"Wait!"
Aerinas spun, shocked. “What are you screaming for, Pux?"
"Take me with you,” the apprentice begged. “Aeligon is my Master, and I know him best. Take me with you, and I'll surely increase your chances of finding him."
"You may need him, Aerinas,” Foran said, leaning on his elbows in the dark. “Only Sheevos knows that, if anything, Pux could annoy Aeligon out of hiding."
A roar of laughter reverberated off the passage walls.
Tristandor was growing impatient. “Enough of this. Aerinas, take Pux, or leave him, but decide quickly. Aeligon may be in trouble, and we need him on this quest."
"I'm going.” Aerinas snatched up the staff and moved down the left passage.
"Just keep that torch away from me...silly elf...” Pux's voice became nothing more than a distant echo as they headed deep into the catacombs.
"I just hope that Aeligon is all right,” Hrathis said as he rolled over onto his side. “Timothy here will do the worrying for me while I rest. I can hardly keep my eyes open."
Timothy just gave a heh and went back to watching over the king.
"Well, I can't sleep now,” Farrin said as he stretched and stood. He had to keep his head cocked to one side, due to the ceiling there being a smidgeon too low for the giants.
"Nor can I.” Ithyllna threw her blanket around her shoulders and stared into the blackness of the left passage where Aerinas’ torchlight had disappeared. Nor can I. She clenched the edges of the blanket tightly, hopeful, but strangely aware of Tristandor's critical gaze.
Aerinas and Pux moved along the passage. The flame illuminated the way ahead, but the darkness quickly caved in behind them as they passed. The elf ‘s mind raced, his heart pounded, and he could feel his hand falling asleep from his white-knuckled grip on the torch.
"You are far gentler to me than my master,” Pux sighed, almost sounding relieved. “And you're not as grumpy."
"I am grumpy enough,” Aerinas snorted. “And I am trying to find your master, so do not complain too much. I suspect the worst, and we need to be ready when we find him. I saw him tinkering around with something earlier, but I did not want to ask."
"Ugh! You mean this could involve the talisman he wears around his neck?"
"No, I believe it has something to do with the cloth-wrapped glass shard he carries."
"You've known about it for awhile, then?"
"Yes, I snuck a peek when he was asleep back in Mynandrias. I saw him carrying it as if it were a great secret."
"He recovered it from El-Caras. I was there, you know."
"Yes, I gathered as much, Pux. He has no choice but to take you everywhere with him now, does he not?"
"He knows how to silence me well enough, so it's never a question of whether I'm there or not, it's whether or not he allows me to see what he's doing. When we were in El-Caras, he figured he must've needed me, so he allowed me freedom."
"Shhh...” Aerinas interrupted suddenly. “Up ahead...hear that?"
A low hum rumbled down the passageway toward them. The hair on the back of Aerinas’ neck stood on end. “He's up ahead, Pux. Make ready. He's not alone."
Slowly, Aerinas stepped forward. The walls ahead were brushed green with a shimmering light. Aerinas laid the torch down.
"We need to leave this here, Pux.” Aerinas held the staff outstretched in one hand and drew his sword with the other. The runes on the blade started to glow red, but only slightly. “There is magic ahead."
"Obviously!” Pux said. “We must be careful. Experience has taught me that magic can be either good or evil. Your blade can't tell the difference, so we mustn't be hasty."
"I feel like I am back in El-Caras. I snuck up on another sorcerer then and nearly paid for it with my life. I do not want to repeat history. Pux, can you summon a shield spell? Using our minds might be a better solution than using our muscles this time."
Pux nodded. The end of the staff started to glow with a white light. A quick flash of light and the pair were encompassed in a flowing, mobile barrier. “This barrier will change shape depending on the type of attack it's shielding. So, if it starts to move away from us, don't be alarmed."
Aerinas nodded, narrowed his eyes, and edged toward the opening. The green light flooded the passageway and grew brighter with every step. Finally, the elf and the conjurer peered around the corner and into the room. Aerinas gasped and dropped his sword. Pux shouted, “Aeligon!"
In the center of the room, Aeligon hung in the air, suspended. The wizard was frozen as still as a stone statue, his eyes fixed on the glowing fragment. A slender arm of smoke protruded from the shard, its hand wrapped tightly around Aeligon's body.
"No!” Aerinas, having the sense to pick his sword back up, emerged from the passage, and started to slash at the arm with the steel. The smoke broke and dissolved, but reformed between his slashes. A roar of anger ripped through the room and shook the cave violently.
"Infidel! Do you think you can break me? You fool!"
A line of fire spewed from the fragment at the elf, but the barrier countered it, which sent the flame hurtling against the far wall, setting it on fire.
"Look!” Pux yelled. “Magical fire burns even rock. Don't drop me, Aerinas. If you do, the barrier will be broken, and you will surely die. No matter what happens, don't drop me. I'll hold the spell as long as I can."
"Gah!” the voice shouted. Another thread of fire shot at Aerinas. He held out his blade to shield himself, but the barrier morphed around it and deflected the flame again.
Suddenly, Aeligon raised his arms, and the hand's grip around him fell away. The wizard dropped to the ground, heaving and coughing. He slowly raised his arm, and a shockwave of purple energy flew from his hand toward the shard. The blast shattered the fragment into thousands of pieces, and the green light faded.
Aerinas dropped his blade and ran to the wizard when the barrier spell fizzled. Pux's face disappeared from the staff.
"Aeligon, are you all right?” Aerinas asked, propping the wizard up. Aeligon's eyes were closed, but he moaned and turned his head.
"Well, you are alive at least. I have got to get you out of here."
He sheathed his sword, strapped Pux to his back, and shouldered Aeligon. He found his torch still burning on the cavern floor. The whole way back, Aeligon mumbled and slurred his speech, which Aerinas couldn't understand.
What were you doing with that fragment alone? Why did you not ask for help? Stubborn wizard. Always stubborn. So many secrets, so little faith.
The others came running to the mouth of the passage when they heard footsteps and saw the flickering torchlight. Tristandor and Foran grabbed Aeligon and laid him down on the floor, resting his head carefully. His eyes were still closed.
Ithyllna approached Aerinas with a worried look. “Are you all right?” she whispered as she brushed the tangled strands of hair away from his face. He just nodded and went to where Aeligon was being tended. She glared and shook her head.
Tristandor looked up at his son. Their eyes met. “What happened, Aerinas?"
"I found him . . . in what I can best describe as captivity. If I had not shown up . . . he may have died. The mirror fragment was evil. But it is destroyed. Once he broke free from it, he unleashed a spell the likes of which I have never seen before. It shattered the shard into dust, along with its magic."
"How did he break free?"
Aerinas shrugged, “I have no idea. The thing started shooting magic fire threads at me, fire that could burn rock. Its concentration was thus diverted from Aeligon, who yelled and broke free, sending a purple shockwave from his hand."
Tristandor's eyes widened. “Shockwave, did you say? Purple?” Aerinas nodded.
Tristandor chuckled then.
Aerinas and the others exchanged confused glances. “What's so funny?” Aerinas asked.
"Oh, I think Aeligon will be all right. If he had enough energy to sing, he will be quite all right.” Tristandor patted the
wizard's wrinkled hand.
"What do you mean? Aeligon did not sing. In fact, he uttered not a word. How is that singing?"
"Aeligon possesses a natural ability to sing without using his voice, Aerinas. With this unique power, he is able to communicate without having to speak. Using the natural harmonious rhythms to which all life attunes, he can manipulate energy waves to carry his own form of language. It is said to be so powerful because of the sheer expandability of sound in such a small amount of time and space. Merely by thinking changes in pitch and frequency, he can assault the strongest of materials with ease. Of course, this power is not unlimited, but in this case, it saved his life. Lucky for him his enemy chose a fragile material to hide in."
There was a long pause. Everyone looked around at each other, shrugging. “So, Aeligon is able to sing?” Aerinas finally piped up. “Aeligon's song destroyed the mirror shard?” He bobbed his head up and down, and then started laughing. The others joined in.
Tristandor shook his head. “I suppose jesting is what I should expect from you, my fool of a son,” Tristandor snapped, interrupting the jubilant laughter. “If it does not make sense to you, disregard it and joke about it, huh?” He turned and stormed down the passageway with torch in hand.
"Let him be, Aerinas,” Ithyllna said quietly, resting her hand on Aerinas’ forearm. “It's not worth the argument. We need to remain calm down here. If we end up lost, or if the Cray find us, we will need all of our strength,” her voice trailed off as she turned Aerinas’ face with her finger, “and cooperation."
Aerinas looked at her. Her gentle touch and the cool caring in her eyes soothed him. He relaxed his shaking hands. “I did not mean to poke fun at Aeligon. I just can't help but wonder how my father knows so much about him."
Ithyllna knelt next to Aeligon. “Aeligon has known your father for a long time. It's only natural that Tristandor would know much more about the Healer than you."
Foran joined them at the wizard's side. “You even said it yourself, Aerinas. Aeligon and your father fought in the Calaridis Wars. Aeligon saved his life once. Aeligon's song was his salvation, which explains why Tristandor was so sensitive a moment ago."
"That's...precisely why he was...so sensitive...a moment ago,” a weary voice said, softly. Aeligon's eyes opened, revealing the sparkling pools of blue beneath in the firelight. “I...haven't used . . . the song in . . . quite a long time. I had . . . nearly . . . forgotten how to . . . summon its power."
"Aeligon,” Aerinas sighed with relief. “I thought I had lost you, Master.” Aerinas had never called him “Master” before, and it brought a twist of the wizard's brow.
"Master? Oh . . . no, young elf . . . I am not your master. You . . . have a . . . father."
Aeligon's eyes closed again, and he fell into a deep sleep for several hours. While he slept, silence swept over the group, who also rested. It would only be a matter of time before the Cray found them. Then what would they do? They could hardly make a stand in the cramped spaces of the catacombs.
Aerinas stayed awake and watched the others sleep. He couldn't shake the recent encounter from his mind. What did you see, Healer? How does a healer come to learn a song so powerful? You had better tell me when I ask it of you.
Days and nights went unnoticed down in the catacombs of Gudred. The party never came upon any openings or cracks in the rocks letting the sun or moon shine through. Only an endless system of wide tunnels burrowing further into the underground lay before them. Since the tunnels were built by the hands of men and giants, there were maps bolted to the walls at certain junctures to maintain some semblance of navigation. Storerooms were few and far between, but there was still some food and supplies waiting to be discovered and used. Farrin even noted how fortunate men were to have giants aid in the digging of the catacombs, since without them the tunnels would have been too small to let them pass. Many times during the journey the party had to retrace their route back to their last marker, as erosion and crust shifting had closed some passages. Though heated arguments ensued, the best way was agreed upon, and the journey continued. Several times their weapons were drawn when they thought they heard the pursuit of the Cray. Aeligon would seal the passages behind them with the green nets of energy, which would last until he was out of range. The pattern continued for what seemed to be weeks, though no one knew for sure since Aeligon was weakened more often than not. Coupled with the constant energy outflow of spellcasting, his encounter with the mirror shard proved to be more damaging than initially thought.
Most nights found Aeligon bathed in sweat, twitching, moaning, and suffering at the hand of fiendish nightmares. Pux could do little to help, and Tristandor's healing powers were wasted on mental damage. The only hope for the Healer rested in the group's ability to work together to get out of the catacombs and into the land of Salanthanon as quickly as possible.
All the while, Aerinas thought about his encounter in the Forest of Spirits, the uncertainty of his roots, his inability to accept what his father called “Fate” to become the leader of Mynandrias, and his hatred of the life he'd led up until then. It fueled his rage further: rage at his father for sheltering him for unknown reasons, for manipulating his life for the sole purpose of satisfying some predestined notion of a triumphant bloodline continuance of leadership, and for treating him like a lowly commoner who didn't deserve the somewhat more luxurious life of a Krayn lord. Admittedly, the elves enjoyed an easier life than most other races. They were gifted with many talents of craftsmanship, art, music, and even military strategy, when needed. They enjoyed a longer life than any other race in Vaaluna, or at least of the races they knew. But why? Why the secrecy involved in Aerinas’ life when he was so high-born? Why did he have to sacrifice his true desires to appease his father?
Aerinas had grown bitter with the increasing knowledge of the suspected usurping of his life. He knew his bitterness had now morphed into utter anger and resentment. He would treat someone who tried to kill me with more respect. He gritted his teeth when he looked ahead at the elegant form of Tristandor. You would at least give them a fair trial before judging them, even someone who had threatened the very walls of the House of Lythardia. Aerinas felt the anger swelling much the way it had at the lake, and he had to stop walking. He had to. The familiar shake in his hands, the pulsating of his heart, the soft glow of the runes on his blade, were all starting to take control. He could see the Carcaradon again, its jaws open, teeth gleaming, eyes rolled back. He could hear the hissing of the boiling metal searing its way through its skull. He could feel its jaws clamping down on his arms. No, not jaws—hands. Aerinas snapped out of his stupor abruptly when Ithyllna shook him wildly and screamed at him to turn around.
They had moved too slowly. The screeching passed from a paranoid delusion into reality.
The Cray had found them!
It happened so fast they barely had a chance to draw their weapons. The insect-like Cray—using each of their six appendages to grasp the wet cavern walls—sped down the corridors with inhuman speed, some suspended from the ceiling, some to the sides, but each one spaced so as to keep from bunching up. They were intelligent. Hisses and screeches filled the tunnels; the yellow of their eyes penetrated the darkness.
"Aerinas! Form up! Do not let them get behind us!” Tristandor's right hand flared up, blue flame burning brightly. In his left he held a sharp, gleaming scimitar.
Farrin stood in front, his massive hands clutching the handle of his double-sided battleaxe. “Come on!” he bellowed, while shifting his weight loosely from right to left, dancing, ready to spring. “Good we built these tunnels, eh?” he reminded. He was right. There was plenty of space for the Cray to attack, but space enough for the party to make a defensive stand as well.
Aerinas and Foran took the right flank, Lynais and Ithyllna the left. The other three giants—Ganzif, Treigan, and Borgn—held positions in a line. Tristandor stayed near the rear with Aeligon and Pux, since the Cray were coming from one direction an
d hadn't circled them to attack from their rear. More than likely, the Cray had caught scent of them only recently.
"Just like the magicians,” Farrin snarled. “Stay near the back ta’ cover their hides."
"No matta,” Ganzif yelled. “More fer us then, eh?"
"Yah!” Farrin gritted his teeth as the wave of unholy creatures slammed into them. The sound of the whirling axe tearing through flesh and bone was intense. Limbs and heads rolled and splattered across the tunnel walls. Ithyllna danced and vaulted off the rocks, slashing the eyeballs out of the hissing monsters with her knives. Green blood was spraying everywhere.
"Duck!” Farrin shouted to Aerinas. Aerinas hit the floor just in time as the axe whistled overhead, striking a Cray square in the face. The skull caved immediately, and it fell lifeless in a pool of blood.
The carnage was immense and the fray furious. The Cray looked as if they would overwhelm the small party with sheer numbers and their violent speed, but the disorganization of the attack was showing itself. The skittering bugs had to pull back several times to get clear of the growing piles of dead carcasses and slippery blood pools. Twice Foran tumbled over backwards when he slipped on the wet floor. If it weren't for Lynais being close to him, he would have surely been killed swiftly.
Suddenly, Aerinas turned to see his father and Aeligon beleaguered by Cray able to pass the center position of giants. Magic was hurtling and bouncing off walls as the Healer and Elf-Lord cast spells at them. Aeligon was terribly weakened, but did all he could to help. One Cray was caught in a red bubble of energy and went floating down the passageway screeching and clawing. “That one was mine!” Pux shouted proudly.
"No!” Aerinas shouted as he bounded toward his father. A Cray had gotten the upper hand and was ready to bring its daggered arm down on him. Aerinas reached them just in time. The red flame of the sword's flaring magic bit into the flesh of the beast, and its arm went careening across the tunnel, squirting blood and twitching. A final stroke severed the head from its body, and the eyes went dead.
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