The Savage Realms

by Willard Black

  When they had finished, they paid and made their way back to the stables. Cinder felt stuffed and content for the first time in weeks, even if she was still stiff from the saddle. First thing she would do when she found that ten million Byte was buy the most expensive, most luxurious mattress she could find and sleep for a week. She told the others as much.

  “If we find the coin,” Trix reminded her as they stopped in front of the stables.

  A young man in a patched coat came out to greet them. They collected their animals and then made their way through the city to the north gate, where they paid another tax before starting across the abandoned fields toward the Devil’s Pitchfork. The imposing heights grew larger with each passing mile and the debate to go over or under took on new meaning for Cinder. Until now, it had been a purely academic question in her mind. But in the shadow of the looming peaks, the task of scaling those grim grey crags seemed an impossible undertaking.

  She said, “Has anyone ever gone over the mountains?”

  “There is a deep saddle on the western slope that’s passable in summer,” Mercer told her.

  “And in the fall?”

  “Usually covered in snow,” he admitted. “But I’ve heard of people making it through.”

  The rest of the day was spent in quiet reflection as they veered north and west across fields of wheat and overripe pumpkins. Cool wind swept down off the rugged sawtooth of the mountain range, plucking brown leaves from the branches of the trees. Cinder shivered and huddled against Mercer’s back. If it was this cold now, how cold would it be atop the mountains where the air was thin and the snows fell year-round?

  That night, sitting around a cheery fire, they discussed their options. They had made camp at the foot of the mountains. Hardwoods blanketed the foothills and the dry leaves whispered together in the autumn breeze. Cinder was wrapped in a wool blanket and wishing they were back at the Green Badger, sitting in front of the fire, sipping something warm. She found herself idly wondering what life would be like in Redgate. A passing desire to wander the narrow boulevards overcame her.

  “You all know my vote,” Mercer was saying. “The road over the mountains will be long and cold. Our animals would likely freeze before we made it through the pass.”

  “True, but we couldn’t take the horses through Eternal Night,” Trix pointed out. “And I’d rather face the cold than whatever enemies we might meet in the dark. Besides, the path over the mountains is known. There’s no guarantee we’ll find a way through Eternal Night. Other groups have tried and failed. We might find ourselves lost down there.”

  Mercer turned to Drake. “What do you think?”

  The caster sat silent for several minutes, deep in thought, with a frown on his wizened face. Finally he said, “I think either road is going to be dangerous, but we can’t do battle with the cold.”

  Trix clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. “You want to tackle the most difficult dungeon in the game?” After a moment she added, “With a newbie?”

  Drake shrugged. “We’ve always kicked around the idea of Eternal Night. The three of us would have eventually tried our luck. Now seems as good a time as any.”

  “We weren’t serious,” Trix argued.

  “Think about the Byte,” Mercer said. “Kiefer and his crew said the place was swimming in coin. If we make it through, we’d come out the other side loaded.”

  “Kiefer and his crew died,” Trix said.

  “They didn’t have a caster,” Drake pointed out.

  Trix gazed up at the shadow of the mountain and sighed. “Fine, but I’m telling you right now, this will end in disaster.”

  Cinder sat in silence, secretly relieved that she had not been called on to vote one way or the other. She didn’t want to face the cold, but she wasn’t any more optimistic about the dark. Both roads seemed perilous. After her nightly casting lesson with Drake, she curled up in her sleeping roll, but she didn’t sleep. The night wore on and the stars wheeled in the black vault while she laid there shivering, wondering what the future had in store. If they failed now, this whole trip was for nothing, and Cinder wasn’t sure she could do it all over again.

  But you’ll have to, said a small voice at the back of her mind. You haven’t got any other choice. Her car had been repossessed and by now she was evicted from her apartment. She had no place else to go and no job opportunities.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  The hard ring of steel and the scream of dying men jerked Cinder from sleep. She must have drifted off at some point. She had been dreaming of dark places and creeping terrors that stalked her from the shadows. But now she was sitting up, her blanket roll fell away, and she peered about in the dark.

  Mercer was already on his feet. Trix had a short sword in her hand and Drake was reaching for his staff.

  “Ravagers launched a surprise attack,” Mercer muttered and lowered himself back down onto his blanket. The sound of combat drifted across the flatlands and echoed off the surrounding hills. In the distance, a brief light shone atop the Tower of Dhingol and they heard a peal of thunder. The battle raged on, the sharp wail of a wounded soldier and the occasional high-pitched shriek of metal came to them on the breeze.

  “Don’t guess we’ll get much sleep tonight,” Mercer said.

  Everyone agreed and without another word, they broke camp, scattered the ashes of the fire, and led their animals on foot through the winding hills of the Devil’s Pitchfork. The terrain soon turned rugged and treacherous. Cinder caught her toes on rocks and stumbled over roots in the dark. The land rose up sharply and they were forced to scramble over steep precipices, along narrow ridgelines, and through deep troughs. Wind whistled in the crags and swept down from the peaks, carrying with it a promise of bitter cold that cut through Cinder’s cloak like a surgeon’s scalpel. She was suddenly glad they weren’t going over the mountain. She had no desire to get any higher, or colder, than she already was. Her toes felt like chips of ice and her ears were burning. She might change her mind about the cold once she was inside the dungeon, but for now she welcomed Eternal Night, so long as it was warm. In the east, a brilliant crescent of fiery red spilled over the horizon before they finally uncovered a pair of towering doors set in a steep rock face up on the knees of the great mountain.

  The dark maw stood open. A breath of warm air, carrying a foul odor, issued from the depths. To Cinder, it sounded like a tortured voice coming up from the deep places under the earth. She shivered.

  They stopped on a wide ledge before the open doors and unburdened the animals, then Mercer turned the beasts back toward Redgate and slapped their rumps with the flat of his blade. The horses whickered and took off at a trot, all too willing to get away from the ominous cavern.

  Runes were etched in the grim stone passageway, but time and the elements had worn them down until they were barely legible, even to Drake’s practiced eye. That didn’t stop him from tracing the lines with arthritic fingers. He blew dust from one of the hieroglyphs and muttered to himself.

  “Anything that will help us in our journey?” Mercer asked.

  Drake scowled and shook his head.

  “Can you read them?” Cinder asked.

  “For the most part,” Drake admitted.

  “What do they say?”

  “It’s a warning,” Drake told them. “Abandon all hope, that sort of thing.”

  “Cheery,” Trix remarked.

  Cinder rubbed her arms against the cold.

  Mercer said, “Hardin and his crew will be hard-pressed to follow us now.”

  In a voice heavy with sarcasm, Trix said, “Yeah, boy, we fooled them.”

  Mercer turned to Cinder. “This is your first dungeon—”

  “And probably your last,” Trix added.

  Drake said, “Don’t freak her out.”

  “—there are a few rules we need to go over,” Mercer continued. “Once we are inside, I’ll go first, then Trix, then you, and then Drake. If I hold up my hand like this”–he rai
sed a fist to demonstrate— “everyone stops. Don’t ask questions. Just stop and listen. We try to talk as little as possible in dungeons. We use hands signals instead. This means follow me. This means look. This means listen. If we get attacked in a narrow space, Trix and I form the front line. You and Drake support us from behind. If we get attacked in a wide-open space, we form a circle with our backs to each other. Watch me for directions, try not to get separated, and whatever happens, don’t panic.”

  Trix said, “If you get separated, stay where you are and we’ll come find you.”

  “Don’t scream and yell,” Drake said. “That will attract unwanted attention.”

  “Got all that?” Mercer asked.

  She nodded. “I think I can handle it,” she said, not at all sure she could handle anything and wishing they could take the pass over the mountains.

  “Let’s get on with it,” Drake said.

  They slung their saddlebags full of food, equipment, and extra clothes over their shoulders, and plunged into the dark.

  The floor of the cavern stretched out before them, smooth and flat, for several hundred feet before the last of the sunlight spilling in from the open doors finally dwindled, leaving them in complete shadow. Drake muttered a command and the tip of his staff came to life with a brilliant white radiance, driving back the darkness. The broad stone passageway plunged straight into the mountainside. They went forward, slowly at first, wary of some trap or deadfall. Cobwebs draped the corners, stretched across the path, and broke over their faces and arms. Cinder kept picking invisible strings from her hair and lips. Mercer was at the head of the column, his axe in one hand and his head cocked to the side, listening intently for any sound of movement.

  Decades of dust and grit carpeted the corridor, grinding underfoot and leaving a clear sign of their passing—an easy trail for anyone to follow, if anyone was foolish enough to follow them in here. Their footfalls echoed along the corridor, and all the while that hollow voice came to them from the darkness ahead. Several times Mercer stopped and held up a hand for them to wait. They stood still, straining to hear, but after a while he would wave them forward again. They walked for what felt like hours, but was in reality probably only thirty minutes, before they came to a broad stone stair which plunged deeper into the earth. The ominous voice echoed up from the depths. It was starting to unnerve Cinder. She was dying to ask the others if they heard it too and if they knew what it was. But she kept her mouth shut and tried not to let her imagination run away with her. It’s only wind, she told herself.

  They started down the stair. Cinder lost count after a thousand steps. She thought they had reached bottom when the floor leveled out, but it proved to be a landing. A hundred more paces brought them to the head of another stair and down they went. She had no way of telling time down here, but it had to be close to noon when they stopped on one of the landings for a short rest and some lunch. They ate in silence and then pressed on. The stair finally leveled out again and they traversed a vast chamber into another long, empty hall. Cinder was marching with her head down and her feet aching when Mercer finally called a halt. They had come to the first of many crossroads and the group sat down to discuss, in hushed tones, which way they should go.

  Trix felt they should continue along the main road. Cinder and Drake agreed, but Mercer insisted they should at least explore the side tunnels a few hundred feet in each direction before making a decision.

  “First, we should score a few hours of shut eye,” Drake whispered. “I know I could use the sleep, and we’ll think better when we aren’t exhausted.”

  He took the first watch, sitting with his back to the wall and a pipe clamped between his teeth. His twisted staff stood next to him, still shimmering brightly in the dark. Cinder laid her head down on her blanket roll and was asleep almost at once. Fear of the dark and the unknown was driven out by exhaustion. She was woken a few hours later by a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes snapped open. Trix was crouched over her, a finger to her lips and her eyes wide.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  She heard a shuffling noise, like the tramp of many feet and the rustle of stealthy movement from the shadows ahead. Cinder scrambled to her feet, her heart hammering in her chest. Her hand went to the notched sword at her belt and her knuckles turned white.

  Mercer warned her to silence and waved a hand. Drake was already awake, his staff in hand and his long goatee bristling. Mercer motioned them all to follow. Gathering up her sleeping roll, Cinder sprang after her companions, along one of the side passages to an open door. Mercer waved her inside. She found herself in a circular chamber with a sunken floor that might have been a large, dry basin. The roof was held aloft by carven pillars, and on the opposite side of the chamber was another door.

  Back in the main passage, the shuffling sound was getting louder. Whatever was out there had almost reached the intersection where they had camped. Mercer hurried into the chamber after Cinder and quickly closed the door. The aged timbers creaked and the rusting hinges started to complain. Mercer winced, gripped the door in both hands, and lifted as he swung it closed to keep weight off the hinges. It still made noise, but considerably less. He shut the door, but there was no lock.

  Trix hurried across the chamber and put her ear to the opposite door.

  Mercer questioned her with raised eyebrows.

  She nodded and gave a thumbs up, put a hand on the latch, and waited.

  Drake halted in front of the door through which they had come, the head of his staff poised inches from the rough hew timbers, ready to cast a locking spell. Mercer stood next to Drake with his axe at the ready. Outside in the hall, the rustling of feet gathered to a low murmur, the sound of something large and heavy moving with all the stealth it possessed. It reached the intersection and they heard a snuffling sound, like a dog sniffing the air.

  Cinder’s heart failed inside her chest. She backed across the chamber, joining Trix at the opposite door, motioning frantically for Trix to open it so they could escape. Trix only shook her head and cautioned Cinder to silence.

  The thing in the hall turned the corner and then it was right outside the door, sniffing. The thing seemed to fill the tunnel. Its movements sounded like hundreds of tiny suction cups gripping the walls and ceiling as it dragged itself along, and there was a nasty squelching noise. A foul smell spilled into the chamber through the door as the beast searched the hall. Mercer and Drake both shifted back a step.

  For several tense seconds, they waited while outside the creature sniffed and squelched and then finally moved away down the corridor. Cinder let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

  “That was close,” Mercer muttered, slipping his axe back into his belt loop.

  He and Drake turned, started across the chamber, and there was a loud rushing in the hall. Then a tremendous crash that shook the door on its hinges. Drake spun and leveled his staff at the door, shouted a command, and the old timbers snapped against the frame with a loud clap, like metal filings drawn to a magnet.

  Another shuddering blow shook the door. The wood creaked. A third impact splintered the aged timbers like matchsticks and the head of a giant worm filled the frame. The creature’s mouth was an open maw full of needle-like teeth. The fetid smell of mold and rot filled the chamber. Cinder’s stomach twisted. She backed up until her butt hit the wall, too scared to draw her short sword. Too scared to do anything except scream.

  “Open it!” she shouted at Trix. “Open the door! Open it!”

  But Trix didn’t need any encouragement. She jerked the door wide and leapt through into a dark passageway. Mercer turned, grabbed Cinder by the arm, and pushed her through the doorway. She stumbled and would have fallen, but he kept hold of her arm and hurried her along. Drake was in back of them, limping along as fast as his spindly knees would carry him.

  The giant worm caught fast in the doorframe, squeezing and convulsing in an effort to fit. They could hear the massive body squelching and shifting throug
h the open portal, inch by horrible inch, making a high-pitched squealing.

  The group bounded along the dark hall, turned a corner at random, spotted another door, and crowded inside. They found themselves in a vast chamber of many pillars, most of which had been broken and lay shattered on the floor. There was a drip-drip-drip from one corner and a ghostly whisper of wind coming in through some unseen doorway. Drake lifted his staff overhead and the light showed pillars marching off in every direction.

  They waited in silence, listening for any sound of pursuit, but it seemed they had lost the giant worm, for now. Cinder pushed the hair away from her face and whispered to Drake, “I thought you locked the door?”

  “I did,” he wheezed. “But that only prevents the door from being opened. It won’t stop the door from being smashed to bits.”

  Cinder cursed under her breath.

  “There’s a spell that will make an object mostly impervious to damage,” he told her. “But that takes a long time to cast and requires a lot of energy.”

  Mercer, looking around at the echoing hall full of shattered pillars, said, “We’ve lost the main road.”

  “And I don’t like the look of this place,” Trix added. “I don’t want to meet whatever smashed these stone columns.”

  Mercer nodded in agreement.

  Cinder said, “We could wait. Maybe that worm, or whatever the hell it is, will get bored and go away.”

  Drake shook his head. “If anything in here can sense magic, that locking spell will draw it. We had better move on and hope we can find a way back to the main passage.”