“Fine, fine, ye all have yer fun,” Granite grumbled. “Just remember, dwarves hold grudges fer a long, long time.” The dead kytes proved to be an excellent source of arrows. Phaer estimated he had at least broken even and perhaps gained a few as a result of this encounter. The creatures had also picked up some gold, though it wasn't clear whether they understood its value or were just attracted to the shiny metal.
A little way further on, the tunnel opened up into a large chamber and no sooner had they set foot in the centre of the chamber than a translucent figure of a female half ogre appeared before them. She seemed distraught, so Calandra stepped forward and spoke to the ghost in compassion.
“What is it, child?” she asked, gently. “Why have you not crossed over into the loving embrace of our Father of Light?”
The ghost replied. “Me no go. My mate, me lose mate.” With that, the ghost floated across the chamber, as if searching for something, wringing her hands and sobbing. There seemed to be nothing they could do for this individual, so they turned their attention to the two sets of steps, one going up, the other going down. A magic mouth in the wall identified the former as an emergency exit, while the other went down to the deepest level of the mine.
After a quick consultation, the group decided to take the exit and rest up so that they could search the deeper level fully healed and restored. From any perspective, this was a wise tactical decision. Time was of the essence, but they would not help Mystaya by getting themselves killed because they were too spent to defend themselves.
This emergency exit brought them out on top of the small rocky mountain into which the mine had been blasted and carved. There the old man in golden robes and battered wizard's hat that Phaer had met earlier, greeted them. He immediately shook the half-elf's hand, warmly.
“Well it's jolly good to see you again, sonny. Safe and well.” He embraced the startled and confused ranger. Then the old man broke away and clouted Phaer's right ear.
“Ow!”
“That's for running off like that before I had a chance to talk to you. All that worry isn't good for someone at my age.” He wagged his finger, sternly. “Do you know this - ah individual?” Eilidh wondered. So Phaer recounted the incident with the sea serpent. Taka backed him up, revealing that she had observed the whole exchange from underwater, which was why she’d gone into the mine to warn them.
“What are you doing here, Old One?” Eilidh asked, suspiciously.
“Doing?” he looked confused. “Why I'm talking to you youngsters.”
“No, I mean why did you come to Marina Fells in the first place?”
“Oh that!”
“Yes, that.”
“You really want to know, do you?”
“Yes, I really want to know.”
“Ah, well that could be a problem.”
“Really? Why is that?”
“Well, you see, the thing is....”
“The thing is what, Old One?”
He blushed and turned away, mumbling something.
Phaer was the only one to hear the answer and he hid a smile.
“I'm sorry, Old One? I'm afraid I didn't catch that.” Eilidh persisted.
“Look, I said I can't remember, alright?” the old man exclaimed. “The old memory isn't what it used to be it happens at my age you know!”
Eilidh took a deep breath. She didn’t have a lot of tolerance for people wasting her time, even if it wasn’t really the old man’s fault.
“I'm pretty sure I was sent here, if that helps,” the old man volunteered.
Eilidh brightened. “At last we're getting somewhere. Who by?”
“It's `By whom` young lady. You young people today use such sloppy grammar!” “Alright then. `By whom`?”
“Eh?” The old man's face had gone completely blank.
The Catalyst rolled her eyes. “You were sent here!”
“I was? How exciting! Who by?”
“By whom.”
“Don't contradict your elders. It's very rude!”
By now, the rest of the party were trying hard to suppress their laughter - none with much success.
“Do try to focus, Old One. Tell me who sent you here.”
“Tell me who sent you here, please,” he corrected.
“Alright. Tell me who sent you here, please.”
“Destiny.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Why, what have you done?”
“Nothing; I just don't understand what you said.” “Well, it's perfectly simple, young lady! Maybe you need to clean out your ears and engage your brain.” He tapped her head with his staff. “I was sent here by the wings of destiny, the wheel of fortune, the hand of fate, the something-orother of providence!”
Eilidh sighed and rubbed her aching temples. “OK, let's try a new tack. What is your name, Old One?”
“Artisho.”
“Bless you!” Toli volunteered. “Oh very droll!” said the old man, sarcastically. “It's not as if I've heard that thousands of times before...well, hundreds of times...well, dozens of times...more or less. Let me see, I think the first time I heard it was...yes, that’s right...and then there was....hmmm...”
The conversation went downhill rapidly from that point on until Eilidh gave up.
“Now you know why I didn't bother to mention him, Eilidh,” Phaer offered in that quiet voice that was starting to prickle the tiny hairs on the back of her neck every time he used it. She laid her hand gently on Phaer's arm, causing the half-elf to reflect that he was not generally comfortable with too much physical contact, but somehow with the Catalyst he didn't seem to mind. He got the impression that she wasn’t used to such contact, either, and was making a conscious effort to break out of her comfort zone. Well, if she could make such an effort, then he could, too.
Out in the hazy, early evening sunshine, Life regenerated and wounds were healed. The party were torn between making the most of the break, and an anxiety to save Princess Mystaya without delay. Loric invited Lady Hannah to scout ahead with him, but Eilidh refused to allow it, after they consulted her.
“Once we get down there, your plan has a lot of merit, but wait until then. There is too much magic flowing through that mine for the two of you to be cut off from us. For all we know, you could go down those steps only to find you can't get back up again. What do we do then? No. The time will come when we are required to take greater risks and believe me when that time comes I will not hold you back. We are not at that point yet. Not yet.”
So, they reached the compromise of catching what sleep they could that evening and heading back into the mine around midnight. Loric couldn't sleep, so he decided to take a look at poor Sara’s map. It was the first chance he’d had and he didn’t want to waste it. He would have gladly traded the information for Sara’s life back if he could. After all, he had intended it to be for her benefit as well as his own, but since that wasn’t possible, he was honour bound to take full advantage of what she had given him.
For a long time he had been searching for clues to something called the Penta Drauka quest. From what he had pieced together, it was a series of rituals or perhaps tests that were supposed to enhance a dragon’s abilities. There wasn’t much information out there, and what there was often seemed in conflict. It was only in the last century, as mortals measured time, that he truly seemed to be on the right track. Sara had been keen to explore and search for information for him, but in truth Loric’s motives had been about her, too. He had hoped that this specialist instruction, or whatever it may be, might help her to accept her dragon-self more.
Now, if the map was accurate, at last he had a rough location of one of the Elder Dragon’s lairs. It was not far away, as the dragon flew and Sara had labelled it with the words `Fire` and `1st` with a big ring around it. Some additional notes were obscured by blood stains, but he could just make out `Danger`…`-rago`…`-illed`…`monster`.
What were you trying to tell me, Sara? He wondered. Whatever danger
you were worried out, I’ll face it. I’m doing this for both of us. I only hope that I can pass the trials so your efforts weren’t in vain.
He was suddenly tempted to leave and embark on this quest that he had dreamed of for so long. Would Eilidh let me go? Not that she could really stop me, but I don’t want to leave like that. Surely, though, there are already enough people here to make sure that she gets the young princess back. Mind you, there is the issue of the thousand gold reward, which wouldn't be valid if I don't finish this.
He fancied he could almost feel the map calling to him, as if some strange, wonderful, vague magic were trying to draw him away, but he dismissed it as pure fantasy
No, my personal quest can wait, he decided, finally. It’s waited this long, after all. Another day or two won't make much difference. What is time to a dragon?
That decided, he sprouted his wings and spread them over the others. Thus, if anyone should look, they were perfectly camouflaged against the dark rock of the mine.
Chapter 20
Midnight arrived and the party gathered their things, ready to begin their final push to complete this rescue. Artisho had somehow managed to get himself accepted as part of the group. For some reason that nobody could put their finger on, it seemed the right thing to do. In fact, none of them could think of a single objection.
“Remind me,” he said, “why are we exploring this mine?”
Lady Hannah replied, “We art sworn to undertake the most noble and honourable quest to rescue the young Princess Mystaya of Shakaran who hath been kidnapped in a deed most foul.” “Rescuing a princess, eh? I once heard a story about a young man who was rescuing a princess...what was her name?...There was another young man...the princess was his sister, but he didn't know it at the time and their father was that dreadful man in black...heavy breathing...bad breath...sword made of light. What was the girl called? ...Pretty lass... It's right on the tip of my tongue... Princess Dreya? Maya? I'll get it in a minute...”
“We really have to get going now, Grandfather,” Calandra urged, gently.
“Hmmm? Oh yes, right.” “Wait a minute, Eilidh,” Taka said, intending to object that she didn’t seem to be giving Artisho the `if you leave, you die` ultimatum. But the old man glanced her way, just for a second as Eilidh turned to see what Taka wanted and suddenly it just didn’t seem important anymore.
“Yes?” the Catalyst prompted.
“Oh, nothing. Never mind.”
Eilidh looked puzzled for a second, and then dismissed it. “OK,” she said. “First off, we need some light. Who's got the lamp?”
Rochelle had it, but when she tried to light it, it sputtered and died, out of oil.
"Magical light it is, then," Eilidh said. "Always more reliable. Toli? Would you like to do the honours?" she asked her friend. Before she could ans wer, Artisho butted in. “Oh please, allow me,” he volunteered. “Let an old man feel useful!” He cast a spell and a floating fiery bob appeared in mid-air. When he pointed to the mine entrance, however, the bob seemed to shake its `head` in defiance. The old man pointed again, more firmly. Same result.
“Now just you look here!” he scolded the light bob. “You're showing us both up and I won't have it, you hear me? You're my light bob, I'm your mage and you'll do as I say! Now get in there!”
The bob floated to the very mouth of the entrance, but at the last moment it flickered and flew to hide behind Artisho's hat, which began to smoulder slightly.
“What's wrong?” Toli asked the old man.
“It's a bit embarrassing, I'm afraid. You see this light bob I just conjured...”
“Yes?”
“Well, it turns out, the poor thing...quite tragic really, mustn't be too hard on the little fellow, it's not his fault...”
“What isn't?” Toli asked. “Artisho, tell me, what's going on? What's wrong with the light bob?”
The old man spread his hands helplessly, face blushing bright red. “He's afraid of the dark!”
The young hobbit was wide eyed with wonder, “Really? I never even imagined that was possible.” “Why not?” Bunny asked, stretching her hand out and coaxing the light bob to ho ver over her palm. “Magic is Life, after all, so why shouldn't magical creations like this light bob have feelings, too?” The Sumorityl moved her hand through the air around the bob, in a kind of stroking motion, cooing and making sweet noises to it. In moments, it was smouldering happily - perhaps its equivalent of a purr.
“What a fascinating concept,” the philosophical Rochelle pondered. “I really think you might be onto something there. A light bob afraid of the dark. Why, it raises all kinds of possibilities!”
“What is the matter with you all?” the ever-practical Eilidh demanded. “If the light bob goes down the mine, it won't bedark!”
“I know, I've tried to tell him that,” Artisho replied.
“And?”
“He doesn't believe me. I'm sorry, one of you will have to make our light.” After that delay, Toli used her own magic to make the walls around them glow, and the party moved out, back into the mine and the haunted chamber. They assembled themselves, and with Loric and Hannah taking point, they started down the stone steps to the lowest level of the Marina Fells mine.
The steps came out at a crossroads, and they decided the time had come to split up. Loric and Lady Hannah moved down the tunnel to the East, while Phaer and Bunny took off stealthily to the West and Eilidh led the others North. They agreed to explore for approximately half an hour before making their way back to the steps.
“Do not engage in battle unless you have no choice but to defend yourselves,” the Catalyst instructed.
“Thine orders art most sensible, Eilidh,” Hannah commended her. “Reconnaissance and co- ordination art ever important in situations such as this.”
* * * * * Phaer found that his pulse was starting to race, being so close to Bunny. He observed her every movement closely; his elven half insisting it was merely a critical, professional interest in the crossover of skills between ranger and thief. The interest of his hot human blood, meanwhile, was anything but professional. He had no real desire for her on any deep emotional or intellectual level, but he was definitely superficially attracted to the beautiful Sumorityl. He was grateful for the dim light, so she could not see his cheeks begin to flush.
For her part, Bunny was having a conflict of her own. She could practically feel the half-elf's blood pumping. What her companions did not know about her was that while she did not need to drink blood to survive, there were times when she was sorely tempted to drink anyway. Among vampires, half-elf blood was considered an extremely fine vintage. She wondered what it would really taste like...it had been so long she wasn’t sure she could remember. Blood was like a drug to her and she was an addict by the simple nature of her creation. While she found pure blood more addictive, any kind of blood was a potential trigger. She had learned to control her cravings and mostly she didn’t even notice them anymore, but to pretend they didn’t exist was to create an opening for her addiction to surface. She was almost certain that if she succumbed once more to the temptation, there would be no going back.
A voice inside her head was saying, Why fight it? Give in and have your freedom!
No! she argued with herself. I will resist. That kind of freedom is a lie!
When she had walked free from her father’s lab, into the world, she knew her father believed she would come back. He had developed certain `treatments` that according to him, she needed.
I will survive without them! she vowed. She had hooked up with a group of vampires for a while, shortly after her escape, living as they did. She hated it. She hated being driven to drink blood whereas they revelled in it. When she left them, they were convinced she would come back for the blood.
I will survive without it! she swore. Then in Avidon she discovered sex and the power it gave her to resist. Madam Donna's had been perfect for her for a while, but she knew that all she’d been doing was using sex as
a substitute drug. It didn’t actually solve the problem. Doubtless Madam Donna expected her to go crawling back, too. Everybody in her life had seemed to think she was dependent on them, and for a while she had been in each case. So, having escaped from her father’s cage, she had always found ways to cage herself.
But in Avidon, she’d never really seen anything resembling a better life on offer. Until Eilidh stumbled into her life by mistake.
These people didn’t think she was dependant on them. If anything, they were depending on her. That was new. But the pull of blood was so tempting.
I will survive without it! she repeated, silently, the words becoming a mantra. She wanted a life that other sentient races enjoyed and took for granted. Redemption, salvation...mostly from herself. She could seduce the half-elf if she wanted to – and she did want to. It would be so easy. They had time - no-one would miss them for an hour. She could take it slow, enjoy him– he would enjoy it, too. And then she could drain him. So easy…it would be so, so easy.
No! I won’t do it! I will not! She was among civilised people now. She, too, would be civilised. For the first time in her existence, she was starting to feel and understand some small stirrings of friendship from some of these people. No, her life of sexual pleasures and instant gratification was not freedom any more than her life as a vampire or her life as a laboratory animal in a cage. She had simply exchanged one kind of slavery for another.
I will survive and I will be free! she vowed. I will be ruled by my will, not my instinct.
And so she focused on the exploration and some healthy professional competition in stealth with the ranger. There were a couple of small battles - skirmishes really - that they could not avoid. They were over almost before the creatures even knew what had hit them. Phaer would attack from long range, and while their attentions were focussed on him, Bunny would sneak up and attack from behind. Swift, silent and deadly. They made a good team.
* * * * * Meanwhile, the Knight and obsidian dragon-warrior were travelling in the opposite direction. They made no attempt at stealth. Loric's footsteps rang out clearly and even in the dim light, Hannah's armour shone softly. Loric had his weapon constantly to hand, while Hannah kept hers sheathed until danger presented itself. They, too, were forced to engage in battle a couple of times, although most of their would-be enemies fled at the mere sight of the two imposing warriors. Loric had a wild and ferocious fighting style, while Lady Hannah never failed to pause to offer a salute before engaging in a controlled, compact set of moves. Every sword stroke was made to count, no energy wasted, deflecting enemy blows onto shield or armour rather than trying to dodge them.
Chosen (Majaos Book 1) Page 22
