by A. Giannetti
“It is almost as if I am now allowed freedom of movement and light in order to facilitate my pursuit of Ascilius,” he thought suspiciously to himself. “What does the creature he pursues plan for us, I wonder?” At his utmost speed, Elerian ran after his companion, all the animosity the events of the last few days had engendered in him toward the Dwarf wiped away by fear for Ascilius’s safety.
“Ascilius must be chasing the hag Corbulo warned us about,” said Cyricus abruptly to the others as Elerian vanished into the darkness. His face was pale and fear filled his dark eyes as he spoke. “If something happens to him and Elerian, the rest of us will never find our way out of this terrible place.”
“Nonsense,” insisted Dacien at once. “They are two mighty warriors pursuing one small creature who appears to be nothing more than an old Dwarf. I am sure they will catch him and return soon,” he said reassuringly. His private thoughts, however, were none so comforting, for like Elerian, he was suspicious of this stranger who had appeared so suddenly out of the darkness. Looking back to the north, he saw that Elerian’s light bobbing about like a firefly in the dark as it disappeared and then reappeared among the columns that covered the floor of the cavern. Ahead of him Ascilius’s light was now only a pinprick in the distance.
“Their lights will vanish soon, for this chamber is vast beyond all imagining,” thought Dacien to himself, involuntarily tightening his grip on the silver haft of Acris with his left hand. Between his clenched fingers the silvery argentum wrapped around the hilt of the sword now shone with a pale light. As a precaution, he drew his own sword from its scabbard and laid it on the ground with the point facing Elerian’s mage light, thus preserving the direction of his flight. Masking his unease with a confidence he did not feel, Dacien now spoke to his companions, seeking to rouse them from the fear that had crept over them at Cyricus’s melancholy words.
“Take heart. We need only wait here, keeping a light burning so that Ascilius and Elerian can find their way back to us,” he said encouragingly. Sliding his pack from his shoulders, he then sought out the lantern which he was certain Ascilius had placed there, hoping the additional light would bolster the courage of the others.
While Dacien sought to reassure his companions, Elerian was doing his best to catch Ascilius. As he flitted like a shadow through the dark, the distance between him and the Dwarf steadily narrowed until he could see Ascilius’s sturdy form running ahead of him. When he shouted for the Dwarf to stop, to his surprise, for Ascilius had paid him no mind up to this point, his companion slowed and then came to a standstill.
“He has come to his senses and ended this rash pursuit,” was Elerian’s relieved thought at the sight, but he was mistaken to think that Ascilius had finally decided to listen to reason. His companion had stopped only because the elusive shape ahead of him had also stopped a short distance away from him with its back toward him. Approaching eagerly, Ascilius laid his left hand on the figure's right shoulder. His words of welcome died abruptly on his lips, however, when the hooded figure turned its head. Instead of the bearded, craggy face of some patriarch of his race, his raised lantern suddenly illuminated a beardless, loathsome, wrinkled face from which dead white eyes without pupils stared at him blankly. When the creature pulled back its thin lips in a horrible grimace, Ascilius saw a mouthful of pointed yellow fangs such as no Dwarf ever possessed. In spite of himself, he gave a loud yell of surprise and stepped back, but with the speed of a striking snake, the creature lunged after him. Ascilius felt a sudden sharp pain in his right shoulder followed by a wave of weakness that sapped all his strength. The lantern slipped from his left hand, and he felt himself falling. When he landed heavily on his right side, the last thing he saw before lapsing into unconsciousness was the burning pool of lamp oil from his shattered lantern, the flames leaping up not far from his booted feet.
Elerian started when he heard Ascilius’s cry of mingled surprise and alarm ring through the cavern, followed by the crash of shattering glass. By the light of the Dwarf’s fallen lantern, he saw his companion lying motionless on the ground with something dark and indistinct crouched over him. As Elerian sprang forward toward Ascilius’s recumbent form, the small, cloaked figure crouched over him, displaying a remarkable strength, threw the Dwarf over its left shoulder and fled north again. As he passed the pool of burning lamp oil, Elerian’s mage light vanished, leaving him in the dark. Without missing a stride, he opened his third eye and saw, at once, Ascilius’s golden shade, seemingly floating through the darkness.
“He still lives,” was Elerian’s relieved thought. Then, looking more closely, he saw a second shade beneath the Dwarf, a shade whose color was a deep black, something he had never before seen or imagined, and he understood for the first time how the creature carrying Ascilius had escaped the notice of his third eye. Blending into the darkness around it, it only became visible when it moved, hence the brief flickers of motion he had noted before. A shiver ran up Elerian’s spine as he wondered how many times the creature had crept up close to him and his companions, lurking unseen and unnoticed just out of reach of the small pool of yellow light cast by their lantern.
He was within a few a strides of laying his hands on Ascilius’s still form when the golden light cast by the Dwarf’s shade abruptly vanished. Alarmed lest he lose Ascilius for good, Elerian looked frantically around him, discerning, after a moment, a deeper shade of black in front of him and to his left. He had finally arrived at the perimeter of the cavern. But where was Ascilius? Looking closely with his third eye, Elerian detected a subtle variation in the dark color of the wall to his left. When he approached it, the light of his own golden shade revealed the entrance to a tunnel some six or seven feet high and wide. Recklessly, Elerian darted into it, running through a twisting passageway with all the speed he could muster, for his greatest fear now was that he would fail to regain sight of Ascilius and the creature that had him in its grasp.
When the tunnel suddenly split in two, Elerian paused, unsure of which path Ascilius’s abductor had chosen. Finally, in the left hand passageway, he heard a faint rustle, like cloth rubbing together. Drawing Rasor from his belt with his right hand, he sprang through the tunnel entrance. As his feet touched the ground, he saw a flicker of motion on his left from a man-sized opening in the wall of the tunnel and stabbed at it without thinking. The argentum etched on the blade of Acer lit the dark with thin lines of white fire, illuminating the featureless face of a dark shade. Closing his third eye, Elerian saw a horrible, fanged visage twist aside to his left, so that his knife blade scored its right cheek instead of plunging into its eye. With a high-pitched shriek the creature stumbled back into the side tunnel. Elerian followed it at once, opening his third eye again as the light from Rasor faded. He saw the gleam of gold retreating away from him, borne up by a dark, indistinct shade. The creature was carrying Ascilius away from him again.
Without hesitation, Elerian sped down the side tunnel. His light, quick strides had again brought him within a few feet of Ascilius when the tunnel suddenly took a sharp turn to the left. Slowing and turning on his left heel, Elerian cursed when he saw that he had fallen behind again, for the creature, familiar with its underground haunts, had negotiated the turn without slowing in the least. Springing after it, Elerian saw, out of the corners of his eyes, that the tunnel walls had vanished, indicating that he had entered into a cave. No more than a dozen feet ahead of him, the creature that he pursued suddenly vanished before his eyes, taking the still form of Ascilius with it.
Elerian stopped involuntarily then, wondering if the creature had leaped or fallen into some fissure in the floor of the chamber. A blaze of light that had been muted by Ascilius’s golden shade now smote his eyes, emanating from a place close to where the Dwarf had disappeared. All thought fled from Elerian’s mind. As if spell struck, he stood stiffly, mesmerized by what he saw, for the golden light of his shade revealed what could only be a heap of treasure piled as high as his waist against the far wall of
the chamber. Seen with his third eye, the wealth before him was marvelously transformed by the golden light emanating from his shade. Earrings and necklaces took on the appearance of hoops and chains of golden fire. Pools of light that must be gems gleamed like varicolored stars. Gold and silver coins shone like small yellow and white suns. As his initial surprise faded and thought returned to him once more, Elerian understood for the first time why dragons sought out treasure to hoard. “What must it look like to their third eye, reflecting the greater light of their shades?” he wondered to himself.
Tearing his gaze, with difficulty, from the dazzling pile of riches before him, he anxiously sought once more for Ascilius. He saw no sign of the Dwarf, but an almost imperceptible waver on the far side of the chamber now attracted his notice. Approaching closer, he was able to discern for the first time a thin, roughly circular line of gleaming ebony, roughly man high that undulated and flexed almost as if it had a life of its own.
“This is certainly a portal,” thought Elerian to himself. “The creature I pursued must have leapt through it, bearing Ascilius away with it, for there is no other way out of this chamber.” With his keen gaze, he noted how the area circumscribed by the restless line constantly changed in size, growing and shrinking randomly. “This must be a natural opening like those described by the Peregrin,” Elerian decided. “If a spell had opened this gate, its dimensions would be fixed and not in a state of flux.” Viewing the magical gate from the side, Elerian saw that it hovered several inches away from the stone wall of the chamber, allowing him to pass his left hand behind it. Seen edge on, the portal was only a hair thin, wavering line. Taking up a fist-sized stone with his left hand from the floor of the chamber, Elerian pressed it against that dark line, sheering the rock in half with no effort at all.
“The edge of this thing must be avoided at all costs,” thought Elerian soberly to himself. Although very little time had passed since he began his examination of the magical gate, he was gripped now by a renewed sense of urgency lest he lose sight of the creature that had taken Ascilius. Drawing Acer from his left boot with his left hand, Elerian straightened again and took a deep breath. Holding a knife in each hand, he fixed his keen gaze on the portal. When it suddenly expanded to a size that would admit him, he jumped through its dark center without hesitation, even though he had no idea what he would find on the other side.
Elerian was vastly relieved when his feet came to rest on firm, stony ground, for he might have as easily have come out above some great cliff or in a sea or lake. Glancing behind him, he saw the shining, shifting outline of the gate hanging in midair. Even from a few feet away, it was difficult to see because of its dark color. Closing his third eye, Elerian looked up and saw that there was a sky dark as jet overhead. Although there was something familiar about the nets of bright stars that were scattered across it, they did not fall into any of the familiar patterns that he knew. Looking around him, for the stars overhead provided his night-wise eyes with more than enough light to see by, he sought for some sign of Ascilius in the barren, stony waste that stretched away to the horizon all around him. He saw no living thing in all that bleak landscape, but like the heavens, the countryside around him was oddly familiar. He remembered, then, a scene he had observed in his orb when he and Ascilius were in the Dwarf’s workshop in Ennodius.
“Another random bit of my future revealed to no purpose,” he thought wryly to himself. “Had the sphere also shown me what was to occur in this place, I might have prepared myself better to deal with it.”
Certain now in his heart that he had left the Middle Realm behind and was now somewhere Outside, Elerian exhaled and then took a first tentative breath, drawing cold air into his lungs that was laced with an acrid, bitter tang that dried his nose and mouth, but which did not otherwise seem harmful. No sound came to his ears as he stood there and not the least breath of wind stirred across the lifeless wastes around him which looked as if they had never been warmed by the golden light of a sun. Elerian started back involuntarily when, not far in front of him, a small, cloaked figure suddenly leaped from behind a huge boulder carrying Ascilius over its right shoulder. After staring fixedly at Elerian for a moment, the figure turned and fled into the trackless waste behind it, leaving Elerian to make a difficult choice.
“If I follow the creature, I may never find my way back to the gate behind me, and Anthea will die alone instead of in my arms,” thought Elerian to himself. “If I return to the passageway, Ascilius will likewise perish alone. How am I to choose between them?” he wondered, torn between love for Anthea and loyalty to Ascilius. As he stood in anguished thought, Anthea’s fair face suddenly appeared before his mind’s eye, her cool blue eyes looking steadily into his own.
“Why do you hesitate?” those eyes seemed to say to him. “You know what you must do.” With a groan, Elerian set off at once in pursuit of Ascilius and his captor, for there was no doubt in his mind what course of action Anthea would require of him if she were able to speak to him at that moment. He noted then that the creature carrying Ascilius appeared to be slowing, as if it had finally grown weary from carrying its heavy burden.
“I have you now,” thought Elerian to himself, hope igniting in his breast. “You shall not escape me a second time.” Running at his utmost speed, he found that his limbs remained light and unencumbered. His feet flew lightly over the hard ground with their old, accustomed swiftness, as if the creature ahead of him had tired of trying to slow him with its will. The plain on either side of Elerian became a blur at the corners of his eyes, but surprisingly, he gained only a little on the creature ahead of him with each long, light stride.
“I see that I was mistaken to believe it had tired,” he thought to himself, wondering how the creature managed to cover the ground so swiftly with its short legs. He marveled, too, at the great strength it continued to display, for Ascilius was no light burden. Miles passed as Elerian tenaciously pursued the thing fleeing across the plain with the still form of Ascilius slung over right shoulder, taking him farther and farther from the portal that was his only means of escape from this stony realm.
“Turn back now,” the voice of self-preservation suddenly whispered in his mind. “If you lose the gate, you will remain trapped in this barren place forever.”
“Time enough to worry about the gate after I rescue Ascilius,” Elerian stubbornly answered that part of his mind which was concerned only with survival, caring nothing for loyalty, love, or any other noble sentiment.
“The Dwarf is likely dead already,” was the sly reply. “If you continue this useless pursuit, you will risk your life and the opportunity to be with Anthea for nothing. Turn back while you can. No one will ever know that you abandoned Ascilius.”
“I will know,” Elerian answered himself, resolutely quashing any more thoughts of retreat. “Alive or dead I will rescue Ascilius from this creature.”
Barely a hundred paces now separated Elerian from the small, cloaked figure ahead of him. With startling suddenness, it stopped and whirled to face him. Elerian at once slowed to a walk, advancing on the small figure ahead of him with supple, confident strides, certain that he had run his enemy down at last. Leaning forward the creature set Ascilius down on the ground, off to its right. The Dwarf appeared lifeless, but when Elerian opened his third eye, he saw that Ascilius’s golden shade still shone brightly, indicating that the Dwarf still lived.
“It means to flee without a fight,” was Elerian’s first thought when the creature set down its burden, but it made no attempt to run off after it straightened up again. Cold, wicked laughter echoed in his mind as the creature shed its cloak, revealing a form closely resembling that of a misshapen, naked Dwarf. The face was that of an old crone, wrinkled and horrible to look upon.
“Corbulo’s hag,” thought Elerian to himself just before the creature’s shape suddenly began to change, flowing like water into a new form vastly larger than the old one.
“A shape changer,” thought Elerian t
o himself in surprise. He neither hurried nor slowed his deliberate approach as he watched the creature transform. Before Elerian had halved the distance between them, the shape changer had achieved its new form. The creature he faced was now tall and massive as a Troll, its powerful limbs thick with sinewy muscle. Its upper body was hairless, the dark skin covering it gleaming like water-blackened stone in the starlight, but from the waist down, it was covered with sleek black fur of moderate length. A thick, barbed tail writhed restlessly across the backs of its powerful lower limbs which terminated in jet-black, split hooves resembling those of a goat, appendages perfectly adapted for traversing the treacherous terrain of this realm. The creature’s powerful upper limbs, on the other hand, ended in sinewy fingers tipped with thick, black curving claws. Elerian thought the creature’s head its most remarkable feature. Supported by a powerful, corded neck rising up from massive shoulders, it was crowned by thick, twisting horns. Gleaming like obsidian, they swept out and up from the creature’s skull. Beneath the horns, the shape changer’s ears were long and pointed. In contrast to the bestial aspect of its ears and horns, the creature’s face was more or less human with a broad, flat nose and strong jaws. Black flames of a sort Elerian had never seen before licked about its wide nostrils.
As he studied his fearsome opponent, Elerian found that its physiognomy, on account of its gleaming skin and even, hard-planed features, had a strange beauty that mesmerized the eye. The perfection of its form was marred only by a thin slash on its left cheek that oozed thick black blood, as did a long cut on the right side of its massive chest which, despite the creature’s exertions, rose and fell easily, indicating to Elerian that the being had stopped deliberately, not because of exhaustion as he had first thought.
“You have been tricked,” wailed the voice of self-preservation in his mind. “Corbulo’s hag and the guardian of the passageway are one and the same creature.” In that moment, Elerian bitterly regretted leaving Acris behind, for the sword would have extended his reach considerably and was capable of inflicting more lethal wounds than his knives.