by Lana Axe
Into the darkness they walked, seemingly for miles. Every step brought them closer to an unknown destination. Taren feared the wolves would simply disappear as the nightingale had, leaving him and his friend hopelessly lost. Twisting and turning, they continued on, leaving the other spirits farther behind.
“Maybe we should turn back,” Zamna suggested. He had no idea how far they had gone, but it seemed they had been walking for hours. Perhaps the wolves had no destination in mind. Maybe they paced aimlessly as the human spirits did.
Taren wasn’t sure what to do. They had come so far, it seemed pointless to turn back now. Where they had already been did not seem like the right place. There had been no sign of the symbol nor an exit from the Realm. What harm could there be in pressing on? They were already lost. “Let’s follow a while longer,” he finally replied.
Zamna sighed. “Maybe they’ll at least turn back when they’re ready for another hunt.”
Forward they trudged, still twisting and turning to avoid unseen obstacles in the blackness. They could no longer hear any sound but their own breathing. Even their feet ceased to make noise against the ground.
Zamna was about to insist they turn back when one of the wolves leapt, disappearing into a void of black. “What just happened?” he asked.
Taren did not reply. The two men watched as the wolves jumped one by one into the darkness, leaving the travelers alone to wonder.
“Great,” Zamna said. “Just great!” Now they would have to travel back in the darkness without the aid of the nimble wolves.
Approaching the site where the wolves had disappeared, Taren reached out a hand. There was a wall, of sorts. It was not exactly solid. He could feel its resistance against his hand, but it had no texture whatsoever. Magic. This was a magical barrier, designed to keep certain individuals out while allowing others to enter.
“It’s a portal,” the mage said. “The wolves didn’t disappear. They went through a gateway.”
Approaching the barrier, Zamna asked, “What’s on the other side?”
Taren did not know. Closing his eyes, he reached into his magic. Pulling just enough to sense where the portal might lead, he felt an intense burst of magical energy. Struggling to focus his mind, he tried to search deeper, but he could not. A series of intertwining lines filled his mind as they came together in a tight knot. It was the image of the symbol he had seen within the crystal cave. “The symbol!” he shouted. “We have to go through the portal.” Without waiting for his companion to reply, he pushed his way through the barrier, disappearing within the darkness.
Chapter 20
Cautiously approaching the portal, Zamna stuck his arm inside first. Feeling no pain and only minimal resistance, he held his breath and pushed his way through. Taren stood on the other side, awaiting his companion’s arrival. There was no sign of the wolves they had been following.
The entire space had a pale-orange glow, illuminating the dark with an eerie light. Ahead of them, the room branched out into corridors leading in every direction. There were no signs of anything living, no spirits, and no remains.
“Where are we now?” Zamna asked.
Taren could still see the symbol, its image burned in his mind. “I think I know what’s going on here,” he began. “I think Ailwen has taken over the Realm using the symbol. Those wolves were sent by her to torment the souls who dwell here.”
“How do you know all that?” Zamna wondered. So far, Taren had known little more than he did. All of a sudden, he had an explanation. Had the mage been holding back on him the whole time?
“I don’t know, exactly,” the mage replied. “It’s just a feeling I have. The symbol is here. I can feel its presence.”
“Is it speaking to you? How do you know this isn’t a trap?”
Taren wasn’t sure. All he knew was that the same image he had seen in his vision had appeared to him here in the Realm. That couldn’t be a coincidence. Unless, of course, someone had invaded his mind. Was Ailwen capable of such magic? It seemed likely she was. Taren shook the thought away, refusing to believe he had been manipulated. “The symbol is here. Even if it’s a trap, I must keep moving forward.”
With a sigh, Zamna nodded. So far he had come across little treasure and no exit. If he was going to escape this place, he would probably need the mage’s skills at some point. He was determined to follow him and see it through, still hoping the journey might pay off.
As they stepped forward to observe the various paths they might take, Zamna felt a strange tingling in his side. The crystalline shard he had found was vibrating inside his pocket. Retrieving the purple shard, he held it in the palm of his hand. The shard began to spin like the needle on a compass. After several rotations, it halted, pointing down the northeast corridor.
“Do you think that might be the way to go?” the La’kertan asked.
Taren watched the shard intently. Taking it from his friend’s hand, he held it between his thumb and forefinger. His first instinct was to cast a spell that would help him determine the composition of the crystal. As he reached for his magic, the shard sent out a spark. Nearly dropping it from the shock, he did his best to hold onto it. An image of the symbol filled his mind. He could see it clearly, turning over itself as it hurled its way through the darkness, disappearing only when it reached his face.
Taren nodded quickly. “Yes, I do think we should go where the shard was pointing,” he said, handing it back to the assassin. “Make sure you keep that close. It’s more than just a gem.” He wasn’t sure what the crystal was, but it obviously held some significance.
They stepped into the passageway, which was lit with the same pale-orange light. The walls appeared sickly, thanks to the strange light, and it gave the travelers an uneasy feeling. The air itself felt diseased, the sickness wafting throughout the passageway. They pressed on, their footsteps echoing through the corridor.
Halting as they reached the end of the hallway, they could clearly see a brighter light in front of them, illuminating a room ahead. A booming voice sounded from inside, “I’ve been waiting for you.” A deep, throaty laugh followed the words.
The two men exchanged glances. Clearly someone inside was aware of their presence. Zamna placed a hand over his pocket, attempting to still the vibrations of the crystal, which had begun buzzing at the sound of the voice.
“What do we do?” he asked.
“We go inside,” Taren replied. The symbol was waiting for him. He could almost feel its warmth in his hands.
Moving forward, the pair entered a vast, circular room littered with massive black boulders and rock formations of various shapes. A solitary figure stood at the center of the room on a raised, black-stone dais. Before their eyes, the figure began to grow, reaching a height of at least ten feet. Locks of raven hair cascaded down the figure’s back. Turning to reveal her face to her guests, the sorceress flashed a smile. Her pale, milky skin contrasted against her dark hair, and she wore a flowing gown of black and red. The dress was tattered and worn at the end, but there were no feet to be seen. Instead, she floated several inches above the ground, her arms spread wide in welcoming.
“Poor little wizard,” her voice boomed. “He’s come so far in search of the symbol.” A wicked laugh escaped her throat.
Taren boldly stepped forward. “I have indeed,” he stated. This was Ailwen who stood before him. He was sure of it. Her face was the same as he had seen on the numerous statues throughout her tomb and upon her sarcophagus. Her beauty was undeniable, as was her power. It practically radiated from her, and he could feel it tingling against his skin.
“So brave,” Ailwen replied. “But you could not wield the symbol, even if I were to give it to you. You are far too weak.” Another laugh echoed throughout the room.
Zamna pressed the shard to his side in an attempt to stop its incessant vibrations. Why had the sorceress not attacked? Did she consider them so insignificant? The La’kertan crouched low, one hand poised over his dagger. Her mood
might change at any moment, and he was prepared.
Taren stood tall, facing the sorceress. He had no desire to sound boastful. If she wanted to believe him too weak to retrieve the symbol, so be it. He was a master wizard now, and he no longer doubted his own abilities. If it came down to it, he was determined to fight to the death to retrieve the symbol. Dying here was far better than returning home empty-handed.
As if reading his mind, Ailwen said, “You’re prepared to fight, and I commend you. You will undoubtedly fail. I possess the symbol, and you wouldn’t be a match for me even without it.” She blasted a charge of silver magic through the air, aiming it at Taren’s feet. He jumped back in time to avoid being hit, but quickly regained his footing and stood tall.
“The symbol has come to me in a vision,” Taren stated. “It calls to me.” Perhaps her resolve would weaken if she thought he was destined to take the symbol from her.
Ailwen only laughed louder at his words. Halting her laughter, she bent low, bringing her face close to his. “It was the symbol that bound me to this place. I wasn’t prepared for the immensity of its power.” She backed away from the mage, returning to her original location at the center of the room. “My servant placed the scroll with my remains to lure you here. Now that I have you, I can use your life essence to return to my natural state. I shall live again!”
A thunderous clap of magic rattled the room, and Taren instinctively rolled to one side. A large chunk of ceiling crashed down on the exact spot where he had been standing. Zamna moved to his side, helping him back to his feet. The two stayed low as they crept into a dark corner, concealing themselves behind a massive boulder.
“It will go easier with your cooperation,” Ailwen said with a laugh. “But I shall have you nonetheless. My servant was disappointed when you escaped his grasp.” With a swirl of black magic, she conjured the amphista. It reared its heads, both tongues flicking out to locate the intruders who had previously escaped it.
Looking over his shoulder at the massive beast, Zamna said, “I’ll try to get its attention. You stay here and blast the damn thing!”
“Wait—” Taren started to say. Too late. Zamna had already bolted from his position of safety and was running toward the amphista.
Zamna paused halfway to the creature and stamped his feet against the stone. Clapping his hands together loudly, he screamed, “Come and get me!”
The scaly black heads turned to face their prey, and instantly the beast set off to give chase. Zamna ran hard, forming a wide circle around the room. He was fast, but the amphista was faster. The La’kertan would have to outmaneuver it as he darted and dodged among the rocks.
Taren summoned his magic and focused on his target. It was moving ahead at a determined pace, but he was sure he could hit it. Muttering the incantation for a lightning spell under his breath, he thrust his hands forward to release the blast. It missed only inches away from the creature.
Ailwen shrieked with laughter at Taren’s failure. “You’ll have to do better than that,” she said mockingly. “Run little lizard, or he’ll catch you!” Her laughter continued as she watched the spectacle in front of her.
If not for his pursuer, Zamna would have fallen over, grasping his head in frustration. How could Taren miss? This was no time for practice. He had personally witnessed what the mage could do. With all his energy focused on staying alive, he could only continue to run to evade the amphista. It struck at his side, and the La’kertan instantly dropped and rolled to his left, narrowly missing the venomous fangs. Coming smoothly back to his feet, he shifted course, squeezing himself between two skinny rock formations. They glistened with runes in the orange light, but Zamna had no time to stop to observe them. The amphista continued its pursuit, maneuvering expertly around the rocks.
Taren reached for his magic again, forcing himself not to dwell on his mistake. With a deep breath, he cleared his mind and summoned the lightning. This bolt struck the center of the amphista, flipping it on its side and giving Zamna the chance to sprint ahead.
Zamna felt a moment of relief as he put some distance between himself and his attacker. He hadn’t expected a beast so massive to be so agile. Taren was already casting another spell, bombarding the giant black serpent with wave after wave of energy. It could no longer keep its course, so it turned and headed directly for Taren. Zamna swung around and pursued the monster, hoping that Taren could at least hold it still long enough for him to stab it a few times.
Instead, Taren reached down and focused his mind to his magic. Remembering how he had succeeded in entering the tomb, he began the lightning spell with his left hand. Releasing the magic, it dug itself into the flesh of the oncoming creature. With his right hand, he summoned fire. The blast was weaker than the lightning, but he felt certain it would be enough. Allowing the red magic to fly from his fingers, it seared at the creature’s flesh. The amphista halted its advances, both massive heads writhing in pain. Taren held the spell as long as he could, but finally his concentration was broken. He opened his eyes to see if the beast still lived. As he watched, it shriveled, coiling itself into a pile on the floor.
Zamna reached it just in time to witness its demise. With a nod of approval, he slowly made his way back to Taren’s side.
Ailwen’s voice boomed, “No! My child!” With a roar of anger, she began to conjure, black magic swirling all around her.
Zamna stared at the sorceress, his eyes wide. “You’ve got to stop her!” he shouted.
Taren knew he couldn’t let her cast her spell. Though his magic reserves were low, he had to act. Summoning every ounce of power remaining to him, he began the first spell. His right hand dug deep into his roots as an earth mage, sending out a thick beam of green light. With his left hand, he summoned a blast of white hot air. Focusing his mind to the sorceress, he desired nothing more than to stop her from finishing the spell she had begun. An image of the symbol burst into his mind, filling all of his thoughts. Still he held fast, the magic flying from his fingertips. When he could hold it no longer, the magic stopped, and he buckled to his knees.
Zamna saw his chance to act. The sorceress had taken a massive hit, and she had returned to her normal size. Instead of standing ten feet tall, she was no bigger than the average woman. Her body rocked, swaying unbalanced upon the platform.
Running at top speed, Zamna retrieved the crystalline shard from his pocket. It pulsated with energy and glowed with a pale-purple light. It knew its purpose, as did Zamna. In an instant, he leapt to the stone dais where the sorceress stood, burying the shard deep into the back of her neck.
With a shrill, piercing shriek, Ailwen exploded in an intense burst of light. Both Zamna and Taren flew backward, struck by a massive wave of energy. Zamna landed unscathed along the floor, but Taren was thrown against the wall, hitting his head in the process. He lay unconscious upon the stone floor.
Zamna rose to his feet and approached the dais. The sorceress left behind neither blood nor a body. Only a faint pile of yellow dust remained where she once stood. Zamna reached down to sweep the pile away. Instead of softness, his fingers encountered a hard, metal object. He lifted it from the pile and wiped the dust from it. A series of metal strands wove themselves in and out to form a tight knot on this seemingly insignificant piece of jewelry. With a smile, the La’kertan realized what he was holding.
Descending from the platform, he made his way over to his companion. Taren was sitting up, a vial of potion held feebly in his hand. He downed it in two sips and looked up in time to see his friend approaching.
Zamna stuck a claw in between two of the metal strands, allowing the symbol to hang freely from his finger. Dangling it before the young mage, he asked, “Is this what you’re looking for?” A grin spread over his lips.
Taren’s eyes went wide as he beheld the symbol he had seen in his vision. It glistened in the pale-orange light. Reaching up, he took the symbol in his hand. It was warm to the touch and had a natural feeling to it that he could not explain. I
t felt like it belonged in his hand and had always been a part of him. He had succeeded and could now return to his master.
“I kept my eyes open for an exit while I was running from that snake,” Zamna said, snapping Taren back to reality. “I didn’t see one.”
Taren stared at the trinket in his hand. “Maybe the symbol can help us find a way.”
“Do you know how to use it?” Zamna asked.
Taren shook his head. “I can’t say that I know, but I feel like it wants to help me. I can hear its voice in my head, but I don’t understand it.”
Zamna had never studied magic, but at times, his matter-of-fact attitude could prove wise. “Maybe you don’t need to know how to use it then. If it’s willing to help you, just tell it what you want.”
“I want nothing more than to return to my master,” Taren said. “But you still haven’t found what you were looking for.”
Zamna shrugged. “There’s no helping that,” he declared. “There were no riches here to find.”
Taren stood and squeezed the symbol tightly in his hand. Focusing his mind, he found his thoughts to be full of images of the interwoven metal strands. Every attempt to calm his mind failed. He could not release his mind from the symbol. It occurred to him that perhaps that was how the symbol worked. It would fill his mind and carry out his desires. Focusing his mind to the symbol, he thought, My friend and I wish to leave this place.
In a blinding flash of light, the two men were teleported away from the Realm of the Dead to a room inside Ailwen’s tomb. It was not one they had seen before. Taren observed the walls and realized there was a door, and light was visible at its edges.
Zamna noticed something else. The ground was littered with small bits of metal. Stooping to retrieve one, he brushed the dust away before biting down on it. “Gold,” he said. “There are gold pieces on the floor.” Frantically, he began to collect them. Taren smiled but did not budge. “You can have a few,” the La’kertan said. “There are so many.” He couldn’t believe his luck.