by Dante King
She looked shaken, and it made me wonder about my decision. I may have had something resembling magic, but I had no control over it, no experience, and no training. I considered what my life would be like if I returned to the Arcanum to patrol the hallways and kill giant rats in the catacombs. That thought lasted a second before all my reservations turned to dust. Even if this choice ended up killing me, at least I would die having truly lived before the day came.
“Come on,” Yarina said before she walked out of the alleyway and onto the Grand Esplanade.
I followed, frequently glancing backward to see if the two guards were still hanging around. She seemed to notice my preoccupation.
“Are you worried I killed them?” she asked.
“You’re not the murdering type,” I said.
She snorted. “You don’t know me very well.”
I regarded her curiously, trying to size her up. She laughed. “The guards are in the Limp Cat having some ale on my account. They’ll be taking the wagon back to the station shortly.”
“And where are we going?”
“You’ll see soon enough.” With that, she turned on her heel and led me on.
I walked by her side now. My eyes fell to the diamond-shaped broach on the front of her uniform. It was simple, silver, and engraved with a small ball of fire. I’d seen that symbol before, carved into the temple doors of the Trysca Holy Order.
“You’re one of the Holy Knights of Rymi?” I asked.
“I serve the God of Light,” Yarina nodded. “One day, I hope to ascend to the level of priestess. But, until then, I will do my part to serve my city and rid the kingdom of corrupt magic.”
“I’ve never been one for religion.”
I liked Yarina, but I wasn’t about to lie to impress her. I expected a lecture, a glare at the very least, but she just smiled at me. “Our lord, Rymi, is truly mysterious, as are his methods. He has recruited you just as he once recruited me. We all serve in different ways.”
She was walking fast over the esplanade, and her boots made hard, clacking sounds against the stone. I kept up with her easily, but I had no clue where we were heading. She passed the Broken Barrel, then made a sharp left, moving away from the Longscale River and deeper into the labyrinth of stone buildings through alleys that got narrower and lonelier.
Finally, Yarina stopped at what appeared to be a dead end. I looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Uh… are we supposed to blast through the wall?” I asked.
“Not blast through it exactly, no,” she replied calmly. “Walking will do.”
I looked at the wall and then back at her. “Are you sure?” I asked.
“You have the ring,” she said pointedly. “The wall is merely a surface that can be turned into a portal…one that will take us to Qilzid. The ring you wear powers the portal. Without it, this is just a brick wall like any other in the city.”
“Okay,” I said, scrambling to keep up with the barrage of information she was throwing at me. “After you.” I made sure to say this with a swinging gesture with my ring-bearing right hand, strongly willing the wall to allow me my pleasantry.
She gave me little smirk, and sure enough she walked through the brick wall like she was walking through an open doorway. Her body disappeared from view, and I was left standing in the alley alone.
“Here goes nothing,” I said, taking a deep breath and stepping after her.
It didn’t just look like walking through an open doorway; it felt like it, too. One moment I was in an abandoned alley with stone buildings on either side of me, the next I was standing in a large room brimming with magic, the air swirling and smokey here, bursting in electric flashes there. Yarina stood a few feet away from me, beside a tall glass case that contained a floating bow and a quiver filled with arrows.
I had questions, but my senses were going berserk. I walked slowly around the overwhelming space, trying to take it all in. The floors were covered in a collection of carpets, some spun from fine yarn, others embroidered with thick fibers. They weren’t arranged in any particular order, simply flung about the floor in a mess of color and texture.
I could barely make out the walls. They were covered in bookshelves, wall hangings, paintings, and display cases that seemed to hold all kinds of alien objects. There was no natural light, which made sense, since there were no windows that I could see. Hundreds of candles floated above us along the elaborately painted ceiling, like hummingbirds caught in flight.
There was an old fireplace nestled in one corner of the room next to a long workbench. The opposite corner of the room contained a forge and an alchemy station. The room seemed to be centered around a huge desk covered in papers, maps, books, and an assortment of various other objects. I could tell the space was spotless, if a little cluttered, and beneath the undeniable traces of an eclectic mass of types of magic, there was the pleasant aroma of freshly baked bread in the air.
I turned all the way round and caught sight of a row of glass cases in the last corner, each containing a different weapon. My eyes went instinctively to the two axes in the middle. The first was a bearded specimen with a smooth, lustrous blade and an embellished haft, and the second and more impressive of the two was double-bitted with a series of symbols carved into its magnificent blade.
After I was done admiring the weapons, I noticed an opening to the right. There was no door, so I could see the four-poster bed nestled on the other side. It wasn’t just this sudden presence of intimacy, the sense that I was being watched had been steadily growing but had now become undeniable. But strangely, the feeling did not make me uncomfortable. I turned to Yarina.
“What is this?” I asked. “Where are we?”
Yarina gave me a playful smile. “Kurt, meet Qilzid.”
I frowned and looked around the chamber again. Apart from Yarina and I, the room was empty. “I don’t see anyone here,” I said, wondering if I was missing something.
“Welcome, Kurt Woodsman,” a deep voice reverberated around the chamber. It felt like the voice was coming at me from all sides.
“Uh…thanks,” I said. “I’m sorry…I can’t seem to make out where you are.”
“I am here, in the books,” the voice spoke. “I am here in the candlelight. I am here in the walls. I am here in the objects I crafted and the maps I drew. I am all around you…in everything. I am the space and the space is me.”
I frowned. Was this some kind of outlandish joke? Or maybe it was a test. “I like to make my introductions face to face,” I said politely.
A low chuckle echoed around the walls. “I said goodbye to my human face a long time ago…a shame really; it was a handsome one.”
I felt Yarina move toward me. “Qilzid was once the greatest artificer the Kingdom of Trysca had ever seen,” she said. “He made the most amazing weapons, potions, and spells. He enchanted objects and imbued them with magic. He also guided young mage slayers and taught them how to hone their skills.”
“Ah…the good old days,” the voice sighed.
Yarina smiled and continued. “A few years after the Apocalypse Wars, Qilzid was doing what he did best: he was experimenting with keyhole dimension magic, when something went wrong. He accidentally sealed his soul in his own signet ring. It was the keyhole dimension he never meant to create.”
Yarina reached out and took my hand. It took me a moment to realize that the intimacy had a purpose behind it. Her fingers caressed the ring on my right-hand middle finger.
“Qilzid was the inventor,” I said, looking down at the gently glowing stone. “He was the one you mentioned earlier…the one who forged this ring.”
Yarina nodded. “His consciousness was transferred into his workshop, accessible through the use of his signet ring. And now…this sentient workshop is Qilzid, and Qilzid is this workshop.”
My mind was reeling. I had never come across something so…well, bizarre. And yet it was unquestionably convincing.
“It has been a long time since I have mentored a youn
g mage slayer,” Qilzid said. “I think we will be good friends, Kurt.”
Was it possible to be friends with a chamber? “I’m sure we will be,” I replied. It seemed I was in for a lot more surprises and revelations on this journey. Being shocked by each and every one would only slow me down, so I decided to take it all in my stride.
“Okay, Qilzid,” I said. “Tell me, what do I need to do in order to retrieve the Terminus Seal?”
There was a low chuckle. “You are brave, Kurt, I can sense it on you, it’s as deep and total a part of you as your unique body scent,” Qilzid said, with a note of respect in his voice. “But you are also unprepared. You have no hope of retrieving the seal as things stand…it will be too well guarded, and it is too powerful. But I can also sense your strength and resourcefulness. With the right tools and the right weapons you will be able to reach the seal and take possession of it.”
I smiled in restless anticipation. “So give me what I need,” I said, turning around toward the neat line of display cases that boasted a range of different weapons.
“Unfortunately it is not that simple,” Qilzid said, his tone deep and solemn. “Years of disuse have debilitated my magic. My power comes from artifacts, and of those I now have precious few. There is a limit to how much I can help you. Those weapons you see before you are powerful, but the centuries have made them dormant…”
”Okay,” I nodded, jumping into action mode. “How do we activate them?”
“We need artifacts of great magical potential,” Qilzid said. “I believe if I am fed enough magic, over time I will start to regain my old knowledge. And then you will be able to unlock any weapon of your choosing.”
I gravitated towards the gorgeous Labrys with the carved, doubled-edged blade. “That’s the one I want,” I said.
“Unfortunately, that you cannot have…for now,” Qilzid said. “But perhaps I have enough power left in me to offer you a small upgrade.”
The door of the glass box that held the bearded axe swung open. I reached out and wrapped my hand around the haft as I lifted it out of its display case. It was lighter than I had expected, and it felt comfortable against my palm. I suddenly realized I had a stupid grin plastered across my face—had probably had it ever since I’d caressed the blade. But I couldn’t care, even if I tried; I was holding a precious work of art.
“There are artifacts to be found all over this city, Kurt,” Yarina said, stepping to my side. “They won’t be easy to get, but between the two of us, I think we can do it.”
I smiled. “I’m ready.”
“Good,” Qilzid said. “Trust your hunter senses. They will lead you where you need to go.”
”Thanks for the advice, buddy. And for the axe.” I turned to Yarina. “Chop-chop, lead me out of here.”
She gave me a look that suggested she didn’t appreciate my joke. “Concentrate on opening a portal door for us.” She nodded at my ring. “We need to leave the pocket dimension and return to the esplanade. And yes, once we’re out there, there is no need for us to wait—in fact, there’s no time to wait. I know where we should go first.”
There was a bright spark in Yarina’s cool gray eyes. The prospect of action appealed to her just as much as it appealed to me. I now wielded a new axe that a living workshop has given me, and I wanted to give it a test run. My body suddenly felt like a live wire. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was ready for my first mission.
“Where’s that, pray?” I asked.
“The Mausoleum,” she replied with a determined, lopsided grin.
4
It took us only a few minutes to reach the Mausoleum. It wasn’t far, and Yarina was fast too. The building was set apart, walled off by a line of trees interrupted by a black iron gate at the entrance. Yarina and I stepped through the gate and stared up at the intimidating black limestone structure. It had been built on an elevated base with a short flight of stairs leading up to the large front door.
The Mausoleum’s roof was made up of a series of pointed arches and heavily ornamented spires that produced a spectacular view from the top of the stairs. I moved on to the front entrance with a determined pace that Yarina matched. I had come for a purpose, and I wasn’t leaving until I had what I wanted. And I had a new magic-imbued weapon, a sense of my own hidden magic, and a beautiful woman at my side to boot.
We walked into the Mausoleum’s entrance hall and the heavy door immediately shut behind us. Yarina and I exchanged a glance and moved closer together. It was clear our presence had already been noted. We hadn’t exactly sneaked in either, we were ready to face whatever might be thrown at us.
The entrance hall was a small semi-circular space with dark stone walls. A series of crude markings were etched into the hard surface, with tiny whitish flecks embedded in them. Were those human fingernails? I didn’t have time to look into it; we had to decide which of the five identical open doorways in front of us to take.
“What do you think?” I asked Yarina, nodding at the doors.
“You tell me,” Yarina said. “Remember what Qilzid said…trust your instincts.”
I tried to concentrate, but I was overwhelmed by the smell. The Mausoleum had always radiated power, I had sensed it even from outside its ancient tree hedge, but there was something more. There was an edge to the power—a stench so pungent that it was making my eyes water. It was a dry, acrid burn, a clawing, angry heat that engulfed me. The air around us felt charged, as though it had the power to inflict pain. I wondered if Yarina felt the same way or if my hunter sense was at work here.
“Can you feel that?” I asked.
“What?”
“The…bite, in the air,” I tried to explain. “They feel like pinpricks…”
“All I can say is that I don’t doubt for a second that there’s some powerful dark magic present here,” Yarina replied.
“I’ve sensed latent power in places around the city before, but this is different… I think it’s corrupt magic.”
“Magic seeks out magic. If there’s a powerful artifact to be found, you can be sure you are not the only one who wants it.”
I needed to distinguish between the different magical scents. The acrid fire that burned my nostrils was one of many; I just needed to identify all the other magical charges that were pulling at me.
“This door,” I said, gesturing toward the one we were standing directly in front of. It was right in the middle. It was hard to pinpoint what exactly made me so sure, but I knew this was the one. It seemed to glow, the others seemed to shrink into the shadows surrounding them, though I knew they weren’t actually doing that. The door I chose simply stood out to me.
Yarina nodded, and I opened the door before she followed me through it without hesitation. The passageway we entered was broad and sparsely lit a handful of torches. The walls were deeply ridged, and there were more scratchings on the walls on either side of us, as though hundreds of people had once been locked in here and attempted to claw their way out.
I couldn’t help shuddering a little as we entered a small square room, almost identical to the one we had left behind. I felt Yarina’s body tense beside me, and my arm fell to my new bearded axe. My expert hand and this ancient beauty had yet to get properly acquainted, but the way a simple touch could feel so natural made me sure we were heading for a glorious future together.
I looked up slowly and froze in place. From the ceiling hung a dozen figures, their flesh putrefied and withered. It took me a moment to realize they were not bodies at all, but human skins with the skeletons and organs removed. It was clear once you saw it, the way the skins sagged.
“I didn’t expect a welcome party,” Yarina said.
Her comment cut through the starkly gruesome moment and actually succeeded in making me smile. “I like you,” I told her.
“I noticed,” she said. “But you don’t know me.”
“That can be changed…easily,” I said, taking a step toward her.
She gave me a look that
told me she was tempted, but then she dropped her eyes and turned away. “Not the time or the—”
She stopped short and swivelled around to me. “Did you hear that?” she asked.
“I tend to be less alert when I’m with a beautiful woman,” I said. I could hear a creaking sound, like a broken chair being dragged across the floor. Then I smelled the rancid bitterness of decay and, finally, I tasted the faint sting of corrupt magic on my tongue.
There were two doorways leading out of the chamber. We backed into each other. I pulled out my bearded axe and Yarina unsheathed her rapier. It was clear something was coming, the sound grew, the smell became overwhelming. The only question was what.
A second later they appeared at both openings: a handful of skeletons, with eyeless sockets. “Lesser summons,” Yarina breathed. “Kalazar is here.”
“Who?”
Before Yarina could answer, the skeletons came at us with their clattering limbs raised. They were faster than I expected and I narrowly avoided getting struck in the stomach. I whipped my axe around, taking out two of them with one swing. I was glad to see they were relatively easy to cut through. My axe did all the work; I just needed to employ my brawn. The skeletons didn’t seem to be either smart or sophisticated in their attacks. They attacked head-on and fell to a bony heap at my feet when I knocked through them with my axe.
But the moment I had killed one, another two showed up. I glanced toward Yarina, who was cutting through skeletons with the grace of a seasoned fighter. I wished I had the luxury of watching her, but I found myself surrounded. They reached for me with the mindless ignorance of undead creatures with no use for life. I spun around, letting my axe take out half their number, trying to out-kill their respawning speed. It wasn’t enough; no matter how fast I destroyed them, more showed up almost instantly.
“Kurt!” Yarina screamed. “Close your eyes.”
I couldn’t even glance toward her as I ducked a grab from one of the skeletons and shattered its humerus with my left forearm before whirling around and smashing my axe into another summons.
