Renegade Wizards (39 page)

A sigh seemed to escape Gadrella’s shriveled lips, and the fabric of her black robes rustled. Tythonnia realized Gadrella was holding a book beneath her hands.

Berthal had told her about the legend, about a key Gadrella had fashioned to hide a book. It was meant for the Black Robes if there was ever a desperate time for their numbers. The book would return to her only when someone placed the key in her mouth. However, the tome would serve Berthal
instead. It was worth far more than the three books he gave Tythonnia to regain her compatriots’ trust.

Tythonnia carefully slid the book out from beneath Gadrella’s dead fingers. It was heavy, its surface bronze and silver, and its patterns reminiscent of spiderwebs layered over one another until no light could shine through them. It reminded Tythonnia of the volume strapped to Dumas’s chest.

Etched into the steel plate, bolted into its front was its title:
Orphaned Echoes
.

She took the book and retrieved the key from Gadrella’s mouth. No sooner had she pulled it out, however, then the gold slab covering the coffin and the gate to the vault both slid closed. Tythonnia’s heart stuttered, and she struggled to breathe. No monster gripped her lungs, only her own fears choking her. She forced herself to relax, to think clearly. She was not trapped … not yet.

Then she heard footsteps echoing through the stairwell. Someone was racing down into the central crypt.

With the key tucked safely away, Tythonnia fumbled for the pouch on her belt. The footsteps grew louder, like thunder, spurring Tythonnia to move faster. But the pouch strings were tied too well. Her fingers couldn’t pull the knot apart. She tore at it but only tightened it further. The echo of footfalls was too painful to bear, like someone hammering on the door of her ears. She couldn’t be caught. Too much depended on her escape. She grunted in panic and pulled out her dagger.

“Tythonnia!”

It was Ladonna. Tythonnia went cold; she did not want witnesses to her betrayal, least of all Ladonna and Par-Salian. Better that she vanish into the night, never to see the disappointment on their faces. She pulled at the string and slit just below the knot. Ladonna raced into the chamber and spun around, trying to find her. Tythonnia ducked behind the sarcophagus. To her terror, the footsteps raced straight for Gadrella’s vault.

“Answer me!” Ladonna cried. “I know you’re in there! Tythonnia!”

Tythonnia pulled a flask from her pouch. A gold liquid filled its belly, its mouth covered with a wood stopper and sealed in wax. She couldn’t believe she was about to leave behind her life of the past ten years. Her mind reeled at the thought of her own betrayal, but she didn’t belong here anymore.

“Ufta!”

Tythonnia cringed at Ladonna’s arcane word, then she heard the gate of the funeral vault swing open. More footsteps sounded as Ladonna raced into the chamber.

“Tythonnia! No, wait!”

Tythonnia bit down on the wood stopper and pulled it free with her teeth.

“I’m sorry,” Tythonnia said. “I have to.”

“You don’t understand! The book—”

It was too late. As Ladonna rounded the sarcophagus, her hands outstretched to grab her, Tythonnia tossed the liquid back, splashing it into her mouth. She didn’t swallow it; it evaporated on her tongue, sending pricks of pain down her throat. Ladonna’s words were lost in the tremor rush of thunder that swelled in her ears.

Like a page of the world turning, everything around Tythonnia slipped out from around her. She was no longer anchored in the world. Instead, she was standing out in the green forests of Qualinesti, at the foot of the ancient and knotted trees. Another page turned, and she stood a dozen yards above the waters of the Schallsea Straits. Before she could fall even an inch, she found herself on the hills near the Garnet Mountains, on the Plains of Solamnia, high in the instantly bitter cold of the Vingaard frost, in Berthal’s tent.

She would have fallen, had a startled Berthal not caught her.

“Back so soon?” He half laughed. Tythonnia was
shivering, her body frozen to the marrow by the magic that drove the potion; she couldn’t stop her teeth chattering long enough to speak. She dropped the book, but Berthal ignored it as it thudded to the ground. He lowered her and pulled the cover from his bedroll to wrap her inside it. Afterward he warmed her with soft kisses to her face until she could finally speak.

“I found it. I found my way back.”

Par-Salian was startled awake by the hand covering his mouth. His eyes opened, his instincts telling him to fight. He bucked against the attacker, and she relented easily. It took him a moment to distinguish Ladonna standing there in his chamber, over his bed.

“Ladonna, you shouldn’t be here,” he whispered.

“Hush now,” she said. “Do you still have that medallion the highmage gave you?”

“No,” Par-Salian said. “It’s spent. Why?”

“Tythonnia is in terrible danger.”

Hort wrapped himself in his cloak, trying desperately to stave off the mountain cold that dug deeply into him. The renegade encampment was less than a mile away, and Hort had chosen a perch among the rocks that lay well outside the game trails. He didn’t need hunters finding him before Dumas returned. Hort prayed she would come back soon because he was getting tired of waiting.

“You’re certain,” Par-Salian said, searching through the pile of books stacked on his desk. “A trap?”

“It’s what Arianna told me. She learned it directly from Reginald Diremore. What are you looking for?”

“A spell I have in one of my—ah!” he exclaimed, pulling out a book bound in red leather. He flipped the pages. “It’s a teleportation spell,” he said.

“You don’t know how to cast one of those,” Ladonna said. She hesitated, the smirk receding from her face. “You know how to cast one of those?”

“After everything we’ve been through,” he said, “I believe I can. I’ve managed to grasp more powerful spells recently. But I need a destination.”

“Berthal’s campsite. Where we stayed. Are you sure you can do this?”

“If what you say is true, we have no choice. Not just for Tythonnia’s sake, but for the sake of the children there as well. We should inform the highmage.”

“We mustn’t,” Ladonna said, “or they’ll imprison Tythonnia and drum me out of the Black Robes for divulging this secret. It’ll drive a rift between the orders. You know what will happen.”

“Fine!” Par-Salian said. “But the campsite is likely abandoned by now.”

“But it’s a start, yes?” Ladonna said. “And it’s the only thing we know for certain.”

Sunlight streamed into the tent through the partially opened flap. It seemed too raw for daylight, as though unfiltered by the sky. It was a mountain sun, brutal and harsh. Tythonnia sat up from the bedroll and wrapped the blankets around herself more tightly. The cold did not come from within her anymore; it was the chill of their surroundings. She stood with the blankets draped around her shoulders and slipped into her boots. It wasn’t the season to go barefoot.

The camp rested along the wide forest ledge of the slope, where trees and a swath of green soil clung to the mountain’s waist. There were small fires to keep people warm, but the
children scampered about like mountain goats in their new playground. The dwarf Snowbeard traveled from hearth to hearth with a cooking pot that bounced precariously close to the ground. He served warm soup to those hungry and never seemed to mind the weight.

Tythonnia saw Berthal speaking to a small crowd of sorcerers, among them Mariyah, Shasee, and Kinsley. Mariyah saw her and waved at her with a genuine smile. That distracted Berthal long enough to motion Tythonnia over.

“There she is,” he said, “our other hero. Were it not for Mariyah and Tythonnia, we wouldn’t be so blessed.”

Mariyah blushed at the compliment, which wasn’t too difficult given the cold that made her paler than normal. The others nodded to Tythonnia. Berthal continued speaking.

“The ritual will take a few days to prepare. I’ll lead it, but I need you four to learn your parts,” he said, looking at Kinsley, Mariyah, and another man Tythonnia knew only by sight. “Once open, Shasee and the others will cross over and secure our foothold.”

Cross over? Foothold? What’s happening? Tythonnia wondered. She was unsure of what secrets rested inside the book, but for the moment, she remained quiet.

“How long can you keep the door open?” Shasee asked.

“A few hours,” Berthal responded. “Anything permanent requires much more preparation and a secure location to plant the gate.”

“Gate?” Tythonnia blurted.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Berthal said as he squeezed her shoulder and pulled her to his side. “You were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you. The book you brought us is a gateway to a bottle realm, a stronghold.”

It was Mariyah who jumped in with the explanation. “Highmage Gadrella built it for the Black Robes, in case they ever needed a place to hide,” she said excitedly.

“It’s a place the wizards would never find,” Berthal said
with a broad smile. “Gadrella hid it so well even the Black Robes won’t find it without the book and the key. There we can recruit and practice and live until we’re strong enough to resist the orders. They wouldn’t even know where to start scrying for us. You found us our sanctuary,” he said.