The man rushed forward, grabbing the Larish. Lorik stabbed the man with his dagger, the blade wedging between the man’s ribs. The man grunted, and twisted, causing Lorik to lose his grip on the dagger. Despite being stabbed, the man was incredibly strong. Lorik was forced to grab the Larish with his now free hand to keep the man from wrenching the cup away from him.
They struggled, both men heaving to tear the others away from the Larish. The silvery liquid sloshed and churned, growing brighter in the process. Lorik pulled himself back down the hallway. The man struggled, his only aim was to free the Larish.
“Release it!” he shouted. “Give me the Larish or I will kill you.”
“No!” Lorik shouted.
They struggled down the hallway. In the back of Lorik’s mind was the realization they were getting nearer and nearer the stairwell and the dark pit beyond. If he didn’t break free soon, he would risk falling over the stairs. He thought it might have been possible to release the Larish and make a mad dash for safety, but that wouldn’t solve anything. The man he was fighting was the source of the dark magic, Lorik could feel it swirling inside the man, like a winter gale just waiting to be unleashed. Lorik guessed that giving the man the Larish with its stolen magic might just be the key to unlocking that fierce storm of sweeping darkness he’d seen on the altar in the round room. He couldn’t do that, he couldn’t give up and run away, the darkness would eventually find him. And if he didn’t stop the man now, the crazed sorcerer would only grow stronger. Now was his best chance, but first he had to keep the man from using the magic he’d stolen.
They were far enough from the room with the candles that the darkness overcame the light, but the glow from the Larish cast a pale light on the gray stone walls. Lorik glanced over his shoulder and saw the door frame, the darkness beyond it seemed like the open maw of some huge creature waiting to devour him. Lorik heaved himself backward, his shoulder crashed painfully into the door frame.
“It... is... mine!” the man shouted.
“Never!” Lorik bellowed back.
“Lorik!” came Stone’s familiar voice. “Is that you?”
“Stay back!” he warned.
“Give it to me or I’ll kill them,” the man hissed at Lorik.
Lorik wasn’t sure how the man planned to kill his friends while he was in the heat of battle with Lorik, but he didn’t want to take any chances.
“Hold on, we’re coming,” Stone shouted.
“No,” he cried. “Don’t!”
“Too late,” the man hissed.
There was a crack, almost like thunder, and then the sound of crumbling stone. Lorik knew, even though he couldn’t see the stairwell in the darkness of the castle, that the man had somehow destroyed part of the stairs. If Stone or Vera came rushing down the steps, they would fall to their death. Then Lorik realized what he had to do. He couldn’t protect the people he loved unless this man with the strange markings was dead. And there was only one sure way to kill the man and keep him from getting the magic in the Larish.
“You lose,” Lorik said through clenched teeth. Then he shouted to his friends. “The stairs are out. Go back!”
“Lorik!” screamed Issalyn.
Lorik had to ignore the deep desire to run to Issalyn. He had to fight past the pain and overcome the weakness he felt. He pulled with all his might, back pedaling out of the hallway, pulling the marked man with him. They stumbled onto the stairs, and then the world seemed to tilt. Panic seized Lorik as he felt himself falling. Every muscle contracted and the Larish was pulled from the marked man’s fingers. The glowing liquid spilled onto Lorik’s face and chest as they fell, both men screaming in the darkness.
The next few seconds stretched out, time seeming to slow as Lorik perceived only a few odd sensations. Darkness seemed to flee from him. It was still pitch black as he fell through the pit, but the suffocating darkness that seemed more of a tangible mire than an absence of light, receded. The air, flowing past Lorik as he fell, felt cool and refreshing. And, in the back of his mind, little more than an annoying whine, was the sound of the other man’s screams. Lorik guessed that he was screaming too, but it was impossible to tell.
What he didn’t notice was the way the silvery liquid magic of the Drery Dru seeped into his skin. It was a slow process, but some of the magic found its way home. The man with the markings on his body had lied. The Larish had drawn the magic from Lorik’s body, but it wasn’t lost forever. Most of the liquid magic fell in silvery drops that was slower than the frenzied plummet of Lorik and the other man.
Lorik saw a flash of yellow light below him, then he crashed into the solid rock at the bottom of the pit. Bones shattered and organs ruptured. Pain beyond imagining overloaded Lorik’s brain until it shut down all sensory perception except Lorik’s sight. The other man hit the floor of the pit a second after Lorik, who was lying on his back, looking up at the bright drops of magic that seemed to float down toward him.
The other man was dead, or so it seemed. The body was cracked open like the shell of a crab. Lorik couldn’t see the man without turning his head, which he couldn’t do even if he wanted to. His back was broken, and although he didn’t know it, he had lost the ability to even breathe on his own power. All that Lorik knew was the floating stars above him were coming closer.
The silvery magic fell on Lorik. Some of the drops hit the stone floor, where they sizzled briefly, like water drops in a hot skillet, before vanishing in a wisp of smoke. The drops of liquid magic that landed on Lorik soaked in and immediately began to heal and restore his body. Bones reformed and hardened. Muscles, blood vessels, and organs knit themselves back together and began functioning again. The pain eased slowly as the magic was absorbed drop by drop.
Lorik only knew relief, his eyes fluttered shut and he fell into blissful oblivion.
Chapter 33
Stone had led the way down the dark staircase. They were moving slowly, despite their fear for Lorik’s life. Then, they began to hear sounds, but they were indistinct and impossible to make out. They kept moving down the stairs, Stone had his knife out in one hand, the other was on the wall. Vera was behind him, with one hand on Stone’s shoulder, the other one on the wall. Issalyn brought up the rear.
Eventually Stone saw a faint light ahead. It was actually on the opposite side of the spiraling stone staircase from where he and the others were slowly descending. He called out to his friend.
“Lorik? Is that you?”
“Go back!” came the shouted reply.
Stone’s heart leapt knowing that his friend was still alive. If Lorik was fighting, Stone had no doubt who would be victorious.
“Hold on, we’re coming,” Stone shouted again, focusing on moving down the dark steps as quickly as he could.
“No, don’t!” Lorik screamed.
There was a note of panic in Lorik’s voice. A strain of desperation that Stone had never heard before. It made him hesitate, fear clawing at Stone’s resolve.
“We have to help him,” Vera urged.
A massive crack sounded in the pit, echoing off the stone walls. Stone felt the step he was on shudder and the fear of falling paralyzed him. Then came the sound of stone crumbling and falling away.
“Oh, god,” Vera muttered.
“Hold on to something,” Stone told the others.
The stairs trembled again. Then Lorik’s voice rang out in the darkness again.
“The stairs are out. Go back!”
“Look,” Vera said, pinching Stone’s shoulder. “There he is.”
The soft glow across the circular pit seemed to increase and Stone could make out two shadowy forms fighting through a dark opening in the wall.
“Lorik!” Issalyn screamed.
The cry shook Stone into action.
“We’ve got to go back,” he said. “We’re no help to him like this.”
“Are you sure?” Vera asked.
Just then, before Stone could reply, they saw the two shadowy figures topple of
f the stairs and drop down into the darkness below. Stone leaned forward, feeling as if the darkness was pulling him forward as he tried to see what happened to his friend.
“No!” screamed Issalyn.
“Move!” Stone said. “We’re going back up.”
“Go! Go!” Vera told Issalyn.
Stone heard the other woman sobbing. His heart went out to her, but there was nothing he could do to comfort her. His own heart seemed to be convulsing in his chest, rather than beating, and his mind was astutely rejecting what he’d just seen. Lorik had fallen, he had taken the man he was fighting with him, but they had both fallen into the pit. Stone had no idea how far down the massive, underground cavern went, but the tiny dots of illumination that had been around Lorik had disappeared into the darkness below and there were no sounds of bodies landing.
“Is he gone?” Vera asked, her voice trembling.
“I don’t know,” Stone replied honestly.
“He can’t be,” Vera said.
Issalyn was sobbing. They made their way back up the spiraling stone stairway much faster than they had gone down. In the long hallway where they could see from the high, vine covered windows, they huddled together. Tears were on each of their faces as they dealt with the realization that Lorik was most likely dead.
“What do we do now?” Vera asked.
Stone was pondering the same question. He couldn’t imaging just leaving, not knowing if his friend was truly alive or dead. But their problems were twofold. They needed a source of light and they needed a way to get past the crumbled staircase, if they were to have any chance of finding Lorik.
“He’s... gone...” said Issalyn, between sobs.
“How do you know?” Vera said angrily.
“The pit was deep, too deep to survive.”
“You don’t know that,” Vera snapped. “You don’t know Lorik, he’s special.”
“No one could survive that fall,” Issalyn said.
“Well, we have to know for sure,” Stone said. “We have to find a way down. What’s at the bottom?”
“I was held prisoner at the bottom,” Issalyn explained. “There’s animals down there too.”
“What kind of animals?” Vera asked.
“Pigs, sheep, chickens,” Issalyn explained. “And there are rooms carved into the rock. I don’t know how many, but a lot.”
“We have to get down there,” Stone said.
“How?” Vera asked. “The stairs are out.”
“We need to find out how many stairs were ruined,” Stone said. “We need light.”
“Then we need fire,” Vera said. “We’ll have to go back to our camp.”
“Okay,” Issalyn said. “What are we waiting for?”
“There are gargoyles outside,” Stone said. “They’ll be waiting for us.”
“Maybe not,” Vera said. “If Lorik killed the man he was fighting, maybe the gargoyles have turned back into stone.”
“It’s possible,” Issalyn said. “Lorik was fighting Josston, the man who kidnapped me and Princess Amvyr. He was the leader of the people here.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Stone said.
Vera nodded and Stone swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, then he led them back down the dim hallway. At the entrance to the large, dark room beyond he made a plan.
“I’ll go through the doorway alone. There’s really no need for us all to risk our lives. I’ll go back to the camp and come back with torches.”
“I don’t like you going alone,” Vera said.
“It’s the best option we have,” Stone said. “There’s no sense in risking both our lives.”
“But don’t we have a better chance of success if we stay together. What if you get hurt and need help.”
“I don’t want you risking your life, and the life of our baby for me.”
“We won’t have a life without you,” she said, tears filling her eyes.
“I’m glad you feel that way,” he said calmly. “And you know I won’t do anything stupid, but this is the best way.”
“He’s right,” Issalyn said. “We can stay here, where it’s safe, together.” She put her arm around Vera’s shoulders.
Both Issalyn and Vera were crying. Stone kissed Vera, then walked into the darkness of the larger cavern. He used the small bit of light from the long corridor to navigate. Keeping the light behind him, he moved into the darkness with hands stretched out in front of him. He still had his knife in his right hand, just in case he ran into something unpleasant in the darkness.
The first thing he found was the cold, stone wall. It felt better just having something solid under his hand that he could identify in the darkness. He started shuffling along the wall and soon came to the mass of vines that marked the exit. He moved into the vines, fighting his way forward as they seemed to tear at his clothes and skin. He felt cold, a fear of being lost forever in the darkness seemed to bombard his mind. He was on the verge of panic when he suddenly stepped outside into the bright midday sunlight. He glanced around, his eyes squinting in the sudden change of light. It reminded him of dreams when, with danger all around, he couldn’t keep his eyes open.
He blinked rapidly, trying his best to adjust quickly. There was no sign of the gargoyles around the entrance, at least until Stone looked up. The gargoyles still circled overhead like vultures, waiting for their next meal. He started running.
Stone was a fast man, and he could sprint faster than most for short distances, but it was nearly half a mile out of the valley and back up the steep hill to where their supplies were stashed. Stone guessed that it was a huge mistake to have not thought of bringing supplies for making a fire. He had a small flint rod in his pack, along with some dry straw to help get fires started. He could have carried those supplies in a pouch on his belt and they wouldn’t be in such a mess.
He ran in an erratic pattern. He couldn’t run in any one direction for very long, nor did he want to give away the destination he was trying to reach. The gargoyles had been shown to block his way if they knew where he was going and he couldn’t afford to give them that chance again.
He ran quickly, but well short of a full sprint. He needed to save his greatest speed for the mad dash he would have to make up the hillside. He had to dodge from side to side, the gargoyles were falling faster, sometimes two or three at a time. Stone made it to the edge of the ruins before he had to stop and fight.
Three gargoyles dropped to the ground ten paces in front of him, and when he turned to reverse directions, two more fell. He was almost surrounded, the green skinned beasts were growling and moving faster now, as if the longer they were flesh and blood creatures, the quicker they became.
Stone dashed to the side, hoping to sprint past the lumbering beasts, but the nearest gargoyle launched itself right into the young warrior’s path. Stone reacted instinctively. The gargoyle was standing up, looking like a crane with its fat body perched on the stick like legs. Stone slid feet first, diving right between the gargoyle’s legs. It tried to drop on top of him, which would have crushed Stone, but he brought his trusty knife up as he slid. The heavy blade sliced open a wide gash on the gargoyles backside, and caused the green monster to hop upward to escape the pain.
Green blood doused Stone, but he kept moving, jumping to his feet and continuing his flight toward the hill. He had to swipe the gargoyle’s blood from his eyes and nose, some even got into his mouth, tasting grimy and salty. He spit as he ran, continuing to change directions. He jumped past another falling gargoyle and then ran in a circle on the wide valley between the ruins and the hillside.
Stone’s heart was pounding and he knew he couldn’t keep up his current pace much longer, not to mention actually increasing his speed up the hillside. His legs were burning and sweat was pouring off of him, despite the cold winter air. He decided that he had to make his charge up the hill. Over half of the gargoyles were still on the ground, trying to cut off his escape. He ran through a small gap in the
line of green monsters as they tried to surround him again. Then he ran as fast he could. The burst of speed threw off the gargoyles’ strategy for a moment. Stone ran as fast as he could up the steep hill, a stitch searing his abdominal muscles on one side. He had to scramble over a patch of loose rocks and he was bent nearly double, using his hands to stay upright on the steep hill.
One of the gargoyles tried to drop in front of Stone, but the creature bounced on the steep hillside. Stone covered his head as the creature flew over him and then rolled down the hill. Stone hurried forward again only to hear the sound of trees snapping like giant twigs as more of the creatures fell on the hilltop, smashing through the foliage and knocking down trees.
Stone knew he couldn’t move straight to their camp. He would need some time to find his pack and untie it from the tree. If he ran straight to it, the gargoyles would be all over him. He needed to lose them in the forest and then double back to the campsite. He angled his ascent, heading for a dense copse of evergreen trees. Another gargoyle dropped near the top of the hill, but it caused a minor avalanche and slid away from Stone. He raced over the edge of the hill and into the trees at full speed, only to find a steep ravine waiting for him.
Stone fell, headfirst, crashing through the brush and rolling over saplings. When he finally came to a stop he was in a wash, where rainwater flowing down the hills cut a narrow channel through the forest. The sides of the wash were taller than he was and the bottom was filled with freezing cold water. He got to his feet, ignoring the pain from his fall, and ran forward. He splashed through the water, which slowed his progress, but the trees on either side made it hard for the gargoyles to locate him. He kept running forward until one of the flying creatures passed overhead. He knew that once the creature circled back it would drop in the ravine and block his progress. He was just about to scramble up the side of the wash when he realized it was mostly mud and loose stones. He knew it would be a difficult climb. Then he saw a small cave. It was little more than an oblong hole in the muddy side of the wash. Tree roots hung down like deformed spider webs over the cave and Stone doubted that it was much more than a pocket in the muddy ground, but he decided if he could slip into it unseen, he could at least rest before the gargoyles found his hiding place.
Lorik The Defender (The Lorik Trilogy) Page 29
