Techromancy Scrolls: Soras (19 page)

Rain swayed and I steadied her. I have seen her do some amazing things with her power, but this seemed so simple and it seemed to tire her out. I gave her a concerned look and she gave me a reassuring smile and said quietly, “I am a brute, explosive, forceful magic, like I used against Sarafine here, comes easy. But fine and subtle workings like this, where I seek a specific outcome that goes against nature, takes more concentration and power than my most violent attack.”

I nodded understanding, that is why soothing that mother grizzly seemed to tire her out as well. I understood, because the more I tried to finely control my power, whether it be my Techno Knight power or the spirit element, it was a huge mental effort on my part, whereas redirecting and grounding energy was a simple, if not painful, task for me.

I was beginning to think the tunnel would never end when it started to rise. We would be well within the walls of the Keep now. A few yards further and we came to the remains of a thick oak door. Just slivers of wood and rusted hinges were all that told of its prior existence. It too appeared to have been in the open position.

I looked down and blinked, there seemed to be a short parrying blade, about the length of Anadele, under the bottom of the mostly rotted away base of the door. It had been wedged there to hold it open. Most likely back when the Keep was evacuated. The others stepped into the space beyond but I tarried and crouched for a closer look at the ancient blade.

Though tarnished with age and neglect, it appeared to be of bronze, not steel so it was in remarkably good shape for being over a thousand years old. I wiped off the layers of dust and cobwebs on the hilt, the leather bindings had long since turned to dust. Then my eyes snapped wide. Mother Luna... Impossible! The stories were true!

Pen stepped up behind me and looked over my shoulder, whispering, “What is it, Sora?”

I smiled back at her then the blade as I carefully dislodged it from under the rotting skeleton of the door and held it up. It was heavier than Anadele. It would have been the second, much smaller blade wielded in a swordsman's off hand in two-handed combat. It was generally used in conjunction with a shortsword or longsword held in the warrior's dominant hand.

I held it, blade down, showing her the hilt as I whispered excitedly, “The crest of Solomon! This belonged to Lord Cedric!” I looked at it a moment then at the impressed looks on the people standing around me. Then I stared at the blade again, exhaled deeply, and slid it through my belt to let it hang from my left hip.

It would be an offense punishable by execution, to handle the blade of a royal. But I figured that since this royal had died centuries ago, and Solomon would likely hold this as a treasure of their realm, that it was a pardonable offense. I just couldn't leave it here, forgotten. It was history, it was knowledge. It and this bolthole proved out the teachings of the songs of the bards.

In the light of Rain and Anadele, we looked around the chamber and I almost chuckled at the location of the bolthole in the castle. In the large room, there were hundreds of casks in various stages of decomposition, and some were remarkable well preserved. On one wall in a half collapsed rack was hundreds of bottles. Most broken from the collapse, but a few still intact, complete with wax seals.

I chuckled quietly. “The wine cellar.”

Roman walked over to the bottles and pulled one out of the latticework rack and blew the dust off of it and wiped away the cobwebs streaming behind it like they protested his handling of what they had claimed.

He grinned and took two bottles and slid them in his pack. Rain snorted at the man and shook her head, whispering, “That will not be drinkable you know.”

He grinned and shrugged and whispered, “But what a prize it is.

A slight smile quirking at the corner of her lips, she shook her head and mumbled, “Men.”

I glanced at the graceful stone arches and pillars holding up the ceiling, the floor of the level above. The masons would have been proud to know that their work has held up for so many generations.

We made our way to the door which was intact but suffered from decades of dry rot. Roman started to push it open but the hinges began to creak horrendously in protest. My heart stopped beating for a moment and he stopped immediately. We heard the creak echo through the corridors beyond.

We all looked at each other and listened intently. We were met only by silence. I exhaled a breath I hadn't remembered holding. Then we all stared at the door. If we forced it wide, the racket it made would surely alert anyone nearby to our presence.

I looked around if only we had some lard or bacon grease to work into the hinges. I looked back at the broken bottles and then smiled. I laid a hand on Roman's shoulder and he looked back. I nudged my chin to the side and he moved back. I whispered, “Bring me as many wax seals from the broken bottles as you can find.”

He slipped away and I looked around then exhaled again as I started pulling my Altii magic forth. This was something I learned I could do before I ignited. Like the Techromancers of the Keep, I could roll back the ravages of time on metal to some extent. Metal, like electricity, liked me.

The room around me seemed to pulsate in vivid, flickering color as I saw amber energy flowing and arcing down my arms. Amber sparks hitting the stone floor. I stretched and touched the top hinge and let the energy gently flow from me to the metal.

I watched as the corrosion began to melt and flake away, the orangeish red of the rust darkening and slowly becoming a silverish black. Time rolling back. I could do nothing of the metal lost to time, but what remained I was able to revive. Peeling back the centuries, one at a time. I had done this with some of the relics of the Before times which I had found while scavenging.

Ultimately, it is how I got caught and accused of being a Rogue. And how I became my Lady's squire. Prime Techromancer Donovan and Celeste had concocted the plan to keep me from the stockade.

I moved down to the lower hinge and I glanced over to see Ranelle smiling approvingly, and Sara shielding her eyes from the brilliant display of amber energy that only another with magic potential could see. I blushed and went to work on the hinge. Once I had done all I could I turned to Roman and took some of the wax he was holding out to me.

I picked up Anadele and just let my small trickle of power seep into her, but didn't allow her to release it. Instead, I let it build until my blade started heating up. It was times like this I wish I had more power at my disposal. The buildup seemed to take forever though I knew it had only been a few seconds.

Then I held the blade on top of the barrel of the hinge and started pushing wax against the sword. It melted quickly and poured down the hinge like a liquid. Coating the entire barrel. I repeated the process above, standing on my tiptoes. I swear I'll get my comrades for their little smirks as I did so. They won't even see it coming. I grinned at them.

Then I finally let my power fade. I exhaled. It was a great effort to keep the magic flowing for such an extended period. But I was happy, it was much longer than I could have hoped to do just two years hence. I was slowly getting stronger. Donovan and Celeste are always telling me that magic potential is like a muscle. The more you flex it, the easier it gets, the stronger you get. One day I may be as powerful as Celeste though she ranks as one of the least powerful Techno Knights of the realm.

The looks of curiosity I was getting from my Greva made me explain. “Wax is useful. Ideally, we would use oil, lard, or grease to lubricate the hinge so that the metal does not squeal and protest as it slides against itself. But in a pinch, candle wax... or in this case, sealing wax...”

I squinted one eye painfully and pushed on the door a little. There was a slight groan, the drying wax flaked away then with barely a noise but the settling of the old wood. The door swung halfway open before becoming jammed on the slightly uneven stone floor.

This got me some approving grins and then Ranelle glanced into the darkness beyond. Then slipped into the corridor, lighting the way, the rest of us following. Sara paused before she passed through and gave me a sarcastic grin, whispering, “Not bad for a little runt.”

I slapped her shoulder then followed, lighting our rear with Anadele. Rain looked back and asked, “Where would the dungeons be?”

I shrugged and thought of Wexbury. There was the jailhouse where the magistrate kept the people who broke minor laws and just required a day or two behind bars for stealing bread, or people waiting to be lashed at the whipping post. I absently moved a hand back to my shoulders, where the scars on my back started, from my own punishment so very long ago. Then the main dungeons were in the bowels of the castle. Where the violent people, murders, and enemies of the realm were incarcerated for life or awaited execution. I shivered as I added, or the people accused of being Rogues.

I said, “If it is like Wexbury, then on the lowest level, where it is hardest to escape. So most likely, somewhere on this level.”

She nodded and we proceeded to the end of the corridor. I was getting a little spooked at the ruins. It was as if we were walking through the skeletons of the past. It almost felt like we were committing some offense by not letting this ancient fortress rest. To sleep through all the ages, not just being history, but living it.

We stopped at another, larger corridor that was dimly lit by a torch at the far end, maybe fifty yards away. The Great Mother and I let our lights fade. It took a few seconds for our eyes to acclimate then we moved slowly, silently forward, listening intently as we started to hear distant voices.

After a couple more turns down the labyrinth of corridors, lit by more and more frequent torches, we heard a woman screaming in pain somewhere in the distance. Mother Udele! I resisted the urge to go running down the corridor toward the sound.

A door suddenly opened noisily ten feet in front of us and we froze. We heard the voices of at least a dozen men inside the room. A burly man dressed in the armor of one of the dark knights stepped through, looking back and yelling in English, “Oh sod off you unruly lot. I need to drain the snake.”

He slammed the door shut on the hoots and hollers from the others and grumbled as he went about unbuttoning his trousers and started relieving himself right there on the wall in the corridor before he even looked around.

When he did, he froze in a moment of indecision when he saw us all standing there, unmoving. That hesitation was his undoing. I stifled an exclamation of surprise as an arrow was suddenly through his throat. I hadn't even saw Penelope move.

Roman stepped to the man who was silently trying to cry out as his life's blood gushed out of his neck. He made a gurgling sound and Roman pulled the man's head violently to the side and with a crunch, the man stopped struggling against him and Roman dragged his lifeless body back the way we came. Depositing him in an alcove.

Sara whispered, “It is only a matter of time before they miss him.”

Rain nodded once and we almost ran down the corridor, letting Udele's screams guide us.

After a couple more twists and turns, we came to a large set of ancient doors that were wedged open. We heard two voices, a man and a woman inside arguing in English. The woman was asking, “Why haven't you broken her yet? Liam is getting suspicious of all of my recent outings.”

He said, “The bitch is more resilient than she looks, Aelwen.”

I paled, it truly was Duchess Aelwen. My heart sank.

Then the man's voice rose, speaking away, “One last chance you Gypsy bitch. We have started killing one of your clan back in your caravan for every hour you resist us. Just perform the curse and all of this will stop. No more pain. And we will let your people live.”

Then my heart stopped when I heard Udele's voice, slurred but strong. “You hold no power over me or my kin. My Soras shall be your end, I have seen it. Your empty threats will not sway me.”

So that is how they held her, the threat of the deaths of her people. It was the only way they were able to contain someone as powerful as Udele. And what was this curse they wished her to perform?

Then I heard the unmistakable sound of a strike, flesh to flesh with a thud. And Mother grunted. The bastard has struck her! I started to move but Rain restrained me.

Then I felt the magiks of the People building and heard Udele hiss, “You want a curse? I'll give you...”

Then she screamed as I almost went to a knee as a huge amount of Techromancer magic was pulled into the room from the very earth around us and released in a sustained burst.

Duchess, Aelwen hissed out, “Stop it Kennick! We need her alive!”

The power faded away, along with Mother Udele's scream.

I slumped down the wall in disbelief. This was bad. Worse than bad. Prime Techromancer Kennick of Solomon was involved? He is known through the inhabitable lands as the most powerful magic user in the Lower Ten. Only Donovan's power came close. The only more powerful was the Prime Techromancer of Highland, and possibly the Prince himself if my suspicions were correct.

How could a man of knowledge, a scholar like him use his gifts to do such harm. Did they not know that they were about to start a war that the realms couldn't possibly win?