by I K Spencer
"Take the bowls," Cidrl commanded from behind them and the nervous soldiers were startled again as the stranger took the food instantly, then immediately became unresponsive again.
"What is wrong with him?" one of the soldiers asked Cidrl while keeping his eyes on the strange young westerner.
"Ah. The young man is distrustful of strangers," he said with mock friendliness, not wasting his charm on common soldiers.
The soldiers frowned, knowing the giant stranger had not answered their question truthfully but, from the man's dismissive tone, also certain they would get no further explanation. The frightened conscripts backed away and it was the last time a Dolonarian voluntarily came near Anthen.
The next morning the party broke camp shortly after dawn. They continued east for a couple of hours, then picked up a trail heading to the northeast. Throughout the day, they traveled with nothing but thick jungle on either side. Their only glimpse of the blue sky came directly above their heads. As happened the day before, several showers passed overhead. The warm rain was a welcome relief from the muggy, sweltering heat.
Throughout the day's march the scenery changed little, forever a wall of thick jungle on either side. Only the trail itself changed; it became wider and flatter until it was more a road than a trail, wide enough for two wagons to pass abreast. The silent party saw more and more travelers on the road. It was obvious that they were headed for a settlement of some type, though dense forest remained on both sides of the road. The travelers they met greeted the soldiers with friendly smiles but lowered their eyes with fright when they passed the foreigners. The Dolonarian people seemed unaccustomed to seeing the enemy, especially armed riders obviously being accorded protection.
At dusk the road suddenly ended. Facing them were two large iron doors that together spanned the width of the road and were easily fifteen feet tall. Above the doors and to either side were sheer cliffs, gleaming in the setting sun. The massive doors were mounted in the face of the rock, which rose roughly two hundred feet from the jungle floor. A wall ran along the top of the bluff and soldiers could be seen peering down at them from all along the battlements.
A loud, grinding sound commenced and the door on the right began to open out toward the newcomers. As the immense gate opened, had Anthen been aware he would have noted that the door was over a foot thick and solid iron. It locked open with a loud clang. The leader of the escort went forward to exchange a few words with the chief of the detachment manning the gate, then the party moved forward, entering a tunnel cut out of the solid rock cliff.
A few smoky torches sparsely mounted in the walls barely lit the dim cave. The aperture was initially wider than the gate due to the mammoth pulleys that operated each door. Perhaps twenty men manned the area to operate and guard the gate and all offered only icy stares as the hated foreigners passed by. Anthen of course was oblivious to their surroundings but Cidrl inspected the gate's apparatus as they rode through the entrance, ignoring the sullen looks of the guards. Once inside, the group immediately came to a steep ramp. They could see by the opening above them that the cave rose straight to the surface.
They had entered one of the many plateau city-fortresses spread across Dolonar. The plateaus ranged in height from about a hundred feet to one known to be nearly a thousand feet tall. The surfaces could cover from a few to hundreds of square miles. The vast majority of Dolonar's inhabitants resided on the tableland, avoiding the steamy, untamed jungles in favor of the fertile, open mesas. The uplands housed all of Dolonar's limited farmland and offered natural boundaries that made invasion nearly impossible.
All heads save one turning for a glimpse of the setting sun, the party stepped from the cave to a different world. The darkening sky above seemed endless after the foggy marshland and thick jungle. The moist, close air was gone and a steady breeze helped dry the guardsmen's clothes, constantly damp since entering the swamps. They were surrounded by miles of freshly planted farmlands and grazing pens containing mostly sheep. Behind them, the wall ran along the edge of the plateau in both directions as far as could be seen. Ahead, perhaps a mile away, rose the walls and buildings of a fortress-city.
A smaller patrol manned the cave's exit. A single, iron door was held above the opening by permanent posts that would be axed in the unlikely event an invading enemy breached the gate below. Several large cauldrons were in position to insure the invaders would lose many of their numbers to rivers of hot oil if they were unlikely enough to break through the outer gate.
The solemn company moved silently ahead to the fortress-city's gate. Twilight had faded to full darkness as they approached the walls, roughly ten feet tall and made from timbers. The walls looked ancient and the wooden doors looked as though they hadn't been shut in a very long time, not surprising given the outer gate and the natural protection offered by the plateau.
Two guards were posted on either side of the gate but they offered no challenge to the strange assemblage passing by, coming to attention their only response. The westerners were then led through a series of quiet streets, no doubt skirting the busy parts of the city, to a back entrance of what appeared to be a palace of some sort. It was a large structure, enclosed by a stone wall, with many windows and several, heavily ornamented towers.
The group entered the walled compound and proceeded directly to the stables, where Cidrl and Anthen left their mounts. The pair was led inside the palace through a side entrance and directed to adjoining rooms without any formal greeting or ceremony. Food was provided and the visitors were left alone for the night.
Cidrl ordered Anthen to eat, then sleep before closing the door separating their chambers. The entranced guardsman methodically ate the food without expression, then lay down on the bed and closed his eyes, unable to appreciate the comfortable bed after nearly a week of sleeping on the ground.
********
While the young guardsman lay in trance-like slumber, Garrick made camp in the shadow of the great cliff that surrounded the elevated fortress-city. He had never been to this part of Dolonar but from his reckoning he guessed it to be the fortress-city known as Greyrock.
The weary warrior listlessly unrolled his bedroll upon a flat rock within a few feet of the sheer rock wall. Though it was still less than forty-eight hours since the amulet around his neck began to steal his life force, he felt much weakened. He felt as though he’d been riding at least twice as long.
He had reached the camp where Anthen succumbed to Cidrl’s sorcery soul soon after finding his way out of the hellish swamp. After inspecting the site and finding their departing tracks, he had no doubt of the fate that had befallen the young man. From there, trailing the riders on the increasingly damp terrain had been an easy matter. He had ridden hard and closed the distance between them by early afternoon. Since catching up he had risked a couple of sightings and the lifeless expression on the young guardsman's face shook him to the core, eerily familiar to the assassin sent to execute him in Kaslow.
Garrick had not been surprised when he came upon the clearing where Cidrl met up with his Dolonarian escort. He had suspected all along that their old enemy might have some part in this great treachery. He had crept within sight of their camp that night, then followed closely behind throughout the next day. As the road had become busier he had taken to the jungle but the assemblage did not move quickly and he kept pace despite having to cut a path through the thick jungle with his diminishing strength.
He had also not been surprised when the band disappeared inside the tunnel that, he knew, led to the plateau above. Undoubtedly the traitor's destination would be one of Dolonar's elevated fortress-cities. Unfortunately, however, that made it virtually impossible for him to get any closer and even more worrisome, Greyrock might not be Cidrl's ultimate destination and if so, he might not be able to find their trail again should they leave the upland by another path.
The weary guardsman had used the brief remaining light to ride along the bottom of the cliff in a clockwise direction to
find a suitable place for the night. He had found a spot about a half-mile from the gate; a place where a rockslide had left a ledge to shelter him from the frequent showers as well as the view of sentries patrolling the wall perched atop the cliff overhead. He probably could have made a fire without worry but was too tired.
He lay on his back upon the rock bed with a groan of pain. He pulled the magical medallion from inside his tunic and stared at it for several minutes, hoping for some flicker of life. Though it took nearly all his will, he overcame the natural urge to throw the life-draining amulet into the jungle and instead, dropped it back against his breast. Though feverish and in considerable pain, he fell almost immediately into a fitful slumber.
He awoke well after dawn, feeling achy and unrested. He lay for some time, gathering his strength and deciding his next move. After a few minutes he struggled to his feet, the decision made. He would circle the mesa to determine its size and locate other exits, if any existed. It was better than doing nothing and, though he hated to admit it, he soon might not have the strength to ride any distance.
He rode with the cliffs to his right throughout the day. At times he could ride in the thin bare strip next to the rock face but for the most part he kept to the dense forest to avoid the risk of being spotted from above by an unusually vigilant sentry. In the entire journey he crossed only one other road, in poor condition and appeared little used. From where it ended at the bottom of the cliff, he saw narrow switchbacks rising to the top. With his glass he could spy guards patrolling back and forth where the switchbacks ended at the plateau's surface. There were no guards at the bottom, however, and that fact, combined with the state of the road, suggested that this route to the upland fortress was utilized rarely if at all. He looked up at the bright sun to get a bearing and figured his position to be a few points east of due north.
Garrick crossed the road where he could not be seen from above and continued around the eastern side of the mesa. He rode throughout the steamy afternoon, seeing nothing but the rock face and the ever-present lush vegetation. It was slow going through the thick jungle and such a distance that it was nearly dusk when the journey was completed. He felt so exhausted that he fell asleep without even unpacking his horse.
He awoke the next morning both later and in worse condition than the day before. He quickly made the decision to ignore the second road, guessing that the switchbacks were only kept open as a backup in case the main entrance became impassable. More importantly, he knew he was too weak to ride several hours each day to check the other road for signs that Anthen and the traitor had departed in that direction.
Continuously weakening as the amulet drained his life force, he spent the next few days watching the main gate. Each morning he rose with more difficulty and caught himself napping more often as he sat watching the gate from his post, only twenty feet from the road but well-hidden. The first couple of days he checked the stone on occasion but then stopped; it took too much effort to force himself to place the repulsive object once again against his skin.
Though he had no appetite, Garrick forced himself to eat. The trail food, not exactly satisfying in the best of situations, tasted like dust in his current condition. Adding to his worries was the fact that his supplies were dwindling; he would run out of food in just a few more days. Normally, he could live off the land indefinitely but doubted he would have the energy to hunt or fish. At least the regular showers provided an abundant source of water.
On the fifth day, the beaten guardsman tried to rise from his bedroll but could not muster the will. He nearly tore the amulet from his neck in panic but forced himself to stop and think it over. He knew that the instinct of self-preservation affected his decision making but he also knew at some point he would have to admit defeat and remove the necklace before it killed him. He had noticed that it not only sapped his physical health but also robbed his spirit. He felt dangerously close to not caring anymore and if that happened, all would be lost. Not only must he thwart the traitor’s plot at all costs but also he owed it to Anthen to end the younger guardsman’s life if it came to that or leaving him to live the eternal hell of Cidrl’s sorcery.
He came to the painful decision that he could not risk another night with the amulet sapping his life force. What if he did not wake up the next morning or became too weak to remove it? With a heavy heart, the immobile guardsman turned his gaze skyward, brushing away tears. When the sun set, the amulet must come off.
He silently prayed as he watched the sun make its slow journey across the sky. Several times he lapsed into unconsciousness, awaking each time in terror, fearful that he might not wake up again but unable to force himself to give in and remove the killing amulet before the sun set. When lucid, he lay motionless even though his thirst was immense and the waterskin lay but a few feet away; it took all his little remaining will to keep from ripping the cursed stone from around his neck.
Finally, the sun disappeared from view and a short time later, the deepening gloom marked the beginning of nightfall. In a cruel twist of fate, Garrick did not realize he had kept his promise. The unconscious guardsman did not stir as his self-imposed deadline came and went. As twilight passed into full darkness, the stricken guardsman was so near death he seemed to struggle for each breath. He was now in a coma-like state not so different from the young man he had fought so hard to save.
Chapter 24
As the sun set on the motionless figure of Garrick, the door to Anthen's chamber opened and the senseless apprentice walked unhurriedly into the room. The door closed behind him without a further word from his master. Though Cidrl liked to use his latest disciple as a constant reminder of his powers, he dismissed the puppet whenever they were alone.
The young guardsman walked directly to the bed and lay down on his back. The expressionless eyes stared at the ceiling briefly, then slowly closed. As the room darkened with the failing light outside, the only movement was the slow rising and falling of the young man's chest.
Over the last few days while Garrick had waited and weakened, Cidrl was locked in secret meetings with Dolonar's king and military leaders, Anthen his mute but menacing second. The traitor's natural charm was back, though not to its full extent. He had sold the Dolonarians on his plot years ago; this was but the final conference before the decisive next stroke.
Cidrl brought the apprentice, a perfect bodyguard and an ominous reminder of his power, to most of the meetings. The Dolonarians had seen many of the converts over the years so knew better than to approach the silent warriors. Cidrl, they treated with disdainful courtesy. Any westerner was considered an inferior but the dark lord, with his legion of intimidating minions, also inspired a considerable amount of fear.
Anthen lay in a dreamless slumber as the moon rose and the social activities of the palace took place around him. He lay as still as death as the parties ended and carriages carried the guests away. Then, in the middle of the night, with the rest of the castle dark and quiet, the unconscious figure stirred slightly, briefly grabbing his shoulder. It was a small, insignificant movement but had Cidrl witnessed it, the traitorous guardsman would have been very alarmed, a feeling he hadn't known in a very long time.
********
Anthen awoke with a start, his eyes searching frantically to place his surroundings. He lay on his back on a cold, stone floor. In contrast to the cold rock, he felt hot air washing over him and smelled smoke. Above him, he could make out the uneven surface of rocks overhead; he must be in some sort of cave.
A woman's scream echoed through the caverns and he scrambled to his feet. The sound came from somewhere ahead of him. The cave rose and narrowed to a small circular opening and the only light source shone through the aperture. Behind him there was only blackness. The disconcerted guardsman stumbled up the slope toward the opening. He slipped on the loose rocks and other objects that looked to be bone fragments. As he neared the beacon, the air felt hotter and the light grew brighter. He scrambled up to the opening and froze
with shock.
Beyond the aperture, the cave ceiling rose to form a large cavern. Flames erupted from a pit along the far wall and the heat was intense. Standing in front of the flames was a large creature, easily twice his height. It stood upright like a man but was covered in scales that glistened in the firelight. A large, powerful tail curved around the naked flesh of the shrieking woman, suspended by her hair over the fire pits. Three heads rose from the massive shoulders, two serpent heads framing a human head crowned with horns.
One of the writhing serpent heads turned, and on seeing the intruder to its lair, started to hiss and squeal. The woman was jerked around and to Anthen's horror, he saw the terror-filled face of Urvena. Blood ran down her face as the hair was torn from her head by the monster. The unearthly beast's tail slithered over her bruised and naked flesh.
"ANTHEN!" she screamed, lifting her arm towards him in a frantic plea for help.
Instinctively he reached over his shoulder for his crossbow but there was nothing there. His sword belt was empty and his dagger was gone. He looked frantically about for a weapon and spying a pile of bones, grabbed the largest he could find. He started to advance but a howl of familiar laughter froze him for an instant. As the creature turned, Anthen shrieked and fell backward at the horrific sight. The creature bore the face of Garrick beneath the crown of horns!
"So it is you Apprentice!" Garrick's voice boomed. "Now the party will be complete!" The beast advanced toward the stunned guardsman, dragging the screaming woman along. "Young fool!" Garrick continued, "After I finish with this whore, then it is your turn!"
Anthen, recovering somewhat, opened his mouth to speak but before he could utter a word he spied a flash of steel and Urvena's severed head was thrust at him, frozen in the midst of screaming his name.
