Empty Horizon

by A. C. Cobble

  Gunther simply smashed his fist into the face of the fourth guard. The man went flying back and crashed against the stone wall. Ben winced at the spine-tingling crunch. The guard fell down, dead or unconscious, Ben couldn’t tell.

  The stairs flared with a rainbow of blue, red, purple, and green runes.

  Gunther muttered, “They’ve got something up there they don’t want anyone getting to.”

  “We need to hide that we’re going up the stairs,” suggested Rhys.

  Gunther frowned then grabbed one of the dead guard’s arms. He set a foot against the man’s torso. With bulging muscles, he tore the man’s arm off.

  Ben stared, open mouthed.

  Gunther offered him the arm. “Run this down the hall and shake some blood at a convenient turn. Bring it back and leave it by the body so they can’t tell what you did.”

  Ben swallowed uncomfortably and then accepted the arm.

  Gunther rumbled, “We aren’t disturbing these wards as we pass, and we haven’t displayed any of the talent. Hopefully, the mages upstairs assume that means we’re still down below and that this is a mundane threat.” He gestured to the stairs. “After you.”

  Rhys nodded and, without waiting further, trotted up the wide stone steps.

  Corinne flanked him. Ben saw her reach out a hand to Rhys. The rogue caught it and squeezed before they disappeared out of Ben’s line of sight.

  Ben grumbled and dashed down the hall, flinging blood from the severed arm. He came back and deposited the arm by the bodies before racing up the stairs. Gunther followed close behind.

  At the top, they met their first true opposition. A moment after they made it to the landing, a man just a few years younger than Ben stepped out of a doorway.

  “Are you the ones who’ve raised the alarm below?” he asked curiously. His eyebrows knitted, and he wondered, “How did you get up the stairs?”

  Gunther raised a hand and the air seemed to twist around the young man. It drew toward him, quickly closing on his body. The man’s eyes snapped wide open. He raised his hands to fend off Gunther’s attack, but he was too late. The inward rush of pressure crushed him. Blood and fluids squirted out of his body as he imploded. He collapsed like a used washrag.

  “Don’t wait for me next time,” advised Gunther calmly. “Mundane blades will be quieter than a full-scale mage battle. In another heartbeat or two, that boy would have unleashed on us. You’d better center yourselves and hold stasis. I may not be able to protect all of you, and now the Purple knows we have practitioners.”

  “We’ve hardened our will against magical attacks before,” declared Ben.

  O’ecca called out, “I keep hearing you talk about hardening your will. What does that mean? Do the Ohms do it? I learned the first three.”

  “You’ll be fine,” encouraged Amelie, placing a hand on O’ecca’s shoulder. Amelie shot Ben a concerned look.

  “Stay behind Gunther or Towaal,” suggested Ben.

  Shouts and the stomp of boots rose from below, but the upstairs remained quiet. Ben hoped that Gunther was wrong. If the Purple mages detected magic, they may assume it was one of their compatriots. Since the wards hadn’t been tripped, Ben and his friends could still be moving undetected.

  Ben looked down at the crushed body of the mage on the floor. Blood and bodily floods spread out from him in a wide pool. No hiding that, he realized.

  “I don’t think we can cover that up,” muttered Amelie, echoing Ben’s thoughts.

  He glanced around and observed their surroundings for the first time. Tapestries that could have been hundreds of years old graced the walls. The floors were plain stone, and simple oil filled lamps lit the landing. Unvarnished wooden tables were set against the walls and held sun-bleached animal skulls.

  Ben frowned and looked closer. They weren’t animals. They were demons. Small ones and large ones. Row after row of demon skulls greeted everyone who ascended the stairs. In the corner of the room, a huge figure stood. It was draped in the preserved skin of a demon. An arch-demon, judging by the size. Ben swallowed nervously. The Purple had the body of a stuffed arch-demon decorating their foyer.

  He caught Amelie’s look.

  “Did you expect fresh flowers?” she asked.

  “We need to move,” barked Rhys. “There are over three hundred people in this fortress. I don’t know how many are slaves, guards, or mages, but let’s not wait and find out.”

  Gunther led the way and they trotted down a dark hallway. There were no windows and no torches to light their path. Runes flared to life as they moved, layer after layer of them. The glowing colors painted the hallway in a vibrant rainbow of hues. Even Ben could sense the lurking power emanating from the bright script.

  Hollow alcoves lined the hallway, man-size statues standing within them. In the dim light, Ben couldn’t see any details, but he guessed they represented the Purple throughout the years. He couldn’t explain why every fifth statue had the head of some beast. Lions, bears, or demons. All of their mouths, even the men, stood open in silent screams.

  Ben scampered faster and walked close behind Gunther. He hoped the big mage was capable of keeping track of all of them as they passed through each wave of runes. Ben didn’t know what the colors signified or what any of the script meant, but he was certain that some of them would raise alarms and some of them would strike him dead. The Purple had ages to prepare their keep to hold off a magical assault. It appeared they’d been thorough.

  The slap of their booted feet echoed down the hall, announcing their presence. There was no use moving slowly to maintain silence anymore. The alarm had been raised. Speed was their only ally.

  The creak of leather raised Ben’s hackles. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw rune light flicker on metal.

  “Corinne, duck!” he shouted.

  The huntress dropped to a knee and a short spear flashed above her head.

  Its owner followed, leaping out from behind one of the statues in an alcove. More men burst out of hiding and swarmed over Ben and his friends.

  Ben hammered the pommel of his sword into a man’s face and heard the crunch of broken bone. The sharp tip of the man’s spear gouged the side of Ben’s head, slicing a neat cut in his ear.

  Another body crashed into them, forcing Ben to stumble back against the wall. He gripped the first guard’s leather jerkin and yanked him close, hoping the man wouldn’t have room to maneuver his spear. In the scintillating rainbow light of the runes, Ben saw a second guard yanking a short sword out of the back of the first. The man had missed Ben by a hands-length and accidentally stabbed his fellow guard in the process.

  Ben thrust his longsword over the shoulder of the dead man and caught the second attacker under his arm, sliding behind his tough leather armor. Ben felt the tip of his blade bounce off bone and punch deep into the man’s torso.

  Another body crashed into them and Ben tripped. He lost his sword as he went down, flailing. The newcomer went down on top of him, struggling to maneuver his spear into a position where he could stab Ben.

  Ben didn’t give him the chance. He pulled out his hunting knife and slammed it into the man’s neck, twisted it, and jerked it free. A fountain of blood poured out onto Ben. He wiggled out from under the body of the dead man and saw another guard pressing Amelie and Towaal back.

  Amelie had dropped her rapier and was clutching the man’s sword arm, holding on for dear life as he tried to twist the blade against her.

  Towaal had her belt knife out and struck at the man, but the short blade scrapped off his armor and left him unharmed.

  Ben rolled over and snagged the man’s ankle, yanking hard.

  Surprised, the guard staggered to the side and spun around, looking for the new assailant.

  Towaal wrapped her arm around his neck and sawed her knife across his exposed flesh. This time, the little belt knife was effective.

  Ben lurched to his feet but the fight was already finished. His companions were standing, panting. A
dozen dead bodies lay at their feet.

  “Everyone all right?” rasped Rhys.

  Ben touched the side of his head and winced at the sting from the spear wound.

  “Ben,” exclaimed Amelie, “you’re covered in blood!”

  “Almost all of it is theirs,” he assured her. “One of them got me, but it’s just a shallow cut.”

  “We need to keep moving,” said Corinne through gritted teeth. “The sound of fighting will draw more of them.”

  Ben saw the huntress had a hand pressed against her ribcage. Blue light from a series of nearby runes made the blood covering her hand look black.

  “How badly are you hurt?” worried Rhys, moving to stand beside her.

  “Bad.” She coughed wetly. “But it doesn’t matter. We can’t stop.”

  Gunther shuffled over and placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “Let me do what I can. You’ll still be tender, and if you push it, the wound will break open,” he advised. “The runes will cover a small expense of energy. Any more and the mages may be able to detect us.”

  “Thank you,” said Rhys, breathing a sigh of relief.

  “Anyone else wounded to the point you’re incapacitated?” asked the big mage.

  Milo stepped forward and Ben saw one of his arms was hanging limply by his side.

  Gunther placed a hand on him.

  “You could learn to do this yourself,” suggested the big mage. “You have the strength of will.”

  “I’ve barely been trained,” responded the former apprentice nervously.

  “Really?” asked Gunther, sounding surprised. “Your body is well aligned. I sense you are close to attaining long-life. You’re either a natural, or someone must have trained you very well.”

  “Maybe I am a natural like you say,” mumbled Milo. “I only had a few years of training.”

  “Let’s go,” said Rhys, staring nervously behind them.

  Stepping over dead bodies, they headed deeper into the fortress. Ahead of Ben, Corinne was moving tentatively. He could tell her injury was bothering her. Rhys strode by her side, head rotating constantly. He was watching the alcoves for any more ambushes.

  They reached the end of the hall. The space in front of them was filled with twinkling silver lights. Runes sprawled across the wall and ceiling, shimmering with energy. Between the runes, silvery threads like spider webs stretched across the hall.

  Gunther stopped.

  “I can get us through safely, but I won’t be able to mask our presence when we pass these,” he admitted. “Someone is actively maintaining this barrier. I can feel an immense potential on the other side. It could be the staff. I believe this is the room we’re looking for.”

  “I can feel it as well,” remarked Towaal. “It’s like a whirlpool drawing me in.”

  Ben looked behind them at the dark hallway. Past the runes that were activated near them, there were no sounds and no lights. He knew it wouldn’t be long before someone found the crushed body of the mage at the top of the stairs. When followed to the pile of dead guards in the hallway, their route couldn’t be more obvious. The Purple was certain to know they were on the floor and where they were going. Even if they turned around and tried a different route, it was only a matter of time before the Purple began sealing off different parts of the floor. Wandering around blindly and hoping to find another route to the staff was foolish.

  “We either go in, or we try to escape now,” stated Ben. “Those are the only choices.”

  “We’ve made it all the way here,” said Amelie.

  Ben nodded. “Let’s go get this staff.”

  Gunther lifted his huge black-iron hammer and rolled his head back and forth, cracking his neck.

  “When we get through these doors,” he instructed, “Amelie, grab the staff and prepare to flee. We’re going to have to fight our way out, and I want to be ready for anything. Karina, you back me up. We can discuss what to do with the staff after we’re safe.”

  “Fair enough,” agreed Amelie. “It’s yours when you ask for it.”

  Lady Towaal nodded tersely.

  Gunther turned to the ward. The pulsing silver tendrils that stretched across the hallway suddenly snapped back, and the runes crackled with energy.

  Gunther shouted, “Go, now!”

  In a rush, they all poured across the barrier. Ben felt a tingle crawl down his spine as he did but no pain, no sudden death.

  Through the barrier, they found a tall double door. Twice the height of a man, it was built of thick pieces of ancient wood. In the center of each door hung a copper face, an ancient man and ancient woman. Their faces were twisted into a rictus of rage.

  “I don’t think we should…” started Milo.

  Gunther strode by him and raised his hammer. Colors swirled, causing the black iron to appear transparent. The mage swung the hammer with incredible force. It smashed into the door.

  Ben felt a thump in his chest as energy burst out from the impact. Lightning crackled. Smashed pieces of wood flew into a black void beyond the door.

  The two copper faces hung motionless in the air.

  Ben gaped at them. Nothing supported them that he could see.

  “Damn, they were real,” muttered Gunther under his breath.

  He drew back his hammer again. He brought it down on each of the copper faces. The metal crumpled and was blown back into the room. Silent screams rang in Ben’s head with each blow of Gunther’s hammer. It reminded him of the way Eldred spoke to them.

  Behind them, all of the runes in the hallway blazed alight. It washed the companions in a blast of vibrant light. By the multi-hued glow, Ben could see a wide balcony through the shattered doors.

  “We’d better hurry,” advised Gunther.

  The big mage stepped confidently through the doorway and gestured for the others to follow. Amelie darted ahead, staying in his shadow, prepared to grab the staff and flee with it. The rest of them came close behind.

  A stone railing encircled the balcony, and two staircases led down from either end. Beyond the railing, it was pitch black.

  Towaal entered last and placed her hand on a smooth stone on the wall.

  Hundreds of stones flared to light, illuminating a cavernous chamber. The balcony they were standing on overlooked an open area the size of a small village. In the center of the chamber stood two huge stone archways. They were inscribed with arcane glyphs and stood eight or nine stories tall.

  “Damn!” exclaimed Rhys.

  “How are we supposed to get those out of here?” wondered O’ecca.

  “This isn’t what we came to find,” stated Towaal flatly. “Those are rifts.”

  Ben let out a low whistle.

  Gunther grunted. The big mage was staring uncertainly at the huge stone structures, evidently as surprised as the rest of the party.

  “They have to be twice the size of the one in the Wilds,” exclaimed Amelie. “What do they need two of them for?”

  “What did you expect to find here?” asked a calm voice from behind them.

  They spun and saw an elderly man flanked by five other men. They wore loose purple robes and held no weapons. Behind them, two dozen guards poured onto the balcony.

  No one answered the man.

  “I found the body of Simon,” continued the man, unperturbed by their silence. “He was new among us and not strong, but I am still impressed you overcame him.” The man’s gaze turned to Towaal. “You are from the Sanctuary. We have been preparing a long time for your leader to locate us. I knew she would want to recover what was taken so long ago. Now that you found us, I’m almost ashamed about how worried we were. It’s impressive you made it to this room, but what do you think you can do against us by yourself? I have been alive for over a thousand years. You are like a child to me. I thought I’d be facing dozens of you when this day came.”

  Towaal stared back at the man. Ben guessed she was trying to process what the man said.

  “Master,” muttered one of the
younger men.

  The elderly man, clearly enjoying his moment, spared an irritated glance at his underling.

  The younger man simply pointed to Gunther.

  The older man turned and Ben saw his eyes go wide in surprise. The man’s gaze locked onto Gunther’s hammer.

  “Who are you?” he demanded. “Where did you get that?”

  “You spent all those years preparing for Sanctuary mages,” rumbled Gunther. “You should have gotten ready for me.”

  Gunther stepped forward and one of the younger Purple rushed to meet him. The man’s hands were raised, the sleeves of his robes falling back to reveal swirling energies clutched in his fists.

  The giant head of the black-iron hammer swung forward. The young man skidded to a stop, apparently surprised at a physical attack, and crossed his arms in front of his body. He must have intended to stop the blow with his will alone.

  Light sparkled like shattered glass. The young man barely had time to grunt in shock before the hammer smashed into him. His body was pulped instantaneously. A shower of gore was flung back across the balcony and splashed against hastily raised shields of the other Purple.

  “You’re him,” exclaimed the elder Purple. “The hammer mage. I know of you.”

  Gunther glared at the man. “Why did you build these rifts?”

  The guards were fanning around the edge of the balcony, ready to engage Ben’s companions, but obviously not interested in going anywhere near Gunther and his hammer.

  The elder Purple didn’t answer.

  “Do you think you’ll be able to tap the energies outside of our world using this?” growled Gunther. “I’ve sensed you trying. It will be futile. Rifts do not work like that. The tunnel you create will bypass the power you seek.”

  The bearded Purple mage frowned. “You’ve been monitoring us. Why did you not intercede?”

  “You would not have been able to control the power which you sought. You are not strong enough, and it would have destroyed you.” Gunther gestured to the rifts behind him. “It appears you not only are missing the will, you are missing the knowledge.”

  The Purple mage stood straight, stretching his ancient body to its full height. “You are right. We realized we do not have the strength to control the power flowing between our worlds. I spent five hundred years learning that. Even the staff we took from the Sanctuary is beyond our control.”