Oblivion's Crown Read online

  Val frowned. “Give me numbers, Alwin. How much are we talking about?”

  “Between 20% and 50% of your Mana will be gone forever, and perhaps a degree of your mastery over your arts and spells as well. A terrible, steep price to pay. Age will not decline a wizard’s power, but rejuvenation will.” He flashed Val a darkly bemused smile. “Which is why I don’t look the handsome, ageless youth every lad on the northern hemisphere does. Those of us most in tune with the hidden powers of this world are least likely to come from the genetically engineered stock making up most Dominion citizens. Most of us here in the South come from older blood, when pre-Dominion settlers first made their homes here well over a thousand years ago, making alliances and forging bonds with dwarves, faeries, and other races, our intermingled bloodlines giving us access to ancient powers Dominion lackeys could only dream of!”

  Alwin chuckled softly. “Of course no man wants to die, which is why countless wizards have sought cures to aging that will extend the autumn of our lives without cutting off our connection to the greater realm entirely. Thus longevity potions, which do not reverse aging but do slow it down, are the only enhancement we use besides our own healing arts.”

  Val nodded, scowling at the tower before him. He took a deep breath, fresh dwarven armor upon his frame in a heartbeat, amazed that his Shadowcloak had somehow managed to survive along with his Psiblade, when nearly everything else he had been wearing had been utterly destroyed.

  “Tell me about the Ormur clan. What do I need to know before entering the tower?”

  “You have deduced most of it yourself. They are master summoners and possess Magewards that are the envy of most. Lesser members of their clans use wands forged by others for fast-cast attack magics, and their Adepts are often highly skilled in many complementary arts. They are happy to hire themselves out in forging the most potent summoning and warding circles to be seen on the continent, though they expect to be paid in Elementium, Silbion, or preferably, arcane artifacts, primarily wands, as you have seen. They forge their own warding robes, and sell them from time to time for a handsome profit. Save for the enticement of an elemental’s glamour, they have little aptitude or interest in the arts of illusion or enticement.”

  Val nodded. “Alright, it’s clear these fools aren’t coming out any time soon. I’m going in. Everyone else can wait out here. You and I are now Spirit Linked, and if I need you to come to me or get ready to capture or take down targets, you’ll know. Worst-case scenario, flee to the gate I told you about, the one that leads to Highblood Province.” Intent eyes locked upon Alwin’s. “Don’t enter the other gate under any circumstances. But the gate to Highblood might just save your life. Let Christine or Julia Highblood, or Dirk Striker scan your mind. They’ll be able to read everything that happened, and see you come in good faith. But if shit really hits the fan, definitely get my friends here ASAP.”

  Alwin frowned at that. “You don’t want us fighting by your side?”

  Val slowly shook his head. “My style of fighting works best solo or in small groups, all of us trained to ambush and strike as one deadly unit, able to fade into the night just moments later.” He flashed a bemused smile. “You and your men can fight, and I’m grateful for your skill. But I’m not going to risk your lives sending you against unknown numbers in unexplored territory our foe might have booby-trapped. First, we need to scout out the terrain.”

  He locked gazes with the mage before him. “And that scout will be me. I won’t expend your lives cheaply, Alwin, and this is what I trained for.” He flashed a wolf’s smile. Alwin paled. “It’s what I live for.”

  Alwin swallowed and nodded. “The men will be here shortly, sir.”

  Val nodded. “I’ve delayed long enough. I sense no panic, and I doubt these bastards are leaving any time soon. Don’t worry. I’ll signal you when it’s time. And if you’re really lucky, all you’ll have to do is clean up the messes I leave behind.”

  Alwin chuckled ruefully. “You really are like a wolf, and loyal to your pack. I won’t forget the grace you’ve shown, Valor. For all that you’re ruthless, you do take care of your own.”

  Val smirked but said nothing, giving the wizard a final clap on the shoulder before taking a deep breath of the night air, embracing his truest sense of self and approaching the tower before him, as much the chill in the air and the softly rustling grasses before the tower as the man Alwin’s eyes were even now squinting just to see before rubbing his forehead and looking away with a curse.

  Shadow smiled and entered the tower before him. Hungry like the wolf to sup on the prey within.

  16

  “Where the hell are Crict and the others? They’re not in the entryway. We’re going to miss the sacrifice!” snarled one hook-nosed man who smelled of garlic and week-old sweat, scratching a robe both grimy and smelly, though crackling with protective energies visible to anyone with Magesight or Arcane Perception. Though he didn’t smell nearly as pungent as the hulking creature of grey skin and glowing eyes by his side, sniffing with a hooked nose and reeking of brimstone. The giant granite gargoyle built like a massive silverback ape growled, head turning back and forth.

  Shadowmind holds!

  “Shut your trap, Kuto,” snapped a green-eyed woman with full lips, high cheekbones, and a curvaceous figure. She might have been considered beautiful if a smile ever touched her brooding features, but she just crossed her arms and glared. What looked like a tiger made of liquid glass snarled at the other wizard before curling about his mistress’s feet. “Malice said to wait and watch. So we wait and watch. I care not what those drunken fools are doing. You know as well as I the wild tales they tell whenever they sip on Spice-brew. So long as they don’t disturb the rituals desecrating these lands in our master’s name, he cares not what they do.”

  The room they stood in was filled what looked like ancient furniture in pristine condition, tables laid out with stylus and wax tablets and what looked to be the archaic equivalent of a chalkboard, runic symbols written in a straight line down the middle, as if the lesson for whatever students had long since left the classroom forever. The ceiling was a wonder of intricate design, a mural depicting the heavens above with exquisite detail, utterly ignored by the pair of wizards gnawing on dry rations and sipping flasks of wine.

  Kuto’s restlessness only grew. “This doesn’t feel right, Femma. Drunken louts or no, they should be patrolling the grounds, reporting back on the rituals. They haven’t reported back in half a glass! Even if we’ve confined those Christos idiots to the manor, they are not to be taken lightly! If our men are lost in a drunken stupor, I’ll take it out of their hides!”

  Femma snorted. “We outnumber them three to one. Capturing their whores and brats was nothing. The fools were setting up a colony here, as if we’d let them claim these lands without a fight!” She chuckled cruelly. “The only reason we left them alive at the manor was so the Lords of Hell we summon could feast on their souls before consuming their entire clan! You say our patrol isn’t in the foyer? Good! They’re actually out patrolling. If you want to go on a wild goose chase tonight of all nights, be my guest. But at first bell I’m heading downstairs to watch the ritual.”

  “Alwin! I thought you said your wives and children were safe!”

  Val felt a jolt of near panic at Alwin’s end. “What are you talking about? Of course they are! Jerome led them… wait… that snake! That slimy pustulent rat! That’s why we were struck down and pinned so rapidly, half of us in a stupor! We had used his beef-stock with the evening stew! All of us had reservations about the Ormurs coming unexpected, unannounced, when even the rumors of this tower had faded to legend centuries ago! But they had come under a white flag of truce, saying their seers had led the way.

  “They had seemed friendly enough, not disputing our claim, instead offering us tributes of Elementium, gold, and promises of marriage bonds and a grand alliance if they could share the prizes within! Knowing their power, we accepted. We’re not fools. Bu
t still, we thought it wise to fortify the manor with wards and distance our most vulnerable just in case. Jerome said he’d eat after he finished escorting our families back to the spirit gate! He must have been the one to reveal the tower’s existence to the Ormurs! If anything happened to my family, I will have his head! I swear it!”

  Val winced at the sheer terror underneath the man’s furious bluster, Alwin’s instant recollection of the series of events that had led to this moment experienced in a heartbeat. “Focus! Alright. Change of plan. I’m going to be sending at least a few of these bastards to you alive. Don’t kill them! Get every detail you can so I know what to expect.”

  No furious bluster now, just a father’s desperate plea. “Please, Valor Hunter. I beg of you. Save our children.”

  “I’m going to check on the front entrance. Someone should have the sense to stand guard!” Kuto glared Femma’s way for a heartbeat before shaking his head and heading for the exit. His glare earned only a snort from the woman whose interest was now squarely fixed upon the glowing tome in her hands, a smile now warming soft lips as she savored whatever lessons were being imparted to her, so intently focused she did no more than frown when a pair of thumps could be heard from the hallway ahead.

  Eyes darted up for just a moment. And nothing. Just a gloomy, poorly lit hallway. “What a fool,” she muttered, turning the pages, her brow furrowing only when her summoned familiar growled, low reverberations near impossible to ignore.

  “Shut up, girl, I get it, he’s back,” she sighed, looking up to see nothing at all, before her eyes widened as a backlash of magical energy snapped into her. “What the? Kitty!”

  Find weakness skillcheck: Success! You see the cords of power binding this summoned creature to the material plane. Critical strike! Psiblade cleaves through cords effortlessly! Fatality! Summoning has been abjured! Experience earned!

  Femma spun around, eyes widening with horror at the sight by her feet, horror turning to a scream of agony as a crackling blade of absolute darkness tore open her belly.

  She crumpled to the ground with a keening wail, as if stunned that death had struck so quick, so fast, with no warning at all.

  Eyes tearing with horrendous pain only widened when a four-foot crackling blade of doom was catalyzed inches from her face, a chilly voice echoing death itself now whispering into her ear.

  “Swear yourself to me, body and soul, forever more. Swear never to betray me, never to reveal my secrets or seek to undo the oath with which I now bind you. Swear the oath and live. Or refuse and die.”

  “Please, the pain. The pain!” She sobbed and writhed in torment, gasping as her head was yanked back, an armored fist squeezing her brow.

  “Take the oath and live, or refuse and die.”

  She sobbed once before desperate words tumbled forth. “I swear to serve you in all things and never betray you! I swear to warm your bed and hold all your secrets close! I will never reveal that I am bound to you. Please, master, don’t let me die!”

  The darkness said nothing. Terrified uncertainty turned to screams as eldritch healing magics poured into her. The young woman writhing in agony soon found herself being tossed out the tower and into the arms of a dozen scowling Christos mages who looked more than eager to take her head.

  “Please don’t kill me!” she sobbed.

  One among their number gazed coldly at her. “You truly don’t know how lucky you are.”

  Val smiled as he flowed down darkened corridors, strangely certain it was not the tower’s normal state of brilliance. Almost as if it was making accommodations for him.

  And he welcomed the shadows and gloom.

  Skillcheck success: Shadowmind holds vs. Hellhound glare. Hellhound suffers fatal damage from sneak attack! Experience earned! Skillcheck success: Oathbinding holds! Blade successfully catalyzed! Your foe takes 87 damage and 1 Severe Wound, alive only because you pulled the blow! Ormur mage is intimidated! Ormur mage senses your wrath!

  Just as much as he did the startled cries of men and women finding themselves swearing desperate oaths before a killing blade and darkest shadow, more than one doing so while rolling on the ground cradling injuries awful enough to break any man before being repaired by magics both agonizing and effective, stunned bodies dragged out in a heap.

  He flashed a grin of darkest satisfaction as the first floor was cleared.

  Having circled around after clearing the entire massive first floor that he was increasingly certain was its own pocket dimension, Val found himself before a massive spiraling staircase of brilliant white marble lined with gold. The stairs led up to the left, and spiraled down to the right.

  And that was when he heard the awful laughter and the gong of the bell as a sibilant voice resonated sharply through the air, somehow all places at once.

  “To the ceremony, children of the wyrm. All are duty-bound to attend.”

  “Alwin! Tell me what the captured mages know, stat!”

  “My lord… every wizard we have questioned has died.”

  Shadow stilled. If darkness had blood, it would be ice in his veins.

  “What?”

  Val could almost taste the other man’s bitter sigh. “They were trapped between two Oathbindings. The ones who refused to speak? Their very flesh was torn from their bones. Your dark curse, I believe. The others saw their friends’ deaths and strove to obey your command. They perished to heart attacks before they could say more than the word 'sacrifice.' None of our healing magics could revive them. The remaining three, all female, are begging us desperately to ask them nothing, swearing instead to serve us in whatever way we desire. For to whisper a word about their clan’s secrets is their death, which will do neither us nor them any good.”

  Val clenched his jaw. “I’m going in cold. So be it. No matter what happens, Alwin...”

  “I will not violate them, my lord. But if my family has perished to Ormur wiles, I sure as hell will strike them dead.”

  Val nodded. He understood that wrath perfectly well.

  “I will do everything I can to save your clan. But should I perish… do all you can to save mine.”

  “I swear it, my lord, with my final breath. Though our power wanes, the wizards of the South are still a fearsome foe your Dominion Highlords fear to face directly. And should we choose discretion and work together, they will have to destroy the entire continent to hunt all of us down.”

  The gloom seemed to grow as Val spiraled down the staircase, flowing into a domed chamber with gold-veined marble walls much like the staircase, depictions of ancient wizards performing arcane rites that could only be guessed at were carved in bas-relief upon the walls, etched tree trunks flowing into apple-laden tree branches upon the ceiling, the marble flowing from ivory to jade such that each leaf looked surprisingly lifelike.

  And he spared only a moment for wonder as desperate pleading could be heard down the leftmost corridor, racing forward past numerous archways leading to numerous chambers long abandoned.

  But all that mattered was the farmost chamber where screams could be heard, the musky stench of ancient horrors summoned from realms of torment grew as sentient darkness approached, only to flinch before the infernal crimson glow, the entire room pulsing with Eldritch energies every bit as vile as those radiating from the rifts Val had closed.

  Val's heart lurched as he saw a desperately screaming girl frantically struggling against two hooded summoners who slammed her against an obsidian slab of stone looking terribly out of place against the jade and ivory marble with which this chamber had been constructed. The child’s struggling limbs were soon stained by the blood already on the slab.

  Then Val glimpsed the crackling portal slowly forming at the head of the slab, emitting eerie lights that had no place on the earthly realms.

  The child’s skin began to blister as she struggled against the pair of Ormur mages gripping her skinny arms, her plaintive eyes locked upon the laughing wizard holding the sacrificial dagger with which he would ta
ke her life. Desperate screams redoubled in volume from the cluster of thirty-odd women and children huddled inside a bloodstained pentagram just feet away. Their limbs were tied with rope, all begging and pleading for mercy. Surrounding them were a handful of sentinels, wands crackling with infernal energies. A full dozen black-robed summoners, each with blood-stained pentagrams upon the back of their robes, had surrounded portal and sacrificial slab both, linking hands and chanting in low monotone voices. The portal now throbbed in time with their voices, even as the thirteenth member of their coven stood over the screaming child, his obsidian and jade dagger raised high.

  Shadow boiled and seethed. Icy hate caressed the void as the winds high above the ancient tower howled with all the fury of the storm to come.

  Psiblade fails! Surge from Dimensional Rift disrupts weapon!

  Dwarven blade successfully pulled out of storage!

  Arcane Perception skillcheck: Success! Find Weakness skillcheck: Success! Half of all Robes of Warding use separate enchantments for head and torso! Neck is vulnerable! Bare hands and faces are vulnerable! Find Weakness is now Rank 3!

  Boosted dwarven blade hits mage for zero damage!

  Your blade has been countered by a Cloaked Greater Ward you failed to spot!

  Shadowmind holds!

  The Highmage suddenly lowered his dagger and hissed, sacrifice forgotten as the massive half dome protecting his ritual vibrated with the force of Shadow’s blow, the light scintillating off the field as if it were made of glass as the dome rung like a bell.

  Hot eyes blazed like fire as the hood was roughly pulled back, revealing the horrific abomination that was the head of Clan Ormur. Hideously elongated with a jutting jaw and massive yellow teeth, the mage’s skull was a cross between a man and a goat, hate-filled eyes like coals burning under cavernous sockets. His fur was the color of ash and blood, his hot glaze glaring about the room.