Book 9: Chapter 16
“WE’RE HEADED in different directions here, fox,” said Basil in a glum tone of voice.
We were meeting in the artisans’ district, on the territory of Gervin the matagot, who (after the badger and I first agreed not to attack one another) had agreed to serve as a mediator in our negotiations, as well as a guarantor that the meeting would take place without any deaths on either side.
Such things were taken very seriously among the true gifted and first-born. No matter whose land they happened to be on, anyone who broke an oath that they had made to the master of that land would automatically become an exile as soon as the violation took place. Nobody would ever be willing to work with them again. As such, Basil and I both arrived at the meeting place without any backup whatsoever.
“After everything I’ve told you and shown you?” The head of the spellsword clan had given me his answer, and it had disappointed me.
To be honest, both the nisse and Madleyn had warned me about the probability of such a result. Even so, I had been hoping to the very end that the spellsword clan would support me. Alas... It seemed that the badger had decided to go his own way.
Judging by the emotionless expression on his face, Basil had been unimpressed both by my tales of the dark forces and by my demonstration of my golden mana.
“Yes, fox. You’ve obviously become stronger, and somehow managed to touch the ancient magic,” he continued with a frown. “But your promises to share this power with our clan don’t tempt us. You don’t have the faintest idea who you’re dealing with here.”
“On the contrary,” I chuckled. I formed a small clot of golden energy in my hand and spun it around in my palm. “I think I know exactly what I have here.”
“Are you really so naïve as to think that the magic of the ancient sorcerers has submitted to your will?” The badger snickered. “Ha! Fool. You don’t have the faintest idea what you’ve touched.” “Well, how about you enlighten me then, if you’re so experienced and knowledgeable?” I chuckled. “I seem to remember you wanting me to join your clan at our last meeting.”
“Much has changed since then,” replied the badger darkly. “Back then, I didn’t realize just how dangerous it is to be anywhere near you. Other spellswords live quietly. They don’t attract extra attention to themselves. You’re like the eye of a hurricane... I may be standing here now, talking to you in peace, but one wrong step and I’ll get sucked in and killed. Destroying that werewolf pack, Ulf’s disappearance, the conflict with the witches... They’re all links in one big chain.”
“I see you’ve decided to lay the blame for all those mortal sins at my door, old man,” I laughed. “Your buddy Ulf was in cahoots with old Brima’s marauders for a long time before I showed up. Sooner or later, somebody was going to punish that pack for what they were doing. If it hadn’t been me, it would’ve been somebody else.”
The badger was about to snap back at this, but he managed to restrain himself.
“And just to be perfectly clear,” I continued with a dry chuckle. “If you think I had something to do with your artificer’s disappearance, then I’m afraid you’re simply mistaken. Gods as my witness, I didn’t kill him, and I don’t know where he is. I’m prepared to swear on that.”
Basil was in a fighting mood, and he was hungrily snapping up my every word.
“If it wasn’t the old she-wolf that killed him — and then buried him somewhere far away,” I snickered, “then it’s perfectly possible that your buddy Ulf just ran for the hills when things started to go south. I mean, that’s how spellswords are, right? They tuck their tails and run off to their far-off dens at the first hint of trouble.”
Sinews were twitching on the badger’s cheeks by that point. Anger was frozen in his eyes.
“I have to admit something to you, old man,” I shook my head. “There was a time when I would have done the same thing you did. But those days are over for me, and they should really be over for you too. Your recent conflict with Madleyn’s coven is proof enough of that. One dark operative got you to butt heads — without even having to try very hard, I might add — and you almost wiped each other out. And then, even after sitting down to talk it out, the best idea you could come up with was to blame everything on me.”
“You got in their way, and we were the ones who suffered for it,” the badger snarled.
“Hm. So according to your logic, the Hrimthurs are allowed to snap up true gifted and first-born and sacrifice them to that god of theirs, completely unpunished?” I feigned surprise.
“Until you showed up, they were content to sit in their northern fastnesses and leave us alone,” the badger objected.
“You just called me naïve, old man, but it seems you’re the one who’s missing the big picture here. While you’ve been burying your head in your little affairs and turning a blind eye to the dark forces, they’ve been getting on with the process of conquering the world. Their priests have assembled gifted fanatics and created powerful organizations that have started to sway the politics of every country in Mainland. As the direct descendants of the ancient sorcerers who locked the Demon into the Abyss in the first place, you should have been the first ones keeping track of things and making sure your ancient enemy didn’t rise from the ashes.”
The badger gritted his teeth and shook his head.
“Self-assured little runt,” he hissed. “You speak so confidently about our inaction, when you don’t know the half of what we’ve lost. You think you’re the only one who’s tried to confront the dark forces over the last 300 years?”
I tensed up. It seemed like I had finally managed to hit the old man where it hurt.
“Well, tell me about it,” I said, taking a small step forward. “Tell me everything you know, old man.”
The badger just grimaced and shook his head.
“No, fox. You won’t be dragging us into your war. I won’t lose another spellsword fighting for a world that doesn’t care about our sacrifices.”
With that, he turned around and headed for the exit, without bidding me farewell.
“Hold on, old man,” I called to him. “Do me one last favor, and I’ll promise never to bother you or your brothers ever again.”
Basil took one more step, then stopped. He stood there in silence for a second, considering the proposal, and then turned to face me.
“What do you want?”
“Take a look at this,” I said, handing him the notebook into which I had copied several of the symbols from the temple’s ancient scrolls. “Ever seen this language before?”
The badger didn’t touch my book; he simply looked down at my notes and replied in a dull voice:
“The dead language. From the dead temple. Plenty of my brothers have racked their brains trying to find the key to its dead alphabet. Old Duke de Clairmont was one of them. The very man who’s den you’re living in now. As far as I know, he never managed to get close to solving the puzzle.”
My heart started beating faster.
“No, fox...” Basil shook his head when he noticed my reaction. “I won’t be able to read these writings.”
I sighed, closed the notebook, and slipped it back into the inner pocket of my vest. Or rather, I was about to do that. But my movements were a little awkward, and the notebook slipped past my pocket and plopped onto the floor.
As I bent down to pick it up, I heard a muffled gasp. I glanced up at Basil and realized that he had cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes; he was staring intently at the notebook. I could see surprise in his expression.
Quickly following his eyes down to the notebook, I noticed that it had opened to the page on which I had traced the bloody symbols we had discovered in the attic of that coach shop in Gondreville.
“So it’s not just the dark forces you’ve managed to piss off, then,” Basil snickered.
“You’re familiar with these symbols?” I asked.
“Blood Magic,” the badger replied immediately, before pointing down at two of the symbols: “This, on the right, looks like a Unity Rune, and this is a Form Rune. You found these in the ancient temple too?”
“No,” I replied, before quickly launching into a retelling of my nighttime visit to the attic.
Basil grimaced as I spoke and rubbed his index finger against his chin.
“The magic of the bloodsuckers. Although if you say that this was drawn using birds’ blood, it had to be one of their first-born servants who created it. One of the flyers. The first thing that comes to mind is a Zugrax. The little beasts make perfect scouts. They can not only fly long distances — they’re also shapeshifters. They normally appear to their victims disguised as children.”
“The first-born who found this writing called the beast an Exile,” I mused aloud.
Hm, I thought... As if I didn’t have enough problems with these ice demons, I’ve also got some sort of bloodsuckers on my plate as well. And to put it mildly, it seems like they don’t exactly have a fondness for aurings.
“Yes,” nodded Basil. Then, confirming my thoughts entirely, he added: “They were defeated in the ancient war, and the aurings exiled them beyond the edges of this world. But I guess they’ve decided to come out of their hidey-holes too.”
The nisse had already told me the same thing about the exiles. But Basil was the only one who had recognized the runes.
“What do you know about them?” I asked. “And what should I expect from them?”
“Nothing good,” the old spellsword frowned. “From what I can see, it’s a Vetala who’s taken an interest in you. Zugraxes usually serve that specific type of beast. And the Vetalas, in turn, can’t exist without a Sangwald — a Blood Mage. I only know of one Blood Mage who’s still alive today. None other than Olgerd III, King of Claron, known popularly as Olgerd the Proud. A cold-blooded, calculating, and very powerful ruler. It’s his ancestors who fought against the aurings. So I’m not surprised he’s taken an interest in you. Yet another reason for me to keep my distance from you. That’s all I’ve got for you. And remember — you swore.”
Having said that, the badger turned and headed off in the direction of a house where some of his clansmen lived.
“Don’t be angry with him, auring,” replied the matagot Gervin, who was standing next to me. “Basil has paid too high a price already. His son died fighting the Frozen Spears.”
“Ah. I see...” I whispered.
I sighed as I watched the old spellsword walk away. Alas, I already knew that I would have to break my promise to Basil before too long. As he approached me at the start of our meeting, I could distinctly feel a strong, insistent vibration in one of the pockets on my belt. Apparently, one of my golden bruts had chosen itself a carrier...
* * *
The suburbs of Velehrad, capital of the Kingdom of Claron
“I finally caught you, you old bitch,” hissed Lada, as she bent down over the old woman who was struggling vainly on the floor in front of her.
The light of the lone torch that provided illumination in Radwiga’s underground lair was dancing in her eyes, which were wide open in an expression of bloodcurdling terror. Only two people in the world knew the location of this specific safehouse: the coven mother herself, and her eldest daughter Zoryana, to whom she intended to pass down leadership of the coven after her own death.
And if this demoness in human form had managed to find her, then Radwiga knew Zoryana had already met the same horrible fate as all the other witches in the coven. Ladislava’s resurrection had been totally unexpected, and she had spared no one, from the oldest witches to the youngest.
As soon as Radwiga learned that Veslav and Yar had been killed, she knew she was being hunted as well. The old witch hadn’t forgotten that Ladislava, whom she and her daughters had first tortured, then thrown into a river, had promised that she would one day rise from her watery grave and behead everyone involved in the murders of her husband and son.
This former daughter of Radwiga’s, who had decided to break witching law and leave her coven, had made it quite clear who her next victim would be.
And for Radwiga, the preceding months had turned into a horrible, neverending race for survival. She had thought she could fend off an attack by a single witch (who, after all, was far from being the most powerful witch in the world), but reality had proven otherwise.
Her disgraced daughter had come back as something else — something powerful and merciless. And she had begun to wreak her bloody judgement on her tormentors, all of whom faced a sentence of horrid, painful death.
Radwiga’s daughters had begun to die one after the other, stricken by curses of terrifying power. As she discovered their bodies, horribly disfigured by torture and magic, the Elder Coven Mother simply couldn’t believe that such atrocities could be the work of the lovely, smiley young woman that Ladislava had once been. And yet a whole series of deaths — first that of a powerful strigoi, then a werewolf prince, and finally the extermination of her entire coven — served as incontrovertible proof that the old Lada had indeed died in that icy river. Her body, however, had come back as a true monster, who was focused solely on slaking her thirst for revenge.
“If only you knew how long I’ve been waiting for this meeting,” Ladislava said with a smile on her flawless, beautiful face.
Radwiga had been immobilized by a powerful curse, and she couldn’t utter a word in response. She hadn’t seen her former daughter for many years, and for a brief moment she actually forgot about what was happening as she stared up into Ladislava’s angelic face.
Not only had she lost all the horrible scars that her sisters had inflicted on her before throwing her into the river, she also seemed not to have aged a day the entire time. More disturbingly, in such close proximity Radwiga could sense the oppressive, leaden emanations of some sort of unfamiliar magic, whose “touch” made the Elder Witch’s hair stand on end.
Like a fish thrown onto the shore, there was little Radwiga could do but open and close her thin-lipped mouth in impotent silence. The runic trap had sucked all the life force out of her, turning her from a healthy fifty-year-old woman into a shriveled old crone.
“Look — you’ve actually lost your voice for joy,” Ladislava roared with laughter, displaying her even, pearly-white teeth. “I’m sure you’re going to love all my little surprises. I spent a long time preparing them. Years, in some cases.”
After brushing back a lock of hair that had fallen onto her face, Lada continued:
“You’re unbelievably lucky, mother, unlike Veslav and Yar. Neither they nor their families really got a chance to enjoy all my gifts. They died quickly, and relatively easily. But my beloved sisters were luckier. Especially Zoryana. Oh, mother... You should have seen her eyes during those three days I spent flaying her alive. And she didn’t pass out from the pain even once! Imagine that! You can be proud of me, mother. I’ve learned a lot over these last few years.”
Radwiga’s eyes bulged; her mouth opened wide in a silent scream.
“Forgive me, but for obvious reasons I can’t allow you to speak. So you’re just going to have to listen. Although there is one particular question I’m absolutely dying to ask you. Why? The bloodsucker and that scruffy wolf, that makes sense — they wanted to get their hands on my husband’s principality. But why did you turn against me? While my sisters tortured me, they kept saying I had broken witching law. But you and I parted on good terms before the wedding. Ratibor gave you generous gifts, and you let me depart in peace. So I have to ask — why?”
Lada looked into the Elder Witch’s eyes, and her thin eyebrows rose.
“Agh, you’re such a horrible old bitch!”
Tears began to glisten at the corners of Lada’s eyes.
“My poor children...”
Allowing herself a moment of weakness, Ladislava wiped her tears off on her sleeve. Then, with the same eerily warm smile as before, she continued in a soft, hearty-sounding voice:
“Well, don’t worry, mother. I’ll be telling you all about them over the next few days. All the pain you’re going to feel will be dedicated to the memory of my poor family. Ready?”
The old witch’s eyes widened until they were practically on her forehead as she saw a short obsidian knife appear in Lada’s hands. It was engraved with runes all down its length, and accompanied by a small vial of some sort of dark green liquid in her other hand.
Lada’s lips began to whisper the first words of an incantation, which Radwiga easily recognized as an appeal to the power of the forest. As soon as the last words had been uttered, the old witch would be unable to sleep, lose consciousness, or die of blood loss for several days.
After Lada poured the contents of her vial into her mouth, Radwiga felt a wave of refreshing cold roll out across her skin. The smell of fresh grass and leaves brushed against her nose. A feeling of primordial horror wrapped its cold, greasy fingers around the old witch’s heart as she heard the crack of fabric ripping. Within a few minutes, she was totally naked.
Lada stopped whispering, and a feeling of pleasant warmth surged through Radwiga’s body, giving her a feeling of freshness and energy. The spell and the potion had begun to take effect.
“Well then,” smiled Lada. “Let’s get started.”
“I’m afraid that’ll have to wait. Although I’d really love to watch this whole show to the end.”
A mysterious, mirthful voice from the darkness made Radwiga tense up. Ladislava whipped her head toward the sound and lunged immediately to the side. Holding her runic knife out in front of her, she started whispering an attack spell. An instant later, Lada’s left hand shot sideways like the arm of a crossbow. A cloud of dust shot through the air in the direction where the voice had come from. As the first chips of wood began to clatter to the floor, a hiss echoed through the room.
“Not bad.” The voice was coming from behind Lada’s back. “But it won’t be enough.”
The witch whipped around and found herself facing a black-haired woman with a thin, pale face and eyes that looked like polished scarlet bruts. A condescending smile danced on her lips.
“I have to hand it to you, cutie — I had to run to keep up with you.”
Lada replied with a predatory grin and uttered the last word of her spell.
As soon as she did so, the runes on the stone floor of the safehouse burst into life. Crackling streaks of energy erupted into the air and ran across the body of this uninvited guest, who was clearly stunned by the turn events had taken.
A moment later, a blood-red flash lit the room, so bright that it caused Lada to squint for a moment. When she opened her eyes, the black-haired stranger was standing right in front of her. The witch’s unexpected attack had obviously enraged her. Her blood-red eyes were filled with fury, and the tips of two thin, white fangs could be seen beneath her lips.
Lada tried to attack with her knife, but the black-haired stranger was much too fast. With a single quick lunge, the witch’s head snapped back. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and her body began to fall to the ground.
The stranger let out a loud scoff. She bent down above the Elder Witch, whose eyes were alive with happiness and relief, and began to speak in an angry whisper:
“I’m going to have to ask the master for a new amulet because of all the running you’ve made me do.”
Her eyes flashed, and she grinned as she added:
“If only you knew how badly I want to drink you dry, right here, right now! Luckily for you, though, His Majesty wants you alive.”