“Actually, we have need to travel through the Crypt.”
The Aberrator jumped as if stung in the backside. He cackled and slapped his thigh, shaking his rattle over his head. “The Crypt. No one travels the Crypt. Not if they wish to be alive at the far end.”
“That’s not true. I have, if you recall?”
The Aberrator’s head slowly nodded. “Indeed. But you are Phazarus. They,” he indicated the others with his rattle, “are…pfft.”
“That is the condition I set for our accord to be binding. In order to achieve my goal, I need these fine people alive. If you crave the Lurker, that is my price. Once Helleden is dead, I will surrender myself to you.”
“Pops, no!” Olmar roared, breaking free of Pollard.
The Aberrator’s mask turned on Olmar and his tubular staff rattled. Olmar froze in mid-stride, one foot suspended in the air, and toppled helpless to the ground.
Sadyra and Larina rushed to his side while Rook pulled back an arrow and Pollard bounded forward.
“No!” Alhena’s staff flashed blue. A gust of wind held Pollard in check and dislodged Rook’s arrow.
The pulse of restraint was temporary, but it had its intended effect. Rook lowered his bow and Pollard stopped his advance beside the unmoving Olmar.
“It is the way it has to be. Do not provoke him further.” Alhena turned to the Aberrator. “Do you agree?’
“The Lurker?”
“Yes, with the Lurker.”
“I agree.”
“To keep the denizens of the Crypt away from us.”
“I do hate to rob them of such sport.” The Aberrator hung his head in mock defeat, his voice sounding like he was pouting behind his mask. “Very well, they will not touch you. Now hurry. I will prepare for your return.”
“It will be many months before I can travel that far north and return again.”
The Aberrator bounded to the shoreline. “It will take that much time to get ready.” He hopped aboard his dead catfish, scooped up a whisker in each hand, and with a shake of his rattle, the atrocity wiggled backward into Splenic Splash. The catfish’s mighty tail flicked the water and spirited the necromancer away—his maniacal laughter fading into the mist.
Olmar groaned and sat up with the assistance of Larina and Sadyra. He brushed dirt from the side of his head. “Pops, you cannae be serious. I won’t let you come back ‘ere.”
Alhena stared at the spot where the Aberrator vanished. It wouldn’t be much longer until he realized his fate anyway. Until then, he must see this through. Ridding the world of Helleden Misenthorpe had been his life’s mission. He’d gone down several paths to achieve that elusive goal—the last being a long, drawn out deception involving Mase’s son. The elimination of the Soul proved to be a pleasant bonus he hadn’t foreseen.
He sensed the rest of his group gather around him, their gazes following his.
“What was that…that thing?” Sadyra asked, her slender arms wrapping him in an embrace from the side.
Alhena tipped his head to lean against hers. “That, my dear, is a spirit older than the hills. Time has robbed him of his faculties but do not be fooled. The Aberrator possesses more knowledge than the combined archives of the Chamber and the Vaults of Lore below Castle Svelte. Speaking of which, I can only hope those priceless tomes survived Helleden’s purge of the land. We need them if Zephyr is to rise from the ash.”
Sadyra squeezed him hard. “Well, don’t you worry, gramps, there ain’t one of us that’ll let old rattle boy harm you.”
Alhena forced a smile. He didn’t have the heart to tell her his next meeting with the Aberrator was a forgone conclusion. Nor was he prepared to listen to her drone on for days about how she wouldn’t allow that to happen. He loved her spirit, and was really quite envious of her innocent outlook on life, but he’d rather not argue the point of his predetermined fate.
He broke free of her embrace and nodded to the rest, indicating with a hand gesture they should start down the left fork.
“Give us a moment to gather our arrows,” Sadyra said as she and Larina and Rook went about the gruesome task of pulling shafts from the bodies of their victims.
When they had sorted the reclaimed arrows, Sadyra grabbed Pollard’s hand and skipped ahead to lead the way. Larina and Olmar waited for Alhena and Rook to go ahead of them. Following the reedy shoreline, their surroundings were lost in the mist.
“So, Pops, what be this Lurker thing the lunatic mentioned?” Olmar asked, his footsteps clumping along behind.
“Bah, tis nothing to worry about. Just a wee beast living along the northern border of the Kraidic Empire.”
“That be all snow ‘n ice up there.”
“Aye. It is not a nice place to visit.”
“So, what is it, mister evasive pants?” Larina prodded.
“Nothing to concern yourself with. I will deal with it somehow when the time comes.”
“Deal with it somehow? Sounds ominous. Come on, don’t be like that. Is it a bear? A troll? A demon? What?”
Alhena glanced at Rook, rolling his eyes.
Rook laughed.
Alhena muttered low and fast in resignation, “A dragon.”
“Heh,” Larina laughed. “Sorry, I don’t think I heard you right. It sounded like you said dragon.”
She must have fed off the look Rook gave him. “You did say dragon! You’re going to hunt a dragon and bring it back here?” Larina’s voice was so loud that Pollard and Sadyra stopped to stare.
Alhena sighed. “Aye. And not just an ordinary dragon. This one is seven hundred years old. As far as I know, he is the last remaining wyrm of his kind.”
Sadyra laughed. “A worm! Oh, gramps, you say the silliest things.”
Alhena shook his head. The last thing he wished was to capture such a wondrous creature. To bring it back for the Aberrator to subjugate it to his will was wrong. Yet, if he wanted the Aberrator to fulfill his end of the bargain, the necromancer would accept nothing less.
Olmar’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “An’ just ‘ow are ya to be gettin’ a beastie like that back down ‘ere? I’s assuming it ain’t to be pleased by the prospect.”
“I will fly it, of course.”
Strange Alliance
Melody braced her staff across the rear opening of the Gimcrack’s stomach and held on. The undulating layer of rock grated together, pulverizing itself chip by chip.
She timed every digestive wave, lifting her feet to avoid being caught up in the process of digestion. Judging by the rate the rock was breaking down, she’d die of starvation long before the stomach cleared itself.
She cringed. She couldn’t maintain her present position indefinitely. Once her strength gave out, she’d be mashed into a pulp and digested.
An acrid gas escaped the intestinal tunnel. Her eyes watered and she dry heaved but stopped herself from emptying what little she had left in her own stomach. She grimaced at the irony as her mind spun with visions of her demise.
As the floor heaved again, a crimson twinkle of light flashed briefly amongst the heaving rocks at her feet before disappeared beneath the broken stone.
The flickering red rune at the base of her staff caught her attention. She angled it into the intestinal opening but it didn’t solidify.
That couldn’t be right. When she entered the stomach, the rune indicated the Tang Stone lay that way. Now it told her differently. She rotated the staff to include the entire stomach. Just before the floor lurched again, the rune went solid—her staff aimed directly beneath her feet.
She hit her head off the wall. Dazed, she struggled to keep from slipping between the rock and the stomach’s lining. She danced and hopped on top of the bucking stones, searching for a potential place to rest, the blue light glinted again, radiating from a thumb-sized, multi-faceted gemstone.
The Tang Stone! It had to be. It was so small it couldn’t bounce its way free to be digested. She had no frame of reference, but she imagined that since the
Tang Stone exuded a strong magical essence, it acted like an ulcer on the lining of the Gimcrack’s stomach. It made sense in her panicked mind.
She waited for the next sequence of grinding rock. There wasn’t any regularity to the action, it just happened—a slight tremor preceding each round. When it lurched, she kept her focus between her feet.
The rocks heaved and the Tang Stone glinted bluish-brown in the orange glow of her staff. She saw it for but a moment before the stones gnashed together in a tooth-rattling crunch.
There was no way she was quick enough to reach between the moving rocks without being crushed herself.
Despair sapped her strength. Her brother languished in the cold with a mangled leg and no food. If something happened to her, his death would be the result.
Think, Mel, think!
No matter how hard she tried, going over countless spells and all the useless lore she had learned over the last two decades, no solution presented itself. She had memorized, word for word, more tomes than the average Zephyrite laid their eyes on, and yet, she may as well have never flipped a page.
She screamed her frustration. Some Wizard of the North she’d turned out to be. Other than duplicating a panther, partially freezing a couple of lakes and uselessly blasting a pair of sacred wyrms, her magic had proven impractical.
She needed Silurian. He always had the answer. It had been his roundabout suggestion to freeze the lake. If only it were that simple now.
Her eyes widened with wonder. Freeze the stone.
When the next stomach action rolled the jumbled rocks, she espied the Tang Stone rolling about in a layer of pulverized stone. As crazy as her idea seemed, it just might work. Unless, of course, she destroyed the talisman.
Since no other choice presented itself, she set her mind to what she had to do. When the time came, she would have to act quick.
She wiggled her butt into the intestinal opening, trying hard not to think about what would happen if she slipped, and waited.
It seemed to take forever, but feeling the next tremor, she concentrated; her staff’s head flared a darker orange than usual. She hoped the heat she needed to generate wouldn’t destroy the wooden shaft.
The rock floor heaved.
Her staff discharged a continuous blast of concentrated fire onto the Tang Stone, affecting the layer of stones and rock dust around it—the wizard fire so intense the pebbles congealed into a small puddle of liquid rock.
As she suspected, the concentrated heat was felt by the Gimcrack. Instead of the churning rocks settling back down, they heaved violently, exposing the Tang Stone as it sank into the congealing magma.
Melody said the words and her staff flashed bright, changing from heat to cold. She jabbed its head into the melted rock and discharged a blast of absolute cold. The resulting steam hissed violently, forcing her to look away.
The stomach settled, but not before she pulled her staff out of harm’s way.
She couldn’t help but smile. Perched atop the staff, congealed within a hardened shard of rock glass, the Tang Stone glinted light blue. She heaved a great breath, not believing her plan had actually worked. Old Phazarus would be so proud.
Laying the staff head on a large, flat rock, she infused enough heat to melt the rock away from the staff and carefully knocked the Tang Stone free.
She scooped the talisman into her worn leather satchel and waited for the next round of digestive lurching to settle. With renewed vigour, she hopped across the stones and pulled herself into the bottom of the Gimcrack’s esophagus.
Peering into the darkness above, she steeled herself. Getting back up wasn’t going to be easy. She swallowed her doubt, braced her forearms against the chute, and pulled herself upward.
By the time the staff’s light found the top of the Gimcrack’s throat, she was on the verge of tears. Every muscle in her body cried out in protest. Just a little farther and the climb would be over but as she paused to rest for the countless time, she didn’t think she had it in her to get there.
A vision of her brother lying helpless and alone, close to where she rested, bolstered her desire to push on. With great effort, she shimmied her way to the mouth and flopped inside, totally spent.
Her heart sank at the sight of the tightly clenched teeth. Unable to do anything else, she lay on the spongy rock until her harsh breathing calmed, dwelling on how tired she was and how long it had been since she’d last slept.
Drawing strength from her staff, she gritted her teeth and forced herself to stand. She wasn’t out of this yet. Placing a hand against the mouth wall she said, “I removed the Tang Stone. Open your mouth and let me get to my brother.”
The Gimcrack didn’t respond.
Panic set in. “Gimcrack, I did what you asked, now let me go. Please.”
The cave floor trembled beneath her as if the Gimcrack was laughing. Whatever the rumbling meant, she didn’t see the humour in any of this.
“Did you hear me? I must get to my brother.”
The Gimcrack’s presence in her mind shocked her. Even though it had entered her mind before, the foreign sensation had her gulping back a scream of fright.
That is the irony. Someone else has beaten you to him.
This time she did scream.
Karvus and Tygra walked up the slope, stopping well beyond the wizard’s light. Karvus wasn’t about to abandon his quest. He planned to bide his time and strike when the opportunity presented itself.
Although the tight passageway prevented either of them from wielding their weapons effectively, a time would come when the wizard and her companion reached a place more conducive to the Kraidic way of fighting.
Judging by the way Silurian looked, the man wasn’t doing well at all. Karvus hadn’t missed the sight of his torn leggings saturated with blood. The man was seriously injured.
He recalled their encounter below. Silurian had appeared too frail to stand at first but somehow, he had confronted them with that glowing sword. The magical weapon undoubtedly fortified him.
Karvus nodded to himself in the near darkness—if not for the glowing Serpent’s Eye, they would be totally blind. To get at the wizard they needed to rid themselves of Silurian.
He raised the Serpent’s Eye, illuminating Tygra’s dirty face. “Do you hear them anymore?”
In typical Tygra fashion, his aide simply shook his head.
“We’ll remain here for a while. Let them think we are truly gone and then we’ll go after them. We need to dispose of Silurian first. They have to sleep sometime. If we can sneak up on him, we can eliminate his sword. Just be sure to duck when the wizard throws fire at us.”
Tygra nodded grimly.
Holding the Serpent’s Eye in a gloved hand, Karvus faced the descent. “Hang onto my baldric. I’ll lead for a while.”
In the scant light of the ring, their progress was painstakingly slow. The slick passage dropped into the earth at a dizzying angle. If not for the tight walls to brace themselves, Karvus feared he might lose purchase on the ground and succumb to a long, painful fall. How Silurian managed the trek on that bad leg was a mystery. The wizard must have carried him. The woman was stronger than he gave her credit for.
At first, he could barely feel anything through his glove. The sensation had faded until the ring merely glowed, indicating a magic user’s presence somewhere far below. The wizard was on the move.
He wondered how far into the earth she meant to travel and for what purpose. After seeing the carnage in the lake cavern, it must be something very important for her to risk her life and that of her companion.
Perhaps patience was the best course. Wait to discover what they sought before dispatching them. After travelling with the wizard and her companion from the Serpent’s Nest back to the horses, he was certain it had something to do with Helleden.
Dealing with Helleden was a goal he had set for himself as well.
They ate sparingly of their dwindling food supply, the process of eating made difficult as th
eir attention was required to keep from tumbling down the shaft.
As they dropped into the depths, the ring began tingling through his leather glove. They were getting closer.
Karvus’ mind drifted to the uniformity of the fissure. Though not perfectly smooth, the tunnel seemed too precise to be natural. As to what or who might have burrowed this deep into the mountain, he had no explanation. Judging by the steep angle, whatever it had been wasn’t concerned with falling, or indeed, getting back out. He tried not to think about the latter scenario. His muscles screamed at him as he descended, constantly resisting the drop.
The slope abruptly levelled out. If not for the Serpent’s Eye refracting off the steel face of Silurian’s sword, they would have stumbled over the man sitting wracked with spasms of cold.
Silurian’s bloodshot eyes stared blankly up at them—his sword lay between him and a peculiar looking wall. Gouge marks on the face of stone testified to the fact that he had tried to dig into the barrier.
Of the wizard, there was no sign, and yet, the Serpent’s Eye pointed beyond the end wall.
Tygra withdrew his dagger and squeezed past Karvus.
The grating of heavy stone scraping against heavy stone rattled her teeth. The Gimcrack’s teeth separated.
To her horror, the man called Tygra approached Silurian with a dagger in his hand, its blade pointed down. Silurian wasn’t making any move to fend him off.
“No!” Her staff erupted. An errant fireball impacted the backside of one of the Gimcrack’s stalagmite teeth, the magical blast breaking into dozens of tiny flames.
“The wizard! Get her!” the man called Keen ordered.
Tygra leapt over Silurian and came at her.
Another fireball gathered at the head of her staff. She wouldn’t miss a second time.
The cave floor lurched beneath her. She discharged her spell as she fell forward, watching helplessly as the Gimcrack’s teeth snapped shut much quicker than she thought possible.
Soul Forge Saga Box Set Page 82
