The Bone Mask Trilogy: (An Epic Fantasy Boxed Set), page 61
Gasps filled the tent.
“The Lost Greatmask,” he said. “Chelona, of Casa Pesce Spada. Long rumoured amongst those on the First Tier to be stolen. But I have recovered her.” He brushed a hand across her cheek. “Not truly lost, she lay instead at the bottom of the ocean for decades, trapped beneath its cold surface since the shipwreck that nearly put an end to me.”
“How did you find it?” Flir breathed.
“Later. I must be quick, for I did not wish for Pevin or the Admiral to see it.”
“If you say so. And Solicci?”
He met Holindo’s eyes, who said nothing. “I have yet to decide.”
“I wouldn’t trust him that far.”
“We shall see.” He replaced the cloth and hid the mask once more. “And I should barely need to remind each of you that, for now, this knowledge is to be kept to yourselves. Should we face truly dire circumstances, I would use the Greatmask, though exactly how I have yet to discover.” There. Any more and they would not take heart from its discovery.
“This could turn the tide,” Holindo said.
Seto spread his hands. “I hope so, though I have never heard of a Greatmask putting out fires.”
“It’s something,” Luik said. “Especially with Notch and Sofia gone.”
Seto frowned. “Yes.”
Flir nudged Luik, who winced.
“No, it is not Luik’s fault, Flir.” Seto glanced at the green mass in the bottom corner of the chart. “They chose to desert us.”
“I don’t think that’s what he intended,” Flir said.
“We needed the Greatmasks. Sofia and Notch selfishly took them both, whether they intended to deprive us of the masks or not, it is irrelevant as far as the outcome is concerned, don’t you think?” He softened his voice. “But no matter, I found Chelona.”
No-one answered and the rain on the tent roof grew loud.
Solicci and Pevin entered with a man in a black coat in tow. He was fairly regular looking – save for his pot belly. It stretched the fabric of his coat, which was shiny. Had it been waxed?
“My King.” He went to one knee.
“None of that. You must be Renaso?”
“I am. Lord Solicci asked me to explain a little about the vitriol? You wish to use it in a warlike fashion?”
He nodded. “Please sit.”
Renaso did so then tented his hands, tapping his fingers together as he spoke. “It is possible, though it would cause hideous pain. A terrible way to die.”
Seto’s expression did not change. “We understand.”
“Ah. Well, to produce enough to rain down upon the attackers, I do not know if it is possible in the time available.”
“How is it produced? Can we speed it along somehow?”
Sweat formed at his temples. “Ah, Your Majesty. The Alchemisti are jealous.”
Seto raised his eyebrows. “You’re refusing your King?”
He shifted in his seat. “Not refusing, truly. Only, I cannot divulge our secrets. I can, however, make certain requests that would not reveal the whole of the process. If so, we might be able to have a quantity available in time.”
“Provide me your list, Renaso of the Alchemisti.”
One of his Honour Guard poked his head into the tent. “Sire, a messenger from the palace.”
Giovan appeared. “Your Majesty, the Pathfinder’s found something he wants you to see.”
“Vinezi’s path?”
“He seemed confident.”
Seto rose. “Holindo, oversee the construction of the wall. It begins the moment the Sea Beast is finished. Luik, Flir, continue your work and report to me this evening.”
“Tell us if you find something,” Flir said.
“Assuredly.”
He slipped from the tent, Solicci following. The rain had eased. He stepped over a iron-grey puddle as he climbed into the nearby carriage. Finally.
“No more hiding, Vinezi.”
Chapter 36
Vinezi stood before the remnants of his force. Half a dozen men. Half a dozen. Torches crackled on the walls, casting deep shadows across their faces. Bedrolls lined one wall, barrels of water another and the remains of a card game lay on a makeshift table, created he assumed, from remnants found in the lower halls of the mountain fortress. Or perhaps ‘hidden temple’ was a better description. After all – what else, other than the power of the Gods, did the Pool represent?
According to Julas, he had visited the men often, in order to keep morale high during the regeneration and most importantly, to continue to dangle the promise of power.
But his brother felt it now time for a reminder of that power.
“I am reborn,” Vinezi cried in Anaskari.
A shout echoed from the walls and a renewed hope shone from their faces.
His brothers flanked him, making it impossible to pace as he’d have wished, but they were on hand to support him should he falter, unlikely though it was. His joints still ached, true, but enough days had passed that he would have no trouble making the long trip down to the city now. Whether he would be of any use in a physical contest, that was still to be seen. And after the failure of Alvetti it was time to even the odds.
“I know some of you witnessed my death during the escape and that some of you are new to our cause.” He met the eyes of each man. Mostly Renovar and Anaskari, but there were two men from the southern forests too. “You will all witness the next phase of my rise to power – I am going to forge a Greatsuit. A simple, incomplete suit at first, but with it I will still have the power to take the bones of the Sea God and begin creating more Suits.”
“Like the Greatmasks?” one of the men asked.
“Yes. Only more powerful. And you will each have one but first we must take what little bone is left unguarded at the Harbour. To that end, prepare for a return to the city. We leave in an hour.”
Vinezi motioned for Julas to supervise and for Tarvilus to follow.
He ascended the dimly-lit stairs, pausing at the top to catch his breath. He raised a hand to forestall any question from his brother. “I am fine.”
In the Regeneration Chamber he strode directly to the pool and the bone fragments lain along its rim. Some pieces were as long as his forearm, some fist-sized and all irregular in shape. Within, remnants of fur and teeth bobbed in the liquid. Other...pieces...leftover from his recovery remained just below the surface, hints of their shape coated in grey and pink.
“I believe I know what the pool is composed of,” Tarvilus said. “Blood of a Sea God. Look at the blue colour at the very edge of the pool.”
Vinezi leant a little closer, squinting. Tarvilus was right. There was a thin line of blue – as if the pink and grey floated atop. Not unlike oil on water. Another line was revealed under his scrutiny – a watermark on the inside of the stone.
The pool was shrinking.
“Each regeneration comes at a cost,” his brother continued. “This pool won’t last forever. With no regeneration pools back home and now with the last Sea God dead...”
Vinezi nodded. “You are probably right. And it may be that the missing pages of the Genus discuss it further but there is enough for our purposes at least.”
“Do you want me to bring the Crucible closer now?” he asked.
“Yes, but first you need to find an axe.”
Tarvilus hesitated. “An axe?”
Vinezi placed a hand on the stone bench. His fingers were tucked into a fist – all save for his smallest finger, which lay across the cold rock. Enough of his memories had returned that they would have been imprinted on the new bone, just as the Genus described. It had certainly been longer than last time. “Insurance.”
His eyes widened and then his expression fell. “Then you want me to stay here?”
“I would worry about you otherwise.”
“You don’t worry about Julas.”
“He is better with a sword.”
“And I’m better here,” Tarvilus replied, a hint of defiance creeping into his voice.
“Exactly, brother. Exactly.” He smiled. “Now find your axe. I want to be sure.”
Tarvilus nodded and left.
When he returned his expression was still flat but he seemed to have accepted his near-imprisonment in the temple. It was simply the way it had to be. Tarvilus understood better than their younger brother. Regeneration at least – Tarvilus wasn’t able to forge a Greatsuit.
That knowledge was for Vinezi alone.
“Ready?” He lifted the axe – more a hatchet – and paused.
“Quickly.”
Tarvilus’ arm flashed down. Pain exploded and Vinezi screamed as blood spayed. He staunched the flow with a piece of his robe, clenching his other fist over the wound. His brother had already fished the finger out from where it rolled into the pool. He placed it within the Crucible and rested the heavy bone construct on the edge of the pool.
“Where is the lenasi?”
“We have none. Julas took the last to repair his leg.”
He swore. “Then it wasn’t enough.”
“He can run now, if he has to.”
“No matter. There is still the bone.” He glanced at Tarvilus. “I will call for you.”
His brother left and Vinezi withdrew his chisel. Its butt bore a steel cap with the waves of Casa Mare and the wooden handle was scuffed and discoloured, years of his sweat worn into the grain.
Without adequate quantities of bone, he had to improvise. Which meant a thinner, less cohesive suit. All he’d truly have would be gauntlets and a partial breastplate. Everything else he’d have to augment from whatever could be found in the harbour. Somewhere in the city below, there was a Witch who had discovered a truth about the fish – after so long living and breeding in the harbour of the Sea God, their bones bore traces of the God’s power.
And what better time to harvest bone, while no-one fished.
He gritted his teeth. Block the pain.
The pain was as nothing – the throbbing in the stub – it did not exist.
There was only the old white of bone.
He first carved and chiselled even pieces, using the head of the hatchet to land blows. Blood flecked onto his face and even the smooth white bone, but he did not take the time to wipe it away. Any of it. Concentrate. On the sound of steel on bone, the faint trail of dust that rose after each line cut.
Sweat beaded as he worked and he blinked it away when it trickled down. Just as important as the bone itself, was the ancient pattern he carved. The pattern formed symbols that could have been words but were not legible. In a large piece he could simply carve the pattern as one – here he had to carve the top, the middle and the bottom on three separate pieces of bone. The gauntlet pattern was next – he did not need to refer to the charts, those he’d memorised as a child. The pages of the Genus that dealt with forging, however, those he memorised. And burnt.
When Vinezi finished he sat back to rest a moment. A full suit would have taken longer but he’d done all he could. The pattern did not line up perfectly, but it was close. Whether it was close enough he had yet to discover.
Next, the Crucible.
Each piece he placed within, lining them up before setting the Crucible aside. A faint glow rose as ancient bone reacted to ancient bone. He peered within. The pieces were moulding together but the glow was fading. Were the patterns too inexact? The bone was quivering, slipping back apart. Try something, fool!
Vinezi lifted the Crucible and placed it in the pool, arms straining.
A blue glow joined the white and the bone solidified and a breastplate formed.
“Ha! See what mere Carver skills can do, Father?”
He withdrew the Crucible and repeated the process with two gauntlets, pulling the final piece of bone armour free before letting the Crucible float into the centre of the pool. He slumped against the wall of the regeneration pool before placing the first bone upon his wounded hand. A warmth spread from the gauntlet and he gasped when it made subtle adjustments, elongating to align with his fingers. The pain disappeared.
Nothing but its own magic seemed to hold it upon his skin – something he had not expected. Most suits were mounted onto clothing manually. For the breastplate he rested it against his robe and the same warmth spread as the bone attached itself. Was the Sea God’s blood changing the process?
He stood and let out a roar.
It worked.
Even an imperfect, makeshift suit – a mere three pieces, had worked. He paced. All fatigue was gone from his body. It was as if he had just woken from a deep sleep. He raised a hand then pointed at the hatchet, flicking his wrist.
The blade flew across the room. It struck the wall with a dull clunk and a spark.
He roared again, this time with laughter.
“Vin?”
“Come, Tarvilus – see what I have created.” Godhood awaited. And if Marinus did dare follow, he would regret such a foolish move.
***
The endless staircase leading down to the city did not trouble him and nor did the men complain about the long trek down the wide staircase after a demonstration of his power. Power he was willing to promise they would soon share in – even if that were never to happen.
They were not fit. The Anaskari were at least once of noble heritage – but the others, Renovar and Braonn, they were barely human. No history, no honour in their bones. Mere tools, truly.
Halfway down from the temple, they reached the silver and the black doors, the black of which he had not yet been able to fathom. Ecsoli markings were present on both, but they were vague – aside from the note about the temple on the silver. Here Julas stopped and the men spread out a moment.
“Should we check on the Gigansi?”
Vinezi shook his head. “On the way back.”
“What if he has tired of guarding the Lesser God and fled with it?”
“Unlikely. Besides which, the Lesser God is no loss to us if he has. And we need to move swiftly. Every day is a day closer to Marinus catching up.”
Julas chuckled. “Then you do think big brother is following us.”
“I would follow, were our roles reversed.” He paused to lower his voice so the others would not hear. “What I don’t believe is that he can bring a whole fleet through that maelstrom.”
“Hard to believe we passed through ourselves.”
“The gamble paid off. We cannot waste this time,” Vinezi said.
“And what of Atilus and Kanis?”
“I have spoken to Atilus via bone – they are closing but we will be in control of Anaskar by then. We simply take the acor from the ships at that point and should Marinus appear, he will receive only a bloody surprise.”
“And if not? If King Rat and his group hold on?”
“If not, Atilus may still need to sack the city. Whatever it takes, I will have those bones, Julas.”
Down they followed the stairs until exiting in the abandoned Mountain God’s Temple, its leaves and bird’s nests belying a holy place – along with the holes in the roof where morning light poured through. It stung his eyes.
On he took the group, through the cobbled streets and past common Anaskari and Shield alike, before pausing at the harbour to kneel in the direction of the Sea God’s body, a dark outline still-visible above the buildings.
Before discovering that Those Who Fled had survived and receiving confirmation about other suspicions, among them the existence of a Harvesting Pool and the survival of a Sea God, he had only ever seen such a creature once, as a child, the day of its Final Harvest. And mother hadn’t allowed him to watch the entire process in any event. Instead, she took him back to the Carver’s Quarter to continue work on the patterns. His younger brothers had never seen a God before their arrival in Anaskar.
“Where is the grate?” Julas said. His voice was hushed with awe.
“Next street over, My Lord,” one of the men said.
“Are you sure? There are dozens of them.”
“I’m certain.”
They hurried away and Vinezi let his brother open the grate in the ground where it rested near the wall. Just beyond were the wharves and below them, access to the water. And the dead fish and hunks of flesh. Within would lie enough bones to add to the suit. “Remember, we spend day and the night if we must; I will have as much bone as possible. It will be considerably diluted in potency.”
“Right,” Julas said as he stepped down to the first rung.
Vinezi assigned one man to stand watch before following into the darkness.
Soon. Soon. Soon.
Chapter 37
Sofia crouched beside Emilio in the undergrowth, Notch close by. Nia had raised her hand yet again, to signal for silence. She knelt behind a pale tree, hands open before her as a small troop of Sap-Born passed on the trail.
As with each time prior, none of the Sap-Born noticed the intruders.
Their luck, or rather, Nia’s skill, held.
Sofia brushed a blood-tipped leaf aside and found her feet when Nia rose and signalled for them to continue.
They slipped further into the Bloodwood. This deep, the light struggled to reach the forest floor. The trees were so much taller, so much older than before. Broad trunks dripped bark and the skittering of small feet on branches drifted down from the canopy. In the dim light, the faces of her companions were pale. Or was it simply a sign of weariness?
Only two days from the edge of the Autumn Grove, having given Avaon wide berth, they were closing in on the Summer Groves, which Nia assured them they would reach by nightfall.
No-one spoke until the Butterfly-Eater led them into a deep hollow. A fallen tree, whose trunk stood taller than Emilio, blocked one side of the depression. The floor was sandy, with tufts of grass and smooth stones, as if a pool had once rested there.
“What now?” Notch asked. His face was set in the growing dark, lined with weariness, but his movements were still sharp enough. Was he hiding an injury? He’d been quiet since Emilio arrived.
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