by Sarah Hawke
The druid nodded. “Interesting. It is similar to how the Vaetharri Matriarchs rule over—”
“Who was he talking about?” Kaseya interrupted. “Varassa?”
“He did not say specifically, and I was not sure how to ask without seeming suspicious,” Selvhara said. “However, I believe he continued speaking in his native tongue— Qevlâs—so that the other men with him would not understand.”
Jorem paused and scratched at his stubble. “Now I really want to know what happened down here. If Varassa was the First Daughter, she’s probably furious about suddenly being a handmaiden. Maybe that’s what all of this is about.”
Kaseya studied him for a moment. “Does this change our plans?”
He sighed. “Not really. We’re already too involved in one city’s politics for my taste, and I’ve no interest in getting involved in another. But since we’re here we might as well continue as planned.”
“The guard did warn me to be careful and approach via the western path,” Selvhara added. “He said that while will not be in any immediate danger, we should not linger any longer than necessary. He did not explain why.”
Jorem nodded slowly and glanced up into the shadows of the enormous cavern again. His curiosity was tugging him in a very dangerous direction. He really, really wanted to know the whole story of what had happened down here, but he kept reminding himself that they had more than enough problems to deal with already. They needed to focus on their goal of finding the city’s library, searching for information on draconic ascension, and then promptly getting the hell out of here.
“Let’s see what we’re dealing with,” he said. “Lead on.”
The cavern on this side of the gate was every bit as expansive as the other side, but this time it didn’t take long for the ultimate destination to roll into view. Selvhara led them up a rocky path along the edge of the cavern wall, and less than a minute later they were staring at one of the most awe-inspiring things he had ever seen.
“Zor kalah,” Kaseya breathed. “It’s…”
“Beautiful,” Selvhara murmured.
Jorem took a deep breath and swallowed. His meager human eyes shouldn’t have been able to see a damn thing, given the sheer scope of the cavern, but many of the rocks here were covered in thick, web-like patches of luminescent fungus. Individually the glowing patches weren’t any brighter than spark bugs, but cumulatively they bathed all of Vel’shanar in an eerie purple light. It was as haunting as it was remarkable…just like the city itself.
Dozens upon dozens of sleek purple spires rose out of the ground like sparkling metal stalagmites, and a network of glowing magical bridges connected many of the upper levels. A seemingly endless grid of wide, empty roads wound between the buildings, and Jorem couldn’t help but boggle at the size and scale of…well, everything. The sheer enormity of this place defied belief; all of Highwind probably could have fit in this cavern two or even three times. His mind was suddenly filled with visions of a hundred thousand dark elves leading a million slaves into battle…
“I see why the guard encouraged us to take this approach,” Selvhara whispered.
Jorem shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“Send your light down,” she said, pointing away from the elevated path where they were standing.
Shrugging, Jorem flicked the small glowing orb in his palm off into the distance, and he reached out through the Aether to control its slow descent into what almost looked like a canyon below them. He had to amplify the light’s intensity to see much of anything, but the moment he did Kaseya inhaled sharply.
“This isn’t a ghost town,” she whispered. “It is a graveyard.”
Jorem nodded gravely as the light revealed row after row of thoroughly charred corpses. He couldn’t sense any lingering Aetheric echoes, but it was obvious what had happened.
“Drow are typically resistant to magical attacks, especially fire,” he whispered. “The sorcerers who did this must have been powerful.”
“Yet they were all clustered together in battle formation,” Kaseya commented. “They must not have been expecting the attack.”
Jorem let out a long sigh and glanced away from the carnage. He had certainly seen more macabre battlefields in his life, but being surrounded by this much death was still nauseating. The rumors about a civil war in Vel’shannar had obviously been true. The only question was who had been fighting…and why.
“We should keep moving,” he whispered. “Let’s hope that the rest of the city isn’t like this.”
Mercifully, it wasn’t. The scorched battlefield ended near the city’s actual gates, and the mountain path led them to a side entrance that was bizarrely open. The battlements were empty, and the massive siege engines upon the towers were unmanned. From here, Vel’shannar seemed like it had been totally abandoned.
“The stillness is unsettling,” Kaseya whispered.
“Very,” Jorem muttered, repressing a shudder. He should have been more comfortable here than outside in the caverns—at least here he could more or less see what was in front of him—but somehow staring at a massive city surrounded by charred bodies was even creepier than stumbling around in the dark. The bizarre magical currents didn’t help; when he stretched out through the Aether, he swore he could feel the echoes of a thousand spells cast by a thousand channelers.
“The battle here…it took place largely in the shadows,” Kaseya said, her eyes closed. “Swords were only raised once the outcome was certain.”
Jorem arched an eyebrow as he studied her profile. Her eyes were fluttering beneath the lids as she reached out through the Aether. She had barely even begun to nurture her channeling abilities, but from the very beginning she had demonstrated a natural affinity for perceiving things Jorem could not. She was the one who could identify the weaknesses in a Senosi Huntress, after all, and without her they never would have survived their battle with the Inquisitrix in Nol Krovos.
“How do you know this?” Selvhara asked after a moment.
Kaseya’s eyes fluttered back open as she belatedly remembered that they still haven’t revealed her sorcerous abilities to their new ally. “It’s…just a feeling,” she said awkwardly.
The druid arched a dark eyebrow. “Interesting. Perhaps the presence of the Velhari beneath Nol Krovos has attuned you to Aetheric currents.”
“Perhaps,” Jorem said. “Anyway, let’s get this over with. Do you have any idea where we should go once we’re inside?”
“Not yet, but I will,” Selvhara said, turning back to the half-open gate and empty battlements. “Come.”
Jorem’s nerves were so frayed he still expected to be ambushed at any moment, but thankfully they passed through the gate without any troubles. Vel’shannar was even more beautiful—and haunting—once they were actually standing upon its dark, winding streets. The seemingly endless dark, metallic spires practically hummed with magical energy, and he could almost see more clearly when he closed his eyes and focused exclusively upon the Aetheric auras. Some of them were so bright they glowed through his eyelids almost like sunspots.
Selvhara led them left down an empty street, her nose twitching as she sniffed the air. Jorem didn’t smell or see anyone yet, but he had already learned to trust the druid’s senses. He wondered distantly if his own would improve once he mastered dragon magic—or rather, if he mastered dragon magic. At the moment, his only real accomplishment had been weaponizing bad breath…
He had just started to wonder if the entire city had been abandoned when they finally heard the sounds of civilization a few streets over. Hammers striking iron, saws cutting wood…apparently some craftsmen were busily working their trade. When he and the girls finally reached an intersection, they peered around the corner to an adjacent street and spotted a small market that wouldn’t have looked out of place in any surface settlement.
“Most of them are human or human hybrids,” Selvhara commented, her nose twitching. “I see very few dark elves.”
; “More Darkwind refugees, maybe,” Jorem said. “They’re dressed about the same.”
“The city could easily support hundreds of thousands of people,” Kaseya commented. “Are they really all gone?”
Jorem pursed his lips but didn’t reply. From here they could easily glance down a few other streets, and the sights were basically the same. Vel’shannar hadn’t technically been abandoned, but it seemed like the population had been severely winnowed. Three quarters of the buildings were completely empty.
“Other districts could be more populated,” he said. “Still, it is kind of creepy.”
“They do not seem bothered by our presence,” Selvhara commented.
“That’s something, at least. But I’d still like to get out of here as quickly as possible.”
The druid nodded. “The Spire of Sorcery should contain what we are looking for. It’s down this street.”
Kaseya frowned as her eyes flicked back and forth between the towers. “How do you know?”
“Because I can read the language,” Selvhara replied, smiling and pointing at the glowing runes on a placard across the street.
Jorem snorted softly. “Okay, then. Lead on.”
Even though it was mostly empty, the city was so vast that they took forever for them to actually get anywhere. Jorem’s heart raced every time one of the locals turned to look at them, but no one seemed remotely concerned by their presence. At first he couldn’t understand why. Their armor and clothing clearly pegged them as outsiders, after all, and he expected someone to eventually confront them. But then he remembered that Vel’shannar wasn’t a normal surface settlement where troublesome vagabonds could randomly stumble into town. No one just wandered around the Underworld looking for trouble; the fact that they were here was essentially proof in and of itself that their presence had been approved by the guards.
“Do you think it would be worth talking with anyone?” Kaseya asked as they walked. “Surely these people could tell us what actually happened here.”
“Maybe, but I already feel suspicious enough,” he said. “The less attention we draw to ourselves, the better.”
“Mm,” she murmured, her fingers still twitching above the pommel of her sheathed sword.
When they finally approached their destination, Selvhara paused and slowly shook her head. “Remarkable,” she breathed. “For all that has been lost on the surface over the millennia, the world below remains virtually undisturbed. This city is almost a reflection of Sulinor.”
“We’ll have to take your word for it,” Jorem muttered. The spire was impressive, even when compared to the hundreds of others surrounding it. The circular base was several feet wide, and it barely narrowed at all aside from the giant glowing crystal mounted at the top. Aetheric energy coursed through the metal as if the obelisk itself were a conduit of power, not unlike some of the more impressive buildings in Nol Krovos. Even to an amateur like him, the elven influences on the amazon island were increasingly obvious.
“The entrance may be warded,” Selvhara said, pointing towards the purple-black archway. “Can you tell?”
Jorem nodded. A hundred small, glowing runes were scattered about the door, and he could feel the Aetheric energy pulsing off of them without even trying. “It’s definitely sealed,” he said. “Apparently this is the one building these people aren’t allowed to enter.”
“All the more reason we should,” Kaseya said. “That’s what Valuri would say.”
“Yeah, well, Val could just absorb the energy and bust through it. We aren’t so lucky.”
Selvhara eyed him for a long moment. “Can you unravel the wards?”
“Maybe,” he said with a sigh as he touched Kaseya’s arm. “Ready?”
She nodded and closed her eyes. Through their bond, he could sense her reaching out and analyzing the wards for any sign of weakness. To him, the magical protections felt like smooth, unbroken glass…he couldn’t detect even the slightest imperfection. Thankfully, she could: every few seconds she would notice a new bump or scratch, and once she had found them all Jorem knew exactly the right points to strike to cause the whole thing to shatter.
“Here goes,” he breathed, opening his hand and releasing a nearly invisible burst of energy. The spell unraveled the wards one by one, as if he were carefully snipping away the strands of a vast web rather than torching the whole thing. The process took longer, but it was also probably a lot safer.
“Impressive,” Selvhara said as the runes slowly winked out. “Every day I’m more convinced that the Vin Aetheri were right about your power.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jorem muttered. “There are probably a hundred more traps in a place like this. Besides, it’s mostly Kaseya who…uh…” He paused and mentally scolded himself for the verbal slip. “What I mean is that without her, I doubt I could focus.”
The druid’s eyes flicked over to Kaseya. “She is able to aid you through the collar?”
“Yes,” Jorem replied a bit too quickly. “It’s hard to explain, but the connection really helps me concentrate.”
He couldn’t help but wince at how lame he sounded. This little charade of theirs was starting to wear thin. If they made it out of here alive, it would probably be worth telling Selvhara the truth about the amazon.
“I see,” Selvhara said, eyeing the glowing ruby in the collar. “Perhaps we will find additional similar devices here. The original Vaetharri refugees must have known about the Dal’Rethi Blade Dancers and their bonding techniques.”
“Maybe,” Jorem whispered, taking a deep breath. “Let’s find out.”
The physical doors to the spire opened without a struggle, and to his mild surprise they didn’t set off any other traps as they strolled inside. The interior lightning was actually brighter than outside thanks to a diaspora of glowing but heatless magical torches and candles, and Jorem actually felt himself relax a bit for the first time in several hours. Compared to everything else down here, this place was exactly what he had expected—the lower level was filled with books, books, and even more books. Apparently library design was one of the only things that actually transcended cultures.
“Okay, now here’s the real problem,” Jorem said as he slowly crept inside and eyed the seemingly endless shelves. “We could spend a hundred years in here and barely scratch the surface.”
Selvhara smiled as her bare feet giddily glided across the floor. “We merely need to consult the Archivist.”
“The Archivist?” Kaseya asked, still holding her sword. “You expect someone to be alive in here?”
“It is a stone, not a person. Ah, there we are…”
The druid whisked across the room towards a large, spherical glass orb inset upon a stone table. The device hummed and glowed at her touch, and her eyes fluttered shut in concentration. “Mm…” she murmured. “This repository is even larger than I imagined. The Vin Aetheri would give anything to study it.”
“So would the Highwind Mage’s Guild,” Jorem said. “Before the Shattering, anyway…”
Images of books began flashing across the surface of the orb, but they were so fast and frantic Jorem couldn’t actually make them out. Selvhara paused in place for so long that he started to wonder if something had happened to her, but then her eyes abruptly popped back open.
“I believe I found what we’re looking for,” she breathed, an excited, almost child-like smile tugging at her lips. “This way!”
She dashed across the room towards a narrow spiral staircase, and she didn’t even pause before she ascended the steps. Jorem followed, his head shaking the whole time. Under different circumstances—say, if they weren’t stuck a dozen miles below the surface inside a drow city—he would have found her enthusiasm infectious. But he just couldn’t bring himself to let his guard down even when the only things around them were books.
Thankfully Selvhara only led them up a single flight, and in true library fashion the second level was virtually indistinguishable from the first.
She slowly traced her fingers across one of the placards, muttering some drow gibberish to herself, then shuffled down an isle to where a handful of books were open and scattered across a table.
“Looks like someone left in a hurry,” Jorem commented. The clutter was especially strange considering how well meticulously everything else in here was organized.
Selvhara was barely paying attention. Her eyes and fingertips were already scouring the shelves, and the crease in her brow became deeper and deeper the longer she searched.
“As a girl, I assumed that the moshalim knew everything there was to know about sorcery,” Kaseya whispered from the opposite shelf. “We were taught to be so dismissive of mainlanders. We believed our women were the greatest warriors and our men were the most powerful channelers, yet I doubt our libraries contain a tenth of what is written here.”
“Yeah, well, just because something is written down in a book doesn’t mean it is valuable…or true, for that matter,” Jorem pointed out. “This is a drow library—half these books are probably about torture and mayhem.”
Selvhara whispered what sounded like an Elvish swear, and Jorem spun back around to face her. “Problems?”
“The Archivist said that all books related to draconic ascension would be here,” she said. “Perhaps they were taken or misplaced.”
“Or they never had many to begin with,” Jorem said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I really hope we didn’t come all the way down here for nothing.”
“I will not give up so easily,” Selvhara told him. “I can…wait…”
He paused and followed her eyes down to the table. “What’s wrong?”
“This is one of the books I was looking for,” she said. “So is this one…and this one…and this one!”
The hairs on the back of Jorem’s neck abruptly stood. “All of these books are about dragon magic?”
“Yes,” Selvhara replied, her face giddy with delight as she traced her fingertips across the Elvish script on the covers. “In Amlug Yassene… a translation from the original, obviously, but it’s still incredibly valuable. Most of the copies in Varellon were destroying during the—”