Looming Shadow: Journey to Chaos book 2 (31 page)

 “Don't worry. I have
full blessing and authority from my little sister, Zaticana.” He kissed the
monkey man full on the lips. “Call me, lover.” He snapped and disappeared.

In mere moments, what
began as a civil meeting between a scholar and an elected official had
descended into nonsensical farce. Eric stumbled back and forth, attempting to
get his underwear off his head, Caffour spat repeatedly and babbled random
languages, Tiza insulted herself while Nolien attempted to calm her, and
Basilard read his dirty book.

“I'm so stupid! Basilard's
going to –”

“It's The Trickster.
He'll understand.”

“I'm a barbarian just
like that samurai –”

“You are none of those
things.” She mumbled protests. “You aren't...maybe a little violent.” Tiza
smacked him and then hugged him.

“Thanks, Tenderfoot.”
Her eyes narrowed and she shouted at the crowd, “Have you freaks been here so
long you've forgotten what humans look like!?” She wrenched out of Nolien's
grip, stood up, and tripped because of the confining skirt. Grumbling curses,
she pulled out a dagger to cut it off.

“Tiza, remember our
agreement,” Basilard said. He was watching Eric struggle with amusement
inappropriate for a mentor. “Find a place to transform it back into pants.
Nolien, take her there. Eric, distract the crowd.”

“Abyss take you,
Daylra!”

Tiza grabbed Nolien arm
to steady herself and walked in front of him. They attracted looks, but Eric
flailing about, blinded by his own underwear, diverted much of it.

“That is The Trickster,
Governor Caffour,” Haburt said aloud.

“If that is The
Trickster, then – wait, I can understand you! How-is-did he –”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“His sister is the
goddess of language. She can do that.”

“Regardless, he is a
menace and his choice would be just as bad. Why should I allow someone like
that to a place as dangerous as the Haunted Castle?”

Wow...in ten seconds,
Tasio cultivated the same image in Ceiha that took him ages in Roalt
.

With an air of sagely
wisdom, Haburt began his argument.

 “Governor Caffour,
when I arrived here, I saw a desolate wasteland ruled by a council of tyrants
and their trigger-happy attack dogs. Am I correct?”

Caffour hesitated
before replying. “An outsider would have that opinion.” 

“Now I look around and
I see a bountiful oasis without walls or soldiers and protected by the same
power that enriches it. Have you forgotten what life was like before you came
to this place that you rule with
de facto
autonomy?”

Caffour eyed him
suspiciously. “What's your point?”

 “Where I come from,
The Trickster has many names and one of them is Overturner of Fortune. While
the Fog of Mount Heios destroyed your old lives, it also gave you new ones in
this land of milk and honey. Eric Watley, the Trickster's Choice, will bring a
similar upheaval, but your lives will improve as a result.”

“How so?”

“If I can prove that
your Haunted Castle is the final lair of Dengel Tymh, then people the world
over will flock here to see it. Other scholars, mages, and their students,
families on vacation; all of them will come and spend money here. The world
will see this country as more than a mana-free zone and so the top brass will
want the country to look nice for them, and with so much attention focused
here, they will be friendlier to the locals. You can improve the lives of
everyone in the country.” 

Caffour considered this
and said, “What if I didn't want to take such a risk? What if I like our
situation the way it is now?”

Suddenly, the
atmosphere intensified. Eric could feel it on his skin. It was perfectly
measured and controlled spiritual power filling the area with its potency. It
was a light pressure on him, but Caffour was pushed to his knees. Haburt's eyes
glowed pale grey.

“In that case, I would
say that I am not asking for permission. I am extending a mutually beneficial
offer.” He increased the pressure and forced Caffour to kowtow. “When I return
home, I hope to tell the world about your magnificent hospitality and how you
should not be treated like mongrels because of your pitiful spiritual power.”
He recoiled his spirit and Caffour shivered uncontrollably. “I trust we
understand each other?”

The monkey humanoid
made an admirable attempt to regain control of himself, failed, and shivered
for a minute longer. Nearby civilians made no attempt to help him. They feared
the stranger's power and so they pretended they didn't notice him. Zettai
memorized what he did and filed it away for future reference. At last,
Caffour's spirit settled and he stood up.

“Yes, I understand your
intentions perfectly. If you will follow me, I will take you to our local
expert and mountain guide.”

The governor led them
out of the marketplace, and past the main area of the town, to a house at the
base of the mountain. Unlike the other buildings that were made of mud or stone
blocks, this one looked like it was molded with earth magic. It reminded Eric
of the designs he'd seen in Roalt’s Brown Town of Art and Creativity. This home
was made of chocolate-brown stone with two dark chocolate orbs set above a
triangle-shaped hole. Caffour knocked on the door and his raps formed the first
part of “shave and a haircut” and someone from inside finished it.

“She's home.” At their
puzzled looks, he pointed at the Fog cloud hovering at the mountain's peak.
“She breathes a lot of Fog.”

“Does that mean she’s
an ‘addict’?” Zettai asked.

“She’s
something
.”

Inside the house was a
single room with a fire pit, a cistern, and floor-to-ceiling writing. All of it
concerned the mountain: its geography, topography, weather, Fog
level/intensity, and what appeared to be hymns in praise of it. While this was
interesting for a bookworm like Eric, the truly fascinating thing was the
writer herself. She was examining a glowing rock on a tablet at her right and
carving more notes into a pedestal on her left. When she was done, she pushed the
pedestal into the ground with a wave of her hand and brought a fresh one up
with the same gesture.

That’s magecraft!
SILENT magecraft! It puts her on Basilard's level!

Caffour stood straight
with his back to her and announced, “Travelers, I present to you, Lady Sias, Duchess
of Daici, Mistress of Minerals, and High Priestess of the Cult of the
Mountain.”

The lady put her chisel
on the table and turned to face her guests. She wore a bright brown ankle-length
cloak that was free of all dust and grime. Underneath was a similarly clean
green dress and white petticoats. Attached to the fabric at the hem, the waist
and neckline were rocks of assorted colors. She pulled back her hood to reveal
long, pink hair and said something in sign language.

“Are you deaf or
missing a tongue?” Tiza asked.

Sias glared. Basilard
smacked Tiza atop the head and signed in reply. Sias smiled and signed again,
and thus began an extended conversation between her and Basilard. She didn't
pay attention to Haburt, despite his attempts to gain it, and Basilard pushed
him aside when he stepped in their way. Ultimately, Basilard signed something
that made her blush, giggle, and finally nod.

“You're supposed to ask
for a guide,” Haburt said coldly. “Not a date.”

Basilard winked. “Who
says I can't have both?”

He bowed to Sias and
walked out of the hut.

Outside, Basilard spoke
at length about Sias and her work. She was a geologist from Angisland that came
to study the mountain's interior, the species of rock threading it, and the
effect its Fog had on the parched land. When she reached the peak, she had a
religious awakening and founded the Cult of the Mountain. For the last ten
years, she’d been both researching and worshipping the mountain.

“I’ve never seen you so
taken with a client before,” Nolien said.

“I’m not ‘taken.’ I’m
simply interviewing predecessors.”

“Then what's with the
charm all of a sudden?” Tiza asked.

“The Mother Dragon says,
'one catches' –”

“It's the pink hair,
isn't it?” Eric asked. Basilard paused and this was a fatal mistake. “Pink hair
makes you hot, doesn't it?”

“No, it doesn't.” Tiza
opened her mouth. “Tiza, say one word about 'pink hair' and I'll tell Nolien
about Sathel's presents.” Tiza's mouth clicked closed. “That goes for you too,
Eric. I can tell Annala about your problem with Magic Sight. You as well,
Nolien. I can tell everyone your secret.”

Nolien was incredulous.
“You're kidding, right? That's no threat.”

“True, but I wanted to
be impartial.”

Back at his office,
Caffour offered to assign each of them to a host family for the duration of
their stay, but Basilard refused. He didn’t want his party split up under any
circumstances. Instead, they made camp as they had for the last week. Then, he
sat down with the governor and demanded to hear everything he knew about this
Crimson Killer.

“Corpses have been
found in the streets and in homes, shriveled and bloodless. There are also
cases of people disappearing outright. While the former appears to be random,
this second group has two similarities: their parents are either dead or
estranged and they have a keen interest in magic.”

Basilard groaned at
this last piece of information. Caffour raised an eyebrow. That was not the
reaction he was expecting.

“Is there something
wrong, Mr. Bladi?”

“Hopefully not. Has
this criminal been tied to rape?”

“No, that doesn’t
happen here.”

Basilard’s eyes glowed
dangerously.

“Due to our mutations,
few in this town are sexually compatible with anyone else. No one has yanked
my
banana in ten years!”

“My condolences,
governor; please continue with the Crimson Killer.”

 “Oh yes, of course.
The most popular one is the Ancient-Magic-Zombie-King. A king that lived in the
aftermath of Ceiha's golden age two thousand years ago. When the empire was
falling apart due to the Avatar War, this king turned to dark magic to preserve
his chunk of it. Instead, it preserved his body and he was trapped within the
castle on the mountain until the first researchers came to investigate it. They
accidentally released him and, by then, the king had gone mad from isolation.
He killed them and went on to terrorize the country. He lives by stealing blood
from his victims.”

“Close but not quite,” Basilard
said. “The more likely option is that he fled here to escape his lawful
punishment and was so desperate that he made a contract with the one deity that
would take him in: Death. Then he used the castle as his new base of operations
to maintain his ego. The other mountain with its abundant Fog is also a
possibility. He would need a great deal of energy for his forbidden research.
The abductions are experiments and the husks are him feeding to dilute his
cursed blood. In other words, this Ancient-Magic-Zombie-King story is correct
except for the origin.”

“Do you know him?”
Nolien asked.

“No. He's a stranger to
me. As far as I'm concerned, he's just one more monster.”

The novices wisely
dropped the subject.

“Anything else?”

“There’s also a strange
epidemic in this part of the country, but don’t worry! The Death Priests said
it’s not contagious. The symptoms are black sores, decaying skin, weakness in
the limbs, and depression about the inevitability of death. The priests say
he’s responsible.”

“That’s
necro-poisoning. It’s a side effect of necrocraft; both using it and being the
victim of it. I’ll make sure he pays for tampering with the flow of life.” 

The next morning, they
met Sias at the start of the trail up to the mountain. The way up was steep and
rocky. Glowing green fungus grew on random ledges, yet Sias was still wearing
her formal gown.

“Are you stupid?” Tiza
asked. “You can't climb in that.”

Sias glared and
Basilard smacked. The lady of rocks smiled in his direction and he bowed his head.
She picked up her skirts and walked up the path with him at her side. The rest
of the group followed behind them.

“I think she has mind
control,” Tiza whispered.

“That's absurd,” Nolien
whispered back. “If she had mind control, it would bleach her hair grey.
Something else is controlling him, if you know what I mean.”

He walked around a
boulder in their way while Tiza scampered up and over it and jumped down on the
path in time to tap her foot, waiting for him. Eric jumped down beside her,
Zettai tried to sneak up on her, and Haburt walked behind Nolien but in full
view. They walked this way until they reached the first cliff and the true base
of the mountain.

Up close, Eric could
truly appreciate how sheer the cliffs were. His neck creaked, craning back far
enough to see the top and, even then, Fog obscured the summit. It was a black
mountain that was sandpaper smooth. This wasn't natural; no amount of weather
could do this. The only blemishes were caused by previous mountain climbers.

“Hey, Professor,” Eric
said after a drink, “did Dengel invent magical rock-climbing equipment?”

“Yes,” Haburt said with
a dry smile. “They're called 'wings.'”

The path of sky was
quicker and safer and fit Dengel's ego of hovering over the land. It was yet
another reason Haburt was willing to spend so much time and money to reach this
castle. Few people from Dengel's age could reach it easily enough to call it
home.

Here, Sias held out a
hand to get their attention and signed. Basilard translated,

“The castle at the top
of this mountain belongs to me, but an evil spirit prevents me from entering
it. I have brought you here to assist me in exorcising him so I may claim my
birthright. The mountain warns me of traps that the fiend has set against me.
Booby traps are in the lower reaches and a fear field is in the upper reaches.
The mountain will generate all the hand and footholds you will need. When you
reach the Fear Field, count to forty-two and you will be level with the source
of fear and one step away from fire.”