The Mage's Limits: Mages of Martir Book #2 (16 page)

It wasn't much to brag about, in Durima's opinion, but Hollech seemed genuinely proud of his castle. She glanced up the stairs, wondering if any of Hollech's servants were going to come running down when they heard his voice, but she didn't even hear any voices.

“My servants are upstairs, in the tower,” said Hollech. “Since you will probably spend the next nine-hundred and seventy years serving me, I want you to know my servants as well as yourselves.”

Hollech walked over to the stairs, Durima and Gujak trailing behind uncertainly. He began climbing the stairs, every footstep sounding like a horse hoof beating against the stone. The stairwell was rather narrow, but Durima fit just barely, while Gujak, with his slim body, had no trouble at all entering. They followed Hollech up the stairs, which seemed to go higher than they should have, although Durima thought that the Void was probably messing with her senses and making her feel out of whack for no reason.

The stairs were as dark as the rest of the Void; though thanks to Hollech's light, it was easy to see where they were going. As with the rest of the castle, there wasn't very much to see. The stone walls were eerily blank.

As they climbed the stairs, Durima listened hard for any sounds from above. Surely she and Gujak would be able to hear the servants moving above, wouldn't they? Even if Hollech's servants, whoever they were, were moving quietly, she thought she at least would have felt their magical energy signatures, if nothing else.

Then again, if these servants are from the Void, then they might not have normal magical signatures at all,
Durima thought.

Finally, they reached the top of the stairs. A stone door, made of the same kind of stone as the rest of the tower, stood before them. It apparently wasn't locked because Hollech pushed the door open eagerly and stepped inside. Durima hesitated a moment, then followed, with Gujak right behind her, into the room itself.

“Durima, Gujak,” said Hollech, gesturing at the room as they entered. “Meet my servants. I have quite a few already, as you can no doubt tell, but I can always make room for more.”

At first, Durima thought that Hollech must have been playing a trick on them. The tower room that they had stepped in had no other beings in it at all except for her, Gujak, and Hollech. The only things she saw was dirt; piles and pile of dirt, and based on the smell they gave off, not very fresh dirt, either.

Some of the piles were large enough for her to sit on; others were smaller than her foot. They were all placed in a circle in the room, doing absolutely nothing at all. Durima wondered if the dirt was some kind of living dirt found only in the Void, but the longer they stood there staring at it, the more Durima became convinced that the dirt was just dirt.

Gujak scratched the back of his head and looked at Hollech. “Um, Master Hollech? Where are the other servants?”

Hollech let out an offended whinny. “What do you mean, where are the other servants? Why, they're right here.”

He gestured at the dirt piles. “See? All twelve of them, all sitting around right here instead of working, which they
should
be. Lazy bums.”

Hollech kicked at one of the dirt piles, smashing it into pieces. The dirt scattered all over the floor, but it did not cry out in pain or make any noise.

“I never liked Quiet anyway,” said Hollech, shaking his head. “That's what I called him, by the way, because he was always so quiet.”

Durima nodded, although secretly, she was thinking,
Looks like Hollech really did lose his mind. What did the Void
do
to him in a mere thirty years?

“Everyone, introduce yourselves to Durima and Gujak,” Hollech ordered the dirt piles. “And don't be shy. They will be your new partners for the next millennia or so, so you'd better get used to working with them now.”

Again, none of the dirt piles did anything. Durima almost thought that Hollech might just be playing with them, but when she remembered how he 'controlled' the Void earlier, she rejected that idea almost immediately.

“So, uh, Master Hollech,” said Gujak. “What, exactly, do your servants do around here?”

“Nothing,” said Hollech, glaring at the dirt piles as though they had insulted him. “Absolutely nothing. They sit around up here all day, in a circle like this, while I must do everything myself. I should fire them, but I think I would be in an even worse situation than I am now if I did. Do you understand?”

Frankly, Durima thought that Hollech's situation wouldn't change much if he 'fired' his servants. At best, Castle Hollech would be a little bit cleaner than it was now. At worst, Hollech wouldn't even have the pretense of company, which could potentially do all sorts of bad things to his already shattered insanity.

Before Durima could share this thought, however, Hollech started and looked out the window on the opposite side of the chamber. His equine features went from annoyed to horrified in an instant as his ears aimed forward, like he heard something horrible that only he could hear.

“What's the matter, Master Hollech?” said Gujak. “You look worried.”

Hollech turned on his feet and immediately went stomping down the stairs. Alarmed by his unexplained behavior, Durima and Gujak followed, leaving behind the rest of Hollech's 'servants' to sit where they always sat.

“Master Hollech, please wait,” said Gujak as Hollech, as if drawn by a magnetic force, ran down the stairs. “What did you see? Or was it something you heard?”

“No time to explain,” said Hollech without looking back at them. “It's coming. We must prepare.”

“What's coming?” said Durima, doing her best to keep up with him as they followed the banished god down the stairs. “Scavengers?”

Hollech shook his head. “It would be easy if it was the Scavengers. No, it's much,
much
worse than the Scavengers, I can tell you that.”

Just as Durima was going to ask what was worse than the Scavengers, she heard what sounded like a blizzard of glass swirling through the air outside. It was shocking to Durima because it was the first sound she had heard in the Void that had not come from one of them, making her wonder briefly if she was imagining it.

Then Gujak asked, raising his voice over the sound as it grew louder and louder outside, “Why does it sound like glass is being shattered outside?”

“Because it
is
glass, you big idiot,” Hollech replied as he jumped down the last few steps and landed on the floor. “Now come on. Unless we get rid of it, we'll spend the next few months picking glass out of our bodies … assuming we even survive this, of course.”

Chapter Ten

A
orja slammed Darek onto the floor and pinned him there with her boot. Before Darek could even think, he felt Aorja's wand at the base of his neck, the heat of the energy radiating from its tip like Aorja was charging a powerful blast of fire like the kind she had shot at Stanzi seconds ago.

“How did you get here?” Aorja demanded, her voice angry in his ear. “Tell me or I'll blow your brains out right here right now.”

“Aorja!” a feminine voice, scratchy and hoarse, Darek didn't recognize said. “What are you doing with that young man? Who is?”

“Interrogating an enemy spy, Rema,” said Aorja, her tone full of venom. “I don't know how he got here or what he's planning, but I know this particular idiot well enough to know that it's not going to benefit us.”

“Hold it, Aorja,” said Darek, even though he knew nothing he could say would calm her down. “I'm not here to cause trouble, I—”

Aorja stomped on his back, causing Darek to gasp as she said, “Don't listen to a word he says. He's a student from North Academy and the whole reason I was thrown in this prison in the first place. He's nothing more than a goody-two shoes who doesn't know when to stay out of other peoples' business.”

“But you still haven't even told us his name,” said that same voice from before, the one belonging to the being known as Rema. “Unless it's unimportant, of course.”

“My name is Darek Takren,” Darek gasped, ignoring Aorja's wand at his neck. “And I am here to see Jakuuth Grinfborn.”

Darek did not know what to expect when he revealed his name to whoever was in the room. Though he had not heard Jakuuth speak, he hoped that the false Son of Grinf was here anyway. Because if Jakuuth was somewhere else, then there was a good chance that Darek would die today.

The room fell silent when he said his name. He didn't even hear Aorja say anything, even though she already knew who he was. He fully expected her to blow his head open or at least toss him down into the prison yard like poor Stanzi. He wondered if the Ghostly God might possibly intervene to save him, but when he thought about it some more, he realized that the Ghostly God would probably just find someone else to replace him if he died here.

Lord Xocion, please protect me,
Darek prayed in his mind.

Then a voice—not Xocion's—spoke. “Did you say … Takren, young man?”

The voice was somewhat older-sounding, though not too old. It reminded Darek of a book he had once read, which had described the voice of Grinf as that of a fiery furnace mixed with a clanging gavel. This voice, however, sounded more human than that, though the resemblance to Grinf's voice was definitely there.

Taking a chance, Darek looked up. The room he was in was fairly small. Two bookshelves, filled with what appeared to be record-keeping books, stood along the right wall, while a small, ripped sofa stood on the left wall opposite them. A large wooden desk, scattered with papers and books, stood near the back of the room. Behind the desk, on the left, was another door, though where it led to, Darek didn't know.

The room's furniture was not the only thing that caught Darek's attention, however. There were three other beings besides Aorja in here, people he had never seen before.

On the sofa sat a thickset woman with horns sticking out of her forehead. She wore a white dress that reminded Darek of the snow back in the Great Berg, although the dress was clearly a tight fit because he could see the shape of her large body a little too well through it. Her nose was long and pointed, almost like a bird's beak, which made Darek wonder just what the heck she was.

Leaning against the bookshelves opposite her was another female, but this one looked even less human than the fat one. She was taller and skinnier than her companion, almost skeleton thin. With her gangly arms, dark red skin, and crazy black hair, she reminded Darek of the pictures of the Dead Ones that he had once seen in a book.

And sitting behind the desk was none other than Grinf, the God of Justice, Metal, and Fire, himself.

Then Darek blinked and realized that the man sitting behind the desk wasn't actually Grinf. He looked like Grinf, with his golden hair, his dark skin, his square jaw, and muscular arms. He even had a gavel that doubled as a ball peen hammer.

But the longer Darek looked at the man, the more he noticed hints of mortality in him. The man had aging lines in his face that no god would ever show, gray hairs poked out among his golden hair here and there, and he was hunched over slightly as if by age.

Even then, Darek knew that despite Jakuuth Grinfborn's aging body, he was not a force to be messed with. He sensed Jakuuth's magical energy levels, all right, and they were astoundingly high. He could think of only two other mages who had energy levels like Jakuuth and those were the Magical Superior and Yorak.

Impossible,
Darek thought.
How did he get that strong? He's not blessed of the gods, like the Magical Superior and Yorak.

Deciding to find out, Darek said, “Yes, Jakuuth, I said Takren. You heard right.”

Jakuuth Grinfborn sat back in his creaky chair, a look of disbelief on his face. “Takren … it has been decades since I last heard that name. I never thought I'd live to hear it spoken once more.”

Then Jakuuth leaned forward, slamming his hands on his desk as he looked down on Darek with fiery eyes. “Why do you have that last name? Where did you get it from?”

“From my mother,” said Darek, trying to keep his tone as cool as he could, even though he was terribly afraid. “Jenur Takren.”

The two strange-looking women looked at Jakuuth, as if they wanted to see what his response was.

Jakuuth's hands briefly pressed down on the desk before he pushed himself off. “Jenur Takren … you are her son?”

“I am,” said Darek. “And you … you are my father.”

Behind Darek, Aorja let out a gasp of disbelief. The two women also exchanged questioning looks, while Jakuuth ran a hand through his graying hair as if in shock.

“I … I do not have a son,” said Jakuuth, though there was a hint of doubt in his voice. “Jenur Takren and I … no way. I would know if I had a son.”

“It's the truth,” said Darek in the most honest voice he could muster. “I would not be here if that was not so.”

Jakuuth's arms fell to his sides and he stared at his desk as if his whole world had been turned upside down. “I do not remember impregnating Jenur. We were close, very, very close, but—”

“This idiot's lying,” said Aorja, jabbing the tip of her wand deeper into the back of his neck. “Listen, Jakuuth, I knew Darek for nine years and he never once mentioned you as his father. And Jenur didn't mention you, either. I don't know what Darek's game is, but if he's lying like this, then it can't be any good.”

Jakuuth looked up again, his eyes now alight with anger. “Aorja, I believe you are correct. Jenur and I were together, but we never had a child together. I would know even if Jenur had not told me.”

That's when it hit Darek like a ton of bricks. The Ghostly God had mentioned that Mom and Jakuuth had known each other, but until this exact moment, he hadn't realized just
how
they had known each other. The very thought of Mom and Jakuuth being together in
that
way … well, it made his skin crawl, to put it lightly.

Then Jakuuth stood up. “Yes, I remember now. When I first attended North Academy prior to the Katabans War, Jenur already had a small child under her wing. I never cared about him as much as Jenur, but I do remember his name … Darek Takren.”