A Gleaming Path

by Jeffrey Pawlak

  “I’d rather they be suspicious than find those tombs,” Joth said, a grave nature coming to his words.

  “That knowledge was bound to come to them at some point or another,” Tiroku countered. He turned his eyes to the rest of their group as they waited in the courtyard, settling his gaze on Tridian, who stood further away, next to Rawner and the Bachus. “You can’t expect that truth to escape them their entire lives, nor would it be good for them to remain unaware of it forever. It’s especially important that the Princess and the Prince understand that part of history if they are to spend the rest of their lives ruling this kingdom.”

  “At this time, though?” Joth questioned. “I don’t disagree that they should eventually know about it, but is it wise for them to have that on their minds in the middle of this mission?”

  A pause fell between the two men before Tiroku eventually answered. “By no means do I expect them to handle the knowledge with ease, but make no mistake, the pressures and rigors of this quest have only strengthened their resolves. It will not break them.”

  Joth continued to stare ahead at the Sandstone Mausoleum’s entrance with hardened eyes. “I hope you’re right.”

  With the discussion seemingly ended, Tiroku stepped away from Joth and walked across the courtyard to join some of their other companions. He stopped next to Dayneth and Elisstriss, who stood together surveying the tops of the hills that surrounded the Sandstone Mausoleum.

  “You two have been looking about for a few minutes now,” Tiroku said to the Aesur women. “Are you trying to spot something?”

  “Perhaps,” Dayneth answered, never taking her narrowed eyes off the rocky formations that encircled them. “I thought I heard many footsteps in the distance, like distant marching.”

  “Have you heard it, also, Elisstriss?” Tiroku asked.

  “I’m not certain,” Elisstriss answered. “My ears are not so accustomed to the way that sound travels here on the surface world, but it does resemble what my sister has described.”

  Tiroku glanced over at the Aesur soldiers. Like Dayneth and Elisstriss, each of them had their eyes set on the hills, their faces masks of concentration as they listened intently. “Your soldiers seem to have heard something, as well,” Tiroku said, and turned to Tridian, Rawner, and the Bachus. “What about the rest of you?”

  “Can’t say that I have,” Rawner answered, and pointed his thumb to the Bachus. “But Hinton and Pauma said that they got a funny whiff of something a minute or so ago. What was it you two said it smelled like, again?”

  “All sorts of old things,” Hinton answered, his and Pauma’s noses pointed straight in the air and twitching incessantly. “It’s like a cloud of dust and rust suddenly wafted through here.”

  “And that’s what is so odd about it,” Pauma added, “You’d think it was here because of this being one great burial ground and all, but we only picked up this scent just now. It wasn’t around when we first walked into this courtyard.”

  As everyone else continued to try and discern the smells and sounds that they thought they detected, Tridian approached Tiroku. The Prince of Tordale wore a hardened look over his face as he whispered to the Champion of Light. “Tiroku, perhaps we should consider heading into the temple to try to find Alamor and my sister.”

  Tiroku was about to answer, but Dayneth’s cry interrupted him.

  “We’ve got company!”

  Everyone’s eyes turned to the top of the ridges where she pointed. A row of Baldaron’s black-clad Wraithlings now stood near the precipice, staring back at their party.

  24

  Alamor and Raissa were not allowed to linger within the Hallowed Plane after the Princess of Tordale took the Radia of Hope into her possession. They had only a few moments to offer their gratitude and their goodbyes to the Sages of Loyalty before Amanyra commanded her great Serenity to send them back to Tordale, where they would continue their mission to fulfill the Legend of Light—now with unprecedented knowledge of the world they were hoping to protect.

  As their bodies soared through dimensions, the Hallowed Plane slowly faded. The white screen that once filled the air around them began to thin, shadow once again taking its place. The gold rays of light shrank, twisting and crackling until they took on the form of flames. When the floor beneath Alamor and Raissa’s feet became solid stone, the torches materialized nearby, and the flames settled down within their grasp. In time, every trace of the Hallowed Plane was gone, and they stood inside the gloomy rotunda where their journey throughout the Sandstone Mausoleum ended.

  But the darkness was not quite as stark as before now that Raissa stood with the Radia of Hope glowing within her hands.

  “It’s a lot better when someone else uses all of that Serenity to make you travel to or from the Hallowed Plane,” Alamor said, grinning as he stretched his arms. He glanced over at Raissa. “Do you feel okay to start moving right away?”

  She nodded. “Yes, it feels as though most of my strength has come back. We shouldn’t keep the others waiting much longer.”

  “Then let’s get going,” Alamor said, and started forward.

  He only took a few steps before he realized that they were not alone inside the rotunda. He stopped and listened without a breath as the sound of heavy footsteps fluttered out of the doorway at the other end of the bridge. The footsteps slowly, ominously echoed throughout the huge chamber. A pair of tiny, red glows soon appeared within the shadows. Alamor knew who approached them.

  Captain Ironbone eventually stepped into the faint edges of light that reached over the chamber. He stopped in the very center of the bridge, as six smaller, armored Wraithlings also emerged from the shadows and halted a few yards behind him.

  “Remember me?” Ironbone asked, a grin seemingly painted over his skeletal face.

  Alamor’s only response was a cold glare.

  Ironbone chuckled, and lifted his red eyes off of Alamor. He appeared to look past the young man. “I see that I’ve come at the perfect time. Let me guess, you two were planning to run back to your friends with that little rock she’s holding? Well, I’ve got some unfortunate news for you—I didn’t come here all by myself. My master and a good portion of his army have descended over this place and surrounded it. You and your allies are trapped.”

  Alamor looked back at Raissa. No words passed between them—merely uneasy glances as Ironbone’s chilling revelation sank in.

  “If I had to guess,” Ironbone continued, casually strolling closer to the platform in the center of the rotunda, “my master and the rest of his troops are probably slaughtering all of your companions as I speak. But, at least Lord Baldaron was generous enough to leave you two for me.”

  Alamor reached behind his back with both arms, taking hold of his sword and shield. “If I were you, I would curse him for that,” he hissed.

  “You’re still a bold little whelp, I see,” Ironbone replied. “Are you sure you want to challenge me again? You didn’t exactly fare well protecting your precious princess the last time.”

  “Only one of us still wears a mark from that battle,” Alamor shot back.

  Ironbone’s jaw fell open and loosed a hearty laugh, as if to acknowledge Alamor’s statement by showing his numerous chipped and cracked teeth. “Maybe so, but remember this, boy—when I cut you down here, there will be no one else to save the princess, or anywhere else for her to run. There will be nothing to stop me from bringing her to my master, and even I shudder to think at what he’s going to do to her.”

  If Ironbone had any more to say, Alamor did not allow him the opportunity. Alamor flew toward the skeletal giant, fury taking over. Ironbone immediately brandished his jagged sword and his rounded shield, leaping forward to meet Alamor’s charge.

  They came together where the bridge and the platform joined, their blades clashing and ringing throughout the empty chamber. Alamor commenced a frenzied assault, hoping to push his ghoulish foe back onto the narrow bridge and as far away from Raissa as possible, but I
ronbone did not relent. Instead, the huge Wraithling used his great strength not only to deflect Alamor’s attacks, but also to strike back, forcing Alamor either to duck out of the way or lift his shield to block Ironbone’s ancient blade.

  Each time that Alamor stopped one of the crushing strikes, it felt like someone slammed a tree trunk onto his shield. Ironbone’s strength was so great that even when Alamor withstood the blows, they jarred his arm and numbed his muscles for a few moments. Despite having rested within the Hallowed Plane, Alamor’s magical reserves were still replenishing after committing so much to the powerful spell that took him and Raissa into the sacred realm. He considered summoning his Serenity into his blade, but he knew that the drain would be crippling on his body. He would have a potent weapon, and no strength to wield it. Alamor cursed that deficiency; with his Serenity, he could end this duel in seconds. As it was, he had no choice but to hold off Ironbone long enough until he could safely call to his magic and cut the Wraithling down.

  Their battle eventually spilled onto the platform, where Ironbone showed that he was equally as agile as he was powerful. For such a massive figure, he moved with deceptive speed and grace, deftly slipping away from Alamor’s attacks and striking from a number of angles. Alamor’s speed could not be outdone, however, and the two warriors continued their search for the first blow.

  “You’re not going to call your lackeys to help you again?” Alamor taunted, as he noticed the smaller Wraithlings who entered the rotunda with Ironbone standing silently back on the bridge.

  Ironbone chuckled fiendishly. “No, I won’t have any of them rob me of the pleasure in finally tearing you apart!”

  The undead giant lifted his arm and brought his sword down in a deadly arc. Alamor hopped to the side and out of the way, but landed within the path of another blow.

  Just as his jagged sword touched the stone floor, Ironbone spun and swung his shield toward Alamor. The iron surface slammed into Alamor’s chest, the bladed edge scraping over his armor and coming within inches of slicing his throat. Alamor instinctively rolled with the impact, saving himself from being thrown to the ground, and potentially from being beheaded.

  When he returned to his feet, Alamor had no time to contemplate an attack. Ironbone rushed toward him, savagely pressing the advantage and hoping to catch Alamor off guard. Ironbone threw a vicious slash, but he did so with such reckless aggression that when Alamor shifted out of its way, he hung helpless within the air for a brief instant.

  It was just enough time for Alamor to capitalize on the opportunity. He stabbed at Ironbone’s midsection, his blade slipping through a gap between Ironbone’s chest plate and faulds before shattering what Alamor could only assume was one of Ironbone’s ribs.

  Alamor quickly pulled his sword free, and Ironbone came to a halt a few yards away. The skeletal warrior stood straight and flashed a wicked grin. The blow that Alamor landed would have crippled any living being, yet Ironbone did not so much as flinch.

  “Did you forget?” Ironbone asked. “I am not flesh and blood like you. I haven’t known pain in hundreds of years.” Without warning, he bounded toward Alamor, drawing his jagged sword back to ready it for a vicious attack. “Killing me is not so simple as killing you!”

  Alamor’s only reply was a silent call to the magic rooted deep in his spirit. Enough of his Serenity had been restored by then to summon without threat to his life force. It flowed into his sword, enshrouding the steel blade in a white light that tore through the shadows of the dark rotunda. He lashed out at the incoming Ironbone, swiping with his luminous weapon.

  Ironbone held his shield up, but he did not realize the futility of his defense until Alamor’s blade seared through the iron plate and cut it in two. The great Wraithling was stunned for a split moment, which Alamor used to hurl a second slash that lobbed off Ironbone’s left arm past the elbow. Ironbone replied with a stiff kick that caught Alamor in the chest and pushed him away.

  Not a second after he regained his footing, Alamor charged, but Ironbone still proved to be a threat even after losing a limb and weapon. The skeletal warrior suddenly leapt into the air, jumping so high that his boots cleared Alamor’s head by more than a foot.

  Alamor could not slow his advance in time before Ironbone landed behind him. The undead giant brought his jagged sword down in a brutal arc over Alamor’s shoulder, nearly denting the white shoulder plate. The impact was so great that Alamor’s shield fell from his grip and skidded across the stone floor as he collapsed to his knees. As Alamor lay on stone surface, Ironbone reared back to swing his rusted blade for a fatal blow.

  He never saw Alamor spin around and strike with his luminous sword three times. The first slash cleaved Ironbone’s sword in two. The second severed his hand just below the wrist.

  The third cut his body clear in half. Alamor’s radiant weapon sliced through armor and bone effortlessly, tearing into Ironbone’s torso and searing through his ribcage until it came out the other side. Ironbone’s upper body seemed to hang in the air for a moment before it finally came crashing down to the platform floor. A moment later, his limp legs also toppled.

  All at once, the sounds of battle faded from the rotunda. The only noise that broke the silence was that of the crackling flames in the nearby torches, and Alamor’s footsteps as he went to reclaim his shield. He strode away, refusing to pay Ironbone’s mangled body even a glance. When he came to his shield, he bent down and wrapped his fingers about the grip on the back before lifting it to his hip.

  The moment that he did so, he heard Ironbone’s deep chuckle behind him. Alamor looked back, and Ironbone slowly turned his skeletal face toward him.

  “So, this is what it feels like to fall in battle,” Ironbone said. Even after being struck down and his body mutilated beyond function, a ghoulish grin remained over his fleshless countenance. “I never knew defeat before now. When there was still skin and muscle on these bones of mine, I lived through hundreds of battles, surviving many without a single wound. It was age that finally killed me, not a weapon.” His battered jaw fell open and freed a chilling laugh. “I never believed that of all things to end me, it would be a boy who’s probably seen fewer years than he has battles.”

  As Ironbone continued to laugh, Alamor stared back with an unflinching glare. He set his feet forward.

  “It’s even more amusing because of the way that my master warned me about you,” Ironbone continued, indifferent to Alamor’s approach. “Baldaron always upheld that you were mightier than you appear. You proved his perception here, boy. But don’t think for a moment that what you’ve done to me puts you any closer to protecting your princess and saving this land. All that you have done here is bring yourself closer to facing Lord Baldaron. When you finally experience what he’ll do to you in battle, you will wish that you had fallen in this temple before m—”

  Ironbone never finished speaking before Alamor’s sword slammed into his face. The radiant blade shattered his skull and struck the stone floor beneath, sending shards of bone flying. A wailing cry tore throughout the rotunda, as if a cold wind rushed out from Ironbone’s remains.

  The symbol of Scourge that granted life to his skeletal form had been destroyed, and his soul retreated to whatever devilish realm that it hailed from.

  Alamor stood and looked to the six Wraithlings that stood on the bridge. The ghostly suits stirred for the first time since entering the chamber. With Ironbone now destroyed, and no else to order them, they readied their weapons and charged.

  Alamor ran toward them. He swung his sword with as much grace as he did confidence, the luminous edge slicing through his foes’ weapons and armor with ease. His magically charged blade so overwhelmed the Wraithlings that he did not even employ the use of his shield. His relentless onslaught acted as a superior defense to any metal surface. Eerie wails reverberated throughout the chamber as Alamor cut down the soldiers one by one, their Scourge symbols being severed and ending the dark spells that had brought them to life.


  It was less than a minute before Alamor stood with the remains of all six Wraithlings strewn across the bridge behind him, not a trace of movement among them.

  He looked back at Raissa, who stood on the platform silently marveling the products of his martial and magical skills. “Let’s get out of here and find the others,” Alamor said.

  Raissa heeded his words and hurried to join him. “I hope that they have been able to hold off whatever other forces have attacked,” she said as they started out of the chamber.

  “Me too,” Alamor whispered.

  They exited the rotunda and stopped in the middle of the foyer with the sand-covered hallway before them. A group of Wraithlings ran about inside the massive burial chamber on the other side, numbering at least twenty or more to Alamor’s eyes.

  The magically-animated suits quickly noticed Alamor and Raissa. They immediately charged, clearly unaware of the sinking pits within the shifting sand. The first few that stepped down onto the sand soon fell away into its dusty grip, causing the others to halt their advance and retreat. After a few moments of surveying their surroundings, the band of Wraithlings turned and sped in the direction of the same stairway that Alamor and Raissa used to reach the open air balcony outside.

  The grim realization came to Alamor and Raissa instantly. “They’re going to find the entrance to this corridor in no time,” Raissa said.

  “And those flames probably aren’t going to hold them off for long, if at all,” Alamor added.

  Raissa turned and looked down the remainder of the hallway, into the direction that she and Alamor had not followed before. “There’s no guarantee that this way is safe, but I think it’s our only choice.”

  Alamor tightened his grip about his sword and shield. “I’ll lead the way,” he said, and they took off in a sprint.

  They sped down the corridor, running blindly into parts unknown of the Sandstone Mausoleum, silently hoping that they would not come upon any more of Baldaron’s troops. While Ironbone had expressed his confidence that Baldaron’s army had already felled them, the grisly possibility that Alamor’s friends were beyond help was something that he refused to accept. He knew that no matter how large of an army that Baldaron brought into the Arid Reaches, his companions were the most capable in Tordale to fend off such a daunting threat; they would hold off Baldaron’s troops to their last breath. If he and Raissa could find Tiroku, Tridian, Rawner, and all of the others, they could promptly opt for a hasty retreat into the Tower Mountains, where they could easily lose Baldaron’s troops among the rocky spires and continue with their quest.