Valandra: The Dragon Blade Cycle (Book 2)

by Tristan Vick

  “I think that I might be in love with you,” I say.

  “I know,” she replies.

  Those are the exact same words I hit Alegra with earlier today. This gives me pause, as I grow concerned that she’s deflecting just as I did with Alegra. “But you’re not going to say the words back to me, are you?”

  “You’re still with Alegra,” she says sternly. “After you tell her, then I promise, I’ll not only say the words but I’ll do you one better.”

  “Better than saying you love me? Like what?”

  “I will love you,” she replies. “With every fiber of my being.”

  “That sounds nice,” I say, brushing a clump of sweaty hair from my face and tucking it neatly behind my ear. I look back at Zee in all seriousness. “Do you why I’m here?”

  “The Outlier is calling to you.”

  “It’s strange. I can hear him in the back of my mind, calling to me. It’s not a voice so much as a feeling. But he’s drawing me to him.”

  “You too are an Outlier.”

  “I know. But nobody will tell me what that means, or what it is.”

  “So you hope to find the answers you seek by seeking the first Outlier?”

  “Something like that. Also, I have a hunch that he might know how to defeat Daeris Darkthorne. And, if not, then at least I can use this opportunity to try and fix the broken seal.”

  “Sounds reasonable,” Zee says with a smile. Leaning forward, Zee places her delicate hands over my face and then kisses me on the forehead.

  Taking a step back, she reaches out her hand and says, “Here, you’ll need to take this…”

  A swirling vortex of energy and smoke appear around her hand, there is a blast of hot air, which dissipates in every direction. Out of thin air, magically, she manifests the Sword of Runes.

  Zee hands me the sword and I take it. The moment I do it dawns on me that I’m no longer in my dress. I look down to find myself wearing my traditional Belleran attire replete with the leather armor of a master of the blade. And it’s in my favorite color too, sapphire blue.

  “But when did you…?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Zee says. “What matters now is that you descend into the Nether Realm, complete the three trials, and return with the Outlier so we can take the fight to Daeris Darkthorne.”

  I sling the sword over my back and slide it into the back-mounted sheath. Then, I boldly reach over and grab Zee by the waist. I pull her slender figure into mine, our leather outfits squeaking as our bodies come into contact, and then, with one hand around her waist, I reach up and take her firmly by the back of her neck with my other hand.

  I kiss her on her mouth firmly and, for a moment, she seems caught off guard by my bold maneuver, but quickly melts into the kiss, letting her body press into my and letting out a heated moan. It’s the kind of moan one makes when they taste something mouth-wateringly delectable, and this kiss is all that and more.

  After our long, hot, and deliciously wet kiss, I turn back around and start down the stairs that are carved into the rock itself. I pause just long enough to look back and steal a glimpse of Zarine licking her lips as she watches me go.

  Satisfied, I turn my attention back to the task at hand. I continue my descent into the dark tunnel in the middle of a stone island at the center of a broiling lake of lava.

  24

  Molten falls of hot-orange lava pour down from every side and pool into a blistering lake of the same which fills a large underground cavern. I stand on a platform that overlooks an even more volatile lava lake approximately a hundred and thirty feet below. Lava bubbles and gurgles with an intense heat that rises, causing a scorching updraft that heaves wisps of my hair which spiral and dance about my shoulders in an almost playful manner.

  Before me stretches a rope extension bridge which extends all the way across the lava lake to the other side, where there is another stone platform identical to the one I’m currently perched on.

  “Wonderful,” I mumble anxiously to myself. Of course, no one is around to hear my sarcastic quip, so I take a deep breath. This is hard to do in the sulfuric heat of the unground chamber, which tosses my hair about in a crazed flurry. I brush my flowing hair out of my face and then step out on the rickety bridge. I hold fast to the suspension rope railings which are tied off to a suspension deck-line over which the planks of the wooden bridge are laid out.

  Steam rises around me and I take another few steps out onto the wobbly bridge. I swallow a nervous gulp, which bottoms out in the pit of my stomach as the swaying motion of the undulating bridge causes me to grow fearfully nauseated.

  As I edge out a way, the heat rushes up all around me. It feels like I’m standing over a bread oven. My hair flows straight up in the draft. My boots begin to smoke and sizzle if they press too long against the super-heated planks of the wooden bridge. I’m a little surprised that the bridge doesn’t simply ignite in flames, but of course the moment I think my luck must be holding out, the raging heat coming from the lava below sets off a chain reaction and the bridge catches on fire.

  The realization that this is my only chance to make it across the lava lake sends me scrambling over the planks as fast as my feet will carry me. When I’m about twenty-five meters from the end of the bridge, it suddenly gives out behind me and I begin to fall. I grab ahold of the slats and slam into the cliff face so hard that all my wind rushes from my lungs.

  Still, I hold tight with white knuckled terror because my life literally depends on it. Hanging on the side of the rope bridge, which is more of a rope ladder now, I force myself to take a breath even as it burns my lungs to do so. I do a quick mental check to see if I’m still intact, and then look down to see several pieces of the wooden planks fall into the broiling lava below.

  I look up and let out a heavy sigh. It helps with the stress as I begin to climb back up to the top of the rope bridge as if it were a ladder. I guess, I think to myself, this is probably why they call this the fire pits of misery.

  Cautious not to lose my grasp of the rope bridge, I climb as fast as is safe to do and, finally, upon reaching the top of the platform, I pull myself up onto the ledge and roll onto my back. As I lie on my back staring up at the stone ceiling of the massive cavern with magma falls on either side of me, I take in another deep breath. This time my lungs don’t burn as much now that I’m clear of the sulfuric updraft from the molten pit below.

  “That was a close one,” I say to myself as I sit up and wipe my brow with the back of my hand.

  After I get back onto my feet, I find myself standing before a large iron door with a lock mechanism on it. At the center of the lock is the embossed image of a minotaur. I look around for a key hole but there isn’t one. After a brief inspection, I finally find a thin narrow groove on the rock face next to the door. It’s just big enough for my sword to fit in. At least, I think it is.

  With a grunt, I take the giant Sword of Runes off my back, and then holding it in both hand, I slide the tip of it into the slot. It goes in smoothly with minimal scraping until it sinks into the rock wall all the way to its cross guard. Once it’s in, there is a clank. This sound is followed by some more clunking and grinding and then the sound of gears turning.

  The giant metal doors begin to swing open. I pull the Sword of Runes back out to take it with me. The massive doors quickly swing back shut. There is a loud rumble as the thick iron doors clash together. The entire cavern seems to shake and some pebbles break off from the rock face and rain down onto the platform like small hailstones.

  When I give the sword a hefty push and shove it back into the wall, the grinding of gears begins all over again and the doors start to open again.

  There’s no way, I tell myself, that I’m going in there without my weapon. Scanning my surroundings, I try to devise a way to bypass the doors but also take my weapon with me. It seems everything that’s on this rock platform is all I have. I’m about to give up any hope of salvaging the Sword of Runes and head inside wh
en I glance back at a piece of frayed rope of the rope bridge.

  “The rope!” I say, snapping my fingers in excited realization. I rush over to the bridge and pull up as much rope as I can. Then, using I small knife I keep tucked in my boot, I cut the planks away from the rope.

  I gather up the rope into a bundle in my arms and tie one end to the handle of the sword and swing the other end of the rope around the one of the massive stone bridge anchors that supported the suspension bridge.

  Next, having strung the rope around the stone bridge anchor, I pick up the end lying on the ground before me and drag it back to the wall. This forms a half-loop, and giving the rope a gentle tug, I make sure it’s taught. The path of the sword goes from the wall, around the pillar, and back to me.

  If I time it right, when I pull on my end of the rope, it will slide against the pillar, like a pully, thereby yanking the sword from the wall. Once the sword is free, then I will reel it back in, like a fishing line, and get it through the doors before they can clamp shut.

  With the heavy iron doors standing wide open, I give the rope some slack, and step through. Stringing the rope behind me, I turn and ready myself to give it a mighty tug. Pulling the rope taught with both hands, I lean back and pull on it as hard as I can, and wrench the sword from the wall.

  Just as I planned, the Sword of Runes slides back out of the slot on the wall and then falls to the stone platform with a clangor. The iron doors begin to swing shut again, and I immediately give the rope another fierce tug. Like a fishing line pulling taught with a fresh catch, I reel the sword back in to me as fast as I can. It passes through the doors just moments before they come crashing together with a thunderous clap.

  Relief washes over me as I pick up the sword. Untying the rope from the handle, I slide the Sword of Runes back into place on my back and turn to see a lush, green valley spread out before me. At the heart of the valley is a giant garden maze.

  Although it is like day in this place, I cannot tell where the source of light is coming from, since overhead is nothing but jagged stalactites hanging like icicles from the roof of the massive cavern. A cool breeze laps at my glistening skin, wet with perspiration. I gaze out at the valley that dips down into a fertile crescent.

  If the lava falls were just the gateway to the Nether Realm, then this is but the foyer of an even greater, vaster reality that exists beyond the veil of the living.

  Even as I can clearly see the opposite end of the vast garden labyrinth, because of the crescent shape of the basin, the precise route of the maze is obscured by the bend and, consequently, the lines toward the middle compress, leaving only an indiscernible jumble.

  “What I wouldn’t give for the wind rush technique right now,” I say. But bypassing the maze isn’t an option, so I check my trepidation at the door and boldly head down the dirt trail to the arched entrance of the underground maze.

  In the distance, I hear the bellow of what can only be a giant bull, and I know that the minotaur has caught my scent. It will be hunting me as I work my way through the maze.

  “Dragon’s feet!” I curse. But as Master Kel always said, when you’re in a bind and your back is up against a wall, the only direction you can go is forward. And that’s exactly what I intend to do.

  “And what if something stands in your way?” I ask aloud, repeating the same conversation to myself that I had with Master Kel so long ago. Then, in my gruff old man voice, I do my best Master Kel impersonation and answer my own question, “Then you must find a way around it, young apprentice.”

  Indeed, I think to myself. The only thing is, it’s a lot easier said than done. That much I’m certain of. As for the minotaur, he’s the least of my worries. If rumors are true, this garden will have living vines with poisonous barbs, the mists of confusion which cause you to forget your purpose and languish in the garden until the minotaur can find you, and even a deadly Sylek python or two. If I don’t get lost, confused, entangled, and eaten first, then, and only then, can the minotaur have his fun with me.

  Legend has it that the minotaur is mad with rage. As the story goes, the minotaur used to be a beautiful prince. He made a deal with Vulcanus to make him the strongest warrior alive, so that he could lay waste to all those who opposed him. Vulcanus gladly accepted the deal in exchange for the prince’s eternal soul. However, what Vulcanus neglected to inform the prince was that in so gaining great power, he would be transformed into a hideous beast. Half man, half bull. Realizing he was on the losing end of the deal, the prince went mad with rage.

  As the years went by the minotaur was hunted all across the realms, hounded at every turn, destined to never find peace—which only compounded his rage. Until, one day, a noble king arose and promised to rid the realms of the terrible beast once and for all.

  Upon capturing the minotaur, however, the great king looked upon the wretched beast and pitied it. In a show of mercy, instead of killing the creature, the king built a giant maze and banished the minotaur there to live out the rest of his days.

  Of course, I’d always thought it was just a myth. But, then again, I thought that being in love with two women simultaneously was impossible too, until just a few days ago.

  Approaching the finely sculpted green hedge that demarcates the entrance, I look up at the eight-foot-tall, finely trimmed shrubs so thick and dense it is impossible to pass through them, and wonder to myself who cultivates and cares for the garden’s upkeep? Maybe it’s the minotaur. I take a deep breath and then, with nothing but the courage of my heart and the sword upon my back, I enter the winding, twisting, bent, and curling labyrinth.

  THE DRAGON BLADE CYCLE

  VALANDRA

  PART III

  25

  My heart pounds so fast I fear it will tear out of my heaving chest. It didn’t take long for the minotaur to discover me dilly-dallying amongst the flowers and identical bird fountains which litter the garden maze. And now it stalks me. Keeping ahead of it is becoming more of a challenge as the maze progressively gets more and more confusing.

  I’ve already had to turn back twice due to the mists of confusion. I ran across the living vines with poison tipped barbs once, but managed to cut my way through them without any serious incident. But then I took a wrong turn and came face-to-face with the beast itself—the minotaur.

  His eyes glowed red with fury. His nose was pierced with a giant brass ring. He threw his arms wide and bellowed, snorted, and stomped. With only a loincloth to cover itself, the beast aimed its horns and charged me. Without hesitation, I took off running in the opposite direction as fast as I could.

  Now it is but several meters behind me and, I fear, it’s gaining on me. At this distance, I can practically feel it breathing down my neck.

  Not only is the minotaur as strong as an ox, but it can gallop like a bull charging at full speed. Not much can outrun such a beast, and my lungs are already burning with fatigue. My legs ache with adrenaline-fueled stress as I push myself to my limits.

  I hook a left around a sharp corner only to find a dead end. I quickly turn on my heels and dash back the other way, passing by the opening I’d just come through.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see the minotaur about fifty meters away. I feel like cursing aloud, but right now every little breath counts. Calming myself, I focus on my breathing and pick up my pace.

  Soon enough, I shoot out into a large open area. It’s a massive garden with benches, cherry trees, and a small pond in the center. In fact, by the looks of it, I’ve found the center of the maze.

  I spin around and glance at all the exits that lead back into the maze. There are eight avenues I could take, but only one of them will take me to where I want to go. The rest, most assuredly, simply loop back around to this same spot.

  And if I hadn’t been running for so long, what ultimately took six hours to end up here would have taken much longer. If I had to guess, I would say eight to ten hours. Ten hours for each of the eight possible paths through the maze. That mea
ns, at minimum, without any further hang-ups, it would take over eighty hours to find the end of the maze. Time I simply do not have. Not with a giant, blood-thirsty monster treading my heels at every turn.

  “That does it,” I say, reaching back and drawing out the Sword of Runes. “If a fight is what you want…then a fight is what you’re going to get.”

  I move to the center of the garden and face the portal I just exited. I force myself to take deep breaths as I prepare myself to do battle with the minotaur. In under a minute the beast appears in the opening, huffing and puffing from the exertion of having to chase its prey.

  Upon seeing me stand my ground, it slows to a walk, and then stops just beyond the entrance of the garden. It gazes out of its bulbous red eyes at me, and I know it’s gauging how much of a threat I pose to it. It then snorts and huffs out of its nostrils.

  “I should warn you, minotaur. I am a master of the blade. It would be unwise to pick a fight with me. I could easily cut you down where you stand. But since I am not in the habit of killing innocent creatures, I shall let you go if, and only if, you tell me which of these paths leads to the exit.”

  The minotaur cocks its head curiously as I speak. Once I’ve said my piece, it throws its head back and bellows with laughter.

  Lowering his gaze again, his blood-red eyes settle on my blue ones, and he bleats, “Foolish girl, I don’t know who you think you are, but I intend to break your twig-like neck in my powerful hands and then suck the meat from your bones.”

  “Very scary,” I say sarcastically. “But I should warn you. If you so much as try it, I shall cut off your head and mount it on that tree for all to see. Then I shall set fire to this garden of yours and render it nothing but ash.”