Tinkermage (Book 2) (11 page)

“And you took her for her word?” Etty cut in. “You simply accepted that there was a gnomestress in another world who held the fate of your people in her hands?”

“The Prophetess was very convincing, and she’d already helped rid us of the Baron’s poisonous dream scryers. I’d hoped she would have made contact with us after we stepped through to Sullenor, but… there’s been nothing from her…”

Niksabella felt the giant’s hesitation. She knew Jontuk needed her admittance of the Prophetess visiting her own dreams to seal the connection between them. She also knew he wanted to speak of this himself but was smart enough to know it would be better coming from her. And it
was
her part of the tale to tell.

But should she tell it?

She took a deep breath as a familiar impulse swept her forward. By this time, Termund had become used to her sudden, affectionate impulses, and he was quite ready. He caught her, held her away from him, and made her look into his eyes…

“I can tell you are going. But can you tell us—can you tell
me—
why? Is there more to this?”

Niksabella smiled. “I, too, have been dreaming of the Prophetess for some time now, although I had no idea who she was or what her connection was to Jontuk. My current feeling is that I’m at odds with her, that I do not like her very much, and that she’s keeping secrets from me.”

“What do you mean you feel? You don’t
know
?” Uncle Brit was curious.

“She refuses to let me remember everything about my dreams.”

The elder Grundzest looked thoughtful and concerned. “It sounds like she holds some power over you. At least in your dreams.”

Niksabella nodded. “Yes.”

“Then you should also be wary in your waking moments. Have you noticed any spells of dizziness or missing periods of time?”

The thought suddenly terrified her. Might this Prophetess have tried to influence her waking moments? “No, nothing like that has happened. I… I would never permit such a… I would not allow it.”

Brit quietly huffed and nodded, his hands folded over his ample belly. “I’m sure of that, Nika. All the same, you should be wary. Recount your days. And let me know if you do notice anything strange.”

“I will.”

“I’m not entirely shocked by all this, to be honest,” Termund said. “Nika has always, and will no doubt continue to be, full of surprises. But, my question again to you, Jontuk of the stonekin. Where do you plan on taking my Nika?”

“For fear of scrying eyes, I cannot say where. I can only say it is south.”

“Only bad things are south of here. Orcs, swamp elves, and much worse.”

“I’ve been through all of the southland in my months here. Procuring
things
…” His carmine eyes glanced at her brother. “… and generally taking stock of the various folk in Sullenor.”

“And what did they think of you?”

“I was never seen.”

Etty snorted. “And just how, of all the great miracles, did they not see a ten foot rock giant strolling about the countryside?”

“Stonekin may take what we call
flowert
form. It is how I hope to carry little Nika safely to our destination.”

The cleric wasn’t the only one who balked.

“It’s true,” Jancy said from off in the shadows. She stepped into the light. “Jontuk can turn himself into a big, melty glob of rock. I’ve seen it, and it’s splendid. I wish I could do it.”

“What are you talking about?” Niksabella looked at her. “You practically can.”

“That’s true,” she heard her brother mutter.

“Jancy is correct,” said the stonekin. “I turn into a…
glob
… although I am a glob quite capable of carrying objects and even living beings safely beneath the earth itself.”

Niksabella wanted to laugh at the notion of being transported this way; part of her was terrified, and yet another was excited at the idea, but before she had a chance to respond, Termund moved Niksabella aside and addressed the stonekin. “If you think we’d let you just take her away without our knowing where or in that strange method you just described, you should check your massive head for loose rocks.”

Nikselpik said, “Termund’s got the right of it, my bouldery pal. You’re not taking my sister anywhere.” He tapped his temple. “Loose rocks.”

Jontuk’s carmine eyes blinked. “I do not understand. What does the movability of my anatomy have to do with—”

“What if I want to go with him?” Niksabella interrupted. “That’s not a decision either of you can make.”

Termund appeared to be caught between several thoughts at once. He chose one, carefully, and then explained himself. “We’ve got to be careful, Nika. We don’t know this Jontuk. What if he’s an agent of the enemy? What if he wants your help with the device only to turn it against us? If you went alone, you’d have no one to trust. And if you’re going south, then there’s no better crew to take you than mine. We make runs to the south. Wherever you need to go, we can get you there. And you’d be in the company of trusted friends.” He gave her a stern look. “Aye, it is your decision, but choose well.”

Niksabella turned to the stonekin. The etched runes across his rocky armor pulsed. He was a passionate being, she already knew. She couldn’t imagine what he was capable of if pushed to rage. Her knees buckled at the thought of defying him. “Of course. It would be stupid.”

Jontuk’s innards seem to roil a bit. She heard the soft scraping of granite. “Little Nika. I urge you to reconsider.”

“We’ll take her where she needs to go,” Termund said to the stonekin. “We’re a small group of fifty, and we travel with, pardon the expression, a low profile. Once we’re on the road, you’ll tell us where we’re going, and after we’ve traveled a bit you can ask Nika to reconsider then.”

“You are brave folk to face a stonekin so boldly,” Seether said softly. His utterance appeared to be respectful.

Elwray cackled. “These here are not your average folk.”

Jontuk nodded, his head scraping the ceiling, creating a small shower of dust. “Very well. I would be honored if you will have me as your traveling companion.”

Niksabella bit her lip, shook her head with doubt. “Still, you’re asking a lot.”

Jontuk struck his hand against his chest with a dense
thwack
. “I pledge this, little Nika. In exchange for our freedom from the Baron, the stonekin will be yours to command until Sullenor is free of the Baron’s influence and all gates to this world closed. We will not leave your world until it is safe of threats from all the ultraworlds.”

Niksabella was moved by the emphatic promise.

Even Etty seemed caught up in the Stonekin’s bravado. “Just how many of you are there?” the cleric asked.

“When I left my people, there were ten thousand warriors.”

Nikselpik gave a low whistle. “Ten thousand of these big bastards at your disposal? I could do a lot with ten thousand stonekin.”

“But they’re not at your disposal, brother. It’s not always about you,” she snapped.

Nikselpik put his hands up and rolled his eyes dismissively.

Niksabella sighed and got her temple back under control. “But for the life of me, I still can’t puzzle out what we’ll do when we get there… wherever
there
is.”

Jontuk’s mouth widened into the approximation of a smile. “You’ll free our hearts.”

“I suppose.” Niksabella took Termund’s hand, and then she turned to Dale. “Precisor General, you’ve been quiet.”

Dale was standing with his arms crossed, expression thoughtful. “There are so many things we still don’t know. So many things that could go wrong. Nevertheless, go with Hightower’s blessing. No one will stand in your way.” He stepped up to her and Termund and put a hand on each of their shoulders. “And bring back your ten thousand stonekin. We could use them.”

“
Pfft
. Good riddance, I say,” Etty said. “We’ve lost enough gnomes because of this little play.”

Nikselpik shook his head. “Yes, of course. That’s the way to encourage the support of thousands of stonekin to take up your cause, you idiot.”

“
Bah
. You would choose sides against your own kind. What kind of gnome are you?”

“Our
kind
have never been altogether…
kind
. I’ll let you figure the other part out.”

The chamber went quiet, Niksabella feeling the obvious contempt in the warm chamber, as palpable as a dark fog. But then light-hearted Lili went to her brother’s side, took his arm, and began turning him toward the ledge. She flashed Etty a look, and then fell in step with her brother. “Right, then, Nik,” she said. “How ‘bout let’s get that ale you’ve been groaning about before you get too sober, eh?”

“Capital idea, my dear.” Nikselpik replied. “I need to stay drunk to put up with this lot.” And the two of them climbed up and out of the hollow and back into the passage to the outside world.

Chapter Fourteen

Nikselpik, Fara, Terrence, and Lili were the first out of the rock. Terrence was a helpful lad, almost overly polite as he helped both Lili and Fara down, a trait that normally would have annoyed Nik to no end. But now, in his current state of health, the help was actually appreciated. For a moment, he stood on the precipice of the six-foot drop and breathed in the cold, sea air. He loved the winter air, especially coming off the harbor, where on the hottest summer nights the scents of sun-cooked refuse and dead fish wafted up Hightower Hill.

On a whim, he touched his wellspring thinking that perhaps he could step down on his own power, floating to a soft landing. But no, it was still raw and the attempt made his temples ache. Reluctantly he sat on the edge and reached for Terrence’s hands, stepping down in a rush of speed as the surprisingly strong lad placed him in the waiting arms of Lili and Fara.

“I saw that.” Fara fixed him with a frown.

“What?” Nikselpik stared ahead, playing dumb. But he dropped the expression when he realized Fara wasn’t fooled in the least.

“I’ve treated many wizards with wounded wellsprings, and it can be more debilitating than any physical injury.”

“Wait. What?” Lili looked angrily at him. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Oh, come now. Even when I try to quit I hardly seem to be quitting, not really. I suppose I quit on quitting, which… well, I fear I’ll confuse myself if we continue down this path.” And then back to Fara. “So how do you treat a wounded wellspring?”

“The most effective way is called
mind tuning
. We’d need to share thoughts for a brief period of time. It’s been known to greatly reduce the discomfort. Makes for a swifter recovery. My other advice is for you to leave your wellspring alone for a few days. You’ll only make it worse by messing around with it.”

“Mind tuning, hmm? I’ll save you the trouble of seeing what’s inside my head and opt for the latter. Wouldn’t want to cause any undue trauma.”

“Oh, by Tock. I’ve seen it all. Nothing can surprise me.”

“Well… you’d be surprised.” It wasn’t the dark places he was afraid she’d see but his more obvious emotions—like his fondness of her—that terrified him more.

Others were exiting now: Dale, Etty, Roweiga, the precisor guards. They helped Elwray down, and the old gnome walked a short distance away, put his hands on his hips, and popped his back. Fritzy and Nika followed, and then the rest of the Thrasperville contingent. Jancy slid out of the hole last, gave Nik a wry smile when their eyes met.

He nodded at her, then noticed how Niksabella and Termund found one another like magnets slapping together. He felt a twinge of protectiveness. The idea of his sister in love was a bit baffling to him. There she was holding hands with this gnome fellow, nuzzling against his chest, smiling up like at him like a belly-rubbed pup.

What else has he been rubbing? Ah!
The thought made him cringe. Perhaps he should have a talk with this Termund…

The smell of wellspring magick piqued his nose, that faintly sharp odor, seasoned by the attitude of the caster. A gentle disposition may have an aroma like spiced tea, while one new to the practice of magick may exude the stench of fear. Most pure practitioners of magick preferred a neutral or odorless smell, consistent with good discipline and a professional attitude, but this particular scent was pungent. It burned his sinuses and made his eyes water.

Nikselpik was abput to ask Elwray if he could sense it too, but the old wizard’s face said it all. His beak-like nose pointed at the sky. He mumbled and sniffed and mumbled again. “Rotten, filthy…”

Nikselpik began to hobble over to Elwray, but the air was suddenly filled with heat and sound and the overpowering stench of that corrupted magick… crud! Then he was shoved to the ground, a gray cloak swirling in front of his face as chaos exploded all around. Screams rang out. Shouts. A gnomestress screamed. An arc of azure force bowed beneath a torrent of rust-colored fire. Whip-tales of brownish flame licked across the shield, up into the sky, and then splashed like hot grease in every direction.

Nikselpik sat up, dazed.

Etty stood in front of him and to the left. The cleric was looking past the Golden Cog Tavern and across the snow-covered ground, scowling, holding up a dwindling orb of light, face awash in its protective glow. Nikselpik shifted his attention to his right, his head swimming with dizziness. There was Lili sprawled on the ground, covering her head, splashes of that… yes,
crud
, burning her clothing. Dale was shouting something at Roweiga and pointing in the same direction Etty was looking. Nikselpik spied his sister near the rock, Termund nearby, looking shaken and angry.

“Hang on, Nik!” Etty took a position directly in front of him, legs splayed and balanced even as he leaned forward, as if expecting some heavy weight. The azure shield flared to life as another one of those catastrophic impacts struck it. The cleric’s heels dug in, and Nikselpik had the sense to climb to his feet and brace himself against Etty’s back, thus bolstering the cleric’s support.

The force dissipated and Etty relaxed. Nikselpik extricated himself and stumbled ahead, glaring at the cloaked figure standing across the snowy field. He knew those precise hand movements. Raulnock. The first wizard of Hightower’s familiar silhouette coaxed forth a new monstrosity. But something was different. Something sent a chill up Nikselpik’s spine and made his scalp tingle. It was a pressure in his head, the
intrusion
of another mind, a hideous invasion that left him sick with fear. He called forth his wellspring despite the pain and banished her from his head with the force of a hammer even as her echoing laughter mocked him.

You.

It was the fiend. The witch. Somehow, she and Raulnock had become bound together in their horridness, both intent on destroying him. Yes, he felt
that
deep down in his bones. They would not stop until they were done.

Nikselpik tried to growl, but what came out was more of a whimper. He saw that turbulent mix spinning between Raulnock’s hands, a fireball, yes, but impregnated with crud so lethal the superheated filth could melt flesh from bones.

At least it will be quick.

A sudden gust of wind slammed into Raulnock, staggering him. It was Elwray with his wide, graceful, expansive movements, reminding Nikselpik of some exotic dancing bird, made even more ridiculous by the old fellow’s windblown, gray hair. Each sweep of his arm was a blast of buffeting wind strong enough to fell a tree.

But Raulnock stood unhindered. Raulnock and his leech.

“Nik!” Etty called, his expression turned grim. “Get back. I cannot withstand another one of those blasts.”

“It’s me they want.” Nikselpik strode forward even as his enemies launched their killing blow. He was sure it was the last step he’d ever take, but maybe he could save the others. He called forth his wellspring and gritted against the acute pain. With no real training in defensive magick, he opted for his best bet. A rock to the skull, perhaps? Long distance strangulation? Yes, that was it; he reached out, wrapped invisible hands around Raulnock’s throat, and squeezed.

And then the heat was there, blistering, meteoric…

And then Jontuk saved him. The stonekin burst from the ground with a roar, shedding snow and dust and fragments of ice. The giant took the poisonous fire full force, scattering the noxious, super-heated slop away from the group. Jontuk slouched as the crud worked its way into the seams of his skin, locking him up like some oil-thirsty automaton. He let forth a lowing sound that carried all through the docklands and echoed off the Northern Utenes. There was no doubt every living soul in Hightower had to have heard that rumbling sound.

Yet Nikselpik still had kept his magickal grip on Raulnock’s throat.

He squeezed, satisfied at the spike of panic welling up in the enemy. He stalked slowly past the injured stonekin, bending his will to the task of delivering death despite the mind-splitting ache in his head.

Suddenly, in what seemed like a simple accident, likely brought about by his necromantic leanings or his frequent dealings with the dead—or perhaps it was even because he’d touched the telepathic amorph hive mind already—he uncovered a mental image of Raulnock’s wellspring, a peek into the wizard’s memories leading up to this very moment.

At first, he found thoughts of pain and fear (especially after their wizard’s duel) and a hatred toward Hightower for turning against him. Raulnock had been trapped in his own home, haunted by scowls and snickers and rumors whenever he went out. Still, the former First Wizard was hit with something even harder: the loss of Ada. His mistress and confidant. His kicking post. It seemed she’d taken the opportunity to leave him when she had the chance, and for that, Nikselpik felt smug satisfaction.

Raulnock wanted to kill them all, but lacked the courage to try… until the witch had found him. As decrepit as any undead creature that might stalk a cemetery in the gloaming hours, the witch slunk into town in a black-cowled cloak taken from one of her victims, limping past unsuspecting gnomes. She used her crud to scale a cluster of pipes in the rear of Raulnock’s mansion and entered through the study chimney where she found him drowning his sorrows in hard spirits.

Raulnock’s fear permeated Nikselpik’s senses as the memory of the witch solidified. She was even worse off than when Nikselpik had left her. Bones, mostly, with skin drawn over them. Both eyes missing, face smashed into something nearly unrecognizable.

She made Raulnock promises… and he had nothing left to lose.

The witch then left that starved body to rot in Raulnock’s study and joined with the First Wizard by climbing up and giving his skull a loving hug… and at the same time she gained control of Raulnock’s considerable magick.

In another surprising development, Nikselpik’s intimate connection exposed Raulnock’s very life force, a glow that pulsed through his bloodstream and lived in every fiber of his body. Nikselpik had heard of such things, mostly from those wizards who practiced the necromantic arts, and instinctively, he latched onto it. He began drawing on Raulnock’s life energy.

Like imbibing the sweetest elixir, the pain in Nikselpik’s head dissipated. He felt a rush of excitement, a certainty that he would win, finally destroying both his enemies in one blow.

But in a desperate surge, they threw him out.

Just like that pain blossomed in his head and the snow-covered field, now icy slush, came rushing back. Nikselpik sunk to his knees, looked around. The area was mostly clear but for the precisors moving around to flank the possessed wizard, and Fara at Elwray’s side, the two of them ready with counter-spells.

It was no use. Raulnock and the witch were too strong in their joining.

He tried to shout, but his voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper. He tried again, “I’m here!.” And when the result was the same, he grabbed Etty by the top of his breastplate and gasped, “Run!”

But the cleric shook his head and brushed Nikselpik away, resuming his position of protection. Nikselpik peered over Etty’s shoulder just as Raulnock pushed forward with yet another swirling conflagration.

Something blurred behind Raulnock. Several flashes of steel, too quick for most eyes to follow, but Nikselpik knew the movement. Knew it well.
Jancy
. She had found Raulnock’s blind spot and was inflicting what could only be grievous wounds upon his body, gutting the former First Wizard with a stab to the belly and then cutting high across his neck. Crud and blood gushed from his wounds. The ball of flame fell from his hands and struck the ground in a blinding flash of heat and light.

The field went silent. Neither Raulnock nor Jancy were anywhere to be seen.

No! Not Jancy… but wait. There. A figure curled up on the ground.

Nikselpik’s gut clenched. He closed his eyes and hoped the worst wasn’t true.

Dale and his precisors got to her first, lifted her, and brought her over. Fara and Etty met them halfway, and Nikselpik caught bits of conversation.

“We’ll need to spike her,” Etty was saying and motioning. “Deep too, on this side of her face here. And here, on her neck.”

Fara was nodding and drawing a device from inside her coat.

Termund and Brit had come out from under cover and threw down their cloaks so they could lay Jancy down.

“Hurry,” Etty said. “Spike her. Go, go, go.”

Nikselpik tried to press past Uncle Brit but Etty motioned everyone away. Brit bumped Nikselpik as he tried to step back, then offered him an apology and a view of the scene.

Fara held the device over Jancy’s face. Nikselpik caught the briefest glimpse of raw, blistered flesh along her right cheek, but Jancy seemed calm enough. Then one of her feet started kicking the ground and her eyes poured tears, yet she did not scream or even whimper.

Brave girl.

Fara started turning a small crank on the device, which dispensed what appeared to be light-colored flakes that clung to Jancy’s burned skin and began absorbing into the wounds. She then flipped the device over and pressed a button that lit a series of coils, which started glowing blue. “You’ll feel something nice and cool now. Just what you want, I’m sure.” Fara passed the coils over Jancy’s face, causing the flakes to melt like snow. Jancy stopped kicking her leg. Her body relaxed. She looked over and caught Nikselpik’s stare. She smiled pitifully, and he focused on that smile and those eyes of hers since looking at the charred flesh anywhere else might cause him to lose control of his emotions and he didn’t want her to see that. She needed him to be strong.