Page 95 of Eldritch
Kazhimyr exchanged a confused glance with Torryn.
“I believe this glyph is precisely what Cadavros has wanted for centuries. It makes sense now, why one as power hungry as he never seemed to take an interest in the stones, or the septomir. He sought something more powerful. More destructive.”
“Are we talking about the dead Magelord?” Torryn asked, scratching the back of his head.
“He isn’t dead.” Kazhimyr crossed his arms over his chest, attempting to absorb Dolion’s explanation. “He was banished to the mortal lands.”
“Little chance of him tracking down a glyph in the deadlands.” Ravezio stroked his jaw, also confused, judging by the crease in his brow as he stared back at the wall.
“He’s known of this glyph for quite some time. I suspect it’s the reason he subjected Zevander and Branimir to the black flame.”
“All that in one glyph?” Torryn blew out a breath. “Sounds like a lot of power for one person.”
Dolion ran his finger across the page of his book and jotted another note on the wall. “Wielding this glyph requires the ability to summon sablefyre. And if my estimates are correct, it is powerful enough to bring down the Umbravale.”
“If the Umbravale falls, whatever lives in the deadlands can cross freely.” The concern in Ravezio’s voice trembled with the same dread that had Kazhimyr’s chest clenching.
“Yes.”
“What about the chasm?” Torryn asked. “How would those in the deadlands cross it? I thought the Umbravale bridged both worlds”
Shadows gathered in the hollows of Dolion’s face as a grim veil darkened his expression. “There would be no chasm. The trench that separates both worlds is a construct of the Umbravale. Without the Umbravale, there’s no barrier to prevent their crossing. This is precisely why the mages, even myself, sought out the bloodstones. To keep that barrier intact. Unfortunately, King Sagaerin destroyed the old septomir, the only means to strengthen it.”
“That never made sense to me.” Torryn scratched at his jaw, the look of confusion still clinging to his face.
“It never made sense to me, either. But for centuries, mages have been taught that the very tool used to construct the Umbravale could also destroy it. We were wrong, though. It’s capable of weaving a very powerful and protective barrier. But this glyph?” Dolion pointed back to the symbol on the wall. “It would cause irreparable damage. Imagine a power capable of destroying entireracesof Aethyrians.” Dolion paced, scratching at the back of his head.“Competent mages have wielded sablefyre for centuries, but no mage in existence could possibly master this glyph. Not without undergoing the Emberforge ritual.”
“Has anyone ever tried?” Torryn ran his finger down scratches carved in the wall and frowned.
“Yes. Cadavros himself has tried. The only person who has ever survived such a thing unscathed? Is Zevander.”
“Zevander possesses this glyph that has all these strange counter-magics you’ve scribbled across the walls?” Kazhimyr trailed his gaze over them again, his eyeballs damned near bouncing between all the details written in tiny lettering.
“He doesn’t possess it yet. And thank the gods for that.”
“Where is he now?” Kazhimyr asked.
“Right where Cadavros has wanted him all along. In the mortal lands.”
“Perfect.” Kazhimyr rubbed the back of his head.
“Sablefyre infused by the essence of these destructive forces would wreak havoc on the delicate threads that hold that barrier together.”
“Sounds to me like Zevander would have the upper hand in this case.” Torryn snorted, crossing his arms again. “Have youseenhis scorpions? Felt the flame? I don’t even like standing near the bastard when he’s casting.”
“Cadavros is not a foolish man. He ensured that he cannot be killed without consequence, by blood-binding himself and our own Prince Dorjan to a deadly plague. One not seen in over two millennia.” He pointed to a rotting tree symbol. “The black pestilence. Brought about by the god, Pestilios.”
Kazhimyr froze. “Dorjan? Are you aware that Dorjan was taken prisoner by King Jeret?”
Dolion’s eyes squeezed shut, and all the steam powering his frantic movements seemed to fizzle out, as he slumped in the chair closest to him. “If Jeret kills the prince, then we are, as they say, truly fucked.”
Once again, Kazhimyr’s eyes drifted over the mess of scribbles and images on the wall. While Dolion had a reputation of being mad and a bit fanatical about his visions, he was respected by Allura, which gave him a small bit of credibility, as far as Kazhimyr was concerned. “Can this god, Pestilios, get through the Umbravale?”
“I don’t know. Pestilios is a lesser god. It’s possible the Umbravale is strong enough. So long as he doesn’t turn Zevander onto his cause.”
Torryn shook his head. “See, I never understood gods. You kill off everything, you’re left ruling over nothing.”
Dolion scoffed. “He doesn’t intend to kill off anything. Death is merciful, after all. He wants to build an army and enslave anyone who opposes him. The annals have always described Pestilios as craving immense power. And I believe he’s chosen Cadavros as his corporeal vessel.”
