by Anders, Lou
“This is going to be slippery,” she said. Then she began to climb. When she got to the edge of their circle of illumination, she called down, “How about some light here, Norrønboy? Climbing in the dark’s not my thing.”
Karn grinned. Being called Norrønboy used to irritate him. Now it was a reminder of their bond. He propped his wooden shield upon the plinth, where it wouldn’t float away, and followed. As he brought the light with him, Thianna resumed climbing and shortly reached the top. The column ended in a flat-topped plinth. Karn was right. It stopped well short of the ceiling. She moved over to allow Karn room beside her. They stood together in the darkness, the plinth of the next column over just visible.
“At least there’s water below,” Thianna said. She leapt and landed perfectly atop the dragon column. “Your turn.”
Karn braced himself and jumped. He crashed into Thianna, who steadied him and kept them both from falling. With Karn’s phosphorescent stone, they could now see the waterfall clearly. Here, it was running down a rock wall, the bottom of which ended level with the two columns’ plinths. Where the rock stopped, the water continued in free fall.
“There’s nowhere to go,” said Karn.
“It can’t be a coincidence that the columns line up with that wall,” said Thianna. She flexed her calves, readying her legs for a jump.
“You can’t be serious!” Karn exclaimed. “Thianna, you’ll bounce right off that stone. There’s nothing to grab on to. The water’s worn it smooth as glass. And you won’t fall in the water below. You’ll break your back on the stone dais.”
“Not if I’m right,” said Thianna. And leapt.
Karn held his breath as Thianna soared across the empty space. Then he gasped as she disappeared into the waterfall.
“Thianna?” he called.
A few seconds later, her head poked back through the curtain of water. She was beaming with pleasure at her cleverness.
“There’s a passageway cut into the rock,” she called. “Come on over.”
—
They were in another tunnel, one carved through a long slab of rock suspended from the ceiling. Unseen in the darkness, its entrance was hidden by a waterfall, and all of it buried in a cistern lost to time.
“Without the riddle, no one would ever find this place,” Karn said. “Even if they did find the cistern. Do you think the horn is here?”
“I’m sure of it,” said Thianna. “Besides, we’re running out of verses.”
“ ‘When snake and cockerel sundering, seek ye then the Marble King,’ ” quoted Karn. That was it. All that was left of the riddle penned by the Order of the Oak in ages past. “After you,” he said. It felt right to let his friend see the horn first. Her mother had fled her homeland to prevent one of the horns from being used by her enemies. Thianna had risked everything to do the same. They walked down the corridor together. The only sound was the receding roar of the water behind them.
The corridor ended in a door. It was carved with the cockatrice insignia they had seen about the city. Thianna looked for Karn’s approval, then put a hand on the door and pushed it ajar.
The room beyond blazed with light.
They saw a hexagonal chamber. Each wall apart from the door was set floor to ceiling with a mirror of polished silver. The mirrors were catching Karn’s phosphorescent stone and magnifying its illumination. Set in the middle of the room was a raised altar. Something crescent-shaped was placed atop. The Horn of Osius?
Or something else?
Thianna rushed forward. Then she stopped.
“It isn’t here!” exclaimed Thianna. “Where’s the horn? It isn’t here!”
“But what’s that thing?” said Karn.
Something very strange was set on the altar. Light seemed to play across its surface, flickering like a sputtering torch. Karn approached for a closer look.
It was a carving—or not a carving—of another cockatrice. Only at the end of its tail, this one had a snakelike head. Both the cock’s head and the snake’s head were held in clamps, which forced them to face each other. A small, round half mirror was set upright in a groove beside them.
“Come see this,” said Karn.
“I can’t believe it isn’t here. After everything—”
“Thianna, this isn’t a statue.”
That got her attention. The frost giant joined him by the altar.
Karn and Thianna saw what was causing the flickering effect with the light. The creature was alive. Or almost alive. Its body was alternating between stone and flesh in a rapid cycle of never-ending transformation. As they watched, it would grow warm and alive and then cold and stone over and over again.
“What’s going on?” said Thianna. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s magical,” said Karn.
“Well, yeah. Obviously something magical.”
“No, I mean the creature is magical. Its eyes. I think the gaze of the rooster head turns creatures to stone. But the gaze of the serpent head turns them back to flesh. It’s been forced to look at itself. It’s trapped between being in one state and the other.”
“That’s horrible,” said Thianna. She saw how the creature would squirm in the instances when it was flesh, trying to free itself from the clamps.
“It is,” agreed Karn. “It’s been stuck like this for a millennium. It’s how they kept it preserved in case they needed it again.”
“They?”
“The Gordion Empire. They used this as their ultimate weapon, and then they stored it down here.”
“The Order of the Oak knew all about this.”
“They knew once. They composed the riddle in case they forgot.”
“And they didn’t do anything about it,” said Thianna grimly. “They just left this bird-thing down here in this horrible state.”
“Cockatrice,” Karn said.
“I don’t have to know what it’s called to feel sorry for it,” Thianna replied.
“Agreed. If we meet the Order again, I’m going to have a talk about the way they ‘take the long view’ of things.”
“I’ll help with that,” said Thianna. “But you said the Gordion Empire used this as a weapon. Weapon against who? And what did they do with the horn?”
“Don’t you see?” said Karn. Thianna didn’t. “ ‘When snake and cockerel sundering, seek ye then the Marble King.’ ‘Sundering.’ Pulling apart. Obviously we have to separate these two.”
“And then we find the horn?”
“Just you wait.” Karn picked up the mirror. “Now, the trick is to place this right, so that the flesh gaze is bounced back into the creature’s eyes and the stone gaze is blocked. The reverse would turn it to stone permanently.”
“You’re sure you got the heads right?” asked Thianna.
“No,” Karn admitted. “But you can sort of see where the transformation starts.” The flesh did seem to start with the rooster’s head, the stone with the serpent’s. It all happened so fast it was hard to be certain.
“Also,” Karn continued, “we’re going to need something to keep it blinded once we free it. Otherwise we might become permanent residents of the Sunken Palace.”
Thianna thought about that, then she pulled her boots off. She held up her socks.
“We can put these over its heads,” she said.
Karn looked at the worn, wet, smelly fabric. He wouldn’t envy anyone taking their first breath in centuries through a frost giant’s only pair.
“Might be kinder to turn it to stone,” he said.
“My feet smell like roses,” she said. “Besides, I think a little appreciation is in order. This is the second time I’ve used footwear to save the day.”
“Oh, I appreciate it,” said Karn. “I appreciate that’s not going over my head.”
“It may if you keep this up,” growled Thianna.
Laughing, Karn positioned the mirror so that the reflective side would face the serpent head.
“Ready?” he said.
Quickly, he slipped the mirror between the creature’s two heads.
Instantly, a wave of flesh flowed around the creature’s body, away from the mirror and moving to the rooster head.
“Now,” said Karn.
Thianna brought the socks down over the animal.
Karn grabbed it by each neck, clasping the socks on tightly. The animal was sluggish at first, then it began to struggle, beating its wings furiously. Using her bootlaces, Thianna bound the improvised hoods tightly while Karn held it still.
What is that gods-awful smell? said a voice in Thianna’s mind.
“Karn,” she said. “I can hear it. In my head. At least I can hear the tail end of it. It’s a reptile.”
Take this bag off my head, the creature thought to her.
“Can’t do that,” said Thianna. “My friend and I don’t fancy the idea of being statues.”
That’s the other end. My gaze restores the flesh.
“Can you tell your other head to close its eyes?”
We aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now. It’s bird-head’s fault we’ve been in this mess.
“Well then, I’m afraid the socks stay on. At least until you two can work out your differences.”
That may take some time. Then again, this stench is some strong motivation.
“Hey, my feet smell like roses!”
Dead ones maybe. Planted in manure.
“Never mind you. How do we find the horn?”
What horn?
“Karn, it doesn’t know anything about the horn. I thought this creature was supposed to lead us to it.”
“Not exactly. But we need it.”
“Then how—”
“Don’t worry,” Karn cut her off. “I know exactly where the horn is, and I know where the King and Dragon are too. And so do you if you think about it.”
Thianna’s eyes slowly widened, but not with comprehension. With alarm. Her hand felt for the slender dart protruding from her neck.
“Thianna!” Karn cried, grasping for his friend. The frost giant’s eyes rolled up in her head, and she fell heavily to the floor.
“So you know exactly where the horn is?” said Tanthal, strolling into the room with Desstra behind him. “Good. Then it’s time to ‘Seek ye then the Marble King.’ ”
—
“What did you do to her?”
Karn knelt by Thianna. He clutched the cockatrice’s two necks in one grip and held his friend’s hand in the other. The giantess was turning pale, and her breathing was coming in short bursts. Tanthal stood over them, mace prepared to come down heavy on Karn’s head if he rose or made any move to draw his sword. Desstra stood behind him, a dart ready to render him immobile.
“Karn,” Thianna gasped, “I can’t feel my legs. Why can’t I feel my legs?”
He knew instantly what had happened.
“You used your paralysis venom, didn’t you?” he spat at Desstra accusingly.
“An extra-heavy dose,” gloated Tanthal. “We didn’t want to take any chances with such a big brute. Of course, if we used too much, there’s a danger it could stop her heart.”
“Thianna!” Karn shouted.
The frost giantess didn’t look frightened. Instead, her eyes burned with anger.
“Going to knock that smile off your face, elf,” she said. “Along with most of your teeth.”
Tanthal leaned over, dangling his chin tantalizingly close.
“Take your best shot,” he mocked.
Thianna struggled to raise her fist, but her arm was stiff and the best she could manage was a floppy jerk.
“I didn’t think so,” the dark elf said. “Now,” he said to Desstra, “you cover the Norrønur while I see to the prize.”
Karn started to rise and felt Desstra stir behind him, ready to put him down. Would she really do it? He had no doubt she would.
“Ah, yes, the cockatrice,” said Tanthal, relieving Karn of the animal. “It’s quite rare. Two-headed ones even more so. No wonder the empire wanted it preserved.”
“They picked a pretty terrible way to do it,” said Desstra.
“Oh, there you go again,” sneered Tanthal. “Sympathy for the lesser creatures. Every time I think there’s hope for you, your weakness pops up. But taking out that big lug of a half giant counts for a lot.”
“Compassion isn’t a weakness,” said Karn. “Neither is friendship.”
“You’re quite tedious, you know,” said Tanthal, heading for the exit. “Come along, Desstra. Let’s leave these two friends together. Karn can see just how strong his friendship makes him as he watches Thianna die.”
Tanthal was whistling. So close to his victory, he could barely contain himself.
Creatures of the underground, the dark elves didn’t require any additional light to see in the Sunken Palace. They made their way easily from column to column—Tanthal practically skipping—then climbed swiftly down the spiraled shaft. Karn’s wooden shield still rested at the base. It had certainly made following the human easy. Slipping into the water, they followed the tunnel that led to the Hippodrome. Climbing up onto the pier, Tanthal turned to Desstra.
“Find me when you’ve finished here,” he said.
“What are you talking about?” she replied. She assumed they were done and would be going together to recover the horn.
“Karn will have to come out eventually,” Tanthal said. “You will wait for him. Then you will do what needs to be done.”
Desstra’s ears drooped in growing dread.
“We have what we came for,” she protested. “We can leave.” Tanthal shook his head and tutted at her.
“I have what I came for,” he corrected her. “Or I will shortly when I put this to use.” He patted the pack on his shoulder, where he had stuffed the protesting cockatrice. Desstra hoped it hadn’t drowned in their short swim. “You are here for a different reason. You came here to complete your education. Something, you remember, that requires my approval. My say-so. You’ve performed well, I admit it, but I need proof you’ve overcome that weak heart of yours. Strong as the rock of our home, Desstra. Be strong and finish the Norrønur boy off for me. Then consider yourself graduated.”
Smug as ever, Tanthal didn’t wait for an answer. He knew she only had one course of action. He whistled as he left her there, alone in the cold and dark.
—
“You have to go after them.”
Thianna gripped Karn’s hand tightly. She didn’t appear able to move anything below her neck now. He wasn’t sure if she was really squeezing his hand, or if hers was simply growing rigid. He squeezed back, hoping she could feel it.
“I’m not leaving you,” he said.
“You have to,” she insisted.
“Thianna, I came all this way for you. You’re the reason—I can’t—”
“Karn, listen to me. I know you care about me.”
“I do.”
“If you really care about me, then you have to care about what’s important to me. Forget about saving me. Finish what I came here to do. I don’t like bullies. I want them stopped. I want that horn destroyed.”
“I can’t—”
“Yes, you can. You can do anything. You found me, didn’t you?” She smiled encouragingly at him. “Whatever you did to get this far, do it to go the rest of the way. Now, go.”
Karn stared at his friend. Could he really leave her? Her eyes told him she would never forgive him if he didn’t. He couldn’t leave her alone in the dark. But if these were her last moments, how could he let her down here at the end?
“Goodbye,” he said.
“Be healthy,” she replied.
Karn burst through the waterfall. Anger and sorrow drove him as he jumped across the columns. He was reckless as he scurried down the shaft.
He recovered his shield, swinging it onto his back, and dove into the water. He swam hard for the stone pier. He hauled himself onto it and steppe
d into the tunnel beyond. He was ready to vent his anger on the world, woe be to anyone who got in his way.
Karn felt a dart brush the hairs on his neck. He froze. Behind him, Desstra was perfectly still. The tip of her dart was so close to his skin it would be hard to slide a playing card between them. Karn waited for the point to stab home. He wondered why it didn’t.
—
Graduation, Desstra was thinking, considering what the word meant to her. Her whole life leading to this point. They had won, and she would graduate. She and Tanthal would return together to Deep Shadow. He would be the triumphant hero, and she would be a full member of the Underhand. They would both be famous. There was no telling how far they could rise together after that. Never mind that she despised him. All it would cost her was the life of one human boy. A boy so naive he had trusted her. Trusted her to be someone decent, who understood what friendship was, who would die for their friends, not stab them in the back.
“Go ahead,” said Karn bitterly. “It’s everything you want.”
“Karn.” She shouldn’t say his name. First names were something for friends to call each other. She had no right. “This isn’t how—”
“Just do it. What are you waiting for? Get it over with and go be a happy little elf with all your nasty friends.”
“They aren’t my friends,” she said. “Friendship makes you weak.”
“Do you think I’m weak, Desstra?” said Karn. “Do you think Thianna is weak?”
She didn’t. She’d heard the legends, and she’d seen them in action. The two of them had fought undead, fought a dragon, fought trolls, fought the tatzelwurm, outfoxed the dark elves’ wings, found the Sunken Palace…
“I don’t think you’re weak at all,” she said. It was true. “Not when you’re together.”
Karn felt the dart withdraw from his neck. He didn’t dare move.
“I can still save her,” she said.
Karn turned slowly. “Why would you do that?”
“You have to stop Tanthal. I don’t think I can face him. But I’ll save Thianna. I promise.”
“But why?” Karn stepped away from Desstra, but he didn’t draw his blade. Desstra turned from him, hiding her face.
