Jatu growled and turned to Alamar. “Durlok will know we have been here regardless, Mage, for you tampered with his door, disarmed his trap.”
“Bah!” snorted Alamar. “That is easily set back to the way it was. Nothing that I have done will alert Durlok that he is found.”
In dismay, Aravan looked upon the weeping Pysk. After a moment he said, “We will counsel after the search. Bokar, form up another squad for Lady Aylis. Too, set a sentry at the lookout post Lady Jinnarin found. I would not have Durlok surprise us.”
“Neither would I, Captain,” gritted the armsmaster. “That is why I sent Arka and Dett to the lookout post—they should be there by now.” As Aravan shrugged and faintly smiled, Bokar turned to Kelek. “Lead Lady Aylis’s squad. I will go with Mage Alamar.” In a trice a second squad was formed, and the search for hidden doors begun, Aylis and Aravan going with one squad toward the distant quay, Alamar with the other beginning at this end of the long hallway. Soon a quietness fell upon the crystal chamber, and with tears running down her face, Jinnarin sat beside her Farrix and held the sleeper’s hand.
After a while Brekka came to the dais and stood for a moment with Jatu. The black Man looked up and around at the chamber, then asked the Dwarf, “Tell me Brekka, have you ever seen a place as this?”
Slowly Brekka shook his head. “The Loremasters tell of crystal caverns, but I had never seen such until now. In our delving, we Châkka at times discover the miniature of this—hollow stones with crystals clinging to the interior walls…kalite, lamethyk, kwarc, and other such. But compared to this, those hollow stones are small—I have found several myself—whereas this cavern is enormous.”
Of a sudden Brekka’s jaw clenched in anger. “But this cavern has been defiled. Look at the floor—mutilated. We Châkka would have made this into a place of wonder, yet the despoiling Grg have ravaged it nearly beyond redemption. And Durlok has carven foul runes within the living stone itself. For this alone I would slay him.”
Jatu stroked his chin. “Among your Kind, such is a crime?”
Brekka nodded. “Elwydd gave us the under-Mountain realms to husband. We honor Her and strive to make them into domains even She would find worthy. To despoil the living stone is to slur Her name, and we would exact retribution for such.”
“But Brekka, sometimes my People. Mankind, sometimes we destroy the stone—mines and the like.”
Brekka turned to Jatu. “Mining is an honorable calling. To extract precious metals and rare gemstones from raw earth, ores, rock, or to delve for tin and iron and copper and such, or to quarry stone—common or semiprecious—there is nothing wrong with such. It is the wanton destruction of irreplaceable beauty which constitutes the crime…that or unjustified destruction of life.”
“Oh, I see.”
The two fell silent, but after a moment a soft voice came from behind them, Jinnarin saying, “Evil. It is evil which must be destroyed.” She looked down at Farrix. “For this, Durlok must die.”
“Aye,” gritted Brekka, striking a fist into palm.
Jatu growled, “But only after we force him to waken the sleeper.”
Jinnarin sighed, then nodded.
They looked down upon Farrix, the Pysk lying motionless, not seeming to breathe, apparently dead. In that moment beneath their lids his eyes began switching rapidly back and forth. “He dreams,” said Jinnarin.
“The sending, do you think?” asked Jatu.
Jinnarin shrugged. “Perhaps. I just wish—” Suddenly Jinnarin’s eyes flew wide, and she leapt to her feet. “Jatu! That’s it! I know how—where’s Aylis? Brekka, where is Aylis?”
Brekka gestured at the doorway leading toward the quay, but before he could say aught, “Rux!” Jinnarin shrieked, waking the fox from his doze, the animal leaping to his feet. Springing to Rux’s back, “Away!” she cried. “Find Aylis!”
Down from the altar sprang the fox, hitting the crystal floor running, flying toward the exit. “Jinnarin, wait!” called Jatu, starting after, but she paid him no heed, as out the doorway and into the crystal-laden passage she sped.
As the ocean swells hollowly boomed against the walls of the understone lagoon, “Visus,” murmured Aylis, her gaze sweeping all about the great grotto. After a moment she turned to Aravan and Kelek and shook her head and muttered, “Nothing.” Lightly concentrating to maintain her magesight, she stepped into the passage leading inward from the landing, and down this way she trod among the squad of Dwarves, Aravan at her side, the seeress intently scanning the walls as she went. Soon they came to the narrow fissure on the left, the one leading to the sentry post, and into this strait they went, Kelek and a handful going before her, Aravan and the others following after, the Dwarves now and again having to turn sideways in the crevice, their shoulders wider than some places along the slot.
And even as they pressed forward, Aylis’s mind gnawed at the problem of Farrix and Durlok, as a dog would worry a bone. Still, she maintained her
At last they came to the end of the cleft, where Arka and Dett stood ward, daylight yet shining through the narrow slot in the wall of the tiny sentry chamber, now crowded with Dwarves shuffling about to get out of Aylis’s way.
“The slot, too, is covered by illusion,” she muttered. “I would think that from the outside it appears to be stone.” Looking out and glancing up, she said, “Ah, it is up against the overhang of the ledge where I could not see it, and that’s why I did not find it with my
Pulling back, her gaze darted about the small chamber, crystal glittering in the daylight. Ah, now I do see. This is where Jinnarin said might be the place she stands in the sending. Aylis turned and looked back out over the sea. Of a sudden, her eyes widened as an unexpected thought burst upon her consciousness, the power of it such that she lost her concentration. Whirling toward the passage, she slapped a palm against her forehead and cried, “Adon, how stupid! I know a way to try!”
“Try what?”
Even though she stood next to Aravan she did not hear his words, lost as she was in her sudden illumination. Urgency filled her voice. “I must get to Jinnarin.” And she plunged through the press of Dwarves and back into the cleft crying, “Out of my way,” to the warriors inadvertently barring her path, the seeress struggling to get past.
“Go before her!” shouted Kelek, and the Dwarves blocking the slot turned and started back toward the main passage, Aylis calling out and spurring them to swiftness.
Down the cleft they pressed, moving now in haste, feet clattering, armor jingling, Aravan and Kelek and a handful of Dwarves trailing after. They had rushed nearly back to the entrance to the fissure, when above the chinging of mail and slap of feet and the sound of their own breathing, from ahead they heard the barking of a fox and Jinnarin crying out, “Aylis, Aylis, I know, I know, I know how.” And running toward them came Rux and the Pysk, the fox with his nose to the floor following the scent of the seeress.
The Dwarven warriors in the lead skidded to a halt, those coming after jostling into one another at the sudden stop, Aylis among these. Rux, too, slid to a halt, and Jinnarin leapt from his back and ran weaving through the press until she came to Aylis. And her whole face lit up at the sight of the seeress, as did Aylis’s own face. And the moment they sighted one another, Dreamwalk! they simultaneously cried.
Jinnarin stood on the altar and looked down at Farrix, while Aylis argued with her father.
“Daughter, are you forgetting that Aravan’s amulet runs chill? The stone detects the antipathy between Aravan’s essence and that of a born foe…which is why it runs cold at the vile creatures from Neddra, but gives no hint of a Human enemy. Heed me, Daughter, there is something evil in this casting which entraps Farrix.”
“The stone detects peril, Father, not necessarily evil. And we already know that peril lies within the sending. Yet can we find Farrix in his dream, we ca
n talk to him, cause him to become aware that he is dreaming, and let him take control and awaken himself, breaking the spell. For such a gain we will risk the peril.”
Alamar nodded then scowled. “Last time, you brought a green monster back with you.”
“Tentacles, Father, tentacles only. And they were chopped off when we closed the bridge.”
“But what if something horrible follows you again? Something worse. Something which doesn’t get chopped off.”
Aylis sighed. “There are hazards all about, Father. Yet I think that walking Farrix’s dream is the least risky chance of all. I do not think I have the knowledge or the skill to dispel the casting laid upon him by Durlok. But should I try, then both Farrix and I are at peril—and death or disaster lies along that route. And our chances of capturing Durlok and forcing him to lift the spell—well, who can assess such? Not I. Besides, Durlok may do something even more evil should we give him an opportunity to cast a spell—whether or no it be on Farrix, or on us all instead. And we cannot move Farrix to let the Masters at Rwn lift the spell. And I think that Farrix will not spontaneously awaken himself, removing the casting. No, Father, I think that this is our best chance to lift this foul curse that lies on Jinnarin’s mate.”
Alamar growled, “Knowing Durlok, Daughter, this is like to be a trap of his. There was a trap on the doorway, you know. But just what kind of trap he may have laid on Farrix, well, I don’t know. Yet this I do know, the spell is linked to someone or something, but who or what I cannot say. And to disturb that link…well, it just might bring on even more trouble.”
Aylis kissed her sire on the cheek and grinned. “We will be most wary, Father. If there is a trap and we are successful, then you and I will both have defeated him, father and daughter alike.”
A faint smile flickered over Alamar’s face, but then he sighed and said, “Of course waking Farrix will mean that Durlok is likely to slip through our fingers again.”
Jinnarin rounded on Alamar. “I don’t care what happens to Durlok! We set out to find Farrix and rescue him if need be, and we have done so—found him that is. But his rescue yet lies before us. And you are sworn, Alamar. You are sworn. Now leave us be! Your battle with Durlok can wait! You can do him in the eye some other time.”
Alamar ground his teeth in ire, then spun on his heel. “Bokar, get the squad together. There’s walls and halls and rooms yet to examine for secret doors.”
Aylis watched her father leave, the Mage to use his
Jinnarin sighed. “You’re probably right, Aylis. It’s just that we’ve come such a long way to find Farrix, and now that we’ve done so…well, I just want him back.”
“I know, Jinnarin. I know. And given that Fortune turns her smiling face our way, we will have him with us shortly.”
Jinnarin looked up and about at the room. “This light, Aylis, is there some way we can at least dampen it?”
“My father can, of that I am certain.”
“Well and good then, for I have some candles.” Jinnarin fished through one of the packs Rux had borne and drew out three tapers, each one nearly as tall as she.
Aylis gestured at the floor beside the altar. “When my father gets back and we begin, I will sit down here. You sit beside Farrix and when he starts to dream, signal me.”
As Aylis looked for a smooth place, of a sudden she cocked her head this way and that and stared at the roughly adzed crystal. Then she glanced up at the walls. “Hmm. Jinnarin, when I walked the sending with Ontah, we found ourselves flanking you in a fine crystal castle. But then the dream changed, the walls of the chamber becoming less finished, the floor rougher, as if we were being drawn into another dream. I note that here the floor is rough, the walls unfinished.”
Jinnarin’s face fell as she thought of Ontah—of White Owl—who had been killed by the very same dream they would perhaps walk once again, the Pysk remembering the look of terror frozen upon the slain elder’s face. She shook her head to dispel the horrid vision, and then looked about the room and finally at Aylis. “Yes, the walls and floor are rough, unfinished.” Then Jinnarin blenched. “It changed as the dreadful fear came upon us. What does it mean, Aylis?”
Aylis took a deep breath and then let it out. “I think it’s just one more indication that the sending comes from here.”
“From Farrix,” said Jinnarin.
Aylis looked at the enspelled sleeper. “Aye, from Farrix.”
The Pysk set her bow and quiver of arrows at Farrix’s side. Taking a deep breath she said, “Well, come what may, I’m ready.”
“So am I,” said Aylis.
A time passed, and Alamar at last came back into the temple, Aravan and Bokar with him.
“Nothing,” said the eld Mage. “No doors, panels, or anything else hidden by a casting.”
“Your warriors yet tap the walls,” said Aravan to Bokar, gesturing, “both back there and toward the quay. Mayhap they will find a hidden door.”
“Unlikely, Captain,” responded Bokar. “If their crafting is at all worthy, we will find nought. Even so, we are looking for seams and splits, cracked crystals, hollow soundings—anything that would reveal a door, a hidden hall.”
Alamar strode ‘round the crystal chamber, a look of concentration on his face. At last he called out, “Nothing here as well, Bokar. You can stop worrying about a secret Troll hole.”
Bokar shook his head and gritted, “You jape me, Mage Alamar. Yet Trolls are nothing to gibe about. They are a terrible foe, their skins like stone, turning blades aside. Not even a crossbow bolt will penetrate, except in the eye or ear, and perhaps the throat, and that a shot guided by Fortune’s hand. And twenty-eight of such”—Bokar stabbed a finger in the direction of the Troll quarters—“would squash us like beetles under a heel.”
“Faugh!” Alamar dismissed the threat with a wave of his hand as he hobbled down toward the central dais. “Any Trolls come along, well, you just leave them to me.”
“Father,” Aylis said sharply, “Bokar is right. That many Trolls would be nearly unstoppable. I have not the training to thwart them, and although you do, you must remember your promise to me and not squander the
“All it would take is a bolt or two—”
“Father!”
Hissing in exasperation, Alamar clenched his jaw but remained silent otherwise. Aylis turned to Bokar. “Armsmaster, I would have you remove your warriors from this room, for Lady Jinnarin and I will need the chamber to be quiet to walk Farrix’s dream.”
“I would not leave you unwarded,” protested Bokar.
“Then leave one or two behind.”
Bokar shook his head. “One or two is not sufficient.”
“Fiddle-faddle!” exclaimed Alamar. “These caverns are deserted, Bokar. Where Durlok has gotten to, who can say? Regardless, if Aylis and Jinnarin need peace and quiet, then I say let be.”
“We will also need darkness, Father. Can you extinguish this blue light?”
“Ha!” barked the Mage, raising a hand, muttering, “Exstingue omnino,” and the chamber was plunged into total darkness.
“Father!” exclaimed Aylis.
The soft phosphorescent glow of a Dwarven lantern filled the chamber as Jatu raised the hood on the one he wore at his belt.
Jinnarin glanced at the lamp but still lighted one of her candles, and Jatu closed the lantern shield, the blue-green glow extinguished.
As the soft yellow light of the candle on the altar glittered and glimmered among the crystals, Aravan said, “Jatu, Bokar, Mage Alamar, and I will remain within the chamber while ye dreamwalk
, Lady Aylis, Lady Jinnarin. All others will aid in the search for hidden doors.”
Bokar cocked an eyebrow but said nothing, as Aylis murmured her agreement, adding, “Caution them to quietness should they have need to enter the chamber, Bokar.”
In the flickering flame of the candle on the crystal altar, Jinnarin sat cross-legged at Farrix’s side, her thoughts drifting, her mind in a state of light meditation. Down beside the carven block, Aylis sat on the rough-cut floor, her back against the mass, her mind too in meditation. Spaced at wide intervals in the deep shadows ‘round the chamber sat Bokar and Jatu and Aravan and Alamar—Bokar at the entrance to the hallway, Alamar at the opening leading to Durlok’s laboratory, with Jatu against the crystal wall across from Bokar and Aravan opposite Alamar. And there drifted on the air distant echoes of faint murmurings and soft tappings as Men and Dwarves searched afar for hidden doors.
A time passed, and after a long while Alamar quietly stood and stretched, his elderly muscles stiffly protesting. He motioned to Jatu and when the black Man came to him he whispered in his ear. Jatu nodded, and Alamar turned and left the chamber, heading into the laboratory. Jatu softly stepped to Bokar, murmuring something, then came on to where Aravan sat. Squatting, Jatu whispered, “Mage Alamar has gone to search through Durlok’s papers to see if he can deduce what the Black Mage is up to.”
Aravan nodded, then murmured, “Take station at his doorway then, where thou canst get to him quickly in case he needs help.”
“I had planned on that, Captain, for should aught happen then we in here may need Alamar’s aid as well.” Jatu rose and crept back to where Alamar had been sitting and positioned himself there.
And more time passed.
The candle had burned some halfway down when Farrix’s eyes began to twitch back and forth.
“
Voyage of the Fox Rider Page 43
