by Lexy Wolfe
Simpkins swore. “That’s a magget. It’s one of the worst sorts of demon. It isn’t intelligent, but nothing is effective against it, neither physical nor magical.” He looked towards the door they had entered. “And we’ve freed it. It’ll ravage the north if it gets out of here.”
Tiwaz stated grimly as she put her long sword away and reached for Ghalnecha. “Then it shall not leave.” The ogre was about to say something when the blade began to glow. He could see a ghostly shape of a dragon fan its wings as it haloed the woman. She ran towards the monstrosity, then stopped, swinging her sword to strike the ground. The ringing sound was unnaturally loud, painful to their ears.
However, the magget howled a shriek of fury and pain, then fixated its attention on the brazen woman, stalking after her. Doom tried firing arrows, but they bounced off its thick hide. Even its eye seemed impervious. The males’ hearts nearly stopped when she ran closer to the monstrosity, a blur of metal and motion. Its flesh parted as the blade sliced it as easily as a knife through warmed butter.
“Ghalnecha hurts demons!” Tracker exclaimed in surprise. He and the others fanned out, trying to distract the thing to give Tiwaz time to recover from the attacks that seemed to be wearing on her stamina more swiftly than normal. His howl imitated the tonality of the sword’s ringing. The wolflen scrabbled to stop his forward momentum, struggling to avoid the monster when its attention turned onto him.
Gareth pulled out a flute that had survived the earthquake; he also imitated the dissonant sound, allowing Tracker to get well out of the demon’s reach. Doom fired arrows into the open wounds left by the sword, while Simpkins conjured more wind sprites to harass it with movement and light.
Panting, Tiwaz watched the demon as it struggled to pick a target between the four males. “Can you banish it? The others can do little more than distract it.” She closed her eyes, clearing her mind of distractions. “I do not know where its weak point is to end this myself.”
Maggets are very strong, the dragon priestess whispered in the woman’s mind. I have faced this sort of demon many times, but it drains me considerably and the strike to destroy it was usually fatal to my wielder.
“Do not worry about me. I have always been ready to die fighting.” She looked at the males, her gaze lingering on the ogre longest, the contradiction to what she had always believed about wielders of magic. “They are the important ones. Those we left back home are the important ones. We are sword and shield to them.” She straightened up, squaring her shoulders. “Guide me, Ghalnecha! Let our might ring through all the hells.”
Simpkins caught sight of Tiwaz’s run towards the demon and instinctively levitated her when she leapt, allowing her to easily land atop the gigantic lump of twisted flesh. She reversed her hold on Ghalnecha and drove it deep into the magget.
The world seemed to hold its breath as the demon abruptly froze. Flesh turned to stone, spreading through the monster from the sword outwards. The squeal of stone under stress grew. “Down!” Tiwaz yelled, the other four dropped flat a fraction of a second before the demon exploded, plunging the dark cavern into a thick, dust-filled blackness and utter silence.
SIMPKINS ROUSED TO Mya and the conjured wind sprites that still endured tugging his hair and clothing to wake him. He pushed himself up, coughing as a thick layer of dust slid off him. He squinted at the growing brightness in illumination and squinted upwards, blinking in shock to see several large crystalline stalactite structures glowing softly, a clinging blackness dissipating in a thin cloud of black motes as whatever coated the ceiling and walls sloughed off. The ogre counted heads as the others began to rouse. He did not see Tiwaz and felt his stomach knot.
“Mya, where is she?” he asked in a low voice, trying to keep the others from noticing his worried urgency, but his voice carried in the vacant cavern. The wind sprites winged away in a cloud of glowing spots towards a form crumpled against the wall near another, smaller door. The newly conjured sprites faded as they used their remaining energy to help Mya blow the dust off and away from Tiwaz.
“Cat-Sister lives,” Tracker assured Doom as the gromek gathered her into his arms. “Tracker hear heartbeat. Slow, but strong.”
“She’s going to have a helluva headache,” Gareth observed as he walked over carrying Ghalnecha across the flats of his palms. The blade appeared duller than before. “I think whatever they did took its toll on them both. Only thing I hope is that was the only one in here. Looks like it might have been a leftover from the years after the world fractured and the planes were still bleeding into each other.”
Doom gently brushed an errant tendril of hair from his friend’s face, running the back of his fingers along her cheek. “I can carry her,” the ogre offered. He looked up at Simpkins. The magic user gestured towards the door. “It’s locked. I thought you might like to…‘unlock’ it.”
The gromek’s expression shifted from puzzlement to appreciation as he stood with Tiwaz, carefully transferring her into the ogre’s arms. He turned towards the door and with a bellow, rammed his shoulder into it. Wood exploded in a shower of splinters. With an air of aristocracy, he brushed himself off to the other’s quiet laughter. “Crude,” he admitted. “But effective. And utterly satisfying.”
Mya flew through the door first, intending to light the way, but stopped abruptly, hovering. She put her hands on tiny hips in indignation as more of the light-producing stalactites populated the ceiling in next chamber. The clarity of the giant crystals hinted at blue sky and clouds above. “Interesting,” Simpkins mused, Mya fluttering to his shoulder to sulk. “It looks like the crystals are bringing sunlight from above down into this place.”
Gareth peered up, shading his eyes. “If that’s true, given the color of the sky, it means we should find somewhere secure to make camp, and save exploring the rest of this place for tomorrow.” He considered the large chamber, his eyes drawn to a massive throne with a sword impaled through its back. “It looks like whatever happened here did during some sort of banquet.” He started to reach out to touch the sword in the throne when Tracker grabbed his wrist.
“Chair look like wood.” The wolflen knocked on the seat. “Not wood. Stone.”
Gareth blinked and looked at the sword in the throne. “You think the sword turned whomever was in this chair into stone? Eesh. That’s a horrible way to go.”
“There’s fresh air coming in,” Doom said, pointing out the movement of the long, elegant drapery behind the throne. “With the amount of dust in here, I would have thought anything made of cloth or leather would have rotted by now.”
“There are various runes and glyphs that are used to preserve such things,” Simpkins informed them. “Or put on containers to preserve their contents.” He looked down at Tiwaz, frowning at the memory that she had borne such magic and shook his head. “Camping near a sure source of fresh air in these caverns is probably the wisest course of action.”
A sliding door moved at a light touch and opened into pitch-blackness. Delighted to be able to help again, Mya flew upwards, brightening to reveal a large, yet cozy, apartment that seemed to be furnished for giants taller than Simpkins. Tracker spread Tiwaz’s cloak on the bed-like couch, stepping away so Simpkins could lay her on it. While Doom examined the hearth and prepared a fire, she roused with a groan. Simpkins smiled at her reassuringly when her eyes fluttered open. “Welcome back to the land of the living.” The gromek paused to glance over, tension in his shoulders easing in relief.
“I’m still alive?” she croaked, reaching up to put her hand on her head, closing her eyes again.
Leaning over the back of the couch, Gareth smiled down at her. “The amount of hurt you’re in should have told you that.”
She managed a weak smirk. “My luck, death would not be any different than life.” Her smile faded as she brought her other hand up, holding her head. “Why does it feel like everything’s moving? I have never felt so exhausted.”
“My guess is Ghalnecha had to draw on you to do wh
atever she did to the magget. Given your inexperience using your…using magic, it’s like a scholar suddenly having to get off his ass and do more than move from the dining hall to the tower. Except you’re too strong to keel over from heart failure from the exertion.”
One eye slit open. “You really don’t like your own kind, do you?”
“I don’t like wasted potential,” Simpkins told her. “What point is there in training to do anything if it isn’t used for some purpose more than studying?” He snorted derisively then patted her hand. “If I haven’t mentioned it, I am extremely grateful you stayed with us. I’d try to hire you all onto my crew if I didn’t know the risk leaving this fracture posed to you and Doom.”
Doom looked over sharply from the hearth, pausing in moving the pieces of meat to cook evenly. “'Crew?’ What crew?”
“Oh, I don’t usually work alone. I’m captain of a ship that’s ported at Crossroads right now. My helmsman keeps the boys and girls in line when I’m gone, else we’d never be able to port around civilized lands.” He smiled toothily. “My baby is known as the Stone Dragon.”
Gareth looked over at him, pausing in rooting around the wardrobe with intense curiosity. “The pirate ship?”
“We’re not pirates! We’re…associates specializing in random item recovery,” he retorted, though he could hardly remain bristled when Tiwaz chuckled.
“Uh huh,” Gareth replied drolly. He pulled out a thin journal, blinking as he thumbed through it. “Hey, Simpkins, what was this book of yours supposed to look like?”
“Look like? I don’t know. I do know that if you know more than one written language, it would be confusing to look at until it settled on a tongue.” Tracker took Simpkin’s place beside Tiwaz as he joined the bard. He took the book and blinked as he paged through it, then sat down abruptly on the stool nearby, staring at the book for several minutes. He started chuckling, then laughing, then guffawing so hard, tears streamed down his cheeks. “All that effort. All the money he’s paying me and just for…this pitifully thin thing. I thought this would be a glorious, massive tome to awe even the most illiterate.” He wiped his face and sighed, looking at it ruefully. “Ah, well. A job is a job.”
“There’s a bedroom back there,” the bard noted to Doom and Tracker. “After we eat, you two go make sure Tiwaz gets rest.”
The woman frowned, struggling to sit up. “I don’t need coddling—!” She sighed heavily as Tracker pushed her back onto the couch with firm gentility.
“Not coddling,” the wolflen pointed out. “Cat-Sister too stubborn. Won’t stay put and rest without us making sure. Tracker and Doom-Not-Demon won’t leave Cat-Sister alone.”
“He knows you too well, Ti,” Doom teased, his back to her, but smiling wider as if he could see her stick her tongue out at him. “Two against one. This time, no arguments. You have no reason to push yourself.” He looked back at her. “Understand?”
“I suppose,” she agreed with great reluctance. She remained silent while they discussed whether or not they needed a camp guard and what to do with the stash of coins and jewels hidden under the bed in the next room. Covering her eyes with her arm, she murmured with great weariness. “I just wish I could stop feeling alone even when I’m with all of you.”
WAKE UP. YOU are not alone anymore, my aceri. I’m here now.
The low, masculine voice touched with a purring thrum intruded on Tiwaz’s sleeping mind, jolting her awake. Terrifyingly foreign but wonderfully familiar, she looked around the sleeping chamber for its source. Instinctively aware that it was noon, even with being so far underground, she knew thrill and alarm that she was in her panther form. She struggled to free herself of the jumble of blankets that only seemed to tangle themselves around her more.
Her thrashing roused Doom and Tracker who were sleeping on either side of her, as they always did when they hunted together. “Ti, relax,” Doom shouted to get her attention. “We can’t help if you keep moving around like this.”
“Cat-Sister, what distresses you?” the wolflen asked as he got out of the bed. He and Doom worked to untangle the sheets, the progress of which the thrashing cat confounded. He looked on with consternation as she tumbled awkwardly onto the floor when he managed to grab the sheet and pulled it clear.
“High sun,” she replied, the wolflen tongue the only one she could speak while in her panther shape. “It is high sun and I am changed.”
“What?” Doom and Tracker traded bewildered looks as Doom hurried to his friend’s side, stopping her from twisting around trying to look at herself. While Tracker explained to their newly roused and still sleepy companions, Doom grabbed her by the ruff on either side of her head to force her to look at him. “Ti! Calm down.” She stilled, staring at him with wide, feline gold eyes. He stroked her head and shoulders with worry. “Can you change back?”
“I will try,” she finally stated. He released her, then drew back in shock when a blackness obscured her form, but he was close enough to see a more unsettling change through the cloud. Instead of strange, painful contortions, layers of her body seemed to vanish, then reassemble. The change began and finished faster, before most would have time to react.
When the cloud faded, she was on her hands and knees, fully clothed in the softest black suede accented with golden buckles, rings, and rivets. Her arm was bare, displaying the ring and red feather that she’d won during the wolflen Solstice Games. She sat on her heels and stared at her hands, then looked up at Doom, her shock deepening as her feline-gold eyes widened and jaw dropped.
He reached out to touch her hair and cheek. “Your hair, Ti. It’s brown. And your eyes…” He blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He watched her hand as she reached up…and touched something not there when they had fallen asleep.
“Horns,” she half-whispered. A delighted smile lit up her face. “Doom, your horns are growing back!” He reached up with both hands reflexively, the sound of his shirt tearing coinciding with the perplexed expression that something was not quite right. He tugged the garment off and turned much as she had earlier. She grabbed his hand and tugged him over towards the large wall mirror so he could see. “And your wings! Oh, Doom, wings and horns! The dragons were right, it just took time for things to be set right for you!”
Gareth rubbed his eyes, looking sideways at the staring ogre. “How long have we been asleep?” he asked, bewildered. “I’d think we’d have noticed those before now.”
“I have…no idea.” He rubbed his eyes to look at Doom and Tiwaz, then looked down at his stomach as it growled loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. He colored a bit as he cleared his throat at the others’ outright laughter. “Given how hungry I am, at least four days.” He turned to return to the main room of the apartment. “I’ll make breakfast. Lunch. Whatever. Food! I’m starving.”
“Probably quite literally,” Gareth replied drolly as he followed. Once the other two were gone, the ecstatic joy the pair exhibited subsided.
Tracker looked between Doom and Tiwaz, tilting his head. “You are not happy?” he asked them quietly in wolflen.
Doom managed to smile. “This is a dream I have dreamt so many times.” He looked down at Tiwaz when she suddenly hugged him fiercely tight, putting a reassuring arm around her. “I am afraid I will wake up and it will be as it has always been, with me a disfigured mockery of my people.”
Tiwaz did not speak for a time, her pack-mates waiting patiently. “For most of my life, I was just a gladiator. Alimar’s tool. Other people’s entertainment. I was…nothing.”
“You were never nothing to me,” Doom growled, hugging her tighter.
“I was nothing,” she reiterated. “To me. I was empty. A shell. I hid my pain from you because you did not need more than what Alimar made you suffer. I pretended not to notice you hid yours from me.” She closed her eyes, resting her cheek over his heart, the strong, dull thud soothing. “I feared if you knew, you would become angry at Alimar and try to hurt him. We agreed t
o live to see him dead.” She looked up at him, despairing. “I did not know what else to do to make sure that happened.”
Soon, you will be ready to face him, the low, masculine voice whispered again. But not yet. Your soul has bled for too long. There is much healing to be done.
“Who speaks?! Where are you?” She spun away from Doom, looking around wildly. “Didn’t you hear it?” she demanded.
Tracker and Doom traded bewildered, worried looks. “None but you can hear Ghalnecha,” Tracker said slowly.
“It isn’t Ghalnecha! Ghalnecha is female and sleeping still. This voice…This is male.” She strode out of the sleeping chamber, ignoring the queries from Gareth and Simpkins as she headed back out into the main chamber. “I know it. But I don’t know it.” She shook Doom’s hand off her arm roughly, her attention entirely consumed with this strange voice. Her pace, at first an uncertain walk, slowly turned into an all-out run down another hall.
Her friends barely avoided running over her when she skidded to a stop at an archway that lead into darkness. She disappeared into the blackness just before they could ask what was wrong. A low, snarling growl alarmed the four males.
“Mya, light!” Simpkins ordered. The tiny wind sprite flew away from his shoulder and glowed so bright it was as though the sun shined through the mountain above them. Around a grand, circular pool of water sat three massive dragon skulls. Giant, blue diamonds glowed to life from the center skull’s eye sockets, emeralds within the one to the left and rubies in the one to the right. In a half circle around the dais, the wall was an enormous, perfect mirror.
“Keth’s tail,” Gareth breathed in awe, clasping his dragon pendant. “Now I remember! I heard stories about this place. This is the heart of the Dragonway. The first temple that had been lost for so long!”
