The man was clearly dead, so Jonas ran forward to help up the struggling dwarf, who had landed near the slowly advancing undead. Though nearly all of Durgen’s beard had burnt off, and he was covered with burns and soot, he seemed relatively unhurt.
“Let’s go! Everyone in the tunnel! I’ll hold them off!” Jonas yelled, directing everyone up and through the tunnel. The orcs had suffered as much injury as they had, maybe even more, but they were already getting up and preparing for their attack again. “Let’s go, hurry!” Jonas yelled, helping Fil and Kilius through the tunnel, both of them badly burned and dazed.
The king and Jonas were the only two left in the blackened tunnel. King Kromm was a mess, blood, soot, and sweat coating his massive body. His face and arms had been severely singed, yet his eyes still glowed with the adrenaline of battle. He seemed to show no signs of pain or exhaustion.
“Get in the tunnel, I will hold them off for a moment and catch up with you!” Jonas yelled.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Cavalier!” the king ordered, glancing over at the still form of Dandronis. The King’s eyes smoldered with fury and then in a blink he slid past Jonas, disappearing in the dark side tunnel.
Jonas glanced left and right, seeing his enemies close in. The undead were nearly on him when they just stopped and stood still, staring at nothing. The orcs that hadn’t died in the explosion stood less than five paces away, snarling and gripping their weapons in their huge fists.
But for some reason they too were not advancing. Jonas did not want to wait around and find out why they were not attacking, so he quickly turned around to flee through the narrow corridor, only to run into a stone wall. The side corridor was nowhere to be found. In its place stood a smooth stone wall, as if the corridor had never existed.
“It’s a simple spell really, one that even a novice wizard can learn,” Gullanin said, walking through the orcs who had parted for him as if he were a god. Jonas glanced to his left, toward the undead, hoping to see some way of escape, but the undead had stepped aside as well and three dark robed men were drifting towards him. They all wore hooded black cloaks and carried dark staffs.
The cloaked man in the middle was taller than the rest, and as he neared Jonas he lifted his hood from his face revealing a thin visage of pasty white skin. The man’s eyes were sunken and black and his shoulder length hair hung from his cruel face in scraggly patches.
“There is no escape, Cavalier,” hissed the dark cleric as he raised his staff before him.
Jonas quickly threw up a cognivant shield, hoping that it would deflect whatever the cleric was throwing his way, but the move was just a ruse and as Jonas raised the shield, Gullanin, who was behind him and the shield, launched a powerful spell. A translucent magical fist shot from the end of Gullanin’s staff, crashing into Jonas’s unprotected back. The fist, as large as Jonas’s torso, and propelled by the power of Gullanin’s spell, might as well have been connected to a frost giant.
Jonas was slammed against the rock wall, snapping his head back into the stone. Though his helm protected his head from cracking, the force of the blow severely dazed him, as well as leaving him gasping for breath as it knocked the wind out of him.
Gullanin then directed the disembodied fist toward Jonas again just as he was slumping to the floor. This time the fist was open, and it grabbed Jonas firmly, lifting him roughly into the air and slamming him again against the hard stone wall. The impact caused Jonas’s vision to swim, and all he could hear were distant voices as he felt his body being lifted off the ground, before all went black.
Eleven
The Ties that Bind
Kromm stumbled down the dark corridor. The ground was still wet and muddy; he could feel it slosh against his boots. He used his hands as guides, brushing them along the narrow rock wall. He glanced back a couple times, expecting Jonas’s light to shatter the darkness at any moment, but it didn’t, and that worried him.
He was just getting ready to turn back when he saw a sphere of light just ahead of him, a bright floating ball that illuminated the area before him exposing Allindrian and the rest of the group. The Blade Singer was facing him with her sword drawn and the rest of the group stood behind her looking disheveled and worried.
The bright light enabled Kromm to move faster now that he could see the ground in front of him. Quickly he ran to them and Queen Sorana jumped into his arms.
“Thank Ulren you’re okay,” she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion.
“Where is Jonas?” Fil asked anxiously.
“I don’t know. He said he would be right behind me. Allindrian, since you can see in the dark can you leave your light here and run and check on his whereabouts? I did not hear anything behind me and that worries me.”
“Yes. The sphere will not move with you, so you will have to stay here. Hopefully I will just be a moment,” she said, sprinting into the black corridor.
“What happened, my Lord?” Myrell asked fearfully.
“Jonas said he’d hold the opening. He should have been right behind me,” the king said as he grabbed his son and hugged him tight.
Allindrian materialized in front of them from the darkness just a few moments later. Her expression was grave and so were her words. “King Kromm, there is no longer an opening. It is sealed off by stone.”
“What! How can that be?” he said.
“Smells of wizard to me,” Durgen mumbled.
“What do we do? We can’t just leave him!” Myrell exclaimed.
“There be nothin’ we can do,” Durgen said, his voice flat with resignation.
“What do you mean? How can you say that when he saved your skin more than once!” yelled Fil incredulously.
“We must go find him!” Myrell added forcefully.
“Durgen’s right,” Allindrian whispered, as if she didn’t want to believe it.
“How can you say that? He would never leave you, never!” Fil stormed.
“Fil, we cannot go back,” Allindrian reasoned. “It is sealed shut; therefore we have no other choice but to go forward. I did not say that we would leave him, but we can no longer reach him. We have no idea where he is or what happened to him. We must get the king out of here, and now. You know that is what Jonas would want. It is his…it is OUR mission.”
“I will not leave without him,” Fil said adamantly.
“Nor I, boy, rest assured I will not leave this city until we find him. But now is not da time,” Durgen replied.
“Jonas’s mission was to get Kromm to safety. You know he would tell you to go on and succeed in that mission if he were here. We fulfill that task first, and then we find Jonas,” Allindrian said firmly.
“Jonas is a cavalier,” Kromm added. “He will not be so easily taken. I agree with Allindrian. Let us worry about getting out of here alive so we can look for Jonas later.” The king’s tone made it clear that this was an order, not a suggestion. “Allindrian, lead the way.”
And with that, Allindrian moved quickly down the passageway with her sphere of light floating above their heads. They hadn’t gone far before they came to a point where they could no longer go forward. The tunnel ended in a “T” with a path to the left and a path to the right, each looking equally ominous.
“Which way do you think?” Allindrian asked.
“Matters not,” Durgen said.
“Left,” Riker said behind them.
“Why?” Kromm asked.
“The water flows in that direction, maybe it will lead us out of the city,” the young prince reasoned.
Sure enough the brown murky water had carved a small trench down the tunnel, slowly trickling to the left.
“Good work, Boy,” Kromm said. “It is left then.”
Allindrian smiled at Riker as she moved off to the left. They progressed silently for another hundred paces until they came to a spot in the tunnel where the ceiling disappeared, rising fifteen paces up to a metal grate. Allindrian sent the sphere up and everyone’s gaze followed t
he light. Sure enough, there was a metal grate above them and embedded into the wall were metal rungs obviously used as a ladder.
“Up or straight?” asked Fil.
Just then they heard a familiar howling behind them, accompanied by the pounding of the orcs’ booted feet, the sound growing louder as they drew nearer.
“They have found us!” Kilius said.
“Up we go! I will go first to make sure I can move the grate! Durgen and Allindrian, you bring up the rear,” the king ordered. “Sorana and Myrell, follow me up and stay close. Riker come up behind them.”
“Yes, Father,” the boy said, his face white with fear but his stance set and rigid with determination.
The king quickly climbed up the fifteen paces with Allindrian’s magical sphere lighting the way. He reached the grate and looked through the narrow slits. He could see the moon illuminating the edges of buildings and figured they must be somewhere in the city. Reaching up with one hand he gripped the iron grate firmly. It was heavy, but no match for Kromm’s strength. He grunted and lifted with all his might. The old rusty grate held for a moment before succumbing to his power, breaking away from its position with a crack. Then, with one powerful shove, he flung the grate forward, completely exposing the drain hole.
“Follow me, and hurry!” Kromm yelled down as he reached up and pulled himself through the hole into the cool night air. A quick inspection showed that they were on the side of some street somewhere in the middle of the city. Tall stone buildings rose all around him, but no one was in sight. Kromm reached down, easily lifting Sorana and Myrell from the hole. Riker was just behind them and he quickly scrambled out, eager to leave the confines of the tunnels.
“Allindrian, move it!” Kromm yelled into the sewer.
Allindrian looked up just as the noise of the charging orcs became deafening. “Climb on up, Dwarf, I’ll be right behind you!” she said.
***
Jonas awoke slowly, his head heavy with aching pain. His eyes fluttered open and his vision slowly shook away the grogginess, revealing a dark room lit with several braziers, their fiery orange light subtly conquering the darkness of the room.
It took Jonas a second to remember what had happened and to fully take in his surroundings. He had been knocked unconscious by the wizard, whose powerful spell had slammed him against the hard stone wall several times. That would certainly explain the pounding pain in his head.
As Jonas regained his senses, he looked around, gradually realizing the severity of his predicament. He was naked and strapped down to a flat cold stone surface of some sort. His consciousness came with a price, as his wrists and ankles instantly flared with pain when he tried to move. He looked at the straps that bound him, straps that were made from black leather embossed with Dykreel’s mark, the barbed halo. Blood covered his wrists and ankles and he finally realized why. The underside of the straps had sharp hooks, that when strapped down would embed into the flesh of the victim, causing severe pain and keeping the victim from moving. Jonas gritted his teeth, slowly moving his head to get a better look at the room.
He was in a large square room made of a gray stone and surrounded by dark shadows. The high ceiling meant the meager light from the braziers could not penetrate the darkness above him. Jonas could see that one of the walls was covered with a thick red curtain the color of congealed blood. There was a door he could see, made from oak and iron, but it was closed at the moment. As his eyes adjusted to the dark room he noticed carvings in the walls and ceilings that chilled his blood. The mark of Dykreel was expertly carved into the rough stone on every wall, and the menacing symbol seemed to suck any remaining shred of confidence from him. He suddenly felt cold and his body shook, causing more pain to lance through his wrists and ankles. The warm trickle of blood oozed from the leather straps as the barbs dug into his flesh.
Instinctively, he prayed to Shyann, hoping to gain some of her power and strength, something he was in dire need of, for his mind and body ached with weariness and pain. Exhausted and weak, his mind reached for her power, but he found nothing. Beginning to panic, he searched for her presence within him, but she was not there. The magical link to her was nowhere to be found. Searching again, he looked within himself, trying to grasp a thread of her anywhere, something he could hold onto and draw strength from, but it was not there. He was alone.
He panicked, jerking hard against his restraints, screaming as the barbs bit in deeper and new blood poured from his wrists and ankles. A sound to his right interrupted his screams and he jerked his head toward the door where he saw two men in dark robes emerge through the opening. Their hoods were pulled back and Jonas could clearly see their faces as they neared him. One looked familiar, and Jonas realized that it was the same dark cleric who took part in capturing him in the underground corridor. His pale skin, stretched tight on his thin face, was almost translucent, a web of blue veins clearly visible underneath. His greasy black hair hung from his scalp like wet seaweed might from a water troll. The man’s companion was thicker in the face and his hair was shaved short near the scalp. Both of his ears were pierced numerous times with barbed loops, Dykreel’s mark. He smiled as he neared Jonas, revealing yellow teeth covered in brown spots and pitted like an old worn sword.
“Cavalier, please keep trying to escape, for your screams are music to my ears,” the tall thin cleric whispered as he moved to stand next to Jonas.
Jonas stopped thrashing about. His eyes narrowed in anger as he glared at the cleric. Furiously he began reaching deep within himself for his cognivant powers. He would make these two pay. Maybe he couldn’t access Shyann’s power, for whatever reason, but he could surely use his innate abilities, and he would pay them back by wrapping them in energy and slamming them against the stone wall.
But as he reached out for the energy around him, a powerful force slammed into him. It felt like an ogre’s hammer had just hit his head, and he screamed in pain a second time.
“Does it hurt, IshMian?” the larger short haired cleric hissed. “You see, we know all about you,” the cleric continued, tapping Jonas’s forehead. “You cannot see it, but we have placed Dykreel’s mark on your forehead, so that when you try to use your powers you are denied. It interrupts your energy field, wrapping your brain in Dykreel’s fire, causing the terrible pain that you just experienced. I wish you could see it. It is most beautiful. The black metal barbs of the loop are embedded into your skin, fastening it securely to your head, right over your disgusting God Mark. Oh don’t worry, you are still God Marked, but by the master of torments. You are part of the Forsworn now, my young Cavalier.”
“Never!” Jonas hissed through the pain still pounding in his head.
The tall thin cleric laughed. “As if you have a choice, Cavalier,” he said, spitting out the last word like it was a foul taste in his mouth. “You are in a Dykreel temple, strapped down to his altar where you are completely shielded from your precious goddess. She cannot find you here, and you cannot help yourself.”
“My friends will find me,” Jonas said quietly, trying to gain some confidence in the fact that he knew they were out there somewhere.
“Oh no, they will not. They are running for their lives as we speak. They do not know your whereabouts. Besides, they will be dead within the hour. There is no escape,” the heavier cleric gloated.
“So, Cavalier, are you ready to be broken?” the thin cleric snickered, lifting a heavy hammer into view.
Jonas said nothing. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something, anything to take him away from this place, to take him away from the pain that was sure to come. It was then that he thought of Taleen. He remembered when she had told them about the tests that cavalier candidates had to take, and he remembered the one where they were tortured for five days by their own priests. He could not believe that she had gone through that, and passed the test. And this was why. This was the purpose of that trial. It was to prepare them for what would happen if they were ever captured. Somehow Jonas
took strength from this thought. If Taleen could withstand such a test, then so could he. He pictured her face in his mind, and concentrated on every detail, hoping that it would somehow make him feel better. Then he opened his eyes, fully prepared to face the two clerics.
Yet, as he prepared to face his impending ordeal, it suddenly dawned on him how utterly alone he was. Lying here in this dark room, whose very walls seemed to ooze with the pain and suffering of the many victims before him, he felt as if the cold stone altar was slowly and inexorably draining his confidence and resolve.
They were right; his friends were not going to rescue him in time. They might not even be alive, and even if they were they had no idea where he was being held prisoner. He didn’t know his whereabouts himself. Jonas again closed his eyes in resignation, waiting for the pain to come.
***
“What should we do, Father?” Riker asked frantically, as the howls of the orcs down in the tunnel grew increasingly louder. “They are almost upon us!”
Just then Durgen pulled himself up through the opening with a grunt. Allindrian soon followed, coming up through the opening effortlessly.
“Let us find our way to the inner palace and the Free Legion. We need their swords!” shouted the king.
“What about Jonas?” Fil asked in frustration.
“I told you. We find safety first, and then we launch a search for Jonas. I will not have my wife and son at the mercy of orc blades. Besides, we will do no good running around in the dark looking for him.”
“Which way to the palace?” Queen Sorana asked as she looked around at the strange buildings.
“I know the way,” Allindrian said, glancing to her left down a dark street.
Suddenly the noise from the orcs drowned out their conversation. Kromm looked down into the hole. “Here they come,” he said, reaching over and picking up the heavy grate, dropping it with a bang over the opening. “Allindrian, lead the way.”
The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 02 - The Rise of Malbeck Page 32
