Chaos Trapped

by Eric T Knight

  He recognized it as one of the creatures that crawled around underneath the sorcerers’ robes. The thing glared up at him with yellow eyes as it crouched for the leap that would carry it airborne once again. Its strangely blue tongue flicked out through its broken beak.

  Fen hit it with his sword, so hard that his blade passed clear through the creature and bit deep into the floor with a crackle of red sparks. The blade came free easily, though most of its length was buried in the floor. Glancing at it, he confirmed that the steel was undamaged, not even nicked along the edge.

  The leathery-winged thing squealed, trying to drag its battered carcass away. There was no blood, as if Fen’s blade had cauterized the wound. Fen stomped on the thing until it quit moving. He touched the wound it had made on his neck, peeling away a flake of stone he found there, and went looking for the Fist.

  He found the Fist on the other side of the warehouse. He was on his knees, pounding on a tattered thing that had once been one of the creatures. A strange, greenish ichor was splattered around the spot.

  “I think it’s dead,” Fen said.

  Barik stood up, wiping his hands on his trousers. “I always hated those things. Been wanting to smash one.” His head swiveled toward Fen, and he showed his teeth. “More.”

  They walked back to the door. “They must be in one of the smaller buildings,” Fen said, pulling the door open. He walked through, over his shoulder saying to Barik, “We’ll just have to—”

  There was a sudden flash of purple light, and a ball of crackling purple energy hit Fen as he turned. He was slammed up against the wall of the warehouse and pinned there. The ball of energy did not dissipate but clung to him and began to chew away at him. The pain was excruciating. Fen felt like he was being burned alive, but he was completely immobilized, unable even to scream.

  The sorcerer who had attacked him stood a dozen paces away, his hands flung out in front of him, holding the ball of chaos energy in place. The eerie purple light lit up his features, strangely accenting the tattoos on his face. Triumph danced in his black eyes.

  A few paces away from him was the other sorcerer. He had Barik pinned as Fen was. Sparks snapped and popped around Barik, and his mouth was stretched wide in a silent scream of agony. Fen could see that his very skin was being stripped away, revealing bloody flesh beneath. His body was healing itself with the stolen life-energy, but not as fast as the chaos power was eating him. He wouldn’t last much longer.

  Fen was faring better, the Stone power so far shielding him from any real harm, but he could feel himself tiring and knew it wouldn’t be long before his inner reserves of Stone power were exhausted. Then he would be completely at the mercy of the Ankharan. His feet were no longer touching the ground, so he could not readily draw Stone power from its source.

  Fen cast about for some way to fight back. At first nothing came to him, and as the chaos energy began to eat at his skin he came close to panicking. He fought to remain calm, knowing that once he gave in to panic, he was as good as dead.

  An idea. It wasn’t much, but it was something. He spared no time to examine it, only acted.

  He spent some of his precious remaining strength to reach into the sand that covered the ground in a thick layer. The sand rose up around him in a thick, swirling, spinning cloud. He closed his eyes against it. He drew the sand close and felt it blanket him. The pain receded somewhat as the chaos power was pushed back slightly.

  With a thought he melted the sand, turning it to a thick layer of glass that encased him head to toe. The pain faded still further, the glass between him and the crackling ball of energy.

  Through the glass Fen could see the confused look on the sorcerer’s face.

  See how you like this.

  A flex of his power, and the glass shattered into thousands of pieces, most of which he was able to gather and direct at his attacker.

  A cloud of glass shards struck the sorcerer, lifting him off his feet and throwing him backwards. The ball of energy fizzled and went out. Fen dropped to the ground and ran forward.

  The sorcerer sat up. Pieces of glass were sticking out of him everywhere. One had gone into his eye. One was stuck in his neck. One of the largest was sticking out of his chest. He looked down at himself disbelievingly, then up at Fen.

  “How did you…?” He tried to take hold of the one sticking out of his chest and pull it out, but there was a flash of reddish light and a muffled thump as the residual Stone power in the shard released. Some of the fingers were blown off his hand in the explosion, and he screamed.

  Realizing his mistake, he didn’t reach for any of the shards again, but closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. The shards shifted and began to push out of the wounds.

  “No, you don’t,” Fen said.

  He raised one hand and pushed. The shards responded to his will. There was a brief moment of resistance, and then Fen overcame it. The shards were driven in, burying themselves in the man’s flesh. He choked on blood that poured from his mouth and then toppled over dead.

  Fen turned to the other sorcerer, who was starting to back away, his eyes bulging. Fen reached out with one hand, raising a cloud of sand between them. It was simple to melt the sand and shape it into glass daggers in the same instant.

  The sorcerer dropped the ball of energy pinning the Fist and flung up one arm. He barked a word in a harsh alien language, and a bolt of purple lightning streaked out of the sky and struck Fen squarely, knocking him sprawling. When he sat up a moment later, still stunned from the impact, the man was gone.

  Fen got to his feet and went to the Fist, who was lying on the ground, writhing and moaning. He was barely recognizable as human, virtually all of his skin and even some of his muscle burned away. White bone showed in a few places. Fen knelt next to him, unsure what to do. Surely even he could not survive such wounds. He reached out tentatively with one hand.

  Barik’s lidless eyes rolled and fixed on Fen. From the ruins of his mouth came one word.

  “No.”

  Fen pulled his hand back. He gritted his teeth against the sorrow and rage that washed over him. Yet another death to lay at the feet of the Ankharan sorcerers. He would hunt the survivor down and make sure the man did not survive the night.

  Before he could stand, Barik twitched. A gurgling groan escaped him. He went rigid and began to spasm. Fen bent over him.

  New skin began growing, clumps here and there that spread across his ruined flesh, joining together. The skin looked all wrong, more like twisted scar tissue than skin, and it had an angry red color that didn’t look good.

  After long moments the spasms stopped. Barik moaned and sat up gingerly. He was completely hairless. His skin was raw and bunched and slid oddly over his muscles when he moved. He turned reddened eyes on Fen.

  Fen tried to speak, but no words came out.

  Barik held out his hand, and Fen helped him to his feet. Barik swayed in place for a moment, then said, “Let’s go after that bastard.” Most of his lips were gone, making the words hard to understand.

  Fen kept a close eye on Barik as he took his first steps, ready to catch him if he fell. But after a bit Barik stopped swaying, and his steps grew stronger. Fen could see the healing continuing, muscles filling in underneath the angry red scars.

  The fleeing sorcerer had run, not toward the shattered palisade or the half-built ships, but further down the strand. Fen scanned the area, wondering where the man had gone. They were at the far curve of the harbor. The strand narrowed down, quickly disappearing into tangled piles of rocks that had spilled down from the steep hills that crowded this side of the harbor. The sorcerer might have climbed up into the hills, but somehow Fen didn’t think he had.

  The Fist raised one hand and pointed. From his ruined mouth came a single word. “There.”

  Fen peered. There was nothing. Then his eyes found the rough hut, not much more than a shack, built up against a low, rocky bluff. “Why would he hide in there? Are you sure?”

  “I
can feel him. He’s in there.” Barik’s words were clearer now, as more of his face regrew. His lips were lumpy and disfigured, but they were returning. The suggestion of a nose protruded above his mouth.

  They approached the shack cautiously. Fen held Stone power in his grasp, ready to unleash it at a moment’s notice. But no attack came. There was no sign of movement at all. They reached the door. Fen looked at Barik. “Are you ready?”

  Instead of replying, Barik kicked the door down. It broke off its hinges and flew inwards. Clearly his strength was returning as well. Fen wondered if there was enough stolen life within him to finish the job of healing. He already seemed noticeably smaller.

  The inside of the building was empty except for one thing.

  A tunnel in the back wall, leading back into the hillside.

  Chapter Fourteen

  They approached the tunnel. It led straight back into the hillside. A dull glow came from its depths, only faintly visible. All of a sudden Fen realized where it led.

  “I know where this goes. It leads to the cavern under the old tower, the one that fell down,” Fen said. “It didn’t collapse after all.”

  “What cavern?”

  Quickly Fen told him about the night when he rescued Ravin from the giant crab-thing, about the people who were imprisoned down there, their lives slowly draining into a pool of purple light.

  “What is the pool of light for?”

  “I’m not sure. It could be a doorway for letting the Devourers through into our world, but I thought that was what the key was for.”

  Barik’s lumpy face twisted. “This was going on right under my feet and I never noticed?” His voice was raspy, still not his own.

  “There was no way you could have known.”

  “You did.”

  “I wanted to tell you but—”

  “You tried to. And I threatened you, called you a liar.”

  “That’s in the past. What matters is now. We have to kill the sorcerer, and we have to destroy that…whatever it is for good.”

  Barik shifted his grip on his sword and walked into the tunnel. Fen caught up to him after a few steps. The tunnel was wide enough for two people to walk side by side, the ceiling high enough that they didn’t have to worry about hitting their heads.

  They walked in silence. Then Barik said, “I’m sorry, Fen. I should have listened to you. If I had…”

  “It doesn’t matter now. What matters is we finish this.” Fen looked at Barik. He’d healed even more, but his steps were unsteady. He was weakening quickly. “When we get there, maybe you should hang back and let me—”

  “No,” Barik said harshly. “I started this. I’m going to finish it.”

  Fen wanted to argue with him further, but he knew it was pointless, so he held his tongue. In Barik’s place he would feel the same.

  A glow of purple light appeared ahead, growing stronger with each step. They crept forward slowly, pausing at the end of the tunnel to look out. Beyond was the cavern Fen remembered, though on one side there was a large pile of fallen rock marking the tunnel that had led up to the tower. Hopefully the giant crab-thing had died in the collapse of the tower, and they wouldn’t have to fight it as well.

  But the small crab-things were still there, thicker than ever. Thousands of them scuttled up the walls and across the ceiling. Hanging from the ceiling were hundreds of web-encased forms. This, then, was the other use for the Maradi slaves, besides being labor for the new ships. A few of the forms twitched slightly. Most were still. From each a grayish-white, gauzy strand ran down to the pool of purple light in the floor of the cavern. Down each strand drops of white light slowly slid, heading for the pool. There was no sign of the other sorcerer. Probably he had fled down the large tunnel that opened up opposite them, the tunnel from which the huge crab-thing had emerged the last time Fen was down here.

  “This is bad,” Fen said. “The pool is twice as big as it was. We have to close it. Whatever they’re using it for, it can’t be good.” He looked around, wondering what the best thing to do was.

  Barik didn’t answer. He stood there staring at the bodies hanging from the ceiling. Enough of his face had regrown that Fen was able to read the sick horror and sadness etched there.

  Fen looked away. There wasn’t time for that now. Hopefully there would be later, but not now. Right now, they needed to end this.

  He put his hand on the tunnel wall, thinking. Stone power vibrated gently under his hand. Maybe it would be best to simply collapse the cavern. But if he was going to do that, he had to be sure he collapsed it completely, so it could never be used again. As powerful as he felt, that wouldn’t be a problem. But he might kill Barik while he was at it, and he didn’t want to risk that. There were still two more sorcerers out there somewhere, along with Lowellin, and he and Barik were the only ones with even a chance to stop them. Suicide missions were out of the question.

  He remembered the night he’d summoned the Stone Shaper Bereth. The stone had turned soft under his hands, like mud. Could he do that here on a larger scale? It was worth a try.

  “I’m going to try something. Step back.” Fen motioned Barik back from the tunnel mouth. He hesitated for a moment. If this worked, it would kill every person in there. But there was no way of knowing what kind of condition any of them were in. They might be already too far gone to save.

  Knowing that was true didn’t make this any easier. Those were people with families, mothers, children, husbands and wives. It was something he would carry the rest of his life.

  But the consequences of doing nothing were far worse.

  He called for Stone power and it answered, filling his veins, racing through his muscles. The raw stone around him was rich with it, an unending supply. He could fall into it and never stop falling. He pulled back, shaking his head to clear it and stay focused on the task at hand.

  The stone under his hands grew soft, and his hands sank into it. He concentrated on the feel of the soft stone, then turned his face up to the ceiling of the cavern and willed it to be the same.

  Power rippled outward from his hands. Something like a wave rolled up the wall and across the ceiling.

  In its wake, a thick layer of stone turned to mud and simply sloughed off, falling to the floor with wet, slapping noises. Bodies and crab-things fell with the mud and were buried.

  In seconds it was done. The entire floor of the cavern was knee-deep in mud. Crab-things struggled to free themselves.

  Now to reverse it.

  He pulled his hands free and set them on an untouched area of stone. He felt the hardness of the stone and willed the mud to be as it was.

  There were cracking sounds as the mud began to harden. In moments it was once again solid stone. The crab-things caught in it were crushed.

  Fen looked at the pool of light. It was covered over too. It was not destroyed—he could still feel it there, like a tick burrowed under the skin—but now no more life-energy was being fed into it. Whatever had been done would not get worse. Later he could figure out a way to destroy it.

  “Is there anything you can’t do?” Barik asked, walking out into the cavern.

  “Wait, Barik. I want to make sure that—”

  Fen broke off as a glowing purple disc of energy shot out from the large tunnel. Barik was starting to turn toward it, raising his sword as he did so, when the disc struck him. It burned cleanly through his sword without pausing, half of it falling to the ground, and then it struck him.

  It hit him low on the ribcage, went straight through him and out the other side. Blood spurted. His free hand went to the wound. Fen saw instantly that the wound was too big, beyond even his incredible healing capability. He turned his face to Fen, the understanding of his death in his eyes.

  He toppled over and lay still.

  “Nooo!” Fen shouted. Heedlessly, he ran out of the tunnel into the cavern, thinking only of reaching Barik. He had taken only a few steps when two more crackling discs of pure chaos power came shooti
ng out of the sorcerer’s hands at him.

  Fen raised his sword, and it blazed into life, red flames sprouting from the cutting edges. He parried the first disc, sending it spinning off harmlessly, and hit the second one squarely. It lost cohesion and broke up into scattered purple sparks, but his sword shattered.

  Two more flew at him with frightening speed. Fen reached out with his free hand, raising a thick chunk of stone from the floor, fashioning it into a crude shield. The discs struck it and exploded. The shield cracked and fell into pieces.

  Fen sent a wave of Stone power flowing through the floor, which bucked beneath the sorcerer, staggering him and causing his next attack to fly wide. While the man was still off balance, Fen pointed at the stone over his head and released a burst of power. The ceiling of the tunnel cracked and collapsed. The sorcerer dove forward, barely making it out before the falling rock struck him.

  Fen reached into the stone again, planning on collapsing that whole side of the cavern, but before he could release the power, the sorcerer threw out a hand, fingers stretched wide. From his fingertips came a bolt of purple chaos power. The bolt struck Fen, hammering him backwards. The power in the bolt shorted out every muscle in his body, and he collapsed, thrashing madly, banging his head on the floor as his muscles spasmed.

  Fen tried to get up, to fight off the attack and strike back, but before he could regain control of himself, the sorcerer launched his next attack.

  The Ankharan waved his hands in circles. Light spread from them, forming a glowing web. He threw the web. It flew through the air and settled over Fen, constricting when it touched him, wrapping him tightly, immobilizing him. The pain from its touch was unbelievable, setting every nerve in his body afire in a blaze of agony.

  He tried to call to Stone power, but the man raised his hand and fed more power into the web. Fen screamed. His eyesight flickered, and he fought back blackness that threatened to overcome him.

  The sorcerer walked over to him. He stood looking down at him, a cold smile on his lips.