Sword of the Scarred

by Jeffrey Hall

  When Requiem looked up again the Elder and his men had backed up all the way to the end of the street, all of them looking on in horror.

  “The girl!” barked the lizard again. The head of the cloaked figure could just be seen hovering above a broken piece of stone on the other side of the downed building.

  “She ain’t here!” cried out Requiem.

  “Where?” it asked.

  Requiem grabbed Sasha’s hand and pulled her to her feet. She saw who was helping her, and her eyes widened. “Not without Oric!”

  Requiem let her go. She ran over to her husband’s side and helped him rise from the ground. Beside them, Grey and Garp were also coming to their feet.

  Another boom of thunder billowed over the street. Requiem felt a rush of wind shoot overhead. The upper side of the building at their back burst open as if it were struck by a giant arrow, showering them in debris and clutter. Requiem threw up his hands as it fell, but that was only the first wave.

  The building groaned and then leaned, bending over itself like it was a drinker ready to vomit its innards over its own feet. Feet Requiem and the others still stood near.

  “Move!” shouted Requiem, pointing at an opening created when the previous building had fallen. There was a sewer hole in the structure’s basement, unearthed by the destruction, a stone breaking the thick metal mesh put over it.

  “Inside?” shouted Garp, the first to arrive.

  “Inside!” shouted Requiem. If they couldn’t get there in time, they would all end up pulverized.

  They clambered into the broken mesh just as the building broke and fell. Requiem looked up, saw a shower of stone coming after him, and slipped into the sewer just as the pile buried them inside.

  For a moment, Requiem just lay there, breathing in and out, wondering if he was dead. Everything was dark. Only the mumble of the settling rubble told him he still lived. That, and the yell of Garp nearby.

  “Are we trapped? Are we!”

  “Not trapped. Just buried in a sewer,” said Glassius.

  The pungent smell of something decomposing finally reached Requiem’s nose. The stench was more wretched than any sewer he had passed before.

  “We need to keep going!” shouted Garp. “They’re still out there, whatever they are.”

  Requiem scrambled to his feet and listened. “Don’t hear any more blasts. Maybe it didn’t see us.”

  “Maybe,” said Grey somewhere in the blackness. “Or maybe it don’t like the dark.”

  “By the Abyss, what were they?” said Garp, gasping for breath.

  Sasha revealed a glimmer stone, and a small light filled the tunnel. The walls were rutted and coated with a glistening residue. At Requiem’s back the pile of stone lay like a thick wall meant to seal them inside for good.

  “Scarred,” answered Glassius.

  “Was no Scarred,” said Requiem.

  “Saw a stone in a sword. Saw a sword swipe away a building,” said Glassius. “What else could it have been?”

  Requiem didn’t know. The stone was white. Glowing even. It was not the bloodred stone of the Scarred that marked his own hilt. Yet the power was there. A power unlike any he had ever seen before. With one flick of the figure’s wrist he had cracked a damn building like it was a stick in wind. “Not sure, but it wasn’t a Scarred.”

  “Doesn’t matter what it is,” said Sasha, looking up and down the walls. “What matters now is how we get out.”

  “Can’t you cut a way through?” said Grey to Requiem.

  “He’ll be down,” said Sasha, nodding towards him. “He can barely stand right now. Don’t need to be lugging a man around down here.”

  “Then how do we get out?” said Garp.

  “Well, it’s a sewer, isn’t it?” said Glassius. “We wade through the shit until we find a way out.”

  “Are we sure this is a sewer?” said Sasha, aiming the glimmer stone at the floor. “Where’s the sewage?”

  And as she held the light low she unveiled a sparkling tatter of near-translucent fiber hanging from the corner of a sharp piece of stone.

  Requiem’s heart dropped. “This isn’t a sewer. It’s a davlish hole.”

  Chapter 19

  “You’ve already come so far, Dashinora. Why stop now?” the shadows whispered as she leaned against a stalagmite, taking cover from the two members of Proth’s Prodigy working by the light of a glimmer stone just on the other side.

  She had walked for what seemed like miles, navigating the dark tunnels with the help of her own glimmer stone. She was astonished by how far the caverns went, how hard Carry and his men had worked to establish such extensive shafts right beneath the Elder’s nose.

  She wanted to turn around. She wanted to throw up her hands and listen to her gut, but it was hard to do with the shadows continuing to goad her on every step of the way. That, and the glowing eggs she kept finding along the tunnel floor.

  Every few hundred yards she would come across another egg nestled within a bosom of stone as if strategically placed by Proth’s Prodigy. It felt like she was following a bread crumb trail meant to lead her to the truth, a thing she might have given up on if not for the constant chiding and reprimanding of the Abyss, its whispers egging her onward and into harm’s way, a voice she no longer had the power to refute.

  It had been too long without the black lens. Her mind felt drained. Exhausted. She didn’t have the willpower to fight the voices inside her head any longer. So when they spoke, she listened.

  As she cowered behind the stalagmite, it was telling her to rush out from her hiding spot and see where that light source at the end of the tunnel led. She had stumbled across it when she heard the two members of Proth’s Prodigy complaining about their current duties, lugging trunks’ worth of goods into these tunnels.

  “My back is near broken,” whispered one of the men as they dragged a cart made of dark wood into the tunnels.

  “Did you see how many were still left?”

  “Course I did. We need to cover every last one of these tunnels, don’t we?” said the other.

  “At least most of them. Shint and the others are coming down from the north at least.”

  “By the Abyss, we’ll meet them in a few days at this rate.”

  “Maybe a few weeks.”

  “Don’t have a few weeks,” said the other.

  One of the men opened one of the trunks. The way it opened she could not see its contents, but she had little doubt it was more of the eggs that she’d found scattered across the tunnels. Yet what intrigued her more was where they were pulling them from.

  When she had found them they were arriving from outside the tunnels, entering in from an aperture in the stone. She could not glimpse where it led, only the light that poured in from it, spilling into the darkness like a golden juice that would only be cleaned up come nightfall.

  And now she stared at that opening, tempted by the truth it would reveal, wondering and hoping, against all odds, that it would lead her to some source of black lens so her mind could once more be her own and she could escape the madness of her life, at least for a little while.

  “Go,” said the shadows suddenly when the two thugs both had their heads deep in the trunk.

  Dash almost hesitated, wondering if the Abyss was going to lead her to being caught, but as their heads stayed out of sight, she slipped out from behind the stone and came to the tunnel’s edge.

  What awaited her was a view of Bothane Rock and the Abyss that stood between it and the mainland. She could tell it was Bothane’s main city by the spoke that ran overhead, a long brown bridge that ran scraggly and pitted like a crudely drawn line to the city. What lay below were only more spokes. By her estimation they were about three-quarters of the way up from the Purple, close to the top of Bothane, but still many stories away. A wobbly looking rope bridge extended from where she stood all the way to another hole on the other side of Bothane Rock. The boards used to create the bridge’s walkway were narrow and unevenly spa
ced, providing large gaps that could lead anyone with a poor step straight to the bottom of the Abyss.

  It was hastily made by the looks of it, but well hidden. It allowed Proth’s Prodigy to circumvent the eyes and soldiers that no doubt occupied the spoke that ran just overhead. A perfect way to maintain their secrecy.

  “Let’s get started then,” said one of the men at her back.

  “Cross it,” said the shadows. And though the dark hole awaiting her on the other side of the bridge sent chills up her spine as she stared at it, she put her feet on the bridge and began to cross.

  The ropes shook. The boards creaked. She half-expected the noise to draw one of the thugs. They’d pop their head out of the tunnel, see her there, and push her off, into the Abyss. But when she looked back, she saw neither of them. Only the dark, cavernous stone stared back.

  “Watch your step, Dashinora,” said the shadows, and it laughed. It wanted her to die. It wanted her to drop and join its gaseous grasp just like her father. What did it not want her to see on the other end?

  Or maybe it wanted her to live and wanted to show her something…

  Either way, she slowly put her feet forward, careful to hold onto the parallel ropes to keep from slipping. She dared to look down. Far below there was a pair of crisscrossing spokes and white and red dots traveling between them like ants transporting food. She wondered if any of them looked up and saw her now. She wondered if when they did they wondered if she would fall.

  She shook her head, trying to escape the idea and focus on the hole in front of her. The wind swept up, whistling through the wood beneath her feet, threatening to sweep her away.

  “Don’t look down again or you might join us,” said the shadows.

  And Dash obliged, keeping her eyes locked on the hole, slowly reaching out with her toe to feel where she should put her foot down next.

  At last, she reached the edge of Bothane Rock and pulled herself into the darkness of the hole, thankful for the cool embrace of the shadows. She looked back at the bridge, wondering how she had dared to cross such a thing in the first place.

  She turned her attention to the hole. It looked like the cavern she had just left. Dark. Endless. A man-made tunnel in the stone.

  “Go on. It will lead you to the truth,” said the shadows.

  She swallowed the urge to tell it to shut up and walked into the hole.

  It was a winding cavern, rising slightly with each step. There was no sign of anyone else within it. The only noise she could hear was the wind still howling behind her, skirting off the stones and whistling. And soon, even that fell silent as she delved further and further into the tunnel.

  She rounded a slight curve and stopped when she saw a line of light striping the ground. She slowly approached it and found it came from a pair of thick boards lying over a hole in the wall. The light came through the small crack that existed between them.

  She peered through it, hoping to see what was on the other side but could see only the pervasive eye of a glimmer stone lodged into a flat, well-polished ceiling. She listened, but couldn’t hear if anything moved on the other side.

  She fumbled in her pouch and grabbed hold of a nugget of drag mire, ready to disorient anyone who happened to be waiting for her, and slowly slid aside one of the boards.

  She peeked through it. What awaited her on the other side was a room stacked to the brim with trunks similar to the ones she had seen the two thugs drag into the tunnel. Each container was made of different shades of red and blue. At the far side of the room there was a new set of doors. Barely any light was visible from beneath them.

  She crept over to the closest trunk and unlatched the rusted clasp that held it closed. It opened with a snap.

  “Look and learn,” encouraged the shadows.

  She peered inside and saw clumps of golden, sparkling leaves just like the ones the Elder had made her hide in his warehouse, and sat back, taking a piece and holding it to her face.

  It shimmered there even in the lack of light, like a bracelet. Her mind raced, wondering if each and every one of the trunks that surrounded her was filled with the same leaves.

  What were they? Why did they matter so much?

  “Take one,” said the shadows.

  “Why?” she whispered.

  But the Abyss did not answer. Instead, a noise from the nearby doorway shook her from her trance. Before she knew it she was shoving the leaves into her pouch with her stones and scurrying to hide behind the trunks.

  She watched the doors warily, waiting for it to open, but it never did. Only a flicker of movement could be seen from behind it, a ripple of shadows affecting the light that cast beneath it.

  She waited till it was silent.

  “Go,” said the shadows.

  “I’ll be killed,” said Dash.

  “You’ll be enlightened,” said the shadows, laughing.

  Dash chewed her lip, mulling over her next move. Were the shadows directing her to her doom? She’d already followed the voice this far, and still had no idea where she was or what she was doing, only the faint remembrance that she craved more black lens. But even that desire was starting to become mired amidst the constant whispers in her head and the confusion thrust over her by her current location.

  She rubbed her temple and slowly rose from her hiding spot. Carefully she crossed the floor to stand by the doors. She pressed her ear against the doorway.

  “Open it,” said the shadows.

  She breathed deeply and then pushed the doors slowly open. They spread apart with barely a groan. Outside there was a hallway dimly lit with soft glimmer lights placed every few yards or so. There were piles of unused stones and wood littered across its floor. It looked like the hallway was half-complete rather than a functional passageway. There was another shaft of light leading from it somewhere at its end, a doorway perhaps.

  “Head towards the light,” said the shadows.

  Dash hesitated, unsure.

  “A hallway leads to nothing, but a doorway shows all.”

  Tempted, and too exhausted to combat its words, she snuck into the hallway and navigated between the materials that littered the passage.

  At the end of it, there was a door made of iron built so securely in its door frame that only a tiny bit of light made its way around its edges, and there were no gaps large enough to peer through. She tried the handle, but it was locked.

  “Time for me to turn around,” said Dash. Her heart was beating in her chest and her head throbbed. In a brief moment of clarity she realized how foolish she was to come this far in the first place.

  “You can unlock the door. You know how,” said the shadows.

  “With braid stone?” Dash’s hand went to her pouch, where she found the smooth stone amongst the dozens of others that occupied it. “It’s too noisy.”

  “There’s no other way,” said the shadows.

  “The other way is back there.” Dash pointed back down the hallway as if the shadows could somehow see her.

  “And where will that lead you? Only further into the darkness.”

  “Please,” she said, rubbing her eyes, fighting back the tears that suddenly came to her. “Please just let me be. For one goddamn second get out of my head and let me think.”

  “I am not in your head. I am a part of you as I am a part of all of this.”

  “No you’re not.” She slunk into the corner near the wall and the door, cradling her head in her hands. “You’re nothing but a poison. The work of the stone of a demon.”

  “We are not poison. We are the cure. Open the door and you shall see.”

  “No,” whimpered Dash.

  “It’s only the way out now.”

  “Not if I find more black lens.”

  “You’ve been searching for hours. For miles. Where will you find it? Surely not back there. The only place to go is forward. And the only way forward is through that door,” said the shadows.

  “Why? Why do you want me to go through it?”
said Dash.

  And as she asked it, she thought she heard a familiar voice on the other side.

  The familiar lilt passed through the walls, ghostly, like a haunt she could not cure herself from. An anger rose within her, and she was not sure if it was her own, or one subsidized by the shadows that traveled within her. Without thinking any further she pulled out the braid stone and whispered the words to draw its essence.

  She felt its essence flow through her like a rush of cold water and leave her fingertips as she held the door handle. The iron swelled and then burst within her hands like a bubble. The door swung open with it, and there, on the other side, sitting at her study looking over an old tome, was Chendra.

  The shadows laughed.

  “Chendra,” whispered Dash as she stared into the shocked face of her sister.

  Chendra rose from her seat and reached for a pouch at the side of the table, but Dash was quicker. She reached into her stone purse and pulled out the first nugget of stone she could get her hands on. She glanced down to see it was a piece of amethyst and called upon its essence to sweep away Chendra like a blast of strong wind. Her sister slammed into her desk, toppling the thing over, and her bag of stones hit the floor, where a few scattered out like insects trying to escape an intruder.

  Chendra gasped for air, her breath stolen from her lungs by the impact, and tried to rise to her feet, but Dash was already reaching for another stone. This time she was more precise and knew from the touch alone she was pulling forth a shard of cat granite. She spoke the words and through its essence shot forward a wad of sticky black rope that tied over Chendra’s legs, sending her sister to the ground once more.