by C E Johnson
Okay, Z, step aside. Emily planted her feet and concentrated, calming her mind. She pulled, feeling magus pulsate through her body. Blue burned in her brain and sparks formed in her mind. Propero, flow. The boulder shot up from its location, scattering birds in all directions as it soared through the trees.
Be careful as it falls, Xena warned. Her hackles rose in alarm and Emily lost her concentration on the boulder that came crashing down amid a flurry of falling leaves.
Poor control, Emily thought as she flushed with embarrassment, glad Xena wasn’t injured. Regaining her composure, she entered the alcove revealed by the moved stone, a niche in the rock of the mountainside.
We need more light, Xena thought, glancing at Emily.
Murmuring, Fegkos fulgar, Emily was rewarded by the immediate formation of a rich glowing blue flame that leapt from the tip of her finger. The light revealed a towering set of gray double doors that looked to be carved from the very mountain. Emily ran her hands along the door, questing into the structures with tendrils of magic. There was a mage-lock present, which felt similar to the barriers Dr. D had placed on the doorways in the corridors in the basement of his hospital. She spoke her word of opening, grateful that her godfather had remembered to grant her access, and the double doors swung inward. Each stood immobile, solid and strong.
After the two entered the passageway, Xena turned back to the opening. We should lock it, she urged.
I’ll do better this time, Emily promised. She could just make out the boulder she had moved, and she guided it back to its resting place at the chiseled front of the cave at a much slower and more controlled pace. Once the monolith again blocked the passage, the towering stone doors crashed closed of their own accord. Emily was so startled, she lost her concentration on her light spell, leaving them in pitch darkness. She wanted to scream, but Xena was next to her.
Easy, Xena said and Emily calmed down in a wonderfully consistent pattern. Drawing strength from her bondsmate, Emily reformed the light from her finger. There were also lights on the walls of the passage, and Emily discovered that with very little concentration they would emit a mixture of a white and blue flickering rays with adjustable intensity.
Loping forward cautiously, Xena came to an abrupt halt. Something different’s ahead. She sniffed the air, sending Emily the smell of metal, magic and death.
Emily’s stomach began to clench into a tight ball, and her pulse started to accelerate. She drew her dagger. I don’t see anything, Z, she whispered questioningly. The room began to feel stifling and airless. The only visible abnormality was a blush-like glow that decorated areas on the stone ahead, like a sloppy paintbrush that had dripped on the passage signaling to her that magic had been used here in the past.
Let me look first, Xena advised. She moved cautiously forward, coming to a dead-end twenty feet away. Emily began to follow, tapping one of the blue glows with her toes that Xena hadn’t touched. Nothing happened. Delicately, she walked over a blue-glimmer at a creeping pace. As she made contact with the afterglow, the ground disappeared, and Emily felt herself weightless, falling.
“Help!” she screamed aloud while clawing desperately at the sides of a looming pit that formed beneath her. Sinking her dagger into the wall time and again to slow her descent, she was unable to fully arrest her progression. Glancing downward in terror, Emily could see the cruel tips of spears beneath her, glinting in the light from above and she realized she had only one chance at survival. She pushed off the wall with one hand, twisting in air, so her backpack would be the first surface to make contact with the weapons below. As she made impact, her body and head remained protected, but one of her legs was savagely sliced open by a sharp edge. She screamed in pain, her heightened sensations amplifying the torment. Barely retaining consciousness, she attempted to decrease the agony coming from her leg with her reduction spell. Once it was diminished to a dull ache, she assessed her situation. Warm blood was dripping from her leg wound, flowing down her sweaty skin, but otherwise she was intact.
Where are you injured? Xena panted in fear. Her brown eyes peered down at her over the edge.
It’s my leg, but I’m alive, Emily roared, using her mind-link to fully inform her bondsmate of the dangers below. She didn’t want Xena to attempt to jump down to help her.
Can you get to the rope? Xena asked. Emily sorted through the backpack beneath her and she was able to pull the rope from her pack and throw one end to Xena without too much difficulty. Placing it tightly in her mouth, Xena began to pull back on her end to help withdraw Emily from the pit. With her bondsmate’s strength, Emily began to scale the wall, even extricating her backpack from its position of impalement and recovering her dagger. However, she felt the throbbing in her leg more sharply with each step of the climb. Luckily, the roughhewn walls provided her with ample locations to place her feet, and she was soon out of the hole that could have easily been her tomb.
You saved me, Z, Emily said breathlessly once she was out of the trap and in more control. She collapsed to the stone floor and buried her hands in Xena’s fur. They remained in this position together, sharing love, concerns, and advice, the perfect medicine for a horrifying situation. Emily gasped as she struggled to slow her rapid breathing.
Xena sniffed Emily’s wound delicately. Can you heal your injury? she asked.
Emily evaluated her leg. Her wound was deep, but not to the bone, and she intoned, Medicor. Although she didn’t feel skilled with healing spells, she was able to repair the deeper portions of the injury. She pulled a clean shirt out of her pack to bandage her remaining wound, and when pulling out the fabric, Dr. D’s field guide fell open to a page on the Castle Cave:
Castle Cave: There are mage-lights in this cave. Mage-lights use a very small portion of your magus to light an area. The lights will be primarily white with a faint glow related to the hue of your aura.
Be very careful in the cave entrance. I have set up several mage-traps. If you walk over the wrong area, the floor gives out, dropping to pits filled with spears. You will be able to see a faint signature of magical remnants to show you where the traps lie. A different signature will demark mage-locked doors.
Emily bit her lip and wiped away warm tears at the edges of her eyes as she thought over her stupidity at not reading this section of the book. I hate to have to experience pain to stimulate my learning. She felt disgusted with her negligence.
We’re learning, Xena whispered softly. She licked away Emily’s tears. Emily stood, using the wall to brace her as she tested her leg. Knowing her muscle was intact, she wasn’t worried about putting weight on her extremity. She hesitantly approached the pit, still shaking her head at her error. Xena leapt across the trap, landing lightly on the other side. You can do this, Xena urged, her eyes shining with encouragement as she turned back to Emily.
I’ll try, Emily said hesitantly. She tossed across her pack, went back a few steps, and with only a small cry of pain upon her launch, followed her bondsmate across. She landed weakly, still trying to spare her injury from any impact, doing a somersault roll instead of landing deftly like Xena. Emily brushed the dirt off her clothes. Using a spell of opening, she gained access to the next doorway. A corridor was revealed with candle shaped mage-lights that sprang to life.
Sharing all sensations with Xena, Emily was now on the alert, actively seeking new traps or doors. She was impressed with the intricate nature of the defenses. In the next long passageway, a huge trapdoor took up the entire floor of the hallway with smooth walls that didn’t permit a handhold. A metallic smell rose from the depths, and she could picture row after row of spears beckoning to her.
I think we can vault over this pit, Xena began thoughtfully.
The ceiling’s high, Emily noticed. Fighting the pain in her leg, Emily wanted to go first this time. She began to run, launching herself into the air at the last moment possible. She landed awkwardly amidst searing pain.
Nice jump, Xena whispered before following gracefully, easi
ly clearing the trapdoor. She loped to Emily, nosing her injury while lending mental support.
I hope there aren’t many more of these, Emily thought. They continued onward until they came to a magnificent door that shimmered violet from components of amethyst. The structure dominated the passage, disappearing upward in the dim light, with hundreds of animal figures carved into the face. Emily ran her fingertips along the carvings while speaking her opening spell incantation. The door swung open, and they entered a grand room with a ceiling thirty feet high. Tiny holes were in the corners of the room allowing the last remnants of filtered sunlight from the outside world to cast dark shadows. Smokeless fires sprang to life in the corners of the enormous area in white stone fireplaces. Plush rugs of all sizes and colors were scattered on the floor, and hundreds of empty suits of armor and weapons lined the walls. Tapestries and paintings in vibrant colors decorated the walls, many depicting dragons, horses, castles, and war. Intermixed with the finery were twenty doors evenly spaced around the periphery, the majority dark stained oak with shimmering bands of polished bronze.
Xena padded silently to the thickest carpet in front of one of the fires and rolled onto her back. I was hoping for something like this, she said in a delighted tone. Grinding into the carpet with her legs straight up in the air, she began grunting in a contented manner, eyes drifting halfway closed.
Emily laughed before continuing to explore. She discovered bathrooms with running water. One faucet had warm water with a pipe extending down into the stone, and she carefully cleaned her swollen leg. She was unable to stifle cries of pain as she placed soap in her raw wound which was still dully throbbing. The water had a faint smell of sulphur, and she wondered if Dr. D had tapped into a volcanic spring. Once finished, she returned to the room of doors, collapsing into a large brown leather chair near her bondsmate.
After a short nap, Emily woke to realize just how hungry she was. I smell something edible this way, Xena said, revealing a host of scents to Emily. Emily could smell pungent spices, salt, and tangy hints of game through Xena’s nose.
I think we both will like this treasure hunt, Emily said with a smile. They searched through the doors in the direction of the delicious smells, and after several attempts, found a well-appointed kitchen with a large wooden door of solid oak banded with silver that led to a wide set of descending stairs. Unable to fully ignore the dull ache in her leg, Emily took her time going down the series of flights. The temperature changed steadily from cool to chill, and goosebumps formed on her skin in the subterranean cold. Mage-candles lit her path, and she found cured meat along with flour, canned foods and jams stored in the depths of the cold cave. The food was speckled with a faint blush of a blue aura, and Emily was sure it was preserved with magic.
Returning with full armloads, Emily deposited the delicious wealth of food on a great wooden trestle table next to the radiating fire. The two ate together in silence with Emily wondering how many ancient kings had dined in these quarters. Once their appetites were sated, they hunted until they discovered a shower. Xena wouldn’t leave Emily’s side and entered the enclosure with her. The stall was small, with clean, white-washed, smooth stone walls. Lathering her hands with a liquid that looked like shampoo, Emily washed Xena first, then she attempted to soften the tangled knots that had developed in her own hair. She managed to delicately work out even the stubbornest coils without cutting off her tresses in frustration. Emily dried off both of them and then found a hairbrush that restored her hair to some semblance of order.
I’m ready to sleep, Xena yawned and Emily could sense her fatigue. They scouted the many bedrooms, choosing a gorgeous room with resplendent gold-colored tapestries and a wooden bed with intricate carvings of knights and dragons for their sleeping chamber. Feeling content and clean, Emily snuggled into the warm covers. In a flash Xena was next to her shoving her snout under the blankets and creating her own warm cave.
Fulgar makria, Emily murmured, and the mage-lights extinguished. She was exhausted, but she felt safe, clean and at peace. I think we’ll stay here for a few days, she said softly. She wanted to move soon because she was anxious to save her godfather, but there was no point in leaving before her leg was fully healed. Everything in this cave was simply too nice.
CHAPTER 25
The Coven
Months prior, Maaca had disembarked from her ship on a small dock at the southern tip of the Dothan Forest. The cluster of buildings around the dock was known simply as ‘the Harbour.’ The area was a prime place for travelers to land before questing through the forest to Shadoe’s land. Shadoe granted prophecies to any travelers who would make the pilgrimage to his domain, but he had to physically touch those that wanted to ask him a question.
Shadoe’s elves dominated the northern portion of the Dothan Forest, and Maaca wanted to stay clear of that section, at least for the time being. Accordingly, she started her coven in the southern woods in a section known as Gath, where the old wood was deep and dark, and where she could intercept those making their journey to Shadoe. Her camp began as little more than a few scattered buildings, but she had grand plans for a city in the trees.
Maaca took a whetstone to her swords. Samil had taught her their history. They were made by a Javan sword-smith from the finest dragon-sand, with almost every impurity burned away by the scorching fire of a red dragon. She had named the blades Doom and Death and she was sharpening enchanted edges that really didn’t need her attention. Maaca was always uptight before a battle and she needed something to do. The sun was descending, and shadows were cavorting through the forest playing with her eyes. The noise of her sharpening woke several of her nearby half-dead warriors. The half-deads were coming to her in ones and twos almost daily now, ready to battle for her, to lay down their lives once again for a leader that they believed in. Maaca glanced from her work to study her small team of vampires who slept around her, as if she needed guarding. They were her honor guard, and she had nicknamed them her ‘Black-Blades.’
“Is it time for another raid?” Nathan, her captain, asked. He stood proudly before her. He had a smooth face, pale skin, narrow-set dark eyes, and close-cropped black hair. His dark cloak was trimmed with jet-black fur.
“It is,” Maaca answered. She finished sharpening her weapons and she studied the elegant steel in the moonlight. Her Black-Blades were all awake now. They began to don boiled leather and plate mail, enameled in the deepest black, as they began to prepare for their next battle.
“Walk with me,” Maaca commanded Nathan. They strode through her camp and assessed her other half-dead followers. Ogres, goblins, a clan of were-creatures, gnomes, and two wyverns were scattered in her encampment. All had sworn fealty to her in the old ways of their kind.
“Which warriors will accompany us?” Nathan asked his question in a calm, strong voice.
“I’ll let the majority sleep tonight. I want a small squad. I don’t think I’ll need the full company to kill another band of weaklings.” Maaca gave Nathan a confident smile, knowing how strong she had become.
“I’d feel safer with more troops.” Nathan looked dubious.
“Fine, I’ll take the wyverns if that makes you happy,” Maaca said while rolling her eyes at Nathan. She walked to her wyverns and studied them. They were sleeping side by side, looking like young dragons. They were small enough to fit through many of the trees but large enough to create damage with their poisonous bite. She placed a hand on each of their lightly scaled necks, and they opened their eyes. Irises of molten orange flickered dangerously in the moonlight. They rose together and followed her, slithering across the leaves back to her awaiting Black-Blades.
“How are your assimilations progressing?” Nathan asked softly. He reached out and stroked her cheek tenderly, like a worried father.
Maaca brushed his hand away. “I’m evolving, but not fast enough to take me back to my creator’s side.” Anger and bitterness rang clearly in her voice. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to relax
herself. She could smell pine, horses, and rich soil. Her senses continued to amplify with every kill, and she relished in her progression. Unfortunately, there was also a negative to her assimilations, a building pain related to her separation from Samil. Although she was certain she would see Samil again in the future, she felt a growing impatience for his approval, his words and his touch.
“You’re becoming so powerful, that the elves will soon quake when they hear your name,” Nathan whispered.
“One day,” Maaca suggested in a hopeful tone while she gave him a sour grin, fixing him with her piercing blue eyes. “We’ll test the elves soon.”
Wordlessly, the chosen Black-Blades left camp at Maaca’s back, jogging through the woods at a daunting pace. The darkness swiftly swallowed them up. The wind whistled through the lower branches serenading their movements and the canopy danced excitedly above their heads. Maaca could feel her muscles growing ever stronger and she delighted in the strength in her legs. The warriors flitted over the ground like a group of lethal panthers hot on the trail of their prey. She could smell horseflesh and leather ahead and she held up her hand to slow their approach. Orange shadows flew overhead, and she watched her wyverns observing the position of their victims. All half-deads had very limited magic, but one of the talents of her wyverns was to relay visual input. They were able to essentially dream-link components of their surveillance. Maaca closed her lids and gazed down from the sky through wyvern eyes.
One highborn noble slept in the center of a group, slightly apart, with eight warriors loosely grouped around his position. He wore a green cloak, and the hood hid his features. Two sentries were awake, huddled together by a fire, with the flames licking eagerly at the blackness in an attempt to keep the dark at bay. Maaca’s team of five was outnumbered, but this would only make the battle more exciting.