Asaph dropped out of the sky towards them, fire rumbling in his belly. He clenched his gut and added magic to it. Quickly now, they were about to cast their spell. With a roar that rocked the walls, he spewed blue fire into the turret. The flames revealed the five necromancers for a brief moment. Their faces captured with mouths open, eyes wide, their spell hanging on the end of lips and fingertips. Then each one exploded into blue fire. The fire raged for a second then went out. There were no bodies, not even a scrap of cloth remained. They had been utterly incinerated.
Asaph glanced back at the armies, realising his cloak had dropped and dragon fear spread. At the head of the army stood a commander in shining armour on an enormous black steed. The horn he held to his lips but did not blow. It was as if he had been frozen in time.
Had he inadvertently started the battle before it had even begun? Even the enemy looked frozen. Feeling oddly guilty, he did what he could only think to do. With a face-saving roar, he swooped aggressively. But the horn never sounded, and instead a hundred thousand human voices screamed, yelled and whistled. In one great wave, the armies of the Free Peoples poured towards the walls of Diredrull.
The battle for Tarvalastone had begun.
19
Beneath Diredrull
The Under Flow flared, weapons clashed, and the press of soldiers in the narrow tunnel quickly became suffocating.
Pushed back by bigger men, Issa was grateful to finally sheathe her sword and focus instead on using magic. Shelley stumbled beside her. The dwarf gave a weary half-smile then entered the Flow. From within the Flow, Issa watched streaks of energy order themselves into interweaving lines, creating a geometric shape. Shelley spoke a dwarven word and the shape bolted forwards.
Issa added her own magic to it and the shape moved faster and grew until it filled the entire tunnel. It passed harmlessly through the glowing shapes that were the soldiers’ auras but further along, it exploded, and the screams of necromancers and dark dwarves echoed loudly.
Shelley formed another shape and Issa added to it again, combining their magic to create more potent spells than any could formulate alone. Slowly, they and the soldiers moved forwards.
Issa held her own circular, geometric shape, the magic flaring in lines of energy. Ehka began squawking, but to lose her concentration risked dropping the shape and harming herself. Ehka would not squawk without a reason, she told herself.
She forced her attention out of the Flow and Shelley took over. With a sharp inhalation, she unsheathed her sword. Coming up a smaller tunnel behind her hurtled a baying pack of death hounds.
‘Enemy at the rear!’ Issa screamed.
The first death hound virtually flew at her. She threw herself aside, slashing her sword, slicing it from tail to shoulder. The hound smashed into a wall, yelping and oozing pools of dark blood.
Two more came on. She hurled magic at one and a ball of fire smashed into its muzzle, the other was already in mid-air and descending upon her. Too late to dodge, she dropped to one knee, sword upraised. It crushed down upon her, hard, and howled. Dark blood gushed over her hand from her embedded sword. Gagging, she heaved the twitching body off her.
She barely had the blade free before the next hound sent her back to the floor. It was lifted by unseen hands and crushed into the wall, bones snapping. It fell as a bag of limp flesh.
Issa jumped to her feet, nodded her thanks to Shelley, and engaged the next hound. From the sounds of howls echoing in the tunnel, many more were coming. Shelley couldn’t protect her and all the other soldiers.
‘Help!’ she screamed.
Tiny hands gripped her calf. ‘Maggot?’ She stared down into the demon’s huge eyes. ‘You can’t stay here, you’ll get killed!’
A soldier ran to her side, sword and shield raised. The man’s face paled. Ahead, dozens of gleaming eyes filled the tunnel, the howls of the death hounds deafening.
‘Too many,’ Issa said breathlessly, laying a hand on his arm and pulling him back. Maggot clung to her leg.
Sheathing her sword, she grabbed hold of Illendri. She had no idea what to do. ‘Help!’ she cried.
The Flow poured through her into the orb. It flared dark purple, held the magic for a moment, then released it in an explosion. Issa stared into the Flow, barely able to breathe for the forces pouring through her body, out of her hands and into the orb. The tunnel began to shake and tremble, rocks cracked as the walls heaved first out and then in. Rubble exploded onto the death hounds. Issa and the soldier fell back, shielding their eyes from the light and debris as the walls caved in. Howls of pain fell silent under crashing rocks.
Issa coughed, took a deep breath and straightened up, brushing the dirt from her jerkin. The soldier sneezed. He blinked at the rubble for a long moment, his eyes the only clear things in a face that was black from dirt. Without saying a word, they turned and followed Shelley to catch up with the others, stepping over bodies of dark dwarves and the empty robes of dead necromancers that littered the passage. Holding up her glowing raven talisman, Issa finally spotted brazier lights ahead.
The tunnel wound on and eventually opened into an enormous chamber, so large she could barely see the ceiling. Huge chains dangled from above, free falling or holding enormous metal containers. There were giant cogs, easily the size of her house, and mechanisms, devices and constructions built of stone and metal. Despite eyeing them from all angles, Issa had no idea what they were for. It was the strangest place she had ever seen.
Narrow stone steps led to an even narrower bridge over a chasm whose depths could not be seen. Swallowing loudly and without looking down, she inched over the bridge to where the soldiers and Saurians gathered on the other side on a wide stone platform. Many stood guard, ready for imminent attack; others tended the freshly wounded. At least five soldiers lay unmoving, their tabards covering their faces as was the custom for a fallen soldier when there were no physicians with their white sheets.
Two Saurians lay unmoving, one covered in horrific wounds, the other seemingly sleeping without a mark on its body, lay still and silent. The lizard warriors clustered around them, murmuring.
Issa’s heart grew heavy as she came to stand beside Marakon and Eiretonne. Marakon’s face held its usual grim-but-determined expression but Eiretonne’s was filled with wonder as he looked above him.
‘What is it? Where are we?’ Issa asked the dwarf.
His eyes glistened, and he looked away. ‘Ah, it’s been a long, long time.’ Eiretonne took a few paces, rapping his fist against his chest plate. ‘These are the mines of Tarvalastone. Many ores are rich in Venosia, as any dwarf will know. Look, the chains are not even rusted, it’s been left exactly as it was. The dark dwarves have no use for the things we so cherish—they just want their black magic and blood rites. Bah, the sick bastards!’ His voice raised to a roar, echoing off the high walls as he walked deeper into the chamber where huge wheels and cogs, once forever moving, had been still for hundreds of years.
‘Don’t go too far,’ Marakon called after him. ‘We don’t know what other horrors await us.’
But if he heard, the dwarf didn’t stop.
‘I’ll go with him,’ said Issa. The high commander nodded.
She hurried after him, keen to explore the dwarven mine. Ehka flew between the chains, making the smaller ones jangle, and Issa glimpsed the shadow of Maggot seeping across the floor like a moving black puddle.
She caught up with Eiretonne in a small domed chamber. It was so expertly hewn out of solid rock, its dark walls were smoothed to a high sheen. The dwarf stood before an anvil and huge hearth that had been cold for eons. Tools still hung from the walls and lay on benches, discarded and forgotten.
The dwarf didn’t hear her come in. There was a faraway look in his eyes as he absently smoothed the surface of the anvil with his thick hands. She came closer and realised he was staring at the skeleton of a dwarf beyond the anvil, a Maphraxie arrow embedded in its chest.
A lump rose in her throat.
She laid a hand upon Eiretonne’s shoulder.
‘It’s all been left exactly as it was. Those bastards know nothing about creating, they only lust to destroy.’ His eyes glistened.
The brazier he’d placed in the wall gave the place a warm glow, as if the hearth might still be lit. She imagined she could hear the clang of the weaponsmith as he worked, the heat of the furnace, the gleam of metal.
Issa turned towards the hearth, her boot accidentally thumping into a metal bucket, causing it to spill its contents. She looked down at the curiously long pieces of pale metal and picked one up. It wasn’t as heavy as it looked, and the metal had an almost creamy sheen to it.
‘Tarvalastone metal,’ said Eiretonne, peering at her from the other side of the anvil, ‘for forging weapons.’
A sharp pain came into her head along with the flash of a vision.
‘Are you all right, Missy?’
Eiretonne’s voice came from far away. The sword shimmered in her hands and the light of Illendri blazed in its pommel. The image went, and she blinked back into Eiretonne’s frowning face, the pain subsiding.
‘A vision…I’m all right. I saw a sword, made with this same metal.’ She held up the metal, wondering. ‘But it had my orb as its pommel. Who can make such a sword? I don’t know what it means, it’s just what I saw.’ She shrugged.
‘Well, this smithy is as it was left—for all else that was destroyed. If we can take and hold this damned city, this place will come alive like nothing you have seen, Missy.’ Eiretonne’s eyes shone with glee.
Issa smiled. ‘I truly hope so, Eiretonne.’
Marakon, Issa, and all the soldiers walked the enormous mining chamber.
The narrow path was held up from the unfathomable depths by giant stone arches. Issa dared to look over the edge and peer into the abyss only once.
The path led on and on until Issa’s feet began to ache, forever pounding on the cold hard stone. Eventually their braziers lit up a crossroads. In the middle stood a giant pedestal carved out of solid rock. Eiretonne hurried ahead and climbed the steps. At the top, he peered into the huge carved bowl and chuckled.
‘Someone hand me a torch,’ he said.
He took the flaming torch and swept it into the bowl. Fire burst into life, illuminating the entire chamber.
‘He-he, praise the goddess’ he laughed. ‘Who’d-a thought the oil would still be in it after all this time?’
A sight caught Issa’s eye, making her gasp. She pointed at the walls of the chamber. They shone gold and silver in the sudden light. ‘It’s beautiful!’
‘Aye, Missy,’ marvelled Eiretonne. ‘That be real gold and silver and not the fake rubbish. This is what made Tarvalastone such a city to behold. Now I’ve made it back to the heartland of my ancestors, I vow to devote my life to making this mine function again.’
The road ahead narrowed and became an even thinner bridge over the abyss. It reached the far wall where hundreds of steps led up to a door which looked tiny from this distance.
‘We’ll rest here by the sconce,’ said Marakon. ‘Warmth and light will put off the dark dwarves, and at least we’ll be able to see what we’re fighting if attacked. Shelley, Issa, do what you can with a shield.’
Issa nodded, thankful to stop and rest. She helped Shelley set the shield boundary over the soldiers, then settled down next to the pedestal, leaning her back against it. Many Saurians simply laid down on the floor and curled up, their spears beside them, hugging their thick tails up to their noses. Others stood watch. They did not speak often to the humans, but Issa watched intrigued when Marakon finally approached Ata and engaged in conversation. She was too far away to hear what was said.
‘Hey girl,’ said Bokaard grinning. He passed her something wrapped in paper. ‘Eat.’
‘Thank you, I’m famished.’ She took the hard bread and cheese and devoured them, tearing off bits for Ehka, though he was nowhere to be seen. Neither of them spoke as they ate, both were too hungry. Instead, they watched Marakon and the Saurian conversing.
Marakon finally came over and sat down to eat. After, swigging a little dwarven spirits, he said, ‘Ata confirmed what I suspected. We’re being followed and watched—whether by magic or not, he can’t tell either.’
‘Perhaps it’s Issa’s demon friend,’ chuckled Eiretonne.
‘Maggot comes and goes at will. I wish I could,’ said Issa.
‘No, he doesn’t think it’s him,’ said Marakon.
Issa chewed her nail. The news was worrying, especially when she hadn’t felt anything in particular—everything felt weird down here. Perhaps she should talk to Ata. She got up and went to the Saurian. ‘You didn’t have to come, you don’t have to die here,’ she said.
‘What affects Maioria, affects us all,’ he hissed. ‘Our Oracle and Great Staryx has spoken. We will not perish without fighting to the end.’
Issa considered that, then nodded. It is their choice, a noble one at that. ‘Tell me more about what follows us.’
Ata’s tongue flicked in and out as he studied the great walls. ‘Eyes. Something watches. I feel it stronger in the astral planes.’
‘Baelthrom?’ Issa’s pulse quickened.
‘I do not think so, I would know it.’
‘I’ll keep alert,’ said Issa, for there was little else she could do.
Leaving Ata to watch, she went back to the others. There was a deep frown on Marakon’s face as he stared at the ground.
He looked up as she unbuckled her short sword, laid it gently down and then sat beside him, waiting for him to speak.
‘Tell me what happened to Yisufalni,’ he said, his voice low and filled with concern.
‘He took her,’ said Issa, feeling the darkness creeping closer. ‘To Maphrax. It hurts to even think about it…She’s alive, I’m sure of it, but if she is killed, all may be lost—only the Ancients can recombine the orbs, that much has been made clear to me.’
Marakon let out a long low sigh. ‘Murlonius will follow her. He needs our help now. Despite our victories, that immortal bastard still holds all the cards.’
Eiretonne leaned in. ‘I know nothing about these Ancients, they are as distant to me as the stars. All I know is how to use my axe, and all I’ve been trained to do is kill Maphraxies.’
Bokaard grinned and slapped him on the back.
Issa hugged her arms feeling none of their humour. ‘I thought about going there, to Maphrax to find her. But what could I do? Where would I look? I pray Murlonius has a trick or two up his sleeve.’ She didn’t dare think about Freydel. If he hadn’t arrived when he did, none of this would ever have happened. The wizard had now deserted them in their greatest hour of need—worse, he had betrayed them.
Ehka flew down from the rafters and landed beside her, quickly gobbling up the bits of food she had left him. He looked up at her and croaked, and the Mountains of Maphrax came into her mind.
Understanding, she shook her head. ‘No, my little one, you cannot go to Maphrax and find her, it’s too dangerous, even for you.’
‘He said all of that?’ asked Bokaard, his blue eyes glowing in the gloom.
Issa nodded. ‘He speaks in pictures, it’s faster.’
‘We can summon Murlonius, perhaps he can take us,’ said Marakon.
‘Let’s finish one battle first before we get ourselves into another,’ said Justenin, overhearing as he stepped away from the watch. ‘No one’s prepared to go to Maphrax right now, and besides, I’d need more gold in my wages.’
Issa slipped out her talisman and turned it over and over in her palm, half-listening to the others. The talisman that Arla had found for her, risking her own life. Yisufalni, how can we help you? She’d have to scry for her in Maphrax—which would be terribly dangerous, even if it were possible. The sound of the others talking faded into the background as she was drawn into the talisman’s shimmering, star-filled surface.
She reached out with her mind, far out into the darkness where it was cold. Yisufalni,
she called. Yisufalni.
Illendri grew warm at her side. The orb was with her, calling and searching. A faint, multicoloured light answered in the distance. Yisufalni? Her heart leapt for joy.
‘She’s not dead,’ Issa said in wonder, her eyes seeing not the mining chamber and the men talking but the light in the darkness shining brighter. The men ceased their debate. ‘But she’s not what she was, I feel only her pure essence. I don’t understand.’
The orb at her side became uncomfortably hot. In the Flow, it flared purple, its magic shooting through the darkness towards the rainbow light. Angry red lightning streaked around them and something roared. A wave of dark magic rolled towards her.
Issa pulled back, snapping the connection so fast she reeled. Strong hands steadied her as the roar faded. She blinked and looked up at Marakon. ‘She’s not dead,’ she repeated.
‘And Murlonius? What about Murlonius?’ asked Marakon, gripping her arm, his expression intense.
‘I saw nothing of Murlonius,’ Issa shook her head.
Marakon slowly released her and looked away.
‘When Baelthrom came he… he appeared so fast, I tried to help but… Freydel will have got away with Ayeth, I’m certain of it.’ Issa wanted to say more but found herself repeating what she had said earlier. ‘To lose Yisufalni is to lose Maioria. As Doon said. The orbs must be recombined by those who split them.’
‘I made a vow to the boatman,’ said Marakon, staring into the middle distance, the indigo light of her still-glowing talisman casting his face in soft blue. ‘I vowed to help Murlonius with his curse, just as he helped me with mine. We must try to find Yisufalni and bring her back to him. Alone, he will die, just as I almost died.’
Issa nodded and hugged her legs, resting her chin on her knees. ‘It’s all so impossible.’
‘No,’ said Marakon. He stood and lifted Velistor from where it rested against the wall. The spear glowed at his touch and he shook it. ‘We retrieved this against the impossible. You raised a hundred armies and invaded Venosia, against the impossible. Now those armies press forward to Diredrull, and one day soon this place will be called Tarvalastone once more.’
War of the Raven Queen: The Goddess Prophecies Fantasy Series Book 6 Page 22