Part 43 (2/2)
A sibilant voice whispered at the back of his mind, the voice of the Mordant. Fear struck like lightning. Duncan raised his head and searched the chamber, but only the shadows remained.
A foul oily taste crept into his mouth and then he remembered. He was alone yet it was happening again. A shout sprang to his lips, ”No! I won't let you use me!” Braziers erupted in flames, tongues of fire licking the stalact.i.tes. A thrum of power filled the cavern.
”Not again!” Duncan shrank into the floor, trying to seal his mind.
Tentacles of darkness descended from the ceiling, as if searching for his warmth. Cold as midnight, they slithered across his skin, seeking out his wounds.
He thrashed against his bonds but he was held tight, shackled to the floor, an unwilling sacrifice.
Darkness seeped into him, like acid in his veins. A scream roared out of him, too much to contain. Magic thrummed through him, dark and terrible. Words shuddered through his mind, whispered in the voice of the Mordant, spoken in a language long dead. The words held no meaning yet they rushed to be born, erupting from his mouth like vomit. He thrashed and bucked, caught in the grip of evil. Something answered. Shadows crawled across his skin. A relentless darkness pressed down on him like a smothering hand. It poured into him, forcing its way down his mouth. He choked and gagged and still it came. Just when he thought he would drown in darkness, a roaring filled his ears. A single clap of thunder and the darkness was gone.
Duncan lay naked on the stone floor, gasping for breath, like a drowned man tossed on a stormy sh.o.r.e. Exhausted, he opened his eyes, half afraid to look. The shadows were gone, retreated back amongst the stalact.i.tes, waiting for another chance to pounce. The cavern stank of fear and p.i.s.s, his fear, his p.i.s.s. Shuddering against his fate, he closed his eyes, desperate to sleep, but all his dreams held nightmares.
Something poked his side.
Groaning, he opened his eyes. A pair of black robed priests hovered near like hungry vultures. At first he thought he was dreaming, but then one of the priests knelt and forced a thin reed into his mouth. A spurt of warm liquid gushed down his throat, a revolting taste of boiled blood and herbs. He gagged but the foul flood kept coming. He swallowed more than he wanted, gasping for breath when the reed was withdrawn.
Priests knelt on either side of him, sponging him clean, tending him like a babe.
”Just let me die.” But they ignored his words.
”Why? Tell me why?”
Finished with their work, they turned and strode from the cavern. The copper door shuddered closed, sealing him in with the shadows.
Duncan lay chained to the floor, a single tear running down his cheek. ”Why?” The word was a whisper, a question for the Light. ”Why did you let this happen to me? What have I done to deserve this?” He stared at the nearest brazier, willing an answer from the light, but it never came, not even the hint of an echo. A deadly silence reigned in the cavern. He heard his heartbeat and willed it to stop but even that prayer went unanswered.
Cursed and forsaken, he closed his eyes, enduring the pain, waiting for the next a.s.sault.
He must have dozed, or else succ.u.mbed to a haze of misery, he couldn't tell the difference anymore, but then he heard the voice, a faint whisper scratching at his mind.
*Listen to me!*
Duncan jerked awake, afraid the Mordant had returned. He cringed against the stone floor, his heartbeat thudding loud in his ears.
*You must listen, I've little time.*
The voice came again, a subtle whisper, small and naked, without the frightening power of the Dark. Duncan struggled to understand. ”Who are you?” His own voice echoed against the stalact.i.tes, ”you...you...you.”
*I'm a prisoner like you.*
Duncan raised his head, staring into the gloom. Perhaps it was a ghost, the shade of another prisoner come to taunt him...or perhaps the pain had finally forced him to madness.
*No, I'm trapped inside the Mordant.*
A bolt of fear struck Duncan. ”You've come to trick me.” He shrank inside of himself, bracing for the next a.s.sault.
*No, don't close your mind to me. You must listen.*
Duncan waited for the tendrils of darkness to attack but they never came. He risked a thought aimed at the other voice. *Can you hear me?*
*Yes,* a whisper at the back of his mind. *My name is Bryce. I was studying to become a Kiralynn monk when the Mordant took me. He stole my body and trapped my soul. Like you, I'm a prisoner of the Mordant.*
Shock and surprise rippled through Duncan's mind, but he was afraid to trust. *I don't believe you.*
*Trust your own senses. Do I feel like Darkness?*
The question made him think. He fought his own pain, questing within his mind, but he felt none of the oily corruption that came with the Mordant. *How is this possible?*
”Magic, a boon of the Light, call it what you will, but when the Mordant sleeps he lowers his guard. Somehow I found my way to you, like sneaking beneath a locked door. But we must be quick. I've eavesdropped on the Mordant. I know his plans to conquer Erdhe. The southern kingdoms are in grave danger. You must get my words to the others.”
”Others?” Duncan barked out loud, an explosion of rage and frustration. ”I'm chained in this G.o.d-forsaken place, pierced with a hundred knives! You've picked the wrong messenger!”
The cavern mocked him, ”messenger...messenger.”
But the voice was undaunted, *And I'm chained within the Mordant, unable to speak, or touch, or smell, a lost soul condemned to watch a monster use my body. I'd willingly trade my h.e.l.l for yours.*
His reply sobered Duncan like a slap in the face. Perhaps h.e.l.l had many levels and he hadn't yet reached bottom. He took a deep breath, shuddering against the pain. *How can I help?*
*I'm a prisoner yet I spy on my jailor. I've seen his plans. I know what he intends. You must live and you must get my words to the others, to the champions of the Kiralynn monks.*
Fear struck Duncan to the core, fear for Kath and the others. For the thousandth time he wondered what he'd babbled to the Mordant. Mustering his courage, he dared to ask the question. ”What did I tell the G.o.d cursed Mordant?”
*Your words made little sense, your mind was swamped by pain.*
The answer came like a balm to his heart. So he hadn't betrayed them, he hadn't betrayed her. He clung to the belief that Kath remained safe. *Thank you.*
The voice became tentative. *Will you tell me who wields the crystal dagger?*
Suspicions rose like a spring tide. It felt too much like a trap. *No.*
A sigh of sadness blew through his mind. *I understand. Perhaps it is best. The crystal dagger is my only hope.* But then the voice changed, a sense of urgency pulsing through his mind. *Our time grows short, you must listen, listen and remember.* A floodgate opened and images poured into Duncan's mind. A map of Erdhe lay spread before him, but it was unlike any map he'd ever seen. Jeweled castles and ivory walls sat amongst painted fields and forests. He soared like an eagle across the land, hearing details of the Mordant's plans, dire warnings about a place called Raven Pa.s.s, and the Kiralynn monastery, and the Queen of Lanverness. Visions tumbled through his head, a jumble of thoughts and ideas, each one potent with urgency. A strange hallway carved with demons of every description. A secret door opened to reveal a vast h.o.a.rd of treasure and forgotten magic. His vision blurred and he was in a courtyard, in the heart of the Dark Citadel, yet he saw a squad of knights in silver surcoats, false knights wearing the colors of the Octagon, knights of deception. Another s.h.i.+ft and he sat on a dark throne giving orders to men bearing tridents. An avalanche of thoughts and visions pummeled his mind. So confusing, they crashed against him, like being tossed in a storm racked sea. He struggled to make sense of the chaos. *I have questions, things I don't understand.* But the other voice retreated, leaving a whisper of fear in his mind. *You must live. You must remember!*
And then it was gone, snuffed out like a candle.
Silence struck like a thunderbolt.
Suddenly alone, Duncan shuddered against the stone floor, gasping for breath. He struggled to understand, wondering if he'd finally gone mad. Visions swam in his mind, things he'd never seen before, thoughts that could never have been his own. The Mordant was a monster, a demon in the guise of a man. And if the visions held true, then south had little chance.
Pain threatened to swamp him, a constant companion gnawing at his sanity, but the memories of the other voice a.s.saulted his mind. ”You must live. You must remember!” Duncan turned his head to stare up at the nearest brazier, his gaze fastening on the flickering light. ”You used me.” His voice sounded hoa.r.s.e in his ears. He still wanted to die, still wanted the pain to end, but he changed his prayer, his voice a low whisper. ”Let Kath come, let her hurry.” He bit back a sob, resolved to endure the pain, for the secrets of his mind could not die with him.
54.
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