A deep chasm separated the outer rim of the cavern from the shallow bowl-shaped island in its center. The High Priest was reminded of the bottomless ravine that surrounded the cathedral in the Warrens. The dim light was just enough for him to see the thick central column rising up out of the dark, like a finger pointed skyward. The bowl rested on the tip of that finger.
This was the first time during their journey that the warriors balked at his orders. Surveying the cavern, Zarfensis could understand why. The only paths onto the center island were fragile-looking arches of ice that extended out over the crevasse. The distance was too great to jump, which meant that they would have to cross these unlikely bridges if they were to reach the center of the chamber.
Unwilling to sacrifice his brothers even though he, too, was afraid, Zarfensis went to the first arch and inspected it. It wasn’t nearly as thick as he would have liked. It looked as if it would give way under the full weight of a Xarundi warrior. He worried about the bridge shattering while they were crossing it. Having more than one Xarundi cross the bridge at a time was out of the question. The High Priest was certain that it would collapse and send them all plummeting to their deaths.
There were three arches near enough to use. There were others, but they were so far along the rim that they would be spread dangerously thin. Though they may not be able to cross in numbers, they should at least remain near each other in the event that the girl and her vermin ilk caught up with them. Once they had the relic, it wouldn’t matter. They’d destroy the girl and her friends, then destroy the rest of the human race. Zarfensis would see that no vermin were left alive during the second ascension of the Chosen.
“Over the arches, quickly, but carefully.” Zarfensis suited his words to actions, climbing gingerly up on the bridge nearest to him. The ice creaked under his weight and he moved slowly toward the apex of the arch. To his left and right, warriors were climbing with the same methodical care that he was.
There was a sound like splintering wood and all three of the Xarundi on the arches froze. After a moment, the sound had faded away and it seemed that they were safe to move on. Zarfensis reached the pinnacle of the bridge before the warriors on either side, so he had a clear vantage point as the right-hand bridge gave way.
The Xarundi warrior managed to grab the edge of the platform as the ice gave way beneath him. It was a remarkable feat of strength, but wasted effort, as the ends of the bridge broke from their anchors and tumbled with the warrior into the darkness. Though Zarfensis listened for a long time, he heard nothing. No indication of how deep the bottom might be, or if there was a bottom at all.
The cleric spoke a prayer, urging the warrior’s soul to be absorbed into the Dyr. Zarfensis took a step forward, then another. The progress was agonizing, but it was progress and though the ice groaned and shifted under him, it seemed relatively stable. The warrior on his left was moving forward again also, his arms spread out for balance as he descended the treacherous path.
Almost all of the party had made it over the bridges when the girl and her companion entered the chamber. The shaman and the cleric were still in the middle of their crossing when the mage began hurling fireballs at the exposed Xarundi. One of the projectiles hit the bridge where the shaman was standing and it exploded into shards of ice. He howled as he fell, the sound becoming distant incredibly quickly and then dying out altogether.
As another fireball slammed into the other bridge, the cleric made a death-defying leap toward the center bowl. His claws dug into the ice, leaving long furrows as he slid backwards over the edge of the chasm. The other warriors dashed forward, ignoring the flaming projectiles, and hauled their healer up onto the island.
Zarfensis didn’t have time to mourn the loss of his brothers. They needed to find the relic and find it now. Ordering the warriors away from the edge, he commanded them to follow and set off toward the mist shrouded center of the chamber.
* * *
“They’re going to find the relic,” Tiadaria cried as the Xarundi loped away from the fireballs Wynn had thrown at them. “We need to hurry.”
They started around the perimeter of the cavern, watching for the return of the High Priest or any of the others. It wasn’t hard to imagine that they’d like to destroy whatever bridge they crossed and repay the death of their companions in stride.
“I know,” Wynn panted. “If they’re looking for the relic, at least they’re not paying attention to us.”
There was that, Tiadaria thought and she was grateful for the respite. Though she suspected they could cross the bridges far more easily than the heavier Xarundi, she didn’t fancy the idea of having them on the other side trying to kill them while they crossed. Rather than waste time finding another bridge for Wynn to cross, Tia turned to him and laid out a plan.
“I’ll go across first, you follow when I’m on the downslope. We’ll balance each other out that way, even the load. We’ll get across quicker than they did. The sooner we get over there, the sooner we can stop them.”
Wynn nodded, though he wasn’t fond of the idea of walking across the bridge, exposed to anything or anyone that might be lurking in the mist on the other side. Still, he had resolved to follow Tiadaria and see this through to the end. That meant staying by her side, no matter how scared he was of crossing the arch.
Tia climbed up onto the bridge, picking her feet up and carefully laying them down. When she reached the top, she gave Wynn a little wave and started down the other side.
Slipping his staff into its holster, he stepped out onto the ice. Wynn’s first steps were terrifying. His mind kept going back to the sight of the Xarundi falling into the hole and howling all the way down. The apprentice put the thought firmly out of his mind and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
He managed to fixate on that one action so well that he was on his way down the far side of the arch when he realized that Tiadaria was on the island, waiting for him. A few more steps and she was almost near enough to touch. Just as he was about to step onto the island, there was a mighty crack and the ground dropped out from under him. Wynn threw himself forward, slamming his chest into the edge of the bowl, his hands scrabbling for purchase and finding none.
Tiadaria, acting purely on instinct, slipped into sphere sight. Wynn’s fall slowed to a glacial pace. She pulled one of her scimitars free and drove it deep into the ice. She clung to it with one hand, and with the other wrapped her fingers around Wynn’s wrist. Every muscle in her body strained and she called on the power of the sphere to pull him up next to her. They both collapsed, shaking. Tiadaria with exertion, and Wynn in horror.
The deep ache in her chest told Tiadaria that the sphere had once again claimed payment for her remarkable abilities. Her hands burned, as much from the contact with the steel of her sword as with the bitter cold. She managed to push herself to her feet and offer Wynn a hand.
“We need to go.”
“I know.”
Wynn took her hand and struggled to his feet. His staff, fortunately, was still slung in the holster across his back. He pulled it free now, using it to steady his still wobbly legs. Tiadaria shrugged out of her pack and dropped it to the ice. Wynn gave her a puzzled look.
“We won’t need them for the fight, and if we live, we can come back for them.”
He nodded, slipping out of his pack and leaving it next to hers. As they jogged into the thickening mist in the center of the cavern, Wynn paused and looked back over his shoulder. The bags sat abandoned by the base of the ruined arch. He wondered if they’d ever see that place again. Putting the thought out of his head, he followed Tia into the unknown.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The deeper into the chamber they went, the thicker the mist became. They could walk off the edge of the island and never know it until it was too late, Zarfensis thought. The warriors clustered around him, following his lead. It took a moment or two for the High Priest to realize that though the mist was thickest here, there was a subtle violet glow emanating
from below them. He dropped to his knees, brushing a light layer of snow off the ice. The brilliance of the purple light magnified considerably.
“Here!” he called to the warriors triumphantly. “We dig here!” Without waiting for the rest of the war party to heed his cry, Zarfensis unsheathed his claws and began chipping away at the ice. The source of the light appeared to be only a few feet down. With the help of the others, they should have the relic uncovered before the vermin could catch up.
The excavation was furious. Each of the warriors moved out of the others way so they didn’t risk cutting each other with their razor sharp claws. This allowed them to uncover several large patches, all converging into a center area where Zarfensis had been digging. Zarfensis plunged his claws into the ice and was surprised when they broke through a thin shell of ice into a pocket of air beyond.
The air space under the ice allowed them to get a better grasp and they began pulling up large chunks of the stuff, tossing it away. A moment later, a Xarundi size hole was broken into the hollow chamber and Zarfensis could gaze with equal parts reverence and horror on the relic they had just uncovered.
The relic was ancient and powerful indeed. So powerful that Zarfensis knew they had no hope of controlling it, but rather asking it to acknowledge that the Xarundi were the ones responsible for freeing it from its icy prison.
“I know.” The voice echoed loudly from inside his head.
Zarfensis looked down at the violet eye, the size of a small buckler, as the slit lengthened and turned its intense stare on the High Priest. A rush of air swept past the war-party and the ground under them trembled. The warriors stepped back and Zarfensis followed.
As the massive dragon took air into its lungs for the first time in who knew how many hundreds of years, the thick neck expanded with the support of the breath. The ice around it exploded outward, carving a channel down toward where the massive body lie immobilized. There was an explosion of shards and the Xarundi shielded themselves from the projectiles. As the massive lungs filled, the chest expanded, sending large fissures racing in all directions across the surface of the island. For a moment, the entire surface of the bowl seemed to explode upward, then settled.
Slowly, the beast’s neck, long and thick as the tallest ironwood tree, freed itself from the ice. The head followed, the violet eyes blazing in the mist. The body came next, swaying to and fro on unsteady legs as the dragon found itself upright on limbs that hadn’t been used in centuries. Finding its footing, it spread its snow-white wings, blocking out the light from the broken ceiling above. It turned its pinions, flexing the wings to their full extension before folding them across its back.
It reared its head, looking skyward through the ceiling and took another deep breath. The brassy roar that exploded from the dragon shook the island to its foundation and forced the Xarundi to their knees. The head swung down again, one huge violet eye fixing its gaze on Zarfensis.
“You seek to control me, dog?”
Zarfensis tried to find words to reply and found that he couldn’t form any. He had thought that the relic would be an object of power, something to be wielded in battle against the hordes of vermin. A dragon! They couldn’t hope to control a dragon.
“No, mongrel, you will not,” the dragon said, responding to the frightened Xarundi’s thoughts. “However, you freed me from my prison. That is an act to be repaid in kind. Therefore, you will have your lives and your freedom. Leave this place. Leave it and spread the word that the threat of your feeble empire is nothing compared to my might and power.”
Suddenly the massive head whipped upright, peering into the mist. A moment later it had opened its titanic jaws, allowing a miniature bolt of lightning to steak across the cavern. There was an explosion of ice and Zarfensis heard the terrorized bleating of the vermin. If nothing else, at least the dragon had done them that favor.
“That is the last such boon you will receive, mongrel. Remember.”
The dragon spread its wings and leapt into the air. It seemed for a moment that the huge wings weren’t strong enough to hold the creature aloft, but it lurched upward on the down stroke, the rush of air wafting away the mist so that everyone in the cavern could see its awesome size. It flew up to the jagged hole in the ceiling, crashed through its rough edges, and was gone.
* * *
Tiadaria and Wynn lay sprawled on the ice. The lightning strike hadn’t been near enough to singe them, but it had knocked them flat and left them with the purple afterimage of flash blindness. Though neither one of them could make out detail, they saw enough to know that the dragon that the Xarundi had freed was enormous and not to be trifled with.
Though they hadn’t been able to hear the Xarundi’s side of the conversation, the dragons had reverberated in their heads. It seemed not to care whose minds it touched, or what information it conveyed while it was there. At least they had the satisfaction of knowing that the Xarundi, for all their speed and maneuvering in getting to the relic first, had ultimately failed. They had no weapon with which to battle humanity. At best they had gained nothing. At worst, they had gained an incredibly powerful and cunning foe.
Tia managed to sit up and saw the Xarundi racing toward them. They weren’t out of the woods yet. In fact, the woods threatened to swallow them whole.
“Wynn, get up. Get up! We’re in trouble.”
“What else is new?” he asked, struggling to his feet and picking up his staff. He spun the weapon experimentally, fire sprang from the ends. “Come on, then.”
The battle was joined in the center of the cavern. Tiadaria’s blades flashed and rang as steel struck claw. Wynn fired spell after spell into their attackers, cackling with delight when his weapons made contact with their enemies. When one of the Xarundi in healer’s robes burst into flames by his hand, he crowed with such uncharacteristic glee that Tiadaria whirled to look at him.
Wynn’s eye was as red as the deadly fire he commanded. The uncertain boy was gone. In his place was a raging maniac, channeling the force of the sphere as fast and as furiously as he could. Tiadaria knew from painful experience that that sort of wanton destruction came at a terrible price. No sooner had the thought passed through her mind than Wynn cried out and doubled over, clutching his chest.
Tiadaria tried to reach him, but she was beset on all sides by Xarundi warriors. Through her sphere enhanced reflexes, she was able to keep them at bay, but gaining the upper hand was proving to be almost impossible. She watched in helpless horror as the Xarundi with the metal leg, the High Priest, descended on the helpless Wynn.
Zarfensis grabbed Wynn around the throat with his powerful hand, digging his claws into the young man’s neck. Surprised by the sudden assault from a different quarter, Wynn cried out and tried to struggle free. The massive Xarundi hefted him off the ground, squeezing his neck ever tighter.
Wynn gasped for breath. His vision was going gray and he knew that he had only moments to act or be lost forever. Summoning the last of his reserves, he summoned a small ball of magical flames. It coalesced in his hand, bathing him with no more warmth than a hot bath but singing the unprotected hair of the High Priest. He turned his hand over and shoved it into the Xarundi’s face, directly into his left eye.
The young apprentice heard the sizzle of burning flesh and smelled the burning fur. The Xarundi screeched in pain, dropping the mage and attempting to put out the flames with his hands. When he finally succeeded, the side of his face was a ruin of charred flesh. The eye had melted in its socket, oozing down over the ravaged skin.
Zarfensis took a step forward, intent on killing the mage, and Wynn summoned another ball of flame. They stood that way, eyes locked on each other for what seemed like an eternity, then Zarfensis broke and ran. Not satisfied to leave well enough alone, Wynn threw the summoned flame at the Xarundi’s leg. A smile crept over his face as the projectile struck the contraption, melting the thick rubber cords and shattering its tiny crystal window. A small quantity of feebly flickering runedust sp
illed out onto the floor of the cavern. The mechanical leg completely immobilized, the High Priest teetered clumsily and fell over.
The Xarundi war party was losing its cohesion. Their High Priest was wounded and immobilized. Tiadaria had dealt two of them deep wounds that bled freely and made the ice under their feet treacherous to fight on. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the mage was descending on them, his staff blazing.
In the end, the Xarundi tucked their tails between their legs and ran. They scampered up over one of the bridges, ignoring the shattering ice and disappeared into the tunnels beyond.
“We should go after them,” Wynn said, preparing to suit words to actions.
“Let them go, Wynn. We’ve bloodied them enough for one day. Plus, we have a prisoner.”
They turned to look at Zarfensis just as the Xarundi began to intone the words of a spell. Wynn crossed the ice in long strides and brought his staff around quickly, connecting the end of the weapon to the base of the Xarundi’s skull and knocking him unconscious. He slumped to the ground and Wynn prodded him experimentally before returning to Tiadaria.
“Alright,” Wynn said. “But what are we going to do with him?”
Tiadaria shrugged. She hadn’t figured that part out yet. The two of them stood there for quite some time trying to figure out what to do next. Fortunately, the opening in the center of the cavern let in some of the outside air, so it wasn’t as cold as it had been during their descent. Neither of them had any magic that could help them. Tiadaria’s abilities extended only as far as her combat skills, and Wynn wouldn’t be of much help if they didn’t need to set anything on fire. He knew lots of theory, but very little in the way of practical application. He lacked the years of practice and trial and error that endowed most apprentices with a well-rounded education.
The Xarundi was starting to stir and Tia was worried about what the long term effects would be if they kept him subdued by whacking him in the back of the head with the end of Wynn’s staff. Fortunately, she didn’t have to worry about it for long.
The Swordmage Trilogy Bundle, Volumes 1-3 Page 33
