The fall of skullkeep, p.9
The Fall of Skullkeep, page 9
No. Life at Skullkeep was not horrible at all… at least, not overall. The one thing she had not been prepared for in the least, though, was the smell. If she had stopped to think about it, the idea that undead would be rather foul seemed axiomatic. They were animated corpses in various stages of decay, after all. Magic animated them and kept them from falling apart, but whoever developed those spells apparently never gave any thought to blunting the putrid odor of death that surrounded them like a heavy cloak. And the presence of over ten thousand corpses in a relatively small space seemed to intensify the stench by at least an order of magnitude.
Spending as much time as possible inside the fortress seemed to help… at least those spaces two or more rooms away from exterior walls. What shocked her more than the smell of the undead, though, was how no one seemed to care if she explored the fortress, and aside from the Necromancer’s quarters—or the Master, as most people referred to him there—none of the spaces seemed off-limits when not in use. She had in fact tested that her second week there by ‘stumbling’ into a meeting room while the Necromancer met with his lieutenants; other than the Necromancer himself rudely pointing out the room was in use, no one said anything about it.
Part of her loved exploring the fortress. It was something like six thousand years old. It both resembled other architectural styles she had seen… and didn’t, all at the same time. Aside from the greater stability and safety re-taking the fortress would achieve, she hoped their overall objective was successful for the simple reason that she would love to spend days wandering this fortress and soaking up its history.
In the meantime, she had a job to do. As part of her general objective of collecting intelligence on the fortress and its garrison, she had already communicated back a rough count of undead and the fact that the undead generally milled about in the courtyard, left largely to themselves. It was a large space that Cyn suspected had once doubled—or perhaps, tripled?—as a parade ground, exercise yard, and inspection area. Aside from the historical accounts she had read, standing on the west wall looking east, it was obvious that the planners intended Skullkeep to serve as a customs point once the Old Alliance normalized trade and relations with the descendants of those defeated in the Godswar. The arrangement of the two gates and how the fortress itself abutted the courtyard made that obvious to Cyn.
Aside from gathering general intelligence, her other objective—and in her mind, the true primary—was the location of the Necromancer’s soul jar. The idea that the Necromancer was a lich like Othron made enormous amounts of sense, given that there was no indication that the Necromancer who invaded Tel Mivar was a different person from the one who first conquered the fortress five hundred years or so ago, not too long after the assassination of Bellock Vanlon.
She wanted to say that the soul jar was hidden away in the Necromancer’s quarters somewhere. Given its importance to his continued existence, it made perfect sense that he would want to keep it close and very well protected. But his quarters being the obvious choice made Cyn consider other alternatives. She didn’t want to ignore the search for hidden rooms or spaces elsewhere in the fortress, simply because the soul jar had to be in his quarters. So, her plan was to rule out all the places within the fortress that it wasn’t.
Cyn strolled down the hallway of the first underground floor. That level held all the storerooms for the kitchens that fed the still-living part of the garrison. She silently thanked the builders of the fortress for using sconces like those in Tel Mivar, that provided a steady flame for light without radiating heat or consuming fuel. Having grown up in Vushaar, which used the non-magical methods of lighting, the difference was both obvious and pleasant.
As she strolled along in her explorations, she added to a mental map of the fortress. When she returned to her cot, she’d add the floor to the map of the fortress she was making. No one had challenged her on it yet, but if they did, she felt that her interest in historical places was sufficiently established that it would seem normal for her to draw a map of her explorations. It made sense to her, anyway, especially since she annotated her sketches with whatever struck her as especially interesting. She used those annotations to obscure her notes of more tactical or strategic value.
“You there, stop!” a male voice almost shouted behind her.
Cyn turned and saw a man with sergeant stripes striding her way. “Yes?”
“Who are you, and what are you doing on this floor?”
“I’m Cyn. I’ve been here about three weeks, and I’m exploring.”
The man’s eyes narrowed at the word ‘exploring.’ “Exploring, you say? Why?”
Cyn shrugged and smiled. “I love old places. Ruins. Buildings like this. It was the main reason I applied to join; I wanted to explore the fortress. Did you know there’s a ruined castle in central Vushaar that’s almost as old as the kingdom itself? I haven’t been there yet, but I’ve read about it.”
The sergeant winced. “You might want to give a second thought to visiting that particular ruin. It’s not uninhabited, and the resident doesn’t take kindly to guests of our allegiance. We lose scouts in that region on the regular.”
“Oh… well… that’s unfortunate. Maybe I’ll just settle for reading Declan the Dandy’s account of Gavin Cross’s visit there. I still have so many old places to see in the world. I’d hate to die young just because someone or something doesn’t like that I work for you guys.”
Eyes narrowed again. “How do you know Declan the Dandy?”
“I don’t, but I’d love to. I hear he’s quite the ladies’ man, and he has just seen so much. Have you read his treatise on architectural styles of Kyndrath? It is the best primer on the subject that I’ve ever found. Everyone else just skips over all the historical significance and influences. Can you believe that?”
“Oh… you’re her.”
“Her who?” Cyn asked, smiling.
“Never mind. Just don’t let your enthusiasm for exploration interfere with your duties.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Sergeant. After all, if I lose the coin from this job, how can I explore more old places?”
The sergeant shook his head and turned, walking back the way he’d come. Cyn smiled and waved, in case he happened to glance back, and then resumed her exploration of that floor.
CHAPTER 10
Gavin welcomed Declan into the sitting room, gesturing for him to take a seat. He chose the armchair on the right side of the hearth, and Gavin chose the left. Gavin regarded one of his oldest friends as the silence extended, and from what little expression leaked through Declan’s fierce self-control, he knew whatever the bard brought with him was not good news.
When Declan still had not spoken beyond his greeting, Gavin said, “What is it, Declan? I can tell it’s something you consider bad news, but there’s no point in stewing on it.”
Gavin watched him take a deep breath and release it as a heavy sigh.
After maybe one more heartbeat of silence, Declan said, “The Wraiths passed me the report on the current status of the army, and… well… it’s not good. There are no signs of any recruitment drive. There are no signs of a wholesale draw-down, but none of the standing units are up to full roster. When people retire or their term ends, that slot in the unit often isn’t re-filled, and it seems like the personnel people deny about one in every fifteen to twenty who tries to re-enlist.”
Gavin sagged against his seat. A confusing, convoluted morass of emotion swirled through his mind, and he wasn’t certain he could parse them all. Anger, sure; he tasked the leadership of Tel’s army with mobilizing for the campaign against Skullkeep, and… well… they didn’t do that. Disappointment, absolutely. But the single greatest emotion that assaulted him was disbelief. It was unbelievable that the army leadership would ignore or outright disobey his orders, especially given the culture and mystique and esteem that surrounded the office of the Archmagister.
It wasn’t personal to Gavin. At least… he didn’t take it personally. Yes, the leadership’s lack of compliance could be rooted in personal grievances, but that didn’t matter to Gavin. He didn’t recognize those issues. The Kingdom of Tel needed the army mobilized. The Kingdom of Tel needed the threat of the Necromancer ended. None of the issues facing the world at that moment made any personal difference to Gavin. Like some people back on Earth would say, Gavin didn’t have a dog in the fight.
It would require no effort at all—zero, none—just to tell Bellos, ‘I quit,’ and hop the portal back to Earth… leaving Drakmoor to fend for itself. In fact, from a purely personal point of view, that was probably the better choice; it absolutely was safest, especially if he collapsed the portal behind him.
But that’s not what Gavin agreed to do when he accepted the mantle of Archmagister.
“Well, this is a mess,” Gavin said, almost a mutter, when the shock of Declan’s revelation ran its course at last. “So… what’s my play, here? Who handles the charges of insubordination these people need to face?”
Declan blinked. “Uhm… Gavin, that’s you. The army has its own internal justice system, but it’s set up to bring charges before a group of higher-ranking personnel. The people responsible for this have no higher-ranking personnel. The person ultimately responsible reports to you.”
Gavin shook his head. He couldn’t find the words to voice the full breadth and depth of his feelings, so he just sighed and shook his head.
“Fine. I need a list of everyone complicit in this. I’ll issue writs for the Wraiths to collect them and hold them until we can work through those who would take their places to make sure the problem won’t continue. This is not what I wanted to accomplish today.”
Declan pursed his lips.
“What?” Gavin asked.
“Your order is all the authority the Wraiths need, Gavin. I thought we were past that.”
Gavin sighed again. “I do not like having that much authority. I never have. But fine. So be it. Round them up, and I’ll be along with some people to help interview their replacements. It would help if the Wraiths also compiled a list of the successors.”
“It shall be done.”
Declan stood and left.
Gavin’s eyes came to rest on the floor, but he wasn’t looking at it. No. His mind swirled through all the headaches and challenges and… just the sheer mess of all that was his responsibility to fix.
“What ever happened to the idea that life was supposed to be fun?” he groused, pushing himself to his feet. He left the sitting room—and then the Citadel—without another word.
The passage of a couple hours delivered Gavin, his friends known throughout the arcane world as the Apprentices, and a collection of Inquisitors capable of casting Divination of Truth to the headquarters of the Army of Tel. Gavin’s first thought was to bring a contingent of Battle-mages, as he had done when he cleared out of the remnants of the Royal Guard all those months ago, but he decided instead to keep matters as non-confrontational as possible. He felt a handful of wizards and mages—with himself in the vanguard—would not be an undue provocation… especially given his status as head of government for the Kingdom Tel for as long as he held the office of Archmagister.
Declan met him at the main entrance with a group of plain-clothed Wraiths and handed him a sheaf of parchment.
“These are the names of those personnel next-in-line to assume leadership of the army,” the bard explained. “I made multiple copies, so you can divide the list however you see fit.”
“Good. Thank you,” Gavin replied. “I want this handled quickly.”
Gavin turned and began passing parchment to the people with him, and he chose not to ask Declan the precise hows and wherefores he had made a perfect number so that each of Gavin’s helpers had a copy of the list. There were some things simple men—like Gavin, in this instance—just were not meant to know.
“You all know the questions you need to ask after casting Divination of Truth?” he asked after passing out the list.
They answered with a mixture of silent nods, “Yes, sir,” or “Yes, Milord.”
Gavin nodded once. “Very well. I’ll handle the two most-senior officers. If the aura shifts red on any of the questions, flag that person and make sure they are confined under guard until we have a chance to investigate further. Any questions?”
When the group remained silent for several heartbeats, Gavin gestured toward the entrance. “Proceed, then.”
He watched each of the Wraiths pair off with one of the arcanists as he stood a few feet off Declan’s left shoulder. When only he and the bard remained, Gavin said, “Well, old friend… let’s get this done.”
Declan led Gavin into the headquarters, where his people were already causing quite the stir. They walked to the office where the top officer on the list waited under guard, and Gavin enjoyed the wide eyes, slack jaw, and pale complexion that greeted him as he entered the office without warning or announcement.
Shooting out of her seat like a rocket to snap to attention, the officer in question looked to be a middle-aged woman. She wore her salt-and-pepper hair in a plain ponytail that day, and she filled out her uniform with a fit, muscular build.
“Good day, Major. I don’t know that we have ever met before, but as my attire suggests, I am Gavin Cross, Head of House Kirloth and Archmagister of Tel. Do you know why we are disrupting your day?”
The major swallowed hard, then said, “I… I imagine it involves the general staff’s non-compliance with the mobilization order, Milord.”
Gavin smiled. “Very good. We’re already off to an excellent start. Now, here’s how this will go. I’m going to invoke a Divination effect that will duplicate the effects of the spell Divination of Truth. Are you familiar with it?”
“Yes, Milord,” the major replied, jerking a choppy nod.
“Excellent. Once that’s in place, we’re going to discuss a few things, and I will evaluate your answers as well as the invocation’s reaction to you. Do you have any questions before we begin?”
“No, Milord.”
At this point in his mastery of the Art, Gavin required less than moment to clear his mind and establish his intent before invoking the Word of Divination, “Klaepos.”
The full resonance of his power slammed into the ambient magic, forcing reality to shift according to his will, as a gray aura surrounded the major.
“First off, Major, please sit and relax. There’s no reason to be tense about this or fear for yourself or anyone depending on you.” Gavin followed his own request and sat in one of the guest chairs facing her desk, as she complied. “Now then, are you complicit in the general staff’s obstruction of my orders to prepare Tel’s army for a campaign against Skullkeep?”
“No, Milord.” The aura surrounding the major shifted from a foggy gray to bright, pristine white.
“Excellent,” Gavin remarked. “That is my primary concern, but as long as we’re here, let’s discuss a few more things.”
By the time Gavin left the major’s office, she was the commanding general of all Tel’s forces, and she held an order Gavin wrote and signed to such effect in case she needed any confirmation.
When he stepped through the headquarters’ main entrance, Gavin found the rest of his team waiting on him, and everyone reported their people passed. Now, all that remained was the assembly of the headquarters staff to announce the removal of the former leadership and investiture and promotion of the new officers.
Ah, well. No time like the present…
Gavin returned to the Citadel drained. Emotionally. Mentally. But not physically so much, depriving him of the trifecta. He stood in the hallway, facing the sitting room he used for conversations with one or two people but not looking at it. With each passing day, he grew less and less enamored with holding the office of Archmagister.
Awareness of what he needed most exploded in the forefront of his mind, and he smiled at the thought.
“Hartley!”
The spectral majordomo faded into existence a few feet in front of him. “You bellowed, Milord?”
“I am taking the rest of the day… and possibly tomorrow… to rest and recharge. Please inform Nathrac that I am going to my family’s estate on Earth if I am needed for any emergencies, and I will return no later than end-of-day tomorrow.”
Hartley nodded once. “Very good, Milord. Do try to have fun.”
“Thank you.”
Hartley faded from view as Gavin went to his quarters, where he packed a duffle with a couple sets of clothes that did not relate to his office at all.
Gavin stepped through the portal that connected his childhood home to the former Sivas Estate he had claimed as his own. The house where he grew up still engendered a feeling of calm that nowhere else he’d ever visited could, which made it the perfect getaway.
Beyond the relaxing effect, the air smelled different here. The easy way out was to chock it up to random post-Industrial-Era pollution in the air that Drakmoor didn’t have… despite the valiant efforts of horses and their ‘exhaust’ everywhere. Gavin never liked to take the easy way out of anything, but at the same time, he hadn’t come to Earth to perform an in-depth atmospherical analysis, either.
He saw his daughter sitting on the porch, fiddling with her phone. She still badgered him about learning one every chance she could, and Gavin privately admitted that she probably had a point. But… he didn’t expect to be on Earth all that often, and smartphones and the like wouldn’t work in Drakmoor. Not beyond being glorified calculators and cameras, and once the batteries ran out, there was no way to charge them that wouldn’t risk overloading them.
