The Book of Deacon: Book 02 - The Great Convergence (53 page)

"We will discuss you later. First finish
about Ether. Do crystals always work? Does she have a defense
against them?" Trigorah said, refocusing the purposefully wandering
mind of Ivy.

She grumbled again.

"No. I don't think so . . . wait. Yes. She
turned into one of the silver crawling things that had a crystal
right on its head and it didn't bother her at all. So, uh . . . "
Ivy began.

"If she takes the form of a creature immune
to that attack, she inherits the immunity as well," Trigorah
deduced.

"Yes . . . I guess. Are we done with her?"
the creature nearly pleaded.

"Very well. What would you have me know?"
Trigorah relented. This was the most surreal interrogation she'd
ever performed. In the alley it was like trying to juggle a
tinderbox and a torch, and now it was like humoring a child that
was starved for attention. She was beginning to wonder how much of
the information she pulled from this damaged mind could be
trusted.

"Well, I can play music, and I can dance, and
I can sing too. Do you want to hear?" Ivy babbled.

"Now is not the time for that. Where did you
learn such things?" Trigorah asked. Certainly it hadn't been a part
of the education they had given her during her development.

"I don't know how I know, I just know. And I
am very good. Watch!" Ivy said, pulling the box from the floor
suddenly and beginning to open it.

Before the latches could be undone,
Trigorah's sword was at the ready.

"Stay your hands," she warned.

Ivy flinched, startled.

"Hey! I was just going to play the violin for
you!" she scolded.

"Creature, as long as you are cooperative I
will permit you to behave as you wish, but do not forget that you
are my prisoner. Trust is acceptable, but obedience is mandatory. I
am not your friend. I am your captor," Trigorah growled, her
blade's point held a whisper away from Ivy's throat.

"You wouldn't hurt me," Ivy said with
dismissal.

"I will do what I must to achieve my ends.
Consider this your last warning," Trigorah said with finality.

The general was accustomed to loyalty,
obedience, and fear. She would NOT be dismissed.

"But we are supposed to be friends. Don't you
feel it too? You and I are supposed to help each other," Ivy said,
confused by the threatening action.

"No. You only believe that because of
something that was done to you while you were being created,"
Trigorah seethed. Her logic screamed for her to stop, to weather
this behavior. She could not bring herself to head the
warnings.

"Oh, what do you know? I mean, look at that
ugly thing on your arm. Who would wear that?" Ivy said, in the same
infuriating tone, pointing to the outstretched arm that held the
sword.

Trigorah looked to the bulge under her sleeve
that Ivy had indicated.

"You will not mock my band," Trigorah said,
pulling back the sleeve to reveal a gold band engraved with runes
clasped tightly about her upper arm. "This band was presented to me
before I swore allegiance to the four Generals. It represents my
honored position at the head of the great army of this great land.
The day I remove it is the day I forsake my superiors and forsake
my kingdom. It has not left my skin since the day it was
given."

Ivy twisted her head to try to get a better
look at the runes.

"To quench the flames and dim the light? What
does that mean?" Ivy asked, perplexed.

"What foolishness are you saying?" Trigorah
hissed.

"That's what it says. There are other runes
after it but that is what the little ones say. You mean you didn't
. . . " Ivy began to explain, but suddenly she seemed
distracted.

The creature sniffed at the air, concern
quickly turning to fear.

"He's here," she said, terror beginning to
spill off of her again.

Trigorah turned to the door. A sudden
thunderous blow buckled the hinges. A second splintered them free.
As the ruined tatters of door collapsed into the room, the hulking
form of Epidime stepped inside. Ivy cowered behind Trigorah, who
slowly sheathed her weapon.

"What are you doing?! He will kill us!" she
shrieked.

"You have made a number of very influential
individuals very upset, Teloran," Epidime scolded with his
characteristic coolness.

"I have also captured one of the Chosen,
something those same individuals could not do. I think that
deserves some consideration," she countered.

"Ah yes. Ivy, as they call her. Demont's pet
project. Tell me, how is it you managed to keep from lighting her
short fuse for so long?" Epidime asked.

"Never mind that. It is quite likely that the
others are coming, and I do not think it wise to face them here,"
Trigorah said.

"Why are you talking to him?! He is evil! We
have to go!" Ivy said.

"Why . . . does this little beast trust you?
That is a remarkable feat, General," Epidime admitted.

"Are you listening to me? We need to get to a
more defensible position," Trigorah said.

Epidime still gazed at the trembling figure
of Ivy.

"You didn't strike me as though you were in
any hurry to leave before my arrival. Besides, I doubt we will find
a position more defensible than the city," Epidime said.

"Up until your arrival I had handled the
situation with at least some semblance of tact. We might have
escaped notice. And this isn't a fort, Epidime, there are civilians
here," Trigorah protested.

"Collateral damage is a part of war," he
replied.

Trigorah held firm. "You've seen what they
can do. The entire city may be destroyed."

"Acceptable losses," came the logical
reply.

"Acceptable? Hundreds of people would lose
their lives for two? We are supposed to protect these people!" the
general urged.

"An end best served by removing this threat
to their freedom. Interesting that you are so eager to seek higher
ground the moment I arrive. One might almost suppose you have other
motives. A less understanding superior might even suspect
insubordination. However, that cowering little prototype behind you
has earned you the benefit of a doubt or two. Permit me to subdue
our present prize. Afterward I will even allow you to tell me what
you have learned, rather than simply taking it from you," Epidime
said.

"What? No! NO!" Ivy cried.

She tried to run, but with her mind still set
on suppressing her emotions lest she ruin this place, she wasn't
fast enough. The gem in the blade of his weapon was brought to bear
on her head. A bright, intense flash of light and crack of energy
surged forth. A moment later, Ivy dropped to the ground, forced
into a deep and unwilling sleep.

#

Not far to the south, Ether released an ear
splitting cry of pain. She dropped swiftly to the ground, crying
out and clawing at the mark on her head. Far behind, Lain watched
the spectacle. For the last few hours Ether had been leading him
like a signal beacon, tracking Ivy through some arcane means, but a
gust of wind had brought a trace of her scent to him, and Ether
would no longer be necessary. The smell was mingled with others.
Hundreds of people. She was in a town. If his sense of direction
had not failed him, this was a place called Fallbrook. Two scents
asserted themselves above the others. The first was the one that
had been missing further south. Trigorah. The other was that of a
man he had known as Arden, one he now knew to be General Epidime.
Two Generals. The situation smacked of ambush, but there was
nothing to be done. For a few moments more he watched the sky
ahead. The dawn was throwing a pale gold against the clouds. If
indeed the Generals were prepared for him, darkness and the shape
shifter would be welcome if not indispensable allies. For the
moment, it seemed he had neither. The one piece of luck had been
the proximity of this place. Ivy must have been trying to find them
to have come this far.

Any hint of cover was left behind long ago.
Lain was sprinting across open field. His trained mind cataloged
dozens of mistakes he was making. From the deep, distinct
footprints he was leaving to the proximity of a well traveled road,
he was keenly aware of his carelessness, but time afforded nothing
more. His eyes focused on the town ahead, mapping out entrances and
exits. Bringing to mind what he remembered of the rooftops and back
alleys. Formulating what little of a plan he could. Working out
where troops might be hidden, where they might gather and how to
evade them. Determining where she would be. No time could be wasted
searching. If this was indeed an ambush he would have to know
precisely where she was even before he reached the fringes of the
city.

After a short distance he found the
smoldering form of Ether. She was standing, trying to regain her
composure. The state she was in was almost beyond description. It
seemed as though she was caught halfway between her stone and flame
forms. Veins of fire swept slowly across a black stone body,
glowing white hot and flaring every few moments. As she heard his
approach she turned to him. Her eyes, glowing like two embers,
showed a mixture of fear, desperation, and anger. The sight of him
was enough to spur her back into the air, the flame finally
regaining its full force.

#

Ether's cry had not escaped the notice of the
Generals. Indeed, every eye in the city was turned to its source.
The once nearly empty streets of the place were now peppered with
the residents that the war had spared. Whispers passed quickly
through the crowd. Tales had been told of a monster or demon that
had spawned chaos in another town not long ago. It had assaulted
one of the King's men. Was this that beast? Trigorah and Epidime
reached the street a step behind the last patron of the tavern.

"And you are certain that there are only two
coming for her?" Epidime said thoughtfully, unphased by the growing
unrest around him.

"The shape shifter and the assassin,"
Trigorah said. "A force that I hesitate to face without any
reinforcements."

"There will be reinforcements. For the time
being we shall offer up some fodder," Epidime said.

The imposing warrior forced his way through
the roiling crowd to the center of the street.

"Attention! The creatures that approach are
enemies of the Northern Alliance. You are hereby drafted into the
great Alliance Army. Defend this building with your lives!" he
barked.

Fear and doubt turned instantly to pure
chaos. Some searched madly for something to arm themselves with.
Most ran in panicked mobs seeking some form of shelter to hide from
the carnage that was sure to rain down.

"Are you mad? These people won't last more
than a moment against them!" Trigorah protested.

"A moment is all that is required," Epidime
stated.

With that the General disappeared inside the
tavern. Trigorah's eyes drew skyward. The air was scorching with
the heat thrown off by the form that hung in the air just over the
street. The burning white slits that served as eyes for the shape
shifter came to rest firmly on Trigorah. Pitchforks, random debris,
and anything else that the maddened crowd could find were hurled
fruitlessly at the powerful being. They merely passed through her
form, momentarily disturbing it and taking to flame.

"You. Elf. Bring the malthrope here or
perish," came Ether's command.

Trigorah held her tongue, instead raising her
sword.

"So be it," Ether thundered.

In the blink of an eye the fiery form
launched itself earthward. The impact threw back the throng that
had gathered beneath her. The light from the flames faded and the
shape shifter was hidden from sight by the mob. Trigorah issued
swift orders to stand aside, but these were no soldiers. No heed
was paid as half of the crowd climbed over themselves to get a
taste of combat and the other half scrambled to escape. Hammering
footsteps rang out even over the roar of the crowd. The now stone
form of Ether charged effortlessly through them, those who would
stop her tossed aside like dried leaves.

Trigorah's weapon was expertly placed to
block the attack, but the force was like that of a charging bull.
Ether heaved a backhand, knocking the blade aside. She gripped the
warrior by each arm, pinning them to her body and hoisting her in
the air. Helpless, Trigorah was slammed against the wall of the
tavern, the wind knocked from her lungs.

"REVEAL HER!" Ether demanded.

The wake Ether had left behind her slowly
filled in again as the townsfolk flooded toward her. A hundred
hands grasped at her, trying to pry her grip on their beloved
General free. Their combined strength barely gave the elemental
pause. With another powerful thrust against the wall Ether repeated
her demand.

"REVEAL HER!" she cried.

"You shall never have her," Trigorah replied
weakly, gasping for breath.

With a cry of frustration, Ether turned,
hurling Trigorah into the crowd. The swiftness of the motion
scattered the other attackers.

"Careful, shape shifter, I have use for her
yet," came the voice of Epidime from above.

Ether's eyes shot to the roof of the tavern,
where Epidime stood smugly.

"And I suspect you still have use for this
little creature," he said, holding forth a sinewy arm and dangling
the limp form of Ivy off the edge by her wrist.

As his fist tightened around the unconscious
creature's wrist, the mark on Ether's head flared. She dropped to
her knees. The crowd swarmed over her. Epidime smiled, heaving
Ivy's form back onto the roof. He turned, holding his halberd high.
A narrow ribbon of white blue light tore upward. Below, Trigorah
was helped to her feet and rushed quickly to the writhing mass of
crowd. Whatever had stopped Ether in her tracks would not last
long. She had to take full advantage.