Power of the Lost

  Power of the Lost

  Celestine Chronicles III

  Cebelius

  Contents

  1. Welcome to Mortal Life

  2. The Death Seed

  3. Friends and Companions

  4. Filling in the Gaps

  5. Plea Bargain

  6. Night Terrors

  7. Doppelgänger

  8. The Hunt Begins

  9. Thy Will Be Done

  10. Welcome to the Jungle

  11. Frustrated Pursuit

  12. Cornered

  13. The Plan

  14. The Ritual

  15. A Touching Story

  16. You Gets In, There …

  17. Fine Print

  18. Riddle Me This

  19. Cube

  20. Ruinous Roominations

  21. Left Behind

  22. The Revelation

  23. Awkward Night

  24. Down for Stranger

  25. Insanity is Relative

  26. Carnage

  27. DP

  28. The Hero Wears Prada

  29. Mortal

  30. Judge, Jury, Executioner

  31. Asturial’s Promise

  32. Broken Road

  33. Names

  Afterword

  1

  Welcome to Mortal Life

  It was birdsong that woke Asturial.

  She lifted her head enough for her horns to clear the bed, and looked. On the sill of a window just above her in the stone wall to her left, a bird trilled, facing away from her toward the bright blue sky beyond. Staring in abject confusion at the bird, Asturial struggled to get her thoughts in order.

  I lost.

  Her hands explored her proxy body and found it naked under a thin sheet and blanket. She felt no aches or residual pain, but she felt incomprehensibly diminished. The feeling was one she'd had a few days to become accustomed to before her fight with Terrence Mack. She had been confident of victory, and had done her best to put the thought of her true body from her mind. At the time, there had been nothing she could do. Something had stolen her from herself, and she had no idea what that thing was.

  Rage flooded through her, but drained away as she twisted and sat up, glaring at the unreasonably cheerful bird with growing resentment.

  She hissed at it, and the little creature jumped off the window and sailed away, leaving her in relative peace.

  Curtains had been erected on two sides, shielding her bed from the rest of what she now recognized as the ward for the injured in Florence Keep. She'd been here before, and had never expected to see the place again.

  She'd expected many things ... now?

  Reaching up, she explored her face with her hands. It felt strange to her, but it was now the only face she had. Her nose was crooked, and she remembered how it had felt to have it broken. Terry had kicked her in the face with everything he had, and it had simply pulped, making it hard to breathe. It was still a bit difficult, so she used her abilities to straighten the cartilage and reform it into its proper shape. Her breathing eased.

  Then she felt at her throat. There was no bruising, though there should have been.

  Either healing magic was done to me, or I have been unconscious for some time.

  Other sensations came to her and she analyzed them one at a time. There was an urgency in her middle that she recognized with distaste. Her tongue was dry and her throat parched. She was ravenously hungry. All of it made it seem likely to her that she had simply been unconscious for a number of days.

  Asturial stood and parted the curtain. The ward was almost empty, though there were two other curtained off areas indicating the likely presence of other patients. A gangly, rather old-looking centaur male twisted to look back at her from the desk at which he stood and said, "Ah. She wakes. Good morning, lady dragon."

  "How long?" she asked, not bothering with pleasantries as she scanned the rest of the room, then glanced back in at the cot on which she'd so recently lain.

  No clothes.

  The centaur tilted his head quizzically, then shrugged and said, "Seven days. The toilet is in that alcove, there, if you need it."

  He indicated where, and Asturial used the facilities without hesitation, easing at least one of her many discomforts.

  I need to take good care of this proxy, now that it is all I have.

  She felt a confusing mixture of emotion as she considered what had happened. When she had first lost control of her body, she had buried her concerns by concentrating on the template. Once she had his seed, she could worry about the rest. It would be a difficult and lengthy process to rebuild her proper body, but possible given time and the proper resources. The template though ... that was an opportunity she simply could not let pass. Now, she had neither her body nor the template's seed.

  When she returned to the main area, she found the centaur — his name still escaped her — taking down the curtains around her cot. He had also laid out the belt, sarashi, and loincloth she had worn into the arena against the template.

  "These clothes have been washed," he said as he noticed her. "How are you feeling?"

  "Bereft," she answered absently as she came to a decision on how to proceed. "Where is Commander Ross?"

  As she dressed, the man said, "Albrecht Ross is now the Viceroy by explicit consent of the Lady of the Waves. I have no idea where he is. The Viceroy is a busy man."

  Asturial nodded and — once dressed — strode from the room without a backward glance. She navigated the halls, passing servitors who scurried from her path, until she came to the rooms set aside for her. She opened the door to find the place swept clean and all her accoutrements and belongings gone.

  Eyes narrowing, she retraced her steps to the throne room, where she found an officious looking canid dressed in the robes of a seneschal speaking with several other well-dressed citizens or minor courtiers.

  It took her a moment to recognize him as a gnoll, rather than one of the more common canine breeds. He was a bit taller and broader across the shoulders than most others of his kind, and his blunt muzzle and what portion of his coat she could see was brindled. He was an impressive specimen, made the more so by his apparent role. Gnolls were not known for their diplomacy.

  As he caught sight of her, he barked once to silence the people around him, then waved them all away and approached her.

  She glanced around and saw that much had changed. A pedestal of stone was being constructed just to one side of the dais leading to the throne, which had been replaced with a simple chair. All trace of Volai Hart was now gone. The statue that had once been the great naga had been removed along with her old seat of authority.

  Asturial also noticed the presence of several guardsmen in full plate. What's more, she found it curious that each of them was armed with an arbalest, rather than the usual sword and shield.

  Several of the workmen assigned to the construction noticed her, and the sounds of their labor tapered off as they stared unabashedly at her as a group.

  I wonder if they destroyed it, or if the pedestal is for her, the dragon mused with a final glance at the new throne before turning her attention to the gnoll.

  His voice was gravelly, but he kept a polite tone as he said, "Lady Dragon, it is good to see you up and about. I had heard you would be here, and I have prepared an escort for you."

  As he said this, he gestured to a pair of the armored figures, who strode forward to flank the man.

  Astur's eyes narrowed slightly as she said, "Where is my gear, minion? What has become of my property."

  "All of what you brought with you was confiscated to pay for damages that were wrought by your physical assault of the city," the gnoll replied, still keeping a civil tone. "What you have is all you own within the bound
aries of Florence, with one exception. Your sword is waiting for you at the gate, and is peace-bound by spell. Once you are a mile outside the city, you may draw it freely."

  "By what right do you take my belongings?" Asturial said, anger flaring as she flexed her fingers.

  "By right of might, something with which you are well-familiar," boomed a familiar voice from the double doors of intricately carved mahogany that were the main entrance to the hall.

  The Viceroy was an imposing figure in full silver plate with gold chasing. A lion man in the prime of life, his mane was lustrous and well-kept, covering the broad shoulders of a man who fought for a living. His gauntlets were elaborate, clawed things, and he looked every inch the warrior. His golden eyes were cold though, and as he strode forward he said, "I'll handle the rest, Edas. Thank you."

  The gnoll bowed and backed up between the two unmoving armored guards before turning to stride rapidly away.

  "And by right of restitution," Albrecht Ross continued. "In your pursuit of the template, Terrence Mack, you assaulted my city not once, but twice."

  "I had nothing to—"

  She cut herself off and glared. Either the Viceroy knew of her plight, would not believe her, or worse, might believe her and complete her destruction. Her proxy was very well-formed, but the arbalests held by the guardsmen now had a definite purpose in her mind. Such weapons would pierce her easily enough. She had magic at her disposal, but as she extended her senses, she saw that the lion man was armored in more than just metal. The man had come prepared to face her, and his weapons glowed with enchantments. Unarmed and with only her magic and physical prowess, she might prevail against even that, but more guards were still approaching, summoned by some unnoticed signal. To a man they carried heavy weapons, and her proxy's scales would not turn battle axes or black metal bolts as thick as her forearms. To fight would be suicide.

  Usually careless for the safety of a mere proxy, a heretofore unknown sensation writhed to life within her, twisting like a snake in her guts.

  I might die here. I might truly die.

  "Your body has been destroyed, and your hoard will also be confiscated," Ross said, telling her beyond doubt that he did know what had become of her.

  "Your lair's location is known to us, and emissaries have been dispatched to notify what slaves you may have of your destruction. Your wealth will rebuild Florence, and you will leave with only your sword and the clothes on your back."

  He stepped forward, and she was — for the first time — truly aware of how he loomed over her. "Know this, Lady Dragon. You live only by my grace, and the will of a template who asked that we care for you. But for him, I would have put a sword through your heart days ago."

  "He what?" she asked, taking an involuntary step back as the unfamiliar fear squeezing her heart made it beat faster.

  Ross nodded gravely. "He asked that we look after you. I have done as he asked. Now my debt to him, and the debt of this city, is cleansed. I will escort you to the gates, see you through them, and you will henceforth be banished from this place. So long as I rule, you will not return."

  "Where is he?" she asked, doing her level best to keep the desperation from her voice. "Please, tell me?"

  "You have done nothing but cause the man trouble," Ross said, shaking his head. "While his presence caused chaos here, he stood his ground and fought for us. You fought only for yourself. If you find him it will be through no help of mine. Now, move!"

  Less than twenty minutes later, Asturial found herself alone on the road heading west from Florence, her massive sword and the clothes on her back the only possessions she had left in life.

  She was unaccustomed to the swell of emotion that flooded through her as she strode carelessly on. Fear, anguish, loss, and a growing hopelessness all threatened to overwhelm her.

  I didn't just lose my fight with the template. I lost my body, my hoard, my servants ... I lost EVERYTHING!

  Tears streaked her cheeks and she burst into a run, howling in her despair as she ran aimlessly, following the road toward an unknown fate.

  2

  The Death Seed

  Terry bade farewell to the guides that had seen them uneventfully through Sub-Cel and out into the daylight of early afternoon.

  The city of Florence had suffered enough from his presence. Ross had agreed to wait a few days before announcing that he had left Florence in order to give him a head start on those who might be inclined to chase him. He had no illusions about what a mess it would have been otherwise, and there was little he could do other than move quickly to get out of the immediate range of the city.

  Nevertheless, there was one more thing that Cecaelia had charged him to do before he left the area.

  Shy sighed as she came to stand next to him, looking around and clearly relieved to be back in a forest. Though the dryad's body was currently covered almost head to foot in bark armor, that did little to conceal the shapely figure of a woman who knew well how to catch and keep a man's eye. She caught him looking and grinned as she said, "I'm used to having you ogle me naked. I never would have suspected you'd like it rough."

  "Oh hah. Dryad's got jokes," he said, grinning. "I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure the idea behind armor is deflection, not 'stare at me more.' Would that actually help you in a fight or are you just showing off?"

  She nodded and said, "It does. It is more designed to take damage and fall away than stop it entirely. Bear in mind I am not accustomed to personal combat."

  Her luminous green eyes glimmered as she smiled at him. She tossed her head, and her leafy green hair shook itself free as the bark armoring her head splintered and fell away, revealing her beautiful face, full lips, pert nose ...

  Stop staring T-Mack. You got shit to do.

  He glanced around and caught sight of Laina Lowe leaning against one of the boulders near the exit to the cave they'd just come through. She was a towering minotress with longhorns three feet on a side and a physique that would put most professional bodybuilders to shame. Despite the fact that she had barely a trace of fat anywhere else though, her breasts were barely constrained by the tight sarashi she kept them in, and his eyes wandered over her appreciatively despite the fact that he'd just told himself to focus elsewhere. She wore a red loincloth held by a thick leather belt with a gold buckle, and had picked up what he hoped were only gold-plated bracers that covered most of her thick forearms.

  Brown hair was done in a pair of plaits that fell to her shoulders and her bangs stopped just short of her eyebrows. She had fairly mobile bovine ears, but her face was principally human and — despite her otherwise imposing physique — could only be called cute. She had brown eyes and a slightly upturned nose and when she caught him staring she smirked at him, shifting the massive double-bladed Ax of the Great Plains from one hand to the other as she asked, "Well, Boss? We going to sit here or head to the meet up with the Kolenkos?"

  "Got a stop I have to make first," he said, glancing from her to the last member of his party, Euryale. She wore a dryad's mask, but he hadn't been able to see it since she'd put it on a few weeks ago in the depths of the Monsoon dungeon complex. To her lovers, the mask was invisible, and served only to fade her into the background and keep those around her from suffering her curse.

  She was the Euryale, one of the three gorgon sisters. Daughter of the primordial sea goddess Ceto, cursed by Athena, an absolutely immortal monster of myth and legend. Questing black snakes with red eyes wandered in all directions from her head, and black wings hung from her shoulders, their thumbs hooked over one another to make what looked at first glance like a cloak. Her forearms and hands were made entirely of living brass, and she held a silver, ornately tooled bow in one of them.

  Her eyes were blue and her face was faintly reptilian, though she had an aristocratic and haughty air about her ... at least until she spoke. Euryale was a bizarrely chirpy, cheerful woman as long as her anger wasn't roused.

  "Where are we going then, Master?" she asked, tu
rning her face and the majority of her snakes in his direction.

  "I have to go search the body of the behemoth," he admitted with a sour expression. "It has something I need."

  Looking to Shy, he asked, "Would you guide us there, please?"

  Shy gave him a look, then shrugged and said, "As you wish, Tee. This way."

  As he followed her, she glanced over her shoulder and caught him staring at her swaying backside, smirked at him, and said, "Did you ask because you don't know the way, or because you want me walking in front?"

  "Both," he said with a grin. "This is as close as I come to multitasking."

  Laina thumped him on the shoulder, but he grinned and shrugged at her as he said, "You go on up there too if you want to show off. You know I'll look."

  "She can stay right here with me," Euryale sulked. She'd been given the task of guarding the rear both because she could see in all directions at the same time and because anything that hit her first would be wasting their shot. She could feel pain, but injuries vanished the moment the weapon was gone, and her skills as an archer were superlative.

  "And you should keep your eyes on more than just Shy's butt, Master," the gorgon added. "There may still be zone beasts left in the woods here."

  Terry nodded, then shifted to one side and glanced back at her as he said, "Can you really blame me though? I mean come on. Have a look."

  Euryale smirked at him as she said, "Maybe later you can give me a tour of that, and the rest. For now? Please focus."