The Tower of the Forgotten (14 page)

It
held, but the cavern did not.

Large
cracks opened in the chamber ceiling, tearing themselves open and disgorging
rock and shimmering soul-forged masonry. Portia blocked the falling debris with
her wings as she searched frantically for Kitty and Kendrick. She found them
sheltering beneath a large bend of piping and ducked in beside them.

Kitty
sobbed into her folded arms, her wrench hanging from one hand, almost
forgotten. "I couldn’t do it," she hiccupped, "I couldn’t stop it. The spirits
had taken it over—it isn’t just a machine anymore, its something else now, something
alive." She wiped her eyes with the back of her
hand, leaving grimy streaks across her face. "I’m sorry."

"It’s all right, sweetheart, you did your best. Let me see what
I can do. You and Kendrick better get somewhere safer."

"How
is Radinka?" asked Kendrick.

Portia
hesitated, and his face fell.

"Is
she dead?"

"No.
But…she isn’t quite herself at the
moment."

Surprisingly,
he only nodded. "Ah. I was afraid that
would happen. There may be something I can do."
He touched the key charm dangling from the ribbon on Portia’s wrist. "You’re not the only hopeless romantic in Penemue, you realize."

He
stood, not waiting for her reply, and tucked Kitty under his arm, holding her
securely against his body. Guiding her, he stepped out from beneath their
hiding place and into the disintegrating room.

Kitty
glanced back. "If you can destroy their
anchors, you can separate the demons from the machine. Of course, then you’ll have demons on the loose to worry about."

Portia
smiled. "But that happens to be my specialty.
Thanks, Kitty."

She
watched them go, waiting to see if Nigel would stop them, but he did not. That
meant he was likely busy with mischief of his own. She scrambled up and over
the protruding ductwork and began to scale the side of the rift engine itself.

Like
a bud about to open, the engine’s sides curved up to a
point with narrow slits between each section. Inside, glowing like a hot coal,
sat a vaguely rounded glass orb. It rested on a flat surface with copper pipes
leading into it from below and a netting of wires suspended into its corona
from above. Those wires rose into a thick cord that fed through a hole in the
chamber’s ceiling and disappeared into the
darkness above, presumably connected to the tower somehow.

Nigel
slipped through one of the slim gaps, his ghostly form shifting easily to
accommodate the space with only the little mechanism inside of him remaining
solid. He approached the orb, placing his fingertips onto it. Portia could see
the four shapes within it, a handful of trinkets, it seemed, but she knew
better. Like the wrench and the hairpin, these were no mere knickknacks; they
were the key holding points for Alaric’s control of the four
demons enslaved to his plan.

The
machine growled and seemed to vomit up a thick slurry of what had been flesh
and bone into the orb. Nigel grinned as the metal walls lowered, exposing this
secret chamber. The light from the orb doubled in intensity and doubled again
as the bloody mass evaporated into the objects within.

"I
wanted it to be him," Nigel said without
looking at her, "not you. Once dead, you
are no more use to the engine. Not for this, anyway."

"Nigel…"

"I’m not stopping this. I am just taking his place."

"I cannot let you do this."

"Noble,
noble Portia. How do you think you can call a halt to it? Would you risk saving
them at the cost of a thousand strangers?"

He
pointed to the coiling vapors rising up from the orb. In that twining fog she
could see Analise and Katriel and, yes, Hester, as well as others she did not
recognize. Nigel gripped the little sphere in his hand tightly for a moment
before tossing the remnants of Kanika into the fray.

"He
took everything from me, even those that made me strong again. But now I’ve turned the tables and am using those very ghosts to take
my revenge."

"Is
that all you wanted out of this? Vengeance?"

"Of
course not. Power, Portia, my dear sister. The power held by the Regalii that
should be the birthright of every one of us."

Around
them, the walls cracked and trembled. The ceiling above threatened to cave in
on top of them, bringing the entire tower crashing down on their heads.

"It
isn’t safe here, Nigel."

"Of
course it is. Kitty isn’t an idiot. This chamber
was meant to crumble. We’ll be fine. The others,
however…" He laughed. "You’re so cute when you
think you’re doing the right thing but really
sending folks to their deaths."

Portia controlled the boiling rage that
filled her, gripping the axe firmly and taking a deep breath.
Step one,
break the orb and get the anchors. Step two, destroy the anchors and free the
demons that are bound to this infernal machine. Kill Nigel anywhere in the
process.

She felt the gentle brush of the charm at
her wrist against her flesh and sent a thought of love toward Imogen. Then she
raised the axe.

—
11
—

IN A SLOW, DELIBERATE MOTION Portia swung the axe at the
orb, handling it more like a bat than a blade and aiming with the hammer side.
Nigel intercepted, just as she thought he would. She altered her trajectory and
murmured a prayer before slamming the hammer into the small item lodged in his
chest.

At first, the warhammer resisted, as if it
had in fact impacted solid flesh, but the force of her swing prevailed as the
golden surface penetrated Nigel’s ribcage. The spherical device came loose with
her blow and erupted through his back, clattering to the floor several yards
away. Immediately, Nigel’s solid form evaporated. He reached for the softly
ticking contraption. It was no use, though; his ghostly fingers passed right
through it time and time again.

"Damn
it!" His shade flickered in frustration, finally
turning blood red with rage.

Portia
had no time for his histrionics. She brought the hammer down onto the orb,
shattering it into glittering dust. The streaming faces in the mist dissipated,
and only a thin slick of blood remained to show that Alaric had once been
alive.

The
four trinkets within turned out to be boxes carved from rosewood in elaborate
shapes of dragons. She used the tip of the axe to open the first one, and a
gagging waft of brimstone rose up from it.

"Adramelech,
be free." She smashed it with the hammer.

The
following box contained a clod of black dirt. "Merihim," she said, recalling the demon’s
name. "Be free."
The axe obliterated the box and scattered it into dust.

The
third box contained a delicate bubble of glass filled with water. When she
struck it, she smelled that it was seawater. "Nicor,
be free. And be free of Radinka!"

With
the last, she hesitated. The final demon was Samael, master of the air and of
the dead—or at least their spirits. If his anchor
was naught but air, she feared allowing it to disperse before she could break
the spell Alaric had placed upon him. She decided to destroy the box, leaving
it shut.

What
she found amid the wooden fragments was unexpected: a small pearlescent sphere
like Kanika’s.

Taking
it in her hand, the warmth of it felt familiar, soothing.

The
engine around her screamed with pressure as the full force of the tower above
her head collapsed in an arc of rubble that left her little haven intact. Steam
exploded from the pipes surrounding her, and had she been still mortal, it
would have seared the flesh from her bones. Instead, it overwhelmed her with
heat and momentarily blinded her. She stepped closer to the remnants of the orb
structure, wiping her face with the hem of her tunic.

A
thick shadow fell across her and she squinted to look up at it.

The
demon loomed in the upward-streaming gush, untouched by the heat of it. Its
pale grey flesh soon glistened with condensation and, seemingly annoyed with
this, the demon twitched a large, six-fingered hand, bringing a rush of cold
air in its wake. The gust encircled them both, keeping the worst of the
scalding vapors at bay.

"You
have something that belongs to me," he said in a voice both
quietly haunting and depthless. It rumbled from everywhere at once.

Portia
closed her fingers protectively around the glowing ball in her hand.

"Is
this your anchor?"

"Yes.
It is also my payment."

"Who
is it?"

"A
woman," Samael growled. "Once beloved by the master, but who thwarted his affections.
That is all I know."

"You
know her name, I’d wager."

"Of
course. She would be no use to me otherwise."

Portia
nodded. "And what would you take for her?"

He
shrugged his sloping shoulders. "One soul is like any
other. There are many here. Yours is particularly fascinating."

"Would
you take mine in exchange? To let her live again?"

He
began to nod, then stopped himself. "It would not be a good
trade, hers for yours. I may be many things, but fair in a bargain, always."

"How
about this: mine for hers and the promise that you and your fellows will close
the tear between the worlds and restore them as they once were."

Samael laughed. "You should have thought of that before
you severed their ties to a human master."

The
floor of the cavern shook and tilted perilously. Nigel’s copper trinket rolled to a stop at Portia’s feet, with the fading shadow of Nigel scrambling after.

"I’m not human."

"True.
But they are no longer slaves." He held out his massive
hand. "Give me my payment. I cannot do what you
ask. Our negotiation is finished."

"Then
things are going to have to get ugly." Portia hefted the axe
in her hands.

The
demon considered her a moment. "Right, then. You need to
know her true name."

"I
do."

"And
his."

Portia
nodded, shifting her weight to stay upright. She thought she could hear the
sound of water lapping against rock. "Nigel Aldias, son of
Zepar."

Nigel’s ghost flickered a moment, glowing bright with anger, and
he glared daggers at Portia. "What have you done?"

"This
is the fate you’ve been running from,
Nigel, dear brother. Face it with some dignity."

He
got to his feet and faced down the creature. "I
do not fear you!"

Ignoring
him, Samael looked to Portia. "And the other?"

"Hester
Edulica."

The
demon laughed. "Wrong! I shall now have
them both to feast upon!"

But
as he spoke, the shining sphere expanded, growing to the size of a woman.

Samael’s great brows furrowed across his
forehead. "She is Hester
Regalii
."

"Actually," Portia told him, "I think the
name that her heart whispers is Hester Sloane."

The
colorless shape resolved itself into a familiar face, beautiful and motherly,
nearly bringing Portia to tears.

"So
it is. Very well. A good trade, then. One for one."

Portia
nodded. "And I suppose I’ll have to take care of the rest myself."

Samael
nodded. "I will warn you, though, my brethren care
naught for fairness and they are no longer bound."

Portia
gave him a short bow. "I will do well to
remember that sage advice."

Nigel
wrapped himself around Portia’s legs. "Sweet, sweet sister. Remember all that I’ve done for you. For you and Imogen. I rescued her soul and
protected her body. I did it all for you! Please, Portia!"

"You’re a coward and will always be. Nothing is without cost,
Nigel. I know you never reckoned this, but I can think of no more fitting an
end for you, my dark and demon-touched brother."
She walked away from him, turning her back on him and Samael both.

But
when she heard Hester shout, Portia wheeled on him.

"Treacherous
bastard!" She was beside him in a twinkling,
faster than he could have imagined. And without forethought, she slashed at
him, tearing through his arm with the axe blade. He might have let go of
Hester, then, but his face was bent into a grimace and fixated on their former
governess.

"I
will not allow you to sell me." He growled and shifted
before Portia’s eyes, drawing on
whatever reserves had been left to him from his days of life. His body morphed
into a too-familiar shape with bulging muscles and thick gill-like slits along
his abdomen. She knew what he could do with those and struck down each ropy
tentacle as it emerged.

"Nigel,
don’t make me do this."

"And
what? I should bow to your will, Portia, and let myself be docilely eaten by a
demon?"

"Why
stop now?"

He
lunged toward her, forgetting Hester for a moment in his rage. There was little
of Nigel left. She could see the sliver of him in the remnants of his grey
eyes, but it was weak and losing ground to the last of the elements he had
called forth upon his soul.

"You
have eagerly bartered away your soul time and time again, Nigel. And for what?
At least this time there is a clear purpose, and a good one, too."

The
only reply was garbled and furious. He wrapped his appendages around her,
dragging her close to his mouth, lined with teeth like broken glass. She
waited, letting him reel her in tighter. And when she was near enough to
strike, she did so while looking directly into his eyes.

Her
wings made short work of the slithering arms, stretching them beyond even these
otherworldly limits; the axe blade cut him deep. No blood spilled. His legs
simply ceased to be.

He
clung to her shoulders, hanging off of her body and wings, mouth still reaching
for her as if he could just take off one piece and be satisfied. She knocked
him away easily, and he writhed, crawling back toward Hester as if maybe he
could make a second attempt on her.