Seeker of Magic

by Susanne L. Lambdin

  Wolfgar waited beside her. He held a lit torch and a longsword, but seemed reluctant to enter. His eyes glowed bright amber, and his ears had turned long and covered with fur. The others remained in Wolfen form.

  “Do you want me to lead the way?” Taliesin asked. She glanced at the map. “The hallway narrows in thirty feet, so we’ll have to walk in single file. It’ll be cramped, too. How many are coming with us? If we run into trouble, I want to be able to get out the door.”

  “Udolf and ten of my best fighters, but I’ll lead. This way, lads.” Wolfgar held the torch in front of him and entered the tunnel. He walked ahead of Taliesin, who was followed by Udolf and his men. “Don’t fall behind, and don’t touch anything unless the Raven Mistress says it’s safe.”

  “In here, nothing is safe,” replied Taliesin.

  Within the tunnel, the torches cast swaying shadows upon the walls as a draft blew on the flames, producing a cloud of black smoke that seemed to go from torch to torch. Ghostly voices drifted to them, coming from the interior. Taliesin kept close to the broad-shouldered captain and carried only the map; no torch or weapon. They walked through a large circular chamber carved out of the red limestone. The room had a high ceiling and eight mysterious doors, but the map only showed one.

  The artisans who built the temple had created a network of smaller rooms and niches that led away from the main corridor and deeper into the rock. Although sealed for centuries and untouched by living creatures, the cave still retained a feeling of profound sacredness; the torches illuminated paintings depicting the carnal worship of the Snake God. The ceiling was over fifty feet above them, and painted with colorful scenes of nude Lorian fairy-folk, both men and women, swimming with snakes in a large river.

  “The Snake Cult of Chu’Alagu was killed and buried inside this cave by King Titus Draconus, son of Tarquin Draconus,” Taliesin said, hoping one of the Wolfmen knew more than she and would volunteer information. “Do you know much about history, Wolfgar? Did you know King Korax was Lorian, too? The Raven Clan is descended from the Lorians, which is why the Raven Sword is so important to my clan, and why I wanted to find it in the first place.”

  Wolfgar glanced over his armored shoulder. “Just read your map and tell me if there is a trap, or if I’m making a wrong turn,” he replied. “I care not about history or past events. Dead memories mean nothing to me, nor does the return of the Raven Clan.”

  “I just thought it interesting this place was built by fairy-folk. When I was a little girl, I always thought fairies were little, winged creatures that lived in flowers.”

  Taliesin thought about Zarnoc and his failure to mention that the Lorians had once worshiped the snake god. Whether it was out of embarrassment, shame, or even anger, she could only guess. Zarnoc, Korax, Lykus, and Arundel had all known each other 1,000 years ago when the Lorians had flourished and ruled Caladonia, and the ancient Raven Clan had been practitioners of dark magic and strange religious rites. It was the heritage of her people, darkness and dabbling in magic, which had led to the Draconus family destroying them, and eventually, every magic user and magic weapon.

  The carved images showed Lorian women with infants nursing at their breasts, women feeding their children to the snakes in dark sacrifices, and men standing before giant snakes allowing themselves to be swallowed whole. The further they walked, the grimmer and more disturbing the images became, and Taliesin found herself holding Wolfgar’s arm for comfort. He glanced at her hand.

  “How do you know this about your clan?” Wolfgar asked. His voice echoed along the corridor. “I didn’t know King Korax was a Lorian. Nor did I know the fairy-folk were dark beings or that your clan had anything to do with the Snake Cult.”

  Taliesin wanted to ask why he was interested, but hearing his voice was soothing and she didn’t want to anger him, so she answered truthfully. “Zarnoc, a wizard, told me a little about the Lorians, and the rest I can read for myself in the images they left behind. King Korax chose a raven as his clan insignia, instead of a snake. Perhaps he didn’t approve of what his kinsmen were doing here, but I really don’t know why, or if there is another reason. Do you?”

  “I am not interested in Korax,” Wolfgar said, gruffly, “but I am interested in the treasure within this cave. Prince Almaric needs gold to pay the mercenaries, and now we have found it. If you can tell me where to find the treasure, then I am very much interested in what you have to say about this place.” She merely shrugged, and they walked on.

  The corridor widened significantly, growing to fifty feet across. Ten-foot high statues of Lorians stood on each side of the hall, dressed in ornate armor, with their hair pulled to one side to reveal pointed ears. The fairy-folk had a dark, frightening look about them. Many of the marble statues showed couples or trios, unclothed and fornicating with their snake god. Though the Lorians had been consumed with carnal lust and fanatical faith in Chu’Alagu, Taliesin found the elaborate carvings and illustrations on the walls beautiful, as well as horrific.

  The cave floor was covered by skeletons so brittle with age they shattered underfoot, and crumbled to white dust. Despite the age of the temple, Taliesin could still detect the scent of the exotic incense the worshipers had burned in large gold bowls held in the hands of some of the statues.

  At the end of the chamber were gold double doors, carved with intricate designs of mating snakes. Several of the Wolfmen pushed at the doors, trying brute strength to break through, but they held firm. Udolf pushed the men aside and pointed with a clawed finger at an indented circle, the same shape and size as at the main door, in the center of one door. An image of a hydra was engraved in that door.

  “Use your key,” Udolf snarled.

  Taliesin stepped forward and placed the medallion in the circular lock, the lieutenant’s hot breath on her neck. This time she turned it clockwise until she heard a latch click. The doors didn’t move and she glanced at Wolfgar, feeling rather helpless. “This calls for brute strength,” Taliesin said. “Do you mind?”

  “Get to it, men,” Wolfgar ordered.

  Udolf and three brawny Wolfmen placed their shoulders to the doors and pushed. With a loud groan, the doors swung inward to reveal an enormous chamber with a domed ceiling cut out of the rock. The dome was covered in blue tiles to give the impression of an immense sky, under which stood a colossal gold statue of a six-headed hydra, so large and wide it nearly filled the entire chamber. Four stout legs with emerald-covered talons held the preposterous pot-bellied monstrosity, covered with golden scales and standing in a room filled with treasure. Each head, so large it must have weighed over a ton, faced a different direction; the eyes in one were rubies, in another emeralds, and then diamonds, sapphires, jade, and onyx. The enormous mouths, large enough to swallow five horses, were opened and revealed two-foot long gold fangs. A scaled tail wrapped around the room.

  One head stared at the ceiling, where, in the center of the dome, there was an opening large enough for a human to climb through. Waning sunlight shined through the hole, and a light sprinkle of rain dripped upon the statue; despite centuries of exposure to the elements, not a speck of moss or mold grew on the statue or on the floor. Clenched between that head’s fangs was a beautiful longsword made of gold and with a jeweled hilt that glittered as tendrils of sunlight caressed it. The blade was uncommonly wide and the hilt so long four hands placed side-by-side could have held it. Longer than an average-sized human’s height, it was suspended fifty feet in the air, kept from falling by the curl of a forked tongue and fangs.

  “Ringerike,” Taliesin said. “The Raven Sword.”

  A ringing in her ears followed the sound of a swordsmith hammering on an anvil, the twang vibrating inside of her head. It was a response from the sword; it knew her and knew why she was there. How she was able to sense the sword had intelligence or that it was communicating with her was baffling.

  “We’re rich,” cried one of the Wolfmen. “Bloody rich!”

  Taliesin walked toward t
he hydra, her gaze on a marble coffin under its massive gold chest. The name KING KORAX SANQUALUS was engraved on the lid. She slid her hand along the lid; not a speck of dust, no bird droppings, not even a bug. Nothing lived inside the tomb, and nothing had disturbed the Raven King’s grave in centuries. The Lorians had built an incredible shrine for a legendary hero, yet it made little sense to her. The king was surrounded by dead snake-men and guarded by a six-headed hydra statue, instead of being encased in raven feathers and buried in a forest, surrounded by ancient oak trees and nestled safely in the bosom of the earth. Another mystery that surrounded Korax; King of the Raven Clan, yet protected by a Snake God and a deceased snake cult that had fallen into the realm of myth.

  “Over here, Captain Wolfgar! We’ve found corpses,” Udolf shouted.

  The lieutenant spoke too loudly, and his voice echoing in the chamber stirred the dark magic, angered the magical sword, and disturbing the rest of the dead king. Taliesin joined the Wolfmen as they morphed into naked men, their dirty skin and strong odor a vulgar imprint within the chamber. “They must have come from the hole in the ceiling.” Udolf pointed behind a horde of treasure and weapons collected over the ages that lay behind the fifty-foot high gold statue. Mummified knights and snake-men lay comingled. The snake-men had human lower-halves, crocodile-like upper bodies, and faces more snake-like than human. The stiff creatures, long since dead, were pale of skin, scaled, seven feet tall, and long-tailed; in life they would have been over five hundred pounds of muscle, scales, wicked claws, and sharp teeth. A battle had been fought between the Caladonian knights, who had defeated the Snake Cult, and Chu’Alagu’s acolytes. They’d been sealed inside of the temple, forgotten.

  “I thought you said the worshipers of the Snake God were fairy-folk,” Wolfgar said, staring at the bodies. “What manner of creatures are these?”

  “You said Varg mated with a woman and created the Wolfen race. Perhaps the Lorians mated with snakes to create a breed of snake-men,” Taliesin said, disgusted to think fairies were that depraved. The creatures’ decay was somehow suspended, maybe by the same process, possibly dark magic, that kept the statue and the floor clear of debris and moss. “I know no more than you, Captain, and can only make assumptions...assumptions that would best be left unsaid.”

  Udolf gestured at the dead knights. “Maldavian,” he said. Five corpses in ancient armor wore faded, frayed dark-blue tunics, and the material turned to dust in his hands when he touched one. “There is flesh on the bones,” he said. “After all these centuries, there should be nothing left but brittle bones, but these, they are still decomposing.” He reached out, pulled a gold ring from a rotted hand, and slid it on one of his fingers. The body’s arm came off at the shoulder and fell to the ground, and Udolf sneezed in a cloud of dust.

  “Legends tell that King Tarquin’s son, Talas, had Ringerike sealed in the temple once he was crowned king. King Talas had dared not keep the Raven Sword, fearing it would destroy him, so he took it and the Raven King’s body into the desert to bury. When they arrived here, they found the Snake Cult already occupying the cave, so King Talas killed them and used their temple for King Korax’s tomb.”

  Wolfgar snorted. “And King Talas buried a treasure with the Raven King. Why?”

  “Perhaps dark magic requires a gift,” Taliesin said. “I don’t know why. I only know the Raven King and Raven Sword were buried here by King Talas, and the cave was sealed off. King Talas’ sorcerers placed dark enchantments on the temple, and then were killed, they say, but you can feel the darkness of this place. There’s an ancient evil here. I don’t think you should steal from the dead. It would be considered sacrilege.”

  “You’re a scavenger,” Udolf said. “No better than us. We’ll take what we want, and there is nothing you can do about it.” He kept the ring, but didn’t disturb the bodies of the knights, leaving them where they lay.

  Wolfgar walked to the front of the statue of the hydra. “Enough talk,” he growled, showing no more interest in the treasure. “Taliesin, climb the statue and retrieve the sword.” When she didn’t move fast enough, he grabbed her arm. “Perhaps I have not made myself clear. You will do what I tell you, or I’ll make good on my threats. Now bring me that sword, or by Ragnal, I will cut a finger or two from your hand.”

  “I’ll get right to it, Captain Wolfgar, just as soon as you tell me how to do it. The statue is gold, the scales are smooth, and there are no footholds. Cut a finger or two, and I won’t be able to climb at all.”

  “Udolf, get a rope and lasso that snake head,” ordered Wolfgar. “Our little sha’tar doesn’t know how to climb a statue. Unlike her horse, she apparently cannot sprout wings and fly.”

  The large hairy creatures spread out as Udolf waded through the gold coins, jewelry, and weapons lying on the floor and made his way to the base of the statue. His body shuddered as he turned into a naked man, removed a slender rope from a bag, and made a large noose. Taliesin was compelled to look away when she saw his naked body. He was just as hairy a man as a Wolfen, and one of the ugliest she’d ever seen. Looking up, Udolf threw the rope into the air and looped it over the giant hydra head. He pulled on the rope to make sure it held tight and would not slip. “Good enough,” Udolf said, and scratched at his flabby belly. “Climb, Raven Mistress, or I’ll toss you up there.”

  Taliesin slid a tendril of reddish-gold hair behind her ear, grabbed the rope, and pulled herself upwards, inch by inch, as the Wolfmen paced beneath the colossal statue. Dark magic radiated from the statue, causing her skin to tingle, and she again felt like she was being watched. She climbed upwards, one foot wrapped around the rope, and moved hand over hand, slowly making her way until she was able to stand on one of the heads. The Raven Sword’s hilt was within reach. Holding the rope with one hand, she took the jeweled hilt with the other and pulled hard, but the sword seemed unwilling to budge.

  Her captors below were busying themselves by packing treasure into large bags, and a few had put on golden armor and helmets. Udolf picked up a chest filled with gold coins and carried it out of the chamber, followed by several men dragging bags filled with coins, jewels, scepters, and crowns. She heard a loud grating sound beneath her. Unable to see what was making the noise, she gave another yank on the sword.

  “What’s the delay,” Wolfgar snarled.

  “I’m trying,” Taliesin said, continuing to jerk on the sword. Something heavy crashed to the floor, but the Wolfmen were so busy gathering treasure they hadn’t heard the sound. A feeling of dread came over her and she gazed over the snakehead, to see the lid to the coffin on the floor. “I think your men should leave the treasure alone. It’s an offering to Chu’Alagu and was left here for a reason.” A green, rotting hand appeared and gripped the side of the coffin—Korax had been awoken! She looked away and pulled harder on the sword, wanting to escape with it before the rest of the undead woke and joined Korax. No one else seemed to notice what was going on beneath the statue. She’d tried to warn them, but they wouldn’t listen; again, she tugged on the sword. “I think it’s moving,” she shouted.

  “Get the job done, Raven Mistress,” Wolfgar said, walking to the door as his men hauled out treasure. “If you climb to the top of the snake head, you can straddle it and reach to pull out the sword. Hurry. I like this place not.”

  Taliesin wrapped her arms around the hydra head and swung her body around so she could straddle the neck. A bent scale gave her a foothold and, balancing her weight, she reached out with one hand to grab the hilt and pull. She kept wiggling the sword, tugging hard, as she inched up the large head. Lying on top of the head, with her legs dangling, she tried to slide the sword from the snake’s golden fangs. Something fell onto her head. She gave a shake and saw a large raven feather flutter and spin as it dropped to the feet of King Korax, who was now standing. She used both hands to slide the sword through the snake’s jaws, aware of a horrible chittering sound at the feet of the hydra. Another feather fluttered in front of her face. Zarn
oc, she thought; had to be. She glanced at the hole, expecting to see her friends, and saw a third feather floating down. Looking down, she saw Wolfgar so engrossed in looting he didn’t notice the feathers, nor realize King Korax was slowly walking toward him, leathery arms raised and making an insect-like sound.

  “You must hurry, child. Korax is awake.” Zarnoc’s voice sounded so close, Taliesin knew he was on top of the roof, whispering to her. The Wolfmen hadn’t heard. She closed her eyes to shut out the distractions, cleared her mind of thoughts, and counted: One, two, three. The sword vibrated in her hands. She drew a deep breath and flicked her right hand, gripping the hilt, and the sword slid from between the fangs. She sat on the snake head, sighing audibly, and held Ringerike in the air. Below, she heard the Wolfmen’s shouts turn to cries of fear as Wolfgar spun around and saw Korax’s gnarled hand reaching for his throat.

  The undead knights and snake-men rose to their feet and joined the Raven King, their groans mixing with the terrified howls and snarls of the Wolfmen. Wolfgar turned into a towering monster and grappled with Korax. The undead shambled toward Udolf and the twelve Wolfmen, who turned into giant wolves to fight against the mob. Taliesin felt the sword throbbing in her grip. She could climb down and help or flee. The end of a rope appeared in Taliesin’s face, dangling from the hole in the ceiling. Taliesin looked up and saw Hawk and Rook holding the other end.

  “Grab the rope,” Zarnoc said, his voice louder than before.

  Taliesin heard a snarl behind her; a snake-man had managed to climb the statue, and his pale green eyes stared at her as it reached for her legs. Grabbing the rope in her left hand and holding Ringerike in her right, she gazed at her friends as they plucked her off the statue.

  “It’s alive,” Udolf shouted. “The hydra! It’s moving!”

  A hideous roar was repeated five times as each of the hydra’s heads started moving, and the large body lurched forward. The statue had turned into a living creature; bright red and green scales covered its body, and each head snapped at the Wolfmen, eating them along with the undead guards. The roaring of the hydra and the groaning of the undead mixed with the snarls and howls of the Wolf Pack, ringing in her ears as she was lifted toward the temple roof. Rook and Hawk hauled her to the hole, grabbed her, and dragged her onto the roof as the battle raged below.