by Ben Hale
“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Beauty said.
“Is this Jack’s doing?” Roarthin asked, wiping his hands as he stepped to join them.
“It is,” Beauty said, nudging her.
Ursana jerked awake. “Can I go to sleep yet?”
“Not yet,” Beauty said with a smile. “But the good news is that you get to sleep in your own bed.”
Ursana reluctantly rose to her feet and joined Beauty at the wagon. Climbing into the back, Beauty stepped over the handful of weapons and gear to the large mirror. Then she touched the rune that connected the Gate to the one in the Evermist. The mirror rippled like water before returning to its smooth surface, and Beauty stepped through the portal. She exited into a room packed with crates and gear, the last of the valuables from the Woodhaven guildhall. A moment later Ursana joined her.
Forlana looked up at her appearance. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I’m going to bed,” Ursana said, slipping past Forlana and stifling a yawn.
Forlana raised an eyebrow as Ursana left. “Are you up late or early?”
“Late,” Beauty said. “But there are some things I need to do.”
Forlana swept a hand at the abundance of crates. “I’ve already got my hands full,” she said. “There’s an entire guildhall’s worth of things to deal with.”
Kuraltus suddenly appeared between the piles, his eyes on a hand crossbow that had been in the Woodhaven guildhall. Apparently not noticing Beauty, he strode up to Forlana and set it down. Then he wrapped an arm around Forlana and kissed her. When he pulled away he smiled.
“Now that we’re alone . . .”
Beauty coughed, causing Kuraltus to spin and face her. The elf flushed and straightened. “I can explain,” he said hastily.
“No need,” Beauty said in amusement. “How long has this been going on?”
They exchanged a look. “A few months,” Forlana admitted.
“Why keep it secret?” Beauty asked. They shifted uncomfortably and Beauty grinned. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“What brought you back?” Kuraltus said, obviously attempting to change the subject.
“Summon every class three to Ember Hall,” she said.
Forlana’s eyes widened in surprise. “That will take time. Some are out on assignments.”
Beauty nodded. “Wake me when they’re ready.” Then she turned and picked her way through the crates, but Forlana caught her at the door.
“What’s going on?” Forlana asked.
Beauty pointed to the Gate. “We found Skorn.”
Forlana’s features turned determined. “I’ll summon them.”
Beauty nodded in gratitude and ascended through the fortress, making her way to her room. Stripping her gear and outer clothing, she collapsed into the bed and welcomed unconsciousness. She slept fitfully, her dreams filled with her father and Jack. A knock at the door roused her and she sat up in the bed.
“Come in,” she called.
The door swung open and Forlana strode inside. “The last of them just arrived. They’re gathering in Ember Hall now.”
Beauty nodded and rose to her feet. “I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Where’s Jack?” Forlana asked. “They trust you, but they’re expecting him.”
“I have no idea where he is,” Beauty said with a sigh. “But he gave me a message to deliver.”
Forlana’s smile faded and she reached into a pouch at her side. “Like this message?” she held aloft a scrap of parchment.
Beauty raised an eyebrow and held her own instructions aloft. “I thought Jack hated paperwork.”
“He does,” Forlana said.
“What does yours say?” Beauty asked.
Forlana hesitated before shaking her head. “He forbade me from sharing it.”
“Mine says the same,” Beauty said.
“I suspect that soon we’ll know everything.”
Beauty felt the same note of finality, as if they had entered the final hour before a storm. She stood and began to dress, gathering her gear and checking every weapon. She felt a touch of nervousness, but surprisingly it was faith that dominated her emotions. Jack had a plan, and merely needed her to carry it out. Catching up Jack’s instructions, she turned to Forlana.
“I’m ready.”
Beauty entered the hall and Forlana fell into step beside her. Together, they strode down the corridor and descended to Ember Hall, exiting onto a balcony overlooking the space. She came to a halt at the rail overlooking the thieves gathered at the base of the hall. They stilled at her appearance and looked up to her.
Beauty felt a chill as she spoke. “Skorn has built the Necrolith, a beacon that will summon the ancient race. He has gathered cult members, Talinorian mercenaries, the Assassins Guild led by Gallow, and a mighty barbarian chief. We are outnumbered and our foe has an army at his command. The threat is more dire than anything the guild has ever faced. But the Guildmaster has us.”
Her words echoed into silence and her challenging gaze swept across them. They stared at her without fear or doubt, and several smiled as if eager for the impending battle.
“When do we depart?” someone called.
“We’re ready.”
“He’s our guildmaster,” another said.
Beauty smiled at their loyalty, and she spotted Ursana with a grin on her face.
“Where are we going?” Slyver asked, stepping to the front of the group.
Beauty turned to him, her answer sending a chill through the room.
“To war.”
Chapter 40: The Necrolith
Beauty left Ember Hall in the hands of the higher ranked thieves and made her way to her bedchamber. She changed into a supple armor and gathered her steel, choosing each blade with great care. Then she grabbed her hand crossbow and loaded every bolt, checking each rune before sliding it into the pocket in her sleeve.
She donned her cloak and looked into the mirror, staring at her reflection. Knives dotted her torso, her dagger sat on her hip, and her sword lay on her back. Armed to the teeth, she was ready for war.
But not her father.
She sighed and turned away, entering the hallway to find it filled with bustling thieves. They rushed about, gathering weapons and supplies, their motions laced with anticipation, even excitement. She wanted to feel the same, but her mind was drawn to Skorn at the Church of Light. He’d amassed a formidable army. Although they hailed from different factions, they were united under his banner. The Thieves Guild numbered a few hundred, and although many were talented in combat, few could match up to the barbarians, cultists trained by Gallow, and Talinorian mercenaries.
The Thieves Guild was walking into a slaughter—yet they did so with excitement in every step. She knew it was because of their faith in Jack, but it seemed hopeless. How could Jack possibly outwit an army?
“Still doubting Jack?” Ursana asked.
Beauty turned to look at her, lowering her voice so the passing thieves would not hear. “You saw what we faced at the Church of Light. He has an army.”
“We have a Jack.”
“You think that’s enough?”
“It’s the devil of Lumineia against a master thief,” Ursana said with a smile. “Skorn doesn’t stand a chance.”
Beauty laughed at the confidence in her voice. “Who am I to argue with faith like that?”
“Don’t argue with her,” Gordon said, appearing beside them. “She has a habit of winning.”
“I’ve got to go,” Ursana said, slipping past him.
“Ursana,” Gordon said, catching her arm. “Are we going together?”
“There’s no together anymore,” Ursana said.
He winced and let go, and Ursana strode away.
“Ursana,” Beauty called. “You need to talk to him.”
She came to a halt and rotated back. “Is that why you insisted I come back? Because you want me to work with him again?”
“You have to,” Beauty sai
d.
“Are you ordering me?” Ursana demanded.
Beauty thought of the fourth item on her list. “On the contrary,” she said, “the order comes from your guildmaster.”
Ursana’s eyes widened. “Jack?”
“You have faith in him or you don’t,” Beauty said.
Ursana’s eyes flicked to Gordon. “I’ll meet you at the Gate.” She ground the words out. Then she spun and departed.
In her absence Gordon passed a hand over his face. “Ursana was my family. Now I have two—and they are both angry with me.”
“Don’t ask me for advice,” Beauty said. “My father wants to kill me.”
He laughed bitterly. “My wife thinks I should leave the guildhall, my daughter doesn’t understand why we’re going after Skorn, and Ursana wants nothing to do with me.”
“You don’t have to come,” Beauty said.
“I’m not letting Ursana face Skorn without me at her side.”
Beauty grinned at the force to his words. “Then I’ll see you soon.”
He nodded and strode away, and Beauty turned down the path to the Gate room. The hall was already lined with supplies, and she threaded her way through the mass of bodies and crates to the end of the hall, where Slyver caught her attention. Forlana had wisely moved the Gate to a more accessible location than the chamber at the bottom of the well, and Beauty motioned Slyver inside the new Gateroom. When he joined her, she shut the door and turned to him.
“Any idea what we are going to face on the other side?” Slyver asked. “You were light on the details.”
She shook her head. “You know as much as I do.”
Slyver frowned and tapped his sword hilt. “I don’t care to start a fight without knowing the opponent.”
“Neither do I,” Beauty said. “But Jack has his reasons for keeping us in the dark.”
Slyver shook his head, his expression doubtful. “We’ll be ready for your summons.”
Beauty nodded in gratitude and then stepped past him to the mirror. Pressing the correct rune, she waited for the glass to ripple and then stepped into the wagon she’d left earlier that day. It was already moving, and she lifted the flap at the back to find her horse trotting behind the wagon. Leaping onto it, she untied the reins and directed her mount past the wagon.
“I thought I heard someone come through,” Thalidon said with a grunt.
“The Thieves Guild is preparing for war,” she said. “Any idea how much further?”
“According to this,” Thalidon fished a scrap of parchment from his pocket, “we’ve got three days ride.”
“You got one of those as well?” Beauty asked.
“His handwriting is terrible,” Thalidon said with a laugh, which Roarthin shared.
“It’s worse than mine,” Roarthin agreed.
Beauty grinned. “I’ll scout ahead. The closer we get to the Necrolith, the more likely we are to find sentries.”
“Don’t get killed,” Thalidon said.
“I don’t intend to,” Beauty replied. “I’ll bind any I find and leave them in the road. Send them back through the Gate, would you?”
She flicked the reins, spurring Axe into a trot. The road climbed into the mountains west of elven lands, ascending through a forest of pine and elder trees. Gaps in the foliage provided brief glimpses of the southern sea, its crystalline waters blinding in the afternoon sun.
She cast a listening charm, enhancing her hearing to that of a hound. Her ears tingled as her magic flowed into them and she suddenly heard the rustle of branches, the skittering of rodents, even the distant cough of a panther. With the charm active she would hear a sentry’s clothes rub on skin from half a mile away.
It was the first time she had been alone in months, and as the miles passed her tensions eased. The last few months had been a whirlwind of threats and combat, yet the current calm did not bring peace.
She sighed, her thoughts turning to Jack. The man was an enticing enigma, one she harbored strong feelings for, but he was not the sole thread tied to her heart. She missed her brother, Golic, and yearned for her homeland. The warm summers and even the harsh winters called to her, as did her people.
She recalled Valia, a cousin and friend. They had trained together as children, and the girl had privately shared how much she despised their people’s traditions. It was the first time Beauty had realized she was not alone. It was a dangerous secret, one that merited a swift death by the clan. Others shared the same sentiment, but as they passed from childhood they all fell silent, denying they had ever voiced it.
But once she’d seen the truth, it could not be unseen. Many of her people felt as she did, but the legacy of tradition was too ingrained, and no one dared defy it. She may have lost her sister, but her clan was her family, and they were shackled to the tradition of battle. Once her father was gone, she could go back and aid Golic’s army.
She fleetingly wondered how Jack would fight her father. Oragon had defeated countless mighty foes, and even slain a dragon, yet Jack always seemed to triumph even against the impossible.
She relished the idea of a duel between Oragon and Jack, imagining how Jack would defeat her father, a victor of a thousand battles. She realized it provided insight into how she could defeat him, and she laughed in chagrin. If she admitted that to Jack, he would never let her forget it.
The distinct sound of a boot caught her attention, and she brought Axe to a halt. Dismounting, she cast a speed charm and sprinted through the trees, following a curved path to reach the sentry. She was not surprised to find a pair of cult members hiding adjacent to the trail. She crept up behind them and disarmed them, leaving them bound, hooded, and gagged in the middle of the road. Then she returned to Axe and pressed on.
Throughout the next three days the frequency of sentries increased, and increased in skill. It took all her ability to deal with them quietly, clearing the way for the dwarves and the wagon carrying the precious Gate.
The road paralleled the curve of the sea but the terrain grew increasingly mountainous. Hills topped with trees and brush gave way to cliffs of granite. The road cut into the stone as it switched back to manage the ascent.
At the top of a cliff the road continued west until arriving at the ruins of an ancient castle overlooking the sea. Worn and aged with time, the dilapidated fortress clung to life. The keep was gone, as were most of the walls. Corridors and tunnels crisscrossed their way beneath the ground, some having caved in to leave gaping holes in the earth. The gates were an unrecognizable mass of twisted metal beneath a faded arch. The road continued beyond the citadel, but it dropped to little more than a game trail. There was no sign to indicate the castle’s identity, but she knew the name from Jack’s instructions.
Seastone.
She spotted a handful of men and women lurking in the ruins. Withdrawing before she was seen, she made her way to the cliff, crouching to peer over the edge. A winding road descended a hundred-foot escarpment to the village on the coast below. Although parts of the village showed the same level of ruin as the fortress, many of the buildings were new. In the setting sun she spotted hundreds of mages laboring under the watchful eye of armed guards.
Her lips tightened as she estimated their numbers. More than five hundred cult members were visible in the village and on the beach, with many working on tubes of pulsing light that disappeared into the water. A pair of newly constructed docks stretched into the water nearby, with a trio of ships lashed to them. She scanned the crowd for her father and spotted several hulking barbarians, but none carried the familiar maul.
She frowned, her eyes flicking between the village and the ruins. Skorn’s army had been building the Necrolith for months, yet had little to show for their efforts. Or perhaps Jack was wrong, and this was merely a launching area for a site offshore. But if so, where was the Necrolith?
The sun was setting on the horizon, so she eased away from the cliff and retreated east, searching for a campsite where she could watch the village
. She found a curve of stone hidden behind a copse of trees, and led her steed to it. She removed Axe’s saddle and tied him to a tree. Then she withdrew a strip of dried beef and took a bite, chewing as she considered what to do. The thieves were geared for war, but without a destination the effort would be futile. Was Jack wrong . . .?
A distant rumbling drew her gaze, and Beauty snapped to look at the sea. Rising to her feet, she glided to the cliff. She drifted into the shadow cast by a great oak and watched the darkening ocean.
Another rumble echoed, sending a shudder through the waves of the sea. Beauty’s eyes widened when she spotted an object rising from the depths near the village. It pierced the surface of the water, its metallic surface glistening. It passed twenty feet, then thirty.
And kept rising.
The base of the obelisk suddenly swelled outward, revealing a pyramid base that lifted the obelisk from the sea, its sides reaching all the way to the beach. Seawater cascaded down the walls of the obelisk and black pyramid. Beauty sucked in her breath as it ascended higher than the cliff she stood on, and she had to look up to keep the summit in view. Then abruptly it came to a halt, and the distant clanking of machinery locked into place.
She stared at the structure, shocked by its sheer size. It rivaled the castle in Herosian in height, and could have housed the entire Evermist guildhall. Windows dotted the surface of the obelisk and pyramid, and faint lights glowed from within. A shout rang out from the beach below, a cry of worship from the cult members. The sound caused Beauty to shiver.
The Necrolith had risen.
Chapter 41: Seastone
Beauty watched the Necrolith until a patrol of sentries forced her away. She retreated to Axe and saddled him, hurrying back down the road. Four hours later she spotted a pinprick of light through the trees and exited the road. Before she’d taken ten steps a metallic wolf stepped into her path.
“I see Roarthin posted sentries,” she said.
The wolf sniffed her and Axe before padding away, and she dismounted. Leading Axe through the trees, she brought him to the fire and tied him to a tree. Thalidon looked up from the pot he was stirring and motioned her to a seat by the fire. Retrieving a bowl from his pack he filled it and offered it to her.
