by G Clatworthy
We carried on more slowly as the passage continued to slope downwards. Every tiny noise made me look around skittishly. Lorandir grumbled about keeping the torch still and I bit back a sharp retort. Now we were moving again, we were both on edge, wondering if we were going to meet another monster. I jumped when I saw a skinny rat run past us, its feet splashing through the small puddles on the floor as it hurried out of our way. I grimaced and kept going, staying close to the elf.
The rat clambered up over a mound of dirt and through a narrow gap ahead. It looked like part of the tunnel had collapsed. A beam was angled diagonally across the passageway. Dirt had fallen either side of it and had completely blocked the tunnel on the right hand side. There was a small gap to the left, under the old beam. Lorandir pressed himself against the wall so I could get closer and shine the torch through. Avoiding some poisonous looking mushrooms that oozed from the wood, I held up the torch then poked my head into the small space. I saw a shape move and jumped back with a squeak. This tunnel was not helping the air of confidence and fearlessness I was trying to project.
I heard a chittering sound and something scampered away. I made a shuddering noise and looked again. Now the way was clear. I muscled my way into the space, crawling as quickly as I could using my elbows to pull me along so I could keep my phone up. I managed to dislodge some earth from the ceiling and held my breath as I expected to be crushed. Fortunately it wasn’t too much and I continued wriggling through.
I gracelessly exited the tiny space when the mound of dirt gave way under my hand and I slipped onto my head in a puddle. For dzrak’s sake. Coughing and spluttering out dirt, I pulled my way forward and fully out of the small space.
“Are you OK?” Lorandir’s voice sounded muffled at the other end of the tunnel.
“Just dzraking great,” I mumbled while attempting to shake mud off my face before I shouted. “Yeah, fine, just watch the end here. I’ll hold the torch for you.”
Lorandir’s face was a mask of concentration as he crawled through the tunnel. He was slim and didn’t hit the roof at all. At the end, the floor stayed intact for him and he executed a compact forward roll out of the tunnel. I don’t think I’ve ever felt less graceful.
The rest of the passage’s supports were solid and there were no more cave-ins as we continued along, alert for more monsters in the dark.
Eventually the floor levelled off and the passage became a little larger. Lorandir could stand upright and he looked a lot less like an awkward spider as he straightened and rolled his shoulders, enjoying the relative freedom of movement.
I glanced down at my phone, we had been walking for two hours and the constant use of the torch had taken its toll on my battery. I still had no signal, I had no idea if the others had tried to follow us into the passageway or not. I heard a skittering noise behind us and nudged the elf forward nervously, I hoped it was just rats scurrying in the darkness and not something else.
Chapter 16
As we moved along, the walls of the tunnel became sturdier, turning from dirt to large grey stones. I spotted an old iron brace on one of the support beams. This part of the tunnel had been maintained over the years.
The stones reminded me of a place I had been before, but I couldn’t place it as I trailed my hand along the wall. The dwarves called it “speaking to the stones” but I had never really had a knack for it and preferred to focus on creating jewellery or forging weapons like my Dad. Still, I had a feeling they were trying to tell me something, if only I could understand them.
The tunnel had widened and we were walking side by side when we came to a split in the passage. Three tunnels branched out ahead of us. Each looked identical and equally unappealing. The middle one had a menacing feel to it. I walked to the left one, then the right and Lorandir did the same. I felt a faint movement of air on my face from the one on the right.
“I think this one leads outside,” I whispered. Lorandir stood next to me. He almost looked like he was scenting the air.
“I think you’re right,” he pointed to the middle one, which we had both walked past. “I can smell smoke from this direction.”
I stepped up to it. I had an urge to turn away and try another passage. I forced myself to stay close to it and sniffed. After a moment, I caught the whiff of smoke too. I rubbed my head, trying to think. Would the Awakeners want fire? Did dragons really breathe fire and if so, did that mean it was already awake?
I had already turned unthinkingly away from the tunnel when I caught a faint wisp of elvish magic. Another glamour spell? I experimented by moving Bane through the entrance to the middle passage. Nothing happened. I poked it further in and put my arm into the entrance. I felt a sensation as if long grass was brushing my body combined with fire. The same as the spell over the dungeon entrance at Castell Coch.
“Better go that way then,” I replied with bravado, stepping all the way into the tunnel. Apart from the feeling of grass tickling me and intense heat, I didn’t feel anything else. Lorandir followed. He didn’t comment on the enchantment but frowned as if something was off and I wondered if he’d felt the same sensation as I did.
I experimented with turning my torch off, it was too dark to see much, even with my dwarfish night vision, but after a moment, I noticed a faint greenish glow. I looked around and saw the walls and ceiling were covered with something that was glowing. This was new. I reached out to touch it. It was some sort of slimy algae growing on the tunnel walls. It was almost beautiful, in a green kind of way. I rubbed my fingers together and saw the bioluminescent glow was on me too. I stared at my glowing hand in wonder.
Lorandir placed a hand on my elbow, breaking into my thoughts. I was proud of myself for not shrieking.
He whispered, “Can you see by the plant light? Best keep the torch off if we can,” I nodded but didn’t know if he saw me as he had already started moving forward. I trailed my hand along the wall, leaving a glowing trail across the stones. My hand was getting greener by the minute so I stopped, feeling both stupid and a little like a superheroine with radioactive powers.
We moved slowly and silently along the passage. The smoky smell intensified as we continued and then there was light. Old fashioned torches flared in the darkness, held in place by the iron loops I had seen earlier in the tunnel. Shadows flickered across the passageway. It looked ominous.
This was the right place then.
We stuck to the walls and edged cautiously towards the flames, trying to stay in the shadows. I was suddenly thankful that my pale coat was filthy, it blended more with the darkness and the dull stones. I peered into the room. It looked empty. I risked looking more closely. There were some boxes to one side of the entrance. Ordinary cardboard boxes. Electric security lights were dotted around the walls, but were switched off in favour of more torches lining the walls. Stone steps led up to a heavy door in one corner.
Apart from the flames spluttering around the room, it looked like a store room. I crept behind the boxes. I looked up at the vaulted ceiling and suddenly I remembered where I had seen this type of stone before. We were underneath Cardiff Castle. I pulled out my phone and willed it to have some signal. It didn’t. I silently typed messages to Aloora on every messaging service I could think of and hoped they would get through.
As I typed, I heard the door swing open. I risked peeking round the boxes and saw several robed figures descending. Their faces were completely hidden by large hoods. I pulled my head back behind the boxes as one of them started to draw a complicated symbol on the ground. I noted that this figure was wearing combat boots. They got so close to the pile of boxes I was hiding behind that I could hear their laboured breathing as they crouched close to the ground with their chalk. I held my breath, biting my bottom lip as the figure passed and I heard it shuffle away.
I heard more footsteps and a sharp voice commanding everyone to hurry up. I noticed a gap between some boxes at the bottom of the stack and contorted myself into a ball to see through it. One of the figu
res held a wooden box, which they set in the centre of the drawing. The figure with the chalk was still walking around the room and irritably telling others to move as they worked to complete their markings. A tall figure stood in the very middle of the room, looking around at the others. He was wearing brogues that gleamed in the firelight. A pair of pinstripe trousers peeked out of the bottom of the voluminous robe. I guessed it was a man and he was the leader.
Combat boots slipped their chalk into a pocket, wiped their hands on their robe and nodded at the central figure. The figure wearing brogues raised his hands to the ceiling and the others hastily assembled in a circle around the large drawing on the flagstones. I debated pushing the boxes over and running when I heard an electronic phone alarm sound. The figures in the centre tilted their heads trying to locate the sound. The alarm echoed around the room making it difficult to pinpoint.
Schiztz. It was my phone. The alarm I’d set for sunset had gone off. I reached into my pocket and tried to turn it off. Heads turned in the direction of the boxes. The figure in the centre pushed back his hood revealing an angular face with a waxy shine to it. The torchlight glowed on his bald head and glinted off his neatly trimmed pointed beard. If we were in a different setting, he could have been an oily accountant or a banking clerk. He smiled nastily. It gave him the air of someone about to turn down a loan application.
“It appears our guests have arrived right on time,” he gestured with his long hands and four of the hooded figures detached themselves from the circle and walked towards the boxes. I had less than five seconds before they found me.
Clutching Bane, I slammed my body into the boxes. It didn’t have quite the effect I’d hoped for. The boxes were empty and I had put too much force into my push. Off balance, I stumbled through the boxes. They scattered on the floor. The figure nearest me raised his hand to deflect the oncoming cardboard onslaught. I crashed into him and he fell to the ground with a grunt, taking the full force of my weight and hitting the stone floor hard. He gave an unmanly high pitched cry as I trod on his fingers. I ground my sturdy boots into his hands. I scrambled to my feet, waving my axe in what I hoped was a menacing way.
Another robed figure approached from the side and grabbed my arm. I spun and managed to club him with the flat of my axe in the stomach. He doubled over, winded. I cried “Sheld” and activated my protection charm to even the odds as more figures approached warily. This close I could see that their robes, which I had taken for black, were actually very dark red. The colour of rich wine or possibly old blood. Somehow that made it more sinister than black.
The man in the centre hadn’t moved and was still smiling his clerky smile.
“Where is the elf?”
I eyed the figures surrounding me. One of them made a grab and failed to make contact thanks to my magical barrier. “It’s just me.”
The man arched a neat black eyebrow and said pleasantly “I don’t think so,” he made a gesture and a slim robed figure disappeared into the entranceway.
“You’re too late! Sunset’s passed!” I tried.
The man laughed. It was a clipped laugh, one that didn’t come naturally. He shook his head and I saw pointed ears glowing pink in the flame light. Another elf.
“Aha. It doesn’t matter. We will succeed!” The red light gave him an ominous glow. Just keep him talking Amethyst. The further it is from sunset, the less likely it is to succeed. The figure returned from the underground passage shaking its head. So they hadn’t found Lorandir. I hoped he had a plan.
“So is it a law that crazy cults have to wear robes?” I bantered, “And where do you get them from anyways? Is there a wholesaler for cloaks I don’t know about?”
The clipped laugh came again, as if he had read about laughing in the book but had never actually heard it. “Aha. Very good. But enough of this I think!” With a wave of his hand, I felt myself pulled towards him slowly. I gasped, this wasn’t meant to happen. My protection charm should stop this.
I saw him frown. This wasn’t what he expected to happen either. I had to use that. I made my eyes look wide and frightened, not much of a stretch given the situation. While I held his gaze, I adjusted the grip on my axe.
As I got close to him, I felt his power. It put me on edge. It felt wrong somehow. Elf magic was usually about elements, nature and growth. His magic felt different; twisted. His eyebrows were contorted with confusion while his power dug into me, probing and uncomfortable.
As he reached for me, I swung my axe, fighting against the force pulling me towards him. He saw it in time and grabbed my hand hard. It stopped me straight away.
“How are you resisting me?” he asked the question as if I was a puzzle he would solve. He was talking to himself but I answered.
“Resisting you? Are you trying to spell me?”
It was the wrong move. That raw twisted power coursed around me, through my shield and despite my magic. This elf was truly powerful. I couldn’t even cry out. I wanted to curl up against the pain but I was held forcibly upright by his magic. Then he turned it off.
I crumpled to the ground. Bane fell from my hand. The elf smiled nastily again and held out his hand. One of the hooded minions approached, holding out the wooden box subserviently. The elf opened it, and pulled out the Fang Dagger. He held it aloft, looking as if he were in complete ecstasy. A collective sigh of anticipation swirled the room.
Schiztz. He was going to use me as a sacrifice. This was a trap. I tried to squirm weakly away but his magic felt like it had drained me.
At that moment, the figure that had returned from the tunnel walked towards the elf in the middle of the symbol. The elf paused and looked at the newcomer, who threw a blade at his face, then ran the remaining distance.
The elf ducked reflexively but the short dagger grazed his ear as it passed. The newcomer grabbed me and pulled me towards the tunnel. I tried to struggle before I heard a familiar voice. “It’s me.”
Lorandir! I stopped struggling and allowed myself to be pulled along. The other robed people moved to block our path. We were in trouble.
The bearded elf laughed again, more menacingly this time. “Aha aha. You fools. We don’t need your blood to succeed. We will start this ritual now. Tie them up! We’ll deal with them later,” he added as an afterthought.
We were both grabbed and cable ties were pulled from somewhere under the robes to tie us, hands and feet together. Then the cultists returned to their spots on the symbol.
I watched in horror, as with a faint smile on his face, looking for all the world as if he was solving a particularly difficult crossword, the elf began to speak in Draconic. It didn’t sound exactly like the ritual the Professor had read to us.
The chanting paused. The figure closest to the steps approached the centre and offered its hand to the elf. The elf held up the Fang Dagger and drew it across the palm of the cultist. There was a sharp intake of breath then a phrase in Draconic. As the figure withdrew back to its original place, a faint red line of power followed it, linking the figure to the centre.
One by one, each hooded figure approached the centre, had their palm cut and repeated the phrase. After all the cultists had made their blood offering, blood red lines glowed from the elf to the outside of the circle, forming spokes in an occult wheel. Then those on the outer edge joined hands to form a circle. The magic crackled and each of them began to glow a deep red. A magic circle had been created.
The elf in the centre placed the Fang Dagger to his ear and cut it off. He placed the grisly flesh reverently onto the stone floor then continued the chant.
I recognised the phrases now. This was the translation that the Professor and Aloora had done. Schiztz. I squirmed my way towards the circle and shouted out, trying to disrupt the ritual. With a dismissive flick of his wrist, the elf directed a beam of the twisting red magic towards Lorandir and me. It pinned us helplessly to the wall.
The magic beam fizzed up our bodies to our faces. My next cry was choked off as it entere
d my mouth, reaching down my throat like a fuzzy electric eel. I choked on the hideous texture. It stopped at my vocal chords and stayed there, pulsating, stopping any sound from escaping. I gagged but managed to not throw up. Instead I focused on trying to breathe slowly and shallowly while the magic held me. It was old magic. I had the sense of ancient power mixed with dying trees. The twisted elf magic jarred me. My hands balled into fists on their own.
The elf had finished the ritual now and the symbol on the floor was glowing a dull golden colour. The light rose up off the floor, passing through the red circle and up to the ceiling. It kept going, through the vaulted arches and out of sight. I realised what it was as it floated upwards. A dragon eating its own tail. Poetic.
There were some strange runes floating upwards as well. I guessed they were Draconic, twisting as they went to form strange unwholesome occult shapes.
The chanting stopped so suddenly, the silence filled the room. The bearded elf bent suddenly and drove the Fang Dagger into the ground up to its jewelled hilt. He unfurled slowly, still smiling that clerky smile.
Nothing happened. The hooded figures forming the circle began to look at each other. Combat boots seemed particularly nervous, his hood turning from side to side as he looked at his companions. I started to relax slightly, before choking on the unfamiliar magic lodged in my throat. I was still up a proverbial creek without a paddle but we had succeeded.
A rumbling began deep below the earth. It swelled until the ground was shaking. I felt the wall vibrate behind me, thudding against my body. Then the world exploded.
The floor heaved, and burst apart in a flash of rusty gold light. The leader of the cult jumped backwards, avoiding the chasm that opened under him. Two of the cultists weren’t so lucky and fell in. I heard their screams, followed by ominous thuds.
A large scaly head thrust through the hole, emerald eyes blinking as they adjusted to the light. The dragon had awoken.
