The dank, curved walls lining the tunnel flickered in the meagre torchlight as Karvus and Tygra made their way deeper into the relatively level tunnel.
Moving as quickly as the slippery ground of the tunnel allowed, they came upon a deeper depression along the passage floor. Before they knew it, they were knee-deep in foul-smelling water.
Tygra emerged from the far side of the pool just as his torch fizzled out. He put his warhammer down and pulled out his flintstone, but no matter how he tried, the brand wouldn’t relight.
He heard Karvus clomping around the left side of the tunnel, muttering to himself. At one point the emperor bent down to inspect a water stain on the tunnel floor near an irregular outcropping of rock. He suddenly stood up and stomped over to Tygra, examining the blazing eye on the end of the thong around his neck. “We’re close. They were through here recently.”
It didn’t help that Karvus stood over him. Disgusted with the torch, Tygra tossed it into the water and produced another one he’d jammed uncomfortably inside his tunic. He opened the small fat pouch and dragged a dirty strip of cloth through the scant remnants of grease. If he’d had time to think about it, he would have questioned his emperor on how they expected to get back out of the tunnel. Surely their torch supply wouldn’t last much longer. With Karvus breathing down his neck, anxious to get his hands on the wizard, Tygra wrapped his second last stick with a greased rag and set about igniting the concoction.
It took several tries, but Tygra managed to get the brand burning. As soon as the flame took, the emperor splashed off into the gloom. Tygra snatched up his warhammer and scrambled after the half-crazed man. He worried the wizard would hear Karvus stomping up the tunnel. If the wizard realized he was being hunted, they were in deep trouble. Karvus’ light disappeared around a gradual left-hand bend.
“How much farther do you think?” Tygra whispered harshly when he caught up.
“How would I know that?” Karvus snapped between heavy breaths.
Tygra almost knocked him over as the emperor stopped to study the ring. The flaming pupil shone with an intensity so bright it cast an orange glow between them. There was no doubt where it was looking.
“I can feel the damned thing through my glove. He must be close.”
They splashed through a shallow puddle, increasing their pace to a jog. Ahead, on the edge of darkness, the tunnel straightened out. In fact, Tygra and Karvus saw more of the tunnel walls than they should have been able to given the poor light their torches offered.
A faint light permeated the darkness ahead, casting the tunnel in a soft blue glow.
Tygra slowed his pace to match that of the emperor. Together, they hugged the left wall and crept forward, remaining in the shadows. The tunnel opened into a vast chamber, its floor lost beneath a black pool of water that refracted the unknown light source.
Putting a finger to his lips, Karvus darted a look into the cavern. He immediately pulled back with a startled look on his face.
Tygra flinched. In the twenty years he’d known Karvus, he’d never seen the man show fear, but it was clearly evident in his bulging eyes and jumping jaw muscles.
It took all of Tygra’s nerve to squeeze past Karvus for a look. A cavern lined with smooth walls rose out of a pool the size of the king’s courtyard back home, refracting a dull blue glow. At the cavern’s centre, a massive stalagmite rose high overhead, supporting a pedestal near the chamber’s lofty ceiling.
Wrapped around the natural rock formation lay a sinuous body, covered in pearly grey scales. Its colossal head was bigger than a man was tall. Its tiny, white eyes were fixed on something against the left-hand wall. Opening a mouth filled with hooked teeth, the beast screamed and started to uncoil itself from the central pillar. The ear-piercing screech reverberated painfully around the grotto and down the tunnel. The massive serpent was half again as large as the one that had attacked them in the lake.
There Comes a Time
Sadyra stood at the bottom of the long stairwell leading up to the healer’s chamber in the Chamber of the Wise complex, impatiently waiting for the others to catch up. Alhena insisted that he be allowed to walk on his own and their pace suffered for it, but Larina pointed out that if they wanted to have any chance of rescuing the king, they all needed to be as rested as possible. To expect Olmar to carry the old messenger all the way back to Gritian and then fight like there was no tomorrow, which Sadyra knew would most likely be the case, was a little much to ask of the sailor. To his credit, Olmar had offered anyway.
The faint glow of Alhena’s torch wavered from down the tunnel, still a long way off.
Gradually, Olmar’s muted voice reached Sadyra as he loped along, hunched over in the low tunnel, breathing heavily. She smiled hearing Larina curse, her slight form hidden behind Olmar’s girth.
“Can’t you move any faster, Lunkhead? Sadyra’s probably dining with the king by now.”
“Bah,” Olmar snorted. “That’s ‘er just up ahead. Don’t ye knot yer knickers, lassie. Ye’ll be movin’ quick like, soon enough.”
“Shhh!” Sadyra hissed at them. “They can hear you all the way back to the marsh.”
Alhena gave her a forced smile and sat on the bottom step, clearly exhausted.
Olmar dropped to his knees to stretch his back, forcing Larina to squeeze past his bulk. Her torch nearly burnt his shoulder, while the crossbow, slung over her back, scraped along the tunnel wall. He cried out, “Kraidic whoreson, lassie, ya tryin’ to burn ol’ Olmar?”
“It’s a wonder you even fit down here,” Larina grunted. She stopped in front of Sadyra and asked, “You ready?”
Sadyra cast a sidelong glance at Alhena and Olmar. Neither man appeared ready to face whatever awaited them at the top of the stairwell. “Let’s wait a bit. The healer’s chamber is empty and the hall beyond was quiet.”
“You’ve already been up there?” Larina was clearly surprised.
“Of course. You expected me to do nothing while you guys crawled here?” Sadyra winked, knowing full well Larina had no choice in the matter. It had been Larina’s assignment to protect their rear in case something followed them into the tunnel from the far end.
Alhena pulled himself to his feet with the aid of his stick. Without a word, he started up the long flight of flagstones.
Sadyra looked to Olmar, then called after Alhena, “Save some fun for Midge, if we ever get him moving again.”
Larina smiled and patted her on the shoulder, squeezing between her and the rusted iron torch bucket on the floor. “You stay with Lunkhead, I’ll go after Pops.”
Larina’s torchlight quickly dimmed in the distance above.
Sadyra offered Olmar a hand up, the gesture symbolic as her slight form weighed less than one of his legs.
Olmar rose, knocking his head off the stone roof.
Sadyra unsuccessfully tried not to laugh.
“Aye, laugh at poor Olmar, why don’t ya? Ye’ll be needin’ me soon enough.”
“Get over yourself. I’ll likely be carrying your sorry hide is more like it. Now, come on. You go first. I’ll watch your arse.” She slapped his rump as he pushed by her, and added, “Not that I’ll have any choice but to see it.”
Olmar cast a dirty look over his shoulder, causing him to crunch his head into the low ceiling.
Sadyra spit out another laugh, shaking her head.
The door at the top of the steps was already open by the time Sadyra and Olmar reached it. Olmar had stopped three times to gather his breath and rest his burning thighs. How Alhena had made it up so fast, Sadyra had no idea.
Larina stood with her ear to the door leading out into the main passageway.
The old messenger sat on the edge of the bed close to Larina, fingering his makeshift walking stick. Sadyra scrutinized him.
He met her eyes. “We need to find my staff.”
“Your staff?” Sadyra thought that a strange request. They didn’t have time to look for the old man’s walking stick. Granted
, the branch she had found for him in the Torpid Marsh wasn’t close to the quality of the old stick he hobbled about with, there wasn’t much to be done about it now. “That one will have to do. I’ll make you a better one after we save the king.”
“You do not understand. I need that one. If we are to rescue King Malcolm, we require my staff.”
Larina stepped away from the door, listening to the conversation and mouthed, “Your staff?”
Alhena interlaced his fingers and placed his hands on his lap. He looked at the three people in the room, one at a time. He sighed. “There comes a time when all things must be revealed.”
When he said no more, his companions glared at him.
Sadyra felt like punching him. She plonked herself down on the bed, careful that the crossbow throws didn’t jab him, and grabbed his nearest wrist. “What are you talking about?”
Larina pulled the door open a crack and peered out. She closed it again to listen to Alhena.
“I am afraid it is a long story.”
“Um, we’re a little short on time at the moment,” Sadyra said through clenched teeth.
Larina gestured with her hands for them to hurry up.
“All is not as it appears. The timing is not right, but alas, circumstances dictate that now is indeed the time,” Alhena said, and fell silent again.
Sadyra stared at him hard, willing him to continue. When he didn’t, she shot a quick glance at Larina who rolled her eyes. Sadyra grabbed Alhena by the shoulders, turning him to look at her. She shook him harder than she meant to. “For the love of all that’s left in this world, Gramps, we don’t have time for your riddles. Just tell us. You sound just like a…a…”
“Wizard.” Alhena’s soft voice answered for her.
“Yes. Exactly. You sound like…” Sadyra’s storm-grey eyes grew wide, comprehension settling in. She realized she still grasped his shoulders, and not lightly, but she couldn’t help herself. Her next words were awestruck. “You are a wizard.”
Alhena nodded. “Not just any wizard. The Wizard of the North.”
Olmar could be heard muttering in wonder from just inside the backdoor, “Well I’ll be the whelp of a tart. Pops is a wizard.”
Sadyra dropped her hands and tilted her head, clearly thrown by Alhena’s revelation. Her mind flashed back to their time together during the quest to the Under Realm. His admission didn’t make any sense. If he was a wizard, how come he hadn’t used his powers, or whatever wizards did, when they were fighting for their lives?
She thought of the cataclysmic transition at the portal. Of the sailors who had disappeared beyond the mist at Debacle Lurch. The confrontation between the Voil and Thetis. And what about Thetis herself? How could he not have seen through her subterfuge?
Sadyra had never met a wizard before. Her scant knowledge of them had been gleaned through idle gossip amongst her peers in the Songsbirthian guard.
Her head spun with unanswered questions. Why hadn’t Alhena intervened when the Voil wizard, Menthliot, had attacked Silurian within their cliffside home? She envisioned the horrific battle upon the Dead Plains where so many quest members had perished at the talons of the minion horde attacking them from the ground and sky. If Alhena was a wizard, where was he then? Where was he when Silurian had needed him most? That brave man had sacrificed his life to save them all, and not once had Alhena done anything to intervene other than to whack demons over the head with that damned walking stick. If that was the extent of his wizardly powers, King Malcolm was doomed.
She tried to quell her conflicting emotions. To concentrate on what was important at the moment. She had admired Alhena. Looked up to him. If he was indeed a wizard and he hadn’t done anything to turn the tide of the quest’s struggles up to now, she was afraid that knowledge would break her heart. There had to be more to this than she fathomed. She swallowed back the accusation threatening to drip from the end of her tongue, and asked, “The Wizard of the North? What’s that mean?”
“It means, dear Sadie,” Alhena said with a sad smile, “that I am the only one capable of preventing the king’s death. If we do not retrieve my staff, we will soon all be dead.”
It was Sadyra’s turn to remain silent. She had no idea what the significance of him claiming to be a Wizard of the North meant to their chances. She barely knew what that meant. Did that mean he was from the Kraidic Empire? She didn’t think so. Perhaps north of that, from the lands of eternal wind and snow. That might explain those marble eyes.
She couldn’t help herself. “But why?”
Alhena tilted his head in question.
“Where were you when the quest needed you? People died in that damned place beneath the ocean. Good people.”
Alhena looked away, seemingly ashamed.
“How could you?” Sadyra’s voice rose. “If you had done something, Silurian might still be alive.”
Alhena hung his head and muttered, “It is complicated. The timing was not right. It is a long story. You would not understand even if I had time to explain.”
Larina pressed her ear against the door. She held up a hand, putting a finger to her lips.
Olmar manoeuvred his bulk past Sadyra and Alhena. He paused to look at Alhena, a hurt look on his face, and moved to stand beside the door with the dungeon keeper’s sword held at the ready.
Sadyra couldn’t take her angered glare from the old man. When she mentioned Silurian, his face had gone ashen.
Larina pulled the door open a crack, and then wide enough to stick her head out. She closed it again. “It’s clear. Now, mister wizard Pops. How do you expect us to find your staff in a place like this? We don’t have a clue where to start.”
Swallowing her ire for the time being, Sadyra stood up. “If we find this staff of yours, do you plan on using it for more than a head basher and perhaps helping this time, or aren’t we worth the effort in your wizardly eyes?”
Alhena pursed his lips, casting his eyes to the floor.
Sadyra feared he wouldn’t say anything else. She wanted to throttle him.
He nodded, finally. “Aye. The surprise has been taken from me.”
The surprise has been taken from me! Sadyra glared at him. What an incredulous statement. Before she could ask what the hell that meant, he lifted his head and regarded her with those strange white eyes. It gave her the shivers.
He stood up, straighter than anyone had seen him stand before. When he spoke, it was as if his voice had changed timbre. “I know exactly where my staff is. I can sense it.”
Larina raised her eyebrows. She put a finger to her lips and cracked the door open again. Satisfied they were alone, she stepped into the passageway and motioned for the others to follow. She started off toward the side tunnel leading to the cellblock, but Alhena called her back.
“This way,” was all he said as he strode up the wide, main tunnel with barely a limp.
Sadyra stared after him. The assistance provided by the walking staff had been a ruse all this time. She ushered Olmar past her, quickly checking the side tunnel and down the opposite direction for signs of other people. Satisfied the tunnels were devoid of anyone close by, she sprinted to catch up, her crossbow swinging back and forth within its straps across her back.
Larina slowed their progress, peering down a narrower passage on their right and then into the two mess halls on the left. There wasn’t a soul around, but as they approached the sweeping bend toward the Chamber of the Wise, she cautioned everyone with a raised hand. A distant sound of raised voices and something else, indistinguishable—almost animal like—reached them from beyond the bend.
“They be down there,” Olmar said, stepping past Larina and continuing down the main corridor.
“Wait,” Alhena implored. “My staff is this way.” He pointed down a smaller tunnel branching off to the left.
Larina started after Olmar, her crossbow in hand. She paused to look back.
Sadyra caught up to them. “Rina, you go with Gramps. He might need a lockpic
k. Midge and I will remain here to make sure no one follows you.”
Larina was clearly torn. The indecipherable voices coming from the Chamber sounded less than amicable. If they were to find the king, it was a good bet he was being held in the Chamber of the Wise. She looked one last time down the Chamber tunnel and then followed Alhena up the side passage.
Sadyra reached over her shoulder, wriggling the crossbow from its holders. Ensuring the short quiver containing a dozen bolts beneath her left arm was accessible, she loaded a missile into the flight groove and locked the catch.
Another roar arose from the direction of the Chamber. Something big was happening. Without thinking, she and Olmar inched their way along the inner curve of the tunnel, hoping to see into the cavern beyond.
Twice, a barrage of irate voices froze their progress. Realizing that whoever was responsible wasn’t in the tunnel, they continued along the wall.
The tunnel became brighter the farther they went, but neither of them where prepared for what awaited them as the Chamber entrance came into view—an open doorway framed by the wreckage of two massive wooden doors. Jagged shards of splintered oak lay strewn inside the Chamber’s threshold.
Sadyra gazed questioningly at Olmar. What could possibly be responsible for that? She didn’t think a battering ram would inflict that much damage. Magic? She swallowed and moved closer to the doorway. The stage at the far end of a polished aisle came into view. Dozens of green-clad militia mulled about, their faces riveted on the first tier of the platform.
Sadyra almost shrieked. Surrounded by countless Gritian guardsmen, Pollard backed away from a demonic creature that dwarfed him.
“That’s Pollard,” Sadyra exclaimed, and sprinted up the aisle.
A few eyes turned her way and started down the steps to intercept her. She let fly a warning shot but it did nothing to deter their advance, so she stopped to reload her crossbow and buried the second bolt in a guard’s chest at the base of the marble steps. She wasn’t sure what instilled the sudden fear in the eyes of the guards standing around their fallen cohort—her well placed quarrel, or the fact that an insane giant charged up the aisle behind her on a set of heavily bowed legs.
The Wizard of the North Page 28
