Spellwright Part 42

"Sweet heaven," he swore again and grabbed the Index from the sentences that had been floating it around his waist. He sat heavily in an empty chair.

The others went to John and helped him hoist up a trap door.

"It's empty," Nicodemus heard himself say as Deirdre, John, and Azure peered down into the secret compartment.

Deirdre stared at him. "How did you know?"

Memories flashed through Nicodemus's mind so quickly they made him dizzy.

"We'll need a distraction." His words were quick and anxious. He was trying to speak as fast as he was thinking. "With the signal text from my keloid diffused, he'll never realize we're so near. We can slay his living body. But the distraction will have to make him use a golem and...when the living body is dead, I can use the emerald to disspell Magister's canker. Or Boann might...but I'll have the emerald."

A wave of heat washed through his body. "I'll have the emerald." He stood and dropped the Index back into its floating orbit around his waist. "I'll be complete!"

All three of them were staring at him now. "What under heaven are you talking about?" Shannon asked.

Nicodemus went to the far window and removed its paper screen. The room looked out on the forest. High above the skyline, cutting a black silhouette against the stars, stood Starhaven's many towers.

"We can recover the emerald," he said, "because I know where to find Fellwroth's true, living body."

NICODEMUS PURSED HIS lips. "I should have known when I was replenishing the ghosts' book and saw through the young Chthonic's eyes. I knew the Chthonic's thoughts; I knew that the Chthonic people first emerged from the underworld up there." lips. "I should have known when I was replenishing the ghosts' book and saw through the young Chthonic's eyes. I knew the Chthonic's thoughts; I knew that the Chthonic people first emerged from the underworld up there."

He nodded out the window toward Starhaven. "They came out of a cave high up on the rockface. I learned that the Chthonics protected themselves from the attacks of an older race they called the blueskins by filling the cave mouth with powerful metaspells. And the blueskins filled the cave mouth with tortoise-like constructs."

"But we know this," Deirdre said. "You saw in a later vision that the Chthonics had collapsed the cave."

Nicodemus looked back at the avatar. "I saw that the cave was gone, but the Chthonic whose eyes I was seeing through never thought about the cave. His mind was preoccupied by the human army laying siege to Starhaven."

"The cave wasn't closed?" Shannon asked.

Nicodemus shook his head. "And Fellwroth's true body lies in that cave. In a dream I saw ivy-representing the Chthonic metaspell-and the turtles-representing the blueskin constructs-attacking Fellwroth's body.They must represent the ancient spells still resisting Fellwroth's intrusion into the cave."

Shannon made a low, disapproving sound. "But we know that Starhaven's Chthonic metaspells prevent Fellwroth from creating a golem within the stronghold's walls."

Nicodemus clenched his fists. "But the cave isn't within Starhaven's walls. The cave is filled with metaspells much older than those in Starhaven."

He turned to Deirdre. "Boann's ark is also in that cave. I saw it in my dream standing behind Fellwroth's body in the second nightmare. I didn't know what it was at the time. But just now, Deirdre, when you described it to me, I realized what it must be."

"So the cave is hidden?" John asked slowly. "Some ancient spell opens the mountain?"

Nicodemus shook his head. "Think of the Spindle's shape. All other Chthonic bridges are thin and flat. The Spindle is as round as a tree bough. And when we walked on it, our footsteps echoed. Remember, Magister, the racket the sentinels made when marching toward us? And, Deirdre, what did it sound like when the war-weight gargoyle walked on the Spindle's landing?"

She nodded. "Like a drum...like the sound was moving down the bridge."

"Exactly," Nicodemus said. "And in one of my nightmares, I was moving through a tunnel that ended in the chamber with Fellwroth's body. When I was going down that tunnel, I heard my own voice talking to Magister about the Chthonic carvings. I heard that voice pa.s.s above me."

"So the Spindle Bridge-" Shannon started to say.

"Isn't a bridge at all," Nicodemus finished. "It's a tunnel. The wizards haven't found anything in the mountain face because they're searching only the rock in front of them. Don't you see? The tunnel covers the cave's mouth."

Deirdre was nodding, but Shannon and John still wore frowns.

"It makes perfect sense," Nicodemus insisted. "The Chthonic languages deconstruct in sunlight. And while the Chthonic people could tolerate sunlight, their blueskinned ancestors could not. The Spindle Tunnel must have been a diplomatic structure-a place where the Chthonics could meet the blueskins in darkness." He s.n.a.t.c.hed the Index out of its...o...b..t.

"Here, I'll find a mundane text that..." He began to undo the book's clasp.

"No, no," Shannon said. "I don't doubt your logic; I simply wonder what we do with the information."

Deirdre spoke quickly. "We do exactly what the boy suggested. We cut our way into the Spindle and tear Fellwroth's body to pieces while the fiend's mind is still in the golem."

"Is the Fool's Ladder still in place?" Nicodemus asked. "If we hike around to the back of Starhaven, could it take us up to the Spindle's landing?"

The grand wizard scowled. "It could, but this plan is too dangerous. What if Fellwroth is not in his golem?"

"Running wouldn't be safer," Nicodemus insisted. "Fellwroth can follow me because of my keloid scars. And, Magister, my dreams were sent to me by the emerald. It wants to be rescued."

Shannon shook his head. "Nicodemus, you and I are linguists, not sentinels."

Deirdre rested a hand on Shannon's shoulder. "Only this plan will rescue my G.o.ddess's ark. It is the only one I will accept."

Nicodemus closed his eyes. "It is the only plan that will recover the emerald." He opened his eyes and stared at Shannon. "And it is the only plan that will disspell your curse."

"And me," said John. "It is the only plan I will accept."

All eyes turned to the big man.

"For decades, I lived under the demon's curse. If I have a chance to end this monster, a chance for revenge, I will accept no other."

Shannon started to say something but then stopped.

"Besides," John said slowly, "I think I know how to reach Fellwroth."

Shannon drew in a long breath and let it out through his nose. "You know how to reach the monster?"

"It depends, Magister," John said with a solemn stare. "I need to know exactly what Fellwroth said when he set you free."

CHAPTER Forty-two

In a new clay golem, Fellwroth stood on a balcony near the top of the Erasmine Spire.

A squat gargoyle with a monkey's body and goat's head sat on the railing. Fellwroth had rewritten the construct to siphon encrypted messages from the wizards' colaboris spells. The agents of the Disjunction had long ago learned how to tack their texts onto wizardly communications.

So far the goat-faced gargoyle had performed perfectly. In Fellwroth's hands glowed several golden pa.s.sages from other important demon-worshipers. "When were these received?"

The gargoyle's reply was slow and monotone. "Two hours past the dawn bell."

There were several emerging situations that would sour without attention. Dar in particular was concerning; the demon-worshipers there were becoming increasingly unresponsive. Likely they were hiding something.

"Reply to Dar," Fellwroth commanded. "They are to expect my arrival within a twelve night. And they are-"

A rat gargoyle with a dog's ear growing from its back scurried up the railing. Fellwroth smiled. "My newest creation, what have you overheard?"

The stony canine ear flattened against the rat's back. "Three sentinels came to the gatehouse moments ago," the small construct squeaked. "They were patrolling the road to Gray's Crossing. They told the guards they have Nicodemus Weal."

Fellwroth's lips curled into a smile. This was expected. The emerald had known Nicodemus was on the move. "Did they say where they are taking him?"

"To the stasis spell in the stables," the rat replied. "Until a prison cell is chosen.

He nodded. "Very good. Now I want-"

Another of the stone rats scurried onto the ledge. "Noises in the Spindle," it squeaked.

"What kind of noises?"

The rat began to wash its whiskers. "Sc.r.a.ping noises. Grating noises. Like we make."

Fellwroth grunted in annoyance. "Remind me to edit your sensitivity. I don't want to be notified every time you overhear a rat's nest. But we can deal with that in a moment. For now, all of you back to your functions. I have a Language Prime spellwright to collect." With that Fellwroth let the clay golem deconstruct.

The world dissolved into blackness as his spirit-which had been animating the golem-leaped into the air and then shot down to Starhaven's Spirish Quarter. Though subtextualized, Fellwroth needed to avoid even the remotest chance of detection; without a body, a spirit was exceedingly vulnerable.

The spirit floated among the towers to descend into an abandoned alleyway. Earlier that day, Fellwroth had commanded a gargoyle to place a bag of sand there.

The spirit found the bag lying under several weather-worn boards. Inside the sack sat three golem scrolls. The spirit slipped its narrow sentences into the sand and pulled the spells free.

The new body began as a speck of pain that blossomed into a beating heart, a breathing chest, a head, two legs, two arms. The bag split and with a long sigh spilled its excess sand onto the cobblestones.

Fellwroth struggled to sit up in the new, brittle body. Vision was always the last sense a golem acquired. At first the world appeared only as fuzzy blotches.

For this reason Fellwroth always placed a white cloak or sheet near the incarnation site. It was vital to cover a golem with cloth while it was still fresh; otherwise bits of the body would rub off on the surrounding environment.

With some fumbling, Fellwroth found the white cloak. Old tattered boots sat under it.

Once his golem was dressed, Fellwroth trotted off toward the Spirish stables. There was no time to lose.

His vision had returned completely by the time the Spirish stables came into view. The black-robed fools were protecting the place with only four guards-all male, only one with a grand wizard's hood. In one of the stalls gleamed a silvery Magnus column. That would be the stasis spell holding Nicodemus.

Fellwroth wrote four quick, subtextualized censor spells. "Hold, druid," the hooded guard called upon seeing Fellwroth's white robes. "These stables are now out of bounds, we've-"

Fellwroth threw a censor spell into the man's face. The netlike text dug into the man's mind and set his eyes rolling back as he fainted.

The other three guards called out, but it was too late. Fellwroth caught them with the remaining censor spells.

"Nicodemus Weal," Fellwroth said with a laugh, and stepped into the stables. "You are not as foolish as I thought."

The stasis spell manifested itself as a column of slowly rising Magnus pa.s.sages that entrapped a man as firmly as tree sap imprisoned a bug; something Nicodemus seemed to be discovering. The upward current of sticky words had lifted the boy four feet into the air and was slowly rotating him. Currently a black-robed back faced Fellwroth.

Fellwroth began to write a Numinous disspell down the sand golem's right leg. "I will edit you from the stasis, boy, so don't squirm-" He jerked back in shock. "You!"

Staring down with a lopsided smirk was the big male cacographer whose mind Typhon had distorted.

"What is meant by this?" Fellwroth growled.

The big man's mouth quivered. "Siii...Simple John show himself to north sentinels on road. T-th-they never have see Nico, so they believe John when he says he is Nico." The big man exhaled as if saying so much exhausted him.

Fellwroth resisted the urge to grind the golem's sandy teeth. "Don't waste my time, oaf. If the sentinels come before I have answers, I'll rip you in half."

The cacographer started to stutter and struggle, but the stasis text kept the oaf spellbound. Fellwroth waited impatiently for what felt like a quarter hour before speaking. "All right, calm down. I won't hurt you if you tell me what I need to know."

The big man swallowed. "Nnnn...Nico sends John as messenger. Nnnn...Nico wants to have proof that red-eyes man is...t-t-telling the truth. Then Nico submit to...submit-t-t...to red-eyes man." The oaf stopped to pant.

A soft crunch in his jaw filled the golem's mouth with sand. "Blood and d.a.m.nation," he cursed and spat the sand out. He had been unconsciously grinding the golem's teeth. "So what does the boy want?"

The oaf took a few breaths. "Red-eyes man is to go t-t-to place in Gray's Town...no, Gray's Village...no, Gray's Crowing..."

"Gray's Crossing," Fellwroth snarled. "Hurry!"

The cacographer nodded. "Red-eyes-man is to find Mag-g-gister Shannon and is to fix broken person part of Shhhh...Shannon. Nico will be-"

A ratlike gargoyle scurried into the stable. "Fear! Fear! Took too long to reach you. Had to ask other gargoyles where to reach you."

Fellwroth glared at the construct. "What is it? What did you hear?"

"Fighting in the Spindle!" the thing yelped. "Our protections torn apart! Living body under threat!"

Suddenly the stables rang with loud, hearty laughter.

Fellwroth looked up at the big man's smiling face. "Fool! So willing to believe in my disability? You truly think I talk that slowly?"

A wordless, animal shriek escaped from Fellwroth's sandy throat. The monster lashed out with the half-written disspell. But the unfinished text was too dull. It bounced off the stasis spell. Worse, the force of the rebound snapped the sand arm off at the shoulder.

"WEAL!" Fellwroth shrieked, "I'LL TEAR YOUR THROAT OUT FOR THIS, WEAL!"

Fellwroth wrenched his spirit from the sand golem and sent it racing upward toward the Spindle Bridge.