The Sin War Box Set: Birthright, Scales of the Serpent, and The Veiled Prophet (74 page)

Zorun glanced back. “Terul! Bring me that small black chest on the third shelf. Now!”

Zorun’s servant stalked off to obey, but not before meeting Uldyssian’s gaze. The captive felt the urge to say something but knew the futility.

“Does Terul upset you with his appearance?” the mage asked, misreading Uldyssian’s reaction. “There are far worse things in the world. He’s the least of your concerns, Ascenian…and I am your greatest.”

He raised a staff that Uldyssian only now saw and muttered something. Various runes of the staff flared.

A scream echoed in Uldyssian’s ears, but it took him a moment to realize that it was his own. Pain suddenly ravaged his body, as if every inch of his skin were slowly peeled away.

“It is only sensation now,” explained the robed figure, “but soon it will be reality. I give you this demonstration to encourage you to be forthcoming with whatever answers I desire. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes!” That he could speak now in no manner pleased Uldyssian. All that mattered was the pain. His head still swam, enabling him to pay attention only to Zorun Tzin, nothing else. He still did not even know his surroundings, other than the bit of stone floor beneath the spellcaster’s sandaled feet.

With a sweeping gesture of the staff, Zorun caused the pain to ease. From his left, the giant, Terul, returned with the box his master had demanded earlier. The servant did not give him the container but rather held it before Zorun.

The mage opened the box with the lid toward Uldyssian. Zorun eagerly peered within, then removed something. Clutching the tiny object in his free hand, the bearded Kehjani indicated that Terul should shut the box.

“Replace it on the proper shelf,” he commanded the giant. As Terul departed, Zorun held up his hand for Uldyssian to see what lay in the palm.

Uldyssian tried to gasp, but it appeared that his captor had again sealed his mouth. He knew what lay in the spellcaster’s hand, knew it far better than Zorun likely did.

It was a small piece of the same type of crystal as that of which the Worldstone was composed.

Whether it was actually from the monstrous artifact itself, Uldyssian could not say. He only knew that he had never seen such crystal anywhere else. If it were actually a piece, the son of Diomedes could only assume that Lilith, one of the Ancients, or some demon or angel had stolen it away from the caverns. Perhaps it had been part of one of the floating crystals constantly shattering around the main stone, or perhaps it had been stolen at the time of the Worldstone’s creation. He could not say.

Indeed, all that mattered was that it was here, in the hands of Zorun Tzin.

“You sense the power inherent in this? Interesting. Perhaps you are more as the council said, after all. You like my little stone? It cost a dozen lives for me to obtain it, and in the decade before I became aware of it, apparently it cost twice that! All master mages or their agents. It is incredibly ancient, that much I know…and very useful for my spellwork, as you shall see.”

He squatted down. Uldyssian’s eyes followed, and for the first time he noticed the edge of some pattern written in chalk. It was likely the very pattern that held him in check. Zorun placed the crimson stone on one particular symbol, which flared as the crystal touched it.

“You would do best to be very cooperative,” Zorun said as he straightened. “The stone will amplify the effects of everything I desire, including your pain.”

The mage raised his staff. Again, the runes glowed.

Uldyssian screamed. Now it felt as if he were being turned inside out. He saw no change, but his attempts to deny the pain went for nothing.

As abruptly as the agony had begun, it ceased. Uldyssian would have let his head slump over if that choice had been allowed him.

The Kehjani chuckled. “What you experienced, Ascenian, can actually be done to you. I can turn your insides into your outsides. The stone is powerful enough to enable me to do that. I know, for I have tested it in that regard.” He let that fact sink deep into Uldyssian’s muddled mind. “An easy thing it would be, in fact—”

At that moment, Terul rushed into view. Zorun was not at all pleased by this interruption, but he listened as the giant tried to relate some imminent news.

“Upstairs…” the servant grunted. “Robes…”

The mage’s expression radiated understanding. “Members of the council? Is that what you mean?”

Terul’s tiny head bobbed up and down.

Zorun stroked his immaculate beard. “They cannot be here about the guards, as they’ve accepted the explanations for their deaths. Did they say anything to you at all about the reason for their visit?”

In reply, Terul could only shrug.

“Imbecile! Dolt! I shall have to deal with this immediately!” With a snort of frustration, Zorun waved the hulking figure aside. However, before departing, the spellcaster paused to say to Uldyssian, “This will give you a moment to put to order all information you will relate to me, Ascenian. I suggest you have it all ready for when I return. The questioning will begin in earnest then.”

The mage vanished from sight. Terul remained behind, the servant watching the direction in which his master had gone.

Then an odd change came over Terul. The giant’s expression twisted into something more
knowing
. His eyes once again radiated the extreme intelligence that Uldyssian thought he had briefly witnessed before.

Terul bent down and seized the crimson stone. A look of avarice spread across his grotesque features. Up close, Uldyssian noticed something else, a pair of odd lesions, almost burns, near the left ear. They looked very recent.

“Mephisto smiles upon me,” the servant rumbled as he gazed up at the prisoner. His manner of speaking was now more polished and in contradiction to the mind that such a small head suggested.

Evidently, there came some sound that Uldyssian could not hear, for Terul paused to glance to the side. Then, apparently satisfied that it meant nothing, the giant returned his attention to Uldyssian. His eyes stared deeply into the captive’s, and more than ever, Uldyssian was convinced that Terul was far more than Zorun Tzin assumed him to be.

And possibly a deadlier threat to the son of Diomedes than the mage was.

“Even this body, with all its brute strength, will burn out much too soon,” Terul informed him. “I thought it would last a great deal longer, but perhaps the lack of a proper brain has something to do with it. It would be interesting to find out more concerning that. Later, of course.”

Uldyssian had no idea what the giant was talking about, only that it was hinting of a direction that he did not like in the least. He tried to focus on his powers, but Zorun’s pattern kept his mind foggy where that was concerned. The spell enabled him to listen to whoever was in front of him but allowed little more than that.

“Poor Durram,” Terul went on. “He provided me with more than I dared hope, but I knew that I wasn’t going to make it to you, regardless of how quickly I raced through the jungle. I thought to cut you off near the capital—I knew you must go to the capital—but in pushing the priest’s body so hard, I only burned it out more swiftly.”

Terul’s face continued to contort as he spoke in the unsettling, highly educated tone, and in the midst of those contortions, Uldyssian briefly felt as if he recognized something. Unfortunately, the spell on his own thoughts caused it to be a fleeting recollection.

The giant must have misread something in Uldyssian’s face. “Fear not for that fool’s imminent return. His arrogance, which I fueled by stirring all his spells to greater accomplishment, has left him open to more transgressions revealed than he imagines.” Terul cocked his head. “And lest you suppose my chatter all this while idle, you might notice that the pattern below you has been slowly adjusted for my needs.”

Even as he said it, Uldyssian felt powerful energies shifting around him. They constricted his will even more and amplified the effects on his mind to such a point that had an army poured into the chamber, Uldyssian doubted very much that he would have even noticed.

Indeed, there was for him only Terul. Nothing else existed for Uldyssian save the sinister servant…who spoke to the prisoner as if they had known each other for far longer than a few moments.

And somehow Uldyssian was certain that they had. He fought anew against the pattern’s spells, struggling by physical, magical, and mental means to do something,
anything
.

One of Terul’s overly shaggy brows rose. His dark eyes glittered enviously. “Such strength…the bitch chose well when she chose you, I will give her that much.”

His words sent Uldyssian’s tension to new heights. Terul could only be speaking of Lilith. Yet how could he know of the she-demon?

Uldyssian managed to recall what the giant had said earlier, that he had used a priest called Durram to reach this point…used his body. That meant that this was not actually Terul, not even a living being, then, but some malign
spirit
possessing the giant.

No, not possessing. That inferred that somewhere deep within, the servant yet remained. From what Uldyssian could see, this creature had engulfed Terul’s spirit. Nothing, absolutely nothing, of the giant existed.

And now the malevolent shade intended to do the same with the son of Diomedes.

At that moment, the giant’s eyes widened in pleasure. “Ah! All ready!” He gave Uldyssian a monstrous grin. “With the stone and the reset pattern, I will not have to worry about burning you out. I shall be whole at last! And your body will be the one with which I will raise a new sect, one where I and I alone am supreme Primus! Mephisto will reward me well, perhaps make me master of all men.”

His tone again reminded Uldyssian of someone. It was at the edge of his memory…

“And wearing your body will be much more comfortable than wearing simply the skin of someone, say, like Master Ethon of Partha?”

His captive managed to gape. It all made terrible sense.

Terul laughed as recognition at last came to the prisoner. “Yes, I wanted you to know me well before I engulfed you, Uldyssian ul-Diomed.”

Uldyssian would have shaken his head in disbelief and horror if that had been at all possible. The resurrection of either Lilith or her brother would have been only slightly more monstrous in his eyes.

Terul was possessed by the spirit of the High Priest of Mefis…Malic.

Serenthia felt the uneasiness strike her with all the suddenness of a lightning bolt. Something had gone wrong with Uldyssian’s plan. She was certain of it.

Yet the fact that she had not been very pleased with his idea in the first place gave her pause. She had no right to supersede his commands based merely on her suspicions, no right at all. It was only a feeling, nothing more…

But, then again, she was an edyrem, and such feelings had a way of presaging actual disaster.

She sought out Mendeln, certain that he, of all people, would be able to look over her concerns with a proper analytical train of thought. He was where she could generally find him, at the remotest part of the encampment, speaking to three edyrem—a male Parthan and two lowlanders, one of them female—about something called the Balance and how death was merely a step to another level. On the one hand, Serenthia liked the thought of her father and mother still existing and even possibly watching over her. She also thanked whatever power Mendeln had drawn upon to bring Achilios back to her, albeit not quite as she would have preferred.

But there were other aspects concerning his newfound path that continued to unnerve her, especially his delving into matters concerning corpses and graves. There was also Mendeln’s passing comment that he was never alone even when he was alone. From what Serenthia gathered, ghosts of the most recent dead were drawn to him, not an appetizing aspect to her.

He looked up at Serenthia before she had the opportunity to call out. He solemnly dismissed his equally solemn pupils. They silently ushered past her, and as they did, she noticed that they had taken to wearing black clothing such as Uldyssian’s brother wore.

“They come to ask me questions,” Mendeln said to her. “I but merely try to answer them…but that is not why you come, I know.”

“Uldyssian—”

He cut her off, his expression darkening. “Uldyssian has been taken.”

Cyrus’s daughter was startled. “Did you feel something, too? How do you know? What exactly do you mean?”

“Calm yourself. Here is what I know. The caravan was attacked by foul magic. All were slain but him. He was the one sought by the spellcaster.”

The news was even more terrible than she could have imagined. “When did you find all of this out?” Serenthia repeated. “I only just felt danger now!”

With a shrug, Mendeln replied, “Master Fahin told me.”

The chill that she sometimes got around the younger brother returned. “Master—Master Fahin, too?”

“All…all save Uldyssian.”

“And he? Is it the mage clans who have him?”

He drew himself up, a sign that he was not comfortable with what he knew. “One of them, at least. There were also men who perished who nominally served the spellcaster.”

This brought some slight pleasure to Serenthia. “So, not all the scoundrels escaped retribution.”

“They, too, were slaughtered by Uldyssian’s captor.”

“But that makes no sense!”

Mendeln shook his head. “Unfortunately, it does make sense, which is why I was just about to dismiss the others, anyway, and seek you out.”

She tried to think. Something had to be done and done quickly. “Do you know where Uldyssian was taken?”

“He is in the city. The mage is an individual of some high ability who calls himself Zorun Tzin. That is all I was able to find out. The spirits know nothing more, for they came immediately to me.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do they keep coming to you?” Serenthia asked with mounting frustration.

“Because it is so,” Mendeln returned with another shrug.

Serenthia surrendered. All that actually mattered now was rescuing Uldyssian…if it was not already too late. “He’s been taken to the capital, you say.”

“Yes, likely to the abode of this Zorun Tzin, whose location even the shades of the guards do not know.”

She had expected that. Serenthia also knew that they could not very well go and request that the mage clans return their leader. Somehow the merchant’s daughter felt certain that Uldyssian would “vanish” to somewhere even more impossible to find.

“We have to go to the city,” Serenthia determined. “That much I know.”

“Yes, but may I point out that if we depart, the others are surely going to follow?” Mendeln gestured toward the rest of the encampment. “Even now, I suspect some of them, such as Saron, are beginning to feel the same uneasiness you did.”

“Good! We’ll tell them what you told me, and then we’ll all march on Kehjan. Make the mage clans or whoever else is in charge find him, or else. All Uldyssian wanted to do was speak with them, and this is how they treat him!”

“They will see such numbers as a threat to the capital, Serenthia. They will see it as an attack.”

She was undeterred. “It may very well be one if they don’t return him to us safe and sound! Is that so wrong? Would you do less for him?”

Uldyssian’s brother let out a great sigh. “No, though I wish the options presented to us were different. We will do as you suggest.”

“Good!” Serenthia turned from him. “In that case, we’d better waste no time in alerting the rest.”

She left Mendeln in her wake, at the same time shouting out Saron’s and Jonas’s names. Mendeln watched her for a moment and then, with a shake of his head, reluctantly followed.

“This will not be good,” he muttered under his breath. “This will not be good….”

It was
Malic
…the same Malic who had callously and horrifically had the lord of Partha and his young son stripped of their flesh so that he and one of his morlu could use the skins for trappings in order to fool Uldyssian. Malic, who served the order of Mefis—in reality, the demon Mephisto. Malic, who had been the right hand of Lucion, the terrifying master of the Triune.

And though Malic had suffered some justice when he had inadvertently attacked Lilith in her guise as Lylia—and thus perished as Ethon and his son had—the high priest had returned as a spirit bound to a bit of bone procured by Mendeln. At the time, Mendeln had utilized it to help them against Lilith, for she was the one thing that Malic hated more than Uldyssian. The spirit had done his task as commanded, guiding Uldyssian through the dangers of the main temple.

However, there had come a point in one corridor when Malic’s specter had commanded Uldyssian to throw the bone fragment. Accepting that there had to be a good reason, he had obeyed. A moment later, the piece had struck hard the forehead of a priest—Durram his name.

Circumstance and Lilith had forced Uldyssian to abandon any attempt to retrieve the bone fragment, and he had assumed it and Malic’s dread shade lost in the collapse of the temple. Now Uldyssian saw that he had been very, tragically, wrong.

And that mistake was going to mean oblivion for him, and his body and powers serving a man who was pure evil.

“We—or, rather,
I
—will be long gone from here by the time that fool Zorun can dare return. It was easy to sow holes in a story so full of holes already. I have manipulated his thoughts all along since taking this giant’s body, building on his own vanity. That he would imagine his paltry power the reason for capturing you so easily! He was only able to do it because I, who know you so very well, my old friend, provided the true effort. I knew the chinks in your armor and played upon them.” The face of Terul lit up in amusement. “And it all went so well that even I was astounded!”

Uldyssian listened. It was the only thing he could do, and it was his only tool. Malic insisted that time was on his side, but the more his prisoner appeared to pay attention, the more the high priest went on and on, like Zorun Tzin, so very proud of himself.

It was a danger of wielding such powerful skills, Uldyssian knew. He himself had already fallen prey to his ego more than once, and perhaps the fatal journey with the unfortunate Master Fahin was a grim reminder of that. Again, Uldyssian had believed himself infallible, untouchable.
He
had everything planned perfectly…or so he had thought. It now seemed so audacious, so ridiculous, to have assumed that he could just walk into the capital of the eastern half of the world and demand the right to speak with its leaders without fear of treachery or repercussions.

“Yes, I shall be able to make use of your body much, much better.” Terul—no,
Malic
—clutched the fragment tight as he stepped toward Uldyssian. The giant’s grin grew exceedingly sinister. “Now, is there anything you might like to confess, my son, before I grant you absolute oblivion?”

Uldyssian struggled to clear his head but feared it was too late. Malic’s alterations of the mage’s spell had done nothing so far to weaken its hold on him. True, that had been a desperate hope at best, but it had also been Uldyssian’s
only
hope.

“Nothing? Well, we shall begin, then.” Malic touched the piece of crystal to Uldyssian’s chest. The high priest quietly started to chant—

And at that moment, a warmth spread from the stone into Uldyssian. At first, he thought it part of the priest’s spell, but then the haze that prevented him from concentrating began to clear. His strength returned….

But the change in him did not go unnoticed. Malic’s brow furrowed. “What are—?”

The spirit got no farther. Just as he had while in the jungle with Mendeln, Uldyssian let raw emotion take hold. There was no time to do otherwise.

A furious orange glow erupted from his chest where the fragment touched.

The giant let out a howl as the fiery force burned away his skin, his sinew, and all beneath. The grotesque face became more so as the ravaging energies tore away Malic’s lips and eyelids. Then the eyes melted to empty sockets, and the jaw fell slack.

Uldyssian’s tormentor fell back in an ungainly heap.

At the same time, the spell holding the son of Diomedes prisoner finally dissipated. Unfortunately, that meant that Uldyssian, worn and beaten by not only his effort but Zorun Tzin’s tortures, dropped hard to the floor. He was unprepared to protect himself, and the simple fall left him battered and, more important, stunned.

What at last stirred him were what seemed to be voices, or maybe just one that echoed over and over in his head. Uldyssian rolled onto his side and was greeted by the stomach-wrenching sight of the scorched corpse. The crisp fingers of one hand twitched, and for a moment, Uldyssian thought Malic yet survived, but then the body fell motionless again.

Not certain if he would be able to repeat what he had done should Zorun Tzin or someone else now came upon him, Uldyssian now had only one desire: to be as far away as he could from the mage’s sanctum. Away…

And so he vanished.

Zorun could not understand not only why three of the most senior mages serving the council’s enforcement arm had taken it upon themselves to come to his abode but why they had questioned absolutely everything he said as if they already knew he spoke lies. He sensed no truth spell and knew that, as gifted as they were, this trio—even tall, spindly Nurzani—did not have the power to cast one that he, Zorun Tzin, could not in a moment ferret out.

The three stood before him like reapers, each wearing the orange and brown voluminous cloaks with the narrow, high-peaked hoods of the enforcement order. Kethuus could barely be seen within his hood, his skin nearly as black as shadow. Only his wily eyes were really visible. Amolia, who traced her bloodline to the Ascenian colonists whose descendants now filled much of the northern part of the capital, was in comparison like a ghost. Her skin was as pale as ivory, and Zorun knew that a full day in the sun would not make it different.

“The Merchants Guild is insisting on a full investigation into Master Fahin’s death,” Amolia had smoothly been saying. “And we, naturally, concur.”

Zorun had expected that; some of his counterparts made good use of the merchants’ trade routes and ties to gather items that they needed for their private work. Fahin’s death, while not affecting Zorun, had likely badly set back the spellwork of several of the council.

Still, he had given them answers that should have completely satisfied everyone when first he had informed his employers of his “failure” and Uldyssian’s “bloodthirstiness.” It had been quite simple to think of just what to say at the time, as he had afterward told Terul.