The Five Elements (31 page)

He stalked into the room expecting a trap.
Always assume the worst.
It was a soldier's mantra he'd learned long ago. It kept his hand on the pommel of his khatesh and his senses on full alert as he circled the chamber, inspecting everything. This was a sorcerer's abode, where even the furniture might pose a threat. But though he circled the room twice, neither the bed nor the armoire lurched to life. Nor did an inspection for secret doors in walls or beneath the central rug reveal anything. A look outside through the room's stained glass window—it did not open—revealed nothing but darkness. The tub was empty. When Ensel Rhe tested the spigot only water came out. There was an array of lit candles and a tray of food and wine, the latter possibly poisoned or, more likely, magicked. No way of knowing unless he sampled them, something he had no intention of doing.

Not satisfied, he circled the room once more, checking everything again. There was nothing between the mattresses, beneath the bed, or in drawers or on ledges. If there were secret openings, he could not find them, though he suspected the gap between door and floor was adequate to admit a gaseous attacker if that was how Ansanom meant to deal with him. The wizard would make it quick. He'd not want to take any chances. Perhaps while he slept, or a toxic mix while he bathed.

Ensel Rhe stopped prowling the room. He took a deep breath.

Perhaps there was no trap at all. He'd detected nothing untoward about the old wizard, and he and Aaron had been well-treated. Ensel Rhe reminded himself that they were here because of Aaron, not himself. This was not his life, with murder and betrayal around every corner. Ensel Rhe unbuckled his sword and tossed it onto the bed. Gloves tucked under his belt followed. Clearing his mind of suspicion and paranoia, he realized the only naysayer was Ursool, whose warnings and predictions were often right, but not every time. Perhaps, in this case, she had simply misjudged things. The witch had never even met Ansanom, so what did she really know about him?

Ensel Rhe might have let it go, but something about Serena's reaction troubled him. The statement had unbalanced her. Perhaps it was only genuine surprise that he'd leave so quickly after just arriving, or perhaps his departure conflicted with her master's plans. Ensel Rhe imagined her running down the stairs the moment he'd closed the door, off to tell her master. Cursing himself for not having cracked the door to observe, he went there now. He put his hand on the knob.

It would not turn.

He firmed his grip, adding his second hand to the effort. Still nothing. Ensel Rhe stepped back, centered himself, then launched a booted foot into the door. There was an audible thump, but the wood did not yield. There was only one way out of the room, and it was not here.

Ensel Rhe retrieved sword and gloves, then moved to the table where lie the tray of food and wine. He used his arm to shove the tray aside and immediately regretted it as the wine bottle shattered into a cloud of sapphire-colored smoke. He eyed the expanding cloud for less than a second, then he seized the table with both hands and threw it through the stained glass window. It had the desired effect, leaving only a few jagged pieces that Ensel Rhe promptly punched away. Beyond was a thin ledge and creeping vines that grew the length of the wall. Remembering the danger that had chased them here, he scanned the night for the hounds and their master. Seeing no sign of them, he took hold of a thick strand of the vines and stepped out onto the ledge. With singular determination, he made his way towards Aaron's room.

It was dark and cold, his breath appearing in short, impatient bursts. Faint candlelight from the next window over—Aaron's room—guided him. He was halfway there when he felt something twist around his leg. It squeezed his calf, hard enough that Ensel Rhe grunted in pain. Letting go of the vines with one hand, he drew his dagger and sliced down. The blade cut away the appendage and his leg was freed, but only for a moment as another grabbed hold of his other leg and yet another began snaking about his outstretched arm. He need not examine his attacker to know it was the vines themselves that assaulted him.

They came suddenly. The one at his arm twisted around his hand, the one already around his leg moved further up like a snake slithering up a tree, more wrapped about his outstretched arm, and still more went for his torso. Ensel Rhe reacted in kind, flipping his blade around to slice away at the vines clinging to his weapon arm. Then he cut at the ones wrapped around his leg and broke free of those encircling his torso by launching himself further along the ledge towards Aaron's window. He used the vines about his hand to keep from falling. But his leap was only met by more vines as they lashed at him all over again. From there, he fought for inches. The vines had no strategy. They simply came at him, twisting and entwining about any part of him they could. One dagger was not enough as a handful of thick vines gained purchase around his midriff. While Ensel Rhe was occupied with those, another wrapped around his thigh while yet another clenched hold of his other leg. The window was only scant feet away now. A vine lashed around his shoulder, pulling him closer to the wall while the others joined in trying to pin him there. Ensel Rhe's pace was slowed from a crawl to half a snail's pace. In another moment, he'd not move at all. How long, then, before they wrapped around his throat? Out of options, Ensel Rhe did the only thing he could. He kicked himself away from the wall. For one moment, suspended at the height of his swing, his vision swept the wall's breadth where vines slithered across it as if a bed of snakes. Then he was swinging not toward the wall but at the window. He smashed through the glass, landing on his feet, but with the vines still tangled about him. He ripped one arm free, drew his khatesh and, with three slices, freed himself.

He noticed right away that Aaron was gone. A long-necked wine bottle—identical to the one in Ensel Rhe's room—was uncorked and empty, with no trace remaining of the sorcerous gas. Still, he kept his distance in case lingering airs remained. The tub was partially filled. Steam still drifted from the heated water and Aaron's cloak lay draped over a chest at the foot of the untouched bed. The door leading out into the hallway was ajar. Ensel Rhe strode to it, pulling on it so hard it swung around on its hinges and hit the inside wall with an audible smack. Out in the hall, there was nothing. He peered over the balcony, down to the foyer where Ansanom and his apprentice had greeted them. He saw only the flickering shadows cast by the wall lanterns. Next, he looked up, where Ansanom's workshop was. An open stair, separate from the main one, spiraled up to that floor. Ensel Rhe took enough of the steps to gain a narrow view of flickering wall lanterns. Ascending the remainder of the steps in a rush, he found a balconied hall much like that of the second floor except that here there was only one door which, presently, was closed. Approaching it directly, Ensel Rhe smashed it open with one booted foot. He went in sword and dagger first.

Faint moonlight shone through a trio of small ceiling windows, bathing the room with minimal light. There were no torches, no candles, no braziers to give light to a wizard at work. Nor were there any open spellbooks or bubbling instruments. Whatever purpose the room served, it was no wizard's workshop.

Another trick.

A groan sounded behind him. Spinning around, he just saw an iron portcullis sliding down the length of the doorway. It hit the floor with a resounding clang. Ensel Rhe set weapons aside for a moment to grip the bars with both hands. After a few moments of exertion proved fruitless, Ensel Rhe turned back to the room. He examined every corner, every bit of the floor and ceiling, looking for any sign of another way out. But for a bookcase lined with dusty books, several tables mostly bare, and, standing at opposite corners, identical suits of armor complete with long swords and visored helmets shut tight, the room was empty. It was the suits of armor which held Ensel Rhe's attention the longest. They were of intricate design and deadly. Jagged spikes ran along vambraces and cuisses, pauldrons were crowned with a trio of barbs, and each breastplate was lined up and down with points of steel. Ensel Rhe had not had time to finish his inspection when, not entirely unexpectedly, the twin suits of armor began to shamble to life. Steam exuded from the necks and there was a whirring sound as gears began to spin. The scrape of metal, jingle of mail, and creak of leather stiff from too much time immobile sounded next. It was enough to cause Ensel Rhe to take a step away. More steam shot forth as arms lifted long swords in gauntleted hands. Then armored legs groaned and took one step and then another as the suits of armor lurched forward. Ensel Rhe, with nowhere to go, tightened his grip on his weapons and waited for the inevitable.

* * *

Aaron found waking a thoroughly unpleasant experience.

His head hurt, his body ached, and his mind felt laden with a fog so thick it was near suffocating. Though he was quite certain he willed his arms and legs to move, they would not respond. Through the haze, it was difficult to know for sure. He could at least tell that it was cold, especially along his back and that whatever it was he laid upon was hard. He realized that his shirt had been removed, as had his shoes and socks. Another attempt to move confirmed a suspicion that he was bound at his ankles and wrists. He'd been tied up before. It had been night. Corrin and his gang had stripped him to his drawers then dragged him into Even's Plaza to leave him bound to a crier's post. Fortunately, Aaron had gotten himself loose and found his clothes before morning had come and anyone had seen him. He didn't think he'd have such luck now.

"Awake so soon?"

A tall candelabra lined with a row of four blazing candles sprang to life. More light lit up behind him. For all their ambiance, the room remained quite dark.

"Master Ansanom," Aaron said, his voice not sounding right to his ears, "what… why am I…"

Aaron went silent as Ansanom's face appeared above his. The wizard peered down at Aaron through spectacles just perched at the tip of his nose. He wore green robes now that rustled about his person as he ground away at something in a small mortar. "I apologize for the dark," Ansanom said, "but some of the compounds do not abide the light until they have been rendered inert." The sorcerer halted his work and dipped two fingers into the mixture. His fingers came out covered in a dark, sooty concoction that he spread along both of Aaron's arms. He then walked to where Aaron's feet were bound. His gait was surprisingly smooth, bearing none of his earlier geriatric signs. Once he'd marked the tops of Aaron's feet in similar fashion, Ansanom exchanged the crucible for a knife.

Aaron saw the shine of the blade in the torchlight and tried to distance himself from it, but his bonds held him firm.

"What—What are you—"

Words became a cry of pain as Ansanom slashed the tip of the knife along Aaron's left arm precisely where he'd just spread the unguent. Aaron wracked himself against the table, straining every muscle, but the leather straps would not yield and, further, repaid him in kind by biting deeper into his flesh. Ansanom paid his antics no regard as he made his way around the table and slashed Aaron's other arm in an identical manner as the first. Aaron clenched his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. Tears streamed out anyway. Not another cry escaped his lips, though, not even a whimper, as Ansanom next moved to his feet and slashed them also.

Aaron heard the legs of a stool dragging across the floor. He opened his eyes to moist slits, watching as Ansanom sat down. With the sorcerer so close and the knife wet with blood—
his
blood—Aaron went into a fit. Trying to free himself, he arched his back, flexed his arms, and shifted his legs as much as he was allowed. None of it did any good.

Ansanom, recognizing the cause of Aaron's distress, put the knife away. "We're quite done with such unpleasantness."

Aaron didn't care. He continued to struggle against his bonds until, finally, pain and exhaustion won out, and he gave up.

When he was done, Ansanom spoke. "You came to my house full of questions. Now, you no doubt have many more. Why you were drugged, why you are strapped to a table, and, last, why I would betray not only you and our eslar friend, but my colleague, Elsanar, as well. I will answer all of your questions if you wish. First, though, you will tell me something. You will tell me of the Elements. Of the
Five
Elements."

Aaron mustered his courage, fixing the sorcerer with his best stare of defiance. "I don't know anything about the Elements, four or five or a hundred! When Ensel Rhe learns what you've done—"

"Your eslar friend will not be interrupting us." Ansanom fixed Aaron with a stare, then he rose from the stool and walked out of sight. "I believe you when you say you know nothing about the Elements," he said, his voice coming from out of the dark. "I doubt that, in the end, Elsanar himself knew much about them."

"Why are you doing this?"

No response, until the sorcerer returned and again sat. He crossed his arms across his chest. "Because of Erlek Abn Nee. He could have been a part of my new order. If circumstances had been different, perhaps he might have. Instead, he—or rather, Fate—chose a different path for him. Just as it also chose a different path for the Elements." Ansanom stood. "It may surprise you to know that I have one of them here. You can see it if you like, though I must admit it's not much to look at."

Ansanom disappeared from sight. After a few moments, the old wizard reappeared holding a covered brass urn. It was plain, with no markings. Ansanom removed the lid, tilting it so Aaron could see inside. It was filled with water.

"I told you it was not much to look at, eh?"

Ansanom returned the lid and disappeared from view. From somewhere behind Aaron, Ansanom kept talking.

"Erlek thought to claim the Four Elements for himself. He was denied such bounty by the devices' creators, for they hid the Elements away, then killed themselves so that no one could ever force the information from them. It was a perfect plan, one that might have thwarted Erlek for all time if only he hadn't found out that one of the four had not committed suicide after all. This man—Tarn Galangaul—settled at the outskirts of civilization. Sired children. It wasn't enough, though. He'd tasted the power of the Gods. One does not simply walk away from such a thing. He wanted the Elements—all of them—for himself. He knew only the location of the one, though, and so he sought clues to the others. Tarn left his family behind, trafficking with witches and other such ilk. Anything to find the missing three. He kept a journal, documenting his progress until the inexorable hands of time finally brought him to ground. On his deathbed, he received a visitor: Erlek Abn Nee, who'd been searching for Tarn for a very long time. Erlek had aged also, but not nearly so much as his years. By this time he'd found a way to stave off death, of course. Though Tarn's fate was certain, Erlek killed him anyway, and stole his journal.