“I have the feeling the Firbolga aren’t who we think they are,” Morrigan said then, drawing everyone’s attention.
She had stopped near the one carving that caught the dim light ahead. The carving depicted three Alvar standing near a taller, more elegantly-dressed figure. Though similar in appearance to the other three, it did not have the pointed ears, nor the angled brow. It looked completely human, only larger and more divine.
“The symbol is upon its chest,” Morrigan said. “Gaia’s symbol. The Alvar look like they’re worshiping him.”
Igrid approached the carving and looked at it carefully. The triquetra symbol was there as Morrigan had said, but it looked slightly different. The spirals at the ends of each of the three arms were loosely coiled, with only two concentric circles instead of the tightly wound four they were used to seeing.
“What do you think it means if it’s different?” Igrid asked.
“Different cultures,” Trista suggested. “The Alvar and the Firbolga had different interpretations, thus different symbols. The Alvar must have later adopted this temple to their own interpretation. We might find some older symbols here, the original ones built by the Firbolga.”
“They look strange,” Igrid said, strangely drawn to the carving.
There was something in the Firbolga’s face that seemed to beckon her to come closer. It was like she was looking at a human; her kinsmen, in fact.
“It looks like a Northman,” she said. “Only taller.”
Morrigan moved up next to her and stared at the figure closer. She cocked her when Igrid turned to her and then returned her glance, nodding.
“You’re right,” she said. “It does.”
“Then who were they?” Maela asked. “Were they Northmen?”
“They might have been,” Igrid said. “Ancient ones. Maybe the root race of all Northmen.”
“He would have been seven feet tall, at least,” Morrigan guessed. “Does that sound right?”
“Some of our people from the Northlands were very tall,” Igrid said, remembering the legends. “Our ancestors were even taller. But they are all dead now. Dead and encased in their tombs.”
“Sisters,” Braela said, peering down the hallway. “I can feel something down there in the distance. Something dark.”
“I can feel it too,” Morrigan said. “I felt it even more when I saw this carving.”
Igrid gulped, gripping her sword tighter.
“I think I know what’s down there,” she said.
The hallway ended in a large stone door, split down the middle, with a strange triangle arrangement of finger sized holes drilled within a circular depression carved right into the stone. The holes were arranged in a pyramid formation, with the older triquetra symbol in the center. Directly above the carving was another carving, this one a relief depicting a pair of calipers that a cartographer would use.
Igrid stared at the carving for a moment, realizing that the calipers were the key to opening the door. The points would go in the holes, and would then be turned from one hole to the next, somehow unlocking whatever the mechanism was inside.
“We don’t have calipers,” Igrid said. “That’s what we need.”
Before anyone could react, Rian stepped forward and stopped right in front of the door. Everyone moved aside as she began taking deep breaths. Igrid guessed that she would attempt to use her new powers, and she was right. The rogue held out her hands, slowly pressing them into the stone. To everyone’s amazement, her fingers began to sink into the stone itself. Rian’s own eyes went wide, and a grin appeared on her lips.
“She’s doing it,” Trista said. “She’s walking through the stone!”
“Shh!” Braela said.
Rian took a deeper breath, closed her eyes, and pushed forward. She sank into the stone, disappearing into it like a rock falling in the mud. She was gone, and there was no trace of her passing. The door’s surface remained hard and unchanged. Morrigan even touched it, shrugging when she realized it was still stone.
“That was amazing,” Braela said, smiling.
Igrid smiled. “Well, I suppose we wait.”
It wasn’t long before the group saw Rian’s fingers poking through the stone from the other side. Within a matter of seconds, she squeezed her way through, carrying a strange metal object in her hand.
“Will this work?” she asked, handing Igrid a pair of rusted calipers.
Igrid took them. “Good,” she said. “These will work.”
She approached the door and placed one of the points in the top hole, and the other point in the bottom right. She then moved them left, leaving the point in the top hole. There was a click. She then swung the calipers clockwise, placing the top point into the bottom right hole. There was another click. Then, one last rotation brought the bottom left point up to the top hole, and a louder click sounded.
Igrid stepped back as the door rumbled. The circular carving sank into the stone, sliding to the right as the door split down the middle. The two halves rumbled apart, causing dust to fall from the stone above. Beyond was a dark area, with a cold breeze blowing from within.
“Be careful,” Rian said. “I smelled something foul before.”
Igrid smelled it too, which reinforced her thoughts of what was beyond. The Great Mother had said the temple was defiled, and being a Firbolga temple it could only be thing; an ancient Firbolga that had succumbed to the darkness. The revelation that the ancient race were the progenitors of her own people was disturbing. Her culture had legends of ancient undead that roamed the catacombs in her homeland.
The thought made her cringe, and as the group continued forward toward what looked like a large chamber, the painful feeling in her gut grew stronger. She held her sword out in front of her like a beacon, hoping it would guide them toward what she feared the most.
The blade began to glow, and the others drew their own in response. Something was ahead in the chamber, and Igrid could only gulp in anticipation. All of their blades were glowing, and were growing brighter red as they entered the large, circular chamber.
“This is it,” she said. “Be ready, sisters. The evil is here.”
There was a clicking hiss ahead, and the sound of creaking armor. Through the dimness, Igrid could see a figure rising from the rubble of a once great altar. More sounds came from the outer perimeter, clunking sounds like boots scraping against the stone.
The group lined up, their swords ready and their hearts thumping. Igrid could feel their fear, but also their courage. Though terrified, they were all ready to do battle with whatever would appear before them. And as the light grew brighter, and the armored, skeletal shapes came into view, Igrid knew once and for all what is was they would face.
Draugr.
Chapter Twenty One
I have to say,” Neko announced, “that this is the strangest voyage I’ve ever undertaken.”
Baleron grinned, nodding his head in agreement. “I too, my friend.”
The two men stood upon the stern, each with one foot on the railing, staring off into the strange cave ahead. The waters were still and peaceful, and the cavern roof overhead was dotted with hundreds of thousands of tiny green lights that gave the whole underground river a calming glow. The wind was gentle as blew up from behind them, yet strong enough to fill the ship’s sails and carry them through.
All was quiet, but Baleron could feel the tension in his men. The rest of them, along with Neko’s crew, sat in various places near the mast, nervously looking at the cavern around them. Baleron could understand their worries. The Druaga had said there would be dangers, but had not been specific. To anyone who had heard them, that could mean anything.
Neko looked up and pointed as one of the tiny green lights slowly descended. Baleron watched it fall, growing dimmer and dimmer until it finally fizzled out just before hitting the water.
“I wonder what those are,” Neko said.
“Glow worms or something similar,” Baleron guessed. “They�
�re fascinating, whatever they are.”
“I can imagine there are whole worlds underneath the surface, with similar glowing things providing light like little suns.”
“You’re probably right. Though the things that would live there would be… strange, I would imagine.”
Neko laughed. “Likely not as strange as the things I’ve seen since we crossed paths.”
“I’m sure we’ll see stranger things on our journey.”
Neko was quiet for a moment. Baleron guessed that he was pondering the future; the sights, people and adventures they would experience together. It was several minutes later when Neko spoke again.
“Tell me about this Dearg,” he said. “I’m curious. What kind of man is he? Is he strong enough to lead?”
“He is a strong leader,” Baleron said. “He is inexperienced, but his friends and everyone who has met him trusts him to lead them.”
“What was the reason you did not win the first battle?”
“He was unprepared to face T’kar in single combat. They were both injured, and T’kar was carried away by his men and his army retreated. I would call it a draw.”
“You said he was raised by Northmen, but is actually a man of Eirenoch by birth; the former king’s own grandson.”
“Yes,” Baleron said. “And the son of the Dragon himself. That much was proved by my friend Menelith; to Dearg and the rest of us.”
“Menelith is one of these Alvar you speak of?” Neko asked with a skeptical grin.
“He is,” Baleron replied. “Don’t worry. You’ll meet him someday if you choose to fight with us.”
“I look forward to meeting one of them. I’ve always thought they were old wives’ tales, or stories of faeries told to children to make them behave. Much like the Firbolga, or the Fomorians.”
“Both of those are real. We fought Fomorians before and during the battle. The Alvar are skilled in killing them. They don’t seem to be much of a threat anymore.”
“Well, I do not fear monsters. The only thing that I fear is losing my favorite port, and those that live there.”
Baleron laughed. “That was a very interesting town,” he said. “And I wonder who that young rogue was.”
Neko shrugged. “Who knows? Those Ronin travel the whole world. She could be from anywhere.”
“Well, she’s on the island now. Wherever she is going, I hope she makes it.”
“Look ahead,” Neko said, pointing.
There was a brighter glow ahead, as if a greater concentration of the tiny lifeforms had gathered in a single spot. It looked to be a large alcove, a large as a temple in fact, with a shore that extended out into the river. Even farther down there appeared to be a bridge of some sort stretching from the alcove side to a darkened cave on the opposite side.
“What is that?” Baleron said.
“It’s a dam or a bridge,” Neko said. “Either way, we’re not getting through it. Hakeem!”
The others leaped up to join the two men at the stern. Hakeem’s eyes narrowed as he beheld the structure ahead, and he growled in frustration.
“We’ll have to drop anchor and knock it down somehow,” he said.
“Who built it?” Ivar asked.
“Troglodytes,” Finn replied. “Damn troglodytes.”
“Cave dwellers,” Hakeem explained. “Probably people in the past, but not anymore.”
“Drop anchor then,” Neko said. “But do it near the shore so we can disembark.”
Baleron looked to the knights, drawing his blade. “Get ready,” he said. “It’s time to fight.”
Hakeem and the two other crewmen threw the anchor overboard, and Neko was the first to drop into the cold water. Though there was little current, Baleron found it difficult to wade to the shore as the rocks below were slippery. He heard the others drop down behind him, grinning slightly when he heard Alric’s gasp.
“It’s freezing,” the Highlander said.
“It’s good for you, boy,” Ivar replied. “Keeps your blood pumping.”
“Quiet,” Neko whispered as he stopped and turned. “Two of them near that outcropping.”
Baleron nodded to Freyja and Odhran, whom each nocked an arrow and took aim. There were no other creatures around, just the two strangely hunched over, pale things that stood still facing the dam.
The two arrows silently picked them off, and they fell to the rocky shore without much noise.
“Strange how they didn’t see us,” Ivar said. “Or hear us. We made quite the racket dropping into the water.”
Neko motioned for everyone to follow him up the gentle slope. Baleron could see the entire cavern as they stepped up onto dry ground. It stretched back into larger chambers with walls that were carved with ledges, doorways, and even statues. The bridge or dam that crossed the water led to what looked like a darkened corridor.
“It’s a whole city,” Baleron said. “There’s no way we can take down that bridge without any of them noticing.”
Neko crouched as he looked between their obstacle and the cavern. He tapped his finger on his chin as he contemplated a strategy. Ivar, however, had an idea right away.
“Why don’t we just take a look at the bridge and try to cut any tethers that are holding it together? It looks like it’s made of wood. We could easily topple it and pass through.”
“Once it starts falling apart,” Neko warned, “they may hear us. But that seems to be the only way to go about it.”
“Can’t your ship just smash through it?” Alric asked.
“Perhaps,” Neko replied. “But I don’t want to risk it. If it can’t smash through, we’ll be stuck there.”
They headed toward the bridge, each of them taking note of the structure. Much like human constructs, the bridge was made of crossed lumber that formed triangles, trusses, and the general shape of trestles. Its surface was flat, made up of flat planks at least two inches thick. There appeared to be no stone.
“Where did they get the wood for this?” Baleron wondered.
Neko shrugged. “From the looks of that larger cavern, they have an underground forest growing in there.”
“It’s pine,” Odhran said. “I can smell it. That would have to be one high cavern.”
“If it’s pine, it should burn well,” Ivar said. “We could set it on fire.”
“That would take way too long,” Alric said. “Besides, you need fire to start a fire. Got any?”
Baleron heard Ivar grunt.
“Take your blades and cut all the ropes you see,” Hakeem suggested. “Be silent about it. Once it starts falling, we’ll head back to the ship and then maybe we can plow through.”
Neko nodded. “Good plan. Everyone ready?”
Baleron nodded. “Odhran, Freyja, keep watch with your bows.”
He followed Neko forward, and everyone else began to disperse under and along the supports. Baleron picked a support near the shore, hanging on to it as he pulled out his knife. He shimmied upward toward the first level of supports, keeping his eyes on the rope that tethered the three pieces of notched lumber together. He reached up and began sawing the rope, noting how tough it was.
Ivar was at the next support, also having a difficult time sawing with his own knife. Much to Baleron’s chagrin, the Northman drew an axe and chopped at his rope. Baleron cringed, but the noise seemed to have gone unnoticed. The rope fell away, and Ivar grinned as he climbed up one more level.
It was then Baleron realized that cutting from the bottom up may cause problems. The bridge could begin collapsing before they were finished, and they would have to drop into the water, swimming upstream against the mild current.
He heard Ivar chop again as he finally cut through his own rope. The others were making progress, having cut their own ropes. Hakeem looked humorous as he sawed at the ropes with his scimitar, and then held the blade in his teeth as he climbed up.
“Did you hear that?” Neko whispered.
Baleron craned his neck to hear the twanging of bows. Od
hran and Freyja were firing into the shadows at what looked like an approaching squad. Fortunately, the group was entirely wiped out before they had a change to figure out what was going on.
“We need to hurry,” Neko said. “More will be by.”
“Quiet,” Ivar whispered, pointing upward.
Two creatures had emerged from the dark corridor above and were crossing the bridge. They were making a loud racket with their guttural conversation, oblivious to the fact that a group of men were sawing away at the ropes below them.
The twang of bows sounded again, and the two creatures fell to the planks, luckily not falling into the water. Baleron pulled himself up another level and began sawing at the top tethers. He looked over at the two bodies, noting how strange the creatures looked. They were frog-like, with smooth, slimy skin that was warty and glistening with some strange moisture. Their large eyes were open and lifeless, and Baleron guessed they looked much the same way alive.
“Ugly things,” he whispered.
There was a sudden creaking noise, and the bridge began to shift slightly. Everyone froze, clinging to the posts and looking at each other in anticipation. Another creak sounded, followed by a loud crack. Without another word, everyone began climbing down as quickly as possible. Alric dropped into the water first, letting go at the first level of supports. His splash was loud, but not as loud as the sound of the bridge collapsing.
“Let’s go!” Baleron called out in a loud whisper.
The group began wading along the edge of the shore, keeping in the shadows of the rocks. There was a cacophony of guttural shouts coming from the larger cavern, and Baleron could see Freyja and Odhran backing away. Then, a horn sounded, and the thundering of hundreds of feet echoed in the cavern as the troglodytes were alerted.
“Run, run!” Baleron shouted.
They splashed through the water, diving into the deeper area toward the ship. The remaining crew members along with Finn began firing into the darkness, guarding their friends as they boarded the ship. Ahead, the supports and crossbeams of the bridge were collapsing, twisting, and pulling the remaining tethers apart under their own weight.
Sisters of the Blade Page 23
