“We have to do this, Wynn. Faxon is depending on us. We need to get to that relic, and we need to get to it before the Xarundi do. If they get their claws on it, who knows what kind of horrible things they’ll do to us...and more importantly, what they’ll do to the people who can’t defend themselves.”
Tia felt bad for him. He looked so unhappy. Even so, she was going to need his help if they were going to get to the relic in time to keep the Xarundi from obtaining it. It was best if he would just come to that realization now so they didn’t have to keep arguing over it.
“I know you’re not fond of your particular gift, but it saved my life in the pass. That’s something, right?”
“Yeah, after I put us there in the first place,” he snapped. “I’m the reason Faxon isn’t here, and the reason that you almost died. I shouldn’t have come.”
“If you hadn’t come, I’d probably be dead,” she snapped back. “There’s no way that Faxon and I could have handled that mob alone. As it was, you were the one who ended things. What do you think would have happened to me if you weren’t there?”
The blood drained out of Wynn’s face and Tiadaria almost felt bad for putting him back in the moment, but if it helped him to realize that he was essential to their success, it was worth the pain. She got up and crossed to the cot, sitting so close to him that their shoulders touched.
“Listen, I know you’re scared, I am too...but if you live your life being afraid of what might happen, you’ll never take any chances.”
“I don’t take chances, Tia. I’m not sure I know how.”
She nodded. “I know. So I guess it’s up to me to show you that sometimes, risking the unknown is worth it.”
Tiadaria leaned closer to him and laid her hand along his cheek. Link-shock danced between them as she turned his face to hers. The kiss was brief, the barest brush of her lips against his, but the ripple of excitement that it sent through her was unmistakable.
She guessed that she had known she was falling in love with the young apprentice, but it wasn’t easy to separate what was real emotion from what was the familiarity of their working relationship. Still, if she didn’t genuinely care for the mage, she wouldn’t worry about him as much as she did. The thrill that passed through her when they kissed was a nice confirmation of what she already expected. That there was something here that was worth exploring.
Wynn surprised her by taking her in his arms and returning her kiss in the same gentle, almost hesitant way she had kissed him. There was no urgency in his embrace, just the weight of his body against hers and the nearly overwhelming sense of rightness about it. How long they remained entwined together, Tiadaria couldn’t say. When Wynn finally released her, she sighed.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice anxious. She smiled at him, a warm, tender smile lacking her customary wit and humor.
“Nothing,” she said, patting his hand. “It was a happy sigh.”
They went about their domestic duties in silence. Neither of them wanted to discuss what might happen tomorrow. For now, they had each other and had finally put into action the feelings that bubbled just under the surface. That was enough for tonight.
Tiadaria made them a hearty stew of dried travel meat and winter roots stored in the hovel. They ate quietly and turned the lanterns down to a dim glow. Wynn slipped into a cot and threw the fur over himself. Tia knew he’d be asleep in moments. His inner turmoil aside, Wynn seemed to be able to stop whatever he was doing and fall asleep at a moment’s notice.
Pushing one of the other cots up next to his, she settled on the straw-filled mattress and tried to fall asleep. Tiadaria lay there watching the dancing lantern light for a long time before she finally fell asleep.
* * *
Their long journey was finally at an end. Zarfensis stood in the mouth of an ice tunnel at least fifty feet across and three-quarters of that high. The floor that sloped down into the earth under the mountain was smooth as glass. The walls were fractured here and there, with large ice crystals and piles of snow littering the walls and floor at irregular intervals. The last part of their task, the descent into the cavern to locate the relic, would be the most arduous. Fortunately, the Xarundi were well equipped to handle the rigors of ice travel.
With finger and toe claws fully extended, they slowly made their way into the passage. Only a few hundred feet into the tunnel, the natural light had faded to a dim glow. Their eyes made up for the worst of the deficiency, and when they got further in, Zarfensis and the shaman summoned orbs of magical light to guide their way. The glowing wisps hovered above them, glinting off the angles in the ice and make it sparkle like an enormous jewel.
The air was cold, cutting through even the Xarundi’s thick fur. Their breath could be seen as little puffs of vapor that condensed into snow nearly as soon as it left mouth or nose. The metal of Zarfensis’s replacement leg was burning the flesh where it came into contact. It was a wholly unpleasant sensation.
As cold as the cavern was, the High Priest could understand how those who had come before him had failed to recover the relic. If he wasn’t absolutely certain that they needed its power to rule the Chosen, he might have turned back himself. The Deep Oracle’s mocking laughter came back to him now, echoing in his ears, and he wondered if the spirit hadn’t foreseen their failure. Worse yet, perhaps it had seen them perish in these tombs of ice.
As if conjured by his thoughts, they turned a corner and stumbled across a gruesome discovery. A pair of ancient Xarundi, huddled together for warmth, were half-buried in the frozen floor of the tunnel. They were remarkably well preserved, with only a few clumps of fur missing here and there, allowing the white of bone to peek out from under the shriveled, blackened skin.
The cleric growled deep in his throat, his tail tucked between his legs, his neck fur puffed out in an aura.
“We will die here, High Priest! Like these poor wretches, frozen together for eternity.”
Zarfensis grasped the cleric by the shoulder, forcing the troubled eyes of his pack mate to meet his. The contact seemed to brace the cleric’s flagging spirit.
“Have faith, my brother. Our ancient brethren knew the risks and at least they died together. Our pack is stronger, we will prevail.”
The cleric dropped his eyes. “Yes, Your Holiness. I’m sorry for my moment of weakness.”
“Think no more of it, my brother. It is...unnerving...to come across our ancient brothers fallen in such a way. Succumbing to the cold instead of dying at the hand of an enemy.” Zarfensis motioned deeper into the tunnel, looking meaningfully at each member of their war party. “Steel your resolve, brothers. This may not be the only horror that awaits us. The longer we keep moving, the better off we’ll be.”
Move they did, deeper and deeper into the frozen void under the mountain. Zarfensis was beginning to feel a familiar presence in the back of his head. The feeling that his consciousness wasn’t alone, that there was someone sharing his thoughts. It was the same feeling that came from the depths of the Deep Oracle’s chambers.
He said nothing, and they moved on.
Chapter Twelve
Tiadaria held up her hand, going rigid. Wynn stopped instantly behind her, head cocked to one side, straining to hear what might have alerted her. The apprentice heard it too, the low, growling rumble that was the Xarundi approximation of speech. They had no way of knowing what they were saying and Wynn suspected that they probably wouldn’t have wanted to know anyway. What he did know was that it was close. Too close. He felt sweat trickle down his side from under his arms, though the cavern was below freezing.
He settled back on his haunches, relying on the metal spikes strapped to his boots to keep him from sliding across the mirror-like surface of the floor. He doused the wisp he had summoned and they crouched there in the dark, listening. It sounded as if the Xarundi were moving deeper into the tunnel complex. Wynn summoned a smaller wisp, a barely glowing orb of light that illuminated their faces and nothing more.
Wynn was thankful for Faxon’s planning, even as he wished that the elder quintessentialist was with them. They had gone through the packs at the hunting lodge, selecting only the items that would be absolutely necessary on their pursuit of the relic. They had found three sets of spiked straps for their boots. Thankfully, Tiadaria had immediately recognized their use and purpose. Wynn would have been lost without her.
Tia motioned to the wisp and made an expanding gesture with her hands. Wynn nodded, mumbling the spell that would enlarge the wisp and light their area of the tunnel. If Tiadaria wanted more light, he was fairly certain that any imminent danger of encountering the Xarundi was past.
“I’m pretty sure they’ve moved further in,” she said, her voice the barest murmur over the subtle cracking and pinging of the ice around them. “We’ll give them another few minutes to pass on.”
Wynn wanted to point out that every moment they remained stationary was another in which they might freeze to death, but he prudently remained silent. When Tiadaria was in what he referred to as battle mode, he knew better than to introduce what she would often deride as superfluous details.
Tia unwound from her crouch, checking the straps on her sword belt and on the pack. It was an unconscious habit and one that Wynn had adopted from watching her. Not that the holster did him much good. The ironwood staff hadn’t left his hand since they set foot in the cavern. The ironwood was certainly living up to its name. The staff felt cold as ice, even through the fur-lined inner of his winter gloves.
She motioned them forward and Wynn nodded. He noticed her customary checks of his gear and dismissed them with a sigh. He knew that he had given her enough reason to question his readiness for combat, but when she did those quick, quiet checks of his kit, he couldn’t help but to feel like a child. She never corrected anything though, so either he was doing alright, or she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Hah. As if.
They encountered a blind corner and Tia pressed her back against the wall, peering around the edge into the darkness. Sending the wisp on ahead was out of the question. Any benefit they might gain from the light would be negated if they gave away their pursuit too early. Seeing nothing within the radius of the light that seemed threatening, she gave Wynn the go ahead and they turned the corner.
A few steps forward and the light of the wisp was thrown over the familiar shape of a Xarundi, low to the ground. Wynn let out a startled yelp and Tia clamped her hand over his mouth before he could expand on that ill-advised exclamation. As it was, his cry echoed down the corridor, bouncing off the walls for what seemed like minutes.
“They’re dead already,” she hissed at him, eyes flashing. “Which is what we’re going to be if you don’t keep quiet.”
Wynn’s cheeks went red but he said nothing. Couldn’t, in fact, as her hand was still pressed firmly over his mouth. She glared at him for a moment longer and then removed her hand. Morbid curiosity got the better of Wynn and he commanded the wisp closer to the bodies so that he could get a better look. They had been frozen in place for what he guessed was probably hundreds of years. The soft tissues were desiccated and withdrawn, with patches of bone showing through here and there. He knew the importance of keeping quiet, but he gave himself a break. Anyone not trained for this sort of thing would have been startled coming upon something like that. He wasn’t sure Faxon would have fared any better.
“Do you feel that?” Tiadaria asked in hushed tones, taking her hand from his mouth. It felt like something was inside her head, as if someone was standing behind her, looking over her shoulder, or out through her eyes. She shuddered. “It feels like something’s watching us, from inside.”
“I know.” Wynn nodded. The sensation had started when they entered the cavern and had only gotten more pronounced the deeper they went. “Whatever it is, it’s deeper in. Nothing left of these two, living or undead.”
Tia spared the corpses a moment’s consideration and then set off again, heading deeper into the corridor. Wynn caught up to her in short order, the wisp bobbing along behind him.
* * *
Xarundi hearing was nearly as keen as their eyesight, so when the echo of a faint cry bounced from wall to wall, they all turned toward the sound, their ears upright. Zarfensis recognized the character of the voice. There were vermin pursuing them through the tunnels. Quickly slipping into sphere-sight, he cast back along the way they had come. Just passed the corpses of their fallen brothers, there was a shimmer in the ether. It was the Swordmage. He was certain of it.
“We’re being followed,” he growled, not bothering to lower his voice. Let the vermin hear them. Let them know that their death was coming with sharp claws and rending fangs. The warriors were instantly alert at his statement, powerful muscles bunching in anticipation of the hunt.
“Shall we intercept Your Holiness?”
Zarfensis held up a hand. “Not yet brothers. Time is of the essence. Let us see how skilled these vermin are before we commit to fighting them. They may prove not to be worthy of fighting the Chosen’s finest warriors.”
Though displeased at being stayed, the warriors preened at the implied compliment. They relaxed somewhat, watching the High Priest and waiting to see what Zarfensis had in store for the vermin snapping at their heels.
Zarfensis slipped into the Quintessential Sphere and began to manipulate the forces there. From the walls of the cavern, he pulled large ice crystals, forming towering monsters of frozen water. When the bodies were formed, he called on the power of the Dyr, the Rune of Death, to imbue the forms with the singular desire to kill and destroy. Anything to feed the hunger of the rune.
The ice elementals took on a glowing blue fire that danced across the surface of the constructs without harming them. Zarfensis willed them up the tunnel, in the direction of the Swordmage and her companions. They moved slowly at first, as if uncertain of their mission, then, as the spell reached its completion, they began to move more fluidly, the ground beneath the Xarundi’s feet quaking with the impacts of the elementals as they pounded relentlessly toward their prey.
The High Priest smiled and was gratified to see the shaman and several of the warriors grinning as well. A battle was never to be shirked from as one of the Chosen, but there were many ways to enter combat. Zarfensis urged them on. He wanted to get to the relic as quickly as possible. The sooner they had it, the sooner they could be home and free of the vermin.
* * *
“What is that?” Wynn had dropped all pretense of stealth and practically had to roar the question over the thunder that was spreading up the tunnel toward them.
“I don’t know,” Tiadaria replied, loosening the straps on her scabbards and pulling her scimitars free. “But it doesn’t sound like anything good.”
She cast a sidelong glance at the young apprentice. He had sworn to her that he could fight. That he’d fight for her...for them. This might be the first time his resolve was tested. Tia hoped he’d be able to live up to the challenge.
“Are you ready?” Tia looked him in the eye. The weight of the question hung in the air between them. Wynn nodded.
“I’m ready.” The quintessentialist spun his staff around his hand, catching it at the balance point in the center of the rod. As he did so, flames sprang to life along its length. The magical fire danced over his hand but didn’t scorch his glove or the sleeve of his robe.
It was the first time that Tiadaria had seen him completely in control of his magical gift. Both in Ethergate, then again during the attack in the ravine, his magic had come at a moment of great extremity, exploding in an uncontrollable burst of rage and fear. This was a different Wynn. A mage in control of his mind and his weapon. A mage with something to fight for and the will to see it through.
Tia put aside the pride sh
e felt for him and prepared herself for battle. Two ice elementals skidded around a distant corner of the corridor. They had a clear run toward Tia and Wynn now, with not so much as a snowdrift between the aggressors and their intended victims.
The thundering footsteps of the elementals made it difficult to remain upright, even with the added help of the spikes strapped to their feet. Tiadaria went to the balls of her feet, spinning the scimitars in a fluid motion of wrist and arm, testing their weight and balance.
To her surprise, it was Wynn who attacked first. She heard him invoke the ancient words of power and call the essence of flame forth from the Quintessential Sphere. His staff moved dizzyingly fast, spinning a great circle over his head that formed more streams of flame with each revolution. Finally he dropped the end of the staff, pointing it toward the elementals as if he intended to use it as a lance.
The ball of flame he had conjured was immense. As Wynn released it toward their targets, it roared down the length of the corridor, steam rising from the walls on either side. It slammed into the crude arm of one of the elementals, blasting it to pieces and melting a crescent hollow where the flame had touched the body. Ice quickly turned to steam, which turned to snow, drifting down from the damaged titan as they continued forward.
With a throaty war cry, Tiadaria leapt toward the damaged elemental. Her arc took her to a height impossible without the use of magic and she jackknifed in the air, bringing her swords down in a vicious slash. One dug a deep furrow in the shoulder that still had an arm attached to it. The other glanced off the creature’s head harmlessly.
Tia almost made it clear of the elemental, but its grasping hand knocked her off balance as she tried to twist away. She was thrown into the wall and slid down the slope, ending sprawled on the floor of the tunnel behind the attacking monstrosities. Wynn wanted to go to her, to ensure she was okay, but they were closing on him too quickly for him to do anything but defend.
The Swordmage Trilogy: Volume 02 - The Darkest Hour Page 16
