Curse of the Shadowmage (18 page)

“I think this was a city of the Talfirc,” Morhion said, raising his voice above the rushing river.

“What happened to them?” Mari asked in wondfer. “Why did they leave?”

Morhion shook his head. “It is a mystery. The Talfirc dwelt in this land for a long age. However, by the time our ancestors came westward over the mountains, the Talfirc were already centuries vanished. No one knows where they went, or why.”

“They built this city awfully close to the river,” Cormik noted. “I wonder if they built a bridge as well.”

Morhion’s eyes gleamed brightly “Let us find out if you’re right.”

The Talfirc had indeed built a bridge. Unfortunately, the river had shifted in its course over the centuries. The

ancient yet solid span of stones now arched over the verdant floodplain. The river came nowhere near it.

“Well, that’s about as useful as a rowboat in the desert,” Jewel said drolly.

“Not even that,” Cormik chimed in.

They made their way back to the central plaza. The light was failing rapidly.

“We might as well camp here,” Mari said, though she shivered as she did. The years rested heavily on this plae.

“What’s that boy doing?” Cormik asked with a scowl.

Mari followed Cormik’s gaze, then gasped. Kellen was climbing nimbly up one side of the stone pyramid. “Kellen!” she cried out in alarm. “Come back down!” He seemed not to have heard her over the roar of the river, for he kept climbing. It was unlike him to behave so rashly, but she could see now what had attracted his attention. Atop the pyramid was a gleaming golden orb.

Morhion was the first to the pyramid. He leapt from the saddle and swiftly scrambled up the side after Kellen. Seconds later, Mari, Jewel, and Cormik dismounted and started up the stone steps after the mage. These three were perhaps a quarter of the way up the pyramid when Kellen reached the summit. Glancing over his shoulder, he grinned when he spotted Morhion right behind him. But there was something wrong with Kellen’s eyes, Mari realized. They were dull, vacant. And Kellen never grinned, Mari remembered. Sometimes he smiled, but he never bared his teeth and grinned.

“Look at it, Morhion,” Kellen said in a strangely flat voice. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Morhion also sensed something was wrong. He reached a hand out toward the boy. “Kellen, don’t touch the—” But the mage was too late. Kellen had already laid his left hand on the orb.

Green lightning split the sky. A bolt of sizzling energy shot down from the angry clouds and struck the golden orb. Both Kellen and Morhion were thrown backward by the blazing force of the strike, tumbling down a dozen steps before coming to a halt. Kellen staggered to his feet, dazed, but Morhion lay still, sprawled upon the stones. Mari could see a red stain spreading across his forehead.

Mari scrambled up the side of the pyramid, quickly outpacing Jewel and Cormik, who followed behind her. A heartbeat later, the golden orb flashed. There was a hissing noise, like air escaping through a crack, and a grating of rock on rock. Mari cried out as the stones beneath her shifted. In moments they no longer formed a staircase, but instead a smooth, steep ramp down which she slid backward. Over her shoulder, she could hear screams. She twisted her neck just in time to see Cormik and Jewel disappear into a dark pit that had opened at the base of the pyramid. Mari clawed at the stone to slow her descent. Then she heard Kellen’s frightened cry.

“Mari, look out!”

She looked up in time to see Kellen and Morhion sliding rapidly toward her. She tried to twist out of the way, but she was too slow. Child and mage struck her at the same time. She lost her grip on the stone, and they all went tumbling down into darkness.

Surprisingly, it was Cormik who took charge. The corpulent crime lord was accustomed to a life of luxury; nonetheless, he reacted to their predicament with coolness and aplomb.

The five had fallen through an opening into a perfectly spherical chamber formed of seamless black stone.

Moments after they struck the bottom, there came a low grinding noise. The entire hollow globe seemed to rotate. Mari scrambled on all fours, trying to keep from tumbling end-over-end like a rat trapped inside a spinning ball. When the sphere’s movement came to a halt, the opening through which they had fallen was no longer above them, but was instead situated halfway down one of the curved walls. A second stone wall now lay beyond the opening; apparently this sphere was contained within another, larger stone globe. Only a small slit breached the outer wall at this point, a narrow window through which came the faint gray-green light of dusk.

Kellen remembered nothing of what had occurred outside. Whatever power had compelled him to climb the pyramid seemed to have no influence here. He was back to normal, as dazed as the rest.

Cormik began issuing orders. “Jewel, examine that opening in the far wall and see if there’s some way out of here. Kellen, please assist her. You have smaller hands and may be able to reach things she cannot. Mari, we’re going to need more light—can you do something about that? I’ll see to Morhion.” The mage had not stirred. He lay on the ground, unmoving, his skin like alabaster against the black marble floor. The wound on his forehead had blossomed into a grisly crimson flower.

Numbly, Mari set to her task. She rummaged in her pockets until she found a stump of candle, flint, and tinder. Creating fire was no simple feat. She struck the flint repeatedly against the edge of her steel eating knife. After many failed attempts, a glowing spark landed directly on the tinder. Quickly, she blew on the bit of fluff. There was a wisp of smoke, and suddenly a bright flame curled out of the tinder. She held the candle’s wick to the flame. The candle caught, golden light filling the dark sphere. Mari took a deep breath. Concentrating on the

mundane chore had calmed her nerves. She realized that this was probably one of the reasons Cormik had assigned her the task.

She approached Cormik, who bent over the still-unconscious mage. He had placed his velvet cloak under Morhion’s head for a pillow, and the crime lord was deftly binding a bandage over the wound on the mage’s brow.

“I didn’t realize you were so adept at healing,” Mari said softly.

“I’m not,” Cormik replied. “But in my line of work, unwanted holes have a nasty way of appearing in one’s self and one’s co-workers, and so one gets accustomed to plugging them up.” He tied the bandage and leaned back, sighing. “I’m afraid that’s all I can do.”

Mari reached out and gripped the mage’s chill hand. Don’t leave me Morhion, she thought fiercely. Don’t you dare leave me. Not now. I can’t do this alone.

Kellen and Jewel moved back from the window in the outer sphere.

“Did you see anything near the opening that might help us?” Cormik asked eagerly.

Jewel ran a hand through her short, dark hair. “Do ypu want some inane but optimistic possibilities calculated solely to keep our spirits up? Or do you want the truth?”

“You make it seem like such an attractive choice,” Cormik commented acidly.

“Sorry,” Jewel apologized. “I suppose that’s why I’m a thief, not a politician. Not that there’s much difference in what we do, just how we present it afterward.” She went on. “There’s only the thinnest crack between this sphere and the one that surrounds it. The window is too small to climb through, and I couldn’t so much as scratch the stone with my knife. If our taciturn friend the mage were awake, I think he would tell us the sphere is enchanted. In other words, we’re trapped quite nicely.”

“Unless we could rotate the sphere again,” Kellen went on. “Then we could realign the opening in the inner sphere with the hole we fell through in the outer sphere. Maybe we could boost ourselves up and get through.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Cormik admitted with an impressed look. However, they could find no trace of a mechanism by which the globe might be rotated. If any of them could unlock this mystery, it would be Morhion.

“How is he?” Jewel asked quietly.

‘Cormik shook his head. “I’m not sure, really. The truth is, the blow to his forehead really isn’t all that serious. It’s enough to give him a good headache, but that’s all. I don’t know why his breathing is so shallow, or his heartbeats are so fluttery.”

“It was the lightning,” spoke a cracked voice. “The power of the bolt has confused the life energy that commands his heart to beat.”

They looked up in shock to see a face hovering outside the narrow window. The light of the flickering candle revealed the speaker for a wizened woman with straggly gray hair. Her face looked as tough as old leather, and her bright obsidian eyes were nearly lost in masses of wrinkled skin.

“Who are you?” Mari asked breathlessly.

The ancient woman laughed, a sound like the call of a crow. “No one and nothing,” she replied hoarsely. “A bad memory, and one best forgotten. That’s all. And who are you?”

The old woman seemed more than half mad, but she might be able to help them. “We’re on a quest,” Mari replied.

“Truly?” the old woman said caustically. “Well, if you were searching for a bad end, then your quest is over, for you’ve found that here.”

Mari winced. That reply hardly showed a helpful

attitude.

“My friend has been hurt,” Kellen said gravely.

“And what makes you think I can do anything about it?” the old woman snapped.

Kellen didn’t even blink. “I imagine that you’re very wise, that’s all.”

The old woman grunted at this. “Well, you’d be right to imagine so,” she said in a surly tone. “And my wisdom tells me that I am too old and far too weary to concern myself with a lot of meddlers and troublemakers. I would say farewell, but I suppose it would be wasted on you, so I’ll say nothing at all.” She started to draw away.

“Wait!” Kellen cried, reaching his hand toward the window.

The old woman froze. A hissing sound escaped her lips. At last she whispered in a voice filled with wonder and dread. “The child wizard …”

With swiftness surprising in one so old, she reached through the narrow opening and clutched Kellen’s hand before he could pull away. She ran a gnarled finger over the puckered scar on his left palm. “So young, yet already marked by magic,” she murmured in awe. “Of course. After all this time, I had dared to let myself forget.T waited so long, you see, but you never came. Finally I dismissed the prophecy as foolishness. And now, in the dark winter of my life, you have come at last.” Her voice became a moan of despair. “But why have you waited all these years? Why have you come when I am so old, so weak, so tired?”

Kellen managed to pull his hand out of her gnarled grasp. He gave her a frightened look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not a wizard. Not yet, anyway.”

The old woman laughed at this, an eerie sound. “But you will be. You will be a wizard the likes of which this world has never known. Ah, but do I have the strength to

do what I must?” She fell silent.

Mari stepped forward. “Please, listen to me,” she said earnestly. “You seem to know much I don’t pretend to understand. Won’t you help us, so we can talk with you more about… about this prophecy?”

The old woman hesitated, then vanished from the window. Mari groaned in despair. Abruptly the old woman reappeared and thrust a hand through the window. “Here, place this on the mage’s chest,” she ordered.

“Mari took the proffered object. It was a small black seed. She thought to question the old woman, then bit her tongue. This was not the time to annoy the stranger. She knelt before Morhion and unlaced his shirt, then placed the tiny seed on the pale flesh above his heart.

At first nothing happened. She traded skeptical looks with Cormik and Jewel. Perhaps the old woman was mad after all. Then Kellen whispered softly, “Look.”

The seed was sprouting. As they watched in wonder, a small, dark purple leaf unfurled itself from the seed, and a root tendril snaked outward, plunging into the flesh of Morhion’s chest. More leaves uncurled themselves, and the strange purple plant grew larger as its roots sank deeper into Morhion’s body. The mage trembled, and his back arched off the stone beneath him.

“It’s hurting him!” Mari cried out in horror, reaching to pull the magical plant from his body.

“Stop!” the old woman commanded. Something in her voice made Mari freeze. “If you pluck the heartroot out now, your friend will surely perish.”

Mari forced herself to remain still. There was nothing to do now but watch. The plant grew fuller, more lush. Its roots writhed like snakes beneath Morhion’s skin. Its deep purple leaves began to throb in time to the mage’s erratically beating heart. Morhion convulsed, his hands scratching reflexively against the black marble.

Suddenly his entire body went limp.

For a terrified moment Mari thought he was dead. She clasped a hand to Morhion’s wrist. His pulse was strong and even.

Abruptly, the plant began to wither. Its purple leaves turned black and curled upon themselves. The stem broke, and the brittle plant crumbled as it fell to the floor. The only trace it left on Morhion’s flesh was a tiny violet circle, and even this began to fade. The mage took in a deep, shuddering breath and sat up, eyes open wide. Immediately he grimaced, touching a hand tentatively to his wounded brow.

“What happened?” he asked in a dazed voice, and the others let out a collective sigh of relief.

The witch’s name was Isela, and as far as they could tell from the bits and fragments she told them, she had dwelt in the ruined city—she called it Talis—all her life. She left them for a brief time, only to return to the window with dried fruit, nuts, and a leather jug of water. The others accepted these gratefully, and thanked Isela when she told them she had retrieved and picketed their horses.

“Though I suppose we’ll have little need of them if we cannot find a way to escape this trap,” Morhion said darkly. Thanks to Isela’s magic, the mage had largely recovered from the lightning strike. “I wonder what this prison was originally for. And the pyramid. Do you know, Isela?”

“I think I did once,” she said wistfully. “I’ve forgotten so much … so much I wonder how I ever knew it all. It seems to me that the wizards who dwelt here long ago used the pyramid and the orb to defend Talis from its