Sorcerer Rising (A Virgil McDane Novel) (34 page)

“A word, Virgil,” James said, eyeing the Djinn. “Now.”

The Djinn frowned, but held up his hands, floating to the back of the room.

“What?” I whispered.

“What in the hell are you doing?”

“I am trying not to get killed,” I replied. “We need to play along.”

“We need to get the hell out of here,” he said. “Before we’re fucked.”

I looked over my shoulder. The Djinn was levitating, his legs crossed, blowing smoke rings from his mouth. The rings formed into intricate animal shapes, glowing with internal fire. I turned back to James. “Oh, we’re fucked already. This was over the moment we walked through that arch. Our best chance is to play the game and see it through.”

James held up his hands. “You’re game, Virgil. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

Me too.

“Have you decided?” the Djinn asked, grinning widely.

“Yes,” I replied. “It seems I will give you this boon, so long as you leave this plane and promise no harm to myself or my companion.”

The Djinn bowed low. “Your wish is my command, Sorcerer. Let us begin.”

I took the next few moments to carve the rune into the ring. It was a simple sigil, but precision was essential. The Guild had a whole vocabulary of runes, symbols that tapped into man’s most primitive instincts to hone and guide magic. They protected the secrets of their runecraft fiercely. It was just one of the reasons they had developed the Brand
, to erase such knowledge.

But Solomon would have schooled them all. This rune was different than anything I had ever seen. It almost seemed to shift as I watched it, its shape and meaning changing depending on the angle and lighting of the view.

I had to clear the tablet several times before it was correct, but under the Djinn’s tutelage we were able to make it work.

Finally, I held my hand over the lamp, finding the root of power in the ring and channeling my will into it. I had no idea how the seal worked, probably no one did. Solomon had access to a reservoir of knowledge that had never been seen, had developed runes and sigils that could bind and control the very Names of the elements, the rawest and most dangerous of Entities and Beings.

But the Djinn knew his stuff. As soon as I willed my power through the ring, something deep and powerful within it grabbed hold of my will, the tablet glowing a deep, resonating blue. The sigils flowed from the lamp like water then disappeared in little motes of steam.

Behind me the Djinn sighed, smoke flowing from his mouth. He reached forward and crushed the lamp in his hands, the copper melting between heated fingers.

“Thank you, Sorcerer.” He smiled mischievously. “Now for your wish.”

That was a dangerous path. Djinn twisted nearly every wish that came their way. Their power was near infinite, but he was right when he had said they did not do it willingly. They resented their capture and did not abide the petty desires of mortals. He could very well take this moment to reap his vengeance on mankind.

I thought over my options. He could very easily lift the curse that clouded my mind, breathing life into the mountain where once my power had lain. He could clear my aura of the Nidian taint, scrub the ash from my psyche, break down the wall that separated me from my magic.

He could even restore my keep, restoring the rooms that had been stolen so long ago. Hell, he could take me to such an echelon of power that the Guild would quiver at my approach.

I rubbed my thumb over the ring, thinking it over. Wisdom, that was Solomon’s way, though his judgment maybe could have been better. Power was one of those things the Djinn loved to grant. It was oh so easy to twist, to wreak havoc with.

Guidance was what I needed. The Sisters had said this was a path towards many things. Restoration of my power could be one of those things, but at what cost?

I shook my head. This would not be the way. Whatever happened, it wouldn’t be my doing, wouldn’t be my choice if I took this way out.

Before I could even say anything, the creature drew a bright, glass cylinder from his vest, holding it between his forefinger and thumb. White runes of light played over its surface.

“Done,” he said, his voice burning up his throat like fire in a chimney. The walls of the temple shook, dust falling from the ceiling. The torches flickered, their fire taking on a darker tone, the color of blood.

“What’s this?” I asked. “I didn’t wish for this!”

“It is what you wanted,” he said. “Take it. Do with it what you will. Decide for yourself whether it is boon or burden, my gift or my vengeance.”

He dropped the cylinder in my palm, drifting back in the air. He was losing form, becoming less metal and more fire. “Leave this place now, Sorcerer. I am.” The temple shook again. “Do not dally. There are things the Wise One bound here for good reason, things more terrible than I that have no patience with bargains and promises. You will not see me again.”

He dissolved into smoke. The last I saw of him were the twin lights of his eyes and the smelted gold glow of his smile.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

“
What is that
?” James asked.

“Hell if I know,” I said, examining the cylinder. “It’s not a magic I’m familiar with. Maybe Dorne-”

“Come out, come out!” a voice shouted down the tunnel. I motioned for James to stay out of sight, then made my way to the entrance of the archway.

The fairy, Gulo had called her Discord, was walking back and forth on the plateau of the temple, rapier in one hand. The Sorcerer, looking worn and bedraggled, shuffled behind her. His clothes were burnt, hanging in tatters around him, and his skin had been blackened from where Diana’s gun had hit him, but he jumped every time she tugged the chain.

She gave me a twisted smile filled with too white teeth. “Hello, Sorcerer,” she purred, flicking the blade through the air.

Shit.

I drew Abigail and made sure both barrels were loaded.  “I recommend you leave this place.” I made a show of closing the gun back together.

She laughed, a sound like a dented bell. “I think not, little mage. We had to leave the party early but I wanted to come back and give you your present.”

“I don’t think so,” I heard James say behind me, cocking his pistol.

“Don’t be a spoil sport,” she said, pouting.

A loud scraping interrupted us. Gulo dragged his massive frame up onto the temple’s plateau. “Enough,” he said, his voice rumbling from his heavy muzzle. He slinked toward us, claws digging into the stone. “You did better than I thought you would. Unfortunately, that means I’ll be dealing with you for good at the present.”

My heart was pounding. I waited for them to attack, but neither did.

I frowned. “Well?”

He looked over the archway, sniffing loudly. “I have one curse already,” he growled. “I am not in the market for another.”

I snickered, hoping he was wrong about the curse as I did. You can put a lot of tone into a laugh if you know how, and I put plenty of condescension in this one. “Big, bad wolf afraid of a little building?”

Now the wolf laughed, a gurgling growl that reverberated through his chest. “I know curses, Sorcerer, and this place reeks of one. Like nothing I’ve ever smelled.” He sat back on his haunches. “I think we’ll just
wait for you to get hungry and-”

I pulled the trigger and a slug ripped a chunk of flesh from the lycanthrope’s shoulder. He fell back, shaking his heavy frame like a dog shaking off water. He suppressed a roar and dug one twisted hand into the stone. He reared up, the wound already knitting together.

I broke the gun and loaded in another slug.

Gulo growled. “When I get hold of you, boy-”

I pulled the trigger again and blew out his knee.

This time he did roar, loud enough that I felt it in the stone. He scurried forward, faster than his bulk should have allowed, but stopped short of the archway, his snout inches away from my face.

“I could rip out your throat,” he snarled.

“You need a mint,” I said.

He sat back again and made a noise somewhere between a chainsaw and a dying animal. It took me a minute to realize it was a laugh. “You got balls, boy. I’ll give you that.” He looked over his shoulder, toward the Arcus. “No matter. I have an appointment to keep with your expedition, but Discord should be able to entertain you while I’m gone.”

I looked over his shoulder. The Sorcerer was dancing in midair, his limbs jerking about, muscles spasming, eyes rolled into the back of his head.

“I’m sure you will enjoy her,” the lycanthrope said. “And don’t worry, she doesn’t share my superstitious nature.”

Then he scurried off, faster than anything that size had any right to move.

Discord dropped the Sorcerer, moving toward us, swinging her hips from side to side. There was a horrid grace to her gait, a perverted sensuality to her manner.

“Come, Sorcerer,” she said, “My pet needs someone to play with.”

“So what now?” I asked. “You gonna grow a pair or run off like your boss?”

She looked the archway over. “No need,” she replied, running her fingertips over the stone as she walked. She hummed to herself, a nursery rhyme by the sound of it.

I felt the air shift, not physically but on a metaphysical level, so powerful it blurred my vision. It filled my ears with the sound of wind chimes and I was hit with the fetid, rotting stench of putrid meat.

The Fay were power incarnate, a whole race of people that defied the very structure of Creation. Their magic was in their blood, their very being. If the Aether was the runoff, the residue, of the world’s magic then the Fay where what happened when that magic gave birth. There were a dozen tales tracing their origin, their nature, and no one knew the truth.

I just knew you didn’t fuck with them idly.

Where her hand touched the wall, the stone broke away, stumbling forward on two legs. It shook itself, revealing the form of a man made all of stone. Two pits served as eyes. A second pulled itself from the wall and joined the first.

This was the power of the Fay. Man could achieve amazing things. We could manipulate the Aether, giving it the spark of reality and permanence. We could infuse our own life force with it to give birth to our fantasies and nightmares, even enchant things permanently. My coat was one such example, Abigail an even greater one. Beyond that, we could shuttle things from the Aether, Inhale them into ourselves and Exhale them into the world.

But this was the Faytouch, the effect the Fay had on everything they came in contact with. It was a misnomer, touch wasn’t required, just helped when they wanted to direct it. Just being around the Fay was enough to make things change. Fire burned queerly, storms misbehaved, animals spoke.

The world was different around them, and their enchantments were among the world’s most powerful. Hell, the sire that had spawned the Sisters of Truth wasn’t even a pureblood Fay and he had spawned one of the most powerful lines of magic the world had ever seen.

This wasn’t an elemental like Dorne’s, a simple construct held together by his will, molded from his desire. She had spawned life, taken something from the world and simply deciding it needed to be something else.

Together, they marched forward, ripping chunks of stone out of the ground to serve as weapons. If we didn’t do something and soon, me and James would be able to be spread on a cracker.

“James,” I said quickly, “If this goes bad, don’t fight it.”

“What the hell are you rambling about?” he asked, his gun trained on the first stone man.

“I don’t think I can take these two, let alone the fairy, not like this. If I go down, let them take you. I might have another idea.”

“Quite frankly,” James said, emptying his clip into the stone man, “That plan is shit.”

They kept coming. I fired a shot of my own, but it was about as effective as James.

The stone man dove forward, jerking the gun from my grip. I slipped the derringer from my sleeve and leveled it, preparing the spell. Before the gun could even get warmed up, the stone man dug a fist into my gut. There was a sickening moment where I escaped gravity’s pull, then I came down on my head.

The stone man grabbed me by the arms and dragged me off the ground. James leveled a good shot into the other stone man’s eye, which seemed to hurt enough to piss it off. It reared back and delivered a haymaker to the side of his head, sending him to the ground.
             

They dragged us before Discord, the battle lost before it had begun. I struggled against the statue, but it didn’t give an inch. James wasn’t really struggling at all, his head rolling from side to side, moaning groggily.

Discord was sitting cross legged, poking at my feet with her rapier like a child poking at a dog. One particularly well aimed jab slipped through the tough leather of my boot and into the ball of my foot.

She laughed as I screamed, then pouted as blood seeped out of my boot. “Oh, did that hurt the puppy?”

“Damn you,” I said. “You want to kill me, just do it!”