Chaos Unleashed (31 page)

It doesn’t matter if I chose this path or not,
Cassandra realized.
I’m on it now, and I have to see it through to the end.

“You promised to take me to the Keystone,” Cassandra said. “We’re leaving tomorrow. If we don’t, I promise you will regret it.”

“I don’t respond well to threats,” Bo-Shing replied, giving her a wink and fumbling with the drawstring of his trousers.

“Sleep on it,” Cassandra advised, turning to go before he started removing his pants. “You might feel differently once you’re sober.”

The spell that kept Orath hidden in the shadows was beginning to fade. The Chaos that fueled the ship helped mask his presence, but it wouldn’t be long until Cassandra sensed him lurking in the cargo hold.

Orath wasn’t about to suffer the same fate as the Crawling Twins. While the monk was on the top deck confronting the pirates, he slithered through the porthole and scuttled along the side of the ship’s hull.

When Cassandra left the captain’s cabin and returned to her own quarters, Orath slowly climbed up the side of the ship and onto the top deck. It was empty except for a single snoring pirate.

The last of the Minions slipped down the stairs and headed toward the captain’s quarters. He slipped open the door and approached the sleeping pirate. Just like Cassandra, Orath was eager for them to reach the Keystone. Unlike the young woman, however, he was willing to take action.

Raven had mastered the art of disguise and impersonation; of all the Minions she had been the most skilled at transforming herself into another being. Orath favored a more subtle approach. As with the Danaan Queen, he preferred to manipulate and control his subjects rather than become them. But in this case he couldn’t hover at Bo-Shing’s side giving him orders.

There were other ways to exert control, however. Wrapping his arms tightly around his own body, Orath began a soft chant. His whispered words were little more than a hiss as he called upon the Chaos. His flesh quivered as his transformation began. Within seconds his tall form had become completely incorporeal; he was no longer a physical being of flesh and blood, but a figure made of dense black mist.

The mist began to shift, the outline of Orath’s form dissolving into a cloud that hovered over Bo-Shing before slowly crawling down his throat.

The next morning there was much grumbling and complaining when the captain ordered his men to weigh anchor. But nobody—not even Cassandra—suspected the truth.

Bo-Shing was gone. His body was little more than an empty shell of skin, everything beneath eaten away from the inside so Orath could wear it like a cloak.

T
HE
O
RDER HAD
been driven from Callastan. The few Inquisitors who’d survived the attack had fled, as had many of the soldiers fighting with them. Many more had simply thrown down their weapons and surrendered during the battle, utterly demoralized by a combination of the forces uniting against them and the power of Daemron’s Sword.

I felt that power myself for a while,
Keegan thought, remembering the odd sensation of using two of the Slayer’s Talismans simultaneously. Jerrod had been right: They balanced each other out. But Keegan had also felt a powerful synergy between them: Together, they were even greater than the sum of each individual part.

With the Pontiff slain, there was no longer a clear ruler of the city. Most of the nobles had fled during the Order’s initial attack, abandoning the ordinary citizens to fend for themselves. The various crime lords who had stayed and joined in the fight were eager to divide up and lay claim to the various districts, but so far the presence of the Free City armies had limited their efforts to petitions and negotiations rather than violence.

I hope Captain Jendarme is as capable as Vaaler claims,
Keegan thought.

The leader of Cheville’s forces had been given the difficult task of maintaining order within the city streets until a proper ruling body could be established. Over the first two days an uneasy truce had held inside the city walls, the natives and their liberators existing peacefully side by side.

Keegan knew the current situation was precarious. Technically Jendarme and his troops were an occupying force. Eventually they would want to return home, and the people of Callastan would want them gone. Smoothly turning over power to a responsible authority when they left would be no easy task.

I can’t worry about that right now,
he reminded himself.
There are more important things to focus on.

Taking charge as he so often did, Vaaler had organized an impromptu council to address the real issue: what to do about Cassandra and the Crown. He’d offered to delay the meeting another day or two, concerned about Keegan’s health after seeing the toll that summoning the mystical fog had taken on his friend. But they’d already lost enough time, and the young wizard had insisted on pushing forward as quickly as possible.

Now Keegan and everyone else who knew anything about the Keystone had gathered together in the spacious, and currently abandoned, council chambers of Callastan’s city hall.

Vaaler and Shalana were both there, sitting close together. Clearly their relationship had progressed into something more than friendship during the war against the Danaan, and Keegan was happy for his friend.

Andar and several other Danaan were also present; Keegan still found it hard to think of them as allies after all that had happened. But if Vaaler was willing to vouch for them, he wasn’t going to turn them away.

Jerrod had also joined them, limping across the room to take a seat on the side of the table beside Keegan, opposite Vaaler and the others. Scythe had used the Sword to heal the worst of the monk’s injuries, but he was still moving stiffly as he recovered from the brutal beating he’d received at the Pontiff’s hands.

Scythe and Methodis had been the last to arrive, the healer moving slowly and leaning on the young woman for support. She hadn’t left his side ever since rescuing him from the Pontiff. Keegan had never seen her so protective of someone, not even Norr.

She needed this,
he thought.
She needed to remember that there are things in this world worth saving.

Once everyone was seated, Vaaler was quick to get things going.

“We all know why we are here,” he said, dispatching with formality by not bothering to rise from his seat as he spoke. “We all understand what is at stake.”

Keegan noticed his eyes flick over toward Methodis as he spoke. Scythe answered with a barely imperceptible nod, confirming she had already explained their mission to the healer.

“You need to find Cassandra,” Methodis agreed. “And Scythe has assured me you mean her no harm.”

“She has to be stopped,” Jerrod said. “Hopefully we can convince her of this. If not, I do not know what will happen to her.”

Keegan frowned at the monk’s brutal honesty, but it didn’t seem to bother Methodis.

“I would help you if I could,” he said. “But you already know as much as I do.

“She was looking for passage to a remote island marked by a massive black obelisk.”

“It’s called the Keystone,” Keegan said. “It’s where the Old Gods created the Legacy.”

“Scythe has told me of your quest,” the old healer assured him. “But though I helped Cassandra escape the city, I do not know how to find the island. Bo-Shing claimed he would take us there, but he never divulged the location to me.”

“I think there is enough information in the ancient Danaan texts for us to find the Keystone,” Andar said.

“Even if you’re right,” Methodis objected, “you’ll never catch her. There is no ship faster than
The Chaos Runner.
Bo-Shing might already be there.”

“If that was true, the Legacy would no longer be standing,” Jerrod insisted. “We still have time to stop her.”

“You said there was another way to get there,” Keegan said, addressing Vaaler. “Using magic.”

“It might be possible to create a portal to cross the Burning Sea in a fraction of the time it would take by ship,” he agreed. “But as I warned, the ritual is incredibly dangerous.”

“When the ancient wizards used Old Magic to bend the laws of space and time,” Andar explained, “they could only travel to a place they had visited many times before.”

“None of us has ever been to the Keystone,” Scythe noted.

“I’ve been there in my dreams,” Keegan reminded her.

“It’s not the same,” she insisted.

“No,” Vaaler agreed. “It’s not. But Andar and I have been studying the passages that reference the Keystone. It may have properties that will make it easier to create a portal that leads to it.”

“The Keystone isn’t just where the Legacy was born,” Andar explained. “It’s the foundation the Old Gods used to create the entire world.”

“It’s the nexus where our world and the Burning Sea connect,” Vaaler added. “If we imagine all of our physical reality as a map, then the Keystone would be the zero coordinate.”

“Using this, can you open a portal to the Keystone?” Jerrod asked.

“I can’t,” Vaaler answered. “But I can show Keegan how.

“As I mentioned before, Rexol had me transcribe numerous accounts of wizards who attempted it. The details of the ritual are complex, but I think I remember them well enough to re-create them accurately.”

“Quit being modest,” Shalana told him. “You never forget anything.”

Keegan knew it was true. During the time they both served under Rexol Vaaler had always been the better student. The arcane words and symbols needed to channel Chaos into a specific spell had come easily to him despite the irony that he himself had no magical ability whatsoever.

“How long will it take?” Keegan asked.

“Probably two days to make all the preparations,” Vaaler estimated. “Will you be ready by then?”

A fair question.

Just the thought of attempting to summon Chaos again—to try to control the power of the Ring so soon after his last ordeal—brought on a fresh wave of exhaustion. But there was no other who could do this, and they were running out of time.

“I’ll be ready,” Keegan promised.

“You won’t have to do this alone,” Andar promised. “I and the other Danaan mages will stand with you. You can draw on our power to help sustain yourself.”

“How many can pass through this portal?” Jerrod asked.

“In all the accounts I’ve read, only the wizard who created it,” Vaaler admitted. “But in theory it should be possible to bring along another though it will make the ritual even more dangerous.”

“Speaking in my professional capacity,” Methodis chimed in, addressing the monk, “you’re in no physical state to go with him anyway.”

“I’m not the one who needs to go,” he answered, and all eyes turned to Scythe.

Keegan saw her jaw clench, and he spoke up quickly before she could reply.

“I’ll go alone. I’ve carried both the Ring and the Sword before.”

“Don’t be stupid!” Scythe snarled. “The Sword is my burden, not yours. I’m coming with you.”

“This is not the time for foolish bravery, Scythe,” Methodis chided. “There are others more suited to this than you.”

“I thought you told him everything,” Vaaler said.

Scythe shot him a fierce glare. Then her face softened as she turned to Methodis.

“Keegan and I share a powerful bond. It’s hard to explain, but it’s real. Our fates are bound together. I can’t let him face this alone.”

To his credit, Methodis didn’t argue or protest. Whether that was because he simply accepted what she said, or whether he simply knew her well enough to realize she was too stubborn to change her mind, Keegan couldn’t say.

“Then it’s decided,” Jerrod declared. “Vaaler will prepare the ritual, and Keegan and Scythe will go through the portal and fulfill their destiny.”

And if we fail,
Keegan silently added,
the entire world is doomed.

Methodis didn’t speak as Scythe escorted him back to his shop. Despite their years apart, she knew him well enough to see that he was carefully considering everything he’d heard at the meeting.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything,” she said. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“It’s all a bit much to take in at once,” he agreed.

Scythe was relieved there was no hint of anger or disappointment in his voice. But she picked up on his concern.

“I’ll be okay,” she promised.

“You always say that,” Methodis reminded her. “Even when it’s not true.”

“I have to do this,” she said.

“You really believe this is your destiny, don’t you?” he asked, smiling softly.

“After all that has happened, I’d be a fool to deny it.”

“I care about you, Scythe,” he said, “but you’re not a child anymore. You don’t need my permission to do this.”

“No,” she admitted. “But I’d like your approval.”

“I’m still not sure what I think of all this,” Methodis said. “I need time to process it.

“But I trust your judgment, Scythe. If you believe this is something you have to do, then do it with my blessing.”

Scythe smiled and took hold of Methodis’s arm, wrapping herself around it. He wasn’t a tall man, so she was able to rest her head on his shoulder as they walked.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to slip back into her youth, when Methodis would hold her close, making her feel safe from whatever the world could throw at her.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Methodis spoke again.

“You said you and Keegan share a bond.”

“We were both born under the Blood Moon,” Scythe said, choosing her words carefully as they walked slowly down the street arm in arm. “We are both Children of Fire, each touched by Chaos in our own way. And we share a destiny to save the world.”

“I wonder if there’s more to it than that,” he said.

“Isn’t that enough?”

“You clearly care about him,” Methodis told her, meeting her evasions with bluntness. “But I can see you fighting against your feelings.”

Scythe lifted her head from his shoulder and let go of his arm.

“I lost someone very close to me recently,” she answered tersely. “I need time to grieve.”

“We need to grieve to heal,” the old healer agreed. “But don’t use your grief as an excuse.”

“An excuse?”

Methodis stepped in front of her and turned to face her, forcing her to stop in her tracks.

“I think you’re afraid, Scythe,” he said, his words earnest but not harsh. “You lost someone you cared about. Now you won’t let yourself care about Keegan because you’re afraid you’ll lose him, too.

“But shutting him out isn’t the answer. If you close yourself off as a shield against pain, you’ll never know happiness.”

“It’s too soon,” Scythe insisted. “We’ve been through a lot, but Norr’s only been gone a few weeks. I can’t just run off and seek comfort in the arms of someone else.”

“Why not?”

“It’s…it’s not appropriate.”

Methodis chuckled softly. “I’ve never known you to be ‘appropriate,’ Scythe. The pain of his loss might still be fresh, but if being with someone else helps you feel better, you shouldn’t fight against it.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Scythe said, stepping around him and resuming her methodical pace.

“It always is,” Methodis said, falling back into step beside her. “But you know me; I can’t help sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

“I’m supposed to help Keegan save the world,” Scythe continued, the words coming out in an unexpected flood. “But nobody has any clue how that’s going to happen!”

“And you think you know?”

“What if he has to sacrifice himself? What if Keegan’s destiny is to become a martyr to save the world? What if I have to help him do it?”

“All the more reason not to shut him out now,” Methodis said gently. “If you only have a short time left, you must make the most of it.”