Journeyman Warsmith

by Chris Hollaway

  The first hundred yards down the stairwell was difficult to navigate. The passageway, untended and exposed to the elements, had collected mud and debris between steps. The result was a steep, mucky slope that threatened to pull the boots off the adventurers’ feet. The few places the steps angled out from the mud seemed more treacherous than not. The party moved as silently as they could manage, though Kevon thought he could hear soft exclamations of disgust coming from Mirsa ahead.

  Further on, the stairs were not mired as heavily. Kevon scraped clumps of mud from his boots against one of the steps, wanting nothing to disturb his footing.

  Ahead of Waine, an orb in a torch-like sconce began glowing, and Mirsa ended her spells as they neared the new light source. Every twenty paces, a small pulse of magic to another orb lit the way down the twisted passage, and faded as they passed far enough beyond the magical torches.

  At last, the stairs ended and the path straightened into a hallway that extended far ahead into the darkness. Kevon followed Waine and Mirsa down the passage, passing three orb-lights that Mirsa did not activate. Instead, they forged ahead in the dim light of the last lit orb they had passed.

  “Almost there,” Mirsa whispered, as they closed ranks in the deepening gloom. “The tunnel opens up just ahead, and the barrier is perhaps five paces beyond.”

  Kevon could feel the barrier in his mind, an extremely weak pulsing of Light and Movement. “Shouldn’t we be able to see it?” he whispered ahead to Mirsa.

  “It must be further than I remember,” she answered in hushed tones. “I don’t…” Mirsa stumbled over a rock and stumbled, crying out.

  Kevon stepped forward to help the Mage, and felt the breeze and heard the hollow rasping as something crowded the hall ahead.

  Waine screamed, something Kevon had never heard the Adept do before. The cry seemed to lurch down the passage, as the rasping noise intensified and receded. Waine’s voice fell suddenly silent. A thunderous bellow shook the hall around Kevon.

  “No…” Mirsa whispered as the rumbling subsided. “NOOOO!”

  Lights along the passageway flared to painful brilliance as the Mage pushed away from Kevon to charge ahead. Waine was nowhere to be seen.

  Kevon recovered and sprinted after her. Mirsa’s headlong rush was faster than Kevon had expected. He compensated with magic, focusing a Movement rune to speed himself ahead.

  Kevon reached the entrance to the cavern mere steps behind Mirsa. She screamed in rage, and magical torches flanking the end of the passage flashed to their fullest illumination.

  The huge figure standing before them raised its left hand to shield its eyes, Waine’s limp form clutched in its right. The Orclord took a step back and shook its head before unceremoniously biting Waine in half.

  “Waine!” Mirsa cried, runes flickering through her mind so furiously that Kevon could feel them. “Back!” the Master Mage shouted, directing a Movement rune at the huge orc.

  Kevon wheezed as his magic flowed into the spell, unoffered.

  The Orclord rocked backwards from the force, stepping back to keep its balance.

  Mirsa moved forward to where a ribbon of softly shimmering light wavered up out of the floor. She knelt, grasping at it, and focused. The scarcely-visible fragment blossomed upward, spreading to cover the whole end of the cavern. Mirsa slumped to the floor, sobbing.

  The light from the orb-torches dimmed back to a reasonable level. The orc lowered the arm that had been shielding its eyes from the glare, and saw the restored barrier.

  “Will that hold it?” Kevon asked shakily, still numb from the events of the previous moments.

  Mirsa curled in on herself, rocking back and forth, oblivious.

  The orc crouched and leapt at the shimmering veil.

  Chapter 12

  “Wake up!” Mirsa snapped, shaking Kevon back to awareness. “You’ve got to help me!”

  The ground shuddered and chips of rock pelted them from above. The Orclord rained thunderous fists into the dimming barrier. Rings of distorted light spread like waves in a pond from each impact before diffusing into the dull glow of the magical shield.

  “The barrier won’t hold, I don’t have the strength,” Mirsa sobbed, trembling.

  “What do I need to do?”

  Mirsa took Kevon’s hand and pressed it up against the arcane shield, and the runes sprang into his mind.

  Kevon closed his eyes to focus, and let his magic flow into the runes until they glowed painfully in his mind. He broke contact with the magical construct, and opened his eyes.

  The barrier outshone the torches behind Kevon, illuminating the entire cavern. “How long will this last?” he asked.

  Mirsa shrugged. “Half a season? We used to renew it weekly to this strength. At least the creatures of darkness should subside for a time.”

  “Why don’t we stop them permanently?” Kevon asked, gesturing at the carved stone archway at the far end of the cavern.

  Mirsa shook her head. Master Gurlin tried for years…” She stopped. “No, he didn’t. But…” the Mage sighed, exasperated. “Elemental magic is useless here. If the portal were closer, we might be able to damage it with a Movement-hurled stone. If we had more Magi, we could focus the light from the orb-torches to try and overwhelm the Dark Enchantment. Aside from that…”

  The Orclord lowered its face to their level, tusks as thick as Kevon’s waist scraping and sparking against the barrier. It stuffed the remnants of Waine’s corpse into its mouth and chewed loudly, laughing every few moments.

  Mirsa retched.

  Kevon helped her up and into the mouth of the passageway, further away from the taunting behemoth. He crouched by her, and studied the situation.

  The orc paced along the barrier twice, then retreated to the shadowy backend of the cavern. It sat down near the portal’s alcove, leaned back against the wall, and appeared to doze.

  Minutes later, three leapers bounded through the portal. The Orclord’s hand shot out and snagged two of them. He wolfed them down before standing to follow the third one over to the barrier, cornering it for an easy capture. The orc stared at Kevon and Mirsa as it chewed its latest prize.

  Kevon’s breath caught as inspiration struck. “I know how we’re going to kill it.” he announced, rising to his feet. “Not just yet, though. Will you be all right here while I check on Bertus?” he asked Mirsa.

  She nodded and leaned back against the wall, gazing blankly at the Orclord, who paced the barrier once again.

  Kevon strode down the hallway toward the stairs, keeping the way ahead lit with effortless application of Light runes to the orb torches. He ascended the stairs with ease, falling into the familiar gait that had carried him around the North Valley his entire life.

  That could have been me, leading the way down that tunnel, Kevon thought suddenly. The shock and realization that his friend was really gone caused him to misstep in the muck near the top of the stairs. His ankle wrenched in his stuck boot, and he twisted and fell against the wall. He breathed deeply, and squeezed his eyes shut to fight back the tears that threatened to surface.

  After a few moments, Kevon calmed himself and regained his footing, treading carefully until he was sure his ankle was not damaged. Daylight brightened the stairwell ahead, and he squinted as he emerged into the full force of mid-afternoon.

  Bertus sat where they had left him, and lowered his crossbow as he recognized Kevon. Color had returned to the youth’s face, and he breathed easily.

  “How bad is it down there?” Bertus called as Kevon approached.

  The Seeker’s insides twisted as he searched for the right words to tell Bertus about the loss of Waine. “You’re feeling better, then?” he asked, eyes lowered.

  “It’s Waine, isn’t it?” Bertus said, rather than questioning. “You would be upset if something happened to Mirsa, but you would have spoken up.”

  Kevon nodded, lifting his gaze to rest upon the brave front Bertus was maintaining.

  “Is Mirsa all
right?” Bertus asked.

  “She’s not injured,” Kevon began, “But I don’t know that she’s all right.”

  The youth took a deep breath, wincing only slightly as his lungs filled to capacity. He stood and hobbled around in a small circle before sitting back down. “The healing has slowed,” he commented, “But it hasn’t stopped. With a little more rest I should be able to travel well enough to get us clear of this place before dark.” After a moment, he added, “Will you?”

  The Warsmith clapped Bertus on the shoulder. “We won’t be long.” He turned and began his descent back to the cavern, and Mirsa.

  * * *

  The Master Mage was much as Kevon had left her, leaning back against the wall, knees clasped tightly to her chest, face buried in her robes. She ignored the Orclord as it pounded on the barrier and howled, but startled at Kevon’s hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” Kevon began. “Are you somewhat rested, at least?”

  Mirsa turned red-rimmed eyes toward Kevon, and nodded once before climbing to her feet.

  He took Mirsa’s hand and led her to the barrier by the orc’s feet. He smiled as he released her, and crouched, leaning into the magical shield. “Waine would have loved this,” he chuckled. “Be ready, but stay very still.”

  She gave Kevon a puzzled look, but imitated his stance, and stilled her own movements.

  The Seeker stayed frozen in place for several moments, analyzing the possible reactions the Orclord might have to his next move. Mirsa’s Aid rune glimmered in his mind’s eye, and after a deep breath, he began.

  The entire back wall of the cavern slid back a dozen feet, or appeared to, covered by an extensive Illusion. Mirsa startled as Illusions of herself and Kevon melted through the barrier and darted between the Orclord’s legs.

  The orc turned and swept a huge hand down to sweep up the apparitions, which danced nimbly aside, splitting up to divide its attention.

  Kevon dropped the Illusion he’d thrown over himself and Mirsa as soon as the orc’s back was turned, and focused on maintaining the fleeing figures and the false cavern wall. Runes of Illusion and Enhancement formed alongside Mirsa’s Aid rune, and Kevon drew more deeply on the Master Mage’s deeper reserves through the newly stabilized glyphs.

  The phantom figures leaped and rolled, crisscrossing to and fro, just out of reach of the increasingly frustrated Orclord. Kevon poured more magic into the spell, and the Illusions jeered at every missed grab, every dodged stomp, and in moments the pursuing orc was seething with rage.

  The Illusions raced toward the relative safety of the alcove containing the Dark portal, but just before it, the Mirsa-Illusion tripped on a stone and fell, hard. The Kevon-Illusion rushed to her side, and strained to lift her, to pull her to their destination, no more than a dozen feet away…

  The Orclord roared with glee as he aimed a crushing blow to snuff out the pitiful humans before they could escape. His fist crashed into the stone arch that framed the Dark portal, concealed just behind Kevon’s Illusion.

  A backlash of broken magic thundered through Kevon, akin to the sudden surges he’d felt when killing Gurlin, and when the armory in the ruins above had exploded, but more powerful than both of them combined. His vision blurred, and the runes in his mind shattered, ending his spell abruptly.

  The portal, visible now that the concealing Illusion was gone, pulsed slowly. Kevon could feel the gateway drawing on the residual energy from the broken Enchantment. Power intended to keep the rift open indefinitely saturated the area, and even unfocused, fed back into the darkness. The light seemed to dim with every beat of Kevon’s heart, and the boundaries of the portal expanded visibly each time the muted light returned.

  The Orclord retreated to the barrier, leaving the shattered fragments of the broken arch to be devoured by the expanding darkness.

  Waves of terror and despair washed over Kevon, and he dropped to his knees, his mind reeling at the depravity of the Dark rune. He clutched at his stomach and dropped to his hands, gagging.

  The void grew to fill half the chamber, and the light of the barrier began to dim. The Orclord resumed pounding on the magical shield, more desperately than before. Kevon managed to pull Mirsa’s limp form a few feet toward the exit tunnel before the fear overwhelmed him. He draped an arm protectively over the unconscious Mage, and collapsed beside her.

  Kevon turned his head to watch the expanding darkness, a last gesture of defiance. The gloom deepened, sharpened, and he could sense a focused malevolence, as if they were being watched from inside the portal.

  The orc halted his attack on the fading barrier, and turned to watch the darkness.

  The expanding portal slowed, and appeared to stop. The crushing feeling of despair shifted, leaving Kevon able to sit up and think clearly. Angry sounding whispers issued from the darkness, and the Orclord began taking halting steps toward the sound.

  The magical shield brightened as the Dark magic permeating the area began to wane. The black portal began to contract, and the whispering became louder, more urgent. The orc lengthened its strides, reaching out for the subsiding gateway.

  The darkness elongated, stretching to meet the giant orc as an immense clawed hand. The Orclord howled and leapt back. The darkness snaked back into the portal, but bulged again in the semblance of a twisted face. The eyes, emptier than even the portal itself, swept around and locked on Kevon and Mirsa.

  The whispering shrilled in Kevon’s ears, nameless runes assailed his mind in tempo with the quavering of the barrier. The Dark rune found its way into Kevon’s center of attention, solidified, and began leeching magic out of him. The whispers faded to occasional soft hisses as the portal swelled again.

  Kevon could see the Orclord cowering out of the corner of his eye, huddled against the Light barrier. His attention was mostly divided between the Dark magic that was invading his mind, and the figure that he sensed, more often than glimpsed, in the dark gateway he was now fueling.

  A foot, indistinguishable from the darkness except for the bluish-black sheen of polished chitin, stomped out of the portal, cracking the cavern floor where it impacted. Most of a leg, and the arm that had attempted to breach the gate earlier appeared, marking the creature as more than twice the size of the Orclord.

  Knowing that such a being crossing into the world would be far worse than anything they had yet experienced, Kevon reached for his sword-hilt and nullified his magic. The sudden outrush of what remained of his reserves was more than his strained mind could bear.

  The nightmarish limbs drew back inside the collapsing portal. The warped face pressed forward again, neck and shoulders squeezing outward into the world, screeching wordless curses that twisted reality. The collapsing portal constricted until the being was forced to retreat. Still, from just inside the heart of the void, eyes black as Death watched Kevon’s unconscious form until the gateway closed completely.

  * * *

  “Kevon,” Mirsa said, gently shaking his shoulder. “It’s over. You did it. We need to get moving.”

  The Warrior rolled to his side and propped himself up to a sitting position. His head spun, and his vision blurred even in the light of the fully renewed barrier. A muffled snarling came from the other end of the cavern, and as Kevon’s sight cleared, he could see the sprawled form of the Orclord near the broken fragments of gateway at the rear of the chamber. The beast snored, obviously less disturbed than Kevon or Mirsa about recent events.

  He stood, still watching the sleeping orc. “So, that’s it? We just leave it here to starve?”

  The Mage nodded. “I may have to return once or twice to refresh the shield, so that nothing wanders in, but, yes.”

  “I thought it would take something more… heroic… to defeat an Orclord,” Kevon mused.

  Mirsa gazed at Kevon with empty eyes. “Heroes die,” she responded, and turned to walk down the hallway.

  The Seeker watched the sleeping orc for a minute linger, then followed Mirsa up to the surface. He e
merged from the stairwell first, to find Bertus pacing. The youth was obviously in better condition than when Kevon had seen him last.

  “Well?” Bertus asked expectantly as he met Kevon and Mirsa at the edge of the depression surrounding the stairwell. “It’s finished, then? I felt something happen a while ago.”

  “The portal is destroyed,” Kevon answered. “The Orclord… is trapped, cut off. It will starve before long.”

  “I’d rather it were dead,” Bertus said, knuckles whitening on the grip of his crossbow.

  “I know.” Kevon grimaced. He had spent the walk up the passage thinking of ways to slay the beast, without the use of Elemental magic, through the barrier. Nothing had come to mind. “We need to get clear of this place so that we can set up a place to rest,” he continued, starting toward the broken tower’s entrance. “The sun is still high enough…”

  The Warsmith’s foot caught on some debris from the rubble pile he’s walked by, and he stumbled, hopping twice to catch his balance. He turned to curse at the protruding fragment of bookshelf, and stopped to stare at it.

  Memories of the battle following Gurlin’s death here years before rushed in on Kevon. He could see the broken wall and shelves being torn from the weakened structure of the inner tower. He fought the urge to duck as the fragment whirled across the courtyard, guided by his friend, the mage Pholos.

  The twins got it started, Kevon thought, grimacing. Pholos just diverted it. And, he had a focal rod…

  “We’ll return to Navlia,” Kevon said suddenly. “Then we come back to finish this.”

  The three made their way through the bog lands surrounding the ruins, taking a more direct route in the interest of time, wading more, and staying watchful while they remained within the area of corrupted magic.

  While the sun still hung safely above the mountains to the west, Mirsa called a halt.