by Lana Axe
To Taren’s disappointment, the door had not magically opened itself in the night. That would have been far too convenient. With a sigh, he lifted himself from his bed and approached the rune carvings. Looking back at Zamna, his face revealed his uncertainty.
“Just take a deep breath and try anything,” the La’kertan suggested. “It will come to you.” Staying positive was becoming increasingly hard for the assassin. It wasn’t exactly in his nature to be encouraging and supportive. However, if acting in that way would get him inside the tomb, he would give it a try.
Flashing in the mage’s mind was an image of the constellation he had seen in his dream. An idea occurred to him. What if he cast spells that took up the same positions as the stars in that formation? Hungrily, his eyes scanned the runes for the pattern. It was only a moment before he found it. Unfortunately, he could not cast all of the spells that appeared before him. Hoping he could find the pattern among a different set of runes, he continued to scan the engravings. Indeed he found what he needed. There were several instances of the exact same pattern, but only one of those contained spells he was confident in casting. They came from the schools of earth, air, and fire, which would account for the green, silver, and red he had seen in his dream. Flashing a smile to his companion, he focused his energy on his magic.
Reaching deep into his stores, he cast the first spell at the door, and the corresponding runes lit up. As he began the second spell, the first set of runes grew dim, and the second set lit up. Taren wasn’t sure if this was how it should be, so he continued along, casting each spell in turn. When he had finished, he waited for the door to open. A minute passed and then another. Nothing. Screaming in frustration he kicked the door and pounded on it with his fists.
Zamna sprang to his feet to restrain the aggravated mage. Pulling him away from the door, he said, “Calm down. You can do this. Try casting faster or slower, or something else. You’re probably making this harder than it really is.”
Taren took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Zamna was probably right. Determined to try again, he looked back at the rune carvings. Another image flashed in his mind—the three moons he had seen overlapping the night before. Could that be the answer? If he started the second spell before the first was completed, the magic would overlap. His breath came heavier as he searched his mind, wondering if he was capable of such magic. It took a great deal of concentration to cast a single spell. How could he split his mind and cast two simultaneously?
Resolving to try it, he stood firm before the door. Closing his eyes, he began to take deep breaths, each time increasing the length of his exhale. When he felt himself perfectly calm, he dug into the stores of magic remaining to him. With a focused mind, he cast the first spell and held it as his right hand blasted red magic against the stone door. The first set of runes lit with a red light. Holding onto his composure, he began the second spell while still holding the first. Green magic flew from the fingers of his left hand, landing against the door. The second set of runes glowed green, while the first set remained lit as well.
Taren did not let this success interrupt his concentration. Stopping to be amazed by this feat would have only resulted in another failure. Staying focused, he ended the first spell and cast the third while still holding the second. Success. The three runes lit themselves, sparkling bright with magical energy. The young mage continued in this manner, maintaining his focus until he reached the last spell. Before his eyes, the line of runes glowed brightly in a perfect imitation of the constellation he had seen in his dream.
Both men stared as the runes continued to glow, increasing in their intensity. Taren felt weary and drained, but he remained on his feet. A rumbling sound erupted from beneath their feet as the massive stone carving began to move. It spun itself in a circular pattern before slipping down inside the door. The door itself began to shake, dust and debris that had lain dormant for centuries falling from its edges. As if in slow motion, the door sank down into the ground, disappearing before their eyes. A dark corridor beckoned them inside.
Amazed by what had just occurred, Taren said, “Only a master wizard can cast two spells at once.” His voice was hollow, the young mage still in shock at what he had done.
Zamna replied, “Congratulations, Master. It looks like you’ve passed the test.”
Overcome by weariness, Taren buckled to his knees. Zamna rushed to his side, stopping him from falling face down on the stone floor.
“You need to take one of your potions,” Zamna said. Grabbing the mage’s pack, he opened it and looked inside. “Which one is it?”
Taren sat and reached out for the bag. Pulling out a rejuvenation potion, he hesitated before putting it to his lips.
“Drink,” the La’kertan demanded. “We’re going inside now. You need your strength, and we don’t have days to wait.”
The mage downed the entire potion at once, feeling its energizing effects throughout his body. If this was the end of the journey, it would not matter if he ran out. All that was left was to reach Ailwen’s final resting place and retrieve the symbol that was likely still clutched in her grip.
Standing outside the open door, the two men peered into the dark corridor. The air inside the stone structure was cold and still. Taren placed an arm across his companion’s path, preventing him from stepping forward.
“Let me cast a spell to detect any traps,” he said.
Zamna nodded his agreement as the mage focused his energy to the spell. He saw nothing ahead, but to his amazement, a series of lamps lit themselves along the walls.
“Did you do that?” Zamna asked.
“I’m not sure,” the mage replied. “That wasn’t the spell I cast, but the building seems to have used my magic to illuminate the passage ahead.”
As they moved forward, the lights behind them dimmed while the lights in front of them grew brighter. Because the building had been constructed through magic, it held onto the power unleashed by the young mage, and recycled it as he passed through its halls.
Entering the first room, their eyes fell on a pile of bones on the stone floor. As they watched, it began to take shape, forming itself into a complete skeleton. Zamna readied his daggers, preparing himself for an attack. Taren stood perfectly still, staring at the figure ahead. The bleached white skull still had rotten bits of yellowed flesh attached to it, and it wore a dark hood. Instantly Taren recognized it from the vision he had in the crystal cave. The image of death stood before them.
The skeletal form raised its hand, halting the two of them from taking action. It creaked as it moved forward, approaching the pair slowly. Small plumes of dust released from its joints as it walked, and Taren marveled at its ability to hold itself together.
Zamna remained at the ready but did not strike. Waiting to see if the skeleton was friend or foe, he held his weapons steady. Whispering to Taren, he asked, “Didn’t the Sisters say that bones were an omen of good fortune?”
Taren nodded, watching carefully as the skeleton approached. Its mouth hung open in an unnatural way, giving it the appearance that it was screaming, though no sound was being produced. Closer and closer it marched, until finally it came face to face with the travelers.
“I will lead you to the Mistress’s tomb,” it said in a low, raspy voice.
Taren and Zamna exchanged glances. “Why would you do that?” Zamna asked.
The skeleton slanted its skull to the La’kertan, staring at him with empty eye sockets. “I am bidden to do so,” it said.
“Do you have a name?” the mage asked.
The skeleton shook its head.
“What do we call him, then?” Zamna asked. “Bone Man?”
Ignoring the comment, Taren asked, “How far is it to the tomb?”
“This fortress is a maze of intersecting corridors and rooms,” the skeleton explained. “You will die alone if you do not follow me.” Saying nothing else, it turned its bony back to them and walked away.
The pair hesitated momen
tarily before following. Exchanging glances, they silently agreed to trust in the wisdom of the Sisters of Gy’dan. Slowly they followed the bone man as he moved along the passage. Shapes and shadows shifted at the corners of their eyes, causing them to jerk their heads from side to side. All was silent, suggesting the shadows were nothing more than their imagination. Any creature moving about in this stillness would surely be heard.
Soon the trio came to the entrance of a wide, empty room. A single pillar of stone stood at the center of the room, a glowing gem of green affixed to its pointed top. As they stepped inside, the gem began to spin, emitting a green beam of light. The light scanned each of the travelers, remaining the longest on Taren. Without warning, the pillar fired upon them, knocking both the La’kertan and the mage to the ground. The bone man remained unaffected. He stood as solid as ever, waiting for the men to rejoin him.
Zamna jumped to his feet but was struck by a second blast from the pillar. It knocked him back, this time sending him sprawling against the wall. Taren scrambled to his feet, narrowly missing a green blast that was intended for him.
Dropping to his knees at Zamna’s side, he asked, “Are you all right?”
The La’kertan nodded but stayed down. “How do we get past it?”
Not knowing what name to use for the skeleton, Taren called out, “Why is this thing attacking us?”
The bone man did not reply. Maintaining his silence, he stood at the far side of the room and waited. This matter did not involve him. If they wished to visit the tomb, they must deal with the obstacles on their own. He would guide them through the passages, but he would neither fight nor provide any other assistance.
“It doesn’t seem to fire when we’re down,” Taren said. “My guess is it doesn’t want to kill us.”
“Maybe the trigger is on the level with the gemstone,” Zamna suggested. “It’s about the level of our heads.”
“Are you suggesting we crawl across the floor to avoid it?” Taren asked.
Zamna shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”
Zamna rolled onto his belly, and Taren dropped lower to the ground. Slowly they crawled across the floor, their hands grasping at the dust of centuries that coated the stone floor. The pillar at the center of the room flashed a few times but did not fire upon them. Remaining low to the ground, they exited into the corridor ahead. The skeleton led on, walking at an easy pace along the path.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Taren commented.
Zamna said nothing. Whatever that pillar was, he was certain it wasn’t intended to kill. It had hit him with two separate blasts, which had only hindered him. If it wanted to kill him, it was going about it the wrong way. It was simply an ancient device of forgotten design. He hoped the next room would not contain a stronger one.
They pressed on down the corridor, eventually coming to a second room. This one was also empty, but its ceiling was lower. The left-hand side of the floor was tilted upward. Moving forward, the bone man encountered no problems. However, when Taren and Zamna stepped inside, the floor shifted, knocking them off-balance. They rolled across the ground to the right, the floor sinking under the weight. As they struggled back to their feet, the ceiling shifted. It came down close to their heads, forcing them to throw their hands up to stop it.
“How did he get across?” Taren asked, looking at the bone man.
“It wasn’t designed to keep him out,” Zamna replied. Whoever built this place obviously did not want visitors. “I’ll hold this end while you move toward the exit. Then you can hold up that end for me.”
Nodding his understanding, Taren moved forward, taking careful steps to avoid disturbing the balance further. As he reached the far end, he stretched himself between the floor and ceiling, and awaited the arrival of his companion.
Zamna walked in a crouched position, each step landing softly against the unstable floor. Arriving at his companion’s side, he said, “Now we need to make a dash for it.”
“On three,” Taren said, still holding up the edge of the ceiling. “One…two…three!” Dropping his arms, he ran to the exit with Zamna on his heels.
The moment they reached the doorway, the ceiling and floor came together with a thunderous clap. The opposite end of the room reacted with its own crash as the two slabs were forced together.
“That would have smashed us like ants,” Taren commented, staring back at the slabs. “Why didn’t you warn us?” Stepping close to the skeleton, he awaited a response.
His question was met with silence. Without a word, the bone man turned his back to the travelers and led them deeper inside the compound.
“Are you sure we can trust him?” Zamna asked.
Taren shook his head. He had only the word of the Sisters to go by. This was definitely the same creature he had seen in his vision. If they believed him to be a sign of good, that meant he would lead them to their final destination. “We don’t have much choice,” he said. “Without him we’d be wandering here for days or longer. There might be far worse traps if we stray from the correct route.”
Zamna grumbled under his breath but kept his comments to himself. The mage made a valid point, but he was still wary of trusting a creature who would not offer any warning of the danger ahead. Of course they had entered expecting danger, so it was reasonable to assume there would be plenty of it. The only thing lacking was treasure. How long had they been inside? There had been no sign of anything gold or silver. Stone, dust, and bones were all they’d seen so far. If Ailwen’s tomb contained no treasure, he would take out his frustrations on the bone man. The thought brought a smile to his scaly lips.
Chapter 17
The skeletal figure led them down a long passage, turning several times as the intersecting tunnels meandered along their way. It proved impossible for the companions to keep their bearings as they marched along, ever watching for the next obstacle in their path. The bone man walked on in silence, having spoken no words since their first encounter near the entrance. Only the sound of his creaking bones and the footsteps of the travelers filled the emptiness of the forgotten compound. Somewhere ahead lay the remains of the most reviled sorceress of her time. Mostly forgotten, no others had an interest in visiting this remote location. Thoughts of the symbol filled Taren’s mind as he sensed himself moving closer and closer to completing his goal.
Finally their path wound through to another room, this one lacking the stone floor they had become accustomed to. Instead, the ground was covered in a soft, black soil, and the walls appeared slick and wet. Vibrantly colored mushrooms grew in perfectly ordered rows, thriving in the darkness that normally filled this space. Taren’s recycled magic illuminated the room, bringing light to plants that had likely never been exposed to it.
Taren had never seen such colorful mushrooms before. They seemed to glow with an unearthly light, and in nature, fluorescent-colored things usually meant trouble. Though he had no intention of eating one, he took a moment to examine the fungi more closely. The bone man waited patiently at the exit, still not saying a word. Taren leaned down next to a bundle of mushrooms and inhaled. They smelled of nothing except freshly tended earth. In fact, the scent was appealing. It almost made him want to taste them.
Zamna came to his side with a warning. “I wouldn’t touch those,” he said. “Everything else here has tried to harm or kill us. These likely aren’t any different.”
Nodding his agreement, the mage said, “I bet whoever put these here hoped we’d be hungry after our long walk and take a bite. There’s little chance these are not poisonous.”
“Probably the most poisonous substance in all Nōl’Deron,” Zamna commented. Realizing what he’d just said, he thought the mushrooms could prove an excellent tool for an assassin. He nearly asked if there might be harm in taking a few before remembering that his days in that line of work were nearly at an end. Once they reached the burial site, he hoped to find treasure enough to allow him to retire. No more killing meant no more poisoning.
“
I’d like to take a few for study,” Taren said. “Though, I’m not sure I want to touch them.” As he looked more closely, he saw tiny beads of a milky substance on the caps of the mushrooms. Clearly they were poisonous, possibly lethal to the touch. Deciding it was best to leave them alone, he rose and rejoined his skeleton guide.
Moving out into the corridor, Zamna said, “Hey, at least nothing jumped out to grab us in there.” He hissed softly with laughter.
Taren chuckled a little as well. There had been no odd mushroom beast, angry that they were invading his farm. No menacing gnomes had threatened them for entering their garden. So far, the mushroom area had proved the least deadly of the non-empty rooms they’d passed through.
Turning sharply to the left, the corridor led them into a tiny room with no obvious signs of traps. Barely larger than a closet, it held nothing except dust. Continuing along their way, they entered another tunnel, this time turning off to the right. After several minutes, they wondered when they would emerge on the other side. This had to be the longest corridor they had entered thus far. The lamps along the wall did not illuminate far enough ahead to see the end, and Taren was starting to worry. To his relief, a few minutes more brought them to an opening.
A vast room spread out before them, empty except for a stone pillar at its center. The two men instinctively lowered themselves, crouching near the ground and bracing themselves for a blast of magic. No such attack came, though. The two men dared to stand upright, facing the pillar. At first glance, Taren was sure he would have to dodge a sudden attack. Further observation, however, showed him otherwise. The top of the pillar had crumbled over time, and it was no longer sturdy enough to house the gemstone. Instead, the sparkling blue gem lay on the floor, half covered with debris.
Zamna’s eye fell on the sparkling sapphire. “Looks like our luck is changing,” he commented with a grin. Finally he might get his hands on something valuable.