Many Hidden Rooms

by S. J. Varengo

  “We lost two lives today from sickness,” Slurr said.

  “They are not the only casualties,” Kern replied. “There are reports of nearly fifty fatalities over all.”

  “It could have been much worse,” said Renton. “Conditions were wretched and deteriorating rapidly.”

  “It is beyond unfortunate,” said Kern, “but we can do nothing about it now. I fear more lives will be lost before we reach the demon’s lair.”

  “And then the bad times will begin in earnest,” Slurr said.

  It took an additional two hours before the ships were close enough to anchor. The long task of offloading the army began at once. Most ships had four boats with which to ferry the warriors, though some had only two or three. A few ships even had to share a boat between them. When the vessels closest to shore were emptied, they would weave their way through the others to the rear of the armada, allowing more to move forward.

  As the men and women reached the icy shore, they piled out of the boats, many falling to the frozen ground. The wizards and the division leaders worked feverishly to move and organize the troops. Many healing spells were cast upon the most unwell among them, and over the next several days the monumental job was gradually and painfully completed.

  When the last passengers of the final ship stepped out of the small boats and onto the ice sheet, Cerah stood with Slurr and Kern watching. As weary as they were, the soldiers saluted the Chosen One as they slogged past to seek some open space – the first they’d had since the voyage began. “We will not begin the march until the morning after next,” Cerah said. “The troops will require that much time to regain their strength, and the dragons will benefit from the extended rest as well.”

  It was almost evening. Everyone was freezing, but there was little they could do. Not even magic was of any use against the cold. Balls of fire could be conjured, but there was no fuel for them to ignite. However, being freed from the ships’ holds was a tonic in itself, and the morale of the army slowly rallied. As night fell, the troops, wizards, and dragons all huddled in small but tight groups. The warmth gained by this confluence of body heat was a minor comfort, but all agreed that it was better than being on the ships.

  Between off-loading and then resting, they had been upon the ice of the Frozen South for nearly a week by the time Cerah told Slurr to give the order to form ranks for the march. It took some time for the word to be passed along to all the division leaders, but about three hours after sunrise, the mighty army was ready to move.

  Once again, Cerah made her way to the front of the vast sea of humans and wizards. This time she stood on Tressida’s back. She lifted Isurra above her head. It glowed a bright red in her hand, as though it had come freshly from the forge.

  “Free People of the ten continents,” she said, her voice exploding over the frozen plain, “today we begin our march to the high peak in which we will find the lair of the beast. I wish to declare before we begin that from this day hence it shall be known as Mount Opatta, named for the great wizard who gave his life to bind Surok until we could arrive to destroy him.

  “My mentor, the only one among us who has taken this journey before, tells me we will walk for many days through this hostile environment.

  “But we have already come too far for our hearts to waver. Our hardships may be just beginning, but we will make our way to the stronghold of the foulest one, and we will overrun his forces. Do not lose faith. Ma’uzzi looks down upon us with great favor.”

  She turned to Slurr, who stood beside Tressida on the right. “General, give the order to march.”

  Then she turned to Kern, who, along with Szalmi, stood to her left. “Teacher, send the wizards aloft—a low flight to minimize the strain this damn cold will cause.”

  Finally, she spoke into Tressida’s mind. “Darling, rouse the riderless.” She nudged Tressida’s flank, and the golden queen took flight.

  The Army of Quadar was on the move.

  Chapter 9

  Horrible Discovery

  Not only was the ice sheet cold, but it got only about two hours of weak sunlight per day, meaning it was almost perpetually dark as well. The effect of the two, combined with the endless miles of slogging had once more eroded the army’s already fragile morale. Although it was not snowing, there was no shortage of bone-chilling wind, and it felt like icy blades, piercing every layer of clothing. Cerah and Slurr found that the body armor Zayan had crafted for them offered exceptional insulation, but even though they covered it with several layers of thick mufti, they were chilled to the core.

  While most wizards were still on their dragons’ backs, they no longer flew, finding the task increasingly onerous for the great beasts. Instead, they marched with the humans, walking ahead of the various divisions of soldiers. A few walked beside their beasts rather than ride them, in a show of solidarity with the soldiers. Slurr declined Cerah’s offer to climb upon Tressida and ride with her.

  “I must march with my troops,” he had told her.

  Cerah knew that once his mind was made up, nothing she could say was going to change it. And although she ultimately commanded every being that trudged through the long night, she had too much respect for Slurr to order him to ride. He did walk near her, however. Still lying across the doorway, she thought, thinking back to those times, a thousand years ago it seemed, when he had spent the night guarding her entry.

  Cerah had been both surprised and immensely impressed by the fact that marching right next to Slurr was Renton. The Admiral of the Fleet left only a tiny crew on each ship, ordering the rest of the sailors to find some form of weapon and join the ground force. Many carried items found aboard the ships which were clearly not intended to be used for fighting: poles and battens, galley knives, even lengths of rope, which Cerah assumed they planned to use as lassos or garrotes.

  Parnasus, perched on Dardaan’s wide back, rode to her right. As the first few days of marching came and went, she began to notice that he was showing signs of great physical duress. While to some degree this was the case for everyone, she reminded herself that he was over one thousand years old! It was true that there were a handful of wizards who were even older. But these most senior wizards had stayed behind on Melsa, their considerable magic brought to bear on the defense of the island, rather than subject them to these horrendous conditions. Parnasus was the oldest soul in the campaign and, First-Elder or not, a thousand years of life took a toll on one. She watched him closely, but out of respect for her teacher, she said nothing. Neither did Parnasus, at least not about his health. He did speak almost constant encouragement to Cerah, reminding her that every man and woman on that frozen plain was there because they believed in her.

  “Your plan to strike Surok in his lair will save untold lives,” he said to her as they pushed through a period of particularly intense wind, which amplified the blistering cold.

  “Yes,” Cerah replied, “it is the best course of action. I could not surely wait for him to move first.” But looking at the faces of the warriors behind her, she felt a niggling doubt. How much fight will be left in them when they face Surok’s forces? she thought. They are already fighting for their lives. This very place is their enemy!

  They had been marching five days when the reports reached her that people were dying. “How many, Slurr?” she asked.

  “Nearly thirty lives have been lost,” he answered. “We knew this would happen, Cerah. It is horrible, but we expected it. It will get worse when we climb the mountain.”

  Parnasus nodded his head. “The general is correct,” he said. “And that fate will soon be upon us. Do you see how hilly the terrain has become? We are getting close.”

  Cerah felt an uneasiness in the low climb of the hills, often feeling as though they were being watched. But they saw no signs of life, and Kuldeen remained silent upon Slurr’s belt.

  The peak was spotted two days later, still a long way off, but already looking most formidable. In the perpetual gloom of the Frozen South,
it rose darkly, seeming to get taller and taller as they drew closer to it. Finally, after nearly nine full days of marching, the vast army stood at the foot of the highest peak on Quadar.

  As Parnasus had said, Mount Opatta reached so far into the sky that the ever-present, slate-colored clouds obscured the actual summit. Cerah had Slurr send word through the ranks that they would rest a full eight hours before beginning the climb, the longest pause since the march had commenced. The warriors, grateful for the respite, fell to the ground, huddling together. Dragons rested among them, sharing what little body heat they had to offer, for even they were suffering.

  As she sat next to Tressida, Cerah wrapped Slurr’s arms around her and pressed hard against his strong body. The word had just reached them that the casualty-toll had reached nearly three hundred. Worse than losing that many lives, in Cerah’s mind, was the fact that the bodies had just been abandoned where they fell. There was no way to properly honor the fallen, and there was nothing that could be practically done with their corpses; they could neither be buried nor cremated in this frozen waste. Although she understood the situation and realized that these lives would not be the last to be forfeit during the campaign, it did not sit well with her. She wished she could run to each fallen warrior and chase death from within them, as she had done to the kvarna on Melsa. But, as Parnasus had insisted that she understand, it was beyond even her power to do so.

  Cerah looked for the hundredth time up the mountain that loomed before them. From high above, the distant sound of thunder could be heard as the clouds that shrouded the summit boiled and swirled. She was actually glad that it was dark. Seeing the craggy face of the mountain in daylight would have broken many a warrior’s spirit.

  “I dread what is to come,” she confided to Slurr.

  “We have already come so far, Cerah. Do not despair now.”

  “It is not despair. I know our cause is just and righteous. I’m just thinking of how many more people will die during this climb. And not just humans.” She buried her head against his chest. “Have you seen Parnasus?”

  Slurr looked to where the First-Elder lay, some twenty yards away, against Dardaan’s great black flank. “Yes,” he whispered. “He is not faring well. But he will not admit it. He only says, ‘My spark is strong in me.’”

  “It burns brightly within,” Cerah admitted. “It will not be his spark that fails him.”

  Just then a commotion arose in the distance. Cerah leapt to her feet, closely followed by Slurr, who had first checked for Kuldeen’s song—the blade was silent—then drew his sword. As they raced in the direction of the noise, Cerah was stunned by what she saw. A huge animal, easily ten feet tall and completely covered in long, gray-tipped white fur, was attacking a group of warriors. They were doing their best to fight it off, and by the time Cerah and Slurr reached them, the beast was bleeding badly. Still it fought ferociously, slashing with its saber-like claws. One swordsman moved to hack at the animal’s already wounded leg but lost his footing. The creature grabbed him and bit deeply into his neck. Cerah pointed Isurra at the monster, but there were too many people fighting it to allow her to safely fire a magic blast. Other wizards stood nearby, also waiting to get a clear shot off.

  “Get away from it!” Slurr shouted to the warriors. “You have weakened it, now run!” Several broke off their attack and sprinted away. The beast made to run after them but was hit by magical fire from several directions at once. It took a few steps, its arms flailing as its long fur burst into flames, then fell face forward onto the ice. Cerah stepped forward, poking at the smoldering body with her staff. As she turned to leave, she saw that the wizards were tending to the wounds of the warriors who had been fighting the beast. Three men lay lifeless, including the man who had been bitten. Their blood stained the ice. It was to them that Cerah walked. Overcome by the loss of these brave men, she decided to attempt to help at least one. Standing over the warrior with his torn throat, she pointed Isurra at him. The staff glowed blue, but when she attempted to form an image of death within him, then cast it out, the man did not move.

  Kern reached her side and said, “It is as the First-Elder told you, Cerah. Not even you can help every fallen warrior. And I sense that in this foul place your magic is further hindered. Surok’s pall casts a dark shadow over everything.”

  “We did not encounter these when last I was here,” said Parnasus, slowly walking up to the scene of the battle.

  “More of Surok’s evil breeding?” Slurr asked him.

  “I do not know. It is possible. Even in his captive state his power is formidable,” the First-Elder said, leaning heavily upon his staff. “The destruction of the cities proved that. It is possible that he brought forth these creatures to patrol the mountain. Or they may be native to the hills and the mountain, and Surok merely nurtured them. They are obviously well suited to the conditions. We will likely encounter more as we climb.”

  “As if we didn’t already have enough to worry about!” said Cerah.

  Slurr grabbed her arm and spun her to face him. “Stop it!” he said sternly. Cerah looked at him, surprised by his forcefulness. “You must not let your people hear you speak negatively. They already know they are in a horrible situation. It will not do them any good to hear the Chosen One utter weak words!”

  Cerah nodded her head. “You are right, of course,” she said. He loosened his grip, but still held her arm. She reached out with her other hand, grabbing his sleeve. She recognized his strong words for what they were: encouragement as well as warning. Summoning the inner strength that had grown within her during her months on Melsa, she regained her composure. She reached up and patted her husband on the cheek. “Thank you, Lug.” He placed his hands on each side of her face and kissed her tenderly.

  “I do not like to speak to you in that way,” he said. “But after all you have been through, I will not see you falter now.”

  Cerah rubbed where he had clutched her. “You didn’t have to break my arm, though,” she said, laughing.

  “Bah! You are much sturdier than that!” he replied.

  After the attack, the next eight hours were quiet. The rest was welcome, and when the time came to begin the climb, the warriors were as ready as it was possible for them to be.

  Kern called all wizards to the front of the ranks. “It is time for your match-mates to phase down. They will have a much easier time of it in their smaller form.”

  All around the dragons began to tremble as their riders gave them the instruction to phase. Soon they were all ready. The riderless watched the matched undergo their transformation and, upon Tressida’s mental command, they too phased. Finally, the queen took her hatchling form. Everything was now in order for the climb to begin.

  Parnasus seemed to have regained some stamina after getting some sleep, and he began climbing the mountain without any ceremony. Cerah moved behind him, and the rest of the fighting force formed a long, narrow column and began making their way up as well. It did not take long for trouble to begin.

  The mountain at its base was relatively easy to negotiate, but it quickly became very steep. After only a couple of hours they began to encounter sheer, ice-covered walls of rock. The going was very slow. As they made their way higher, the ice and rock began to be covered in snow; just a trace at first, though the farther they climbed the deeper the drifts became. Several times, Parnasus had to pause to survey the terrain ahead before finding the way that was most passable. Small avalanches plagued them continuously. Fortunately, none were swept away by the sliding snow, but they did prove to be a dangerous nuisance and made the already difficult climb harder still.

  On the second day of the ascent they encountered another of the blanched snow beasts. It lay in wait until a long column had passed by a huge drift which camouflaged it perfectly. When it attacked, it killed two warriors before they could even draw their weapons. After nearly twenty minutes of furious fighting it was finally brought down, but not before it had sent another ten humans an
d one wizard, the first of that race to fall, to the Next Plane. The cries of his match-mate chilled the souls of all who were near enough to hear. Those who passed the spot afterward gasped at the sight of the blood-drenched snow and the bodies strewn all around.

  Heading Slurr’s admonishment, Cerah did not let show outwardly what was tearing at her within. She took personally whatever it was that blocked her attempts to reclaim the sparks of the fallen, whether it was some environmental anomaly or a magic pallor cast from afar by Surok. She had all but told him the date and time of their departure. Although her vision from Within showed him still bound, albeit barely, it was the most dangerous form of foolishness to assume he would let them march in unhindered. His physical army he will keep with him, Cerah reasoned. But he will certainly assail us with his twisted spell-craft. Interfering with our magic, if indeed he can, would be a smart tactical move. The wizards and I have been able to heal wounds, but the craft that is uniquely mine seems stymied. Is it some perverse reversal of the magic which kept us safe on Arnon when the demon’s burning wind swept over us? Her mind constantly mulled over ways in which she could counteract such dark treachery.

  Far above, Parnasus climbed relentlessly. He constantly scanned the sheer route for anything that seemed familiar. Indeed, the passage of several hundred years did not make this task easy. The work of wind and snow, rock slides and erosion, coupled with the fact that he was relying on memories that were nine centuries past, made it difficult for him to recognize any landmarks. Never did he show any indecision, however. If he came to a point that looked totally unfamiliar, he would pause and say to Cerah, “Just give me one moment to get my bearings.” Then, making his best guess, he would press on once again.

  After they had been climbing for three days, the First-Elder began looking in earnest for the cave opening. He uttered not a single disconcerted word, but his private thoughts were not as assured as his demeanor would indicate. It cannot be much farther, he told himself. We climbed for three days when we discovered it so long ago. We have climbed for three days now. Have I gone the wrong way? Still he climbed, and still, stretched out for miles behind him, tens of thousands followed.