Sorcerer Rising (A Virgil McDane Novel) (30 page)

Dorne had met up with me just moments after the totem disappeared. We had already made contact with the rest of the expedition and they weren’t far behind.

“Is it marked?” he asked.

I shook my head. If it had been explored, there would have been some sign. The Guild had all kinds of runes and sigils, keystones, columns, talisman, you name it, that they would surround their clouds with. Even those outside the Guild marked the Aether. Most weren’t that elaborate, but every civilization had some way of showcasing an explored world. Raw Aether was valuable, and there was no telling what could be in a
cloud.

Sam and Dr. Lambros broke through the foliage behind us. Sam had a wide grin on his face. He looked at the cloud and back to us, shaking hands and patting backs. “It’s beautiful,” he said. “But don’t expect Diana to let you take a peak in there.”

“We are losing time,” she said. “As much as I would love to take the time to really enjoy this, we can’t afford it.”

“We won’t be entering,” Dorne said. “I am not foolish. But…” he paused, an uncharacteristic display of emotions playing across his face.

I interrupted. “It’s a new cloud of Aether. That’s a whole world in there. It’s…” I scratched the scar of the Brand. “It’s tradition.”

Sam was bent down, examining the tree. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he said. “Did the Aether make it grow like this?”

“Could be,” I said. “You see this type of thing around a cloud.”

Dorne was smiling. It was the first time I had seen the expression on his face. He dropped a stone in front of the tree and plunged his staff into the ground next to it. Then he dropped to his knees and placed his hands against the rough granite. He flexed his fingers and I sensed power, the taste of copper mixed with the scent of freshly churned earth, and a fine layer of bright, silver mist formed over his hands. He rubbed the stone down, smoothing it out with his palms until it was the smooth, glasslike surface of marble. He played his fingers over the stone, inscribing with his fingertips his name, his mark, and his house.

Then he stood and stepped back, admiring his work. “I would ask for you mark, Sorcerer.”

I frowned, confused for a moment, unsure what he was actually asking. He motioned toward the stone.

I was a little unsure, that was unprecedented. I didn’t know the runes, didn’t have a mark, certainly didn’t have a house. Plus, I couldn’t even perform the magic that would be required. Not much anyway.

Hesitantly, I dropped to my knees and placed my palm against the cool surface of the stone. I focused on my rings, knitting together the elements into the effect required. I concentrated, picturing the mountain that had been the keystone of my power. My hand began to glow, a dim reddish pink color. I smelled the scent of burning skin, but I ignored that, ignored the tremor that began to play through my bones, the pain in my head. All of it. I just concentrated harder and pressed my palm into the stone.

After a moment, I felt the stone give.

Finally, feeling satisfied that the work was done, and too exhausted to continue either way, I let the spell go. It had been like trying to wrestle an alligator. That was on fire. I dragged myself to my feet.

Right under Dorne’s inscription, I had burned my handprint into the stone’s surface, small drips of molten rock running down from the heel of the print.

“Thank you, Conrad,” I said.

“Ain’t that sweet,” I heard from the tree line. On the hilltop, casual as could be, Lucas Gulo leaned against a tree. “I do so love seeing Wizards and Sorcerers coming together, especially in hard times like these.”

Dorne wrapped his hand around his staff. “We want none of the trouble you bring, Wolf.”

“Don’t make assumptions,” the lycanthrope said, smiling through his thick beard, white teeth shining in the light of the mist. “I just came to offer much needed advice.”

“What advice?” I asked, pulling Abigail out of her strap.

“We do not need anything from you,” Dorne said.

He ignored us both, addressing Lambros. “Wouldn’t be listenin' to these two, Missy. I know this little trip ya’ll been having must be getting mighty expensive. You’ve had to think that this is starting to cost a lot more than it’s worth?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Mr. Aberland has made it clear what he expects from us.”

“I’m sure,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “But things haven’t exactly gone as planned either.”

“We were prepared-” she started to say, but Gulo cut her off.

“For this?” he asked. “For a whole world that gobbled up a hundred people?
You were half gutted before you came out the gate!”

“It comes with the territory,” Dorne said. “We have learned that lesson.”

“Have you now?” The lycanthrope laughed. “From what I saw you had your asses pulled out of the fire by a gelded Sorcerer, but not before the pretty one took one in the face.” He laughed again.

Dorne gripped his staff and a sliver of mist shot into the ground. The earth exploded and an elemental of granite and metal dragged itself from the earth. It rose up ten feet, clumps of stone and dirt shedding off it in mini avalanches. A wide crevice ripped open in its face, revealing massive teeth made of crystalline geodes. Two pinpoints of cold, grey light, set deep within twin caves of stone, blinked on, setting sight on the lycanthrope. It let out a deep rumble, gripping a stout tree from the treeline, and ripped it clean out of the earth, brandishing it like a five ton club.

“I think it is time you left,” Dorne said calmly, his eyes intense.

“See,” Gulo said, wagging his finger at Dorne. “That’s what I’m talking’ about. How do you ever plan to make it where you need to be when you are relying on tempers this fiery? I think it would be best for everyone if ya’ll just went on back home. Ya’ll haven’t even gotten to the hard part.”

“And what would that be?” I asked.

“Me,” he said, his eyes shifting to a deep red.

“You really want to do this?” I asked, brandishing Abigail. “You’re a bit outnumbered.”

“I think this dance has been a long while coming,” he said, growling. “You didn’t get the message with Kebe, didn’t get it back in the Walter Cloud with your men.”

“That was you,” I said.

“Not me exactly,” he replied. “But I had my hand in it.” His skin shifted again, his hair growing longer, his face broadening. “And you’ve made a terrible assumption, Sorcerer. I’m never outnumbered.”

The air shuddered, revealing a tall, striking woman. In one hand she held a long rapier, the blade made from a fine, clear glass, the handle dark bone. In the other she held a thin, glowing chain of crystal. She was tall and lithe, dressed in a tight, black outfit of fine, supple leather so tight it creaked when she moved. She had sharp features and eyes the color of blueberries. She watched us like a cat toying with a mouse, feral feline eyes peering out through a wild mane of hair the color of molten silver.

She yanked the chain and a man tumbled to his knees beside her, falling from the remainder of the veil. He was filthy and twenty pounds
underweight, his eyes glazed, staring off into the distance. The crystalline links were wrapped around his throat, hands, and feet, creating a marionette of light and glass.

A rancid, rotten taste filled my mouth, so suddenly my throat closed and my stomach lurched.
I felt her Power, Power with a capital-p, surge through the air, a sweet and sugary miasma, and the borders of my vision filled with bright, neon color.

This was no changeling, no mage with Fay blood or someone touched by their influence. This was the real deal, a denizen of Pan. Suddenly, our
Faytouched men made a great deal more sense.

Surrounding her were a group of goblins, tall scaly humanoids with bulbous noses and wide mouths filled with sharp, broken teeth. They were dressed in beaten and bloodied conquistador armor, blunt stone weapons gripped in clawed hands. A few had rough, handmade rifles. They were born brawlers, warriors of minute skill but abundant enthusiasm.

Damnation.

The Lycanthrope alone would have been one thing. We (well, Dorne) could have handled that. The Fay, with a small army of goblins and several people standing around just itching to get hurt, changed everything.

“Meet Discord,” Gulo said. “And her pets.” He reached up, his fingers twisting into long, narrow fingers ending in curved serrated claws. Delicately, he dug a chunk of something from his teeth and flicked it at us. “Ah, that’s been bothering me for two days. Anyway, I’m gonna present this again, and hopefully the emphasis will get it through to ya.” He waved the twisted hand around him. “We’ve been paid a lot of money to get whatever it is that’s at the end of that ole Rainbow, and you’ve made just a bit too much progress for comfort. We asked nice, now I mean it.” His pupils dilated, the black becoming more pronounced within the red, while his jaw lengthened, growing heavier. When he spoke again in came out a deep, guttural growl. “Turn around!”

Dorne set his jaw, squinting at the lycanthrope. The air around him shimmered, mist spilling from him and then back into his body. The goblins laughed and yammered in their nauseating tongue, the fairy readying her blade, her expression a mixture of anger and ecstasy, but Dorne didn’t move. He flexed one hand, his knuckles popping like shots from a handgun.

Then he leapt forward, slamming his staff into the earth like a railroad worker driving home a hammer. He let loose a blast of air and force, magic that belied a flexibility I hadn’t anticipated from the Wizard, in a wave that swept up the fairy, her pets, and half the damn jungle with it, in a slurry of destruction.

Gulo, however, leapt through it all.

With a shudder of power that smelled of musk and blood, he transformed from man to beast. He hit the ground hard, bone and muscle bulging from his body, tearing his skin, the power of his curse knitting the flesh back even as it tore. It rippled through him, thick, coarse fur erupting like ivy across his body. His head exploded outward, becoming a heavy skull with thick jaws and long powerful teeth.

Lycanthropy was a unique condition. It spread with a microbe but applied itself like a curse, one of the worst arcane diseases the world had ever seen. Incurable and fatal
if untreated, it eventually rendered its host into a ravenous animal before killing him. Worse, there were more mutations than the flu, so many that each strain was unique wholly to its host.

Gulo wasn’t a wolf, that strain had been all but eliminated through inoculation. He was a wolverine, beady, conniving eyes staring out like feral, red lanterns. He was over ten feet long, his long muscular body more like a weasel than a canine.

I grabbed Sam and Lambros, throwing them behind one of the fallen trees. Dorne’s spell had been a good opener, but it wouldn’t distract them long. Once they got over the shock, they’d be on their feet.

“Stay here!” I shouted. Then I dove over the tree.

One of the goblins charged me, swinging a massive stone club at my head. It went wide, easily avoided, and I removed half his head with a blast from Abigail.

Dorne had summoned up two of his rapiers, fencing with Discord with one hand and keeping Gulo at bay with the other. He was a skilled swordsman with a solid stance, each movement precise enough to thread a needle. He lacked the speed and flexibility of the fairy, but each move was well planned and deliberate.
His staff was in the ground next to him; he was using it to channel various spells around us, deep pulses of power coursing through the African soil. As I watched, the elemental batted one goblin into the woods like a toy, crushing another under a fist the size of a barrel.

Dorne was holding his own, but he was sweating. The fairy was being kept at bay, but Gulo’s size was too much to handle with just a blade, magic or not. The Wizard was being driven back, narrowly avoiding Gulo’s claws, and unable to make a solid attack against either.

I pointed Abigail, hollered at Dorne, and pulled the left trigger. A gout of flame leapt from the barrel. Dorne threw himself to the ground, the earth swallowing him up like water, and the flame engulfed everything. The fairy threw it aside like so much water, but Gulo roared in pain, fire devouring him from all sides.

Dorne leapt from the earth in an explosion of soil, driving the fairy back. She jerked her other hand and suddenly, light filled my eyes, blinding me. I dove back instinctively, breaking and loading the shotgun as I went.

“Look out!” I heard Sam yell behind me.

I dove to the side and a blast of sound, like a freight train mixed with a lion’s roar, tore into the ground
beside me. Through spotted vision I could just make out a five foot crater that had been ripped into the earth.

The man in chains was walking toward me, each step dragging the earth. His chains floated into the air, jerking his arms and legs like a puppet. His eyes were clouded, his face set in a grimace of horror, but he pointed a hand at me, a beam of light erupting from his palm. It missed me by inches, cutting through a tree like it was cardboard.

I raised the gun and fired a shot. The man raised his hand and the air shimmered in front of him. The shot hit the bubble of air and scattered around him.

He was a Sorcerer. Too much talent to be anything less. Whatever the fairy had done to him, he wasn’t in control of his actions. Either that or he wasn’t seeing what was before him. Maybe both. Either way, he had more power than I did and it was all being directed at me.