The Wizard Hunters (54 page)

Then Ander’s voice, rough with suppressed excitement, sounded from just ahead. “You’ve got to see this.”

Tremaine got hastily to her feet and threaded her way through a narrow stretch of jagged rock, the others behind her. “What is it?” she demanded, remembering to keep her voice low.

Ducking under a low knob of rock, Ander said, “You remember—Florian, you worked on this at the Institute, didn’t you?—in the airship that went down in Adera, there was no sign of any magical objects except those crystals in the control area. No hint of how they managed the trip between this world and ours?”

“Yes, but—” Florian began.

Following them around a boulder, Tremaine saw a large crack in the rock with a white light shining up through it. In its radiance she could see Ilias crouching near it, looking just as puzzled as she was.

“Look in there.” Ander motioned for them to move ahead.

Florian knelt beside Ilias and looked. “Hot damn,” she breathed.

Frustrated, Tremaine nudged her aside to see a large cave, strung with bare bulbs like the other sections of the cavern the Gardier had turned into their base. But etched into the smooth stone of the floor was a rough circle of symbols. Many of them were incomprehensible but she recognized a few—they were the same symbols as in Arisilde’s spell circle.

Tremaine opened her mouth but couldn’t say anything. Too many pieces were falling into place. In the center of the circle was a metal tripod that was obviously meant to hold something about half the size of the sphere.

Florian gripped her elbow. “This is what they found, Tremaine. Your father and Arisilde Damal. Not this room, not here in this world, but somewhere. This is how Arisilde got the underlying symbols for the spell circle.”

“They must have found one in Adera.” Ander was nodding, the light casting half his face into shadow. “And Damal used the sphere in place of whatever goes there, in that stand.”

Florian sat back, looking urgently up at Ander. “We have to destroy it. Somehow this is letting their airships go through portals to the coast of Ile-Rien.”

Tremaine stared at her. They could still complete their interrupted mission. She knew it was important, but she didn’t want it to derail the rescue.

Basimi and the other men had been listening, fascinated. One of the navy men Deric, put in, “That crack is wide enough to drop a stick of explosive through.”

Ander tapped his chin thoughtfully. “If that’s our only option. .. . But if it didn’t break the circle, it might just bring all the Gardier down on us without disrupting their spell.”

“Even if it brought the cave roof down on it, it might not disrupt the circle,” Florian pointed out. “I did some reading up on it when I started learning the reverse adjuration. Spell circles, like fayre rings, can still work even if they’re buried underground.” She shook her head. “Burying it under rock might just make it impossible for us to get to. We can’t be sure it’s destroyed unless we actually break the circle itself.”

Tremaine realized she was hogging the best view and moved back so the others could take a look. Basimi immediately stepped forward to take her place. Ilias shifted over next to her, asking in frustration, “Is it good or bad?”

She realized they had been speaking in Rienish and explained, “Once we found that the Gardier were coming from here, we still didn’t know how they were doing it. I mean, we knew how we were doing it, but there didn’t seem to be anything comparable on the airships. No symbols like the ones we used, no spheres, just a few crystals mounted above the place they steer.” She took a deep breath. “Now it looks like they do use a spell circle, but those crystals must somehow connect their ships to it, so they can use the circle from a distance.” There was still so much they didn’t know.

“So their crystals work like he does.” Ilias pointed to the sphere’s bag, which gave a muffled cluck.

“Yes.” Tremaine eyed it thoughtfully. The bag had come open a little, revealing metal that gleamed faintly in the radiance of the reflected electric light. She reached to tug the bag closed.
Yes, it’s definitely reacting to everybody. It knew Ilias pointed at it, for God’s sake
. She looked at Ilias, frowning. “Why do you call it ‘he’?”

“That’s what you call gods. That’s like a god, isn’t it?”

“I don’t really know what it is. I thought I did, but. ..”

“Come on,” Ander said, shouldering his pack again and grabbing the torch. “We’ve got to find a way down there to wreck that thing.”

G
iliead watched Gerard braid the broken strands of Dyani’s hair, moving deftly despite his chains. Gerard had used threads plucked from his own shirt, moistening each with spittle before plaiting it. Giliead had never seen Ixion or any other wizards do this, using a few simple things to make a curse come to life. He wondered if they knew how.

“But wizards’ curses don’t work on the god’s Chosen Vessel,” Maceum said, craning his neck to look past Arites. “How is this different from what Gil normally does?”

“Curses don’t work on him,” Gyan replied shortly. “But that doesn’t do him any good when the wizard curses a ship to fall on him.”

Giliead lifted a brow at Halian, who smiled ruefully. They had lost the
Seeker
that way while she was in drydock in Calaide and Giliead had spent three days unconscious.

“This is a very old charm,” Gerard said, in the tone of someone giving a lesson, an attitude he seemed to fall into unconsciously, “though it’s not generally known. It was developed by a court sorcerer called Morthekai Deroi for use by— But I suppose that’s not relevant now.” He tied the thread, bit off the end, and continued, “Now, what you must do is place this in Ixion’s hand so it’s in contact with his skin, and say the words
Berea-deist-dei
. It will immobilize him and prevent him from using his powers for a few moments.” Gerard glanced up as he held out the braided skein, noticing the other men were uneasy. He smiled. “Don’t worry, it only works on sorcerers.”

Giliead took it, turning it over curiously.
In Ixion’s hand. I can’t believe he’s not dead
. He should have known, but he hadn’t wanted Ilias to be right. He hadn’t wanted to go through all this again. Seeing Ixion felt as if it had drained the life right out of him.
Don’t think about it; at least Ilias isn’t here
. Giliead repeated the phrase slowly, trying to get the odd accent right. He couldn’t feel any curses in it at all.
Like their sphere
. “What do the words mean?”

Gerard met his eyes. “Blood stand still.”

Giliead nodded slowly. He believed the man, and not just because the god had said he could, or because Gerard had kept faith with them so far. Gerard had looked at Ixion the way Ixion looked at rival wizards; as if something in Ixion woke the same killer instinct in Gerard. Giliead believed Gerard had fought wizards in his own land before. Fought them and won.

Giliead heard footsteps on stone outside the door and stiffened. “They’re coming back.” He tucked the skein inside his shirt and everybody shifted around, chains clanking, trying to look like they hadn’t been watching a foreign wizard do a curse.

The door creaked open and three Gardier entered, all carrying the wizard weapons. They lined up in the space opposite the bars of the cell, pointing their weapons into it.
That does not look good
, Giliead thought, a sick sensation settling in his gut. The others stirred uneasily and Halian threw him a tense look. Gerard said softly, “Oh, no.”

Giliead heard Ixion’s voice out in the corridor, speaking the harsh Gardier language and sounding querulous. Then the leader Gardier came in, the one with the amulet that let him speak Rienish but not Syrnaic. He carried a crystalline rock in one hand.
A rock
? Giliead thought, baffled. It looked like an ordinary gray rock, half-covered with white fragments of crystal.

Halian whispered to Gerard, “What’s that?”

“I ... don’t know.” Gerard shook his head, eyeing it worriedly.

Ixion trailed in last, still making his complaint, but his eyes were alight with interest.

“Ixion, what are they doing?” Giliead asked sharply.

Ixion threw a glance at him but didn’t answer.

The leader lifted the rock and spoke to it.
He’s as mad as Ixion
, Giliead had time to think before the crystal started to glow and light fountained gently up from it like beads of water.

Giliead looked at Gerard, who was staring, blank with shock. “Oh God, it’s like the sphere,” he breathed. “That explains so much.”

“Not to me,” Halian muttered.

The gentle radiance bathed the Gardier’s sharp features and his face was rapt with concentration. Then the light abruptly died. He looked up in grim triumph and pointed at Gerard.

Giliead swore, surging to his feet with the others. The Gardier shouted and the deafening blast of a wizard weapon rang out. Giliead ducked instinctively, dazed by the loud noise. Someone cried out and Giliead looked up to see it was Arites. He was on the ground, gripping his shoulder, blood streaming from between his fingers. The others were crouched on the floor or had fallen back against the wall, temporarily frozen in shock. Gerard was the only one still on his feet.

The Gardier pointed the weapons at them,
the meaning
obvious. The leader shouted orders and one of the others started to unlock the cell door. Halian leaned over Arites, helping him sit up, and Gerard knelt next to the wounded man. He looked at the wound, then pressed his hand over it.

Gyan, Kias, and several others tensed, ready to charge the door. Halian told them roughly, “It’s no good, stay where you are.”

“Yes,” Gerard seconded hastily, looking around at them all. “Don’t risk yourselves; they’d kill all of you.”

They‘ll kill all of us anyway
, Giliead thought, but Gerard and Halian were right. Even if several of them rushed the door, it was too small and the Gardier weapons were too fast and too deadly.

Gerard stood as the guard jerked the cell door open. The Gardier eased closer, pointing their weapons, and the one with the crystal touched his amulet and spoke to Gerard. It was the Rienish language, Giliead could tell that much. Gerard answered with a dark expression and stepped out of the cell. Three of the guards seized him and hauled him through the outer door.

Giliead swore and exchanged a bleak look with Halian. He hoped that wasn’t the last they saw of Gerard.

“Are you all right?” Dyani asked Arites urgently. She looked at Giliead. “If it doesn’t kill you right away, does that mean it’s all right?”

“It doesn’t... it doesn’t hurt as much.” White and trembling, Arites lifted his hand carefully and Giliead leaned over to look. “Gerard did a curse to stop the bleeding.”

Arites was right. Giliead could see the lacerated flesh where the curse from the weapon had torn into his shoulder, but it wasn’t bleeding. Giliead met Arites’ eyes.
I
thought he was trying to staunch the blood with his hand
, he thought. No curse to heal a wound like that could be evil. “Gerard did a
spell
to stop the bleeding,” Giliead corrected, using the Rienish word.

He looked up as Halian said softly, “I don’t like this.”

Ixion was arguing with the Gardier leader in their language. One guard remained, still pointing his weapon at the cell, but his eyes were on his leader; he was obviously waiting for an order.
They don’t need us anymore
, Giliead thought grimly.

The leader spoke sharply to Ixion, made a “go ahead” gesture at the last guard, and followed the men who had taken Gerard.
Dammit
. Giliead shoved to his feet, pressing against the bars. “Ixion, I’ll help you get off the island, whatever you want.”

Ixion flicked a glance at him. He turned to the remaining guard, stepping in front of him and gesturing back at the cell, as if offering another alternative. The guard shook his head angrily, lifting his weapon and motioning for the wizard to get out of his way.

Ixion moved like a striking snake, slapping the weapon away and catching the Gardier by the throat, squeezing off his outcry. He shoved him back against the wall, forcing him down despite the man’s frantic struggles. Giliead caught his breath, knowing what was coming. Behind him someone murmured in horror.

Ixion breathed into the Gardier’s face and the breath became a gray mist. It clung to the skin, the mist turning into a solid mass that filled the nose and the gaping mouth.

The guard clawed at Ixion’s hands but his eyes went still and his struggles ceased. Ixion stepped back, his expression oddly blank, and wiped his hands on the coarse brown garment.

“Let us out,” Giliead said softly.

Ixion turned to him and for a heartbeat it was as if Giliead was looking at someone else, another man in the wizard’s makeshift body. Someone who wasn’t mad. Ixion reached for the lock, then his face changed. “Just you,” he said, and smiled.

Half expecting it, Giliead glared. “All of us.”

“Of course not. I don’t need all of you.” The wizard glanced toward the outer door. “Hurry. If they don’t hear the weapon fire and screaming soon, they’ll surely come back to see what the delay is.”

Giliead turned to face the others.
Gerard was right
. It gave him renewed confidence as he slipped the cursed skein out of his shirt. His friends were all carefully not looking at each other or him, tense with anticipation and fear of giving the game away. Arites was the only one staring wide-eyed at Ixion. Halian, standing behind him, was regarding Giliead gravely. He said, “Go ahead, Gil.” There was almost a crack in his voice. “Don’t worry about us.”

Giliead gripped Halian’s shoulder, silently mouthed “Don’t overdo it,” and nodded sharply. He turned back to Ixion, trying to let all his hate and none of his anticipation show in his eyes.

“Very sensible.” Ixion put the key in the lock. His eyes hardening, he said, “The rest of you, don’t try anything unwise. I may be trapped by these Gardier fools, but I can still strike you blind, boil your blood, turn your innards to burning coals.”

The others stirred fearfully and Halian folded his arms, watching the wizard grimly.