“Neith, draw your bow,” he called out. “Shala close ranks!”
Neith acknowledge and drew back into the circle’s center. She drew her bow and fired an arrow into the throat of the advancing wyvern at their center. It fell upon Lugh with a crashing thud, and he wailed. Bres heard his cry and turned to see the fangs had just missed his body.
“Get him to his feet!” yelled Samsara.
Neith got Lugh to his feet and handed him his sword. The pain was sure to be immense, but he lumbered back to his position in the rear. His flesh was burned, but he would heal. Bres saw him hack with fury and anger as the arrows of Neith broke passed their heads finding their careful mark in the soft parts of the wyvern hoard. The Fae at the front of the formation had fought with the bravery of a thousand men and had reached the opening. The rear closed to just Bres and Lugh. They fought side-by-side hacking as the bodies of the wyvern piled up closing the way for the masses. At first it seemed to be a victory, the dead would create a barricade, but as soon as the path was full the wyvern behind them yanked the dead away to be eaten. Bres called for reinforcements. Samsara and the Aélf took up their position to give them respite.
Bres caught his breath and looked at Lugh. “We can’t hold this position forever.” he said.
They watched Samsara and the Aélf battle with ferocity. “They’ll wear us down soon, but we can keep going down the tunnel.”
“If the tunnel opens again into a cavern we are done for.” said Bres.
Samsara and the Aélf swapped positions with Sreng and the Blessed Daughter. Bres looked around, but nothing around them offered an out. They could not fight forever, and they could not flee the position they were in. They were out of options.
“Goddess, save us.” he muttered. “Give us light in this infinite dark.”
Out of the shadows as if called into being by his prayer the long forgotten Stoneskein warrior appeared. He walked right passed Bres and Lugh and headed for the front. They followed him their blades ready to assist.
“Onyx, tell us you have a plan,” said Lugh.
Bres recalled that the young Dweorg was a stone singer. “He’s a singer. Can you close the way?” asked Bres.
“When I’m ready, give the word to retreat,” Onyx said dryly.
He crouched down before them and placed his palms against the stones. Onyx hummed and chanted in the language of the stones. The tunnel shook, vibrating in response to his command. Bres looked on as the ground beneath them buzzed and opened. It did not crack and pop as he expected. Instead it seemed to melt into a viscous fluid. It rippled and thrummed under the spell of his tongue. With his eyes closed the little Dweorg commanded the solid granite beneath him to bend to his will. His eyes shot open.
“Now,” he cried.
“Retreat!” called Bres. Samsara and the Aélf obeyed and fell back behind the Dweorg. The wyvern were busy dragging away their dead. Once they cleared the way they lunged towards the Dweorg. Bres didn’t understand, nothing was happening.
“Onyx, now would be a good time!”
The wyvern were upon him in seconds, but before they reached their mark spears of jagged razor sharp quartz protruded from the stone tunnel, lancing and impaling the wretched demons. Spears stuck out from every surface, creating an impassable barrier between the champions and the fangs of the horde. Clear quartz ran blue with the blood of the wyvern that crashed against the cleverly fashioned pikes on the other side of the barrier. The entire company watched in awe as they threw themselves upon the impassable rock over and over again.
Skadi roared with delight. Her bellow shook the tunnel. Bres let a war cry escape his lungs and the others followed suit.
“Ahhhooo! Ahhhooo!” the cried out in unison.
The group collapsed where the stood to rest, the position seemed defensible so Bres did not care to challenge the message their bodies were sending them. “Take a minute to regain your strength!”
Lugh plopped down next to him and cradled his burned arm.
“Is it bad?” asked Bres.
“It stings like hel, but I don’t think I’m any worse for wear. I’ve gotten sharper pain from the eyes of the Princess.” he joked.
“You fought well,” said Bres. “If only our brothers fought with the same zeal. I’m beginning to think we aren’t cut out for this. Had it not been for Lycaon you would not have suffered so. The men of Fo do not retreat cower like women.”
Lugh laughed, “The rest of the world isn’t like Fo. Men of quality are hard to find, no matter where you go. Doesn’t mean their wholly bad. They just aren’t cut of the same cloth as you Prince. Not all of us have been raised from day one and told we are the best. Cut the man some slack, what we’ve seen down here is enough to make any army flee in terror.”
“The Fae did not even flinch,” said Bres. “Were it not for their hands, the men here would have fallen as water over rockfall.”
“Perhaps it’s not all as it seems. Trust they are just as afraid as you if not afraid of you. All we’ve got to do is survive another day, and we are through this thing. We are no worse off than before the wyvern. None fell, I call that a victory. Stop seeking defeat where there is none.”
Lugh got up and walked away, asking the others for something to bandage his wound. Bres took a moment to reflect. He wanted his men to show courage. They’d need it for what he’d have to call them to do. He knew Sreng would have no qualms, the Blessed Daughter would follow suit. As for Lycaon, the Freeman, and the mage from Atala, they’d fall in line. He hoped it was enough. The reemergence of the Dweorg made things more complicated. Coupled with how cowardly Lycaon had been in the wyvern attack, Bres sensed the advantage slipping away. He had to find a way to deal with the giantess and soon. He had one day, none of the Fae would draw breath by days end.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Lugh, the half-blood Vagabond
Ancient feud,
And grievance brewed,
Doth leave reasoned mind skewed.
The path was treacherous abound with rockslides, sudden drop-offs, and dead ends. The company had remained quiet, ever aware that the next danger awaited around the next corner, but nothing came. They had seen no sign of the Dweorg since his triumphant return. Lugh assumed he had slunk off again. He’d proven himself capable to survive alone. As it stood the Fae had seven remaining champions, and the men retained seven. Lugh remained a part of both worlds. He hadn’t declared for either side, because he saw no need, together they had handled everything the trial had thrown at them. If they continued to do so they may all leave here alive. After all, they’d survived the wyvern.
They will not stay together. Said the voice in his head, it sounded like Arabella.
Whatever had gotten into their heads was growing more powerful the deeper they went. For hours now it had been replaying the conversations he and Arabella had. He knew what it was trying to do, to divide them. He could see it taking its toll on the others. Each one of them had grown silent despite their victory. They all had the vapid look of exhaustion on their faces. Inside their heads they battled the voice.
If you do not choose soon, they will choose for you. The Fae are my people. If you stand against them you stand against me. It said.
Lugh ground his teeth in frustration.
The group came upon a fork in the path. One path led upward, and the other led further downward. They halted, Lugh had heard whispers being cast between champions, and he knew sooner or later, an aspect of this unstable mix would explode into a contest of Fae versus men. Lugh had to choose which side he would play.
The Fae had maintained their numbers, and though they had a giant, she had been wounded making her weak enough to exploit. If the men united against the Fae and took the giantess down, the favor would swing towards man. As the fork neared Lugh felt the weight of the decision.
He had taken up position near the rear of the group to observe the other champions with greater ease. Over the last few hours, he believed he had sized thei
r strengths and weaknesses sufficiently. The men had the tenacity that would tilt the scale in their favor, with Lugh's help they would overcome. On the other hand the Fae had a giant, no matter how weakened she could easily remove three or four of the men from a contest with a single blow, if the men were to have a chance, they would have to deal with her first. He ran the possible outcomes through his head multiple times. The Kentáros, Chiron was another problem, but not a dead end. If the giant fell, he assumed the Fae would scatter. Once they broke ranks they’d fall one by one. The only uncertainty was Samsara. She had remained silent and focused on the task at hand. She was well trained and capable though she was not a guardian she still had twice the strength of a man. If Lugh joined the Fae, they would stand a chance, but his own chances of survival plummeted from surety to a split decision. He watched intently.
Choose against them and you choose against me. Said the voice.
Sreng zigged- zagged in between the various human champions whispering here and there, what seemed to be foolery or in the case of Neith unwanted advances. Lugh disliked the crude nature of the man, he hadn't forgotten how Sreng had didn aid Hermagoras when the Kobold first attacked. The move was nothing more than an intimidation, an assertion of dominance. Regardless of Lugh's feelings, the men had stuck near Bres and Sreng. Bres had shown great resolve, but in the past few hours he had been silent. It allowed Sreng to usurp the hard won clout. Sreng despite his awful demeanor seemed to have supplanted Prince Bres as the journey had continued. Lugh watched as Sreng eyed the fork and pointed towards the tunnel on the right that led upwards, he then muttered something to the mage from Atala.
The champions stopped before the fork and looked down the throat of each entry point. Lugh noticed that each of them knew somewhere inside that one choice would not be made by the entire group. This leg of the journey meant to separate them. Though many of them would determine that this was a time to assert their leadership, Lugh was not as sure. That outcome would be too simple, the trial was one of initiation into the Nemeton, one of the most cryptic and secretive organizations on the face of the Earth. This decision had repercussions. There was a secondary test that being administered during this decision. Their primary concern was survival, but by his estimation the manner in which they survived determined their success.
Bres stood at the head of the group and contemplated, his silence still dictated a modicum of respect because no one opened their mouths in favor of a choice. In between the two paths, there was a circular inscription of runes. Bres stared at the inscription in an obvious attempt at deciphering their meaning. Lugh looked at them as well though they were recognizable though they weren't making sense.
“Can anyone read these markings?” Bres called out.
The group inspected the runes, mulling over their potential meaning and origin. The gnomish champion was the first to speak up, “They appear to be a derivation of the Ogham script, but there are significant differences in their structure. Part of the message is clear, but the other part eludes me.”
"Well, what is the first part," called Sreng? The other champions of man concurred with his demands.
The gnome looked to the giantess for assurance, she nodded. “It says, you stand before two paths, one up one down, one light, one dark.” As the words escaped his lips, the tunnel to the right illuminated. An exotic bioluminescent fungi lined the tunnel, casting the darkness aside. “The second phrase says something about choice, consequence, and companions. Though I cannot be sure.”
Lugh noted the reactions of the champions. The moment they had all been dreading or awaited fervently had come, a decision would be made. As if to illustrate this fact, the inscription hummed and illuminated in a similar light to that of the mushrooms. From out of the stone appeared a figure cloaked in shadow, with skin that vibrated with a green and blue light. His appearance was kingly, and they realized it was Arawn, the Dragon Lord who commanded these depths. His robes flowed like mist above water, and his eyes glowered with a gold hue. Terror seized the champions, though the figure carried no weapons and appeared to offer no harm, his presence filled the air with dread.
"Champions of the people, the sacred sacrifice. You have survived thus far, now a choice must be made. A path of light, a path of dark. Whichever you choose, your fate will be fixed by the decision. Choose wisely your companions, for you will also be judged by the company you keep. Should the paths of light and dark cross, the weight of the battle will descend, brother against brother. Only those left standing will be permitted to proceed. Choose swiftly, for my hounds approach. They’ve not been fed the flesh of the living in eons, and their hunger grows insatiably."
The figure disappeared, and the champions braced themselves for another onslaught. The warning of the hounds had fixed their attention on being attacked. Lugh turned and looked up the corridor from which they had come, dozens of red eyes bore down upon their position. Before he could gather his wits, Lugh saw as Samsara marched off into the dark alone, no one said a word.
Perhaps she has the right idea. He thought. Onyx seemed to fare fine.
From somewhere in the back of his mind a voice called to him.
The Seraeph. it said.
It was different this time. It sounded and felt different. Lugh was certain it was something else.
Men will… Kill… Save…
Lugh shook his head, he was growing tired he thought, so he slapped his face to awaken. He peered at the hounds. They inched closer.
If you do nothing else, save her. aid the voice.
He pieced it together. Something was calling for him to defend Samsara. He could not recognize the voice, only that its tone was urgent. His vision fled, and Lugh found himself in front of young man standing in a cave. The cave had light unlike where they were. Lugh looked around. He wondered if it was the venom, perhaps it had gotten into his blood. The boy walked up to him, he was talking but Lugh could not understand the words
“Who are you?” Lugh asked.
“If she dies we all die,” said the boy.
Lugh closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them the boy was gone. There was only the hounds. The men argued about which way to go, and the Fae readied themselves. Lugh turned and looked at the dark tunnel. He turned back to see the hounds.
“Whatever we decide, we should decide quickly, the hounds will not wait for long,” he said as he pointed his sword towards their location.
“The path of light is the obvious choice,” said Lycaon. “We should proceed where we can see.”
“The decision should not be placed purely on such base logic,” said the Aélf. “There are many dangerous creatures that lurk in the light. You see these mushrooms? They shoot poisonous barbs are random, there is no telling when an assault would come. If the tunnel is as long as the last we traversed we would surely all die.”
"And in the dark, there could be more of those, things." said Lycaon.
The group erupted in argument, shouting between man and Fae. Curses flew, insults fired from mouths, with each bard tossed by soured tongue the hounds inched closer. Lugh had his eyes fixed keenly on their position. He turned and broke up the bickering parties.
“Stop, stop. We do not have time for this nonsense,” shouted Lugh as he pressed his hand against Sreng’s chest who was standing face to face with the Aélfar. Sreng spit in the face of the Aélf who gnashed his fangs at Sreng with a hissing sound.
“Nonsense? He's more Fae than man, he even takes a position in Dagda's house. Why should we listen to you half-blood,” said Sreng as he looked around to garner approval from the other champions of men?
“Because of that,” Lugh said as he pointed to the advancing hounds.
The champions turned their attention to the glaring eyes. Sreng replied, “So the half-blood is afraid of a few pups? I promise you if you stand in my way again Fae lover, the hounds will be the least of your worries.”
Lugh turned to find Bres who was still staring at the inscription, “Bres
, thoughts? ¨
Bres did not move, he was standing still muttering. Lugh thought it rather peculiar behavior from a man who had been groomed to make decisions from day one. Something was wrong. “Bres!”
The Prince did not respond he just stared forward.
“We know what lies in the black, we should continue on where we know what to expect,” said Lugh.
“You don't command me half-blood,” said Sreng. “I am tired of you giving us orders through the Prince. You think yourself sly, but I see right through you. So far the only ones to fall are men. We have followed the Fae and stayed together and what has it gotten us?”
“Fine,” said Lugh “Bres?”
“The Prince can’t make this decision for you men,” said Sreng “We have to make it ourselves, are we going to follow the long-tip and the Fae into the dark or are we going to take the path they are too scared to advance through? I say we show them what courage is? Let us show them and the world what strength lies in men, let the Fae stick to their usual cowardice!”
The champions of men cheered and roared. Sreng looked at Lugh and sneered, his lip curling in celebration of his small victory. Lugh gritted his teeth. He knew splitting up would happen, but he felt that the group stood a better chance of survival united. Once again the petty politics of man versus the Fae had won, and Lugh was left with a decision.
Nemeton: The Trial of Calas (Hallowed Veil Book 1) Page 42