Infinity Blade 01- Awakening

had some kind of magic that had let the God King summon it, making it appear as if out of nothing in a flash of light. So far, despite a week of tinkering, Siris hadn’t been able to figure out how that magic worked.
    Something chirped beside him.
    Siris jumped, glancing down. Only then did he remember the little mirror built into the armrest of the throne. He poked at it. The thing had done . . . something following the God King’s death. It was magical.
    Poking at the thing made it speak, which chilled him. “What is your command?” it asked.
    “I . . .” Siris looked up at the shuffling host of daerils—in a variety of shapes and colors—gathering at the back of the room. “I’d like to know how the God King’s sword works.”
    “Answer pending. Please enter the pass phrase.”
    “Pass phrase?” Siris said. “I don’t know it.”
    “Would you like to retrieve it?”
    “Um . . . yes?”
    “Very well. Please answer this security question: In what kingdom did you first meet the Worker?”
    So it was a riddle. His mother had told him stories of magic mirrors that asked riddles. “In the kingdom of night and dawn, at the break of the day,” he said. It was the answer to one of the riddles from the stories.
    “Answer incorrect,” the mirror said politely. “Security question two: What was the name of your first and most trusted Aegis?”
    Aegis. It was a word for a master duelist, after the classical ideal. The daerils that guarded the castle had all followed the old precepts. Horrific and terrible though they had been, they had each shown that much honor.
    “Old Jake Mardin,” Siris said, saying the name of the first man who had trained him in the sword, a retired soldier.
    “Answer incorrect,” the mirror said.
    “Your riddles make no sense, mirror,” Siris said. “Am I supposed to answer as myself, or as the God King?”
    “I’m sorry,” the mirror said. “I don’t understand that query. Security question three: How many days passed before your first reincarnation?”
    “Uh . . . five?”
    “Answer incorrect.”
    “Damn it, mirror!” he said. “Please, just tell me how I make the sword come at my will.” He was silent for a moment. “Even better,” he whispered, “how can I find freedom? Can you answer that for me, mirror? Can you tell me how I can be free of all this and live my life?”
    A rope swing from a tree, he thought. He’d write that in his book tonight, beginning a list of things he would try, once he didn’t have to worry about being hunted.
    “I’m sorry,” the mirror said. “I am not authorized to speak further. The waiting period is one day before the next access attempt.”
    The mirror grew black.
    “Hell take me,” Siris said, leaning back in the horrid throne. Honestly, couldn’t someone who called himself the God King get a decent cushion?
    “The deadminds will not speak to you, slayer of gods,” said a deep, tired-sounding voice.
    Siris sat up, turning toward the back of the room. Something moved in the shadows, where a doorway led to the servants’ quarters. The shadow lumbered forward, entering the light and revealing itself as a massive troll. It leaned on a staff as thick as Siris’s leg, and wore bandages covering its eyes. White hair fell around the thing’s animal face, a face furrowed with wrinkles that were sharp and distinct—like the scars left by an axe chopping at a tree.
    “Kuuth, I assume?” Siris said, standing up.
    “Yes, great master,” the beast said, lumbering forward. The other daerils parted for him, and a younger troll helped the elder, looking concerned. This younger beast moved like an animal, with quick steps, testing the air with its snout, walking in a crouch. The aged one, however, had an unexpectedly civilized air.
    “What’s a deadmind?” Siris asked Kuuth. Even stooped with age, the beast towered a good ten feet tall. Kuuth wore a strange robe that had the right shoulder cut out, exposing a wicked scar on his shoulder and neck.
    “It is a soul without life, great master,” the troll said. “The God King instilled these souls into objects. They are knowledgeable about some things, but cannot make choices for themselves. They are like children, and must be instructed.”
    “Brilliant children,” Siris said. He shivered. Had the God King used the souls of children themselves to create these things? The legends said that he feasted upon the souls of those who fell to him. Siris scooted a