She curled her fingers around the amulet. This had to be what was hurting him, and despite whatever her feelings were about the human, she couldn't stand by and watch it. She set it down on the nearby crumbled ruin of what looked to be a pillar and picked up a cobblestone that had been uprooted or perhaps fell from the tower. Selene raised the stone high above her head. . .
I wouldn't do that. . .
She stopped mid-smash.
There's a good girl. Now put the rock down.
Her lips grew tight and she raised the rock up again.
If you want to kill your pet human, then go ahead and do it.
“Who are you?” she whispered, once again lowering her arm. The amulet flashed.
You know who I am.
“The abomination in Acaelyn Hollow. What did you do to him?”
Come now. There is no need for name calling. And all I'm doing is prodding him along the path he must take.
Marcius gave a groan, drawing Selene's attention. The apprentice had fallen to his side, curling up into a ball as he nursed his head. She turned back to the amulet. “Stop it, now!” she growled, “You're going to kill him.”
Kill him? That is the farthest thing from my mind.
“He already almost got killed by the nether beasts, thanks to you. Your actions do not justify your words.”
Foolish simple warrior caste. This amulet protects him from the sight of the beasts. The ones that appeared were drawn there by me to goad him to complete the favor I asked of him. Consider it a way of showing him the alternatives. You were the one that brought you two in danger, running in to “save” him and spilling their blood.
Marcius had been safe this entire time? Following that line of thought, the one that was responsible for the death of her spirit beast. . . was her. Selene's stomach fell at the realization, and she slowly sunk to her knees in disbelief.
Ah, I see it has finally dawned on you. Now, though, you couldn't save your friend, perhaps you could save the human?
“Stop hurting him,” she said weakly, “He's done nothing to you.”
What assurance do I have that he'll do what I need him to do? Unless you wish to help me?
She felt as if she was falling, spiraling downward, and it took every fiber of her willpower to pull herself up. Still, the audacity of such a request ignited a fire in her heart. “Why would I help a monster such as you?”
This is why. . .
Marcius lurched forward, coughing. She crawled toward him, nursing her injured arm. The coughing got steadily worse and he leaned to the side and puked, thick chunks of blood lacing the contents.
She turned back, her eyes flashing, the fire a roaring flame now. “You're a despicable fiend!” she said in elvish, “Faelon will have no refuge for you. I will hunt you down and have you account for your actions. I will not rest until you stand before the Elders for your crimes!”
How naïve can you be, child? They know exactly what it is that I'm doing. There is more at stake here than you know. If only you'd keep your nose out of things that don't concern you, we could have avoided all of this. Now, final chance. Accept and save your friend, or he will die.
Her head swam at the implications. The Elders knew? She wasn’t surprised. The machinations of the long lived elves went deep and far beyond her understanding. She didn't broker much in that trade, her own skills and interests were purely martial in scope, but she didn't like the fact that they dealt with such a creature.
She could only hope that they did so for the good of Selenthia. Selene believed the thought with everything she had; it was all she had to hang on to anymore.
Knowing what you do now, I think it is time for us to make a deal, yes?
With a heavy sigh, she turned to the amulet.
❧ ❧ ❧
The clarity came in like the calm after a savage storm. The pressure in his temples lessened and the ceaseless images and sounds vanished, leaving nothing but a sense of peace for the beleaguered apprentice. Marcius breathed a sigh of relief, and he spent a few moments, eyes closed, just relishing the feeling of blissful silence.
“How are you feeling?”
Marcius opened a single eye to regard the elf. She was hunched over him, her expression guarded. “I feel much better. The pain just vanished suddenly. My stomach hurts a little. What did you do? I don't remember much.”
“I did nothing,” she said. “I just took care of you the best I could. Do you know what caused it? Was it the thing in your pouch?”
Marcius glanced at the pouch on his belt. It was still there, but the glow was muted, as if it was resting. “I don't know. It might be the place itself. Maybe it's because I'm a wizard?” He ran his fingers nervously through his hair, “I just don't know.”
Selene's eyes narrowed for a moment, but then her face lightened. “Are you capable of standing?” Marcius nodded. “Let me help you up.”
He gave her a questioning look but took her proffered hand anyway. There was a rancid taste of copper and bile in his mouth and he ran his tongue along his teeth in a vain attempt to clear it.
It didn't work.
He looked around. They were closer to the tower now and it loomed over them, far larger than it had appeared originally. It was dark, but in more ways than just those pertaining to light. Marcius wasn't sure exactly what lurked within, but there was an overwhelming feeling of sadness that flowed from the deep recesses; a regret of tales untold, or perhaps of the fate of the former inhabitants.
Marcius felt the pull. The amulet wanted him to go in. Inside was where he needed to be. For a brief moment, he considered throwing the amulet away, but he shook away the notion. He had the feeling that it was important to his, and more importantly, Selene's safety. The chance was too risky.
“Do you still want to go in?” Selene asked, surprising Marcius as she stood next to him.
He stared at her, “I thought you were against it?”
Her jaw flexed, “I am, but if we are careful, there is time to take a look around before the sun rises and the Myst recedes.”
A thought struck him, “Selene, what happens if we're still here when the Myst leaves? Will we be stuck here?”
“I do not know. The Myst changes and twists. We could be anywhere. I heard no tales of ancient towers within our borders, and yet here it is. I can tell you that the tower is not elven in make.” She paused for a moment considering the possibilities. “If that amulet in your pouch led us here, perhaps it could lead us back. Come, if we wish to explore, we should do so quickly.”
Wait, when had he ever told her that it was an amulet? He opened his mouth to ask, but the elven woman was already moving, heading to the entrance of the tower.
❧ ❧ ❧
The tower had seen better years, as the stone had crumbled and cracked in most places. It looked as if it was about to fall at any moment. The door, however, was wrought of a solid metallic material and had no such weakness.
Marcius stared at it for a moment, taking in the fine make and intricate carvings of vague figures that he didn't recognize. “How do you propose we deal with this?” he asked Selene.
The elf didn't say anything, running her good hand along the solid obstacle as if considering it. “It's pretty solid,” she conceded. “But is the rest of the area around it?”
She gave a heavy push against a cracked brick along the side and it crumbled, falling completely in. From there it was simple to remove the surrounding area around the lock. Amazingly, the hinges were in good condition, made of the same material as the door. It swung open smooth, silently.
The inside was dark, damp, and as Marcius stared into the inky blackness, a wave of stale air wafted up from the recesses. “Down or up?” Selene asked.
“Excuse me?” Marcius, squinting, couldn't see anything beyond the traces of light that penetrated from the outside.
“I forget that humans need more light than normal,” Selene admitted. “Perhaps we could use the thing in your pouch?”
> Ah yes, the amulet. He nodded and took it out, holding it up like a torch. It sprang to life as if listening to his command. The light drove away the darkness, revealing two sets of stairs, one that went up and one that went down.
Which way indeed? He looked up briefly, the moonlight flowing from the hole along the side of the tower. He didn't trust the integrity of the tower, but he couldn't deny the allure of the upper route over the relative unknown of the stairway down.
“We should go down,” Selene said, bashing aside his doubts, “The way up seems riskier and prone to danger.” She stepped forward over the rubble, running her hand along the underside of the upper staircase. The stone came off in chunks, as if to illustrate her point.
Marcius peered down. It was steep and his first steps were shaky and uncertain, but with Selene behind him and the light in front of him, he gained confidence as they went further down the winding stairway.
The drip-drop of water was steady as they made their way down. The only other noise was their nervous breathing and shuffling footsteps. Eventually the stairs rounded down into a long hallway. Dust and grime covered everything, and Marcius couldn't help but feel like an intruder, every step marring the landscape of this long untouched area.
The rooms, and Marcius wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved, held nothing of note. Little more than the remains of furniture and various other relics that had withstood the test of time. Out of curiosity, he pulled out a worn scroll case from a dilapidated shelf as Selene reluctantly held the amulet for him.
The paper dissolved in his hands, the crumbs mixing with the dust on the ground.
Selene scanned the light around the room. “If you were looking for something of note, I do not think this would be the place. We look to be in the living area.”
He saw that she was right. Now that he gave a closer look at the pile of worm eaten wood in the corner, he could see what had at one been a bed. It was a letdown, but the inherent fact that the mysterious owners did mundane things such as have living areas, did much to relieve Marcius of the trepidation he had felt.
He laughed and Selene looked at him. “It's nothing,” he said reassuringly, “Just me being silly.”
Since it would have been pointless to loiter about, they continued on, stopping at each room along the way, just in case. They were all similar in make and Marcius wondered if perhaps this had been a barracks for soldiers or something similar.
At the end of the hallway was another set of spiral stairs that went straight down. Effigies lined coves along the wall as they made their way down; grinning fang faced figures that seemed, to Marcius, to be smiling at some secret knowledge.
As they went down, the throbbing in Marcius's head returned and the old fear of another attack was fresh on his mind. He glanced warily at the amulet in his hand, but besides the light, it gave no indication of anything amiss. So where was that feeling coming from?
“There is something here,” Selene whispered, echoing his thoughts.
He nodded, but didn't say anything, trying to ignore the thumping in his head. They were committed now, and he had nowhere to go but down.
The stairs slinked down into a long hallway that was different from the rest of the tower, both in model and scope. The block and cement here were solid somehow, as if freshly laid, but it melded into the earth, so that the hallway looked like a tunnel carved deep into the ground with only a few parts of exposed layering.
How far had they come down?
The question was refreshed as the hallway opened up. The amulet's light didn't reach the entirety of the edges. He was just about to ask Selene's opinion when the room lit up, drawing a cry of surprise from both of them.
Squinting through the sudden intrusion of light, it took a few moments for his sight to return. The room was immense, easily the width of a large town square or a playwright auditorium. It was circular, gently sloping inwards towards the center. He blinked, not entirely believing the sight. Torches lined the walls and flame danced on all of them. What had lit them? He put the amulet back in his pouch as he looked around.
“Enchanted,” Selene answered his unspoken question, sheathing the knife she had drawn. “Most likely to turn on when anyone enters.”
Marcius nodded, though his attention was on the large stone slab that stood in the middle. An indomitable monolith that monopolized the room with a presence that Marcius couldn't place. The stone was as wide as the side of a modest stable and tall enough that he doubted he could touch the top without jumping. It was peculiar and he felt drawn to it, stepping forward.
He could see etchings along the surface, deep carvings that stood out from the stone. As he studied it, he began to realize that they were words, though he did not recognize the language.
Selene joined him, her fingertip tracing the words.
“Do you recognize the language?”
“I know a few pieces, though it is very old,” Selene said, and then added, “Do you not know any of the languages on this stone?”
Marcius stared at her, not entirely understanding. The elf nodded, indicating the tablet. “There are several languages here. I recognize a few of them, though the arrangement of the words is not normal. They seem to say the same thing.” Her lips pursed together as her brow furrowed, thinking, “It's as if the makers wanted to leave a message for anybody, regardless of race, to read.”
He looked back at the tablet and saw what she said was true. Each segment of writing was different. Still, he did not recognize any of the languages. Marcius shook his head.
“This must have been made before Common,” he said, disappointed. “Can you translate?”
“Perhaps. I don't recognize everything, but maybe if I mix that which I do recognize. . . ” She bent over, looking closer at a segment. “Like this right here is an early form of Yaerish, an elven dialect from far north, while this part here,” she pointed to another segment farther up on the rock, “is clearly Selenthian, though, like I said, the arrangement is not correct. The sentences make little sense.” She looked up at him, wonder plain on her eyes. “The work spent on such a thing is unfathomable. I am curious as to what message is so important to go through such an effort to preserve. I will try.”
Marcius, feeling useless, nodded and let the elf alone to try to translate. He wandered the length of the stone, taking a closer look at the etchings, looking for something he knew. He knew smatterings of a few languages, mostly from Antaigne's texts, and a few times he thought he identified various words, but it was as Selene said.
As always, the thought of the swarthy dwarven wizard caused a tightening in his chest and he was reminded again as to why he was here. Reflexively his hand went to his pouch. Had he made the right choice? He looked over at the elven woman engrossed with the stone, her hair falling prettily down over her face as her lips moved silently.
Despite his feelings and previous anger toward the elven woman, he would never have thought he'd be in the situation he was in now, exploring an ancient ruin side by side with her. Guilt chipped away at his thoughts. His confusion regarding the woman seemed petty when he thought about how she had given up something so very important to her to rescue him. Marcius groaned inwardly. He was always forcing people to save him.
She was just doing her duty. It didn't mean anything special.
Look at him! And he chuckled derisively at himself. More worried about double meanings and feeling sorry for himself than her thoughts on the subject. Why did it even matter, anyway? In a short time, he'd be at the Academy, and she'd prepare for possible war. They'd probably never see each other again.
He'd be a liar if he said his heart didn't fall a little at that prospect. When had she latched onto him so thoroughly?
And the attack, what had that been about? He had an inkling. The amulet, and Velynere by proxy, no doubt had an agenda and was willing to do whatever it took to get whatever was here in these ruins. The creature must be more desperate than he let on. Why were so many people in
terested in him? He doubted the elf would have offered to apprentice him on just a whim, and he was honest enough to recognize that he was tempted by the possibility of easy access to power.
Power to punish those who wronged him.
Again, the same question reared its head. Had he made the right choice? Would his father approve of him as of this moment? Or had he screwed up again, as with the oggron, as with getting drunk in that inn?
His eyes refocused on the stone in front of him. Well, he was here now, right? There was naught to do but move forward and let the decision of right and wrong fall to the misgivings of hindsight.
He was reaching the end of the tablet when a character caught his attention. Marcius stared at the engraving for a moment, and then it clicked. Dwarvish! A language he recognized, and unlike the other ones that Selene talked about, the dwarves were as timeless as stone and as frequent to change. The dialect was current and as he slowly translated the runes, his mouth ran dry.
“I've made a little progress,” Selene announced. When Marcius didn’t answer she looked over. “What is wrong?”
Marcius licked his lips, willing away the dryness. “I think I have the gist of it,” he said, hoping that with Selene's help he might be able to disprove the meaning of the tablet.
She joined him, peering at the segment that had caught his interest. The runes were ordered, neat, precise. “Dwarvish?” she guessed.
“Aye.”
“What does it say?” she prompted.
Marcius shook his head. “I have rough idea, but I'll need to compare it with whatever you can understand from the elven segments to be sure. There are a few words that I don't know.”
She nodded, and so they began piecing it together. The elven woman was competent, showing the single-minded logic of a scholar. She was a pleasure to work with and he, despite the circumstances, found himself enjoying the entire process.
He enjoyed a lot of things with her.
Marcius wasn't sure how long they spent, but by the time they had finished, his eyes were crimping from the strain. Selene's brow crunched together as she put it all together.
A Dead God's Tear (The Netherwalker Trilogy) Page 42
