Ghile found himself nodding. He wanted to help Akira. She seemed so afraid and he just wanted to make her feel safe. He found himself agreeing before he had even decided to.
“I will, please do not be afraid. I am coming,” Ghile said. A part of him was yelling at him for agreeing so quickly. What had come over him? Don't be afraid? What was he saying? Didn't she understand what was going to happen when they met for real? The pull of the soulstones was muted here in the dreaming, but Ghile could still feel it, knew by Akira's actions she could as well. He recalled the intensity of the feeling when he first encountered Muk. The need to have the other stone.
The swirling smoke that was Akira slowly began to drift apart. Any other doubts about going to her drifted away with it.
“No, don't go,”
“Goodbye, Ghile Stonechosen.”
Ghile stood there helpless as she disappeared from site.
“Please, don't leave, I…”
As the last remnants of her vanished from sight, Ghile thought he saw a smile touch her lips. He could feel his heart drumming in his throat, his face flush. He stood there long after she was gone.
Akira floated silently in the dream mists. The guilt of what she was doing tore at her insides. She felt the familiar itch in her eyes as the tears began to gather along her eyelashes. She breathed in deeply, swallowing, trying to hold them back. One lone teardrop fell and instantly transformed into the same grey mist that surrounded her, then drifted apart, returning to the mists.
The powerful attraction of Ghile's soulstones only made her feel worse. She concentrated on her brother, Ashar. She pictured his thin angular face, his high cheekbones, and thick brows, which were always furrowed in concentration. She pictured him working over his mortar and pestles, flasks, and funnels; fussing over his draughts and elixirs.
She felt the pull deep in her chest at first, like a rope tied just behind her navel that was suddenly pulled taught. She began floating through the mists. She kept the image of her brother in her head as she gained speed.
Images formed around her, two lovers embracing, a small child running in fear, only to trip over nothing, a goblin standing on a mound of junk, cheering. When she first entered the dream mists, she had been thrown from one dream to the next, with no control of her movements. Every glimpse of a dream, no matter how small sucked her inside.
She knew the images for what they were now, others' dreams, formed from the dream mists. She had spent much time wondering if that were true or if it was the other way around, if the dream mists were birthed from the dreams.
But now, they were but minor distractions to pass by, share a glimpse of themselves and then fade away behind her. Before she might have stopped and entered one that caught her attention, spend time in another's dream just to see something other than the mists. But her heart was heavy so she just drifted past.
The only memory strong enough to push its way through her melancholy was the same one she always had when traveling through the dream mists. The image of her and Ashar running through the enchanted mists of the Fallen City. The dream mists and the enchanted mists that perpetually hid the city in its bowels like some thick soup were somehow connected. How long had it been since that day? The last day she had spent awake…
“Akira, hurry! There is no time, they are almost upon us,” Ashar said. He had stopped running to turn and urge her on. He reached out and took her hand, pulling her along.
The whoops and cries of the goblins echoed through the mists all around them. The unpredictable creatures infested the Fallen City, somehow unaffected by the effects of the dream mists.
They ran.
Jagged stone pillars and broken walls of greenish-black stone covered by slime streaked past.
Ashar had spent hours gathering, categorizing, and studying the slime on their many previous trips here. But now, he didn't even give it a glance as they fled from their pursuers.
A knot had formed in Akira's side and she tried gulping in air to slow the pain. She had to run through it. It was her fault they had attracted the attention of so many of the goblins that scavenged throughout the ruins. They were usually easy enough to avoid, the city was huge and the mists made it difficult to see more than a few feet in any direction, especially this deep.
They passed more jagged columns, all in neat rows. They were somewhere in the temple district, near the center of the bowl. They had been chased deeper than they had ever been before.
The Fallen City sat in a deep chasm, a literal bowl formed in the land and filled with this impenetrable enchanted mist, allowing only the tallest of the ancient buildings to breach the upper surface, like the fingers of some drowning god.
Ashar dragged her down a set of lopsided stairs, more a slide now. They tumbled together at the bottom, but Ashar was up quickly reaching for one of his flasks.
His eyes darted left and right, looking for where to go next. They seemed to have slid into a dead end. One of the many sinkholes that pockmarked the bottom of the chasm.
“Get behind me, Akira,” Ashar said. He ripped the small flask from one of his many belts. He began the soft low chant that Akira knew he used as a sorcerer to channel his power. The liquid in the flask took on a bright red hue.
Akira knelt down and began backing away from Ashar. Using her hands to feel her way, she pressed her back against a large slimed covered stone along the steep side of the sinkhole.
Was this it? Was this how their lives would end. It pained her to realize she was going to be proven right.
She had warned Ashar that no amount of Magister Dagbar's promised rewards was worth the danger of the Fallen City. How many arguments they had. How many times had she refused to risk another journey here, only to join him in the last minute?
Every time they returned to the Emporium, Ashar assured her they had ventured into the mists for the last time. Only to come back days or weeks later with another urging from Magister Dagbar and Master Dowynn.
Magistar Dagbar knew he broke the very laws he was supposed to enforce. He knew the dangers of the Deepwood and the Fallen City. But each time Ashar returned, Master Dowynn would give him a different task, something else to research, at Magister Dagbar's urging.
The first goblins appeared at the edges of the sinkhole. Akira could make out their squat shapes and long protruding ears, hear their sniffing as they searched the two humans out. The two mist shrouded forms turned to four, then eight.
Ashar hurled his first flask and reached to tear two more from his belts. His aim was good and the small sound of breaking glass was deceptively unassuming compared to the loud boom of flame that followed. Blood red fire billowed out from the broken flask and ignited the mist.
The screams of the nearest goblins was lost in a roar of flames.
Akira turned her face away from the flames and used her arms to shield herself from the wave of heat and debris she knew was about to follow.
The flash revealed a dark hole a short distance away from Akira. The flames died away and with them the revealing light.
The sound of Ashar's chanting and the breaking of glass gave Akira the forewarning she needed to focus on the spot where she had seen the hole.
The flames that followed revealed the hole and a short distance into it as well. It was deep. Maybe this was not the end of them, after all.
Akira called for Ashar as she scrambled for the opening. He was reaching for another pair of flasks.
Above them, the goblins closest to where the flash impacted were simply gone, consumed by the magical flame. Others were screaming and flailing their arms in a hopeless attempt to put themselves out.
Other shapes were appearing out of the mists, but luckily they seemed more interested in watching the suffering of their brethren than pursuing her and Ashar.
Ashar hurried past her and pulled an everflame from one of his many pouches. He waved it inside the opening, and seeming content ushered Akira inside before him.
Luckily, the hole was not the
home of one of the city's denizens. Due to the strange dream like effect the mists caused, most creatures from the Deepwood avoided the place. But spiders as large as dogs or larger were not uncommon, nor was finding the carcass of a goblin bound in webbing and stuffed away under an outcropping or hanging from a building.
Akira half climbed half slid down a short tunnel formed by a collapsed wall. At the end she dropped a few feet to a slightly slanted floor. The ceiling had been forced down under the weight of debris, but she could almost stand here.
It was a small space, the walls had been pushed inward and the ground was covered with fallen stone. Akira watched as Ashar hurled another of his flasks. He was outlined in the flash, a black shape surrounded by red. He began his descent towards her and Akira moved farther into the space to make room. She almost screamed when she saw a slender hand jutting out of the stones next to her. It only took her a moment to realize it was part of a broken statue, more than likely crushed by the compacted ceiling.
With Ashar's arrival, his everflame illuminated the rest of the room. There were broken pieces of statues scattered everywhere. The collapsed ceiling must have crushed them.
“Ashar, look at this,” Akira said.
Ashar had always shown great interest in the art of the ancient city, particularly the statues.
He did not turn around, but said, “Not now. It has been awhile, Akira. Drink another mist antidote.”
Ashar concentrated on the tunnel they had entered by. He grabbed a small flask from his belt and consumed the contents.
She didn't feel the dream like effects of the mist yet, but she hastily did as she was told, swallowing down the acrid liquid, but continuing to study what she had found.
The bust lay nearby and the expression on the face drew Akira's attention. The head tilted slightly up giving the face a conceited air.
“This should keep them out,” Ashar said.
He threw a flask into the tunnel entrance which, like the others, exploded once its contents were exposed to air. But instead of fire, this one shot forth white webbing, filling the entrance.
Akira looked back to the bust and knelt down next to it. She made to brush the small bits of debris from the lips of the face when her other hand adhered to the stone.
“Ashar,” she said.
“That will keep our pesky pursuers from searching too far into the tunnel. They are not fond of the hunting spiders,” Ashar said, catching his breath as he admired his handiwork.
Akira tried to use her other hand as leverage to free herself, but it too held fast to the strange bust.
“Ashar!”
He was at her side in an instant. His eyes went wide with shock and his first action was to drop the everflame and grab her by the shoulders and try to pull her back. Her hands were fixed and he only succeeded in dragging the bust clear of the other debris.
“No, no, no,” Ashar said as he stared at the bust's chest.
Akira was still trying to free her hands. They were getting warm. The chest of the bust had a series of mounds that formed a spiral pattern.
Ashar placed his hands over the small mounds and pushed down. Akira didn't know what he expected to happen, maybe this was some ancient trap he had learned about from Master Dowynn. Ashar and Master Dowynn were the only humans Akira knew who could pull words off of objects.
“Come one, come one,” Ashar said, pushing down harder.
“Ashar, my hands are burning.” Akira heard a low hum, it sounded like bees. The humming was coming from the statue.
“No, this is not supposed to happen. Akira, I will fix this. I promise,” Ashar said.
The statue began to glow from within.
“Akira, I'm sorry. I will fix this. I promise,” Ashar said.
The statue was glowing too bright to look at and the hum now filled the room.
The heat transformed into intense pain. Akira felt a slicing pain along her palm.
Akira screamed.
Akira could see a circular mound moving just under her skin, dragging searing pain along behind it.
Ashar took her face in his hands and turned her towards him. It was hard to hear him through the loud hum or see him through the tears. The last thing she remembered was Ashar's tear streaked face as he repeated “I'm sorry” over and over.
Akira floated there silently in the mist. The tears fell freely now, joining the dream mist as soon as they fell away from her. She looked at her hand where the soulstone had entered so long ago and then touched her chest where her single stone now resided.
Of course, this was not her hand or her soulstone. Not really. Here, she was made of the stuff of dreams, like everything else. Her true body was in Allwyn, with Ashar.
Akira focused on her brother again and continued forward. The image of Ashar looking out over the sea appeared before her.
She stepped through and was behind Ashar then. He was looking out over the sea, his hands clasped behind his back. She recognized the place. He dreamed of it often. He had described it to her when they were little, but she didn't remember it.
The small wattle and daub hut that was their home in this settlement sat a short distance away. The winds that blew in from the ocean and raced across the beach brought small flecks of sand that had long ago scoured this side of the hut smooth.
Ashar stood before the squat driftwood fence. Its chaotic shapes, bound together by rope, only enhancing the beauty of the place. Akira wished she remembered the place of her childhood. Ashar assured her she shouldn't.
The human settlement of Oceanwood was no more. Its residents now either dead, like their parents, or moved to other human containments. The entire settlement, fell victim to the “Justice” of the dwarves, as Ashar put it.
“You spoke with him?” Ashar said. He had not turned around, but continued to stare out over the ocean.
“Yes,” Akira said, stepping up next to him. The sand, carried on the wind, blew through her. She wished she could feel the sting of it on her skin. She would welcome the pain.
“Where is he now?”
“He has entered the Deepwood,” Akira said.
“Good. Good. It will not be much longer, sister.”
“Ashar, are you sure this is the only way?”
Ashar turned to stare at her. His deep set eyes, locked on her. He did not blink. Recently, the intensity she saw in Ashar's gaze discomforted her. He had given so much to try and help her since she had found the soulstone. He had done everything he could to wake her. To free her of the stone's control.
“Akira, did I not promise you I would do everything to set this right?”
She nodded. They had this same discourse so many times before. She knew better than to argue, she only wished there was some other way.
Ashar sat down and closed his eyes.
“Ashar, please don't go. I…I would like to stay here for a while. The ocean is so beautiful.”
“You know I must prepare, Akira.”
She nodded. She tried to lock the colors in her mind. The blues of the sky and dull green of the ocean. The multiple shades of brown in the driftwood fence.
Suddenly, Ashar was gone and with him his dream.
Akira floated in the mists once again.
Alone.
At first, after finding the soulstone, she found herself in her own dreaming. It was a beautiful place. A forested glade, a river cutting a gentle path along its edge. Her mother had been there to greet her. It was her mother who had taught her the ways of the dreaming. Had tried to teach her how to return to Allwyn. It had not worked. Over time, her mother faded, then the river and finally the glade. All faded into the grey mist of the dreaming.
Now, she was truly alone.
10
The Fallen City
Ashar opened his eyes. His vision filled with the total darkness only found deep in the bowels of Allwyn. Or in this case, the lowest reaches of the Fallen City. He sat up slowly. He was shivering. No matter how many blankets or furs he added to this sto
ne slab he used as a bed, its hard surface still sucked heat from him.
Much like this accursed place sucked at his soul, he mused.
“It will be over soon, sister.”
He half expected to hear Akira answer. She was still so beautiful in his dreams. It was such a double-edged sword each time he saw her there.
Enough of this. There was still much to prepare before the next stonechosen arrived.
Ashar reached out feeling for the dusty edge of the side table. The stone was cold beneath his fingers. The clink of empty bottles mocked his fumbling until he found the stone cup that concealed the everflame. He tossed the cup aside. The glow of the everflame's heatless light skittered across the walls of the cramped chamber.
He continued to fumble among the half emptied flasks covering the night stand, holding each up in turn and scrutinizing its contents, until he found one which still held a small amount of his tonic. He swished it around and studied it through the glass until it was the right consistency. He drank down the sickly yellow solution, grimacing at its acrid taste and then discarded the empty flask among the others. He would need to make another batch soon.
Grabbing his useless leg, he swung it out and over the side. He pushed himself up and retrieved his staff from where he had left it. Ashar had to put most of his weight on the staff. It would take time for the tonic to work and the pain to subside before his leg could properly support him. Even then, he still needed the staff. Luckily, this chamber was near to his work.
He made his way out of the little chamber. The sound of his staff and dragging leg echoed dully off the damp glistening walls.
The stone corridor was draped in shadow, but, even from a distance, the flickering light of the laboratory provided enough to see by. He continued down the hallway, the thousand stabbing needles in his leg slowly replaced by a throbbing numbness as the tonic did its work.
His leg was yet another reminder of the debt he owed Dagbar. A debt he would pay upon the dwarf tenfold. True, Dagbar had not inflicted the wound that maimed him, but it all lead back to the dwarf. Ashar caught himself absently running his hand along the part of his black robes that covered his mauled thigh. A habit he had begun whenever he was lost in thought. He clenched his hand into a tight fist.
Time of the Stonechosen (The Soulstone Prophecy Book 2) Page 12
