A Clash of Fates: The Echoes Saga: Book Nine

by Quaintrell, Philip C.

  One after the other, they dashed through the portal before it collapsed on itself, leaving Ilargo alone on the surface.

  Crossing from one place to another, the cold air was immediately noticeable, as was the even colder water that filled the chamber to their knees. It was also pitch black, an unnerving and disorientating condition. Warriors all, the companions naturally reached for their swords, though Galanör was more aware of Stormweaver’s weight after opening a portal.

  “We need light,” Gideon stated, his words aimed at the ranger.

  Galanör felt nauseous just thinking about using more magic, but what choice did he have? Without light they would never find the Crissalith. The muscles in his arm pinched and his fingers ached as he cast an orb of white light. It floated up, revealing the flooded chamber in stark shadows, lending the ancient site a menacing appearance.

  Unsure of his ability to keep the orb alight - and aware that he needed to recover his strength to open a portal back to the surface - Galanör examined the chamber’s details and scanned the walls, searching for torches resting in the fixings. He found two and quickly set them aflame, not wishing to dwell on the use of more spells.

  “Take them,” he urged.

  With a torch each, Aenwyn and Gideon moved to different parts of the room to expel the lingering darkness. The far left corner of the chamber had suffered the worst under Dolvosari’s assault, the space now occupied by rock after a cave-in. The collapsing rock had torn through one side of Atilan’s desk, reducing it to splinters and leaving the rest of it at an awkward angle.

  Exhausted as he felt, Galanör could still remember his time with Adilandra in this room. The memory turned him around to set his sights on the door that led out into the base of the mine.

  “We need to go that way,” he directed, breaking Gideon’s reverie. The old master was obviously fascinated by their surroundings, his free hand having already glided over a dozen relics along the walls.

  Aenwyn reached the door first. “It won’t budge,” she reported, her shoulder leaning into it.

  “There’s going to be tons of debris on the other side,” Galanör replied. “Can you pull it from its hinges?”

  Aenwyn handed her torch to the ranger and retrieved a dagger from her belt. With both hands, she dug the blade in and prised the hinges away from the rotten wood. She removed the lowest hinge blind, her hands working beneath the water.

  Her work completed, the elf found her grip on each side of the door and yanked it backwards. The top half split almost entirely before a few strands of the wood took the lower half with it. Discarding the door, they looked out on a wall of dirt and rubble that rose to shoulder height.

  “We can fit,” Aenwyn reassured. Using her dagger as a lever, the elf cleared some of the larger rocks, thus increasing the size of the gap. Her torch returned, she was the first to climb up. Flat on her stomach, she crawled through the narrow gap until it opened up to the base of the mineshaft.

  “It’s clear!” she called back to them.

  Following her example, Galanör and Gideon scaled the rubble and squeezed through to join her in the main shaft. The torch’s fire and Galanör’s dimming orb cast light on the uneven floor and revealed the half-buried debris from the old mining equipment and walkways. Looking up, the visible sky was beginning to turn orange as the sun brought an end to the day.

  “Is the Crissalith beneath us?” Aenwyn’s tone matched the look of concern on her face.

  “There will be some yes,” Galanör said, crouching down to grab a handful of dirt. “But we should think of it as lost and look elsewhere - we won’t be getting through this.”

  “Agreed,” Gideon said, moving across the shaft. He rounded a large mound of rubble and lowered his torch in search of other passages that might still be accessible.

  Galanör turned on the spot to get his bearings. He recalled the six entrances that had lined the inner wall, one of which they had just crawled out of. Having never entered any of the others, however, he couldn’t suggest the best one to investigate.

  “Over here,” Gideon called. Using his torch, he illuminated another gap between the rubble and the top of a passage.

  Aenwyn crouched down to examine it better, her eyes squinting into the darkness. “We could crawl through it,” she surmised.

  “Good,” the old master said, “because it’s the only one I’ve discovered that isn’t completely blocked.”

  “I will go first,” Galanör volunteered, but Aenwyn was crawling through before he had finished his sentence.

  With no choice but to follow her, all three were soon on their stomachs again, crawling through the dirt. It was longer than the tunnel that connected Atilan’s lab to the main shaft. Galanör had to steel himself in the enclosed environment, the ranger being more accustomed to open spaces. It was a relief to hear Aenwyn finally drop down to the passage floor.

  Back on their feet - and up to their knees in water again - with their torches held up to the dark, Aenwyn tilted her head. “How far do you think it goes?”

  Galanör couldn’t fathom the answer, though he imagined the passage leading into a labyrinth from which there was no return. “Who can say?” he replied. “Keep your wits about you and stay close.”

  Gideon moved to run his torch along the right-hand wall while Aenwyn took to the left. Galanör guided his orb towards the ground in front of him and walked down the middle of the path, his eyes scanning for even a hint of green crystal.

  Though it was hard to define, the passage appeared to curve around to the right. It wasn’t long either before they came across another passage, offering them a new direction. Galanör had to wonder if was just another way to get lost.

  “Which way?” he asked aloud, his voice carried away down the passage.

  “I see no reason to deviate from our current path,” Gideon opined. “Let us see where this leads first. At least we know there are other tunnels to search.”

  Galanör agreed with a nod of the head, though he kept his concerns to himself for now. There was no need to share his growing worry that this entire endeavour was futile.

  A few hundred yards further ahead, they were presented with two more tunnel entrances, each as mysterious as the other. None of them felt the temptation to investigate the new passages. As they moved on, however, a single sound reverberated through the passage to their right. The three companions stopped in their tracks, waiting to hear another noise. Galanör’s best guess was a rock falling to the ground. It was also his hope.

  “Let’s keep going,” Gideon bade.

  The elven ranger inhaled a breath having held the last one for the moment. He turned away from the passage entrance to follow Gideon when he paused, sure that something significant had just caught his eye. While Gideon and Aenwyn walked a little further, Galanör approached the nearest wall and narrowed his eyes. What was it? What had he seen against the jagged wall that jumped out at his senses and told him to stop?

  By the time he realised what he was looking at it was too late. A pair of pale eyes were looking back at him.

  A creature with the form of a man leapt from the wall and barrelled into the elf, taking them both down into the water.

  “Galanör!” Aenwyn yelled.

  Submerged and under the weight of his attacker, the ranger shoved his foe and quickly pushed himself up above the water. The creature rose to its feet a moment later and screamed with rage before renewing its assault. Galanör hadn’t seen it before, but his enemy was wielding a crude dagger, or perhaps it was a sharpened rock: he couldn’t say in the gloom and the figure was coming at him with some speed. Never one to be flustered in a fight, the ranger’s sharp instincts took over and he side-stepped the incoming attack. At the same time, his left hand darted up like a knife’s edge and caught the creature across the throat. A swift kick to the chest launched it back, right in line with an arrow from Aenwyn’s bow.

  Falling like a stone, it collapsed into the water, dead.

  Ga
lanör looked to his right, locking his gaze with Aenwyn’s. She saw the thanks behind his eyes and nodded once, a second arrow already nocked on her bow. Unfortunately, she had been forced to drop her torch in favour of her weapon, leaving them with a single source of light in Gideon’s hands. The ranger looked about, half aware that his orb had vanished when his focus had been broken by the attack.

  Aenwyn stopped him from producing another one. “You need to save all your magic for the portal out of here. I will do it.” Deftly holding her bow and arrow with one hand, she used her other to birth an orb of light. It flickered to life, threatening to collapse on itself, as her remaining magic strained with the effort. At last, a new orb lifted into the air above them and the black water that filled the tunnel.

  “What was that?” Gideon asked, nodding his chin at the water.

  Galanör crouched down and searched for the edges of the body. “I think it was a he.” With a hand behind his attacker’s neck, the elf raised the body from the dark water and revealed the creature’s identity.

  “A human?” Aenwyn queried with disbelief.

  “A Darkakin,” Galanör corrected grimly.

  Gideon and Aenwyn immediately turned their sights to the rest of the tunnel, her bow string pulled taut and his Vi’tari blade free of its scabbard. Galanör used his free hand to wipe away the crusted black substance that coated the savage’s chest. Beneath was a skin so pale as to be compared to an orc.

  Gideon was running his torch along the wall, checking for any more of them. “How can there be Darkakin down here?”

  “There must have been some down here when the mine was destroyed,” Galanör reasoned.

  “That was nearly fifty years ago,” Gideon pointed out as he turned back to the ranger. “That man is no more than twenty years.”

  Galanör used one thumb to lift the lid over the man’s right eye. “Though I hate to consider it, the survivors must have bred down here.” He beckoned Gideon with a hand. “Bring your torch,” he instructed. Under the firelight of Gideon’s torch, they could better see the savage’s eye, a pale and unused thing. “I think he was blind. Or mostly blind.”

  “He was born in the dark,” Aenwyn said. “What use are eyes in this hell?”

  Gideon stepped back and adjusted the position of his torch. “We should assume there’s more of…” His words trailed off as his sight was drawn to the water beyond Galanör.

  The elven ranger turned around to discover the source of Gideon’s distraction. Ripples glided across the surface of the still water, lapping with barely a sound against Galanör and the body in his hands. Searching for the source of those ripples, he found only darkness. Very carefully, he lowered the body back into the water and remained in his crouching position. Turning his head over one shoulder, he silently gestured for Aenwyn to direct her orb further down the tunnel.

  Lowering her bow, the elf focused on her control of the orb and guided it along the ceiling, into the abyss. It moved without protest, its white light battling every inch of the darkness.

  At around fifty yards, it revealed a group of Darkakin cautiously advancing on their position like wraiths sent for their souls. Their every step was so silent they could hardly be heard to disturb the water.

  Galanör’s heart quickened in his chest to that of a thundering drum. So loud was it in his ears that he was sure they would be able to hear it.

  Narrowing his eyes at the approaching Darkakin, Galanör held up a hand to warn his companion’s against moving. Blind as they were, there was a chance this group would simply pass them by - the better option considering a battle could bring more of them.

  It wasn’t long before the blind Darkakin were upon them. They wielded the same type of crude dagger as the one who had attacked him, but Galanör knew that crude was still capable of taking life. Having assessed their approaching pattern, the ranger was satisfied that the savages would miss them as they passed through, though only just. The elf made the slightest of adjustments, shifting his shoulders to avoid one of the silent hunters.

  Looking back, Aenwyn was perfectly still, her muscles tensed in place as only an elf could accomplish. By comparison, Gideon was practically swaying on the spot, though he was incredibly sentinel-like in his stance.

  Soon, four of the eight Darkakin were completely past them and into the tunnel beyond. Turning quietly back, however, Galanör was alarmed to see the remaining four had stopped moving. What were they doing? Casting his eyes over his shoulder again, he now saw that the leading four had come to a stop and even turned to face them.

  It was only then that the truth of the matter occurred to Galanör: they could hear the flickering flames of Gideon’s torch.

  “It’s an ambush!” the ranger yelled as Stormweaver rang clear from its scabbard.

  The eight Darkakin closed in as one, drawn to the distinct noises of all three of their prey. Aenwyn’s bow sounded as she drew back the string, Mournblade cut through the air, and Galanör’s explosive charge was impossible to miss. Bloody chaos erupted and the black waters grew darker still.

  The ranger’s wrist flicked one way then the other, his scimitar slicing through all that got in its way. He felt the resistance of human bodies but the naked savages could do nothing in the face of such fine steel and skill. The first two were buried beneath the water in two beats of the elf’s heart. They simply hadn’t realised the prey they had ensnared was, in fact, a much more powerful predator.

  The remaining two homed in on the sound of the ranger’s movements, bringing their stone daggers to bear. Galanör evaded the swing of one with a dash to his left before quickly ducking under the swipe of the second. Experienced at finding their targets in the pitch black, the Darkakin knew exactly where the elf was standing and turned on him with deadly precision.

  The ranger’s free hand shot out to block the incoming dagger of the closest attacker, a prelude to his counterattack that had the elf slamming the end of his hilt into the savage’s nose. A simple, but swift, downward stroke of Stormweaver then split the man down the middle. He was dead before he hit the water.

  The last of the four Darkakin leapt the gap between them and grappled Galanör’s back. With only a moment to spare, the elf raised his hand and snatched the wrist that was about to plunge a jagged dagger into his shoulder. Wild, like an animal, the Darkakin revealed more of his ferocious nature when he tried to bite the ranger’s grasping hand. Superior strength won the day, however, when Galanör flung his foe forward, over the top of him. Thrashing in the water, the blind savage could do nothing to stop the cold steel of Stormweaver from driving down through his chest.

  Prepared to now aid his companions against the other half of the ambush, the elf could see he was not required. Gideon was already removing Mournblade from one of the two dead bodies slowly submerging at his feet, while Aenwyn brought her scimitar round in a sweeping arc to lay low the last of the Darkakin.

  “Is anyone hurt?” Galanör asked to a pair of shaking heads.

  “Are you?” Aenwyn echoed.

  “No. Though I do miss having two blades,” he added, his chest heaving.

  “Quiet,” Gideon commanded, his head tilted to direct his right ear down the tunnel.

  Both Galanör and Aenwyn heard it too now - a tapping sound against the tunnel wall. The ranger imagined one of the Darkakin knocking their crude weapon against the stone. They were either using the sound to locate their prey or it was their idea of an alarm, alerting others to the presence of intruders.

  “We need to move,” Gideon urged, turning back to face the adjacent tunnel entrance. “That way. Quickly.”

  With every direction as much of a mystery as the next, the elves made no objection and fell in behind the old master, who led with the torchlight. Looking up, it was becoming clear that Aenwyn’s orb was faltering, soon to fade altogether.

  “Look,” Galanör hissed, directing them to the ripples pushing against their own. “More are coming towards us,” he warned.

 
Gideon turned left and right, moving his torch to investigate their surroundings. There was only one other tunnel, though its entrance was no larger than an ordinary door. Without discussion they passed through, avoiding the oncoming savages for now. The narrow passage curved round to the left before the ground gradually began to descend, leading the companions to a large rectangular chamber.

  Aenwyn moved her hand through the air, directing the last light of her orb further into the chamber. Before it died completely, they glimpsed another doorway on the other side, where the ground rose back up. Before they could consider alternatives, the sound of water breaking against the walls behind them spurred the group on. They descended into the larger chamber, submerging them up to the waist in water, and made for the doorway on the other side.

  At the back of the group, Galanör was sure to keep checking over his shoulder for any sign of their pursuers. By the time they reached the new doorway, the side they had come from was steeped in darkness, concealing any trailing Darkakin.

  Following the new tunnel, the water now returned to below their knees, they paused at a junction offering four alternative paths. “This place is a maze,” Aenwyn groaned.

  Galanör turned back to the way they had come and raised his sword to point into the shadows. “Just pick a tunnel. It doesn’t matter which.”

  “This one,” Gideon declared, making a decision for them all.

  Taking little care for the sound they made, the three companions hurried down one of the four paths, passing other tunnels as they did. It was the fourth passage though, that caught Aenwyn’s eye and she brought them to a stop.

  “What is it?” Galanör asked.

  “I thought I saw…” Aenwyn tilted her head and narrowed her eyes down that fourth passage. “Bring the light,” she instructed, shifting her stance to let Gideon by. His torch lifted high and forward, they all saw a flicker of something green in the firelight.

  “Crissalith,” Gideon muttered, his tone verging on disbelief.

  Approaching the green hue, they entered a rounded chamber of jagged walls and abandoned mining equipment poking above the water’s surface. Holding the torch up, Gideon revealed for them all a small cave brimming with green crystals protruding from the walls.