Scott McGough - Magic the Gathering - Odyssey Cycle 02 - Chainer's Torment

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"Kamahl! Are you okay?"

The barbarian waved Chainer off and dropped

the rest of the way down to the ground, trying to evade

the pollen. With his face half-buried in mulch, Kamahl

coughed the pollen out and tried to suck clear forest

air in.

Chainer hesitated. He didn't want to leave

Kamahl in the dirt, and he didn't want to face the

grendelkin without support. The huge monster took a

step forward and casually snapped the top off another

tree. It used the tree as a crude club, and it shambled

for-ward, slamming into the ground and other trees

with each step. "Poison," Kamahl choked. His eyes

were wet, but he had stopped coughing and was

struggling back to his feet. "There aren't any poisonous

plants in this part of Krosan, Chainer. We're being set

up."

Scott McGough

PROLOGUE

Just outside the walls of Cabal City, far from the

crushing waves of people and the ringing shouts in the

marketplace, the young man pressed on. He called

himself Chainer, and for the first time in a long, busy

day he was unscheduled. He picked his way through

the dwindling foot traffic, moving against the flow of

people headed into the city. As he navigated around

the last pedestrians in his path, he relished the rare

gifts of free time and solitude. Without a training

exercise to complete, an incantation to memorize, or a

schedule to keep, Chainer was determined not to be

found. He was a member of the Cabal by choice, ritual,

and oath, and the Cabal demanded much from its

initiates. His superiors would pounce on an idle boy

proclaiming, "Nothing to do? I can fix that." Chainer

hated being rewarded for good work with more work.

Rather than waiting for that inevitable hammer to fall,

Chainer ducked down an alley when no one was

looking and headed for the gates.

His pace slowed once he was clear of the city. It

had been so long since he'd had any time to himself

that he had all but forgotten how to enjoy it. He

wondered what other people did when they weren't

serving their own masters. More to the point, what did

they do when they weren't trying their best simply to

stay alive?

As he wandered and pondered, Chainer walked

through the squatters' shacks outside the city and into

the salt flats toward the sparse, dying forest beyond.

Chainer’s Torment

He ignored the sullen glares from the squatters

themselves. If his membership in the Cabal didn't

protect him from starving civilians, his own skills

could. He was more alert for any of the dangerous wild

beasts that lurked on the edges of this and every other

settlement. Large predators were rare this close to the

well-lit city gates and its armed guards, but the first

thing the Cabal taught its members was to be careful

with the Cabal's equipment, which included their own

bodies.

He altered his course and scanned the path

through the marshy flats. Chainer moved along by

choosing which parts of the muddy path to avoid

rather than which ones he wanted to take. He grew

lost in the rhythm and the repetition of trekking

through the flats, unaware and unconcerned about

how far he had traveled. He hiked until his shadow

grew long before him, until a soft, insistent whisper

broke through his reverie.

It wasn't a voice, but it called directly to him. It

wasn't a song, but the melody gave him chills. It

wasn't an alarm, but it commanded his attention with

an urgency that was soft but undeniable. He cupped a

hand around his ear to help pinpoint the sound. The

remains of a residential district sat to the southeast,

and the sound was coming from there.

Chainer listened for a moment, then started off

toward the largest house on the ruined block. Its

immediate neighbors had been bombed and burned

flat. The ruined mansion with the caved-in roof and

exposed frame stood tall, a broken but defiant veteran

of a barely remembered war.

Chainer paused at the bottom of the front porch

Scott McGough

steps. Except for the beckoning sound, the mansion

was completely silent and still. Chainer expertly drew

his knuckle dagger, clenched it blade-down and ready

at his hip, and went carefully up the rickety porch. He

doubted there was any live danger inside the mansion,

but then again, he didn't want the Cabal's equipment

to be damaged either.

The interior of the mansion was in worse shape

than the exterior. The main floor was more hole than

floor, with the basement level clearly visible from the

front doorway. An ornate metal banister led up to the

second floor, but the staircase itself was gone, a pile of

broken wood and carpet scraps in the basement below.

Chainer looked closer and saw what appeared to be

bones among the wreckage of the staircase. At least

three complete humans, one of whom was very small.

Chainer took one tentative step onto the

threadbare floor, but before he could put his full

weight down the ancient boards split and fell away. He

stepped back onto the porch, which shuddered and

swayed beneath him. Chainer grunted and scouted the

entire first floor for a safe route down into the

basement.

Finding none, he sheathed his knuckle dagger

and took his weapon and tool of choice—a ten-foot

length of black metal chain—from his belt. He looped

the hard, polished chain around the broken base of a

statue that guarded the front doorway, and with the

simplest spell he knew, connected the chain to itself.

"Link," he whispered, and the spot he was staring

at shimmered, then coalesced into a new link that was

indistinguishable from the rest of the chain. Chainer

leaned backward to cinch up the metal noose and test

Chainer’s Torment

its strength. Then he lowered himself down into the

still, musty debris.

It was incredibly dark, the kind of darkness that

caused him to wonder if his eyes were still open. He

listened for any other movement and waited in vain for

his eyes to adjust. The sound continued to call him,

growing higher and more excited as he got closer.

Methodically, he made his way across the basement

toward the sound, testing the stone floor before

putting any weight on it.

By a pile of moth-eaten fabric and random junk,

he lit one of his flare candles and immediately noticed

the sphere. In a small bubble of bright light, Chainer

stared in naked wonder at the treasure, hovering a

clear foot off the ground, that had called to him across

the salt flats.

The smooth, flawless black ball somehow seemed

to radiate darkness like fire radiates light. Chainer's

flare only showed it in relief, for the sphere defined

itself with its own anti-light. The edges of the sphere's

dark field crackled and sparked as they rippled and

undulated outward.

Half-hypnotized by the black light and the

triumphant crescendo of sound, Chainer had a vision

of his future. The world around him dropped away,

and in a flash of black light and silence he saw, felt,

and knew the triumphant course his destiny would

take. He would be a man of importance, of success,

honored and obeyed as one of the true masters of the

world. People and monsters alike would bow down

before him, and at his pleasure they would live or die.

He would be the Cabal's champion, its ambassador, its

paragon, and he would spread its influence over the

Scott McGough

entire world.

The light from Chainer's flare began to sputter

and die. He could still hear the sphere's call, still feel

its power vibrating in his skull. His course was clear.

It was the most important thing in the world and as

such fit only for the most important person in the

world.

"For the First," Chainer whispered. He firmly

grabbed the glowing-black sphere, dropped it into his

satchel, and pulled the leather drawstring tight.

The First was undisputed lord and master of the

entire Cabal, patriarch and protector of its members,

supreme controller of its political and magical power.

He managed the Cabal and all its assets from his

manor inside the city walls, and he needed to see the

treasure Chainer had uncovered right away. He alone

deserved it.

Chainer's eyes narrowed as he considered the trip

back to Cabal City. It was one thing to walk without

fear when one's pack was empty. Now that he had

something worth stealing, opportunist vermin would

swarm around it like maggots around a corpse. The

shame and sin of losing the sphere before he had a

chance to present it to the First would be unbearable.

Chainer's flare went out, and he stood for a

moment in the darkness. He quickly retraced his steps

across the basement and found his chain where it still

hung from above. He patted the precious cargo at his

hip, smiled, and began to go hand-over-hand up the

chain.

Soon he would be back inside the city. He would

petition for an audience with the First. And when the

First laid hands on the black sphere, he would know

Chainer’s Torment

what Chainer knew: that Chainer wanted nothing

more than for his fate and his fortune to be forever tied

to that of the Cabal.

Scott McGough

PART ONE:

Cabalist

Chainer’s Torment

CHAPTER 1

The sun was setting by the time Chainer

returned to the salt flats outside the city. He welcomed

the sight of his home but did not relax.

A small armed party stood on the path between

Chainer and the city gates. Chainer recognized one of

the shapes as human and another as an aven bird

warrior, but the other two were indistinct. All Chainer

could tell from a distance was that one was tall and

the other was short or crouching. The human and the

aven were dressed in the brilliant white robes of the

Order. Chainer slowed his pace but did not stop. The

Order were a passel of militant moral fanatics who

sought to impose their rules on all the citizens of

Otaria. They considered all Cabalists criminals and

the Cabal itself to be a blight on society, despite the

fact that it thrived all across the continent. Civilized

Otarians everywhere did business with the Cabal.

They willingly and repeatedly attended Cabal

spectacles, borrowed Cabal money, and begged for

Cabal protection. As far as Chainer was concerned, the

Order only offered the possibility of a nebulous

spiritual reward, and even that was contingent upon

obedience to their childish concept of justice. The

Cabal was far more concrete and pragmatic. It

provided food, shelter, and education for anyone

willing to work for it.

Chainer resumed his pace, quickly eliminating

the distance between himself and the Order party. If

he turned or otherwise tried to avoid them, they would

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摘要：

"Kamahl!Areyouokay?"ThebarbarianwavedChaineroffanddroppedtherestofthewaydowntotheground,tryingtoevadethepollen.Withhisfacehalf-buriedinmulch,Kamahlcoughedthepollenoutandtriedtosuckclearforestairin.Chainerhesitated.Hedidn'twanttoleaveKamahlinthedirt,andhedidn'twanttofacethegrendelkinwithoutsupport.Th...

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Scott McGough - Magic the Gathering - Odyssey Cycle 02 - Chainer's Torment

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