*
The cloaked figure had made up the distance and was now traveling parallel to the child-warrior. The undead had not missed the stranger in the dark. The creatures were shuffling after the newcomer as well. The stranger stopped, annoyed, and drew a small vial of liquid from the leather bag it carried over a shoulder. After muttering a few words, it drank the vial dry. Almost immediately, the undead seemed to lose interest and turned in the child-warrior’s direction. The cloaked one put the vial away and watched the firefly it was chasing begin to float into the sky.
*
Alix’s progress slowed as the gentle slope he found himself on turned steeper. He stopped to catch his breath, the warmth and humidity making it hard to breathe. He held the light-stone high and could see that some of the creatures were having trouble navigating the steep incline. Their jerky movements made it difficult to balance, and they fell over. However, they simply continued scrambling up after him on all fours like surreal animals, adding an even more nightmarish quality to their appearance. All around he could hear the stones making their deadly music as the horde clawed over them. Alix turned back up the hill and continued moving forward. It was getting difficult for him as well. He moved as fast as he could, but he often slipped back as the stones beneath his feet gave way.
Alix had noticed that once he reached the hill he had stopped encountering the zombies, and he was thankful for that. But even though the creatures all seemed to be behind him, many of the undead were moving rapidly. Alix knew they were gaining on him. He didn’t need to see at the moment, so Alix shoved the light-stone into his loin-cloth and dropped to all fours. He began pumping forward with all his strength, grabbing the sharp stones with his hands as he went, pushing them behind him with his feet as he propelled himself upward. He felt his hands getting hot and sticky. He realized they were getting wet from blood. His blood. The stones he scrambled over not only sounded like glass, they were nearly as sharp and cut him as he went. Suddenly, he was reaching for empty air, and he stumbled forward, nearly hitting the ground face first. Wherever he was, he was no longer climbing.
He took out the light-stone and held it high. He was at the top. Alix looked to his left and right. He could see he was on a large, round plateau. The edges of the slope he had just climbed curved out and forward on each side of him, into the darkness. Straight ahead was still black, so he moved quickly forward, seeking the center of what he now assumed to be a circular area. It was only a matter of a few dozen strides before he could see something loom out of the shadows. Something was hanging in front of him. He hurried forward as behind him a low bellowing reached his ears. Unknown to Alix, some of the vile, rotted warriors had reached Alix’s blood trail. The smell of the blood on the stones sent the zombies into a crazed frenzy. Those with lungs still intact began to moan in excitement while others began biting down instinctively. All around the cavern, the excitement spread through the horde. Jaws snapping open and closed created a new sound, like static before a lightning strike. Alix could hear the horrible sounds and that of another, more ominous one. The sound of the glass-like stones increased their deadly music as the scrambling creatures climbed with renewed fury. Alix realized that this had better be his destination since there was no way he could go back. There must be at least a hundred coming up after him from all sides. The speed with which they moved, and the sheer numbers concentrated around him, would make it impossible to get past. He was trapped.
He quickly approached the center of the small plateau and noticed the ground beneath his feet crunch. He held the light-stone high and looked down. The plateau was covered with scattered bones and remnants of reddish clothing. It seems that many initiates, like him, had made it this far, but they had ultimately failed. Not an uplifting discovery. Alix pushed the implications out of his mind and hurried forward. He turned his attention to the hanging thing now before him. The object seemed to materialize from the gloom above. A thick, dark rope descended from darkness. Hanging at the end of the rope, a little higher than his chest, was a large, smooth rock. Wrapped so many times that the large stone inside was barely visible, the entire diameter was a little larger than his head. A quick glance around and Alix could see nothing else to draw his attention, so this had to be it. He turned back to studying the rope. It was a dark color for a few feet above the stone, and then it turned white. Maybe he was meant to climb it. He put the light-stone on the ground and reached up high, grabbing the rope. Immediately his hands were engulfed in searing pain. He pulled away and looked at his hands. Dozens of bloody pin-pricks dotted them. He picked up the light-stone and inspected the dark section he had just grabbed. Hundreds of cactus needles were woven into the fibers of the rope. Alix realized that the dark coloring was from blood. At least I wasn’t the first one to make this mistake, he thought. He was starting to have trouble holding the light-stone and realized that his hands were going numb. That’s when Alix realized that the cactus needles were poisoned as well. Already the light-stone had slipped from his bloody, tingling fingers and had fallen to the ground. Its light flared as his heart pounded, his blood causing the stone to lend a nightmarish red to the scene. Think. He saw the scroll in his mind’s eye:
Use the key with force just right,
To escape this place of eternal night.
Only in the world of dreams,
Can you escape this cave of screams.
This hanging stone had to be the key. He obviously was not meant to climb it. Already, his hands felt swollen and useless. He turned the hanging stone around, studying it. He lifted it and then dropped it. Alix pushed it with his numb hands. He watched it swing out, then back. He put his hands out to stop it. It knocked him back a bit. World of dreams, force just right, he mused. Alix came to an idea. If he was right, it meant making a tremendous leap of faith. If wrong…Well, at least I won’t be around to feel the creatures tearing me apart, he thought. He returned to the stone and placed both hands on it. He had to knock himself out. Push the stone too hard and he would kill himself. Push too lightly and he would be conscious to feel the horde tear him apart. He felt confident that this was the right answer, for only a Guardian test could be so diabolical. Besides, he had no more time to think about it. As his heart pounded, the light-stone flared, and Alix stole a quick glance. He could see the reflective red eyes of the undead horde cresting all around the edges, growing in number rapidly. They were nearly upon him. He turned back to the stone and took a deep breath. He hefted the stone slightly, gauging its weight. He let the stone dangle again and, with a push he hoped was not too hard or too soft, sent the stone arching outward. He concentrated fully on the wrapped stone. It arched out into the gloom, and he caught it with his eyes as it returned. It was moving back more slowly than he had thought. He would have to push harder. He grabbed the stone again and took a step back. Putting his weight into it, he pushed harder. This was his last chance, for beyond the arching stone he could see dozens of undead rushing for him. Some were stumbling sideways, falling forward in their awkward run. Others were on all fours like rabid animals. They were clawing at each other, trying to be the first to rend Alix. Their fleshless cheeks added to the horror by giving their gaping mouths a perpetual grin. Alix refocused on the stone as it returned. Gauging the trajectory, he crouched and bowed his head slightly so the rock would crash into his forehead. In a flash of light and pain, he made contact and sank to the ground, unconscious. All around him, the horde continued to pour over the top of the hill. They flowed across the small plateau, tearing at each other in their lust to see the boy devoured and destroyed. As the boy sank to the ground, it drove them further into frenzy. They rushed forward, not seeming to care that the boy was unconscious.
*
In the distance, the cloaked one watched the boy’s progress. Alix had just crested the top of the hill. This was going to be close. The stranger sat down on the ston
y floor and pulled out a small light-stone from the leather bag lying on the floor beside him. It gave a faint, pulsing light, reflecting the measured heartbeat of the stranger it belonged to. Reaching into the bag again, he produced a tightly rolled leather scroll. With a flick of the wrist, the scroll was lying flat on the ground. Dozens of symbols were written in charcoal and blood. The charcoal symbols were neatly drawn on the left side, thick and easily visible in the dim light. The blood symbols were drawn chaotically on the right, thin and barely discernible. It had taken months to prepare this scroll. The wood for the charcoal writings had come from an island far from this cavern. The blood had come from the slit throat of a prince, assassinated by the stranger’s own hand. Even the leather that the symbols were written on had been an adventure to procure. Months of preparation for only seconds of use. The stranger had to move quickly. Timing was everything. He pulled out a fat candle and another small vial filled with a black, viscous liquid. Closing his eyes, he clapped his hands over the candle and it burst into flame. He pulled the cork out of the vial with his teeth. He looked up to watch the last of the drama unfold and waited while his light-stone pulsed low and rhythmic. He saw the boy slump to the ground. It was time. The spell would only work if the boy were unconscious. There was much at stake, for if this spell failed, so would the stranger’s ability to remain invisible to the undead horde. He and Alix would both die. He quickly muttered words in a strange tongue. As he muttered, he poured the black contents of the vial onto the leather scroll, using his hands to spread the liquid over the leather, rapidly smearing the two sides of the scroll together. Looking up, he could see the horde was nearly upon the boy. Finished with the scroll, he raised the candle to eye level and blew it out in the direction of the hill.
*
As the boy slumped to the ground, the horde stumbled forward in a frenzy. The first to arrive reached out to claw the upturned face of the boy lying flat on his back…and stopped. Slowly the pitiful creature stood up and stared straight ahead, confusion and loss in its insane, red eyes. It turned and began to shuffle off. All around the hill, the same event played out. The horde was soon milling around in a mindless stagger. The spell had been cast in time. The cavern grew quiet. The creatures farthest from the hill froze immediately. The ones closer wandered around aimlessly, retracing their steps involuntarily. Some fell down the steep hillside, pieces of their rotting bodies breaking off as they rolled. All around the cavern, zombies were moving back into their positions, predetermined by the shaman long ago. Slowly, the undead were robbed of their freedom. The trap was resetting itself. The stranger hurried through the cave and sprinted up the hill. He reached the side of the boy and inspected his wounds. A large, red bump was growing on Alix’s forehead. The skin was broken and would require a few stitches. That would be the shaman’s problem. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small leather pouch. Tipping the pouch well away from his own face, the stranger rolled a few, small seeds into the palm of his hand. He put all but one back in the pouch and put the pouch back in his cloak. The stranger placed the seed on top of a small rock and crushed it with another rock. The fumes assaulted his nostrils and he turned his face away. The stranger took the small rock and waved it beneath the boy’s nose. The effect was immediate. Alix jerked his head to one side as he tried to escape the noxious fumes. His eyes fluttered a few times, and then they were open. The stranger melted back into the darkness.
*
Alix felt a wave of pain as he opened his eyes. For a minute, he had no idea where he was. Memory returned suddenly, and he bolted upright. A huge mistake. A wave of nausea overcame him and he vomited on himself. He slumped back down when he realized he was alone and alive. He began to sob involuntarily. He waited a moment for the sparks to fade from his vision, and he tried to sit up again. Better this time. He stood up on wobbly legs and looked around. The light-stone was glowing on the ground, and he stooped to pick it up. Holding it high, he could see no sign of the deadly inhabitants. A weak smile of relief crossed his lips. He realized the first test was behind him. Now all he had to do was find his way out. He approached the edge of the hill, and another wave of dizziness overcame him. He slumped to the ground again. This time, when the dizziness had passed, he stayed down. He held the light-stone in his lap and slid slowly down the steep hill on his buttocks, placing his hands carefully. He thought of his mother. She must be going out of her mind with worry. He looked forward to seeing her. After what seemed an eternity, he reached the bottom of the hill and carefully stood again. Which way was the entrance? For a moment he puzzled over this new problem. He would have to walk until he hit a wall and then circumnavigate the entire cavern. If the hill he had just descended was in the true center, then he had a rough idea how large the cavern was. It would take some time. His head hurt and he was thirsty. He clutched the light-stone and started in what he hoped was the right direction. As he made his way, he thought back to the last few hours. Or was it minutes? Time was hard to gauge in this dark place. He passed the occasional undead statue and thought of the dead children he had seen. How many had not made it? There were as many as six initiates in some years, and this had been going on for at least a few hundred years. The number was staggering. All those children, all those weeping parents. This was a brutal existence and it didn’t always make sense to Alix.
As he passed another frozen zombie, he held the light-stone and looked once more into the face of horror. As he peered at the dead thing’s rotted face, he realized the black pupils were still following him. He shuddered and hurried along. After some time, Alix saw the wall of the cavern loom in front of him. It had taken about as long as Alix had expected, so his estimations were right so far. Now, should he go left or right? He had no way of knowing. He could also sit and wait until dawn. The light from outside would reveal the entrance, but staying there, for what could be several more hours, caused Alix’s stomach to turn again. He longed to be free from the hot, stinking confines of this cursed place. The thought of cool, fresh mountain air spurred him on. He chose to go left.
*
From the dark entrance to the cave, the stranger cocked his head to one side, peering intently. The firefly had been slowly approaching the entrance to the cave when it started veering too far to the left. When it reached the wall, it stopped and hovered for a moment. The stranger deduced the boy’s strategy, but as the firefly started moving to the left, he realized Alix had made the wrong choice. It would be a long journey. He thought of the wound on Alix’s head and felt a pang of pity. Sighing, he reached into his pouch and pulled out the candle again. The stranger was taking a great risk, for he must not interfere too much. That was strictly forbidden. He placed the candle on a large rock and closed his eyes. Clapping again, the candle flared to life. The stranger picked up a rock and threw it down hard on the ground. It clattered loudly and came to a rest. He blew out the candle and slipped outside through the crack in the cliff. The stranger stopped short as he came face-to-face with the shaman, no longer sitting in a trance.
“Been busy?’ the shaman demanded.
Pulling back his hood, the stranger revealed long, blond hair and delicate features. He was a she. Not much older than the boy initiate still finding his way out of the cave, she stared for a few minutes at the shaman, unsure what to say.
Ascension Page 2