Olmar only stumbled twice. On the second occasion, Alhena thought he would be thrown into the cold river, but the sailor steadied himself and laughed heartedly, caught up in Sadyra’s hysterics as she watched their progress.
Once upon the far bank, Alhena retreated, red-faced, to a safe distance down the road to allow Olmar some dignity.
Sadyra, however, gave the unabashed sailor a thorough once over, before she dragged herself to her feet and said through another round of laughter, “I’m glad I took the bridge. Judging from what I see, that water must be cold!”
Olmar took his time drying himself and getting back into his clothing, his white skin riddled with goosebumps. “Och, lassie, ye be a real peach. ‘Tis a good thing yer mam ain’t here seein’ ya behave this way.”
As they approached the blasted gatehouse, Sadyra’s unbridled merriment was replaced by the somber realization that Millsford, like The Forke and Madrigail Bay before it, had been annihilated. Only a handful of the stone structures stood beyond the toppled city walls. Farther along what had once been the main road, a pile of rocks surrounded the largest stone structure in the city—the baron’s manor. The edifice, originally three stories high, had fallen in upon itself. Not a soul stirred within the ruined city.
“Where is everybody?” Sadyra wondered aloud, turning in circles.
Alhena swallowed, his heart breaking. The devastation went on forever. He shuddered to think about the state of the capital of Carillon and Castle Svelte. He could only pray that King Malcolm had somehow survived the maelstrom. If Zephyr’s monarch hadn’t…
Tears rolled down Sadyra’s face.
Alhena’s heart broke even further seeing how deeply the destruction affected her. He was about to go to her but Olmar scooped her off her feet like she was his little girl. He held her against his massive shoulder and patted her back. “There now, Sadie dear, it’s alright. Let it out. Olmar’s got ye.”
Descent into Death
Melody’s breathing became quicker as they progressed down the mountain. The air was warmer and easier to breathe—the terrain near Dragon’s Tooth’s base easier to traverse, but it wasn’t her lack of physical conditioning that increased her respiratory rate. It was the yawning abyss at the base of the mountain. If they wished to make it to the mainland, their path would first take them deep into the bowels of the earth. The only egress from the home of the Wizard of the North led into a deep, uninviting fissure. The Gap.
The Gap encompassed the entire southern face of Dragon’s Tooth, stretching far to the east to its terminus somewhere within the Wilds.
She shuddered. Even though she had lived in this region for two decades, several times taking this route, she had always done so in the accompaniment of Phazarus, and even then, the trek had given her nothing but angst. Unknown perils lurked within the gloomy shadows shrouding the Gap’s floor. The trail they needed to follow wandered every which way through precarious rock formations. Many trails crisscrossed the murky depths of the Gap, but only one path led out of its deadly environment. The rest were pathways used by the many predators inhabiting the abyss.
She believed the route itself was second nature to her now, but even with that knowledge, remaining alive long enough to see the trailhead might not prove that simple. Dangers lurked everywhere within the chasm, from precarious terrain to carnivorous hunters, the Gap was a place better left alone.
It had taken them the better part of three days to descend the steep slopes of Dragon’s Tooth. Not fully recovered from his ordeal at Soul Forge, Silurian was forced to rest often.
Melody didn’t mind, especially once they passed below the snowline. She was in no hurry to descend into the chasm. It was too bad that none of the previous Wizards of the North had figured out how to conjure a spell of flight or teleportation.
Silurian sat on a rock, nibbling a chunk of something hard that she told him was bread. He winced with every bite, choking the meagre fare down with a healthy drink from a waterskin she provided.
“Come on, it’s not that bad, is it?”
“Um, well, since you asked,” Silurian said, sticking a finger in his mouth to check he hadn’t chipped a tooth.
She shot him a look he hadn’t seen in a long time—her, ‘oh my God, really?’ look, but she couldn’t help but laugh. It was so nice being reacquainted with her only sibling. Shaking her head, she repacked the small, leather bag she carried.
Her misgivings about their route pushed her happiness aside. As much as she had learned over the years, she fretted she wasn’t strong enough to protect them from the dangers that awaited them.
She pulled back her cowl and ran her fingers through her long blonde hair, the action eliciting long-ago memories. “Come on, oh brother of mine, and don’t even think for a minute that I’m going to cut my hair.”
Silurian spat out the last of her so-called bread and laughed. “That is so funny. I was just thinking the same thing, watching you play with your hair.” He stood up and adjusted his gear. “Let me tuck it in. For old time’s sake.”
She gave him an open-mouthed smile and wagged a finger at him. “Don’t you dare.”
Reaching the base of Dragon’s Tooth early the next morning, the trail disappeared through an unnatural rock formation.
Melody grabbed Silurian’s tunic by the elbow. “Wait. I have to disarm the wards.”
Silurian remembered the trials the Group of Five had gone through when they had reached this point in their journey to see Phazarus. He smiled at the vision of Helvius’ long brown hair standing on end after he was knocked backward by the wards set in place.
Melody placed her hands on what appeared to be random rocks. At each spot, she paused and incanted words unfamiliar to him. Her ministrations didn’t appear to do anything, but shortly she turned and gestured with an outstretched palm, “After you.”
He offered her a mock bow and stepped past her. It wasn’t until he hit the ground a few paces back that he registered he had walked into an invisible force field, electrifying his body and throwing him through the air.
Melody screeched, “Are you okay?”
It took a moment for his vision to stop seeing double. As Melody came into focus, he shook the cobwebs from his head. “What the hell was that?”
Sheepishly, she said, “It appears I forgot one.”
“It appears you forgot one?”
“Um, sorry,” she giggled. “I’ll see to it while you fix your hair.”
Fix my hair? Silurian ran his fingers through his slowly descending locks. He was glad Helvius wasn’t here.
Melody examined the archway with a finger to her lips. “Ah, there it is.” She bent low to touch a stone near the ground and chanted a series of words in a sweet singing voice. “There, that should do it.”
Silurian picked himself up off the ground, adjusted his sword belt and tilted his forehead toward her. “You first.”
Melody grinned and passed beneath the arch and out of sight.
Silurian took a deep breath and followed her onto a ledge that descended precariously down the face of a deep fissure—its bottom lost in gloom. A path leading into the heart of the Gap.
The descent was much quicker than coming off the slopes of Dragon’s Tooth, but it still took most of the day. The rock-strewn ledge dropped away at a dizzying angle. Their leg muscles burned painfully, forcing them to stop many times. Slipping and sliding down the treacherous decline, they scared themselves more than once, coming dangerously close to falling over the trail’s edge.
By the time they reached the end of the descent, the sun had dropped out of sight and cast the peculiar rock formations rising from the canyon floor as grotesquely twisted effigies. The ledge terminated a dozen feet above the ground, forcing them to lower themselves over the edge and into the cool shadows.
As soon as Silurian’s feet hit the ground, St. Carmichael’s blade was in hand. He slowly turned in a circle, trying to see beyond the myriad of rock clusters littering the trench.
“I forgot how bad it smells down here,” Silurian complained. “It’s worse than the Marrow Wash.”
“Marrow Wash?”
“Ya, remember? I told you about it. The milky river in the Under Realm.”
“Ah, right. And yes, it always smells like this. It’s like descending into death itself.”
Silurian swallowed. “So, now what? It’s going to be dark soon.”
“I’d suggest we keep moving, but I’m not certain I can find the way in the dark.”
“You conjured wizard’s light before. Can’t you do that here?”
“Of course, but it won’t be enough to guide us in this place. There are certain landmarks I need to identify. My light won’t be enough to illuminate the entire trench,” Melody explained. She looked up to the bottom of the ledge. “If anything, my light will be a beacon to any creature not yet aware of us.”
Silurian followed her gaze to the underside of the ledge.
“I think we’d be safer if we waited out the darkness up there,” Melody said.
“Ya, I think you’re right.” Silurian scanned the unreachable edge of the trail. “Too bad we didn’t think of that before.”
“Bah, take this,” Melody said, handing him her staff. Hiking up her robes she approached the canyon wall and searched for a handhold. Finding one, it didn’t take her long to scale the cliff face like a spider. She sat on the end of the ledge and stared down at him. “See? Nothing to it.”
Silurian looked at her incredulously as he stretched to hand up her staff. He remembered how the Group of Five had reached the ledge, and it wasn’t anywhere near as graceful, nor as simple as she had made it seem. They certainly hadn’t scaled the wall. Even after witnessing his sister climb, he was hard put to locate the handhold hidden in plain view along the stone’s surface.
With a little coaching and some mocking words of encouragement, Melody guided his hands and feet to where they needed to go.
She grabbed his hand and pulled him to safety. “You didn’t know the handholds were there?”
When he didn’t respond, she laughed. “Let me get this straight. The great Group of Five wasn’t able to find a way up to the ledge?”
Silurian frowned. “Of course we found a way up. I told you already, we visited Phazarus.”
“Oh, so you flew?”
Silurian scowled. “Ya, Mel. We flew.”
She laid back against the fissure wall and laughed some more.
The darker it became, the more their anxiety grew. It started with a distant howl to the east, mournful and lonely. A pall settled over the Gap as the shadows thickened. In their heightened awareness, Melody and Silurian imagined scrabbling noises close by, but squint as they might, they never saw anything.
Nocturnal insects and other annoying ground crawlers took a shine to their presence and proceeded to bite them.
Silurian slapped at a phantom predator on his neck. “I forgot how much I disliked this place,” he grumbled.
Melody sat with her back against the cliff face, her robes pulled tightly around her. “Good thing we only have to spend a few nights down here.”
Silurian swallowed. He recalled spending more time than that down here with the Group of Five. Of course, they had no idea where they were going. “A few nights, huh? What do you consider, a few?”
Melody’s features were hidden beneath her raised cowl, but he thought he detected a slight uncertainty in her voice.
“Two. Three if you count tonight. As long as we aren’t delayed, we should reach the stair to Spectre Wood long before nightfall two days hence.”
“Hence?” Silurian grunted. “You sound like a wizard.”
They fell silent for a while, battling their own dark imaginings.
A guttural growl sounded directly below the ledge, catching their breath in their throats, and sending shivers up their spine.
Silurian made to withdraw St. Carmichael’s Blade, but a subtle shake of Melody’s head stopped him. She raised a finger to her lips.
The growl sounded again, more drawn out this time.
Silurian gestured that they should make their way up the trail, but she shook her head again.
A higher pitched snarl answered the growl.
They held their breath.
The tension was shattered as whatever slunk below engaged each other, roaring, hissing and screeching. One of the combatants let out a terrifying cry—abruptly replaced by a faint whimper, and then silence.
In the distance, a howl echoed throughout the Gap; the direction from which it originated was difficult to ascertain. A second howl answered the call, closer—seemingly from the south, and not too far away, setting their nerves further on end.
Slurping and gnashing sounded directly beneath their hiding spot. Melody and Silurian regarded each other with wide eyes.
Silurian pointed to the edge of the ledge and held a hand to his mouth, imitating eating something.
Melody nodded vigorously.
Silurian swallowed. It was going to be a long night.
High Warlord?
Olmar looked over his shoulder to catch a last glimpse of Splendoor Falls as the trail they trod rounded a bend. The miraculous sight never grew old in his estimation. He loved seeing the falls as a child, and now, after all these years, and everything he had seen since, the majestic waterfall retained the same sense of the magic it had held for him on his first visit to Songsbirth with his parents.
With all the death and destruction they had witnessed over the past few weeks, the natural wonder of the Muse and the many cascades flowing down her sides still thrilled him, but nothing compared to the sheer power of the thunderous force giving birth to the mighty Madrigail River. Splendoor Falls took his breath away.
Alhena and Sadyra walked along the Olde Gritian Road up ahead. Sadyra wrapped a delicate hand around the old man’s forearm, as she had taken to doing since Millsford, and talked of everything and anything under the sun.
Olmar waddled behind, his long strides allowing him to keep up despite his obvious impediment. As his last view of the falls fell behind a large elm, he turned his thoughts to the road ahead. He forever puzzled over Captain Thorr’s insistence that he act as Gerrymander’s envoy to the Chamber of the Wise. He had almost snorted at the appointment. He knew his own strengths. Being considered wise wasn’t one of them. Practical, perhaps, but never had he been accused of being an intellectual.
Loping through the forest shadows of the late autumn day, he couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his heart. Amid all the destruction, they discovered Songsbirth had remained unscathed. Upon reaching the area, they were surrounded by members of the Songsbirthian Guard long before reaching the entrance to the Splendoor Catacombs. The Guard had recognized Sadyra as one of their own and ushered them through the labyrinth of tunnels connecting the mainland to Madrigail Lake nestled thousands of feet higher, within the ring of mountains known as the Muse.
Yesterday they had given a full account of their journey to the Under Realm to the Songsbirthian Council of Elders, and Master Pul wholeheartedly agreed they continue on to the Chamber of the Wise. Master Pul informed them of Castle Svelte’s annihilation, and his fear for the fate of their beloved monarch. If tragedy had taken King Malcolm from them, the rule of the land inevitably fell upon the high bishop—Chambermaster Abraham Uzziah. According to Master Pul, it was imperative that His Eminence be informed at all costs.
Olmar stopped and waited for the newest member of their group to catch up.
Larina, another archer with the Songsbirthian Guard, had beseeched Master Pul to accompany the trio to Gritian to provide them with extra protection. Johnnes Holmann, Captain of the Splendoor Catacombs Guard, had lamented that her departure would signify the loss of his best archer, but Master Pul insisted the young brunette join Sadyra. It was the least the Songsbirthian Council could do.
Slender, and taller than the average person, Larina bounded up beside Olmar, a mischievous smile below her slate grey archer’s cap.
“Oh, oh. I’s not be likin’ the look of ye,” Olmar said, standing over two feet taller than the lanky Larina.
Larina’s pretty face smiled up at him, a finger held to her lips.
“Ah, conspiratorial, eh? Alright lassie, but ol’ Olmar’s got his eye on ya.”
“Not to worry, you big lunkhead. Just stay clear of Sadyra when she settles down tonight.” Larina winked one of her large brown eyes and skipped ahead to catch up with the other two, grabbing Alhena’s other elbow and joining in their conversation.
Olmar shook his head. Now he had two Sadies to contend with. Life with two of them around wasn’t going to be dull. He smiled at the image of the old codger being escorted by two, lovely young ladies. Pops is one lucky man.
The archers had a fire crackling beneath a three-quarter moon. The air had picked up a noticeable chill as the day wore on, and Alhena, above the others, was thankful for the warmth the flames provided.
The day had proven uneventful travelling along the Olde Gritian Road. Their progress had taken them level with the lesser mountains south of Lake Refrain to the west. It would be another two days before they entered the Midland Grasslands. Memories of his grueling escape from a band of Kraidic warriors with Rook Bowman whirled through his mind. The events of their miraculous adventure seemed distant now, yet it had been less than four months since he had scaled a cliff face and plunged hundreds of feet into Madrigail Lake.
Tired from the day’s trek, they ate in relative silence; the two archers speaking quietly amongst themselves. Alhena finished stowing his eating utensils and settled beneath his thin blanket beside the fire, pulling his robes tightly about him. As he listened to the nocturnal sounds of the wilderness surrounding them, a dark wisp of cloud slithered across the moon.
Soul Forge Saga Box Set Page 44
