by Dawn Dagger
She was not frightened.
The Captain stepped suddenly forward, into the pulsing orb of light, and she followed. A strange tingling sensation passed through her body. Her eyes adjusted, and all was clear.
The tunnel ended in a bulb-like cave. Scattered strokes of pulsing, glowing crystals grew along the walls, as if the stone had cracked open and the crystals grew in like grass between cobblestones. The floor was covered in vines, creating a spongy carpet, and in the center of the bulbous cavern was a large pool of water that also glowed turquoise.
The singing was definitely real. The air vibrated with a tune that made Levanine feel relaxed, and nearly giddy. The air smelled so sweet. When Levanine glanced over her shoulder to see Rakifi and Norrin approach, she realized that the wall of light blocked her from seeing backwards into the tunnel from which they had come.
“Who’s that?” Rakifi pointed to two shadowy figures that were walking around the pool leisurely, their silhouetted heads tipped together, as if they were conversing. One of the figures seemed to nearly float above the spongy ground.
Levanine shrugged in response and they continued to walk forward, silently, hoping not to startle the pair. Levanine felt as if something should be said, but did not want to be the one to say it. Should they call the pair so they did not get too close and startle them?
Maybe they should just watch, and say nothing at all.
“Psst!”
Levanine yelped and nearly jumped out of her skin as someone hissed at her and tugged on the corner of her cloak. She wheeled around and looked down to see what had grabbed her, then let out another cry.
“Silva!”
She threw herself down and hugged him tightly, forgetting the need for caution in her relief. “You’re alive!”
He squeezed her tightly, and as she pulled away she noticed his eyes growing glassy. “You guys found me,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Silva?” Norrin exclaimed. “Silva, where’s Awla? We saw Doch, but where’s Awla? Is he still alive?”
“Awla’s down there.” He shrunk, and Levanine saw he was sitting on the floor, his back pressed against a crystal, as if he were hiding from something. His eyes were frightened. Levanine could see traces of madness in his eyes too.
“He’s w-with her.”
“‘Her’?” Rakifi suddenly was beside them. “Who’s ‘Her’?”
“Her! The woman! The witch! She enchanted him and now we’re all going to die!” Silva wailed, his eyes turning hysterical.
“Silva, you’re not making sense!”
“Leave him alone.” The Captain commanded, brushing Norrin aside and crouching down in front of the trembling boy. “Silva, please. Calm down. It’s okay.” Silva took a few gasping breaths, then closed his mouth and watched them like a cornered dog. The Captain turned to the three of them and nodded down towards the pool.
“Norrin, Levanine. Be careful, but go find Awla.”
Levanine nodded and held out her waterskin for the Captain to take. Silva’s lips were cracked and his hands shaking. She hoped that drinking some water would help ease the madness in his eyes.
The Captain took the skin with a nod and she trotted to catch up to Norrin, who was storming down towards the pool. “I’m glad you’re safe…” She heard the Captain murmur as they walked across the spongy vines.
The pair stopped beside a small boulder, a stone’s throw from the glowing pool. The two walking around the pool were clearer now. The man was definitely Awla, who’s usually angry face was placid, and whose amber eyes were now a deep brown. The woman he was with began to lead him into a swirling, elegant dance. She had long, midnight-black hair that swept around her bare, porcelain ankles. Her skin nearly glowed with the light of the pool and gems, as it was white as ivory, and she wore a sleeveless toga made of white chiffon.
Her hair and skirts swirled stunningly as she spun with Awla. She most definitely floated, her white toes just barely brushing the leaves of the vines on the cave floor. Levanine could not see the woman’s face.
“Awla!” Norrin called angrily, not bothering for stealth. “You absolute fool!”
Neither of the figures turned to look at him. They continued to dance around the pool. The singing ebbed and warbled in a wave, growing more distant as they spun to the opposite side of the water. Levanine realized the beautiful woman must be the one singing.
“Awla! Awla listen to me!” Norrin shouted, walking into the path of the dancers. “Awla! My friend! Y-you-- Awla! Dammit you bastard!”
The pair danced around him effortlessly, neither turning to look at him, and he suddenly went pale. Levanine slowly walked toward him, feeling very out of place in the path of the dancers. Goosebumps rose on her arms.
“Did you see that?” He whispered.
Levanine shook her head. She was unsure of what he meant. The two began dancing toward them again and Norrin suddenly pulled out his short sword, holding onto it so tightly his knuckles turned white. Levanine felt her eyes widen and her heart drop into her stomach.
Norrin did not swing, when they danced past, however. Instead, he pointed at Awla’s lifted arm. “Look!”
Levanine gasped softly as she stared at his arm. The skin and muscle of his arm seemed to be fading in and out, almost see through, all the way up to his elbow. It seemed as if he were fading out of existence, with just the bones of his arms left real.
“Awla!” Norrin begged, his voice louder, more desperate now. “I am your friend! You must remember me! Don’t let this enchantress take you!”
Why did they not move? Why did they not act?
Why did Levanine feel as if her mind had been poisoned by sweet syrup, as one might drink to cure a cold. She knew she should be scared for Awla, but she was not. Maybe this woman was a ghoul?
The idea that the woman was a ghoul did not bother her, and Levanine felt sick. What was wrong with her?
Norrin reached out and grabbed Awla’s hand as he swept past again and spun the woman. Awla jerked, his eyes flashing amber suddenly, as if he had been hit by lightning. He stumbled and the woman completed her elegant spin, coming to rest a few steps away, floating. Awla panted heavily, suddenly sweating. He attempted to jerk his hand out of Norrin’s grasp, but Norrin held tighter.
“Awla, listen to me!” He yelled, so loud it hurt Levanine’s head. “LISTEN TO ME!” Norrin dropped his sword into the vines and used his other, large hand to grip Awla’s wrist, his face twisting with anger as the man struggled to pull from his grasp. Sweat soaked the collar of his tunic and his eyes flickered like a flame in the wind, flashing between amber and brown.
Levanine did not know what to do, so she stood, paralyzed, as the two struggled and the woman watched them. Her hair had fallen into her face. Levanine could not see her face still, and now felt a little uneasy about it. She must be a ghoul, mustn’t she?
Why was she so unworried?
“Awla! It is not a complete moon! Do not fight me!” Norrin shouted, his face scarlet with effort and anger.
Awla suddenly stiffened, as if he could not believe his ears. His body convulsed, making Levanine’s stomach twist, then he fell on the ground. Blood tricked out of his ear and mouth.
Norrin looked horrified and shocked. He stared at the woman, who suddenly rolled her head to the side, as if she could not believe that Awla had fallen over, and was confused as to why. Levanine suddenly wished she could see her eyes.
She was always uneasy, never frightened in this awful, glowing cave. Levanine felt as if she should be struggling to get out. As if she were drowning in indifference.
The woman’s white hand lifted and she slowly straightened her arm, her palm facing upwards. She uncurled one of her delicate fingers to point past Norrin... to Levanine. Levanine froze, her lungs emptying of air.
Out of the corner of her eye, Levanine thought she saw the wall of blue move suddenly forward, blocking her from being able to see any of the other men, but Leva
nine found she could not turn to look. Panic suddenly pooled into her chest as she felt herself sliding forward.
Her arms felt pinned to her sides and she could not move, but her body had been lifted slightly, and the toes of her boots just brushed against the vines as she floated toward the woman.
Levanine wanted to scream. Wanted to cry. She felt as if her heart might burst forth from her chest and explode. Oh, Saints. Oh keepers of Elsomora and Ursona. Her mind begged. Shrieked. Make my death swift. She knew she was going to die. She hoped she would be spared, and would not suffer.
As she passed beside Norrin, she realized that Eldred was right.
She would know a ghoul when she saw one.
Levanine felt as if her blood had been replaced with ice. This was worse than any man touching her. Red wavered at the edges of her vision, and she suddenly felt as if she were being unwound from the inside out. The singing was overwhelming loud in her ears. The sweet scent suffocated her.
A scream suddenly split through the cavern and Norrin rushed forward, raising his sword. He swung at the ghoul, but she raised her free hand, the one not pointing to Levanine, and swept sideways, creating a line of opaque, turquoise light that his sword bounced off of.
As the woman turned her face up to glare at Norrin, Levanine finally could see its features. But, she had no face. Where a beautiful face to match her beautiful body should have been, was nothing but an empty skull with dark sockets for eyes.
Norrin swung again and the woman blocked again with the turquoise ghoul-magic, but Norrin did not stop. He swung over and over, wailing down onto the light as Levanine was held in place, the woman distracted for a moment.
If you relax your body, you’ll slip a little in the ropes, see? The voice of a young girl suddenly echoed in her mind. Levanine could not understand the image she was seeing behind her eyes as blazing blue continued to explode. It was a small girl with unruly, red curls. She was wriggling in a pair of ropes, successfully shrugging them off.
C’mon, silly, or you’ll be stuck there allllll day.
The singing in her ears had drowned out the sounds of the ghoul and Norrin fighting. It was even louder than the beating of her own heart. If she relaxed, she could slip out?
Levanine suddenly wondered if this ghoul-magic was like the magic she had read about in the Captain’s book. Was it like invisible ropes, binding her together? If she just relaxed, would she be freed?
Levanine found she could close her eyes, so she let them slide shut. The blue exploded behind her lids, and it almost reminded her of the colorful explosions the Bandolindians would set into the sky to mark the birth of a new royal child. Levanine liked those nights. When she would wake to red and blue and purple flashing in through the window cut into the mud of her servant’s hut. It meant there was fresh hope.
Levanine suddenly felt as if she had slipped out through giant hands, and her eyes flew open as she crumpled onto the spongy ground. She gasped for air, feeling as if each breath was emptying her lungs of blood and bile, then sat up.
The ghoul let out a petrifying scream, her empty mouth gaping open, then suddenly rushed for Norrin! She launched herself at him, her bony hands wrapping around his throat. She tossed him sideways, into the glowing pond.
The woman straddled him, forcing his head under the water as he struggled and spit. She began to strangle him, the singing stopping and her scream echoing through the cavern. Levanine was sure she could feel her ears bleeding as she crawled toward Norrin’s fallen blade.
Levanine’s fingers tightened around the blade and she stood up, swinging it up as hard as her weak arms allowed. She brought it down toward the woman, but a circle of blue ghoul-magic opened above her back. Norrin’s blade rang down against the circle and the momentum flew back into Levanine’s arm, so strongly it knocked her backwards.
Levanine cried out as the blade fell from her fingers and Norrin’s face turned blue. She grabbed the dagger at her waist and ran forward again, raising it to stab the woman in the back. Oh, Saint Artmetiso, she begged as she splashed into the water, please, let my dagger find its mark.
She thrust down with as much effort as she could, bracing herself for the ghoul magic. The circle of light opened again, but this time, her blade cut into it as if it were porcelain. Yellow cracks cut into the blue, and she pushed her dagger down further.
The ghoul screamed as the blade scraped her back, then wheeled around, letting go of Norrin, who thrashed in the water. Levanine stabbed again, and again she was blocked, but her blade cut into the blue light. The ghoul forced both arms forward, screaming louder, so loud that Levanine felt her brain tremble, and felt something trickling in the canals of her ears.
Levanine thrust again and again, as if she were that hunter boy, fighting the bear he had told her about- cutting into the circles, breaking them, shattering them. The light became less opaque. The ghoul screamed louder. Her arms burned. Her vision wavered.
The crystals in the cave flickered wildly, casting them into moments of darkness. “JUST DIE!” Levanine wailed, trying again to stab into the ghoul, who had more strength than she.
There was a shattering explosion behind her, and Levanine heard words echo through the cavern. Waonasy.
“Alstand castrol ile exibitus Qath!”
‘If it is thy will, cast it out.’
A yellow figure seemed to pass through Levanine’s body and explode against the ghoul’s, enveloping her in yellow light. The screaming turned into a wailing, and all of a sudden the yellow light was evaporated. Bright turquoise exploded outwards, the force of the explosion knocking Levanine backwards.
And, all of a sudden, they were thrust into silence and darkness, as if they had been stuffed inside a sack.
Chapter 11
Levanine did not speak as she sat in the cave, swallowed in darkness and silence. Her heart thundered in her ears. Her muscles burned. She was panting, waiting for something, anything to happen.
Was the ghoul gone for good?
She slowly lifted her fingers to her ears and wiped the insides of them, relief filling her chest as she realized they did not come away wet. Perhaps she could still hear.
“Roll call,” came the Captain’s whisper, filling her with greater relief. He was alive. She could hear.
“Aye, Rakifi’s here,” the man responded.
“Here.” Levanine murmured.
“Aye,” Norrin gruffed, cut off by a bout of harsh coughing. Water splashed as she assumed he began to wade out of the pond.
“H-here,” Silva whimpered.
She believed the trio of them had been stuck behind a wall of blue, as they had in the tunnel, and it was her assault that weakened the wall, allowing them to break through. It didn’t matter where they were or why, all that mattered is that they were there now.
Levanine heard a shuffling and a soft scratching, then a small, orange globe appeared. Levanine had not realized that the Captain had fire starting sticks with him. The orange ball flickered softly, moving slowly, then it vanished. There was a quiet ripping noise, then another orange ball appeared.
The ball stretched and consumed a piece of fabric, suddenly growing brighter. Levanine realized that the Captain had crafted a torch out of a bone and the sleeve of his tunic. The Captain lifted the torch high above his head, then watched it with narrowed eyes. The flame twisted and turned, and he began to pace, eyes locked onto the flame.
Norrin crawled out of the pond and over to Awla, beginning to sit him up and check his pulse. Levanine quietly crossed over to Rakifi and Silva and held her dagger out for Rakifi to see.
“I have a question,” she mumbled.
“Yes?” Rakifi asked, giving her a smile that was soft. His eyes were hollow and he looked more exhausted and pale in the torchlight than she would have expected.
“Why?”
The word left her lips and that was it. Levanine could not understand why it was the only word she spoke. She was cur
ious about it all. Why was the ghoul here? Why was Awla enchanted? Why had she felt sick and fearless, and now so very, very fearful?
Rakifi cocked his head and suddenly turned and began to follow the Captain, staying in the torchlight. Her and Silva followed. “Why, what?” Rakifi’s voice was tired.
“Why did my dagger cut into her… magic? Norrin’s sword would not, yet mine…”
Rakifi gently took the dagger from her outstretched hand and examined the hilt and the silver blade. His lips pursed as he ran a fingertip across the surfaces, then he flipped it in his hand and handed it back to her.
“‘Qath’ is inscribed on it.” She rose a brow, begging more information. “‘Thy Will’. It begs the will of the Creator. The Creator is the best weapon against dark magicks and the magick of ghouls.”
With that he turned away, not rudely, and caught up with the Captain, who was staring up at one of the mossy walls. Silva ran over to help Norrin support the still unconscious Awla as the Captain pointed to a decent sized crack in the wall.
“Air. That’s our escape.”
“You’re sure?”
“You see the fire.”
Rakifi nodded and gestured to the three men making their way towards them. “Silva, we’re going to hoist you up and you need to see if there is anything in the crack, understand?” The Captain commanded.
Silva paled, but nodded. “A-aye.” He stepped forward and they hoisted him upwards, his hands scrambling against the wall for a hold. It took a few tries, much to Norrin’s grumbling distaste, but he eventually crawled into the crack and his boots disappeared.
There was a distant scratching and scrambling, then it went quiet in the cave, save their breathing and the torch crackling. “Silva?” The Captain called. “Do you see anything?”
“Behind the bend!” Came a distant call from far inside the crack. “I see light! This is the way out!”
The Captain nodded to Rakifi and Norrin, then to Awla’s limp figure. “C’mon, let’s get him up there. Silva! You’re going to have to help drag Awla into the crack, you understand?”
