Magatai grunted. “A stupendous advantage! Why do you not employ the power now? We could sweep our enemies before us like dust upon the winds of the steppes.”
Ridmark shook his head. “I can only use it for a few minutes every twenty-four hours. Maybe ten minutes at the most. And when the power passes, it leaves me utterly exhausted, and I collapse for a few days. At least, it used to work that way.” He patted the bracer of blue metal on his right forearm. “Antenora forged this for me. It bears the brunt of some of the exhaustion. When the power of the Shield Knight passes, I don’t collapse.”
“That seems…unwieldly,” said Tamara. “Why does the sword have those limitations?”
“To keep the power from being abused,” said Ridmark. “There is something in the human heart that craves power, and it can twist a man’s mind and heart if he gives into it. The temptation to abuse power is sometimes overwhelming. I suppose it is strange to think of it, but the Maledicti must once have been normal children, no different from any others.” His eyes grew distant. Perhaps he was thinking about his wife cradling that nonexistent child. “But they listened too long to the lust for power, and they became what they are now.”
“As did Tarrabus Carhaine and the Enlightened of Incariel,” said Third. Ridmark nodded.
“Who are they?” said Tamara.
“Old enemies of mine,” said Ridmark. “Dead for a long time, now.”
“I wonder if my kindred were the same way in ancient days,” said Kyralion. “They came here to escape the urdmordar, but they settled near the Well of Storms in Cathair Animus. Perhaps if they had not come here, the Sovereign would not have followed them and forged the Seven Swords, and we would not now face the rise of the Kratomachar.”
“The…ah, Kratomachar?” said Tamara.
“It is what our Augurs and Lorekeepers call the New God,” said Kyralion. “We do not know what the New God is, but I wonder if it was somehow created by my kindred’s pursuit of power.”
“Perhaps,” said Ridmark.
“You speak wisdom,” said Magatai. “The pursuit of power is a dangerous one. Fortunately, Magatai is already excellent in all things, so he has no need to pursue power.”
“We should all be so fortunate,” said Ridmark in a dry voice. As ever, sarcasm shattered against the invincible shield of Magatai’s self-confidence. “We had better keep moving. Best not to give the Maledicti a stationary target.”
Tamara nodded, and they followed the Shield Knight deeper into the silent halls of Cathair Selenias.
###
They were attacked twice more as they moved deeper into the underground ruins.
Once the mist congealed into a group of dvargir warriors in black armor, and a few moments later a group of khaldjari attacked, their eyes glowing with white light, blades of granite-hard ice glittering in their hands. Ridmark and Third and Kyralion and the others made short work of both groups. It helped that Magatai’s skill as an archer lived up to his grandiloquent boasts and that Tamara wielded earth magic with deadly skill and power. She might have had a wildness and confidence in her nature that Tirdua had not shared, but Tamara had the power to back up that confidence.
Ridmark had feared that they would become lost within the ruins, but fortunately, the underground passages of the Tower of Nightmares proceeded in a more or less straight line. Kyralion pointed out the function of the various rooms as they passed. A vast pillared hall, similar to the one where they had fought Qazaldhar beneath Aenesium, would have been used for assemblies. Another hall had been used by the blacksmiths, and ancient forges stood cold and dark beneath a system of shafts that would have carried the smoke to the surface. Other rooms were barracks and an armory, though all the weapons and armor had been looted long ago.
A smaller room held stone shelves, and ancient books and scrolls rested on those shelves, the covers marked with characters similar to those on the reliefs.
“Oh,” said Antenora. “I would have liked to stop and read those.”
“I suppose I could take one with me when we are victorious,” said Ridmark.
“No, do not touch the shelves,” said Antenora. “They are warded. Likely that is why the books and scrolls have survived the centuries intact.”
A faint tremor went through her voice, which was always throaty, but it had been getting raspier in the last few moments.
“Are you all right?” said Ridmark.
“Yes,” said Antenora “However, the effort of maintaining this link is immense. The bracelet you carry bears some of the load, but it still requires a great deal of concentration.”
“Do you need to rest?” said Ridmark.
“Not yet,” said Antenora. “And if I break the link, it will be several hours before I have the strength to establish it again.” She took a long breath. Ridmark had never heard anyone breathing inside of his head before. “But the hour of crisis is now, and you need my assistance. I will maintain the spell as long as my strength allows.”
“Thank you,” said Ridmark.
“I am glad to fulfill my duty to the Keeper,” said Antenora. A flicker of anger entered her tone. “And for the dream to throw Joanna’s death in her face…that displeases me, Shield Knight.”
“I’m glad we agree,” said Ridmark.
“Magatai thinks it is strange,” said Magatai, “to overhear a conversation with only one person talking.”
“You think it’s strange?” said Ridmark with a glance at the Takai halfling. “You’re not the one hearing voices in your head.”
“To be precise, you are not actually hearing my voice,” said Antenora. “Rather, we are communicating telepathically across a magical spell. The mind simply interprets it as a voice as a means of making sense of the situation.”
“As you say,” said Ridmark, unwilling to continue the discussion. This was the sort of topic he usually left to Calliande.
At the far side of the gray elven library was another set of stairs descending deeper into the earth. The mist rippled and flowed across the broad stairs, and the veins of golden light pulsed upon the white walls. Ridmark watched the mist, braced for it to congeal into any foes. This was an ideal place for an ambush. Then again, Ridmark wasn’t sure that the Maledicti were in full control of the mist. Likely it reacted to the thoughts of anyone passing through it, and…
“There is a ward ahead, probably in a room at the bottom of the stairs,” said Antenora.
Ridmark stopped. “Antenora says there is a ward ahead. Where?”
“At the end of the stairs,” said Antenora. She paused. “I do not think it will harm you. It looks like a ward against magical attack. There is also a source of magical power within the room.”
“The source of power for the dream spell?” said Ridmark.
“No,” said Antenora. “It is powerful, but not nearly strong enough for that.”
Third took one step forward and stopped.
“What is it?” said Ridmark.
“Something is blocking my ability to travel,” said Third. “That is sometimes a side effect of powerful warding spells.”
Ridmark nodded. “Then let’s see why this room is warded. Be ready to fight.”
He led the way down the stairs. As he did, he noticed that the mist thinned away and vanished, though the golden veins remained shining upon the walls. A harsh white light came from the archway at the end of the stairs, and Ridmark came to a stop, looking into the large room beyond the arch.
“Whatever you do,” said Antenora, “do not step into that room.”
“Stay where you are,” said Ridmark.
The room beyond the stairs was large and square, perhaps one hundred and fifty feet long on each side. The harsh white light came from a massive lump of jagged, irregular crystal that hung from the ceiling. Ridmark was no wizard, but he still felt the thrum of magical power from the crystal, and some strange power in the air made the hair on his arms stand on end. The floor had been divided into hundreds of square tiles, each one abo
ut a yard across, and in the center of each tile glowed a symbol written in blue light.
“Yes, Magatai agrees with this counsel,” said Magatai.
“That crystal on the ceiling,” said Antenora. “It is a soulstone.”
“A soulstone?” said Ridmark, startled. The Stone Heart in Khald Tormen was about that size, and that had been the largest soulstone that Ridmark had ever seen. “It must be powerful.”
“It is large but crude,” said Antenora. “It could not empower a world gate or another complex spell, but I think it could serve as a reservoir of elemental power.”
“A soulstone?” said Tamara. “Like the crystals in your sword, Lord Ridmark?”
“Yes,” said Ridmark, a suspicion hardening in his mind. “And I think I’ve seen a trap of this nature before. Let me see.” He looked around and saw that some of the white stone in the wall was crumbling. He sheathed Oathshield, grasped a chunk of stone the size of his fist, and picked it up. “Stay where you are.”
“You are about to do something dramatic, I assume,” said Third.
“I really hope not,” said Ridmark, and he tossed the stone into the square room.
It landed on one of the tiles about a dozen yards away, and for a single heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the huge crystal overhead flashed, and a bolt of lightning screamed down and slammed into the chunk of stone. A thunderclap boomed through the ruins, a gale of hot air tugging at Ridmark’s hair and cloak, and the chunk of stone turned to smoking ash.
“Good God!” said Tamara, her staff flickering with purple light before she got her reaction under control.
“If the gray elves had such defenses as this, Magatai wonders why the gray elves bothered with the mist!”
“Probably easier to kill your foes when they’re asleep,” said Ridmark. “I have indeed seen a trap like this before. There will be a safe path through the room, marked on specific tiles. If we can find the path and use that to traverse the room, we’ll be safe.”
“And if we step wrongly?” said Tamara.
“Lightning,” said Ridmark. He glanced around the room. “Ah. You see there, and there? I would wager those ledges higher up the wall lead to hidden doors. The gray elves could have put archers or wizards there and rained down spells and arrows on any enemies trying to cross this room.”
“All while lightning bolts struck down their foes,” said Third.
“A good defense,” said Ridmark. “Kyralion, do you know what those symbols on the tiles are?”
“I do,” said Kyralion. “They are the alphabet employed by the Liberated.”
“An alphabet?” said Tamara. “Then we need to spell out a word to cross the room.”
“Aye,” said Ridmark. “It’s a password written in stone and magic.”
“With death the penalty for the wrong password,” said Third.
Ridmark nodded, thinking.
“Then our course is clear,” said Magatai. “We need simply to test the tiles until we find one near the arch that does not trigger a lightning bolt. Once we do, Kyralion can start making guesses as to the word that will serve as the password.”
“Agreed,” said Ridmark. “Keep watch behind me. And you might want to cover your ears. This is going to be loud.”
He gathered up more stones and methodically tossed them onto the tiles nearest the door, squeezing his eyes shut when he did to protect them from the brilliant glare of the lightning. Bolt after bolt of lightning thundered down, and soon the air in the passage seemed twice as hot as it had previously.
And every single tile beyond the archway triggered the blast of lightning.
“Then it is not a password,” said Third as Ridmark rubbed his forehead. His ears were ringing from the thunderclaps.
“It seems not,” said Ridmark. There had to be some way to disarm or bypass the trap.
“I have an idea,” said Kyralion.
“Aye?” said Ridmark.
“Perhaps it is a trick,” said Kyralion.
Ridmark frowned. “Explain.”
“As you said, those ledges upon the walls would have let the defenders attack anyone standing where we are now,” said Kyralion. “But what if the alphabet upon the tiles was simply a way to make the enemy delay? What if that was designed to distract from the real method of crossing the room?”
“That makes sense,” said Ridmark. “So, what is the proper way to cross the room?”
“One does not exist.”
Magatai grunted. “Magatai does not think that is helpful.”
“I failed to make myself clear,” said Kyralion. “The trap is not a mechanical device, but a magical one. I suspect a gray elf could cross the room in safety.”
“He may be right,” said Antenora into Ridmark’s thoughts. “The auras upon the tiles would be consistent with that kind of magic. For that matter, it is highly likely that Kyralion would be immune to the lightning bolts.”
“Antenora thinks you might be right,” said Ridmark, though he did not like where the logic was going.
“Then there is only one way to test it,” said Kyralion.
Third gave him a sharp look. “Are you sure about this?”
Kyralion met her gaze. “I believe so. I think I am correct, and if I am not, I am mostly immune to magic.” He took a long breath. “But even if I am wrong…it is worth the risk. Many innocent lives are at risk, yours among them, and your life is precious to…”
He fell silent, and a flicker of emotion went over Third’s face.
“Kyralion,” said Third, and she took a deep breath. “Good luck.”
“Thank you,” said Kyralion.
Before anyone could stop him, he turned and stepped onto the nearest tile. Ridmark braced himself for the lightning bolt.
Nothing happened.
Kyralion blinked his golden eyes and then stepped onto two more tiles.
Ridmark let out a long breath. It seemed that Kyralion had guessed right.
“Ha!” said Magatai. “Well done! You are a gray elf, so this place belongs to you by right.”
“According to the traditions of my people, I rather doubt that,” said Kyralion with a flicker of humor.
“Tell him to look in the archway on the far side of the room,” said Antenora. “Unless I miss my guess, he will find a smaller soulstone in a metal sconce against the wall. Removing the soulstone will disarm the magical trap.”
“Kyralion,” said Ridmark. “Antenora says to look for a smaller soulstone along the wall. If you remove that, it should disarm the trap.”
“I shall search for it,” said Kyralion, and he set off across the room. Ridmark watched as he strode beneath the huge crystal, and stopped at the archway on the far wall. Kyralion stared at the wall for a moment, then nodded to himself, reached out, and did something.
A low thrumming noise went through the chamber, and the glow from the crystal dimmed.
“I have removed the soulstone!” shouted Kyralion.
“Let me go first,” said Ridmark, raising Oathshield. “If we’re wrong, Oathshield should protect me from at least one of the lightning bolts.”
He took a deep breath, calling on Oathshield to shield him from magical attack, and stepped onto the first tile.
Nothing happened. Ridmark stepped on three more tiles, but no lightning bolts came.
“I believe it should be safe to cross,” said Antenora.
“Antenora says the trap is disarmed,” said Ridmark. “We can cross.”
The others followed him across the tiles.
“It is a pity that the warding spell blocked your traveling ability,” said Tamara to Third. “Otherwise you could have just traveled across the room and disarmed the trap.”
“Perhaps the architects of Cathair Selenias considered such a possibility,” said Third.
They rejoined Kyralion, who held a small soulstone that gave off a pale blue glow. He had taken it from a bronze-lined niche on the wall.
“What should I do with this?
” said Kyralion, lifting the soulstone.
“Keep it for now,” said Ridmark. “Perhaps we can lure the Maledicti in here.”
Though he doubted the enemy would be that gullible.
Kyralion tucked the blue soulstone into a pouch on his belt, and they continued deeper into the ruins.
Chapter 17: Survivor
“Something smells wrong,” said Magatai.
Tamara had to agree.
They had taken another spiraling stair deeper into the earth, and when they reached yet another corridor of white stone, the smell came to Tamara’s nose. The corridor looked little different from the ones they had already traversed, with the same web of golden veins upon the walls, the same thick gray mist swirling over the floor.
But it was colder down here, and a faint rotten smell colored the air.
“Yes,” said Ridmark. He looked back and forth down the corridor, Oathshield burning in his hand. “It does.”
“Is your sword burning…brighter?” said Tamara. She wasn’t sure, but she thought the white fire around the blue sword had begun to burn hotter.
“It is,” said Ridmark. “It’s reacting to creatures of dark magic nearby. And I recognize the smell.”
“You do?” said Tamara. She had been afraid of that.
“Urvaalgs,” said Ridmark. “Nothing else in the world smells like them. That mixture of musky fur and rotting meat.”
“We already fought urvaalgs and vanquished them,” said Magatai.
“Those were just illusions,” said Ridmark. “Dreams or phantasms or whatever. The real ones will be harder.”
“Can the Maledicti command urvaalgs?” said Tamara.
“They can,” said Kyralion, his voice grim with memory. “Qazaldhar had a pack of them under Aenesium, along with an urdhracos. It was a difficult fight.”
“Tamara,” said Ridmark, and she looked at the Shield Knight. “Your spell to sense the presence of enemies against the earth?” She nodded. “Better cast it. Urvaalgs can camouflage themselves so well they’re almost impossible to see.”
Sevenfold Sword: Shadow Page 25
