by Derek Barton
“Look around for a fallen tree trunk. We can use the machetes to carve out a hollow space underneath.”
Somehow the night grew gloomier and dense with charcoal grey fog. It took the two several hours to find a trunk suitable and was not too heavy to carry back to the stream.
#4
It was a rare, moonless night in Tayneva, but there were star-like pinpoints of fires all along the horizon. The Viestrahl March had finally arrived on the edges of their homeland and were sacking small farm villages. Thousands of the beasts were on the move and advancing toward Adventdawn.
Letandra shivered in the night’s winds and studied the distant flames. Sergeant Devin stood silently next to her upon the catwalk.
“They are making no attempts to hide their numbers or progress. Just running along the country paths and fields in squads, rolling over everything like a fog of death,” he whispered.
“Organized, patient, in formations… When would we have ever said that before about them?” The Lady Magistrate griped. “Who are these Viestrahl?”
“And the Scouts report that they have brought more war machines: towering trebuchets lined in a row like they used at the Docks.”
“What of Ramnethas?”
He shook his head negative. “He has not been seen yet, but there are three wooden carriages, most likely carrying him and his three Konn-Cabal members.”
“Were we able to evacuate those?” She nodded toward the blazes.
“Some. We are rushing our attempts for the closer villages. Captain Ruessard does not believe they will arrive and attack Wyvernshield for at least another few days. He is debating if we should fight them, which means we would have to charge out from Adventdawn and give up the high ground.” Sergeant Devin shifted to her and gripped her elbow leading her back from the wall. “Any ideas you would like me to bring to the Captain?”
“Were the pits dug in front of each Moat Gate yet?”
“There were only two available units to start on them. The East Moat Road was completed only.”
Her idea had been to booby-trap the roads. She shook her head. “It is alright. The idea was flawed, stupid!” She threw her hands in the air. “This is not at all like the prior marches. They are not storming us! We have to stop thinking our old ideas will save us. I- I wish my father or brother were here!”
Devin coughed into his hand, “There has not been any sign of your brother for quite some time.” He was uncomfortable, but asked anyway, “Do you have any ideas on his whereabouts?”
She looked up, fixed her eyes upon him for several seconds and then walked down the catwalk ramp without uttering a word.
#5
Taihven cast a Hand Torch as he stood shivering. His frosted breath plumed in the air.
Palyavek crawled out behind him from the drain tunnel. “I do not hear the bats’ chatter. Do you think they only live on the edge of the ruins?”
“There would not be much food for them here.”
His torch went ahead only a minimal five feet; the light washed over the walls which were covered in splotches of brown and yellow molds. The steady pitter patter of water drops echoed everywhere. A series of five white metal rails ran the length of the tunnel. The rails formed a tube of sorts that stood off the ground.
“What could that be for?” the Duradramyn said, scratching at his sideburn.
Taihven shrugged. The metal was smooth and cold to the touch. It went off in both directions ahead and behind them. “It is bitter cold here. How far below ground do you think we are?”
Palyavek answered him with a shrug of his own.
“It will be dawn soon. We better use the dark hours while we can.” He dismissed the Hand Torch. The Beneradt again gripped his arm and led the way.
The tunnel widened, but the ceiling lowered as it coursed through the structure. Taihven hunched at the waist in order to not strike his head as they traveled.
The pair held onto the metal rails and journeyed blind as no light made its way inside and empty blackness surrounded them. The prince did not want to risk alerting anything to their presence so he declined to cast any sigils.
After an unknown amount of time delving in the depths of the structure, the tunnel and the rail tube came to an abrupt end — an oval metal door revealed an open air, rectangular courtyard.
The sky above still wore its black curtain. Like the luminescent forests that surrounded the ruins, the court yard glowed from patches of giant pale mushrooms which cast freakish shadows in every direction. The fungus stood taller than most men and wider than an ale casket. A dirt path traveled from the tunnel doorway but forked into opposite paths. Across the room near the west corner, Taihven spotted another oval door, partially left open. No other features like windows in the building walls or furnished artwork or statues decorated the yard.
"I do not like this, Palyavek. Feels like a trap or something." Taihven whispered.
"Take out the Threeva; it will show us if we are even heading in the right direction."
Taihven unbundled the master healer’s crystal. He tapped the artifact on one wall of the entrance. It rang out a low, soft bell tone.
Nothing gave a response. He rang it again. Nothing.
Taihven shrugged his shoulders and then put the crystal back in his sack. Unhooking one of the machete blades, he walked with caution down the path.
As the pair advanced inside, the mushrooms darkened in a blood red tinge. Somehow the plant growths were aware and sensed their intrusion. The entire chamber courtyard reddened by their threatening presence.
Palyavek crouched frozen, listening and then held a finger to his lips.
No other signs of life seemed to be present and nothing reacted yet to the mushrooms’ warnings. The Duradramyn motioned with his hand to make for the doorway.
Once safely inside, they found that the air inside the new tunnel was acrid and thick with dust. It was obvious that life had abandoned this area a long time ago.
"You will need to use the torch this time."
Taihven scrawled the sigil in the air. Rusted or broken pipes jutted out of the ceiling, crates filled with debris and trash were stacked haphazardly and wooden chairs littered their pathway.
After several hours of silent exploration and a couple sets of long, winding stairs, they were lost deep in the structure.
Palyaved suddenly shouted, "I see light ahead! We could be close to the surface. Hurry!"
He dropped his arm and jogged ahead.
At the far end of the tunnel, Taihven saw the Duradramyn’s silhouette skid to a stop and look up. The prince ran forward.
Palyavek spun and put out his hands. He shook his head and pointed at the Hand Torch.
As the youth extinguished the spell, he whispered, “What did you see?”
He reached out again and grabbed the prince’s arm to force him low to the ground. “The Browns are here! They are roosting above us.”
Taihven goose-stepped to the edge of the tunnel and looked up for himself.
High overhead, the giant brown and white-striped bats were perched or hanging from exposed metal beams. The entire building was cleaved in two by an apparent massive earthquake. Browns were nesting and feeding their young in the first four or five levels of the building. Approximately another twenty to thirty feet below them, the ground was overgrown with the same ivory mushrooms.
The Duradramyn yanked on his sleeve and pointed across the chasm. “There is the other end of our tunnel. Do we gate there or go to the ground?”
“I think we should avoid the mushrooms.”
He formed a gate that displayed the ragged edges of the tunnel.
Without the Balshazra, I would be lost as a prisoner, or worse, I would be dead, he mused.
Taihven stepped through the gate. Before he could make a single step on the other side, a set of golden eyes opened in the gloom ahead. The awakened Khortha roared and charged at him. By pure reflex Taihven dove to the side as the six-legged beast sprang for him; a ho
rned tail trailed behind its striped body. The lizard flew right through his open gate ring and appeared on the opposite side next to Palyavek. As it tried to stop its momentum and backpedal, the creature’s tail struck across the Beneradt’s chest. The youth stumbled backwards and collapsed over the side of the ledge.
Taihven gawked helpless, but knew better than to wait — he dismissed his ring before the beast could figure where its prey went. He conjured another gate to the chasm and ran to Palyavek’s body. Squawks and high-pitched screeches from the bats rang through the chasm.
Massive shadows flew over him as he gathered up the youth and dragged him by the arms under the cover of the reddening mushroom caps.
“Donsiam Donstoa Reas Vash-kekaa,” he shouted.
He then hauled the warrior through the gate into the Madnad’s courtroom. “HELP, HELP US!!”
Long parallel lacerations worked across the chest piece of Palyavek’s leather armor. Green-tinged smoke came out from the armor.
The Khortha’s tail must have poison! Taihven realized.
Guards were coming; he had to leave.
Guilt gripped him as he formed another gate. This will not happen again! No one else is going to be hurt because of me. I will do this alone or die!
“Goodbye, my friend.”
***
Taihven was panicked, running reckless. Although nothing followed, the prince wanted to put distance between him and the scaly felines. When he had come back, more of the lizards were hunting among the mushrooms, sniffing the ground. He had gated himself just a few levels below the Browns’ nesting levels, sandwiched between his two enemies. Only now he realized that the Khorthas must stalk the chasm below waiting for helpless or weak Brown young.
He stopped, breathless at another oval door entrance. Peeking inside, it was cramped solid with more of the enormous pale mushrooms. Weary and scared, Taihven pulled out the metal crystal once more and tapped repeatedly on the archway.
A distant whine echoed toward him. He hit the Threeva once more to be certain. The responding whine came from a nearby source along the east side of the courtyard. Only a pair of rail tubes could be seen on the other side of the mushroom patch.
To cross through meant cutting in between the mushrooms shafts. He could use spellwork, but that seemed over-reactive. The prince gambled that the mushrooms only changed color to ward off intruders.
But what if the Khorthas used the mushrooms to find prey?
Rather than put his hand on the body of the mushroom, he plowed forward by guiding the shafts with the flat of his blade. Taihven went only four or five paces in when the ground beneath him dropped away.
The fall went on for an eternity to the youth. Over his head, rocks, dirt and pieces of mushroom trailed after him. Below him, all was a gaping black maw ready to swallow him whole. He was blind when he broke through another level. Nor did he see his left leg folded in on itself and snap during his dark descent. The force of his fall combined with his weight punched him through another aging floor and he fell into the chamber below.
Taihven was semi-consciousness as he plunged into a towering cluster of white mushrooms and bounced down the length of a concrete pillar. Taihven balled up in a fetal position reeling from the pain of his snapped leg bones. Pieces of his right ankle had poked past his skin and through his leather boot. The agony enveloped his entire world and pinpointed his focus. At least until he heard a pair of low growls and guttural hisses somewhere hidden within the cavern.
The prince knew he was in serious jeopardy. Crippled by a shattered leg and ankle, battered by a long fall, pummeled by pieces of floor and now hunted by hungry felines, the youth could only clench his teeth as he kept motionless. He listened to deduce where the twin Khorthas were. A soft thud to the right of his fall. A rustle of scales against a mushroom shaft was closer and behind him. Something big sniffed at the air only a few feet away and issued another angry growl.
An idea formed — a desperate, daring ploy came to him. He did not like it, but being caught unable to run, soaking in his own puddle of blood was not a better option. As quiet as possible, he snuck his hand into the sack and retrieved the metal crystal. The beasts were on the outside of the mushroom cluster. They were hunting for the source of the noise and he was sure they could smell the combination of his blood, sweat and fear.
Taihven took up the Threeva and threw it in a high arch to bounce off one wall. The multiple crystal whines echoed all around them. The Khorthas took the bait and raced away toward the responding crystals.
The reaction to the Threeva was close and strong. Weary, he pondered if he should gate away and try another day after he recovered.
Or am I close enough to fight on for the Eyes of Cinnelel? If I leave would the Khorthas be more on alert due to this first intrusion?
Either way, he could not continue bleeding and he had no real time to debate his actions.
The prince ripped the cord belt from his pants and tied it around his calf. It staunched the loss of blood. He yanked the remaining machete from his belt, but he knew that hand to hand combat with anything would be fruitless.
Another idea formed, but he shook his head at the craziness of it.
Studying his leg, he remembered how once he morphed, altered his body through magic.
Taihven gathered the energies within himself. The heat built in his chest and rolled down his body. The intense heat that he remembered from the first time he morphed caught fire in his upper thighs and embedded into his leg bones. The tortured, broken limb melted and merged.
It was beyond traumatic to see the freakish process and he was unsure if he even knew how to undo the changes. He concentrated and altered his torso anyway, working it into a snake-like form. No, not a snake, he realized; it more resembled a massive worm.
Taihven wove a path to where the Threeva had bounced and swept it up.
This is suicide, he thought. But if I cannot get back home to help Letandra, I do not want to live here either!
The worm-form was perfect for him get through the cluster of mushrooms and into the same door that the Khorthas ran down. While he could feel the broken bone somewhere within the mass of his lower trunk, it was not exposed and bleeding. The form however was not built for any type of speed and would not fare well in any type of combat.
The tunnel was short and he snaked his way into an enormous, circular chamber. Again nature had invaded the ancient ruins. This time it intruded with thousands of hanging vines, thick patches of mushrooms and even a small bubbling spring. Several oval entrances were cut into its walls and sunlight beamed in from high above through a complex glass dome ceiling. At its center grew the spire he had searched for. Series of glass panels were set along the base. White, green and metallic red crystals sprouted out of the white and grey stonework.
The youth dropped his hand into the leather satchel with the Threeva, plucked it out and then tapped the Threeva three times on the ground. The crystals inside the chamber answered in three distinct waves that rocked the prince back onto his heels. The Eyes of Cinnelel had to be here, but somewhere so were the stalking Khorthas.
Taihven knocked the Threeva once more. Every crystal in the chamber emitted a high pitch, but it was the muffled whine that he centered his attention upon. It came from within the spire.
There was no sight of the Khorthas or any movement amongst the shadows and clusters of fungus. He slithered forward, a quivering machete held out before him. Nothing attacked or presented as an obstacle to prevent him from advancing.
The prince checked over his right shoulder as he got to the crystalline base. However, his presence still seemed unnoticed. He did not put any faith in that. The Khorthas were on the hunt; it was all a matter of luck and timing.
Taihven extended his trembling hand and felt the white and grey stonework looking for a way inside. His fingers went numb at the first touch. The spire’s material was smooth and cold, but left a thin coat of glass-like splinters in his skin. He tapped with the
machete and confirmed his suspicion: the spire was hollow. Taking off his top shirt, he blanketed his hand and continued to search for the handle or secret opening.
When he lifted the blade of his machete to pry and dig at a crystal cluster, he noted knots of cords going into the spire’s base. The cords resembled the tree roots that they had seen of the trees that surrounded the ruins.
Is that coincidence? Or did they somehow use the power of those trees? Taihven mused.
Movement within a patch of mushrooms nearby caught his eye.
The broad mushroom heads flushed into shades of red. He froze in terror as a giant Khortha reptile crept very slowly among several pale shafts. From a toothy snout, it shot out a forked tongue as it tasted the musty air. It swung its head and met Taihven’s stare — the gaze bore into him.
He noted the back legs as they coiled and tightened, but the feline beast did not leap at him. Its horned tail swung back and forth behind it.
Trying to sound calm and yet unthreatening, Taihven spoke, “Easy. Easy. I am not here to hurt you.”
A low growl answered, but it raised one paw and proceeded to lick it with a long, purple tongue. Then it stretched the paw up and over its head and slicked back a patch of fur on one ear. Taihven lowered his machete.
“Yes. Easy does it. I am here jus—” A blurry image of golden eyes reflected from a glass panel surface directly in front of him. Another bulky Khortha had stalked from behind and Taihven had fallen for the decoy. The beast leaped upon him and razor-like claws sunk deep into his shoulders.
The prince crashed to the ground under its weight. Taihven evoked a Firespray, a wave of flames shrouding the beast’s head. The burning Khortha leaped away to a safe distance. A roar to his left signaled another Khortha’s approach.
It was time to go!
Taihven inscribed in the air, conjuring up a series of Lighting Bolts. The Khorthas darted away and escaped into the mushroom clusters. Hot bolts crashed and ricocheted all about the chamber. He started to invoke his trusted Icespike when a third Khortha dropped down onto him from above and he lost his grip on his remaining machete.
