Mrythdom: Game of Time

by Jasper T. Scott

  Aurelius hesitated. “What about the Watchers?”

  “They are not yet fully awake,” Gabrian said.

  Aurelius felt the worming dread in his gut grow stronger. “Where are we going?”

  “To your ship.”

  Aurelius frowned. “And then?”

  “I will tell you where to go from there!”

  Suddenly the missing pieces snapped into place and Aurelius realized what was bothering him. “Hey, Wrinkles!”

  Gabrian whirled around. “I told you, I don’t like that name!”

  “Funny, I’ve only ever called Malgore by that name.” The old man’s features suddenly froze. “And we didn’t arrive in Meria together aboard that rickety old sub, unless of course, you’re not really Gabrian. . . . You’re not, are you? That’s why you’re not worried about the Watchers.”

  Gabrian sighed theatrically, and suddenly his features flickered as his guise fell away. His face became a hideously wizened ruin, making him look ages older than even Gabrian. His hair and beard remained long and white, but his eyes had turned a bloodshot yellow. “It’s a pity you’re so astute,” the old man said, raising his staff, the tip already glowing as he swung it around and pointed it at Aurelius. “I’m going to have to kill you now.”

  Chapter 41

  Aurelius watched the glowing tip of Malgore’s staff come into line with him, wondering if he should run, or if it would even do him any good.

  “No!” Lashyla yelled, rushing at the mage from one side. Aurelius’s eyes went wide as Malgore swept his staff toward her instead. Suddenly concerned for Lashyla, he rushed at Malgore from the other side. Malgore’s staff flashed and a bright fork of energy shot out with a crackling boom and hit Lashyla, stopping her cold. Her body jittered uncontrollably and then she fell face first in the sand at Malgore’s feet. Thin curls of smoke were rising from her traveler’s robes, and she lay still.

  Aurelius reached the old man an instant later with every muscle fiber in his body tensed and screaming for revenge. He raised his fists and lashed out with a terrifying yell. Malgore tried to block him at the last second, but he wasn’t quite fast enough. Aurelius’s first blow landed squarely on the side of Malgore’s jaw. There came a sickening pop, and the old man screamed. He spun away from Aurelius’s second blow, catching it only glancingly on his shoulder, and then he turned back with blazing fury in his eyes, his jaw now hanging oddly askew, and a thin trickle of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. Aurelius ran at him again.

  Malgore brought his staff back into a line and spoke through a grinding lisp, “Asharta awal!”

  There came a boom and a flash of light, and suddenly Aurelius was picked up on a shockwave and thrown backward as though by an invisible hand. His arms and legs flailed as he tumbled through the air. He couldn’t help screaming as he fell. Twisting around to look, he saw the sandy beach rushing up to greet him just seconds before he slammed into it. His screams died suddenly with a heavy whump! and everything went dark.

  * * *

  Malgore walked up to Aurelius and nudged him with the toe of his boot. The elder didn’t so much as stir, so Malgore kicked him viciously, but still nothing. He nodded absently, then placed a hand to his jaw and whispered the words to heal it. He felt power draining from him in a great flood, and suddenly his shoulders slumped. He sighed wearily, and then turned and began walking in the direction he’d been going before Aurelius had discovered who he really was.

  A simple spell of revelation confirmed the location of Aurelius’s ship. Working the vessel would be another matter, but Malgore felt confident he could discern the vessel’s mode of operation. He’d been careful to pay close attention all the times Aurelius had flown his ship for just such a time as this—a time when he could be gladly rid of the boy’s constant intransigence. He hadn’t watched Aurelius die a satisfyingly violent death in the Ring as he’d planned, but now the boy would meet a much more horrifying end. The Watchers would find him, lying face down in the sand, unconscious, and they would drag him down with them. Then, he would have an eternity to pay for his insolence.

  Malgore smiled and he noted an additional spring in his step. It was an appreciation of the little things that ultimately made one happy.

  * * *

  The queen was in the Royal Guards’ training hall, pacing back and forth, quietly fuming before a full regiment of Meria’s guardsmen. “How did this happen? Which one of you,” she said, pointing her finger accusingly at each of them in turn as she paced down the long line of men. “Was responsible for guarding the Launch?”

  Silence.

  “Answer me! Protect each other and I’ll throw you all in the shark pit; I swear it on my daughter’s life! After all, Meria is starting to get a little crowded. . . .”

  Two men were promptly shoved out of line by their fellows. The queen’s gaze swept around with a cobra’s deadly focus, and she walked up to them with a wicked smile. “So . . . tell me, she said, trailing a long, shapely nail down the cheek of the nearest of the two guilty guards.” He was shaking visibly. “How is it that my daughter left the city without my knowing about it?”

  “She-she said you’d given your permission, my beauteous queen.”

  “Lies! She would have had to show you my seal. Why did you not ask to see it?”

  “I didn’t think, most beauteous—”

  “Silence!”

  The queen directed her ire to his fellow. “And you?” she asked, rounding on the other guard. “Were you just as stupid?” The man cringed. “A maiden is dead now because of you. Gobbled up by a shark. We could have given chase safely in our mighty vessel, but no, it’s been stolen! By my own daughter!” The queen narrowed her eyes to deadly slits, and the guard averted his. “Look at me!” His eyes reluctantly returned to meet hers. “What is the punishment in Meria for killing a maiden?” He gave no reply. The queen slapped him viciously, and the sound rang sharply in the quiet hall. “Can anyone tell me?”

  “Death,” a nearby guard whispered.

  “What was that?” the queen asked, cupped a hand to her ear.

  “Death,” came a soft chorus of replies from the assembled men.

  The two guilty guards broke out in an instant sweat. “My queen, the old one put a spell on us!”

  She rounded on him with a smile. “But the old one escaped aboard that pathetic excuse for a ship that we were chasing.”

  “I swear it! On my children’s lives I swear it! He went aboard the vessel with the princess.”

  The queen frowned. “More lies. Have you no shame? Accept your fate like a warrior!”

  “He’s not lying,” the other guard said. “First your daughter and the younger newcomer came. Finally, the old one went aboard.”

  “What?” the queen asked, her eyes quickly narrowing. “The younger newcomer, you mean Aurelius?”

  “I—I’m sorry I don’t recall his name.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Tall, strong, a pale, noble face with hair and beard the color of dark brown ale.”

  “You know the rules about the dead, why did you let Lashyla take his body aboard?”

  The guardsman blinked. “He was not dead, my beauteous queen. He walked aboard.”

  “Not dead?!” She took a quick step back. “I watched him die in the Ring!”

  “A thousand apologies, my stunning queen, but I was not there. I only know what I saw.”

  For a long moment the queen stood there, frozen in shock. After a moment, the captain of the guard came up to her hesitantly, “My queen?”

  She rounded on him. “What?”

  “Have you decided a punishment for these two?”

  She frowned thoughtfully, then said, “Tell their maidens that they have committed high treason. They must either be sent to the Ring to fight ten consecutive challenges, or they will be thrown into the shark pit. Perhaps their maidens will have pity on them by choosing the quick, easy death.” With that, the queen stalked away. She would quickly
discover the truth. If Aurelius had somehow survived and escaped Meria, she would call him back to her with ease. No man alive could resist a maiden’s siren call, much less hers. Aurelius had made a mistake if he thought he could mate with her and then simply leave. It was illegal to call another maiden’s mate, but technically, if he were really alive, Aurelius was still hers, not Lashyla’s; and anyway Lashyla wasn’t currently under the protection of Merian law.

  * * *

  Malgore stood in the cockpit of Aurelius’s ship and frowned down at the vast array of dials and switches. He flicked one switch which he thought he’d seen Aurelius routinely toggle before any of the others. A sharp beep issued from speakers somewhere inside the cockpit and Malgore jumped. One of the displays sprang to life and a row of blinking red lights appeared on the dash.

  Malgore sat down behind the controls, and studied that display for a long moment before he decided to try flicking another switch. Now a rising whine shuddered through the deck, followed by more displays snapping to life with bright flashes of color.

  Malgore’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. He felt sure he was halfway there. What now? He spied a big red button under a clear protective cover and recalled Aurelius once pressing that to take off. Malgore gripped the flight yoke in uncertain hands, lifted the protective cover for the red button, and then stabbed it with his finger.

  There came a sudden, thundering roar, and Malgore felt all the blood in his veins sink into his feet. His spine compressed painfully and the ship leapt straight up off the sand. The beach disappeared below, and then the ship slowed to a stop some thirty feet up, in line with the tops of the nearest palm trees. Malgore smiled. He’d done it! Next stop, Gremlindom. He turned the yoke in his hands as he’d watched the elder do countless times before in order to change course. . . .

  But this time something different happened. The ship suddenly listed to one side and began hurtling toward the beach. Malgore fought the controls, trying to bring the ship back to a level hover, but he only managed to get it to wobble dangerously and spin halfway around. Panic gripped him as the sand rushed toward the cockpit. He barely had time to whisper a protective spell before the world exploded with a thunderous boom! and he was thrown from the pilot’s chair against the hard, unyielding canopy.

  He lay there for a long moment, splayed out against the canopy, his ears ringing from the noise of the ship’s impact . . .

  And that was when he heard it: the ringing in his ears was gradually replaced by another, far sweeter sound. In fact it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. If all the musicians in all the world had conspired to create the most elegant, most aurally pleasing instrument and then used it to play the most pleasant melody, they could never have come close to that one sweet, a cappella voice, rising and softly falling in his ears like waves upon the sea . . . The words, which he could not understand, though he knew all the seven tongues of Mrythdom, were at once calming and rousing, and before he knew it, he was walking down the beach from Aurelius’s ship and wading into the sea. He stopped for a moment with the waves rushing softly past his knees, the sun beaming down on him, and a gentle breeze driving the drifting mist off the waves to freckle his face with a glistening sheen of water. . . . He closed his eyes and sighed. Never in all his life had he felt such peace, such joy! But it was only a tantalizing taste. That song was coming from somewhere out there, upon . . . or rather below the Misty Sea. . . . He had to get to it!

  Malgore’s eyes snapped open. Suddenly he knew exactly what that song was, who was singing it, and why it beckoned to him so strongly. But even that realization did nothing to dull the deep longing that warmed his chest and overcame his sense of reason. He had to get back to her! He had to find a way! He’d been a fool! Nothing else mattered. . . . nothing! She was everything he’d ever wanted and more.

  Malgore looked down at the glowing orb in his hand, seeing it now with new eyes. It was nothing but a shiny bauble. He was tempted to throw it away, to leave it behind, but then he recalled how he’d stolen it from her, and Malgore smiled, realizing how grateful she would be for its return.

  It would make the perfect gift to apologize for his absence. Malgore started down the beach, hurrying back the way he’d come in order to get to the submarine.

  Chapter 42

  Gabrian had his eyes closed as he slowly turned the wheel, adjusting the submersible’s course. He was whispering to himself, picking up the traces of the path Malgore had taken only hours before. They were getting close now. He could sense it. Far below their ship, he had a fleeting mental image of a large vessel lying on the sea floor, rooted in place by heavy anchors. Of course Malgore and the others were no longer aboard, so Gabrian didn’t call for a halt. He cracked his eyes open, and moments later the sea floor came into hazy view below them. The sandy bottom quickly rose until they were floating through dangerously shallow water. . . .

  Suddenly their vessel jerked and slowed with a roaring and skrishing of sand.

  “Time to go,” Gabrian said, abandoning the wheel.

  Esephalia fell in behind him as they walked aft-ward. Reven met them at the ladder to the top hatch. He was still naked but reasonably covered by his hair and the darkness. His palms were bleeding from turning the rotors for hours on end, and he looked very weary—as though he hadn’t slept in weeks—but his green eyes still held a fiery strength.

  Gabrian was the first to pop out the top hatch and look out over the remaining distance to the shore. Waves were cresting and breaking on the tail end of their submersible, rocking it gently. There came an indignant roar, and Gabrian turned to see Gral falling off the slippery hull with a loud splash! as the troll emerged from the rear hatch.

  Gral broke the surface with another roar. “Gral not like wet!”

  Gabrian turned away with a faint smile and studied their surroundings. They had run aground on a sandbar barely a hundred meters from the shore. The beach was clearly visible through the thin wisps of mist coming off the water.

  Esephalia and Reven emerged from the hatch behind him.

  “Where shall we go now?” Esephalia asked.

  Gabrian pointed to a distant slice of the sandy, white beach where there was a small hut built upon the shore. “There.”

  They dove off the top of the submersible and swam for the shore. Gral brought up the rear with sloppy, almost useless strokes. Soon his feet touched bottom and he eagerly traded walking for swimming.

  When they emerged from the water, Gabrian led the way up to the hut with a purposeful stride. Esephalia followed them with a curious frown until she saw the two crumpled forms lying face down in the sand not far from the structure. She hurried to the nearest one, her heart hammering in her chest, and she turned him over. “It’s Aurelius! Malgore has killed him at last!”

  “No,” Gabrian said, dropping to his knees beside her. He placed a hand on Aurelius’s chest, his eyes closing. “No, his life force is still strong, only far away. It will take me a moment to bring him back. Go see to the princess.”

  Reven came up behind Gabrian and stood there frowning down at Aurelius. Gral finally splashed out of the water and began running up the beach. He ran with wild abandon until he reached the transition between sand and scrub to the rolling grassy hills. There he stopped and briefly turned to look back at them. After trading a meaningful look with Reven, he started off at a run once more, and this time he just kept going until he was a distant speck upon the horizon. Reven watched him go with a wistful smile, feeling torn. He wanted nothing more than to be rid of this unfortunate group and return to the dark, brooding forests of Nordom, but he suspected those ancient, towering trees lay far, far beyond the horizon where Gral was now disappearing. That, and Reven still felt honor-bound to protect Aurelius—if the boy were still alive. His gaze returned found the elder and he focused on that pale, expressionless face.

  Suddenly Aurelius sat up with a gasp, and Reven jumped back with fright.

  The boy looked around quickly, getting his bearings
.

  “Welcome back,” Gabrian said.

  Aurelius shivered. “I thought they had me.”

  Gabrian frowned and slowly rose to his feet. He held out a hand to help Aurelius up. Not far from where they were standing, Esephalia had her hands placed on Lashyla’s head and chest, her lips moving in concentrated silence.

  Aurelius hurried over to her. “Is she okay?” he asked anxiously, eyes flicking over Lashyla’s still, quiet form. He noted how her travelers’ robes were charred at the edges, but her skin appeared unblemished. He hoped that was a good sign. It seemed liked Malgore had somehow managed to electrocute her. At last, Esephalia sat back with a sigh and shook her head.

  Aurelius’s heart abruptly stopped hammering in his chest. “What is it?” he asked.

  “She will live.”

  Aurelius let out a long breath. “But?”

  “She will need some time to wake up. Perhaps hours. Perhaps minutes. I cannot say.”

  Aurelius nodded slowly, relieved, but still worried about what that meant.

  “Where did Malgore go, Aurelius?” Gabrian asked suddenly.

  The elder slowly turned from Lashyla. After a moment spent blankly staring at the old wizard, he turned and pointed down the beach. Gabrian followed the gesture, as did Reven. A wind blew in from that direction, stinging their exposed skin with driving sand, and Reven lifted his head and sniffed. “I smell a familiar foulness on the air.”

  Gabrian nodded absently, his gaze distant, but intense, as though he could see something beyond the rocks which cluttered the middle distance between them and the horizon. “Malgore.”

  * * *

  Malgore followed the sweet, but now fading echoes of the queen’s song. She was no longer singing, but the lines repeated endlessly inside his head. Those lilting verses drove him across the sand, stumbling over boulders and rocks. He was so distracted by his mindless quest that he didn’t even notice when the rocks rose high to either side of him, hemming him in, and funneling him down a narrow chasm. It was the perfect place for an ambush.