Vainglory 3.42 - Allies

Enjoy the chapter!

-Plum

42 – Allies

Marie looked at the artifact in Ward’s hand, her eyes narrowed, her lips pressed together. Slowly shaking her head, she said, “I don’t understand. If the artifact is here, how is it also in the hands of Veylan and the other members of the Umbrage?”

Ward sighed. “I told you—this is the artifact. The other is an echo. I guess you can’t go around yanking things out of the timeline without leaving some trace, especially something that’s been influencing people for hundreds of years.”

“And the spirit within?”

“Another echo. Pallishae is in this artifact, but his corrupted alter-ego is in the other.” Ward shrugged. “I know it sounds crazy. I’d let you speak to him, but I don’t know if you can. He said my dreadmarked bloodline allowed him to communicate with me.”

“Dreadmarked…” Marie shook her head again, clicking her tongue.

“It’s not what you think,” Grace said, kicking her feet up and down as she perched on the edge of the desk.

Reembak didn’t look convinced, but she let the matter drop. “You think this spirit will be able to control Gwen?”

Ward shrugged. “That was the plan—find the Umbrage leader and let Pallishae handle things. It’s just…” He trailed off, rubbing his chin as he stared at her face, trying to get a read on her.

“What?”

“I’m still not sure I can trust you. You know, your attempts on my life ended in quite a few deaths. At least one of which was an innocent driver.”

She scowled, clenching and unclenching her bloodstained, well-manicured hands. “I told you why. I thought I was alone, facing the Umbrage. When I learned who Gwen was—when I learned she’d taken Coral, the last of my allies on the Assembly…” She inhaled through her nose, then blew the breath out raggedly. “I may have gotten sloppy in my desperation.”

“You said she only recently put one of those demons in Coral,” Grace said. “Why’d you send the duelist after Ward?”

“I didn’t know Coral wasn’t compromised back then! All I knew was that I finally sussed out Gwen’s identity and that she’d been dictating Coral’s movements behind closed doors.”

“It’s all so…messy,” Ward said with a sigh. “I need something more from you.”

“What? What more can I do? If you try to question Gwen, she’ll just as likely gain the upper hand. She’s very strong! Only the element of surprise allowed me to subdue her.”

“What about Coral? Grace knows how to get the demon out of him.”

Marie looked at Grace with wide eyes. “Truly?”

“Yes. But I think there’s something more Ward should do.”

“What?” they both asked, glancing at each other in muted irritation.

Grace smiled slyly. “You ought to use your newest spell.”

Ward knew what she meant: the Memory Walk spell. He’d been wanting to try it out, hadn’t he? He’d been intending to use it to test Vott Coral—why not Reembak? He nodded, looking at Marie grimly. “Are you willing to put the truth of your claims on the line?”

“I’m not lying!”

Ward grinned. “Then let’s prove it.”

“What’s the spell you speak of?”

Ward reached into his magic bag and pulled out his grimoire. “I’ll let you look at it.” He opened the book and turned to the spell in question, then approached Reembak, holding it in front of himself. When she reached for the book, he stepped back. “Look. Don’t touch.”

Her scowl deepened, but she leaned forward to read the page. “So you think I should expose my memories to you? What makes you think you’ll see something that will prove my honesty?”

Ward shrugged. “I have a similar spell that tends to show me what I’m looking for. You tell me—does intention influence how a spell like this works?”

Folding her arms over her chest, she leaned back with an almost comical harrumph. When Ward continued to stare, she said through clenched teeth. “Yes.”

“Interesting…” Grace whispered, tapping her red-polished nails on her chin.

“All right. Give me a minute to prepare this.” Looking into his mind, Ward saw that he had plenty of room for the spell now that he’d used up his Chains of Silence—he hadn’t mastered that spell enough to get more than one use out of it. He stood in the center of the rug, using his boot to sweep away some of the plaster that had fallen there when he’d smashed through the wall earlier. Then, feeling self-conscious and a little stupid, he began going through the forms outlined in his spellbook, using the words as a mantra in the specific rhythm noted on the page.

Marie kept quiet, and so did Grace. He hoped it was because they weren’t watching, but he had a feeling it was more to do with them understanding that any conversation would set him back and make the wait longer. As he finished the preparation, and the spell’s words of power took shape in his mind, Ward winced a little as he observed them. “This is going to hurt.”

“I was going to say: the spell looks a bit advanced for one of your progression.” Marie didn’t sound condescending, but Ward couldn’t help feeling even more self-conscious as he put his spellbook away and approached her.

“Yeah, well, what I lack in sorcery, I make up in other ways.”

“A point well-made already,” she replied, gently smoothing her torn, bloodstained robes.

“All right. You sure you’re okay with this? Just say so if you’re not—I’d rather you didn’t try to kill me or something as I cast the spell.” While he spoke, Ward retrieved another healing tonic from his magic bag; he’d drink it after casting the spell.

“If this is how I earn your trust, then I will submit. Go on, now. Each minute we delay, agents of the Umbrage work to unwind my various deceptions.”

“Right.” Ward looked at Grace, and she shrugged, nodding. He cleared his throat and looked at the dangerous, jagged words floating in his mind. Steeling himself, he focused his gaze on Reembak, staring into her emerald, glowing eyes as he spoke them, “Truinvar selneth!”

The words tore his throat as they emerged, and Ward coughed a spatter of blood, blinking back hot, bloody tears. While the words echoed and bounced around the study, he threw back the healing tonic, sighing with relief as it coated his raw throat. Meanwhile, strange, wispy mist began to rise from the floor, and the lights took on an unearthly greenish tint. While he watched, a near-perfect—if slightly translucent and faintly glowing—duplicate of Reembak appeared at the center of the room.

The doppelganger threw her hands to her eyes and collapsed onto a couch that seemed to float in the mist. At first, Ward wondered what she was doing, but then he heard her sniffles and sobs. “She has him!” she cried. “It was her all along—first Ambrose, then Giddeon, and now Vott! All the while, she made me think she was helping. She played me like a fool!”

“You couldn’t have known,” a youthful masculine voice replied. “In any case, what will you do? I wish you would come with me.”

“Flee?” Reembak spat the word, dropping her hands and revealing a withering glare that she directed into the mist. “You fool! If the Umbrage finishes capturing the Assembly, there will be no safe corner of this system!”

“Maybe so, but things are too hot here, love.” A man stepped into the frame—tall, thin, curly dark hair. He was dressed in a fine suit and held a polished black cane. He squatted before Reembak and gently patted her knee. “It’ll be years before they move against worlds like Springsea. Come! Live to fight another day, as they say.”

“I’ll not! I know who she is now, and I’ll make my move. Before you abandon me, will you at least help me to hire some mercenaries?”

“My ship departs on the morrow, but my men are at your service. I wish you’d reconsider. What’s the sense in throwing your life away? The Umbrage is deeply rooted here now. How many Assembly members does Coral make? Forty? I’d wager…”

The ghostly figure’s words faded as the mist began to clear, and Ward felt a sinking, icy grip clasp his heart. He fell to his knees, gasping, and Reembak leaped to her feet, rushing to his side. “You foolish man! You drained your mana-well dry!”

Ward coughed, suddenly aware of Grace’s hands on his neck, gently stroking. “I didn’t realize—”

“When you work a spell like that, you must be aware of your limits! You should have cut the flow before things progressed this far!” She looked at Grace. “He’ll feel nauseous for an hour or so, but as he regenerates mana, he’ll slowly recover.

Ward cleared his throat, grunting as he stood, shaking his head. “I’m already feeling better.”

“What?” Reembak looked up at him, eyes wide. “That’s some constitution you have, sir.”

Ward shrugged. “I still feel like there’s a ball of ice in my chest, but…” He shrugged and inhaled sharply through his nose. “I feel all right. Listen, I didn’t expect that spell to work quite that way, but it sure as hell showed me what I needed to see. I suppose you were talking about Gwen?”

“Precisely! I was speaking to Lord Gregory—the last of my allies. He left Primus the same day I assaulted this house. His men, Lorin, Romy, and Tavin, helped me hire the mercenaries and plan the attack.”

“Look, Reembak—Marie—I’m going to give you some trust with regard to the Umbrage, but you really…” Ward sighed, shaking his head. Who was he to judge her for the violence of her assault? She’d thought she was alone, facing an evil cult that was taking over her friends and controlling the people who governed the city. Hadn’t he killed people when he’d attacked Dame Ruby’s mansion back in Westview?

“I really what, Mr. Dyer?”

“You really made a mess of this shit. How many of the servants and guards here were corrupted?”

“I’ve no idea, but they were standing between me, Vott Coral, and that evil, manipulative witch I’ve got tied up in the other room!” Ward could see the strain in her eyes; he could smell the stress radiating off her. She was running on fumes. Nodding slowly, he reached into his pocket and took out the artifact again.

“Let me see if Pallishae will talk to me. I’ll tell him what’s going on.”

“What about Vott?” Marie looked at Grace. “You said you could get that spirit out of him?”

Grace grinned, sliding off the desk. “Do you have any animals around? A horse, preferably one that you don’t particularly like, would work just fine.”

###

“That’s it, Adept Thorn! You’re nearly there!” Haley heard Master Rose, but her voice was distant, echoing through layers of her concentration as she let her body move through the stages of the gray rhythms while her mind concentrated on touching the fire all around her. Was she really about to do it? Was she about to step into the gray? She’d only had the white rhythms mastered for a little while…

“Focus!” Rose’s voice rang out, and Haley banished her distracting thoughts, willing her consciousness to drift into the dance, flowing through the fire—the mana—that permeated the world.

She felt it, she moved with it, she became part of it. Her hands were already aflame, but she felt the fire spreading, winding into her muscles and tendons, enhancing her speed and strength. She’d never gotten so far before! She could feel it in her forearms, her biceps, her shoulders. She could feel it spreading into her lungs and out through her blood to the rest of her body. She was the fire! She was—

“Thorn!” Rose yelled, and suddenly hands that felt like ice snatched her arms, and she was pulled down.

When Haley opened her eyes—when had she closed them?—she found herself lying on her back, with Rose’s arms wrapped around her chest, squeezing and rocking as she drew the heat out of her. “That was too much, too fast, little Thorn,” she cooed soothingly. “Well done, however! I’ve never seen someone take so quickly to the fourteenth rhythm! I’d swear you were drifting into Fire Beneath the Mountain out of pure instinct!”

“Fire Beneath the Mountain?” Haley asked, leaning back into her master’s embrace. How long had it been since she’d felt such affection? It made her think of her mother, and tears sprang into her eyes unbidden.

While she tried to blink them away, Master Rose replied, “The fifteenth rhythm.”

“I was doing the rhythm of a Black Master?” Haley pulled away, sitting up and looking toward Rose with wide eyes, scarcely trusting herself to breathe lest her excitement get the better of her.

“Well, let’s just say you stumbled past Heat Without Source, and if I hadn’t intervened, you might have combusted! Your pathways aren’t ready for that! Still”—Rose smiled and Haley could see the pride in her eyes—“to flow so naturally into the black rhythms without any training… Have you watched another master perform that one?”

Haley shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“In any case,” Rose said, smoothly shifting into a sitting position, “you’ve nearly proven you’re ready for your gray sash. A bit more control, and I’ll tie it around your waist myself.”

“Can I try again?” Haley frowned when she heard the quaver in her voice. What was that from?

“Hold out your hands.” Rose showed what she meant by holding her hands before her, arms outstretched. When Haley mimicked the posture, her fingers veritably vibrated, they were shaking so badly. “That tells me you need rest, Adept Thorn. Perhaps in the morning.”

“But Ward—”

“Will appreciate your help, whether you wear the white sash or the gray. Go now and strike the Gopahj; I’ve only taken half the fire from your blood.”

“Yes, Master Rose.” Haley hopped to her feet, took one step, and then had to slow, leaning to brace her hands on her knees as a wave of light-headedness washed over her.

“Do you see what I mean, Adept Thorn?”

“Yes, Master Rose,” she replied again. When the vertigo passed, she hurried out to Rose’s garden where the master’s tarnished copper, bell-shaped Gopahj sat among the raised flower beds. Haley carefully centered herself, then struck the thick metal with the palm of her right hand. It rang, and a burst of fire erupted from the top, rising in a black cloud of smoke into the blue sky.

She might not have earned her gray sash yet, but she was close; she just hoped Ward would give her and Master Rose the chance to help him. “Don’t try to do everything yourself, you big wolf-brained…” She trailed off, smiling as she failed to mimic one of Grace’s signature lines. Thinking of Grace, she was reminded of how the spirit had fought for her, and fondness warred with guilt for prominence in her mind.

Ward and Grace had both sacrificed for her. She loved them for it; she’d already loved them, but the feeling had grown so deep that it ached. She knew why, of course. Hadn’t everyone else she loved left her? No—hadn’t they all been taken from her? “Ward, please! Please come back here. Please let us help you!” With a sigh, she struck the Gopahj again, and it rang, but only a puff of smoke rose from the metal. She’d cleared the fire from her blood.

###

Ward watched as the mule, wild-eyed, snorting and whinnying, thrashed and tugged at the half-dozen ropes holding it in place. The ritual had worked—he was pretty sure—just as it had back in Westview. Coral sat, bound to the chair they’d brought out to the stable, gasping and coughing, red-faced from the exertion of coping with the demon that had been possessing him. Marie leaned close, gently gripping his chin through his thick, gray beard. “Vott? Vott, are you back with us?”

“M-marie?” The older man gasped, inhaling deeply as he shifted left and right, pulling at his restraints.

“Be still, old friend,” Marie said, genuine affection in her voice. “I’ll untie you.”

“What happened to me? What—why am I tied to this chair?”

Ward sighed, shaking his head. He moved to the stall door and, over his shoulder, said, “I’ll go see if I can talk to Pallishae. You fill your friend in.”

“I will. Thank you, Ward!” Marie had tears in her eyes, and Ward could sort of understand why. She’d thought Vott was lost to her. Up until a couple of hours ago, she’d thought she was alone in this fight. He wasn’t ready to forgive her hasty decision to try to kill him. But, hell, he figured he could at least empathize with her a little.

Outside, he glanced toward the gate where half a dozen of Reembak’s mercenaries congregated; they’d returned about an hour after Ward’s throwdown with the were-creature swordsmen. He was glad to have extra eyes keeping watch. At the thought, he pictured Gwen lying prone, head bagged, and bound like a steer at a rodeo. It was hard to believe she was the evil genius behind everything. Hadn’t she seemed almost pleasant when she’d offered to help him unlock Thrund’s spellbook?

“Wonder what the hell happened with that,” he snorted.

“What?” Grace asked, suddenly strolling beside him, one arm wrapped around his elbow.

“Nothing. Just struggling to imagine Gwen, that mousy little sorceress, as the big bad.”

“She’s powerful, Ward. I remember how she smirked when you said Veylan was a dangerous sorcerer. I think that was the only time I saw her mask slip, though.”

Ward nodded. “Yeah, I kind of remember that, too. Well,” he said, pulling the artifact out of his pocket, “let’s find out how Pallishae wants us to do this. At least we’ve got some allies, now.”