The Immortal Heights (26 page)

But now the Bane approached Fairfax's containment cell, which protected those on the outside against those on the inside, but not vice versa.

“Revivisce forte,”
said the Bane.

She showed no sign of recovering consciousness.

“Revivisce omnino.”

The reviving spell should have been strong enough to counter the stunning spell Titus had used, but Fairfax remained motionless, not a twitch, not even a fluttering of the eyelashes.

“Highly inconsiderate of you, Your Highness,” said the Bane. “For what I've planned for her, it would be much better with her awake and alert.”

Titus felt as if he had been enclosed in a coffin lined with spikes inside. “I thought all you needed was for her heart to remain beating.”

“True, but it makes for a far more powerful sacrifice when she is completely aware of the goings-on—up to the moment the contents of her cranium are extracted, that is. I have a very good spell for keeping the heart beating throughout it all, until that too is required in the last step.”

At the horrors the Bane so casually described, Titus's throat closed. His still-bound hands clenched into fists, shaking.

“You love her, I see. Then you must be there to witness her final moments on this earth. It's the least you could do for her. The least I could do for such a pair of devoted young lovers.”

“No!” He banged his shoulder against the wall of the containment cell. It was soft enough to absorb the impact of his weight but firm enough not to move an inch. “No! You will not touch her.”

“And how will you stop me, without the aid of your magic book? You are in my domain now, Titus of Elberon. There are no surprises that you can wield against me.”

“She will defeat you.”

“I built these containment cells to be mighty enough for me. You can say many things about her, but you cannot say she is a greater elemental mage than I.”

The Bane turned to Fairfax and pointed his wand.
“Fulmen doloris.”

Titus flinched. The spell was powerful enough to make the dead sit up and scream in pain.

She did not move or make a single sound. He could not believe it. Had he inadvertently rendered her permanently comatose?

“When you bungle an execution curse, you bungle it royally, young man,” murmured the Bane.

He pivoted, his wand pointed at Titus, and such a conflagration of pain engulfed him, as if every square inch of his skin had been set on fire. He screamed.

“Hmm,” said the Bane. “She really is insensate. In a few minutes, if she still doesn't come to, I'll put some actual flame to her person and see if that doesn't help.”

Titus trembled. The pain that had overwhelmed him was gone, but its memory still burned.

“Now, since dear Fairfax refuses to cooperate, we shall have a chat, you and I, Your Highness.”

There was something extraordinarily smug about the Bane's tone. Dread crawled over Titus with feet like those of a hundred millipedes.

“Let me ask you something. Why did Gaia Archimedes betray me?”

It took Titus a moment to recognize Mrs. Hancock's real name.
“Because you murdered her sister to prolong your own life.”

“And how would she have known it?”

Titus hesitated. “She and your old oracle met and fell in love. And they exchanged enough information for that to come up.”

The more truth he told, the greater the chance he would not be interrogated under truth serum.

“You mean Icarus Khalkedon? But he never remembered anything from his oracular sessions.”

“That is what he wanted you to believe.”

The Bane's eyes narrowed. After a moment he said, “I see. What else didn't I know about him?”

“That he was not in a true trance when he told you that I should be sent to a nonmage school and that Mrs. Hancock should be placed on site to keep an eye on me.”

“Why you?”

“Because my mother was pregnant with me at the time, and you always saw the Domain as a potential threat.”

“Was that the only instance in which Icarus lied to me during an oracular session?”

“It is the only one I know of. Mrs. Hancock said he planned to give several more correct answers and then kill himself.”

“Such treachery. Which makes it even more heartwarming, I assure you, when it is one of his final answers that led me to this body.” The Bane gestured at himself. “A fine specimen, is it not?

“I obtained this body almost eighteen years ago at the Sheikha Man
ā
t Interrealm Hub in the United Bedouin Realms. It was exactly where Icarus said it would be, waiting for a connecting translocator.”

Premonition sank its cold claws into Titus. Almost eighteen years ago. A young traveler. A disappearance no one could explain.

The Bane smiled. “I do not enjoy the process of taking over another body. It is necessary, but never pleasant. In Wintervale's case I had to allow myself to be surrounded by his memories for some time, so that I would be able to recognize the people around him and imitate him to a creditable extent. I did the bare minimum, which proved to be a mistake—it was just like that stupid, shallow boy to never think about his one fatal weakness. No, it was all cricket, his mother, Mrs. Dawlish's boys, and his old home in the Domain.”

Titus wished his fist could connect with the Bane's nose and shove it straight to the back of his skull. “Wintervale was worth a hundred of you. A thousand.”

The Bane shook his head. “You are a young, foolish boy, full of maudlin sentiments. You should have had some of your grandfather's pragmatism. He killed his own daughter to keep his throne. All you had to do was hand me the elemental mage and you could have reigned in peace for the remainder of your natural life.”

“My grandfather was but an instrument you wielded. You were the one who killed my mother. I will set fire to the Citadel myself
before I become your willing collaborator. And I will gladly be the last heir of the House of Elberon if it hastens the hour of your demise.”

The Bane smiled again, but this time with a harder edge. “We digress. Now where was I? Yes, my failure to learn enough about Wintervale. After Wintervale died, when my consciousness traveled back, what should I find but that the body I'd been using since June, after Fairfax electrocuted its predecessor, had died during my absence, of an aneurysm of the brain, of all things.

“So it was on to the next body, this one. And with the dire example of Wintervale before him, I deemed it prudent to dig a little deeper into this one's mind. He seemed to be of a simple enough background. Before he was brought here, he'd been a student in the capital city of your great realm, a nice boy who enjoyed helping customers at his father's bookshop. He hiked in the Serpentine Hills and sailed off the coast—a cliché, almost, if one didn't account for his Sihar ancestry.”

Titus fell back against the far wall of the containment cell—and slid to the floor.

“Does that sound familiar to you? It was so ordinary and colorless I was convinced there was no need to pay further attention. And then, about forty-eight hours ago, I thought to myself that perhaps I'd made a mistake in the execution of Princess Ariadne. Perhaps if I hadn't asked for her life, I would not have made such an implacable enemy of her son.

“Such violent emotions erupted in this one. Not that violent emotions aren't always running through the little peons. You cannot conceive of the tedium of always having to ignore their alternate tantrums and fits of despair. But in this instance the upheaval was cataclysmic. I had to find out the reason—it was hindering my mastery of the body.

“It was not easy. This one had actually gone through some effort to compartmentalize his memories. It was only hours ago that I finally broke through. And what a secret: a passionate love affair with none other than the late Princess Ariadne herself. Who'd have thought? Even I had mildly wondered about the identity of your father, Your Highness, and what had happened to him. To think I believed it had been some shenanigans of your grandfather's, when I'd had him here all along. It really is too bad that I didn't find out sooner. You would have traded Fairfax for your father, wouldn't you?”

Would he? Titus thought wildly.

“But it's too late now. You will have neither. Fairfax will give me another century of life. And you, it will give me great pleasure to watch you leave the shores of Atlantis a broken man. It won't just be Fairfax I will sacrifice for my health and longevity; I will use a good few parts of you too. Let's see, I shall require an eye, definitely an eye. Your wand arm, it goes without saying. Beyond that, it will depend on my mood. How would you like to be known as the Eunuch Prince?”

Titus could barely stop himself from wrapping his arms around his knees and rocking back and forth. Where were Kashkari and the real Fairfax? When would this nightmare end?

“In fact, before I apply fire to our dear Fairfax, I shall apply a blade to you. You won't miss a finger or two, will you?”

The Bane sauntered forward, a knife in his hand. Titus wanted to scream, but he could only whimper. Then, all of a sudden, he leaped to his feet and words rushed out of him like water from a collapsing dam.

“Can you hear me, Father? My mother named me after you. And she never gave up on finding you. I always wondered why she took part in the uprising against Atlantis. Now I know it was for you. That failed, but before she died, she asked me to promise her I would do my utmost to defeat the Bane, because it was the only way for me to ever see you.”

The smile on the Bane's face became ever more smug, almost radiant. He seized Titus's still-bound hands. An ice-cold blade settled against Titus's thumb.

“She loved the vine that you gave her!” Titus shouted. “It climbs over a pergola on the upper balcony of the castle. I could always find her underneath it—it was her favorite spot!”

The knife lifted. “Son?” came a tentative whisper, without a shred of the Bane's arrogance.

Titus's heart almost burst out of his chest. “Father! Please help me! Please help all of us!”

The Bane laughed. He hooted and guffawed. “You believed that? Oh dear, oh dear. You actually believed that poor sod could overpower
me
?”

Tears ran down Titus's face. He was a child of six again, watching the flames go up around his mother, nothing but despair in his heart. “Please, Father. Do not let him do this.”

The knife dug into his flesh.

“She loved you,” he whispered. “She loved you until the day she died.”

The knife moved away. He raised his head in incredulity. Had he succeeded at last, or was the Bane about to make another cruel play?

It was neither.

Across from him Fairfax whimpered. Slowly she pushed herself to a sitting position, one hand clutching at her head. Then she looked about at the unfamiliar surroundings.

Her gaze settled on the Bane.

She shuddered.

CHAPTER
22

IOLANTHE AND KASHKARI EMERGED FROM
the Crucible ready for assault. But the cave, its air still dusty, was silent—and dark.

They stood in place for several minutes, listening. Then Iolanthe set a sound circle. “I don't think anyone is here.”

The ruse had worked as intended. The Bane believed he now had both the Master of the Domain and the elemental mage whom he had been desperately seeking for so long.

“But we still have the same problem,” answered Kashkari, his voice hoarse but steady. “We still can't get up that cliff face.”

Iolanthe grimaced. Did they fly around? They had no idea how far the escarpment stretched in either direction. Certainly beyond the range of their far-seeing spells.

Into their impotent silence came agitated clicks.

“What's that?” she asked.

“Sorry,” said Kashkari. The noise stopped. “The last time we all
left the Crucible together, Titus told me to take a small stone from the meadow, to keep the book ‘open.'”

Kashkari had become their keeper of the last resort, as he had seemed destined to outlive them all. Since the Coastal Range, he had been the one to carry the Crucible on his person. Titus had taught him all the passwords and countersigns for the Crucible, and Iolanthe had given him the words to unseal the connection between their copy of the Crucible and the one they'd left behind in the Domain—in the unlikely event he left the Commander's Palace alive and needed to get out of Atlantis in a hurry.

“I was jangling the contents of my pocket,” he went on, “and the stone was knocking against Durga Devi's prayer beads.”

Kashkari, like the prince, almost never fidgeted. For him to be reduced to such nervous motions told her everything she needed to know about his frame of mind. She sighed.

The next moment she grabbed him by the front of his tunic. “I know how we can get our hands on a pair of wyverns—or at least I know where we can try.”

Iolanthe murmured the words to undisguise the Crucible and felt about on the rubble-strewn floor of the cave until she had the book in hand. Next she had Kashkari “close” the book. Then she took him to visit the Oracle of Still Waters.

The oracle's pool captured the image of those who last looked into it. This was how Titus had circumvented the Irreproducible
Charm, captured her image, and given Sleeping Beauty her face. She hadn't known whether to give him a swift kick or to kiss him silly—she would worry about that later, if there was to be a later. Now she busied herself pitching her tent in the middle of the cave—once the tent had been sealed, light on the inside could not be seen from the outside.

With Kashkari standing guard at the mouth of the cave, she huddled in the tent, under a smidgen of mage light, and made changes to several stories in the Crucible. When she was satisfied with her modifications, she extinguished the light, packed away the tent, and entered the Crucible once again, Kashkari at her side.

Since the Crucible had just been “reopened,” the meadow was quiet and peaceful, no treasure hunters trampling across the long grass yet. They flew toward Sleeping Beauty's castle.

“I'm carrying a two-way notebook that lets me communicate with Dalbert,” she told Kashkari. “If something happens to me, you take it. The password is ‘conservatory.'”

“Wouldn't be much use, would it?”

“You might think differently if you were to survive—let's not only prepare to die.”

She didn't cling to any hope, but as long as she breathed, she would act.

They shot past the ring of impenetrable briar that surrounded Sleeping Beauty's castle and came to a stop. Below, by the gate of the
castle, lay two wyverns, sleeping, their hind limbs in chains.

It was possible to bring out objects from the Crucible. In fact, it was necessary to keep the book “open” and instantly accessible. But until now, they had brought out only small, inanimate items: a jewel belonging to Helgira or a rock from the meadow before Sleeping Beauty's castle.

Now for something different.

“I've made it as easy as possible for us,” said Iolanthe. “If we can't get the better of these wyverns, we don't deserve to ride them.”

Kashkari exhaled. “Then what are we waiting for?”

“We meet again at last, Fairfax. Welcome to my not-so-humble abode,” said the Bane, all graciousness and suave manners.

The woman who looked exactly like Fairfax regarded him with loathing.

“Are you all right?” Titus shouted. “Are you hurt?”

Briefly she closed her eyes. Of course she had been in pain—the Bane had tortured her in his effort to rouse her. But she had willed herself to remain perfectly silent and still to buy more time, giving up the pretense only to save Titus from certain mutilation.

“Hmm, you don't seem as delighted by our reunion,” said the Bane. “I suppose I can't really blame you, considering what is about to happen.”

Fairfax shuddered but did not speak.

“As much as I would love for you to say a few words of your own volition, I will hear from you soon enough when you begin to scream. Shall we, then?”

Titus stumbled—without notice, the containment domes had begun to move.

“Are you all right?” he called again to Fairfax.

She winced and leaned against the wall of the containment dome.

“This is not the end,” he said desperately. “Not yet.”

“Not for you,” said the Bane. “You will live, with as many missing parts as it is possible to have and still remain alive.”

Titus shook. Or perhaps he had not stopped shaking since he was first captured.

“Father, can you hear me? He already killed the woman you loved. Please do not let him harm the one I love. Please!”

“Oh, young love. How touching,” said the Bane.

“We met because of one of Mother's visions. She had written that I would see a feat of tremendous elemental magic when I woke at two fourteen one afternoon. So I would have Dalbert wake me up at precisely that time whenever I was home in the castle. About seven months ago, on a perfectly clear, cloudless day, a bolt of lightning burst into being. It lasted and lasted until the shape and brilliance of it was imprinted on my retinas. I got on my peryton, vaulted to where the lightning had struck, and that was how I first saw her, half of her hair standing up.”

The Bane, walking behind them, displayed nothing but a polite
interest. So Titus kept on talking, telling his father everything about his entire time with Fairfax, the setbacks, the heartbreaks, the triumphs—everything except that it was not the real Fairfax in the containment dome gliding alongside his.

Corridors, ramps, stairs. He would have marveled at how perfectly the containment domes coasted along—or the countless intricate and expansive wood carvings that lined their path. But the only thing gripping his attention was the fact that they passed no one on their endless descent.

It was not surprising that the Bane should have a private route through his stronghold—both the Citadel and the castle were full of secret passages known only to the family and maybe a few of the senior-most staff. But this meant it would be nearly impossible for Kashkari and Fairfax to find them.

Titus's voice was wearing out. “I forgot to tell you, remember the copy of
The Complete Potion
that my mother defaced, the day she met you at the bookshop? What she wrote in the margins led Fairfax to bring down her first bolt of lightning. We are all connected in destiny, all of us.”

They were no longer descending but in a straight passage, narrow enough that he and Fairfax were proceeding single file. A door opened to an enormous chamber.

An enormous chamber with a huge mosaic of the Atlantean maelstrom on the floor—exactly as Kashkari had described.

They had arrived at the crypt.

At the far end of the crypt, an elaborate sarcophagus sat on a raised dais. Before the dais were arrayed six plain, raised platforms in two columns. Five of the platforms were empty. On the last one lay West, the Eton student who had been abducted because he, like Titus's father, bore a striking resemblance to the Bane.

The containment cells stopped in the middle of the crypt.

“Only the worthy may proceed farther,” said the Bane.

With a lightning-fast motion, he struck at Fairfax. Titus did not even have time to cry out before the Bane pulled back. Fairfax, her face contorted in pain, gripped her right arm. The Bane held a thick pick aloft and, an ever-delighted expression on his face, examined the blood that had been extracted.

“Very lovely blood,” said the Bane, as he walked toward the sarcophagus. “I hope it will tell me that you will be an extremely effective sacrifice. But of course it's only formalities—we both know how powerful you are, my dear.”

But of course the blood would reveal nothing of the sort. And as soon as that was done, the Bane would learn the truth.

“Are you sure you have body parts remaining that can be used for a sacrifice?” jeered Titus, even as his palms perspired.

“Trying to stall for time, prince? No, the time for talking is done.”

Behind the sarcophagus, with only his head and his shoulders visible, the Bane busied himself with his infernal procedures.

“Do you ever dream of your children?” Titus made a last-ditch
effort. “Do you ever see their bloody remains? What about your little granddaughter? Do you ever see her begging you to please not hurt her anymore?”

“That reminds me, it will give me great pleasure to remove your tongue, Your Highness,” said the Bane, completely unruffled. “I will be doing the mage world a service, I bel . . .”

His voice trailed off. He raised his head and stared at Fairfax. She stared back at him. He returned his attention to his task, seeming to be repeating the procedure once more.

Again, he looked up.

Titus felt his blood turn into ice.

The Bane knew. He knew he had been duped, that the one who stood before him was not the one he had moved heaven and earth to find.

Slowly, he came toward them.

“Do not let him hurt my friend!” Titus cried. “Father, do not let him. Help us!”

The Bane stopped before Amara's containment dome. “Who are you?”

“I am but another one of your sworn enemies,” said Amara, rising to her feet, her voice clear and proud. “There is no end to us. Every time one falls, another one will take her place. Your days are numbered, you vile old man. In fact, you will not live to see another s—”

The Bane lifted his hand. She slumped over.

“No!” Titus screamed. “No!”

The slight distortion in the air that had marked the outlines of her containment cell disappeared. The Bane lifted his hand again—and flung her twenty feet into a support column.

“No,” Titus whispered.

The Bane was before Titus. “Where is she? Where is Iolanthe Seabourne?”

Titus heard himself laugh, a soft, half-crazed sound. “I do not know. You can pour any quantity of truth serum down my throat, and you will get the exact same answer. I do not know where she is.”

The Bane's eyes burned into Titus's. “Then you will die too.”

With the black tunics and half helmets Iolanthe had borrowed from the costumes being readied for Sleeping Beauty's fancy dress ball, she and Kashkari were scarcely distinguishable—at least in the dark—from any other pair of Atlantean wyvern riders. Half an hour into their flight, she saw, as he had dreamed, a faint pool of light in the distance.

She was scarcely breathing, and her heart felt as if all the blood had drained out hours ago. But she was long past any need for courage: desperation was a far better impetus.

A few minutes later, Kashkari said, “The light is coming from the top of a mountain. From
inside
the top of a mountain.”

He was right—light was spilling out of the summit of a big,
conical peak. Iolanthe sucked in a breath. Now she at last understood the description of the Commander's Palace. “It's inside the caldera.”

“Any chance you can awaken the volcano?”

As his uncle had.

“I wish that were the case. If there's magma anywhere near I'd have sensed it—nothing but solid rock underneath this one. Sorry.”

Kashkari grimaced. “It wasn't as if the Bane would make anything easy for us.”

Wyverns wheeled above the caldera, far fewer in number, however, than she'd been led to expect—even the Bane could not replace the hundreds of experienced wyvern riders he had massacred in the Sahara with a quick wave of his wand. But colossal cockatrices carried by oversize armored chariots were every bit as jaw-dropping and intimidating a sight as the description suggested.

Many guard towers stood upon the circle of peaks that surrounded the caldera—the brim of the erstwhile volcano itself. Soldiers patrolled various sections of the rim, and from time to time wyverns would land for a few minutes before taking to the air again.