Creation Mage 6 by Dante King (red scrolls of magic .TXT) 📗

I shook my head.

We carried on in silence for a few more steps, and then Leah said, “That’d be a good nickname for a bounty hunter, wouldn’t it?”

“What would?” I asked.

“The proctologist,” Leah said.

I only had to think about this one for a second. “Because both bounty hunters and proctologists hold the fate of your ass in their hands?”

“See, it’s a good one!” Leah said in a low, fervent voice. “I’m going to bring it up with Mort. You reckon he’ll go for it?”

I had to think about that one for considerably less time. “No,” I said. “I don’t think he will.”

“Pity,” said Leah glumly.

I touched Mallory on the shoulder.

“You’re absolutely sure that this first relic is where you think it is?” I asked the graceful, put together former priestess who was gliding along at the head of our three-person procession.

“Quite sure,” Mallory Entwistle insisted. “The Chamber of Lock and Key is famous, even outside the castle. I have never been inside the actual room itself, of course.”

“You haven’t?” I blurted.

“No,” continued Mallory in her composed voice, “but I know where the Chamber is located. There has never been any real threat posed for the security of anything in the Chamber of Lock and Key. There are too many doors, requiring too many keys. Coupled with the fact that it is inside the Castle of Ascendance, under the nose of Queen Hagatha and her Arcane Knights, and it is little wonder that it has become a byword for security throughout the kingdom.”

We rounded a corner and entered a large circular hall. Apart from the hallway we had just exited, there were three others entering the circular hall. A number of keys were set over the left and right passageway entrances. Over the central corridor, a large gilt lock was emblazoned.

“We take the central route,” Mallory said in a sure voice.

“The first relic is supposed to be under lock and key,” I reminded her. “Why are you going for the lock corridor and not one of the keys?”

“Because all those who come in search of a lock to open are presumed to have a key,” Mallory said evenly.

I didn’t point out that, as far as I knew, we were bereft of anything as helpful as a key.

At Mallory’s insistence, we padded very slowly and carefully along the last ten-yard stretch of the central corridor, after following its winding course for about two minutes. All sorts of bizarre pictures hung on the walls, all based around the theme of locks. They were painted in oil and watercolor, drawn in pencil, charcoal and, on more than one occasion, a brown liquid that I suspected was blood.

On reaching the end of the gallery of lock-based artwork, Mallory motioned us to stop. On flannel feet, she crept to the very edge of the wall and eased her head around. Then she eased it back.

“I see the single door,” Mallory said, leaning in close to Leah and me and speaking in a whisper so quiet that I struggled to hear it. “There are two guards.”

“Just one door? Just two guards?” I whispered. “What’s the big idea? You made it sound like some sort of thaumaturgical Fort Knox, like some sort of multi-doored vault.”

The corner of Mallory’s mouth twitched up. She regarded me calmly through her crystal blue eyes.

“You’ll see soon enough, Justin,” she said to me in her soft, sure voice.

“Right, so shall we bowl around there and—” Leah began, her fingers twitching with excitement.

“I think it is probably well advised to let me go first,” Mallory said diplomatically. “I will deal with the guards in a non-lethal fashion and open the way for us.”

Hell, taking a backseat sometimes didn’t bother me. Not if there was someone who had an alternate plan to simply crossing our fingers and hoping we didn’t bring a mountain of shit down on our heads.

I had been expecting Leah, as a Chaosbane, to insist on being involved in the action. Surprisingly, she bowed her head slightly and simply gestured for Mallory to go on ahead.

“Very good,” the Holy Mage said. “Follow behind me, but let me do the talking. Agreed?”

“Sure,” I acquiesced.

Leah grunted.

We walked casually around the corner, Mallory leading.

As Mallory had said, there were two guards stationed outside a single door. The guards were athletic-looking types, with sinewy forearms and well-defined calves. They were the types of individuals who had probably been fighters all their lives. They were dressed in the same uniform as the guards stationed around the exterior of the golden gate had been: all shiny plate, buffed chainmail and those dumb helmets that looked like helmets of a different kind.

The former priestess moved with the stately poise of a royal barge being towed up a river. Her chin was thrust out, as was her substantial bust. She strolled toward the two alert guardsmen as if she had every right to be there.

Leah and I followed, doing our best to stay behind the graceful woman. Her angel-like wings, despite being folded, mostly obscured us from view.

“Halt, if you please, madam,” said one guard, turning to face the approaching vision in white.

Mallory did not stop. She did not slow.

“Halt,” the man said again, more forcefully and less politely this time. The other guard, a dwarf, moved his hand casually from his belt where it had been resting to the haft of the morning-star hanging from his belt.

“I wish to speak with the pair of you,” Mallory said in her most austerely commanding voice.

“Madam, I must warn you that if you don’t stop in your tracks we will have to—” the guard who had been trying to call a halt to Mallory’s march tried to say, but he never got to