Ebudae (5 page)

A few minutes later, the crow perched on a
wooden awning over the door of a tower. It cawed at him
expectantly. Frath came to a stop and put his hands on knees,
trying to catch his breath. The shadows also stopped and pointed at
the building, urging him to go in.

“Yeah, yeah. Let me catch my breath.” He
waved them off and looked around. Frath was in excellent shape and
he was already breathing easier, but running at full speed for so
long took its toll. It was muggy in the early heat of the summer
day and sweat was pouring down his forehead and back in a futile
attempt to cool him off.

Every tower was different. All were at least
three levels high while the tops of many disappeared into the sky.
Nobody knew how many wizards lived in the district as they refused
to be counted and it wasn’t safe to irritate wizards locked away in
enchanted towers. The dark-red, stone building in front of him rose
four levels before splitting into three thinner towers that angled
outward at physically impossible angles. Each of those butted
against buildings to either side while one sloped forward to lean
against a tower on the other side of the street that was also at a
precarious slant.

The tilting towers up and down the skinny,
curving street blocked out most of the sunlight. A supernatural fog
that stayed in the district permanently added to the effect. Frath
was in a hidden, lightly-traveled area and there were only three
other people on the street even though it was a busy part of the
morning in most areas of Dralin.

Frath wanted to run right back out of the
district the same way he had come. Sure, he was brave, strong,
deadly with a sword and all that, but it wouldn’t do him any good
against a cranky wizard defending his tower. To make matters worse,
there were puddles of iridescent pollution in the gutters. Touching
one of them could bring on a disease that turned people into the
Deformed. Breathing the supernatural fog could also do it to a
person if exposed for years without protection.

The crow cawed at him again. “Yeah, yeah. I
get it. You want me to go in.” The crow and the shadows all nodded
eagerly. “Right.” Frath let out a slow breath and relaxed his
shoulders. He stretched his arms and legs before walking up the
three stone steps to the door. His hand was on the hilt of his
sword, ready for any trouble.

The first and second knocks didn’t bring a
response. The third time, he banged hard with the pommel of his
longknife. Finally, a wooden cover slid open from a peephole in the
door. It would have been face high on most people, but Frath had to
duck to see the bloodshot eye looking out. “Yeah? What d’ya want?”
The voice was a woman’s and judging from the tone, an ugly one. It
also sounded like she was drunk.

“Umm . . . I’d like to come in.” Frath
realized it was lame, but he had been pressured into knocking on
the door without time to think of a good reason.

“Mistress Troinka don’t accept visitors. You
knock again and you’ll get poofed by lightning, or fire, or acid,
ice, fog with nightmares, carnivorous fairies, or . . . whatever.
It’s a fact, so go away and don’t ever come back.” The cover slid
shut with a thud.

Frath had no idea if the threat was real,
but in that part of the district, it was foolish to test it. He
walked back down the steps. “Well you hear her. Mistress Troinka
don’t accept visitors,” he told the crow.

A shadow off to the left gestured for him to
go that way. The other shadows became excited, as did the crow.
Frath shrugged and followed until he reached the edge of the
building and saw a thin alley between it and the next. The shadows
encouraged him to go that way.

He drew his longknife again and made his way
sideways through the alley. A moment later, Frath stood in a tiny
courtyard between four towers. Three alleys led into it and there
in the middle was a small, dead tree sticking up out of a dirt
circle. The crow flew in from above, landed on a scraggly branch
and cawed at him.

Three of the buildings had back doors,
including the one the shadows wanted him to enter. He went up and
reached out to open it, but held off just before doing so. Frath
put away the knife and pulled gloves out of his belt. Forensic
wizards had found ways to record finger wrinkles and discovered
that each one was unique. Few people knew about it, but it was best
not to leave evidence when breaking into a house.

The door was locked, much to his dismay. He
could pick simple locks, but wasn’t good at it and didn’t like to.
The shadows gathered around the lock and it clicked. Frath stared
in surprise as the door opened inward. He reached for his sword
before remembering that it would leave a specific mark that could
also be seen by the forensic wizards. It was great when they were
on his side, not so much when
he
wanted to break the
law.

A mat was on the floor inside and he wiped
his feet off to reduce the chance of bootprints. Magical torches
flickering with bright pink flames lined a long hallway. Frath did
not
want to sneak around in a wizard’s house, but the
shadows beckoned. He observed that they always seemed more
substantial when cast by magical light.

Doors lined the hallway, but he ignored them
as he moved forward. They probably opened to storage rooms,
bedrooms,
or
whatever other sorts of rooms wizards
have
, Frath thought to himself. A few hundred feet down the
hall, he came to a circular stairwell leading both up and down.

The shadows guided him downward, but stopped
him with gestures a few steps later. Frath saw a half of a step
move and heard a clicking sound echo against the stone walls. Then
the shadows let him pass again. He was
really
beginning to
appreciate having shadows for friends.

Twenty steps later, they pushed him against
the inner edge of the wall and he carefully moved down a few steps.
He assumed they had guided him past another trap. The shadows had
been visible to him since being God-Touched by Distra, but never to
this degree where they guided his every action and even touched him
physically, a difficult task for shadows, or so he guessed.

At the bottom, was another short hall with
ironbound, wood doors to either side. Slimy moisture coated the
walls and ceiling. The shadows guided him to the door on the left
and then had him pause.

The latch clicked and the door opened,
revealing a large wizard’s workroom. Frath slid inside. He had his
hands ready to grab either the sword, longknife or one of a few
runeballs he had for emergencies.

The voice of a wizardess hissed through the
room. “Who lurks in the shadowssss?” The tall woman turned, showing
a face made sinister by dim, pink torchlight in the room. Long dark
hair flowed down the pink, robe-covered back. Frath surmised that
the woman was powerful by the quality of the robe, the multiple
runes drawn in silvery liquid on every surface of the room and
because of every other object in the room that screamed to him of
power. The fact that so many things were pink didn’t lessen that
feeling.

She began casting a potent spell. Words of
power echoed against the walls and the supernatural wind of magical
castings blew her hair back.

Even Frath’s sword might not pierce the
robes, his longknife was useless, and he didn’t have a clue which
runeball might work. It didn’t help that the shadows cowered in
fear. Frath had never seen a shadow frightened. Sad, always;
frightened, never.

So he did the most desperate thing possible.
Frath lunged forward and reached the wizardess within before she
could finish the casting. It was incredibly stupid to touch a
person in the middle of casting a spell. Her eyes shone with fear
at the very last moment.

Frath grabbed her hair with his left hand
and her chin with his right. A powerful twist snapped her neck like
a dry twig.

It was a terrible mistake. As soon as he
touched her, the spell began to collapse within itself and the
incantation came screaming back into her mouth. As they fell to the
ground, a loud sucking sound filled the room, releasing an odor of
lemons and monkey poo. Frath didn’t have time to consider how odd
that was because the universe exploded in all the colors of the
rainbow, along with a few he had never seen before. He flew
backward through the air to crash against the wall near the
ceiling. At that point, gravity resumed and he fell to the ground
with a loud thud and a snap.

Frath thought he yelled out in pain, but the
explosion had deafened him, so he couldn’t be certain. He felt a
few of his ribs break from the impact into the wall and his left
arm snap below the elbow when he landed.

Everything spun and his vision became
clouded, but there was no way he was going to fall unconscious in a
wizard’s workroom. Frath hated that sneaking into someone’s house
had ended in murder. Distra was going to have to explain
herself.

The shadows tried to help him stand, but
when they grabbed his broken arm, he screamed and fell on his face.
The smell of lemons and monkey poo refused to go away, adding to
the nausea he felt from all the pain.

The nightmarish effects of the backlash
mutilated the wizardess’s body. The shadows urged him to go to it.
Frath grunted at them and began crawling, taking minutes to get
there. One of the shadows pointed at a metallic necklace on the
charred body. Frath saw that there was an undamaged key on the
necklace, indicating that it had powerful enchantments.

He gave the chain a weak yank, causing the
head to fall off the neck and roll to the side. Frath might have
thrown up, but he had seen worse and didn’t think his ribs would
appreciate the reaction.

The shadows changed their focus and gestured
for him to go to an iron door on the opposite side of the room.
Frath grunted again. “I’m not going to crawl all the way over
there.” Gathering deep reserves of strength, he forced himself to
his feet, only to sway as dizziness swam through his head. The
ever-helpful shadows steadied him until he was able to trudge over
to the door.

Runes were inscribed into the metal. The
shadows did something to it, causing the runes to flash and
disappear one at a time. One of the shadows screamed silently and
turned into powdery dust. It shocked Frath more than anything else
that had happened so far. Whatever was behind it must be of
incredible importance to Distra for her to sacrifice one of her
minions.

The door opened and Frath peeked inside.
“Ungh. More stairs. I hurt too much,” he whined. The shadows showed
no sympathy, motioning vigorously. Frath limped down the stairs,
groaning with each step. The pain became everything in his universe
until he reached a room at the bottom.

Frath gradually became aware of his
surroundings. The tools of suffering displayed on the walls and
tables were crueler than any he had seen. The shadows pointed to a
tortured man curled up in a cage. Lacerations covered his body, and
bones protruded at odd angles underneath his skin. The poor
victim’s chest rose and fell in haggard breaths.

Frath dragged himself over to the cage,
which sprung open as he approached. He was beginning to wonder what
the key’s use was. When he saw the bright silver shackles on the
wrists and ankles, he understood. Kneeling down gingerly at the
door to the cage, he tapped the man’s leg. “Hey . . . hey. Can you
hear me? Are you alive?” There was no response.

On the outside of the man’s left thigh from
hip to knee was a tattoo of a slightly curved sword. It was the
most intricate, detailed tattoo Frath had ever seen, almost as if
it was real. No cuts from the torture marred the ink. One of the
shadows caressed it lovingly, causing the man to whimper.

The key was still in Frath’s hand with the
chain hanging down from it. He used it to unlock the shackles,
pulling them away and tossing them in the corner of the cage. The
man opened his eyes halfway and moaned.

“I’m rescuing you,” Frath told him. “I don’t
have a clue
why
I’m rescuing you, but that’s what I’m
doing.” He didn’t know whether the man understood him because the
eyes closed again. “Great. I can see I’m going to have to do
everything myself.” He stood up and looked around the room. Sound
was beginning to come back, but it was an unpleasant buzzing in his
skull.

The shadows gathered around a backpack
underneath a table in a corner. They wanted Frath to get it.
“Really? I’m not doing enough here? Whatever,” he growled. He
dragged the pack out by the strap and settled it so that it didn’t
put pressure on his broken arm.

It didn’t look like the man would be able to
walk or even move. Frath couldn’t see a way to pick him up without
hurting the tortured body. The shadows didn’t have any helpful
advice either. Frath carefully wrapped his good arm around the
man’s waist and then struggled to pull him up onto his shoulder.
The man opened his eyes and screamed a primal sound of torment that
chilled Frath’s blood.

Once settled on Frath’s shoulder, the man
lost consciousness again. Frath had to take a moment to channel
enough strength to his legs in order to handle the burden. The
shadows gathered in the far corner of the room where bricks began
moving, revealing a secret passage. He went towards it, taking one
of the magical torches set into the wall. His good arm was going to
give out before long with how much it had to compensate for the
rest of his body. The searing pain that hammered his chest with
every breath wasn’t helping.

Frath was delighted to see a hallway instead
of stairs, but after a hundred feet, he realized there were more
stairs going down. “Really?” was all he said before making his way
down. By the end, he was sweating and his jaw clenched from the
pain.

The dark and damp passage turned soon and
then turned back. When they reached an intersection, the shadows
guided him down another passage. Time started to fade into a haze
within his mind as he stumbled down passage after passage with his
unconscious baggage. There were times when he wanted to give up,
but the shadows were always there, guiding him on. They refused to
let him stop or rest.