She rose slowly, moving sluggishly, over to Hildr. The slow steps were to give herself time. Perhaps in these last final seconds she’d think of something, but she reached the woman with no plan, no action, nothing.
She had truly lost.
The brute Gerhardt released Hildr’s face and the woman dropped to the ground gasping great gulps of air.
“I’m sorry,” Caerwyn said through tight teeth as she tied the other woman up, binding her hands and feet. Caerwyn leaned her against the rock wall to try to make her comfortable.
“He’ll kill us all,” Hildr said in a hushed tone.
“I know!” Caerwyn hissed back, but that expended the last of the fire and fight within her. “But what can we do?” She heard the limp spirit in her words and hated herself for it. She wanted to cry at her own impotence, but clenched her jaw instead. “He’s too powerful. If Jais were here and we were all ready for a fight, we might have a chance, but with Barami already subdued…” She couldn’t go on. She shook her head. “I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked, and she went back to clenching her jaw.
Hildr’s eyes darted about, as if searching for some idea, some plan, but she only shook her head slowly. It seemed she had no ideas either. Her lips were tight, angry, and perhaps she was feeling just as powerless as Caerwyn.
The wizard bound Elria — still held by his magic, helpless — with rope and laid her on the stone floor a few dozen feet from the dragon then knelt next to her, speaking to himself in low tones.
Caerwyn should be attacking him. He wasn’t looking. He’d be easy to strike down, but Gerhardt stood near his master with Barami still clutched like a doll in his arms. The big man wasn’t that smart, but he had wits enough to be watching Caerwyn as his master worked. If she tried anything, Barami would suffer.
It was just another impossible choice. No, not impossible. She’d choose Barami over nearly anyone in this world. But still she hated herself for not being able to help Elria.
Wait!
Perhaps…
She glanced over at where she’d dropped Davlas. It lay a few feet from Gerhardt and it had been the wizard who’d stopped its flight the last time.
She connected to the spear, and using her mental commands, she flung it at Gerhardt’s head.
Despite his bulk, the man wasn’t slow. He saw the spear coming and moved: head tilting, hand rising. It wasn’t enough to fully get out of the way. The spear took him just beside his eye and tore along the side of his head just as his hand grabbed the shaft. He threw the spear to the floor and stepped on it. She wouldn’t be able to move it now.
That was it. She’d done the only thing she could do, and it hadn’t been enough. Gerhardt was injured, but the bloody gash hardly seemed to inconvenience the brute. He still held Barami, perhaps squeezing him just a little tighter now. She could still try to charge the man but crossing even the short distance between them would give Gerhardt more than enough time to crush Barami, or otherwise kill her friend.
She was out of options. It ate at her soul. Here she was, unbound and watching this evil transpire. But if she acted, Barami would die.
Yet if she did nothing, Elria would die.
30
Jais recognized Volf jumping down the cliff-side at them. The man must have been crazy. This wasn’t a sheer cliff by any means, but the slope was steep enough that one couldn’t just walk up it.
Once the rain had stopped, he and Gosse had gone back to the waterfall and waited for the water level to go down. That had taken far too long, and they’d still gone across the wall-walk with water swirling around their feet. Once across, they followed the climbing path up the side of the mountain. Ropes hung in places, knotted and easy to climb, leading up to ledges which could be traversed for a short stretch, then more ropes and more ledges.
They were wet and cold and tired. Jais especially hadn’t slept well or for very long in three nights and was nearly delirious with fatigue. He kept forcing himself onward through sheer force of will as each step or pull on a rope became a little slower, a little harder. Their progress was slow. The afternoon had stretched as the clouds cleared and the sun set behind the peaks around them.
They were perhaps two thirds of the way up the climbing trail and Jais was starting to wonder if he could even go on.
And then Volf appeared, nimbly jumping down the mountainside at him as if he were some weightless sprite with boundless energy.
He had to be imagining this.
He nodded to Gosse at Volf rapidly coming down to them. “Do you see that?” he asked.
The other man looked, and his eyes widened. “See it, yes. Believe it? No.”
He wasn’t seeing things, but that didn’t explain how Volf was practically running down the side of a mountain.
“Thank all the gods!” Volf called from the ledge above them. “You need to hurry. The others are in trouble!”
Hurry? Jais could feel his muscles cramping and stiffening. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to maintain the pace he was going for much longer.
But if Caerwyn was in trouble… or Elria. Oh, gods!
“Anything you can do to get us up there faster?” Jais shouted. Even the energy put into yelling seemed too much for him, leaving him a little breathless.
“I have my own way of getting up and down, but I can’t help you any. You need to hurry!”
Gosse turned to Jais and shrugged. “I guess we hurry then.” The man grabbed the next length of rope, this one was only perhaps a dozen feet or so up to the next ledge, on which Volf stood. Gosse began hauling himself up.
Jais grabbed the rope, feeling his shoulder muscles jump, twitch, and tense. His arm was trembling.
He wouldn’t— He couldn’t fall. He had to help the others.
He put one arm over the other and pulled his not inconsiderable weight up another length of rope.
By the time he clambered over the lip of the next ledge, Volf was already above them, urging them onward.
Gosse was staring at the man. “I’ve never seen… he just jumped up there like it was nothing. A hop over a fallen branch, no more.”
Jais didn’t deign to respond. It was clear, something had happened to Volf since they’d last seen him, but there wasn’t the time — nor did Jais have the energy — to ask. He grabbed the next rope and continued climbing.
“Right, sorry, got distracted,” Gosse said behind him.
It was full-on evening by the time they finally completed the climb and were at the mouth of a cave. The first stars were starting to blink into existence as the sky turned from azure to indigo.
Jais was breathing heavily and leaning against the cave-mouth, practically asleep on his feet.
“How much farther?” he asked between breaths.
“Perhaps a half mile. The cave is rather long.”
“Gods.” Jais’ shoulders fell. “I don’t know how far I can go. I’m exhausted.”
“You have to. Caerwyn and Elria are in there. That crazy man has them all at his mercy. He seems to have magic that I don’t understand.”
“Tyark,” Gosse said as if that meant something. Wait… it did mean something. Gosse had mentioned that name in his long-winded explanation of why he was switching sides. Tyark was…
Jais’ mind was working about as fast as his body.
…a drahksan with magical powers. He’d been the wizard throwing fire around the Dronnegir village.
“Great.”
“Now that we’re all on level ground, I might be able to get us all there quicker,” Volf said, but he didn’t sound certain at all.
“How?” Gosse asked.
“I don’t have the words to explain it. I only just learned how, but I believe I can do it if you’re both willing to try.”
“I’m not sure I’m willing to do anything.” Gosse was indignant. “You’re a drahksan, yes?”
Volf seemed a little surprised at the question. “Yes.”
“And can you sense me as drahksan?” Gosse asked.
/> Volf looked at the man oddly. “Of course.”
“Of course.” Gosse’s gaze jumped to the steep valley. “Gods! Of course.”
“What’s with him?” Volf asked Jais. “And who is he? Never mind, doesn’t matter, we need to get going now!”
“Long story. He’s having a bit of a crisis of faith and you’ve just confirmed he’s drahksani. He didn’t really know before. And I agree, if the others are in trouble we need to go. Gosse?”
Gosse spun on him. “What?”
“We need to go. You have your confirmation. Now it’s time to help some people for a change.” Jais was being hard but was too tired to care.
Gosse pushed onward. “Help? I…” Gosse’s face snarled into a sour look. “I’m a monster, how can I help anyone? All I know how to do is kill my own kind! You can’t know what that’s like!”
“You’re a monster who has a chance to redeem himself,” Jais said. No matter how tired he felt, they had to keep moving. “From the sounds of it, there are people, drahksan and otherwise, in these caves that need help. Are you willing to help them?”
Gosse seemed self-consumed for a moment then shook his head. “Let’s go.”
“Good,” Volf said a bit uncertain himself, it seemed. “You’ll have to both be touching me. Take my hands.” Volf held out a hand to each of them. Jais grasped one hand as Gosse took the other.
Volf turned so he was facing into the cave. “When I tell you to walk, do so. Nice and slow should be fine, but we need to be making forward motion. Just give me a moment to figure this out in my head. This is going to require a lot of concentration.”
“What are you—” Gosse began, but was cut off.
“Hush!”
Jais would do as instructed.
“Now. Walk.” Volf took a step and the other two followed.
The cave blurred around them as they were plunged into an odd semi-darkness. It only grew darker as they made their way deeper inside remarkably quickly. Each step seemed to be taking them farther than ten strides, perhaps farther than a hundred, and the world sped past them despite their leisurely pace.
Jais only hoped it would be quick enough to help the others.
And that he had the strength to do so.
Barami couldn’t move. He’d given up struggling and kicking at his captor. It didn’t seem to affect the large man and he wasn’t going to escape Gerhardt’s grip any time soon. The one arm around him was thicker than most men’s legs and bunching with muscles on muscles. He reminded Barami of Jais, only bigger. Barami’s strength, considerable as it may have been, was nowhere near what was needed to escape. So, he bided his time.
Then there was his arm, a splitting pain in his shoulder as the limb hung limp. Currently, it was only slightly more useless than his other arm since both were pinned, but he was sweating from the pain and his vision swam occasionally as he threatened to black out.
He wasn’t in good shape.
But in some ways, he was better than Caerwyn.
It was like the fighting spirit — what made her who she was — had just drained out of her, leaving an empty husk of a person, shocked and trembling, with a lost look in her eyes that pierced his soul.
He couldn’t fathom the choice she’d made. Though a selfish part of him was so very glad she hadn’t chosen Hildr.
He too was torn in his own way. There was a part of him, the part that had always been willing to sacrifice himself for her, that wanted her to attack. If he died, perhaps it would be a fitting cost to save everyone else here. Yet another part of him, one he’d only recently discovered, wanted desperately to stay alive. He had something — a budding relationship with Hildr — to live for. As much as he might be willing to die to save everyone here, he wanted so much to see what would happen with Hildr. They’d talked a lot over the last day and he felt they were making a solid connection. They’d practically been planning a life together. He didn’t want to lose that.
It was his desperate, selfish hope to live, that had prevented him from calling out to Caerwyn to fight no matter what. But that choice was taking a greater and greater toll on her, and on him as he watched her.
There had to be some way to defeat these two villains. He’d been praying to Suur and Lansus for some insight, some strategy, some hidden strength to escape and put these evil men in their place. Yet if the gods were listening, they were not acting today.
The wizard seemed to be finishing up his ritual. It had been quite involved, drawing sigils on the ground around the dragon in his own blood and another symbol of some sort in Elria’s blood on her own forehead. He’d then knelt next to Elria for some time simply muttering to himself.
The wizard’s hold on the woman had wavered a couple times during the ritual. She’d tried to roll away, struggle, but always he’d stilled her with his magic once again and continued on.
Now he drew out a long, curved dagger.
Elria screamed but couldn’t otherwise move.
Perhaps it was a reaction to the scream or perhaps the big man just expected trouble now, but Gerhardt’s muscles flexed and held Barami even tighter. His chest was constricted farther, forcing him to take shallow breaths.
“Hush now, my dear.” The wizard’s tone was mockingly soft. Then he laughed. “This will be painful, but not for long,” the wizard said to Elria putting a hand over her mouth to stifle her protests. “You will be part of a great moment in history. The first mortal to kill a dragon on his own.” The man chuckled gleefully as he lowered the dagger to Elria’s neck.
He muttered some final words that Barami could not understand, then slid the dagger across Elria’s throat drawing a gurgled gasp. Blood sprayed around her and showered the wizard.
Elria twitched then went still.
The others shouted and screamed. Barami thought he did too, but he couldn’t tell. He was growing faint, darkness clouding his vision as it grew harder to breathe. He was losing sense of himself.
The wizard stood, bloody dagger held aloft. His tone was exultant as he bellowed. “Witness ye gods and demons! I take your power for my own!” This was followed by more mysterious words as he slid the bloody dagger across his palm, then pressed the flat of the blade into the wound.
There was a terrible sound, a high-pitched whine, which hurt to hear. It grew in intensity and volume, slowly lowering in pitch until it was a great roar. It sounded… painful, the rending of a soul, and Barami shuddered to hear it even though he was nearly delirious himself.
The form of the dragon began to glow brighter and brighter, the light increasing in intensity with the awful noise until it was near blinding. Gerhardt turned away then, and Barami could only see the effects of the light, casting the immense cave in brilliance before flashing several times and fading to nothing.
Then… darkness.
Some torch flickered somewhere in the massive cave, but they had not needed other light with the dragon’s glow before now.
He was nearly lost in unconsciousness, but before he slipped away he heard two very disparate noises.
One was an arrogant cackle of triumph, grating and a little mad. Over this, he heard a heart-rending scream of a single word. Barami thought perhaps he knew that voice, but he was losing any sense of memory now. He heard only that soul-shredding cry…
“Elria!”
Jais arrived in time to see the knife lift away from Elria’s throat and her body twitch then still. If he hadn’t been disoriented from the strange distance-eating walk and nearly incapacitated with exhaustion he’d have run or done something. He didn’t know what. Perhaps he would have tried to tackle the wizard or save Elria. His mind spun with the options as the dragon flared out of being, halting him with its brilliance.
He’d seen the beast — the most glorious and wondrous of creatures — for only a moment before it exploded with light and that ear-piercing shriek.
Now the cave was plunged into darkness, and he could only scream, falling to his knees, then his hands as the wizard now
seemed to glow with the same light the dragon had a moment before. He didn’t know what had happened, but he was certain Elria was dead and that something great and beautiful and powerful had died with her.
He heard the echoes of his scream die out in the sudden silence, his throat raw from the shout.
“Oh, hello!” The voice was almost cheery as the wizard spoke. “Who have we here? More drahksani to join with me? Wonderful!”
A fury flickered to life within Jais, and he stood slowly, feeling it bloom then blaze within him. Despite his hoarse voice, he shouted once again.
“I will never join you!”
He charged and threw himself in a flying tackle at the man, but as had happened the last time he’d tried to kill the man, the wizard simply vanished, and pain exploded up Jais’ arms and head as he crashed against the stone floor. He used that pain as energy and sprang to his feet again. There wasn’t much light, but now the wizard glowed and was easy to spot.
The man was crouching next to Caerwyn who knelt on the floor. He had a hand under her chin pushing her face up to look at him. “Defend me, or I’ll have Gerhardt squeeze a little more life out of your friend there.”
“No,” she whimpered, through clenched teeth. “I can’t.”
Jais had to blink. The sound of her voice, so powerless, threw him for a moment. What had happened to her? He caught sight of the brute he’d fought the other night holding Barami in a death grip.
So that’s the game the wizard was playing. Holding the Southern warrior hostage to make Caerwyn do his bidding?
Jais had trouble believing that Caerwyn or Barami would allow themselves to be used in that way, but it seemed that’s what had happened.
He turned toward the brute. If he could free Barami, Caerwyn wouldn’t be in the clutches of that vile man anymore either.
A voice close to his ear whispered from the darkness. “No, get that wizard. We’ll fight the brute.” It was Volf.
Shadow Soul Page 19
