by Lana Axe
The beast regained its senses quicker than Taren had hoped. It was already searching for them as they fled. Taren paused a moment and summoned his magic. In his mind, he located the pile of bones left behind by their guide. Concentrating as best he could under stress, he animated the bones, rattling and clanging them to draw the creature away. The beast moved away to investigate, giving the pair enough time to make their escape.
They dashed along the plateau, moving farther and farther from the bridges that had brought them in. Deeper they ran inside the cavern, searching for anything that might shield them from their pursuer. Taren spotted a low shelf of minerals and pointed. Zamna followed him in, both men squeezing themselves inside the narrow opening between the lowered ceiling and the floor. With a blast of energy, Taren collapsed a stalactite to block the opening in front of them. There was no sign of the creature.
“What was that thing?” Zamna whispered.
“It’s an amphista,” Taren replied. “I’ve seen them only in bestiary books. I didn’t think they really existed.”
Zamna stared at him. “Apparently they do.”
“They’re said to be guardians of the Realm of the Dead,” Taren explained. “Their bite is highly toxic. Usually its victims die without ever knowing they were bitten.”
Zamna furrowed his brow. “We have to find a way out of this place.”
The mage was not ready to leave. Though his hopes had been dashed, deep inside he knew the symbol must reside inside this tomb. He could not leave without it. If he had to search every inch to find it, that’s what he would do. Master Imrit deserved that much from his apprentice. “The symbol could still be here somewhere,” Taren replied. “I’m not ready to give up on it.”
A hiss echoed from the walls of the cavern as the monster found its way to their location. The bones had not fooled it for long. Striking its massive head against the stone, it chipped away at the fallen rock that protected the men inside. Zamna drew his daggers, slashing at the massive head as it came forward. The amphista’s tongue brushed his hand, leaving a sticky, foul-smelling residue.
“Keep your hands away from it!” Taren shouted. Reaching into his magic, he blasted energy toward the monster, knocking it slightly off-balance and moving the stone away. With the way ahead clear, the pair made their escape from the narrow space.
“What now?” Zamna asked as they ran into the darkened cavern.
“I have to find the symbol,” the mage cried. “We need to go back to the burial site. I have to look for clues.”
Zamna could understand the young man’s frustration. He was frustrated as well. But with a giant snake chasing them, there was little chance of living long enough to find what they sought.
Turning down a corridor to their right, they stepped inside a tiny room. As the light caught up with their position, they beheld not one, but seven stone pillars, each standing at a different height. Laying low would not save them if they tried to cross the room.
“We can’t go this way!” Zamna shouted. “Go back toward the grave. We’ll see if there’s another way out.”
The amphista was approaching from behind them. It hissed, spitting a noxious substance at the pair. Instinctively, they dove in opposite directions to avoid the spray. Taren landed hard, smashing his shoulder against the wall. Rolling up to his feet, Zamna dashed to Taren and grabbed his arm. The mage was not as agile as the assassin, but fear proved a good motivator to ignore the pain he was in. They dashed forward, charging at the beast.
Taren extended a hand and focused his mind to paralyze the snake. This was their only chance to get past it. Summoning all the remaining power he had, he threw it at the monster. It reared its heads as the magic struck its lithe body. The force of the spell froze the beast in place, rendering it powerless as the two men ran by.
“How long will it stay like that?” Zamna asked, still running.
“Not long enough!” Taren replied. Cramming his hand into the pocket sewn inside his robe, he retrieved a potion. With a single gulp, he downed the liquid inside and tossed the vial over his shoulder. This was no time to be weakened by lack of power.
Racing through the massive cavern, they found their way back to Ailwen’s grave. Without a care for respecting the dead, Taren dug greedily into her open sarcophagus, leaving her remains in disarray. Finding nothing, Taren fell to his knees defeated. Zamna stood tall, his daggers at the ready. The amphista could return at any minute.
“It’s not here,” Taren admitted quietly. “I’ve failed.”
“What was on that scroll you found?” Zamna asked.
Taren had forgotten about the scroll. Retrieving it from his pocket, he opened it and stared at the words before him. It read as a letter from the sorceress to any who would disturb her tomb.
To the weary traveler,
It is all too likely you have come seeking the symbol which I possess, but I have not relinquished my claim to it. To the Realm of the Dead I have taken it. There it shall abide with me for eternity. Though it destroyed my body, I have melded the symbol with my own life essence, creating a synergy of unfathomable magic. No other sorcerer could hope to wield the power I have attained. Your journey has been for naught.
Ailwen, Mistress of Life and Death
Taren looked up from the scroll. “She’s taken the symbol into the Realm of the Dead,” he said dryly. “We’ll never be able to retrieve it.” Dropping his hands to the side, he allowed the scroll to fall to the ground.
While Taren read, Zamna scanned the walls behind the burial site for any sign of an exit. He chided himself for not having crafted a map of the path the bone man had led them on. Without knowing which route to take, they would likely never find their way out of the meandering tunnels. Peering down into the chasm where the amphista had appeared, Zamna asked, “Didn’t you say that thing guarded the Realm of the Dead?”
Taren nodded, realizing what Zamna had in mind. “You think we should go down there?” he asked.
“There’s no other way out,” Zamna replied.
“The fall might kill us,” Taren said.
“Then we’ll be headed in the right direction.” Zamna’s face was serious, his eyes affixed on the depths of the chasm. There was no other choice. With the amphista on their trail, there was no time to get lost in the winding corridors. It would kill them long before they found the exit, assuming something else didn’t get to them first.
A deafening screech ripped through the air. The amphista was moving again, and it was growing impatient. It flicked its red tongues to locate the prey it sought, and quickly homed in on their location. Charging forward, it slithered its way toward the intruders.
“We have to go now!” Zamna shouted. “It’s the only way!”
Taren summoned his courage and nodded. Hoping the fall wouldn’t kill them instantly, they ran for the chasm and jumped inside.
Chapter 19
Falling into the darkness, the two men could do nothing but lie back and experience the feeling of weightlessness. Down they fell, on and on. It seemed an eternity in the darkness as they continued to fall with no end in sight. The mists became thicker as they continued moving downward, but still no end came. As light as feathers, they floated along, their bodies lowering themselves within the mist. Finally, their bodies righted themselves, and the travelers landed softly with their feet against the floor.
They stared at each other a moment, neither understanding what had happened. Had they entered The Realm of the Dead? Had the fall killed them? Looking around in the darkness, they felt only minor relief that the monster had not followed them into the chasm.
Zamna stretched his arms out in front of him to make sure they were still there. “Are we alive?” he asked.
“I think so,” Taren replied. He knew little of the Realm. To his knowledge, no one had returned from this place to write about it.
A thick fog settled around their feet, dissipating slightly as it rose higher into the air. All around them was darkness. Zamna focused his eyes to
see, his night vision being superior to that of his companion.
“There are figures in the distance,” he said. “I’m not sure what they are.” Silently, he hoped the shapes ahead were not more amphistas.
Slowly they pressed on through the fog, Zamna leading the way. Only the smallest bits of light could be seen ahead of them as they faded in and out of view. Stumbling blindly, they proceeded toward the lights, hoping to find something — anything — that would lead them to the symbol.
Zamna’s eyes scanned the darkness for any sign of an exit. This time he would not fail to mark its location. Becoming lost was not an option. The Realm of the Dead was no place for the living, though their descent had saved them from the amphista’s deadly grasp.
Finally they reached the light, which shone down like a sliver of moon on a cloudy night. Though the poor lighting left much to be desired, they were grateful for the small amount of illumination. Footsteps paced slowly all around them, some of them shuffling and staggering. Puzzled, the two men paused, listening to the darkness.
Amid the footsteps, an occasional moan or cry could be heard. The sounds seemed far away at first but moved closer as the travelers maintained their position. A loud wail broke through the mixture of sounds. Somewhere, someone was weeping. The mournful sound sent a shiver down Taren’s spine. The lights grew dimmer, leaving the men in utter darkness.
“We should keep moving,” Taren whispered.
Without a word, Zamna moved forward, extending his hand in front of him to feel for unseen obstacles in his path. Only steps ahead, he bumped into a hard, cold object. Halting, he ran a hand across its surface. It appeared to be some type of rock, possibly obsidian by the feel of it. As he moved his fingers, he felt a lump sticking out of the rock at the level of his head. At that moment, the dim light returned, shining down onto the glassy rock. The face of a man, his features twisted in agony, appeared before them on the rock’s surface. Zamna jumped back putting some distance between himself and the figure. His hand went instinctively to his dagger, but he did not draw it from its sheath. He could not use a blade to fight a man of stone.
Taren summoned his courage and stepped forward to observe the rock. There were no other body parts visible. Only the face of the tormented man could be seen. Taren wondered who this man had been and what he had done to deserve such a fate. Was this the death that awaited us all? With the light shining brighter, he stepped forward, ready to explore the rest of the Realm.
“Come on,” the mage whispered.
Zamna took one last look at the face before proceeding. He could swear he saw its lips move, but maybe he was only imagining it. The lights grew dimmer once again, and Taren paused, placing a hand up to bar Zamna’s path. The La’kertan looked up, seeing why the mage had stopped him.
A few yards ahead, spirits wandered aimlessly, their pale-purple forms moving silently on nonexistent feet. They seemed to hover rather than walk, but the sound of their footsteps could be heard against the cold stone floor.
“Maybe one of them can answer a few questions,” Taren said. “I’m going to try talking to them.”
Zamna was uneasy but made no move to stop the young man from trying. He had never fought a spirit before and had no idea if they could be harmful. As the light continued to move, it illuminated the path to the spirits. All along the walls, stony hands reached out with no visible sign of bodies. Their fingers extended outward as if grasping, locked in an eternal state of wanting. Zamna felt a chill. He knew what it was these hands wanted. They wanted his life essence to take as their own. It was life that they craved here in their world of darkness, and it was life that eluded them. Here were two lives that had come willingly to their abode.
“Don’t let your guard down,” Zamna cautioned. “And don’t let those spirits touch you.”
Taren nodded and approached one of the pacing spirits. It stepped back and forth, its head held between its hands.
“Excuse me,” he said in a soft voice. “Can you help me?”
The spirit did not reply. It continued its pacing as if he were not there. Taren moved over to the figure of a woman. She sat silently against a black rock, her knees hugged tightly to her chest. Her head was bowed, and she appeared to be weeping. Taren knelt down beside her.
“Hello,” he said. “Is there anything I can do for you?” He felt sorry for this spirit, who was obviously in need of comfort. The spirit did not look up. She continued to weep, unaware of his warm presence.
“I don’t think they can see or hear us,” Zamna said, coming to his friend’s side.
Taren nodded in agreement. “Maybe we aren’t really here.”
Zamna seemed puzzled. “Not here?”
“Not to them, at least,” he explained. “This is their Realm. We don’t belong in it.”
Zamna shook his head. He still did not understand, but it was of little consequence. He was anxious to get moving and find a way out.
The two men started to walk away, but Taren paused, turning his ear to the darkness. “Did you hear that?” he asked.
“Hear what?” the La’kertan asked, listening intently for the sound. All he heard was the pacing of the spirits and the weeping of the woman.
Taren hesitated a moment. “It sounded like music.”
A distinct melody found its way to their ears. “I hear it!” Zamna said. “Do you recognize it?”
Taren nodded, still listening to the music. “It’s the song of a nightingale,” he said.
“Does it mean something?” Zamna asked. “Should we look for it?”
“In some tales, the nightingale represents immortality,” the mage explained.
Zamna understood. If the bird meant immortality, then perhaps it could lead them to the symbol. After all, the sole purpose for retrieving it was to achieve immortality for Taren’s master. “Let’s find it then.”
The song continued echoing through the darkness. The duo forged ahead, pointing themselves in the direction of the music. It grew louder as they approached, and eventually the figure of a small bird came into view. It flitted and flapped merrily upon the stones without a care in the world. Though it was only a spirit like the others in this Realm, it was neither mournful nor regretful. It seemed almost cheerful as it sang out to the darkness.
Taren approached the tiny creature with a half-smile. Stepping forward, he extended his hand to touch it. The bird evaporated, leaving behind a tiny puff of purple fog. A soft clink met Zamna’s ears, and he approached the rock where the bird had been perched. His fingers groped in the darkness, feeling every inch of the stone surface. He stopped only when his hand landed on a small object, which he lifted toward the light. It appeared to be crystalline in structure, with a slight purple hue. The object was sharp, as if it had been sliced away from a larger stone. This piece was no more than a shard, about four inches long.
“It looks like it might be an amethyst,” Taren said with a shrug.
“If it might be of value, then I’m taking it,” Zamna replied, placing the shard in his pocket. Though small, it might fetch a good price should he ever escape from the Realm.
Taren did not care what became of the shard. It was the bird who had caught his interest, and now it was gone. The light dimmed once again, and Taren cursed the darkness. How would he ever find the symbol like this?
A single howl pierced the air, soon followed by more howls in response. Within seconds, an entire pack of wolves was howling somewhere in the darkness. Shadowy figures, outlined in pale purple, hurled themselves in the direction of the intruders.
“Run!” Zamna shouted.
Taren ran blindly, stumbling through the darkness. Desperately he tried to stay ahead of the pursuing wolves. Zamna constantly glanced over his shoulder to see if the mage was keeping pace. They ran with their hands out, groping desperately in the darkness to avoid colliding with unseen obstacles.
The wolves gained on them easily, their swift paws making easy strides along the dark passageway. They had no troubl
e seeing in total darkness; they were bred for this Realm alone.
Behind him, Zamna heard a crash as Taren tripped and toppled over onto the ground. The wolves were right behind him. Taren had no chance of escape. Drawing his daggers, Zamna ran back toward the mage, wondering how to fight an undead wolf.
The wolves reached Taren at the same time as Zamna. The assassin lashed out with the dagger in his right hand, immediately followed by the dagger in his left. The metal passed through the spirits without harming them. To his amazement, the wolves did not stop. Apparently, they had no interest in either of the men.
Helping Taren to his feet, he turned to watch as the wolves ran on ahead. Glancing at each other, the two proceeded to follow the pack. The light returned briefly, but long enough to give the travelers a glimpse at the spectacle ahead. The humanoid spirits were screaming in terror, fleeing from the pursuing wolves. They ran in all directions, some of them stumbling and falling. Without regard for the ones who had fallen, the others trampled them in their flight. The wolves bit into their legs, gnashing their teeth and tearing at the spirits. Though they were not creatures of mortal flesh, their agony was quite real. Zamna and Taren stared helplessly, unable to fathom the events taking place before them. The wolf hunt continued for several minutes before the beasts’ appetites were satiated.
“We have to help them,” Taren whispered. He stepped forward but stopped when he saw that the spirits who had been attacked were rising to their feet. Surprisingly, they went back to their normal routines of pacing aimlessly, and the wolves trotted along, leaving the spirits in peace.
Taren wondered who had sent the wolves, and if that person might be able to see and hear him. “We should follow the wolves,” he suggested.
With no other course of action in mind, Zamna agreed.
The wolves headed back into the darkness, unhindered by the many obstacles in their path. They knew exactly where they were going, and they moved purposefully toward their destination. The two men pursued, their steps lit only by the soft purple glow of the spirit wolves.