The Sorcerer's Abyss (The Sorcerer's Path) (15 page)

Your logic is annoyingly human! Fine, ignore the fact she told you that you are an idiot and wasting your time.

“She never said I was an idiot or wasting my time.”

It was implied. You cannot ignore her warning of imminent threat. You need to reestablish your dominance to secure your authority. You continue to show weakness, and it invites covetous creatures to attack you.

“She never said there was an imminent threat.”

Of course not! That would jeopardize freewill and the strands of fate. Do you think she simply came here for a social call? She all but said someone was coming for you.

“So what would you have me do?”

I once called every demon under my command and slaughtered a thousand of them with contemptuous ease just to show the others I could do it.

“Not really my style. Either way, I can only do what I would normally do, and what I would normally do is not give a damn. Besides, I’m inside this ridiculously large fortress located in my own realm and surrounded by tens of thousands of demons. What could happen?”

***

The Rook flew across the barren landscape in his stolen form. It had taken a great deal of time to locate a shadow crossing. Three times he had lost a body in a fight with demons and other creatures of the realm, but they had been unprepared for him, and he dispatched them with relative ease. He took their bodies of those who could fly after absorbing their souls.

He spotted blackness against the grey landscape and swooped down for a closer inspection. The Rook lit upon an overhang of jutting rock and peered into the inky black cleft in the stone beneath him. He knew immediately this was what he sought and was no mere trick of shadow or simple crevice.

There was a coldness emanating from within not present in this world of nothingness. His breath came out in thick plumes of white vapor as if giving a visual warning of the forbidden place. The Rook slipped into the crevice and the darkness instantly swallowed him whole.

The Rook allowed his eyes to adjust to the unnatural darkness within the rift, but even his demon-enhanced vision had trouble piercing the gloom beyond a few yards. He lightly brushed the cavern walls with his hands and wings to help guide him through the twisting and often narrow fissure. It was slow going, but there appeared to be few divergent paths and even fewer that would accommodate his form. He was unconcerned with this. If the passage ever became too tight to navigate, he could abandon his stolen body and easily glide through. It would certainly allow him to travel faster, but he did not know if another host would be readily available on the other side. His shade form was also especially vulnerable to the attacks of the demons who looked upon his kind as food.

The Rook’s eyes continually darted toward flickers of movement that looked like nothing more than a shift in the shadows that highlighted the already black surfaces of the cavern. Most anyone would simply discount this as a trick of the mind, but the Rook’s assassin-trained mind knew something was watching and following. Whatever they were, he knew there were several, it was impossible for him to capture more than a flutter out of the corner of his eye.

He was about to discount the creatures as being little more than shadowy cave lizards when they decided to strike. There was no warning and no change in movement to warn him of the impending danger. The black walls of the passage seemed to come alive and wrapped around his hands and wings as they brushed the surface. They continued to flow over his body until the shadows engulfed him.

Despite their insubstantial nature, the shadows tore at his physical body. He heard and felt his joints popping. The Rook detached himself from his host’s nervous system as the shadows began tearing him apart. As his physical vessel died, he tried to escape in his true form. He barely got out of his body when the shadows grabbed and held onto his shade form

“Tressspassserrr”, the shadows whispered menacingly.

The shadows began to pull him apart just as they had his physical body and he cried out.

“Waaait. Killlerrr.”

“Yesss! Killlerrr.”

“Ssshaaadowww brrrotherrr.”

The shadows stopped pulling and began caressing his form, even sending ethereal tendrils through his body.

“Yesss, ssshaaadowww brrrotherrr.”

“You seeek passsaaage, ssshaaadowww brrrotherrr?”

It took a moment for the Rook to understand. He had always been a creature of the shadows. Born in a dark alley and left to die. Raised in the dark confines of an abbey where he learned to worship Sharellan. The shadows have always comforted him as a blanket comforts a child.

“Yes. I seek passage to the Fifth Circle.”

“Come, ssshaaadowww brrrotherrr, we willl ssshow youuu the waaay.”

The shadows still held him, but now their touch was light and they carried him swiftly through the passage. The black walls raced by faster than if he were on the swiftest mount. The feeling was exhilarating and terrifying. Even after all this time, his mind held onto some of his physical limitations. The shadows raced him through twisting turns, up through vertical fissures, and down shafts that must have plummeted thousands of feet.

The Rook spotted a brightening in the surrounding tunnel. It was at that moment his shadow brothers stopped and released their hold on him. The spectral assassin looked closer and definitely saw that the passage ahead grew more luminous. The faint light had a reddish cast to it, and he knew that he was now within the Fifth Circle. The Rook glided toward the light, but he knew his journey was far from over. There was a great expanse of land to cross full of hostile demons, and just getting into Klaraxis’ citadel was likely going to pose its own challenges.

“Goood huuuntiiing, ssshaaadowww brrrotherrr.”

CHAPTER 6

Olivia raced down the street, her worn and battered sandals slapping against the cobblestones as she ran, their rhythmic staccato broken every time a puddle or pile of horse droppings forced her to evade the obstacle. Running while clutching the parcel in her arms was difficult enough without having to dodge such hazards, but it was how she earned her keep.

One of many orphans populating North Haven, she had been lucky to get work at the courier service where they allowed her to live in the back room. What little coin she earned was from the occasional tip of a generous client. The promise of a large tip and note of urgency was the only reason she was working past dark. Normally, she would never be on the streets this late, but sometimes an order came in that needed to be filled no matter the hour.

She was well known by now, having been doing her rounds for the last two years, and no one really bothered her. Her bright smile and friendly demeanor made her popular and welcome most anywhere her deliveries took her. However, even with the Witch of North Haven putting the fear of the gods into the slavers these days, a lone, ten-year-old girl was still in danger traveling the streets after dark. The witch may have the slavers scared, but there were still those willing to risk her wrath. She could not be everywhere, after all.

Olivia finally reached her destination and hesitated at the front of the building. She was in the industrial ward, and the streets were practically deserted since almost everyone was done working for the day and were probably sitting in their homes or enjoying a drink at one of the numerous inns and taverns throughout city. She tried the door and, after discovering it open, stepped into the dimly lit interior.

 “H-hello?” she called out hesitantly.

A voice answered from farther back into the shop. “Back here.”

Olivia followed the voice and spotted the faint glow of a lamp or candle through a doorway at the far end of the large building. She was still cautious but relieved to be nearly finished with this job. It was late and she was hungry. Of course, she still had to make it back home.

She stepped through the doorway and into a room dimly lit by small lamp. A man in his fifties, or maybe sixties, was sitting on a high stool examining something on a workbench. He did not turn when Olivia entered so she cleared her throat and spoke.

“Sir, I have your package.”

The man turned on his stool and smiled. “It seems we have a bit of a problem. That is not the package I want.” Olivia glanced down at the paper-wrapped parcel in her hands in confusion. “I’m afraid you are the package.”

Before she could ask what he meant, someone grabbed her from behind. Olivia was young, but she was no fool. Fools did not live long on the streets. She let loose an ear piercing shriek, grabbed the small knife she always wore at her hip, and was able to move her arm enough to stab the forearm of the man holding her.

“Ow, the little rat stuck me!” the slaver cried as he watched the girl break free and run.

Olivia put her feet in motion the instant the man let go of her. He stood between her and the door, so she ran for the only other possible route of escape she saw. The room she was in was large, almost like a small warehouse. It stood three stories tall but was mostly open to the top. Large crates and various tools and machinery filled much of the room and the partial floors above. She ran up the stairs and looked for a way out.

She heard several men clomping up the rickety stairs after her as she ducked around and under crates and large, dusty objects of which she could not decipher their use. Unable to find a ladder to the roof, Olivia crawled beneath something that looked like a large loom with massive rollers. She curled up in a dark corner and listened as the men searched and cursed as they fumbled around in the darkness.

Her heart beat so hard she was sure the men would hear it if they got close enough. Olivia wondered if the men would eventually give up. She doubted it. They knew she was here and would not likely leave until they got her. Maybe the Watch heard her scream and was already coming to investigate? She doubted that as well. There were few residents and little to steal in the district, so the Watch made very few rounds this far in.

Olivia bit her lip and tried to quiet her breathing as the glow of a lamp drew closer. Her body shook as she stared wide-eyed at the pair of feet visible beneath the machine. They turned and a grinning face replaced them.