by Sam Ferguson
Erik did the only thing he could think of. He pushed Tatev back down with his foot and then darted for the nearest lockbox. Archers leveled their bows and let loose. Erik somersaulted, then zig-zagged and dodged every arrow. Two assassins rushed him. He cut one down and barreled into the second with his left shoulder. The man fell backward and Erik whirled his flaming sword out, brought it up into a high position and made like he was going to chop the fallen man. The Blacktongue rolled away, but Erik changed focus and launched his sword at the lockbox some five yards away.
The Blacktongue took advantage and moved in to strike. Erik had anticipated such a move and lashed out with a savage left kick to the Blacktongue’s groin. Then he came in with a hard right fist to the assassin’s temple. He twirled behind the man, seized the front of his neck, and pulled him up just in time to use him as a shield against another flurry of arrows.
Just as the body fell, a horrible thunder shook the ground. Erik stole a glance to the lockbox. The sword had missed the chain, but it had cracked the lid all the same. A brownish-gray mist broke free from the box. There was no form, as Erik had expected. There was only the ugly mist. It growled and ensnared the nearest Blacktongue, devouring him in an instant and leaving only empty clothes where a body had once been.
Erik wasted no time. He rushed in for his sword.
“Erik, no! The spirit will take you for disturbing it!” Tatev shouted.
The champion knew otherwise. In the split second he watched the spirit attack the Blacktongue, his power had already shown him the spirits were allies in this fight. He scooped up his sword and went for the next lockbox. He shattered it with a single strike and out came another spirit. This one stretched before Erik and absorbed a volley of incoming arrows, turning them to dust before Erik’s eyes.
The third spirit he loosed moved to protect Tatev and Jaleal. The fourth moved out to attack Blacktongues along with the first, as did every other spirit Erik loosed from that point on. Soon the plateau was filled with the angry, brown mist and the sound of dying Blacktongues. The fight ended soon, with no enemy able to flee. Piles of empty clothing and armor littered the stone. Once all of the assassins were dead, the spirits flowed into the monastery, abandoning Erik and Tatev.
“What do we do now?” Tatev asked.
“We go inside and look for survivors,” Erik said.
The ground shook and horrible wailing came from the monastery. The tremors intensified and threw Erik and Tatev to the ground. Cracks tore through the monastery. Dust exploded out from the tears and the tower listed to the side.
“No,” Tatev said. He held out a hand, as if to steady the building simply by the power of his thought. It was no use. The stone crumbled inward, imploding upon itself and throwing out a ring of dust and bits of stone. The tremors doubled in their strength and a loud, horribly crrraaack ripped the plateau apart. The river, sank in an instant, disappearing into a fissure and leaving the area devoid of any water. Then the quakes ceased. Dust and rocks continued to fall from the cliffs above, but there were no further tremors.
“Gerharon is gone,” Tatev said. “The spirits destroyed it.”
Erik shook his head. “The Blacktongues destroyed it.” He pushed up to his feet. “I doubt they left any monk alive. They knew we were coming.”
“Who could have told them?” Tatev asked. Then he stood and held up an accusing finger. “Salarion told them, I would bet my life on it!” Tatev walked up to Erik and jammed his index finger into Erik’s chest. “You told the dark elf where you were going. She knew you were going east. It wouldn’t be hard for her to figure out that we would go here first. She sent the Blacktongues.”
Erik backed away from Tatev and put his hands into the air. “She could have killed me in Verishtahng. It wasn’t her.”
“Maybe she was able to dupe you, and conceal her true intention from your power,” Tatev continued. “Tu’luh was able to do just that. Maybe she now is in Ten Forts to finish off the others with the orc army!” Tatev turned around, his hands shaking. He continued to mumble something too quietly for Erik to hear what it was.
“That isn’t it,” Erik said. “The Blacktongues have been after me for a long time now. Someone else sent them.”
Tatev wheeled around and pointed a finger in Erik’s direction. He frowned and his face reddened enough to nearly match his curly hair, but finally he exhaled and relaxed. “Sorry, I am just on edge lately.” Erik glanced back to the trail and couldn’t help but laugh at the terrible pun. Tatev’s eyebrows shot up and then he looked back to the cliffs and nodded his understanding. “I suppose that was a fairly ironic choice of words,” he said. The librarian sat and stared at the rubble. Erik looked to the ruined monastery and then moved to sit next to Tatev.
“I can go and dig around,” Erik offered. “Maybe I can at least find some food.”
Tatev shrugged. “I still have a few apples that I picked along the road. They are a bit small, but it’s something.”
Erik nodded. “There is something more, isn’t there?”
Tatev looked to Erik and pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “No, I am just anxious. I haven’t traveled much, and never by myself.”
“You aren’t alone,” Erik pointed out. Tatev grew silent then. After a moment he rummaged through his bag and pulled out an apple. He bit into the crunchy skin and then offered the bag to Erik. “No thanks,” Erik said. “I am going to check the ruins.”
“The books will be in an underground chamber,” Tatev said. “It would take an army of dwarves to dig them out.”
“Well, then I will look for a trail out of here,” Erik said.
“There isn’t one,” Tatev said definitively.
“The Blacktongues found a way up the cliffs to hide themselves out of view,” Erik pointed out. “There has to be a way out of here.”
“Not for me,” Tatev said. “I can’t even climb the stairs. How should I go up the side of a cliff?”
Erik jumped up to his feet and left Tatev to sulk by himself. Despite what the librarian said, he was not about to give up. He thought to go to the ruins, but something turned his attention to the large fissure where the river had been. He stumbled down into the smooth rocky depression and slowly crept toward the crack in the middle. It was several feet wide, and there was no telling how stable the ground near the edge would be. Still, he wanted to look into it.
He knelt down and braced himself with his hands as he leaned out over the edge. The sunlight pierced into the darkness for a long distance, but Erik could not see the bottom. He grabbed a nearby rock and dropped it over the edge. He watched it sail downward until the darkness swallowed it. Then he listened. He never heard it crash on the bottom. For all he knew, the fissure went all the way to the bottom of the canyon.
He pressed back to a kneeling position and then turned to glance at Tatev. The librarian sat, munching on his apple and muttering something about dark elves. Erik shook his head and rose to his feet and walked away.
“Come back,” a voice called from the crack.
It was a quiet voice. So quiet, in fact, that Erik almost didn’t hear it. He turned to look at the fissure.
“Come back, young one,” a voice called.
Erik hesitated, thinking it might be a trap.
“Release me,” the voice called out.
Erik slowly moved back and peered over the edge. He wasn’t sure how he had missed it before, but there, on a ledge directly below him, was another box of stone. This box had not one, but three chains around it. Each chain was sealed with large iron locks. The box hummed and vibrated, but it didn’t jump around like the others had.
Why would they put this one here? Erik thought.
“Did you find something?” Tatev asked from behind.
Erik stared at the box.
“Let me out,” the voice pleaded. “Release me, young champion.”
“What is it?” Tatev shouted out.
Erik ignored Tatev. He was focused only on the b
ox. If all of the monks had been cremated and placed in boxes above ground, why would this one be buried beneath a river? Was it an evil spirit? Was it a deserter?
“You think me evil, don’t you?” the voice within the box called. “Go and ask your friend who Halberon is, then decide whether to release me.”
Erik was taken aback by the suggestion. Could the spirit read his mind? Or was it an observation based on Erik’s hesitation? Either way, he decided he would ask. If anyone would know, it would be Tatev. Erik pushed up and then turned around.
Tatev stood not more than two feet away, with wide eyes and his mouth open.
Erik startled and had to take in a couple of breaths to calm his nerves. “You are a quiet one, Tatev,” he said.
Tatev moved by Erik and looked down into the crack. Erik was about to warn him of the fissure’s depth, but Tatev was craning over the edge before Erik could even form the words. The librarian stared down for a while and then moved back to Erik.
“I heard a voice, did you hear it too?” Tatev asked.
“I did,” Erik said.
“What did you hear?” Tatev asked.
“That I should ask you who Halberon is,” Erik answered.
Tatev sucked in a breath. “This isn’t good,” he said with a shake of his head. “We need to leave.”
“Don’t leave me here!” the voice shouted from below. “Release me! End my suffering and torment!”
Erik and Tatev looked to the crack.
“Who is he?” Erik asked.
Tatev grabbed Erik’s arm and pulled him far away from the river bed. “Halberon and Gerharon were brothers. They founded the monastery together. The two were said to be the greatest of monks in all the land. They found water here, and made crops grow in the plateau. They helped any who came to seek wisdom from them and eventually had a following of acolytes and monks. The order grew for decades, and the brothers were looking for a way to serve more people. Gerharon discovered how to bind spirits, and suggested that they make a pact that upon their deaths they would have their followers bind their souls to the monastery in order to offer all who came an eternal source of wisdom. The brothers agreed. Only, Gerharon was faithful and Halberon was not. Gerharon spent his days searching for wisdom, in order to prepare for his eternal destiny. Halberon, on the other hand, grew jealous of his time in mortality. He knew that after death he would be a slave, so during his life he would entice women into his bed, and swindle merchants for their gold. His lust and greed rotted his soul. Gerharon, for the good of the monastery, tried to banish Halberon from the monastery. It is said the two brothers fought then. Halberon knocked Gerharon into a table corner and Gerharon struck his head. He died. The monks that remained took their vengeance by slaying Halberon and imprisoning his soul. They locked it into a box and buried it deep under the monastery centuries ago.”
“Let me OUT!” the voice shouted. The plateau trembled and shook.
Tatev blanched. “This is a most unholy spirit.”
Erik looked to the crack. He nodded and started for the river bed once more.
“No, you can’t,” Tatev pleaded as he grabbed Erik’s shoulder. “It isn’t right.”
“Sometimes, fear of the monster is more dangerous than the monster itself,” Erik said.
Tatev frowned. “Whoever told you that?”
“Master Lepkin,” Erik said. “His words were a bit different, but I think the meaning is the same.” Erik moved back to the crevice. “Are you Halberon?” Erik shouted down the hole.
“I am,” the voice growled. The rocks and dirt shook at his answer. “Release me, and I will show you the way out.”
“How do you know he isn’t lying?” Tatev shouted. “Does your power work on evil spirits too?”
Erik stared at the box. He summoned his power, but it availed him not. Something about the box prevented Erik from discerning the truth of Halberon’s intent. “What do you know of Allun Rha?” Erik asked.
“That was after his time,” Tatev called out. “He doesn’t know anything about it.”
The box emitted a dark, blueish haze. “I know of him,” Halberon said. “He came here seeking the way to the Immortal Mystic.”
Erik glanced back to Tatev and then kept talking with Halberon. “What did he discover?”
“Nothing,” Halberon growled. “We do not know where the Immortal Mystic is. He did not appear until after our monastery was founded. We know only that he is said to live in the east, far beyond the wilds.”
“Where did Allun Rha go after he came here?” Erik pressed.
“He turned into a dragon and then flew eastward. Allun Rha was a Sahale, and able to shift forms at will.” The box shook and trembled. “Have I answered enough of your questions?”
“How do we know we can trust him?” Tatev pointed out.
“Why should I tell you who I am if I meant to trick you?” the box replied. “I am Halberon. I am he who was imprisoned for the accidental death of the great sage for whom this monastery was renamed. Release me from my prison and I will show you the way east.”
Erik moved and picked up a large rock. It was still wet from lying in the river, but he managed to hold it easily enough. He waddled over to the edge, raised it high above his head and then slammed it down to crash upon the stone chest below. The rock shattered and sparked, sending shards out into the chasm. The chest sat still, solid as ever.
“Again!” Halberon demanded.
Erik spent several minutes gathering large rocks and throwing them down. Sometimes he missed, but most of the time the rocks broke apart on top of the chest without so much as cracking the lid or denting the locks.
“More!” Halberon called out. “Keep trying!”
“We should stop,” Tatev said. “He is there for a reason.”
Erik paused and shook his head. “He can help us.”
“He will trick us. That is what he does.”
Erik held up a hand. “No, that is what he did. He has been imprisoned in a box for centuries. For what? Because of an accident? That doesn’t sound like justice to me.”
“I have read many stories about him.”
“Other than his brother, did he ever kill anyone?” Erik asked.
“No, I did not!” Halberon shouted from below.
Erik shrugged. “What if the spirits broke the monastery as a sign that it was time to let Halberon free? After all, the quake came when they destroyed the monastery. It isn’t a coincidence that the river disappeared and revealed Halberon’s chest.”
Tatev sighed. “Alright, what do I do to help?”
Erik glanced back to the crevice and then slapped Tatev’s arm. “Help me climb down and I will cut him loose.”
“You could fall,” Tatev said.
Erik shook his head again. “Do we have any rope in your bag?”
Tatev nodded. “About twenty feet or so.”
Erik retrieved the rope, tying one end around his waist and the other around Tatev’s.
“I don’t like this,” Tatev said.
“That’s why you are the perfect anchor,” Erik replied. “You are scared of heights, so you will stay as far away as you can from the edge. That will give me the help I need.”
Within minutes Erik was slowly picking his way down to the ledge. Halberon was eerily quiet and still. Erik moved in to the locks and turned one over in his hand. He then dropped the lock and pulled his sword free. He raised it high over his head and called forth the flames. He brought it down in a mighty arc and shattered the chains from the box. An explosion of purple and blue erupted as the lid flipped open and a ghastly scream filled the chasm.
“I am free!” Halberon shouted as his dark form spread out like a great pair of wings and he ascended from the fissure.
No, not like a pair of wings, Erik realized. Halberon actually had a pair of wings. The winged spirit dove down and seized Erik. Halberon lifted the young champion up and dropped him on the plateau next to Tatev.
“To be able to stretch my
wings again and feel the wind upon my face!” Halberon exclaimed. “You have given me the greatest gift any mortal ever could.”
“You are a Sahale,” Erik said.
Halberon shifted into his full dragon form and stood mightily, straddling the fissure. “I am. That is how Gerharon and I lived for so long, and that is why we sought to build a place where others could come for guidance.”
“I never read any mention of this,” Tatev said.
“That is because I was not a womanizer,” Halberon stated. “Nor did I swindle merchants. My brother and I took vows to remain only in our human forms. Yet, I could never deny the skies. They called to me, beckoned to me.” Halberon moved his mist-like snout down to Tatev’s face. “Tell me, how often have you wished to fly with the birds? If you had such a gift, could you wholly deny it?”
“So you argued about using your dragon form?” Erik guessed.
Halberon drew his head and neck back. “We did. Gerharon felt it was not proper. He preferred to claim only our human heritage. He said that I should leave if I wanted to fly among the clouds. We argued. The rest is as your red haired friend has said. My brother died, and the others bound me and chained my soul to this box.”
Tatev lowered his head. “I am sorry,” he said. “I misjudged you, because what I read was different.”
Halberon shifted into his human form and stood before them. He looked toward the ruin and then back to Erik. “I will show you the way out from here. I spent many days and night flying around these mountains. I know the easiest route. It is steep, but you will make it.” He then moved to step before Tatev. “If you keep your eyes focused on the boy, and don’t look back, you will be alright. Train your eye where you want to go, and don’t let your mind worry about what is behind you.”
Tatev nodded. “I understand.”
“Then let us be off. I can get you over the mountain before the sun sets. From there, I will show you the path downward. It is much easier than the way up and out from this plateau.”
“What will you do then?” Erik asked.
“Then I will return and search for my brother’s spirit. I am free from my box, but my soul still bears the shame and guilt of what I did to him. An accident though it was, it still haunts me.”