Alhena’s face took over from Pollard. The compassion in the old man’s face filled him with a pleasant warmth. He released himself to the blackness lingering along the fringes of his confusion.
Wizard’s Spike
Melody turned her head to keep Silurian’s hair from flying in her eyes. Five days had passed since they buried Tygra at the base of the cliff below Gimcrack. After removing Karvus’ axe from Dagan’s back and locating Melody’s staff nearby, they had burned the grisly remains of Helleden’s wraith and the demons who’d accompanied him.
Seated behind Silurian on a saddle built for one proved an uncomfortable ride, but there was little to be done about it. The Kraidic Emperor had saved their lives. They couldn’t leave him to fend for himself.
In all that time, Karvus Kraken hadn’t said more than a dozen words after reassuring them he no longer answered to Helleden. Tygra’s death had affected him deeply.
The midmorning sun shone brightly above, basking them in a pleasant winter’s warmth, a nice change from the cold of the last few days.
Karvus chose to ride far ahead, barely visible down Redfire Path. He claimed he wanted to scout the area to ensure Silurian and Melody weren’t taken unaware by wandering troops. He had been certain that they would encounter patrols the closer they got to Carillon, but so far, they hadn’t encountered anyone. The blowing ash drifting over the roadway showed no sign of recent activity.
“I still don’t know how I missed sensing the wraith until it was too late,” Silurian commented. “It was like the one in Wizard’s Gibbet.”
“The same one?”
Silurian didn’t respond at first. Finally, he shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Hmm. Perhaps the residual magic of the entrance wards shielded it from you. I’m not sure. I still find it peculiar you sense these things at all.”
“Do you trust him?”
Melody blinked a couple of times. “Karvus? After what he and Tygra did for us against the wraith, how could I not?”
She felt him shrug.
“You don’t?”
“I’m undecided.”
“But Tygra died for you.”
“Yes,” Silurian said slowly, a hint of skepticism in his tone. “He died. For me? Hard to say. He was a Kraidic warrior. If his emperor commanded him to protect me at all costs in order to further the emperor’s grand scheme, he wouldn’t have thought twice about his duty.”
Melody frowned. “That’s a cold thing to say. If not for Tygra’s sacrifice, we’d all be dead. Why the sudden suspicion?”
She felt him shrug again. “Just cautious. The emperor’s men fight for Helleden. How do we know he isn’t taking us into the sorcerer’s grasp?”
“We don’t, I guess.”
“Doesn’t it trouble you he rides so far ahead?”
“He said he’s trying to prevent us from being taken unaware.”
“Exactly. Taken unaware by troops he can signal before we know they’re there.”
A cold feeling tingled her skin. She searched the countryside, seeing nothing but ruin.
Silurian tensed in her grasp and sat up straighter. “He’s seen something.”
She leaned sideways. Karvus sat stationary across Redfire Path, his attention focused on something beyond the next rise. “Helleden’s army?”
“We’ll find out soon enough. If I’m not mistaken, Carillon lies beyond that hill.”
Silurian’s response unsettled her. She knew the land around Zephyr’s capital. She’d spent most of her teenage life there. The devastated landscape appeared profoundly different than she remembered. Staring closely at the contours, she nodded her head. He was right.
Silurian brought their horse alongside Karvus’ and they stared at the expansive mesa unfolding below. Redfire Path gradually descended toward a large body of water. To the right of the lake, the walls of Carillon stretched westward, away from Ring Lake and a solitary tower—the ivory pinnacle resplendent in the sun.
Melody swallowed her unease. Even from this distance the walls didn’t look the way she remembered them. She’d been away for over two decades and many things may have changed, but the thick city walls shouldn’t appear less significant.
She had expected to see vast encampments of Helleden’s army. There were tell-tale signs that such a camp had occupied the fields around the capitol recently, but it wasn’t there now.
Her gaze settled on the Wizard’s Spike. It stood defiant above what her brain slowly realized were the ruins of the most venerated seat in the five realms. Several smaller towers that should’ve made up Castle Svelte were missing.
Silurian heeled their mount into action, forcing her to hang on to his cloak to keep from falling off.
“Mintaka!” Karvus called after them. “You can’t go charging in, they’ll cut you down.”
If Silurian heard the warning, he ignored it.
This was crazy. If Helleden had set a trap for them, Silurian was about to spring it. She calmed herself as best she could. She knew her brother. His mind was made up. Whatever reason possessed him, he wouldn’t stop until he reached the castle, no matter what stood in his way.
She funnelled her energy into her staff. The signs of recent troop movement were evident the closer they got to the city walls—the frozen tundra trampled.
It took Karvus a while but he overtook them before the roadway split. Redfire Path continued east around Ring Lake while the approach to the northern gatehouse branched off to the right.
Karvus pulled up at what remained of a broken hitching post and dismounted, his battle-axe in hand. He stepped into the city and listened before kneeling down to study the marks in the blackened dirt. He rose and waited for them.
“The city appears deserted. Judging by the tracks, I’d say they went west.”
Melody didn’t like the thought of that. The last they’d seen, the Gerrymander and whatever remained of the quest lay in that direction—including, if she dared to hope, Rook.
She pushed her personal feelings aside and concentrated on what they faced right now. If Helleden had been through here, where was King Malcolm?
A grim thought crossed her mind. She pushed it aside. She had to remain positive. She didn’t want to consider the ramifications Malcolm’s death would have on Silurian.
Peering through the blasted remains of the northern gatehouse, the Wizard’s Spike rose into the sky. The fact that the mystical tower remained unscathed did little to appease her.
She slid off the horse as soon as it stopped. “West?”
“Toward Madrigail Bay,” Silurian rationalized from the saddle. “Helleden must’ve realized the Under Realm quest landed there.”
Melody took a large breath. Could it be true? Silurian had explained what Seafarer had said many months ago—Silurian and Rook were vital to defeating the sorcerer. If Helleden set out west instead of south toward Gritian, there might be a real possibility Rook had survived. She thought she might faint.
Silurian hadn’t missed the effect the words had on her. She caught him watching her, a slight smile on his face.
Karvus gathered his reins and remounted. “Helleden’s army is much bigger than the signs here show. Are there other gates?”
“Several, but only four accommodate horses,” Silurian responded.
“Take me to them.”
Melody accepted Silurian’s help to remount and they led Karvus through the ruined city.
“There’s been activity here lately but the city appears deserted,” Karvus observed.
Melody and Silurian stared at the shattered walls surrounding the keep in the distance. Castle Svelte and the capital had been such a happy place. Melody’s safe haven right up to the battle of Lugubrius and the day Phazarus abducted her.
“There. You can see the claw marks of Helleden’s minions.” Karvus stopped his horse and pointed. “And those tracks are from my troops.”
Melody swallowed her unease. A patch of soot running along the base of a b
urnt-out building clearly showed the footprints of bare feet tipped with claws mixed with sets of boot prints. As much as she wanted to believe it wasn’t true, the thought of Karvus being aligned with Helleden made her shiver. Perhaps Silurian was right to worry.
The wind whistled eerily through the shattered buildings, whirling ash in small eddies along the base of their walls. By the time they reached the western gatehouse, Melody felt chilled to the bone. It had little to do with the temperature.
Karvus dismounted and tethered his mount to the broken barbican. Kneeling down, he glanced down West Castle Road and nodded. “A host went that way recently.”
Karvus remounted and followed them to the southern gatehouse and onto the eastern barbican. Melody and Silurian joined him on the well-beaten roadway.
“A considerable army left through these gates some time ago. Weather obscures their passing, but a trained eye can perceive the marks. I’m guessing the bulk of Helleden’s army…And mine.” Karvus sounded disgusted. “How long ago is hard to say.”
Melody caught Silurian’s narrow gaze and whispered, “Gritian.”
She wanted to charge down Redfire Path but couldn’t help but wonder which direction Helleden had gone. It wouldn’t do to chase the main army if the sorcerer had ventured elsewhere. The quickest way to stop the invasion was to sever the head of the serpent.
Silurian remounted. “Let’s check what’s left of the castle.”
Riding through the littered streets, they were forced to approach the castle proper through what remained of its main gate. They tethered the horses to a blackened hitching post close to the viaduct crossing the foul-smelling moat and picked their way over the hazardous walkway.
A burnt-out pyre, littered with countless bones and skulls, sent chills up her spine. A pile of rubble lay between the southern gatehouse and its fallen northern twin.
Silurian climbed the mound and stopped at the top, staring open-mouthed at the remains of Castle Svelte, clearly fighting back tears.
Melody and Karvus joined him. The pristine bulk of the Wizard’s Spike shot skyward as if resurrected from the ashes of the keep. All around the foreboding tower lay massive chunks of shattered stone. She held a hand to her mouth, struggling to breathe. Three recently severed heads were stuck upon pikes driven in the ground by the tower’s door.
Castle Svelte, the seat of the Ivory Throne—the symbol of everything good in the world, lay pulverized before them. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she’d never have believed it possible. A sinking feeling seeped into her. How could they go up against someone possessing this much power? She cared less about the tears flowing unabashedly down her face.
Karvus placed a hand on her shoulder. “Fear not, wizard. Helleden will answer for this.”
She glanced at him. The scar inflicted to his cheek by Silurian’s dagger was barely visible. Her healing skills were perhaps better than she gave herself credit for. That simple reassurance gave her the strength she needed to keep on going.
Karvus offered her a grim smile and followed Silurian down the other side.
The spiral staircase lining the inside wall of the Wizard’s Spike went on forever. They had passed a balcony a while ago and yet the steps continued upward.
Karvus’ heavy boot falls echoed loudest behind him and the regular cadence of Melody’s staff plonked rhythmically in the unnerving atmosphere of the dark stairwell as she brought up the rear. The Wizard’s Spike was notorious for the wizards who had inhabited it for centuries, performing their arcane rituals.
Reaching the upper chamber, Silurian pushed open the heavy wooden door, his sword drawn, half expecting Helleden Misenthorpe to be waiting for them. The rusty hinges squealed, causing him to flinch.
A large puddle of blood stained the flagstone floor just inside the doorway, appearing freshly spent.
Karvus knelt and touched the puddle. He wiped his fingers on a block of stone acting as the door jamb, separating the heavy wooden entranceway from the rest of the windowed chamber. He stood and grunted, “Less than a week old.”
The octagonal room appeared the same as it always did; full of parchment littered tables of varying sizes with a brass scrying bowl positioned on top of a pedestal in its centre. The eight-sided bowl, its south to southwest vertex dented, corresponded to the floor-to-ceiling windows encompassing the perimeter.
Great tomes lay opened around the room. Even though she was out of breath from climbing the long stairwell, Melody spared no time going to the closest book and running a delicate finger along the text.
Silurian doubted she was even aware of him or Karvus after that. He had no way of knowing the amount of information available to her in the grotto on Dragon’s Tooth, but as the current Wizard of the North, he was sure the upper chamber of the Wizard’s Spike presented her with a treasure-trove of sacred knowledge.
Karvus paced the perimeter of the chamber, gazing out at the land. He paused along the western face and stared.
Silurian went from table to table, not knowing what he was looking at, his thoughts elsewhere. He had harboured the fantasy of finding King Malcolm alive and safe, locked in this chamber. The king’s absence was disquieting.
He joined Karvus at the window. Several hundred feet above the ground, the widespread devastation appeared even worse. The castle ruins were so severe that anyone caught inside when it fell was surely dead. He hoped the king had the foresight to…that was it!
Silurian strode to the open door and paused, staring at his sister’s hunched form perusing a book big enough to mount a horse from. “The catacombs! Malcolm would’ve taken refuge below the castle. I’m sure of it.”
Melody looked up, puzzled. “Huh?”
Karvus stepped away from the window. “Lead the way.”
Silurian answered his sister, “You stay here and see what you can find out. That stuff means nothing to me.” He glanced at Karvus.
The emperor shook his head.
It took the better part of the afternoon, but Silurian and Karvus finally came across the tunnel burrowed beneath the collapsed northern tower.
Silurian remembered this entrance to the catacombs well. It led down from the larder behind the servant’s kitchen—hidden beneath a flagstone that was no longer there. He located the brand basket tucked beneath the floor and pulled out two of the remaining three brands. He lit them, handed one to Karvus, and slowly descended the stairs spiralling into the darkness below. A scent of something burning turned up his nostrils but he didn’t think much of it. The entire kingdom had been razed.
Stepping off the bottom stair, Silurian peered into the gloom. On the edge of the torches’ light, a stone bridge spanned a narrow gap in the rock—a crevice said to have no bottom. He’d always meant to check out the truth of that rumour when he lived here, but never did. He’d spent many days helping in the kitchen as punishment for trying to sneak up the Wizard’s Spike amongst other mischiefs. It was said that not even the king had permission to climb higher than the central balcony without the resident wizard’s consent. Malcolm told him that wasn’t true but it kept the mystique surrounding the tower alive.
To his credit, Karvus remained respectfully still until Silurian finished listening—to nothing. The catacombs were as silent as a tomb. Fitting, since the Svelte family lineage could be traced back over six hundred years in the crypts below the chancery.
Other than Rook and Melody, he couldn’t think of another person he loved more than the king. Malcolm wasn’t just his sworn liege—he had become the brother Silurian never had.
He swallowed his unease, fighting to keep the lump in his throat at bay. He didn’t know what he’d do if Malcolm lay beneath the rubble. His legs were weak just pondering the notion.
Shoring up his resolve, he knew better than to let the fear of the unknown overwhelm him. He was no use to anyone if he allowed his wild imagination to run rampant. He’d fought hard to put his dark years behind him these last few months. He didn’t have time to slip back
into an all-consuming mental breakdown. Zephyr didn’t have time.
He crossed the bridge without looking down and led Karvus into the small cavern beyond. There were signs of many people being down here recently. He tried not to get excited, but who else could it have been?
“Your king?” Karvus asked.
Silurian nodded. Karvus’ intelligence and straight forward attitude continued to impress him. If only he could bring himself to trust the man.
Kraidics were deemed unlawful barbarians by pretty well everyone he had ever spoken with on the matter. He smiled inwardly, imagining what those people would think of him now, leading the Kraidic Emperor, of all people, beneath the holiest house in Zephyr—and this, with the Kraidic army fighting alongside Helleden’s minions.
He located a side passage with the light of his sputtering torch and led Karvus into a smoothly hewn tunnel lined with unlit sconces. He absently lit every third or fourth sconce as he passed, fearing his torch might not last to see them back out again. The lengthy corridor smelled strongly of burnt wood, acrid in the tight confines even before the first sconce took flame. Odd. They were below the castle, surrounded by stone.
Karvus took in everything but remained quiet.
Rounding a bend, they beheld an iron-strapped door hanging askew on its hinges, its surface battered and sliced by heavy weapons.
Silurian flinched at the sound of Karvus’ battle-axe sliding free of its keepers. The big man pushed by him to inspect the door. Grunting, he leaned into the room beyond, looking this way and that before staring at Silurian with a somber look. “The work of my men, if I’m not mistaken. They were looking for something.”
Silurian frowned as it dawned on him what lay beyond the broken door—the Vaults of Lore!
He unsheathed his own weapon. There wasn’t a soul down here except for himself and Karvus, but the violation to the Castle Svelte angered him. He kicked the door out of the way and rushed into the vast, low cavern he knew to be lined with shelves crammed with ancient scrolls and priceless tomes.
His jaw dropped and his sword tip clanged to the dusty marble floor. Blackened pages, skeletons of burnt scrolls, and invaluable tomes lay charred all over the floor, knee deep in places, or shrivelled on granite shelves cut into the walls.
Into the Madness Page 21
