“What magic is this? How can light be taken by the dark?” said Hermagoras.
The Aélfar laughed. “Men and their precious light. The dark holds sway here. Light may comfort your hearts, but it cannot banish what always lies in wait.”
“What does he mean?” said Iason.
“We should proceed forward if we stay here are little better than sitting ducks,” said Lugh.
“I agree,” said the deep and powerful voice of Skadi.
The Fae led the way with the giantess in their center, Lugh, the Seraeph, Prince Bres, the centaur, Lir, the gnomish champion, and the Aélf moved forward at a steady pace. The men behind them brought up the rear. As they proceeded, the clatter became louder and more prominent. The cheerful jokes of the men turned to maddening fear.
“What is that infernal clacking,” barked Sreng. “Come forth demons and meet my blade!”
The other men cried out with him attempting to frighten whatever it was, but it only showed just how scared the men were. The more fear poured out of them the louder the noise became until it was the only thing that anyone of them could hear. It grew so loud the communication between the company became impossible. They screamed, yelled, and barked at one another, crying out into the dark for the beasts to come forth. All the while the light from their torch diminished until they saw only shadows and phantoms. And then it stopped.
Complete, Silence.
Lugh couldn’t breathe. The sound had deafened him. His hearing returned gradually, but all he sensed was the beating hearts of the surrounding champions, their breath heaving.
“What in Goddess’ name was that?” said Bres.
A chilling cry rang out from the rear of the company. Lugh whirled to see what had happened. When his eyes found the origin of the cry he cringed. A white skinned scamp of a creature had clamped onto the head of Hermagoras. The man’s blood-curdling screams froze the sacrificed in place as the muscular creature tore at the flesh of his head. Its elongated claws dug into the sockets of the man’s eyes and tore them out, whilst driving its teeth into his skull. Flaps of errant skin and clumps of hair flew as the beast assaulted their comrade. It moved with such alacrity and force that it carved the man’s flesh as butter cut by blade.
“Kill it!” cried Hermagoras.
Before Lugh could move to help the man, Sreng’s blade cut through the scamp and cleaved the head of Hermagoras from his body.
Sreng leaned over the man. He rummaged through his pockets and took his sword, fixing the scabbard to his belt before unsheathing it.
“Gods what was that thing?” whimpered Lycia.
“They’re called kobolds and they always travel with friends. Once they grab a hold of you, you’re as good as done. They’re as strong as a bear and ten times as agile. They will not flee, no matter how many we kill. We Senarran are no stranger to their devilry.”
The company looked to the darkness and saw hundreds of reflections of eyes appear, reacting to the torchlight. The eyes stared at the champions and peered at their fallen comrade. Lugh heard Prince Bres, “Swords at the ready! Stand and cut them down!”
Sreng’s voice roared as he cried only being overshadowed by the below of the giantess Skadi. The Kobold advanced upon them falling upon them by the dozens. Each blade drew blood in fantastic form, cutting down dozen after dozen of the foul beasts. The smell of rot, sweat, and blood filled the air. Lugh had fought many creatures in his time amongst the wilderness, but few had ever matched the strength and ferocity of the pale-skinned demons of the deep. Blood splattered and sprayed as their swords tore heads and limbs from each of the advancing kobolds. Their blood ran black and coated the heroes in their awful stench. Despite their overwhelming losses, the vermin continued their assault. The strongest champions instinctively encircled the weaker members, with the giantess at the center her body covered in the creatures. She picked the vermin from her like ticks, crushing their bones as if they were twigs. The cracking sound of bones filled the air. Blades met flesh and tore bone from sinew. Each performed admirably, but Lugh noticed even the strongest champions were waning, as wave after wave advanced on their position.
“Bres, we can’t stay here, they’ll overrun us!” he cried. “We have to move.”
Bred nodded as he removed the heads of three kobolds who leaped towards him
“Advance!” Bres called.
In front of them, the corridor narrowed, as they neared, the torch revealed the kobolds were descending from above through a channel above their position. Lugh watched as countless more flooded the tunnel. The champions advanced into the narrow tunnel and away from the channel that the kobolds were using. The centaur and the Seraeph cut through the last the kobold in front of them.
“We’re through,” cried the centaur.
It was good news, but it wouldn’t be enough. They needed a plan, there were hundreds if not thousands of them descending towards their position. The champions may have been the best fighters in the world, but none of them would survive much longer if they didn’t create a barrier between themselves and the infestation. Lugh pushed forward clearing through the last of the kobolds standing between him and the way out. He turned and fortified the defensive wall the Fae had created. One by one the rest of the champions joined the shield wall, hacking and thrusting their blades into the kobold attacks. The last was Skadi. She lumbered forward kicking the kobold vermin and tossing them against the stone walls. Their bodies splattered and cracked against the stone. She crawled through the small opening, behind the champions. There was no room to spare. They fought shoulder to shoulder preventing the kobold from reaching their rear. With Skadi clear of the throat created by the tunnel, Bres called for an advance forward.
“Drive them back,” he cried. “Press forward!”
Lugh looked above the opening in the rock for any weakness in the rock. Just above their position was a ledge that had several boulders large enough to plug up the hole at least long enough for them to retreat from this position so they could lick their wounds.
“Skadi,” Lugh yelled. “We have to stop their advance.” He raised his sword pointing towards the large boulders above her head. She looked and nodded. Lugh continued to carve through kobold limbs as more and more blood caked upon his skin. He felt the ground shake as she reached above them and cradled a massive stone. She groaned and hurled the stone towards the opening with a smashing blow that lodged the massive rock into the opening. Smaller bits of rock and flesh exploded as the large rock crushed dozens of the beasts and halted their advance. The ground shook and from the small openings that were still visible, Lugh noticed the cavern behind them began to collapse. Hundreds of the kobolds fled, their shrieks filled the air. The company stood victorious against and roared ferociously towards the fleeing creatures.
Men cheered, and the Fae roared in victory. The kobold advance had halted, and they’d only lost one of their group. Lugh held the memory of Hermagoras in his mind. The image of the scamp removing his eyes would most likely be with him forever.
“Now that was a battle,” said the centaur.
Though they’d vanquished the threat, losing another champion muted the cheers. They were tired, and some had suffered wounds that had weakened them, most of all the giantess. Lugh felt the weight of the first challenge they’d face linger. The first hurdle was cleared, and they had been lucky. He was certain that what awaited them in the long dark road ahead would be far worse. The company settled and soldiered on into the dark without contest. Lugh felt a darkness lurking in the back of his mind. An itch that dug its way deep into his head with feelings of inadequacy.
You’ll never be good enough for her. Said the voice in his head.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Samsara, the rogue Seræphym
In the land below,
They reap that which they sow,
They dread the maggot, fear the crow.
Sam calculated that a day had passed since the sacrificed had descended. Samsara sensed the ten
sion between the two groups. Thus far the only side to lose lives were the men. The company had held fast, but Sam believed it would fracture, and soon. Though the men no doubt perceived she was allied with the Fae, she knew she was not welcome in either camp. Sam was on her own down here. In truth, they all were despite the ridiculous efforts of Lugh and Bres to unite the disparate groups. There were sixteen members left. Three men had fallen, and the Dweorg had gone missing. Sam hadn’t spoken a word in the first day. Instead, she found it wise to stay silent. To listen, to gain a mental picture of the others. To Sam the Conclave was survival of the fittest, it was not a time to make friends. She’d been alone since her father died, and this situation was no different. Nothing had changed, except her location.
The kobold attack had been vicious. Several members received wounds from the gnashing teeth and stinging claws. Some had begun to fester and stink though they continued on admirably. Aside from the giantess, the Freeman had taken the worst of the attack, his side was gashed and continued to bleed. Skadi received multiple wounds, but something told Samsara the behemoth would shake it off.
The Prince suggested they rest and tend to their wounds after the encounter. Sam thought the idea foolhardy. The passage into the deep had changed, it was no longer dry. Water dripped from the ceiling of the cavern, slow and steady the water sapped their strength. The area was crawling with insects, worms, and other irritating creatures of the deep. They nipped at the skin and climbed into every crevice. She flung a millipede from her halting its advance up her leg. The men begun to itch. She watched them dig their nails into their skin, something was in the water. The Fae did not seem to as bothered. She noticed the centaur approaching her.
“You fought well Seraeph,” he said. “I was informed you were a Keeper. Didn’t know your kind could fight. You cut down as many of those pests as my blade, an impressive feat.”
Sam grinned. She was unsure if she wanted to open up to any of them. The centaur had a calming nature despite his uncivilized origin. He was cool and collected, this was not the first time he’d been tried by battle. She’d gone this far without help, but she knew the next test wouldn’t be as kind. If she was to pick an ally, the bigger the better she thought. At the least the centaur did not seem overtly deceptive.
“Many thanks horse-lord,” she said. “I was trained in secret by the captain of the Watchers. I guess my father believed I would need the skill someday.”
He whinnied, “A wise decision. The name is Chiron. Terrible business with your father. My condolences.”
“I’m Samsara, you knew him?” she asked.
“I’d met him twice, during his expeditions to the Greatwood. A few of my herd served as guides for him. He was good, kind hearted, noble. None among us thought him capable of what they accuse him. He’d have been proud about how you’ve performed. It was no small task to submit yourself to this trial.”
Sam smiled.
“I wouldn’t be so sure. I failed him. Failed our people.” she said.
“How can you believe such things?” he said.
“I was there when the island was swallowed by the ocean. I did nothing to stop it. Six thousand years of our history, his entire legacy just sunk to the bottom. My decisions even hastened it. My people have been cast to the wind and labeled as heretics. Everything he ever loved has been destroyed. All because of me.”
He trotted forward and looked her in the eye. “Among my people, we keep no records, we horde no treasures of lost and forgotten days. Our home is where the winds cause our hooves to fly. You have wings do you not?”
“I do,” she said.
“That place you called home, was no more than a cage. The books, the relics, the balls at the end of chains. Take heart young Seraeph. Your father’s legacy has not been destroyed. It lives on in the hearts of your people, so long as they live his dream is still alive. So long as you succeed here, his legacy lives. This is but the beginning of your journey Samsara, daughter of Madan, not the end. Have faith in our Great Mother, her wisdom supersedes the wisest of all her tribes.”
Chiron trotted away from her. His words spoke truth to her heart. Perhaps she’d been looking at the entire event in the wrong way. The Acropolis, the archives, all of it did not matter as much as she had believed. She could rebuild it, she could help her people regain the honor that’d been stripped from them. But first she must survive the trials.
“Alright, everyone up, we need to move.” said Prince Bres.
Samsara rolled her eyes. The false sense of security that the men felt by giving the reigns of leadership to this Prince amused her. She knew they weren’t bound by anything more than a thread, a thread that would snap sooner, rather than later. The men and the Fae gathered themselves and started out down the passage again. Sam waited and watched them pass. She’d spent much of the first day at the head of the column, today she perceived it would be best to take the rear. At least from this vantage point she might keep a closer eye on the group dynamics.
They forged ahead, the air grew colder, damper the farther they went. The smaller men showed signs of weakening, and to her dismay so did the diminutive gnome. She wasn’t sure how the little creature would ever survive what lay ahead.
Her hair stuck to her face, soaking wet, her clothes chafed against her skin. Discomfort became an understatement as the water did its work on them all. Nothing had appeared to contest their march in some time. The pressure built and moods flared as the passage narrowed. They bumped into each other and groaned. She could tell it was all getting into their heads.
“Move!” cried Sreng to Lycia. “Stand in my way again and lose that pretty head of yours.”
Lycia seemed to take the abuse. He was weakening, soon he’d fall, she sensed death clinging to the man. Though she’d never perceived it before, she was aware of the instincts her kind harbored. The death of their creators was something they instinctually foresaw. It was how they had defended Atum so well against the Fae onslaught.
Do not concern yourself with them. Said a voice in the back of her mind. They are not worth saving.
Samsara shook her head. Perhaps they were not the only ones.
None are worthy. It said.
She could not figure the identity of the voice. It was unfamiliar, but it spoke the truth. It had to be tied to their test.
“Fucking bugs,” cried the Lycaon as he pulled one from his tunic.
Samsara heard the crunching noise of exoskeletons cracking beneath their feet. The infestation was so thick they now piled up halfway to their knees. The gnome was waist deep in the mass.
“Goddess, they’re everywhere,” said Iason. “Am I the only one getting stung?”
Sam had been stung twice now, but it appeared that he was bearing the brunt of their assault.
“We are almost through,” said Bres. “Hang on.”
Iason groaned. The insects had taken a liking to him. Samsara knew if they didn’t get through to a dry section of the passage soon, death would soon to approach. The crawling creatures of the dark multiplied with each step they took. Soon they were up to her knees. She saw the gnome was struggling to move.
“Chiron,” she yelled and pointed to the small Fae.
The centaur picked him up and placed him on his haunches. “Come on gear-master.”
“Most gracious of you,” said the gnome as he shook the insects from his body.
“There’s enough room up there for me too,” said Iason. The bites had gotten worse, he was covered in red lumps.
Chiron looked at him, “No man shall ever mount me. You’ll remain down there with your kin.”
Iason glared at him.
No one said anything. Sam was sure an altercation would flare up. The man was weak, and he was irritating her. He would not make it out of here alive.
You want to kill him now for complaining don’t you. Do it, remove his head. Said the voice. One more to lay down in the land of the dead. One less to cut down in the end.
It was becomi
ng more frequent, and Sam wondered if the other’s were hearing it. She didn’t want to ask, if it was only her, they would perceive her as weak. She was confident in her own strength and abilities but there was no need to draw their attention for any reason.
“Up this way, it’s dry!” cried Lugh to the group.
The champions hustled through the wet sopping mess of insects. They shook themselves clean of the pests. To her surprise the insects fled from the dry environment back down the passageway. Many of them had suffered bites, but none were as affected as Iason. He scraped at the lumps.
“It is best not to scratch,” said Chiron. “It will only get worse.”
“You shut your blighting mouth,” Iason yelled. “It wouldn’t be this bad if you’d allowed me to ride.”
“Typical man, you want the Fae to suffer while you ride atop my work.” said Chiron.
“Curse you beast,” said Iason.
“Calm yourself Iason,” said Lugh.
“Damn you too half blood,” he yelled, his agitation was growing he scratched. “Damn you all!”
Chiron groaned, followed by Skadi. Sam winced, and she felt the bites pulse and burn. She could not identify what insect was biting them. The mass was thick, and dark. They’d dropped from the ceiling, and they’d all been covered in them.
“What is happening?” asked Neith. She had the fewest bites of any of them, four at most, where Iason’s skin was littered with lesions.
Underneath the skin she felt a crawling sensation. Sam looked down at her arm and watched as the bite had become filled with pus. It oozed and beat as though a heart was beneath it. She felt her stomach drop into her feet. The skin burst and a larva emerged from the boil. She’d never seen nor read of any insect that gestated so rapidly. Sam heard the popping of boils from the other champions. They groaned and panic set in. Chiron swatted his tail at the emerging insects. The larvae fell to the cavern floor.
“Goddess, what are these things?” wailed Iason.
The boils had inflated upon his skin so much that she couldn’t see his eyes anymore. He unsheathed his sword and carved at the boils. The larvae fell from him by the hundreds. He wailed in agony as they emerged from his ears, mouth, and nose. He swung wildly, nearly hitting the champion of the Freemen.
Nemeton: The Trial of Calas (Hallowed Veil Book 1) Page 40