The Immortal Mystic (Book 5) (8 page)

Aparen turned back to Lord Lokton. The corpse rose to its feet and reached out for Aparen. “You have betrayed me,” the corpse gasped.

Aparen struggled, but the corpse opened its mouth and swallowed Aparen in an instant. The darkness returned, but Aparen was not returned to the tower. This was a much colder, emptier space. He felt himself floating away and saw Lord Lokton and his wife. She was newly pregnant with child, though he was not sure how he knew this. Hairen, the old witch, crept toward them from the shadows. The witch held a knife in her hand and crept ever closer while the happy couple looked at a newly built crib.

“Behind you!” Aparen shouted. He ran forward on instinct, moving in to save the pair. There was no ground beneath him. His feet churned the cold space, but could not bring him any closer. Hairen held her hand out and a blue light flew from Lady Lokton’s stomach. The happy couple began to frown, and the crib fell apart. Hairen cackled maniacally and then drew a line in the air behind the couple. Blood seeped from the line in the air and then Hairen disappeared.

Aparen felt a force pull him from the couple, and his eyes filled with tears. They disappeared from before him. A moment later his father and mother stood before him. They were sorrowful, and staring out at an empty room, his room. As before, Aparen saw Hairen approaching. This time she sent the blue light out and it entered his mother’s stomach. His mother and father became happy and immediately began arranging baby items into the room. As the time passed, his mother’s belly grew. Hairen cackled again and then drew another line in the air. As with the first, this one bled slowly, dropping scarlet liquid onto the ground.

“Entwined by stolen flesh, let the blood between these two houses boil and froth, like a tempest of lava,” Hairen said. Then she vanished.

In a matter of seconds Aparen watched as he was born. To his left, he watched Lord and Lady Lokton struggle through sadness and grief together. At once he felt both his parents’ joy and also the depth of sorrow from the Loktons. In his heart, he now understood what the satyr was telling him. He had slain his rightful father, and had been cursed by the witches since before his birth. Nothing more than a pawn in a very cold game of revenge.

“Enough!” he cried out into the air around him. The air melted around him and he fell to land with a
thawump!

“Can you see yet?” the satyr asked.

Aparen looked up. Again all he could see was the darkness from before. “No,” he said. His eyes filled with tears and he let his forehead drop to the floor. “Is everything you showed me correct, or is it a trick?” He listened as hooves clicked along the stone floor. A creaky hinge squealed and then a door closed. Aparen sighed and gave in to his grief.

*****

The door at the base of the tower opened and out walked a dark furred satyr. His horns curled backward, forming a menacingly ridged weapon atop his head. Silvi stood up from the boulder she had been sitting upon. The brown satyr next to her bowed and turned to leave. She watched him for a second and then turned back to watch the new satyr. She jumped and gasped. The satyr already stood four inches from her face. His snout twitched, and his rectangular pupils narrowed slightly. His golden eyes tuned in on her so fiercely that she swallowed and began to sweat.

“Your charm spell has been broken,” he said simply. “In order to train him, I need his mind to be unfettered with your interference.”

Silvi nodded and stumbled back to a sitting position. “And what of me?” she asked.

“He knows all,” the satyr said. “I have shown him all of your coven’s dealing with him.”

“Then I am a dead woman,” she said. “He will hunt me from here, and his mother hunts me from the mainland. There will not be any place I can hide for long.”

The satyr held up a three fingered hand and shook his head. “We do not allow killing within our land. Viverandon is a sanctuary for life. I will house you with Tubadous, a fine faun who will watch over you. You are to remain in her home at all times.”

“So I am a prisoner then?” Silvi asked.

“Do you feel it unjust?” the satyr asked.

Silvi shook her head and sat in silence.

“Before I send you to Tubadous, there is something I need from you.”

Silvi blinked slowly and then nodded. “He won’t believe you unless I confirm it,” she said dryly.

“Your charm spell was extremely powerful,” the satyr said. “He has been drunk on your magic for a very long time. I need you to help me unchain his soul.”

Silvi narrowed her eyes and then stood to face the satyr. “And what cords will you wrap around his heart and mind? What is it that Dremathor, the shadowfiend, has enlisted you to do for him?”

The satyr cocked his head to the side and a slight smile curled his lips. “You have grown attached to him,” he said.

Silvi arched a brow and folded her arms, continuing to glare into the satyr’s eyes. “If you want my help, you will have to tell me what it is you will do to him.”

“Perhaps there is hope for both of you after all,” the satyr said. “I will show you, but you will be bound to silence. Your very tongue will freeze in place and your throat shall swell closed should you ever try to speak of this to anyone.”

“Agreed.”

“If you try to use magic, or any other means to divulge what I will show you, then your very heart will slow to such a degree that you will fall into a deep sleep. The youngling must be allowed to develop on his own, with no impressions of what is in store. Am I clear?”

Silvi nodded. The satyr reached up and placed the thick pad of his third finger on her forehead. A great clap, like that of thunder, rent the air around them. A few moments later and the satyr pulled his hand away from Silvi.

“The youngling, if he can be saved, may prove to be the savior of us all,” the satyr said.

“I thought the other boy was the one who was prophesied about?” Silvi questioned.

The satyr nodded. “Not all heroes come on the tails of a prophecy, just as all villains do not necessarily wish to see the world burn.”

“I will help you,” Silvi promised.

The satyr made a sound, not unlike that of a bleating goat, and smiled faintly.

*****

Marlin moistened his thumb and forefinger and then squished the burning wick between them. The flame hissed and died with hardly any smoke rising from it. He turned to face the window. His mind turned to thoughts of Erik. He looked out over the peaceful valley to the north of Ten forts. He could still hear the shouts and commands of the soldiers along the walls. Even with the trebuchets destroyed, there was still plenty of fighting. Orcs came in seemingly never ending skirmishes. Some groups were small, others were large, but there was never a moment of peace.

It had been a long day for him. Lepkin had walked him around with the mission of scanning each soldier he saw and determining his loyalty. They had started the search within the main keep, but they had found nothing. Out of the hundreds of soldiers they passed, Marlin found only honorable men. Now he was exhausted. It had been a long time since he had used his powers so extensively over an entire day. He welcomed the night when it had come. Lepkin was anxious to return to Dimwater, and Marlin was finally given a break.

He pushed the day’s events and the current clamor out of his mind and focused on the peaceful valley below. His window faced the northern lands where there were no orcs. He couldn’t see as normal humans did. In fact, he had only had the candle lit for Tatev, but the librarian was fast asleep now on the cot near the far wall. He could, however, see the auras within the plants. The soft greens and whites mixed and flowed with the yellows and blues. He looked up to the moon and drank in the sight of its silvery light. He had always thought it curious that people with normal sight would say the moon shone like silver, but they had no idea. To Marlin it was as if there was a river of silver coins ever flowing out from the moon down to the land around him. It was a unique aura, unlike anything else there was to see.

Marlin leaned over and waited for the moon to travel its path across the night sky. When it reached its apex, and the aura streamed fully into the room through his window, he sat cross legged and held his hands out over his knees, palms facing up. He closed his eyes and focused his mind, emptying it of thoughts and cares. He opened himself to receive wisdom from the moon. He sat there for a long while, waiting and focusing only on keeping his mind empty.

After a long while, his head dipped and he succumbed to sleep. His kinked neck created an awkward passage for his breath resulting in a strange wheeze when he inhaled. His mind, however, then became active. Images came to him. He saw Erik and Jaleal ascending Demaverung. He saw Tu’luh die. He saw Erik escape. Then, he saw strange shadows chasing him through the ruined wastelands of Verishtahng. A sandstorm picked up, and then there were flashes of teeth and blades. The image became shrouded in sand and darkness, and then the vision ended.

Marlin woke with a start and jumped to his feet. “That cannot be the end,” he said to the moon. “You have to give me some hope. Show me how to find him.”

The moon’s aura intensified around him, humming low and vibrating with a tingly warmth. In Marlin’s head, he saw the images of a pass to the west. It was a place not marked upon any map, and led only part way up into the mountains where it disappeared into a tunnel.

“I go to the tunnel?” Marlin asked. The man knew that Mercer would not be pleased. The commander was convinced there were still more traitors to be found. Marlin, however, was not beholden to Mercer or to the men of Ten Forts. His duty was first and foremost to combat Nagar’s magic, and his loyalty was cemented with Erik. He knew what had to be done.

The aura faded away and the light left the room.

Marlin turned his head to look at Tatev. The man was sleeping soundly, but they would need to leave immediately. The prelate took three steps and placed his hand on Tatev’s shoulder. “Wake up, Librarian.”

Tatev snorted and grumbled. He turned over and swatted at his shoulder with his free hand.

Marlin had not the patience to wait. He placed his finger on Tatev’s cheek and sent an orange spark from his finger to Tatev.

“Gah!” Tatev said as he rubbed his cheek and rose to his feet. “What is it?”

“We’re leaving.”

“Now?” Tatev rubbed his eyes and looked around. “What about the orcs?”

Marlin shook his head. “We aren’t much help to the soldiers here. Erik is in trouble.”

Tatev reached out for his glasses and pushed them up onto his nose. “How are we going to get to him?”

“I saw a tunnel, on the north side.”

Tatev shuddered. “I don’t much like tunnels.”

“I have the gift of true sight.” Marlin pointed to Tatev. “You have the Eyes of Dowr. We will fare well in the tunnel. No living creature can hide its aura.”

Tatev nodded and rubbed his shoulders. “I’ll get my pack.”

“Get the book too,” Marlin instructed.

“The Infinium?”

Marlin nodded. “When we find Erik, you will take him east to search for the Immortal Mystic.”

“I can’t lead him in the wilds!” Tatev countered.

Marlin shrugged and walked back toward his bed to gather a long robe he had been using at Ten Forts. “Duty calls, Tatev.”

“It should call someone else,” Tatev muttered.

Marlin turned and smiled wryly. “The Immortal Mystic is rumored to have the largest library in Terramyr.”

Tatev pulled his glasses and rubbed the lenses with his shirt. “Well, I guess someone should go,” he said.

Erik coughed and opened his eyes. Warm sunlight flooded in. He balked away and moved a hand up to shield his face. The air was hot, despite the fact that it was still early morning. The red, barren dirt before his face stretched for miles, dotted with the jagged black, orange, and red spires of rocks and thick, heavy boulders. He slowly pulled himself up, sliding along the hard dirt and sitting up, propping himself onto his elbows.

He looked back to Demaverung, the volcanic home of Tu’luh the Red. Thick, black smoke billowed out from the top, forming not a column as before, but a great cloud of ash and smoke above the mountain. Lightning flashed through and over the black cloud, but there was no thunder, only a crackling sound that played upon the arid winds.

There was no telling how many miles he had ran during the night. He could only hope that it was far enough to gain the advantage over any who might be hunting him.

Erik then glanced to his right, where he had placed Jaleal. A great scab formed over the burns across the gnome’s back. No, it wasn’t a scab. He bent in closer to inspect it. Before his very eyes the brown and green material moved, spreading out over the gnome as if it were a living thing. Erik reached out to touch it, but received a terrible shock and sting when his finger brushed the writhing cocoon forming around the gnome. Erik shook his hand and sucked his finger to make the stinging stop. Whatever it was, there was no way for him to stop it.

Within seconds, a hardened, brown cocoon formed around the gnome. Erik couldn’t be sure if this was a sign of healing, or if the gnome had succumbed to his wounds. All he knew was that he was not leaving his friend alone in this dreadful land. He reached out again. His finger trembled ever so slightly as he neared the cocoon. This time there was no shock upon making contact. He sighed with relief and then he picked up Aeolbani, Jaleal’s magical mithril spear, in his left hand, and tucked the cocoon into his right arm. With one more glance back to the volcano he stood and set out again to the east.

He walked for a little more than an hour before he came upon a waterstack. He moved toward it and was careful to remove the pod in exactly the same way Jaleal had done when harvesting the water from the potentially deadly plant. He drank of the sweet liquid and looked up to the sky. The great cloud of ash was slowly spreading, barring much of the sun’s light from reaching the ground. A hot, fetid wind came out of the west and drove up great swaths of red dust. Erik turned his face and closed his eyes as hard grains of sand pelted him. He hunched over and used his free arm to shield his face as best he could in order to press on despite the wind.

As he came up over a small hill he noticed a trio of mammoths huddled together, each with their faces turned in and their backs presenting a unified, furry wall to the wind. Erik thought, if only for a moment, that perhaps he could seek shelter behind them. He quickly dismissed that thought when he saw the size of their tusks though. Each one of the thick, ivory spears was easily as long as he was tall. Each of their legs ended with feet as big around as his waist. He thought it best to continue onward on his own to find shelter from the growing storm rather than tempt such massive beasts.

A flash of blue lightning scorched the sky above and deafening thunder shook the ground around him. The mammoths trumpeted, but instead of running they huddled in closer to each other. Erik dared to look back toward Demaverung. A large, fiery plume of thick, black smoke shot into the air and rolled through the widening ash cloud. A tremor from below shook the ground. Rocks nearby bounced and rolled from their places and Erik knew something terrible was about to happen. He turned and ran.

Lightning continued to streak through the air above as the sandstorm intensified and the winds increased in power. Tremors shook the ground periodically, some nearly knocking Erik off balance. Still, he tucked Jaleal into his arms as best he could and ran for all he was worth. Off in the distance to his right he saw the three mammoths charging away from Demaverung as well. The fact that the animals were willing to give up their effective defense only confirmed Erik’s suspicions. He had to find shelter, and fast.

He ran up a small hill and then down the other side. Another tremor struck, and the sand around him fell away, cascading down the hill and sweeping his feet out from under him along with it. He landed on his back and rode the minute avalanche down the remaining fifteen feet to the bottom and then jumped up to continue running. Erik saw a few boulders nearby, but nothing that would provide adequate shelter.

The sky darkened. Erik was running out of time.

On he ran, stumbling over rocks and dips in the sand that he could no longer clearly see.

Just then a massive flash of orange and red light erupted from behind. The entire valley was illuminated and bathed in a fiery glow. Erik turned to see Demaverung spewing fire and rock from its mouth. Half of the northern face of the mountain was now gone, replaced by a vent of fire and ash. The deafening roar that came along with the eruption was beyond anything Erik could have ever imagined. He panicked. He looked left and right. He found a grouping of boulders, with a pair of large slabs leaning against each other just enough to form a small shelter. He bolted for it.

No sooner did he dive inside than the light from the eruption was replaced by total darkness. Erik summoned his light, as he had in Hamath Valley, and saw that his outcropping of boulders actually led to a small cave, or den, of some sort. He crawled under the rocks to get into the hole as far as he could. Eventually the cave ended in a large den big enough for him to lay down, but not so tall for him to do much more than crawl. He placed Jaleal down on the ground and then went back to the narrow opening to the chamber and removed his shirt. He used cracks and rocks to stuff the cloth in and try to create a screen. Luckily, the cave was facing enough away from the storm that the sand didn’t fill the area, but he still thought it best to block whatever he could.

Then he crawled to the back of the den and waited.

*****

Takala moved through the gritty wind as a ghost through the shadows. His magic created a soft shell around him. The mountain behind him erupted with a terrible roar, but he paid it no mind. Gilifan had told him the order was about to be cleansed. Now it was. The sky and air around him turned dark, but it didn’t bother him. He lifted his left hand and created an orb of light near him, within the protection of his magical shell, and continued to follow the tracks in the sand. Not physical tracks, as those were obliterated by the sand storm and the volcano. However, there were faint traces of magic that matched the trail from Tu’luh’s chamber in Demaverung. Takala knew it belonged to the boy.

He continued on until he found a waterstack that had obviously been harvested. He inspected the area for a moment and then continued on, following the pale blue trail as the storm raged around him. He wound his way around boulders and over hills and dunes until he came to an outcropping of stone that led into a small cave. The trail led inside. His lips curled into a wicked smile and he knelt to remove a slender sword from his sheath. His left hand reached around his back and removed a green vial. He pulled the cork out and tossed it to the side. His right hand guided the blade as his left hand slowly poured the vial over the smooth metal. The liquid sizzled and fizzed as it made contact with the cold steel. Takala moved the blade farther away so as not to inhale the fumes. Then he looked down to the cave.

His eyes closed and he took in a deep breath. His skin hardened into scales and horns poked out from his skull in a grotesque crown. His muscles doubled, then tripled in size and his bones stretched and thickened. His nose shortened and his teeth grew into sharp, pointed fangs. He opened his eyes once the transformation was complete and blinked his eyes. The pale blue trail glowed brighter now. He stepped forward and bent low to enter the cave.

A sudden pain ripped through his left side. He snarled and turned, flashing his sword and holding his left hand at the ready, a magical fireball waiting in his palm for release. He saw nothing. There was only the darkness. After a moment he glanced down at his side and saw a long, slender slice below his ribs.

A terrible sting shot through his right thigh. He looked down and spied the shaft of an arrow sticking out above his knee.

“Who is there?” he growled.

A flash of black and red leapt out from the darkness. Takala let his fireball loose. A great explosion erupted a few feet before him. He rushed in with the sword at the ready. A great lizard came out of the flames unharmed and flicked its tongue at Takala.

“Charmador?” Takala commented. He raised his sword to strike but something tore through his elbow. He looked up to see another arrow, this one directly through the joint and preventing him from striking with his sword. He moved to blast the charmador with another spell but the beast had already disappeared into the blackness. “Who is there? Show yourself, coward!”

A female voice laughed at him from the swirling darkness and sand. “You hunt a boy, yet you label me a coward. Tell me, would you have shown yourself to him, or would you murder him while he sleeps?”

Takala snarled and released a great wave of flame with a roar. The flame spewed out from his mouth and briefly illuminated the area beyond what his light orb could. He saw nothing. Neither his hunter, nor the charmador came into view. He whirled around, ready to attack, but nothing was behind him either. He turned around again and walked backward toward the cave. He was not about to put his back toward his assailant. He set a great wall of flame to ward off his attacker and then knelt and crawled backward into the cave. His feet and rump bumped into the rock after a few feet, so he shifted and stopped to sit and watch the flames before him. He stretched his neck up and looked out. There was no movement.

He exhaled. He moved his right arm in and grabbed the shaft protruding from his flesh with his left hand. He snapped the arrowhead off and then pulled it out from his arm. A normal man may have writhed in agony from the pain, but for him it was similar to when his body underwent the transformation. He swallowed the pain down and put it out of his mind. He then bent and extended his right arm a few times. It was tender, and certainly weaker than before, but he could use it.

A movement in the flames caught his eye. He looked back up to see the charmador walking slowly through the magical barrier. The lizard hardly paid any attention to the magical fire engulfing it. It moved on, slowly placing one foot in front of the other and swaying its head and tail side to side in opposite of each other as it flicked its tongue out.

“Come then, demon eater,” Takala said. “Come and taste the steel I have for you.”

A sharp pain pressed into his neck and a hand grabbed him from behind. “Dremathor sends his regrets,” a female voice said. Takala’s eyes shot wide and a knife cut the thread of his life as the charmador lunged in to help finish him off.

*****

Erik sat off to the side of the tunnel. Having woken from his sleep by strange noises he wasn’t sure what to expect coming through the opening, but whatever it was, he was not about to give up without a fight. He held his sword at the ready and his magical light hovered near the ceiling to ensure he could see any movement. Nothing came. He held motionless, watching the shirt he had hung to keep the dust at bay.

“Erik, I am a friend,” a female voice called out.

Erik didn’t recognize the voice. “Who are you?”

“I am Salarion,” she replied.

Erik’s heart skipped a beat and his breath froze within his breast.

“I have come to help you escape,” she said. “I know of a tunnel that leads to a pass under the mountains in the north. It will get you out of Verishtahng much faster than crossing east to Ten Forts. Aside from that, there are no orcs the way I plan to travel.”

“How do you know my name?” Erik asked. “And, how do you know I came from Ten Forts?”

Salarion laughed softly from behind the shirt. “Eventually you will have to decide whether you trust me. There is only one way out of this tunnel, and I am not leaving this spot until you do.”

“Pull the shirt down from the tunnel, but do not cross into this chamber.” Erik knew if he could see her, he could use his power to discern whether she spoke the truth and was friend or foe.

“I will do as you ask, but first I need you to know that I am not alone. I have a companion with me. When you come around to see me, you will see a large lizard at my feet. However, have no fear. He hunts only demons, and will have no interest to harm you unless you first attempt to harm me.”

The shirt moved back and slipped from the cracks it had been placed into. Erik slowly circled around the back of the chamber. His summoned light broke through the darkness in the tunnel and he spied a shapely woman crouching low under the rocks. Her eyes were violet, and seemingly burned with an ethereal fire as they watched him. Her skin was a pale gray, with hair darker than a raven’s feathers. A scimitar and several knives hung from her belt. Her leather attire appeared sturdy and thick, with iron rings woven over the top to guard critical areas of her body.

The black and orange lizard at her foot flashed its tongue out at Erik and then turned its head, seemingly disinterested in him. It dropped to its belly and crossed its front legs under its chin. Salarion looked down to the lizard and then pulled a pouch from her belt. She waved a hand over him and he shrank down to the size of a newt. The lizard then obediently moved into the pouch and Salarion replaced it onto her belt.