The Sleeping King

by Cindy Dees

  Will dived back into the chaos. Timing his attack carefully, he leaped close behind Cicero and snatched the elf’s quiver from his back. Cicero turned and took a vicious swing at him with his bow. It connected hard across Will’s back and nearly knocked him off his feet. But thankfully, his metal-ringed jerkin prevented the blow from doing any real harm. It stung like a stripe of fire, though.

  “This way, Cicero,” Will urged. “We can form a defensive line over there by Rosana and kill the dryads together.”

  Cicero nodded and darted to Rosana’s side. “Give me my arrows back.”

  Huh. Not a chance. He dived back into the fray and grabbed for Raina next. She was perhaps the most dangerous of them all, for she was completely unskilled with a sword and swung the one she was clumsily wielding in both hands completely unpredictably. She was ranting something now about mages in blue cloaks not getting her.

  The roots had noticed her and several small ones had wrapped around her left ankle and were twining into her hair. He waited until she’d about knocked herself off her feet with a huge roundhouse sword swing, and then jumped forward to pluck the weapon from her hands. He had to hack her free from the roots while she struggled, but he managed not to cut her to ribbons.

  “Come quick,” he ordered. “The mages will not find you over here.”

  He did not know how long his thin logic would hold up against the bizarre visions gripping his companions, but he desperately hoped it would be long enough to get them out of here and away from any new puffs of hallucinogenic dust from the mushrooms.

  He eyed Eben and Sha’Li doubtfully. Eben was every bit as skilled a fighter as he, and Sha’Li was not only strong and good with blades, but had that whole poison spit thing going. How was he to disarm either one of them? As he watched, though, Eben backed into a hanging thicket of roots that reacted sharply, whipping around his limbs, immobilizing his arms, and all but pulling his feet out from under him. The jann screamed and thrashed, but the harder he fought, the tighter the roots squeezed.

  “Stop fighting!” Will shouted.

  Right. The jann completely ignored him. The roots tightened so hard, though, that by the time Will reached him Eben was completely immobilized and gasping horribly for each breath. Using his dagger, Will slipped the narrow blade between Eben’s shirt and the biggest root constricting the jann’s chest. Will had to saw at it, but the razor-sharp blade eventually bit through the fibrous root and it fell away from the jann.

  It took a few minutes, but by using the sword he’d liberated from Raina he cut the jann free. In the meantime, Will had to duck behind Eben twice to avoid attacks from Sha’Li. Her claws actually raked aside several of the roots holding Eben, although Will highly doubted that was her intent.

  Eventually, Eben staggered clear of the mass of writhing root parts. He was starting to frown in confusion and stared around the dim passage as if he had no idea where he was. Grimly, Will turned his attention to the raging lizardman girl. One thing was for certain. He would never wish to face Sha’Li in combat. She was lightning fast and graceful as a deer as she fought her invisible demons, her claws flicking in and out among the roots so fast he could barely keep his gaze upon them.

  The roots thrashing around her were not able to gain any purchase on her because of those claws. What she saw in her mind Will did not know. But it clearly terrified Sha’Li, and she just as clearly believed herself to be fighting for her life. There was no way he was going to be able to subdue her.

  But thankfully, as he watched, her claws began to move less desperately, and she frowned around her.

  “Where went the—” She broke off, confused.

  “Hallucinations,” Will replied shortly.

  Sha’Li muttered something under her breath in hissing syllables that sounded suspiciously like curses. He turned to check on the others, and they were all looking around in confusion and embarrassment.

  “Well, that was fun,” Cicero remarked sarcastically. “My arrows?”

  “Are you yourself?” Will asked cautiously.

  The kindari merely pulled a disgusted face and stuck out his hand. Yup, Cicero was back to being his usual uncommunicative self.

  “Are we all well?” Will asked.

  Rosana looked like breathing was painful, and Raina was holding her left foot so the toe just touched the ground. Eben looked a little worse for wear, but all in all, they were all alive and ambulatory. It could have been worse. He held Rosana’s dagger out to her and she took it wordlessly.

  “Shall we continue?” he murmured.

  With deep breaths all around and some resettling of armor and weapons, the group nodded. It went without saying that they would not touch any more of the glowing mushrooms, which continued to grow thickly upon the walls. As for the hanging roots, they avoided touching the things as much as possible. When it was absolutely necessary, Will gently draped roots back and away from their path with the tip of his staff, moving slowly and as nonthreateningly as possible in the process. Only one root attacked him, and it was his fault. He’d gotten careless and flipped the small root aside too fast. It whipped back and struck him across the face, leaving a thin, bloody line across his right cheek.

  All the roots nearby stirred, as if interested in the smell of blood. But Rosana wiped off his cheek quickly and, pulling a little tin from her pouch, smeared a salve on it to stop the bleeding. The rustling roots subsided.

  They eased forward cautiously for what seemed like an hour but was probably no more than a few minutes, this time with Will in the lead. He stopped and reported over his shoulder, “There’s a chamber ahead. Big. Lots of roots. I can’t see all the way across it. More mushrooms on the walls, so there’s light to see by.”

  Very carefully, he stepped out into the space. It felt enormous after the tight confines of the tunnel. His companions joined him, staring as one into the massive cave, its ceiling lost in the darkness overhead.

  Although the space was clearly large, it was choked with roots hanging down, some as thick as pillars and appearing to support the rough roof of the chamber like great, wooden columns. Other roots were smaller, mayhap the diameter of his arm. They dangled snake-like, writhing very faintly, hanging thickly enough that he could not see more than thirty or forty feet ahead.

  He took several cautious steps forward. And that was when he saw the bodies tucked in among the roots. Dozens of them in various stages of decay. Orcs. Warriors in full battle dress and shamans decked out with bones and claws and teeth in their dead, dry hair and around their skeletal necks. The corpses seemed oddly deformed, even for orcs.

  He looked closer and spied tree roots growing around and through the skeletons. Some roots appeared to embrace the skeletons, while others pierced right through rib cages and eye sockets. Some of the most decayed skeletons appeared nearly engulfed in sarcophagi of thick roots, while the newer bodies with flesh still clinging to them were only lightly gripped in twists of vining roots.

  “Are they safe to touch?” Raina murmured as the dead stared silently at them.

  “Let us not find out what traps the Boki have laid among their dead,” Eben declared.

  Will examined the roots more closely. In the faintly green light they looked chocolate brown, but he suspected in stronger light they would be the same dark, bloodred color as the tree above. The roots were peppered with thorns, too, albeit smaller than those protecting the tree aboveground.

  Raina murmured, “There’s got to be more to this place than that passage and some bodies. Why else all the fuss about keeping this cave secret?”

  The group crept forward into the chamber, gently pushing aside hanging roots and slipping around the larger ones anchored to the floor. He didn’t know who bumped what first, but there was a faint rattle of armor as if someone had jostled the corpse of a Boki warrior. It was followed immediately by an odd noise, like a puff of air sharply expelled.

  “Oww!” Sha’Li yelped.

  He turned fast, staff in hand, and was sta
rtled to see a trio of small barbs sticking out of Sha’Li’s upper arm. The barbs looked like wooden needles, maybe the length of his finger.

  “That cursed root shot thorns at me!” Sha’Li exclaimed. She yanked the barbs free of her tough skin and threw them down in disgust. Cicero knelt and picked up one of the thorns gingerly to examine it. He lifted it to his nose and frowned.

  Eben commented wryly, “At least we know now what happens when you disturb the dead.”

  Raina was looking around the jungle of roots thoughtfully. If he’d learned nothing else about her, it was to be worried when she waxed thoughtful.

  “What?” he asked her cautiously.

  “Which one of these bodies do you suppose is Gir’Ok?”

  “Look for the oldest one of the bunch, the most covered in roots, and that’ll be him, I imagine. Why does it matter?” Will asked.

  “Balthazar said Gir’Ok was a contemporary of our ancient king’s, right?”

  “Aye.”

  “If I were going to hide a clue about how to find the Sleeping King in here, I would put it with the body of one who knew that king. That way I could find it again.”

  “You make my head ache with the things you think about!” Will retorted.

  Cicero piped up, “But she does have a point. Are we to wander around in here until these cursed roots crush us or shoot us dead with poison thorns?”

  “Why think you those be poison?” Sha’Li asked quickly.

  “Smell this.” Cicero thrust the thorn he held under her nose and the lizardman girl pulled back sharply.

  “Poisoned, it is,” Sha’Li declared.

  “Good thing your scaled hide is so tough and those barbs didn’t penetrate your flesh,” Cicero commented.

  Rosana pointed off to their left. “That one over there looks old.”

  Eben added, “But the one just beyond it has an older type of sword with it. See that curve in the blade? Ancient smiths made swords thus. Your orc has a straight-edged blade.”

  “Fine!” Rosana snapped. “You find the oldest, deadest, most root infested orc corpse in the place. I’m going to sit down and smell the daisies.”

  Will grinned reluctantly at her waspish humor. They all were feeling the strain. “Let’s spread out a bit and have a look around. I should think this Gir’Ok fellow’s body was elaborately clothed for his burial.”

  Raina laughed without humor. “They’re all old and elaborately clothed to me. Why don’t you experts in weaponry search while I try to find any other clues that might be here?”

  The group spread out, moving gingerly into the giant chamber. They slipped sideways among the tightly packed roots, and Will silently prayed that it would not come to a fight in here. His staff would be less than useless in these tight confines.

  In a few places, Will came across roots that had been tied back to form openings in the curtain of growth. He slipped through them, inspecting body after body. The place smelled of worms and decay. And death—musty and repellent. The chamber was maze-like, and it was easy to get turned around. He fancied a person might get lost in here and die of thirst before they ever found their way out.

  He did note that none of the dead thanes bore Bloodthorn clubs. Mayhap those were too valuable to bury with the dead and were instead passed down to living thanes.

  “Over here!” Cicero called out eventually. “I may have found something.”

  Will slowly worked his way across the chamber to the sound of Cicero’s voice. The corpses in this section of the tomb were all no more than skeletons barely recognizable within tangles of heavy roots. Definitely old.

  He was last to join the others, who stood before a large corpse. The rotting remains of a tooled leather breastplate were covered in row after row of ancient blazons. One of them, in the center of the corpse’s chest, was made of crystal that sparkled and winked as if lit from within.

  “That’s a paxan blazon,” Cicero murmured, pointing at the brightly shining crystal. “Where would some orc come into possession of that and furthermore wear it with pride?”

  Cicero was right. This was no common Boki warrior.

  Upon the skeletal brow of this orc was a circlet bearing a large, cabochon gem with an eight-pointed star around it. No other orc body in this place wore anything of the like.

  Will reached out gingerly to touch the gem and the disk on his chest burned fiercely in response. He staggered back from the circlet, gasping in agony.

  “Do you ail?” Rosana asked in quick concern.

  “You mean more than the usual dying bit?” he responded dryly. “I think Bloodroot recognizes this corpse.”

  Eben said, “Does that mean we’ve found Gir’Ok?”

  Cicero asked reflectively, “What is his message for us about the Sleeping King, then?”

  The group circled slowly around the ancient orc’s resting place. The roots were especially thick around this skeleton, growing toward it as if feeding hungrily upon its essence. In addition to the circlet on his brow, a pile of tribute at his feet included plates, goblets, jewelry, and rotted chests full of ancient coins.

  Raina murmured, “Amazing that none of this treasure has been touched over the centuries.”

  “Kill anyone who touched it those cursed roots would,” Sha’Li grumbled, sounding thoroughly disgruntled.

  Will grinned at her chagrin.

  Raina murmured, thinking aloud, “A clue to the Sleeping King would not be obvious. It would be hidden. Obscured in some way.” She stepped right up next to Gir’Ok’s remains to study them closely.

  Frankly, Will found the way the tree roots grew through the body’s skull and chest cavity ghoulish.

  “His hand!” Raina exclaimed suddenly.

  Will jumped at her outburst. “What about it?” he asked. What little was visible of the bones was bleached white and fragile looking.

  “Every other orc’s hands in here are pointed down. Gir’Ok’s right hand is pointing up.”

  Rosana shrugged. “He was probably the first orc interred down here. Maybe it was a sign of honor to him that he’s the only one pointing up toward his tree.”

  “Yes, but look at his fingers,” Raina argued.

  Will examined the bones wrapped around the hilt of what looked like a ceremonial dagger. “What of his fingers?”

  “The other orcs’ bones grip their swords loosely. That’s because there was once flesh on their hands. As the flesh decayed away, the bones became loose around the handles. But Gir’Ok’s hand bones grip his staff tightly. These bones were placed around that weapon well after the flesh was gone from his hands.”

  Sha’Li made a sound of distaste, and Will echoed the sentiment. But he took a closer look at the small, crumbling bones wrapped around the staff and had to reluctantly allow that Raina was correct.

  Eben stared upward into the tangle of roots overhead, and Will followed suit. He saw nothing but darkness and dirt and more tree roots than he could count. The jann murmured, “Whatever is up there has no doubt been obscured over time by the growth of more roots.”

  Will replied, “Then how are we to know what is up there, if anything?”

  All of them stared up into the morass fruitlessly until Sha’Li declared, “Only one way to know.” And without further ado she grabbed on to a wrist-thick root and shimmied up it.

  “Beware the thorns!” Rosana cried.

  “Think thee so?” Sha’Li replied sarcastically. “Thick skin, I have.”

  In moments the black lizardman girl had blended into the shadows above and disappeared. Her muffled voice drifted down eventually, “High ceiling.”

  “Do you see anything?” Raina called up.

  “Dirt. And more cursed roots.”

  Will grinned. But then a moment later Sha’Li’s voice drifted down to them, and her words erased his smile. “A strange cluster of roots I see. Curled in upon themselves like a mother’s arms, as if something valuable they cradle.” And then, “Higher I must climb to reach it.” The strain of
physical effort was audible in Sha’Li’s voice.

  All of a sudden a flurry of air puffs exploded overhead.

  A spate of hissed syllables followed, and it did not sound as if Sha’Li were singing the praises of the Bloodthorn roots. Chips of wood began to rain down, and the roots around them swung around in obvious agitation. Will jumped back with the others out of range of the thrashing roots.

  Eben cursed as a root grabbed his leg, and the jann hacked at it with his sword. About the time he freed himself, Sha’Li jumped down from above, landing in a crouch right next to Will. He jumped about a foot straight up in the air on a cry of surprise.

  She grinned at him, her teeth gleaming white in her black face. “A surprise I have.”

  She held out her hand and in it lay a wreath of green leaves slightly wider than Will’s hand. The leaves were pristine, fresh and bright green, even in the scant light of the mushrooms. He looked closer and realized a thin line of gold edged each leaf perfectly. Thin, flattened wires of gold twined in and among the leaves in a delicate, intricate pattern.

  “What is it?” he asked, blankly.

  “His crown,” Raina breathed. “The crown of a king devoted to the land.”

  Now that she mentioned it, the circlet of twined leaves did look somewhat like a headpiece. “Is it magic?” he asked disbelievingly. If this crown was real, did it mean a king who’d owned it truly did exist as well?

  All this time, all this suffering, all his doubts … had the quest been real all along? Did the Sleeping King really wait for them to wake him? Was there hope for a different, better future? The idea unfurled within him like a banner, waving strong and brave in a freshening breeze. New strength coursed through him as he stared down at every perfect leaf of the Sleeping King’s crown.

  Rosana reached out to touch the crown reverently. “It must be magic. How else would living leaves survive down here in this darkness?”

  Eben added, “Not to mention, each leaf is unharmed and tipped in gold. No normal leaf would survive being painted in molten metal. Those should have shriveled and died from the heat. That must be worth a fortune.”