"That totem you’re chained to is inscribed with some rather powerful enchantments, they are ancient, no historian has been able to identify their origin," he spoke slowly as though he was imparting knowledge upon a young acolyte, "this monastery itself was nothing more than a ruin when it was first discovered, the last remnants of a forgotten people. I have served here for many years, and ruled for half that again."
"So you are the Arch cleric then?"
"Yes," he nodded, "I am Arch cleric Osrown."
"It is an honour to meet you then, it’s a shame it couldn't have been under better circumstances." Crystal felt better knowing that she was talking to the Arch cleric. Now that he knew who she was, this whole unfortunate misunderstanding could be worked out.
"I take no pleasure in meeting witches."
Crystal's jaw almost dropped. Did he really take her for a liar? She went to speak but Osrown raised his hand to silence her.
"I have put many hundreds of witches on these pyres and heard them tell a thousand lies to save their cursed skins. I have seen enough of Manishka’s signs to know that you and your friend are indeed both witches."
"I can prove to you who we are, if you would only take the time to send out riders, patience and truths are virtues of clerics, will you truly so hastily take our lives in good conscious after what I have told you?"
"Send out riders so there'll be fewer soldiers here when you try and escape? I think not. With the setting of the sun your body will be purified and cleansed in the flames with the other poor souls gathered here," he turned away from her.
"You’re making a horrible mistake!"
"I am sorry to take your life, truly,” he turned, his eyes again full of empathy, “but it is the consequence of the path you have chosen to follow. I hope in death you find your peace."
Osrown ignored her pleas as he walked across the courtyard. Crystal called after him but to no avail. Her voice roused Melody. She slowly raised her head, her body felt stiff and sore.
"What’s happening?" she said, feeling the chains against her skin, "why are we bound?"
"They think we're witches."
Melody smiled. "Don’t worry Crystal, Akella will come," she said, her voice broken and soft. "Akella will save us..."
The oncoming of dusk bathed the horizon in a warm pink glow. Braziers around the courtyard were lit as a large crowd of peasants and soldiers began to gather. It was a sombre assembly. People spoke quietly amongst themselves shifting awkwardly as they stood before the pyres, glancing occasionally at the poor souls bound for death.
"They’re going to light these soon aren't they," Melody felt weak, the chains heavy against her arms. She had been given no food or water by the healers after having her wounds tended. Her injuries were severe, the blood loss crippling her ability to function. She didn't want this to be her end.
"At sun down,"
"I can't do it again," Melody shook her head, "we're not at the shrine, we're really going to die this time."
Crystal wasn't ready to die either. Not here. Not in the hands of Osrown and his ignorant soldiers. Her thoughts turned to Jonathon. The thought of never seeing him again, never being in his arms, never kissing him, it broke her; a single tear ran down her cheek. She was not resolved to let this happen nor would she suffer it idly. The Terrifos's boasted the greatest strength in all of Pyrelle; it was time now to prove that. To summon the strength of her ancestors and brake these iron chains of confinement.
With a scream of rage Crystal poured every ounce of strength she had into breaking free of the shackles, her efforts drawing the attention of the entire crowd. Transfixed they watched in fearful anticipation that a witch might actually manage to escape the enchanted totem. She continued screaming, calling forth strength far beyond that of a human. The soldiers stationed on the parapet above the pyres nudged each other, raised their crossbows and fired several bolts in Crystal's chest. The bolts impaled her with a heavy thud; blood cascaded from the deep wounds. Her head slumped, body falling limp and held up only by the iron chains. Melody cried out in horror. The crowd cheered, the witch would receive the death she so rightly deserved.
"Crystal!" Melody's eyes were glassy and bloodshot.
Crystal raised her head, blood dripping from her mouth as she struggled to speak. Never in her life had Melody felt such helplessness and frustration. This shouldn't be happening, and she could do nothing to stop it.
When the sun had fully set and the crowd stood illuminated in the flickering light of the flaming braziers Osrown appeared on the main balcony. He held his hands out to his people, regaling them dogmatic stories and prayers of the wishes and will of the gods, and how all things wrought of evil must be banished and purified by flame.
Melody struggled weak as she was when the soldiers came to set her pyre ablaze. She begged them not to do it, pleading with them to have reason. She was no witch; they ignored all her words. The flames burnt low at first, but soon grew large and consumed her. The pain was beyond that which she remembered. She could feel her skin blistering and melting then there was nothing but white pain and the sounds of her own screams until the flames claimed her utterly.
It was absolute torment for Crystal to watch Melody suffer so. She wanted to end her pain, to release her from it and take it into herself to spare Melody the agony. But she could not. She sobbed uncontrollably; each breath came as a horrible torture with the bolts driven deep into her chest. Melody was gone, such a beautiful soul that she was.
As the soldiers lit Crystal's pyre she prayed to Fe’anorr that this not to be her end. She had endured the flames before and this just as the first time was a journey to deliver her soul to his breast. Her body would burn but her spirit would soar to the heavens and in time she would return; born again from the ashes.
While the flames danced across her body blackening and blistering her skin she did not scream meeting her death with courage and strength; the fortitude of a Terrifos. Crystal saw Osrown standing on the balcony surrounded by his captains. There was a peculiar look upon his face, sadistic, as though he enjoyed watching the witches suffer in horrible torment. A cleric should have too much heart to endure such pain onto others; where was his benevolence? Crystal held Osrown’s gaze until her eyes dripped from their sockets and she knew no more.
Chapter 12
It was damp in the cave, the air heavy and moist. Water flowed slowly through age worn trenches in the stone and dripped from low hanging stalactites into dark pools scattered across the moss covered floor. The dancing flames of Patsy's torch transformed rock features into eerie shadows that stalked them, as if watching in anticipation for their grisly demise. There was an ominous mist in the air, both Ravage and Patsy had their swords drawn ready to strike at anything that came at them from the darkness. Ravage had left her spear in the village. The long weapon would be difficult to wield in the narrow passageways while carrying a flaming brand.
With their heightened senses the two wolvrens had gone off to scout ahead. Soft paws allowing them to move swiftly and silently. Allura had left them also, exploring a narrow passage that had been hidden behind a tangle of thorny climbing vines. Ravage was loathe for her to leave, wanting everyone to stick together. Allura assured them she wouldn't be long.
An intense feeling of foreboding engrossed the two warriors as they descended deeper into the depths of the cave. The stream they were following flowed into a cavity, disappearing underground.
A diverse number of mosses and fungi grew in abundance across the damp walls. The constant echo of dripping water resonated around them. Parts of the cave walls narrowed considerably so that the pair could not walk abreast. Patsy felt a horrible sense of claustrophobia as she passed through the bottle necks, the bow on her back scrapping against the stone as she squeezed through. Patsy was mindful of her footfalls, cautious and precise as they were. The last thing she wanted was to tumble down an unseen pit to her doom in the abyss below.
After what seemed like a long while
they found themselves in a large cavern with varying tiers of stone formations. There were many tunnel entrances, each darker and more foreboding than the last. The ground was littered with smooth pebbles. Ravage could feel a cool draft on her face.
"We should wait for Allura before going any further." Ravage held her torch aloft revealing more of her surroundings. There were so many tunnels she didn't want to hazard a guess as to which was the right one to take.
"I wonder why she wanted to go down that passage alone?" said Patsy, sitting atop a stone to rest her legs.
Ravage shrugged. "Maybe she didn't check it before, remember how she said she had come into the cave earlier?"
"That's true," Patsy gazed at her surroundings, "with all these tunnels ahead I wonder if we should begin to mark our way?" she had brought a white soap stone along for just that occasion.
"I think we should, I definitely don't want to get lost down here."
An uneventful hour passed and still Allura had no appeared. The pair became restless and began to explore the quaint oddities of the cavern. Ravage made the grisly discovery of a pair of skeletal corpses. A man lay beneath the deformed mess of twisted and cruel shaped bones that was once some hideous monster, a sword still impaled in its chest cavity.
"At least he took it with him," said Patsy as she stood over the remains.
Kneeling Ravage inspected the sword. Decay and rust had eaten the vast majority of the blade yet it was able to keep its shape. Despite the deterioration she could still see intricate designs upon the hilt. In its prime this would have been a grand sword, most likely owned by a knight.
A lone ring still adorned his decayed finger. Carefully Ravage removed it from the bony finger; remnants of an old leather glove broke apart as she pried it free. It was cold to the touch. The ring had a circular crest, its design hidden beneath a thick layer of aged dirt. She decided she would clean and inspect the ring later and so tucked it into her pouch.
A pile of stones aroused Patsy's curiosity. It had been neatly stacked into a pyramid inside a cleft on the cavern wall; it was too neat to have fallen there naturally. Carefully she moved the stones one at a time and sitting there in the heart of the pile was a small wooden box no bigger than a fist. It was caked in dust, the wood felt dry and old. It was heavy in her hands, perhaps it was full of gold, or silver, someone's hidden stash of treasure. It seemed odd that they would hide such treasure here. Patsy wondered if perhaps it was some cursed item, left and discarded, never meant to be found, the box being unadorned as it was made it difficult to guess what could be inside.
Opening the lid she was greeted with the brilliant sparkling of many gems and precious stones. There were tourmalines, emeralds, garnets, rainbow topaz and diamonds. A smile swept across her face, the gems were worth a small fortune. Patsy showed Ravage and the pair gloated joyfully over the lucky find. She poured the gemstones into her pouch, returning the box to its cleft home.
It became tedious waiting for Allura to return, Ravage begun to fear that something may have happened to her. As she sat there thinking about the neshural a dark shape appeared at the entrance to one of the tunnels. It bent low to the ground as though investigating a scent, and began to stalk through the darkness towards her. Ravage was too absorbed in her thoughts to notice the creature getting closer, she and Patsy had been in the cavern for hours now with nothing happening and their alertness had abated as weariness set in.
A fowl stench assaulted Patsy. Raising the torch high she looked around to see what could be causing such a horrid stench, that's when she saw it. The fire light played upon its scaled body as it arose hissing to launch itself upon Ravage. Patsy went to scream a warning but before she could a dark apparition fell upon the creature and it screeched in pain and terror. It was Shadow. The powerful wolvren crushed the monster’s throat in its powerful jaws and tossed the lifeless body aside as though it were weightless.
Mist leapt from above and stood beside Ravage. The pair had been in the cavern the whole time, their coats camouflaging them amongst the darkness. Ravage ran her fingers through the wolvrens thick soft mane. That was a close call, the creature had snuck up on her completely unawares and she felt a stab of shame within herself for not being more vigilant. She knew better than to act so carelessly, that easily could have been her death.
The creature lay motionless in a pool of blood as the two girls inspected its hideous body. A reptilian beast from the underworld, its claws were long and its elongated mouth was lined with jagged rotten fangs.
"I think we should go and find Allura," said Ravage, "I'm starting to get a bit worried about her,"
"If the wolvrens are here then I think she's fine," Allura was far more suited to survive down here then they were. All her senses were more finely tuned and she was much stronger. They had tarried long enough; it was time to get back on track. "I say we press on and look for the missing villagers."
Ravage’s initial thought was to try and persuade Patsy to help her find Allura. When she took a moment to think about it she realised that she also felt the urge to press on. They had already ventured deep into the cave, it could take hours to back track along the tunnels and find her. They had each packed a few spare torches but their time in the cave was limited. The pair would be utterly helpless in complete darkness.
"Alright, let's do it," said Ravage as she moved beside her friend, "which tunnel should we take?"
Patsy had already chosen one. It was partially barred by an overhanging rock and the pair had to duck as they entered. Patsy marked the tunnel with her soapstone and glanced back to see if the wolvrens were going to follow, they did not. The two powerful beasts perched themselves on ledges, tucking their heads in their paws to rest.
Once inside the height of the roof quickly changed and they were able to stand and walk unhindered. Ravage led the way, blade first, the torch hissing angrily as wind came upon them. The air had freshness to it and the scent of water. Soon they heard the crashing of water on rock and there was a dull light up ahead.
The tunnel led into a chasm. They stood in a hollow; hundreds of feet above them was a rent in the mountain side and sunlight filtered down upon them. In the side of the chasm was a magnificent waterfall, its brilliant sparkling water cascading down into the depths below. Great tree roots had broken through many areas of the stone, thriving amongst them were ferns and climbing vines. The two girls were in awe of the beauty. They stood motionless, absorbing the serenity.
A narrow ledge was their only way across the chasm. Carefully they made their way, continuing their descent.
An unnatural chill bit at Ravage’s skin. It was not from the cold, it was something else, and made her feel ill at ease. Patsy felt the same sensation, but still they pressed on.
They soon found themselves in a vast cavern that housed a lake of immeasurable size. It looked deep as it was wide. Great natural stone pillars rose up from its black surface. Fear kept Ravage from walking close to the water's edge. It was beautiful and terrifying.
"This is amazing," said Patsy, filled with wonder.
"I bet there's some ancient shorku living in that lake, I can just feel it."
"It does look like the kinda place an ancient beast would live," and truly it did, the thought that some colossal entity could be lurking in the lake gave Patsy the chills.
Ravage stared out across the lake into the darkness beyond. Often she wondered why she feared water so when at the same time it fascinated her. On the ground she had her agility, she could fight unhindered but in water she was slow. The predators in the water were highly evolved killers, and she defenceless against them. There wasn't a large enough pile of gold in the world that could bribe her into entering the lake.
The girl’s attention was suddenly drawn away from the lake by the sweet humming of a lullaby, pleasant and soothing. They froze, exchanging confused glances. Slowly they walked towards the sound, blades at the ready.
A woman was kneeling in the shallows. She appeared to be w
ashing clothes. When Ravage got closer with her torch a ghastly scene was revealed. It was human skin she was washing, blood all about her in the water. The woman turned quickly, her face haunting and cruel, skin aged well beyond the years of any mortal. Her eyes were alight with a burning blue fire. She wailed; her voice harsh and piercing. It was a call, a beckoning to the damned.
The woman rose, hovering above the water. Cloaked in dirty rags she glared down at the intruders who had breached her lair. There was a great commotion in the lake as dozens of skinless heads broke the water's surface. A horde of decaying undead swarmed, answering the summons from their banshee overlord.
So this is what had become of the missing villagers. Pawns trapped in an undead nightmare to serve their unholy master. Ravage pitied them, but it did not stop her from dismembering and decapitating all those who assailed her. The two warriors found themselves having to constantly move quite rapidly so as not to be surrounded by the undead, their swords singing as they sliced through the putrid rotting ghouls.
The battle was not going in their favour. The creatures they cut down still crawled after them, scratching and clutching at their legs trying to pull them down to feast upon their living flesh. Only the decapitated lay motionless.
Knocking down an undead Ravage turned to find herself face to face with the banshee. With flaming eyes it screamed at her so harshly and with such raw power in its voice that Ravage was thrown to the ground. The banshee launched its hideous body upon her only to find itself impaled on Ravage’s sword. Ravage growled hatefully as she kicked the banshee away. A beating she could take, bruises, pain, it was all part of being a warrior. It was her life she would not allow the banshee to take. As she arose an undead seized her. Clutching onto her with powerful arms it fought viciously to bring her to ruin. Patsy surged atop it, defending Ravage with brutal efficiency. Pain consumed Ravage as the banshee raked her grotesque claws across her back flaying the flesh and sending a stream of blood gushing from the wound. With wrath she spun, her sword claiming one of the banshees legs above the knee.
Born of the Phoenix Page 10
