Harbinger of Doom ( Epic Fantasy Three Book Bundle), page 46
***
A wizard, a Gnome, and soldiers, finely clothed—just as Rimel said. They can pay.
“Greetings, Mistress Azura,” said Tanch as he reverently bowed. Tanch raised his staff up and thumped it down lightly on the wood floor. “Forgive my small deception to your guard. As you no doubt can discern, I am no spice merchant.”
“Indeed, you are not, Par—”
Tanch smiled. “I am Par Sinch Malaban of The Blue Tower. My retainers,” gesturing toward the others, “are a sordid lot of little consequence.”
“And two more of your men remain in the courtyard.”
Tanch nodded.
“So many bodyguards, Par Sinch. You must have many enemies.” And much coin to pay all these.
“Alas, bodyguards are a necessity in these dark times,” said Tanch. “A wizard’s welcome is all too thin in some lands, Tragoss among them.”
“Too true, Par Sinch. It’s my good fortune that the Thothians don’t look down on seers as they do on wizards. Nonetheless, as you see, I keep my own bodyguards as well, both seen and unseen.” She paused, letting the last words sink in. “Please now, sit and be comfortable.”
Tanch took a seat at the table. The others remained standing.
“You honor me with this audience. I regret that I had not the opportunity to forewarn you of my visit.”
“No regrets are necessary. Wizards in good standing with the Tower of the Arcane are always welcome guests to my tower, if not to my city.”
Tanch smiled and bowed his head slightly. “Thank you, Mistress.”
A true smile? Is he one of Pipkorn’s or the Vizier’s or some other’s?
“I understand that the Tower has undergone much upheaval in recent months.”
“Indeed.”
I can’t read him. Where are his loyalties?
Azura peered into the depths of her crystal ball for a few moments. “You’ve journeyed to parts foreign to escape those that would mean you harm.”
Tanch smiled. “I support what is best for the Order, as is my duty.”
He won’t reveal himself. Try another approach.
Azura passed her hands over the crystal sphere and gazed into it. She looked up.
“You’ve come seeking my wisdom, my knowledge. You seek the answer to a question of grave import.”
He smiles, unimpressed. He’s no fool.
“Your knowledge, wisdom, and mastery of the art of divination are known far and wide and much admired even within the Tower of the Arcane.”
“Known, perhaps,” said Azura. “Admired, no, not at all. But I thank you for your flattery.”
The older soldier is studying the room. Dead gods, he looks dangerous. Why are they here? Do they mean me harm? Could even Gorb protect me against them?
“Tell me now, Par Sinch of the Blue Tower, what knowledge do you seek?”
“We search for a ship,” said Tanch.
“Hmm,” she nodded. I can work with that.
Each time, before making a pronouncement Azura caressed the crystal sphere and gazed into it. She looked back up before she spoke so that she could see her guests’ reactions.
“A sailing vessel, out of Lomion,” said Azura.
“Yes.”
“And why do you seek her?”
“There is a man on board that is a traitor to the Order. We’re tasked with bringing him to justice.”
Enforcers or bounty hunters. But whose? Pipkorn’s or the League’s, or someone else’s? “I see,” said Azura. These men are dangerous. “What name does this man go by?”
“Par Otto, of the Red Tower.”
I don’t know that name. A lie?
“When did this ship reach Tragoss Mor?”
“Within the last two days or so.”
Azura gazed deeply into the crystal ball, caressing it over and over. The White Rose—it must be. They’re in with Pipkorn or Harringgold—enemies of the League. Good thing that I paid for that information about The Rose. Always someone willing to pay for secrets. Must be sure.
“The ship this man sailed on is no longer in Tragoss Mor,” said Azura.
Still can’t read the wizard. The young bodyguard nodded, I think.
She looked back at the sphere for a moment, and then back at Tanch.
“The man you seek is still aboard her, and no one can tell you where she has sailed.” The Gnome looks surprised. I’m right. I have them. Azura made a show of gazing close and long into the sphere. Now for the hook.
“The ship you seek is called The White Rose.”
Tanch raised his eyebrows, despite himself.
I was right!
“Impressive.”
“And you seek knowledge of where this White Rose is sailing?”
Tanch nodded. “Yes.”
They’re mine. How much should I ask for? “I believe that my powers can divine this information for you—but the task is difficult and draining. I’m afraid that the cost must be high.”
Tanch furrowed his brow.
He will pay.
Azura returned her gaze to the crystal. If I ask for too much, what will they do? Try to kill me? That would be foolish, that would gain them nothing but a battle with my guards. Gorb is at my side, so strong—and Dirkben and Rimel. But Dirkben is a useless coward. Both warriors and the Gnome are casing the room. Are they thieves? Assassins? I must tread carefully.
“Five hundred silver stars is my price.” Fifty times what I paid for the information.
No reaction from Sinch. He’s holding back.
“A high price indeed for such a small piece of information,” said Tanch. “A piece of information that would put the Order in your debt.”
I must lower the price to appease him. “The divination is difficult. I know nothing of the ship or its crew, save what little the crystal’s mists have only now revealed to me. It will take much power and concentration and I will need to expend valuable herbs and powders. For the Order though, I will do this thing for four hundred silver, no less.”
Tanch glanced over at Claradon for a moment.
What was that? Is he a young lordling and the true master here? Does it matter, so long as they pay?
Sinch nodded. He approves.
Tanch pulled out a leathern purse from his belt. It jingled with the sounds of coins. He opened it.
“Keep your money, wizard,” said Theta.
What’s this?
“This one is a mummer. She’ll take your money and send us on a wild goose chase. Best we be on our way.”
What game is this?
Tanch squirmed in his seat and looked mortified. He turned and glared at Theta. “I hope that my guard has not offended you, my lady. He’s naught but an uncouth barbarian that knows not his station. I assure you that I do not agree with his insulting remarks, and I will see that he regrets them.”
I still have him.
“He does, however, bring to mind some concerns.”
Oh, smigits, where’s he going with this? “And what concerns are those?”
“You will pardon me, Mistress, for saying so, but we haven’t chanced to meet before today. In truth, I know not if you are truly the famed seer, Azura, or some imposter who has taken her tower and her trappings. As we both agreed, these are dark times and things are not always as they seem.”
Lies. They know who I am, they just don’t believe in my power.
“I knew of your White Rose.”
“You did indeed, my Lady, and that was most insightful, but mayhaps, just a guess.”
Fine. Then proof I’ll give you.
“Perhaps you require a small demonstration of my skills?”
“That would be most appreciated, my lady, and would go a long way toward providing me the comfort I need to expend the monies you’ve requested.”
Stinking wizard. “For this, my price goes back to five hundred silver stars.”
“Of course, my lady,” said Tanch. “If you can convince me you speak true.”
“I will do a reading of one of you.” She looked them each up and down. “You, doubter,” she said, pointing to Theta. “I will tell you things only you would know, then you will know my power. Agreed, Par Sinch?”
Tanch looked back at Theta who offered no reaction. “Agreed.”
Theta stepped forward. “Do your reading, woman, though I warn you—if your powers be true, you may not like what you see.”
Is he a raper and a killer? I’ve seen such things before and don’t fear them. Little shocks or surprises me anymore. “Take a seat and hold out your hands.”
Theta sat down, but paused before extending his hands. He grasped the cord of his ankh and lifted it off, over his head. He turned toward Claradon. “Hold this for me until we’re done.” Theta handed Claradon the ankh and extended his hands toward Azura, palms up.
I must get this right.
Azura grasped Theta’s hands and shuddered. Her head snapped back, eyes opened wide, though they saw nothing of the now. Her eyes rolled back in her head, only the whites exposed.
A maelstrom of images, sounds, and emotions unlike any reading before flailed Azura’s mind, trampled her thoughts and shattered her defenses. She saw nothing through the blur and heard nothing but the din. She felt everything and nothing, lost in a vortex of madness.
She struggled to manage the torrent, to control the flow before it destroyed her. If she didn’t master it in moments all sanity would be lost, and all that which made Azura an individual would be gone, forever, reducing her to a gibbering, drooling, mindless thing.
Azura exerted all her discipline and all her will and regained some semblance of control. Gradually, the images slowed and cleared; the cacophony ebbed; the world came into focus. Azura became her subject, seeing through his eyes, hearing with his ears, and feeling his feelings. Not of the now, but of the past, long past. All her will bent on maintaining control and keeping the maelstrom that ever threatened her in check.
She looked out Theta’s eyes and a feeling of power washed over her. A sense of incredible strength, and vast, unmatched knowledge. A feeling of durability, vitality, and near limitless energy. A feeling of age, a sense of eternity.
She, no Theta, stood atop a smoking snowcapped mountain, then in a boat on a roiling sea, in a desert, on a field of ice, in a forest glen—but somehow, this was all the same place, all the very same spot on Midgaard—as if the world changed, but Theta remained. As if he had walked Midgaard forever through all its epochs and geological upheavals. As if he were always here, immortal, everlasting.
The images shifted and churned, faster and faster again. Azura set her will against them and pulled them into check once more. She saw a woman that she loved grow old, sicken, and die almost within the blink of an eye, and her heart broke. All the people in all the lands began to age rapidly, so rapidly, and they grew sick, and weak, and died. They all died. But Theta remained; everlasting, ever strong, a warrior, a knight eternal.
Guilt beyond imagining assaulted her; a sorrow beyond all sorrows rended her soul, and a loneliness without end engulfed her. Worst of all, the helplessness and the anger it stirred within her. An anger that ever threatened to erupt. A simmering need for vengeance. Nothing she could do could stop the suffering and the dying. Nothing.
The images and sounds blurred and shifted again. A terrible sight came into focus. She stood now before a large portal, an unnatural gateway through which sprang and leaped and flew the very monsters of nightmare. There came dragons, black, red, winged and serpentine. Basilisks and bogart, demons and devils, hags and harpies, giants and djinn, minotaur and manticore, ghost, ghoul, and goblin, wight and warg, and countless more. All the monsters of legend, myth, and nightmare raced through that portal from Abaddon as she looked on.
The scene clouded again, and a chorus of voices began to chant. Most voices were strangers, but some were familiar, some were those of friends. Traitor, traitor, traitor they chanted. Slayer they marked him. Rebel, widowmaker, bogeyman, devil, prince of lies they called him. Great Dragon they named him. Harbinger of Doom they boomed. Harbinger of doom, harbinger of doom, harbinger of doom they chanted over and over and over again. That title of infamy echoed in her mind, no his, without end and through all time. Azura felt herself falling, falling into a bottomless abyss with no hope, no help, no friends.
Then before her, He stood. Azathoth. The ancient god himself, bathed in holy light. His arms outstretched to the sides, palms up, tears streaming down his kind and careworn face, the white of his beard lost in like-colored robes. He looked pained, wounded, suffering.
“Why?” said Azathoth, his voice unsteady. “Why hath thee betrayed me, my son? Why doth thou forsake me? You who I loved more than all others, how can thee turn to darkness, to evil?”
“Take my hand, Thetan. Take my hand and repent. Repent and all will be forgiven. All will be as it was.”
Theta’s hands came into view. But they were not bare. They held a sword.
Azathoth looked shocked, but then he seemed to grow and darken. His face became hard and terrible. “You have chosen the dark road, Thetan. Now your name will go down in infamy through all the ages. So must it be. Now feel my wrath and despair.”
Theta bounded toward the god, so fast, faster than any man could move. But Azathoth was faster. His hand shot out and from it exploded a stream of blinding yellow fire that engulfed Theta.
Azura felt herself falling and screaming. An indescribable pain that threatened to tear her very soul from her body.
Azura’s face stung. She opened her eyes and Gorb stood over her. She was lying on the floor. Did he slap me? Such things helped end the spell when things went bad.
The wizard knelt before her. He offered her something—a cup of water? She couldn’t focus enough to be sure, and pushed his hand away. Her vision was blurred; her ears rang; and her thoughts raced, unfocused. Memory stormed back to her. Harbinger of Doom! She started and arced up into a sitting position. She began shaking uncontrollably.
It’s him. Dead gods, it’s him. The Harbinger of Doom. The lord of evil. Make them go away.
“Get out!” screamed Azura. “They’ve gone to Jutenheim. The White Rose has sailed to Jutenheim. Now get out. Get out.”
The soldiers turned and left. The wizard bent down beside her. “I’m sorry, dear Lady, we did not mean you harm.”
Azura grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close. She could feel Gorb beside her, tensed, ready to strike at her command. “He’s the prince of lies, wizard.”
Tanch looked confused. “What?”
“He’s not what he seems. He’s the bogeyman of legend. The Harbinger of Doom—it’s him, your man, it’s truly him.”
Tanch stood up, a look of horror on his face.
“He will be the death of you, wizard. Beware him. He will be the death of us all. Go now, go. Never return here. Get out! Get out!”
Gorb stood, menacingly. Tanch fled the tower, Ob beside him.
After they were gone, Gorb lifted Azura into her chair. Her vision cleared, though a strange ringing still filled her head.
Gorb looks frightened. I’ve never seen him frightened before. The way he’s staring at me; how odd. Dirkben and Rimel have the same look. Why?
Azura looked up and saw her reflection in the tall mirror across the room. Her long auburn locks now ran gray from root to end. She put her hands to head and grabbed at her hair in disbelief. My hair, my face!
“No!” Azura screamed. “No, no, no!”
***
The group walked quickly through Azura’s courtyard.
“What happened?” asked Artol. “We heard a woman’s scream. Another minute and that door would’ve been splinters.”
“The seer went bonkers and booted us,” said Ob.
Tanch came up beside Theta as they made their way onto the street. His face was flushed and his voice harsh. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing,” said Theta.
“Tell that to her hair,” said Ob. He turned to Artol. “It went white before our eyes. Mr. Fancy Pant’s doing. Maybe we should introduce her to Slaayde.”
Artol looked shocked. “What?”
“Nothing?” said Tanch. “It didn’t look like nothing to me. She is a wizard of the Order, not an enemy. What did you do? I demand to know.”
Theta ignored him, never slowing his pace.
“Answer me,” said Tanch.
“Your back seems better today,” said Theta. “Put your teeth together and it may stay that way.”
“Enough,” said Claradon. “We can discuss this back at the ship. We got what we came for and that’s what’s important.”
XII
FREEDOM SQUARE
“Can I do any less?”
—Angle Theta
“Some commotion up ahead in Freedom Square,” said Ob. “That’s where the main slave market was.”
“Freedom Square?” said Dolan. “Why call it that if slaves were sold there?”
“Don’t know,” said Ob. “Never made no sense to me.”
“Because evil oft denies its nature and pretends to be good,” said Theta.
Tanch looked to Theta, searching his face.
“They never even called it slavery. They named it workhood or some such. Who did they think they were fooling?” said Ob.
“None but themselves,” said Claradon.
“No,” said Theta. “They fooled many, for many are fools.”
Ob turned to Claradon. “Shall we see what’s what? Just a few blocks out of our way.”
“Alright,” said Claradon. “But let’s be quick.”
The avenue opened up into a large square where many streets intersected. A noisy crowd was gathered. Men were up on the large, raised, wood platform upon which untold slaves had been exhibited and sold. For generations, the pirate lords of Tragoss Mor raided villages and cities and islands up and down the coast for hundreds, even thousands of miles, taking what booty they could and capturing people for slaves. They brought them all there, for sale in Freedom Square to the highest bidder. Any land that had no trade treaty with Tragoss and that paid no tribute to them lived in fear of their attacks.
That day, dozens of Thothian monks stood on and around the slave platform. One spoke into a speaking-trumpet soon after the group entered the square.
