by Layton Green
“How did you kill the other werebat?” Dida asked.
“Who said I killed it? It followed our party through the jungle for a week, picking us off one by one. We holed up in some ruins until it got bored and went away. We never saw it again.”
“That’s comforting,” Val muttered.
“Didn’t ’ave a wizard with us, mind ye. I’ll give ye a tip, though, before ye leave me to my cups. When I returned to the village, I asked the elders about the damnable thing, and they said a family of werebats had plagued the jungle for decades, raiding the villages when they got hungry. Didn’t know how they got there, but they gave me a few nuggets of information. Told me something the infernal creatures avoided like the rat plague, and another they couldn’t resist.”
Like any good storyteller, Rucker paused long enough to pique Val’s interest. “If they’re in bat form, cold rain will turn ’em human,” Rucker said. “Messes with their flight pattern and body temperature. And if for some reason you wanted to draw one close before you turn it,” he said, with a gleam in his eye that suggested that would be his plan of attack, “then ye’ll want to use a mint orchid. They can’t resist ’em.”
“A mint orchid,” Val repeated, committing it to memory. “Where can we find one?”
Rucker gave a predatory grin and held up a brass amulet attached to his belt, flipping it open to reveal a miniature earth-colored globe showing the rough outline of North America. With a squat finger, he rolled the globe until it displayed the unmistakable image of the Indian subcontinent.
“Right about there,” he said. “The jungles of Kalingaland, a few thousand leagues east of here. Shouldn’t take you more than a few months travel.”
-41-
As the delvers prepared to attack, a deep-throated battle cry sounded from behind Will’s party. The delvers hesitated. Will turned to see five male darvish bursting out of the Great Chasm, riding saddled darrowgars. The thong-clad males were seven feet tall and powerfully built, their horns curved forward and much longer than Lisha’s three-inch nubs.
While the delvers fumbled to re-aim, the darrowgars pushed off the lip of the chasm and leapt high into the air. Each of their darvish riders raised diamond-shaped shields attached to their forearms, and employed their weapons: five-foot long gray tubes with the diameters of tennis ball cans. Palms glowing, they aimed the strange tubes at the delvers, and balls of molten lava shot forth, exploding into flame when they hit a target.
The delvers managed to release a volley of crossbow bolts. All but one of the darvish blocked the bolts with their shields, but the unlucky one bellowed and fell to the cavern floor, clutching the middle of his chest.
Yet the damage from the lava weapons, fireball after fireball after fireball, was devastating. The front line of delvers ignited into a mass of smoke and flame, obscuring the vision of their archers, creating chaos in the ranks, dropping smoking corpses to the floor. After the darrowgars touched down from their initial leap, they darted up the walls and onto the ceiling, creating moving targets and exposing more delvers to the lava tubes.
Will tore his vision away from the spectacle and raced to free Lisha. He hacked away at the magical netting, ripping a hole for her to slip through, then joined Marek and Tamás as they rushed into the fray, hoping to end the battle before the delvers had a chance to regroup. The initial darvish attack had decimated their ranks and caused mass chaos, but at least a dozen still stood.
The darvish seemed to have either spent their weapons or exhausted their internal heat source. The four remaining warriors leapt off the darrowgar, drawing pitchforks from scabbards slung on their backs, whipping their barbed tails back and forth. They were twice the size of the delvers.
Pitchforks? Will thought. Really?
The delvers formed a tight circle and fought like wolverines. Will watched in horror as Marek took a blow from Farzal that cleaved through his arm at the biceps. Marek bellowed and fell, and Dalen and Caleb rushed to drag him from the melee. Tamás stepped in to protect them, while Will labored to keep up with his skilled delver opponent.
The darvish fared better. Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw them dispatch delver after delver, blocking axe blows with their diamond shields, jabbing with their pitchforks, whipping their tails around to stab the delvers in the side. When one of the darvish’s pitchforks got stuck in a shield, he picked up an axe and sliced through a delver torso, almost cleaving him in two. The darrowgars joined in as well, snapping at their hated enemies.
Will’s own opponent was fierce, and he started to push Will backwards. Farzal outclassed Tamás as well, which panicked Will. The leader of the delvers kept flashing his evil grin, and Will knew that if either he or Tamás faltered, they would both pay the price.
Farzal was pushing Tamás towards the edge of the chasm. Though Will’s arms ached with exhaustion, he roared and redoubled his efforts, weaving his sword back and forth, blocking his opponent’s axe swing and probing for an opening, too often striking the delver shield or whipping through empty air. The delver was stronger than Will, well-trained, and more experienced. Will knew he had to make this fight messy if he hoped to survive.
Images from Mala’s lessons dashed through his head, implanted through long hours of practice.
Lesson the first: always be aware.
Lesson the second: strike first, and with intent.
Lesson the third: cheat.
The next time their weapons clashed, the delver tried to smash Will with his shield to off-balance him. Will let him, pretending to stumble to a knee. He raised his sword in mock fear of the coming blow, but as the delver swung his battle-axe, Will spun to the side, tripping his opponent with a two-legged scissors maneuver that Mala had taught him. The delver lost his balance and fell. Will jabbed upward with his sword, just underneath the ribcage, slipping through his opponent’s defenses and running him through. The delver’s weapon fell from numbed fingers, his surprise at Will’s maneuver the last emotion that registered in his eyes.
Tamás teetered on the edge of the chasm, with Farzal bearing down on him. Will sprang to his feet. “Farzal!” he screamed, swinging his sword at the delver leader’s back.
Farzal was forced to turn and block Will’s swing. When he did, Tamás regained his balance and thrust forward with a scimitar. The delver leader was quick as a mongoose and managed to block the blow, but Tamas’s second strike slipped through, piercing Farzal’s side. Still the delver fought, grunting through the blow and spinning away, kicking Tamás in the gut and then meeting Will’s swing so hard that Will lost his grip on his sword, and it clanged to the floor.
Farzal sprang forward, a demonic gleam in his eye. Will dove for his sword as the delver leader raised his axe for the killing blow, but before he could swing, a pitchfork exploded outward from his chest. The darvish wielding the weapon lifted Farzal high into the air, and their tormentor gurgled his last few breaths before the darvish pitched him off the edge of the chasm.
Will snatched his sword off the ground and whipped his head around. Two more darvish warriors stood near the center of the cavern, surrounding Lisha and capping their weapons with gray basalt lids.
Marek lay gasping on the floor, his left arm a bloody stump. The rest of Will’s companions were alive and unharmed.
The delvers were all dead.
The darvish immolated their fallen companions and left the delvers where they lay. Will sat in a circle with the others near the edge of the Great Chasm, awaiting their fate while Lisha argued with the male warriors. Marek was in rough shape, lying on his back while his stump bled. None of them knew what to do about it. Marek had rebuffed their efforts to console him.
“What could they be discussing?” Dalen asked.
“I’m sure they’re deciding whether or not to kill us,” Caleb answered, gasping in pain as he eased onto his back. The journey had opened up the burn wound, and blood seeped down his chest.
Yasmina rose and walked towards one of the darrowgars. Caleb g
asped as he raised to his elbows. “Um, Yaz, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She ignored him and knelt next to one of the salamander-like creatures. It eyed her, then bowed its head and let her stroke its neck.
O-kay, Will thought.
“By the deuce, surely they won’t kill us,” Dalen said. “Aike. We just saved one of their own from enslavement.”
“And brought the delvers to their doorstep, causing the deaths of three of their people,” Tamás snapped.
Will tried not to think about their fate, fumbling nervously with his scabbard until Lisha returned. She spoke to Will.
They do not want to help you. Though our races once traded goods, that was many ages ago, and now there is great fear and mistrust.
Will looked away, wondering how many hours they would survive in the Darklands without Lisha to guide them.
But I convinced them, Lisha said. They appreciate what you have done, and saw your courage in the battle with our sworn enemy. At the bottom of the Great Chasm lies our city, as well as an ancient route to the surface. I will guide you myself.
“Thank you,” Will said, whooping and then embracing her. “Thank you.”
In his joy at the news, he forgot about her heat source. But as he pulled away, he realized that her outside body temperature was not much greater than someone with a fever.
She smiled, sensing his confusion. There is nothing to fear, unless I wish to harm you.
Will relayed the news to the others. One of the male darvish took an earthen jar out of a bag tied to a darrowgar saddle, and gave it to Lisha. She applied a brown paste that smelled like ground mushrooms to Marek’s wound. The bleeding stopped, and he groaned and curled into a ball.
This will help seal the wound. Lisha turned towards Caleb. If my savior wishes, this will prevent infection and speed his recovery. But it will burn.
My savior? Will thought. He had been the one with the idea to free her; Caleb had just caught the sword. But Will was used to that. Caleb could pee in a corner and women would find it noteworthy. And if Lisha helped ease his pain and lead them to the surface, then she could worship his brother all she wanted.
Will told Caleb what Lisha had said. Caleb grimaced and nodded. Lisha held the back of his head in one hand, and with a strained smile, looked him in the eye while she applied the paste.
Caleb’s howls of pain echoed through the cavern.
The Great Chasm was immense beyond imagining, an ocean drained of water set miles beneath the earth. The party traversed a staircase so precipitous Will had to keep his eyes focused on his feet to keep from getting vertigo. He pretended he was in Caleb’s bar as they walked, knocking back a plate of wings and a pitcher of Abita.
After providing Will and his companions with water and a bag of mushroom wafers for sustenance, then wrapping Marek’s stump with a roll of gauzy material, the male darvish rode at the head of the group. They gave Lisha, Yasmina, and Marek each a darrowgar mount as well. The big man bore the journey with a stoic heart, grunting and favoring his stump, but Will could only imagine the pain he was suffering. Caleb, at least, seemed to be doing better, after the initial onslaught of agony from the salve.
As the battle adrenaline faded, the reality of a two day walk with no sleep and little food reared its head, and Will wondered what the darvish would do if one of the walkers collapsed. He and Tamás were holding up, but Dalen and Caleb stumbled forward as if drunk. Will kept a hand on his brother’s shirt, afraid he would misstep and plunge into the chasm.
Silence and oppressive darkness defined their descent. One of the darvish carried a glow stick that provided a circle of weak illumination at the front of the group. Long hours later, a reddish light appeared far below, glowing brighter as they approached. Will also noticed that the air had warmed and smelled faintly of sulfur.
“Is that hell down there?” Caleb muttered. “If so, I hope it has a La Quinta.”
“With a pool,” Will said. “And an Outback next door.”
“What are these things, a La Quinta and an Outback?” Dalen asked, causing the brothers to cackle and Yasmina to give a musical laugh.
As they continued to descend, the temperature increased until sweat dripped from Will’s brow. Breathing became a chore, and the sulfurous odor grew stronger. Just as he began to wonder if he could stand any more heat, the red glow coalesced into one of the strangest and most wondrous sights he had ever witnessed.
Set in an immense, oval-shaped cavern at the bottom of the Great Chasm, the tops of the darvish city’s crimson arches appeared first, towering structures which spanned hundreds of feet. Further down, thousands of smaller arches and domed buildings emerged, connected by suspension bridges at varying heights, the structures composed of a variety of colors: red and gold and tan, silver and pink and green.
The base of the city was a layer of porous rock carved into streets and plazas, and darvish filled the public spaces like swarms of red ants. Beneath it all, bubbling through in fumaroles and short geysers, pooled into lakes and directed into canals, was a sea of molten lava.
Will caught his breath at the sight. The walls of the cavern surrounding the city ran bright with veins of magma, illuminating the darvish metropolis with a beautiful glow. He realized the entire city must be made of igneous rock and hardened lava—thus the different colors—and marveled at the time and creativity it had taken for the darvish to shape it.
Lisha dropped to her knees. A tear dropped from her eye. Is it not the most beautiful sight you have ever seen?
“It is,” Will murmured in reply. “It truly is.”
We are the last of our kind, she said. This is our only remaining city.
Her words made Will sad, and he wondered how the delvers had managed to get the upper hand over the centuries, when six darvish had just destroyed an entire war party.
With machines and cruelty, he thought. The hallmarks of a successful civilization.
They halted beside a side tunnel leading out of the Great Chasm. Lisha started waving her hands and arguing with the male darvish. The largest one threw his hands up, then jumped off his darrowgar and stalked down the staircase in his knee-high golden boots.
The other two males followed his lead, leaving the mounts behind.
The air of our city is too hot for you, Lisha said. We can descend no further. My companions are not pleased, but I persuaded them to leave the darrowgars. This tunnel leads to the surface. On foot, it is a rigorous three-day journey to the nearest source of water. I fear some of you would not survive.
Will did not disagree, though he was sad not to see the darvish city up close. With a final glance at the fiery metropolis, he mounted his darrowgar and entered the tunnel, exhausted beyond belief, wary but ready for the final leg of the journey through the Darklands.
-42-
Instructing Gus to pick him up early, Val paid a visit to the Wizard Library before class. He was surprised to find a listing for mint orchid in the catalogue, and he tracked the reference to the floramancy section on the third floor.
Next to a window overlooking the Hall of Wizards, Val found the book he was seeking: a recent edition of a tome entitled Botany of the Bharat.
He checked the index and flipped to page 346, a third of which was given over to the mint orchid: a flower which resembled an emerald lotus hanging from a silver stalk. Val perused the entry, learning that the mint orchid was highly attractive to most genera and species of the chiropteran order of mammals.
Bats.
As he expected, the last line in the fifth paragraph informed him that the exceedingly rare mint orchid was native to the humid forests of Kalingaland.
That line was marked with a tiny numeral, however, and Val felt a tingle of excitement as he read the footnote: Successful cultivations of mint orchids have been reported in the Port Nelson Botanical Garden, the Royal Arboretum in Londyn, and in the private collection of the floramancer Wellesey Kilmore, of New Victoria.
When he arrived at th
e coterie house, Val found Dida waiting for him by the front door, the exact scenario Val wished to avoid. He knew what the bibliomancer wanted to talk about.
“A moment, if you will?” Dida said.
Val was tempted to push past and ignore him, but he considered Dida a friend. “Sure.”
“Are you really from this place called Earth?” Dida asked. Val didn’t answer, and Dida continued, “The knowledge is safe with me, if that is your worry. I’m merely curious, as I’ve never met anyone from another world. We hear about the journeys of the spiritmancers, but none of us . . . I am simply curious.”
Val looked him in the eye, and found that he trusted his classmate. It was better to confront the issue headlong before the bibliomancer shared the knowledge with others. “I am, Dida. Please, no one else can know. It’s extremely important.”
“Of course, my friend—you have my word. And is it so different from Urfe, this other world?”
“Yes and no. Some things are different almost beyond belief, but it’s still filled with people just like you and me. Families with the same hopes and concerns.”
“I see, yes. How did you arrive?”
Val scrambled to find something to say. “I’m here for the same reason as you,” he said, dodging the question. “I was sent as an emissary, to learn and interact. Just in secret.”
Dida gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “I’d very much like to see your world. Perhaps one day, we might visit it together?”
“I’d like that,” Val murmured.
After class, Val discussed his find in the Wizard Library with the others.
“Wellesey Kilmore was a professor at the Abbey known for his brilliant experiments with plant life,” Adaira said, excited. “I read about him in sixth form. When he retired, he moved to an island in Bayou Village to establish a private garden. He was called the menagerist of floramancers.”
“Is he still there?” Val asked.
