Talis said goodbye to the man, and helped Mara down the gangplank where Master Goleth wasted little time in leaving the docks. His long legs strode at a pace hard for them to keep up with, and Talis had to call out a few times, asking for him to slow down. At those times the Builder’s face looked nervous and even afraid to find himself in such a poor part of the city. To Talis it seemed familiar and warm, like the lower part of Naru, and nothing hideous like Seraka or seedy like Khael.
“We must keep moving,” the wizard said, and he glanced around and winced as he spotted something off in the distance. “It will look poorly if we arrive at the Regent’s Inn too late in the day.”
When the Builder charged off once again, Talis scoffed and rolled his eyes at him, and Mara joined in, giving Master Goleth her cute and conniving look of mockery behind his back. “The Regent’s Inn awaits us, my dear. Let us not tarry here in this disreputable part of the city. The gods forbid such dissolute behavior.” She made an expression like she wanted to vomit.
Talis chuckled with her and he expected a harsh retort from the wizard, but Goleth was so intent on studying the streets that he hadn’t heard a word they’d said.
“Blasted damned circular streets!” Master Goleth swung his head back and forth, his eyes in a panic as the darkness fell over the city. “There’s no order or logic at all in this part of the city.”
“But of course not,” Talis said, and cleared his throat. “Do you really expect the city planners to spend time in the poor, common quarters of the city? The money flows to where the money comes. I imagine this entire quarter provides little in the way of taxes. Likely when they come to collect, the people ask for work or for money to help feed hungry children. After a few years of that, even the most motivated tax collector will give up and go for easier targets.” Exactly how the lower quarter of Naru worked. Only the official shops and artisans generated tax wealth for the King. The poor provided little, but made cash and kept it hidden from the government. Not that Talis cared, for the King had much and the people had little.
“Are you lost?” Mara said, and Talis could tell she was trying to keep the humor out of her voice.
“Of course I’m lost!” The wizard sighed in frustration and let his hands flap to his side. “I’m a master builder but I have a terrible sense of direction. And I hate this part of Carvina.” He paused for a moment, his eyes vulnerable and disoriented, as if he were a boy remembering a painful experience.
“I suppose you might as well know,” Master Goleth said, “you deserve an explanation for my strange behavior. You see, when I was young I traveled through these streets with my mother. We had arrived in Carvina at those same docks to try and find my father, who had failed to write to us for many months after coming here to work as a stonemason.”
The Builder rubbed his weathered, wrinkled eyes and Talis could see a quick swell of sorrowful emotions flourish on his face. “Those men hurt my mother… I can still feel the anger and impotence I felt, so powerless and unable to do anything to stop them. I tried”—he raised his big fists and shook them at the stars—“oh, gods I tried to beat them, but I was so little and those men were so strong and they laughed at me while they hurt my mother in so many terrible ways. I never saw her again. They beat me and left me for dead on these streets, and I never knew what happened to her.”
Mara gaped in horror at the Builder’s story, and Talis could see that she felt embarrassed for having mocked him before. And Talis felt the same way. If he’d only known why Master Goleth acted the way he did, he would have never made fun of him. But Talis realized that perhaps many people were like that, acting in some strange way because something horrible had happened to them, something painful that scarred them for life.
“And did you ever find your father?” Mara said, her voice soft and penitent.
The wizard nodded and his eye twitched at the memory. “After those men dragged her away and left me bruised and beaten, I forced myself to crawl and eventually stumbled away to safety that very night. I left this evil area and vowed to find my father, and I did after a week of searching and begging and asking for help in finding him. An old priest took pity on me and fed me and gave me shelter until he located my father at a temple building site where they were erecting a new shrine. But my father had found a new wife and she refused to allow me to stay with them. That’s when the priest arranged for my acceptance into the Order of Rezel.”
Talis found his hand settling on the Builder’s shoulder, and the wizard looked at him with eyes ready to burst with tears. “I’m sorry for your loss, Master Goleth, truly I am. And don’t worry, I’ll help us out of this place.” With an appreciative nod from the wizard, Talis withdrew the Surineda Map case and unfurled the parchment. He commanded the map to show their position in the streets of Carvina, and asked for aid in finding the Regent’s Inn. Soon a wispy thread of gold appeared on the map and gave them clear guidance.
But Mara asked him to wait, and Talis saw a dark malice appear in her eyes as she stared down the dark streets. “Such an evil deed against one so innocent deserves revenge. I refuse to allow those men to go unpunished. They deserve to die.”
Talis found himself shocked at the look of fierce determination and fury on her face as she stared at the wizard. Even though Master Goleth’s stunned silence provided no agreement to proceed, Mara fixed her eyes on Talis and motioned for him to use the map. He had no choice but to humor her request. But he couldn’t help but feel it was a terrible idea. So he closed his eyes and asked the map to display the location of the men that hurt Master Goleth and his mother so many years ago. When he studied the parchment, the map jittered for a while and blinked in response as if thinking, then it moved over to the northeast and displayed twin grey lights.
Mara nodded her head and exhaled, catching Master Goleth’s attention as she pointed at the Surineda Map. “There are the men that hurt you and your mother. And tonight they will die, by your hands or mine, I do not care, but I swear to the gods that tonight they will meet the cruel Guardians of the Underworld.”
16. TWENTY-SECOND LEVEL
Rikar screamed in horror as a shadowy being engulfed him in the purest form of malevolence. All his meditation, all his training, fled him in an instant. A vast hand of darkness squeezed him as if there was something soft inside to savor and consume. The pressure was so immense he cried out in agony and begged for it to stop, but Rikar soon realized that his words were swallowed by the black void that surrounded him.
Then the pressure released and the darkness vanished and the feeling of the presence smothering the life out of him disappeared into a sea of silvery starlight. He found himself floating in the space between stars, and the breadth and awe of that place astounded him. There were thick patches of stars condensed together into a white ball that spread out into fuzzy edges, and deep, massive stains of inky blackness that refused to allow any light within their terrible boundaries. Concentrated light alongside utter darkness. Madness and sanity. Life and death. Chaos and order. The fundamental opposite forces presented before him in the auditorium of the universe. And all Rikar could think about was killing Garen Storm.
He was sure that many people would be absorbed with the beauty of the vision and find themselves caught up in rapturous euphoria, but Rikar only stared at the black stain and pictured it as a dagger striking the heart of his enemy. After all his meditation and fasting, the focus of his mind distilled into one pure malicious thought: bring death, bring pain and suffering, and cause cascading collateral damage to everyone.
The oppressive feeling of the Nameless returned to him in an instant fury. A thought penetrated through to his mind; a silent question of Rikar’s worthiness. Soundless curiosity voicing the doubt that Rikar had often expressed to himself, Why should I bother with you? The being failed to even care about his memories, it didn’t probe and it seemed to care little, and after its initial horrific force, touched Rikar’s mind like the soft breeze of summer. And he heard another glan
cing thought (perhaps the last one), What thing of interest do you have for me to see?
Aurellia had done no coaching with him on what to expect with the Nameless. In fact the Dark Lord doubted that Rikar would even be able to gain an audience with the Lord of All. He had forced Rikar to leave and ordered him to try his best to slay the Starwalkers. At least one must be killed, Aurellia had said.
He found fear pierce his heart as he pictured the Starwalker woman being impaled by the crystal shards of the temple, and Jared, the lead Starwalker, with his raging eyes locked on him in an eternal promise of vengeance. The Starwalkers would come for Rikar, now he knew it with an absolute certainty.
The voice again, stronger now, Ah…now that is something of interest to me, the ancient beings of light who walk the stars. They possess the primordial fragments of power from the birth of the universe. I desire such power. Interesting. You have slain such a being?
Rikar opened his mouth to answer, but found no purchase for his voice.
Speak in your mind, strange one. The voice had a pompous edge that irritated Rikar.
So he tried again, thinking the words this time. I have killed a Starwalker, and they have vowed revenge against me. Can you protect me from their rage?
The Nameless issued a contemptuous laugh that echoed across Rikar’s mind and filled him with fury. You come to me daring to speak of self-preservation? There is no self in the universe, only the whole… The life or death of your physical form does not interest me, and I doubt it interests anyone. The being issued a great wheezing sound like the rattling rasp of refuse in the lungs of a smoker. However, if you prove a suitable lure for us to catch our plump and shiny fish, then perhaps…
A shock of light burst in his mind’s eye and soon he returned to the darkness of the chamber, filling him with a mixture of dread and hope. But without an actual promise to help, Rikar thought. The door opened behind him and he could see a faint light outside, but not even the most infinitesimal bit of light entered the chamber. A prison, indeed, Rikar mused, and allowed a smile to spread on his face.
As he was leaving the room, the voice returned, formidable and indignant this time, Here is the not prison. The door seals the prison of the outside world of illusions. You have been permitted entry through one of the gates into the real world, where illusions vanish into the sea of the whole. You know nothing, illusion-blinded fool…
17. ASSUREDNESS OF VICTORY
The smooth sensuousness of Callith’s skin tormented Nikulo as he sat with her in the palace library, feeling the fire burning at the great hearth. The flames flickered and danced around the logs, sending shadows flittering across her face as the fire burned low. She’d led him here seeking privacy after the long dinner.
“I probably should have you arrested for killing my husband,” she said, and surprised Nikulo out of his stupid entrancement. “But considering that you were afflicted at the time, I guess I can’t completely blame you for what you did.” She winked at him with an irritably cute expression on her face. “But I can blame you for all the other things you did to me, in my moment of emotional weakness…”
“What?” Nikulo felt his face flush from the heat of the flames. “I thought—”
“Oh, shut up,” she said, and leaned over to kiss him with the familiar passion he’d experienced on their nights together on the caravan. After she parted in a panting gaze, her eyes bright with longing, she raised a finger to keep him silenced. “One condition I have for you. You and the slaves will say my husband was slain by desert marauders, and that you saved us. And I will never speak a word of this again to you or anyone else. Do you understand me?”
Nikulo nodded, and felt like a puppy that’s been scolded by his master for peeing inside the house.
“How old are you?” Callith studied him with unconvinced eyes. “You have such a baby face, I can’t tell.”
“I’m sixteen…soon to be seventeen.” Nikulo frowned as she laughed riotously. “What’s so funny?”
“I can’t believe I’m actually older than you. You’re practically like my baby brother.”
Despite feelings of humiliation, he didn’t resist her when she plopped her small figure onto his lap and kissed him again. “I guess I have no choice but to stop hating you, chubby little brother. You did save the entire City of Ursula from destruction, and you are quite famous in Naru as well. I imagine I’ll have to keep you. Just don’t do anything stupid like getting yourself killed in Onair. I’ll never forgive you if you don’t return alive and well for our wedding.”
His eyes flared at the words and he almost stood and dropped her on the floor. “Wedding? Did I miss something? Like perhaps proposing to you?”
She rolled her eyes and gave him a pretty scoff. “Let me see, late at night in the desert, the four moon sisters shining outside, the ale flowing freely between our lips. I resisted, and you made so many sweet vows of love and promised to take me away and keep me safe. How that handsome mouth of yours babbled, I love you, I love you, so many times I worried the madness of the moons had overtaken your silly mind. You may not remember what you said, but I do and I believed you then, and I still believe that a part of you feels that way now. Or was that merely your member talking?”
At her gentle squeeze, he found a groan escaping his mouth and realized it was hopeless to resist her. “Ok, I give in…you win. Stop it, now, you little tart. We’re supposed to be talking in here not doing this. What if Yarin or Master Holoron came in and found us?”
“Oh, I highly doubt they’d be surprised, any fool can see the way you gawk at me with those hungry eyes of yours.” She placed a hand on her breast and assumed the noble face of one very serious. “He is such a beast, I tell you the truth, Master Holoron. What kind of a devil was he in school anyway?”
Nikulo pinched her and she squealed in delight. “I’ll show you what kind of a devil I am. Just be patient and wait until I get back from Onair. We won’t be long in dispatching those Jiserians.”
At the end of the next day, Master Holoron and Nikulo found themselves docking at a small fishing village just north of Onair. They ate dinner and had a few drinks with a local fisherman and his family who were kind enough to put them up for the night. The man’s beady eyes raged in fury as he told stories of the Jiserian invasion and the destructive waves that ravaged their city like it was a sandcastle. Their small village had escaped attention, but the streams of refugees and injured poured out of the city for weeks after the sorcerers and necromancers had imposed martial law and ruled the remains of the city in absolute tyranny.
“They never liked the fact that the wizards of Ursula gave them such a good fight.” The old fisherman wagged his head and guzzled some more frothy beer. “It was revenge, I tell you, revenge against the wizards for defeating so many Jiserian champions that had faced them in their sky duels. The young one here probably doesn’t know that Onair possessed a legendary school of magic with some of the finest wizards in the land.” He glanced at Master Holoron. “But I’m sure you remember the Order of Songs and their wild, frenzied dancing and contortions and singing, all to invite the divine through their magical castings. I witnessed it once and will never forget that powerful display of magic and music.”
“I visited the Order many times and enjoyed learning from their old masters.” The wizard stared off at the sea. “When I heard the news of the Order’s obliteration and the slaying of their wizards—both the old masters and the young apprentices—I felt my world was being slowly ripped apart. And then it happened to us in Naru. All our knowledge and power and history fared poorly against the dark, distilled clarity of the Jiserian magic.”
“And what have you heard recently of the Jiserians in Onair?” Talis studied the old fisherman’s eyes as the man furrowed his brow in worry.
“Tis a very complicated and difficult situation since it has been confirmed that the necromancers have fled.” The man scoffed and a flash of irritation crossed his face. “I suppose it is a good thing that
the sorcerers cleared the city of the undead and purged the dungeons and the deep archives of those foul practitioners of the necromantic arts. But unfortunately the city is ruled by a strange order of magic from the City of Carvina, an order that mixes melee with the magical arts to augment their physical strength, speed, and their defensive capabilities.”
He looked to Talis as if grasping for help in finding the right words to say. “How would you call it…a kind of second skin, sort of like an armadillo or maybe a turtle? They wrap themselves in a tough, scaly skin that makes them almost immune to sword and dagger. Brutal beasts, they are. They came in after the wizards of the Order of Songs destroyed the first group of sorcerers. They gleefully fought every gladiator and challenger for miles around, luring them with a vast fortune of gold and gems. None of the challengers lived to enjoy the bounty.”
Talis glanced at the concerned face of Master Holoron, and waited for the old historian to respond, but he just finished his beer and stared in thoughtful contemplation at the sea. The fisherman excused himself for the night, and Talis was left alone with the wizard.
“Are you worried about what the fisherman said?” Talis kept his voice low and searched Holoron’s face for any signs of doubt. “How will we fight those warrior magicians?”
Master Holoron exhaled and pounded his fist on the table, causing Nikulo to jump in surprise. “We can’t fight them, they’ve been trained since birth to have a high resistance against most forms of magic. And even if you are a master swordsman, good luck in beating them in a fair fight. They are the champions of Emperor Ghaalis, the fanatical and ancient Order of the Dragons, the most feared fighters in the world.
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