by Layton Green
She had to stifle a moan of pain. “Yes, though I fear I may be compromised.” The admission seemed to pain her more than her wounds.
“Broken ribs?” he asked, eying her hand against her side.
“Aye.”
“The black sssash is no longer caussse for concern,” Sinias said. “They will not follow.”
“Why not?” Val said. “They know we’re injured.”
“Becaussse you created a tunnel out of sssolid rock, yesss? And becaussse we have landed in the lower levelsss. They will fear the inhabitantsss here more than they assspire to relieve usss of our posssesssionsss.”
Almost as soon as Sinias spoke the words, the sound of booted feet carried down the tunnel, and they heard voices conversing in the thick brogue of the black sash gypsies.
“Unusssual,” Sinias said.
“I guess they’re not that terrified,” Val said.
Synne stifled a gasp as she stood up straight. “These are assassins, not opportunistic thieves. We must flee.”
Val turned to follow Sinias into the intersection, hesitated for a moment, then turned to the left.
“Hurry. Before they sssee the light.”
“Link arms,” Val commanded. After they obeyed, taking a cue from the sorceresses, he whisked them down the curving passage with his magic, skimming above the ground much faster and quieter than they could have run. The miniature glow orb cast light in a ten-foot radius. With Sinias pointing out the route choices in silence, Val flew for long minutes, using up more precious energy to secure their escape. Carrying other people while flying was very draining, even if just skimming the ground.
The serpentus finally signaled for Val to rest, and he set the others down to take a closer look at their surroundings. The sinuous nature of the lower tunnels made it look as if some giant worm had burrowed them out of rock and dirt, and some later culture had come along and crusted its slime with a layer of rough-cut stones.
“Which way?” Synne asked, peering behind them.
Sinias swayed his neck on a diagonal. “We shall try to the left.”
Val crossed his arms. “Try? Are you lost?”
“I wasss lossst the moment we fell into the floor.”
“Then where have you been leading us?”
The serpentus turned his nose to the air, sniffing. “Fleeing our enemy, and following the ssscent of water. Zagath’s men ussse the underground riversss and lakesss for transssport. There will be accesss pointsss nearby. To the upper level.”
“I hope you’re right,” Val asked. “Have you ever been to this section before?”
Again the diagonal head roll, which Val knew signified denial or confusion. Great, he muttered to himself. They were lost with no food, couldn’t retrace their steps for fear of running into the black sash raiding party, and if the rumors were to be believed, even more dangerous creatures inhabited the lower levels of Undertown.
The air had cooled and smelled of minerals. Sinias drew his cloak tighter as he started down the passage. Due to Synne’s condition, Val insisted on bringing up the rear, and the majitsu struggled on gamely in front of him. He knew from experience how painful even a single fractured rib was, and he suspected she had multiple.
If he was stronger, he could have tried the Spirit Map spell that had saved him beneath Leonidus’s dungeon, and which he had been practicing. He had managed to cast the spell inside Salomon’s Crib, illuminating the layout in his mind, but had been unsuccessful with larger areas.
“Why do you think they followed us?” Val asked as they walked. The lingering paralysis from the stunsphere was finally dissipating.
“It isss ssstrange,” Sinias agreed. He turned his shrewd yellow gaze on Val. “Perhapsss they ssseek you.”
“Me?”
“A wizard alone and vulnerable. If captured or killed, another dagger in the ssside of the Congregation. Perhapsss there isss a mole in the Congregation.”
Synne turned her head sharply at the comment.
“Only a few people know I’m down here,” Val said. “All of whom I trust.”
Except Lord Alistair, who has no reason to send me on a mission and then kill me.
“What about your people?” Val said suddenly. “The other serpentus in your tent?”
The forked tongue darted quickly out of thin lips, angered. “Sssagana would never betray me.”
Never say never, Val thought, though he kept the sentiment to himself.
After they passed through the next intersection, the new tunnel doubled in size and had a three-foot wide trench running through the middle. The canal was half-filled with murky water, and strange sigils were carved into the exposed stones at the top of the channel.
He wondered if these were some type of ancient sewers, buried deep beneath the earth. If so, who had made them? Where did they start and where did they end? Or were they perhaps some sort of waterway for ancient vessels?
When asked, Sinias rolled his neck and declared he had never seen this portion of Undertown, or anything like these canals. As they debated whether to press forward or try doubling back, they heard footsteps echoing in the distance. Left with no choice, they continued down the new tunnel, emerging into a rounded chamber with rock walls inset with human bones. Another canal flowed through the cross-corridor. Oddly, all four branches of the canal ended—or began—at a waist-high circle of stone in the middle of the chamber. They cautiously approached the barrier, peered over it, and realized it was the lip of a large pit that dropped into blackness.
“Did you hear that?” Val asked.
“Yesss.”
As Synne rested a hand on the lip of the basin, her other hand clenched at her side, Val heard it again: a faint susurration that grew in volume as they listened. The sound of something, perhaps a large body, swishing against stone.
Val turned to his left. “I think it’s coming from that tunnel.”
“Aye,” Synne agreed.
The two of them peered into the darkness. “Should I flood it with light?” he asked.
Sinias hissed behind them. “You might not like what you sssee.”
Val backed away from the passage. “What if we’re just going deeper and deeper into someplace we don’t want to be? We need to find a way to double back to the hole in the ceiling.”
“Or perhaps we make a stand here, before we’re cornered,” Synne said. “I can manage the pain.”
Val noticed the sweat on her brow and the clammy pallor of her skin. He didn’t doubt her courage, but he knew she might not survive another blow from one of the gypsy sorceresses.
The weird swishing sound increased in volume. It was clear something was coming. Something large.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor behind them, followed by the faint sound of arguing voices.
“Perhapsss there isss a better way,” Sinias said, with a gleam in his eye. “Perhapsss we could sssolve two problemsss at once.”
Val caught on quickly. “I can shield us down one of the passages while it plays out. Best case scenario, they kill each other off. Or we step in and finish off the winner.”
“What if whatever approaches is too powerful?” Synne asked. “For the black sash and for us?”
“Then I distract it while we run. I think it’s worth a shot.” Val eyed the knobby ends of the bones poking out of the walls, gleaming in the dim light of the glow orb. “We’re running out of options, and I don’t like the idea of going any further unless we have to.”
Both the swishing sound and the footsteps grew in volume, as Val herded the others a hundred feet down the corridor. He motioned to Sinias to extinguish the glow orb, and they hunkered down in the darkness, pressing their backs against the wall, staying well away from the murky depths of the canal running through the center of the passage.
Val tensed as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, working to manage his fear of the unknown. He ran through his spells in his mind, thinking of how much energy he had left and what might work best in this scenario
. As drained as he was, he didn’t think Spirit Fire was a good idea. He might have enough strength left to call it forth, but only for a moment. Moon Ray took much less power but required a celestial light source.
As he continued to think, light flared into the intersection, revealing the shadowy figures of the remaining black sash gypsies. Five fighters and three sorceresses.
The swishing sound had ceased. Odd. Val flinched at the light, though he knew they were hidden in the darkness. That would change if one of the sorceresses decided to illuminate the tunnels one at a time.
Which is exactly what they did. The three women split apart, each of them drawing light from a torch and flaring it down the three corridors. Synne gripped his arm, but Val had prepared for this contingency. He created a wall of darkness in front of them, an anti-light spell that snuffed motes of light instead of enhancing them. The spell wasn’t perfect but at this distance it should be enough to shield them.
His strategy worked. It felt odd staring at the wall of light a foot from his face, yet unable to see the others right beside him.
The sorceress standing at the beginning of the passage lingered for longer than Val liked, squinting as if trying to decide if something was wrong. Just as she took a step down the corridor, the swishing sound returned, much louder than before, and a huge, maggot-white head burst out of the well in the center of the intersection. The body was that of a wyrm, round and slimy, with black fangs and levered jaws more akin to a reptile. Before anyone could react, it lunged its sinuous body with the speed of a viper, and snatched one of the gypsy sorceresses in its mouth.
The thing kept spilling out of the well, filling the chamber with its bulk, crushing the black sash gypsies against the walls or forcing them to flee down the corridors. To Val’s horror, the monster decided to pursue them down the corridor in which he and his companions were hiding. It was moving so fast there was no chance to avoid it. It was going to crush or eat them if he didn’t do something. He thought he could outdistance it himself, by flying down the corridor, but that would leave Synne and Sinias at its mercy. Grimly, he prepared to blast it with Spirit Fire, though he knew the little power he had left would not stop a creature of that size.
As he gathered his magic, a mottled green torso rose out of the canal that straddled the middle of the passage. The newcomer had a wide scaly face, gills for cheeks, and nostrils even flatter than a serpentus.
A kethropi.
Val drew back as the wyrm flew down the corridor towards them. It must be able to see through my spell. That or it can sense us in another way.
“Into the water!” The same kethropi said, in a voice so gargled and accented Val could barely understand its English. But he understood all too well the fear and urgency reflected in the lidless yellow eyes.
Val had no idea how it planned to help or whether he and the others would be walking out of the lion’s den and into the fire. Yet they had little choice. The kethropi was jabbing a webbed hand down at the water, over and over. With a final glance at the enormous wyrm, Val grabbed onto Sinias and Synne, took a deep breath, and plunged into the filthy canal. He squeezed his eyes shut and closed his mouth as the thick, viscous goop clogged his nose and clung to his skin.
Someone, he assumed the kethropi, took him by the hand and guided him lower. Five feet down, his hand was shoved against a metal bar of some sort. Val got the hint. He gripped the bar tight just before it surged forward, propelled as if shot from a bow.
-18-
After their journey across Praha, Will and his companions were hungry and exhausted. Skara Brae provided cheese wedges and potato dumplings, washed down with water and a shared flagon of granth, then led them to a secluded alcove furnished with reed mats and woolen blankets. There was even a wash room with a rudimentary toilet at the far end of the winding stone tunnel.
The Nilometer was so inaccessible and well-fortified that Will felt no need to post a guard. He fell quickly into a dreamless sleep, and woke the next morning when Yasmina gently prodded him awake. Dalen was snoring in a corner, and Mateo was just beginning to rouse.
As they gathered their rucksacks for the next stage of the journey, Will asked the group, “What do you think of the bargain I made with Skara?”
Yasmina fastened the clasp of her pewter cloak. “I don’t think she means us harm. But I don’t trust her, either.”
“Aye,” Mateo said. “You saved us from the brushfire, cousin, but we might be sticking our heads into the witch’s oven.”
Will took a drink of water and wished, as he did most mornings, for a double espresso from his favorite coffee shop in New Orleans. “I wish there was another way. Like I said before, one step at a time.”
“I think the Nephili are a fairy tale,” Dalen added, “but tales of the Old City of Praha have been around for ages. At least according to my Da. Aike, there’s something on that bluff. Maybe it will help us find the Coffer thief—or maybe it will get us all killed.”
Will knew that whatever happened on the next stage of the journey, the responsibility lay on his shoulders. He was the leader, and he had to own it. “Listen,” he said, eying them one by one. “I don’t mind if you back out now. All of you. I was the one who got us into this. I can follow Skara to this door on my own, and meet you at Tiny’s when it’s done.”
“Krikey,” Dalen said, “I thought you’d never ask!”
As the young mage shouldered his pack and walked towards the entrance to the alcove, Will’s heart sank, though he couldn’t blame Dalen for not wanting to join him on such a dangerous quest. Without a backward glance, the young illusionist walked right through the beaded curtain that shielded the alcove, leaving Will stunned by the sudden departure. He turned to see how Yasmina and Mateo would react, only to find all three of them—including Dalen—watching him with huge grins.
“What the—” Will spluttered. “I just saw you leave!”
Dalen broke into laughter as he put an arm around Will’s shoulders. “I told you I was getting better.”
“That was an illusion? I heard your voice, too!”
Dalen pulled Yasmina and Mateo into a circle with him and Will. “We may not be the most fearsome group of adventurers in the Realm, but lucka, we stick together.”
“Aye,” Mateo said solemnly, gripping Will’s other shoulder.
When Will looked over at Yasmina, expecting a faraway wilder expression, he instead saw the genuine, infectious smile he remembered from years ago, when they had first met at Caleb’s bar. Though she didn’t speak, her steady gaze and private wink comforted Will more than any words she could have spoken.
Moved by the display, he pulled them into a huddle so tight their heads were touching. “Did I ever tell you guys I love you? Now let’s go find what we came for.”
A grime-covered young man who grinned far too much for Will’s liking led them to the top of the Nilometer, where they found Skara Brae waiting in the cool fog of morning, again dressed in black leather and carrying her odd assortment of weapons. She had brought a companion: a handsome, well-built man with a trimmed brown beard and not a hair out of place. Will might have mistaken him for a dandy, except for the stern, unyielding gaze and the two scimitars sheathed across his back. The newcomer wore loose-fitting cotton breeches tucked into his boots, a hoop earring in his left ear, and a fur-lined cape thrown over a forest-green tunic.
After their guide slunk away, Skara introduced her companion as Bartu Sevenoak, and gave no further explanation. By the way she glared at him when he ran an appraising eye over Yasmina, Will could tell he was more to Skara than a hired hand.
When Will started to ask questions about their destination, Skara began walking towards town. “I have a simple rule in the morning: I discuss nothing of importance before my morning brew.”
“I can relate to that.”
“We’ll stop at the Pagoda before we set off.”
Without further explanation, she led them through the wild parklands surrounding the Nilometer
and back to the busy docks. Near the center of the district, she cut to the right and took them four streets deep, then into a seedy little alley squeezed between brick warehouses. A hundred feet down, she ducked into a doorway with a sign that bore an image of a multi-tiered pagoda with a pair of dragons sleeping nose to tail at the entrance.
The name of the establishment was scrawled in a foreign alphabet that resembled Chinese characters. Unfortunately, Will’s armband only translated spoken languages. “What’s it say?”
Skara snorted. “No one knows. That’s why we call it the Pagoda.”
Bartu held the door as everyone filed into a low-ceilinged room dimly lit by hanging orb lamps with orange smoke drifting out, hazing the air with citrus-scented incense. A long wooden bar took up most of the room, packed with occupants from a variety of races hovering over steaming beverages. On the wall behind the bar, jars of tea leaves were stacked floor to ceiling, except for a glass case full of stoppered vials near the middle. Behind the counter, an Oriental man in a shimmering silk robe was busy extracting leaves from various jars and mixing them with drops of liquid from the stoppered vials. He kept his long white hair tied above his head in a bun, and a manicured goatee flowed to his waist. Skara stopped to watch him work with a reverent stare.
A woman dressed in a kimono approached with an open palm, ushering them down a corridor to their left that wound through a nest of compact rooms filled with patrons and the omnipresent orange haze. While it might have been Will’s imagination, the sweet smelling vapor seemed to relax him. When they reached an unoccupied alcove with a circular table big enough for the group, the hostess handed out menus and disappeared.
Will opened the menu, which was as thick as a phone book and had thousands of different concoctions on display.
“Lucka,” Dalen said, as he perused the menu. “Dragon’s Breath for travel to snowy climates? Leaping Grasshopper Mint for springtime courtship? Elixir of Owl for increased night vision? How are we supposed to choose?”
