Chapter Twenty-Three
The Forbidden
Nova was unhappy, and Luna soon figured out why. She wrinkled her nose as the stench assaulted her nostrils.
'Wonderful.' Luna muttered darkly. 'They had better be here, or I'll find that idiot and knock his teeth out.'
Nova grumbled and padded forwards. The reek coming from the swamp was so foul, it made Luna feel ill. She started to breathe through her mouth instead.
She expected that Mirana would hate the swamp. She'd probably hear her complaining from a mile away.
But she had to be careful. She'd started to feel like she was being watched, and for her paranoia was worth heeding. Better wary than dead.
Luna had been tracked before, mostly by bounty hunters. There had been one, going by the name of Gondar, who had come very close to capturing her once. She'd fought him off, but being injured herself she had allowed him to go and lick his wounds.
She had taken precautions, doing her best to shake off her pursuers. She had no time to find out who they were though. Luna would have doubled back to try and take care of them, but she had decided to risk letting them live.
If they caught up to her when she found Mirana, that would work poorly for the trackers. She would have allies.
Luna stopped Nova behind the next rise, dismounted and crept towards the nearest tree, clutching her kriegsmesser. She watched for any signs of pursuit, barely blinking. Nova waited, sniffing at the air. She would struggle to detect anything over the reek of the swamps, this was down to Luna's eyes.
Still nothing. Maybe they really had lost her.
Luna trudged back to Nova, sheathed her blade, and clambered back into the saddle. Her foot still hurt when she put pressure on it, but she could ignore it more easily now.
If she had turned around, she would have seen the sunlight glinting off a distant spyglass.
'Eww!' Caewyn clapped a hand over her mouth and nose. 'What is that stench?'
'The Devil's Armpit,' Aiushtha announced, her voice muffled by the cloth she was tying around her mouth. 'If it wasn't for the reek and the dangers, it would be an ideal place. It's untouched by civilisation, if you don't count the corpses.'
'Corpses?' Fymryn repeated.
'I did say that it was dangerous.' Aiushtha reminded her. 'There are plenty of parasites, snakes, creeps, bogs and poisonous plants in there. Oh, and there's the gas as well.'
'I suppose that happens to be toxic, doesn't it?' Mirana sighed.
'The fumes won't do you any favours, but in small concentrations they're not lethal.' Aiushtha said, doing little to reassure them. 'And I can disperse them. But they are highly combustible. We can't risk any open flames or sparks.'
They all set about tying cloths soaked with a tincture Aiushtha handed around about their faces. Marci took charge of doing the same for Sagan, since he trusted her the most. He did not like it at all, but he was not stupid, he knew that Marci had a good reason.
Whatever was in Aiushtha's tincture, it did little to keep the smell out of their noses.
'And I thought dragons had bad breath.' Davion remarked.
'If the fumes were not lethal in dense concentrations, people would have already invaded to claim peat.' Aiushtha stated.
'About that...' Caewyn began.
'I've been through here before. I know where to go, and where not to go.' Aiushtha assured her. 'But tell me immediately if anything bites, stings, cuts or touches your skin. If you don't…'
'We get it.' Davion muttered.
Marci glanced at Mirana. Unlike her, Mirana's tunic had shorter sleeves. Her forearms were covered by her bracers. Hopefully that would be enough.
Mirana gave her a slight smile. 'Don't worry about me, Marci. Keep an eye on Sagan.'
Marci nodded, but she would worry about Mirana anyway. One could say that was part of her role. What bodyguard did not worry about their charge?
Those who did not know her well might have expected Mirana to complain the most. She had been born a Princess, and had known fabulous wealth and luxury for much of her life.
Marci was unsurprised that she did not whine. Their flight from the Imperium had hardly been easy, and the two of them had crossed hostile terrain in the process, including some unpleasant marshes, and that battlefield.
Marci had felt a little guilty about dragging Mirana off the roads, but she had decided that caution would be better than comfort. Even though the soldier who had helped them had promised to lie, and claim that they were dead, Marci had not wanted to risk them running into patrols working for Shabarra, and he had been sending out gullible or corrupt soldiers to ferret out loyalists and bring them, dead or alive, back to Rasolir.
Mirana had not complained then either. The grief had still been raw for both of them, and Mirana trusted Marci with her life. She had known that Marci was trying to keep her safe.
Marci had expected level relatively level terrain, but was quickly proven wrong. The swamps consisted of narrow watery channels divided by thick protrusions of rock. The journey would have been easier if they could have climbed the rocks, but each one was topped by arrays of plants covered in spines, thorns, man-sized acid pouches and snapping jaws like those of fly-traps.
'Those can't be natural,' Eserren noted. 'I've never seen plants like this anywhere, not even in the Writhing.'
'You're well travelled.' Purist noted.
'I was moved around a number of Dragon Knight outposts before being assigned to Steelpoint Vigil.'
'These plants have been bred by Fae.' Purist stated. 'An experimentation group, most likely.'
'I thought you said this place was untouched, Aiushtha,' Fymryn muttered.
'I did. There were Fae-bred plants on the far side. They must have spread since I last ventured into the swamp,' she shook her head and sighed, 'they were faster than I expected. It's been less than a year since then.'
'The Fae spread them in person.' Purist said, his voice clear of doubt. 'We should be even more cautious.'
'Hm,' Mirana scowled at the plants, which seemed to be tracking their movements through the waist-deep water. 'Do you think that they're still here?'
'They bred these plants. They'll want to see what they can do.'
Aiushtha frowned. 'I've never cared for the Fae meddling with nature.'
Marci had learned about Fae culture alongside Mirana, during Kashurra's lessons. Unlike most cultures, the Fae had not followed the usual pattern of making tools, building settlements from stone and wood or anything like most societies had.
Instead, they had used their magical abilities on plants and animals, breeding new species obedient to their commands. They had grown their settlements rather than built them. Almost everything they used was alive, including their weapons.
Like many Imperium citizens, Marci was wary of the Fae. The Fae collectively had a well deserved reputation as tricksters and manipulators, and they had aggravated the Imperium more than once over the years. On Mirana's fifteenth birthday, a Fae delegation had arrived to offer their respects and gifts. Though it had been deemed a coincidence, Marci had found it strange that Fae-bred plants and creatures had become rampant near a border outpost over the next week, and caused enough havoc to drive the local troops away. Three Legions had been sent to eradicate or drive off the invasive species. For the plants, fire had been their only recourse.
There had never been any proof, but Kashurra had admitted to her that he suspected that the Fae had been running one of their experiments. Their delegation's visit could have been a cover. To this day, Marci was glad that the Fae had not performed their experiment in the city. The chaos they could have caused…
Marci eyed one of the snap-maws. If it came near them, she'd pulp it. If it wasn't for the gas, fire would have been an option.
Something brushed past her leg and she jumped, her mouth opening in a silent yelp. Caewyn squeaked with alarm next.
Purist reached down and snatched something from the water: a snake with spines running down its back. Its fangs scratched impotently at Purist's gauntlet.
'It's not venomous.' Aiushtha said. 'Let it go.'
Purist complied, dropping it behind him. The snake swam off, looking for an easier meal.
'Fae-bred?' Fymryn asked.
Aiushtha shook her head. 'No. Those snakes have a nasty bite, but they're not dangerous to us. If something touches you, try not to react.'
Caewyn shuddered. Eserren patted her on the shoulder. 'We'll be fine, Sweetheart.'
Caewyn nodded. 'I don't suppose that you could give me a piggyback?' she asked, half-seriously.
Eserren chuckled. 'I could.'
Caewyn glanced up at the snap-jaws and sighed. 'Maybe not. Thanks anyway, Mum.'
Every now and then, Marci felt something brush against her leg as they proceeded further into the rank swamp. She did her best not to react. Poor Caewyn was startled every time something touched her. She was keeping her hands well away from the trigger of her crossbow, lest she accidentally launch a bolt.
The water was getting deeper. Mirana, Davion, Purist, Caewyn and Eserren were holding their weapons above the water. Sagan was managing, probably easier than most of them.
Marci was growing a little concerned about the depth of the water now. It was rising above her waist. Caewyn was shorter than her. Marci had no doubt that Eserren would have taught her how to swim, all members of the Dragon Knight Order who worked in the field surely had to, if only to hunt water dragons, but Caewyn was still wearing her armour.
Aiushtha was probably better off, standing taller than all of them. She kept glaring at the Fae-bred plants, and examining the effects their trailing roots and creepers were having on local flora. She kept muttering about "invasive species" and "Fae tampering with the natural order".
Caewyn spluttered and came to a halt. She seemed to be having some sort of trouble. 'He—' she spluttered again and spat out a mouthful of water. 'I'm sinking!'
Eserren and Mirana reached out, took Caewyn's arms, and pulled her free.
'Mind your footing,' Aiushtha advised. 'There will be more spots like that.'
Marci had also noticed that the smell was getting worse as they proceeded. They stumbled upon more patches of sucking mud as they went. It wasn't much of a problem for Marci unless both feet got stuck, which meant that she too had to be pulled free. It was no surprise that travellers died out here. Even Aiushtha was struggling now, and she had extra limbs.
Out of all of them, it was Fymryn who was struggling the least. Light-footed and nimble, she could also call upon her abilities to free herself. Marci could have perhaps done the same, given how she could "light-beam-jump-run" as Caewyn put it, but she wasn't sure how she would control the ability in these watery trenches.
A couple of snap-jaws with longer stems reached down towards Aiushtha, their maws opening. Aiushtha sidestepped and whacked them with her staff, forcing them to withdraw. One tried to do the same with Fymryn. Fae-bred plants weren't entirely stupid. The second one stayed clear when Davion cut its fellow in half.
'Sorry about that, Aiushtha.' Davion murmured as he pushed the severed head of the plant aside.
Aiushtha waved a hand dismissively. 'It's not natural, don't worry about it.' She sighed. 'I might need some help once we're free of this place.'
'What with?'
'I think I've picked up a leech. Or two. Or five. They seem to like me.'
Marci reached out and ran her hand along Sagan's flank. He huffed and purred, turning his head so that he could bump it against her shoulder. She couldn't find any leeches, but she would examine his fur later anyway.
'It rises here.' Aiushtha announced. Caewyn, partially supported by Mirana in places, breathed a sigh of relief.
Marci was trying not to think about how filthy she must have looked. She didn't need to. One look at any of them was enough.
Fymryn seemed a little surprised by Mirana. The Princess had yet to complain. Marci had to admit that she was worried about her. Not because of the swamp they were wading through, but because of how quiet she had been recently. Marci knew that she was upset, but for once Mirana was reluctant to talk to her. She had been spending a bit of time around Aiushtha, trying to master her newfound abilities.
Marci wasn't sure what to do, and it made her feel guilty about spending time with Davion—even if his time was running short.
'How much longer, Aiushtha?' Caewyn asked. 'I feel sick.'
Aiushtha looked over her shoulder. 'Did you swallow anything?'
'I might have done.'
Aiushtha sighed and looked up. 'Eserren, help her up onto my back, please.'
'I couldn't do that!' Caewyn exclaimed.
'I can manage. You are small.'
Eserren lifted Caewyn up and put her onto Aiushtha's back. Aiushtha reached into a bag at her waist, plucked a bottle from within, and handed it to Caewyn. 'Drink it all. You'll feel better.'
Caewyn uncorked it, lifted the cloth away from her mouth, and drained the bottle. 'Mm. That's nice! What does it do?'
Aiushtha did not need to respond. Half a second later, Caewyn was puking, and Fymryn's timing was poor.
'Urgh!' Fymryn stepped away, grimacing at her sleeve. 'M'lor! Desci cura faedi'n, Caewyn!' Marci understood less elvish than Mirana, but even somebody who spoke no elvish could have guessed what Fymryn had said.
'Calm down,' Aiushtha told her, taking the bottle from Caewyn as she wiped her mouth. 'It had to be done. Sorry, Caewyn. With this water, better out than in, as humans say.'
'Yes, but did it have to be out on me?' Fymryn demanded.
'Well, if you wanted Caewyn to die, no.' Aiushtha ignored Fymryn as she blanched. 'The water here is foul enough as it is, and for all I know the Fae might have polluted the water. If any of you swallow some of it, please tell me, but try not to if you can help it. I only have so many purgatives.'
'Sorry, Fymryn.' Caewyn muttered. 'I'll try to warn you next time.'
Davion was next. Then Mirana. Then Purist. Marci kept her mouth clamped firmly shut.
Something bit Fymrym as they waded onwards, forcing them to stop so that Aiushtha could examine the wound.
It was awkward. Davion had to hold up Fymryn by her shoulders as Eserren lifted her bitten leg towards Aiushtha. It might have been comical if they weren't stuck in such a dangerous place.
Aiushtha dug around in her bags again, produced another phial and poured its contents on the bite. Fymryn winced and bit her lip, and Marci could have sworn that there was smoke rising from the puckered skin. Aiushtha bound the wound and sighed. 'I can't carry two people.'
'It's all right,' Caewyn slid off Aiushtha's back. 'Carry Fymrym. It's shallower now, I'll be fine.'
Fymryn offered a grateful smile to Caewyn as they lifted her onto Aiushtha's back. Fymryn was a little heavier, but Aiushtha could bear her. They had to keep her bite clear of the water, lest it become infected. Sagan and Purist's horse were already heavily laden.
'Here I was saying that I wouldn't be a pack-doe.' Aiushtha mused. 'No sproinking for me today.'
'Sproinking?' Purist inquired.
'Sproinking.'
Purist did not ask again.
'Sorry. I used to say that when I was a youngster.'
'I think I understand. I can take some of the weight off my horse.'
'We're not far from a dry patch. We'll stop there. From there, it should be easier. Oh! Drat! I'm stuck again. Can somebody pull me out?'
Despite Aiushtha's claim, it felt like hours. Purist was well used to trudging through all manner of unpleasant places in the pursuit of justice and to obey the Omniscience's will.
Even so, he was displeased by the grime and muck slathered all over his armour. A small issue, but an annoying one. Rust would do him no favours. The Dragon Knights' liking for dragon scales made sense, though the Omniscience did not approve of the practice. Dragon culling was something which had to be done with care, and that was something the Dragon Knights were forgetting. They had turned from controlling the numbers and rampages of a dangerous species to extermination. Too many new recruits entered the Order with vengeance in their hearts.
People like Davion, though perhaps he was learning the error of his ways.
'I'm glad you took my advice to heart, Fymryn,' Aiushtha said, peering at Fymryn's leg. 'If you hadn't, you'd be beyond help by now. It's not a nice way to die either.'
'Is there a nice way to die?' Fymryn muttered.
'Depends on your opinion. You should be fine, Fymryn. The water's shallower and the terrain more even from here. Just try to keep the bite clean. I'll examine it when we stop again.'
'Have you ever considered work as an apothecary, Aiushtha?' Mirana asked.
Aiushtha was silent for a moment, keeping her face under control, seemingly focused solely on removing the leeches dangling from her hide. 'I was, in a sense. I was a healer for my herd. Cervitaurs aren't known for fighting. We're prey to a great many creatures, so we value the arts of healing and the science of medicine.'
'We could have done with some of your healers in Rasolir.'
Aiushtha half-smiled. 'That's kind of you, Princess. But I'm not fond of cities. None of my people are.' She shrugged. 'But perhaps one day, if you take your throne, things could change.'
Mirana glanced away. 'Maybe. I…' she faltered. Marci reached out and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. Mirana mustered a smile and rested her own hand on Marci's. 'I gave up on the idea of retaking the Solar Throne years ago, when I became Princess of the Moon. But even when I was the Princess of the Sun, I… being heir scared me. Marci would never say a bad word against me, but you've seen what I'm like, Davion, and you, Fymryn. And I'm sure your Omniscience knows too, Purist.'
Davion nodded. 'Sure. I've seen what you're like. I know that you're more than a little stubborn, prickly, maybe a bit snobbish.'
'Snobbish?' Mirana scowled.
Davion chuckled at her expression. Even Marci was amused. 'That's what I'd expect from a Princess, so you didn't let me down there.'
Mirana realised that he was teasing her. She smiled. 'I suppose I didn't.'
'I also know that you're brave, compassionate, principled and utterly loyal to your friends, much like Marci.'
'I can see where she gets it from.' Caewyn said.
Mirana shook her head. 'No. She didn't get any of that from me. I learned to be all those things from her.'
Marci sighed and tapped the side of Mirana's head.
'Marci is not wrong, Princess.' Purist stated. 'And nor am I. You should have more faith in yourself. When you take the throne, you will need to be certain.'
'I'm not sure I want it.'
Purist smiled. 'Then it will be difficult for power to corrupt your heart, especially since you have already tasted and rejected its allure. Already, you are a better ruler than your uncle.'
'Maybe you are right, but...'
'I know. And Marci does deserve some credit.'
'All of it, I'd say.' Mirana put her arm around Marci's shoulders. 'Let's say that I do return to Rasolir and become the Empress. What do you want to do, Marci?'
Marci raised an eyebrow and tapped her sternum, then drew her fingers across her forehead.
'You don't have to be if you don't want to.'
Marci gave her a look which was almost withering. It pretty much said: 'You should know better than to ask.'
Mirana chuckled. 'I suppose I could name you a bodyguard too, officially.' She glanced around at the others, the worry still plain to see. Eserren was busy cleaning her armour. She looked to Caewyn too, and then at Fymryn. Purist could guess what she was thinking about.
The All-Seeing had never trusted Selemene. She might not have been so desperate as to threaten the world with the Dark Moon, as Mene had, but She was deceptive too, and the purges She had committed to had offended the Omniscience.
She lied to Her followers, that much was obvious. If She had been more honest, Mirana and Marci might not have served Her at all. No, they wouldn't have. There was no "might" about it. They had good hearts, too good for the likes of Selemene. It was a shame that they had not found the Omniscience first.
But everything which had happened had happened for a reason. There were things beyond control, of course, and per the rules of the Covenant no deity could interfere in these events. But it was clear to the Omniscience that much had been planned in advance, and still things were being manipulated subtly.
Not all of it was the Invoker's doing, or Mene's. Maybe somebody else was aware of the Omniscience's blindness, maybe not. Terrorblade was clearly not the only party taking advantage of Mene's return. But as to who this other party was, Purist could do naught but speculate.
Mirana was an important player, perhaps the most important, whether she knew it or not. Returning her to Rasolir and helping her to reclaim the Solar Throne was just a small part of his task.
'Feeling any better, Caewyn?' Aiushtha inquired.
'I'm not sick, but I am hungry now.' Caewyn lifted the improvised mask from her mouth, gagged, and put it back. 'Maybe I'm not that hungry.'
The Ultimyr Academy, Auroth hated this place.
Rylai had done her scrying as requested, but Auroth had expected Demnok to be here. This was his Academy, after all.
Auroth hated it.
For a start, it was located in the middle of the Balefire Cone, an active volcano. Auroth could stand a bit of heat, she didn't mind exploring the deserts of Misrule, and she had loved perusing the archives and libraries of Rasolir and other Imperium cities. Maybe she would again, if she could find some new glamours.
Auroth would not be wandering around the Academy as a wyvern. That would lead to too many problems, especially since the place was patrolled by unquestioning guards and was full of powerful, unscrupulous magic-users.
Auroth had quickly figured out that her ceaseless quest for knowledge would require a disguise. But how did one disguise a wyvern? A glamour could only hide so much. Auroth had therefore spent the first few decades of her quest learning and mastering the obscure, little known art of polymorphing. The first few transformations had been excruciatingly painful. Now it was easy and instinctive. But she only had one human form though. She had no spare glamours, so she had some worries about the students and guards.
But they came and went, willingly or no. Only Demnok knew who she was, and perhaps he knew what she was, but he did not seem to care about her identity. He had other concerns.
Auroth neither liked nor trusted him, but he was the world's current most foremost expert on all things Demon related. He summoned enough of them to know more than most.
'I think I'm going to melt.'
Auroth glanced over at Rylai, who seemed to be regretting wearing the fur-lined hood and cloak she had brought. Auroth had been willing to leave Rylai back in her home, but Rylai had wanted to come. She did not trust the people here any more than Auroth did, and Auroth felt safer with her here. Rylai was a powerful spell-caster, wyrm-kissed like her sister, with a natural mastery over ice and water. She'd first sought Auroth out for knowledge, to learn how to better control her powers. Though she'd been more in control of her abilities than Lina, and had a calmer attitude, her powers had still been troublesome. Sometimes water had frozen in wells as she had walked past, plants had withered, her skin had been freezing to the touch. Combined with her frequent destructive arguments with her fiery sister, these issues had led to her parents and fellow villagers sending her to Icewrack. They had sent Lina to Misrule where her powers might be less of an issue, Icewrack had been the best place to send Rylai.
Auroth was not easy to find by most. She'd made sure of it. Yet Rylai had found her anyway, impressing Auroth, and the two of them had become friends as they studied together. Rylai didn't need to stick around, but she did anyway. She felt at home in the Icewrack Mountains. Auroth was happy to have her around, Rylai was just as good an assistant as she was a friend.
'I don't like it here either.' Auroth admitted. 'Not just because of the heat, but because of what this place is. Only the most unscrupulous, most ruthless, most power-hungry magic-wielders choose this place.'
'How do you know Lannik?'
'Master Lannik. Don't forget the title. Some here might try to incinerate you for it.' Auroth warned. 'We've crossed paths on occasion, before and after he took over here. We both wanted to learn more about magic. After a while, he started to seek me out for knowledge about the dragons, especially Eldwurms. He thought that I knew more than what I had written in my books.'
Rylai smirked and raised her eyebrows. 'I wonder what gave him that idea?'
'Why, Rylai! What are you implying?' Auroth chortled. She turned serious again as she continued, 'He knows about me. Master Lannik is many things, but he's certainly not a fool. He doesn't know about my parents though, and I'd prefer to keep it that way, though I'm sure that he has suspicions.'
Rylai placed a cool hand on Auroth's shoulder. 'I'm sorry about your father, Auroth.'
Auroth nodded slowly. 'Thank you, Rylai.'
'If you want to talk...'
'Maybe later.' Auroth said. 'Thanks.'
Rylai glanced over the spiked battlements at the lava bubbling far below, a good three-hundred feet below. The Academy was a thirteen-sided structure made of jet-black stone laced with blood-red waves and swirls, smooth except for the curving spines jutting out at intervals, a bladed thirteen-pointed star. Whatever it was made from, it couldn't be melted by the lava. Potent magic also protected it from the eruptions. If anybody was stupid enough to be outside when the Balefire Mountain grew angry, that was too bad, at least as far as Lannik was concerned.
Auroth turned her head as she heard clanking. The gondola was being locked into place. It was the only way to reach the Academy, aside from flying or teleportation. Only certain members of the Academy were allowed to teleport in, anybody else who tried would be eviscerated. Flying was obviously not an option for Auroth, the fewer people who knew what she truly was, the better.
Rylai pulled back her hood, exposing her blonde plaits. Her pale skin was damp with sweat. Auroth was aware of sweat on her skin too, which was actually paler than Rylai's. For whatever reason, her human form's long hair was dark blue. It also sometimes amused her that her human form appeared as a woman in her mid-thirties, whilst in reality she was actually centuries old—though she wasn't old by dragon standards, age didn't mean much to dragons. No dragon had ever died of old age.
Ahead of them stood a six-sided edifice about fourteen feet tall, with red metal doors on each side.
Out of one set of doors came six guards, clad head-to-toe in black and red plate, the edges of their spaulders, gauntlets and sabatons bladed and their sinister helms studded with short spikes, their visors wrought to resemble snarling inhuman faces.
'Charming.' Rylai whispered, barely opening her mouth.
One of the guards held up his hand, the other rested upon the haft of his crimson-bladed halberd. 'State your names and intentions.'
'We're from Icewrack. Master Lannik is expecting us.' Auroth announced.
'Names.'
'Feeonie,' Auroth stated, using an alias she had gone by in Knight's Hearth. That close to Dragon Hold, a fake identity had been essential. She glanced at Rylai, who blinked her pearl-grey eyes twice. 'This is Rylai.'
The guards remained stock-still. Auroth couldn't even see their eyes, hidden behind their visors. There was a lot here that even she did not understand, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to understand. Lannik had no qualms when it came to using dark sorcery. It would not have surprised her if these unusually tall guards were somehow changed in unnatural ways.
Rylai adjusted her grip on her staff. She didn't really need it to use her powers, but she found it easier to control them with the staff.
Without preamble, one of the guards spoke again. 'The Master will see you now. Follow us. Do not deviate.'
The guards showed them into the structure, which had a metal floor. Gears ran up slots in the walls, and as the last guard stepped onto the platform, they began to turn. The platform started to descend, scraping the walls as it went.
Auroth resisted the urge to cover her ears, instead grinding her teeth together. All this magic, and they hadn't made this thing any quieter than it had been last time. They could have learned a thing or two from the keen—such a fascinating culture. Auroth really enjoyed visiting their workshops and universities, seeing what new devices they had invented.
Rylai wasn't enjoying this either. It didn't help that it was getting hotter as the elevator descended.
In most centres of magical advancement and learning, the person in charge would reside towards the top. Here, the Master of the Academy was on the lowest level.
Fitting, Auroth thought. It had been assumed in times past that the Hells were deep under the earth. Some had even believed that volcanoes such as this were the gates to the Hells. She knew better, of course, the Hells were separate planes, and Lannik knew that too.
The elevator did not stop right at the bottom, it stopped about seventeen levels above. Access to the lowest levels came only if the Master permitted it, and never by the elevator.
'This way.'
Auroth and Rylai would have struggled to deviate, since they were surrounded by the guards. These levels were for the elite, the most promising students. Not that this meant that they were safe.
It was also hotter down here. Rylai sighed and tapped the end of her staff against the ground. Auroth felt the air cool around Rylai and moved a little closer.
'What are you doing?' one of the guards demanded. His tone was still flat, but with an edge of menace.
'Cooling down.' Rylai explained. 'It's much colder in Icewrack.'
'No spells without the permission of the Master.'
'It's harmless!'
'Cease. Now.'
Auroth leaned towards Rylai. 'Let it go. The Master's house, the Master's rules.'
Rylai sighed and let the spell fade. No matter what kind of armour or magical modifications these guards had, Auroth was certain that she and Rylai could easily overpower them in a fight. But antagonising Lannik would get them both killed. He was powerful, and all of his students were sworn to serve him. They may as well have been his army. A small army, but perhaps one of the most dangerous in the world.
The corridors of the academy were dark and oppressive. They were made of the same black stone as the walls outside. The sides of the floors were recessed, red light welling up from within.
Auroth heard spells being cast ahead. They entered a wider chamber, moving along the far wall. Students were casting spells, striking targets on the walls. These spells were not like those other mages learned. As Auroth and Rylai watched, an elven student thrust both arms forwards, runes which defied translation and mortal eyesight forming around them. The runes came together, forming insane, nonsensical geometry, slicing through the air and embedding themselves in the target. They began to spin, tearing it to pieces, completely shredding it.
Auroth frowned. She had seen Rylai cut attackers to pieces with ice, this was somehow different. Rylai killed to defend herself. These students were taught to kill on a whim, they dabbled with dark powers and darker entities, driven by ambition and an insatiable lust for power.
Rylai had always said that Lina was ambitious and enamoured with her own powers. But they'd never heard of her attending this place. Lannik only had certain sorts recruited, that Lina was not one of them was telling.
A human student wandered up to the elf. Auroth couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was clear that they were arguing.
The elf snarled, stepped back and began to cast his spell. The human waved his staff, smacking the elf in the head. As the elf reeled, the human quickly drew more of the terrible runes in the air. Between them formed a shimmering field of raw power, and out of that came an inhuman limb, leathery, spiny, scales jutting out like daggers, with twenty needle-tipped fingers reaching for the elf. The hand closed around his head, sticking the needle-like talons through his skin and bone without resistance.
Auroth and Rylai both stopped, despite the guards. They both readied themselves.
The human grinned as his rival dropped. His delight quickly gave way to terror as the hand whipped round, the claws ripping his face and throat apart. The rest of the arm started to emerge as he dropped, a shoulder following it.
Rylai pointed her staff at it. Auroth lifted her hands. She had spells of her own, and she could always transform into her physically stronger true form if she had to.
'No spells,' the guards ordered.
A senior summoner ambled over and jabbed his staff at the portal. It snapped shut, leaving a severed arm to writhe upon the ground, and he kicked it away. The arm came to rest not far from where Auroth and Rylai stood, surrounded by the guards, and as they watched it sizzled and dissolved into dust, that dust disintegrating into nothingness.
Demons could be briefly summoned into the mortal world, both Auroth and Rylai knew this. But without a vessel, they could not remain for long, not even with a summoner to sustain the transition.
'Eager fool,' the summoner remarked. 'I hope the rest of you witnessed this idiocy. If you summon an entity beyond your control, you summon only your own demise. Somebody clean up this mess.'
'I can see why you thought I might prefer to stay behind.' Rylai murmured.
Auroth simply nodded. She was glad that Rylai was here, of course. But Lannik could be unpredictable, much like the Demons he worked and bargained with. If he felt like committing violence… it would be a one-sided battle.
They were led through more training halls and musty archives. Within the latter were tomes even Auroth did not wish to read, even if she had understood Ozkavosh, the language of Demons. Within one such archive, they saw the body of a student being removed, a knife in her back. Death was common here. Whether it be by ill-cast spells, summons gone awry, magical duels or backstabbing, the leaders of the Academy did not really care. They saw it as a way of weeding out the weak.
Rylai glanced out of one of the windows, guessing that the lake of lava was where the corpses were destined. Through the slit-like windows, she could see little but a reddish glow. She doubted that even Lina would have liked it here.
The doors to the lowest levels were sealed, but not by any key or lock. They opened only by the will of the Master. As they approached the great black doors, blood-red light crept across them, forming into runes which hurt to behold.
The doors boomed like drums and slid apart. The guards led their charges through, into darker, hotter corridors which led deep into the bowels of the Ultimyr Academy.
"The Forbidden Thirteen". That was what they called these levels. Only those personally chosen by Master Lannik could pass the doors above, or those permitted to visit, like Auroth and Rylai.
Auroth remained tense. If Lannik was going to turn on them, these levels were ideal. His most powerful students dwelt here, many guards could hide in the shadows, and all of the magic-wielders here, Lannik included, were capable of summoning powerful Demons. As powerful as she and Rylai were, it was not a fight they could win.
There was chanting in the air as they descended, into the volcano itself if the rising heat was any indication. Rylai's clothes were soaked with sweat, and Auroth's skin felt clammy under her robes.
'What is that?' Rylai whispered.
'Ozkavosh.' Auroth answered, with a slight shudder.
'They're speaking the tongue of Demons?'
'The voices you can hear are those of the Fell-Speakers. They commune constantly with the denizens of the Hells.' Auroth explained quietly. 'If you see one, don't stare. They peer into depths none of this earth should see, and speak with those who should not be heard.'
Rylai shuddered and wiped her brow. 'You mean that they are...'
'Yes.' Auroth cast a wary eye over their guards. 'And they are perhaps the most powerful summoners here, save the Master himself.'
Sure enough, they caught sight of the Fell-Speakers as they proceeded downwards. Often standing in the shadows, cloaked figures stood hunched, twitching, chanting words in Ozkavosh, harsh, grating and painful. Auroth could only imagine how much of a strain uttering those words took on a mortal throat.
They degraded eventually. It was not just madness they suffered from. If the malignant tumours and internal ruptures did not claim them first, they usually ended up becoming possessed, and as they had once spoken for the summoners here, so they would end up speaking for the Demons.
Rylai kept her eyes averted from the Fell-Speakers, as Auroth had advised. The first time she had visited the Academy, Auroth had annoyed one of them. If Lannik had not been interested in the knowledge she possessed, he would have let the summoned Demon kill her.
The lowest level was Demnok Lannik's personal sanctum, though it was technically not part of the Academy. It was a small plane, suspended in a pocket within the world, not quite part of it, not quite separate. From there, Demnok could oversee and control the Ultimy Academy, speak with his Demonic patrons and channel infernal power.
There was a door, but it was mostly for show. It opened before the guards even reached it, revealing a swirling mass of angry red and fiery orange: a portal into Demnok's sanctum.
'Close your eyes.' Auroth whispered. 'Trust me. You're better off not seeing anything when we cross over.'
Auroth did not want to see either, though she had withstood the brush with pure unreality before. It was a tunnel which dipped through the Hells, shielded, but not impossible to see through. Demons clawed at its walls, and within were glimpses of the impossible, not the past, present or future, but that which could not and should not be. It was enough to drive the unprepared mad with but a single glimpse.
Auroth was of dragonkind, the essence of which had been formed from creation itself, and dragons did not know age and time as mortals did. Acceptance was easier for a being which had more time to comprehend and understand. As creatures formed of the stuff of creation, dragons were not just part of the mortal world either. There were pieces of everything in them, including the Hells. Their natures reflected the duality: the power to protect and the power to destroy.
The same could be said of mortals. In many ways, they were not so different from dragons. Auroth had hoped to explain that to mortals once.
Maybe there was a chance, she thought. Rylai had accepted what she was easily enough. Perhaps others could too.
Rylai shut her eyes. Auroth did the same as they stepped into the portal. She continued to keep her eyes closed. Even though she was a wyvern, the child of two Eldwurms, she had no desire to glimpse the Hells again. Dragons may have been part of all of creation, but they still did not belong in the infernal realms the Demons had shaped for themselves. The mortal realm was where her kind belonged. It was their duty to watch over it.
Auroth could hear the Demons screaming, roaring, cackling, jeering as they were pulled through the portal. She could feel searing heat, biting cold, smell blood and decay, taste rotten flesh and ashes. She felt like she was being spun in every direction at once, pulled and pushed, torn and squashed.
She stumbled on the other side, coughing as she struggled to keep her balance. She had been holding her breath without meaning to.
'It has been too long. Welcome back, Auroth.' The deep baritone of Master Lannik echoed around the dark chamber. 'Or should I call you Feeonie?'
Auroth opened her eyes and steadied herself. 'Auroth will do. I'm sure you'll understand my caution.'
'But of course, wyvern. You are unsurprised, Auroth?'
'I knew that you would figure it out soon enough, Warlock.'
'Indeed.' Bathed in the reddish glow emanating from the edges of the chamber, a robed figure emerged from the shadows. 'You know who I am, after all.' He was not what most people expected a magic-wielder to look like. He was tall, but then most Oglodi were. But he was also stocky and muscular under his voluminous red robes, edged with black, a great orange elliptical eye emblazoned upon the chest.
Under the hood, he had a broad, square face with a wide nose which looked as though it had been squashed. A white beard covered his chin. Sharp yellow eyes peered at them, glowing in the dark.
'This must be Rylai,' Demnok remarked. 'One of the famous wyrm-kissed sisters, the Winterborn. I once invited your sister to study here. I was most aggrieved when she declined.' He raised his bushy eyebrows. 'I don't suppose that you would like to study here?'
Rylai's grip on her staff tightened a little. 'I'm flattered that you would invite me,' she answered carefully. 'But I'm happy studying under Auroth.'
Auroth hid her subtle smile. It was sometimes hard to predict what Demnok would do.
Demnok did not say anything more on the matter. 'What brings you to me this time, Auroth?'
'Knowledge.'
Demnok chuckled, approaching a triangular chest. 'What else?' He opened it and plucked a bottle full of white liquid from within. 'Would you care for refreshment? I realise that the heat here must be discomforting for you both.' He placed the bottle on his desk. 'Icewrack White. A fine vintage, apparently.'
Rylai glanced at Auroth. 'I think we could both do with some. Thank you.'
Demnok poured two goblets for them. 'You'll forgive me if I don't partake. I've never enjoyed the taste.'
Auroth drank first. Even in her human form, she still had the constitution of a wyvern. Not that she expected Demnok to resort to poison. He did not need to.
The wine was a good vintage, and it did a wonderful job of cooling her down. She savoured the flavours as she drank. Rylai had to resist the urge to gulp it all down in one go.
'Now then, Auroth, Rylai,' Demnok leaned on his desk. 'What is it that you wish to know?'
Auroth looked him in the eye. 'We want to know how to trap Terrorblade in Foulfell. Forever.'
Demnok did not blink. 'That, you will not find easy to accomplish.'
Davion swept his sword through another cluster of writhing, thorny vines. At his side, Purist crushed one of the snap-jaws with his hammer. Eserren was on his other side, slicing through thick stems easily with her bardiche.
Aiushtha had done her best, but the only way out of the swamp which wouldn't gas them or drown them in a bog was infested with Fae-bred plants.
With their armour and large weapons, Davion, Eserren and Purist were ideally equipped to cut a path through the plants. They had lowered their visors and advanced into the thicket, hacking their way through.
As Aiushtha had predicted, attacking the plants had provoked other Fae-bred creatures. Insects of disturbing size, equipped with all manner of rending pincers, dreadful stingers and piercing claws, had started to emerge from the swamps.
Davion heard something crunching behind him. Marci, he expected, crushing one of the overlarge insects. The others were holding them off. The Fae-bred insects here were not huge, but they were numerous and lethal in other ways.
More crunching. Aiushtha this time, smashing some sort of centipede under her hooves. Davion remained focused on his task, ignoring the thorns scraping against his armour. So long as they did not use fire, they would get through this.
'We're almost through!' Purist called, smashing another snap-jaw.
Davion kept cutting. He would need to sharpen his sword when he was done. Eserren was pulling slightly ahead, cutting several plants apart with a single swing. Davion would have liked to have another blade forged in Dragon Keep, few weapons rivalled those made for the Dragon Knights in the Forge of Dragon Keep.
'Stand aside!' Fymryn called.
Davion moved out of her way as she swung the black sword the Invoker had given her. A crescent of darkness swept forth, slicing through a dozen stems and vines, clearing the way.
'Nicely done!' Caewyn whooped.
Mirana scowled. She knew what that blade was, and what it meant to see Fymryn wield it. She was distracted by the chittering of a garishly green spider as it charged at her. She nocked an arrow, but the spider collapsed mid-run, a knife sticking out of its head. Marci had beaten her to it.
Davion moved ahead, leading the way through the thicket. They were almost out of the Devil's Armpit. He was eager to escape the stench, amongst other things.
He, Eserren, Purist and Fymryn moved to create a corridor, with Mirana, Caewyn and Aiushtha running through it with Sagan. Marci brought up the rear, still stamping on aggressive insects as she went, occasionally flicking knives at the bigger ones.
'Marci, go!' Purist ordered. He moved to cover her as she ran. He whirled his hammer over his head and brought it down. A wave of thrumming force sped along the ground, catching the crawling insects in its wake. They slowed down, moving sluggishly against their wills.
Once they gained the other side, Aiushtha cast a spell of her own. Whatever it was, it caused the insects to become disorientated and aimless. They did not stop to watch.
'Now what?' Fymryn asked, peering across the mounds separated by muddy water and bogs.
'We're almost at the edge of the swamp.' Aiushtha answered. 'From there, it's an easy trek through the Barren Plains, the Graveyard and on to Dragon Keep.'
Marci raised an eyebrow. Davion saw her point.
'Nothing about this journey has been easy.' Mirana muttered, giving voice to Marci's thoughts.
'It's not been entirely terrible though.' Davion remarked, winking at Marci. He couldn't see her lips thanks to the mask, but he knew that she was beaming at him. Whenever she smiled, her eyes lit up with happiness.
Another reason to hurry out of the swamp, he thought. Marci had such a lovely smile.
Aiushtha trudged ahead, her hooves dragging in the mud. Once again, Fymryn seemed to have an easier time than the rest of them. She and Marci paused to help Mirana out of a boggy patch. Davion himself needed some help from Eserren a moment later. It always seemed to be the last part of a journey which was the hardest—or in this case, the most foul.
'Wait!' Aiushtha held up her hand. 'There's something over there.' She pointed her staff at something, partially submerged in the fetid water.
Caewyn squinted at it. Her eyes went wide. 'It's a corpse. A green drake's corpse.'
Now Davion could make out the shape of the long, smooth snout, arrayed with dark green scales. Something had torn chunks out of the spiny back, exposing bloodied bones to the stinking air. Whatever had done it had no fear of the drake's poison, and there were few creatures Davion could think of which would kill and eat a green drake.
Dragons were at the top of that list.
Eserren, a seasoned dragon hunter too, was clearly of the same mind. She was holding her bardiche in both hands, her eyes scanning the sky overhead. Yes, she had the right idea. The ground here was too waterlogged for the liking of an earth dragon, and the water was much too shallow for a water dragon.
No scorch marks, and obviously nothing had ignited the gases. That discounted fire, radiant and ionic dragons.
If there was a dragon, it was either a chaos, sky or void dragon. No, not a void dragon. The corpse was too intact. A void dragon would have crushed it.
Davion hoped it was a sky dragon. They were annoying, but nowhere near as savage or relentless as a chaos dragon.
Davion heard it before it appeared. A discordant, unorganized racket. A vexing noise which could mean only one thing.
It did not come from the sky. It was not a sky dragon.
Out of nothingness, it exploded into being. It was jet black, with a pyramidal snout, four wings, cruel claws and fangs, and large glowing evil eyes on its wings.
A chaos dragon, bigger than most, radiating malice, its eyes glittering with savage intent.
It surveyed them, tore a chunk from the dead drake, chewed nosily, and swallowed. 'Chewy,' the dragon remarked. 'I don't care for the texture of this one.'
'Vahdrak!' Caewyn breathed. 'What do we do?'
'No sudden movements.' Eserren whispered. 'Stay calm. If he attacks, go for the eyes.'
'Oh, how nice!' Vahdrak commented. 'Hmm, I know you, don't I? Ah yes, you're Slyrak's little vessel—his boat, carriage, box, which do you prefer?' He dug his teeth into the corpse again, then spat out a bone. 'And what's this?' he ambled a little closer, his crimson gaze fixed on Marci. 'You must be the wurm-forged. You're much… smaller than I expected. I do hope you're more entertaining than Orrak. She's so stuck-up and stuffy.'
Marci was in a combat stance, despite being up to her knees in water.
'Not very talkative, are you? Dragon got your tongue? Maybe you are more boring than Orrak, if such a thing is possible.' He ran his black tongue over his teeth. 'I need a snack. I would like to eat you, but they say you might be needed. Maybe later. And I can't eat Slyrak's muscular puppet. The cat-thing is too furry for my tastes. I'd be spitting out hair for weeks, and I don't much like horse. Hmm,' he glanced at Caewyn, 'too small,' he looked to Eserren, 'too old, too tough,' his gaze fell upon Purist, 'same problem, and light-channellers burn,' he eyes fell upon Fymyn 'hmm, a bit too bony for my liking,' he noticed Mirana. Marci tensed. 'Mmm. Nice soft flesh, young, juicy, you'll make a nice appetiser.' He turned his eyes onto Aiushtha and licked his teeth again. 'Ah, now you will make a good snack!' he advanced, baring his teeth. 'I'll eat the Priestess first, just to rouse my appetite, and then I'll have myself a nice bit of cervitaur. Yum!'
'Don't try it, dragon!' Eserren snarled, lifting her bardiche.
'Or what?' Vahdrak snorted. 'You might hurt poor little Vahdrak? Oh dear! Whatever shall I do? The nasty Dragon Knight might poke me with her sharp stick! Oh woe!'
'We have no quarrel with you, Vahdrak,' Davion growled. 'We're supposed to be allies.'
'Erm… Davion,' Caewyn whispered, 'he's the chaos Eldwurm.'
'I know.' Davion muttered out of the side of his mouth. 'Listen, Vahdrak, if you want a fight, we can have it after we've dealt with Terrorblade.'
'But I don't want a fight,' Vahdrak whined. 'I want a snack. And I want it now.'
'Well bugger off!' Aiushtha jabbed her staff towards him. 'I'm not being your snack, dragon. Now sproink! Go on, get out of here!'
'You're feisty! And amusing,' Vahdrak inched closer. 'I'll certainly eat the Priestess first. I might eat you a little more slowly if you amuse me.'
Marci and Eserren advanced, ready to fight.
Vahdrak sighed. 'You two, on the other hand, are soooo boring. Well, I want to eat some of you, none of you want to be eaten. A stalemate, and stalemates are… stale. Stale is so boring.' His eyes started to glow, as did the four evil eyes on his wings as he lifted them. 'Why don't we make this more interesting? Would you kindly kill the little one?'
Eserren froze for a moment, every muscle going rigid.
'Mum?' Caewyn stared at her, lowering her crossbow.
Purist must have sensed what was coming. He grabbed Caewyn and pulled her away as Eserren swung around, the blade of her bardiche whooshing through the air.
'Eserren!' Mirana cried. 'Eserren! Stop!'
'She's charmed!' Aiushtha cried. 'Get back!'
Purist deflected the bardiche as best he could, but Eserren was strong even without the power her armour provided. He was rocked back, slipping in the mud. Eserren, her eyes unseeing and unfocused, brought her bardiche down. Davion leapt forth and caught the haft with his sword. Purist scrambled away.
'Well get him then!' Vahdrak ordered. 'Be a useful snack! There's a good snack! You too! Good girl!'
Something collided with Davion, and he saw a dagger surging towards his neck. Davion seized the arm. 'Marci!'
Mirana, also unseeing, unfocused and unthinking, was pulled away from him by Marci. Marci did not hold her tightly, afraid to hurt her. But Mirana was not in control. She did not know what she was doing. She jabbed the dagger backwards, straight into Marci's side.
Marci's mouth opened in a silent yell, blood welling from the wound. Her grip loosened and Mirana turned, intending to thrust the dagger into her again.
Davion seized her. Eserren charged at him. Aiushtha galloped forwards, knocking her down, but Vahdrak roared and charged before she could cast any spells. He moved too fast for Caewyn, whose bolt embedded itself in his shoulder rather than his eye.
As Davion pulled Mirana back, he felt something slicing the back of his leg and he staggered. Fymrym drew back her arm to cut him again.
Marci was still trying to control Mirana, who seemed determined to maim or cripple Marci. Davion swung his sword one-handed, trying to keep Fymryn away without killing her. Fymrym smacked the blade out of his hand. Eserren was trying to cut off Caewyn's head again as Vahdrak homed in on Aiushtha.
'Enough!'
Davion felt the blood thunder in his veins. The scales ripped through his flesh, merging with his armour. The wings and tail erupted from his back as his body grew. Davion's consciousness retreated as Slyrak took over.
'And there he is!' Vahdrak laughed. 'Hello, Slyrak! You look even more hideous now!'
Slyrak did not grace him with a response. He seized Mirana and pulled her away from Marci, kicked Eserren away from Caewyn and left Marci and Purist to seize Fymryn's arms. 'Stop this, Vahdrak,' Slyrak ordered. 'NOW!'
'But I'm hungry!' Vahdrak groaned. 'Why do you care if I eat the less important members of your merry little band?'
'Release your hold, Vahdrak, or we fight.'
'I'd love a fight.'
'Release them, Vahdrak! Before I summon Byssrak.'
'When did you become so soft, Slyrak? You can eat one of them if you like.'
'No.' Slyrak refused flatly. 'You will not harm any of these people. Release them at once, or suffer my fury!'
He heard it. They both did.
Funeral bells, their tolling warped and fell.
The evil eyes on Vahdrak's wings dimmed. Mirana stopped struggling in Slyrak's hand, now looking confused and scared. Eserren picked herself up, eyes screwed shut, breathing hard. Fymryn stopped trying to kick Marci and stared around, bewildered.
Vahdrak sighed. 'Even in death, he's a damned bore.'
A shadow fell over them, blotting out the sun. It came in the shape of a dragon, yet they all knew that it was so much worse than that. Slyrak was no longer trying to hide things from Davion, and he felt Davion's fear, and the terrible realisation of what he had helped do.
By killing Vylgranox, he and his allies had given Terrorblade his greatest weapon to wield against the Eldwurms.
Terrorblade landed behind Vahdrak, sneering and baring his vessel's teeth. 'And once again I find myself with two Eldwurms to consume. This is a good day. Now then… who wants to die first?'
My thanks to Annbe11 and BarrissOffee99 for helping me to devise a name of the foul swamps of this chapter, and further thanks to Annbe11 for the brainstorming sessions which led to the development of the Fae in Ascension, as well as Vahdrak's ability to meddle with minds.
Book Three is now out, I see...
I have opinions, but I won't be discussing them here. This much I can say, and it is a good thing: Ascension will not end like the anime does. It's going to be different. How different? That remains to be seen. Those of you still reading this, thank you, and I hope you continue to enjoy it.
