by I K Spencer
"This probably is not our destination but rather a secondary exit, very high on the mountain’s exterior," Kyreial speculated, echoing Anthen’s synopsis.
"What now then?" the guardsman queried, having to raise his voice above the noise of the wind.
"I think one of us should climb out there to investigate, on a tether of course," Teya suggested. "Perhaps we are near enough to traverse the summit or there might be fuel for more torches."
"I am for it and should like to be the one to go." Kyreial added his support quickly and Anthen could see that the elf was eager to have a few moments free of the caves, no matter how terrible the setting.
Anthen doubted they could survive ten minutes in the extreme conditions out there, much less scale the icy summit, but agreed that it was worth a look and maybe they could find a few scraps of hardy vegetation they could burn for light. Neither warrior argued with Kyreial for the right to brave the mountainside. His small stature and nimble feet made him the perfect choice.
Kyreial removed his pack, bow and quiver while Anthen tied their available cordage into a lifeline. The elf fastened the tether about his waist and edged slowly near the right side of the opening. He leaned out and inspected the ice-encrusted surface for hand and foot holds. Spying a small ledge, he stepped out to it and pressed his back against the sheer face of the mountain.
All about him was whirling snow. It was obvious that they were far up on the exterior of Mount Baenkeep, amidst the dark clouds. Kyreial wondered what the view would be like on a clear day. He spied dim light from somewhere above but could not tell the position of the sun. Because of the swirling snow he could see only a few feet except very close to the mountainside. Looking down, he could see that the cliff continued for some distance, at least fifty feet. To the sides was more of the same—only sheer rock, covered with thick ice.
That only left above and he couldn't see past the outcropping that marked the roof of the cave. He turned around to face the icy rock and shuffled his feet along the narrowing ledge to get clear of the obstruction. The gale winds tore at him, trying to pry him from the precarious position. He moved to the edge of the shelf and looked up.
At first he thought there was nothing, only uninterrupted rock and ice as far as the eye could see, but then his keen eyes detected a horizontal discontinuity that ran along the cliff, some twenty feet over his head. There must be another ledge up there. He scanned the wall, looking for a way to reach the higher ridge. Above him was only more smooth rock and ice but to his right, back above the cave opening, he saw plenty of hand and foot holds. Hands already numb with cold, he carefully proceeded back along the ledge and stepped into the comparative warmth of the cave.
Two anxious faces awaited him as he stepped back inside.
"We are, as we guessed, high up on the exterior of the mountain." The elf's voice quavered, shivering from the cold. "The cave exits to the face of a sizable cliff. There is only sheer rock and ice, virtually impossible to scale, save another ledge some twenty feet above."
Kyreial rummaged through his pack as he talked and pulled from it a small bottle, different from the one Anthen had sampled before. The elf took a sip and his trembling abruptly disappeared.
"So it is hopeless," Teya concluded out loud, resignation clear in her tone.
Kyreial shrugged. "It appears so. I can scale to the ledge above and assess the situation from there."
Anthen looked doubtfully toward the mouth of the cave. The wind seemed even stronger and the light seemed to have faded, so they might be facing dusk and complete dark soon.
"I will go and be quick about it," the elf said as he rose. "We are losing the light I believe. Anthen, I will need your help. I need to climb up from the cave roof."
Had it not been the agile elf, Anthen would have thought the risk too great. He rose and followed Kyreial back to the opening once again. Teya tied off the end of the rope around a protruding rock and looped the rest, leaving enough slack for the elf to climb out an up over the small ledge formed by the roof of the cave.
Kyreial directed the guardsman to crouch and brace himself against the left side of the cave, barely a foot from the edge. Gripping the wall was a necessity for the roaring wind knocked him about. Anthen barely felt Kyreial as the elf climbed up his back, then disappeared above the mouth of the cave.
The elf quickly scaled the rocks above the cave. He knew the young guardsman thought it too risky, but for the sure-footed elf, used to racing among the swaying treetops, this situation offered little peril. The only risk was that they would soon have to light one of the torches and so he needed to hurry; this venture wasn’t worth wasting any of the precious light they had remaining.
Kyreial pulled himself over and stood on the ledge twenty feet above the cave. It varied in width, from a few feet to nearly thrice his height at its widest point. The elf went directly to the face and looked up. As he suspected might be the case, the cliff rose as far as he could see.
He followed the shelf to the left. The ledge was littered with rocks, ice and snow and it made the footing tricky. He hurried though, knowing the others would have to light a torch in just a few minutes. The ridge narrowed and he could go no further. He scanned above and below and saw only more unscalable, smooth rock.
The sprite doubled back, trotting past the starting point and as far as he could to the right. As before, there was no hope of their scaling the sheer wall, even in the best of conditions. Resigned to the fact that he must reenter the hated caves, Kyreial started back.
All at once, he heard a loud crack from somewhere above. The source of the sound confused the elf for a moment, then he raced to press his slender body against the cliff face, realizing barely in time what was happening. A second later, boulders of rock and ice crashed to the ledge right where he had been standing moments earlier. The noise was deafening as the slabs of ice and stone bounded off the granite ledge and continued over the edge, shaking the entire mountainside furiously.
The slide seemed nearly over when there was a tremendous jerk on Kyreial's line, catapulting the slender elf toward the edge of the precipice. He was quickly dragged toward the rim. Seeing the cause—a section of the ledge had been knocked loose and had caught the tether—the quick-thinking elf hurled himself over the edge to the far side of a promontory, hoping to use the outcropping like an anchor, to save himself from being dragged over by the falling rock. Otherwise, even if the tether held there was so much line he would likely not survive the fall, well over fifty feet.
Kyreial fell perhaps ten feet before the line went taut, cinching his waist painfully. The slight figure then, like a smaller weight on a scale against a much larger one, was pulled back up toward the ledge by the weight of the rocks on the other side of the outcropping dragging the line down. He knew he would be pulled back up over the promontory like a well bucket but then drawn down once again, this time to his death. He fumbled for his dagger to cut the line but found nothing; it must have been lost when he fell. He reached to loosen the knots at his waist but his nearly frostbitten fingers were slow against the tight knots. He rose quickly towards the ledge and had to use both hands to keep from being knocked senseless as he slammed against the rock outcropping the tether was wrapped around. The force knocked the wind out of him but by clawing at the rock, he managed to find enough purchase to stop the slide, momentarily at least.
Just inside the cave below, Anthen and Teya had thought the end of the world had come from the thunderous noise the falling rocks made inside the caves. Once the din had slowed they saw the line jerk tight and without hesitation, the guardsman swung out to the small ledge above the cave, into the teeth of the icy gale.
"Kyreial!" the guardsman yelled into the blizzard.
Anthen was temporarily blinded by the freezing blast. He wiped away the tears from his eyes, the drops freezing immediately on his cheeks. Shielding his eyes, he was finally able to make out the sizable boulder that had pulled the line taut. Beyond that he could just make
out the elf braced against the underside of the ledge.
"Hold on Kyreial! I am coming!" the guardsman shouted into the wind and started up.
"No!" came the strained reply as Kyreial used all the strength he could muster to keep from being dragged up and over the rock to which he clung. "Cut the line!"
"You will fall!" Anthen kept climbing.
"Cut the line! NOW!"
The urgency in the elf's voice was unmistakable. Anthen whipped out his knife and started sawing at the sturdy cordage, watching in horror as Kyreial’s grip slipped and he began to slide up over the rock. Anthen’s hand was stiff and clumsy from the bitter cold and it seemed to take forever. Finally, the line snapped and Anthen covered his head as the boulder, with nothing to hold it, crashed down the cliff just a few feet to his right.
"Kyreial!" Anthen yelled as he frantically searched for the elf in the squall. He saw no sign of the sprite and precious little daylight remained. "Kyreial!"
"I am unhurt!" came a faint reply from somewhere on the ledge.
"Do you need help!?"
"No! I will throw you the severed line! Tie it back together and tug when it is fast!"
The line dropped beside him and the guardsman did as Kyreial had instructed.
"There!" the elf responded a minute later. "I have the rope secured around a rock! Use it and climb back into the cave and hurry! Pull twice when you are safely back inside the cave and I will follow!"
Anthen's hands were like claws from the severe cold, barely able to grasp the rope, which had grown slippery from clinging snow. He slid back down the few feet of cliff and swung back into the dark cave, landing hard in his attempt to hurry. Teya grabbed his cloak and pulled him back further.
"Kyreial?" she asked in obvious concern.
"Battered but fine I think," Anthen answered, then froze. "The torch! Quickly Teya; they come!" Even as he said the words the sickly smell touched him, bringing with it fresh fear.
In a terror-filled rage, Anthen drew his sword and rushed past her, slashing wildly at the blackness. His fingers numb with cold, he gripped the sword with two hands. He must keep them off her while she lit the torch. He roared with bloodlust as he felt steel meet flesh and bone, frantically kicking and slashing blindly until the torch provided enough dim light to see that the draugen had retreated, somehow taking their dead and wounded. When the torch reached a healthy blaze, the warrior's look of terrified rage was the only remnant from the attack.
"Kyreial." Anthen remembered the elf and raced back to the entrance, tugging hard on the line twice.
Anthen took in the slack as Kyreial descended, then hauled him back into the cave. The elf, covered with ice and half frozen, crumpled to the cave floor. Anthen could not imagine how he had made the descent. Teya hurried forward and put the strange bottle from his pack to his blue, trembling lips. The elf took a long swallow, then nodded toward Anthen. Teya handed him the bottle and he took a drink. The potent liquid burned his throat but he immediately felt warmth radiate through his body.
With the aid of the elixir, the elf quickly regained his color. Eyeing the torch, Kyreial struggled to his feet, though clearly in pain. "I am ready. Let us move on."
Kyreial's face clearly conveyed the negative results of his expedition to the ledge above so the other two did not bother to question him. The dejected trio picked up their packs and made ready to press on. With little more than twelve hours of light remaining, there would be no more rest.
As the grim travelers reached the end of the tunnel, each took one look back at the cave opening, no doubt wondering whether it would be his or her last glimpse of the outside world.
Chapter 49
The trio found their way back to where Teya had first felt the draft, then Anthen resumed the lead once more. Though nearly dead on his feet, with so little light left there was no question of stopping. The solemn party pressed on through the night, hope dwindling as the hours passed without any sign that they were even moving in the right direction.
Teya became increasingly concerned for Anthen. She could see the utter exhaustion in the guardsman's face and he appeared to be almost in a trance-like state, seemingly oblivious to Kyreial and herself. His face was a mask of intense concentration; his lips working furiously as before, mouthing some silent words only he could hear. He stumbled more and more as the hours passed.
The night, as measured by the consumption of their precious torches, passed without incident and with no sign of the blood-eaters. Sometime after dawn, they guessed, the three warriors paused to light the last torch. They were down to just a few hours of light then, utter darkness.
"Do you sense anything? Are we close?" Kyreial asked hopefully.
Anthen shook his head sadly. "We could be stone's throw away or a thousand miles. I have no idea."
"Perhaps you should rest a moment," Teya suggested.
"No." The guardsman shook his head emphatically. "My faith is all that is needed."
"What do we do when the torch goes out?" the elf asked. "We need a plan."
"You mean whether to be captured or killed?" Anthen asked bitterly. "I choose the latter."
Kyreial was unruffled. "No. Does your faith give out with the light? We are warriors and will fight until we fall. My question is of strategy."
"We form a tight circle," Teya offered. "We move next to the wall. Anthen to the front. I at his shoulder facing the opposite wall and Kyreial at mine, facing the rear."
Kyreial agreed and both faces turned to the guardsman. Anthen remembered the way the draugen endlessly attacked him and knew they could last but a few minutes but there was no point in dashing their hope.
"Agreed, with two exceptions. First, if we should find ourselves close to a way out, then run for it, as fast as you can. Otherwise they will overwhelm us with superior numbers."
Kyreial and Teya both nodded.
"And the second?" the Arnedonian warrior prompted.
The guardsman's face turned hard. "Keep a dagger handy to plunge into your heart should the situation become hopeless." It was clear from Anthen's unwavering gaze that he would not hesitate if that moment came.
The trio continued on as before. Anthen was oblivious to all save his mission but the other two glanced often at the last source of light. After a couple of hours, the flame started to wither, the light alternately dim and bright as it burned unsteadily. The guardsman paused only long enough to draw his handbow, then trudged on, knowing only minutes of light remained.
A minute later, Kyreial suddenly tensed. "A tree!"
Teya looked at the elf for signs of delusion but Anthen was so intent on his task that his face did not even register that he had heard. The sprite rushed forward and tugged on the guardsman's arm to get his attention.
"Guardsman you have done it!" Kyreial exclaimed. "I smell a tree!"
At that moment, the flame grew bright for a heartbeat, then died.
"Oh no, not now!" Anthen pleaded as they were plunged into total darkness.
"Can you lead us to it Kyreial?" Teya asked quickly.
"I doubt it, though we must be very close. Anthen is on the right track."
"Maybe the torch will light again," Teya said hopefully.
"It is spent and they are coming," Anthen announced, his voice hopeless, as he sensed the gathering draugen all about them. If only they had more light. He reached for his dagger. He would fight but there was no way he would be taken alive.
A thought suddenly broke through the bitter anger. "Wait! I have an idea! A light source! Form up around me; I need a few minutes."
Anthen dropped to his knees and began to pull some items from his pack while the other two stood with their backs to him. It was something he had learned at the academy—a combination of ingredients that resulted in a mixture that glowed. The light would not last for long and would be faint but it would have to do. He struggled to remember the formula, then searched for the ingredients among the materials he carried.
When the smell of
the approaching draugen reached them, he fought to ignore the growing terror and remain focused on his task. Cursing himself for not thinking of it before the last torch was spent, Anthen worked in the complete darkness, using taste and smell to identify the right materials.
"Your eyes are used to the light and you won't be able to see them at all," Anthen instructed as he worked. "Keep slashing and thrust low. The vile creatures are small and will go for your legs."
There was no noise except the whoosh of two blades for a moment, then the sick sound of metal meeting flesh and bone, signaling the stand had begun. He finished gathering the needed ingredients and emptied a glass vial to hold the compound. While the sounds of the battle around him grew, he added each powder to the vial, trying to keep his hands steady. Teya grunted from a blow and fell back against him, then regained her feet and drove the horde back.
Anthen finished adding the ingredients and pushed a stopper into the vial. A slimy grip closed on his wrist and he nearly dropped the delicate container. He roared in fear and rage and kicked the abominable creature away. Gripping the vial securely, he shook it furiously to mix the ingredients, praying that he had not made a mistake. There was no time to try again and he had used his entire supply of some of the ingredients. There would be only one chance.
As Teya and Kyreial fought bravely on either side, the guardsman slowly opened his hand, seeing nothing. He nearly sobbed, desperately trying to remember if there was something he had forgotten. Then, he saw a faint red light, barely enough to be seen. The light grew in strength, faltered, then renewed itself. He stood and raised the vial above his head.
"What hell is this?" Teya whispered in fearful amazement as the battle abruptly ended.
Dozens of dead draugen lay around them and scores more of the mutant figures filled the cave on either side, staring at them with black, lifeless eyes. The closest drew back several feet but, either because of the nature or faintness of the light, they did not flee further. In the blood-red dim light cast by the vial, it was indeed a hellish sight.
