Bonds Eternal_A Steamy MMF High Fantasy Romance Page 8

  Vylkur slowly shook his head and then closed the box. “The mask would corrupt them. It would twist their soul into something wretched and ugly until none of their original goodness remained.”

  “What do we do?” Liandrya asked softly after several moments of heavy silence. “Can the mask be destroyed?” With the box now closed, the voice was silenced.

  Dorlyn looked to Vylkur. “Is it possible?”

  “I don’t know,” Vylkur admitted with a heavy sigh. “But, the Wizard’s Guild has many resources within its massive library and extensive archives. Perhaps, I will find answers there,” he said while hurrying towards the stairs.

  “I’m coming with you,” Liandrya said as she turned to follow. “Two sets of eyes are better than one.”

  “As are three,” Dorlyn remarked.

  Vylkur pointed to Liandrya. “You come with me.” He pointed to Dorlyn. “You open your shop and then wait until your apprentice has things in hand before joining us at the guild. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” Liandrya and Dorlyn answered in unison.

  Vylkur nodded before turning and hurrying up the stairs. “Then, let’s get moving.”

  5

  Liandrya sneezed and sent a cloud of dust flying up from the aged tome she had just pulled from the shelf. Having never before been inside of the large building that was filled from the basement to the rafters with knowledge and magical artifacts from days long past, Liandrya had been completely enthralled at first; however, now, all she wanted to do was run screaming from the building. She and Vylkur had been in the archives of the Wizard’s Guild for three hours now, and they were no closer to finding a way to destroy the accursed mask. Every word Liandrya read started melding with the other, and all she had gotten for her trouble was a headache and a nose full of dust.

  “Blessings,” came Vylkur’s disembodied voice from somewhere behind the massive pile of books and scrolls her had accumulated on the table.

  Liandrya felt a violent tickle in her nose. “Thank…” Another sneeze. “...you.”

  “Bless—”

  Another sneeze exploded from Liandrya, followed by another, and then four more in rapid succession. Bleary-eyed though she was when she finished, Liandrya was still able to see Vylkur’s head slowly rise and peek over the top of a stack of books that was nearly as tall as he was. He regarded her silently with a raised eyebrow as though waiting, and for several moments, the two of them remained like that.

  “Are you finished?” Vylkur asked cautiously with the barest hint of an amused smile despite the obvious concern in his eyes.

  Liandrya nodded even as her face began contorting in the telltale sign of an impending sneeze. She valiantly tried to smile through it and hold it at bay, but at length, she was overpowered. The force of this final sneeze sent her reeling backwards into a nearby wall, and she blindly reached into her pocket for a handkerchief.

  “Dynol’s divine ass,” Liandrya grumbled after blowing her nose and then crossing over to the table and dropping the offending book on the table at last. “How is it that you haven’t been reduced to a sneezing mess? If you’re using magic, I will be quite cross that you didn’t share the wealth.”

  Vylkur smiled and chuckled despite the underlying desperation of the situation. “Nothing so fanciful, my darling,” he assured. “I’ve simply developed an immunity to dust from my many, many years of reading and researching. I don’t even notice it anymore.”

  “Not fair,” Liandrya grumbled while sitting across from Vylkur and opening a new book. “Are you having any luck?”

  “Mayhaps,” Vylkur replied noncommittally. “I’ve found several cleansing spells, but I don’t believe they would be able to cleanse an evil of the magnitude of the mask’s.” He thoughtfully pursed his lips and tapped his chin. “Perhaps if I found a way to combine them together…”

  “If anyone can do it, it’s you, my love,” Dorlyn said as he approached the table. “Forgive me for taking so long, but my apprentice warped the bow he was crafting, and I had to help him set things right.” He leaned down and brushed a kiss to Vylkur’s lips before moving around the table to do the same with Liandrya.

  “All is forgiven, my love,” Vylkur replied with a smile.

  Liandrya frowned. “Couldn’t we simply take the mask to a cleric...or, perhaps a clutch of them? Seems like it would be a simpler solution than your weaving of different spells together like a patchwork quilt.”

  Vylkur sighed and rubbed his forehead. “The thought did cross my mind, my dear, and I do believe that perhaps performing cleansing rituals at the temples of each deity would do the trick.”

  “But?” Dorlyn prompted with a raised brow as he pulled a book towards him.

  “The mask will only continue to grow in strength now that it has been unearthed,” Vylkur explained while keeping his voice down. “Liandrya, did you not notice the way people looked at us in the streets, and then again within the guild before we made our way down here?”

  Liandrya opened her mouth to reply, but immediately closed it and tilted her head to the side while furrowing her brow in thought. “Now that you mention it, they did seem to pay us an unusual amount of attention,” she mused.

  “It was the mask,” Vylkur explained while lightly tapping the box within the mask was housed. “It wants to be worn. Tywyll’s soul stands at the ready to absorb the unworthy and to overcome her host, and as a result, the mask is emitting a pulse that will draw people to it. That pulse will only grow stronger, which is why I am looking through these books for a temporary solution for a means to minimize the mask’s energy.”

  “You mean to buy us time until we’re able to reach the respective temples,” Dorlyn stated simply.

  Vylkur nodded. “Exactly.”

  Liandrya nodded slowly in understanding. “What do you need from us?”

  “The ingredients and supplies needed for the spell are in ready supply within the guild, as are private rooms for spellcraft,” Vylkur replied. “What I need from the two of you is to map out our journey while I work. Determine the order of the temples according to their distance, for that is how our journey will progress.” He lightly gnawed his bottom lip. “Hopefully, we can fully cleanse the mask without visiting the temple of Morgwn, for while there are magical ways of breathing underwater, they do not last long...and the ocean is vast. I wouldn’t even begin to know where to look.”

  “Five out six deities should be enough even for an artifact as evil as the mask,” Dorlyn reassured as best he could, for in truth, he was speaking out of hope. “Go do what you must, beloved. Dearest Liandrya and I will do as you ask.”

  Vylkur nodded and began gathering up the books he would need as well as the mask. “I don’t know how long it will take me.”

  “If we finish before you do, then we’ll meet you back at the house,” Liandrya said. “Dorlyn and I can start packing all the necessary items for our journey while we wait for you.”

  Vylkur nodded and smiled. “Good plan, lovely vixen,” he said before rising to his feet. “May the Gods look favorably upon us all.”

  And so, the three of them parted ways, completely unaware of the spider watching them from the shadows.

  6

  In the quiet isolation of the spell room he had claimed for his work, Vylkur was focused entirely on his task. Four books were open before him on pedestals, and he read the list of ingredients from each spell before selecting them from the myriad of vials, bottles, and jars that were shelved upon the wall.

  “Anise, basil, dandelion leaf, blessed thistle, bloodroot, and clove,” he muttered under his breath as he took the appropriate bottles and brought them carefully back to his work table. Checking the pages again, he snapped his fingers and went back to the shelves to retrieve a final vial. “Preserved dragon’s blood. Mustn’t forget that,” he muttered before taking a deep breath and exhaling. “Right then, to work.”

  Vylkur slowly opened the box that held the mask and then peered down at the object that appe
ared completely dormant and passive. He knew all too well how deceptive appearances could be, and he narrowed his eyes when he saw the large opal swirl with shadows. Again, he felt a tug on his very soul as the mask called to the magic in his body, but Vylkur set his jaw in grim determination as he began taking a pinch from each bottle and dropping the herbs into a small satchel with a drawstring.

  “You won’t win,” he whispered firmly to the mask as he worked. “My loves and I will stop you.”

  Once he finished with the herbs, Vylkur placed the small satchel aside and went back to the shelves for a final ingredient. While it was not mentioned in either of the books, the dark elf thought the spell could use every possible advantage in keeping the mask’s dark energy and magic at bay, so it was with deliberation that he took a single, black swan feather from a large jar and brought it back to his work table. Placing the feather carefully into the satchel, Vylkur cinched the bag closed and then turned and placed it within the invocation circle he had drawn on the floor in white chalk. He placed the bag in the center before stepping out of the circle once more, while taking great care to not smudge any of the chalk.

  Glancing to the pages of the open books, Vylkur raised his hands and took a deep breath before slowly exhaling. “Spirits of light...spirits of good, hear me. I beseech you to grant your blessings upon the satchel I present to you, so that it may keep in check the evil that seeks to expand its hold.”

  Vylkur paused and glanced over his shoulder before slowly turning so he could gaze into every corner of the room. Had he heard a faint hiss?

  Setting his jaw in determination even as the hairs on the back of his neck rose up, Vylkur continued to cast his spell. “Grant your power and energy upon the satchel I humbly present to you, so that—” Vylkur whipped his head around upon hearing an unmistakable skittering noise. He no longer doubted that he was no longer alone, and he twitched his fingers in preparation as they began to tingle with magic. “So that your will be done,” he added hurriedly, moments before he was forced to dive out of the way to avoid the pincers of a spider that grew from a minuscule size as it raced from the shadows.

  Recognizing the arachnid instantly. Vylkur narrowed his eyes and curled his upper lip in a silent snarl. Morkessa would know of his involvement now, and would no doubt hunt the mask with greater obsession than before. The situation had just become direr, but out of the corner of his eye, Vylkur saw the satchel glow with an iridescently white light. Despite his current predicament, he smirked in satisfaction that he had managed to finish the spell.

  “Too late,” he taunted the familiar spider while gazing directly into its multiple eyes. He then pushed it across the room with a wave of his hand as he jumped to his feet. Running for the circle, Vylkur had been about to grab the satchel when his feet were suddenly stuck to the floor by web fluid. “Shit,” he hissed under his breath before throwing a fireball at the spider as it advanced upon him.

  The arachnid skittered out of the fireball’s path, only to skitter away again as Vylkur threw another. The dark elf’s aim was off on account of his struggling to free himself from the webbing, and so the fireballs exploded against the walls upon missing their intended target. Just as Vylkur was about to cast another fireball, a wizard burst into the room upon hearing the commotion.

  “What is going—” Her eyes widened upon seeing the giant spider, and she screamed.

  “Look out!” Vylkur shouted in warning, but to no avail.

  Shadowalker spit his toxic venom at the terrified wizard, and she fell to the floor in convulsions before lying still when death took her. The arachnid’s victory was short-lived, however, when Liandrya and Dorlyn burst into the room. Their lips curled up in revulsion at the sight of the woman who was now melting into the floor, but at the sight of the spider, they both drew daggers from their belts and boots.

  “Liandrya! The satchel!” Vylkur cried. “Get the satchel and put it in the box!”

  Liandrya nodded. “On it!” She looked to Dorlyn before leaping to the left. “Free him!”

  Dorlyn simply nodded before dashing to the right. Shadowalker seemed torn as to who to go after, and the wood elf took advantage of that confusion to cut through the majority of the thick webbing that kept his beloved restrained.

  “Almost done, beloved,” Dorlyn assured calmly.

  “LIANDRYA!” Vylkur cried while conjuring a fireball before pausing in his throwing of it. He could not risk hitting Liandrya. “Darling, look out!”

  Having grabbed the satchel, Liandrya looked up at Vylkur’s cry just in time to see the spider charging her at full speed. Grinning and chuckling, the half-elf jumped high into the air and flipped as the spider passed under her. “Missed me!” she crowed while landing on the arachnid’s back. A moment later, she drove one of her daggers to the hilt into Shadowalker’s thorax before using his bulbous back end as a jumping point so she could fluidly leap to the table upon which the mask still sat like a silent spectator.

  With Liandrya now out of the way, Vylkur made his already conjured fireball bigger than the first two he had created and then hurled it towards Shadowalker who was still screaming in annoyance and pain from its wound even as it charged at him and Dorlyn. The spider was immediately engulfed by the flames upon impact, and the high-pitched scream of agony that followed was joined by a disembodied shriek of rage. It was with a smile of satisfaction that Vylkur watched the giant arachnid fall onto its back in a charred husk.

  “I always hated that spider,” Vylkur growled with narrowed eyes before raising his gaze to see Liandrya drop the satchel into the mask’s box and then close the lid. He smiled upon seeing a faint glow emanating from the inside. “It’s working,” he said while leaning against Dorlyn.

  “You mean, you knew that spider?” Liandrya asked incredulously.

  Vylkur nodded gravely. “Shadowalker...Morkessa’s familiar,” he answered. “And that means she now knows about me and my part in all this.” He sighed. “She’ll be doubly out for blood now.”

  “She’ll not get her hands on you again,” Dorlyn growled. “I won’t allow it.”

  Vylkur smiled and tenderly brushed his fingers over Dorlyn’s cheek. “We must move quickly, my darlings. Please tell me you mapped out our route.”

  Dorlyn nodded. “We were just on our way out to meet you at home when we heard the screams and explosions.”

  Vylkur sighed with relief. “Thank Anfarwol the two of you came by when you did. Go now and make ready all the preparations for our journey. Take the mask with you,” he instructed. “I will deal with this, for others will undoubtedly be here soon to investigate the commotion,” he said while gesturing to the utter chaos to which the room had been reduced.

  “Very well, but don’t be long,” Dorlyn said firmly.

  Vylkur leaned up and brushed a kiss to Dorlyn’s jaw. “I will join you as soon as I can.”

  “Come on,” Liandrya said while clutching the box close. “We haven’t a moment to lose.”

  7

  Everywhere Morkessa stepped, decay followed in her wake as a physical manifestation of her anger. Bioluminescent plants and moss withered and died as she passed by, as did any vermin that did not flee her presence in time.

  Having been driven underground by the sun, Morkessa had seethed and all but frothed in rage as she awaited her next opportunity. Because she had not had the long period of adjustment that Vylkur had to sunlight, Morkessa was unable to stay upon the surface when the sun was unhindered and shining. Which meant she could not rip Vylkur and Liandrya apart limb from limb as she so wanted.

  At least, not yet.

  It was too much to be borne!

  As if having her beloved Shadowalker murdered was not horrendous enough, but to discover that Vylkur had betrayed her yet again by being involved with the half-breed thief who had stolen the mask from her in the first place? To also find him involved with a wood elf? It was intolerable!

  “I knew I should have assured his death when he abandoned me,” she
snarled aloud as she continued storming through the fathomless dark with the ease of one who had spent her entire life dwelling within the impenetrable shadows. “I should have seen to his demise myself instead of delegating it to assassins.” If she had not been so focused on proving the Mask of Essence’s existence, she indeed would have.

  Not that it mattered any longer.

  Morkessa had proven the mask’s existence. Now all that remained was getting it back before Vylkur and his filthy companions meddled too far. The binding spells her former apprentice had cast would be broken as soon as the mask was removed from the box, that was not the matter that concerned Morkessa. It was the driving purpose of Vylkur’s quest that worried her, for her former apprentice was right. Cleansing the mask at the temples of the other deities would weaken its power and allow it to be destroyed.