Chapter 35
“What you’re describing is impossible,” Maliah said over the sending device.
“Shall I inform Talarys that he has broken the laws of reality and demand a do-over?” Graem drawled. “Because saying that something is impossible doesn’t change the fact that he turned off sorcery, Maliah.”
“Describe it again, Graem.”
As Graem launched into another detailed explanation of the Battle of Lapisloch, Mave focused on her rune-crafting. Her and Graem were inside a cramped basement in the city of Avolar, protected by countless ward. With the city in chaos and the League’s presence known, Mave couldn’t leave.
Fortunately, she had plenty to do. Her duel with the demon prince Grigor had seriously damaged her greatsword and effectively destroyed her armor. She needed to craft a new set.
Not that she had the tools to do it here, given her lack of a proper forge. But with the magical catalysts she had smuggled into Avolar, Mave could at least craft protective runes into a standard breastplate.
Although it would fit terribly. Mave’s figure was lithe, but being five foot nothing and a woman made it difficult to find ordinary armor that fit well. Chain mail could be cut to size, but a breastplate needed to be tailored.
Graem finally reached the point where Talarys cast his obscenely powerful disruption spell, and his voice filled with wonder.
“I was there, Maliah. I saw every spell just wink out of existence, leaving only trails of prismatic light. The world seemed to suffocate me, as I lost the ability to sense the energies around me. Only the magic within me continued to burn. At least until we left the battlefield.”
“Very moving,” Maliah said. “Is Mave with you? Did he feel the same?”
Mave turned to face the sending device. “I did, Archwarlock. My runes retained their magic, except those that cast a spell on activation.”
“So a disruption spell,” Maliah summarized.
“I’ve never heard of one that affected an entire battlefield and lasted for so long. None of the tomes from the Golden Age talk of something like this. And if Kushan were capable of it, could the dragons have threatened him?” Graem asked.
“Many centuries have passed since the so-called Golden Age. It stands to reason that modern mages are capable of far greater feats,” Maliah said. “Are you certain that he is not interested in an alliance, or at least a discussion?”
“He pre-empted me when I brought it up.”
“And why is he uninterested? Given his power and ability, to say nothing of his confirmed infernalism, I feel we would make for excellent allies.” Frustration crept into Maliah’s voice.
“Politics. The League’s unpopularity distracts from his own less desirable traits,” Graem said.
Maliah didn’t respond for some time. Mave took the chance to ask Graem to charge some magical catalysts for her. His magical channeling ability was far stronger than her own and saved her several minutes of time.
“I can’t say that’s a bad decision,” Maliah eventually admitted. “But I feel we can still work with him. In fact, I feel even more strongly that King Talarys and I would make powerful allies. All I need is a chance to talk with him and convince him of that fact.”
Mave felt confident that nobody could convince Talarys of anything. If anyone fit the mold of self-assured warrior-king, it was him.
After the encounter at the Battle of Lapisloch, Mave was certain that her mother would be all over Talarys whenever they met. Personally, she preferred colder, more serious men—the arrogant king was attractive, but too flippant for her liking.
“Is that what you want me to focus on?” Graem asked.
“What else is there to do?” Maliah asked bitterly.
“What about Avolar?”
“It is lost. You told me as much earlier. Even if the city survives the winter, our deal with them will not. Let King Talarys pick over the corpses of the mutts who failed us. I can at least take some pleasure from that.” The archwarlock laughed. “Pull our mages out, dismantle our magitech, and pull out. Until he allies with us, I don’t want King Talarys learning about our teleporters.”
After some small talk, Maliah disconnected and Graem turned off the sending device. The old mage sighed and slumped back in his chair. He ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyepatch.
Mave finished chiseling a rune into her armor, then held a ball of light over it to check it.
“If we’re dismantling the teleportation portal, how are we getting back?” she asked, after Graem didn’t say anything.
“Walking, I imagine.” He sighed again. “You can leave easily enough if you just take off your armor. I might need to organize a more daring escape.”
“No, I can’t,” Mave said, fixing him with a serious gaze. “We’ve confirmed that infernals have soulsight. Even without my armor, the agents they have in the city might recognize me. Not to mention any Gorgrian spies might attempt to… aid me.”
“Ah. I had forgotten that. You are so certain there are devils here, but I haven’t sensed any.” Graem stroked his beard. “That is troublesome.”
They sat in silence for some time, broken only by the scratching of Mave’s tools.
“Why don’t we make Maliah happy and talk to Talarys?” she asked.
“While in Avolar?”
“His palace is on top of the Labyrinth. If we hire a demihuman guide, we can travel there and meet him,” she said.
“If we’re going through the Labyrinth, why not sneak through? And I thought you were having problems with your network,” he replied.
“I am.” She grimaced. “I’ve lost access to Gorgria’s network since the Battle of Lapisloch. And Avolar’s support has failed nearly completely, now that the fox village has moved, and they misplayed their hand with their clumsy attempt to kidnap Talarys’s viceroy.”
“Ah, yes. We nearly lost many mages that day, and for nothing. I remember you advising Yale against it.”
“I don’t think it was his decision. At least it gave us command here.” Mave decided her armor was good enough, and set it aside. “So, are we going to talk to Talarys?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Damn. So he had noticed.
“The only way I’m getting a reliable demihuman guide right now is by asking Talarys’s agents for one,” she admitted. “I don’t trust anybody Avolar would provide us, and everyone else hates us. You give yourself away, Graem.”
“Speak for yourself. Everyone recognizes the tiny knight with the magical voice and a greatsword larger than she is,” Graem said.
They both smiled at each other, then sighed.
Graem gave in. “Fine. I dislike the idea of meeting with him, but if it gets us back…”
“Don’t lie. You’re enamored with him since he used that spell,” Mave said. “Before the battle, you called him the cock king, and talked about the cock kingdom. Now you won’t shut up his spell and how wondrous it was.”
His eyes turned distant. “I don’t think you understand why. Disruption magic is one of the most complex sub-schools of channeling. I was taught by one of the greatest channelers alive, but if he knew about that spell… Well, he’d act like Maliah is. I can’t even begin to comprehend the magical theory behind it, and that excites me.”
“I don’t get the same feeling.”
“How do you feel about the runes on that demon prince’s axe?” Graem asked, grinning.
Bastard. Mave looked away, her ice-blue eyes burning with excitement.
“See?” Graem said, leaning back.
“He acted like he knew something about rune-crafting when we met in the Labyrinth,” she said. “If he could teach me about runes, then…”
“You don’t need to go back to the New Ahm, Maeve,” Graem said, his voice deathly soft.
She spun and hissed at him, “Don’t call me that! Not outside warded rooms in the tower.”
He didn’t acknowledge her tantrum and instead stared at her with soft eyes. “I mean it. The League is a dangerous place right now, especially with war coming. War with Gorgria. If Talarys has something to offer you, take it.”
“The tower has been my home for years now—” she protested.
“Mages change towers all the time. I left Gauron once. You’re young. Think of this as a new opportunity, just like how you joined us in the first place.”
She rose and picked up her helmet. “I’ll head outside and look for one of the Kingdom’s agents. I can arrange a meeting with Talarys soon.”
Graem watched her leave silently.
Finding one of Talarys’s agents turned out to be simple enough. They openly approached her when she went to an old meeting point for her Gorgrian agents. For a moment, she thought she had been sprung by the network.
A young wolfkin met her in the dank, smelly alley. She had rusty blonde hair and ears, and eyes that held a lingering wariness.
“King Talarys wants to meet you,” the wolfkin said. “Can you arrange your own transportation to the palace, or do you need us to assist you?”
This was unexpected, Mave thought. The words from Talarys had been open-ended, but he had clearly changed his mind in the past week.
Part of her wanted to taunt the wolfkin and say she wasn’t interested. But Mave sensed magic nearby.
Dying wasn’t on her to-do list for the night.
“We’ll get there faster if you assist us. My partner and I can meet you at the nearby Labyrinth entrance in…” Mave trailed off in thought. “Let’s say four days?”
“Three.”
“Four. This isn’t a negotiation. We have things to do.” Truthfully, they’d be done quicker, but misleading the enemy was always a good idea. “We need a guide and safe passage through your section of the Labyrinth.”
“Fine. I’ll inform His Majesty that you will meet him in four days. We’ll find you at the Labyrinth entrance.”
Then the wolfkin left without a second glance.
Mave followed through with her orders and helped Graem dismantle the League’s operation. They had set up a teleportation portal in one of Avolar’s watchtowers. Sending the mages back and dismantling it was a complicated process, made more difficult by the fact that Avolar’s agents seemed to be turning on them.
Perhaps they had discovered that the League was leaving. No matter.
They finished after two days, and watched as a company of Kinadain descended on the tower. It burned throughout the night.
“Should we head to the Labyrinth early?” Graem asked.
“Might as well. I bet they’ll be waiting for us.”
“I’m not taking that bet.”
As Mave expected, they found several demihumans waiting at the Labyrinth entrance by the time they arrived. Once again, there were magical presences nearby.
Mave couldn’t spot them, however.
“Let’s go,” the wolfkin said.
“What’s your name?” Mave asked. “It will save time if we get into danger.”
“Tsarri,” she said, before introducing the others. Presumably they were codenames.
The journey was swift, and relatively danger-free. The worst they ran into were fire-breathing lizards on the fifth floor, but the hunters were adept at avoiding monsters.
Mave wondered if the League’s slaves could work like this, if they had the incentive.
The transition to the Kingdom’s territory was abrupt. One moment, they were checking every corner for traps and monsters. The next, a half-dozen demons greeted them inside a chamber full of corpses.
A demihuman warrior led them the rest of the way, although their original guides tagged along. He shot a cautious look at the other demihumans, but otherwise ignored them as he ascended through the levels.
Given the path upward was dead straight, nothing of interest happened. The Labyrinth exit was a double door built from steel and presumably barred on the other side. It stood wide open, with a chain-smoking albino dwarf standing next to it.
At least, Mave thought he was a dwarf. He lacked a beard. Somehow, Mave felt that disqualified him.
Past the steel door sat King Talarys himself. He was inside a chamber as large as any she had seen in the Labyrinth, with a staircase that must lead into his palace.
A table and chairs sat in the center of the room, and Talarys gestured for Mave and Graem to join him.
“I wasn’t sure if you would actually come,” Talarys said. He snapped a book closed and passed it to a devil who lurked behind him.
Mave knew she was a devil because she had wings and candy cane horns. Didn’t devils possess humanoid forms so they could blend in? This devil’s appearance seemed self-defeating. She was a Calosceme knowledge devil, judging from the lavender hair and otherwise generic appearance.
“Um, Your Majesty!” Tsarri, the demihuman guide, shouted.
She jumped forward and bowed deep enough that she nearly lost her balance. The other demihumans stared at Tsarri in shock.
Talarys merely raised an eyebrow. “You are?”
“Tsarri, Your Majesty!” she nearly screamed. “I am honored to be in your presence.”
His face didn’t shift. He seemed to be waiting for something.
Tsarri sweated and shifted uncomfortably. She refused to raise her head and instead stared at the ground.
“If you have something to ask, ask,” Talarys eventually said.
“May I… May I serve you?” she gasped out.
“You already are.”
“Directly! In your palace, I mean.” Tsarri’s face reddened, but she still refused to look at him. “I’ve heard there are countless demihumans that work in your palace. I would love to join them and serve you personally.”
Mave suspected that Tsarri’s idea of personal service was a good deal more intimate than anything Talarys had in mind. Not a single muscle on his face had twitched since Tsarri started speaking.
If he had any interest in adding this little wolfkin to his harem of pliant demihumans, he had a terrifyingly brilliant poker face. This was a side of him that Mave hadn’t seen yet. The flippant and arrogant king was gone. He seemed calculating and unmoving.
“Duchess Alsia will need to personally approve of you, and there is a vetting process, but if you pass, then you can join the palace staff,” Talarys said.
“Duchess… I am not Kinadain, Your Majesty,” Tsarri said, her voice breaking as she spoke.
“That’s not what Alsia is approving. We’ve had some assassination attempts recently. Confirming the character of new staff is vital to the safety of the palace, even if I’m in no danger.” He chuckled.
Tsarri’s face paled and her entire body shook.
“I would imagine you would be the prime target,” Graem said, choosing this as the opportunity to inject himself into the conversation.
“Do you fear assassins, Grand Magister Harpersmith?” Talarys smirked.
Ah, there was the flippancy. Mave wondered if it was like a switch.
The moment he had shifted from dealing with Tsarri, who was a demihuman far lower in status than him, Talarys had returned to the arrogant, dismissive attitude she recognized.
But that glimpse of something else fascinated Mave. Normally, a ruler or noble treated their servants the worst. Mave’s mother had certainly shown little to no regard for those around her.
“That depends on the assassin. I suspect you have some in your employ that I would fear greatly,” Graem said.
“True. Although I still need to resummon my best assassin. She always had an attitude problem, so I’ve left her to stew in Hell for now,” Talarys said.
While Graem and Mave stared at the king in confusion, he turned back to Tsarri.
“If you’re still interested, then one of the demons will escort you into the palace. Given the secrets we keep here, this is your last chance to walk away,” Rys told her.
Tsarri finally straightened and looked at him. “I will serve you, Your Majesty.”
A demon whisked her away, although Mave noted the glare that the knowledge devil shot at Tsarri as she left.
“Sit,” Talarys said.
“I don’t think I’ve ever sat at the same table as a king before. It feels wrong, somehow,” Graem noted.
“Most people don’t think of me as king. Most just call me Rys. The infernals call me boss. A select few call me general.” Rys grinned, and Mave felt concerned that she didn’t know why.
“You’re hinting at mysteries that I don’t understand. But I prefer to get down to business,” Graem said, his good eye narrowing. “Maliah still believes we can work together.”
“Of course, he does. There’s more to gain for him than me.” Rys drummed his fingers on the table. “Does he have anything to offer? Don’t take this the wrong way, but I can crush the League given the time. I’d love to work with so many talented mages, but you’ve done far too good a job at pissing everybody off.”
“That’s your only problem with the League?” Mave asked.
“No. I dislike how crude some of your experiments are. The necromancer Forai that Maliah sent was easy to execute, given what a monster he was. But I’m no stranger to horrific things being done for the sake of progress, or simply curiosity.”
Graem squared his jaw. “You’re underestimating Maliah. Your magic and infernalism is incredibly impressive. Two demon princes, countless infernals, and even that disruption spell of yours—I can’t begin to imagine where you learned these or how many decades of study you’ve devoted to them. But it’s not enough to stop him.”
Rys raised an eyebrow. “If the League is so powerful, why hasn’t it destroyed its enemies yet?”
No response. Mave looked at Graem, who then turned away. His good eye burned.
Mave grimaced inside her helmet. What she was about to do was unwise, but she had played many cards in support of Rys already.
“Do you know what a pact is?” Mave asked.
Rys’s demeanor shifted like the crack of a whip. His slouch vanished, and he became imposing. His gargantuan muscular figure towered over the tiny table. He crossed his arms and clenched his jaw, and his eyes fixed on her, burning with an intense fury.
Meeting his gaze made her uncomfortable. For a moment, Rys didn’t seem human. A deep, raw anger dwelled within him, and it seemed unlike anything she had seen before. Mave found herself reminded of her own fury toward her mother for some strange reason.
Then the feeling passed.
Had that been some form of mental manipulation? Her helmet usually blocked infernal sorcery such as that, and she hadn’t felt any magic activate. The idea of a sorcerer like Rys possessing mental manipulation terrified her, however.
She pushed down the thought. There had been no proof. Most likely, she had been disturbed by his eyes.
For his part, Rys grimaced and leaned into the table. Graem shot a glare at Mave.
“I know all too well what a pact is,” Rys said. “You shouldn’t be playing with them. Eventually, the price you need to pay the infernal consumes everything.”
Graem’s eyebrows shot up. “Price?”
“You don’t know?”
Mave and Graem shook their heads.
“We know what Maliah is doing, but we’re not infernalists.” Mave bit her lip, but felt she was making the right choice now. “The demon lord being summoned is being held inside a powerful summoning circle while a pact is being prepared. They’re feeding him knowledge devils.”
Rys leaned back and frowned. “Curious. That explains a piece of intelligence I received months ago about knowledge devils being summoned in large numbers. I should have investigated more. Diablerie is a common technique to keep powerful infernals in Harrium.”
“Diablerie?” she asked.
“Infernals can consume the magical essence of other infernals in order to maintain their physical form here. Normally, the summoner does this but if they’re too weak, then an external source is necessary. Knowledge devils are both numerous and powerful, so they make for good food,” he explained.
The knowledge devil behind Rys stared at him with her mouth wide open, as if in outrage.
“I think someone dislikes your clinical explanation,” Graem noted.
Rys turned around, then laughed. “Are you only now realizing why Fred wants to eat you, Tyrisa?”
Tyrisa paled, wrapping her arms around herself. “He was serious!?”
“Fred?” Mave asked.
“Prince Frederick to you,” Tyrisa said primly, glaring. “Demon Princes Grigor and Frederick are the generals of the Kingdom of Kavolara, and deserve your respect.”
“We call him Fat Fred,” Rys added.
“Only you call him that,” the knowledge devil muttered.
It slowly dawned on Mave that they were talking about the other demon prince who had been at the Battle of Lapisloch.
Fat? Mave recalled the fifteen-foot-tall monster who had cleaved apart a dozen men with each swing of his halberd and who had shrugged off barrages of magical lances.
What the fuck kind of monster was Rys that he called a demon prince that powerful “Fat Fred?”
Graem coughed and redirected the conversation. “What is the price of a pact?”
“A pact is merely a special form of infernal contract,” Rys explained. “Normally, an infernal contract merely binds both sides to their word, and enforces the penalties. A pact is similar, but is an active contract—it provides a large sum of infernal energy so long as both parties fulfill their obligations.”
Rys sighed. “This sounds benign, but the costs are immense and grow each year. Eventually, the pact collapses under itself. A royal devil might require hundreds of human sacrifices at first, but soon thousands. In exchange, they might need to keep increasing the power and influence of their summoner—but what happens if their summoner is already a king?”
Graem’s eyes widened. Even Mave understood the problem.
“They would need to keep starting wars, and instigate chaos,” Graem gasped.
“Exactly. Pacts became widely used in the Infernal Empire due to the ongoing war between the Devil Queen and Malusian, but they still caused problems. Once the price became too high to achieve without causing… friendly fire, the summoner usually needed to be disposed of.” Rys shrugged. “Naturally, the summoners knew this was coming and could make it expensive to remove them. Dead man’s switches and the like.”
The Infernal Empire? Mave looked at Graem, but he ignored her.
“If Varian and Maliah finish this pact, it will plunge the entire world into war,” Graem said, his craggy face seeming to age decades within moments. “You understand, don’t you? Gauron ignores us because we are weak enough to ignore. But a demon lord with a vested interest in causing chaos would attract armies. It might mean a second Great War.”
Rys raised an eyebrow. “Demon lord? You know who was summoned.”
Graem clammed up, realizing he had said too much. Hadn’t he glared at Mave earlier?
Chuckling, Rys said, “Well, I can likely find out anyway. I doubt there are too many demon lords who would be summoned using a pact.”
“Grishaw,” Mave said. “He seemed to react to your name as well. Why is that?”
She remembered the odd reaction that the demon lord had given when Talarys’s name had been spoken.
Instantly, Rys froze up. Then he cursed.
“Fuck. Of all the demon lords it could have been, it had to be one of Ariel’s spymasters,” Rys said, before laughing. He ran a hand through his black hair. “As for my name—well, he likely knows it from legend. There’s a city named after me, you know.”
“You mean you’re named after a—” Mave stopped talking as what he said dawned on her. “Oh.”
Rys’s smile seemed openly malevolent. What kind of ancient evil sat across from her, close enough to corrupt her with a touch?
“What are you?” she asked.
“Old,” Rys said. “But knowledgeable and experienced. That’s what I can offer you. I suspect you’re both interested in somewhere that can teach you about magic, and where you can learn in relative peace. I’m interested in gaining power, but not in bringing all of Harrium down on me at once. If you join me, then you will learn things that have been lost for millennia. If you don’t… well, maybe you’ll survive the war.”
“Why should we believe you?” Graem asked.
“Because I can use magic that you’ve never heard of? Or maybe it’s because the infernals that work for me are almost as old as the Cataclysm.” Rys shrugged. “In the end, it’s not my problem if you don’t. I’ve learned enough about Maliah’s plans to stop him. If you join me, then it’s mostly icing on the cake.”
“What do you know about rune-crafting?” Mave asked.
“… my practical ability is rusty, but I suspect my theoretical knowledge dwarfs yours,” he answered.
“Was that a pun?”
“Because you use dwarven runes? No, but I’ll take it.”
She rolled her eyes. Then she looked at Graem. “Well?”
“How would you stop Maliah if we helped you?” Graem asked.
“Well, the easiest way would to be meet with him. That’s what he wants, isn’t it?” Rys smiled.
Mave felt that she was making a deal with a devil. Then again, she had resolved herself to that long ago when she first joined the Malus League. Rys could hardly be any worse.
Plus, he fascinated her. The idea of learning ancient knowledge and runes forgotten thousands of years ago caused her heart to skip a beat. He had turned out to be more than she had imagined.
Truly, she had made the right decision to betray the Malus League and support him months ago.