Dry air blew across Connor’s face as he and Focalor flew east from the pyramid across the vast expanse of nothing that was the haunted land. Only the occasional movement of undead and minor demons disturbed the gray sand below. No water flowed and no plants grew. Connor didn’t know how King Alexious managed to sacrifice even water to the Horned One, but it impressed him none the less.

For three hours they flew in silence. Connor found it eerie, flying through the empty sky. On the other side of the mountains birds and insects occasionally shared the sky with him, though always flying away from him as fast as their wings could beat. Combined with the constant drain on his soul force the haunted lands were taking their toll.

At last the royal palace appeared on the horizon. The heart of the ritual that created these ruined lands, the royal palace was a huge, sprawling collection of courtyards and walkways surrounding a four-story keep with a red-tile roof and stone dragons perched on each corner. An ancient map showed the palace sitting in the center of a city twice the size of the kingdom’s capital. When the king triggered the ritual it wiped out everything not involved in the transference of energy.

Once, Connor imagined, the palace probably inspired awe in the people and fear in visiting ambassadors. Now everything had faded, the color washed out to various shades of gray, the place more mausoleum than fortress. Even from this distance the barrier Focalor mentioned rippled and shimmered in his sorcerous vision. It didn’t look like demonic energy. What he couldn’t see was what sustained it and whether it would permit non-demons to pass through. If he couldn’t get in he would have expended a lot of energy for nothing.

“You see it?” Focalor asked.

“The barrier? Yes, it’s very powerful.”

“Of course it is powerful, it kept Focalor out.” Demon and warlock landed just beyond the barrier. “But will it keep the warlock out?”

Connor took a deep breath and let it out. “One way to find out.”

He stepped forward. The barrier resisted, then flexed inward, like it couldn’t decide if it should let him through or not. Connor wouldn’t be denied. One grim step after the next he pushed ahead until the resistance vanished. The constant drain eased at once. Like the pyramids, the palace must be protected from the effect that drained his soul force.

Connor turned back to face the demon. “I guess it won’t keep me out. I’ll try and find the source of its power.”

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

“Focalor will circle above to avoid drawing unnecessary attention.”

Connor nodded. The demon lashed its wings and soared into the air. More likely it wanted to make sure Connor didn’t try to escape without keeping his end of the deal. He’d do his best to follow through. The last thing Connor wanted was to have the powerful demon as an enemy.

He put Focalor out of his mind and turned to face the palace. The barrier extended ten feet from the outer walls so Connor only had to take a few steps to pass through an open gate and into the first courtyard, a square area open to the sky. He suspected it had been a garden. A pair of eroded stone benches gave mute testimony that once upon a time people had lived here, children had played while parents sat on the benches and chatted. Connor could almost imagine the scene and the power that had ended them forever.

Such power.

He breathed out a sigh. He would have that power for himself. If not identical then equal. A covered walkway led from the square to the keep. Connor followed it to a closed door of petrified wood. The door didn’t budge when he pushed it. Nothing supernatural protected the entrance, at least nothing visible. He drew a bit of power and blasted the door. It exploded inward showering the empty room beyond with splinters.

Connor stepped through the ruined portal into a foyer decorated with intricately carved chairs and tables. Faded banners hung on each wall. Aside from a thick layer of dust it looked no different than it might have when people still occupied the palace. The perfect condition of the interior room clashed horribly with the ruined courtyard.

As he had no interest in physically searching the whole palace, Connor sat in one of the chairs and conjured a scout sphere. The sphere zipped through halls, past perfectly preserved bedrooms, store rooms, a huge kitchen. He reached a set of double doors intricately carved with abstract shapes and gilded with gold. When Connor tried to send his sphere under the door it bounced off another barrier, similar to the one surrounding the palace, but more powerful and focused.

Connor left the sealed doors for the moment. His sphere continued up to the second level, then the third, revealing nothing but ordinary living spaces. On the top floor the sphere slipped under a door and Connor’s jaw dropped. A library that made the one at The Tower look like the collection in some backwater village stretched out before his disbelieving eyes. Connor could spend a mortal lifetime there and not read every book.

He didn’t have a lifetime. If the other portions of his plan were on schedule he needed to find the artifact and return to his base in weeks, not months or years. Connor slammed his fist on the arm of the chair, shattering the wood. He guided the sphere slowly through the library. Maybe there was a section of more important books he could focus on.

Row upon row of packed bookcases filled the viewing rectangle, none looking more or less important than another. In the center of the library he found an open area with chairs and small tables where people could read in comfort. A dark carpet covered the floor. It had some sort of design woven into it.

Connor guided the sphere higher so he could look down on the carpet. He blinked, certain his eyes were playing tricks. Laid out in white thread was an image of a horned skull. It couldn’t be a coincidence. The Horned One’s symbol had to indicate something.