“Watch out!” Even as he shouted, he knew his words fell on deaf ears. Once committed, the rest of the world ceased to exist for her.
The red-bearded Kraidic warrior slammed into Melody, driving her against the cavern wall. Her head bounced off the rock and her body went limp. Her staff fell to the ground. Its orange glow winked out.
“Throw me the rope!” Silurian demanded.
The black-bearded Kraidic warrior, Tygra, gave him a hard look, but his attention was drawn to the turmoil below. The serpent had begun climbing the pillar.
My sword! Silurian’s mind spun with so many mixed emotions. Melody needed him. The Kraidics had proven as treacherous as he feared. The serpent scrabbled up the pillar beneath him, its claws grating on the column. Helleden.
St. Carmichael’s Blade’s had sunk beneath the surface of the bubbling fount. Silurian reached out to grasp the pommel but stopped, afraid to reopen the channel to Helleden. Hadn’t he done enough damage aiding and abetting the vile sorcerer? The deaths of tens of thousands of innocent Zephyrites already weighed heavily upon his soul. The only solace remaining to his tortured mind had been gleaned through his sister’s re-emergence into his world. Her presence had provided him a bastion to cower within—a means of escaping the forlorn voices that tortured his soul.
“But she is a woman. We have her staff. She can’t do us any further harm.” A male’s voice sounded from across the broken bridge.
“You dare refuse me?” another voice growled. “She’s a wizard. Kill her before she kills us.”
Silurian grasped the hilt of St. Carmichael’s Blade as it slowly sank into the gelatinous liquid. He pulled it free of the earth blood, its gleaming blade radiating the blue light of its infused enchantment. He sensed Helleden’s presence again, but the stain disappeared as soon as the sword cleared the fount. Blue wisps of fire licked along its edges and dripped to the ground. The sorcerer forgotten, he had only one thing on his mind. He strode to the edge of the broken bridge and held his ancient sword before him, pointing it at the Kraidic warriors.
Tygra had his back to him. The black head of his warhammer swung over his head, arcing its way to crush Melody.
“No!” Silurian’s voice resonated above the screech of the climbing serpent. A fist-sized ball of blue flame shot from his sword, striking the hammerhead as it made its way earthward.
Tygra’s hammer crunched violently into the volume of blue robes, but the fireball had diverted its trajectory—the blow impacting the edge of Melody’s garments.
Both Kraidics’ faces lit up in astonishment. They turned to face Silurian, but instead of fear, their faces were filled with smug satisfaction.
Silurian frowned. The warriors’ calm reaction puzzled him. Unsure of what they would do next, he channeled more flames along St. Carmichael’s Blade, the blue fire coalescing in preparation for a second discharge.
A set of three claws clamped onto the stone beside Silurian’s feet, followed immediately by a second set on his other side. He stumbled backward as a massive head, lined with scales and brimming with jagged teeth, roared—its fetid breath blew his long hair about. If not for the wellspring arresting his backward flight, Silurian would have toppled off the far side of the platform.
The serpent’s white eyes locked on him. Its forked tongue licked at the space he had just occupied. It let forth a deafening screech and hoisted itself higher. Pulling its head back momentarily, it lunged forward, turning sideways in an attempt to snap Silurian in two.
St. Carmichael’s Blade recoiled in his hands, twice in quick succession, each blast burying itself into the back of the serpent’s mouth. The creature’s momentum halted, but the blasts hadn’t caused it any real discomfort. It had simply swallowed the blue flames. It leaned in toward the fount, opening its mouth wider.
With his back pinned painfully against the stone well, Silurian scrambled to the side, raising his sword to take a swipe at the serpent’s mouth, but his foot caught on the forgotten egg, dislodging it as he stumbled.
The egg wobbled toward the edge of the platform, its movement catching the serpent’s attention. Silurian caught himself, quickly putting the fount between himself and the serpent.
The serpent screeched and snapped at the egg but it didn’t have enough room to manoeuvre between the platform and the ceiling above. Instead of preventing the egg from rolling off the edge, the serpent hurried it over the brink.
The creature screeched. It withdrew its head so quickly that it dislodged a small stalactite, the mineral buildup shattering upon the platform.
Silurian couldn’t see the egg as it dropped away, but the telltale sound of a crack and corresponding splat marked its destruction.
The cavern echoed with the serpent’s agonized lament. Silurian swallowed. His eyes caught those of the Kraidic warriors. They, too, realized their imminent risk. It didn’t matter who was responsible for the egg’s demise. None of them were getting out of the lair alive.
Silurian ran to the edge of the bridge. He dropped to his knees and looked beneath the platform. Far below, at the base of the pillar, the mourning serpent emitted the saddest sound he had ever heard.
The creature suddenly straightened. It looked up and screeched. With a mighty leap it latched onto the pillar a third of the way up and clawed its way toward him.
“You fools. We need her.” He rose to his feet and glared at the Kraidic warriors. “She’s the only one capable of getting us out of here.”
The red-bearded man scowled. He held Melody’s staff in his hand. His companion had repositioned himself to take a proper swing at her, but the man calling himself Keen held out a hand. “Hold.”
Judging by the cast of their eyes, the serpent was over halfway up the column. It wouldn’t be long before they would all be fighting for their lives. They had managed to take down the female serpent, but Silurian had a bad feeling about this one. They had been lucky. Without Melody’s magic to distract it, there was no way any of them were going to get a chance to hit it and survive.
The serpent’s claws scraped the granite pillar, the vibrations felt through his leather soled boots. He had no idea which side of the column the beast would surface from, so he backed against the wellspring.
It wasn’t lost on him that after everything he had been through over the last few months trying to reclaim his lost enchantment, here he stood, his sword shining brightly, proudly showing off its new-found vitality and yet, stranded on the platform, he may as well have attempted to cut down a tree with a herring. Melody was his sole concern and he was helpless to protect her. If the beast didn’t get her, the Kraidics would.
The column shook as something huge knocked against the underside of the platform. Three claws appeared along the edge of the broken bridge, followed by a second set spread out along the platform’s broken rim. A grey-scaled head rose into view, its angered eyes searching.
Silurian’s eyes grew wide, not entirely due to the creature’s presence. Behind it, on the ledge against the cavern’s wall, the Kraidic warriors made a hasty retreat down the precarious trail and out of sight. They must have taken Silurian’s word to heart. The black-bearded man had thrown Melody’s limp body over his shoulder.
Hope stilled the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. If he could find a way to keep alive for just a little while longer, he might distract the serpent long enough for the Kraidics to escape. As soon as the thought hit him, so did its futility. Once clear of the serpent’s lair, they would dispatch Melody anyway. His brief hope died.
The serpent’s small eyes locked on his position. Its tongue flicked out, sensing him. It turned its head to snap at him, but instead it froze. Its eyes opened wider, following the descent of the Kraidic warriors.
Its hot breath gagged Silurian as it screeched its displeasure. Suddenly it was gone from the platform, throwing itself after the fleeing men.
Silurian rushed to the edge of the platform, his momentum almost carrying him over the brink. The serpent crash
ed into the ledge several paces above the warriors. Melody’s body bumped and flapped on Tygra’s back, exposed to the serpent.
Silurian backed away from the edge, poising himself. He didn’t think he could generate enough speed to jump that far across, but in his state of panic, he couldn’t think of any other way to save his sister. Swallowing his doubt, he hardened his resolve. If he were to die here, he might as well dictate how that happened.
With one large step followed by three quick strides, he generated as much spring as his forty-five-year-old legs had in them. Bolstered by the adrenaline of the moment, he sprang into the air, and dropped well short of his target.
He fell through the air, arms and legs flailing, his sword clutched in one hand. He couldn’t help thinking, what possessed me to think I could make such a leap?
Halfway down he extended his sword arm, jabbing at the serpent’s backside. He missed miserably.
He marvelled at how fast the cavern’s floor rose up to claim him. He turned his head sideways, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes tight, as if those feeble actions would protect him from death.
A cold wind buffeted his hair in every direction, filling his head with the strangest sensation. It was as if something pushed back against him, the feeling so dramatic he almost passed out. Cold water shocked him.
The cold stone of the cavern floor pressed against his face and outstretched hands. A high-pitched screech reverberated from somewhere above. A cold surge of air buffeted his straggly hair and lifted away as a shallow wave sloshed over him.
Is this what death feels like? He wondered, afraid to open his eyes. He slapped his hands against the ground in disbelief. St. Carmichael’s tangs rang off the stone. Not believing what his senses told him to be true, he opened his eyes. He lay close to the bulk of the dead serpent, the curve of its scaly hide close enough to touch with an outstretched hand.
He wasn’t prepared for the vision above him. Tattered rags flapped below the ascending form of the Grimward. Thunor Carmichael had saved him. Against everything the old wizard’s spirit had claimed it could not do, here it was in the serpent’s nest, the gateway to the earth blood.
Silurian frowned and sat up, trying to calm the shock seeping through his shaking limbs and threatening to immobilize him. The battle was far from over. Shale clattered down to the ground near the base of the wall and splashed into the rising water level as the serpent snapped at the Kraidic warriors, their orange shrouded forms barely visible from where Silurian watched.
A warmth flushed through him. The light the staff gave off meant Melody was alive. He attempted to stand but dropped back to his rump with a splash.
Shaking uncontrollably, he cursed himself. He was better than this. He had lived through so much—had faced creatures like the Soul and survived, and here he sat, in a foot of cold water, his body powerless to do much more than shiver.
An enraged shriek chilled him to the bone. The Grimward had engaged the serpent. Silurian couldn’t tell what the spirit was doing, but it had diverted its attention away from Melody and the Kraidic warriors.
He forced himself to his knees. A fresh influx of tidewater splashed against his waist, staggering him—the rising water another issue they needed to concern themselves with.
He placed one foot beneath him. His knee jerked about uncontrollably, dropping him to his side. He sputtered and struggled to sit up again, his teeth chattering hard.
Another shriek. The Grimward hovered near the pillar. The serpent clutched the ledge with its forepaws. Its hind legs curled against the wall and suddenly extended as the massive creature easily leaped across the distance to the column and fell upon the Grimward. Together they dropped in a tangled heap, landing heavily on top of the dead serpent’s carcass.
The Grimward extracted itself from the dazed serpent, but the wyrm reached out, hooking a talon through its rib cage and brought it toward its yawning mouth. Its jagged teeth crunched down.
The Grimward thrashed its head back and forth. Bones snapped and spun into the air. A ghastly sound escaped the beleaguered spirit, making Silurian’s skin crawl.
The Grimward’s mangled frame flew out of the serpent’s mouth and rattled against the cavern wall close to where Silurian sat, and splashed to the ground. Without pause, it rose slowly into the air, fluttering uncertainly as if it was about to crash down again.
The serpent espied the spirit’s flight and pounced. Its massive form plunged them both to the ground and sent a wall of water washing over Silurian.
The serpent hissed and shrieked, snapping and clawing, attempting to rip whatever remained of the Grimward apart. The Grimward fought ferociously. Invisible spells impacted the serpent, shuddering its great frame and disrupting its attack, but the spirit was no match for the giant wyrm. The serpent held the Grimward with its forelegs and drove the spirit beneath the water’s surface. Holding its broken-boned victim down, it screeched and bent to grind the spectre within its giant maw.
Silurian got to his feet and immediately fell to a knee. He rose again only to stumble over the dead serpent’s tail hidden beneath the water. Climbing onto the submerged tail he jumped onto the live serpent’s lowered shoulder and drove the tip of St. Carmichael’s Blade deep into its neck, the sword’s edge audibly scraping bone.
The serpent reared up on its haunches, thrashing its head from side to side. Silurian flew from its neck, losing his grip on his sword, and crashed against the side of the dead serpent before sliding sideways into the rising waters.
The beast’s pained eyes found Silurian. Opening its mouth wide, a pathetic wail escaped its throat. It attempted to snap at him, but its body shook and fell limp. Its head thudded against the cavern wall and a torrent of shale splashed to the ground.
In the ensuing calm, Silurian took a moment to regain his senses. He stood upon shaking legs, waist deep in the brackish water, panting.
“Whoa, whoa, easy girl!” A deep voice sounded from high up on the ledge.
The staff’s light alerted Silurian to where his sister confronted the two Kraidic warriors. He desperately wanted to yell up at her to finish them off, but he was unable to speak past his heavy breaths.
Melody’s voice echoed around the cavern, “Silurian? Are you okay down there?”
Silurian croaked an inaudible reply, nodding his head vigourously and waving a hand in the air.
“We’re coming down. Is that thing dead?”
Silurian wasn’t exactly sure what she referred to. The second serpent or the Grimward? Instead of croaking out a reply, he waded to where he last saw the remains of the skeletal spirit. He found it pinned under the water beneath the serpent’s head. It was hard to see beneath the surface, but the water rippled around it.
Bending down, his face in the water, Silurian groped about the submerged serpent’s snout. Cupping the elongated mouth, he lifted with all his might, barely moving the heavy head, but it gave the Grimward the room it needed to pull itself free.
Breaking the water’s surface, Silurian was shocked at what little remained of the spectre. Its skeletal torso had been all but torn away. One of its arms was missing and by the looks of it, the other wasn’t far from falling off. A piece of cloth no longer than Silurian’s forearm hung from its neck, the only scrap of cloth left to it.
It wavered in the air, barely clear of the rising water, its eye sockets black.
Silurian located his sword, and with difficulty, wriggled it free of the serpent’s wound. The blue glow had disappeared. At first, he feared the serpent had absorbed the enchantment, just like Helleden had done all those years before, but he felt the once familiar warmth radiating from the leather wrapped pommel—an old friend long forgotten.
Shale splashed into the water on the far side of the creature’s head. Melody strode behind the Kraidic warriors—their weapons holstered upon their backs and their faces grim. Seeing the Grimward, Tygra and Keen grasped for their weapons.
Melody’s staff flared brighter. “Don’t do it!�
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The two men were clearly torn, but they acceded to her warning and placed their backs against the cavern wall to distance themselves from the bizarre image of the Grimward.
Another ripple of tidewater washed into the cavern, almost lifting Silurian from his feet. After the surge passed, he made his way to the beginning of the ledge. He slid St. Carmichael’s Blade into its baldric and reached up to hoist himself to the ledge. The rising water made the process easier than it would have been had the cavern been dry.
Gooseflesh pimpled his skin. His clothes dripped, pooling on the shelf and running over the edge into the tidal surge. He jumped the small breach in the ledge trail and pulled his sword free as he strode to within striking distance of Tygra and Keen. With Melody’s staff at the ready, and their weapons holstered, he wasn’t too concerned. As big as they were, he was confident his skills would overcome their brute strength—they were only two.
“You okay?” Melody’s voice carried concern.
Silurian forced a closed mouth smile. He nodded; his chattering teeth trembled his blue lips.
The Grimward hovered up to their level—its flight taking longer than it should have. Its raspy voice sounded weak. “You’ll have to wait out the tide.”
Silurian nodded again. “So it seems. What about you? Are you going to be okay? You look horrible.”
The Grimward hissed what loosely sounded like a troubled laugh. The faintest of light emanated from its eyes sockets. “I am not. My material body doesn’t matter. My spirit, however, struggles with the proximity of the earth blood.”
“I never thought I would be thankful for your interference, but on behalf of Melody and myself, I wish to express our heartfelt gratitude for your timely intervention. I owe you my life.”
Soul Forge Saga Box Set Page 71
