It’s as if we fell off the edge of the world and now we’re trying to get back on top, Giogi thought as he climbed through the cold spring evening air to reach Flattery’s fortress. He was several thousand feet above Immersea. Hundreds of miles to the west the nobleman could see the Storm Horn Mountains as dark purple silhouettes against the twilight sky. The flying rock obstructed his view to the east.
Finally he reached the top. The moon hadn’t risen yet, but the finder’s stone shone out like a beacon, illuminating the vast desert plain that lay before them. Red boulders were strewn across the red-brown sand. As they drew closer to the center of the plain, Giogi sighted other things scattered in the sand—corpses, thousands of them, arranged in orderly rows. Then the fortress wall appeared in the stone’s light and Giogi pulled up to fly above it. Mother Lleddew had not exaggerated; it was twice as high as the wall about Suzail.
He swooped downward once they cleared the fortress wall. Bodies lay within the inner ward, but these were not neatly stacked. They lay in untidy piles. Even in the cold night air, they smelled strongly of decomposition. Giogi found a clear spot of sand, swooped low, and released Cat. He skidded to a stop several yards away.
The enchantress caught up to him by the time he’d shrunk back to his human shape. She handed back the finder’s stone.
“Why are all these bodies here?” Giogi whispered, holding the crystal high overhead to get a better view of the inner ward.
“These are food for the ghasts and ghouls,” Cat explained.
“And the bodies outside?”
“Held in reserve to be changed to zombies as needed.”
Giogi shuddered.
“I wonder where all the undead are,” Cat mused. “He can’t have used all of them to attack you at Selûne’s temple. Not all of them will go out in daylight.”
“I’d rather not find either kind,” Giogi said. “Which way to Flattery?”
“To the keep” Cat said.
Giogi followed the mage as she threaded her way through the piles of carrion. The keep was a second fortress within the first. A turret rose from each corner, and the roof was lined with crenellated parapets. Giogi estimated the main building to be four stories high, but it was hard to tell exactly, because the keep had no windows. A pair of iron doors at ground level stood wide open. Cat reached for his hand, and they entered together.
They stood at one end of a long, wide corridor, bare of any ornamentation. Sconces holding torches lined the walls, but the torches had burned down to stumps. Giogi held the finder’s stone above his head again. It sent a beam of light down the full length of the empty corridor. The light struck a second pair of iron doors.
“Dismal place,” Giogi muttered as he and Cat walked toward the white doors. “No wall hangings. No furniture.”
“Only Flattery and the undead dwell here,” Cat explained. “The undead have no joy in decoration.”
“What about Flattery?”
“Flattery only delights in power.”
“Did you live here?”
Cat nodded.
“How could you stand it?”
“Until yesterday, being in your home, I had no notion of living any better,” Cat said. She pushed at one of the doors before them.
The door opened into a great chamber whose ceiling rose to the full height of the keep. At the far end, a pair of braziers flickered red near the base of a dais. Aunt Dorath sat beside one of the braziers. She was not restrained by chain or rope. She looked very frightened, and her hair had gone completely gray.
Atop the dais, on a throne made of human bones, sat the wizard Flattery, a faint reddish glow surrounded his body. Amberlee lay on a pillow at his feet, inside a shimmering globe two feet across. On either side of the dais, in the shadows, disfigured shapes milled about and darker shadows flickered with excitement.
Giogi dropped Cat’s hand and strode into the room. Flattery laid a threatening finger on the globe holding Amberlee. “Hold,” he commanded. Giogi halted.
“Giogioni Wyvernspur, you were wise to come,” the wizard said. “You, Catling, will pay for your treachery. As you can see, Giogioni, your kin are alive. My minions—” He motioned to the flickering shadows on either side of the dais—“hate them. Especially the brat. You will note I’ve taken special precautions to protect her from their life-draining touch. Unfortunately, your aunt got out of control and I had no choice but to let one of my ghosts deal with her. You can hardly object to her damaged condition, considering all the use you’ve had of my wife. Come here, Catling,” he ordered.
“The lady is not part of the deal, Flattery,” Giogi retorted hotly. “She’s returning with me. You free Amberlee, Aunt Dorath, and Cat, and I will give you the spur.”
Flattery laughed. “You’re a fool, Giogioni. Get over here, witch!” he shouted at the mage. “You’ve got three seconds before I make this infant wraith food. Don’t leave that sack behind. Bring it with you.”
Cat picked up the sack of magic she’d tried to leave behind Giogi. “You’re better off without me,” she said to Giogi as she passed him by, hurrying to Flattery’s side. Giogi could see her eyes brimmed with tears.
“No,” Giogi whispered.
“Don’t waste your breath,” Flattery said. “I’m the only one who can give her what she wants. Isn’t that right, Catling?” the wizard asked, yanking on the mage’s hair.
“Yes,” Cat whispered, keeping her eyes down.
Flattery pulled at the sack Cat carried. “A little present for me, Cat? Something by way of an apology, you witch? Looted from Drone’s lab, I take it.”
Cat clutched the sack for only a moment, then released it. The wizard chuckled and tied it to his belt.
“Now, Giogioni, you will give me the spur this minute,” Flattery growled, rising to his feet and taking up the sphere holding Amberlee, “or I will feed this brat to a wraith. Then you will give me the spur or your aunt will be next. Or maybe Cat. Try to change your shape, and they will be dead before you can cross the room.”
Giogi drew the spur from his boot. “I want to be sure my aunt is well. Send her to my side, and I will give her the spur to take to you.”
Flattery snorted. He descended the dais and shoved Dorath with his foot. “Go,” he ordered her.
Dorath rose slowly to her feet and crossed the room. The wrinkles on her face had doubled, and she looked very feeble. She stopped before Giogi and raised her hand to stroke his face.
“Don’t be a fool,” Dorath whispered, mustering as much of her grandaunt tones as she dared. “He can’t be trusted. Flee now. Once he has the spur, no spells will affect him. None of us will leave here alive.”
“I can’t leave you,” Giogi said, pressing the spur into her gnarled hands.
“I won’t give him this,” she hissed.
Giogi pushed his aunt’s hand down by her thigh. “Carry it to him like this. When you reach him, think of the dream,” he whispered.
“No,” Dorath said, her eyes widening with fear.
“Yes. Do as I say,” Giogi commanded through clenched teeth.
“I won’t become that beast,” Aunt Dorath whispered.
“Stop being a foolish old woman,” Giogi said. “Be a hero, like your mother. It’s our only chance. Amberlee’s only chance.”
“Stop whispering!” Flattery shouted. “Bring the spur to me, now!”
“Don’t keep him waiting, Aunt Dorath,” Giogi said. “Do it.”
With her jaw still jutting out stubbornly, Dorath turned around. Her gnarled hands trembled with fear. She shuffled toward Flattery, hunched over with age.