Book 7: Chapter 19: A spectre of the past
Eleanor raised her shield on instinct with magical speed, but the arm of the ghost went right through the metal and wood of her ward to pass through her chain shirt and into her flesh. She let out an anguished scream, and Martel felt pure terror at the sound of her agony.
Instinct and experience asserted itself. This was a creature much like the jinni they had once fought; normal steel would not avail. But unlike that spirit, Martel saw no reason why this spectre would be immune to fire. He raised his staff, and from the ruby, a ray of flames burst forth to continuously burn the malevolent spirit.
Leander had said that despite being undead, he could feel pain; judging by the twisted expression of the ghost as Martel’s spell struck, so could this ethereal being. It made no sound, but the fact that it turned its attention on Martel supported his theory that fire spells would get the task done.
The ghost floated right through Eleanor to reach Martel, making her shiver and tremble. It allowed Martel enough time to release another fire ray, pouring extra spellpower into the connection.
It proved insufficient. As the spell ended, the ghost remained, its fury only increased. It swung out both arms, and Martel felt the cold touch of death clutch his heart. He dropped his staff and fell to his knees. He tried to push through the hurt, regain control of his mind to launch another spell, but he failed.
Wielding a dagger instead of her sword, Eleanor stabbed into the back of the ghost. The golden edge on the blade found purchase as if piercing flesh. Now the ghost seemed to tremble, its transparent form becoming blurry. Eleanor struck again, and finally, the apparition dissolved.
Both of them gasping for breath, Eleanor extended a hand to pull Martel to his feet. “Are you hurt?”
Physically, Martel was not, but he felt a deep-seated unease, like he was chilled to the marrow. “No,” he replied, as he could not point to any injury on his body; at the same time, he suspected that if the spectre had continued its assault, it would have been the end for the battlemage. “Are you?”
She shook her head. “I feel unpleasant but otherwise fine.” She gave him a quick kiss and picked up her shield that she had tossed aside upon discovering its futility. “This has saved our skin more times than I care to admit,” she remarked, holding up the golden dagger Martel had once taken from a would-be assassin. “Worth nearly dying for.”
“Not even in jest.” Eleanor glanced at him as he picked up his staff. “What happened to that thing you were holding? Before we were interrupted.”
Martel had forgotten all about it. He glanced everywhere but saw no sign of it in the room. Looking through a hole in the floor, he realised what had happened. “It’s down there. In the dining hall.” He believed he saw a small figurine, lying amidst pieces of a broken table. “Better that than us, I suppose.”
“Well, there seems to be nothing further for us here. We found this.” Eleanor patted the mage’s journal she had stuck into her belt. “If we leave now and make good speed, we might be out of the forest before nightfall.”
“Wait. There was something odd about the little stone figure. I want to take another look.”
Eleanor shrugged. “It is on our way out. You can pick it up and bring it along if you want to haul it around.”
Picking it up, Martel remembered what had seemed strange about the figurine. Something glistened under its bottom. Turning around, Martel saw no less than three little twinkling objects embedded into the carved stone, each smaller than a child’s fingernail.
Eleanor looked at him impatiently. “Ready to leave? You can examine it all you want once we are back in the village.”
“Just give me a moment.” While his companion milled about in the ruined dining hall, Martel took out his dagger and pried one of the tiny stones loose. It fell through the air, and he tried to arrest it with magic; he could not. Which suggested it was either made of gold or magical in nature itself. As Martel felt no pocket of cold surrounding it, it could not be the former. Feeling more and more curious, he picked up the little pebble. In the light of his staff, leaning against the broken table, he saw it glow red.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” Despite his words, Martel knew there was more to this than met the eye. Spurred by the thought, he turned the figurine over to look at its face. One eye closed, the other empty. With a bit of trouble, he managed to insert the red stone into the vacant slot. All over the statuette, lines began to glow with a soft light that matched the colour of the inserted stone.
“What did you do?” Eleanor’s voice had taken on an eager tone.
“You have better dexterity than me. Can you pry out the little gemstone in his eye?” Martel handed over the object, and though she looked at him with curiosity, she did as he asked. As the pebble was popped out by the tip of a dagger, the red light disappeared. Martel took hold of the object and pried out another stone from beneath its pedestal, this time blue. Placing it in the face of the carving, it began to glow with that colour. Martel smiled. “I think we have found Perel.”
“This is a leap in reasoning.” Despite her misgivings, Eleanor led the way as they ascended the stairs, returning to the basement once more. “For all we know, this could be some kind of toy that every Archean wizard had in their possession.”
“These fellows don’t strike me as the sort to keep idle playthings around.”
“But the whole point of the three sigils is to ensure three different people are present to open it. Having a key that mimics any of those three severely undermines the whole safety of the concept.”
“Perhaps they figured two would suffice, or they wanted to have access in case one of them had to leave.”
“I guess we shall see in a moment.” They reached the underground chamber, still bare except for the carvings on the walls and the floor. Martel placed the statuette on the ring surrounding the Jester. After that, he stepped onto the Sage, and Eleanor took position upon the Warrior.
The entire wall in front of them slid away through some hidden mechanism, opening the way forward.