by Lexy Wolfe
His voice whispered in her mind as she began to awaken. “You always have a choice. But I have faith in your decisions.”
When she opened her eyes again, Gareth was looking down at her. He sighed gustily in relief. “You all right? I had never seen you sleep so hard.”
“I’m fine,” she replied, terse, as she got up. “Get some sleep.” He started to say something, but the look in her eyes made him refrain.
SIMPKINS LOOKED AT Doom as the gromek roused, offering him a mug. “Figured you’d sleep longer. It isn’t quite sunrise.”
“I always wake before dawn.” Gratefully accepting the hot coffee, he downed half of it before he settled with a sigh, looking at the sleeping woman and wolflen. “Ti’s trainer would always come for her at dawn. I wanted to protect her. It was stupid, I know. All I could do was be there when she was taken away. Don’t know what I could have done.”
The ogre snorted. “Hardly stupid. You have no idea what it can mean to a person to have someone they can trust their lives to by their sides.” He nudged at the sleeping wind sprite. “Mya was one of my first conjurings. She eventually became her own being since I never dispelled the magic that created her. I have others who work with and for me, but it’s not the same as what you have with her, Tracker and Gareth.” He smiled sardonically. “Hells. What you have with the entire population of Bralden.”
Doom smiled ruefully, then considered the ogre. “I would imagine someone as charismatic as you would have all the friends you wanted.”
“Friendship doesn’t work like that. If it did, Tiwaz would have been swooning over me just being in my presence. Everyone in Bralden would have been falling over themselves to bring you both to me when I was looking for you. No, charisma alone does not create friendship. Though I suppose given your history, you’d not be as…knowledgeable.
“True friendship is something that there is no reasoning behind. No formula or steps to take to ensure it happens. There are things to do to not lose it, of course. But to create it?” He shook his head. “Every magic discipline tries to find a means to force it. Every philosopher, every scholar, every damned person who thinks they have the world figured out cannot figure that out. They’re idiots, the lot of them.” He leaned forward to get the coffee pot. “Business is a lot easier. Honest, dishonest, doesn’t matter. It’s all a matter of transactions and money. There is little question where you stand with working with someone.”
Doom held out his mug when Simpkins extended the pot in mute offer of refill. “It sounds like an empty life.”
“It is what it is,” the ogre began. Both startled when Tiwaz and Tracker both sat up, completely awake and looking around in alarm. He and Doom rose as the pair jumped to their feet and began grabbing gear, both rousing Gareth. “What’s going—?”
His words were cut off when a low rumble preceded the ground starting to shake violently. A crack started forming between the living land and the dead, rocky region. The ogre grabbed the disoriented Gareth and flung him back towards the trees just as the ground opened up at his feet and he disappeared from view.
His fall was abruptly stopped, his hand caught. He looked up to see Doom, the gromek’s grimace of effort and pain twisting his visage as he held onto the larger ogre’s dead weight. The gromek’s agonized expression turned to astonishment when the weight dragging him down lessened unexpectedly. Repressing his surprise, Doom pulled Simpkins back onto sturdier ground, the other three lending their support where they could.
“I don’t understand,” Doom began. “What—?”
Managing to smile through an expression taut with pain, Simpkins shrugged. “I practice psionics, remember? I made myself lighter to make it easier for you to pull me up. Levitation always gives me a royal headache. Given the choice between becoming an alcoholic to deal with the pain and limiting how often I use my ability, I choose the latter.”
“Ogre able fly?” Tracker asked, tilting his head in puzzlement.
Simpkins glanced at the wide chasm. “Fly? Not without either a lot more training or having something explode in my brain. I might have been able to keep from breaking every bone in my body. But without time to prepare, I’d likely have been dead from either the fall or the attempt to stop it.” He looked at the gromek with a blend of gratitude and puzzlement. “Not that I’m ungrateful, but…why did you help me?”
Doom shrugged as Tiwaz rubbed his shoulder to ease the ache. “You were willing to give your life to save one of us. It was the right thing to do.”
Simpkins coughed, looking towards the yawning chasm. “Sacrificing myself was not my intention.”
“Idiot magic user,” Tiwaz grumbled, her eyes focused on her work. “Anyone doing anything with the primary intention of dying deserves to die. You thought of someone else before yourself. Didn’t think magic users ever did that.”
“Charming as ever. You do realize that self-preservation is not solely the providence of those trained in the magical arts, Tiwaz?” Simpkins pointed out blandly. She did not look at him, but her cheeks turned bright red. He sighed, shaking his head. “I pray that you will one day be able to see magic users are not all bad for yourself one day.”
“Well, whatever your reasoning, Simpkins, I’m extremely grateful for you saving my life.” Gareth sighed, looking at the yawning chasm still cloudy with swirling dust. “I will miss that lute. It’s seen me through some incredible things. Oh, the stories it could have told, if lutes were capable of speech.” He noticed the expressions of his Bralden companions and reassured, “Oh, it wasn’t that sentimental. I’ve lost four lutes, including that one. Journeying is a hazardous occupation.”
Tracker, having walked along the edge of the chasm, howled to get the others’ attentions. Tiwaz, the only one of them fully conversant in the wolflen tongue, looked up with surprise. “He says there are carved steps that go down into the hole.”
“Really? Well, I suppose we should get to picking up what’s left of camp and see what the earthquake revealed,” Simpkins stated. Doom and Tiwaz traded astonished looks when the ogre joined them in the menial task, but did not comment more on it.
“STRANGE,” SIMPKINS MUSED as the group reached the base of the newly revealed stairs. His pale blue eyes scanned the edges of earth that framed the sky above them, then looked at the rubble scattered across an otherwise flat, level floor. “It is as though there had been a bubble in the ground that popped. The amount of rubble is far too little for the depths of this chasm. Especially if these stairs survived intact.” He squinted into the darkness. “I wonder what else may have survived intact.”
Gareth looked at Tiwaz’s profile. “What’s wrong? You sense another earthquake?”
She narrowed her eyes, fixing him with a dark glare. “Why ask me that? Don’t you think Tracker would notice if there was another earthquake coming, too? Or do you worry I’m going to do something stupid?”
“Ti!” Doom scolded. “Stop biting Gareth’s head off, would you?”
She pointed her dagger at Gareth like one would point a finger, as though she did not realize she had drawn it. “Then tell him to stop asking stupid questions! He is a bard. He is supposed to be intelligent.” The gromek’s skin darkened with a flush of frustrated irritation, his fists clenching as Tiwaz stared at him in defiance.
“She has a point, Doom,” Gareth interrupted, surprising both Doom and Tiwaz. “They explained they could sense the earthquake because of heightened senses. I assumed her agitation was for the same reason as during the earthquake.” He looked at her with deep-felt apology. “I am sorry, Ti. I am just concerned because I can see something is bothering you. And so far, your instincts have not been inaccurate.”
Half-crouched, Tracker sniffed the air, sharp eyes studying the ground. “Something here,” he stated. His words drew the others to join him and he pointed out markings in the dust. “Tracker not recognize scents or tracks. Very old.” He looked at the high arch of rock above them that led into a tunnel. “Very big.”
“Mya,” Simpkins called, the wind sprite flitting over to hover in front of him. “We need light.” The tiny creature made a gesture of affirmation and zipped into the air. Her bright glow illuminated the walls. “Dear gods,” he breathed.
A continuous mural covered the walls and ceiling, depicting dragons and many bipedal races, side by side, facing encroaching hoards of hell-born creatures, perfectly preserved and undamaged by the passage of time. Embedded crystals in the stone lent a hint of life to the still images comprised of vivid, lifelike colors. Even the armor and weapons appeared to have been made from polished metal inset into the rock. Silvery, elegant script swept across the images, briefly coming to life then fading nearly as quickly. They were distracted by Doom growling in his throat, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.
“Doom?” Tiwaz asked, her hand on his forearm in concern.
“The words. For a moment, I thought I could read them. But I barely know how to read one language.”
“I’d be surprised if you could have,” Simpkins told him, studying the gromek in concern. “It was ancient dewerven. Now called Old Elven. It was a dialect used before the high elves became the tyrants they were during the Elven Oppression.” He looked back towards the murals. “I couldn’t make it out myself, but I think it said something about dragons.”
“Come on,” Tiwaz snapped in the lengthening silence. “Let’s find this stupid book so we can get out of this stupid hole in the ground and we can all get back on with our lives.” She stalked deeper into the shadows, forcing the others to hurry and catch up to her.
Tracker caught her by the arm, pulling her to a stop. His eyes glittered in Mya’s glow as he frowned down at her. “Cat-Sister not hunt alone. Hunt together.”
She jerked her arm out of his hand, scowling at him. “Don’t tell me what to do! I’m tired of being told what to do.” She stalked off again, seething, “Doom nags me, Gareth nags me, you nag me. Even Ghalnecha nags me! I do not need to be pulled in so many directions, it breaks my focus!”
Doom and Gareth traded shocked looks. “Ghalnecha?” they stated in unison.
Simpkin’s scowl deepened. “She can’t mean the sword Ghalnecha? That’s just a children’s fireside story. A legend. A-a fable!” He looked at the others. “I thought she just modeled her sword after the stories.”
“Fable or not,” Gareth stated. “Someone or something is talking to her. She doesn’t make anything up.”
“I don’t think she knows how to make up things,” Doom added in a low voice as they started walking faster to catch up to the woman. “She is extremely…literal.”
“Oh, this is great,” the woman’s sour voice interrupted in the darkness ahead.
They caught up to her in front of a section of tunnel that did have damage, the murals along one side gone, bare rock in its place. Blocking the tunnel were a set of massive doors that were fifty feet high. Twenty-five feet up, a massive crossbeam was wedged into giant hooks. Tiwaz stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at it.
“Well, hells,” Gareth muttered. “I suppose there is no way in through here.”
“Unless we could get the bar off,” Doom stated musingly as he studied it. He pointed. “Look, see there? There’s another, smaller hook in the door. I bet if we got a rope up around it and tied to the beam, between all of us, we could lift it off.”
“Tie a rope? Up there?” Tiwaz paced with feline impatience. “How? None of us can fly.” The moment the last word escaped her lips, her scowl fled and she went to Doom, putting a hand on his arm as he looked away, pained. “Forgive me. I did not mean to remind you—” She fell silent when he raised a hand in a small, silencing gesture. She stalked away, trembling with frustration and with an inarticulate shout, drove the heel of her hand against the rock wall. The rock shivered, tiny pieces falling in a clatter like rain.”
“I could get you up there, Tiwaz,” Simpkins stated. He held out a long coil of rope. “You’ve got the balance of a cat. You’d be able to loop the end of the bar and get the rope over that other hook so we could lever it up and out.”
She stared at him. “You want to use your magic. On me. To get me up there?” Her incredulousness was not lost on anyone. Simpkins simply nodded, waiting. The woman glared at him. Grabbing her head, she growled, “All right, all right! Shut up! I’ll let him!” She quickly stripped out of her many weapon belts, backpack and boots, snatching the rope from the ogre. “Do it before I put this rope to better use around your neck,” she growled.
The ogre smirked before he took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he relaxed. When he opened his eyes, he fixed his gaze on Tiwaz. Her eyes dilated when she felt herself floating, but she kept her teeth clenched, fixedly hiding the fear she could not quite keep from her eyes. Gently, her feet touched the bar and she sank to one knee when she felt gravity’s pull again. Simpkins exhaled, staggering back a half step. Doom caught him by the arm to keep him on his feet.
Making quick work of tying the rope to the end of the bar and looping it over the upper hook, she tossed the end back down to the others. She looked at the bar as the rope was drawn tight. “Ti, climb down,” Doom called.
“Pull the bar up!” she called back down. She snapped the order when they tried to argue with her. They did as she said with keen reluctance. She wedged herself in a door design cavity, and put both feet against the rising bar. She pushed as hard as she could to bend it away so it would not fall back in the hook that held it. As it cleared the hook and started to lower, the bar flexed back, wedging itself against the bar. At least, it didn’t want to move until she gave it a good, solid jolt with one foot. The four males fled as the massive bar careened down towards them.
Once one end was clear, the bar fell out of the other hook and dropped to the ground in a cloud of dust and a loud thud. A pained groan broke the silence as the dust began to settle. “Ti! Tiwaz, where are y—” Doom’s eyes went wide when he saw the woman pinned under the bar, blood pooling from where her legs had been crushed. “No! Ti!” He grabbed the massive bar, trying to lift it, doing little more than straining his muscles until they threatened to snap.
Simpkins put his hands on the bar, closing his eyes as he focused on lifting the weight of the bar with his mind. Gareth and Tracker got the other end, getting the massive bar clear of the injured woman. The bar had barely settled on the ground before Doom was by Tiwaz’s side, desperately wanting to hold her, but not wanting to cause any more pain. Her eyes rolled open. “My dagger,” she whispered. “End it quickly. Please. Hurts so badly.”
“Tiwaz, no,” Doom begged, shaking his head. “You’ve lived through so much. You can’t— You promised—”
“I know…I won’t live…until sunset,” she rasped. “I can’t heal…enough before…”
Digging through his backpack with desperation, Simpkins took out a bottle. He knelt on Tiwaz’s other side, breaking the seal and offering it to the woman. She snatched it from him and downed the liquid. Her surprise was as great as the others as they watched her crushed body mend itself. She looked at the bottle, then at Simpkins. “It…wasn’t poison.” She closed her eyes briefly, then said, “Thank you. Simpkins.”
“Don’t thank me,” he demurred. “Quest companions take care of one another because it’s the right thing to do.” He looked up when Doom put a grateful hand on his shoulder in mute gratitude. Simpkins realized in that moment, it was two lives he saved, not just hers. “It will be a few minutes until everything is back to normal, so take it easy.”
Grimacing at the tender, formerly crushed bones, Tiwaz accepted Doom and Tracker’s assistance getting up. She let the pair embrace her in relief before they insisted she sit down on the bar that had moments earlier been atop her.
Gareth, in the meantime, examined the door. Getting purchase along the design etched near the center edge, he yanked hard, expecting the door to be difficult to move. He fell on his backside as it swung easily, knocking him over than slowly swinging shut with a soft thud.
“Keth’s tail, the workmanship!” he breathed in awe, drawing the others’ attention. “It is incredible! Magnificent! There are no words that can adequately give voice to the level of workmanship that went into these doors. So massive, yet a babe could open it! Why, I’ve had more trouble opening—”
“Bard Tavarius, do spare us your eloquent lack of words,” Simpkins said dryly. “And help me get a fire started. We should eat something before we delve into the mysteries beyond.” Gareth turned deep red as the ogre and hunting pack laughed good-naturedly at him, even Tiwaz chuckling.
“YOU ARE SURE you are all right?” Doom asked, hovering close to Tiwaz as she checked the security of all her weapons once more prior to their heading into the darkness beyond the doors. She merely smiled at him, touching his jaw in a tender gesture. He sighed and nodded, letting her walk towards Simpkins.
Mya swept into the chamber and even her bright glow did not reach the ceiling or walls. Tracker knelt as they walked in, touching the smooth stone floor. “Many feet walked here. Many years of many feet. Stone strong, but still worn.” Tiwaz knelt beside him as he pointed out the very faint marks.
“I recognize this pattern of wear. This is a training area,” she observed. Looking into the darkness, she asked Simpkins, “Who did this book you seek belong to? Someone who trained an army under a mountain?”
Simpkins shrugged, holding up his hands in a helpless gesture. “I was not told to whom it belonged. Just that it belonged to a long line of priests that had disappeared a long time ago. That’s about as much as I know. And the general location of it.” He looked around with a frown. “Nothing I was told hinted at anything like this, though.”
A low, ominous sound echoed in the darkness and the five all drew weapons, though unsure which direction the sound was coming from. “Mya, circle us, show is what is out there.” The wind sprite obeyed and began circling in an ever widening circle. During the third pass, a gigantic form became visible. It was grotesque in its simplicity. A giant mound of flesh with three legs like thick tree trunks supporting a body consisting of a beak-like mouth on its underside and a single, colossal eye.