The first three rooms they passed were sleeping quarters, containing only a cot, a bucket, and a basin for washing. The fourth and fifth rooms, however, revealed more of what was really happening in this place.
One seemed to house a high official, with all the comforts of a ruler of great stature. Silk tapestries, plush floor coverings, cushions, comfortable chairs. But a little further down, the next chamber’s entrance shimmered with a hazy cloth and when she reached for it, Thom grabbed her arm.
“No. It’s magic. If you touch it, you’ll lose your arm.”
“But I don’t sense anything.”
“It’s been concealed. Someone who knows what they’re doing. I barely detected it, myself.”
Thom pulled a green stone from his pouch, placed it between his palm and the wall and chanted softly. The words reminded her of breaking glass. The shimmer fell away from the cloth and he nodded. “Now we can enter.”
Mey slowly moved the cloth aside enough to peek in and determine there was no one in the room. They both stepped through. Quickly scanning the contents, she noted a large table covered with books, vials, scrolls, and stones of all sort scattered from one end to the other. A dark stain in the far corner, possibly blood, had seeped into the stone of the floor and a small bowl sat next to it.
“This is a mage’s laboratory,” Thom whispered.
“So, the theory of a mage working with the priests is right,” she whispered back.
“We’d best get the others. Let them know what we’ve found. We can discuss how to proceed from here.”
He was ushering her out, when she caught sight of something. The bright blue paint stuck out from the other mundane things on the table.
“Thom, wait!” Yanking her arm from his grasp, she darted over and grabbed the hammered silver charm attached to a leather strap and shoved it in the front of her tunic.
They made their way back toward the opening of the cave.
“You know, I can’t help but wonder where everyone is,” Thom was saying. “There’s obvious signs that people are inhabiting these caverns but the only sign of life we’ve seen are the two priests out front.”
“Maybe they’re worshiping. Don’t priests gather at certain times to heap praise on the gods they’ve chosen? I remember Elerbee saying once…”
A loud grating sound of stone on stone stopped them in their tracks.
Glancing at one another, no words were needed to hasten them toward the opening where their friends waited.
The others had gathered with Bob to watch the two priests Thom had spellbound. Switching the robes back to the men, they quickly imparted the information of what they had discovered to the rest of the group.
“Well, what’re we waitin’ for!” Durlag hoisted his axe and stood.
“We do not know how many people might be in there,” Bob answered.
Durlag harumphed, but remained where he was.
“The chamber you said looked as if a high official resided there,” Elerbee said thoughtfully, “was there a carving on the chair?”
“Just some weird symbols inside a circle,” Mey said.
“Think. Was one of them like my own symbol? The one on my neck?”
“Yes, I think it was. But there were others, as well. A large ‘X’ with a circle around its middle and another with smaller circles set in the crevices.”
“The Elder.”
“Who?” Mey asked.
“He is somewhat akin to what the Magister is for the mages. Am I right?” Thom asked him.
“He is the head of all three orders of priests. I don’t think I have ever heard of an Elder leaving his tower in all the years I have served.”
“Well, he’s here now. And with a mage,” Thom continued as he wrapped his stolen robe around the frozen priest. “There was another room, protected by a powerful magical ward. A mage’s laboratory.”
“Oh,” Mey said, remembering the necklace she had taken from the scattered mess on the table. She pulled it out to examine it more closely.
“What’s that?” Durlag asked her.
“A charm. Hammered silver, made in Seaside by the baker’s boy.”
“How d’ye know that?”
“Because I bought it from him.” She looked up at Thom. “This is Garrin’s.”
“I’m sure there are hundreds of charms with that design out there.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “But none with this blue paint. I painted this myself. ‘To add some color to his dreary life.’” Mey’s hand shook. “What would this be doing here?”
No one spoke. None of them had an answer.
“Let’s get in there and see if we can’t find out what’s going on.” Durlag insisted.
Mey tucked the charm in the pouch with the Heartstone. When she did, she felt and heard the comforting hum that had been leading her on for weeks now.
It’s time to finish this.
TWENTY-FOUR
As they made their way down the tunnels, past the chambers at the front of the Caverns, twists and dips and rises had Mey wondering how they would ever find their way out.
But I won’t be going out, she reminded herself. The sting of tears threatened several times as she kept moving, staring at her uncle’s back as he led the way, swords drawn.
At one juncture, they stopped to get their bearings. Mey was relying on the Heartstone to lead her in the right direction. The pull she felt in her chest accelerated her urgency to continue the further in they traveled.
Thom, Elerbee and Durlag were already showing signs of confusion of time. Thom told a story of being back in Val, saying it had happened just yesterday. And Durlag and Elerbee insisted that tomorrow they would arrive at the Dharst Hills. The only thing those two had agreed on for the months they’d spent on the road.
“Uncle, why are we not affected?” she asked as they climbed a small rise.
“Elves are long lived and dragons nearly timeless. We are not bound by the same laws of time as humans, dwarves and lesser creatures.”
Bob seemed distracted by something so she refrained from asking any more questions. She didn’t have to, anyway. He turned abruptly, stopping mid-stride.
“Can you hear that?”
Pausing to take in the sounds around her, she did indeed hear a faint murmur of many voices.
“Chanting,” she said.
“We’re close.” He moved to Elerbee and looked him right in the eye. “We need you to try to give yourself, Thom and Durlag protection from the time-twisting effects.”
Elerbee nodded slowly, a bit confused, but he knelt to ask for his god’s divine intervention. It didn’t take long before he emanated the radiance of Sirrah, starting from the raised symbol in his neck and traveling down his arms into his hands.
He rose and laid a hand each on Thom and Durlag, the light moving into them as if being soaked through their skin. The light faded and all three looked around at their surroundings.
“Good?” Bob asked Elerbee.
“Yes.” He looked to the other two who nodded in return.
“Follow me,” Bob said. “Stay low and for all that is holy,” he shot a pointed look at Durlag, “be quiet.”
Durlag glared and swigged on his flask before falling into position as the rear guard on their small group.
Crouching, they moved forward slowly, coming up to the lip of an opening. Light shimmered and danced at the entrance as people moved past the glow thrown from candles and torches.
As they crawled toward the opening and could see inside, Mey was surprised that there were not more people. It sounded like hundreds of voices when, in fact, there were only about thirty robed figures kneeling before a pool. A man at the far end of the room, stood alone before a figure who was bound on the ground.
What do you think they’re doing? She sent the silent communication to them all. It was Elerbee’s voice that came back to her.
It’s a sacrificial ritual. And that, indeed, is the Elder.
“Who’s that?” Du
rlag refused to communicate mentally, so his harsh whisper was a jolt.
Thom immediately threw a cloak of silence around them. They froze waiting to see if anyone had heard them over the chanting priests.
They all looked in the direction he pointed. Another man stood off to one side, his face partially turned and hidden in the shadows. He did not wear robes. His stature was slender and he stood with his arms folded across his chest.
Mey’s attention only fell to this person briefly. The tug she had been feeling rose to an irresistible level pulling her gaze back to the Elder and the bound man. But it was not them that drew her attention.
The wall behind the Elder wavered with an unnatural haze. As much as she was loath to do it, she knew what she needed. She turned to Thom.
“I need the mask.”
“What?”
“There’s something behind that wall. I need the mask to show me.”
“You’re sure?” He scrutinized her face, his piercing eyes softening as he apparently was satisfied with what he saw there. She held out her hand. He took a moment to reach into the pack he carried over his shoulder. Retrieving a small box, he opened it and handed over the small mask.
Hastily tying the strings behind her head, she focused on the wall behind the Elder. The rock seemed to melt away and a tunnel, running back out of her line of sight appeared.
“A hidden path,” she said aloud. Colored lights snaked close to the ground, leaping around the hidden entrance and she felt something beckoning her on. “That’s the way to the Idylic. We have to find a way to get in there.”
She took the mask from her face.
Looking at Thom, holding out the mask, she asked, “Can you immobilize the priests? Like you did outside?”
“I…I don’t know how many would be affected.”
“I can help with that,” Elerbee put in.
“We can only assume this man in the corner is the mage the priests have paid to do their bidding.” The thoughts were coming so fast now she had a hard time vocalizing it all. “Durlag, you and Bob can handle those that are left. Thom will deal with the mage…I have to get through that secret door.”
“Maybe we should immobilize the mage first?” her uncle said.
“But we would be facing massive resistance from the priests at our back,” she protested.
“I just think I should help Thom with the mage.”
“Whatever. Durlag can handle the priests with Elerbee, right?” She looked at the dwarf, who smiled slyly.
“Yer talkin’ to a Rockcrusher, dearie. Them dress-wearin’ priests are like flies.” He then took a long, deep draw on the flask. “What’re we waitin’ for?”
“I’ll have to lower the silence spell,” Thom warned. They all fell silent.
Just as he made the last gestures that would break the cloak of silence, the man bound before the Elder moved to stand, drawing her attention.
A blow like that of a hammer hitting her solid in the chest nearly knocked her backward. It was only shock, however, and she took a step back.
Her gasp was sudden and very loud. “Garrin?”
His eyes locked on her. Everything around her exploded into movement, giving her no more time to ponder what on this world was happening. She heard Elerbee’s and Thom’s voices and Durlag’s battle cry, but it was like a dream happening around her.
Someone shoved her from behind and yelled, “Get moving!” Blinking, she lost sight of Garrin when she looked up again. It couldn’t have been him. She knew it was, though. Her heart told her it was him; it explained the necklace and the instances where she thought she had heard his voice.
The floor around one group of priests turned muddy and they sank, yelling out as they tried to move. Mey caught Elerbee’s movement as she sprinted past. He waved his hand in the direction of the sinking priests and the floor became solid rock once more and the priest’s yells became agonizing cries.
Thom held a large stone that guided a huge black mass through another group of priests. As it moved in, anything it contacted disappeared, leaving nothing at all behind it except a massive emptiness.
She cleared the small pool with a running leap, throwing a set of daggers as she flew over the water. They thudded into one of the three priests that had backed Garrin, still bound, against the wall. She landed lightly next to him, drawing Makagesh from her waist and Garrin’s sword from the sheath at her hip.
“What took you so long?” he asked her, the familiar crooked smile beaming at her through a trail of caked blood that ran from his head down the length of his face. In one fluid movement, she slashed the ropes binding his hands and put the sword into them.
“Fight now, talk later.”
Garrin spun away just as a massive spiked chain landed right where he was standing. An acrobat by trade, Garrin had taught himself to mingle those skills with his blade. Lunging forward, he sprung up and vaulted over the larger priest to land nimbly behind him. He lashed out with his sword, drawing a line of blood from the man’s back.
Mey saw the priest’s eyes were scarred by lines that formed an ‘X’ over each eye. She grimaced at his mangled face turning in time to watch as the mage in the corner threw a line of electricity that hit her uncle square in the chest and leapt out his back, the other line hitting Thom in the shoulder.
She growled and sprinted in the direction of the mage. The heat in her middle was coursing through her now, infusing her limbs with strength and lending to her speed.
Two priests intercepted her. They sprang at her, both swinging war hammers. She managed to twist out of the way of one blow, but another caught her on the shoulder with a force that made her drop the bone-handled dagger she held.
Pain shot up her arm but she could still move it. Grasping another dagger, she fell into a low crouch. Trying to divide her attention between this annoying interruption and her uncle and Thom, now up and moving, heading in the direction of the mage. Confident they would be fine, she focused solely on the two priests before her.
As one moved at her with his weapon raised again, the other started a chant. Can’t let him get that spell out, she reasoned and her dagger flew at him. His hands came up to his throat, grasping at the small blade as his words became a gurgling sound and blood spilled from his lips. He fell to the ground.
She leaped, drawing another weapon and threw it, all in the same movement, down at the top of the priest’s head even before he registered that she had moved. The blade stuck straight up from the top of his head as he, too, fell lifeless to the ground.
Looking for Thom and Bob, she found a scene that took her breath away. Her uncle lay in a twisted heap against the rocks, his legs and arms bent unnaturally. Blood ran in rivulets down one side of his face. Flashes of light and crackles of energy sparked next to him. Her shocked gaze moved to Thom and the mage throwing power-filled energy at one another, neither making progress as the energies met between them. She looked back to her uncle.
No. She mouthed the silent plea and she felt as though she was moving in slow motion as she willed her feet to move. She tried to connect with her uncle’s mind as she ran. Her consciousness hit a wall each time. She sensed his bond was not broken but he was blocking her.
“Uncle!” she cried out. Thom’s concentration broke for a split second as he looked to her.
“Mey, don’t-” His words cut off suddenly in a gasp.
She slid to a stop, falling next to her uncle, ignoring the stinging scratches she inflicted on her knees.
His lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear his words.
“Uncle Bob, stop. Stop speaking. You’ll be fine.” The words were lost in her sobs as she tried to wipe blood from his eyes. But his lips kept moving and his hand lifted. She bent close to him.
“Thom…” he whispered.
She turned. Thom was on the ground, hands clawing at his neck, lips tinged blue.
The heat coursing through her veins reached a searing boil. Clutching two daggers in her hands, she let a
growl rumble in her throat and rip from her in a screeching yell as she bounded toward the figure standing over Thom.
As she did, the man looked up at her. She had thought she could not be shocked any more than when she realized Garrin was living and breathing and stood in the cave not ten feet from her. She was wrong.
All the blood in her body seemingly dropped to her feet leaving her numb as her breath came out in one great whoosh. Like the hammer blow she felt from the shock of seeing Garrin, this time it felt as though someone was pulling her in two and she felt the sting of the massive ragged wound.
The noise around of clashing swords and yells of fighting men died away instantly.
“Father?”
A flicker of recognition flitted in Rekho’s eyes but died almost as quickly as it came. Instead he snarled at her and, still holding one hand out at Thom, lifted the other in her direction.
He didn’t recognize her. She was changed, so different. She had to make him realize it was her.
“Father!” she screamed at him. “It’s me! It’s Meylaran. These are my friends! You have to stop! Uncle Bob,” she pointed, “he needs our help!”
Rekho laughed. A crazed, frenzied laugh as he twisted the hand that was holding Thom in the choking spell. Thom’s eyes rolled back in his head, his feet kicking as he tried to break free to draw breath.
“You’re killing him!” she screeched at her father. “Stop!”
“A bug crushed in my way to destroying you,” her father said. It wasn’t the loving, soft voice she remembered. And spittle flew from his lips as he barked out another laugh.
He’s going to kill him, she realized. And then he intends to kill me. She shook her head in disbelief even as she raised her daggers to ready a throw. She felt a powerful force overtake her body and her entire being went rigid. She could only move her eyes and she searched frantically around her as far as she could. Thom still clutched at his throat.
Please, she begged trying to speak to him with her mind, tears streaming down her cheeks. Please stop. It was a weak plea. She watched helplessly as Thom’s legs kicked out once, then stilled. Rheko released his hold on the younger mage and Thom crumpled to the ground.
Reborn (The Dragons of Cantor Book 1) Page 27
