It was an exaggeration, Mendeln not having learned how to do any such thing, but if worst came to worst, he could at least dismiss the shade.
Malic, his appearance once more “normal,” wavered. At last, the ghost dipped his head once. Mendeln silently cursed himself for having fallen for the priest’s diabolical distraction. While Rathma and Trag’Oul had warned him that a powerful priest such as Malic might be able to circumvent the rules of the summoning, Mendeln doubted that even they had expected such a startling maneuver. Great had been the power granted Mephisto’s high priest, even in death.
But Mendeln would have no repeat of that. As the ghost hovered, Uldyssian’s brother bent low and made corrections to the patterns. He then repeated other words given to him by Trag’Oul and—on a hunch—altered some others to further add to what he believed a better spell.
Rising, Mendeln addressed the spirit again. “Malic, you heard what I said. She who slew you is not masquerading as the Primus. You are eager for revenge; why not toward her?”
It was no difficult matter to feel the priest’s abrupt interest. Mendeln decided that it was time to permit the ghost to speak.
“Well?” he asked of Malic.
The high priest’s voice came out as a vicious rasp that made Achilios’s so much more alive by comparison. “Brother…of Uldyssian ul-Diomed…what will you…have of me?”
“Knowledge of the temple near the capital. Its dangers and hidden secrets. Those things that Lucion made that Lilith now controls…”
The ghost laughed, a jarring cough with no humor in it. “Brother of Uldyssian ul-Diomed…you ask more than…can be told…” The translucent figure gave a smile. “…but it can be shown…”
This was not part of what the dragon and Rathma had discussed with Mendeln. There had been no explanation of what to do if Malic sought to accompany his summoner. Still…now that he had the specter under control, Mendeln saw the value in having the priest for constant questioning.
The only trouble was…how to accomplish this. He did not want to go back and ask the others. Mendeln considered for a moment, then turned the dagger to where the pyre had burned strongest. He focused on what it was he desired, willing the dagger to draw it to him.
The blackened ground underneath Malic’s vague form shook as if the body of the priest himself were about to rise up from the ashes like the morlu. Instead, though, what at last erupted to the surface was a small, white fragment like a pebble. It paused once it was free of the soil, then rolled directly to Mendeln’s waiting hand.
He straightened, studying the object. The largest bone fragment remaining of the high priest.
Mendeln touched the blade’s tip to the bone. He then muttered a binding spell akin to what he had utilized to keep Malic sealed within the patterns. The words used were again Mendeln’s own combinations, but something just felt right about them.
He prayed that he had not made a fatal mistake.
Clutching the fragment, Uldyssian’s brother studied the patterns on the ground. Then, with one quick sweep of his foot, he destroyed them.
The ghost let out a sigh. He lost all form. Now no more than mist, Malic suddenly swirled into the bone fragment. Once he was within, the fragment flared bright once, then returned to its normal state.
Mendeln carefully checked to make certain that Malic had done nothing sinister. Detecting no fault in his spellwork, he finally exhaled in relief.
But before he could actually relax, from the direction of the town there came excited cries. Whether or not they concerned Mendeln, he did not wish to discover. His task here was at an end. As Trag’Oul had previously instructed, Mendeln used the dagger to draw a circle in the air, then two small symbols within.
Yes, I sense you… came the dragon’s voice.
The next moment, Mendeln stood in the familiar darkness. He was surprised to not see Rathma.
“I’ve done all you asked,” he told the stars.
They changed position briefly, then, as ever, became the half-seen leviathan. Yes…all that was asked…and much that was not expected…
“What do you mean?” Mendeln could think of only one thing. He produced the bone fragment. “I know that you only sought information from the priest’s shade, but I realized that questioning him would take too long and there might be other points that would come up later, when it was too late. I judged that the best course was to risk taking him with me. Was I wrong to think so?”
Whether you are wrong, the Balance shall show, responded Trag’Oul calmly. But how you managed the feat is what most interests me…
“I merely followed the teaching of both you and Rathma and adjusted as I believed would work. Thankfully, I was not wrong.” Mendeln frowned. “Did I do wrong?”
Rather, it should be said that you did the impossible…but then, the brothers ul-Diomed have been revising the meaning of that word over and over…
Mendeln did not understand. All he had done was attempt to follow through a logical procession. Why would Trag’Oul, to whom so much was possible, say otherwise?
Nevertheless, the dragon went on. You offer new hopes and potential with this direction you have taken. I have observed the binding on the stone; I cannot foresee the priest’s ghost freeing himself.
“I am glad to hear that—”
But do not mistake his alliance for obedience. The shade will seek to undermine, if he can, for his own ends…
There was no opportunity for Mendeln to reply, for Rathma materialized next to him, the demoness’s son fighting to keep his normally disinterested expression intact. Mendeln had become experienced enough reading the ancient spellcaster to know that what news he brought was not good.
“He is nowhere to be found,” Rathma reported, more to Trag’Oul than to Mendeln.
You have gazed upon all planes?
“Naturally. I have also summoned him in a hundred manners, some of which put me at risk. It was necessary to do so, though the results were not as I wished.”
The dragon was oddly silent for a time. Then, You realize, my friend, that there are few other paths…
Rathma nodded. “Yes, the most preferable one is that somehow he has passed on to that place from which even you could not summon him back. Certainly, it would be his reward for what he had so far done.”
His reward…yes…that would be the best hope…
“But you find that as unlikely as I do.”
Mendeln had listened to their back-and-forth long enough. “Who? Is my brother in danger? Is that of whom you speak?”
Rathma’s aspect grew as grim as Mendeln had ever seen it. “No. It is your friend, Achilios. I can find no trace of him. None.”
“Is that possible?”
“Possible…barely. Potentially devastating, definitely.”
“Does Lilith have him?” Mendeln’s mind raced as he attempted unsuccessfully to determine just what the demoness would do with the archer.
“If that were so, I would be much relieved,” her son replied frankly. “No, Mendeln, I fear someone else has him and it may be my father.”
“Inarius?” But the moment after he spouted the angel’s name, Mendeln recalled the odd inflection in Rathma’s voice when uttering one word. “But wait! What did you mean by ’may’?”
There was silence, made the more ominous by the stirring of the stars above them. Whatever Rathma had hinted at, Trag’Oul understood exactly and did not like.
And if it so disturbed even the timeless entity, it meant ill for not only Uldyssian, but likely all of Sanctuary.
“I mean…” Rathma began slowly, looking very weary. “I have charted path after path concerning my father and cannot fathom any reason that he would take your Achilios so blatantly. His presence would explain one short period of mystery, but certainly not this. This is not how Inarius works…”