Until All Bonds Are Broken

by Tim Frankovich

  Volraag pointed into the cave. “As always, Tezan, it’s about power. Finding it and taking control of it.”

  “In there?”

  In answer, Volraag resumed his route to the cave entrance. He shoved a root out of his way, only to have it swing back. He stepped over it instead.

  Shattered pieces of rock lay all about the cave entrance, torn apart by Marshal’s power. He hadn’t just happened to uncover the exact entrance to the cave, but actually blasted part of it into piles of debris. That made this last bit the most difficult to traverse.

  “Ahh!” Tezan pulled a hand back, blood trickling from a cut across his palm. The shards were sharp in places.

  Nothing would stop him now. Volraag ignored several cuts the rocks gave him and continued. At last, he stood in the cave entrance.

  As he surmised, the symmetrical shape of the cave was not natural. Someone had carved it. He could see tool marks in the walls. Had they cut the entire thing out of solid rock by hand? Or was magic involved? He suspected the latter.

  Tezan and Rathri joined him. Together, they looked down. The cave formed a tunnel about ten feet wide and tall, stretching down at a slight angle and curving to the right. Wherever it led could not be seen from here.

  “I don’t suppose you can generate light with your magic?” Tezan asked. Volraag shook his head. As far as he knew, he could only vibrate things.

  Tezan sighed, glanced up at the walls, then snapped his fingers. A glowing orb of pale light appeared in his palm.

  Volraag admitted surprise. “I didn’t think you had any power left.”

  “Not enough for anything significant, or you wouldn’t have been able to keep me caged this long. But light? That I can do. And now I’m curious. I want to see what’s down here now.”

  Rathri put his crudely-wrapped hands against the wall of the tunnel. “We are near,” he said. “Magic flows through these walls. Can you feel it?”

  Now that he mentioned it, Volraag could feel something, a disturbance in the air. He reached out and brushed the tips of his fingers against the wall. Rathri was right. He felt movement within the rock, as if something flowed just beyond it. Flowed up. Out of the cave. Which meant it came from below. He began walking.

  Tezan’s light orb provided just enough guidance, not that they needed much. Once past the ruin Marshal had made of the entrance, the tunnel floor became smooth and clear of obstacles, almost like an underground hallway. And hallways led to doors.

  “They used to call these spots high places,” Tezan said. His voice breaking the silence almost made Volraag jump. “Who came down this tunnel and decided to proclaim it ‘high’?”

  “How do you know these things?” Volraag asked.

  “I worked with Lord Tyrr, studying all things related to magic. You know he wanted this place.”

  “What else do you know?”

  Tezan shrugged. “Myths and legends. All I know for certain is that wild magic proliferates near here.” After a moment’s silence, he added, “My home was only ten miles from here.”

  Volraag listened, but kept his focus on what he could see and feel. The tunnel had not changed in the slightest. The walls looked exactly the same as they had upon first entering. But even as he thought it, he realized the tunnel was growing wider, taller. The air grew cool once they left the sun behind.

  “Something ahead,” Rathri said.

  How could eyes in that corrupted body see things better than he could? Volraag saw it one moment later. As they drew nearer and Tezan’s light orb expanded its glow, more and more became visible.

  The tunnel ended in what Volraag could only think of as some kind of round door. Its size surprised him. Without being asked, Tezan increased the power of his orb so they could see the entire thing. The door stretched up to the height of three men, with equal width.

  Volraag put a hand on the door’s surface. It appeared to be made of… iron? No. Steel. What manner of forge could have produced something of this size and intricacy?

  The door bulged outward from the rock, creating a rounded surface, like the outer edge of an enormous ball. Deep into its surface Volraag saw detailed carvings, inscriptions of some kind. He saw text in places, formed of letters he could not read. Other areas contained drawings of some kind, but drawings of such detail he could not imagine how they could be carved into a steel surface.

  He stepped further back to try to understand the drawings. In the exact center of the door he saw three overlapping circles. Inside each circle stood three figures. The central circle’s figures were tall with odd proportions that did not look right.

  “Eldanim,” he whispered.

  The other two circles held more human-proportioned figures. But the figures on the left seemed larger and more powerful than the ones on the right. Circling around all three groups cascaded a wide variety of animals, many he knew but some he did not recognize. The creature at the very top looked like a winged lizard or...

  “What do you suppose it all means?” Tezan said. His voice echoed against the stillness of the tunnel.

  Rathri went to the edge of the door, where it met the rock. He scraped at it with a sword tip. “I see no way through this,” he said. “Perhaps you could break it?”

  “He said only the power of a Lord could open the portal,” Volraag said, “but I don’t think that meant to destroy it.”

  “Who said?”

  Volraag ran his hands along the steel surface again, amazed at the smoothness. “The Eldanim.”

  “You’ve spoken with the Eldanim?” Tezan asked.

  Volraag pressed against the steel and released a short burst of power. Nothing happened. The door absorbed the vibrations without any shaking itself. Ordinary steel would not do that. Could that be how it worked? Just channel enough power into the door itself? It seemed a dangerous idea. There must be something else.

  “Keep looking,” he said.

  The three of them spread out and examined the door from all angles. Volraag grew restless. Why didn’t Curasir show up and just tell him what to do? They were wasting time.

  “Here,” the assassin’s voice rasped. He pointed to a section of the door near the center.

  Volraag approached and examined the area Rathri indicated. Right at eye level, he saw two slots in the door’s surface. He slid his hand up inside one of them and found grooves matching his fingers. He repeated the action with the other hand.

  “This must be it!” Tezan even sounded excited.

  Volraag concentrated. He released a small burst of magic through both hands again. This time, he received an answer in the form of a distant rumble. Tezan and Rathri both took a few steps back.

  Volraag took a deep breath and channeled more power, then even more. As he did, the door itself began to shake. Dust and tiny pieces of rock rained down around the door’s edges. To his surprise, the door began to move backward, pulling him with it. He yanked his hands out of the slots.

  The door continued to recede. Around the edges, the parts furthest back, something else began to appear. At first, Volraag thought it looked like water, but it did not flow down or behave like water in any other way. The door slid back and back, revealing more and more of the watery substance. It shimmered, reflecting Tezan’s light orb. The entire process took at least ten minutes. At last, the central inscription with the connected rings and figures vanished within. Nothing remained of the door. Instead, they stared at a massive circle of the unknown.

  “The gateway to the Otherworld,” Rathri said. Volraag could sense awe even in the assassin’s abrasive voice. Or was it desire?

  A crackle echoed in the chamber. Light glimmered briefly, light not from the orb. Volraag stepped further back to get a better look. Another crackle. Multi-colored light danced around a spot toward the top right of the circle. Then another appeared near the bottom left. Each burst of light exploded with a crackling sound. The watery substance turned dark, no longer reflecting any of the light. The multi-colored crackles expanded, becoming
more rapid and larger, spreading over the entire outer edge.

  A blast of cool air, colder than the tunnel’s chill, gusted out from the circle. Volraag’s hair swept backward and he blinked against the force of it.

  The darkness of the circle swirled with the multi-colored lights and became translucent. Volraag could make out figures moving around beyond it, human-shaped but ridiculously tall. He knew now that he stared into another world, though he could see nothing distinct.

  Rathri stepped toward the portal, as if he wanted to enter it. He probably did. “Don’t touch it!” Volraag ordered.

  Rathri stretched out his hand in defiance. “We didn’t come down here just to look at it!”

  One of the moving figures on the other side approached the portal, then stepped through. As he did, he seemed to shrink in size, appearing almost human as he came across into this world. Curasir.

  “I knew you could do it, son of Varion. Well done!”

  Rathri whipped out one of his short blades, but backed away from the Eldani. Tezan only stared.

  “Does this lead to your world, then?” Volraag gestured at the portal.

  “It leads to the Starlit Realm, a world like and unlike your own,” Curasir said.

  Rathri took another step toward it. Curasir put out a hand. “The Starlit Realm is not for you, assassin.”

  “You do not command me, Eldani.”

  “In this case, I do. And if you do not listen to me, you will face them.” He waved to the portal and two more figures emerged, dragging something behind them.

  Volraag took a step back. In form, the figures appeared similar to Curasir, though taller. Each looked to be at least eight feet. Their skin, on the other hand, looked like nothing he had ever seen. Black, but not black. As if their skin absorbed all color. Dark energy crackled around them, creating a menacing glow around their exposed skin. Through it, Volraag saw only shades of gray, the color removed from everything they eclipsed.

  Each held a curved sword in one hand, and dragged their burden with the other. They wore dark armor in composite pieces across their bodies, including tall helmets that served to exaggerate their height even more.

  “Am I supposed to be impressed?” Rathri asked.

  Tezan stepped up next to Volraag. “Look down!” he whispered. Volraag glanced down and saw a trickle of water passing between his feet.

  One of the dark Eldanim pointed his sword at Rathri. “I have killed more than you’ve ever dreamed of, human,” he said.

  Rathri stepped toward him, drawing his second blade. “You know noth—”

  “Rathri! Stand down!” Volraag said.

  “Fourteen more of the Durunim wait on the other side of the portal,” Curasir said. “If you are truly determined, you can try your blades against them. I do not think it will end well for you.”

  Rathri stood still for a long moment, then sheathed his blades and stepped back. But he held a stiffness to his posture Volraag had never seen in him. Anger? Disappointment?

  Volraag spared the trickle of water another glance, then turned to Curasir. “You promised me power.”

  “I did. And here it is.”

  The Durunim pulled their burden forward and deposited it at Volraag’s feet. He looked down at another Eldani, not dissimilar from Curasir, bound and gagged. “What is this?”

  “As you humans are fond of saying, we Eldanim are creatures of magic. Have your pet wild mage absorb this one’s magic and give it to you.”

  “Can this be done, Tezan?”

  “I, I don’t know. I’ve never…”

  “It can be done,” Curasir said. “I am certain.”

  “But… if the magic is part of your being,” Tezan said, “then what will happen to him if I take it?”

  Curasir shrugged. “He will die. Or not. I’m not entirely sure.”

  “No.” Tezan backed away. “You’re the killers. Not me. This is too far, Volraag.”

  “I told you my goals, Tezan. You understood them.”

  “Not like this. You don’t even need this.”

  Volraag’s mind raced with the possibilities. Already, he wielded the power of a Lord. But Eldanim magic was different. If he possessed it, it would give him another advantage over the other Lords, maybe enough to give him what he needed to defeat them.

  “Rathri.”

  The assassin’s blade appeared next to Tezan’s neck. “Do as you’re told, mage.”

  “I will not. You’ll have to kill me.”

  Rathri pressed the blade a little harder.

  “Wait.”

  Curasir stepped up and placed a hand on Tezan’s shoulder. “Let me help you begin,” he said. “Once it starts, I don’t think you’ll stop.”

  “What? No, I don’t want…”

  Curasir took Tezan’s hand and held it out. He made another small gesture and the bound Eldani shivered. Tezan gasped.

  “What is it?” Volraag said. His own anticipation escalated.

  “I… didn’t know…” Tezan said.

  “Intoxicating, isn’t it?”

  Tezan’s breath shuddered.

  “Give it to me!” Volraag demanded.

  Tezan stretched out his other hand toward Volraag. He clenched his fist, then opened it.

  A burst of power exploded within Volraag, unlike his existing power. It began in his chest, a feeling of strength, of invincibility. As Tezan continued, it spread outward throughout his body. A warm glow invigorated him. He held up his arm and looked at his skin, surprised to see it wasn’t glowing. Strangely, he tasted salt and found he craved something sweet in response.

  Tezan threw his head back as Curasir stepped away. Even as the pleasure of the power continued to spread through him, Volraag wondered at that. Did it feel the same for him? Or better somehow?

  His vision shifted. Everything seemed slightly off-kilter, the light not hitting things quite right. For a moment, he saw the other side of the portal, the Durunim lined up and waiting, as Curasir had mentioned. And behind them, in the sky: stars. Amazing stars. He barely had time to register that before his vision snapped back to normal.

  Tezan dropped his arms and sagged. He stumbled back a few steps and sat down hard. Still, his face held a smile, a look of ecstasy.

  Volraag looked down at the Eldani whose power he now possessed. He lay still, both eyes staring without life. Both eyes. It took him a moment to register why that was wrong. One of them should be black. It took him a moment longer to notice that the body lay in a puddle of water.

  “What was his name?”

  Curasir looked up. “Ruitel. Why do you ask?”

  “I like to know the names of those who have given their lives in my cause.”

  At that precise moment, a blast of magical power struck Volraag from behind.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  VICTOR DIDN’T SEE anyone rushing toward them at the moment, but that could change. Marshal moved quickly enough, even with a slight limp, but it couldn’t last. He had expended immense magic power, and that never ended well. He might collapse at any second. They needed to move fast.

  They both had their weapons, and Victor had the Ranir Stone. Anything else… they could survive without. No time to go visit their tent.

  The dust clouds gave them some cover until they reached the trees. But even here, they remained in danger. The trees weren’t dense enough to hide them.

  “Keep moving,” Victor said. “Our only chance is distance.”

  They were running away from the army. Running away from Victor’s dreams. Except the dreams hadn’t quite worked out the way he thought they would. He could fight far better than he ever expected… but he worried about what it did to him.

  “I could move faster if my ankle hadn’t been torn ragged by your flail,” Marshal said between gasps for air.

  “I’m not apologizing for that.”

  “You don’t need to.”

  Pounding hooves approached from the right. Victor swept out his sword and turned to face the app
roaching centurion. He reined to a halt and looked down at them.

  “Conscript, I think you had better put that sword away,” he said.

  “We’re not going back,” Marshal said.

  “Desertion can be punishable by death.”

  “You saw what I just did to the battlefield, didn’t you? Do you need another demonstration?” Marshal waved his hand over the ground and a tremor ran through it. The horse snorted and pawed at the earth.

  The centurion stared. “You did all that? What are you?”

  “You should get out of his way. That’s all you need to know,” Victor said. He sheathed his sword. He inclined his head to Marshal and they both began walking again.

  “I… I’ll have to report this,” the centurion said.

  “You do that.”

  Marshal stumbled a little and Victor caught his arm. “I was worried about that. Are you all right?”

  “I’ll manage.”

  They kept moving for a while, leaving the camp behind. Once they were far enough out, Victor tried to turn north. He couldn’t be completely sure he had it right, but at this point any direction would do.

  “I need to rest,” Marshal said after another couple of minutes. He stumbled and sat down at the foot of a large pine.

  “Sure.” Despite his concerns, Victor appreciated the break himself. He hadn’t gotten enough rest after yesterday’s exertions. And the gash on his side had begun to bleed again.

  “They’re coming,” Marshal said. A moment later, Victor also heard the hoofbeats again. More than one this time.

  “Can you take them?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Since it would be futile to run, they waited. A few moments later, their pursuers arrived. A dozen Remavian Guards, led by Lord Volraag’s right-hand man, Otioch. Victor recognized him from a few nights earlier. The horsemen encircled them. Several leveled spears, while the others held bows at ready. Otioch dismounted and approached.

  “Lord Volraag requires your presence,” he said, looking at Marshal.

  “And I require that you leave me alone.”

  Otioch spread his hands. “You are powerful. No one here questions that. But Lord Volraag himself will be here shortly.”