“That was the last I saw of you,” Morgana concluded. “You said you were going to find an ale. I looked for you later, but you were not to be found. Unless you left the academy grounds, I can only surmise one of the staff or students was involved. My mother said she would look into it.”
“Hvsun said there was a traitor among those I mingle with and that I arrived drugged and unconscious,” I pondered. “That can only mean someone slipped a sleep potion into my drink. It be maddening, but I cannot recall anything after leaving you.”
“Of course, you won’t be saying that in public,” Lorenzo spoke.
“What? Why not?”
“Ah, yes,” Morgana agreed and nodded her head.
I hate it when I seem to be the last to catch a joke, but was not going to ask what they meant. I instead considered his statement.
“Oh, yes,” I finally comprehended. “I now remember the culprit behind my abduction. What say we announce I will reveal the traitor tomorrow during a meeting with Head Mistress Mirthia, but for now I am keeping the matter to myself?”
“Perfect,” replied Lorenzo.
“I will need guard tonight.” I said to Morgana. “If all here are suspect, even Mirthia, you must ask your mother for help.”
“Do not give me that look,” I quickly responded to her frown. “What if several senior witches are involved?”
“You are right,” Morgana grudgingly agreed. “I will call for her. Still, there will come a day when such aid will not be required.”
“So, this means we do not reveal our plot to anyone but Morganna? Right?” I asked the two.
“I think it best,” Lorenzo replied.
“Hmm. Be our trap too obvious?” I wondered out loud. “Why would I wait until morning?”
“Because,” Morgana sat up straighter and continued, “more witches will be arriving tomorrow. It will be safer with them present when unmasking the traitor or traitors.”
“That really makes no sense, but I guess we can only wait and see,” I sighed. “Thanks for the ideal, Lorenzo. Next time, though, I hope I can come up with a plot involving you being the goat staked out for the cave lions.”
~ * ~
“I placed a ward on your quarters,” Morgana explained in late evening, before returning to her own room. “It can only be breached if attacked by a high-level wielder of magic or a number of witches of lesser abilities. If an attempt is made, the ward will sound an alert. My mother has already slipped into my room and together we will respond to any attack.”
“And I, little buddy, will be there as backup,” added Lorenzo after Morgana left.
I was about to give a pithy reply when we were violently thrown to the floor by a thunderous quake. The dark sky outside the window blazed brighter than midday.
“What in the …?”
A second blast drowned out my curse.
“This be not the work of a witch or two,” I exclaimed. “It be an all-out assault on the academy.”
The floor beneath us rolled like that of a storm-tossed ship and plaster exploded as cracks snaked across the walls and ceilings. Outside, lightning flashes of purple and scarlet battered against an invisible barrier.
~ * ~
Not again. For the second time in two days, I awoke with a headache and this time chained to a chair. An overall smarting spoke of rough handling. I did not lift my head nor open my eyes. The air felt clammy. I was surrounded by a deathly silence and a fungal odor. Obviously, no one at the academy expected such a fanatical assault, having been preparing for an attack but by one or two rogue witches. As they say, the finest tactics of rats and hominids often go astray.
“We know you be awake, ferret,” spoke a voice as chilling as one emanating from the lipless mouth of a skeletal corpse.
I opened my eyes to find myself seated in a large cavern – its gleaming black walls studded with glowing blood-red wizard orbs that did little for a welcoming ambiance. An exceptionally brilliant sphere floated just above my head. Three Ghennison Viper Mages wearing their signature pointed hats hovered several feet above the rock floor with arms and legs crossed. I looked about. No one else was present.
I gazed about the cavern. Corpses in varying states of decay were shackled along one wall. Carrion beetles scurried about their feet as bits of rotting flesh dropped to the floor.
“That be private inquisitor. I like what you have done to the place. Did you get a decorator or do it yourself?”
“We will see how humorous you act by day’s end,” spoke the middle mage. Like his cohorts and Ghennison Viper Mages as a whole, he wore the purple peaked hat that sets them apart from other wizards. They also had the sallow complexion of a fading bruise and deep sunken eyes. The three had the mummified appearances common to the Ancient Ones of their cabal.
“I like how you color coordinate between your teeth and complexion. Yellow be a good look for you.”
“You have plagued us for the last time,” he ignored me and continued. “On too many occasions your blunderings interfered with our works, as well as costing lives of our members. The last straw was preventing us from gaining the controlling faraway wand to the automaton idol that you so inanely called the Golden Muskrat.”
My head was finally clearing. I wanted to believe I would be saved by avenging witches, though the odds of them breeching the Viper Mage stronghold did not look good.
“You must be pretty upset to stage such an attack,” I spoke. “Was I getting too close? Who of the covens has been aiding you in the recent attacks on the crystals and myself?”
“Hah, so your meddlings have made you other enemies?” he cackled. “Why should we care what those lesser females do? We seek only vengeance and to make a lesson of you. We cannot allow your insults to stand. There be our reputation to protect.”
What? The mages were not involved in the malspells? I was confused. What gain for the mage by such a lie?
“What of my friends?”
“That be of no concern to you.”
I took that to mean they were safe otherwise he would be gloating. Morgana and her mother would have responded swift enough to raise a magical shield, though obviously not in time to reach my room. Lorenzo, well, he be Lorenzo.
“We leave for other duties, but fear not, we will return soon with our brothers. A call was sent and all are gathered to enjoy your painful and timely demise.”
“It be so nice that you can get the family together,” I observed. “Often times it be just for funerals. Will this be a catered affair?”
“Oh, it will be for a funeral,” he chortled.
The three floated from the room like leaves drifting in a river current.
I strained and wiggled as best I could, which told me the mages had been more thorough than the assassins. All things metal had been removed but they had missed my ivory picks hidden in the heel of my left boot. I slid my feet beneath the chair and after a bit of contortion managed to retrieve them. The lock was simple and the chain clattered to the floor. It seemed too easy and I feared to be interrupted at any moment.
It appeared the mages were too smug and complacent when it came to prisoners in their impregnable stronghold. They learned nothing from their past brushes with me. None be quicker at picking locks, except perhaps veteran members of the thief’s guild, than a competent private inquisitor.
Still, I was wary of such an easy getaway. Circling the cavern were ten recesses. I cautiously made my way to the one directly opposite the exit taken by the mages. It was dimly lit by wizard orbs. Why worry of getting lost when I had no idea where I was or where to go? Even so, past experiences had verified the wisdom of marking trails. I wanted no sign that could be detected by the mages and decided to alternate between right and left choices when coming to forks in the passageway.
The tunnel I chose had few branching’s, though it did wind forth and back as if following softer veins of rock for excavating. It was an effort to maintain hopeful spirits as time progressed. There was no way of knowing if I was plunging deeper into this viper nest or nearing the surface.
I stopped when observing a hole in the wall, two feet above my head. Gripping its edge and hauling myself up, I was greeted with a slight breeze that lacked the staleness of the caverns. It could only be an air vent. Even lightless, it offered more allure than the endless passages I traveled.
Minutes later a pinpoint of light appeared. Not the nauseating crimson of the wizard orbs, but a clean glow that promised white clouds and blue sky. I found myself reenergized and hungrily crawled toward it as a moth to the flame.
I blinked and grimaced beneath the blinding glare of a noonday sun as I crawled from the tunnel. A wall of heat struck me as the opening of an oven door. The shaft exited onto a ledge running twenty to thirty feet on both sides and a dizzying two to three thousand feet above a desert floor.
Dozens of vibrant green pinnacles towered like giant sentinels and gleamed as polished gemstones. The red lights of the wizard orbs had hidden the true color of the cavern and tunnel walls of the mage stronghold.
I knew it had been too easy. What would I do even if I found a way down to the harsh beauty of the Cythnian Desert, its floor littered with wickedly sharp splinters of crystals?
“New in purgatory. Come here often?”
I barely controlled a start that would have sent me tumbling over the crag. “Just scouting out the real estate for Lorenzo. This would make a great jump-off lodge for his air sailings.”
“I just cannot keep track of you. Every time I turn around…”
I silenced the rest of Morgana’s quip by spinning about and crushing the witch in my arms.
“Hmm. You seem glad to see me.”
“No, just saving you from tumbling off the ledge.”
“Then you can let go now,” she laughed, which I reluctantly did.
“How did you find me and how did you pass their wards? I thought they were almost impregnable.”
“After losing you to those torturers yesterday, mother and I worked a connection spell on you last night before the attack. You do have such a habit of wandering off to the strangest places. As both a beacon and anchor, you enable me to be drawn like a magnet to iron. An unexpected benefit is that it also exploits a chink in the mages’ magical protections that are weaker outside their warrens, though it did take time to prepare for my jump.”
“Great. Let us get out of here before the mages come looking for me,” I urged. “They are not the most welcoming of hosts.”
“First things first. You are not the only one who now acts as an anchor,” she replied, and turned to face the sky. In an eerily echoing voice that set my teeth a buzz she cried, “Let it begin.”
I stared at her in bewilderment until her call was answered by the one-by-one emergence from thin air of two-dozen witches. They hovered above us until the last of their number appeared and then glided onto the ledge. Satchels hung from their shoulders and each grasped a staff I knew to be magical flame hurlers.
Morganna made her way to our side and sniffed, “So, you survive?”
“You sound so joyful,” I sarcastically replied.
“I am. We were not sure if the spell would work with a corpse.”
“I am guessing you are not just here to safely chaperone me home,” I said, while observing the stern expressions about me.
“We cannot let their attack upon a witch academy stand,” the mother witch replied. “Their evil machinations have plagued all hominids for too long. Finding you outside and free does make this simpler. My daughter insisted we rescue you, which would have called for an inner assault upon their citadel.”
“I am so glad not to have inconvenienced you, but how are you to assail them from here?”
“Does this opening lead to their warrens?”
“It does.”
“We begin our attack like this.” Morganna motioned to the other witches and they began slipping off their shoulder pouches.
“This borders dangerously close to the black arts, but it be our only option,” the witch spoke in an ominous tone.
I watched the witches line up before the shaft and one by one begin emptying the contents of their satchels – marble-sized orbs so colorless they seemed as light-sucking holes into a hellish abyss. They flowed like beads of black mercury into the opening.
“They will spread throughout the stronghold,” Morgana whispered to me. “Minutes from now they will activate and latch onto the wielders of magic.”
“And?” I asked
“Suck the souls from their bodies, leaving only dried husks.”
“Yes, I have to admit, that sounds like bordering on the black arts,” I observed with a shudder as the last of the shoulder bags were emptied.
I would have been appalled by the slaughter if not for the insane evilness of the cabal. “Can we go now?”
“All right, what have not you told me?” I asked, after Morgana gave me a quick hug and gazed worriedly into my face.
“The travel spell, as with the black orbs, works only upon those with magical powers. You cannot leave with us, but Adalbert be on his way and will find you here once the mages are dead and the wards fallen.”
“Hmm. I am guessing if Adalbert waits for your return, he will not arrive here until next morn. Am I right?”
“Yes, but you will be safe with the mages purged from their warrens. Just be here at sunrise.”
“You did not happen to bring any food or drink with you?”
Morgana winced. “No, but their pantries should be well stocked. You will be safe. The death beads only are drawn to those who wield magic.”
“Fine. I will be safe until then, but you better leave now before the soul sucking starts.”
She gave me a deep kiss and stepped away as the witches began disappearing, leaving only popping sounds in their wake.
I sighed at once more standing alone on the ledge. I was hesitant to imagine the offerings of a viper mage’s larder. Pickled dwarves, candied eyeballs, infant jerky? Most important of all, did viper mages drink ale?
The passage back was uneventful, though once I thought to hear faint shrieks of terror and pain. At first glance, the cavern where I had awoken was empty. It was while circling the chamber that I realized the scattered robes contained the ash and brittle bits of bone belonging to former mages. I counted eight of the heaps. It was a relief to find the orbs worked as claimed. Now I could only hope they continued their incinerations throughout the entire maze of warrens.
I will not describe all that my search revealed. It did reinforce the horrid tales whispered of Ghennison Viper Mages. Those twisted, unspeakable sights killed any appetite for food. Thankfully, the wretched victims were dead, because I did not want to imagine them still living with such mutilations. Other quarters were left unexplored because of foul stenches emanating from their doorways.
Walking the silent halls was almost dreamlike, or nightmarish – the chambers and hallways occupied only by the grit and robes of dead mages. I occasionally froze in dread upon hearing some far-off echoing, but nothing came of it. Maybe it was the angry protests of the newly born ghosts. It made me hope they died quickly – not because of any feelings of mercy, but so they had not the time to curse those still living.
I stumbled onto the mages’ treasure vault. Chests and casks overflowed with jewelry, precious stones and coins, as well as silver and gold plates and chalices.
I scooped up a fortune in gems and mused that I could spawn a small industry in fake treasure maps and trek outfitters if I related only the vaguest hints of the hoard’s whereabouts. It be so with Pirate Rik’s buried treasure. Dozens of gullible visitors to the Amnesian Islands scour the beaches each year in search of the mythical loot. There are regular deaths, either from those who prey on the moneyed fools or from the sudden and violent ocean storms. No doubt many crossing the Cythnian Desert in search of a rumored mage treasure would also suffer lethal fates.
I would instead confer with Morgana and Lorenzo on how best to deal with the hoard. Fortunes of but a fraction of this wealth have driven men to horrific deeds. I emptied my two handfuls of gems into my pouch and continued the search for something to ease my thirst. By now I did not even care if it was water.
The shriveled remains of wizards filled the passageways and chambers. I gave up counting after one hundred. Occasionally, a black orb would emerge from a doorway or around a corner or hall. I would stop and hold my breath as they rolled by, but I proved of no interest to them.
I was continually astonished by the rich tapestries, graceful statuary and the stunning paintings revealed during my explorations. I could but believe the vile mages valued the artworks only as plunder and not for their beauty.
The wanderings finally brought me to a large dining hall. Crumpled robes filled some of the chairs set before half-finished meals. The smoke-filled kitchen reeked of charred meats atop still glowing coals. My stomach remained unsettled, but I was relieved to find a cask of apple cider. I quickly downed three cups and filled a jug.
Several blankets joined the cider jug while retracing my steps. I had no intentions of spending the night in this ghost-filled lair. I would move back into the ventilation shaft if the desert night proved too chilly.
Once again, I was moved by the exotic beauty of the crystal summits as they were transformed by the setting red sun from rich emeralds to black gleaming crystals. Volcanoes can leave empty lava tubes. Could these towering shafts be the opposite – flows of obsidian left after the outer rock eroded away?
A lone ghoul vulture circled a distant pinnacle and I took that as a sign the last of the mages were dead and the wards fallen.
~ * ~
“How am I to land on such a sliver of rock?” a booming voice jerked me from a fitful sleep.
“You might be able to if you would lose some weight. Soon you will be like a fattened farm chicken, too heavy to fly and fit only for pulling manure carts,” I replied, not feeling overly jolly.
The abuse pangs from the mages had been magnified by sleeping on the rock floor.
Adalbert was right. The ledge was not wide enough for him to land sideways with outstretched wings. The dragon could land straight on, but his head would be pressed against the mountainside. Turning around would be tricky.
“You need to jump, and I will catch you.”
“What? Are you mad?” I blurted.
“You do not trust me? I am hurt,” Adalbert responded in mock grief. “We must hurry. This hovering tires me.”
I eyed the dragon and tried estimating how far I needed to jump. He had slowly descended and was now ten feet below me.
“There be not the room for a running start,” I firmly stated.
“There be. Do it.”
“You will be forever haunted by remorse and guilt if this does not work.”
“Do it.”
“It would be hard explaining to Morgana.”
“I will get a bonus from her mother. Just do it.”
I took a deep breath and, pushing myself away from the rock wall, sprinted to the edge and leaped into the void.
Adalbert had rolled back and snatched me as I dropped past him. “Oof. It be you who needs fasting.”
Several minutes later we were on the desert floor. Adalbert picked a clearing fairly free of the splinters from the towering crystal summits. The gems ranged in size from my little toe to the trunks of fallen firs.
“If not for the viper mages, this region would long ago have been plundered by crafters of cheap jewelry,” I observed while holding up a gleaming shard for examination. “If not for the crystal being in such vast quantity, no doubt it would be highly prized.”
“Quit your babbling and climb on,” Adalbert said impatiently. “It be a long trip back. First, though, fill the webbing rucksacks with the stones.”
“Sure, but they will be of little value.”
“Maybe so, but not until the site be found,” he chortled.
~ * ~
“That be how I bravely led your troop of witches to the viper mage stronghold, and risking a venomous vengeance, scouted their evil warrens to verify all were dead,” I concluded before a group of young academy students.
“It is interesting how you manage to lead people when you were unconscious,” Lorenzo interjected.
“It does take a unique skill to lull foes while comatose,” I replied, while waving for another ale.
We were gathered in the academy canteen and I was sorely in need of rehydration after the grueling time in the desert and the long flight back. It had been a nerve-racking last couple of days even when compared to the time I was a temple prisoner of Dorga the Fish-Headed God of Death, kidnapped by a piss dragon, held captive by vampires or pursued along narrow crag paths by an ancient leviathan deity. If anyone deserved an ale, it was me.
Earlier, I spent time with Lorenzo and Morgana, discussing the latest progress of our cases. We decided the most recent viper mage attack was solely vengeance driven. That meant the malspell attacks were from an independent group of viper mages with the aid of rogue witches. It was easy to see why wizards would be jealous, or even fearful, of the expanded influence that the crystals would bring their female competitors. That left the question of why would some witches be in league or acting on their own? What did these witches hope to gain, or fear losing, with the crystal message links?
“Maybe it be as simple as one or two disaffected witches out to sow discord,” I hazarded a guess.
The puzzle was giving me a headache.
“We at the academy will continue attempts to track the source of the malspells,” Morgana said. “Those behind the attacks showed themselves very adept at crystal magics. That was proven by the false lead to the viper mage stronghold.”
I grimaced before speaking aloud a thought, “But was it false? The search was narrowed down to the Cythnian Desert. It be a big place. What if the attacks are from the desert, but not from the viper mage lair?”
“Could be,” admitted the witch. “It should be safe to thoroughly investigate the desert with the Ghennison Viper Mages gone. I can leave tomorrow with a cadre of witches, some being the first answering the Grand Gathering. To travel to and back, along with the search, will take four to five days.”
“Will the gathering still be called for with the viper mages no longer a threat?” I asked.
Morgana shrugged. “It may be needed even more.”
“How so?”
“Because of the other wizards?” Lorenzo asked.
“Exactly,” Morgana answered. “Envoys are being sent to all of Glavendale wizard cabals and schools. As with squabbling family members, the cabals might close ranks with the destruction of one of their own. It all depends upon the degree the wizards loathed their venomous brethren, as well as us witches.”
“Are you talking war?” I blurted in shock.
A wizard-witch war occurred centuries ago and the horrific devastation still echoes down the ages in ballads and children’s rhymes. Other reminders include buried deposits of ash, shattered ruins and great rifts in the earth.
“We think not, but there be that possibility.” Morgana replied. “The Grand Gathering be a two-edged sword. We may need such a defense, but the calling could also provoke the wizards. The envoys hope to persuade them we are not preparing for a wider conflict and our attack was justified. A lesser response to the viper mages would have only spurred them to launch an even greater assault. The insidious nature of the Ghennison Viper Mages be common knowledge.”
“It makes finding a lost pixie gold shipment seem frivolous,” I said.
“Yet we must all continue with the investigations,” she replied. “No doubt the wizards have their own feelers out. Our investigations into the malspells and theft of the gold be well known. It would appear suspicious for us not to continue as normal.”
I could but reluctantly agree to Morgana’s trip and detailed my plans for the next few days. I would focus on finding who ordered the hiring of the torturers.
I stopped and clasped Morgana’s shoulders. “Are you sure it be safe for you tomorrow? Even without the viper mages, the Cythnian Desert be a treacherous scape. There are tales of giant poisonous scorpions, voracious jackal ants and ruins said to be still haunted by ancient curses.”
Pecking me on the cheek, Morgana spoke to allay my fears, “Be not such a fretter. I will be in the company of seasoned witches. Those arriving for the Grand Gathering are veterans of battles with sinister creatures and forces that would cause you sleepless nights if known.”
I gave another hug and observed with a smile, “It be a good thing I will have a wife to keep me safe at night.”
“Among other things,” she laughed.