“Hurry! You’re losing him,” she yelled, breaking Nathan out of his stunned hesitation.
He dashed up the winding stone stairway, pushing his legs as hard as he may to close some distance and looking upward he could see the edge of Conner’ dark robes moving toward the tower. His thoughts traveled back to a time, not so long ago, before everything changed. Hate no longer ruled him. Instead, anger drove him like a fire by the wind, pushing him toward his goal without taking his heart and soul from him. While he ran, his memory brought to mind what he’d lost as well as what he’d gained. He wasn’t a priest. He knew that. He was a seer and had a mission to perform. And come heaven or hell, he meant to do it.
Far above, the clanking sound of a heavy ironbound door opening echoed down the staircase. Conner had reached the top of the tower where his chamber held the tome. The faint sound of armored feet clattering off the treads of the stairway reached his ears so he stole a quick look to see how close they were. Isha was a flight below him and soldiers were advancing several flights below her. Unexpectedly, a trap engaged and the air in the stairwell filled with yellowish white dust that drifted down from above, bringing a rancid odor as it approached. Nathan reached a questioning hand over the edge of the stairwell to collect some on his hand and bring it to his nose. When he smelled it, his eyes immediately widened with horror as he looked below him down the stairwell at the ascending figure of Isha.
“Brimstone! Hold your breath and get against the wall,” Nathan shouted.
The moment he called a massive fireball fell from above. The blaze followed the pathway the dust had left before it, incinerating anything that happened to be a few feet from the edge of the stairway. Nathan himself only just missed the fiery attack as the smoldering edges of his clothing told him. Screams from below and flashes of flaming bodies dropping to their deaths off the stairwell told Nathan that the soldiers had not been so fortunate.
“Are you alright?” he called to Isha, but no answer came. He shouted louder. “Isha!”
“Shut up and get that he-witch,” Isha’s reply sprang up the stairway.
Nathan grinned and renewed his advance up the stairs. In two more flights, he saw the landing leading to the tower so he slowed his progress. Near the open doorway, a small amount of yellowish white powder dusted the floor next to the charred remains of a torch. Peering into the portal, a high vaulted chamber opened before him.
When Nathan entered the room, Conner, back to the doorway, stood staring into a large metal mirror in the far corner. For an instant, a vague image outlined itself in the mirror but vanished when Nathan appeared so the young seer didn’t get a good look. Conner appeared to be speaking to the image before it vanished, pleading as a slave would to a cruel master. Then the Arch-Mancer turned to face his challenger.
“Brimstone and finely ground wheat flour make an effective flammable don’t you think,” said the mancer.
“I’m sure the soldiers you killed think so,” retorted Nathan.
“Well, that’s one of the perks of being a ruler, isn’t it?” said Conner turning around to face the young seer. Somehow, he looked old, worn and feeble to Nathan’s eyes.
“I’ve never looked at the death of others so lightly,” said Nathan.
“Oh yes, Brother Delgado wasn’t it,” laughed Conner.
“Yes,” spat Nathan.
“Oh? Am I to feel sorrow for what I’ve done? By all means, hold out your hand so I can fill it with tears,” jibbed Conner. “Don’t be ridiculous. Do you know how many people have died for the advancement of my arts? Because I have no idea myself as I stopped counting ages ago. Do you have any idea how many men, women and children died for arts in Egypt? According to my master, Pharaoh was more than happy to line up servants for sacrifice as long as he could find a way to prolong his life, or shorten his days in the underworld. In fact, this very book is covered with their skin. And, it’s completely restored now.”
Conner proudly held up the book that Nathan knew was the cause of all the torment.
“Which devil do you call your ‘master’?” asked Nathan.
“Oh, I’m not referring to Lucifer. My master will rival him, very soon,” said Conner.
“You twisted hell-spawn,” said Nathan.
“How can you say such a thing to your abbot,” smiled Conner. “I have to right to excommunicate you to the recesses of hell if I wish.”
“You’re no servant of the God,” Nathan insisted.
With the skill of a serpent, Conner baited Nathan into moving a few steps closer. And when the young seer approached, he moved to a panel on the wall, pulling a secret lever setting a trap in motion. Hanging from the ceiling above Nathan hung several glass flasks of liquid that dropped at the pull of the switch, shattering on the floor, spilling and mixing their contents with explosive results. An inferno erupted around Nathan and completely enveloped him in a firestorm that burned so hot that Conner retreated up some stairs leading to the top of the mancer’s tower. Taking the tome with him, he watched his tower catch fire, burning so hot the fire licked at the stone, melting them and making them shine like glass. Conner grinned, watching the blaze swirl inside the chamber like a demon of death that turned everything but metal and rock into ash. Even as he surveyed his work, his eye caught something moving in the heart of the churning inferno. His eyes widened with fear as it approached him, taking the form of Nathan. The young seer moved through the flame untouched by the heat and, unlike himself, he wasn’t even sweating.
“Impossible,” said Conner under his breath as he backing up the stairway, he gripped his ancient tome to his chest and dashed up to the top of the tower.
This was his center of power and the dark works he had done filled his memory with joy. It was here he had discovered how to force demons into the bodies of the giants and where he unleashed the Black Death upon the world once again. He couldn’t remember the countless times that blood had flowed over the stones he stood upon, simply to add a new darkcraft to his knowledge. Briefly he noticed clouds gathering in the sky above the tower, and so he knew.
“It’s begun,” he said.
Isha arrived at the doorway to the tower, but seeing the smoking door with white-hot metal binding told her she dared not open it.
“Nathan!” she cried through the door, trying to be heard over the roar of the fire within. Faintly, her keen ears picked up a reply from behind the door.
“Don’t come in, I’m fine,” Nathan replied.
She was relieved but astonished that he survived. The door itself told the story as slivers of the wood dropped to the floor and fell to ash before her eyes.
Nathan knew he wasn’t alone in the fire and felt the presence of someone walking near him. The dancing flame and heat fumes blurred his vision, but his clothing seemed ancient and his eyes glowed like the sun. For a moment, Nathan thought he saw the man nod, but in an instant he was gone.
Immediately, thunder echoed in the air as lightening danced across the sky above the tower. Rain began to pour on the tower with gale force, beating against their faces. Conner huddled himself against the stone parapet surrounding the top of the tower, trying to bolster himself against the forceful winds and stinging rain as the water poured down the stairway into the chamber below, extinguishing the blaze along the way.
Nathan advanced the stairway to face Conner as the wind blew rain into his face, soaking him to the skin. Behind him the hissing sound of extinguished wood and cooling metal sounded like a pit of angry snakes. Conner called to him over the sound of thunder and wind.
“You think this alarms me? I’ve seen better miracles than this, boy,” Conner shouted.
“I didn’t do this,” said Nathan.
“You can’t lie to the liar, brat,” said Conner with a smile.
“That’s just it. You can’t tell anymore. Lies and truth are all the same to you. You’ve even convinced yourself that the power you wield is your own, but it’s not. Satan let’s you use it as long as it makes him ha
ppy,” said Nathan.
“Anubis is my god,” shouted Conner.
“Anubis, Set, Molech, Baal; these are all names of demons. He’s using you. Are you too twisted to see it?” said Nathan.
“Twisted? Yes, the inferiors throughout time have always considered the more powerful this way. Knowledge is true power, and with it, I’ll assault the doors of heaven itself,” insisted Conner. “My master has done it.”
“Then why does he need you?” asked Nathan, whose comment halted Conner in his ramblings. “If your master is so powerful, then why does he need you? Can you tell me that?”
“Jealousy,” whispered Conner.
“What?”
“He’s jealous of me, my skills and my power,” said Conner.
“No, Conner,” said Nathan. “It was pride. Think about it, if your master is jealous of you, then it’s only a matter of time before he turns on you.”
“What would a dung eating pig like you know about that,” hissed Conner with poison in his tone.
“Because, I’ve been there,” said Nathan. “I know what selfishness brings. A kingdom of one is no kingdom at all.”
Conner stared at him with confusion as his plans unraveled in his mind. He staggered back against the parapet, shaking his head as his eye widen in horror as realization set it. He thought he was using his master. But possibly, Trismegistus, had been using him the whole time.
“Who are you…?” Conner’ comment vanished in a peel of thunder.
“A nobody with a mission,” said Nathan. “That’s all. Please give me the book.”
“Liar!” Conner yelled hysterically.
Finally, Isha made it up the damaged stairwell to where the two opponents stood. She pulled a knife from its sheath and was ready to plant it in Conner’s throat until Nathan stopped her.
“No, don’t kill him,” pleaded Nathan.
She saw for herself what Nathan meant. Huddling against the wall and gripping the evil book as a selfish child grips a toy, Conner appeared far from the Arch-Mancer she had come to loathe and hate. For the first time, she felt a small amount of pity for the wretch, but it unsettled her nerves to admit it. Nathan advanced, hand outstretched in a pleading posture. “For heaven’s sake, give me the tome.”
Conner’s face twisted with the madness of the insane as he took a dagger from his cloak, swinging it at Nathan in wide arches like child in a tantrum, falling to the floor and cutting the young seer across the chest in the process. Nathan put his hand over the wound as blood began trickling between his fingers. It wasn’t serious, but it was enough to give caution too.
“So, seers still bleed don’t they,” hissed Conner. “God may have gifted you, but you’re not immortal, and I know something you were never told.”
Isha readied her hand for a lethal throw, but Nathan’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.
“What are you talking about,” said Nathan.
Conner lunged without warning, racking his naked hand across Nathan’s injured chest, opening the book and wiping the resulting blood on its pages.
“Seer’s blood makes a wonderful sacrifice. The curse is complete,” Conner said as he thrust the book toward the sky.
A gray mist oozed from the pages and drifted skyward, even in the midst of the pouring rain. The clouds above churned and twisted as though raging at the earth below, turning from a gray-white to the ochre color of dried blood. Rain droplets fell from the sky, red as crimson and deadly as sin, spreading across the city as far as the clouds could reach. Screams erupted all around him, billowing up from the city streets of Pelan, filling the air with pitiful calls for help. Isha fell to the floor, grasping at her throat as if strangled by some unseen attacker while black blotches appeared upon her skin, spreading over her body and sending her into convulsions. Nathan quickly knelt beside her.
In the castle below, Malkandia heard the commotion echoing around her from the courtyard and quickly ran to the balcony, but was shaken by the scene unfolding before her. Both man and animal alike writhed on the courtyard pavement, convulsing in utter agony as the red rain fell.
“What trick is this,” she shouted to the courtyard below, but no answer returned to her.
She walked to the railing and stretched a questioning hand toward the sky, gathering some of the ochre water in her palm and bringing it to her nose. It smelled of decay and quickly made her drop it to the floor. Yet some of the water splashed onto her luxurious shoes and her thickset ankles, so she quickly bent over to wipe them clean. But as she swabbed, a curious black spot appeared on her hand and ankles. She took her kerchief and scrubbed her hand, only to find the blotches spreading. Her final thoughts were to insist that Conner explain this mystery to her.
But as she turned to leave, the agony of the blight overtook her, unceremoniously sending her into painful convulsions that threw her against the balcony railing. It bent and snapped, pouring her onto the courtyard pave far below, ending her hateful life. On the parapet above, the source of the blight stood before Nathan with a malicious look of satisfaction on his face.
“What are you doing!” called Nathan, looking up into the cold-steel eyes of Conner.
“Giving this world what it deserves - cleansing,” he said. “And after this world is dead, I’ll return to ours.”
Nathan laid Isha gently on the floor, her convulsions had stopped but she lay writhing in pain with eyes wide open, tears running down her cheeks. He stood to his feet, both fists clinched by his side and shaking with anger.
“Why?” Nathan asked with breathless rage.
“Knowledge you fool, knowledge. I must perfect my technique before I return to our world,” Conner asked in an aimless tone as though he were speaking of the weather. “You and I are immune, so this should be interesting to watch.”
“Give me that book, demon,” shouted Nathan whose voice echoed like the thunder around them.
Right away, his eyes grew bright as a midnight moon, shining so brightly Conner shielded himself from the glow, averting his eyes as he retreated to the edge of the parapet.
“Stay away from me,” howled Conner.
Before Nathan’s gaze, the mancer’s skin began to crackle and sizzle as if touched by a hot iron. Abruptly, lightening stuck the parapet near Conner, cleaving wood and stone in one bolt, causing a concussion that threw Nathan on his back like a stone stuck rabbit. He sat up and shook his head, trying to clear some of the cobwebs away.
“Conner,” he shouted, as he scrambled to the edge of the broken stone, seeing the face of Conner staring up at him, hanging by one hand over a drop of several hundred feet into the Arnon River as it wrapped around the castle. Reaching down to him, Nathan called to the mage.
“Let go of the book and give me your hand,” said Nathan.
“Stay away from me! Your eyes are hellfire,” spat Conner.
“Don’t be a fool. Give me your hand and end this.”
“But this isn’t the end, is it?” smirked Conner as he released the parapet.
Nathan watched in shock as Conner fell. Looking over at Isha, their eyes met for what seemed like an eternity. She returned his gaze with pleading eyes, but she couldn’t speak. She reached a beseeching hand toward him that he eagerly clasped. Holding her cheek to his, he looked into her tearful eyes and gave her a quick kiss before throwing himself over the wall after Conner.
He fell for what seemed forever, trying to brace for the impact of the water. Luckily, the Mighty Arnon flowed high due to the rain and so the force of the flow broke his fall, but hitting the water still knocked the wind from him and made his body go numb for a moment.
Quickly, he fought to the surface and looked for Conner until he found him floating several yards downstream in front of him, clinging to an enormous oak limb that broke loose in the winds. Swimming with all his strength, Nathan came within hands grasp and took hold of the mancer’s robes twisting his fingers into the folds of the fabric. He immediately began swatting Nathan with a limb he broke loose from his h
apless raft, but nothing would loosen the young seer’s grip. He kicked Nathan away from the floating limb, fighting like a wet cat to maintain his hold on both the limb and the book. The seer watched the Arnon’s decent into the Falls of Forever rapidly approaching and pulled himself within earshot of insane mancer. The water was thick and dark, filled with hidden debris that battered them unmercifully.
“Stop this insanity,” said Nathan.
“I can’t,” jeered Conner.
Straight away, the floating limb turned sideways in the river, striking a large rock that jutted like an island mid-river on the precipice of the falls. It balanced itself there as Nathan and Conner struggled to stay above the waterline.
“If we move together, the limb won’t fall,” shouted Nathan over the roar of the falls.
Conner, exhausted from fighting the current, nodded in agreement, moving toward Nathan in hand-over-hand action. But when they were in hand reach of the rock, Conner threw his weight against the oak-limb, spinning it loose from its balancing place, sending it over the edge of the falls in an arching motion that caught the young seer off guard. Gripping the rock tightly, the mancer pulled himself to the center, climbed on top and smiled with satisfaction as he saw Nathan’s cloak go over the falls in a tangle of oak. The view from the rock was spectacular with brilliant rainbows dancing in the air above him. Resting himself, Conner took a moment to survey his position until a hand shot out from the water’s edge, grabbing his cloak and pulled him into the water. When he surfaced and met the scratched face of a shirtless Nathan staring into his. He lunged for the tome and gained a finger-grip on the cover, but started a wrestling match for the book with Conner on top of Devil’s Rock.
The Last Refuge (The Tomewright Compendium Book 1) Page 32
