The Book of Deacon: Book 02 - The Great Convergence (42 page)

The crisp, bluish white light of the staff
slowly grew bright enough for Myranda to see Lain drop a small,
bat-like creature to the ground. Myranda could not discern any more
details before he mashed it into paste with his heel. He closed his
eyes and listened intently before continuing forward.

"What was that?" Myranda asked.

"A watcher. I've only encountered one a
handful of times before. Expect opposition momentarily," he
said.

With that, Lain resumed his swift pursuit of
Ivy. Myranda was puzzled by the statement, but followed as quickly
as she could. There had been nothing but frozen field for as far as
the eye could see in all directions, but if he was not taking the
time to explain, Myranda hardly thought it wise to take the time to
question. It was a warning, and these days a warning was a luxury.
Myranda had scarcely made it to the next floor when the mysterious
threat presented itself. Out from the wooden slats at each corner
of the room slipped a cloak. Then another, then another. Suddenly
there was a dozen of them. Swiftly the disembodied garments began
to circle about Myranda, slipping between and over the shelves that
filled the floor. Myranda conjured a flame, the only truly
effective weapon against these wraiths, but doused it immediately.
If she was to use fire here, she would have to take great care. The
wood was decrepit and bone dry. It would catch fire even more
readily than the cloaks.

She rushed to the doorway after Lain. As she
did, she placed her staff behind her back and willed some of the
fabric of her own cloak, shredded and loose from overuse, into a
bow to hold it in place. While still maintaining the light it
provided, she then reached into her bag and brandished a knife in
each hand. Dodging the swipe of a phantom claw and delivering a
retaliatory slash, she slipped into the stairway and continued on.
The creatures, save for when they chose to screech their terrifying
cry, moved almost silently. There was no way of knowing how near
they were, and once they were a fair distance from Myranda's light
the black cloth blended seamlessly with the darkness. Myranda
focused on moving forward. She had to avoid being surrounded before
reaching the others.

Behind her, Ether heard the occasional shriek
of a cloak, but she quickly dismissed it. The room that surrounded
her was far more deserving of her attention. Leading down from the
door was a long flight of stairs to the floor below. A small fire
in a stone fireplace cast a dim glow. Over it was a cauldron
simmering a foul smelling fluid. Opposite the fire, barely visible
in the dim light, was a tablet inscribed with more of the same
runes. It was undoubtedly the source of the truly remarkable amount
of raw power that seemed to permeate this place. Stands held books
with immaculate and detailed sketches of dozens of beasts, each
labeled and described in the same arcane runes that had labeled the
door. Just past the foot of the stairs was a narrow channel in the
floor that seemed to have no purpose. A large platform stood in the
center of the room. Upon it a now unrecognizable creature lay,
separated with a surgeon's skill into neat piles. The faint brown
stains of blood could be seen on the surface of the platform. Tall
glass jars contained most of what had once flowed through the
creature's veins. An array of instruments and tools were laid out
with care on a tray. The curving blades and needle-sharp claws
conjured to mind images of their use that would haunt the mind of a
normal being.

Everything in the room had a meticulous,
obsessive feel to it, and the feel that life was meaningless to the
person who created such a place. Ether's eyes turned to the far
wall. Instantly a fury began to build inside of her. There, like
forgotten playthings, were a handful of nameless abominations. They
stood motionless, just as all that she had passed in her descent,
but these were different. They bore no resemblance to anything of
this world. The products of a mad man's cruel mind or a twisted
reality, the creatures were an affront to Ether's very existence.
Masses of tentacles, pincers, and spidery legs in configurations
that defied logic.

Ether stalked toward them, preparing to
destroy the creatures, when a bright light and astounding power
appeared behind her. She turned to see a disc of what looked to be
darkness itself swirling into existence. It grew until its edge
dipped into the channel in the floor. Slowly the center of the disc
parted like smoke and there could be seen the form of a man. He
stepped forward and emerged from the portal. Quickly, with a loud,
thundering clap, the portal closed. Ether surveyed the man. He was
thin, almost gaunt. His clothes were of fine cloth, with no armor
to speak of, and stained with various unidentifiable fluids. Around
his neck hung a large piece of fractured crystal, glowing faintly
blue. His hair was dark, with a peppering of gray. His skin was
pale. Long, thin fingers gripped loosely the head of a silvery
weapon. It was the size of a staff, but tapered into a blade along
its length. Four similar weapons hung from his back, each head
adorned with four tiny crystals, each crystal dim with blue light.
He was a head shorter than Ether's current form. The man who stood
before her, in appearance, was no threat. In presence, however, the
same could not be said. He didn't so much look at Ether as analyze
her. His eyes were intense, piercing. There was no hint of fear. He
seemed to radiate a feeling of command, of superiority.

"The shape shifter. The watcher announced
only the malthrope. Properly training it to identify a shape
shifter in an elemental form may prove an intriguing challenge," he
remarked.

"Are you the one responsible for creating
these monstrosities?" Ether demanded, pointing a finger at the
twisted creatures behind her.

"I am," he stated.

"Then it is my duty to destroy you. You have
bastardized nature itself," Ether proclaimed.

"Yes, yes. So you say. If you wish to do
battle, I must request that we do so outside of this place. It is
quite near to my records room, and I am not quite certain I have
created duplicates of all of my notes," he said.

"Ether, something is happening upstairs! I
think the others need our help! We . . . " came Ivy's voice from
the doorway, but it swiftly caught in her throat.

The man turned.

"Welcome home, wayward one," he said, almost
pleasantly.

Ether took full advantage of his distraction.
She swung her stone fist with all of her might at the stranger's
head. In a flash, the four staffs on his back extended, splitting
into segments. Insect-like legs extended from along the length. The
edge of the silvery things reached the floor and planted
themselves. Ether's fist clanked off of their bodies uselessly.
Before she could attempt a second blow, three of the creature
weapons weaved like metal centipedes to her. Two wrapped around her
ankles, digging their legs into hers, and buried the tips of their
tails deep into the floor. The third planted the rows of legs
nearest to its head and curled its tail like that of a scorpion,
striking again and again.

#

A few floors above, Myranda finally reached
Lain. Several dozen of the cloaks had been left in shreds on the
floor, but still dozens more stood between him and the next flight
of stairs. The creatures had been keeping their distance until now,
picking at their targets as they had in the past. This was
different. They were united in a frenzy to keep Lain from this next
door, and they were succeeding. In her fight to reach this far,
Myranda had felt the rake of the black claws of these creatures
more than once, and she knew well that if Lain's sword and skill
were not enough to quell the tide, her own blades would do precious
little good. She had to use fire, but first she had to protect the
ancient tinderbox that surrounded them from it.

"Keep them from me for just a few moments,"
she said, shutting her eyes and trusting that he could do so.

Lain shifted his stance, swatting the
creatures away instead of trying to strike them down. Quickly
Myranda's plan became clear. The temperature of the room was
dropping dramatically. As she drew the heat from the walls, floor,
and ceiling, frost began to form. She pushed the spell as far as it
would go, until the wood was fairly white with ice.

"Now don't let them leave," she said.

She unleashed all of the stolen heat,
combined with as much as her mind could conjure at once, at the
swirling swarm of cloaks. They took eagerly to flame, rising in a
chorus of unholy screeches. Like paper thrown on a fire, the
creatures flitted madly about, knocking the shelves to the ground.
They charged at the pair of heroes, but never attempted to flee
through the door they defended. Myranda deflected a few with a
hasty shield spell, and Lain dispatched the rest in huge swaths
with mighty swings of his sword. The injured creatures needed
barely a slice to finish the job the fire had started and rob them
of their will. Once that damage had been done, they fluttered
uselessly to the floor where they sizzled at the frost and
smoldered. Before long, all that remained of the army of cloth
wraiths was a cloud of choking smoke and a mound of charred embers.
Lain sped through the smoke toward the door and Myranda followed,
the mystic exertion reminding her of the tremendous spell that had
disoriented her earlier.

#

Below, Ivy remembered why she had come here,
and rushed down the stairs in an attempt to free Ether from her
predicament. The centipedes were taking their toll on her. The
strikes of the steel tail were chipping easily away at her stone
body, and the blasted things were far too fast for her to strike
at. As Ether reached her, the man gestured to the remaining two
weapon creatures. They responded to the wordless command and flowed
up the stairs, raising the door back into place. They then each
planted their legs into the door and the wall, barring it with
their bodies.

Ivy, the glow about her a piercing blue
again, walked in a wide, cautious circle around the man, who did
not assume the slightest of defensive postures. Slowly he walked to
a shelf on one wall. He opened a box upon it and pocketed a number
objects from inside. As he did, he spoke casually to Ivy, who was
fruitlessly swatting her weapon at the attacking centipede.

"I see you carry a club. You were given the
strength for such a weapon, but I would have expected a more
elegant one," he said. "We never trained you with a club."

"Shut up!" Ivy demanded. "You were there. You
were one of the teachers!"

"Mmm. Teachers. My little experiment, I am so
much more than your teacher," he said.

"What did you call me?" she asked. The word
seemed to cut her deep.

"Experiment. Altered Chosen Revision IV. The
forth attempt and the only one with any degree of true success,
though the second and third are not without their usefulness and,
with you as a prototype, the fifth is looking very promising
indeed," he said.

"What are you saying?" Ivy cried, storming up
to him and shouting in his face. The aura around her shifted
sharply to red.

"One moment please," he requested casually,
utterly unconcerned. He pulled from his pocket a gem the size of a
small stone and held it up.

Ether had grown weary of weathering the
attacks and grip of the centipedes and shifted to wind. Her
turbulent form streaked at the stranger, who thrust the crystal
forward. The instant Ether came in contact with the gem she cried
out in pain, the stone quickly taking on a bright white glow. More
of her windy form streamed off and into the heart of the gem as
long as Ether remained near it, and the effect it was having on her
was clear. The intensity of the wind that was her body decreased
significantly. Finally she pulled away, greatly weakened by the
encounter. The gem maintained its brightness as he pocketed it. He
snapped his fingers and the three centipedes formerly attacking
Ether clattered along the walls and to the ceiling, where Ether
hung recovering. The four small gems that shone like eyes on the
heads of the creatures, Ether soon found, were of the same type as
the one used to weaken her. Ether flitted fruitlessly about the
room in an attempt to escape them, but the fleet footed creatures
were everywhere, it seemed.

"I am Demont. I am responsible for designing
and producing some of the finest living weapons in creation, and
you are unique among them. I really should work with Epidime more
often. The direct link between body and spirit was a stroke of
genius. Permitting the most basic of functions of the brain access
to the vast reservoir of energy the soul has to offer makes even
the most feeble mind capable of devastation," he mused.

"I'm not an experiment! I'm Ivy! You didn't
make me! You couldn't have!" Ivy raged.

"Ivy, eh? Well, the body is my work. Nature
must take the credit for the soul," he said.

Ether could not avoid the constant assault by
her attackers. Soon she felt that she could not hold together any
longer and dropped to the ground. One of the creatures dropped down
beside her and Ether's form wrapped in an intense cyclone about the
beast. There were a few moments of chaos, then silence, and where
there had been three creatures, there were now four. The remaining
centipedes ceased their attack unsure of which was their foe. Ivy
turned back to the man and smiled. In the brief silence, an odd
ringing noise followed by the clattering of one of the centipedes
tumbling down the stairs in pieces marked Lain's entry. Demont's
face turned not fearful, but stern. Half of the door fell away,
sliding down the steps. The four remaining creature weapons
clamored quickly to Demont's side. Lain leapt at Demont but was
intercepted by a pair of the centipedes. Ether in her stolen form
tangled with another, and the last occupied Myranda. Ivy bared her
teeth and charged, fear entirely supplanted by anger. She was
clearly on the verge of becoming the chaotic form that had ravaged
the dragoyles before. The red aura was blinding.