Obsidian Ridge (27 page)

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“So he sent you to do his dirty work, then?” Mariko waved her hand and the entire table of books blew over, slamming to the floor, some against the wall.

“No,” replied Quinn. “I asked him if I could be the one to tell you.”

“Still protecting him, huh? I guess I know where your loyalty lies.”

“That’s not fair, Mariko. It was very difficult for him to allow me this. He wanted to tell you himself, but I convinced him to let me do it.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going with you. I’m not letting you leave here alone.”

Quinn tried to take her hand, but she was too angry, and she pulled it away.

“You listened to him yourself,” said Quinn. “There is little other choice.”

“There’s got to be another way.”

“There is,” said Quinn. “But it requires that many, many people die in our place.”

Mariko stood at the window to her chamber, looking out onto the southern plain below Klarsamryn. “I know,” she said after a long silence. “But I’m just not done here yet.” She sobbed.

Quinn came up behind and put his arms around her. This time she did not pull away.

Mariko please,” pleaded the king. “Won’t you even look at me?”

The princess sat atop her horse, her eyes averted. “I will do what you ask. I will uphold my duty to Erlkazar as the heir to the throne.” She softly spurred her mount forward. “But that is all.”

She rode away from the king and the palace, not looking back.

Quinn and a half dozen of the King’s Magistrates followed her out of Klarsamryn. It was still dark, the sun not due up for some time.

The king stood at the end of the drawbridge.

“Good-bye Mariko,” said Korox, waving weakly at her back. “Know that asking you to save this kingdom was the hardest decision of my life.”

He watched as the escort reached the crest of the first hill. Just as they began to drop down the other side and out of sight, Mariko looked back at her father

And then she was gone.

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“You might wish you had said good-bye,” said Quinn as they reached the bottom of the first hill.

“It will be over soon enough,” said Mariko. “He can share in the pain.”

“You know you don’t mean that.” Mariko sat silent in her saddle.

The riders moved on, veering off the road toward the Obsidian Ridge, hanging over the rooftops of the homes and farms in the valley. Their path took them through a small copse of trees. It was very dark, and Mariko’s eyes had a hard time adjusting.

Riding out from under the leaves, not far from their destination, a familiar figure stood in the middle of the clearing, wearing the uniform of a Watcher.

“It’s about time you showed up,” said Evelyne, a dagger in each hand.

Quinn kicked his horse and bolted out in front of the other riders. Turning his mount sideways, he pointed at the young man leading the Magistrates with the blades of his one remaining gauntlet.

“This is as far as you go,” he said. “I’ll take it from here.”

The other riders came to a stop. The ranking Magistrate looked to his comrades then gritted his teeth. “I can’t let you do that. The princess must be delivered to the Obsidian Ridge.”

“She’ll make it to where she needs to go just fine. But you’re not coming along.”

The young man pulled his blade. “The safety of the entire kingdom is at stake.”

Quinn responded by leaping down from his horse and pulling his enchanted long sword—single blade in his right hand, four blades on his left.

“I do not wish to hurt you. I am trying to save your life. But if you do not back down now, I will take you apart.”

The young Magistrate held his ground, clearly nervous and unsure what he should do.

“Put your sword away, son,” said Mariko. “That’s an order.”

“But—”

“The king is not here, and I am still the heir to the throne. You are bound to follow my orders, are you not?”

He looked to the other Magistrates, but they just shrugged. Finally he nodded and slid his sword back into its sheath.

Quinn let out a sigh of relief. “You are to wait here, at the edge of this copse of trees.” He pointed to the youngest of the Magistrates. “You there, hop down from your horse. We’re going to need it.”

The Magistrate did as he was told, and Evelyne took hold of the reins and leaped into the saddle.

“I’ll take good care of her, sweetheart, don’t worry,” she reassured him.

Quinn jumped back up on his horse as well. “When you see us enter the Obsidian Ridge, then you return to the palace. Go slowly and take your time. We want people to see you ride back without the princess. If you are asked, say that you were turned away, as a show of Xeries’s good faith.”

“And what should I say happened to my horse?” asked the now-on-foot Magistrate.

Quinn smirked. “Tell them it got spooked and threw you off.” He spun his horse around and took the lead.

Mariko fell in behind him, and Evelyne behind her.

“Judging from the way you sat in the saddle, you weren’t much of a rider anyway,” said Evelyne over her shoulder. “They’ll believe you, no worries.”

The three of them took off at a gallop, leaving the King’s Magistrates behind.

When they were out of earshot, Mariko rode up alongside Quinn. “My father is going to be furious if he finds out we ditched his Magistrate escorts.”

“This was your father’s idea,” said Quinn over the stomping of the horses’ hooves. They had reached the base of the Obsidian Ridge and were slipping underneath it as he spoke.

“What?”

“He wanted you to find a way to take down the Obsidian

Ridge from the inside. He thought maybe, just maybe, a single person could do what his entire army could not.” “But why didn’t he tell me?”

“Because I convinced him that three would be better than one.” He slowed his horse, coming to a slow trot at the very center underneath the floating fortress. “And we both knew you would argue with that.”

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Xeries stood up with excitement. “She’s here,” he said.

At his feet, he could see the image of three riders, two female, one male, as they approached the base of his citadel.

Adjusting his robes, Xeries stood as tall as he could, stretching his deformed back to walk almost as he had when he was a younger, fitter man.

“Come, my dear,” he held his hand out to his wife and helped her from her throne. “I have something to show you.

“Must I?” She shied away from his hand, fussing with the veil covering her face.

“Yes, yes, come,” urged the arch magus.

Reluctantly, she gave him her hand and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. Her body was frail, and she moved quite slowly. Xeries held her arm, supporting much of her weight as they made their way to a smaller chamber.

“It’s just this way,” he said, indicating the door ahead. “Not much farther.”

“What is it you are taking me to?” she complained, leaning hard on her husband each time she shifted her weight. “You know I don’t like surprises.”

Xeries chuckled. “Yes, I know. But this one I think you’ll enjoy.”

Leaving behind the bigger room, Xeries and his wife entered a small round chamber. A stone slab table was the

only adornment, situated off to one side. The walls, if you could call them that, were no more than a series of doors, one next to the other, covering the entire space. “Here we are.”

“And where is here? Xeries, why have you dragged me into this tiny place? There is nothing here.” “I brought you here to calm your fears.” “My fears?”

“When we arrived here in Erlkazar, you asked me if I was here to replace you, cast you aside.”

“And you are!” she said, raising her voice. The extra effort caused her to cough, and she cleared her throat as best as she could, trying to maintain her composure.

Xeries shook his head, stroking her frail arm. “I told you I am not going to cast you away. You are my fartrite. You always have been.”

With a wave of his arm all the doors swung wide, revealing dozens of open coffins all standing upright. Inside each lay the body of a different woman—or what had been a woman, long ago. Now they were all dried up. Their skin clung tight to their bones, brown, creased, and tormented. All had their arms crossed over their chests, and all were dressed in the finest of silks.

The coffins were stacked one on top of the other in rows, like dolls displayed on a shelf. On the top in the center there were two unoccupied coffins.

“You see,” said Xeries, pointing to the preserved, utterly drained woman. “I’m not going to cast you away. I’m going to keep you forever—right there, on the very top, where I can see you the best.”

His wife wobbled and fell to her knees, her legs giving out from under her. “Are they… are they dead?” she whispered, horrified.

“Not quite,” said Xeries, still holding her hand. “Though they no longer have enough life-force to keep me alive.” “Are they suffering?”

“I do not know,” said Xeries. “They cannot speak, and I have not thought on the matter much.”

She pulled her hand from his and buried her face in her palms, her veil smearing with tears. “Why did you show me this?”

“So you would understand,” replied Xeries. “I am not getting rid of you. You’ll always be here, immortal like me.”

He bent down and draped his arm over her shoulder. “You know I love you. I have always liked you the best. That’s why I saved you the best spot. Right on top. The queen of them all.”

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The horses whinnied and skittered a bit, startled by the rumbling of the huge stone citadel hanging overhead. Part of the blackness separated from the rest, and it lowered, slowly descending to the ground like a drawbridge.

“Guess we came to the right spot,” said Quinn, steeling himself. “You ready?” he asked Mariko, squeezing her hand.

She nodded. “Are you?”

Quinn smiled. “Let’s hope so.”

“What about me?” Evelyne shifted in her saddle. “Is no one worried about me?”

“After half a year in the Cellar,” replied Quinn, “I suspect you’re going to feel right at home in there.”

“You may even see some of your old friends,” quipped Mariko.

The black bridge reached the ground with a resounding thud, sending up a plume of dirt. Inside, an orange light issued forth, illuminating the area, and from it came a horde of gibbering monsters. Their flesh shimmered in the light, like pieces of broken obsidian falling from the Ridge itself.

They marched down the bridge, in two rows, their claws grinding out a high-pitched scratch as they mashed against the stone below their feet. Reaching the ground, they spread out, surrounding the three riders.

Nearly as big as the horses themselves, the creatures took up very deliberate positions, as if each had been assigned a spot—trained soldiers following routine orders. When all of the beasts were in their places, they began to march back up the bridge, Quinn, Mariko, and Evelyne between them.

The horses whinnied more, not at all comfortable with the strange, deformed beasts or their smell. The bridge, like everything else associated with this citadel, was made from chipped obsidian. The smooth, broken edge of the stone made it difficult for the horses to keep their balance, and the normally surefooted mounts were forced to move very slowly or slip and fall.

The black bridge vibrated under their feet. It seemed the whole citadel shook, ever so slightly, with tremendous power. As they climbed, the shaking became a hum, filling the air in addition to moving the floor.

Reaching the top, Quinn peered up into the center of what looked to be a dormant volcano, chiseled and sculpted over hundreds of years. Carved-out alcoves covered the ceiling and the walls. Where one ended, the next began. It looked like a beehive—hundreds of empty spaces whose edges defined the parameters of the chamber.

Inside each of these alcoves was a statue, all of the same man, each with a different pose. There was no doubting whom the denizens of this place worshiped and followed. There were reminders wherever the eye traveled. The orange light reflected from the crevices in the chiseled figures, casting Xeries’s features in stark relief. The black of the stone mixed with the strange light gave him a very sinister countenance.

Closer to the ground, passages led off from the main chamber in multiple directions, and Xeries’s mutated beasts littered the floor. They stared at the newcomers, patiently waiting.

“Guess this is the welcoming party,” said Quinn. “Whoa,” said Evelyne, finally reaching the top of the bridge behind Quinn and Matiko. “This should be fun.”

When all three were inside, the black bridge rose, grinding and complaining as it lifted from the ground, finally pounding into place as it closed.

“What now?” asked Evelyne.

“Step down from your mounts and remove your weapons,” said Xeries’s echoing, disembodied voice.

All of them climbed off their horses. Three of the black beasts approached and took the reins, leading the mounts away down a dark corridor. They whinnied and whined as they disappeared from view.

Then a second beast—its lithe, dangerous arms outstretched—approached each of the Etlkazarians.

Quinn unbuckled his sword belt, placed it in the creature’s waiting palms, then unstrapped his gauntlet and gave it to his host. Mariko and Evelyne handed over their swords and daggers.

The collected army of monstrosities backed away, separating into organized lines, forming a long walkway between them. Their feet made stomping sounds in unison as they moved.

Down the length of the cleared floor, Xeries appeared. He hobbled as he walked—not quite bent over, not quite uptight. His robes trailed behind, slithering across the polished stone, and he stopped several paces from the three friends.

He bowed his grotesque, disfigured head. “I am Xeries, master of this citadel and ruler of all you see.”

He approached Mariko, craning his neck to get a good look at her. “You are more beautiful than I could have possibly imagined.”

He touched her arm, running his finger along her smooth skin and over her shoulder. The princess flinched away from his touch.

“Don’t be frightened,” said Xeries, his voice echoing itself. “I will not harm you.” He ran his fingers through her dark brown hair.