Chapter 8 Chapter 10

- Chapter 9: Crypt -

King Savonna II stroked his trim blond beard as he studied the skill with which High Priest Pranzik worked his whip on the gaunt dock worker stretched out on an ancient wooden rack. Bloodstained leather straps cracking with age held the naked man down so tightly that his back slightly arched while weals raised by Pranzik's whip crisscrossed-crossed his chest and thighs.

"You were right about this one, Pranzik," said Savonna quietly as the tall, esil-headed High Priest paused to sip some water.

"Yes, this one is unusually tough," hissed Pranzik. "Most peasants babble at the mere thought of being brought to my Room of Education." He turned back to the dock worker and slapped the man's face.

"Tell me, rebel, where is Borig Muragasson hiding? Or shall I loose my wrath upon you?"

Again the dock worker merely glared.

Pranzik's face reddened, the veins in his temples protruding as he whipped the dock worker once more, the scourge whistling until its thongs struck the rebel's cheek with a sickening slap.

Ha! thought Savonna. Pranzik's failed once more to force a rebel to cringe before him. Teivos knows everyone else cowers at his glance. The king watched as The High Priest tossed the whip aside and stalked across the dimly-lit room. Even I do, Savonna admitted. What is it about these rebels that allows them to resist so? From what or where do they draw the strength?

A handful of smoky torches placed in rusty brackets hung randomly along the damp, soot-covered walls, casting long shadows on a dozen different blood-splashed wooden machines. Although the rebel was currently the Room of Education's sole student, the priests daily maintained the machines so that their steel fixtures gleamed in the flickering light.

The tall, muscular king watched as Pranzik rummaged through a pile of polished iron torture implements. The High Priest cursed vehemently until he found a long slender dagger with a leather-wrapped hilt.

After sharpening the blade with a whetstone, Pranzik returned to the rack. Carefully he cut the rebel's abdomen crosswise with the precision of a craftsman. Beads of sweat oozed from the rebel's forehead as the High Priest poured a single drop from a small vial onto the cut. Pranzik smiled as the rebel grimaced in obvious pain. Then the dock worker screamed, unable to contain the pain any longer. Pranzik's smile broadened as he slit the rebel's abdomen once more, completing an 'X', and allowed another drop to fall.

The man screamed again, then whimpered and whispered hoarsely, "Evesthar, save me!"

Pranzik's face darkened, matching the hue of his esil scalp. "No!" he shrieked, reflexively plunging the knife deep into the rebel's chest. The body sagged, lifeless.

"Demon's Eye, Pranzik!" yelled Savonna. "You've killed him!"

The High Priest jerked his dagger out of the dead man and hurled it to the floor in disgust as he stomped out of the room. Savonna ran to catch up with him.

"Can't you do anything right? First you lose Jorin Fenalsson's son, then Black Muraga and now you've lost Borig!" And that lovely sister of his, thought the king.

The High Priest stopped and whirled, pointing a bony finger at Savonna. "Careful, your majesty," he sneered. "You and I both know whose power keeps you on the throne."

Savonna glared, lips compressed in a thin line. "You'd be dead without me."

Pranzik bowed and said coldly, "Come, your majesty. Let me show you something." Without waiting, he continued down the hallway.

Bastard priest, thought the king as he followed. At least he knows enough not to argue with his king. Still, someday I must take care of him. Someday soon.

Pranzik led him down a long stairwell into the dank, musty depths of the dungeon. Finally, the High Priest stopped before an iron door with no visible handles or locks. Turning to face the king, he said, "This, your majesty, is where I practice my arts of the Black Magic. Since you gave me this manor, no other human has entered this chamber and left alive."

Savonna shrugged nonchalantly to mask his fear. He watched curiously as Pranzik spoke quietly to the door. There was a soft vibration and then the door silently slid open. A strong whiff of sulphur and another smell Savonna could only describe as magic reached his nostrils. As they entered, light suddenly flooded the chamber and the door slid shut.

The king gazed open-mouthed. It was a large, square, vaulted crypt with rough-hewn walls unlike any he'd ever seen. In the center stood a trio of tables cluttered with half-filled beakers and vials, heavy leather-bound books with yellowed pages, quills in bottles of ink and crinkled parchment sheets. Wooden boxes and barrels scattered on the floor were filled to overflowing with leaves and powders and dried body parts. Savonna dared not ask what animals, or beings, had supplied those parts.

In one corner a large, blood-splattered metal cage rose to the ceiling. Painted beneath it on the floor was the symbol for the gates of Meth. Savonna was grateful that the cage was empty. Jars filled with hearts, eyes, and other organs, as well as empty beakers and various artifacts he'd never seen stuffed the cupboards and shelves lining the walls on either side. A map of the known world covered the far wall. It was not, however, the typical hand-drawn map he'd always seen. Instead, it seemed alive, as if he stood on a cloud and looked down upon the world.

Pranzik opened a nearby cupboard and pulled out several glass squares a half-handspan wide, each piece a different color. Then he pressed a small button on the floor with his foot. Instantly pebble-sized lights appeared scattered across the map, each light a different color.

"Observe," said the High Priest, picking up a green square. "Each of these glass plates corresponds with a light of the same color. Now, can you see where the green light is?"

Savonna squinted briefly, then pointed. "There, on the eastern arm of the Black Mountains. Isn't that the Torg nation of Ytreka?"

Pranzik nodded. "Very good, your majesty. It is in fact Yttre, the capital of Ytreka. Notice what happens when I place this plate over the light."

The king gasped, astonished as the glass magically clung to the wall without Pranzik's aid. Then both the map and wall faded until only ebony emptiness remained. He glanced worriedly at the High Priest, who gestured back to the void. Now Savonna could see shapes forming into distant mountain peaks under a night sky. Then tall gray spires zoomed into view. A great walled city appeared and soon the king could see dark figures marching through the city streets towards a massive temple. Suddenly, he realized what he was seeing.

"Yttre!" he cried out, shocked. "It is the city of Yttre!" Now Savonna watched as the Torgs performed one of their sacrificial rites in the familiar Temple of Mangan, for only the previous spring he'd been in Yttre to sign a treaty of alliance with Ytreka. The three-dimensional vision made him feel as if he was standing at the far end of the temple partaking in the bloody ritual.

"This is amazing, Pranzik! Is this actually happening?"

"Yes, your majesty. What you see before you is no illusion."

"But how does it work?"

"It's quite simple really. Each of the lights you saw on the map represents a different person with whom I have placed one of these." Pranzik reached into his robe and pulled out a small shard of turquoise glass.

"I attach a shard to something very personal of whoever I choose to observe, something they're likely to have with them at nearly all times. As they move, so moves the light on the map. Then when I place a glass plate of the corresponding color over the light on the map, a view like the one you see before you appears. The shard allows us to see through that person's eyes."

The king nodded thoughtfully. "Then in this instance we are looking through the eyes of a Torg."

"General Jezer, to be specific your majesty."

Savonna smiled. "This is very good, Pranzik. But I suppose there is a reason for showing me this?"

The High Priest bowed slightly. "Of course." He stepped forward and waved his hand through the vision. It wavered and then disappeared, becoming a void once more. Slowly the map reappeared. As Pranzik tugged off the green square and reached for a purple one, he said, "The turquoise shard I showed you I have saved for Borig. I will place it on him and then allow him to escape once more."

Savonna smiled wickedly. "So that we might rout out the Underground, aye? Very clever, Pranzik. Very clever indeed."

"Thank you, your majesty."

"I just hope you catch him first, especially if you wish to remain secure in your job."

Seething inwardly, Pranzik refrained from voicing the comment that came to his mind. Someday, Savonna, you will bow before me, but not until Keir Jorinsson and Muraga Hurglasson are taken care of.

"Well are you just going to stand there," demanded Savonna, snapping Pranzik out of his thoughts. "Or are you going to put that glass on the map?"

The High Priest glanced down, embarrassed that the king had caught him. No one must know of my desire for Alera, not yet at least.

"Your majesty, why don't you put this one on the map?" he asked, barely able to contain a sneer. He handed the purple square to the king. Savonna studied the map until he found the correct light.

"This is in the middle of nowhere! No one lives near this section of the Zon River. What're you trying to prove, Pranzik?"

The High Priest appeared offended. "Your majesty, I am merely wishing to show you something of my arts. Please, place the tile over the light."

Shrugging his shoulders, Savonna lifted the plate. As it neared the wall, unseen hands seemed to yank it from his grasp. He let go and the glass stuck. Soon the wall vanished and then once more a three-dimensional vision appeared before them. Trees soared on both sides of the Zon River, hiding much of the dark, stormy sky above. Suddenly, the clouds parted as the moon appeared. He could see two canoes racing through rapids followed by at least a dozen more. Then he was inside one of the leading canoes.

"O gods!" cried the king. "It's that charlatan wizard, Bautista! And Brimulung and Eleshen!"

"Yes, your majesty. And look. There is your enemy, Keir Jorinsson. As you see, I have not lost the renegade. Not only do I know where they are but my priests are following closely behind. If you care to watch, they will soon catch the rebels."

Savonna nodded eagerly. As the canoes raced through the Rapids of Meylin, the king asked, "Who do we see through?"

The High Priest grinned wickedly. "Through the eyes of Muraga Hurglasson."

The king's eyes widened. "He really has joined the rebels then?"

"Yes, your majesty. You see, a couple years ago I was able to place a purple shard in the hilt of a dagger his wfie gave him for their anniversary. He thinks it precious and never have I seen him without it. So long as he stays with Jorinsson, we shall always have the two where we want them."

They were silent for a long while as they watched the Eleshen traders successfully lead the canoes through the Rapids and into the calm stretch.

"The fools!" hissed Pranzik. "My priests shall destroy them now."

Savonna frowned. "But what happened to them? I only see five canoes left."

"Bloodsucking idiots!" swore Pranzik. The curse slipped out before he could stop it. Hastily, he added, "Still, they are more than twice as many as those who fight with Muraga." The canoes crashed and they fell silent, choosing to watch the battle. But as time passed, both men began cursing. Soon, the priests and acolytes were dead.

Savonna seethed with rage. Drawing his rapier, he shouted, "You have failed me for the last time, Pranzik!" He lunged, but a narrow black beam shot from the High Priest's hand, knocking the rapier out of Savonna's grip and sending it crashing into the stone wall behind. The king gasped and stumbled to one knee.

Pranzik's reddened face contorted with hate. "I hold the power here, Savonna, for I control the Black Magic. Do not aggravate me again or your son Memovich will become king of Lebec. Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes, High Priest," Savonna hissed through clenched teeth.

"Then pick up your blade and go." Pranzik raised his arm and fired another black beam, this time towards the iron door, which opened when struck by the beam. As the king staggered to his feet, the High Priest said, "Oh, and I'll send Kalia directly to your bed when she and Borig are caught." Savonna glared at Pranzik but said nothing as he straightened and marched out of the room.

After closing the door and dispersing the vision, Pranzik opened another cupboard and took out a plate-sized mirror. Setting it on a table in front of him, he closed his eyes and placed the black ring he wore on his left hand against it.

"Phauliz yih ulber," he chanted. "Fabor thech lamir." As the mirror grew warm, he lifted his hand and opened his eyes, watching as his reflection changed to a swirling mist. Soon, another esil-headed face appeared, this one round and flabby with brown beady eyes, and spoke with a distant, hollow voice.

"Lord Pranzik, what is your command?"

"Ahh, Fabor. It is good of you to respond so quickly. Listen carefully. You know of Keir Jorinsson's quest to slay our Lord God Teivos. He, Black Muraga, and Bautista the Carnelian are approaching Magalia via the Zon River, accompanied by both Brimulung and Eleshen. I want you and your subordinates to make sure they go no farther than Magalia."

"Yes, Lord Pranzik. I will obey immediately."

"Fabor."

"I am here, Lord Pranzik."

"Both Bolin and Istre have failed."

"Lord Pranzik, the failure of the renegade's quest is more important than my life."