Belly of the Beast

by Warren Thomas

  “How do you know that?” Quinn asked.

  Tane shrugged. “I don’t know. I just do.” He pointed up, and then to their left. “The trail goes up a little more, and then veers to the left.”

  He pointed to an outcrop of stone that looked like a tower in the dim light.

  “We’ll enter under that.”

  While they processed that revelation, Tane stepped past Quinn and continued upward. The glowing trail turned left short of the working men, but close enough to clearly hear men speaking.

  The trail hugged the side of the steep hill, winding under the city walls high above. They followed it in grim silence, the only sound their panting breaths. The trail angled up a little, bringing them to a dead end halfway up the hill.

  “Oh rot,” Raven said. “Nothing but a tumble of rock. I think the entry collapsed.”

  The others nodded. Tane saw a vision of what should be there. The rocks piled against it looked transparent for a moment.

  “Help me move the rocks,” he said. “It’s not as bad as it looks. We’re almost there.”

  Chapter 81

  “What?”

  Nizar sat up on bed and looked around. No one threatened him. He remained alone. So he held his breath and listened for any threat. All he heard was the natural creak and groan of the building, and the rumble of the maelstrom in the background.

  It’s the maelstrom, he thought. It’s become louder.

  From what he’d learned since arriving, the maelstrom tended to indicate Dakar’s state of mind. As His anger grew, so did the fury and thunder of the maelstrom. So Nizar closed his eyes and centered himself, connecting to his God.

  A grimace spread across his face. Dakar felt angry. Frustrated.

  Rumor in the city said the elves and dwarves had joined the war, standing shoulder to shoulder with the humans of the Jarlands. Even the Bakasaer stood against Dakar’s forces. That surprised Nizar, since he thought the goblins and other aberrations of nature inhabiting that dark land would welcome Dakar.

  Maybe it’s not going so well.

  Nizar could imagine any force on the planet stopping Dakar’s ever growing host. They might kill a lot of zombies, but every captive became a zombie to replace them. So far, Dakar’s host had captured twice as many as they lost. And Nizar thought of that as winning.

  The sound of clanking pots and pans came from the ground floor. The innkeep and his family had risen and started their day. Soon, a hot fire and warm food would be had downstairs.

  Standing up, Nizar hugged himself and rubbed his arm. How could it be so cold inside? The inn did not have a room with a fireplace, and he would not sleep in the common room like a poor traveler.

  Going to the shuttered window, Nizar opened it and looked toward the east. Even through the heavy cloud cover, he noticed the light of approaching dawn. So the priest began to dress. Might as well go down to the much warmer common room and break his fast.

  Still, as enticing at that sounded, Nizar couldn’t shake a slowly growing feeling of foreboding. His mind returned to Tane Kyleson and friends. His hands curled into fists, while he ground his teeth.

  He glanced at the window. Tane was out there somewhere, heading straight into his trap. And once he had the swordsmith in his power again, Nizar would force him to do his bidding, or sacrifice him and all he loves upon the altar.

  Chapter 82

  The rockslide consisted of stones of all sizes. Neither Tane nor any of his friends had ever cleared a rockslide. They discussed the best way to tackle the problem, deciding starting at the top would be safest. So Tane and Quinn scrambled up on top first, and started rolling rocks off.

  Everyone else stood out of the way and watched until time to swap out. While Tane and Quinn rested, Armin, Joelle, and Raven worked on the rock pile. Working in shifts, they dug down and exposed the top half of a bronze door by dawn.

  “Does it open inward or out?” Tane asked.

  Armin got down and studied it a moment. “It swings inward.”

  Tane opened his mouth to ask how much further down to the door handle, when his head became cold, and then a starburst of warmth filled his mind with a symbol. He knew it as a Rune of Power without ever having seen it before. The name of the rune didn’t come to mind, but he knew what it would do.

  “It’s held closed by magic,” Tane said. “Move out of the way, Armin. I can open it.”

  As Armin moved out of the small depression before the door, Tane climbed up on all fours. Rocks shifted under his weight. The rock pile had become more and more unstable as they worked. Joelle and Raven shifted over when he reached the top of the remaining pile.

  Sliding down on his butt to study the door, Tane knocked on it. The door was thick and heavy. How many untold centuries had it held back that rockslide? And yes, he could open it. He glanced up to the Heavens.

  Guided by Kamain’s Hand.

  “I need blood. God’s blood,” he said, looking back to Joelle and Raven. “Will either of you volunteer?”

  “Volunteer for what? Sacrifice?” Raven asked.

  “No. I just need enough of your blood to draw a rune on the door.” He looked at Joelle. “I was hoping Joelle would volunteer, since she can heal herself afterwards.”

  “My wife is not here for…”

  “Shhh, Armin,” Joelle said, touching his arm. “It’s fine.” She moved down beside Tane. “I’ll do it. How much do you need?”

  Tane glanced at Armin, who glowered back.

  “I just need enough to draw a rune. Maybe a palmful.”

  The witch nodded, pulled her belt knife, and sliced into her left palm. Dark red blood welled up inside her cupped hand, filling her palm as he watched. Joelle muttered a spell the whole time, looking tense, but then relaxed.

  “I hope that’s enough,” she said.

  “More than enough. Thank you,” Tane said, dipping two fingers into the hot blood.

  He quickly painted the Rune of Power upon the bronze door, while quietly chanting the prayer that came to him in a rush. Being a swordsmith mean a need for a certain amount of artistic ability. Yet, it felt like another was guiding his hand as he drew the sacred rune.

  The door popped loudly the second his prayer ended, swung open under the weight of the rocks, and caused a mini avalanche inside. Tane and Joelle cried out as they were borne down atop that wave of stones.

  “Joelle! Are you hurt?” Armin cried.

  “I’m fine,” she grumbled.

  “So am I,” Tane said. “Thanks for asking.”

  Joelle did a double-take, and grinned. He heard Raven’s amused snort above. Armin rushed down to his wife, knocking Tane to the side. Raven and Quinn quickly joined them.

  “Looks dark,” Raven said. “We should go up to the city first, and steal some light crystals.”

  “Steal?” Armin asked. “Why is your first thought thievery? Why can’t we buy light crystals?”

  “For one, they are expensive,” Raven said. “And two, how much money do you have? That priest stole all of my coin. Didn’t he take yours, too? Yes. There you go. Vindication.”

  Tane looked at Raven, then Quinn. “I’ll never understand how her mind works, but I think she’s right. But, we cannot go up into the city. It would be death.”

  “You don’t know that,” Raven said.

  “I do,” he said, and everyone stared at him. He turned to Joelle. “Can you provide light for us with your magic again?”

  “Yes,” she said, and then her eyes glazed over for a moment. “I have a spell that’ll be more helpful.”

  The witch closed her eyes and started chanting under her breath. Tane watched her, a little uneasy. Since leaving home he’d experience more magic use than all his life growing up. Not all of it good.

  Joelle’s ice blue eyes popped open – glowing. She reached down and touched her sword belt’s buckle, and it began to glow brightly. Then she touched Armin’s buckle, and Tane’s. As their buckles grew brighter and brighter, she turned to Quinn a
nd Raven. Soon all five of them had sources of light.

  “Is there a way to stop it if we need to?” Raven asked.

  “Yes. As soon as you unbuckle the belt, the light will die. Or you can pull the buckle away from your body to stop it. It will not come back on afterwards until I recast the spell.”

  “The spell is fueled by your life energy,” Armin said. “So it needs to be in contact with you at all times.”

  “Two finger-widths from your body will kill the spell,” Joelle said.

  “Thank you, Joelle,” Tane said. “Follow me.”

  Tane led the way down the narrow corridor. The width wasn’t the issue, though. Tane, Armin, and Quinn all had to stoop over. Joelle and Raven could walk upright, but the ceiling hung close above.

  “This must be an escape tunnel of some sort,” Quinn said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it leads to the king’s palace.”

  “No,” Tane said. “That doesn’t sound right. Besides, the tunnel is angling downward.”

  At some points, it spiraled down pretty steeply. And it proved long. Dreadfully long. After a while, Tane felt the walls pressing in all around. He’d never been in such a tight place for so long. His friends became subdued, even Raven.

  “Thank the Gods!” Tane cried when they emerged into a cavernous chamber.

  Everyone stopped to look around in awe.

  “Dwarves,” Quinn said. “No one builds in stone like the dwarves.”

  The light barely reached the soaring ceiling, but Tane made out some stonework he’d never seen before. The ceiling looked like domes atop domes all the way up to a golden peak. More impressive, was the sheer vastness of the chamber. He didn’t see a single column holding up the ceiling. How did the dwarven architects deal with such a wide span? Or was it a natural cavern that they dressed up with carvings to make it look like they built it?

  “You could put four Grand Temples in here, with room to spare,” Raven whispered.

  Tane noticed murals painted on the ceilings, but they were faded with age, or soot. He couldn’t make out what they depicted.

  Boom. Boom. Boom, echoed through the chamber.

  “That was that?” Armin cried. “We’re not alone in here.”

  Tane’s shoulders tightened, heart racing. Then he saw Raven roll her eyes.

  “Grow a spine,” she said. “And use your head. We passed those zombies digging out an entrance. That’s probably them pounding on the door, trying to break inside.”

  His breath caught. More runes came to mind, and how to use them.

  “We have to stop them,” Tane said, turning toward the source of the sound. “I need time to complete my task.”

  “And what task is that?” Armin asked.

  “Make a Rune Sword, a Sword of Power,” he said. Everyone stopped to stare at him. “It’s to use against Dakar, not the Arisen.”

  “I don’t want to fight a God!” Quinn cried. “Are you mad?”

  “Probably,” he said. “But we don’t have to fight Dakar. I have an image of a bright well in the floor, and I just have to lay the Sword of Power across it to stop Dakar.”

  The other four gave him doubtful looks. Tane shrugged. It really wasn’t clear in his mind yet. The compulsion to make the sword overrode everything.

  Tane continued on, the others falling in behind him. None of them looked happy. He didn’t blame them. He found no comfort in his compulsions either.

  They moved quickly through the long abandoned dwarven city. Tane had heard of them, and how glorious they looked to humans. Yet, every legend he’d heard placed dwarven cities deep in mountain ranges.

  The occasional boom quickly led the small troupe to the main entrance. Quinn found a single set of footprints on the dusty floor. He proclaimed them left by a male dwarf, and recently. But Tane’s eyes were drawn to the massive bronze doors, now with a green patina. The twin portals stood twenty feet tall, and were deeply engraved with scenes of battle and victories won.

  “Joelle.”

  “I know. Blood,” she said, stepping up beside him.

  “Dakar said Raven’s blood was purer,” Armin said. “Use her blood.”

  “Armin!” Joelle cried, eyes narrowing.

  “He’s right. You’ve already given blood,” Raven said. “It’s my turn.”

  Raven pulled her knife and sliced open her left palm before Joelle could object. She let the blood well up, filling her cupped palm. The witch quickly moved up next to her and healed her once her palm was full. Then Joelle turned to glare at Armin, who looked rather smug.

  “I hope you’re happy.”

  “I am.”

  “Great. I have to use ten times more of my precious life energy to heal another than I do myself,” Joelle said, and shoved him. “And you should know that.”

  “I forgot.”

  Tane put them and their domestic dispute out of his mind. A Rune of Power appeared in his head, so he dipped his fingers in Raven’s blood and started drawing it. And then the next rune, and the next. He two lines of runes, one line on each door.

  “What does that do?” Quinn asked.

  Tane didn’t know until the half-elf asked. The answer popped into his head.

  “That is a ward to prevent Dakar’s God Magic from blasting through the door.”

  “Let me help,” Raven said.

  She careful swiped her hand across the floor the width of the door, smearing the blood thinly. Then she used a finger to write something in a language Tane couldn’t read, also while chanting a prayer under her breath.

  “What did you do?” Quinn asked.

  “That’s a ward I know to block anything living from passing over it,” she said. “I usually use it when on the road alone, so I can safely sleep at night.” She frowned down at it. “It’s easy to break the spell because I’m not a priestess, but I don’t think zombies are that smart. It should hold them up for a little while.”

  “Great. Thanks,” Tane said. “Follow me. It’s time to put an end to the Black God, Dakar.”

  Chapter 83

  Tane looked around the vast entry hall. It was a circular chamber with a domed ceiling. The ceiling was carved in a fluted design, brightly colored paint flaking off. Three massive doorways led off the entry. Their wooden doors long since rotted away to dust.

  The dwarf’s footprints went all around the chamber. Only a single set of footprints entered the central portal. Nothing came back out. That wasn’t helpful, at all.

  Of course, Kamain’s compulsion pulled him toward the centermost door. The door the dwarf didn’t return from.

  “Come. Time is running out,” Tane said.

  He walked through the central door and into the single largest room he’d ever seen. And it was long. Their meager light failed to reach the ceiling, while both sides were lined with arcades five floors high. He spotted a line of the largest chandeliers he’d ever seen, none of which provided any light. All of their magic long gone.

  “Joelle, can you make the chandeliers light up?”

  “No,” she said. “Well, I could, but that would require far more life energy than I have. You need sorcery for that job.”

  Tane picked up the pace. They moved in their little pool of light until they reached the end. Another massive portal greeted them, this time with silver doors. Just looking at it made Tane’s eyes water. Even Raven acted wary of it.

  “This is a temple of Dakar,” Raven whispered. She pointed to dark symbols at the top of the doors. “That’s his symbol, skull impaled on a sword.”

  “We came all this way to one of his temples?” Armin asked. “What kind of insanity is that?”

  “This is where Kamain guided me,” Tane said. He shrugged. “You can wait out here if you want.”

  The swordsmith eased forward. He crept toward the closed doors. The dwarf’s footsteps passed through those doors, but didn’t come out. Would he find a dead dwarf in there? Or something worse?

  Raven bumped into Tane’s back when he stopped to open the do
ors.

  “Sorry.”

  He barely heard her apology. Her eyes were big as she looked all around. Looking back past her, Tane found Quinn, Joelle, and Armin following just as warily. And then Raven caught his eyes, and grinned.

  “Fun times, heh?”

  “I’m practically giggling with delight,” he said, shaking his head.

  Turning back to the massive silver double-doors. They looked impossibly heavy. How did anyone open such monsters? Then he noticed a small handprint on the clinging dust. The dwarf? How strong were dwarves? So Tane placed a hand on the right silver door, and pushed.

  Both valves slowly, silently swung open. He stared in awe. It was true. No one build better than the dwarves.

  Tane slowly entered the temple. He looked around with huge eyes, expecting to see dark altars under looming statues of grotesque demons. He expected wall murals of hellish scenes out of nightmare. Mostly, he expected to find the Black God’s High Altar, surrounded by chanting priests sacrificing men, women, and children in evil blood rites.

  He found an empty room.

  “Underwhelming,” Raven said. “I knew it. Dakar is all evil, no style.”

  “Must you make a joke about everything?” Armin asked.

  “I’m not joking.”

  Tane ignored their exchange. He spotted two things. The first was a raised dais in the exact middle of the ancient temple chamber. It was impossible to ignore it, since a thunderous maelstrom roared out of it, spiraling up to the city above. He didn’t see any hole in the ceiling, so wondered how it passed through countless tons of rock and dirt unabated.

  What am I thinking? He’s a God, so can do anything.

  Past the dais and maelstrom, he spotted a glowing forge. So he started toward it, but then stopped and looked around on the floor. He found a broken sword, the silvery blade untouched by age or rust. Runes in the fullers glowed with eerie light. Looking around the temple, he found three more broken swords.

  “Rune Swords of Power,” he muttered. “Broken.”

  A vision of the four Swords of Power laid out in a large X atop the dais filled his head. He knew then what he had to do. The swords had been the barrier holding Dakar at bay, but someone removed them.