The Evermen Saga 01 - Enchantress (28 page)

Still, it had given him a nicely dead look. Holding his hand in front of his face even Killian thought the blue-tinged fingernails were nothing that could be faked. It had been a feat of the utmost self-control not to shiver when they’d laid him out on that stretcher while the High Enchantress had her tirade at the girl. A job well done.

Killian could feel the tingle of the essence working through his veins; he’d managed to get a good splash out of the bottle, enough to terrify the girl. And, just as he’d expected — and hoped — she’d run straight to the High Enchantress.

And now here he was, in this, the most difficult of places to get into.

Killian looked around him. So this was the High Enchantress’s sanctum, her place of power. He was sure she’d have plenty of traps laid about, especially the closer he came to his target. Killian nervously fingered the thin scar on his left bicep. Hopefully she’d kept her traps to the typical; the hidden golem in Ralanast had proven to be particularly troublesome. Very skilful of their High Animator, automating a creature like that.

Looking around, Killian could see a series of rooms connected by wide corridors. Chamber after chamber ran before, beside, and behind him. Where to begin?

Killian stood and, picking a direction at random, he began to explore.

~

D
OWN
in the huge spaces set aside for the High Enchantress’s use beneath the Crystal Palace, there was no sense of time, no sense of the moon’s rise and passage across the night sky.

It was cold. Cold and empty. While the rooms were filled with all manner of tools, weapons, armour, books, bubbling pots, strange odours, and works in progress; they were still empty, lacking in life. It was clear to Killian that Evora Guinestor hoarded her work, sharing the load with no one. For her the joys of knowledge and discovery were a private thing.

The chambers were covered with thick silk carpets and Killian tossed a vial of essence in his hand as he walked, enjoying the soft feel of the silk on his bare feet and the weight of the bottle in his hand. It hadn’t taken him long to find the bottle, even if it was small; the High Lord must keep the main stockpiles somewhere else. It was good to have a supply again. He now had options.

Suddenly, pausing, Killian heard a voice. There was someone in the next chamber, walking about. Killian drew behind a cupboard door that was hanging ajar, peering around its edge.

It was the High Enchantress, a frown on her face. She was alone, muttering under her breath — probably a habit she’d picked up from spending so much time by herself.

Killian hadn’t managed to look at High Enchantress Evora Guinestor, playing dead as he’d been at the time. She was actually quite beautiful, in an imposing, regal way. She was tall, taller than him, and slim. Her silk hooded dress hung about her, decorated and etched with silver runes in intricate patterns. Killian had no intention of finding out what they meant.

He guessed she was looking for a book of some kind; he’d heard her mention to Ella something about books. Was she going to go to the cold slab where he’d been laid out? Perhaps to look at the half-dead, half-frozen stranger? Killian certainly hoped not.

Evora turned towards the room containing the slab and Killian’s breath caught, but then was released as she turned away. Evora instead walked into a chamber that was the first in a series of libraries. Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling, an orderly collection of lifetimes of knowledge. From heavy volumes half the size of a man to tiny notebooks the size of a palm, there were books of every type and description.

Killian thought hard. There was an opportunity here he couldn’t miss. He had to follow her, and he couldn’t afford to be seen. When he felt she’d settled in, Killian quickly slipped into a well-lit chamber in the opposite direction. He searched and then found what he was looking for: a workbench and a scrill.

He didn’t have much time. It was complicated, this process, and if he didn’t do it right he’d have to start all over again. The High Enchantress made liberal use of bright nightlamps — a second-rate effort wouldn’t be good enough.

Killian unclasped the silver chain from his neck, placing the pendant bottom-side up on the workbench so he could see the matrix of runes inscribed on the back. Killian sat the essence vial on the bench and removed the stopped. He then took the scrill and dipped the sharp end into the bottle. When he took the scrill out, its end dripped black, oily liquid.

Killian began to copy the runes onto the bare skin of his chest.

He tried to keep his hand steady, but his breathing made it difficult. Smoke hissed up from the end of the scrill but he felt no pain, just a slight tingling sensation.

Killian finished the first rune. Comparing it to the rune on the pendant, he decided he’d made a reasonable job of it. He began on the second rune. It was more complex than the first, with some difficult bridges and whorls. He began on the third rune. The sound of muttering bounced off the walls.

The High Enchantress was coming.

Killian started to move the scrill more quickly, but he knew he couldn’t make the slightest mistake or it would all be for nothing. The muttering grew louder. The smoke drifted into his nose, irritating him, and the hissing as his hand moved seemed so loud that surely she must be able to hear. Killian began tracing the final rune. The High Enchantress walked into the chamber.

"
Sur-an-ahman
," Killian whispered, under his breath.

Killian vanished.

Evora seemed to sense a change in the chamber. She frowned as she scanned the room, and then her eyes lit up. Taking a small stone tablet from a shelf, she left the chamber, clutching the tablet to her chest.

Killian breathed: a slow, steady sigh of relief. His trousers were in a pile on the floor; he’d removed them and kicked them under a table just before the High Enchantress had looked his way. He stood naked now and completely invisible. The pendant was clasped in one hand, hidden by his skin, the vial of essence in the other. It had been close; too close.

Gathering his composure, Killian followed Evora from the room. The High Enchantress walked back into one of the libraries and sat down next to a shelf. She proceeded to compare what was inscribed on the tablet to the contents of one of the large books, keeping her back to him.

Killian sat near her as she worked. His confidence returned, but alongside it was frustration. How would he find what he was looking for? He decided to leave her for a moment and continue his search elsewhere.

~

K
ILLIAN
had been wandering for what seemed like hours. He’d come across no fewer than five traps — wards that would most likely boil an ordinary intruder’s blood. His special ability allowed him to pass through them like they weren’t there.

But Killian’s time was running short and he could now make out the faint outline of the runes on his skin as they glowed softly silver. Soon the effect would end. Killian had to find the Alturan Lexicon, and he had to do it quickly.

He suddenly heard voices.

"He can’t have made it far," a soldier’s curt speech. "He probably just woke up in a strange place and tried to find his way out."

Killian heard the High Enchantress. He didn’t quite catch what she said but she sounded troubled.

He edged forward until he could see them, standing in a group.

The High Enchantress and a dozen armoured palace soldiers were searching the chambers.

"Be careful not to touch anything," one of the soldiers said.

There were even two bladesingers present. Killian wasn’t happy at all to see them; he’d heard rumours about their abilities.

"He must still be here," the High Enchantress muttered.

Killian knew he had moments only. Thoughts of the Alturan Lexicon left him — there was nothing for it, he would have to think of a different tactic and come back another time. Yet what chance would he have then?

Sighing, he remembered where the stairs upwards were from his previous explorations and turned in that direction. Killian passed through the libraries on the way. Plenty of books here, he thought wryly.

Then he stopped in his tracks. A path had been worn into the carpets, the passage of feet so regular it was discernible.

His heart racing, Killian followed the slightly worn trail into one of the libraries. It was the room the High Enchantress had been occupied in, comparing the stone tablet to something in one of the great books.

Of course! She’d never be able to hide the Lexicon away — she would need to work with it constantly. Not only would she need to refer to it in her work, if she didn’t renew it regularly the enchanters’ runes would fade! Killian had stood right next to the prize and left Evora with the Lexicon while he’d run off on his fool’s errand.

She’d hidden the Lexicon in the best possible place — among thousands of other books.

"Lord of the Sun scratch you, woman," Killian cursed the High Enchantress.

He sat down where she had knelt, facing a row of large books. Killian checked the first book. Strange creatures leapt from its pages, vivid drawings of monsters the like of which he’d never seen. He put it back and withdrew the second book. It was some kind of text, a story, illustrated and captioned: the travels of an Alturan from long ago. Killian returned it to the shelf. The next book was full of numbers, column upon column of numbers. Some kind of reference? Replacing it, Killian turned to the next book.

It was of a different kind than the other books. This book’s pages were made of a silver, almost metallic fabric, the sheets so thin that the book had a great many more pages than it first seemed. It was surprisingly light, untouched by age, and felt foreign, almost alien. It didn’t feel like the creation of man.

The cover of the book was green, and on the cover of the book was a rune: the number one. Killian opened the book as curiosity overwhelmed him. Runes stared back at him, undeniably perfect. It was the work of the Evermen; a relic of unimaginable power.

A voice broke the spell — a woman’s voice screaming, crying with all of its power. "Guards!"

Killian tucked the book under his arm, trying to obscure it as much as possible with his body. A body that was weak, naked, and starting to betray him.

He ran.

~

T
HE
Crystal Palace reverberated with a commotion: the sound of soldiers’ boots, calls and shouts. It was perhaps three hours before dawn, the time when spirits were at their lowest and men fought to blink away sleep.

A passer-by looking directly at the Crystal Palace would have blinked and rubbed at their eyes as an ethereal shape stole out, hiding behind a column, before soundlessly creeping down the marble steps, slipping from shadow to shadow.

Killian’s heart pounded and he fought to keep his breath silent. There were two guards at the bottom of the steps, made alert by the commotion. Killian stilled his breath further, attempting to slow his heaving chest. He would have to walk directly between the guards, a space barely wide enough for his body to fit through.

"Have you seen anything?" a voice called from behind him.

"No, nothing," one of the guards responded.

"He must come this way. He must," the voice said. "I think I’ll wait with you."

"Of course, bladesinger," the guard replied.

Killian felt like he had been punched in the chest — a bladesinger, directly behind him! He prayed for the light to stay dim; he prayed to the Sunlord that the bladesinger wouldn’t see him.

Killian moved to the shadow of another column, creeping towards the guards. The gap was ahead of him; he just needed to slip through.

He heard it then, just at the edge of his hearing; he never would have heard it if he hadn’t been so close.

"
Tun-ahreen-lahsa
," the bladesinger whispered.

Killian ducked, and in the same instant, so fast it was blinding, a piece of light thrust where Killian’s head had been less than a heartbeat before. The bladesinger moved like a coiled spring. If it hadn’t been for the two guards in the way, Killian knew he would have been sliced in two.

He was now behind the column closest to freedom, and tucked under his arm, the book felt like it was writhing, trying to save itself from this trespasser. This thief.

Killian saw the runes dim on his chest. He could see his fingers now, make out their definition. It was now or never.

Killian ducked and threw himself between the two guards.

"Get out of the way!" the bladesinger snarled.

Completely lost in this strange battle of whirling forces, the two guards tried to back up the steps. The bladesinger moved like wildfire, his song rising from his lips. He jumped over their heads, his sword held before him in a striking position, before he landed softly on two feet, scanning from side to side. Making a swift judgement, the bladesinger cut across the air in front of him viciously: once, twice, the vibrant zenblade making a sizzling sound like meat on a fire.

Killian only knew he had to get away. As he rolled to a standing position at the bottom of the stairs he felt something slice across his back, the lightest touch, but followed by a searing pain like nothing he’d ever felt. Gritting his teeth, he lurched to a standing position and began to run.

Blood ran down his back; he could feel it dripping to the ground.

"Now I have you," he heard the voice behind him.

Killian knew it was over. Wounded, with an angry bladesinger, he didn’t stand a chance.

In one hand was the book, clutched under his arm as he ran. What was in the other? His pendant and… something else.

Killian stopped and turned, facing the bladesinger. Surprised, the glowing warrior slowed.

Killian stood painfully, completely naked with the Alturan Lexicon clutched under his arm. Blood dripped down his back and onto the ground. Soldiers called in the distance.

“Back away,” Killian said.

"You won’t be seeing the dawn, thief," the bladesinger said with venom.