Between White and Grey (Sphereworld: Joined at the Hilt: Origins Book 1)

by Caleb Wachter

  Drannis cracked a smile. “I’ve felled a tree or two in my time, Lord General,” he allowed, and the soldiers roared in approval and slapped their breastplates in unison, filling the fort with the clatter of metal on metal.

  Raising his hands to silence the crowd, General Birchaud turned pointedly to Drannis. “You saved my life on the field, Drannis,” he said officiously. “It would seem I have grown too fat for my saddle; have you any experience riding?”

  Drannis nodded. “We have a few horses, Lord General, but none as fine as yours,” he said with an appreciative nod toward the massive, black warhorse.

  “Good,” Birchaud said before whistling sharply. The massive horse came over immediately, and the crowd parted for the magnificent animal. Taking the reins in his hands, the General handed them to Drannis, “He’s called ‘Storm Chaser,’ and he’s the finest mount I’ve ever had the privilege of riding into battle—or falling from, for that matter. He’s yours to ride back to your homeland, so you might see your family.”

  There was a round of chuckles as Drannis accepted the reins, but there was also an undertone which Dan’Moread could not immediately identify. It was almost as if the men were quietly contemplating something collective, but what that was she could not tell.

  “I cannot accept such a fine animal, Lord General,” Drannis protested respectfully.

  “You can and you will,” Birchaud said in a commanding tone, and the other man nodded after a brief hesitation. “He’s served me well, and a retirement in the southern plains seems a just reward for his service. Now go to your family, Drannis, and may whatever remain of the old gods speed your passage.”

  Kneeling before the General, Drannis said something which Dan’Moread couldn’t hear, but Birchaud seemed satisfied as he commanded the other man to rise.

  A few minutes later the massive man, Drannis—who looked none too large astride Storm Chaser—rode through the gates and disappeared beyond the chasm’s mouth over a kilometer away. Passing him was a series of wagons which were being laboriously—and quite carefully—brought up to the fortress, the contents of which appeared to be large barrels of some kind.

  It is time, Dan’Moread, Rimidalv’s voice called out and she saw the blond-haired Squire woman, Yaerilys, approaching with the White Blade propped over her shoulder. I believe I have found the way; let us do what we came to do.

  Feeling a pang of regret as she considered her wielder, Kanjin, and the life he might have had if not for meeting with her, Dan’Moread pushed such thoughts from her mind. They had come here to do a job, and thousands—if not millions—of lives depended on them to do it.

  Are you ready, Kanjin? she asked, knowing all too well what his answer would be.

  “Of course, Dani,” he replied, stretching his arms and rolling his neck around as much as his heavy, steel armor would permit. Rain began to fall in force all around them, and Kanjin made to follow Yaerilys after the young woman had stopped to share a private exchange with her man, Ravilich.

  Yaerilys presented the White Blade to Ser Cavulus, who accepted it and led the way into the crevice in the side of Mount Gamour.

  Tavleros went behind the White Knight, and he carried a bright torch with him as they moved into the stone of the sheer, impossibly tall mountain. General Birchaud’s soldiers could be heard behind them, with the General’s voice directing the ‘dismantling’ of the Storm Fort.

  Even as the party made its way deep into the mountain’s winding passage, they could hear—and feel—violent destruction raging above as the soldiers razed the fortress to the ground using explosives of some kind.

  Chapter VI: The Hollow Mountain

  “How can the Greystone army raze the fortress so quickly?” Yaerilys asked Tavleros as the White Knight led them further and further into the mountain through the cavernous passageway. It was easily twenty feet tall and half again as wide, and Yaerilys could understand how so many of the Storm Lord’s soldiers would fit inside the massive chambers.

  Tavleros shrugged. “The Storm Fort was quickly erected using fakestone; it stands to reason it can be just as quickly destroyed, at least from within,” he replied. “I know little of fakestone except for its use as mortar in Greystone architecture, and of course for the Greystone people’s loathing for it. But I did see large barrels which were guarded day and night during the march here…perhaps those barrels have something to do with it?”

  Yaerilys nodded absently as the light from the torch flickered. Star children—meaning those whose ancestry included one Ghaevlian maternal figure in the most recent dozen generations—were able to see almost perfectly in night, but underground or in the absence of moonlight they were just as blind as humans.

  Ser Cavulus’ helmet allowed him to pierce the veil of darkness magically, but the rest of the quartet depended on the light of the torch for illumination.

  “Art thou recovered from thy earlier…efforts?” Yaerilys asked quietly.

  Tavleros nodded. “The employment of my talents is limited only by my focus, and how quickly I can shed the heat generated by doing so,” he explained. “I believe that is why many Ghaevlians prefer to live in the mountains; the colder climes allow for greater comfort while utilizing the magic which runs through our blood.”

  “But…” Yaerilys began before stopping herself and re-wording the query, “I had thought Ghaevlians preferred to live amongst the woods, or other collections of abundant life?”

  Tavleros gestured to a nearby bit of slick, jagged rock. “These moist rocks hold life of their own,” he replied. “They may not be as colorful or familiar as singing birds or blooming flowers, but life exists all around us. Our Ghaevlian ancestors believe that all life is precious, and sought it out in each of its varied forms.”

  Yaerilys had never heard of such a philosophy, but there were clearly certain aspects of Ghaevlian culture to which Tavleros had been exposed, which she had not been.

  The cavern opened up as they continued, and Ser Cavulus gestured for them to halt. When they had done so, he continued alone into the large chamber before calling out, “The way is clear.”

  When they entered the massive chamber, the most striking feature was the unexpected, massive, circular door made of solid metal. Yaerilys’ breath was almost taken away as she made her way toward it, ignoring the many bedrolls assembled throughout the chamber itself.

  “The army slept here,” Tavleros concluded as he, too, made his way to the massive hatch-shaped portal. “That would explain the lack of facilities outside.”

  “Indeed,” Cavulus agreed, “the Storm Lord clearly has little regard for the warriors under his banner.”

  Yaerilys caught a whiff of human excrement and her hand instinctively went to her mouth. “Who would live like this?” she asked after regaining control of her stomach.

  “Fanatics,” Kanjin replied as he made his way past her and approached the massive door. “The Storm Lord twists the minds of those who follow him until they can no longer make decisions for themselves.”

  After a few minutes of exploring the cavernous chamber, the six of them gathered before the huge, seemingly impossible doorway. “I can understand the fakestone fortress,” Yaerilys said, looking up at the thirty foot tall portal, “but how could the Storm Lord erect this barrer? I see no metal-working tools, nor evidence of their presence in the rocks themselves.” She turned to Tavleros, “Could magic have done this?”

  “Magic almost certainly did do this,” he replied darkly, “but this door has been here far longer than the Storm Lord…or perhaps even humanity itself.”

  “The Ghaevlians, then?” Kanjin offered.

  “It is irrelevant,” Ser Cavulus interrupted their musings. “All that matters is that the Storm Lord hides behind it, and we must gain entry to stop him from completing his foul plan.” The White Knight turned to Kanjin, “Can thy blade break it?”

  Kanjin gripped the leather-wrapped hilt of the star metal sword he carried and stepped forward. “She will try,” h
e replied as he drew the weapon back in preparation.

  Dan’Moread crashed into the impossibly smooth surface of the convex door and was met with unyielding resistance. It was unlike any other time she had struck an opposing object; this material was utterly impervious to even her tempered edge, and this apparent invulnerability only served to anger her.

  Flexing her wielder’s muscles, she smashed into the doorway again—and again she had no effect. Again, and again, and again she struck, trying to find some weakness in the apparently perfect barrier, but she was met with nothing but intransigence.

  She raged against the material, pouring every ounce of strength Kanjin had into each blow, but Dan’Moread made no progress against the impregnable material.

  “That shall suffice,” Ser Cavulus said in his loud, amplified voice which echoed throughout the cavern. “I thank thee for thy demonstration.”

  Only after ceasing her furious assault did Dan’Moread realize she had chipped her edge in a handful of places, and that realization filled her with even more anger.

  No metal can stand against me, she shouted in frustration, and only after doing so did she realize she had spoken to both Rimidalv and Kanjin.

  “It’s ok, Dani,” Kanjin soothed before a coughing fit overcame him. Dan’Moread felt a surge of guilt at hearing her wielder’s sputtering, hacking coughs.

  He is ill, Dan’Moread, and will soon be unfit to carry you, Rimidalv said coldly, and his indifference to her wielder’s plight incensed her even more than the stubborn door had done.

  He is my wielder, Rimidalv, she shot back angrily, careful to keep her words from Kanjin’s hearing. When he falls I will gladly fall with him; such is the strength of our bond that even death cannot separate us.

  Foolish, Rimidalv chided, and wasteful. Your place is on the side of Light; the people of this world need your protection.

  I don’t care about the people of this world, Dan’Moread snapped. I care about him; I brought this affliction upon him through no fault of his, and I will share his fate. As his body fails, so too will I. It is my choice, and none can take it from me.

  There was a brief pause as the White Knight approached the doorway, holding Rimidalv before himself. As I said, the White Blade said flatly, that is foolish…and wasteful. Have you told your wielder of this choice?

  Dan’Moread did not reply, precisely because she had not done so. She had kept her decision from Kanjin since she knew that he would never permit it. Dan’Moread had been forged with five Godstone shards embedded in her blade, and each of them contained great power.

  She had used one of them to save Kanjin from the freezing waters, and he would have certainly died without her intervention. She believed she could use the others to prolong his life, but this was a secret she had kept to herself and shared with no one—not Kanjin, not Rimidalv, nor anyone else.

  The terrible truth was that by being in such close proximity to Dan’Moread, Kanjin’s body was being destroyed from the inside. Star metal was apparently toxic to humans, and this was a fact to which neither Dan’Moread or Kanjin had been apprised prior to their union. Strangely, star children were unaffected by prolonged exposure to star metal…and that was a fact which haunted Dan’Moread every moment of every day, for the nearly two years since she had learned of Kanjin’s growing infirmity.

  Rimidalv began to glow with a soft, white light which grew in its intensity for several seconds until he seemed to burn as brightly as the sun. The entire chamber rumbled, and the sudden sound of stone grinding against stone was deafening.

  Slowly, the doorway swung inward revealing a huge, seemingly limitless cavern beyond.

  You…you knew you could open it, Dan’Moread said, feeling betrayed by the White Blade for waiting until that moment to reveal so.

  I have never done so, he replied as Cavulus loosened his grip on Rimidalv before the two of them stepped through the portal, but I did suspect it was possible.

  Kanjin had finally ceased his coughing, and more than a small dribble of blood ran down his chin. He wiped it off with his gauntlet before standing to his feet.

  Are you able to continue, Kanjin? Dan’Moread asked, ashamed at having agreed to this endeavor—even after her wielder’s plea to do so.

  “I will be fine, Dani,” he replied with a chuckle that threatened to become another fit. “We should press on,” he said hoarsely, and her wielder did precisely that as Tavleros and Yaerilys made their way to follow the White Knight into the chamber beyond.

  What Dan’Moread saw was utterly inexplicable. Rimidalv’s light shone brilliantly forth, reflecting and cascading off what looked to be massive pillars of metal whose composition seemed to match that of the door.

  The vertical pillars reached both up and down into the darkness, disappearing beyond even the range of Rimidalv’s impressive illumination. They were not solid, but rather built of a latticework comprised of smaller tubes, which criss-crossed around in a seemingly impossible geometric pattern.

  There was no stone floor to be seen—in fact, the only walkable surface was the one they stood upon, which was nothing but a six foot wide beam of metal that spiraled gently down and to the right before disappearing into the darkness below.

  They passed the first column, the second, then the third, and the fourth as they followed the gently winding path, and Dan’Moread saw that the metal pillars were evenly spaced at something like one hundred feet.

  “This…” Tavleros breathed, and his voice seemed to be swallowed up by the blackness. For a brief instant, even Dan’Moread had the irrational fear that without Rimidalv’s light, that darkness might swallow them and leave no trace that they had ever been.

  “The entire mountain…” Yaerilys continued when Tavleros failed to do so, “is hollow?”

  “So it would seem,” Ser Cavulus agreed, and to Dan’Moread’s surprise even the White Knight’s voice carried a touch of awe which was clear enough despite his armor’s heavy distortion.

  “But how?” Kanjin asked, and Dan’Moread found herself wondering the same thing. It was simply unthinkable that such a massive structure could be artificial…but the evidence was all around them, and it was utterly indisputable.

  “Mount Gamour has stood since long before the days of the first Ghaevlians,” Tavleros said after a lengthy silence as the group continued to descend into the blackness.

  “Perhaps the gods themselves constructed it this way?” Kanjin offered.

  Perhaps all mountains are made thus, Dan’Moread suggested.

  “It is possible, Kanjin,” Ser Cavulus agreed. “But the gods no longer walk these lands; they have long since passed beyond the edge of our world and in their wake they leave a legacy which we are like to never fully comprehend. We ought not dwell on such things, and merely focus on the task at hand.”

  Did you know of this place? Dan’Moread asked Rimidalv privately.

  I held my suspicions, he replied after a brief pause, but the full truth was sundered long ago, and I carry only a small piece of it with me.

  Truth? Dan’Moread repeated. What truth?

  Rimidalv did not answer her query, and in nearly complete silence the group descended until reaching yet another door which seemed to be identical to the massive door Rimidalv had just opened. Except this one was already open.

  “Hold fast,” Ser Cavulus instructed as he peered around the door and into whatever lay beyond. He came to a halt just as he cleared the edge of the portal and stood in still silence for several seconds. “By the gods…” he whispered as he stepped through, holding Rimidalv before himself as he disappeared into the chamber beyond the door.

  Following behind him was Kanjin, and Dan’Moread braced herself as she heard Rimidalv bark, Prepare yourself, Dan’Moread. We must now do what we came to do.

  No sooner had Kanjin stepped through the portal than it slammed shut behind him with an ominous whump, followed by a hiss and the faintly audible whine of what seemed like horde of insects deep within the metal.
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  But what Dan’Moread saw within the room was beyond her comprehension.

  Chapter VII: A Clash of White and Grey

  The chamber was shaped like a long, seemingly endless, horizontal cylinder some forty feet across which was illuminated by a rich, green light. The sources of the light were what appeared to be long, gently curving lines which themselves had no physical form: they seemed to be made of green, somehow disconcerting, light. Those lights were evenly spaced along the inner surface of the cylindrical tunnel, and they gently corkscrewed down the length of it before eventually blurring into a faint, indistinct, glowing point somewhere at the furthest edge of Kanjin’s vision.

  Standing no more than twenty paces from the door through which they had just passed was a man—or perhaps it would be more accurate to describe it as a vaguely humanoid figure. He stood well over seven feet tall, and in his hands was a massive, cruel-looking weapon that looked to weigh as much—or more—than himself.

  The weapon seemed to be one long, thick, continuous blade vaguely in the shape of a flattened crescent. There was a long, narrow handle set at the weapon’s middle—and to either side of that handle, on opposite sides of the blade from each other, was a red, malevolent eye.

  One tip of the grey weapon was plunged directly into one of the green lines of light lining the clearly artificial tunnel, and Dan’Moread only now saw that this particular vein of light was darkened between the figure and the doorway.

  “So,” a rumbling voice reverberated throughout the corridor as the malevolent, red eyes snapped wide open to focus on first Ser Cavulus and then Kanjin, “you seek to stop me before my work is done.”

  Dan’Moread realized that the massive, grey blade’s eyes were not seeking the humans standing within the corridor—they had focused on Rimidalv and herself, and that realization filled Dan’Moread with more than a hint of fear.