Flying in a V formation, they kept ahead and below the lead storm clouds that crept across the horizon. Thalagar excelled at flying, and Taliesin felt at peace with the entire world while she flew through the sky. They covered miles in a short time and watched as tiny villages and wild herds of camels appeared and disappeared below, while the sand dunes resembled a large sea that stretched on forever. Taliesin kept count of oases as they passed; the last one seen on the map was but a few miles from the cave, and she noticed unmoving figures lying along the water’s edge, fifty feet below. Buzzards tore into the dead flesh and gorged on what had once been a patrol of knights. More than that she could not tell, and she urged her horse higher into the sky and resumed her lead position.
As late afternoon came upon them, they saw giant red stones poking out of the sand. Large plates of rocks, piled on top of one another like sheets of icing on a layered cake, were parted in the middle as if sliced open, and created a narrow gorge with rock walls eroded by time. Five large, winged shadows and one tiny shadow fell upon the stones below and glided along to the left side of the gorge as the horses and bird descended. Taliesin, ahead of the others, found a good spot to land and dismounted as soon as she did so. The rest of the riders landed, climbed from their saddles, and placed the reins under rocks so the horses wouldn’t fly off.
Taliesin left Thalagar to roam, knowing he wouldn’t fly away, and fruitlessly searched the sky for Zarnoc. She went to the side of the gorge and looked over the steep side at a drop of some one hundred feet. The river that created the ravine had long since dried out; the only remaining sign of it was a number of sedimentary rocks that stood like stalagmites from the river bed. On closer inspection, she realized some type of curious fungus spread from out of the wall beneath her and in either direction.
“Careful,” Zarnoc shouted, overhead. Rocks crumbled beneath Taliesin’s feet, and she quickly stepped away from the edge, grateful the sheet of rock had not broken off with her on it. Zarnoc landed beside her and morphed into a small man dressed in Djaran garb, complete with a short sword at this side. “It’s obvious you don’t listen well,” he said. “You need to be careful; one slip, and you’re dead.”
Taliesin glanced over the edge of the cliff. “Did you find the cave?”
“No, but it is close,” Zarnoc said. “There is a powerful magic being used here. If I get too near, my powers will be rendered useless, and I’d plummet to my death; I dare not risk flight into the ravine. Get the map, and see what it says.”
Reaching into the side of her jerkin, Taliesin pulled out the rolled map, squatted on her haunches, and spread it out over the ground. Zarnoc’s shadow blocked her view, but when he stepped away, she saw not a map but a schematic of the cave. Within the cave were twists and turns that led to cut offs and dead ends. And one route that went through several large chambers until it opened into a large vault where the sword was kept. “I didn’t expect the map to show us the interior,” Taliesin said. “This is very helpful.”
“That’s why they call it a Deceiver’s Map,” Zarnoc said. “Give up and stop looking, and you miss the good stuff. The cave is but a half-mile on your left, and one hundred feet below. There’s a good-sized temple inside.” He pointed at the diagram. “Big pillars. Many secret rooms. A giant statue of a snake wrapped around a sword. Looks like an altar of some kind beneath the sword. Interesting...”
“It reminds me of the Royal Temple,” Taliesin said. “Same type of entrance, with stairs coming into a large chamber. These smaller figures are statues. Only one way in or out.” She rolled the map. “If there are enchantments, like you said, we’d better not fly down there. We can leave the horses here and climb down.” She placed her hand on his shoulder. “I know you want to help, Zarnoc, but you won’t do us any good inside the cave. Without your magic, you will require protection, and it would be better if you guarded the horses.”
“Never mind about my feelings,” Zarnoc said. His voice dripped with sarcasm. “I’m only an old man without my powers, and good only to tend to the horses.”
Taliesin leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “That’s not how I mean it, dear friend. I need you to guard our backs. But you won’t be alone.” She watched the group wander toward them. “I’ve decided to leave Wren with you.”
The petite girl looked worn out as she pulled her hood over her head and sought shade behind a large boulder. She spread out a blanket and laid on it, an arm over her eyes, and Zarnoc drifted toward her. Hawk, Rook, and Jaelle removed their cloaks, set them aside, and started unloading weapons and gear. A large coil of rope was dropped at Taliesin’s feet.
“We have enough rope to reach the bottom,” Hawk said. “But there won’t be any light inside the cave, so we’ll need torches. Rook and I will look around for branches. The cloaks can be torn into strips, and we can use some of Jaelle’s perfume to douse them so they’ll ignite.”
“Sounds good,” Taliesin said.
The two young men went to find wood, and Jaelle joined Wren and Zarnoc. Though exhausted and fighting off a headache, Wren helped cut the cloaks into strips. Taliesin pulled Jaelle’s backpack off her horse, brought it to the group, and knelt beside them, in the shade.
“King Korax is said to be buried inside,” Zarnoc said. “I should like to see him again—we were very good friends. Korax loved to go hawking. We’d hike through the hills for hours, watching our hawks fly. Those were the days.”
“You never mentioned you actually knew him,” Taliesin said. “What about the snake god? Is the creature real or not?”
Zarnoc cleared his throat when he caught her glaring at him. “Did I not tell you I knew the Raven King? Oh dear. That’s a long story, for another time. As for the snake god, he was real enough, alas. I can’t say which of the Lorians placed spells over this place, but I can tell you the Snake Cult thrived here for a long time before the Royal Army killed them and sealed the cave. The Snake Cult was feared by all. Their dark magic attracted dark creatures, of that I am certain.”
The failure of Zarnoc to mention he’d personally known Korax, Lykus, and Arundel in their youth, and that they were all very old, troubled Taliesin, but not as much as his inability to tell her what type of dark magic had been used to protect both the Raven King and the Raven Sword. Taliesin withheld her retort as Hawk and Rook returned, carrying a stack of old spears with rusted heads. While the two cut the spears into manageable lengths, Wren surrendered to exhaustion and lay down. Taliesin helped tie the bits of cloth around the spearheads. Jaelle poured her perfume over the cloth, making the air reek, and Hawk gathered the torches together.
“We might as well climb down here,” Jaelle said. “Rappelling over a cliff is harder than it looks. Someone strong will have to stay behind and make sure the rope is secured. Zarnoc might be able to handle it, but the logical choice is Rook; he’s the biggest and strongest. If there are no objections, I’ll go first, then Taliesin and Hawk.”
Taliesin looked for Rook, but he had vanished.
Frowning deeper than usual, Hawk glanced toward the ravine. “It will be difficult for just three of us to move aside rocks at the entrance to get inside that tomb,” he said. “We’re going to need Rook with us in case we run into trouble. I can’t be expected to protect everyone. Zarnoc can manage the rope; he’s stronger than he looks.”
“I really am,” the wizard said. “Have no fear.”
Rook reappeared at that moment and threw something that looked like a large jawbone onto the ground. “Wolfmen,” he said, pointing at the sharp teeth. “I found more than skeletons; there are quite a few fresh corpses here. Maybe you should all take a look before you go.”
“This is odd. Why didn’t the Wolfman change into a man? This is the jaw of a giant wolf,” Hawk said.
“Maybe it’s not a Wolfman,” Taliesin said.
Taliesin, Hawk, and Jaelle followed Rook along the cliff’s edge to a colossal pile of bones of all types, from many ages past, left to bleach in the sun. Mos
t were so old they crumbled to dust when Taliesin stepped on them, but just beyond the mound was a collection of rotting animal and human corpses that looked recently gnawed on. Rook dug through the bodies with his spear and found a tattered Fregian banner. He handed the flag to Taliesin, who examined the material.
“This has been lying here for several weeks. I wonder why Duke Hrothgar’s men came here,” Taliesin said. “They certainly didn’t need the Deceiver’s Map to reach the cave. Nor did any of these other men; they knew right where to go. I’m impressed.”
“The Eagle Clan has been here as well,” Hawk said, holding the tatters of a dark gold cloak. He looked unhappier than he had been a few moments before. “Zarnoc said there were three Deceiver’s Maps still in existence. Any sorcerer could have used the map to make copies of the trail to the cave. Roland said he’d learned magic from a Fregian knight, so I assume his order knows a bit about magic. Little good it did any of these men.”
“There’re more bodies in the ravine.” Jaelle knelt on one knee and gazed over the side of the cliff. “Lots of them, too. They’re fresh. How long do you think they’d been here, Taliesin? A few days? A few weeks?”
Taliesin joined her and looked over the edge, now able to see hundreds of bodies littering the ravine. Knights and soldiers in tunics from all over the realm lay beside nomads and the carcasses of horses and camels alike. Ancient bones lay scattered around them. Men had apparently been coming to the ravine for ages, and they had made it no further than where the group now stood.
“Something caught those men by surprise,” Taliesin said. “I don’t think it was Wolfmen; they have no reason to guard this place. The way the bodies are stacked looks like these men were fighting in small groups before they were pushed over the cliff. They died when they hit the ground, that’s why their bodies are so twisted and stacked that way. Any predator or scavenger could have been eating the dead. The jawbone Rook found is probably one of them.”
The wind picked up, and the sky turned grayer. The smell of rain hung heavy in the air. “We could come back tomorrow,” Hawk said. “If we’re stuck over there once it starts raining, we’ll be washed away in a flash flood.”
Jaelle placed her hands over her nose. “The stench is overpowering,” she said, gagging. “I don’t know how your clan makes a living scavenging.”
“I could go in Hawk’s place,” Rook said. “I am not afraid. Hawk can stay and make sure the rope is held firm.”
“I didn’t say I was afraid, brother,” Hawk countered. “But I know a suicide mission when I see one. Forget I ever said anything about wanting to be a rich man before I die. I didn’t mean it. Let’s go to Dunatar Castle and book passage on a ship. I don’t care where we go, as long as it’s far away from this cursed place.”
Taliesin walked to their gear. She picked up the end of the rope and looked for some place to tie it off; aware her friends were standing idly by watching her. Light droplets of rain fell from the sky and the crackle of thunder in the far-off distance rumbled through the ravine. As she started toward a boulder, lightning struck on the far side of the ravine, making her hair stand on end; it nearly deafened her with its thunderclap.
“Can we go now?” Hawk asked.
“Yes,” Taliesin said. “Load everything, and let’s find somewhere else to make camp. We’ll return after the storm passes.”
At Wren’s cry, Rook and Jaelle ran to her. Zarnoc was trying to rouse the girl, but was having little luck.
“You must pick her up, Rook, and carry her on your horse,” Zarnoc said.
Rook lifted Wren into his arms and walked to his horse. Jaelle assisted as he climbed into the saddle, and she adjusted the belt to fasten both Wren and Rook securely in place before they took off. Another streak of lightning zigzagged across the sky as Jaelle mounted her own horse and joined the couple in flight. With a flap of his arms, Zarnoc turned into a raven and circled overhead. Hawk climbed into his saddle and wasted no time flying into the air and joining the group.
Raindrops hit Taliesin’s cheeks. She went around Thalagar and climbed into the saddle as he held his wings out. As she fiddled with the safety buckle, trying to secure the latch, the horse let out a warning snort as a large, furry body slammed against her. Thalagar flew upwards, but Taliesin tumbled out of the saddle, her arms locked around a huge body as they rolled and twisted across the ground, halting at the edge of the cliff. A giant wolf stood on top of her and growled, its frothing jaws wide open. With a savage cry, Taliesin placed her hands against its chest and sent it flying over the side of the cliff. She quickly stood and drew Wolf Killer, hoping her friends would return, but either they hadn’t noticed she wasn’t on her horse, or they were too frightened to come back.
A crackle of thunder brought a downpour and the arrival of the rest of the Wolf Pack. Wolfmen in partial states of transformation rose from behind the red rocks. Big, hairy, fanged creatures oozing drool appeared around her as Taliesin felt a strange electrical current in the air. She glanced at her sword as a bright, blue light struck the tip. The bolt of lightning knocked the weapon from her grip and sent her spiraling through the air into the onrushing creatures.
The silver sword flew upwards, then fell point downwards and sank deep into a rock. A spray of electrical discharge shot out of the weapon and struck the creatures as Taliesin threw her hands over her head. The Wolfmen, yelping loudly and with singed and smoking fur, ran for cover. Taliesin gazed at the sword sticking out of the rock, unaware something approached from behind, until she felt sharp fangs sink into her shoulder. Poison spread through her veins, and with a loud scream, she toppled, writhing in pain, and lost consciousness.
* * * * *
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Taliesin felt a throbbing pain in her skull as she awakened. Her shoulder ached where she’d been bitten, as did many other places where fangs had sunk into her skin. A quick examination alerted her to the gravity of the situation. Bite marks covered her arms and legs, and the wounds burned as if laced with salt. The monsters had turned her instead of eating her; which, she realized, called for an ounce of gratitude, but she felt only hatred for her enemy.
She lay at the far end of a large cave. Around her slept giant wolves that growled in their sleep, twitched, turned, and raised hind legs to scratch at fleas. The males curled around one another as littermates, or lay sprawled on their backs, legs in the air, and whimpering in their dreams.
She winced at the intense pain as she struggled to lift her head and gaze toward the entrance. It was raining with such violence a sheet of water covered the cave entrance with the force of a waterfall. A lone man in a black fur cape stood at the entrance and looked out. Behind him, the flames of a campfire snapped and sputtered from the touch of the rain. The man sensed she’d awakened and turned. Slanted eyes changed from yellow to a vibrant green, and even in the dark, she recognized the captain of the Wolf Pack.
“They will not bite,” Wolfgar said, his voice carrying to her. “You are one of us now.”
Pushing herself off the ground, Taliesin held her hand over her wounded shoulder; through the torn material she could feel the gash was nearly healed. A toothy smile appeared on Wolfgar’s face as she limped toward him, walking over the sleeping wolves that filled the cave and tried to count them. At least two hundred forms slept on the ground. She stopped counting and wondered where they came from or if their ranks had grown along the way. The smile remained on Wolfgar’s face as he watched her stretch out her hands to cup water from the waterfall and splash it on her face and neck. It was cold and refreshing. She stuck her head into the heavy flow, gazed at a raging river one hundred feet below, and considered jumping and letting the water take her away. A hand grabbed her arm, as if the captain had read her thoughts, and he pulled her away from the edge and to the fire.
“A good sleep is what you need. When you rise again, you will be fully Wolfen.”
“Did your pack kill those men I found on the ridge and in the ravine?” It w
as the first question that came to her mind. She’d already been cursed—what was the use of asking about the details of her new, hellish life? Hawk had been right to get her friends to leave when they had, or they would have been slaughtered.
“Only the Fregians,” Wolfgar said. “I sent scouts ahead. They arrived to find the Fregians looking for the Cave of the Snake God. My men were killed as well. Something else killed them, something that lives in the ravine. Pity your friend Sir Roland and the Eagle legionnaires were not discouraged by our attack and continue to ride this way. There are fewer of them now. This time, when they arrive, I will kill them.”
“And my friends? They got away?”
Wolfgar nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I had no need to kill the last of the Raven Clan.” A full blond beard grew on his angular jaw. He was naked beneath the cloak, smooth muscled, and hard as rock. “Are you afraid of me?” he asked, his voice rough and deep.
“I am,” Taliesin admitted. “What prisoner is not afraid of her captor? You and your kind are frightening; I would rather kill myself than be one of your pack.”
Wolfgar turned away from her and sniffed the air. His green eyes were shadowed under thick black eyebrows and his long blond hair hung in tangles. His skin and cloak were covered with mud and dried blood that was not his own. Despite the journey through Maldavia, Aldagar, and the Garridan desert, the captain had a healthy glow, suggesting he was well-fed. He feeds on humans, she told herself, gazing at the crackling flames. A rumbling laughter that ended with a snarl rose from his throat. Taliesin reached for her sword, only to remember it had flown out of her hand and lodged into a large boulder. She turned toward Wolfgar, and shuddered as she found him changing; his ears grew long and furry and a muzzle emerged and lengthened, contorting his features. Wolfgar touched his muzzle, and his features returned to human.
“Everyone is afraid of our kind,” Wolfgar said, kicking at the logs with a bare foot. “The Ghajaran has made it their life’s mission to kill my people, and so we hunt them when we have the time. I do not blame you for being afraid, Taliesin. A wolf is a savage beast. It is an animal, and it kills without remorse or guilt. Being Wolfen is different—we retain our human intelligence even when changing or in full wolf form. Legends say our kind turn only at a full moon, one night a month; on that night, we hunt and kill humans. It’s not true. We kill whenever we want, day or night; we change whenever we want, day or night, but we feel regret or guilt like any normal human. You are blessed by Ragnal, truly, Taliesin. I have lived a very long time, and now you will outlive your friends, their children, and their grandchildren. We pray to Ragnal, the god of war, for a reason. Ragnal is protected by two giant wolves, Cano and his son Varg, whose mother was a woman. We Wolfen are from the lineage of Varg, able to turn into half-things and wolves, just as he does.”
Seeker of Magic Page 40
