by Jeff Wheeler
Khiara took a step closer, her face impassive.
“I truly did not believe you would make it this far,” Lukias said through clenched teeth. He wiped sweat from his forehead. “While I was wrong about that, I’m convinced you will not make it past these defenses without my help. Let me go to the inner sanctum and plead your case. Let me see if they will treat with you. You are not helpless, that much is clear. Let me go on ahead of you.”
Annon shook his head. “We’ve trusted you this far, Lukias. But it appears our truce is at an end. If you will not reveal the dangers ahead, then you are of no use to us.”
Lukias’s eyes narrowed challengingly. “Will you murder me, Druidecht?”
Erasmus’s voice was thick with anger. “What do you call the attack at the prince’s manor in Silvandom? Surely it was not an offer to negotiate.”
The Rike looked at the Preachán disdainfully. “We were ordered to take you, if possible, kill you if not. Clearly our ends were not achieved. The Arch-Rike won’t underestimate you again. Look at it from my side, Annon!” he said, grasping the younger man’s shoulder. “They recognized me out there. I was seen with you. Either I am here under duress or willingly. My excuses vanish if I aid you. The ring tells you I speak the truth. I have been trying to save my own life. I gave you what you sought. I still believe you will fail. Will you kill me as well as yourselves?”
Annon stared into Lukias’s fearful eyes. “I don’t blame you. That is why I am giving you a choice. You have been wrong about our chances so far. You may be wrong about the future as well. If we succeed and the Arch-Rike falls, you have lost nothing you would not lose anyway.”
“Persuasive,” Lukias replied, “but not convincing. I die either way. I respect you, Annon. I do not lie. You have great power and a cunning mind. There is wisdom in you despite your youth. I know what dangers lie ahead. I know what you face. Believe me, I do not think you can succeed. The dangers ahead will kill you.”
“We have no alternative but to succeed,” Annon said. He glanced at Khiara and nodded.
With a swift blow, she struck the side of Lukias’s neck with the flat of her hand. Erasmus caught Lukias as he fell. The Preachán withdrew a coil of rope from his pack and began securing Lukias’s wrists behind his back and his ankles together.
“Help me,” Erasmus said to Annon and the two hauled him to the side of the door. Erasmus withdrew a band of cloth next and then fixed it as a gag in Lukias’s mouth.
“We should kill him,” Erasmus said with a sniff. “It would improve the odds of our survival considerably. But I know the Vaettir are squeamish about such things even though he will die anyway, after the Arch-Rike questions him.”
“No,” Khiara said, her expression tightening with anger. “He will die when the keramat fails.”
“We will not kill him,” Annon replied sternly to Erasmus. “He had a chance to choose.” He turned to the doorframe and discovered some unlit torches hanging in brackets along the wall. Using the flaming sphere in his hand, he lit several before handing them to the others and taking one himself. “Let’s find Nizeera.”
Erasmus sighed, rubbing his wrist as he held up the torch and let the light chase off ahead. “Remember the dark of Drosta’s Lair, Annon?”
“I have a sense this will be more difficult than what we faced there, Erasmus,” he replied, staring down the dark shaft of the tunnel. The uneven edges angled downward into the smothering blackness. The air felt stale and thin and had a moldy smell. The burning pitch from the torches did not improve on it.
“I agree with your prediction. Who is coming? Is that Nizeera?”
A glowing set of eyes appeared in the vastness ahead of them, reflected by the torches. Nizeera padded forward into the light. Her muzzle gleamed with blood.
“I have spent some little time delving into the studies of the Rikes of Seithrall. They are experts at the anatomy of all life forms, both human and animal. When you visit their temples, you see the remains of the skeletal lineaments, bleached white and fastened together with metal wires. They study these in great detail. They have large glass vials full of oil and internal organs. They are the masters of embalmment. When a pauper dies, rather than burying them in a public cemetery, the corpses are studied and meticulously recorded regarding the cause of death and the condition of the various organs and tissues. They harvest this knowledge that they may learn to prevent and treat illnesses and document their knowledge in The Book of Breathings. They truly are the overseers of death. It is even whispered amongst some in the population, the more superstitious ones, that the very touch of a Rike of Seithrall can induce death. This is, of course, a foolish belief.”
—Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
Annon stared at the cat’s grisly maw. A sickening fear washed through him, turning his bones into water. Nizeera?
He is dead, Nizeera thought to him. The hackles on her back were ruffled and spiky. These tunnels smell of the dead, Druidecht. There is great evil guarding this place.
Annon knelt as she approached. What did you see? Why did you kill him?
She shook her head slowly. Somehow he knew I was behind him. He invoked some magic that blinded me and then sent a crossbow bolt at me. When he missed, I charged and he fled toward an archway in the dark. Great magic lay beyond it. I knew if he crossed, I might not be able to follow. I caught his heel as he was nearly through and dragged him out.
Her tail lashed and swayed.
He did not cry out. The portal beyond reeks of magic. Follow me.
Sighing with dread, Annon motioned the others to follow him. He was grateful the bolt hadn’t struck her. His fear deepened. The darkness was barely dispelled by the light from their three torches. It illuminated only a short way ahead as if the tunnel could swallow light. Annon felt his breath quicken as well as his pulse. Sweat began to trickle down his back as they walked, the weight of the mountain pressing heavily as they descended deeper. Tributaries branched off regularly along the way, like branches sprouting from a vine. Above each one, a stone piece of slate was fixed from iron pegs with symbols traced in chalk. He could not read the language.
“Do you recognize it?” Annon asked Khiara. “What does it say?”
“The script is ancient,” Khiara replied. “It is not Vaettir. I cannot read it.” Her mouth tightened into a worried frown. “I am sorry.”
Annon glanced as Erasmus, but the Preachán shook his head with mute surprise. The dread in the Druidecht’s stomach increased. They followed Nizeera deeper into the bowels of the tunnel. The torchlight hissed and spit, the pitch burning a brilliant orange.
Ahead, crumpled in a puddle of blood, lay the fallen Rike. His glassy eyes stared at them, his mouth frozen in a rictus of pain. Annon shuddered. Beyond the corpse stood a broad arch, carved into the stone in perfect symmetry. It was adorned with runes and strange symbols. The path beyond it was darker than ebony. Not even their torches penetrated it.
As they approached and carefully stepped around the body, Annon felt a presence in the blackness ahead. It felt like eyes were boring into him, unseen and hostile. He clenched his jaw, summoning his courage.
“Can either of you read the runes?” Annon asked. “The script is different than what we saw in the hall.”
Khiara looked up at the archway, studying the letters. She was silent for several moments, rubbing her lip thoughtfully. Her jet black hair glinted in the torchlight. “It says, and I translate this roughly: Beware the Ruby Goddess. The humble only may pass.”
Annon stroked his chin thoughtfully. “What is the Ruby Goddess? Do you know?”
Khiara nodded, her expression brightening with relief at being useful. “It is an ancient belief. She is the Aeduan Goddess of Vengeance. She was greatly feared. The ancient texts say she punishes mortals. It is odd to find reference to her here, when the Rikes do not believe in the old myths.”
“Remember the markers on the path leading here? This appears to be a temple built in her honor,”
Annon observed. His stomach twisted with fear. “Strange indeed, coming from the Arch-Rike. Is that all? Only the warning?”
“It is,” she replied. She looked at the darkness nervously and stroked the edge of her arm with one hand. “This place feels cold.”
“It is evil,” Erasmus said. “The light does not penetrate the arch. Magic is at work. Can’t you cancel it, Annon?”
Annon shook his head. “Our torches may not be of much use to us when we cross.”
Nizeera prowled around the entryway nervously. There is magic at work beyond. Spirit magic that is aware of us. It is waiting to strike at us.
Pursing his lips, Annon stared at the cat. “How will it strike us?”
I do not know, Nizeera purred in warning. She started to hiss.
“What is it?” Erasmus asked.
“She senses something in the dark.”
“I sense it too,” Khiara said.
Annon swallowed. “We did not come all this way to turn back. We face it, whatever it is. We need to stay near each other. Erasmus, do you have more rope?”
“I used it on Lukias. I told you we should have killed him.”
Annon exhaled sharply. “The torches will not be of use to us in there. We should hold on to each other’s hands.” He noticed the brackets inset into the stone arches, enough for six. He slid his torch into one of the brackets and motioned for the others to do the same. Then he reached out for Khiara’s hand, offering his. She stared at his hand a moment and then shifted her staff.
“Hold Erasmus next and I will follow last. I want to hold my weapon in case we are attacked. This place is dreadful.”
Erasmus took Annon’s hand and Khiara took Erasmus’s. Nizeera hissed and growled, pacing fitfully. Mustering his remaining courage, Annon stepped beneath the arch.
The magic responded instantly, and he realized that there was something they had failed to do, like a password uttered or a stone pressed. As soon as the blackness enveloped him, he felt the presence of an evil being stir awake ahead of them. The spasm of fear rocked him, for he recognized the presence from the waterfall beyond Drosta’s Lair. It was the Fear Liath. There was no sunlight now to protect them. The creature moved in darkness and the place had been prepared to encounter anyone, day or night. He felt the presence in the chamber beyond, felt the fear coil inside his heart and melt his courage. As Khiara and Erasmus stepped inside, they also froze in panic.
Annon’s heart raced, thudding painfully. Sweat trickled down his cheeks and neck. He trembled, unable to move. The fear blinded him to everything. He heard Nizeera hiss in the darkness next to him.
Be still! he thought to her.
A whisper of air brushed against his face. Something hulking loomed. His mouth was dry with terror. His legs could not move. What had he done? They had trusted him and now he had led them to their death. The Fear Liath had slain all of Kiranrao’s men. Somehow the Romani leader had survived. Annon’s knees strained with pain as they shook. They were going to die. They were going to be brutally murdered, their blood soaking the stones of the cave.
No! he screamed at himself. He tried to muster the words that summoned fire and could not remember them. His memory was blank. But how could that be? He had the Dryad’s kiss. He should be able to remember everything. Confusion warped his sense of space.
“Annon?” Khiara whispered, her voice choked with fear.
“Forward,” he said huskily. He pulled on Erasmus’s arm but he did not move. He pulled harder. “Come.”
A breath of wind came from his left. The darkness was consuming him. He wanted to tear his hand free and run. His breath came in ragged gasps.
“Forward!” Annon said again, pulling. Erasmus balked. Annon’s arms shook. He could see nothing. White motes began to flicker in his blank vision. His eyes were starved for colors. He felt Erasmus sinking behind him, heard him gibber with fear.
He pulled tenaciously on Erasmus’s hand, bringing him back to his feet. When he had faced the waterfall of the Fear Liath before, movement had helped break the grip of the creature’s magic. Perhaps it was sleeping? Annon pulled again and forced Erasmus to follow. He took another step. Then another. The blackness engulfed him on all sides, numbing his mind. Which way should they walk? Which way lay the beast?
Sweat stung Annon’s eyes. He tugged on his limp cargo again, drawing Erasmus and Khiara on. Suddenly, in the darkness ahead, two specks began to glow, as if a demon had suddenly awakened. The specks enlarged, revealing two molten eyes. The presence of shadow and night intensified, hurling at Annon with dread. The eyes bored into his. He froze in his tracks, watching the eyes, waiting for a snarl to follow. They had awakened the Fear Liath. He held his breath.
Nothing happened. He stared at the creature, waiting for a snort of breath to precede the claws.
Light.
It took several long moments to realize that he could see. The Fear Liath’s glowing eyes could be seen. Did it mean that the darkness could be dispelled?
“There it is!” Erasmus whispered in a choking voice. “Ahead! See it?”
Annon shook his hand loose of Erasmus’s. Pyricanthas. Sericanthas. Thas.
His hands glowed blue, breaking the iron grip of the darkness. The light began to expand as he summoned the licking flames to his palms. The darkness cringed and darted away, revealing a massive stone boulder ahead. Carved into the front of the boulder was the face of some creature, huge blackened face and narrow-slit eyes that burned with heat and malevolence.
The truth caused a gasp of relief. There was no Fear Liath, only its image. A coal-black smudge carved into a boulder. Somehow it channeled the creature’s power. Yet it was a deception after all. Annon strode forward, examining the rough basalt surface. It was taller than a man, oddly lumped and misshapen. Only the creature’s face had been blasted into the rock—and its eyes. The terror was passing. Annon turned and saw his friends, staring at him in dismay and shock. He motioned for them to advance. Slowly, hesitantly, they did. Courage began to replace fear. Nizeera was prowling low, chin barely brushing the surface of the ground as she came, ears flat, fur bristling.
Annon touched the basalt and it responded to the fireblood. A glowing aura shimmered where his hand touched. The light from the eyes winked out.
Glancing around the room, Annon saw another archway on the far end of the cave. Finding it in the dark would have been tedious.
“Come,” Annon bid them, walking confidently toward the next trap the Arch-Rike had created for them.
The tunnels twisted endlessly, branching off like a maze that befuddled even Erasmus. Fortunately, Nizeera was with them. As they approached a cavern that branched different ways and they were unsure which path to take, Nizeera came forward and tested the air, breathing in the scent. Always one path had a more human smell than the others and her senses brought them that way easily. Each room and chamber brought an increase in confidence from the perils they had faced. But time was running short and they knew they needed to hurry. Lukias would revive and start wriggling free from his bonds. Once he succeeded, he would open the doors and the Rikes would enter. They certainly had the means to bypass the traps, and so each delay caused the worry to gnaw deeper inside Annon.
He was not sure how deep they were beneath the mountain, but the trail led them eventually to another bronze-shod door. It had a rounded top fixed beneath another archway. The columns on each side were flat with rectangular reliefs carved into them, around six panels high. Chiseled into the stone above the door was the single word: Calcatrix.
Annon stared at the word, for it was not familiar. “Is it Vaettir?” he asked Khiara.
She nodded. “It means ‘trackers.’ Someone who hunts.”
He was grateful she was there. “Thank you. Let us see what danger awaits us then.”
Erasmus studied the panels by the archway, running his fingers along the edge. “There are no hinges. The door swings inward.”
“Any locks?” Annon asked.
&n
bsp; “None that I can see. We push it, by the look of it.”
Annon took a deep breath, mopping his sweaty face on his sleeve. “Nizeera, any sound of pursuit?”
The cat went back down the tunnel, ears pointed and still. Nothing.
Annon approached the door to shove it open, but Erasmus caught him. “Better not to be standing in the way when it opens. We should open it from the edge where the hinges likely are. Could be rigged with darts or bolts. You never know.”
“Good thinking,” Annon said. They separated, Annon and Nizeera on one side, Khiara and Erasmus on the other.
Together, they pushed on the edge of the door. It swung open with little effort, the hinges oiled and soundless. As the door opened, the room beyond was suddenly lit by smokeless glass stands, the same as the kind used in Kenatos to light the streets at night. The stands were taller than a man, and the cavern beyond broad and wide. There were enough poles to illuminate the entire chamber, revealing its vastness as well as stalactites and stalagmites, protruding from the ceiling and floor, interspersed through the room. There were statues throughout as well, stone carvings of men and women in various poses and positions. In the vastness of the high ceiling, they could hear the flapping and fluttering of wings. Annon supposed they were bats. Pockmarks and crevices showed various entrances and exits in the room. It would take some time to search them all.
Not bats, Nizeera thought. I sense beings here. Spirit beings.
It is the lights, Annon thought in return. There are spirits trapped in them. It is the same in Kenatos.
They entered the high chamber, walking amidst the interesting columns of light as well as the jutting crags of rock. With the interspersed obstructions, it made it difficult to see the walls. Annon was wary and walked cautiously as a result, studying the floor, the light columns, glancing up at the pockmarked ceiling. The sound of fluttering wings whispered through the room.
Nizeera prowled again, tail lashing in vexation. Erasmus glanced from side to side, trying to take in the scene. Khiara walked last.
