Hemlock and the Dread Sorceress

by B Throwsnaill

  Chapter Four

  The towers were the first part of Ogrun they saw as the tips rose over the canopy of thinning trees. There were dozens of towers—wooden and intricate—fashioned in a rising succession of levels that became more slender toward the tops. Each story had a series of flat walls set off at gentle angles from one another. In the face of every third wall was an arched doorway with a wooden door. Rafters projected out where each wall intersected and supported ornamental roofs that were interspersed with long spines and offset from the frame below, flaring out joyously, adding depth and complexity to each tower's silhouette.

  But the inspiring design of these noble towers was overshadowed by the terrifying disarray that remained in the aftermath of their destruction. Bright paint that Hemlock remembered gleaming in the waning sunlight of a summer evening was dull and charred from fire. The beautiful wood that hadn't been consumed by flames was bent and gave the towers a contorted appearance. Sunlight shone through gaps in the structures left by collapsed roofs and buckled walls.

  The once beautiful city of Ogrun, which Hemlock had always dreamed of visiting when she was a girl, was now ruined. It had not been completely destroyed, but what remained just made mockery of what it once had been.

  No activity was evident in the ruined towers, but a few people were visibly moving amongst the lower buildings that surrounded the towers. These buildings were also wooden, and some of them were nearly as intricately fashioned as the larger towers.

  Many of the nearby buildings were homes, but others appeared to be commercial with goods piled outside of them and people swiftly picking amongst the items. Some furtively paid the merchants who loitered uncomfortably with their goods, before darting off. All eyes seemed to be on the skies.

  “These people conduct themselves like they are under siege,” remarked Tored, pointing to the closest outdoor market and the skittish customers around it.

  “I don’t see any signs of trouble. What do you think we should do?” said Hemlock.

  “Let’s approach that merchant to see if we can learn anything about the Sorceress.”

  Hemlock agreed, and they set off. They walked between homes along a cobbled thoroughfare. She noticed people peering out of their windows, watching her and Tored.

  “They seem so scared,” said Hemlock.

  “Look,” said Tored, pointing toward the sky.

  A serpentine creature, held aloft by leathery wings, soared overhead. It had colorful scales on its belly—brilliant purples and deep blues. The creature let out a sharp cry as it wheeled and circled the town.

  “That’s a wyvern,” said Hemlock.

  When Hemlock returned her attention to the street and the merchant’s shop in the distance, she saw people scrambling inside. A young girl was motioning toward her and Tored, but then strong hands pulled the child into the shadowy interior of a shop. A merchant closed the front door with a sharp thud that reverberated down the street.

  “Perhaps we should take cover,” said Tored, having noticed the activity at the shop.

  “Over here!” said Hemlock, running for an open door in a nearby building. Tored followed her, and they reached the shade beneath a second floor balcony just as the door they approached was slammed shut and bolted from inside.

  Hemlock knocked on the door gently.

  “Leave us alone!” cried a frightened voice from inside. “We don’t want any trouble.”

  Another cry sounded from overhead. It seemed to be lower and closer than before.

  “We’re here to help you—to help Ogrun. But we don’t want the Sorceress to find us! We won’t stay long,” said Hemlock.

  “It’s too dangerous! I have children in here. Have pity on us. Please leave!” said the muffled voice.

  Hemlock began to respond, but didn’t know what to say. She looked searchingly at Tored, but the warrior just shrugged.

  “We’re probably endangering the people by coming here,” said Tored.

  “They’re just scared. Let’s just try to sneak from building to building and evade the wyvern,” said Hemlock.

  There was a loud bang across the street. They saw the wyvern that had been in the air sitting on the edge of the roof of the nearest building. Its landing had dislodged the gutter from the roof, and the wooden channel fell down to the street below. The creature regarded them with an unblinking stare. The wyvern reminded Hemlock of the green dragon carcass she had seen in the Wizard Tower, but this creature was only about the size of a large man, and its body was relatively slender. Despite the smaller size, its toothy maw and long claws gave it a dangerous appearance, and its bright colors made it look exotic.

  “Uh oh,” said Hemlock.

  Her magical senses alerted her to forces emanating from the creature. There was incoming magic, as well, and both forces extended over a great distance toward the mountain.

  “That thing is magically linked,” she hissed.

  “To what?” said Tored.

  “To the Sorceress, I bet.”

  “What should we do?”

  “Let’s walk toward the mountain and see what happens,” said Hemlock.

  They walked along the wall of the building beside them, putting more distance between themselves and the wyvern.

  The wyvern let out a long squawk that turned to a roar. It took off from the building and thrust itself into the air with its wings.

  They lost sight of the creature as they proceeded along the dusty streets. They tried to stay hidden and were fortunate that most of the low buildings in Ogrun had long porches with overhanging roofs. But they periodically heard the creature’s cries overhead, and knew it was following them.

  Soon, they reached the street where the merchant’s store was located. Hemlock surveyed it as they passed. She noticed the face of the young girl she had seen pulled into the doorway. The girl was looking at her from one of the shop windows, looking concerned. She motioned to Hemlock, pointing in the direction they were already going then sharply down toward the ground. She then made a wave-like motion with her arm.

  Hemlock didn’t know what to make of the gestures from the little girl. Tored did not realize Hemlock had slowed, and put some distance between them. Hemlock sprinted to catch up with him, and when she looked back, the girl was gone from the window.

  As they neared the towers, the road became littered with wooden debris and the remnants of boxes. A few boxes were intact and had large handles at the top, like baskets.

  “What of this?” asked Tored, pointing at the debris.

  Hemlock recalled an image from her youth. One day she defied her mother’s wishes and snuck close to the outskirts of Ogrun. What she saw had amazed her. The towers were magnificent and colorful. A host of wyverns had been flying around and into the towers. Many of them carried boxes like those that now lay broken in the street.

  “The wyverns used to carry things in them,” she said.

  Tored grunted acknowledgement as they paused near a burnt building. The base of a tower was before them, and there was little in the way of cover unless they took a long detour around the center of the town.

  “Do we risk traveling through here? There is little cover,” said Tored.

  Hemlock looked behind them. She saw five wyverns circling near the merchant shop. A series of screams from that area confirmed her worst fears. People were screaming along with the wyverns.

  “The Sorceress is looking for us. She’s sending more wyverns, and they’re scaring the people. If we stay hidden, I think they could get more destructive. We need to risk travelling openly,” she said.

  “They will surely attack if we do,” said Tored.

  “I know, but at least they’ll leave the townsfolk alone.”

  Tored nodded. “It’s a shame there isn’t another way to the mountaintop.”

  “Let’s go,” said Hemlock. They ran into the street and approached the nearest tower. Hemlock paused and turned back toward the
shop, waving her arms toward the circling wyverns—which now numbered more than ten.

  “Hey! Over here!” she yelled.

  She turned back and caught up to Tored. As they passed the first tower, she risked a moment to appreciate the woodwork on the first floor. Everything was beveled and cunningly curved. The absence of stone surprised her, but clearly the people of Ogrun could work wood as well as anyone—even in the city of San Cyra itself.

  “Hemlock!” hissed Tored from ahead of her. He was pointing toward the sky to her right. In the air above them was a large group of flying beasts. There were at least forty wyverns soaring in a loose formation around a darker form that muscled its way through the air rather than soaring. It was an impossibly large bat with a pale, raven-haired woman crouched on its back, seeming precariously perched. The woman looked more youthful than Hemlock had expected—for she rode and moved with an ease that implied strong legs and a supple back.

  And she laughed as she flew. It was a mirthless laugh that was full of menace.

  “The Sorceress!” cried Hemlock.

  “Did you see the wyverns with her? Too many!” replied Tored.

  “I know—keep running! Maybe we can lose them once we reach the mountain!”

  They put another tower behind them before the cries of the wyverns and the screech of the great bat began to approach them.

  They kept under the porches where possible, but not every building had them.

  Hemlock looked behind her and realized they had been spotted. A horde of wyverns was descending directly toward them.

  The great bat soared overhead and the Sorceress still laughed atop her flying mount. A sheet of flame streaked from the sky to the middle of the street before them. A great explosion caused both her and Tored to lose their footing.

  Damn! Even a wizard would have been proud of that fire!

  She was on her feet and running in a flash, pulling Tored to his feet with an outstretched hand and her momentum. The excitement of the encounter was beginning to awaken her powers.

  A harsh woman’s voice rang out from above. “KILL THEM! Kill them, NOW!”

  The wyverns, spurred on by the urgings of the Sorceress, descended and attacked. Pale forks of lightning impacted the ground all around Hemlock and Tored, kicking up debris. Some of the strikes found their mark. While the bolts didn’t kill outright, they caused their muscles to lock and the runners risked losing their footing. Soon, both of them were littered with black burn marks all over their upper bodies.

  “If we fall, they will kill us!” Tored managed as he ran erratically, trying to make a harder target from the air.

  “If we stop, we are dead too!” cried Hemlock.

  Fortunately, the runners covered most of the central area of the City, which was dominated by the towers. Smaller buildings appeared before them, and also a large trench that stretched across their path and was bridged at every intersecting street.

  As they approached the nearest bridge, Hemlock heard a shout and saw motion from the trench. An arm was waving from the shadow of a culvert beneath one of the nearby bridges.

  “There!” shouted Hemlock, pointing to what she had seen.

  “It could be a trap!” said Tored.

  But Hemlock saw the face of the one that waved, and realized it was the little girl from the merchant shop.

  “It’s safe—come on!” she said, grabbing his hand and running toward the fence that separated the trench from the street. She vaulted it and landed hard on a stone incline, sliding down its face about twenty feet until she splashed into two feet of water at the bottom of the trench. Tored splashed beside her, and both of them charged for the cover of the culvert. The form of the girl was barely visible within.

  The water at their feet was alive with crackling energy from lightning strikes as they ran. Their locking muscles made both of them fall more than once as they covered the two score yards to the safety of the shadowy culvert.

  “Up here—out of the water!” shouted the young girl as they entered the tunnel. They leaped up onto a stone landing as the water crackled from another lightning strike.

  “I hope you have a plan—they are gathering outside!” said Tored to Hemlock.

  “Follow me!” said the little girl, now at the mouth of a dark passage, heading in the direction of the mountain. The unmistakable odor of excrement made it clear where they were going.

  The girl lit a torch as they all hurried along the dark tunnel, urged on by the searching cries of the wyverns behind them.

  Soon, the passage branched into three directions and the girl led them to the left. They walked along a raised section of stonework that formed a walkway extending from the wall for about a foot, until it fell off—sharply down—forming a channel beside the walkway for the sewage to flow.

  “How far will this take us?” asked Hemlock, her voice echoing.

  The girl turned and Hemlock had a chance to look her over. She appeared to be about ten years old. Her blonde hair was matted, and her face was dirty. Her tattered dress might have been white once, but was now an uneven brown. She was a pretty little thing, but her eyes darted to and fro. She carried herself with a gravity that suggested the fragile gaiety of youth had already been displaced by the harshness of necessity and suffering.

  “It will take us all the way to the river that cuts between the mountain and the town’s edge. That is where you want to go, right?” said the little girl.

  “What’s your name?” said Hemlock.

  “Esmeralda.”

  “Well, Esmeralda, I am Hemlock and this is Tored.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, but we must hurry.”

  “How did you know where we wanted to go?” asked Hemlock.

  “I heard you say you were here to help us. You want to fight the Sorceress, right?”

  “Yes. How did you get here so fast? I saw you in that store as we passed.”

  “I snuck into the sewers through the basement. The others are trying to watch after me now that my folks are gone, but they don’t understand. I have to help them.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  “Taken by the Sorceress for tonight’s games.”

  “Games?”

  “The Sorceress holds games in her stronghold when she grows bored. My parents were taken a few days ago.”

  “What kind of games?”

  “Fights. She makes people try to kill each other. Then, her monster kills the survivors.”

  “Her monster? What’s that?”

  “It’s like a shadow of a man. It drains people then the Sorceress eats what comes out of them.”

  “Did this shadow monster come recently?” asked Hemlock.

  “I think so. We didn’t know about it until right before the Sorceress attacked the town.”

  Hemlock looked at Tored. “Falignus,” she said.

  “If he’s become some type of wraith, what good will it do to bring him back?” said Tored.

  Hemlock shrugged.

  “Bring who back?” asked the little girl.

  “It’s a long story, Esmeralda, but we think a friend of ours may be your shadow monster. He’s not evil, but we think the Sorceress is using him. We’d like to free him and get rid of this Sorceress while we’re at it.”

  “And save my mom and dad?”

  Hemlock put her hand on the little girl’s shoulder. “Of course! We’ll save your mom and dad.”

  The little girl smiled. “I knew it! I knew there was something different about you. You’re not just wanderers looking for food.”

  “Alright, you just lead us to the river, and we’ll do the rest. But, do you know how to get to the stronghold?”

  “Of course, everyone knows that.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, everyone in the town has to attend the games. There’s a big path.”

  “Interesting. But we should probably try to sneak up there.”

  Suddenly, the
re was a deep rumbling that shook the sewer.

  “What’s happening up there? Only a tower falling could disturb the earth like that,” said Tored.

  “The Sorceress must be mad about losing us. Will she destroy the entire town?” said Hemlock.

  Nobody answered.

  “We should get to the river,” said Tored.

  Hemlock became aware of a faint reading from her magic sense. The little girl was radiating magic.

  It’s odd that I didn’t detect it before.

  “Esmeralda, I sense something about you. Do you have magic?”

  “Not anymore. The Sorceress took our magic and now we can’t control our wyverns.”

  “So you used to be able to control the wyverns?”

  “Yes. We all have a wyvern. When kids are born here, a wyvern hatches at the same time. The two are bonded for life. But there haven’t been any kids born since she came. She burned the wyvern hatchery.”

  “She’ll pay for that!” said Hemlock.

  The girl turned and started walking. Hemlock didn’t want to upset the girl by asking more painful questions, but something wasn’t adding up.

  If the Sorceress has taken the people’s magic, why do I still detect magic in Esmeralda?

  Esmeralda led them through many twisting and turning passages. Soon, they became inured to the stench, the strange echoes of the water and their footsteps.

  The torch was close to burning out by the time they reached a long passage that ended with the glamour of daylight. They were all relieved there had been no more sounds of destruction from the city above. Although, they knew there was no guarantee the Sorceress wasn’t up to other less discernible mischief.

  They approached the opening slowly, letting their eyes adjust to the brightness.

  The water flowed into the sewers from the river, which was about thirty yards from bank to bank and moved with slow currents.

  “What do we do now?” asked Esmeralda.

  “We’d better do something quickly. If this is the only inlet to the sewers, the Sorceress is sure to have it watched soon enough,” said Tored.

  “Esmeralda, is there any place to take cover along the path to the stronghold?” asked Hemlock.

  The little girl’s brow furrowed for a moment then her eyes widened. “There are caves along the way. Maybe we could hide in there until nightfall,” she said.

  “How many caves are there?” asked Hemlock.

  “A lot—the mountain is full of them and they are like a maze. I’ve wanted to explore them, but mother…” The little girl’s lip trembled and she looked down.

  “Don’t worry about your mother, Esmeralda. I’ve faced tougher foes than this Sorceress and come out on top. Okay, here’s my plan. We climb the mountain along the path and look for a good, deep cave. Hopefully there are caverns and passages in there. If we get trapped, it’s going to be tough going. But once we find a good location, we should try to get spotted. That way, the Sorceress will spare Ogrun and look for us on the mountain.”

  Tored grunted agreement. “A decent plan provided the caves are interconnected,” he said.

  Hemlock knelt in front of Esmeralda. “I want you to go back to the city, now. Come to the stronghold tonight with the rest of the people. We’re going to get to the bottom of this shadow man, defeat the Sorceress and rescue your parents.”

  “You can really do that?”

  “You have to trust me. Go back and wait for tonight. Thank you very much for your help, Esmeralda.”

  “You’re welcome. Thanks for helping us.”

  “Go on, now,” said Hemlock.

  The girl waved and returned to the depths of the tunnel.

  “We were lucky to find her,” said Tored.

  “I guess so, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

  “You don’t?”

  “That felt like more than luck to me. I’m kind of getting used to the whole idea of destiny.”

  “You could look at it like that. We’d best get moving.”

  “Ready for a swim?”

  Fortunately for them, the water was only waist deep because it was icy cold. They sloshed forward in hurried silence for they feared being sighted in the water, but they were able to get across undetected.

  Hemlock looked back toward the towers at the center of Ogrun and saw wyverns flying over much of the town. There was no sign of the Sorceress or her giant bat.

  “There must be a spring nearby. This water is very cold and the air is much warmer,” said Tored.

  Hemlock barely heard him as they reached a well-trodden path that had to be the one described by Esmeralda. The path led up the face of the mountain in a series of long, lazy switchbacks. She quickly scanned for caves.

  They started to jog up the path, looking over their shoulders for signs of pursuit from Ogrun. None was forthcoming. Just when Hemlock started to think about lighting a fire to attract attention, a shrill cry rose from the city, and a wyvern wheeled around and flew toward them. Soon, a host of the others joined it.

  “They’ve seen us!” said Hemlock.

  She and Tored had just reached the first sharp turn up when they spotted the mouth of a cave about halfway along the face of the mountain—still several hundred yards away.

  “Run for it!” cried Hemlock, pointing toward the cave and looking to her left as a formation of wyverns began to stream toward them from the city.

  Hemlock felt desperate energy welling inside of her, and she knew she could easily outpace Tored. But she stayed just slightly in front of him, urging him on.

  Soon, the air was thick with the distinct odor produced by the wyvern’s lightning strikes. Hemlock and Tored were running irregularly, trying to maintain their footing as the paralyzing lightning burned them. Sand and dirt were flying everywhere, and some wyverns even dove toward the pair, attempting to rake them with their claws.

  Then, a large shadow appeared as something flew overhead, and maniacal laughter echoed over the mountainside.

  “Oh, what great sport! Kill them!” cried the Sorceress as her massive bat bore her in front of Hemlock and Tored. Then, the bat wheeled to the left.

  “Only a hundred yards!” shouted Hemlock, risking a glance backwards at Tored. His running was becoming labored and she feared he might stumble at any minute. She thought of using the commanding voice she had learned from the witches of Tanna Varra, but she feared revealing that power too soon and wasn’t sure it would work on the wyverns. And, even greater, was the fear of the persistent, dark visions that seemed to accompany the uses of her powers, and hinted at unforeseen consequences from their use.

  “Come on!” she cried as she slashed a sabre at a wyvern that tried to approach her from the left.

  The ensuing seconds passed with agonizing slowness. Hemlock reached the shelter of the cave and pulled Tored inside before the Sorceress was able to make another pass above them.

  Wyverns hovered at the entrance and filled the cave mouth with lightning. Ironically, that lit the way for Hemlock and Tored as they stumbled into the cave’s interior.

  Fortunately for them, the cave was deep, and there was a sharp bend around forty feet inside that provided cover from the unrelenting lightning strikes.

  Hemlock’s upper torso burned with pain as the new wounds made their presence felt. And Tored had fared worse than Hemlock. His cloak had been left in tatters by the crackling energy, and much of his exposed flesh was dark and charred.

  He doubled over in pain, but said nothing. Then, something on the cave floor caught his attention. He moved to a section of rock that was covered with a mossy substance. He retrieved some in his hands and spread it over his wounds. He beckoned to Hemlock to do the same.

  “I don’t know this world, but this is like Tanna Varran mihr moss. It will ease your burns,” he said.

  Hemlock took his advice, and soon her own pain was dramatically lessened.

  “Amazing,” she said as the din ou
tside the cave started to taper off.

  The cave became darker, and soon she could only see the pale glowing of the mihr moss.

  “Do you still have the torch Esmeralda gave us?” asked Hemlock.

  “Yes,” said Tored, as a clinking sound near his belt revealed his retrieval of the flint and steel.

  There was a spark and the torch blazed to life, revealing a passage ahead of them. It appeared to be the remains of a once-larger cavern now consumed by a large piece of rock that had fallen from overhead. The resulting tunnel was long, straight and roughly triangular.

  “We’re fortunate this cave is deep,” said Tored.

  “Yes. I guess the Sorceress will be guarding at the entrance. Hopefully this will lead to another cave exit.”

  “Shhh!” hissed Tored, pointing with a trembling hand at a dim light coming from a nearby section of the cave wall.

  The pale green light intensified as they watched, and Hemlock marveled at Tored’s reaction. He was unmistakably frightened—and she had never seen him like this.

  “It is Umra Vyle,” he hissed.

  Hemlock tried to comfort him by grabbing his arm as something emerged from a previously undetected vertical fissure in the rock. It was a ghostly figure—short and stocky with a barrel chest, massive biceps, and broad, determined features. There appeared to be an old wound on part of the spirit’s head.

  “It’s not Umra Vyle,” whispered Hemlock.

  “No, it’s not,” said Tored, sounding surprised and relieved.

  The spirit seemed to regard them for a few moments, and motioned for them to come forward. It slowly withdrew into the fissure, and its light faded then disappeared completely.

  “Now we have two ghosts?” said Hemlock.

  “This is very interesting,” said Tored. “That spirit wasn’t outwardly hostile. Its appearance could be a positive omen.”

  “Why do you say that?” asked Hemlock, who had not felt any reaction that made her trust or fear the ghost of the stocky man.

  “I just feel it. While among my people, I witnessed a number of apparitions such as this. One often just feels whether they are dangerous or not. It is best to be wary when you experience fear, or simply feel nothing. I was…scared when it appeared, but then it set me at ease. I am inclined to follow it.”

  “Well it did show us that opening. We should look at it, I guess. But this other way is bigger. Should we just ignore it?”

  “It is impossible to know, yet the spirit has indicated that this is the way,” said Tored, pointing into the fissure. Their torchlight revealed a slender passage that was scarcely two feet at its widest—they would be forced to enter sideways, if they dared.

  “Looks like slow going,” said Hemlock.

  “My natural place is now behind you rather than in front, but I must counsel you to follow the spirit. An appearance such as this is no mere chance occurrence. My people believe that a spirit must be bound to a mortal soul in order to appear among the living. Umra Vyle’s spirit is bound to me, as you know. I can’t imagine that the ghost of this stout man—a former resident of the City by my guess—has any relation to me. And I have never heard of a person having two ghosts haunting them.”

  “So that leaves me, then?”

  “It would seem so, yes.”

  “Well, I’ve never seen that man before. He looked like a miner from the eastern mountains—I’ll grant you that. But I can’t see any connection to me.”

  “Yet circumstance suggests there may be one.”

  “This is odd. We never have ghosts in the City.”

  “Remember, Tanna Varra is gone, now. The spirits that linger in this life are no longer drawn there.”

  “Fine, maybe you’re right. But if we don’t find something quick, I think we should come back and go the other way.”

  Hemlock shimmied into the fissure and was followed by Tored. The air was soon sweaty and oppressive, and the twists and turns of the passage made it hard to determine which direction they were going.

  “If this doesn’t widen soon, I think we should turn back,” said Hemlock after several uncomfortable minutes.

  Tored didn’t reply.

  Just as Hemlock felt her reserves of patience running thin, the echoes of their footfalls took on a different character. There was some sort of chamber ahead. Hemlock reached the edge of an opening and thrust her torch through.

  The light revealed an irregular chamber which extended about twenty feet ahead and forty feet above. It widened to ten feet. There was no visible exit.

  “Great…” said Hemlock as Tored joined her in the room.

  But then she noticed a pale light above her. It was about thirty feet up, and seemed to emanate from the rock itself.

  “What do you make of that?” she asked.

  “I’ll check, if you wish,” said Tored, leaving little doubt that he felt she should check.

  “Fine,” she replied, handing him the torch.

  He held it aloft to light her climb up. The face of the rock was rough and the handholds were abundant. In a matter of seconds, she scampered up and saw a roughly circular opening in the rock about three feet in diameter.

  The broad face of the ghost regarded her from deep within the hole. It motioned her forward again.

  “It wants us to follow it into a little tunnel. We’d have to crawl to do it. I don’t like this, Tored. What if the Sorceress sends people into the tunnels behind us? We could never fight our way out of that fissure.”

  “You know my opinion about the spirit. Tell me what to do.”

  “Fine,” she said, convinced that the idea held little merit. But she realized that while their predicament made little tactical sense to her, she felt oddly secure in the decision.

  Tored’s superstitions must be affecting me.

  Soon, they were crawling down the passage with Hemlock in the lead. They crawled on hands and knees then took to a crouching walk when the floor became rough and jagged in spots. It was tiring work after the exertion of their flight up the mountain.

  The passage seemed to be turning to the right, and after several minutes, Hemlock had the impression they turned in the opposite direction from the original path, though she was not at all confident in her sense of direction underground.

  A change in air pressure and sound indicated another open space ahead of them. They reached the edge of the passage where an opening led to a sheer drop, forty feet above a rocky floor. Across from the opening, the regular shape of the cave had been altered by a cave-in. A fifty foot wide space in the ceiling had been opened by the collapse of a great section of rock. The top of the collapsed rock was nearly level with the opening Hemlock looked out from, but was separated by a distance of twenty feet. Above the collapsed section, just at the limits of Hemlock’s torchlight, there appeared to be finished passages on either side. This suggested to Hemlock that the inside of the collapsed section might be hollow—but this was unverifiable from her vantage point.

  “It looks like we’re above that triangular tunnel we saw before,” said Hemlock.

  “If there’s a stronghold on the mountain, perhaps whoever built it dug tunnels, too,” said Tored.

  This is a lucky break. Maybe that spirit did help us.

  Gaining access to the passage held some peril because they hadn’t brought a rope. But Hemlock asked Tored to retreat into the round passage, and she backed up. Crouching, she started a shuffling run and managed a good jump off the ledge. She covered the distance between the opening and the top of the collapsed rock, landing with her forearms on the opposite side. She easily pulled herself up.

  The jump was not so easy for Tored. His additional bulk didn’t allow him to build up much momentum in the round passage, and he was heavier. But his legs were strong, and he was long with his arms extended. Hemlock was able to anchor her feet in a crack in the rocky floor, and caught Tored’s hand as he hit the rock wall hard below her. His weight nearly caus
ed her to lose her grip. She felt her feet slipping out of the crack that kept her from tumbling down with him to the hard stone floor—forty feet below.

  “Hurry up and grab the edge!” She grunted.

  Just then, the pale, ghostly light returned. Hemlock glanced upwards, expecting to see the ghost of the stocky man, but there was something different about this light. When she looked up, she saw the enraged features of the Tanna Varran warrior, Umra Vyle. The ghost was hovering over Tored, who was visibly quaking. Hemlock feared he would lose his grip on her hand. And she felt her feet slipping even further.

  “Ignore it! Grab the edge!” she screamed.

  But Tored just stared at Umra Vyle’s ghost without saying a word, and his grip on her hand loosened.

  “Tored!” she cried.

  She noticed the green light intensify and risked another glance toward the ghost. The spirit of Umra Vyle was still there, but behind it the ghost of the broad faced man approached. The man looked angry, and it moved as if to push the slighter form of the warrior aside. The push didn’t move Umra Vyle’s ghost like a push by one man on another would. Instead, it was like a wind that blew and distorted part of Umra Vyle’s form. When it coalesced, it was slightly further away.

  The two spirits turned to face one another as Hemlock and Tored stared on in wonder.

  “Grab my hand!” Hemlock whispered forcefully as they both watched.

  Umra Vyle’s ghost sneered and drew its hands back toward its ghostly body while simultaneously bending its wrists and presenting its palms toward the other ghost. Then, it pushed its hands forward forcefully, and some unseen force seemed to strike the ghost of the larger man. The bigger ghost mouthed a silent scream of pain, and the light emanating from it appeared to lose some intensity.

  The larger ghost charged Umra Vyle, but when its lowered shoulder hit the other spirit, it just continued forward. Again, Umra Vyle’s image was perturbed by the passing of the other ghost, but otherwise unharmed. Hemlock saw Vyle’s mouth moving and the expression on his face was one of mockery as he made another quick back and forth motion with palms outstretched. The ghost of the large man screamed again, and its light dimmed even further.

  “He doesn’t know how to fight!” cried Hemlock before she addressed the larger ghost. “Do what he’s doing!”

  The broad faced ghost seemed to hear Hemlock, and looked at her as another strike from Umra Vyle’s spirit struck. Hemlock saw a glimmer of recognition in the friendly ghost’s features even as the pain of the incoming strike distorted them.

  The larger ghost drew its hands to its side and extended its palms like Umra Vyle’s ghost did. Then, it flexed its shimmering muscles and pushed in a snapping, forward motion toward Umra Vyle.

  The strike affected the spirit of Umra Vyle, wiping the smirk off its face. Hemlock wondered at the nature of this unusual battle because the strike from the larger ghost appeared to be devastating. The pale, green image of Umra Vyle began to flicker violently—becoming increasingly warped and distorted with each flicker. Its mouth opened into a scream, and the image of the Tanna Varran warrior jumped and twirled as the mouth became larger and larger—still locked in a scream that seemed without end, though completely inaudible.

  Then, the ghost of Umra Vyle was gone.

  Hemlock looked at the remaining ghost and nodded to it. It nodded back, and quickly faded from view. She returned her attention to Tored, marveling that they both held on in their precarious state through the astonishing, though mercifully brief, fight.

  Tored managed to get a good handhold on the rocky wall, which took pressure off Hemlock’s hand. She was able to reset her feet in the crack she was using to brace herself, and together they managed to get Tored up onto the rock platform.

  They both sat and looked at each other in wonder.

  “Umra Vyle’s ghost has been destroyed,” said Tored.

  “Really? Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I can feel a weight removed from my spirit. That other ghost has done me a great boon.”

  “I guess we should trust it.”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “So, you’re better now?”

  “I feel better,” said Tored. But then his eyes looked away and his jaw clenched with tension.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You saw something…something I’d rather you hadn’t.”

  “What?”

  “How I reacted to the ghost of Umra Vyle.”

  Hemlock remembered the unusual displays of fear Tored had shown. “Look, you think I’m never scared? Everyone gets scared.”

  Tored did not look her in the eye. “A warrior controls his fear. This is the first lesson of a Tanna Varran warrior. You would think that a person who grew up amongst hostile spirits would have learned to face them courageously. And I have. I want you to know that a spirit bound to a person has a special power over them. That fear you saw in me was supernatural. You need not worry that I will be similarly affected in other dangerous situations.”

  “Tored, we’ve been through a lot together. You don’t need to be concerned that I’m going to think you’re a coward, if that’s where you’re going with this.”

  He looked at her and his face reddened. “A Tanna Varran warrior is never cowardly. We’d rather die than show fear during battle!”

  Hemlock raised her hands as if to restrain his anger. “Alright. Look, just forget about it.”

  “That’s exactly what I’d like to do. We shall never speak of the ghost of Umra Vyle again.”

  “Fine with me.”

  They rose together and took stock of the two hallways that lay at either end of the collapsed section, which they now stood on. The platform had once been the floor of the passage, and had only fallen about ten feet below the remaining, intact sections.

  “Which way?” asked Hemlock.

  Tored walked toward one end then to the other.

  “The air is flowing from that side. If we go that way, we should find an exit from the caves,” he replied.

  “Alright, let’s go.”

  Hemlock boosted Tored up using her interlocked hands at waist level, and the warrior easily found purchase on the higher floor then pulled Hemlock up after him.

  Their torch was still burning as they walked down the hallway. The walls were covered with carved pictures which depicted impossibly tall figures moving among smaller people. The carved images looked familiar to Hemlock, reminding her of the chamber where she confronted the wraith of Zaringer, father of Falignus.

  “I’ve seen this type of carving before. This must be the same world where I left Falignus. The northern desert must have been a part of it before it connected with the City.”

  Tored grunted an acknowledgement.

  As they walked, Hemlock began to perceive light emanating from far ahead in the passage. Soon, they were able to see a turn ahead, and the light coming from that way was clearly visible. They reached the bend, and Hemlock peered around the corner cautiously. There was another hallway that extended about a hundred feet. Beyond this was the bright light of the outdoors.

  “There’s a way out!” said Hemlock.

  They covered the distance to the light in short order, and saw that the passage opened into a cave mouth. They crept into the cave and risked a look outside. It led to a sheer drop, over sixty feet down to the trail they had entered on. There was a wyvern sitting outside that lower entrance. Hemlock narrowly avoided being spotted when the beast suddenly looked upwards.

  She motioned for Tored to head back into the dark passage.

  “There’s nothing here but a sheer drop, and the cave we entered is being watched. We need to find another way,” she said.

  “We’ll try the other direction, then,” he replied.

  They walked back to the fallen passage, lowered themselves down, and climbed up the other side.

  This one quickly came to an intersection of two passages. One led upward and the o
ther stayed level.

  “We need to go up, right?” said Hemlock.

  Tored agreed and began to climb the sloping passage.

  Hemlock continued to notice the carved images. Amazingly, they were consistently present in every passage they traveled so far. The larger figures seemed to be benevolent—helping the people to farm, hunt, and build. She began to sense that an enlightened society had built these tunnels.

  “Whoever carved these seemed to live in a time of prosperity,” she said.

  “They did not seem to be afraid, and appeared to revere these gods,” said Tored.

  “I know. These are so different from the Imperial runes and carvings I’ve seen. I wonder what happened to these people.”

  “Perhaps Merit will be able to tell us once we find some of their books.”

  “Yes, I look forward to that.”

  The passage leveled out, and after several hundred feet, they reached an intersection. There were two ways to go, and Hemlock was undecided on which direction to take. Tored stepped a few feet into each passage.

  “The air is fresher in this one,” he said from the path on the left.

  “Alright, let’s take it, then.”

  After a minute of walking, the ornate runes suddenly stopped and the walls became rough stone. They didn’t get far before Hemlock started having doubts about the direction they had chosen. But they soon turned a corner and were encouraged to see light ahead.

  “The torch is burning out,” said Tored.

  “Alright, let’s see where this has taken us and then head back,” said Hemlock.

  The passage opened onto a broad stone shelf that looked out over a distant desert.

  “We’re on the other side of the mountain,” said Hemlock.

  “Truly. So there is a desert nearby. This area has abundant water, though.”

  Seeing no sign of wyverns overhead, they risked walking close to the edge of the shelf to see below them. The river flowed close to the mountain with several miles of diminishing green around it. Further away, a region of dusty steppes began and ran for a few miles. Beyond that was the desert.

  Hemlock wondered whether that desert was the same region that had been a part of the City, and if Falignus found his way to this peak from that desert, somehow.

  A sudden memory of being in his arms assailed her. She looked at Tored, hoping she hadn’t appeared lost in her thoughts, but the old warrior did not seem to notice.

  “Let’s double back,” she said.

  “The upper passage probably led to the stronghold. This must have been their network of scouting points. It would be difficult to approach this mountain undetected if these lookouts were patrolled.”

  “Yes, I was thinking the same thing,” said Hemlock, noting the sun lying low on the distant horizon. “It will be dark soon. We have to get to that stronghold.”