Light exploded around him and he found himself floating just outside the protective circle, his entire body glowing with a white light.
“Come on!” Jonas yelled into the blackness. “Let us fight!”
He didn’t have to wait long before he heard the howling and shrieking of the demons, or whatever they were. He didn’t know. Was the dark presence inside him able to manifest itself into creatures, demons, and then hunt down and destroy what made him, him? And where was he? It felt like he was in a dark void, and that he, and the creatures trying to kill him, were the only ones present. And if they succeeded, if he failed, they would claim his physical body.
The sounds became louder, and he floated above the sphere, holding both his blades at the side. He didn’t flinch as a hideous variety of beasts came at him, eager to put out his light.
Twelve
The Battle Within
Jonas’s body pulsed with light, synchronizing to the beat of his own heart. As his anger and determination grew, so did his heart rate. His astral body, bursting with its white light, was the only illumination as the demons attacked him from the darkness. He no longer cared what happened to him. He just wanted to fight, to die with his swords in his hands, cutting into the net of evil that was trying to hold him. If he were to lose his body to this dark presence, it would not be done without a struggle.
From the blackness there emerged a purplish floating sphere with long tendrils covered with sharp spikes. The deadly tentacles, snapping like whips, sought out Jonas’s flesh. Reacting on thought alone, unhindered by his physical body, he was able to move effortlessly with incredible speed, his flashing silver swords slicing through its tendrils as he spun and danced closer to the thing’s abdomen.
As he was engaged in this struggle, a grey worm-like creature with a large gaping mouth shot like an arrow towards Jonas’s back. But he had seen it out of the corner of his eye as he spun into the sphere-like beast, ramming his silver blade to the hilt in one of its protruding eyes. Without stopping, Jonas ripped his blade free and spun toward the other attacking demon, swinging his sword down and through the beast’s mouth, slicing it all the way down its body, aided by the momentum of its attack. As they tumbled through the black void, Jonas flung the dead demon away from him, and then came to a stop, upright and ready for the next attack.
And so the fighting went, with Jonas maintaining a relentless pace, engaging demon upon demon, his blades humming as the vile creatures succumbed to his unquenchable fury. He was a glowing blur, his mind directing him without conscious thought. While his shining blades were carving up a bat-like creature, he was simultaneously adjusting his movements to defend himself and attack whatever other vermin came at him. And though he kept his mental fortress near, he knew he would never use it again. He would not remain a prisoner in his own body. He would stand and fight until he won…or until he died. Either way, he would not again retreat within himself. If he died, so be it. The thought of his body being controlled by the Forsworn sickened him. He did not want to be witness to the atrocities that his body would create when he lost control of it. He would sooner leave his shell behind and join Shyann at Ulren’s palace, or join the Ru’Ach, the river of energy as the elves believed. Either option was preferable to being imprisoned in a body over which he had no control.
So, roaring his defiance, he continued to cut and slash into the horde of demons that were seeking his astral flesh.
***
They followed the little fiery ball down several corridors before entering a large round room. The floor of the room was wet and in some places covered in shallow pools of brackish water. More water dripped from various open pipes entering the circular room at the ceiling. The center of the room was occupied by another round hole about a pace wide and leading into the dark hole was an iron ladder covered in rust.
“Storm drain,” Durgen grumbled, looking about. “Water drains in from the pipes above, pours into the hole here.”
“Where does it go?” Fil asked.
“Could be an underground river or aquifer, depends on de design. It could be leadin’ to another drainage system flowing out of de city. Not sure.” Durgen gripped his silver axe and looked into the shadows for enemies.
Just as Durgen finished his sentence the glowing tracking ball moved over the drain hole and disappeared into the darkness.
“We go down,” Kromm said flatly.
One at a time they carefully climbed down the rusty ladder. It looked old, but it was firmly embedded into the stone and it held them easily as they descended into the darkness. Allindrian’s light continued to move up and down the tight confines, shedding enough light for each of them to see the next rung as they went steadily down.
They had not gone too far before they came to another tunnel. The corridor looked very similar to the ones they were in earlier. There was a gouge in the floor where running water had created a small drainage stream. The water was only a few inches deep in the middle and the sides of the tunnel were more or less dry, making it easy to navigate.
“I’m glad it’s not the rainy season,” Addalis commented, looking around at his surroundings.
“Let’s go,” Fil said, following the glowing ball down the dark tunnel.
“How long can you keep the light up?’ Kromm asked Allindrian as they hurried to keep up with the ball.
“Several hours at least,” she replied.
“Good,” he said. “I have a feeling we will need it.”
The tracking ball took them through many turns, and down long dark corridors, for the better part of half an hour.
“We are going deeper,” Durgen said, breaking the tense silence.
“How can you tell?” Fil asked.
“I’m a dwarf,” Durgen said with a humph, as if that were reason enough. Suddenly Allindrian stopped, motioning for the others to do so as well.
“What is it?” Kromm whispered, stepping closer to her.
“I hear voices ahead,” she whispered back. “Addalis, can you stop the ball?”
“Yes,” he said, whispering several soft words, halting the ball in midair several paces away.
“Stay here, I will go investigate,” Allindrian said softly.
Kromm acknowledged her suggestion with a nod and Allindrian disappeared down the corridor, leaving her light floating just above their heads.
No one said a word as they waited in the corridor for her return. They didn’t have to wait long. She materialized from the darkness like a ghost, her sudden and silent approach startling them all.
“There’s an anteroom ahead. I saw several corridors leading to it, including our own. There are five guards, armed with sword and dagger, all lightly armored. They seem to be guarding one door,” she said quietly.
“We need to take them out silently. We do not need to warn whatever is on the other side of the door of our presence. Any suggestions?” Kromm asked.
“What light be they usen?” Durgen asked.
“Torches, on the walls,” the Blade Singer said.
“If we can extinguish them, then Allindrian and I can take them out in the darkness,” The dwarf reasoned.
“Since when are dwarfs silent?” Addalis said. “I have another suggestion,” he said quickly before Durgen could give a retort.
“What is it?” Kromm asked.
“Sleep spell, a few words and they all go to sleep.”
“To wake up and fight us again,” Durgen retorted.
“Maybe, but at least we get through that door with no one aware of our presence,” Addalis countered.
“We don’t even know what is beyond that door,” Fil said.
“One thing at a time, Fil,” Allindrian said. “I think Addalis’s idea is sound.”
“I concur,” Kromm agreed. “Allindrian, lead Addalis closer, then come back and get us when they are asleep.”
The two moved slowly down the wet corridor. Addalis had to place his hand on Allindrian’s shoulder as she slowly guided him through t
he dark tunnel. It didn’t take long before Addalis could see the light from the fiery torches and hear the sounds of talking, interspersed with sporadic laughter. It sounded as if someone was telling a story.
Addalis squeezed Allindrian’s shoulder. “That is far enough,” he said. “The spell will work from here”.
They both stopped and Addalis began preparing the spell. He went over the words in his head several times before starting. It was not a difficult spell, and it took only a few moments before the magic of the spell was released toward the men with a casual push of his hand.
“How long will it take?” Allindrian whispered.
“Not long,” and as if on cue, the voices began to slowly fade away until neither could hear a thing. “It is done,” Addalis finished.
They went back, retrieving the rest of the group and entering the anteroom slowly and with caution, blades out and ready. Sure enough, all five of the guards were lying on the ground soundly asleep.
“We should kill ‘em now,” Durgen again suggested.
“I will not kill them in their sleep,” Allindrian answered, moving silently to the door.
“They are Blackhearts,” Durgen said.
“You don’t know who they are. We will not kill them like this,” the king stated flatly, ending the debate.
Durgen simply shrugged his shoulders and moved toward the thick door with his silver axe held in both hands. Allindrian had placed her ear to the door and was listening intently as the rest of the group came up behind her.
“I hear cheering, or some sort of commotion. Sounds like a lot of people,” she said, facing the group.
“What do you suggest?” Fil asked.
Addalis had freed the ball and it was now floating next to the door, gently bumping it as if it were waiting for it to open.
“Jonas is beyond that door,” Allindrian said firmly, looking at the sphere.
“Then we go in,” Kromm said decisively.
Everyone nodded their heads, holding their weapons tight and ready for action. They had no idea what was beyond that wall so no real battle plan could be made. They knew that they would simply have to improvise and trust in each other’s skills.
“Allindrian, open the door,” Kromm said with fire in his eyes, his huge hand tightly gripping his sword. His demeanor changed instantly as mere anger and determination became a battle hungry fury.
Allindrian gently worked the handle on the door and the mechanism opened with a click. She slowly pushed the heavy door open and the group slipped silently through.
As soon as they entered the short corridor before them the sounds of loud cheers and yelling slammed into them, and there was a crazy madness in the cacophony of screaming.
Just ahead of them, maybe ten paces, was an opening filled with light. Beyond the opening they could catch glimpses of warriors fighting, moving in and out of their vision as they fought beyond the entrance.
They inched forward, noticing a passage to their left. Here, the sounds of the crowd became increasingly loud, almost deafening, and it was evident that the voices came from just inside the opening.
“That is Jonas,” Fil whispered tensely.
“What?” Addalis asked.
“I saw him. He is fighting someone in there,” Fil said anxiously, and he began to move forward towards his friend.
Allindrian placed a restraining hand on Fil’s shoulder. “Not yet,” she said, sneaking a peak around the corner. “There are maybe fifty people in that room.”
“Armed?” Durgen asked.
“I can’t tell. I would assume that at least some are,” Allindrian reasoned. “I think this is an underground fighting arena. We might be able to just blend in with the crowd so we can see what is going on.”
Addalis spoke up, “I have a spell that might help. I can send a stinking cloud of gas through the opening and into the midst of the crowd while we enter the arena and free Jonas. I can use the foul mist to push the people out of the room.”
“Where we will have to fight them anyway,” Durgen said, always eager for the bloodier approach.
“Maybe. But they might not be Blackhearts at all, just people involved in an underground fight ring. If they do raise their weapons against us, it will be better to fight those numbers in the narrow corridor than to fight them here,” Addalis said.
“Good, do it, Addalis,” Kromm ordered.
“Be careful, there are bound to be clerics here. This place stinks of the Forsworn,” Allindrian said.
And so Addalis began his spell. The magical words floated from his lips as he quietly recited them. The group waited tensely for him to finish, their eyes darting from Addalis to the arena opening, where they could still see Jonas and his combatant move in and out of their vision.
There was a muffled puff as bile green smoke began to billow from Addalis’s hands. It spewed forth in a giant cloud and he directed the stinking mist into the chamber where the screaming men were still howling away at the fighters. They were so engrossed in what was going on that they did not notice the cloud until it was directly upon them.
Then there was chaos. The cheering turned into coughing and howls of rage as the smoke began to suffocate them.
“Now!” Addalis yelled. Everyone raced into the round chamber as Addalis continued to send the stinking cloud of smoke into the crowded stands, away from the fighting area.
The scene in the arena was one of utter confusion. There were six dead bodies on the ground and Jonas was fighting a large man wearing nothing but grey leggings and sandals. The man had been cut several times across his chest and arms, and his body was splattered with his own blood. He carried a big double bladed axe in one hand and his powerful muscular arms held the weapon easily. His torso was thick and round but he moved gracefully for a man his size. The combatant must have been a soldier at some point in his life, for he used the axe with practiced skill. His face was nondescript with no outstanding features, a plain and common looking man with graying hair, yet his features reflected a mixture of determination and strain as his older body was making a feeble attempt to keep up with Jonas.
It was Jonas that gave everyone pause. He was naked except for a metal skirt commonly worn by the tribes in the Sithgarin. He carried a curved sword that was dripping with blood. But it was his face that gave everyone alarm. His eyes were wide and dancing with maniacal glee. His chest was covered with a nasty pink scar that looked like an X, and embedded in his forehead was a glowing red sigil in the shape of a barbed halo.
Jonas spun towards them all as they ran into the arena. He was crouched over and hissing like a beast as his eyes found each one of them. He did not seem to recognize them, and they were appalled to see in his eyes, a thirst for blood, their blood.
“In Ulren’s name, what has happened to him?” Fil asked in shock.
“Dykreel,” Allindrian replied, trying to hold back her disgust.
“Very good, Blade Singer,” Dakar said, stepping from the shadows. Five guards wearing all black stepped toward them from the perimeter, their weapons held before them.
Everyone spun to face the cleric just as he lifted his hands and whispered several words of power. A hot wave of complete terror crashed into them, causing them all to step back in fear. Even Allindrian felt it as Dykreel’s fear covered her, chipping away at her outer being, trying to reach into her and grab her heart with the icy embrace of dread.
Kromm and Durgen shook their heads, their bodies momentarily frozen as they brushed off the magical attack as if it were a pesky mosquito. Dwarfs are inherently immune to such magical attacks, and Kromm’s inner strength was virtually impregnable, allowing him to counter the fear spell within moments.
As they all hesitated in the aftermath of Dakar’s attack, Jonas suddenly came at them with his blade. The attack was quick and fierce, and both warriors were startled by it.
“Jonas, what are you doing?” Kromm yelled, frantically parrying Jonas’s thrust. “Wake up! You are a cavalier!”
&
nbsp; Jonas spun from Kromm like a whirlwind and attacked Durgen who took one slash across the handle of his axe while the other sliced harmlessly across the side of his helm. Jonas howled, leaping from one to the other, his sword chopping and cutting, trying to find an opening as the two warriors frantically moved backwards, deflecting blow after blow but not pressing an attack for fear of hurting him. They were not sure they could anyway, as Jonas was attacking with such speed and precision that it was all they could do to keep his deadly blade away.
Allindrian, too, was able to snap out of the oppressive feeling of fear that had briefly overtaken her, chanting a quick spell of her own. She was a Blade Singer and mental attacks did not work well against her disciplined mind. Six glowing missiles appeared in the air at her side and she let them all fly at the Dykreel cleric, simultaneously side skirting the battling trio and coming at Dakar from the side.
But Dakar was not alone. Raykin emerged from a side door, the same door where Jonas’s challengers had entered the arena. Immediately he called on Dykreel’s power, and it came to him in the form of a cone of hot fire shooting from his fingers and roaring towards Allindrian. It was only her amazing agility that saved her, and even with her incredible speed the flames managed to scorch her side as she jumped out of its path. The force of the blast spun her around but she was able to maintain her footing. She kept her body moving, gripping her dagger at her belt and spinning around towards Dakar, flinging her knife towards Raykin side handed.
The move was so fast and came so quickly right after his fire spell that he was not prepared for it. Raykin had expected her to be burned into ash, so his eyes widened in shock as her dagger took him in the chest, right below Dykreel’s symbol that dangled from his neck on a black chain. He clutched the knife, stumbling forward to his knees. Allindrian took no notice of the dying cleric for she was already moving towards Dakar.
It was then that the five Blackhearts surrounding them suddenly attacked.
Fil tried to move his body, but he couldn’t. Dakar’s spell had succeeded in gripping him with an intense fear, from which he could not seem to escape. His body began to quiver and he could not shake off the thought of dropping his sword and running, even when he saw the two guards run at him with their weapons raised to strike.
The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 02 - The Rise of Malbeck Page 36