Erin Evans - The Adversary

Each component was included in the ritual-which made no sense at all to Dahl. The various ingredients had their own attributes, their own abilities to draw or repel or create patches of magic. But together. . Together these made a mess.

“What do you think the chances are I end up being able to dig the shelters faster?” Armas said abruptly. “Maybe it’s someone who’s seen what trouble we’re in.”

Dahl shook his head, still studying the ritual. “Would be nice.”

“Torden’s got people carrying dirt out of the shelters, dumping it in secret places. They’re moving quickly, but they’ve got only enough room for eight hundred or so-no more. Would be nice to make earth turn to air or some such.”

Dahl kept his tongue, all too aware that his envy was misplaced and unflattering. Armas had no idea why Dahl should even be envious. He read on, through several more utterly tortuous steps, half his mind on the puzzle before him and half on the never-ending puzzle of Oghma.

Dahl sighed and rolled the scroll back up. “We can go. I’ll need to look at this some more. It doesn’t make sense.”

“What does these days?”

Indeed, Dahl thought, as they collected the multitude of components into a cloth and bound it shut. Preparing to fight Adolican Rhand and some crafty devil at the side of a drow, a cunning half-orc, an arrogant sun elf, a girl you thought was dead, Lorcan, and scores of people the gods have given the powers to make daisies and see souls.

And all you have is a ritual that makes no sense, he thought glumly. He looked up at Armas, who was studying the space outside the hut with a similar glumness. A pang of guilt went through Dahl’s stomach-the day after his mentor turned out to be a traitor, the half-elf turned out to be the Chosen of an unknown god. It wasn’t worth ranking hardships.

“My former teacher told me something very wise once,” Dahl said. “The sort of wisdom you don’t believe at first, at least not for yourself. But maybe you’re not as pig-headed as me.”

Armas regarded him. “I’ve never been called stubborn.”

“There are times when what you want doesn’t matter. Things are already in motion and the gods have already made their wills plain. So the very best thing you can do is to just remember who you are and take things as they come-one at a time.”

Armas smirked. “ ‘Shut your mouth and accept it’?”

“You don’t have to shut your mouth,” Dahl said. “But there’s something to be said for recognizing you’d best let a god have their full say before you decide to retort.” They walked back through the camp to Oota’s court. The paths and alleys were all but empty, faces peering out of windows as they passed. Off in the distance, he heard the jangle of guards patrolling.

“They’re going to notice sooner or later,” Armas muttered. “Then what?”

“Then we hope your god’s a fighting sort,” Dahl said, “and your gift happens to be punching those bastards back into the Shadow Plane.”

They made it back without incident to find the makeshift hall still busy with people-all standing a good distance from Farideh, who sat on the edge of Oota’s dais, her head in her hands. Dahl went over to her.

“You all right?”

“Headache,” she said, her voice muffled. “This is exhausting. I just need a breath.”

Dahl sat down beside her and unrolled the scroll once more, to the line he’d read twice. “Have they gotten any farther with the rooms underground?”

“Torden thinks they’ll be able to get a thousand in, if they don’t have to be there long. If they squeeze.”

Two-thirds, Dahl thought. Five hundred souls left behind to be wiped off the plane.

Farideh lifted her head. “Do you know the worst part? There’s a scroll in Rhand’s study that would solve all of this. A spell to make a cavern in the earth. And I didn’t take it.”

“How were you to know?”

Farideh shook her head, as if she ought to have, somehow. “I could go back. I could steal it-”

“No,” Dahl said firmly. “We have time still. We have the ritual-” He stopped, a sudden stillness in his heart. He unrolled the length of the scroll, skimming down the parchment, hunting for the completion of the spell-piece he’d just read, knowing it would have to be there.

It wasn’t.

“Stlarn and hrast,” he swore. He threw the scroll to the ground and clutched his own head. “It’s broken. It’s shitting broken.”

“What?” Farideh said. “Can you fix it?”

Dahl shook his head. “That’s why it makes no sense-that devil must have made it senseless.”

“Can you fix it?” Farideh said again.

“No,” Dahl said, considering the pieces that he’d found, the ways they seemed to just miss each other’s effects. “The problems are too big, too. . insidious . It looks like a proper ritual, all together. It feels like it should make sense and I’m just missing something. There’s bits here that have the sort of hints and markers that suggest some very recognizable wizards’ handiwork. See”-he picked up the parchment and pointed to a line of runes-“that’s absolutely one of the Blackstaffs from around the turn of the century. Really common element in their spells, starting around-”

“Dahl,” Farideh interrupted.

He pulled his hand back. “Right. So if you’re just looking, there’s no reason to think this isn’t built off of some powerful old spells that have been repaired and strung together. But if you trace the effects, you get nothing. That Blackstaff magic? It’s missing the completing line-that part won’t do a damned thing. The magic’s just going to fade as you cast it. Other parts, they actively cancel each other out.

“And,” he added, “if that weren’t bad enough, these components-while they’re all very potent and high quality-are the wrong sorts of things.” He sighed. “I should have guessed. Godsbedamned devils.”

Farideh shook her head. “Why would he sabotage his own end of the plan? If she doesn’t carry out the gathering, he’s the one who gets blamed. And I don’t see how he could turn this around-he’s the one who gave Tharra the ritual and the components.”

“Gods’ books, he’s a devil,” Dahl said. “Who knows what they’re thinking?” Farideh looked away and Dahl wished he’d kept his tongue that time too. “Sorry,” he said. “We have a hole in the ground and another day before Rhand expects you back. And I sold them on a worthless ritual-I’m not in the best of moods.”

“We’ll have to attack the tower,” Farideh said.

“How’s our army coming?”

“I have no idea,” Farideh said. “There are still Chosen among them, and Cereon and the others are trying to find gentle ways to spur their powers. But so far? We have numbers, not strength.” She rubbed her neck. “We have to rescue the ones he’s captured. Soon.”

“Tonight,” Dahl said, well aware that the delay was killing every one of them. But they needed Phalar, and the drow wouldn’t go out in the daylight. And the moment they breached the tower, Rhand would know he had a rebellion on his hands. Everything would have to happen right after.

And they had nothing to throw at the black glass tower but their own selves.

He closed his eyes. Lord of Knowledge, he prayed, Binder of What Is Known, for the love of all that is good and right and true, help me figure out what in the Hells I’m supposed to do here. You may have given me the means to seek the truth, but I am well out of options and now would be an excellent time to stop being so-

He stopped himself and blew out a breath. “You don’t still have that flask do you?”

She stiffened. “No.”

“Liar,” Dahl said.