Ingrid collapsed, fought to regain her breath, then moved to lie behind the girl. She wrapped her arms and a leg about her captive, and with little more than a gentle suggestion of a spell, the girl was asleep. Ingrid was not one to enjoy the afterglow of sex, but at the moment, she was distinctly drowsy. The room smelled delightful, of struggle and passion and lust. And her last thought before she fell asleep was that the Ha’kan had trained that little Tavinter well.
Many, many miles away, Raine lie on her bedroll, her head propped up on her knapsack. Her thoughts were on tomorrow and the catacombs they hoped to find, when she felt the sensation, the slightest tug on the filament that connected her to Skye. It was curious, an omen neither fair nor foul, a brief stirring as if Skye were attempting to surface from a deep lake. Raine pondered the sensation late into the night, regretting many times that she could not search for the girl.
Chapter 20
Lorifal used his axe as a walking stick as the three began making their way up the mountain that bordered the lakeside town. Although the barkeep had been unwilling to disclose the location of the catacombs, his vague description of “up there” led them to believe the sepulcher might be somewhere north of the town in the mountainside. Many tombs in Arianthem were built by taking advantage of natural features of the land such as tunnels and caves.
“I wish we had a Tavinter with us,” Raine said.
Feyden was a skilled tracker and Raine as good as he, but he silently agreed.
“This might help,” Lorifal said, brushing away a tangle of vegetation from a decrepit stone pillar.
Raine grinned. “Yes, it might indeed.” The pillar had a worn wooden sign, one so weather-beaten it could hardly be read. But the symbols upon it, and the directional arrow, were clue enough the bearing they should take.
“I guess we’ll head that way.”
Now that they knew what to look for, the path became clearer. There were flat stones winding through the forest, as if at one time the footpath had been paved. Most were covered with green lichen and overgrowth, but some still protruded through the forest floor. From time to time they came across another stone pillar that would assure them of their course.
“Seems a long way to carry a body,” Lorifal commented. “My people bury their dead within the mines where they worked, so the blood in their veins can merge with the veins of ore.”
“The Alfar have great tombs within the cities,” Feyden said, “nothing so far away as this.”
“My father’s people burned their dead and let the ashes fly on the wind,” Raine said, “and my mother’s people embalmed their loved ones and buried them in mausoleums. But the imperials are superstitious and bury their bodies far away from their towns and cities. They have shrines where their loved ones can be remembered and mourned, but they want the bodies as far away as possible.”
Lorifal snorted, and Raine sought to explain. “Although necromancy is rare and difficult magic, for some reason, human mages tend to be more gifted at it than other races.”
“And they have a history of using it stupidly,” Feyden said. “Who can forget the uprising of Solveig?”
Raine laughed. “Yes, that was a disaster. The dead, unlike the undead, are fragile and grow more so as time passes. A would-be wizard had the idea to raise an army of corpses, but it was a shambling mass of body parts and decomposing flesh. They couldn’t fight at all, leaving a trail of appendages that broke off with the slightest exertion. But the stench was dreadful, and people were horrified at seeing the remains of their loved ones shuffle toward them, then collapse into pools of filth.”
Lorifal wrinkled his nose. “No wonder they put them out here.”
“Won’t be enough left of them in one piece to reach civilization from here,” Raine said cheerfully.
The stone pillars had grown more frequent along their path, and now they lined it. And although the forest had been thick with trees, the trees thinned as they approached the base of a cliff. Raine ducked and pushed through some branches, and then stood upright at the edge of a clearing.
“Ah, now I understand.”
The catacombs were indeed inside a cave, a very large one judging by the size of the metal door at the top of the stone stairs leading into the entrance. But it was not the daunting metal door that denied entrance, but rather the glowing, yellow, circular pattern that floated in front of the door. It was a huge seal, taller than even Raine, and glowed with an intensity that indicated its strength.
“That is a very powerful seal,” Feyden said.
“That is an understatement,” Raine said, starting up the stairs. She stopped short of the seal and examined the symbols along the circumference of the circle. “I cannot translate this exactly, but it is a warning and a prohibition.” She glanced down at several skeletons that had ignored the warning. “It guarantees destruction for all who attempt to pass.”
“Can you disenchant it?” Feyden asked.
“Most likely it will dissolve with my touch,” Raine said. “But that’s probably not a good idea right now.”
She turned and gazed back into the forest behind them. “You can come out now.”
Two wolves trotted from the forest and made their way to Raine’s side. She kneeled down to pet them, ruffling their fur. She stood back up.
“I wasn’t talking about them,” she said, a little louder.
Lorifal and Feyden glanced to one another, then back into the forest. Lorifal drew his axe and Feyden his bow. Raine started back down the steps, then stood patiently waiting at the bottom.
The first vampyr to emerge from the forest was one they all recognized. It was the beautiful one that Raine had fought in Hestr. The others emerged behind her, as many as twenty, surrounding them in a wide half-circle. Raine turned her back to them to address her companions who had joined her at the bottom of the steps.
“They are all Shadow Guild,” she said, “I have never heard of this many gathering in one place. Whatever is in this tomb is extremely valuable to them.”
“Do we fight them?” Lorifal said, gripping the haft of his axe tightly.
“These are not good odds,” Raine said. “And I will not risk you two to vampryism. Elyara’s enchantments might hold against one or two bites, but from creatures this powerful there are no guarantees.”
“You’re not fighting them alone!” Lorifal blustered.
“I don’t want to fight them at all. Well, I kind of do,” Raine admitted, her Scinterian love of battle rising to the threat, “but that is not a wise course of action.”
“Then what’s your plan?” Feyden asked.
“I have no idea,” Raine said firmly, then turned to face the enemy with a confidence based on nothing. The beautiful vampyr approached her.
“Did you miss me?” Raine asked.
The vampyr’s gaze lingered on her lips, then on the vein that throbbed on the side of her neck.
“Surprisingly, I did. And even more surprisingly, you were correct. Your ‘message’ spared my life.”
“Glad to hear it.”
The vampyr’s eyes flicked to the seal above. “You will open the catacombs and allow us to proceed.”
“Hmm,” Raine said thoughtfully, “that sounds like a terrible idea. If I open that door, I am retrieving whatever is inside.”
“Then we will accompany you.”
“I don’t like that idea either.”
“You have very little choice in the matter,” the vampyr said. “It’s not as if your companions could hold us off for very long.”
“You might be surprised,” Raine said, “these two have faced worse than vampyr with me.”
“But they won’t be with you,” the vampyr pointed out, “if they have to guard the door.”
That was true, Raine thought, once the seal was broken, the vampyr could just follow them. To leave a guard at the door
would mean they would have to separate.
“What’s in this tomb?” Raine asked.
“I don’t know. It’s not my job to know. In the upper hierarchy of our Guild, I know only the person below me and the one above me, all others are a mystery. I receive my orders, and I carry them out.”
“Then we are at another impasse,” Raine said, reminding her foe of their last meeting. The vampyr’s jaw clenched, for she remembered being pinned by the creature in front of her, an enjoyable and humiliating experience.
“And will a dragon be arriving to break this one?”
“Unfortunately not,” Raine said, “My—“
Raine paused in mid-sentence and both looked up as a shadow blocked out the sun. Impossibly, an enormous dragon swooped over the clearing, causing Raine to shield her eyes from the dust it stirred. It let out a roar that scattered the birds and caused a stampede of fleeing wildlife in the forest. Raine was hopeful, but as she shielded her eyes and looked up, her expression grew wary: this was not her love.
“I don’t know this one,” Raine said calmly, but the edge in her voice alerted the vampyr. A quick signal from her and the other vampyr melted into the shadows. Feyden and Lorifal joined Raine.
“I have not seen this dragon before,” Feyden said.
“Nor I,” Raine said grimly. “But judging by the size of it, this one is very near Talan’s equal. This could be very bad.”
The dragon made another tight turn, hovered above the ground, then alighted with an earth-shaking thud. Raine stood ready, her hand on her sword, to see if the dragon would attack.
But instead, the dragon disappeared in a brilliant flash of white light, and in its place stood a dazzling woman in royal blue armor that shimmered with the shifting light like the twinkling of stars. The form-fitting armor hugged her curves, pushed full, round breasts upward, and highlighted pale blue eyes the color of ice that sparkled with mirth. A long cape swirled about her and flowed behind with extravagant elegance.
“Or not,” Raine said, her tone causing Feyden to raise an eyebrow. Apparently Raine had a weakness for dragons.
The others held back while Raine approached the woman, still wary. But the dragon would have none of that. As soon as Raine was within arm’s reach, she put her hands upon Raine’s waist and pulled her to her. Although Raine had been fighting for control since the dragon transformed, her eyes turned violet at first touch.
“Oh my, you are a gorgeous little thing. I could almost forgive you for stealing Talan from my bed.”
The corner of Raine’s mouth twitched, for what many would have considered an insult was actually a compliment from the dragon. She took a step back, retaining the woman’s hand, then bent and kissed it.
“I beg your forgiveness, Ancient One, but from my understanding, I stand so accused by more than half of Arianthem.”
Kylan burst into laughter. No wonder Talan was enamored with this one. She spent a moment just enjoying the sight of her, then got down to business.
“I am Kylan’ilaith’alnon. Talan wished to be here herself, but she is engaged elsewhere. And as I have sworn my allegiance to my Queen, I am here in her stead. I am willing to take her place,” she gave Raine a long, lingering look, “in all things.”
The smile again threatened Raine’s face, and this time prevailed, causing a surge of lust in Kylan that delighted the dragon.
“You are exactly as Talan said.”
“And what did my love say?” Raine asked, the mischievous smile still on her face.
“That you were dangerous in oh-so-many ways.”
“Well, let’s just concentrate on the one at the moment. I’m going to break that seal, but I don’t want these vampyr following me into the crypt.”
“Simple enough,” Kylan said, “you and your companions can proceed, and I will guard the door.”
“Now there is a plan I like.”
Kylan followed Raine to the base of the steps, relishing the view of the Scinterian backside in front of her.
“This is Kylan,” Raine said to her companions, “she is an ally of Talan.”
Both the elf and the dwarf bowed low in respectful greeting. Lorifal admired the voluptuous form from beneath shaggy eyebrows, circumspectly, he thought. But Kylan was aware of his inspection and her eyes twinkled with wicked humor as he blushed as red as a beetroot. Raine turned to the vampyres, who stood a ways off.
“And you will stay here, or she will destroy the lot of you.”
Frustration was evident on the vampyr’s face, but she did not move. Raine started up the steps, and Feyden and Lorifal followed. They stopped short of the top as Raine paused in front of the seal, examining it. The vampyr watched with keen interest, not entirely certain that the Scinterian was capable of what was attributed to her. And Kylan watched with fascination, for she wished to see the gift that Talan had described.
“Well, here goes.”
Raine reached out and touched the seal, her hand passing through the light without ill effect. And no sooner had she broken the plane, the seal dissolved from its distinct form into a generalized yellow glow, shrunk to a pinpoint of light at its center, then winked out of existence.
“My word,” Kylan murmured. She had sensed the power of the seal from a great distance. Although touching it would not have killed her, nor probably even harmed her, it was unlikely she could have passed through it.
The vampyr watched, astonished. This seal had thwarted the most powerful mages and wizards in Arianthem. It had destroyed even the most powerful of her kind who thought themselves capable of withstanding its curse. And yet this Scinterian had removed it with an ease and nonchalance that was staggering.
“There we are,” Raine said with satisfaction.
“Let me get this for you,” Lorifal said, grabbing the elaborate handle on the iron door. He wrenched it open with a great heave, the hinges protesting their disuse with a shrieking of metal-on-metal.
“You are such a gentleman,” Raine said, then with a wink and a smile to Kylan, she was gone into the darkness.
Kylan was greatly entertained by the Scinterian, but her demeanor changed abruptly when she turned back to the vampyr. Her tone, which had been nothing but playful with Talan’s love, now was as cold as her ice-blue eyes.
“The Shadow Guild,” she said with contempt. “A deadly snake with so many heads. Although I must confess this plot is a good one because it is so subversive. A direct attack would rally the alliance, but a subversive one will divide.”
The vampyr, not one for disclosure, found herself on the defensive.
“If you know that much, you know that our contract is with those as powerful as you.”
“I doubt that Jörmung or Volva is as powerful as I,” Kylan said, her contempt even more pronounced, “and I assure you your organization has bet on the wrong dragon, for Talan is greater than both.”
Kylan raised her hand and blew out as if blowing dust or snowflakes from her palm. But instead of snowflakes, a blast of glacial wind came forth, freezing the first row of trees of the clearing so that their bows were heavy with icicles and the trunks were frozen solid. And then, with a mere clap of her hands, the trees shattered, and where before had stood towering pines, now there were only piles of ice shards on the ground.
“That is what I will do to you if you even think to cross me,” Kylan said, then muttered to herself, “or maybe I will just transform and sit on the lot of you.”
The vampyr looked at the ice with consternation. This was not magic but physical destruction. They could not stand against it, so all carefully laid plans were lost. She did not think she would be forgiven for failure twice.
“You should return to your Guild,” Kylan said, “and tell them to reconsider their contract.”
“You know we cannot do that. As long as the contract is in effect, a head of state must die.”
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br /> “I’m not talking about that one,” Kylan said, her casual tone hardening. “We will take care of that one. I’m talking about the contract on Raine. I have met her only once, but I tell you this, if anything happens to her, I will hunt down and destroy every last one of you.”
A muscle in the vampyr’s jaw worked as she considered her options, realizing she had only one.
“Then I will return to my superior and forward your words.”
Lorifal again led the way, his torch casting flickering shadows on the walls. But unlike Hestr, there was no one waiting for them in the shadows, no attackers leaping out from the dark. The catacombs were empty save endless shelves of wrapped bodies in various states of decay. The smell of death was strong, the sick, sweet odor of rotted flesh.
“I’m surprised the odor is still so strong,” Raine commented. “The seal has kept this place closed for a very long time, and most of the remains have returned to dust.”
“It does smell a bit ripe,” Feyden agreed.
The three continued down the narrow passageways. Lorifal, always interested in history, was drawn to the various artifacts that had been left with the dead: weapons, armor, jewelry, keepsakes, etc. He tried to resist, but felt compelled to finger the physical record of the past.
The Shadow Games: The Chronicles of Arianthem VI Page 13
