by Jim C. Hines
Better yet, Jig and the others might be in trouble. They had lost their ogre companion, after all. What a thrill it would be to rescue the great Jig Dragonslayer.
“Come on,” she said, tugging Slash by the arm. He wrenched free, staring at her as if she had suggested raw carrion-worms for dinner. He didn’t understand. The longer they stayed here, the more time Jig would have to save himself, and that would ruin everything.
She started to walk in the general direction of Straum’s cave. She wondered if the pixies would have spellbooks she could steal. She would have given anything for the kind of power she had just witnessed. Well, maybe not that spell in particular. The ability to make trees swallow your enemies wouldn’t be much use back in the stone tunnels and caves of the goblin lair. But if the pixies could do that, they certainly had other spells she could use.
Crunching footsteps told her Slash had decided to follow. The scowl on his face made it plain he would have preferred to leave her broken body here with the dog, but given what they faced, it was smarter to stick together.
That was how a sidekick was supposed to behave.
Veka kept her ears twisted, tracking Slash’s footsteps to make sure he didn’t try to stab her in the back. Though he could just as easily throw his spear, if he really wanted her dead. But to do that, he would have to shift his weight, which she would also hear, thanks to the crunch of ice and snow. Hopefully that would give her enough warning to dive behind a tree.
Her enthusiasm began to wane the longer they walked. She found herself constantly stumbling over snow-covered roots or bumping into branches which dumped snow down her neck. The sky had begun to darken, making progress even more difficult. The last branch had nearly cost her an eye. “This whole place is out to get me,” she muttered.
By the time they reached the edge of the woods, Veka was hungry, cold, and soaked. Her only consolation was that Slash had been equally abused.
“Straum’s lair is there, the edge of the cavern,” Slash said.
“You think I don’t know that?” Veka tried to sound haughty and disdainful, but her stomach gurgled as she spoke, ruining the effect. She should have brought food, or at least grabbed a few bites of Walland.
A wide clearing separated them from the edge of the cavern. In Straum’s time, the dragon had kept that stretch empty so nobody would be able to sneak into his lair without being seen. Over the past year, shrubs and saplings had begun to pop up, though none were tall enough to use as proper cover.
Veka leaned on her staff as she studied the entrance to Straum’s lair. The horizontal crack was like a dark mouth in the cliff curving up before them. Vines hung over the entrance like unwashed hair. The ground closest to the cliff was overrun with dying wildflowers. Over the centuries, Straum had tried many things to relieve his boredom, including gardening. The sweet, rotten smell made her nose wrinkle.
A knotted rope hung down the cliff, courtesy of some early traveler. Even from here Veka could see it was frayed and useless.
She saw no sign of any guards. The pixies should be easy to spot. The one by Walland had lit up most brightly when he used his wings, but even when resting, he gave off as much light as a good lantern. If there was a pixie anywhere near that cave, Veka would see.
“Stay with me,” Veka said, stepping into the clearing.
Slash’s fingers snagged her cloak and yanked her back. She fell, banging her shoulder on a tree. “What are you doing?” she shouted, climbing to her feet and shaking her staff at him so hard one of the glass beads broke and fell into the snow.
“Keep your voice down, idiot! If you’re so eager to get yourself killed, at least let me do it.” He used his spear to knock her staff to one side. “Any hobgoblin child would know better than to go out there.”
Veka stared back out at the clearing. “It’s not even guarded.”
“Exactly.”
Veka’s fingers traced the outline of The Path of the Hero beneath her cloak, wondering if Josca included any instances of the Hero killing her own sidekick.
Then she spotted it. The body of a small rabbit, half buried in the snow. In the dying light, she had mistaken it for a bit of wood or dirt. She couldn’t see any blood, so it hadn’t been killed by predators. From the amount of snow on the rabbit, it had been dead a while. Someone could have killed it with a rock, she supposed. A number of goblins were quite good with rocks. But why would they leave the corpse?
No, this had to be a trap of some sort. Judging from the angle of the body, the rabbit had been coming from her left. It had died a bit short of the cave. The trap must cover the area in front of Straum’s lair. Using the rabbit as a marker to judge the distance, that meant it probably extended right up to the edge of the woods. A few steps and she would have triggered it.
That only made her angrier at Slash. A Hero shouldn’t need her sidekick to save her. She knelt, determined to figure this out for herself. Slash leaned against a tree with his arms folded, amusement plain on his face.
The land looked no different. Ice encased the grass and shrubs poking up from the snow. The grass was a bit taller here, maybe. And there were holes in the snow where the ice protruded, almost as if the grass had melted the newfallen snow around it. But if that was the case, why hadn’t the ice melted as well?
She pushed her staff forward, breaking bits of ice and snow. She glanced at Slash for some clue whether this was a good idea, but he only smirked. Her face burning, she jabbed the staff farther.
The ice didn’t break. She tried again. A bit of snow fell away, but the ice was solid as rock. It seemed to pulse with a dim red light. Another jab confirmed it. “There’s something inside the ice.”
The taller shards of ice were literal spikes. She could see it now, how they came to a sharper tip than the rest of the grass. They had to be magical, probably strong enough to pierce the leather soles of her boots, as well as her feet.
She crawled forward, using her staff to test and break the ice until she reached the closest of the spikes. With one finger, she brushed the snow away.
The base was as thick as her thumb, and appeared to extend a little way into the dirt. The ice was perfectly smooth, so clear she could see something coiled at the base. She gave it a quick tap.
The ice flashed red as a thin tendril uncoiled, shooting up to the very tip of the spike.
“Looks like the rabbit managed to hit two of them,” Slash said. “I’m guessing whatever’s inside is poisonous. Their prey dies on top of their little trap, and they get enough food to last for weeks.”
Veka’s stomach rumbled again at the mention of food. “So how do we get past them?”
“If it were me, I’d toss a bunch of goblins out there. The spikes would hold them in place, and all I’d have to do is stroll along the goblin path.”
What she needed was the ability to fly, like the pixies. If only she could make her levitation spell work. She pulled out her spellbook and opened it to the spell. The covers were cold on her hands where the copper was exposed through the peeling leather. The darkening sky made it almost impossible to read, even if she hadn’t accidentally burned the page, but it didn’t matter. She had long ago memorized every word on the page.
She knew the spell. Even though it had never worked before, it would work now. She had set foot on the Hero’s path. This was the time when her powers would blossom, giving her the means to complete her journey. She glanced at Slash. Should she warn him, or simply pluck him from the ground and drag him along behind her as she flew? The latter, she decided, smiling as she imagined his frightened cries.
Her fingers twisted through the binding charm, and she closed her eyes as she finished the spell, wrapping tendrils of magic around herself and her companion and hoisting them both from the ground.
Nothing happened. She couldn’t even complete the binding spell. Slash cleared his throat. “Go on, keep waving your hands like a madwoman. Maybe the little ice creatures will all get scared and run away.”
V
eka blinked back tears. Heroes didn’t cry. Not even when their magic deserted them. She slammed the book shut.
The book . . . She stared at it for a long time. Perhaps the answer she needed was within her spellbook after all.
“You look like a fool,” Slash said.
Veka didn’t care. Planting the butt of her staff on the ground in front of her, she took another step. Already she was halfway across the clearing.
Strips of black cloth bound the copper covers of her spellbook to her feet. The ragged edge of her robe flapped behind her as she took another step. Red lights flashed beneath her feet. Elation at her success helped to ease the pain of ripping the covers from her spellbook. Most of the binding had torn in the process, and already the pages were separating. She had ripped an extra strip from her robe and used it to tie the pages together for now. She had hoped she would be able to repair the covers, but one look at the stiff, torn leather told her it was probably pointless.
“That doesn’t matter,” she whispered, taking another step. The pixies would have new books, better spells.
The ice gave way beneath her, and she clung to her staff to keep from falling. The end of the staff caught her in the chin, but she managed to keep her balance. She had reached the cliff, and the patch of ground here appeared to be natural. This was where the smell of dying flowers was strongest. Maybe the smell repelled the ice worms as well, or maybe Straum had done something to the soil to protect his garden. It didn’t matter. She was safe.
She slipped the copper plates from her feet and sent them spinning through the air toward Slash, then turned back to the cliff. By stretching, she could just reach the old rope hanging down from the cave. A quick tug snapped it, and dirt sprinkled her face as the rope fell. She spat and tossed the rope aside. An ogre could probably reach the lower lip of the cave, but it was well beyond her. Or Slash, for that matter.
Slash hopped down from the field of spikes and walked over to test the vines dangling down over the cave. One tore loose in his hand, and he tossed it aside. “Kneel.”
Veka raised her staff. “What?”
“Unless you have a better way to get up there?”
Oh. Veka looked up, then at Slash. “You should kneel. I’ll climb up and—”
“Break my spine,” Slash said flatly. He tossed the covers of her spellbook on the ground. “I’m taller, stronger, and lighter. If you’re serious about getting up there, this is the only way it’s going to happen.”
Had he laughed, had he even smiled, Veka would have punched him in the face. For once, he didn’t appear to be mocking her.
He studied the cave entrance carefully. “You really think we’ll find something in there to help us?”
“Do you have a better idea?” Veka shot back. She picked up her battered covers. The leather covering had torn completely loose on one, flapping from one corner and revealing dented, tarnished copper. The other wasn’t in much better shape. She stuffed them both into her pocket with her spellbook and dropped to one knee.
Slash leaned his spear against the rock and put one foot on her outstretched thigh. Keeping his hands pressed to the rock, he placed his other foot on her shoulder and jumped. Veka fell flat into the snow and mud, but Slash had managed to grab the edge of the cave. He pulled himself up and whispered, “Pass me my spear.”
Veka wiped mud from her face and grabbed his spear. “You did that on purpose,” she hissed.
“Of course I did. Now give me my spear!”
Only the fact that she needed his help to get to the cave stopped her from throwing it. She handed the weapon to him, and he wrapped both hands around the end, beneath the spearhead.
Veka passed her staff up, then grabbed the other end of the spear. Her feet scraped against the rock as she searched for traction. She heard Slash grunt, and the spear slipped slightly. At least if he let go, the spearhead would probably take a good slice out of his hands.
The vines tickled her wrists as she struggled to climb, digging her boots into every crack and irregularity she could find. Dirt stung her eyes, and already her hands were beginning to cramp, but she said nothing. A Hero didn’t complain about such things, even when her muscles were burning and she was hungry enough to eat hobgoblin cooking.
After what seemed like an eternity, her fingers found the edge of the cave. Slash grabbed her other wrist, bracing her. She tried to swing one foot up to the ledge, but she couldn’t stretch high enough. She tried again.
On her third attempt, Slash snorted with disgust and reached down to grab her ankle with his other hand. She half climbed, half rolled her body up into the cave and lay there gasping for breath.
“That was pitiful, even for a goblin,” Slash commented.
Forget hobgoblin cooking. What Veka really wanted were some of Golaka’s special spiced hobgoblin ribs, with lots of gravy.
Ignoring Slash’s mocking grin, she grabbed her staff and set off down the tunnel. The dim light from outside soon faded to total blackness. Normally the dark didn’t bother her. She had lived her life in the goblin tunnels and moved around comfortably by sound, smell, and touch alone. But as she listened to the breeze whistling past the cave mouth behind them, she found herself wishing they could risk lighting a lantern.
She kept to the left of the tunnel, one hand following the rough stone. Her staff she kept extended in front of her. As the sound of the wind faded, even her breathing began to sound loud.
Her heart pounded. The journey through darkness . . . could she have reached The Descent so soon? According to Josca, the Hero first endured The Trials, a series of tests through which she would prove her worth and gain the power she needed to triumph. The Descent was the fifth chapter, in which the Hero explored the darkness and prepared for the final confrontation.
Her toe hit something hard, and she fell, landing on what felt like a metal boulder. Her staff clattered to the ground next to her.
“What was that?” Slash asked. He sounded anxious.
Veka’s hands explored smooth, cold metal until it gave way to dry flesh. “A body. An ogre, from the size of it.” She frowned. The skin felt . . . crunchy, and was almost as cold as the armor. The ogre had been dead for some time. Long enough it wouldn’t be safe to eat, she thought regretfully.
The armor had a few dents and dings, but it was still intact. She couldn’t find any holes or wounds in the ogre’s exposed flesh, either.
“How did it die?” Slash asked.
Veka hissed with pain as she sliced her fingers on the sword still clutched in the ogre’s hand. She shoved her bleeding fingers into her mouth. “How should I know?” she said, her voice muffled. “Maybe he killed himself so he wouldn’t have to listen to stupid questions.”
She found a second sword in his other hand. Several knives were strapped to his belt and thigh. “He’s got enough weapons to fight half the creatures in this mountain,” she added.
“Probably looted them from Straum’s lair.”
Among the dragon’s other eccentricities, Straum had been a bit of a collector, saving trophies from the various failed Heroes who tried to slay him over the years. Weapons of all conceivable design had lined his walls, along with the armor, lanterns, jewelry, even the chamber pots of the men and women he had slain.
Most of those valuables had disappeared soon after Straum’s death. Centuries’ worth of weapons were looted in mere days as ogres, goblins, and hobgoblins poured into the cavern. This new influx of weaponry caused a brief escalation of conflicts, decreasing the goblin population by about a quarter. Veka wasn’t sure how many hobgoblins had died. Not enough, at any rate.
In many cases it was the looters themselves who died, learning too late that a sword that had done nothing but gather dust for centuries tended to break at the most inopportune times.
She could hear Slash crouching on the other side of the body. “Feels like he was burned.”
Before Veka could begin to guess what might have killed the ogre, she realized she could just make o
ut the shape of Slash moving around. In the distance, a dim green aura filled the tunnel. She tapped Slash with her staff to get his attention, then pointed to the light.
“We must be getting close,” he said.
Veka watched a little longer before answering. “No. That’s coming to us.” Now she could hear the buzzing of wings, slightly lower in pitch than the pixie they had seen in the woods. “I only hear one. If we’re fast enough, we should be able to kill it before it can use its magic.” Or if not, hopefully the pixie would go after Slash first. She would have time to hit it from behind, and she might even get to see a new spell.
The light brightened as the pixie neared. The tunnel curved a bit up ahead. Soon the pixie would come into sight. “Get ready,” she whispered.
“I’m . . .” Slash’s voice trailed off, and he stared at her hand. Even in this dim light, she could see that his face had gone pale.
She glanced down. Blood from her cut fingers had run down her arm and begun to dry. She flexed her hand, grimacing at the sting of sliced skin.
“You’re bleeding,” Slash said. He swallowed and turned away. He appeared to be swaying.
“What is it?” Veka asked.
Ever so slowly, the hobgoblin fainted. His spear clattered against the rock.
Veka blinked. Hundreds of hobgoblin warriors, and she wound up with the one who was afraid of blood. She couldn’t wait for him to wake up so she could taunt him.
But first . . . she raised her staff and strode toward the oncoming light. From the sound of it, the pixie had picked up speed. It had probably heard Slash drop his spear.
Time to show these oversize bugs what a Hero could do.
CHAPTER 5
“This is my quest. I shall be the one who leads us to victory.”
—Prince Barius Wendelson, Adventurer (Deceased)
By the time Jig and the others made their way back to the clearing, the sky was dark. The land, on the other hand, still gave off enough light to keep them from walking into the trees. The light appeared to be trapped within the ice and snow, which had grown steadily deeper in the time they had been searching. The snow came to their ankles now, and beneath it the ice was thick enough to support their weight. Braf had fallen three times already.
