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Chapter 59. Master and Apprentice |
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ocus, girl!” Marga snarled at her, “Master Tan used you, have you no rage or hatred for him?” Keisha flinched away from Marga’s platinum scepter. The looming figure’s fierce black eyes were all that was visible through the slits of her fearsome metallic mask. Keisha had spent weeks preparing for this moment but still she felt awkward in the strange black attire as she performed the strange Lyssan rite. They had forced the trials of Weh No Su upon her, taking no chances with her standing in the eyes of the gods. Leaner and angrier, she might have gutted Marga easily with the skills she had prepared for this trial. It was a toss-up who she hated more at this point. Master Tan was a murderer of children and had very nearly tricked her into killing Master Bei. Marga was a masterful manipulator and the enmity Keisha felt was very personal. Yet, as daunting as it was to face Master Tan and his demonic servant, she could not live with the knowledge that she might condemn her friends by even the smallest act of defiance. Her gloved hand tightened over the slim staff of crystal, Marga’s left hand clenched above hers. Once more she softly chanted the strange words and visualized the man she hated, whose life she had once tried to take in a guilty act of vengeance. Once more she found the fatalistic rage that had driven her to her quarry on that night. Her body shuddered and the strange magenta blare of chaos energies shimmered up the staff and burst white hot, tearing open a blazing disk of nothingness in the open air between them. Instead of heat there was a sweet heady odor of the ether. Keisha blinked, her eyes strained with its intensity as she turned her face instinctively away. “The portal is opened and now we shall hunt,” Marga announced triumphantly Zhai Gao and Bai Bo bounded through the blinding portal ahead of them, closely followed by a score of Marga’s guild members. The sacred ritual had specified only two should partake of the rite but Marga had down-played Keisha’s concerns. Keisha had no choice in any event and could only watch as warriors, monks and magi of every variety poured through the molten crack in the either. It was impossible to see what lay on the other side. “Now we must go as one,” Marga commanded, throwing aside the crystalline staff that had acted as the fulcrum for the portal’s origin. Keisha cast a final glance over the dim chamber, shivering as an unpleasant chill emanated from the glowing eye of the chaos disk. The strange patterns and sigils woven from white crystalline powder on the ground were now scuffed by the passage of so many feet. The distant gash of shadow that marked the long chamber’s only egress seemed miles away. Marga grasped her wrist and tugged her around with a curse. It was all wrong, Keisha knew it to the very marrow of her bones. Marga had used her to perform a ritual neither of them fully understood. She did not want to follow but the blinding whiteness engulfed her and her ears were filled with screams and the fury of pitched battle. A new pattern of sigils blared beneath her feet, glyphs of unknown significance forged of liquid gold and encrusted with precious gems. The very stone was etched with lines of power and a shimmering curtain of eldritch blue flames curled around the wide circle’s edge. For once Marga hesitated and Keisha saw that the woman realized she had made a fatal error. Keisha bounded over Zhai Goa’s shattered body and nearly slipped on the bloody remains of Bai Bo. The two assassins had been cut down almost immediately, their faces preserving their shock and terror. Instinct goaded her to withdraw. She had neither the armor nor stamina to maintain close combat like a warrior. Her art was sudden deadly strikes. Dodging flying bodies and avoiding being trampled by those who were yet alive and fleeing, she reached the edge of the circle and slammed into a wall where none existed. Stunned, she looked on in horror as one of Marga’s elementalists repeated the maneuver, crashing into nothing only to die an instant later when a hideous creature decapitated him with a sweep of its obsidian claws. Holy Gods, they were bound inside the same circle as the demon. Spells flashed and fizzled, the stalking monstrosity hardly touched by blade or hex. Its inhuman figure lashed out mantis-like, the impact of its claws so powerful the armor burst off a warrior’s body and sent him flying in a welter of blood and gore. Keisha danced around behind the demon, keeping her distance, trying to stay beneath its attention. A score of Marga’s guild members were quickly being whittled down to a dozen and still the demon appeared unscathed, its terrible roars at times resembling laughter. “I can’t strike it down,” Keisha thought, “How did this happen? I was focusing on Master Tan.” She watched in mute terror as Marga snapped a hex and backed away, her spell drawing the creature’s focus. “Foolish mesmer,” the creature hissed, its six dead black eyes drawing level with her, “You know not what you have done, but I thank you. Were it not for you, I would still be imprisoned here. Now I am free at last.” Keisha’s stomach clenched. The voice was that of Master Tan and the hideous jaws were an echo of the mask he had always worn at their meetings. The man and the demon had merged somehow, perhaps they had always been one and the same. Marga made a desperate attempt to stop the creature but her spell fizzled uselessly and in one swipe of its great talons the woman crumpled in a bloody heap. Keisha hurried around the wide edge of the circle, keeping out of the beast’s line of sight as it demolished a second warrior and sped hungrily toward a young monk. It was then Keisha heard the distinct sounds of a child crying. At this end of the circle there was a low offering table such as might be found at a rural shrine. There were immense jars of sand in which sticks of long cooled incense had been burned and there were offering plates of rancid meat and the rotting heads of several children. Fear and disgust vied within her, her stomach churning with the desire to vomit. It was the sight of the small figure wriggling upon the stone table that helped her find focus. Cocooned in the white silks of death, the little figure was blindfolded and bound with golden cords. Her cries were like the bleats of a lamb brought before the butcher’s blade. No one who stayed in that circle would survive. Keisha glanced up to see that only a handful now remained, their terror and attempts to flee only giving the demon amusement. Its immense form bunched for a pounce and bore down over a terrified ritualist with a gut-wrenching splatter. The portal still blazed at the center of the elaborate circle, the only means of escape. An elementalist had reached the same conclusion and edged toward it only to draw the immediate attention of the demon. Keisha gathered the helpless child into her arms and seized her opportunity. In a flash of darkness she emerged beside the doomed elementalist and tumbled easily through the blazing disk as the poor woman’s shrieks were stolen by the ether. The chill of the underground chamber met her on the other side. An unearthly wind flowed up the steps of the crude stone dais, causing the candles to gutter at the perimeter of the ritual circle. The crystalline sand had gathered into a drift at the platform’s base. The chaos disk flared and churned behind her, its swirling outline edged with angry flashes of raw magenta power. It was no longer the blazing whiteness of starlight but a hideous blackened void. Merely glancing at it inspired vertigo. For an instant she feared she would fall down into its endless depths to be lost forever. Tearing herself away, she clutched the child tightly to her breast and pushed toward the gash of darkness that marked the stairs out of the dim chamber. The childhood nightmare of running without making progress took hold. What had been mere paces away earlier that day might as well have been miles. Gasping for air, the horrible wind pushed her back, the devouring black void sucked her toward its depthless maw. The fluttering shadows playing over the rough stone walls took form and she realized for the first time she was not alone. Stricken faces stared up at her, many of whom she recognized. “Ming!” she gasped, recognizing the secretive woman. None of them were moving. A score of figures edged the chamber wearing the brilliant white capes of the Order of the Crystal Palm. They had come to stop Marga but they had arrived too late. Keisha renewed her struggle to break free, seeking the shadows but her art failed her, the ether slipping through her straining mind like water. The churning void held her inexorably, drew her slowly toward its lifeless gape. “Help me!” she cried, but her voice was stolen by the unnatural wind. The child sobbed in her arms, the two of them locked around a shared terror. The motionless figures in the chamber only stared unblinking, statue still. What was happening? Gods, she was not a magician. Keisha did not need Zhou’s training to tell her some fundamental line had been crossed and now reality was broken. When the demon stepped effortlessly through the blackness and emerged into the chamber, she collapsed to her knees and curled forward over the screaming child. The wind had died and all that remained was a bone-chilling cold. Keisha dared to gaze upon the shadowy figure looming over the two of them, its fetid breath and dank drool splattering the bare stone of the platform near her right knee. She could not see its monstrous head from that vantage but its talons grated upon the stone on either side of her and the terrible midnight portal churned behind its lashing tail and spiked haunches. “Come forth Bei Zhou Li and bow before your master,” the beast said into the icy stillness. Its voice was thick with loathing and trembled through her bones like the pounding of a great drum. Then, as if she were dreaming, a tall figure clad all in black emerged from the shadows of the stairway. His face was concealed behind an expressionless steel mask, but his bristling black mane emerged beyond the gleaming swell of brow. She had studied that slow measured walk in the days before she had captured him and foolishly sent him into Ama’s clutches. He was Master Bei and he strode forth without the least sign of fear. “I will not bow to you, Xenarach. I bind you here and now before the gods. I bind you with the breath of the four winds…” “Your foolish charms no longer hold me,” the demon snarled, cutting him off, “Your inept apprentice set me free. Any power you had over me is gone. You must be very proud of him.” Zhou halted, the tightening of his fist over the thin crystalline staff the only sign of emotion. Keisha remarked that it was very like the one she had held with Marga to open the portal. “Nevertheless, I will not bow to you.” “Oh, you will,” the demon laughed with a sound reminiscent of cracking bone, “How many will you let me kill before you finally crawl whimpering to do my bidding? I know you. I made you.” “I have not come to parlay with you, Xenarach. Depart and do no harm, or face ultimate destruction.” For a moment hope blazed into the darkness that enshrouded Keisha’s soul. Zhou had come to save them. “You amuse me,” the creature snarled, “but you are mine and I know you are bluffing. On your knees!” To her horror, Zhou dropped to the ground and pressed his forehead obediently to the dirty stone. His back quaked in fear or resistance. Her hopes were shattered. He was only one frail man against a terrible immortal monster. Of course he would fail. The talon near her right knee rose and beckoned slowly, the black scythe of a single enormous claw drawing Zhou forward. Grief lodged in her throat as Zhou crawled closer, unable to resist. “I have spent many hours in Torment devising my punishment for you,” the demon said coldly, “Merely killing you would be insufficient. What do you think would be fitting for a disobedient apprentice?” “I did not disobey, I rejected you,” Zhou croaked and it was clear by the strain in his voice it was an effort merely to speak under the monster’s control. “You swore eternal service,” the demon roared, “There was nothing to reject.” “I swore eternal service to another. The contract is broken.” “Then DIE!” The chamber trembled with the demon’s enraged outcry. Zhou lay helpless before it, every fiber of his being struggling to break free even as the demon raised its left talon to swat him aside like an insect. Keisha could only look on in mute terror as the air whistled over the swiftly moving scythes of its claws. She had seen them pulverize the nameless members of Marga’s guild and now they would destroy an innocent man with the same vile disregard for human life. Then, as her own cry of dismay rang in her ears, a familiar voice rose in an arcane chant and the air before Master Bei shimmered magenta and blazed with a strange coruscating flame. For a moment Keisha thought she must be dreaming, that she would wake at any moment in her comfortless prison and realize everything had been but a terrible nightmare. The figure moved lightly, his battered rapier etching an arc of enchantment in the chill air before him. The demon’s claws clashed with the swiftly sweeping blade and disintegrated in a burst of obsidian shards. The ground trembled beneath her as the demon flailed back in pain and confusion. There was no time to question what she had just seen. Pendaran raced past her in a trailing flare of potent light, pressing his advantage with the demon as the flourished blade caused it to withdraw in agony. Zhou, released from the demon’s power, sat up quickly, and though Keisha could not see his expression, there was something about the way he rocked on his feet that suggested he was as shocked as she. “Run!” Zhou shouted at her but she followed his gaze to the well of blackness. The demon was edging toward it, retreating but clearly unwilling to withdraw into it. Its hideous gray flesh was blistered and singed, oozing a noisome ichor that steamed upon the stones as it fell in dank ribbons. A cry of horror flew from Zhou’s throat when the demon raised its bloodied talon to sweep Pendaran aside. A gasp caught in her throat. Time seemed to stand still as the crushing blow swept unavoidably toward Pendaran’s ribs. He would be pulverized. There was no way he could dodge aside in time. It went through him. Keisha sat there with her mouth open, her mind not yet able to understand what she had clearly seen. How was it possible? “Keisha,” Zhou yelled at her, “You must leave. Take the child to safety.” “But… Pendaran…” “Go!” he snapped, “Now!” He regained his feet and a silvery aura limned his form. A burst of light emanated from his masked visage and the demon squealed in agony. He raised aloft the crystalline staff and uttered a single syllable. In a burst of light the frail staff shattered and the portal vanished in a final shuddering blaze. Without further prodding, she bounded to her feet, clutching the child tightly as she ran. The frozen figures of Zhou’s guild members stirred and holy energies gleamed on drawn blades. A cry went up among them and she glanced back to see the beast withdrawing from their approaching tide. “Great, he goes and starts a fight without me,” grumbled Armand as he swept past her. She stood at the base of the stairs, laughter bubbling up inside her where none had dwelt for weeks. She watched in relief as Pendaran stepped down from the platform, walking past the furiously fighting guild members as if they were not there. What strange magic had he gleaned under Zhou’s tutelage? “Pen! Thank the gods! We’ve been worried…” There was a grim expression upon his gaunt face as he sheathed the sword. He vanished. There was no dramatic flare of light, no sound or acknowledgment. He simply ceased to be. “Pen?” she whispered, but the chamber resounded with the clash of blades and the dying snarls of the demon. She alone had seen him leave and now she was beginning to wonder if she alone had seen him arrive. Her momentary delight faded, replaced by a knot of dread. Obediently she climbed up the stairs, bearing the softly weeping child away from the carnage. Not until she was outside in the familiar yard of the compound did she sit down and remove the bindings. Once freed, the little girl clung to her like a limpet. Her silken black hair had been meticulously braided and threaded with gold and she was clad in an elaborate white gown adorned with entwined dragons. “What is your name, little one?” Keisha asked. The child hesitated, then curled into her arms and trembled like a frightened bird. She rocked the child gently as the two of them watched the entrance to the hall. The doors stood open but nothing stirred for many long breathless moments. When at last people began to file out of the building, she was relieved to see the lithe forms of Zhou and Armand emerge. Keisha rose, urging the child to stand beside her. “Thank the gods,” she croaked, overcome with emotion when she gazed up at Zhou and saw the stains of ichor and tears upon his face. He was weeping still and Armand stayed close, an unusual expression of concern upon his sharp features. Unmasked, the two men looked weary beyond their years. “Come,” said Armand, his pale eyes taking in the frightened child. His expression became grim and he shook his head. Zhou staggered a little and Ming came to his side and loaned him her shoulder. Several warriors and rangers formed a protective circle around them as they moved toward the gate. “What is wrong?” Keisha asked the golden-haired Tyrian but he only shook his head, indicating now was not a good time to discuss it. For the rest of the short journey back to the hidden sigil pad in the blasted remains of Kiku’s old guild, no one spoke a word. |
