The Titan's Tome

by M. B. Schroeder

  Armagon blinked away the black of his eyes and composed himself to hide the snarl of frustration before she got a clear view of him. “I’m working on it.”

  Madger could almost stand upright in the hold but still had to hunch her shoulders and bow her head. “Is this trip part of that work?”

  “No.”

  She crossed her arms. “How long am I supposed to wait?”

  “I don’t know,” Armagon snarled.

  “Did you ever plan on fulfilling the bargain?” Madger demanded.

  Armagon bristled at her tone. “I’m doing you a favor.”

  “The favor was supposed to get me to the Maze.”

  “Bring her with you.”

  Armagon choked, nearly spluttering out his next thought. “What? No!”

  “She can help you. They all can. Do not turn away help. All you have to do is ask.”

  He struggled over Selien’s words, wings trembling and fists clenched. He didn’t want to bring more people to the Hells. When he spoke, it was through gritted teeth. “There is someone in the Hells who might help you get to the Maze.”

  Madger raised an eyebrow. “The Hells? You’re going to the Hells?”

  “DraKar is imprisoned there and I’m going to free him. If you want to speak to Her, you’ll need to come with me.”

  “Might help me. That’s a flimsy promise to go to the Hells.”

  Armagon grimaced and looked away from her. “Help me save my brother, please.”

  Madger’s expression softened. His brother. She blinked back the mistiness in her eyes. Her throat went tight and dry, and she had to swallow several times before she could speak. “I’ll help.”

  Astonishment made his jaw slack and he looked up at her, he could barely manage the whispered, “Thank you.”

  “Hmm.” Madger nodded and left.

  Armagon’s eyes swirled back to black as Madger’s light left the hold. He tried again to summon up a sphere of power, something Morkleb had told him about that would burn away demons but leave mortals unscathed. The space between his clawed hands remained stubbornly empty. He was dragging two powerful mages and a channeler into the Hells and he had no way to ensure they wouldn’t be killed there and their souls captured.

  DraKar had given himself up to get Golas, Varlec, and Sadria out of the Hells. Armagon sneered. Now, he was going to pull Golas back down, pull Varlec’s daughter back down. And he’d already killed Sadria, or what remained of her. He might as well be working for the archdevils again!

  He snarled and slashed at a nearby crate with his claws. Clerical light blossomed and arced through the hold, smashing through the cargo, timbers, and cracking the keel beneath him. The ship groaned and lurched like a wounded beast. He barely had time to suck in a breath before water gushed in. It was up to his knees before he could turn toward the stairs and to his waist before he started the climb out of the hold. He cursed and struggled against the pressure of the water, hauling himself out of it and toward the upper levels.

  High Moon creaked and listed to starboard at a dangerous angle, sagging deeper into the ocean like a slowly fainting maiden. She was split in two and was dying as fast as a gutted person. The crew was awake now and shouting, panic was a palpable thing in the air.

  Armagon made it to the deck as the ocean lapped closer. Camry and Golas rushed to him, demanding answers. “Get us to the island!”

  “I don’t know a safe place to teleport to,” Golas shouted back.

  Madger and her mercenary crew joined them, packs shouldered. She jerked Morkleb’s off him. “Get in the air.”

  “What about you?” Morkleb cried.

  “Levitate.” Madger turned to Golas. “I’ve never levitated a person before, much less this many. Can you do it?”

  Golas cast a hurried glance to Camry, she wouldn’t be able to keep from breaking his spell for long while wrapped in it. The crew was scurrying to launch boats to save themselves, the captain barking orders above the din of sinking ship and terror.

  “I’ll carry her. Go,” Armagon said and dragged Camry to him.

  Golas wrapped the levitate spell around himself, Madger, Kharick, and Seal, lifting them away from the ship. Morkleb leaped from the water sloshing over the deck boards and found a clear path through the rigging to get into the air. Camry clambered awkwardly onto Armagon’s back, pressing herself uncomfortably against his armor and sword between his wings. She clung to him as he lunged toward the mast, climbing it with his claws, gaining height so he could catch enough wind to fly while carrying her.

  Morkleb circled for a moment, getting his bearings before calling for Golas and Armagon to follow him. The small island of a dormant volcano was only a black speck on the eastern horizon, blotting out the stars and reflection from the ocean. It was well into the morning by the time they reached it.

  Armagon wordlessly took the lead and dipped low to the lush jungle, still deep in shadows on the western side of the island. The questions burst forth from the group as soon as they touched the ground. Madger and Kharick were pale and silent, steading themselves against nearby trees, flying didn’t settle with them any better than sailing. Seal spat curses and threw a dagger at Armagon that he batted away.

  Armagon’s wings flared and Camry wisely slid off his back as he faced off with Seal. Morkleb tripped and scurried to be between them before more weapons could be brought to bear.

  “Thesda’s mercy! Wait,” Morkleb pleaded, his voice high and tight from the long flight. He spread his arms and wings to make a barrier between them.

  “Liar!” Seal shouted. “Hells’ spawned, liar!”

  “I didn’t lie,” Armagon growled back.

  “What caused the boat to break apart?” Camry asked. She stayed behind Armagon, unsure how close Seal’s dagger had come to her.

  “I lost control,” Armagon grumbled. “Hells, I never had control.”

  Morkleb looked over his shoulder to him. “You did it?”

  “Unintentionally.”

  Morkleb turned fully to him, Seal continued to seethe at his back. “You can’t go after demons without knowing how to control it.”

  “I was fighting demons long before I became a cleric.”

  “But you’ll still need training,” Golas said, and gave a pointed look to Madger.

  Morkleb’s ears swiveled. “Maybe we can stay with you for a few more days.”

  “We aren’t staying here,” Armagon said between Seal’s curses. “We’re taking the portal to the Hells.” Morkleb shied back from him, his ears laid back. “DraKar is imprisoned there. I need to get him out.” He sighed and looked at Seal. “And then we’re going to Limbo to kill Arkhed.”

  “Arkhed?” Seal hissed. “How are you going to kill him? No one has been able to get close. Not the Icren-Lords, or the kadmoni, or even you and DraKar when you had a whole damn army of demons at your backs!”

  Armagon scowled. “I know.” He heaved a sigh and slowly drew the NecroKwar. “But this time we have this.”

  Seal gasped and staggered back. “Death’s sword!”

  Morkleb blinked and cocked his head as he examined the dark aura rimmed with light around the weapon. “Death? You’re a cleric for death?” There were dozens, perhaps hundreds of different gods, but he’d never heard of one that laid claim solely to the act of death. It was limiting. But he couldn’t deny the power of the sword, and it seemed Seal recognized it.

  Armagon gave a slow nod and sheathed the sword. “I’d hoped to have a better command of these powers by the time we reached the island.”

  Madger moved closer, her color returned to normal. “I agreed to go with him.”

  “Oh, lass,” Kharick groaned and wiped a hand over his bald head.

  Morkleb stammered, “You’ll need more help!” He made quick jerky motions of his hands, helpless. “If armies couldn’t stop… this… Arkhed, how can the few of you?”

  “A touch of this sword will kill him,” Armagon said. “I just need to get close enough.”
>
  “Who is Arkhed?” Morkleb asked.

  “A fallen Icren-Lord, touched and twisted by the Dark One,” Armagon answered. “He created his armies by… remaking other races. He’s practically wiped out both species on Limbo, seeking to create better soldiers. He used the remaining race, the kadmoni, in his alchemical labs, and changes them into cirKad. When DraKar and I were sent with an army of demons to persuade Arkhed to bend to the archdevils’ wishes, we lost three demons for every cirKad they killed during the battle. There was little we could do in the way of fulfilling our mission, and left our remaining forces with an order to attack Arkhed’s army. It was a final attempt to deal as much damage to the cirKad, before they overran the home of the remaining kadmoni. The demons barely slowed them. The archdevils were displeased with our failure, but they never tried to attack Arkhed again.”

  “He killed most of his kin, and most of my people,” Seal muttered, staring at the ground.

  Golas turned to Seal, a slow recognition lighting his eyes. “Your people?”

  Seal heaved a sigh and dropped her pack. “Kadmoni.” She let her wings expand.

  Golas gasped. “You’re one of them!”

  Camry staggered back and Armagon gripped her shoulder, steadying her.

  Seal narrowed her eyes at Golas. “One of them?”

  “He’s been to Limbo,” Armagon said before anyone else could interrupt. “Arkhed is trying to break the Dark One free. He created a wraith to bring him the NecroKwar but at Death’s bidding, she brought it to me instead. He’ll be after the Alisande next.”

  “Wha… What happens then?” Morkleb asked.

  “The binding holding the Dark One in slumber comes undone and he starts to wake.”

  “Then we have to stop him.” Morkleb looked at the rest of them. “Right?”

  Seal shivered despite the humid morning. “You’re going to Limbo to kill him?”

  “Once DraKar is free, yes,” Armagon answered.

  She frowned deeply and kept her eyes down, her body trembled with the dilemma. “Infinite, help me. Yes. We have to stop him. We have to help.”

  Kharick’s thick eyebrows drew down and his beard shifted back and forth. “How do we do get there?”

  Armagon gestured up the incline of the dormant volcano. “There’s a portal to the Hells we can open and go through in the caldera.”

  A whimper escaped Morkleb and the chains chimed against his ear as he quaked. Seal wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “You don’t have to go with us,” she said.

  He sniffed and shook his head, his voice was weak. “You need my help.” He swallowed and looked back at Armagon. “He needs my help.”

  Seal stroked the back of his head and neck. “Your sister would be proud.”

  Camry sidled closer to Armagon and whispered, “So much for not needing them.”

  Armagon raised an eye-ridge at her. She wasn’t wrong.

  Chapter 27

  317 Br. summer

  “A god is nothing more than an idea. If a soul can convince others to believe in this idea, it can manifest a sentience. But it is a petty and jealous thing that demands more souls for greater power. To further belief in it, a god may grant some of its more stringent believers a fraction of its power in return. They are termed clerics and perform miracles on behalf of their god and call more to their belief. Thereby emboldening the god in return. It is a vicious cycle.”

  -Questioning Belief – Doren the Bold

  T hey spent the day trekking through the jungle and up the eroding side of the volcano. The group was exhausted; their clothes were wet with sweat, and the muggy air felt thick and heavy. Armagon and Morkleb walked with their wings flared, the veins thick with blood that traced through the membranes, trying to lower their core temperature. Morkleb continued his instruction with Armagon but neither of them truly knew what they were doing and he was even more cautious calling upon the power now.

  The second day they made their way down the interior of the craggy ridge, descending into the wide bowl of its extinct center. The last day was spent cutting a path through the jungle of the caldera, toward the center of the dormant volcano, where the portal to the Fourth plane of the Hells stood.

  Armagon dropped back to Camry and Golas and spoke in a low voice, “I can’t wait much longer for you to tell them.”

  Camry gripped the hilt of her sword at her waist and kept her eyes on the path.

  “The kadmon showed us who she really is,” Golas said. “We need to explain you as well.”

  Camry’s frown deepened. They’d run from her. People always avoided her. If it wasn’t because of her mixed heritage, then it was because she was a channeler. Armagon would lose their help because of her. And she was just starting to like the dwarf and cleric.

  “Come, girl,” Golas coaxed and pulled her to a stop.

  Everyone behind them crowded close, curious over the whispered exchange.

  Camry chewed on the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t face them and say it. “I’m a channeler.”

  Seal edged back a step, hoping she’d heard wrong. “What?”

  Golas still kept a hand on Camry’s arm and looked back at the mercenaries. “A channeler.”

  “What’s a channeler?” Madger asked.

  “How?” Seal took ragged breaths and several more steps back, looking for a gap in the trees to take flight. “How is she still whole?”

  “I trained her,” Golas said. “With her father, he was a mentalist. She’s stable and in full control.”

  Camry forced herself to let go of her sword and turned to face them. “I can draw in magic, break spells, and use the raw power.”

  “And lose control when you take in too much!” Seal said.

  “She’s trained,” Armagon snapped. “I wouldn’t have her with us otherwise.”

  “That’s why you had to carry her from the ship,” Madger muttered. “She’d break Golas’s spell.”

  “She’s practiced enough that she can keep from breaking a spell on her for a few minutes, but longer than that… yes,” Golas said.

  “Uh, and clerical?” Morkleb asked.

  “It isn’t magic,” Camry answered.

  Morkleb let out a relieved breath and nodded. “Ah, good.”

  Kharick grunted and approached Camry. “Well, lass. I ain’t got no magic for ya to break or steal, but I do have ale.” He offered her his flask. “Come on, let’s get to that portal.”

  Camry took the offered drink and swallowed, gagging a little. She handed it back to the dwarf and followed him.

  Seal stared at the group as they followed Kharick and the channeler through the jungle. With a groan she ran a hand down her face and jogged to catch up.

  Armagon slowed his advance as they neared the barren center and stepped to the side, allowing the rest of them access to the view through the leaves and vines. An enormous dead tree, white as bone, stretched above the canopy of the jungle. Its trunk was almost as large as the portal of large obsidian blocks, each of the three massive stones thirty feet long. Two stood upright, with a third across the top. There was no other sign of vegetation in a wide circle around the portal, the ground a mix of dark stone and weathered earth. The corruption from it kept anything from growing within a half mile around it.

  The portal was inactive, but Golas noted the gateway only needed someone with enough magic to feed the runes carved into the obsidian to open it. From this distance, he could see the weaving of the spell within the stones kept the portal closed until triggered to open. It was like a lock had been built into the door, and unless someone had the power to turn it, it would remain closed. Though, he wasn’t sure what else might be needed to activate it.

  “There aren’t any demons,” Camry said and looked to Armagon for an explanation.

  “Belial knows I’m looking for a way back to the Hells. Without DraKar, I don’t have magic to force the gateway open.”

  “And he doesn’t know about me,” Golas’s voice had a crestfallen sound
to it.

  “Not yet,” Armagon said. “My contacts should be on the other side to help clear the path, once they see the portal activate.” He looked sharply at a flock of brightly colored birds taking flight from the edge of the jungle. “Stay here and keep hidden. I’m going to take care of the icren observers.”

  “Icren observers?” Camry asked.

  “Scouts,” Armagon answered. “Here to report if the portal is opened.”

  Morkleb’s ears pricked toward him. “Don’t hurt them!”

  Armagon carefully pulled out a small gauze bag, no bigger than Camry’s thumbnail, from a leather pouch on his belt. “Only putting them to sleep. I don’t want any interference.” He produced a second bag and handed it to Seal. She took it with a dissatisfied frown but slipped away into the jungle.

  Madger and Kharick shared a silent, questioning look. How did Armagon know Seal could sneak up on the icren and deliver the sleeping agent?

  “And how is the gate closed once I open it and we go through?” Golas asked.

  “You’ll have to figure that out. I don’t want it left open until the magic fades.” He left before Golas could voice his objections, his movements quieter than the rustling of leaves in the wind.

  Golas settled to the ground heavily and rubbed at his forehead with his fists. A string of curses and enumerating Armagon’s faults, almost became a chant before Camry shook him.

  “Hide us,” she whispered harshly. “In case one of those scouts comes by.”

  Golas sighed and with a roll of his eyes placed a shield over them, camouflaging their presence, but allowing them to see through it unhindered. He made sure to make it large enough that the actual weaving of the spell wouldn’t touch Camry or Morkleb. “I need to study the damned portal.”

  Camry nodded. “I hope you can figure it out before he gets back.”

  His expression creased with more worry and dread. “So do I, my girl.”

  Madger edged closer. “I’ll help.”

  Golas scoffed at her. “You’d fumble and get in the way. No. Just sit and watch. Try to learn something.”

  Madger pressed her lips together into a thin frown but did as he said.