Master of the Phantom Isle

by Brandon Mull

  “Only the two of us?” Seth asked.

  “It’s a small club.”

  “If you’re a shadow charmer, why do you need me?”

  “I was cursed by some wizards,” the Sphinx said. “As a result, my life was prolonged, but the tampering interfered with my powers. I can no longer communicate with the undead. I have only my defensive skills: hiding in dimness, dousing fire, picking locks.”

  “I don’t know much about the mission,” Seth whispered. “We’re freeing some of the undead?”

  “Ronodin can be so secretive,” the Sphinx said. “This shouldn’t be too hard. This way. Don’t trip on the minotaurs.”

  The Sphinx picked up the flashlight and covered the top with one hand so only a little light leaked out. He led Seth out of the cell. A pair of dead minotaurs were sprawled in the hallway near an ax and a mace.

  “Did you do that?” Seth asked.

  “Self-defense,” the Sphinx whispered. “Minotaurs tend toward violence. It was my life or theirs. Come on.”

  The minotaurs were big, and their weapons looked impressive. Apparently the Sphinx knew how to fight.

  “Where are we?” Seth asked.

  “The dungeon of a fort that holds many undead prisoners,” the Sphinx whispered. “Operated by cruel monsters. We don’t want to get caught. Go silent for a few minutes. Follow the light.”

  The Sphinx faded out of view. Only the light seeping between his fingers remained visible. They passed down a hallway of rough stone with cell doors on either hand. Seth wondered what kind of prisoners might be hidden away down here. He smelled mildew and decay and heard the skittering of small creatures.

  The flashlight paused at an iron door. Seth heard a click, and the door opened.

  “I’m still trying to figure out locks,” Seth whispered.

  “I have my competencies,” the Sphinx replied, coming back into view. “This way.”

  They passed through the doorway, and the Sphinx closed the door behind them. After winding around and descending some stairs, they reached another iron door, this one mottled with corrosion and shedding brownish flakes.

  “This door has been reinforced, physically and magically,” the Sphinx said. “Do you hear the voices?”

  “No,” Seth said.

  “Close your eyes,” the Sphinx said. “Concentrate.”

  Seth complied, reaching out with his mind and his senses, listening. He noticed pressure, as if his ears needed to pop. The pressure diminished, and then it returned again. The sensation wavered, building and receding. “I feel a throbbing. It’s hard to explain.”

  “Perceptive,” the Sphinx said. “You sense voices and wills pushing again the magical barrier. The blunted impact of their efforts.”

  “The undead?” Seth asked.

  “Yes,” the Sphinx said. “The captives of the Blackwell.”

  “We’re here to free them,” Seth said.

  “You’re here to free them,” the Sphinx said. “I’m here to lend support and get you back to the Under Realm.”

  “You have more experience than me,” Seth said. “Can’t you just do it?”

  “Not an option,” the Sphinx said. “I can no longer reach the undead. I’m able to sense them, but I cannot interact with them.”

  “How do I free them?” Seth asked.

  “Carefully,” the Sphinx said. “With conditions. They want out. When you enter the chamber, they will call to you, make promises, offer to serve you. Do not let them set the terms. You set the terms.”

  “How?” Seth asked.

  “Don’t try to become their commander,” the Sphinx said. “There are too many undead in that well, and many are too powerful for any shadow charmer to control for any length of time. Have you any experience with revenants?”

  The word seemed familiar. He knew they were undead. “Not that I remember. I’ve heard of them.”

  “What about liches?” the Sphinx asked.

  Seth shook his head.

  “Most of the undead have no mortal spark,” the Sphinx said. “A corpse may be involved, but the human lifespark has fled. What identity they have is alien. They are cursed to long for life without a chance to regain it. A revenant still has some of that lifespark trapped inside. And a lich deliberately retains some of its former human will. These creatures are more powerful and more pitiable because they have actually tasted life and are now imprisoned without it. I suspect most revenants and liches eventually long for release, though they have learned to cling to their contorted version of living. Until deliverance comes, they are most formidable.”

  “There are revenants in the well?” Seth asked.

  “And a lich,” the Sphinx said. “A former enchanter named Belrab. He transformed from dragon to wizard to lich. A horrible descent.”

  “He’s powerful?” Seth asked.

  “You will address him first,” the Sphinx said. “And you will keep it brief.”

  “You can’t help?” Seth asked.

  “Only with advice,” the Sphinx said. “I can hear them speaking, but it is gibberish to me. And I can’t speak words that they can understand.”

  “But they will understand me?” Seth checked. “Even the revenants and the lich?”

  “It is a natural part of your gift,” the Sphinx said, “and a large portion of your power over them. Remember what they crave above all else?”

  “Life,” Seth said.

  “Your ability to understand them and respond to them is a connection to life,” the Sphinx said. “They are often feared, but seldom heard. If ever.”

  “They still might kill me,” Seth said.

  “If you get this wrong, we’ll both die miserably,” the Sphinx said. “They like communication with the living but will soon set their sights on the light of life inside you. They will try to take it, and you will perish.”

  “Do they keep what they take?” Seth asked.

  “They only sample it for a moment,” the Sphinx said. “They leech the life from you, basking briefly in your waning vitality. An objectively small pleasure that feels large to them. You will die painfully.”

  “Why are we releasing them?” Seth asked.

  “Because they are unfairly trapped in ugly conditions,” the Sphinx replied. “And because the Underking desires it. And because we will flee.”

  Seth bit his lip. Freeing such dangerous creatures seemed like it could have disastrous results. How had he gotten into this mess? Seth glanced at the spectral manacle on his arm. The Underking governed these creatures, and it made sense that he wanted them treated humanely. Unless Seth was ready to defy the Underking, he would have to support his causes for a time.

  “Sounds like a terrible existence,” Seth said.

  “They are to be pitied,” the Sphinx said. “Sharks do not attack people out of cruelty. It is their nature to hunt. The undead are only following their natural inclinations. Locking them up is the cruelty, especially in a tiny space. You will not give these beings unlimited freedom, but you will grant them a wider area to roam. Care must be taken in how you release them.”

  “Tell me what to do,” Seth said.

  “Ignore their offers,” the Sphinx said. “The foolish will make absurd promises they can’t really keep and the smart ones will deliberately attempt to entrap you.”

  “What offer do I make?”

  “There is a chain beside the well,” the Sphinx said. “Lowering the chain would allow some of the undead to exit. Others must be granted permission to use it. You must work out the details before dropping the chain.”

  “What terms do we want?”

  “Speak with Belrab first. Offer for him to be master of this castle if he agrees to remain in this castle and to keep the other undead here as well. We must make all the undead pledge to remain in this castle.”

  “Wo
n’t they still be trapped?” Seth asked. “Like they are already? If they’re stuck in the castle? We’re mainly trying to make them more comfortable?”

  “We’ll also grant access to the connected roads,” the Sphinx said. “Limits must be set for the undead. We can’t have them everywhere. Giving them a full castle to roam and some roads to haunt is a significant upgrade from being trapped at the bottom of a well.”

  “The castle is run by minotaurs?” Seth asked.

  “Along with an assortment of other monsters,” the Sphinx said. “They will flee if they have any sense. Before you lower the chain, you must obtain promises that we will be immune from the wrath of the undead who emerge.”

  “Should we make them promise not to hurt anyone?” Seth asked.

  “That would be like telling a shark not to hunt,” the Sphinx said. “It would be cruel, and probably not an agreement they could obey. We just need the ability to get away.”

  Seth had no way to verify the truth of what the Sphinx was telling him, but the dead minotaurs supported the assertion that monsters controlled the castle. He didn’t like the idea of loosing the undead in an occupied castle, but if the jailers were all monsters and could get away, he supposed they knew the risks associated with locking up powerful creatures. Did undead monsters deserve fewer rights than living monsters?

  “You’ll walk me through what to say?” Seth asked.

  “I’ll stay at your side,” the Sphinx said. “I’ll be able to understand the words you speak, but not what the undead say. We should hurry. If we’re discovered, it will not go well for us.”

  “Lead the way,” Seth said.

  The Sphinx spread his palm against the corroded iron door. Multiple locks disengaged, the metallic clicks and clacks echoing in the stone hall. Hinges squealed as the Sphinx pushed the door open, making Seth cringe for fear of being heard.

  A jumbled flood of voices reached Seth, overlapping and full of desperate longing. The Sphinx looked at Seth. “Hear them now?”

  “There are so many,” Seth said, unable to make much sense of the chaotic gibbering.

  “Hurry,” the Sphinx said, leading Seth down a short corridor. “The masters of this castle could discover us at any moment.” They reached an oval chamber with a circular hole in the center. A thick chain snaked around one side of the room, each link with two holes—one connecting to the previous link, and the other to the next.

  Seth peered over the brink of the circular pit. Roughly ten feet in diameter at the top, the bottom was out of view, lost in gloom. Boisterous pleas issued from the blackness, tangled cries for help mingling with inarticulate moans. Several voices mentioned the chain.

  “There is little time,” the Sphinx prompted. “Ask for Belrab.”

  “I need to speak to Belrab,” Seth said.

  The frenzied appeals ended abruptly, and a slithery voice spoke out of the silence. “You have my attention.”

  “I’ll free you if you promise to remain in this castle and on the connected roads,” Seth said, glancing at the Sphinx, who motioned for him to continue. “And if you will keep the rest of the undead within those boundaries as well.”

  “I cannot speak for all,” Belrab said. “You seem to speak for others.”

  “Those are my terms,” Seth said.

  “You are with a cripple,” Belrab said. “A weakling shadow charmer putting words in your mouth that he has lost the competence to utter.”

  Seth looked at the Sphinx. “What is he saying?” the Sphinx asked.

  Seth held up a finger for him to wait.

  “You are young and powerful,” Belrab said. “With me at your side, those who seek to rule you will kneel in shame.”

  “I don’t want a partner,” Seth said. “And you’re going to miss your chance to get out.”

  Belrab responded promptly. “Very well. If you lower the chain and grant my freedom, I vow to remain in this castle and on the associated roads to rule over the rest of the undead here.”

  That was what Seth had been waiting to hear. At least with those limits, the undead couldn’t just run wild.

  “I need all of the undead to agree to remain in the castle and on the roads if I let them out of this pit,” Seth said. “If all do not agree, you’ll stay down there.”

  The Sphinx nodded at Seth as many voices assented.

  “Ask Belrab if all have agreed,” the Sphinx said.

  “Belrab, have all agreed?” Seth asked.

  “All save one wraith and two revenants,” Belrab said.

  “This is the last chance for that wraith and those revenants to agree,” Seth said.

  Three gruesome voices assented to the terms.

  “Was that them, Belrab?” Seth asked.

  “It was,” the lich replied.

  “Extra protection for us,” the Sphinx prompted.

  “You must all pledge to do me no harm,” Seth said. “And no harm to the crippled shadow charmer assisting me.”

  Hellish voices called out their agreement. Seth could feel their eagerness at the prospect of release.

  “Crippled?” the Sphinx asked.

  “It’s how Belrab described you,” Seth muttered. Then he raised his voice. “Belrab, have all agreed?”

  “All have agreed,” Belrab responded. “Send the chain.”

  “The chain, the chain,” countless other voices cried.

  Seth glanced at the Sphinx. “How many are down there?”

  “A lot,” the Sphinx said. “Uncounted.”

  “Before I send the chain, you must all pledge to always obey any commands I give,” Seth said, “along with promising to mean no harm to me and to do no harm to me.”

  There was silence for a moment.

  “Hungry,” one voice whispered.

  “Cold,” another murmured.

  “And with these vows you willingly free us?” Belrab verified.

  “To remain in this castle, and on the connected roads, yes,” Seth said.

  “Very well,” Belrab said. Other voices assented. “We all agree. Send the chain.”

  “They agree,” Seth said.

  “Lower the chain,” the Sphinx said. “Quickly, I heard a door.”

  Seth picked up the end of the chain, the links thick enough that he dragged it more than carried it to the edge of the well. The thought of the creatures behind all those sinister voices climbing toward him gave him a shiver as he hurled it over the edge.

  Once the chain started falling, it had enough momentum to keep going, and the entire length unspooled downward with an uproarious clatter. After some time, an echoey clang rose from the depths. The chain jerked taut, the near end fastened to the wall.

  “Time to go,” the Sphinx said, hurrying out of the chamber to the short corridor.

  Seth followed, but they both stopped short as an aged man came through the iron door. His eyes went to Seth, then to the Sphinx. “You,” he accused.

  “Hello, Agad,” the Sphinx said. “You have a containment problem on your hands.”

  The old man’s eyes moved to Seth. “What have you done?”

  The distressed sincerity of the question made Seth feel guilty. “You’ll want to get out of the castle,” Seth said.

  The old man’s expression softened to one of concern. And then Seth felt rather than saw the dark presence behind him. The temperature of the air plunged. The old man looked past him and began to haltingly step forward, as if the movement challenged him.

  “Come on,” the Sphinx said, dodging past the old man and through the corroded iron door. Seth followed.

  “You’ve been fooled, Seth,” the old man called, voice strained.

  “Hurry,” the Sphinx said, running full speed. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Who was that guy?” Seth asked. “He didn’t look like a monster.” />
  “One of the wizards who blocked my abilities,” the Sphinx said. “Don’t let appearances deceive you. He’s a ringleader of the creatures here.”

  The old wizard had looked devastated. He hadn’t tried to attack them. Seth looked back, but the wizard was out of view. What might the wizard have told him if he’d had more time?

  They ran in silence until they reached the dead minotaurs. The barrel awaited in the nearby cell. “Well done, Seth,” the Sphinx said. “Mission accomplished. You first.”

  Seth hopped into the barrel and crouched. Was he being fooled? It was entirely possible. As Ronodin’s sure hands helped him out of the barrel, Seth tried to forget the look of grave disappointment on the old wizard’s face.

  On the long counter rested bottles and flasks of varying shape and size, some with fluid in them, some with sludge or dry matter, others empty. A cauldron bubbled on a fireplace in the corner, and several other pots and kettles were heating on makeshift burners, expelling pungent vapors. Other diverse containers held sundry ingredients.

  “Kendra, could you pass me some bristle root?” Tanu asked.

  She grabbed the leather pouch and hurried over to Tanu. He opened the flap and dropped two pinches of what looked vaguely like red pencil shavings into a simmering pan. “What are you working on there?” she asked.

  “A new gaseous potion,” Tanu said. “By the time we’re done, I’ll have a stockpile like never before.”

  Kendra looked at the potions on the counter. “A lot of those are courage potions.”

  “If we face dragons this evening, those could be essential,” Tanu said.

  Kendra nodded. It felt good to be helping Tanu brew potions. Since the dragons were supposed to attack tonight, she wanted to stay busy. So far, the night had been quiet.

  “You look tired,” Calvin said from where he stood on the counter. “Maybe you should sleep.”

  Kendra yawned. “In a little while,” she replied. “I want to help finish this batch.”

  Marat burst into the room, eyes wide. “We have to go,” he said urgently.

  “What?” Kendra asked, turning toward him in alarm.