Red Jade: Book 1: Journeys In Kallisor

by Stephen Wolf

  A whirring sound echoed in the walls, and small trapdoors opened at various heights, from which arrow shafts started to fly. The three of them ducked low under most of them, but they couldn’t remain there for long. Overhead, an iron trellis loaded with spikes started its descent. There was nothing to do but run.

  They leaped over boxes as they went, and Kitalla drew her knives, slashing them wildly in the hopes of fending off any close arrows. Gabrion’s shield deflected a good number of the projectiles while Dariak followed behind, where the density of shots was the least. With each pressure plate they tripped along the way, the focus of the arrows shifted toward that portion of the room.

  Kitalla sprang over the final pressure plate in the room and rolled into the next area, but Gabrion’s foot struck the panel. An earsplitting crash sounded as a large portion of the floor fell away, sending Gabrion into a dark pit and out of sight. Dariak was close behind, and it took all of his reflexes to leap over the hole and land on the other side. He turned around and looked into the pit, but he could neither hear nor see anything within.

  “No,” he whispered.

  Kitalla grabbed him by the arm. “Come on. Remember? We have to get to the jade.”

  It took time for the mage to compose himself, but there wasn’t anything he could do without jumping into the pit himself and aborting the quest. No, he had to go on. He turned and followed Kitalla, wishing he could split himself in two and go both ways at once.

  The new room brought with it a new challenge. A feral tigroar stalked along the back wall. That in itself didn’t pose a problem, but the stone floor had several pools of liquid that smelled strongly of lantern oil, and along the stone walls were numerous candles on shallow perches. If they fell, the room would turn into a blazing inferno.

  Seeing the humans enter the room, the tigroar snarled and entered a battle stance. Its front paws dug deeply into the rock, and its haunches tightened, ready to pounce. Kitalla stalked slowly into the room, as if the beast were just a lost cat in need of rescue. Her eyes scanned around, wondering which candles were most likely to fall and which ones would miss the flammable pools. Dariak thought to cast a web spell to trap the creature in place, but as Kitalla walked closer, he understood the deeper threat.

  Nervous at the unknown human’s approach, the tigroar drew in a slow, rattling breath, ready to release an earthquaking roar, which would undoubtedly knock enough candles from the wall to light the whole place ablaze. Kitalla lashed out with her daggers, sending them flying at the creature’s maw, but it turned its head to the side, and they only grazed its neck. Even more frightened now, the tigroar drew in another gust of air, readying its lungs for its big attack.

  Dariak could see that there wasn’t enough time to slay the beast without the fire erupting everywhere. He bolted into the room, heading for Kitalla and tackling her to the ground. “Sassrathallian vornier habberleese!” he called as the tigroar released its bellow, shaking the ground and walls. One by one the candles fell to the ground, exploding upon contact with the oil. The unfortunate beast was caught in the aftermath of its own attack, and it spent the last breaths of its life thrashing about, roaring fruitlessly and filling the space with the horrid scent of burned fur and flesh.

  The water jade responded to Dariak’s desperate call as he repeated the spell several times while waiting for the flames to die. Until then, their bodies stayed the consistency of water, which allowed the heat and fire to pass right through them, but because the heat was so persistent, the spell did not last long. Kitalla remained as still as possible, allowing the mage to control this particular threat.

  At last, the fire subsided, and they stood up, a little worse for wear but ready to continue. Averting their noses and eyes from the charred tigroar corpse, they worked their way toward the exit and the next challenge.

  The first glance at the next area made Dariak wince. There was a large, empty pit spanning the length of the room, with no walkway across at all, not even along the walls. Instead, a series of ropes hung from the ceiling. He would need to channel his upper-body strength for this exercise, which meant he would rather face the tigroar again. He already felt the aftereffects of the water spell kicking in, and he realized his time was limited before he would pass out.

  Kitalla didn’t waste much time sizing up a path and taking flight. She ran and leaped for one rope, using its momentum to propel her forward, where she grabbed the next. Because the one after that was far off, she veered to the left, swinging her legs wide to rock in that direction, and then she pounced, grabbing on.

  Groaning, Dariak pushed himself to go. He ran and jumped, taking hold of a closer rope than the one Kitalla had started on. He swung back and forth and reached out for the next rope, grasping it first before transferring his weight and releasing the first rope. He certainly didn’t travel with the same grace as the thief, but as long as he got there, he didn’t care.

  As they made their way across, they noticed an added complication. Some of the ropes were not properly secured to the ceiling, and because there was little light in the room, it was impossible to tell which ones were loose without tugging on them. Kitalla’s speed saved her as she took a false rope in one hand, then lashed out with her other to grab the end of a nearby cord. She hung there for a few moments to catch her breath before climbing up and swinging onward to the next.

  Dariak’s progress was terribly slow, and his arms weakened quickly. He vowed to ask Gabrion to help him train his body physically once they were out of this mess. That was assuming, of course, that the warrior was still alive. He scolded himself for even thinking it, because, after all, without Gabrion, poor Mira would be left unsaved. He allowed himself a slight chuckle before reaching out to the next rope. It was a false one, and he was able to let it fall without following it.

  Kitalla struggled with a few more false ropes, but she was nearing the end of the harsh crossing. She swung her rope back and forth in wide arcs, building as much momentum as she could, and she launched herself forward, arms outstretched and ready to claim three ropes that were in front of her. Only one of them was false, and she released the cords to her right and swung on the left side. She brought her legs back and forth one more time and then propelled herself to the other side, where she rubbed her shoulders and looked back for the mage.

  He wasn’t even a third of the way across yet. Because he wasn’t swinging and jumping, he was taking the longest route across, which meant a good deal of backtracking and desperate clinging to the ropes. In the end, it wasn’t a false rope that caused him to fall into the pit below but his exhausted arms. With a cry of dismay, Dariak plummeted into darkness.

  Kitalla rested for a moment, stretching to keep her muscles loose. Without the mage, it was somewhat useless to claim the jade, but she didn’t think he was dead. Not just yet. Grenthar would have something in mind for his new toys, if everything she had heard was true. Though she had the option of going back now and finding a new path to glory, she was so close to this coveted prize, and losing her companions just to quit irked her. Besides, she had promised the warrior she would help him find his Mira. How silly she felt now for saying such a thing. With a grumbling sigh, Kitalla arched her back, stretched high, and then continued down a set of stairs to the next room.

  The underground chamber was dank, and the oil sconces along the walls just made the whole room feel even gloomier. She looked around, eyeing the surroundings and seeing immediately that there was an enormous pressure plate at the bottom of the stairs that she couldn’t possibly avoid without being able to fly. Across the way, she saw three other large plates and an assortment of bricks, statues, and vases scattered about. Heading toward each plate was a narrow path, with pits of broken glass on either side to painfully catch an unbalanced walker. A nondescript stone door waited across the room, and she surmised the purpose of the plates easily enough. She needed to place objects on the plates in order to lift the door.
Looking, she also saw small gaps in the right wall, and she wasn’t surprised, after stepping on the bottom plate, that the holes launched more arrows.

  Based on the regularity of the arrows, it seemed clear that some form of mechanism was launching them, rather than a skilled archer. That was a boon, because it wouldn’t be able to target her properly. It also suggested there was a limited supply that would eventually run out, but she didn’t count on that happening in the time she took down there.

  Not only did stepping on the oversized plate start the arrows shooting across the room, it also caused the platforms with the objects to rotate and shift around. She had never seen such a mechanism before, and she had to admit that she was impressed by it. If only the moving walkway had been installed in the city instead of here.

  She stepped off the pressure plate and onto the stone slab from which the other paths extended. She needed to grab objects from the left and right and bring them to each of the three pressure plates at the end, all while avoiding arrows and not falling into the glass pits. She grinned to herself, thinking that this was less dangerous than the lupino fight they had faced after Warringer.

  Off she went, teetering along the leftmost walkway to claim a stone bust that vaguely resembled the king. It was heavy and cumbersome, but the sooner she lowered the three pressure plates, the sooner the door would lift, and the sooner she could continue on. Struggling, she dragged the stone with her along the pathways, flashing her dagger out with one hand to try to deflect the arrows she couldn’t dodge by leaning or bending. It was rough going, but she managed to get the statue to the left platform and stand it on the pressure plate, which slightly sank down.

  An ominous rumbling sound filled the room, and when she turned around, she could see that the walkways were now shaking back and forth slightly, adding to the challenge. A glance at the door told her that her task was far from over; it hadn’t opened from the bottom, as she had expected, but slid just a little downward from the ceiling.

  Tiptoeing back to the central platform, ducking under arrows and balancing on the vibrating beam, Kitalla made her way toward another heavy object. This was a large ceramic urn with thick walls and hideous detailing all along the sides. It looked like it was meant to house a fountain for some garish garden, but it was so hard to look at that it was best suited to this dismal trap underground. She removed the lid from the urn and saw that the inside was empty. Smirking, she pulled the large urn over and flipped it upside down, climbing into it. Though it was heavier than the statue, and certainly more cumbersome, carrying it this way allowed her to focus on just walking, because the ceramic urn protected her from all the arrows. With her chin tucked, she could just make out the flooring at her feet. Her breath made funny, echoing sounds inside as she wobbled on the right pathway and scuttled toward the pressure plate. It was hard work setting the urn down without shattering it, but she bent her legs until it touched the ground, then she bent forward, setting it as gently as she could before climbing out and righting the monstrosity.

  Another deep rumble shook the room, and the door slid farther open. Then a trickling sound filled her ears, and she glanced up and frowned. Upon the engagement of the pressure plate, a sluice had apparently been opened, releasing water into a series of channels in the ceiling. It didn’t fall fast, but water dripped along every part of the shaking walkways, making them even more treacherous. Luckily, though, the density of arrows was decreasing, but she did still have to watch for them.

  Next, Kitalla swiped an iron breastplate from the moving walkway at the edge of the room. She wrapped it around her torso and made her way to the central pressure plate, where she set it down, wondering what new threat would be unleashed into the room. Crunching sounds from below unnerved her as the glass-covered flooring started to rise. She looked quickly and realized that if the flooring came up all the way, it would be extremely difficult for her to fit down any pathway, but none of the other items would fit, and she would be effectively trapped. Time was running out.

  Trusting her innate dexterity, Kitalla moved rapidly, dragging the next few items in place on the three different pressure plates. She realized at once that the more weight the plates bore, the more each plate’s distraction increased. Adding a vase to the left plate caused the walkways to shake faster. Because of this, she decided to load up the rightmost plate first, until it stopped moving, figuring she could deal with the extra water. Soon she felt like she was in a severe rainstorm; the water was falling so fast.

  The stone doorway could probably have fit her body if it were opening from the floor up, but there was no way she could pull herself up and wriggle through. And based on the amount it moved with each new weight, she still had at least three pieces to place before she could pass through.

  The rising floor had caught up with the height of the shaking walkways, and the glass shards started spilling out, creating one more obstacle. She combated this by dragging her feet to kick as many shards out of the way as possible. This cost her some flexibility, and a few arrows came close to landing direct hits, but she managed to dodge them or deflect them before it was too late.

  Because the rising floor was becoming a new obstacle in itself, she had to choose items that she could carry above the ground with some ease. She tried to take two body-length iron shields with her but couldn’t manage the weight of them both. Leaving one for her next trip, Kitalla fended off the dwindling arrows with the other as she made her way toward the left plate. She figured that with the floor rising up, the shaking platforms wouldn’t pose as much of a threat, as she could use the walls for balance if she stumbled.

  After placing both shields onto the left platform, the stone door opened enough for her to get through. But something irked her, so she took the time to add two more pieces to the left pressure plate and then brought forth three items to the plate in the center. She knew the plates could have held more than that, but the walkways were wobbling so strongly now she could barely move across them, especially with all the water that was still falling. Plus, the floors were rising so quickly that the passages would soon be highly restrictive.

  She went to the stone door, which was now halfway down, and jumped up onto it and smiled at herself. The opening on the other side of the door was not as high as on this side, but she had added enough objects to clear the other overhang and allow herself into the other room. She had suspected as much, considering the difficulty of the room and the fact that someone could have managed to reach the doorway much earlier than she had. There had to be another obstacle. At least, if it were her trap, that was how she would have done it.

  She rolled through the narrow gap and crashed in a heap on the floor of the next room. She pulled herself up and saw a pedestal in the center of the chamber with a silvery piece of jade sitting on a large satin pillow. But her heart sank when she looked around, for twenty men and women in full armor stood around the periphery of the room.

  “Well done!” exclaimed an older man in a sonorous tone from a door across the way. “Passed every obstacle. Highly impressive.”

  Kitalla said nothing as she looked at Grenthar. His head was ringed with short white hair and long ears. His nose looked like it had been broken several times in his life, but though he was easily in his fifties, his body was highly toned and supple. His leather gear was tightly strapped on and looked more like a second skin than anything else. Kitalla could tell just from the way he walked that every muscle was perfectly honed for his profession. No movement was without purpose.

  “Nothing to say?” he asked, staying on his side of the pedestal. “But you didn’t think you could actually get here and take my treasure, did you?”

  Kitalla stood up slowly, keeping her hands away from her daggers. She didn’t want him rashly executing her. Instead, she stalked forward, pouring her essence into her entrancing steps. Immediately, a strange, hazy feeling came over everyone in the room, and Kitalla continued her processio
n until she reached the piece of jade.

  “No, no, no!” Grenthar screamed, jumping up and down and shaking off the peaceful illusions she had thrust upon him. Daggers flew from his hand.

  Kitalla reflexively held out her arm to shield her face from the attack. The first dagger struck the glass shield and caused a soft shattering sound to echo in her mind. The next dagger thumped against her hand like a twig, but the third one slashed her deeply.

  She couldn’t maintain the trance while dodging the weapons, and the guards reacted quickly, rushing in to grab her. Kitalla pulled the jade inward with both hands and shoved it down her leather top. She didn’t really think that would deter them from taking it back, but her mind was already on defense.

  Daggers flew from her hands as she spun about, bending low and then jumping high, trying desperately to dodge the numerous attacks coming her way. But though she took down four of the guards, the others overwhelmed her. The glass shield shattered quickly, and her life was spared by the call of the master.

  “Enough,” Grenthar called, wiping his hand across his brow. “Detain her. Do not kill her.” It took four guards to restrain her, one holding each limb. The old master walked over to her and thrust his hand awkwardly down her shirt, reclaiming the jade, scraping her skin deeply on the way up and drawing blood. “Nice attempt, young one. Very promising.” He returned the shard to the pillow and waved his hand behind him. “Take her away.”

  She was dragged out through another door and down a long corridor, where eventually she was tossed through a hole in the floor into a blackened cell. They slid a stone slab over the hole, sealing her inside, alone and dejected.

  Chapter 22

  Into the Tower

  Gabrion fell through the pit in the floor, desperately reaching up for the ledge, but he missed completely and plummeted down a dark shaft to a floor below. The room was pitch-black, but he heard heavy footfalls striding forth, and then torchlight appeared in the distance. He knew he was about to be captured, so he rifled through his pocket and removed the piece of jade, stuffing it deep into his undergarments and hoping for the best. Moments later, a contingent of guards appeared, and there was nothing he could do to resist them.