by Duncan Pile
The Wrench leaned back in his chair. “So what do you want to do?”
“I’m going to look into him, and I want you to do the same. He’s yours again from tomorrow, so that should be easy enough. First things first, I’m going to find out everything I can about the day he disappeared. I want any details you can give me, Wrench. What time he left, which exit he used, who he spoke to. Everything!”
Thirty-six
Shirukai opened his eyes, lucid for the first time in weeks. His life had become a living horror that felt like it had being going on forever. He could barely remember what it had been like before – snatches of sight and sound teased him, but his mind was overrun by the unbearable present, twisted into insufferable nightmares by the mind-altering influence of the spiders’ poisons. The worst thing was the stone – it dominated his mind, forcing him to cast useless spells and draining him of magical power. It was feeding off him! He didn’t know what its purpose was, but he knew with fearful certainty that when its hellish glow throbbed from the altar, his mind was no longer his own.
He looked around, wondering why he’d been allowed to reach a lucid state. The spiders crawled all over him day and night and, the moment he started to gain any kind of focus, they bit him once again. But for some reason he’d been left alone for longer than usual, and was afforded a rare glimpse of reality. He tried to think of ways to take advantage of the lapse, but he knew it was pointless. He didn’t even contemplate using his power to break out of the harness. His limbs had become useless, his muscles atrophied. If he fell to the ground he’d not even be able to stand up. No, there was no escape. The best he could hope for was that his heart gave out from exposure to the poison. An early death would be a mercy to him now.
A tickling sensation on the back of his neck alerted him to the spider’s presence. He tried to pull away but to no avail, and moments later he was bitten, the sharp pain sending him spiralling down into a world of murky hallucinations.
…
Gaspi couldn’t help noticing they were going in the wrong direction. The Temple clung to the peak far above, but the passage they were following led them deeper into the bowels of the mountain. The tunnel split into two before them, but both forks continued to slope down into the dark. They paused, trying to decide which passage was the right one to choose.
“The Temple’s on the east side of the peak,” Voltan said. He indicated the right hand fork. “It must be this way.”
“Are you sure we haven’t been turned about?” Talmo asked.
“I don’t think so. The tunnel’s been pretty straight,” Voltan responded. “Does anyone think we’ve been turned about?”
Several people piped up at once, some saying yes, others no. Everyone had an opinion, with the exception of Sabu, who seemed more interested in examining the walls of the passageway.
“What’re yeh seein’ Sabu?” Baard asked.
“This is very strange,” the blademaster said, running his fingertips across the tunnel wall. “This is no natural tunnel, but it wasn’t dug by man either.”
“Talk sense man!” Baard said.
“It’s perfectly round,” Sabu explained. Gaspi looked up at the roof of the tunnel and saw that Sabu was right. He turned and looked back the way they’d come, expecting to see lumps and bumps interrupting the circular shape of the passageway, but it ran away into shadow with perfect symmetry. The surface of the tunnel was roughened, the globe-light’s glow revealing a densely pitted texture.
“This was made by something living, tunnelling through the rock,” Sabu said thoughtfully.
“Sheesh,” Baard said, pulling his own hand back from the wall in disgust.
“Like what?” Taurnil asked. “It’d have to be massive.”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Sabu responded.
“Lydia, you know about lots of stuff. What do you reckon?” Taurnil asked.
Lydia looked a little flattered by the unexpected compliment. “Sorry, I couldn’t begin to guess,” she admitted ruefully.
“This doesn’t help us,” Voltan said. “We still have to choose left or right.”
“Right,” Sabu said.
“Why?”
“Why not?” Sabu answered with a shrug.
Voltan didn’t have an answer to that, so they pressed on, moving down the right hand tunnel. Soon enough they reached another branch, and once again they had a brief discussion before taking the right fork. After that, the branches came more frequently, and it was simpler just to stick to the right hand option every time. They pressed on, deeper and deeper into the mountain, hoping that at some point they’d escape the Labyrinth and find a way to ascend the heights of the mountain.
…
After a good hour of traversing the tunnels, they emerged into a cavern – the first naturally formed space they’d come across since entering the Labyrinth. Other tunnels, similar to theirs, converged on the room as well, and a large pit took up the majority of the cavern floor. On the far side of the pit was another passageway, much larger than any they’d seen so far. A trail of roughened stone extended from the mouth of each of the tunnels and led down into the pit, in the middle of which lay a pile of carcasses. They looked something like colossal snakes, or maybe lizards. Their elongated bodies were thicker than a man is tall, and their leathery skin was studded with hundreds of fibrous spikes. Their heads resembled drawings Gaspi had seen of the great water serpents that inhabited the swampy regions of southern Antropel. Their heavily lidded eyes were far back on the sides of their heads and their jaws were huge, sporting vicious looking teeth. It looked like they had died fighting, each giant corpse covered in the scars of what must have been deadly wounds.
“I guess we know what made the tunnels,” Taurnil said.
“What are those things?” Emmy asked, holding onto Gaspi’s arm and peering into the pit in disgust.
“Ugly,” he answered.
Baard laughed loudly and stepped up to the edge of the pit.
“Don’t fall in!” Sabu said.
“I’m not stupid!” Baard responded, but the lip of the pit crumbled under his foot. His arms pin-wheeled as he tried to regain his balance, and Sabu threw out a hand to catch him, but it was too late to stop him tumbling into the pit. He bounced noisily off the slope of the pit and came to a stop lying face down on the nearest corpse. Groaning, he got to his feet as quickly as he could.
“Not stupid,” Sabu muttered wryly.
“I ’eard tha’,” Baard objected. He peered closely at the head of the beast that had cushioned his fall, running a hand over the spines on its neck. “It’s all leathery,” he said. “And them spikes are lethal.”
“Get back up here Baard!” Voltan said impatiently.
“Alrigh’, keep yer shirt on!” Baard said, clambering back towards the edge of the pit and extending a hand. “Giz a hand Taurn.” Taurnil bent down, grabbed Baard’s hand and hauled on it. Baard planted his feet on the steep side of the pit and walked his way out. “Thanks,” he said. “That thing’s bin dead fer ages.”
“What makes you say that?” Sabu asked.
“No smell,” Baard said with a shrug. “Its skin’s much tougher than hide. I reckon it’s just a shell now.”
“Let’s stop for a bit,” Voltan said. “This place is as good as any. We need to give Emea a moment to heal our wounds, and besides, I want to talk about something.”
“What about the ogres?” Sabu asked.
“If they were following us, the sound would travel a long way down these tunnels,” Voltan reasoned. “Perhaps they all killed each other, but even if they didn’t, we’re definitely not being followed.”
Satisfied, Sabu squatted down and rested his back against the cavern wall, and everyone else followed his example. “So what do you want to talk about?” Sabu asked.
Voltan scratched his chin thoughtfully. “What do you think about the ogres’ response to Bonebreaker?” Emmy and Lilly started around the group, healing people one by one if they
needed it.
“They obviously recognise it as something important,” Lydia said, warming to the topic in a way that reminded Gaspi of Professor Worrick. He noticed the fire spirit had moved closer to her than she usually allowed; its long tail was resting on her cloak, and yet the gypsy girl did nothing to distance herself. He permitted himself a satisfied smile. It was as he’d thought – when the Bloodhawks had endangered their lives, she’d finally let her guard down and yielded to the fire spirit’s will. They’d bonded and blasted their enemies from the sky. He wanted to ask her about it, but Lydia was a private person and wouldn’t want to talk about it in front of the whole group. She’d definitely tell Emmy about it though, which meant he’d get it second hand later on.
“…so I think they’ve attached some historic significance to the weapon, whether it’s true or not,” Lydia finished.
“Makes sense,” Baard said. “You saw ’em, fallin’ and floppin’ over themselves, callin’ it silly names.”
“It clearly split the shamans and the warriors,” Voltan said. “If we understood why, we might be able to take advantage of that.”
“That’s what I can’t understand,” Lydia asked. “Normally the shamans would be the guardians of their folk lore, but in this case it seems that the Urzaaks and Kaas believe something about Bonebreaker that the shamans don’t.”
“Or maybe they believe it but don’t want it to be true?” Emmy suggested.
Voltan sat up decisively. “This is too important for us to remain ignorant. I’m going to ask Hephistole.”
“You’re going to transport to Helioport?” Gaspi asked. If Voltan was going, maybe he could too. Maybe he could see Jonn!
“Yes, but I’m going alone,” Voltan said firmly. “I know what’s on your mind Gaspi, but the transporters haven’t been tested at anything like this range. It’s too risky.”
“Then why go?” Gaspi asked.
“Because understanding this could mean the difference between the success and failure of this quest,” Voltan responded. “I’m willing to take the risk, but the quest must continue. Gaspi, hold onto the lodestone part of the amulet so I can return. The ogres are not following you, so I suggest you take a rest while I’m gone. I’ll be as quick as I can, but if I’m longer than a few hours, move along and I’ll re-join you as soon as I can. Everyone clear?”
“Er…yeah,” Gaspi said, still uncertain about the wisdom of Voltan’s decision.
Voltan stood up and withdrew the amulet from within his shirt.
“Ask Hephistole about Jonn,” Gaspi urged him.
“I will,” Voltan responded. He looked around the group. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Come back safely,” Sabu said.
Voltan nodded and clasped the amulet in his hand. “Return to Helioport!” he enunciated, and was gone.
…
Voltan knew straight away that something was wrong. His brain felt like it was being wrung out like a towel! He felt compressed and then stretched in rapid succession, abused by a maelstrom of violent sensation. He honestly, sincerely thought he was going to die, and even began to wish for it. No-one could possibly endure such mental torture without going insane! All of a sudden, it was over, and he had the briefest moment to recognise the polished wooden floor of Observatory before he blacked out.
…
When Voltan came to, he found himself tucked up tight in the white sheets of an infirmary bed. He turned his head and the whole room swam.
“Healer,” he called feebly. Footsteps sounded from the corridor but it wasn’t a healer that entered his room; it was Hephistole.
“Voltan!” the chancellor cried, and rushed to his side. “Are you alright?”
“I’ve been better,” Voltan murmured. He felt like he’d been dismembered and then put back together wrongly, body and mind.
“Healer!” Hephistole called, much more loudly than Voltan had and, within moments, a white-robed magician entered the room. He prodded and poked the warrior mage, peering into his eyes, taking his pulse. When he was satisfied, he poured vibrant green liquid from a flask into a beaker at Voltan’s bedside.
“Don’t keep him long,” he said to Hephistole. “And before you leave, make sure he drinks every last drop of that restorative.”
“I will. Thank you,” Hephistole said, and the healer bustled out of the room. “What happened Voltan? Is the quest in peril?”
“No, that’s not why I’m here. I need information about the ogres,” he croaked.
“We’ll get to that,” Hephistole said, losing some of his urgency. “How’s the quest going? Is everyone okay?”
Voltan looked up into his friend’s eyes, and remembered that Hephistole didn’t know what had happened at the Thundering Gorge. “Hephistole, the twins are dead,” he said, wishing he could soften the blow.
“No! How?”
“The Darkman. They gave their lives so we could escape.”
Hephistole sank into a chair, his eyes wide with shock. “And the others?”
“They are fine,” Voltan said “Something very strange has happened though, and it could be of crucial importance. I came here to talk to you and return with information.”
Hephistole shook his head in dismay. “Voltan, you cannot return.”
“Why in the world not?” Voltan asked, and was overwhelmed by a fit of dry coughing.
“Take it easy,” Hephistole said gently. He stood up and placed a hand on Voltan’s shoulder.
“I know it’s dangerous,” the warrior mage said. “But Emea is a powerful healer. I could even take some of that restorative with me!”
“It’s not that simple,” Hephistole said. He reached within his clothing and withdrew what used to be Voltan’s section of the amulet. It was blackened and twisted, broken beyond repair.
“No!” Voltan whispered, aghast.
“The distance was too great,” Hephistole said. “The magic burnt itself out.”
“Wait! There’s another part of the amulet, and there are the two lodestone elements, one which you hold and one I left with Gaspi. I could use the final part of the amulet to transport back.”
“I can’t allow it,” Hephistole said. Voltan opened his mouth to object but the chancellor held up a hand. “I won’t hear of it Voltan. It is a miracle you arrived in my office, and an even greater miracle that you lived through the experience. The enchantment was under great strain, and must have held until the very last moment, but it is very unlikely that will happen again. You could be obliterated, or you might end up anywhere in Antropel!”
“I have to try!” Voltan objected, but weakly.
“It’s not even an option,” Hephistole said. “I won’t let you throw your life away on such a slim chance. I’m afraid you’re stuck here, and the quest must go on without you.”
Voltan fell back against his pillow. He’d failed. He was meant to lead the quest to completion, but now they’d have to manage without him. They’d already lost Zlekic and Zaric, they were surrounded by thousands of enemies, were being chased by the Darkman, and had to navigate their way through the Labyrinth and then the temple itself.
“Give me that drink,” he said.
Hephistole picked it up and lifted it to Voltan’s lips. “We’ll talk more when you awake, my friend,” he said, and tipped the contents into Voltan’s open mouth.
Thirty-seven
After Voltan left, they had nothing to do except wait. Baard suggested they had something to eat, but Heath chose that moment to reveal that they’d lost most of the rations when they last transported. Disgusted, Baard curled up on the ground and fell asleep – perhaps to escape the boredom, or perhaps because fighting men everywhere understood the importance of grabbing what rest you could when the opportunity presented itself. Gaspi tried to do the same but couldn’t manage to drop off. They’d been in constant danger all day and he was still on edge.
He thought back over the day they’d had, transporting from exposed place to exposed place, hiding from o
gres, being chased by shamans, attacked by Bloodhawks, and then finally escaping into the Labyrinth. This quest just got more and more dangerous, and there was absolutely no way the worst was over. First of all they had to find safe passage through the Labyrinth and, if they managed that, they had to battle their way through the temple complex, where they would be vastly outnumbered by creatures bigger and stronger than they were. On top of that, the Darkman would find their trail again at some point, which meant they had to complete their quest as soon as they possibly could and transport out of there before the demon caught up with them. It was an extraordinary undertaking. The odds were heavily stacked against them, and yet they had no choice but to see it through.
Gaspi looked around at each of his friends to see how they were doing, and was concerned to see that Rimulth was pale as a ghost, his face glistening with a sheen of sweat. Something was dreadfully wrong! The tribesman was naturally quiet in the group which made it easy enough to overlook him sometimes, but there was no excuse for missing such obvious suffering.
“Rimulth, are you okay?” he asked, leaning over to grasp his friend by the arm. Rimulth looked at him, wild-eyed.
“I can’t stand it anymore!” he said, his eyes flitting around the ceiling above them. With a sound that was half-scream, half-sob, he lurched to his feet and started to run back the way they’d come.
“Rimulth!” Emmy cried.
“Catch him!” Gaspi said to Sabu, who sprang to his feet to follow, but in his panicked rush, Rimulth lost his footing on the edge of the pit and twisted his ankle. He cried out in pain, turning as he fell. His head smacked against the hard ground and he fell unconscious.
…
“I should have thought of this,” Talmo said. “I would not normally shame Rimulth, but it seems I must do so.”
“Shame him?” Gaspi asked. “What do you mean?”