create it.
Please, she silently begged. Don't go out. She repeated the spell. The light steadied, grew stronger. It was then she realized the walls and pit of the dungeon were covered in a layer of floating green.
Thick and oozy, the phosphorescent lichen covered the stone, crawled with spiders. When she saw what the movement was, she let out a yelp and tried to move to the middle of the room. She almost stumbled into the pit when she tripped over the green-coated corpse of one of Xavier's female slaves, impaled through the back with a long spike.
Descent of Demons Page 36
