by Sever Bronny
“Goodbye, Osbert, and thanks,” he said, before imagining the odd horse-headed creature running up the steps and battling anyone that tried to pass him. The beast immediately set off to his unspoken command.
At the same moment, the water began to glow. A form took shape from its depths, swimming towards him. At first, he thought it was an undead fish, and took a step back, when out popped Leera’s head. Her wet raven hair stuck to her freckled face in ribbons. Her palm was lit, but it also made the water glow all around her, as if it was made of light itself. She wore only her linen undergarments. His cheeks colored at the sight.
She was shivering and her teeth chattered. “Augum! I’m so glad it’s you, and you’re all right—”
He glanced over his shoulder. “We have to hurry, someone’s—”
“Well come on already—!”
He jumped in. The water was frigid, sucking the air out of his lungs and immediately extinguishing his palm.
She gave his hand a squeeze. “Take a deep breath and follow me.”
“Wait, I have to try something.” He stretched out his hand and used Telekinesis to drag the lid off the closest sarcophagus. It was difficult to concentrate through the numbing cold.
“What are you doing—!”
“Saving them, or buying us time, we’ll soon see.”
He did the same to another three sarcophagi, before something began to slither out of the first one. It was a bony hand sleeved in a grimy crimson robe. A head soon appeared, draped in a sheer wispy veil, but the visage underneath was still visible—a sunken skull, plastered with the remains of skin. It hissed when it saw him.
Leera yanked on his sleeve. “Enough already, come on—”
They swam down, his thick coat and robes slowing him down. He just hoped he did not lose the tablet slivers. He struggled to catch up to her as she pressed on through a submerged tunnel, past a series of connecting hallways, before taking a break in a pocket of trapped air at the ceiling. He swam up beside her and emerged, panting. His teeth joined her in chattering.
“How did you survive this?” he asked, keeping an eye out behind them. He half expected to see one of the veiled women appearing from the darkness and snatching at their feet.
“You’ll see. Now take an even bigger breath, this next one’s a long swim.”
They took a big gulp of air and continued on, turning a corner. The water glowed a small distance around them, but behind and in front was pitch-darkness. Augum wondered how she could possibly have found the right path through all these other corridors, let alone supporting a badly injured Garryk.
Suddenly he felt the oversized ring slip off his finger. He stopped to catch it but missed. It tumbled down into the darkness where he couldn’t see it. Leera hadn’t noticed and continued to swim ahead. There was simply no time to get it, he realized, even with Telekinesis—and so he followed her.
At last, they scrambled through a window and swam upward toward a fiery glow. Augum felt himself turning purple from lack of breath. When his head finally broke the surface, he coughed and gasped for breath.
Leera had already climbed out, dripping water.
“You made it! Both of you!” Bridget immediately rushed over and draped Leera with a coat, guiding her to a huge, blazing hearthfire that appeared to be woodless. Garryk lay before it, breathing weakly, face a tortured shadow of its former self.
“Leera’s the hero here,” Bridget began as she helped remove the coat from Augum’s shivering shoulders. “Took forever for her to find the right route for us. She almost drowned countless times, and had to do two trips. I think she has the blood of a fish or something.”
Leera smiled coyly. “Well I am studying the water discipline. And I finally found a use for this stupid Shine extension—”
“It’s not stupid, it saved our lives!” Bridget said. “How else would we have seen anything underwater?”
“Anyway,” Leera continued, “we saved the books by wrapping them tight in our coats. It wasn’t fun, but at least it’ll take a while for anyone else to figure out which tunnel we used.”
Augum spied a strange rune above the hearth and figured that was how they turned it on. “What game did Nefra play with you at the door?”
“We had to fight a ghost,” Bridget replied. “It took the First Offensive from both of us at the same time to defeat it.”
“I’m so glad you made it,” he said, teeth clacking.
Bridget gave him a hug. “I didn’t know if … if we’d see you again.”
“I didn’t know either … My father came. He’s here. There was a battle. Peyas was there. He and Nefra used Occulus’ old army to fight him. When I escaped, the Occi were losing … but guess what?”
Leera smacked him on the shoulder. “Don’t make us guess, just spit it out!”
He went over to his coat and dug out a handful of tablet shavings.
Leera scrunched her face. “What is that?”
“What remains of the iron tablet,” and he explained how Osbert had carved it up.
“Maybe we can melt them in the fire—” Leera said.
Bridget shook her head. “No way, need something twice as hot at least.”
“How do you know?”
“Brother was an apprentice blacksmith, remember?”
“What if we hid the pieces far apart?” Augum asked.
This time Leera shook her head. “Wouldn’t work. Remember the map in Castle Arinthian? We walked around trying to repair it until the pieces were in range. No, the only way is to use something hot enough, like a kiln or something, and melt them down completely.”
His eyes found the Orb of Orion, sitting on one of their soggy rucksacks, still enclosed in its shimmering green prison.
“Yeah, it’s still trapped,” Bridget said. “Not all spells expire when their caster dies. Hopefully it will fizzle out soon though, and Mrs. Stone can teleport us out.”
“If she’s tuned to the orb,” he said.
“She’s had plenty of time with it, I’m sure she’s tuned by now.” Yet her voice betrayed her doubt.
Augum took a look around the room. It was simply adorned, with an ancient stone trestle table and chairs. There was a stone chest in one corner. Even the door was made of gray stone.
“What is this place?”
“The Rivicans …” Garryk’s voice was weak. “Known for … trying to transmute … stuff into gold … ancient alchemy.”
“Shh, don’t speak,” Bridget said. “Rest up and get warm.” She turned to Augum. “Some kind of ancient people built these chambers.”
Augum strode to the door but was caught by Bridget’s hand. “Please, Aug, get warm first. It’s cold over there, you’ll freeze.”
He knew she was right—if they moved on while wet, especially out into the snowy mountains …
He plopped down, resolving himself to rest and dry out by the fire, hoping something did not emerge from the depths of that black pool.
Hole
“We should go,” Augum said when he felt his robe growing hot from the flames. “My father could emerge any moment.” He had been staring at the black pool too long and it was starting to spook him.
“They’ll harm my family,” Garryk said. “Leave me … here … by the fire …”
“We discussed this already, Garryk,” Bridget said. “We’re not leaving you. Besides, there’s no guarantee they’d save you after finding you here, or if they’d even venture this way.”
Garryk wheezed a resigned sigh and nodded.
Augum found a stone and placed it on the edge of the pool. He splayed his hands over it. “Concutio del alarmo.” Then he helped Bridget with Garryk.
Leera gathered their rucksack and pushed on the stone door. “Shyneo.”
They traversed passage after ancient passage, each sculpted from smooth stone, cracked by time. Leera’s pale watery light lit the way, casting long shadows on the occasional stone bench or stone block chair. Crude torch sconces jutted from the walls
. Rooms were barren and dusty. Their steps left visible footprints in the thick dust, something that could not be helped.
At last, they ended up in a great chamber with a wide shallow basin and copper spouts, as if a pool had once been here.
“Some sort of ancient bathhouse,” Leera said.
“Need … rest,” Garryk wheezed. Augum and Bridget immediately set him down, lighting up their palms to give Leera a casting break.
“I’ve been … thinking …” he went on, eyes unfocused without his spectacles. “The armor thing … it held your orb for a bit …”
“You mean Horrick?” Augum said. “Horrick held the orb? When?”
“I think it was … outside of the library. When we had returned … I saw him place it … back into one of your rucksacks.”
“Are you saying Horrick enchanted it somehow?” Leera asked.
“Maybe …”
Bridget quickly opened the rucksack and brought out the orb, shimmering in its greenish prison.
“It’s not moving,” Leera said. “The field … it used to squirm slowly, but now it’s not moving!”
Augum looked closer. Had the Sphere of Protection spell moved before? He honestly couldn’t recall.
“Are you sure?” Bridget asked.
“Yes, because I took a good look at it once. I’m telling you, the field thingy used to move! Nefra must have heard us talking about the orb and Mrs. Stone and come up with some kind of plan.”
“I don’t know …” Augum picked it up. It felt just as heavy as before, and looked identical, as far as he remembered it.
“What if Leera’s right?” Bridget stepped away from the orb. “But what spells would she cast on it that would help her—” She stopped, locking eyes with Augum.
“—Object Track,” they chorused together.
“It’s the only spell that makes sense,” Bridget said. “Then she could track us, and therefore the Legion—”
“Yeah but she was losing the battle anyway,” Augum said.
“Then there’s no harm taking it with us, is there?” Bridget said. “Even if Nefra cast Object Track, wouldn’t she have more important things to worry about, like boiling the pretender alive—assuming she even survived the battle?”
They glanced at the orb between them. It suddenly appeared dangerous.
Leera picked it up. “I say we dump it.”
“Not until we’re sure,” Bridget said. “We might be wrong, and it could be our only way out of here via Mrs. Stone.”
The girls looked to Augum.
“I agree with Bridge. Keep it for now. If anything, we ditch it later.”
Leera frowned but stuffed it back in the rucksack. Augum and Bridget picked up Garryk again and they continued.
They soon came upon a room with hundreds of pots filled with ancient earth. Some of the pots were on ledges. Others hung from the high ceiling on long chains, looming out from the darkness. In the center of the vast room were large stone basins holding the husks of long-dead trees.
“Reminds me of the forest room in Castle Arinthian,” Augum said, being careful not to trip over scattered branches.
Bridget shifted Garryk’s weight as he groaned with pain. “All the plants are different too.”
They passed through the room to another, this one filled with all kinds of piles of sand and rock and minerals, each a different color.
“Must be hundreds of them.” Leera made her palm light a little brighter, but it was still not strong enough to find the walls.
“Rivicans …” Garryk wheezed. “Alchemists …”
They moved through this room on to a thin passageway of stone doors.
“We could easily never find a way out of here,” Leera mumbled, inspecting each door as she passed.
Augum saw something glimmer on the ground. “What’s that?”
Leera shone her light closer. “Looks like … is that gold dust—?” She pushed on the smooth stone door the gold dust led to. It swung open with a grinding noise.
“Empty,” Bridget said, eyeing the tiny barren room, decorated with nothing more than stone block seats. “Let’s keep going.”
Leera held up a hand. “Wait. Something doesn’t make sense here …” She followed the smattering of dust to a block. “Aug, can you take over?”
He nodded, gently lowering Garryk to the floor. “Shyneo.” His palm crackled to life with lightning as hers extinguished.
Leera splayed out her palm. “Un vun deo,” and was immediately drawn to one of the blocks, nestled against a wall. She pushed on it but it didn’t budge. “Help me move this.”
“We don’t have time for this—” Bridget said.
Leera smirked. “There’s always time for treasure hunting. Aug?”
“We’ll just be a moment—” Augum said apologetically.
“Ugh.”
Augum helped Leera push on the stone, but it ended up requiring all three of them to move it with Telekinesis. It ground across the floor, revealing worn steps.
“Oh, this is so neat—” Leera squealed, and disappeared down before anyone could stop her. “Get down here, you have to see this for yourselves!”
Augum scrambled after her, emerging in a small room filled with thousands of small vials, each on its own wooden stand. Some of them shone back the light, glittering brightly, while others were as black as coal. Some had liquid, others powder, others pebbles. There were books and scrolls and a table of beakers and a small furnace—
“Are you two all right—?” Bridget voice echoed from up top.
“Yes!” Augum called. “It’s beautiful! Some sort of alchemy room. Bring Garryk down here and see for yourself!”
“We don’t have time though—”
“It’s worth it, Bridge!” Leera called, running to fetch them. “Trust me!”
“The books are all in some sort of old language,” Augum said when they had rejoined him, taking one off the shelf. It was heavy and black and the pages were so old they practically turned to dust in his hands.
“Look at this!” Leera said, placing her hands on an exquisitely carved case. “Think it’s safe to open?”
“Well you haven’t died touching it—”
But Leera had already opened it. The old hinges squealed in protest. The contents immediately reflected their light.
“It’s a book!” Leera said, reverently picking up the most beautiful tome Augum had ever seen. Its cover was made entirely of exquisitely ornate gold. The very center depicted a simple spiral.
“What do you think it is?” he asked, unable to take his eyes off the artifact.
She turned to him with the biggest smile he had ever seen. “It’s gold! We’re rich! Look! Even the pages are made from gold leaf! And it weighs more than stone—”
The pages were indeed made of fragile and thin gold, and written in the finest hand Augum had ever seen. It was graceful and loopy, and tinted with copper to stand out against the gold.
“I kind of meant what the book was about …” he mumbled.
“Who cares! This could buy us a castle—”
“Leera Jones—” Bridget’s stern voice began, “are you seriously handling some ancient artifact without checking to see if it’s cursed or booby-trapped or—”
“And how are we supposed to do that?” Leera asked, drawing the book close to her chest. “Look at it!”
Augum helped lower Garryk to the floor while she inspected the room and the book.
“What language do you think it’s in?” Leera asked, bringing it close to Garryk.
“Don’t … know … very … old.”
“What about this one?” Augum asked, pulling off a random book and showing the spine to Garryk.
“Ancient … Tiberran …”
“So you can read it?”
Garryk only nodded.
“What are you doing?” Bridget said.
“I’m packing the book away,” Leera replied, shoving it into her rucksack. “What does it look like?”
“It’s about … alchemical … properties … how to mix … make—”
Bridget placed her hands on her hips and glared at Leera. “You’re not seriously going to steal a valuable artifact from a historical site of ancient—” suddenly she stopped and turned to Augum. “That book, what did Garryk say it was again?”
Augum had already tossed it aside though. “I don’t know, something about alchemy properties or whatever—”
Bridget hurriedly picked up and began carefully rifling through it, holding each page in front of Garryk, making him read out the contents while explaining her plan to him in hushed tones.
“What are you doing?” Augum asked when he got bored with the bookshelf.
“Shh! And this one, Garryk? What’s it say?”
“Pyra Magnimunt.”
“Will that work?”
“It might …”
“Then help me decipher the ingredients.”
Now Leera had come over too. “Bridge, what are—”
“Shh! Listen carefully. Garryk?”
Garryk indicated for her to hold the book closer, and read out a short list of ingredients. He pointed at the page. “These ones … find them.”
Bridget took the book and began trying to match the symbols beside each of the ingredients with the symbols on the stoppered vials.
“Now who’s crazy—” Leera said.
“No, wait—” Augum dug in his pockets and withdrew the iron tablet shavings. “You want to destroy these, don’t you?”
Bridget did not even look up from her frantic searching. “Exactly! Now help me—”
Augum and Leera joined in the search. Together, the trio found all the necessary ingredients. Then they worked with Garryk on how to exactly mix the stuff together and light it, as the recipe dictated.
“White fire,” Bridget explained while holding a crude beaker full of their concoction. “It’s called White Fire, and it’s supposed to burn hot enough to melt steel, which should definitely burn iron.” She carefully carried the beaker over to the stone furnace, and emptied its contents within. “Aug, the shavings—”
