His face banged into the dirt so hard it bounced up. Shadow blocked the daylight, and the wind from wide scaly wings blew grass and debris in his eyes. But when his face came back down, hard, cold stone greeted his cheek.
“That was farkin’ close, yah.” Chelda hefted him to his feet. Vanx had to hold onto the gargan while his heart slowed its thumping.
Moonsy must have teleported him out of harm’s way.
“It’s coming!” Gallarael warned.
Vanx couldn’t believe he’d thought the word was the dragon’s name, or that by invoking it, he might befriend the creature. Pyra had warned him that few wyrms had a concern for humanity. And no one ever said anything about how much a person would long for the companionship of a mighty dragon after befriending, and then losing, such a wholly awesome friend, either.
Even worse, Vanx couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that he had just asked Anitha to raise up to her death.
She was gone.
Not even the Glaive of Gladiolus would bring her back.
Havoktalla was just a password, or keyword, that unlocked the doors leading into the dragon’s lazing stone. The moment he thought the word, though, the doors slammed shut, and bolted tight behind them.
It happened so suddenly that it almost took Chelda’s arm off.
They dragon was right there about to blast them with its breath, and then they were apparently locked inside.
Flames leapt to life, on the tips of torches ensconced evenly along each wall. The light revealed that there were three doors on each side of the wide fancily tiled vestibule.
A grand, carved-stone staircase circled down in about what Vanx thought was the middle of the structure. Beyond that, he could see there was a pew lined great hall. The fancy banded double door that opened up into it was open, and by the look of the tarnish on the metal, and the amount of dust accumulated on the banisters, the air in here hadn’t been disturbed in more than a decade.
Oddly, Poops conveyed that it reminded him of the ancient building under the black spire in Harthgar. Vanx thought this might be because it was formed of the same type of stone, or more likely to the dog, it smelled the same.
“I can cast a detection similar to the ones Anni used.” Moonsy fought to contain her sadness. “Hers were stronger and more accurate, though.”
“It’s all right, love,” Chelda said soothingly. She started to put her hand on her elven lover’s shoulder, but to everyone’s surprise, Moonsy shrugged it off.
“NO! No, it is not all right, love,” Moonsy shouted. The last word was bathed in venomous sarcasm. Chelda recoiled, a stricken look on her face. “I’ve known Anitha longer than you and Vanx have been alive combined.” She started to tremble, but Gallarael went to her. “How would you feel if you just lost a friend so dear.”
Chapter
Eighteen
I told her that her eyes,
were bluer than the sky,
Then she picked my pockets,
as she gave a kiss goodbye.
– Parydon Cobbles
It took her a few moments, but Moonsy eventually gathered herself. She didn’t so much as glance Chelda’s way, and Chelda just stared at the doors opening on the great hall, looking at something far beyond what was before her.
Vanx knew them all too well. He hadn’t spent as much time with Moonsy as the other two, but he and Chelda had been at sea together for months at a time, and they eventually shared everything, so he knew a lot more about General Gloryvine Moonseed than maybe she thought he did. He also knew Chelda was hurt right now.
Instead of consoling Chelda, as Gallarael was Moonsy, Vanx eased over to the gargan woman and shouldered her to get her attention.
“General Moonseed, when you can cast your detection spell, please do. Chelda and I will go explore the great hall.”
“I’ll stay with her.” Gallarael gave Vanx a tight lipped smile.
Vanx started to urge Poops to come with he and Chelda, but the dog had gone to Moonsy and was licking her face, forcing smiles out of her grief.
The great hall was just as dusty and unused as the entry and stairwell had been. “We should just go down,” Chelda said. “I’m in a mood to bash something now.”
“You’re always in a mood to bash something, Chel,” Vanx joked. “And the elves, as old and smart as they are, are not usually bold adventurers, like we are. Losing you, Poops, or Gal, even Zeezle, would make me crumble. Moonsy just needs time to get over the loss of Anitha.”
“They were lovers once,” Chelda said, shocking Vanx with the amount of understanding conveyed in the words. “When they were younger, they had a thing.” She turned to Vanx and shrugged. “She’ll not easily get over it.”
“Maybe not,” he pointed at the scene depicted on a tapestry hanging behind the podium at the far end of the room, and moved that way. “But she will get over it, just as she got over the loss of her uncle.”
“Gah,” Chelda turned him by the shoulder from behind. She looked down at him studying his eyes. “You can’t even say his name, can you?”
Vanx shrugged again and went to look at the tapestry.
“I’m adventuring with a bunch of doll hugging sentimentalists.,” She barked out a laugh. “I can only hope to die as well as Foxwise Posey-Thorn did. Thorn died a warriors death.”
“We love you, too, Chel.” Vanx chuckled at her, but it was a grim laugh for Anitha’s death was on his shoulders, or at least he felt that way. “Just stop and try and imagine how you would feel if me or Poops died.”
“But you’d never die,” she said. “I won’t let you.”
“While that is a comforting notion,” he gave her a glance. “You know it could happen. Think about it for a moment.”
Vanx then focused on the tapestry. There was a wonderful castle in the background with golden spires that managed to shine through the gloom of the rest of the captured moment. There was a lake before the castle. In the lake there was a huge, dark monster sending plumes of purple smoke into the air. Around it, the sky was filled with colorful dragons, some with riders, some not. They were fighting demons of every sort, while on the ground a full-on war between man and fiend raged.
It was an awesome battle, and he’d sung about it a few hundred times, but mainly in one long tune, called the Ballad of Ornspike.
The idea that the humans and dragons had won was a testament to the will of men. Learning what he had from the old wizard, about how some dragon spelled “trickster” mage, and a high elf had mated to create his whole race was a little farfetched, and went against all of his history lessons, but he and Zeezle had always thought there was a deeper truth being kept from them as they were growing up.
He couldn’t say if it was true or not, but the old wizard and his Goddess seemed to be urging him in the same direction. Who was he to disbelieve? It didn’t matter now. Zythians were here, a hearty race that would never give up their small continent.
“Look at those spiders.” Chelda’s voice wasn’t as sure as it had been earlier.
Vanx saw she was looking at a tightly woven web in the corner of the room. There were a handful of fingertip-sized arachnoids, each of them had a bright white jag on its main section.
“Those aren’t the kind that bit Zeezle,” Vanx said. “That one was a baby version of the big scarlet marked bastards that we had to fight to go down the hole. It was the size of a gourd melon.”
“I remember,” Chelda said. “And I tried what you suggested, but I couldn’t for the life of me find a way to imagine my life without you and Sir Poopsalot in it.”
“I’m sure Moonsy felt the same sort of thing about Anitha, before— before—”
“Yah,” Chelda answered. “I’ll talk to her when she is done doing her sorcery.”
Chapter
Nineteen
They came on clever ships of wood,
those that called themselves men.
They spread like mice through fertile fields,
and overtook
the land.
– Balladamned (a Zythian song)
“Come!” Gallarael’s voice echoed through the great hall from where she’d poked her head in the doorway. “Moonsy has finished.”
Vanx followed Chelda to where the elf was squatted by the stairwell. She was spoiling Poops with attention.
“I suppose the thing radiating all the magic is what we are after?” Moonsy looked at Vanx questioningly.
“I can’t say what we are after,” Vanx answered truthfully. “All I know is that here, on this island somewhere, is something that is supposed to lead us to the remaining gems and hopefully let us know where to smash them, too.”
“We are not necessarily looking for something magical, then.” Moonsy sighed. “But something as powerful as what I am detecting cannot be ignored.”
“Something showing such power is probably just bait for a trap,” Chelda said.
Vanx could tell his gargan friend wasn’t happy. She’d been in a mood since Moonsy had snarled at her. Or maybe the attitude stemmed from Gallarael comforting Moonsy after Chelda’s brash remarks earlier? Vanx decided not to think about it anymore. There was no sense worrying over what women were going to do, for they were going to do it no matter what.
“Probably is a trap,” Gallarael agreed. She looked to Vanx to be thinking about something, probably Anitha, but maybe about their current situation? He couldn’t guess. “Dragons don’t get spelled to guard over prizes that are not powerful, or at least valuable,” she finished.
“You think the dragon is spelled?” Vanx asked Gallarael.
“I do,” she replied, nodding. “It has to be. Why else would it care about us? I mean, if it weren’t bound here, it would have a hoard and lair, not a fancy lazing stone, or whatever you called it.” She looked at Vanx for support.
“It might have just come upon this island.” Chelda gave Gallarael a look that showed she wasn’t pleased. “Who says it doesn’t have a lair. And it might have been after us because it was simply hungry. Here, it has a protected, invisible island. A sea-locked platter full of giant four-legged frog beasts and tree-coons to feed on. It is king— or queen— here. It would stay for those reasons alone.”
“It is likely just drawn to the magic below us, or it could be spelled to it.” Moonsy swallowed back tears. “Anitha told me, after casting her detections, that she thought whatever was down there,” Moonsy pointed at the stairwell, “would be heavily warded and have traps, and guardians to negotiate before we could even get to it to see what it was.” She then pointed up. “A dragon guarding the entrance to this place suggests she was correct.” She looked at Chelda, then added, “If it is guarding this place at all.”
Chelda nodded, and started down the stairs with her war hammer at the ready. She didn’t stop when no one else immediately came with her.
The others did follow, first Moonsy, then Gallarael and Poops, leaving Vanx to bring up the rear. He drew his old blade and was irked that it still had some tree-coon gore stuck to the steel near the hilt. As they descended the similarly torch-lit circular staircase, Vanx used the glaive’s tip to chip the hardened bits of furred flesh off his family sword. Then he put the glaive back in its sheath and used a wad of spit, and the hem of his filthy shirt to rub away the bits that remained.
“It will have to do,” he mused aloud, looking at the smooth metal. In the reflection, he saw how dirty and haggard he looked. He didn’t feel bad physically, but he hurt for Moonsy’s loss, and felt more guilt over Anitha’s death than he should have. Or maybe he didn’t feel as much as he should. All he knew was that he was glad it wasn’t Gal, Chelda, or Poops that the dragon had snatched. If it was, he’d be far worse off than Moonsy was now. Which was a testament to all she’d been through recently.
“Should we have checked those doors by the entry?” Gallarael asked. She stopped at the first of many landings. These wider treads caused the actual shape of the stairwell to be oval, not round. Every other one of them had an archway, the ones without openings, were plain flat sections. All of them, at least for the first few levels down, had a flickering torch ensconced on the wall. Eventually, Vanx figured, there could be an opening on both sides farther down.
The archways led to a floor, which meant that each level could have a ceiling fifteen feet high, or more. The stone steps continued down, on and on, into darkness, and that in itself was unnerving. “What if what we are really after, was just right there? Those rooms had to be sizable, and for whoever maintained this place, they would be the most practical to use.”
“You are fierce fiend in battle, Princess,” Chelda laughed from below. “And you did more than your share against the Hoar Witch, and that flat-headed farkin’ blue thing when we were at war, but adventuring is what me and Vanx do.” She stopped and made eye contact with Vanx and Gallarael, in turn. “It’s never that easy.” She looked certain. “Is it Vanx? It is never that easy.”
“It never is, Chel.” Vanx had to agree, but what Gallarael said made perfect sense. The best way to hide something here would be to leave it in the open and distract whoever would be looking, toward something else.
“Hold up,” Vanx called. Chelda was already standing on the second landing. This one, as expected, opened up on another torchlit expanse of stone floor. Poops was a few steps below her, wondering if he should continue down or stay at the second level. “We should go back up and check the rooms so it is done,” Vanx said. “Gallarael has a point.”
“Bah!” Chelda laughed. “I suppose it is better to check them now than listen to you wonder about it the rest of the way.” Moonsy had just joined her on the landing, but Chelda stepped back on the stairs and started up.
Corresponding exactly with the first step she took, Vanx heard a sound, through Poops’s keen ears. It was mechanical noise, like a stronghold’s gate latch being ratcheted closed. Poops leapt completely from the stairs to Moonsy’s side on the landing, forcing them both to roll into the room beyond. With Chelda’s second step came a surprise that sent Vanx’s heart into his throat and made his stomach feel like it was filled with flies.
The landing tilted. The treads and risers, folded underneath their boots, or unfolded really. It happened so fast that he was sliding before he figured out what was going on. Now he, Gallarael, and Chelda were rolling and tumbling around and down the spiraling ramp back under and out of sight from Moonsy and Poops.
Vanx had to struggle to keep the glaive and his family blade from getting tangled with his legs, as he went. When he bounced off of the thing Gallarael had changed into, he almost lost control of them and impaled himself. Luckily, the swords were sheathed and he was paying attention.
Gallarael had elongated her fingers and dug them into the stone, causing chips and flakes of rock, as well as sparks, to mar the surface. Then her claw tips found a seam and she stopped. Vanx didn’t try to grab on because he was repulsed. Instead, he maintained his concentration on not breaking a leg, a sword, or his skull, as he and Chelda continued to tumble into the darkness.
The dark, hard-skinned, humanoid creature Gallarael was now, reminded him of crossing the Frozen Falls. Her shapeshifting hadn’t been as practiced then, but it hadn’t bothered him either. It was because, back then, they hadn’t been lovers, he decided.
His lapse in concentration was rewarded when his head cracked into the wall and stars filled his eyes. After that, he was too dizzy to do more than keep the blades pressed against his legs.
Chapter
Twenty
Old Master Wiggins,
he loved the Spring Fair jig.
He twirled and spun so hard and fast,
he lost his silly wig.
– a Parydon street ditty
Vanx had to shake his head to clear the dizziness from it, but he already knew what the stuff sticking to his skin was. This knowledge was enough to have his heart pounding because there was nothing else like the feel of spider webs against you.
“Chelda,” he called in a semi-quiet hiss.
“Chelda are you all right?”
“Yah,” she responded, sounding a little bewildered. “This stuff is— is—”
“Stay still! Stay still and close your eyes,” Vanx said. He waited a moment and made sure to recite the words to the Hoar Witch’s spell correctly. It was a spell from a section of her old book where she’d written down the ways she dealt with the monsters she created. This one was for Sissy and her webs. He didn’t open his eyes when the workings sent a quick powerful blast of flame out from his hand, but he wanted to.
He was falling then, and he heard Chelda thump into something just as the wind was knocked from his lungs. He passed out of consciousness but, before he did, he saw the dense spread of spider webs above them. Some of the dangling ends floated around crazily, the flames from his magic slowly consuming them in a sparkling blue flame. Some weren’t affected at all and, as the blackness swallowed him, he saw one of the red glowing spiders. This one was as big as the Ada Rosamond. It was covered in tiny little spiders, just like the one that almost killed Zeezle, only smaller.
It was having a little trouble negotiating the many webs made by the lesser arachnoids, but still Vanx’s heart was frozen with fear.
Vanx opened his eyes to a splash of cool water and Chelda’s concerned expression. He was disappointed to see that the spider he’d seen wasn’t a dream. It was still coming, and what he’d thought was its inability to get around the spinnings of lesser spiders, was just its motherly caution.
Chelda hadn’t noticed it yet, which was for the best. Vanx knew she was terrified of any sort of arachnoid. Vanx closed his eyes after smiling at her and did something he rarely did. He cast a spell intending to kill something. The fact that it had so many baby spiders attached to it weighed on his conscience, but the instinct to survive overrode his guilt.
His pupils must have focused for Chelda started to turn to see what was looming down at them. Vanx used his left hand to grab her hair and keep her from seeing. His right hand pointed up at the thing just as its needle sharp spinneret came out. A single drop of the terrible stuff in it dripped and landed on Chelda’s back. Vanx saw that it was a strand of web and that it was about to yank Chelda away from him.
The Tome of Arbor (The Legend of Vanx Malic Book 9) Page 7
