Nightlord: Orb (6 page)

Amber was silent for several seconds.

“Dad?”

“Wh—yes?” I asked, taken aback.  I’m not used to being called “Dad.”  I suppose I should get ready for it, though.

“Mother loves you, despite your pique at Her.”

“She has a damned funny way of showing it!” I seethed.  My tone might have been a trifle more angry than I intended.

“She did not destroy you when you pressed Her on the subject of my brother,” Amber pointed out.

“She couldn’t,” I snapped, “but she tried.  I chewed my way up into her spirit enough that she didn’t have the strength.  Was that first attempt at incineration just her temper?  Did she love me enough to not sacrifice my only son?  Did she feel like a snack?  Or was she afraid of a boy born of a fire-witch and a nightlord?”

“I don’t think you understand what really happened.”

“Oh,
this
should be good.  What possible circumstances could justify what she’s done?  Never mind that she used me to get the children she wanted.  Never mind that she cursed a whole city for daring to presume to have freedom of religion.  She demanded your mother sacrifice your infant brother in the fire!  What ‘circumstances’ did you have in mind?”

“Beryl was the only son of the greatest of the nightlords and the last fire-witch.  He was the only one with the capacity to hold a dark spirit born of that nightlord and the Devourer.”

“A great potential is a burden, not a reason to—hold it.  He could have been a host to that thing?”

“More than that.  He
was
host to that thing.”

That stopped me.

“You’re saying,” I said, slowly, “that the dark thing that’s been occupying my body for the last…”

“Nine years.”

Not six years, then.  Nine.  Still, not as bad as eighty-seven.

“…the last nine years once tried to possess my
son
?”

“Not tried.  It succeeded.  The Mother ordered Tamara to hurl Beryl into the fire.”  Amber seemed more than a little distraught.  “Please understand, Father.  His yellow hair was not the red of a fire-witch—”

I felt a twanging sensation from somewhere below, followed by a sudden psychic contact.

Boss!

“Firebrand?”

The one and only.  Get down here!

I refocused my attention from a disturbing and unpleasant conversation to a disturbing and unpleasant scene.  The gate room was much as I remembered it:  A large, circular room with a dome ceiling, a free-standing archway to one side, and a round pool raised up in the center of the floor.  Standing against the wall opposite the archway was a large, magical mirror.  Spaced along the far arc of the room, between archway and mirror, were the quasi-entombed prisoners.  I didn’t recognize any of the faces sticking out of the wall; none of them were elves.  Someone had either executed or released my original prisoners.  On the other hand, they added new ones, bringing the total to twenty-six.

The only other thing I could sense in the room was Firebrand.  It was still on the hip of my body.  And, yes, my body was still standing there, apparently looking around as though wondering what to do.  It didn’t show up well on whatever senses a living rock has, probably because it was a soulless corpse.  An animated one, yes, but empty.

Ready?

“No.”  I turned my attention to Amber.  “This conversation isn’t over.”

“I imagine not,” she agreed. “I will be here when you return.”

I focused on Firebrand again.

“Let’s do this.”

Here we go!

I felt Firebrand’s contact with me deepen.  It pulled; I did my best to go with that pull, to allow it to drag me out of the stone.  The stone seemed to cling to me ever so slightly, as if it wanted me to stay.  This was little more than a faint sensation of resistance.  Strand by strand, Firebrand helped me sever my connection with the stone.  I reached down the channel of Firebrand’s psychic guidance and latched on to the mounting points within my flesh.  Together, we disconnected the thing I call my self and reconnected it to its fleshy casing.

I moved rapidly out of one body, rang through steel and fire, and plunged into the yawning abyss of my undead flesh.

I pushed myself up off my face.  There were a dozen lamps around the room, spreading illumination everywhere.  I checked my teeth; yes, all slightly pointy and a couple exceptionally so.  My fingernails were also slightly pointy and more than a little sharp, both in the point and the edge—they seemed to grow that way.  I wasn’t completely sure if that was natural or not.  Well,
normal
or not.  Okay, maybe
expected
or not…

Boss?

“Yeah.  I think so.”

Welcome back.

“Am I?”

Yep.  You’re you.

“How can you tell?”

The other guy never doubted himself.  At least, not out loud.  Or not to me.  You know what I mean.

“I guess.”

I got to my feet with no trouble.  I wasn’t wearing armor, but layer upon layer of clothes, mostly in black and red, with some traces of purple.  All of it was silky, and the outer garments done up in gold wire and gems.  I could have blended in well in some of the fancier Renaissance courts.  Quite the dapper fellow, this dark spirit of mine.  Several rings, the two plain ones being magical and the others jeweled, and an enchanted amulet of some sort rounded out the ensemble.  I could also feel the enchantment on an undergarment, but I didn’t take time to check my underwear.

Movement in the mirror caught my eye.  I glanced to where the source of the reflection would have to be, but there was nothing. I was alone in the room.

I examined the mirror more closely.  It was a slab of glass about an inch thick, maybe seven feet tall and three wide, polished to perfection.  It was backed with a layer of brilliant silver.

Tort and a Thing were struggling inside it.  I could see it as though watching through a window, but with no trace of sound.  It was a hell of a fight.  My double was trying to approach the mirror from the other side, presumably to get out, but Tort was in the way and seemed intent on staying there.

When a professional magician decides to block your way, it’s a serious obstacle.  Tort is an extremely serious magician.

I went right up to the mirror and laid a hand on it.  It was warm to the touch.  I didn’t have a reflection of my own; it really was like looking in through a window.  The Thing—my Evil Twin—saw me.  His eyes widened and I saw him scream.  When he charged, Tort handed him some sort of lance through the torso.  It looked like fire and lightning hammered into a bar of destruction.  It went through his body and threw him back, pinning him to the far wall.  It remained there for several seconds, trailing long streamers of yellow and blue around him, cagelike.  Tort never bothered to turn around; she stayed focused.

Okay, Boss.  Now you have to activate the spells on the mirror.

“Why?  What do they do?”

I dunno; I’m just the messenger.

I examined the mirror with my magical vision and found the spells.  They were incredibly complicated and intricate; it would take hours to trace all their pathways and figure out how they worked.  On the other hand, it was easy to see how to activate them.  It was the equivalent of a few hundred miles of circuitry with a big “ON” button.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked.

Tort said she wouldn’t be able to hold him for long and you
had
to do it
quickly
, Firebrand assured me. 
She really stressed that, Boss.

I pushed the metaphysical button before Firebrand finished.  If Tort said to do it, and to hurry, then I would do it, and I would hurry.

The mirror clouded over instantly with a silvery, opaque sheen, as though coated in silver on the front as well as on the back.  There followed a long, bright flash, blue-white, as though silent lightning scattered around the chamber for the space of several seconds.  I ducked by reflex and turned away, trying to avoid electrocution, but nothing touched me.  It wasn’t electricity; not a single hair rose at the blinding sparks.

I blinked afterimages from my vision and saw the mirror had dimmed, tarnished into an ugly, inky black.  The silver continued to darken unnaturally as I watched.  The whole thing melted and softened, flowing thickly, viscously, as molten glass will.  The blackened silver darkened further, turning positively Stygian, spreading through the flowing glass as though diffusing through it.  The whole mass slumped down, pooled, and humped up into a dark, featureless ball.  It seemed to shrink in on itself, darkening further as it did so, finally stabilizing at about a foot in diameter before solidifying.  It was a deep, unnatural black by then—a black that looked
black
, even to eyes that see without light.

It rolled across the floor, slowly, ringing as it went, until it came to rest against the wall.

“Firebrand?”

Yes, Boss?

“Where’s Tort?”

You better ask T’yl.  I just work here.

“Firebrand…”

Seriously, Boss.  I don’t know the spells involved or how any of it works.  I swear.  Tort said she had this rescue thing all planned out.  That’s all I know!

“Huh,” I replied.  If that was all Tort told Firebrand, then I really should ask T’yl.  “Okay.”

I walked over to the sphere and crouched down next to it.  I could smell the evil in it.  If I didn’t know better, I would say ghostly, glowing, hostile eyes tried to look out through that impenetrable darkness.  Actually, upon consideration, I realized I didn’t know better.  Did I hear a distant psychic shriek of rage?  Possibly.

I decided not to touch it.

“Wherever T’yl is,” I told Firebrand, “shout.  I want him here, right now, to tell me what happened isn’t what I think happened.”

Shouting now,
Firebrand replied.  Distantly, I could “hear” it yelling at T’yl.

He’s on his way, but he says a bunch of other people insist on coming with him.  Be ready.

“Ready for what?”

He didn’t say.  I think there are people in the throne room who aren’t supposed to be and they’re coming with him, or after him, or something.

“Dammit, I want to know what happened to Tort!  I don’t care who he’s bringing or who’s following—I want an answer!”

They’ll be here in a few minutes,
Firebrand assured me. 
T’yl’s hurrying more than anyone else.  He says Seldar is helping to delay the rest.

The clanging noise approaching the door told me Bronze was several lengths ahead of everyone.  I pushed it open and the stone pivoted in the middle, swinging wide to let her duck her head and step inside.  I threw my arms around her neck and hugged her for all I was worth.  I don’t think I dented anything, but she wouldn’t have minded if I did.

“I have missed you,” I told her, quite unnecessarily.  She snorted hot air through my hair and brushed my cheek with a hot, metal nose.

Yeah, she missed me, too.

“I don’t suppose
you
know what happened with this mirror thing?” I asked.  She shook her head.  “Well, crap.”

I sat down on the edge of the central pool and waited.  I tried the whole waiting patiently thing, but all I managed was the waiting part.  I wanted to grab the black ball and examine it, but these days I’m much more cautious about anything containing a possessing spirit.  Maybe Kavel has some really long tongs in one of the forge-caverns.  I wonder if T’yl’s suit of animated armor—or is it Tort’s, now?—could pick it up without risk of being possessed?

Bronze kept an eye on the sphere, ears laid back.  She didn’t like it, either.  I could feel her desire to stomp it into glassy shards and melt the shards.

T’yl made it down to me in a hurry.  He slid in like a skateboarder, riding a flying carpet the size of a beach towel, and skidded to a halt practically in front of me.

“I’m a dozen flickers ahead of the war party, so let’s make this fast.  You know your predecessor was a nasty conqueror and a hedonistic tyrant.  Karvalen hasn’t suffered; he avoided the place.  But, because he wasn’t here, the Church of Light presence is extensive, despite the edict against them.  They believe he’s alone inside this mountain and this is a good time to go in after him.  I didn’t anticipate having so many people with such a strong feeling on the matter right here at hand.  You’ve got to go, and go now.”

“I’ve eaten armies in here, T’yl.  If it comes down to a fight, I can defend myself.”

“No!  You’re not listening to me!  This is an attempt at a coup, if not an outright, open rebellion!”

“I gathered.  So we’ll explain—”

“There’s no time!”

“Why not?”

T’yl gnashed his teeth.  I always thought that was just an expression, but I could hear them grinding against each other.  Then he held out his hands.

“Fine!  Take me inside—we won’t have long there, either, but it’s the only way I know to make you see reason!”

I was leery of the idea, but I had Firebrand and Bronze in close proximity and we were all on our guard.  Despite my new aversion to guests inside my head, I resisted it.  I took his hands and we went into my mental study.