The Twilight City Page 9

  Up close, Malek noted the elf had delicate tribal tattoos tracing across the planes of her comely face. Her thick brown hair was braided elaborately, falling down her back in a shimmering cascade when she moved her head. The points of her ears poked up through her thick mane. He was entranced by her leaf-green eyes, which seemed to sparkle in the dusky light. She wore a tunic and breeches in earth tones, like the few woodland elves of Tyndaria he had encountered. To the casual eye, she looked like a simple elf maiden, yet magic radiated strongly from her. Her power was unique—it was distinct from a mage’s yet equally potent in its own manner. Malek had never seen anything like her aura before.

  “Do you intend to paint my portrait later?” Endira asked, a light blush tinting her cheeks.

  Realizing he was staring, Malek looked away, feeling the color rising to his own cheeks. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to be rude and stare. It’s just… you have an, uh… intriguing aura, that’s all. I haven’t seen anything like it before.”

  She looked away.

  Gods, I’m a damn fool. “I’m sorry, Endira. I meant no offense—like you said, I’m a newcomer. I’m here from Tyndaria, Prime, if that means anything.”

  “No offense taken, Malek. The fact you are from one of the Prime worlds could explain your confusion. I’m from a place called Midworld, one of the outer planes. It is a place much like your own, yet what you know as magic in my home world comes from within here”—she touched two fingers to her forehead and heart—“and not without, as you might think of it.”

  “Fascinating. Thank you for enlightening a foolish newcomer,” he replied with a smile.

  Endira smiled back. “Would you be interested in a foretelling? I am but a student. My master is one of the greatest seers in all of the planes. I know not the how or why, yet I sense something familiar about you. I felt I should sit beside the fountain on this particular morning, and fate seems to have brought you here.” She cocked her head at an angle, observing him with her warm green eyes.

  She’s beautiful, Malek realized. He’d always been taken with the beauty of elven maidens. “Sure, why not? I don’t have anything pressing to do at the moment. Lead on.”

  “Fantastic. It’s just this way.” The slim elven woman barely came up to Malek’s shoulder.

  When she touched his forearm lightly with her fingers to guide him away from the grove, a spark seemed to flash between them, which Malek sensed with his second sight. He was nearly on the verge of absorbing some of her energy before he could stop himself.

  Endira’s eyes widened at the contact, evidently sensing something odd as well, but Malek hurriedly tried to change the subject to avoid an awkward explanation as they walked.

  “I haven’t seen many elves in Nexus. How did you come to be here, Endira?”

  “I followed my dreams… quite literally. The Seer sought a new apprentice, and I was looking to further my education in a mental discipline, so I felt it was time to set my feet on a new path. It wasn’t long until I arrived here at the crossroads.”

  “You seek instruction in magic?” They were moving toward what must have been the Temple District, judging by the soaring buildings gilded with all the mighty statuary, stained-glass windows, and ornate marble carvings that the best-funded religious sects could afford.

  “No, I’m not a mage as you might think of it. My people are known as the Ainimorae. Many translate that in the common tongue to ‘mind-benders.’ The term is close enough to being accurate without splitting hairs. I train with the Seer in the hope of achieving enlightenment with my inner sight. And what of you? What brings you to Nexus?”

  “I seek my master. He suddenly disappeared—abducted, I came to discover—and was brought here. Perhaps my foretelling can provide enlightenment on where I can find him.”

  “Perhaps it will,” she agreed.

  A commotion in the street ahead drew their attention. They approached the crowd, and Malek was able to catch a glimpse of a double wagon laden down with some great beast. A team of eight giant lizardlike creatures was laboring to pull the heavy burden into place outside a three-floor building labeled Wobblesprocket & Sons—Builders. The building itself was constructed of a type of smooth, shiny material Malek had never seen before.

  “Halt!” the drover bellowed, drawing his attention back to the wagon.

  A wizened old gnome dressed in overalls exited the building and approached the wagon team, followed by his apparent brood—half a dozen sons of varying ages, all dressed in overalls and knee-high boots.

  “You’re late! You were supposed to be here yesterday,” the elder gnome snapped, shaking a fist at the wagon driver.

  Two giant humanoids, twelve feet tall and nearly as wide, loitered around beside the wagon. They resembled men who had been cut from stone, their features crude and bluff, with muscles rippling like boulders.

  These are true giants, Malek thought in wonder. Not like the giant-kin I’ve glimpsed around the city.

  No caravan guards were evident, unsurprising with the presence of the giants.

  “Apologies, Master Wobblesprocket.” The portly, dark-skinned man driving the wagon stepped down and gave a cursory bow to the old gnome. “We were held up by some inspectors in Avitea. They wouldn’t let us through until this morning—had the portal on temporary lockdown. Some blather about smugglers trying to bring out—”

  “Doesn’t matter.” The gnome waved him off. “Get it unloaded,” he yelled at the two giants.

  They hopped up onto the wagons, causing them to creak alarmingly at the greatly increased load. With daggers the size of broadswords, the pair slashed the ropes holding the beast down. To Malek’s eye, the creature was roughly the length of three elephants, which he had once seen during a performance by a traveling circus Magellan had taken him to visit. The creature was long and round, like a fat sausage with ten sets of insectlike legs protruding from beneath a smooth carapace. He realized the gnomes’ building must’ve been constructed from the shell of one of the creatures.

  “What manner of beast is that?” he asked.

  Endira glanced at him with a smile. “It’s a quoploy beetle. Their shells are quite the rage now, or so I hear. As you can see, they make sturdy building materials but are also desired by armorers for the light weight and durability.”

  With a mighty heave, the two giants rolled the beast off the wagon, causing the ground to shake as its great bulk landed. The crowd nervously backed away, and Malek and Endira skirted the crowd. The beast lay on its side, giving a view of its soft underbelly, which was taut and bloated, as if ready to burst.

  “I’ve heard this part is quite unpleasant,” Endira remarked with a distasteful frown, as if she’d eaten something sour. “Perhaps we should move away a distance.”

  Malek agreed with a smile, and they moved a couple dozen paces in the direction of the Temple District. He glanced over his shoulder, noting the crowds had thinned out somewhat. He could no longer hear the conversation, but it was clear what was happening. The dark-skinned man drove the wagon team away while the elder Wobblesprocket gestured at his sons.

  A young gnome, likely the youngest son, approached the beast timidly, a spear in hand. He wore large overalls, a scarf tied over his lower face, and a set of oversized spectacles attached to a leather backing, which tightly covered his eyes. He hesitated, obviously not happy at what he had been picked to do.

  “Get yer arse in there and poke it a good one!” the elder gnome shouted.

  The young gnome hesitantly poked the beast’s underbelly a couple times. At another shout from his father, he stabbed it hard, driving the spear tip in all the way. With a wet kersploosh, the beetle’s belly ruptured in an explosion of entrails and slime. The gnome was thrown back beneath an avalanche of slimy intestines while fluid and offal rained down on the street and the crowd even a short bowshot away. Shrieks and curses filled the air.

  “Ugh.” Malek turned away, suddenly queasy at the sight. His sweet roll performed backflips in his
gut, and he had to focus on keeping it down. He was glad they were standing far enough away that he couldn’t smell the mess. Otherwise, he would’ve lost his test of will with his stomach.

  Endira eyed him with amusement. “I hear that’s the quickest way to clean and gut the quoploy beetles in order to prepare the shells. As I said—not the most pleasant sight to watch.”

  Casting another glance over his shoulder, he watched as Wobblesprocket’s other sons waded in with large shovels and began efficiently scooping out the mess left within the carapace and across the plaza ground. The giants had lugged out a couple of enormous barrels in which to collect the offal.

  The youngest gnome had a shocked expression on his face. He futilely tried to brush the mess off his overalls. His hair was matted down with slimy chunks of viscera.

  “Definitely a job for an unsuspecting novice,” Malek said with a chuckle. “Remind me not to order a home built of quop… whatever-they-are beetles.”

  They resumed walking, and Malek tried to get the sight out of his mind, but he had a sneaking suspicion it was one of those things in life that couldn’t be forgotten.

  Chapter 11

  “Here we are,” Endira announced.

  They approached a small brick building standing in the border area between the Industrial and Temple Districts. Nihad’s Magic Emporium, proclaimed a series of glowing blue runes over the lintel.

  Endira opened the door, and as Malek walked inside, he was momentarily transported back to Magellan’s tower. The comforting smell of spices and reagents surrounded him, and magic radiated from the shop like welcoming heat from a warm hearth. A hulking bodyguard in plate armor that emanated powerful magic stood impassively just inside the doorway. Although the helm’s visor was down, Malek could sense he was being examined as he passed. Behind a counter, a wizened old elf in elaborately embroidered robes squinted through a magnifying glass at a scroll a customer had presented.

  A row of bookshelves filled with scrolls and tomes lined the wall opposite the counter. Cases filled with a colorful variety of potions, wands, bracers, rings, and other items crowded the small room. Malek admired the fine stitching and runes embroidered in some magical vestments hanging on a rack.

  “Back this way,” Endira whispered. “It is best we not tarry. Nihad likes his quiet. He can be quite surly at times.”

  Malek smiled but kept quiet, following her through a thick curtain at the back of the shop. They traveled down a long hallway lined with doors until they reached the end, stopping before a solid oaken door banded with metal. He frowned as he realized the inside of the shop was somehow much larger than the outside dimensions had indicated.

  “How does all this fit inside such a small building?”

  “Space can play tricks with your senses in Nexus,” Endira replied cryptically. She rapped lightly on the door three times before unlatching it and pulling it open.

  They entered a simply appointed room. Sturdy furniture adorned the space, and thick curtains covered the walls. An array of lit candles was spread throughout the room, providing warm illumination.

  An ancient man of indeterminate race sat in a high-backed chair. Malek at first took him to be a gnome but then thought he was elven or perhaps mixed blood, from the elongated tips of his ears. The old man’s eyes were closed, and a few wisps of pale hair hung from his liver-spotted head. He opened milky-white eyes upon their entrance.

  “Master, I’ve brought a young man that wishes to get a foretelling,” Endira said softly. “I would like to practice my technique if you don’t object.”

  The Seer sat up straighter in his chair at Malek’s appearance. “You’ve come at last, corruptor,” the Seer said, his voice rich and strong despite his frail appearance. He seemed to stare right through Malek, making him shift nervously.

  When he looked at Endira questioningly, she seemed equally confused. “Master?”

  “I would speak with the lad, Endira.”

  The elf nodded and backed away but stopped at the Seer’s gesture.

  “Remain and listen, for you’ve a part to play as well. The corruptor’s arrival means the end is upon us.”

  “Sir? I’m not sure what you mean.” Malek looked at Endira, who merely shrugged. “The end of what?”

  “The end of times. The Second Planar War,” the Seer replied. “But first, take a seat. Let me take a good look at you.”

  Malek sat across from the Seer, who leaned forward and stared. The sensation that he was being studiously examined despite the other man’s obvious blindness made Malek uneasy.

  “You’re younger than I anticipated… and there’s more good in you. History always led us to believe corruptors were malevolent beings.”

  Endira sat in a chair off to the side, her forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. “Master, are you sure you are referring to the right person? This is Malek of—”

  “Yes, yes,” the Seer said brusquely, waving off Endira’s words. “Pay attention lass, for events have been set in motion that could mean the end of us all.” The Seer’s attention turned back to Malek, the power of the old man’s blind gaze pinning him to his chair. “Perhaps there’s still time for you yet, Malek son of Damian, although you were not born to Damian and Hilda. Your true lineage is hidden even from me. It is good you’ve come to me at such an early stage.”

  How does he know my parents’ names? Malek wondered. And how does he know they merely raised me?

  “I see more than you know, to include fragments of your past and future. Now listen closely, for time is short. I have foreseen the falling of Nexus, which coincides with your arrival. I know not whether you are the instrument responsible or the timing is merely coincidence… Surely, the gods test us at such a critical time.”

  “Falling of Nexus? What does this have to do with me?” Before the Seer could respond, Malek asked the question that had been on his mind since he was a boy. “Do you know who… what… I am?”

  The Seer leaned back in his chair and placed his hands on his thighs, his milky eyes staring into the past or perhaps the future. He smiled. “Now, that is the true question, is it not? Why has another corruptor surfaced after long centuries? And why in the guise of a simple country peasant boy? As you may have gleaned during your tutelage, you are one who possesses talents that haven’t been seen for hundreds of years. Back when Nexus was much younger, there was a race of humans who inhabited a verdant, beautiful world on the outer planes, one rich in earth magic. The people there had a talent unique among all the planes, which allowed them to absorb the earth magic around them and meld it into different forms. At first, their power was used in healing and the creation of many wondrous things. But after time, as human nature is wont to do, they became quarrelsome, turning their power against one another. They desired long life, jealous of the other longer-lived races. Why, they wondered, could such power not be used to enhance their lifespans?

  “Corruptors, as they came to be known fearfully by others, became cruel and power hungry over the centuries. They drew power indiscriminately from the earth, corrupting and defiling it in the process as they turned it to their own selfish uses. Some even chose to pilfer the life force—the vitality—from living beings. At first, they didn’t notice the effects of what they had wrought. Even once they learned of the awful price of their magic, they continued, unable to resist the lust for power. For decades, mages of great power robbed the earth magic from the land itself, seeking only to overcome their foes with their power. They fought horrible, destructive battles, striving for control, until they sucked the land dry, cursing themselves in the process, for nobody could make a living off a dead land. Plants withered and died, water dried up, the creatures of the earth and seas all perished. These mages themselves eventually died with no sustenance for them or their awful magic. It is rumored the mightiest of them still survive as liches, having cursed themselves in their lust for longevity, and they gained so much power that even death itself cannot take hold of them. Their plane is known as the
Gray Lands now—it is a place of death and destruction. Centuries ago, even before they brought about their own downfall, the ruler of Nexus sealed the Gray Lands off from Nexus for all eternity, in order that the plague of corruptors might not traverse the crossroads and spread their powers via their progeny throughout the planes.”

  Malek’s eyes went wide at the Seer’s revelations. “I… had no idea. How have I come to be like those people if they died out hundreds of years ago? I have no desire for power like that—I’m not like them. I just want to find my master so he can help me control my power.”

  The Seer shook his head, sadly, it seemed. “The knowledge of your origin is hidden from me. Perhaps only the gods know your story. The likely possibility exists you are a pawn in their machinations. What I do know is how dangerous you might become if your power is not controlled, for people are afraid of what they don’t understand, and they’ve never seen anything like you. Some will want to take your life out of fear for the greater good while others will want to control you, lad, to serve their own ends. You are a weapon of deadly and unstoppable force even though you may not yet know it.”

  The Seer’s words seemed to mirror the warning Magellan had given him.

  “I sense you have a good heart, Malek,” Endira spoke up, concern filling her face. “Master, surely you are mistaken about his intentions? He may very well use his talents toward benevolent ends.”

  “That is a possibility. However, don’t forget that some of the most notorious power-mad kings responsible for the deaths of entire nations started off with the best of intentions. I am sure the Gray Lands were once filled with such good intentions.”

  Malek took a deep breath, his mind racing. “Can you tell me where my master is? I need to find him.”

  The Seer was silent a moment before slowly shaking his head. “His whereabouts are shrouded from me. The Magehunters use magics that can interfere with my abilities. If they are the ones who captured him, then you must seek him out there. Be cautious facing them—they are elite soldiers who fight with blade and spell, adept at defeating spellcasters of great puissance.” The old man shifted in his chair as if uncomfortable. “I regret I cannot be of more aid, but alas, it is not the way of the gods for us to have our destiny clearly laid out before us—only glimmers and hints are what we get to nudge us along the path. Just know that you are now involved in events much more consequential than merely trying to find your master. Seek out loyal friends to aid you in the time of troubles yet to come.”