Sorcerer Rising (A Virgil McDane Novel) (38 page)

“What do you mean?” Dorne asked.

The ocean lit up from underneath, bright enough that it stretched from horizon to horizon, as if a green sun was rising from its depths. A massive swell rose up miles out, rocking the boat furiously.

“You just woke it up,” I said.

Miles out from us, the sea erupted.

It rose up through the surface, a creature so broad that if you were standing on its back you wouldn’t be able to see the ocean, filling the horizon as it breached for the first time in who knew how long. It was older than the world, old enough Adam wouldn’t have been around to name it, old enough that it brushed aside the laws of reality with disdain. A dozen green eyes shone like miniature stars along the side of a massive, dragon-like head, outshining the sun with their intensity.

“What is that?” James shouted, almost hysterical. Most of the men were shouting as well, all holding on to the ship as it rocked in the wake of the creature.

             
I laughed, watching it rise from the ocean, so large the sea seemed to drop in level for not having it. “It’s the Leviathan!” In my head, I shouted for Al to start recording. I never wanted to forget this. I could count on one hand how many voyages had seen the Leviathan in person.

And survived that is.

It didn’t fall back, just kept going higher and higher, up into the sky.

It was shaped like a whale, but serpentine in length. A dozen massive flippers, each ten times larger than the ship, lined its sides. Stone-like scales played down its length, a whole ecology of plant and water life living on its surface. I kicked myself for not exploring more. There was no telling what that thing had brought up from the depths.

It opened its mouth wide, massive jaws expanding until it had formed a great, cavernous opening, large enough to scoop up an island. A low bellow sounded from the creature, and if it hadn’t already been miles in the air, it was would have shaken the boat to pieces and blasted us apart. As it was, the ship did tremble, and the ocean surface vibrated as far as the eye could see.

As its head neared the clouds above, the sky darkened, thunder echoing the creature’s roar, lightning flashing angrily.

“A storm!” one of the crew shouted in warning.

Before anyone could even respond, the Leviathan’s head met the clouds, its mouth scooping up the storm. It leveled out, devouring the dark clouds, thunder and all, like a basking shark.

My mouth fell open. It was eating the storm! Even now I could see the lightning flashing underneath it, enough energy to power the world swallowed in a single gulp.

It took a good ten minutes for the thing to finish breaching the water. It kept rising and rising until finally, its dorsal fin broke the water’s surface, casting a tidal wave that would have wrecked our ship had it come in our direction.

The Leviathan disappeared into the clouds, floating with grace one would never have attributed to a creature of such size, leaving behind only the dark clouds and the sound of thunder.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE

I drifted
in my cot
, falling asleep. The dream was coming, I couldn’t fight it. The sound of the ocean faded, replaced by that of a forest, a forest filled with insects.

I drove my staff into the ground, heat searing into the earth. “I said we’re going.”

“I’m not following you into that hell,” Banner said, shoving me.

That was a mistake.

I grabbed him by his face, my fingers smoking where they touched his skin, the smell of cooking meat wafting through the air. I dragged his face closer to mine.

“Then go,” I said, my teeth clenched. “But you’ll do it by yourself.”

I threw him back. He landed on his ass, his face red and blistered.

I heard Rodriguez shuffling her feet beside me. She didn’t have the stomach for this type of thing, but then she really hadn’t had the time to develop one. She was still in her apprenticeship, barely out of the Tower. On my other side, Pick laughed. He had the stomach and then some.

Banner dragged himself to his feet. “You’ll regret that.”

“If I do, I’ll be a distant second behind you.”

He scurried away, tripping through the thick underbrush that made up so much of Nidia’s woodlands. I turned to the rest of the group.

Rodriguez was a tall, muscular woman, pretty in a dark, spicy way so many of the women from South America were. She was the youngest, but was more than capable. Pick was a grizzled old bear, all loose skin and knobby, arthritic joints. He was missing more teeth than remained and had his shotgun, Abigail, slung in one arm, a bandoleer of shells wrapped around his chest. He stroked the gun affectionately.

There were five more, a mix of those I’d drawn to me before and after the war, all mine, all capable. They made up a collection of ethnicities and nationalities. Foster and Bates were from London, Mensah from Africa. Pomboi was from some Polynesian island and Browning was from Australia. She was an odd one, and the only one I hadn’t had a hand in bringing about. She was tall and striking and there were more than a few rumors about her having Fay blood.

“Alright,” I said. “I know this is hard. I know you’re scared. But they have Madison and Chuck and I’m not about to leave them behind. If you don’t want to go in there, that’s fine, but we’ll handle this right now.” I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb. “Because once we cross this line, there
’s no turning back until it’s over. I won’t have anyone losing their nerve and costing us the measly advantage we have. I also won’t let you leave the group just to get killed on your way back.”

“We clear?” I watched all their eyes, looking for weakness.

For a moment there was silence. Finally, Mensah said, “We’re not supposed to go into the interior.”

“No, we’re not. But I don’t leave people behind. We can be in and out in moments. Seven Wizards with the element of surprise; they’ll never see it coming.”

“This is foolhardy, boy,” Pick said. He was the only one that got to call me boy. He had been my sergeant during the war. He was everybody’s fucking sergeant it seemed.

“You’ve done it,” I said.

He spat a wad of dark spit on the ground. “Rest my case.”

The world drifted and I watched myself, watched myself full of fire and anger, standing before a deep, dark tunnel. Priscilla, gorgeous as ever but wild and feral, dressed in strips of silk, smelling like woods and dirt, was standing beside me.

Two massive pincers reached out from the tunnel, each the size of a small vehicle. They dug into earth and dragged forth a massive black shape, all armored carapace and wiggling mandibles. There must have been dozens of them, each ending in precise little points.

The
pincered mandibles went to work on the corpse in front of it, one of the peasant Mantids that inhabited Nidia, quick and efficient, like the tools of a butcher.

A deep voice rumbled from within the forest of sharp limbs
as the Black Monger asked, his tone bored, “Why have you come to see me?” It was hard to tell if he was looking at me or the corpse, maybe both, each of his eight eyes was the metallic shade of silver.

Priscilla fell to her knees. When I failed to, she grabbed me and pulled me down beside her. “Lord, I have brought a Wizard. He wishes for your aid.”

“And?” the creature asked. “What matter is this of mine?”

She looked at me and nodded, her eyes quick and worried.

“I want to make a trade,” I said.

The mandible
s froze. “A trade? That would be delectable. What are you selling, Wizard?”

“Blood, powerful blood. A pint from myself and another who has offered.”

He laughed. “A tempting offer, but why not take you now?”

“You would get everything I have
but nothing from the other. His blood is a finer vintage.”

He leaned forward, until the eyes were mere feet from my face. “I have a counter
.” One of his mandibles presented a small jar. “One pint from you, to drink when I so desire.”

I hesitated. I didn’t like leaving blood with someone. There was no telling what kind of magic this thing could work me over with.

“Why?” I asked. “Why not take what is offered now?”

“I could,” he said. “I could drain you and all those you brought with you of every drop. I could relish in your power, feed off your blood’s own magic.” A long, thick tail reached out from the tunnel, ending in a scything stinger blade. I could see the vein in it, the greenish sheen
of its venom. “But I am a trader, and I see in you a very wise investment.”

“What?”

Another mandible reached back and drew forth a stack of cards. He spread them over the black blood of the mantis and the mandibles began to shuffle and play the cards out.

One by one he flipped three over and pointed. “I see death in your future, I do. You will be both its bringer and its conqueror. This is good.” He pointed to the next. “The mountain’s peak, you do not think small. Your actions will be great, they will put you above the horizon of all others.” He pointed to the third. “Lastly, I see the globe. The mantis’s blood obscures it. You are a destroyer, a conqueror. Many worlds will bend to your knee, many more will be destroyed when they fail to.”

He shuffled the cards back together. “Give me your blood, Wizard. It will make a fine vintage that will grow with your power. You will not miss it, but when you are at your peak, I will drink and share in that power.”

I needed the Monger’s help to get into the Widow’s tower. There was no way it was going to happen without him. It was easy math really. I extended my wrist. The Monger lashed out with one of his mandibles, a cut so fine I barely saw it, but one that bled more than enough to fill the jar.
             

The world spun again and I was in the tower. Everyone was dead. I had lost everyone. Pick and Browning had been the last. I held Abigail in the crook of one arm, his bandoleer slung over my shoulder. Madison and Chuck…I couldn’t even think about that.

They were following behind me, scurrying. Some of the Queen’s foot shoulders came as men, armed with armor and blade, some as spiders and other things with too many legs. Their hounds were following as well, sniffing me out through my blood.

And I was leaving plenty enough behind to make their job more than easy.

I could feel the poison coursing through my veins, a red hot network of searing pain. My vision was blurry, my head spinning, and a sickly white foam was spilling from my mouth. I spun around and threw a surge of fire from my staff.

I heard the scurrying stop, but only momentarily. They were being cautious. They had seen one shell of Pick’s Shit Shot, they had no idea what else the weapon was capable of. I had one more shell. There was no making it out of here alive. If I could just make it to the throne, I’d use the last shell and shave the whole top of the building off, the
Queen included.

I saw the door ahead of me. I took a deep, wheezing breath. It looked a mile away. Step by step
, I moved toward it. I fired two more shots over my shoulder, but in the din of confusion couldn’t quite tell if they hit anything.

The chamber door was ahead. I swung the tip of my staff toward the door and a corona of fire incinerated it, sending molten shards of stone skittering across the floor.

I threw myself into the room, staff held before me in one hand, Pick’s gun in the other. The Queen’s chamber was a large, windowless dome, I knew that from the outside. On the inside, it was nearly impossible to tell. I couldn’t see the ceiling and the only light was a faint glow from the thousands of silken strands that crisscrossed the room, enough webbing to pay off the national debt. They went up and down, side to side, and every direction in between, some as thick as rope, others barely visible.  This chamber alone would make any house in the Guild the wealthiest in the world if it didn’t destroy the market altogether.

My hand brushed a silken thread, thinner than a hair, and everything went silent. I looked over my shoulder. The spiders had stopped at the door and were watching.

I made my way deeper into the thicket of silk, doing my best to avoid the strands. One caught my coat and I had to tear a strip of cloth to get free. I didn’t want my skin coming in contact with that.

The strands that really drew my interest though
, were the ones my hands went through. They were barely visible, like sunlight shining through dust. This was the real key to her power, these metaphysical strands. They were like leylines, cords of her power that stretched across Nidia, spreading her influence, allowing her to keep her rivals in check.

I spun as a rustling sounded to my right. My visibility was limited to just beyond a few feet, but I sensed nothing.

“Hello, Wizard,” I heard above me. I whipped the gun above me, firing a shot into the roof. Soft laughter echoed through the chamber. “You missed,” she said.

A strand shifted, latching onto the gun and yanking it from my weakened fingers. I planted my staff in the ground, making sure it was clear of the strands, and gathered up enough concentra
tion to make the runes flare up. It extended the light a few more feet, giving me a fleeting glimpse of eight yellow eyes before they receded deeper into the chamber.