Assault in the Wizard Degree, page 19
“It’s all right,” he said, louder than strictly necessary. “Everything’s under control.”
I let him lead me out of the office. We made it all the way down to the sun-warmed steps outside before he said anything else. He sounded tired.
“Dayna, you know I trust your judgement,” he said. “But what were you doing?”
I sighed. “I was saying what needed to be said. Along the way, I learned something. I learned that I was wrong about something big. And it makes me even more afraid.”
“What were you wrong about?”
“When I first confronted Archer, I called him a son of a bitch. I said, ‘you know what you did’. And you know what I saw on his face?”
“What?”
“Confusion. Surprise. Just for a split second, but it was there. He didn’t order the murder. He wasn’t even aware of it.”
He gave me a stare almost as incredulous as the one McClatchy had given me when I’d come into his office. “But if he didn’t…then who ripped Cohen’s eyes from his sockets?”
“If I had to guess, it was done by our friend Damon Harrison.”
“But Harrison works for Grayson Archer. He takes orders from him. Protects the man’s interests.”
“Does he?” I wondered aloud. “I’m not so sure Archer’s in control of that man at all.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Smiles greeted me from all around as I returned to Andeluvia. It was relatively easy for me to hold the visual cues present behind his mother’s house in my head: the wooden porch and trellises, the sheep pens, and of course the smoke-belching smithy. I was getting rather good at this whole world-hopping thing. Well, almost.
I looked around as Galen held my shoulder steady and my stomach decided to stop its mambo lessons. The grins from the Wizard and his sister, as well as the happy crinkles around Shaw’s eyes, told me something was up.
“Okay,” I said, “obviously, something’s happened since I was gone.”
“It has indeed been an enlightening period of time,” Galen agreed. “Was it similarly so in the Land of the Angels?”
I shook my head. “I’d prefer to tell you about it later. Right now I could use some good news for a change, to be honest.”
“It appears that we shall be greatly reducing the amount of peregrination that I had anticipated before our arrival.” The Wizard smiled cheerfully.
I blinked. “Reducing the peregrine-what?”
Rikka coughed into her hand. “My brother is trying to say that we’re not going to have to search for our quarry. This is likely going to be a quick in-and-out raid, or something like it.”
“You found Sir Caltrop!” I exclaimed.
“We weren’t that lucky. But we’re pretty sure that we’ve found his hideout.”
“But, I got the impression that the Hinter Lands were far away. And…well, big. You know, ‘Land’ sized. I mean, you two got lost there for days when you were younger.”
“They do stretch for leagues and leagues,” Galen acknowledged. “And they are a full day’s gallop south beyond Braceward Holt. I had taken the time to draw up a search pattern for us to utilize upon our arrival.”
“‘Twas a nice plan,” Shaw said, with a leonine chuckle. “But the Wizard did not count on having a griffin along.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Most of the Centaur Realm has never been surveyed by griffins,” Shaw explained. “A barren waste such as thy ‘Hinter’ lands wouldst have little to interest us. But once thy objective was explained to me, I simply flew as high as my wings would allow to see what mine own eyes would see.”
I couldn’t help but grin. I was so used to thinking of Grimshaw as helpful for close-in battle support that I completely forgot that he was the only one of my friends who could do high-altitude reconnaissance. Griffins were amazingly versatile creatures any way you sliced it.
“So, your keen eagle eyes spotted tracks, then.”
“Nay, ‘tis much better than that. Thou hast an entire ruined city to view this day!”
My expression must have hovered somewhere between shock and disbelief. Rikka and Galen both nodded encouragingly, as if to confirm what Shaw said. I shook my head and did my best to ask coherent questions.
“What? How? I mean…did anyone know of this place before now?”
“Yes and no,” Rikka said. “Remember the stories of a ghost village? From what the drake says, this places lies too far from Braceward Holt to reach and return without substantial supplies of water. But an adventurous centaur might have gotten close enough to see it.”
“Or hear it,” I mused. “Angbor’s scouts said they had seen lights, heard noises from deep within the Hinter Lands.”
Shaw nodded vigorously. “Aye, and mine eyes have seen signs of movement. Lighter sprays of dust on dust.”
“Given our need to bring Caltrop – or whatever resides within him – to justice, we have proposed the following course of action,” Galen said. “Though the sun is along its westering track, I shall bring us to these ruins directly.”
“I thought you couldn’t transport us to someplace you haven’t seen or fixed in your mind,” I pointed out. “Unless you created a workaround for that problem?”
“I went to Braceward Holt’s tower and used my pocket magnifier to espy the highest point to the south, within the Hinter Lands. I transported myself to that spot and then used the magnifier a second time. Thanks to Shaw’s report, I was able to sight the ruins and fix a target spot within them firmly in my mind.”
“‘Methinks that I like this Wizard’s aggressiveness,” Shaw said approvingly, and Rikka nodded agreement. “We shall have the element of surprise. ‘Tis one that shall be important when confronting an enemy in his stronghold.”
I unzipped my jacket so I could get to my Glock in a hurry if I needed it. My stomach still felt quivery from the last transport, but part of the rest of me felt strangely relieved. It felt good that, instead of living with unresolved dread, I was getting to confront something.
“All right, I’m in,” I said firmly. “If we’re ready to go, let’s do it.”
“Just one moment,” Rikka said, as she put her fingers to her mouth and gave a shrill whistle. Galen rolled his eyes, but she added, “We did promise, after all.”
The clatter of hooves came from the smithy. Her mother came trotting up, wearing a long leather apron that covered her from neck to the upper halves of her massive forelegs. Only, instead of a slogan like ‘Kiss the Cook’, her apron displayed a sword cleaving a triple-headed monster, with the appropriate splatters of blood and gore. She had Galen’s staff in one hand, while in the other she held the wickedly spiked mace on its chain.
“I’ve done my best to improve these,” Inga said, as she handed the first to Galen, the second to her daughter. “Much as anything can be improved these days, when they’ve chosen to forego true craftsmanship.”
“Thank you, mother,” Galen said, and both he and his sister embraced Inga in turn. She next turned to Shaw, a stern look on her face.
“You still have to live up to that promise you made me, proud drake,” she said. “Should anything happen to either of my offspring whilst in that awful place you found, then I shall learn how to craft a fine rug for my living room floor.”
Shaw bowed to her on one forepaw. “I shall not forget thy onus.”
“I still do not know how to properly feel about you,” Inga said, as she faced me directly. “But I have thought on my last words to you, and perhaps I was too harsh. Rikka tells me that you have helped her almost as much as my son. And from what he tells me, you are paramount as to whether my world shall stand, or fall to what is to come.”
Inga’s gruff words surprised me, and even choked me up a bit. I simply followed Shaw’s example and made one of my trademark awkward bows. She turned from me and went back to her kids one last time.
“Rikka,” she said, “did you remember to pack both of your swords this time?”
“Yes, mother,” her daughter replied.
“And something to sharpen them with?”
“Of course, mother.”
“Never give your foe time to take an extra swing.”
“I won’t, mother.”
“You too,” Inga said to Galen. “Don’t let an enemy get a hoof up on you.”
“I won’t,” Galen promised.
“And bring plenty of provisions with you, there’s nothing to eat out there.”
“I have.”
“And don’t either of you forget to wash! Even under your tails, you need to scrub–”
“Mother!” Rikka objected, as her face flushed.
“And one final thing: if you have to kill someone, then kill them!”
Shaw gave a wistful sigh. “Thou soundest so much like the reeve that hatched me, Inga.”
“We shall do as you say, mother!” Galen declared, then he spoke the magical phrase for his transport spell.
Inga vanished in a flash of white. The smell of bleach flooded my nose, like diving into a freshly chlorinated pool. We came out of the transport with a flash-bang.
The four of us stood upon the dry, pancaked dirt of a broad courtyard. Tall, crumbling walls surrounded us on three sides. A huge, crumbling mound of stone and earth made up the fourth. To the south and east ran an additional rampart of jagged mountain peaks that had begun to redden as the sun began its slow descent into evening. I noted that the dirt beneath my boots was yellowish. The exact shade, in fact, of the mud that had come from Caltrop’s hoof.
But all that was so much extra detail. Grimshaw reacted first, raising his eagle head in an alarmed, angry squawk. My nose picked up the awful smell of raw meat left lying in the sun, something that brushed past the reek of ozone and started climbing the Chrissie Scale of Stinkiness so fast that the patent was still pending. Galen and Rikka both danced back a step, their hooves thudding on the packed earth. Rikka let out a choked curse.
The courtyard around us was covered in scaly, winged bodies.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The courtyard around us was packed with slain wyverns. They were much smaller than the ones I’d seen the griffins attack, and some of their features looked slightly different. Their wings sat further forward on their backs, and their foreclaws were slender and finger-like.
The stench around us kept on climbing up the Chrissie Scale. Once it pegged a solid 8 and kept on climbing, both centaurs looked ready to retch. Even Shaw had begun to look seriously discomfited, and I wouldn’t be far behind if it kept rising.
“Nidher-slä!” Galen shouted, as he brought a hand down in a diagonal slash.
Immediately, the reek of decomposing flesh dialed back down to an uncomfortable-but-bearable 5 or 6. I looked up at the Wizard, and nodded my approval. As far as I was concerned, this ranked right up there with his ‘Archmage-level’ transformations. Rikka and Shaw also seemed more than a little relieved.
“I was unsure if that would work,” Galen said. “I have cast a Shield of Turning upon us. It is designed to ward off arrows or physical threats. Apparently, it wards off the stench left after a battle as well.”
“‘Twas not a battle that happened here,” Shaw said, in a half-growl. “‘Twas a slaughter.”
Galen stared around at the carnage. “What brings you to that conclusion?”
“Few foes can win a pitched battle between dozens without leaving at least one of their own behind on the bloody field. Nor was this a battle between rival clans. None of the slain lie in pairs, as wouldst be in claw-to-claw fighting.”
Sure enough, the only bodies I saw were reptilian wyverns, fallen individually. I took a couple of steps forward and knelt by one of the corpses. I heard a whispery sound along with a couple of hoof clops. I realized that Rikka had drawn a svelga from its holder and moved to cover me.
“My field extends for only a few feet around us,” Galen warned. “Be aware that you may soon step beyond that boundary.”
I nodded, and decided to squat where I was, on the comfortable side of the barrier. I did a quick inspection of the closest wyvern. It lay on its side, head arched painfully back on its slender neck. The organs lay piled and dried next to the broken-open mass of the torso. The organ-mass emitted a nasty smell like the ant-infested roast beef I’d found back at Shelly’s place when she’d gone missing. And that made me realize a few more things.
“What do you think, Dayna?” Rikka asked.
“Couple of things,” I said, as I glanced around at the nearby fallen wyverns. “First off, whatever happened here, it’s been a while. Several days, or even a couple of weeks ago. The bodies are still in a state of putrefaction because of the moderate temperatures and low levels of moisture. Extremely low, now that I think about it. This courtyard should be crawling with carrion birds and insects. But the only activity here is bacteria, probably more gut bacteria than anything else. And that means the way they died…could have been a lot different than in combat.”
“Different than combat?” Shaw sputtered. “Many of these bodies have wounds!”
I stood and looked around. “Maybe some of them do. The ones I’m looking at up close all have ruptured abdomens, but I’m not seeing signs of weapons trauma. Those would be clean slices, like from a sword, or a set of sharp talons. These torsos were burst open. Ruptured, from inside-out.”
“Something…some creature, ripped out from inside them?” Rikka asked, aghast.
“More likely they simply dropped over dead. The gut flora, along with other bacteria, starts breaking down the cells of the intestines. That produces methane and hydrogen sulfide gas, which makes corpses swell. The pressure can break open the body orifices or the abdomen, spilling the contents.”
Rikka swallowed, hard. “I think I shall stick to my profession over forensics.”
“It still leaves the question as to what killed these creatures en masse. A poisoning incident involving their food or water supply might do it.”
“I would place a higher probability on death magic,” Galen put in. “Extremely strong death magic. To kill such a large number of beings–”
“Aye, to my mind it is the numbers that are the larger mystery!” Shaw insisted. “My kind know wyverns quite well. Couldst so many live amidst these ruins without being known? ‘Tis little to eat or drink for leagues upon leagues in all directions. They would have long ago swarmed the centaurs to gain their supplies.”
I let the conversation drift away as I shifted my stance to look around. The crumbling stone walls surrounding us reared two stories or higher. Each corner was anchored with cone-shaped towers that had crumbled to blunt, rounded tips.
The massive mound of stone and earth taking up the most real estate to the front was definitely a gigantic, half-crumbled building. While once surely magnificent, now it looked disturbingly like a giant anthill, complete with ragged, griffin-sized holes punctuating the bottom edge. Conical towers standing three or four stories high poked out of the edges of the mound, tilted crazily to one side or the other.
I noticed small gradations in the color of the packed yellow soil. We stood in the middle of a slightly lighter patch. Five broad lanes of similarly-colored dirt stretched away from the patch in long, straight lines like fingers from a hand.
Odd emotions had pervaded my senses the moment we’d arrived in this desolate place, pushed to the background by the overwhelming stench of death and rot. Now that the local olfactory delights had been suppressed, the feelings came back even stronger. I had no way to explain what I felt, but my brain was simultaneously trying to ignore it while also puzzling out the inexplicable.
Suddenly, I understood. I knew this place. I had no idea how, but damn it, I did. I felt it in my core.
“I can’t shake it,” I said aloud, and my friends fell silent. “I’ve got what my world calls déjà vu. The feeling that I’ve seen this place before.”
Galen inhaled sharply. “Yes! I feel that too!”
“Well, I don’t,” Rikka disagreed. “I have no idea what either of you are talking about.”
Shaw nodded warily. “‘Tis something I share, at least an inkling of it. Yet, I mislike what I see at the base of the crumbled mound of the building before us.”
I squinted. Sure enough, set right up against one of the building’s walls was a raised stone platform. Five massive, irregularly shaped gray stones sat perched atop a semicircle of roughly carved pedestals. The pedestals themselves bore strange, linear markings that I couldn’t quite make out.
Shaw’s keener eyes provided the answer. “The bases upon which those stones sit…mine eyes see gashes or grooves in them. The mark of dragon claws!”
A soft breeze passed through the courtyard. Even through Galen’s shield, I felt the movement of air, the buffet of wind-tossed sand as it rattled against the magical barrier. In the distance, something metallic moved with the wind, making a chiming sound like a distant bell. This was followed by a set of tapping sounds.
My skin pricked up in gooseflesh like nobody’s business. Galen spoke a word, readying a ball of energy in his palm. Shaw unsheathed his talons and moved, as if ready for combat. I drew my gun, while Rikka scanned the area, looking for targets.
The feeling of déjà vu didn’t go away. But the other feeling I’d been getting now pushed its way to the fore. The knowledge that we were about to see something that I should have seen coming, that I should have tried harder to avoid. That feeling sat on my heart like a stone, and I couldn’t shake it.
The bell sound faded away with the breeze. The tapping did not. It resolved into something much more familiar.
Hoofbeats.
Sir Caltrop the Bastard emerged from one of the ragged entryways at the base of the crumbled building. He walked calmly to the raised stone platform and turned to face us. The sun had set fast enough that it finally illuminated the strange outfit he now wore.
