Court Wizard (Spellmonger Series: Book 8) (90 page)

That got Pentandra’s attention, quickly.  “What
kind
of challenge?” she asked, her foggy mind racing.

When dealing with different aspects of magic, the idea of the Life Force was a common element in certain studies, Pentandra knew.  It was generated with the reproductive energies of a species – love and birth, mostly, but also mundanities such as eating and drinking.  Nor was it mere theory, there were practical applications for the intelligent mage.  

The Life Force had been instrumental in transmuting Minalan’s run-down castle and the mountains surrounding it into Snow Stone, for instance, though Pentandra strong suspected divine agency to be involved, considering Minalan’s devotion to the fire goddess Briga – who also happened to be a goddess of childbirth.  And the Life Force was what had sustained the spells to keep the portal open, when she and Minalan had to reprise their lusty love affair for four hours to allow the people to escape.  Though it was maddeningly difficult to control or direct – hence the devotion to its study by sex magi, such as herself – it was a profoundly powerful force.  

So was its opposite,  the Death Force.  As the Life Force was the basic procreative energy, the Death Force was a manifestation of active entropy, decomposition, decay, and death.  

But that did not mean it was impotent.  Quite the contrary.  For those magi bold enough to practice sacrifice, harnessing the death energy of those expiring in pain or suffering could produce a bounty of usable power.  That was one of the motivations for the gurvani to take so many human slaves.  After using them up in the fields and mines, the survivors were tortured to death to sustain the great Umbra within which Sheruel was nearly omnipotent.

But among other uses, the Death Force was often utilized for powering dead bodies into animation as a tool or weapon.  While not a common or preferred tactic, simple necromancy was something even an intermediate mage could manage, if they knew what they were doing.  Of course, an over-abundance of Life Force would cloud a necromantic spell as a simple result of diluted polarity.  

As Pentandra doubted Ishi was warning her of a sudden interest in human sacrifice among the Voroni, fear of
that
was the next best explanation.  She found herself answering her own question before the goddess could.  

“Undead,”
she said, simply.

Ishi nodded.  “Undead.  Well done, Pentandra!  But not simple animated corpses, no more intelligent than a cockroach.  No, the force that is stalking Vorone is far darker and more dangerous than that.  It came here on Briga’s Day, under cover of the riot in the Temple ward, when the town watch and everyone else was distracted.

“It’s human in form, to blend in better with the townsfolk, but inside it is anything but human.  It uses
magic
, the darkest sort of necromancy, for its survival and its utility.  It is a
powerful
undead, the most powerful I’ve ever seen,” she confessed.  “The kind that gets raised from centuries in the past and desires to dominate the future,” the goddess supplied, playfully.  “The kind that sees
all
life as either an enemy or an opportunity for a snack.  Or both.”

“Enough riddles!”
Arborn demanded, irritated.  “
Where
is this danger?”  His nostrils were flaring.  Pentandra
loved
it when he did that.  

But this was not the time for a vainglorious charge into certain doom – this was a time for careful deliberation, no matter how difficult that was.

“It’s a
powerful
undead.  Like the one you met on the road, Husband,” she explained, making Ishi wince at the title.  “Everkeen may even have sensed it, but I was too distracted by the festival to take note,” she said, guiltily.  

“Well, that was the
intent
,” Ishi said, snidely.  “But I was keeping watch while you two were working out your marital difficulties,” she said, making a sour face.  “Had I not been, this vile creature would be slaughtering its way across town even now in search of its prey.  Or it might just be here to level the place, I don’t really know.  It apparently has confederates, too, to aid it.  I’m assuming they have been . . . slowed by the blessing,” she added, smugly, “but then I know not their true purpose nor their power.”

“Gurvani?” asked Arborn, suspiciously.

“Goblins wouldn’t be kept away by this – if anything, they’d be just as affected as humans,” Pentandra supplied, the thought of a band of randy goblins running through Vorone making her shudder involuntarily.  “But she’s right.  I hate to admit it, but if you want to keep undead at bay, projecting this much Life Force in the area would probably make it feel like a thunderstorm of hellfire to them,” she guessed.

“You mean all of this . . .
naughtiness
will keep it at bay?” her husband asked, skeptically.

“It will keep it from moving with alacrity, at least,” Ishi ventured.  “Do not underestimate that.  It is a small advantage, but you will need every one if you intend to prevail against it, Mortal.”

“It would be like walking through hot coals, I’m guessing,” Pentandra said, looking to the beautiful goddess with concern for validation.

“Worse,” Ishi conceded.  “The spell –
blessing
– that I have manifested burns at the very
nature
of the undead.  And yes, you
have
guessed correctly.  Three days ago, on the eve of the festival, one of those abominations woke from its torpor, where it has waited and watched since Midwinter, and became
active
.  It is not merely a warrior of darkness, it is a hunter.  It has been
seeking
something, someone . . . and if I had not done what I did, then it would have revealed itself and devastated everything in its path to get to it.”

“So why did it not flee?” Pentandra asked, confused.  

“It tried,” the goddess said.  “But it was overwhelmed and was forced to take refuge.”

“Where?”
Arborn demanded, drawing his blade resolutely.

“Arborn,” Pentandra protested, “last time you faced one, it took you
and
all of your men to kill it!”

“I will
not
allow one of those things loose on the city when none can defend themselves!” he declared, sternly.

“It’s
not
,” Ishi said, rolling her eyes.  “As I said, it’s
trapped
.  It has taken refuge in one of the few places unaffected by my work.  
Do
please tell me you can figure
that
out, Daughter . . .”

The hazy, half-remembered idea Pentandra had thought of back at the palace – before Arborn had so manfully distracted her – returned to her, suddenly.

“The crypts!
 The crypts behind the temples in the Temple Ward!  Arborn, if you want to avoid Life magic, then someplace like a slaughterhouse, dungeon, or a gallows . . . or a
crypt
will work!  All of that grief, despair and melancholy?  That’s like honey for Death Force energy.  If
I
was an irritated undead, then a crypt would be the best refuge from this storm of desire!”  

“You will find the foe you seek in the Temple ward,” Ishi nodded, pleased.  “Currently, it is resting and restoring itself, working through confederates and agents.  Soon enough my power will wane and the blessing will fade . . . and then it will be strong enough to rise against us all.  

“Should it decide to attack the town then, there will be little you can do.”  She looked out of the window.  “It is unfortunate you finally made it here at dusk.  These things are
much
stronger by night than under the sun.”

“We were a
little preoccupied,
” Pentandra said, darkly.  

“Really, Daughter, I expected more discipline from you, of all people!” the goddess chided.  “One little whiff of Life Force and you’re on your back with your skirts up and a goofy grin on your face?” she asked, with mock sadness.

“You know, I AM a
married woman!
” Pentandra shot back, angrily.  “And newlywed, at that!  Did you think that would give me some special resistance to your godsdamned blessing?  Have we not
met
before?” she asked her goddess, accusingly.

Ishi made a dismissive face.  “Still, I honestly expected you
days
ago.  Now it may be too late.  Whatever they are planning, whatever mischief they are about, will commence as soon as they can safely come out of their refuge.  Hurry, if you value your town and your duchy,” the goddess said, waving them away.  “Let me know how it turns out.”

“Aren’t
you
going to help?” demanded Arborn.

“I am the goddess of love and beauty, not
battle
,” she scolded him.  “I
am
maintaining the protection spell keeping the thing from wandering through the Market ward, devouring babies and nuns and puppies in its quest.  I’ve done
my
part, and will do no more unless I have no choice.  It is up to you mortals to combat this danger.”

“And if we turn to the gods for help, as is our want?” Pentandra asked, patiently.

“Then it had better be a
damned
lovely temple the Spellmonger builds for me,” vowed the goddess.  “Now shoo!  I have enough here to keep me amused for the moment while you are seeking our uninvited guest,” she said, gesturing to the grunting, panting couple before her, as the man finally managed a climax.

“Is he
done?
” came the woman’s whining voice, muffled by the skirts over her head.  “Is he done?  Is there
another?
” she asked, pleadingly, as her exhausted lover got shakily to his feet.

“There will be
plenty
more, my sweet Countess,” Ishi promised the lust-crazed woman.  

With a start Pentandra realized she was the new Castali “ambassador”, Countess Shirlin, who had expressed such strong disapproval at Duke Anguin and his riotous court.  Apparently Lady Pleasure was not fond of criticism.

“Believe me,
every
carnal excess and erotic extreme will be within your experience before you are sated, Excellency,” she soothed, looking down contemptuously at Countess Shirlin, whose ruddy face bore an expression mixed of fear and desire under a sheen of sticky residue.  “Why, I have just
begun
testing your limits!”

Chapter Thirty-Two

The Crypt of Murvos

As they ran back through the streets, dusk approaching and rain clouds on the western horizon cloaking the narrow alleys in premature shadow, the exertions of the last few days began to take their toll on Pentandra.  Merely the effort to keep Ishi’s spell at bay took effort, and her body was physically exhausted after everything it had been through.  Despite the urgency of the moment, she imposed on Arborn to stop at a deserted stall and prepare herself as she could.

Though no warmage, she had been in their acquaintance long enough to pick up a few of their basic spells, including the restorative charms they used to endure hardship in the field.  Though it promised an exacting penalty later, she needed to be at her best for the challenge ahead.  Everkeen was on the other side of the town, in her chamber in the palace.  She could not summon a baculus she had not put back into its interdimensional pocket, so she would have to proceed without it.  

But she still had her amulet, in which her over-powered witchstone pulsed.  That was no small thing.

“Shouldn’t we summon the Spellmonger?” Arborn asked, uncertainly, as she began hanging what defensive spells she could around them both.  She looked up sharply at him.

“It would take too much time to explain what was happening.  And there’s a strong possibility he might be . . .
compromised
at the moment.”  While those were logical, rational reasons, she also knew that wasn’t why she suddenly felt hurt by the question.  Arborn compounded his folly by pursuing the matter.

“If this undead is as powerful as the last one, we’re going to want some assistance,” he said.  “It seems foolish to eschew the help—”

“Damn it, Arborn!” she swore, angrily.  “I
am
the help!  Why do you think he
sent
me here?”

“But he’s the Spellmonger—”

“And
I
am bloody
Court Wizard of Alshar!
” she said, after a moment of thoughtful pause during which she had to remind herself that she was married to Arborn, and demonstrating her raw feelings on the matter was imprudent.  But this matter needed to be settled.  “
Not
Minalan.  I can’t go running to him every time there’s a threat to the town.”

“But he’s the one who sent you—”

“We are
both
partners in a greater endeavor,” she explained, sharply.  “You all think he’s some gods-sent
mastermind
who can accomplish anything.  I’m not arguing that he’s bright, witty, and creative, not to mention technically competent, but apart from that he’s really just an above-average mage with a
lot
of field experience, a lot of toys, and a lot of friends . . . of which I am one of his oldest.