“I can’t see a thing,” Tom said when they found themselves enveloped in darkness.
“I see perfectly,” the vampire said, removing his hood. Tom looked in the direction of the voice and was momentarily startled by the two faintly glowing red eyes hovering in the darkness.
“Lux Gemmae,” said Garren. At once, the crystal in his staff glowed with a radiant white light, illuminating the vast cavern they had entered. The cavern's ceiling was out of sight; the floor was compacted dirt out of which, around the edges of the cave, grew enormous mushrooms, some were as tall as Tom.
“There were never any mushrooms here when I used the tunnels,” Garren said. “I have never seen any like these before.”
“Perhaps a spore borne by the wind blew in and was prolific,” Val said.
“Perhaps,” Garren replied, uncertainly. “It’s this way.”
The cleric led the way to the far side of the cavern where three tunnels branched off. In the distance, they could hear the sound of running water.
“The right one leads down towards the river,” Garren told them. “The middle one brings you to the far side of the mountain, and the left one leads up to the monastery.”
They took the left-hand passage which wound upwards and to the right, towards the monastery. As they entered the tunnel, Garren put out his light, plunging them all into darkness.
“Hey,” Tom protested.
“We won’t need it anymore,” Garren said. “Step forward.”
They all took a tentative step into the darkness. As they did so, one after another, in brackets all along the passage, torches burst into flame, illuminating the whole tunnel.
“Excellent,” Tom marvelled. “Security lighting.”
“We should go back,” Maya insisted.
“What’s that up ahead?” Garren said. “Wait here; I’ll go and have a look.”
A little further along, a small stone table stood in the middle of the passage. As Garren approached, he saw a small set of gold-coloured weighing scales on the table and a wooden bowl next to it. On one side of the scales was a little golden weight, in the opposite tray, a pile of something.
All at once, Garren knew it was a trap. The scale held a perfectly balanced pile of rice. Balfour knew about the passages, and he knew that a vampire was coming.
“Go back,” he called. “Get back into the cavern.”
But it was too late. Valcris’ keen eyesight had already spied the rice and compelled by the affliction of his race, he left the ground and glided silently over the heads of his companions, landing without a sound on the far side of the table.
“Val, it’s a trap, we have to get out of here,” Garren urged.
“One minute,” Val answered absently and began to count.
As each grain was counted, he tossed it into the wooden bowl. In his mind, he knew it was crazy; the whole thing was set up for him to do precisely this.
It wasn’t long before he and the others found out why.
As the pile of rice on the scales diminished, the side with the weight began to drop. When half of the rice had been transferred to the little wooden dish, the heavier pan on the scales touched the table. The silence of the tunnel, until now broken only by the three friends urging the vampire to leave his insane task, was shattered by the sound of a loud horn blowing a signal of their presence.
“Great,” said Tom. “It’s alarmed too.”
“Val, we have to leave now,” shouted Garren.
“...two hundred, forty-seven... almost there... two hundred, forty-eight...” Val continued to count.
The horn stopped.
“...two hundred, ninety-one...”
A chilling roar echoed through the passage. Ahead, where the tunnel bent round to the right, a bright orange light flared up, more intense than a hundred torches.
“...three hundred, twenty-four...”
A second roar followed by a ball of flame from further on, petering out as it hit the wall.
“It’s a dragon!” Tom gasped.
“Not down here,” Garren answered. “Not enough room in these passages.”
“...three hundred, fifty-three...”
Around the bend came the most horrific sight Tom had ever seen. The head of a lion, with a shaggy mane, sheared back to behind its little round ears. Its body looked as if it belonged to a large goat. It bounded around the bend and losing its footing, crash into the wall, swishing its long snakelike tail in an attempt to regain its balance. As it hit the wall, it bowed its lion’s head, and Tom saw with horror, a second head. The creature had a goat’s head, facing backwards, just behind the first. The beast roared with pain and let out a jet of fire from its mouth.
“A Chimaera,” Garren cried. “Run!”
“...three hundred, seventy-two...”
Maya, Tom and Garren ran back towards the mouth of the tunnel.
“Valcris. Move!” Garren screamed.
“... three hundred, eighty-nine...”
“Look!” cried Tom.
Ahead of them, at the tunnel’s entrance, an iron grate had begun to descend from the rock above. They had to get there before it reached the floor and trapped them in the passage with the hideous creature. They raced as fast as they could and slid under the descending barrier.
The impossible animal had regained its legs and was bounding towards the vampire, who continued to count with his back to the advancing predator.
“...three hundred, ninety-nine...four hundred...Done.”
He swung round in time to see the huge powerful jaws of the creature’s lion head as they snapped at his upper body. The vampire tried to leap clear of the ground and out of the way of the sharp fangs but was not quick enough. The teeth bit into his side, causing him to scream in agony.
Garren aimed a hex at the monster, but the powerful burst of light from the blazing jewel in his staff only startled the creature as it hurtled past its goat head, just a fraction of an inch from its creepy horizontal slit of an eye. It only served to divert the creature’s attention for a split second before it struck the high ceiling of the passage causing the rock to collapse, sealing it off with fallen debris.
Valcris used the distraction to twist himself free of the cloak that had become entangled in the creatures sharp fangs. H leapt into the air and out of danger, leaving the Chimaera shaking its head from side to side in its attempt to disentangle its mouth from the garment. Val headed for the gate, but he wasn’t going to make it.
Garren searched for something with which to brace the heavy grill, but there was nothing around. He jammed the butt of his staff into the ground and lined the top up with the bottom iron cross beam.
“Hurry Val,” they cried.
The gate hit the top of the staff, and the stout wooden shaft was forced into the hard ground. The mechanism of the portcullis began to whine with the strain. Val was almost there, just a few more feet. The wood began to splinter under the weight of the iron grate enhanced by the screaming gears. The staff held back the gate just long enough for the vampire to slide underneath and out of the way of the beast bounding after him. But the weight was too much, and the staff snapped in two, the uppermost part falling inside the gate as it closed. Garren made a grab for it through the ironwork, but before he could grasp it, it was dashed aside by the hoof of the Chimaera.
“Get back,” shouted Maya as the beast drew a deep breath.
Barely in time, the four companions rolled out of the path of the fireball, coming to rest in a tangled heap outside the other tunnels. But, far from being out of harm’s way, as the fireball struck one of the giant mushrooms its enormous greeny-grey umbrella exploded scattering hundreds of spores like darts throughout the cavern. Each spore was the size and shape of a golf tee, and as each one reached another mushroom, it attached its cup to the surface and stabbed its tail into the flesh. This, in turn, led to the explosion of the next fungus, with the same effect.
Much to the exhausted travellers' dismay, the spores could not dist
inguish between a mushroom and a person. First Garren cried out in pain as a spore attached itself to the side of his neck and stabbed its tail into his flesh. He snatched it off and threw it to the ground. Maya and Tom had a similar encounter with the evil fungus spores. More and more of the mushrooms were exploding, and the air was filling with the spores. They had to get out of the cavern while they still could. But it was so dark; the only light came from the still burning torches behind the portcullis, where the beast again roared, angry at being deprived of a tasty feast.
Tom was desperate to see his way out of the stone chamber as another two spores attacked his leg. He willed his gem to light up, and instantly light filled the cavern, not only from the jewel around his neck but from his entire body. He was encircled in a shimmering halo, forcing the others to shield their eyes. But he couldn’t wait to wonder at his newfound ability as a human lantern; he just ran for the fissure, followed by his companions, running through the gathering storm of spores as the domino effect of exploding mushrooms followed them to the gap in the rock.
Tom emerged into the bright sunshine like a cork out of a Champagne bottle, falling face down in the snow. Maya came next falling directly on top of him.
“Sorry,” she called trying to clamber up, but she was knocked down again as Garren fell from the gap. He had six spores attached to his back, out of his reach. Maya and Tom pulled them off before realising Valcris was still inside.
“Val, where are you?” Garren called.
“The sun,” cried the pain-stricken vampire.
They understood immediately. Valcris had lost his cloak and his protection against the bright sunlight. If he came out to escape the spores, he would burn up, as his arm had done earlier that day. He could be heard crying out as more and more spores attached themselves to his body.
“We have to get him out of there,” screamed Maya.
“I can’t do anything without my staff,” Garren shouted. “I can’t even put the tent up.”
“We have to do something,” Maya said, taking her own cloak off to try and cover him when he came out.
Tom looked up at the sky and saw a tiny cloud. Wishing with all his might, his gemstone began to pulsate with light. The lonely cloud scurried across the sky, growing in size as it went. It found another cloud and joined with it to make one larger one. It took up its place in front of the sun, granting a little shade to the world below. Then clouds began to arrive from every direction, flying across the sky to join with the others, hiding the sun. More and more clouds. Faster and faster they came, obscuring the sun completely. The sky grew dark with heavy clouds, and still they came. Day turned almost to night; just an eerie light illuminated the snow-covered world. And then the blizzard came.
With the heavy cloud cover and the thick, blinding snow, it was safe for the vampire to emerge from the rock face. He fell out into the snow, covered in the spores, all trying to get through his garments and burrow into his skin. Maya, Garren and Tom frantically pulled them off one by one till their blood-soaked friend was free of them.
“How in the world did you manage that?” Garren asked, indicating the blizzard.
“I just sort of wished the sun would go in and it happened,” Tom said.
“Your power is definitely becoming stronger,” Garren replied. “Help me with Val. There’s a cave just around the corner. We can shelter there till your storm blows over.”
Between the three of them, they managed to get the injured vampire to the cave where they sheltered from the storm for more than an hour. It was so cold with no wood for a fire, but they huddled together out of the wind and watched as the puncture wounds on Valcris’ face and neck closed up and disappeared completely before their eyes. The benefit of the undead power of self-healing.
BALFOUR FELT QUITE content as he sat in his apartments, secure in the knowledge that the insolence of the group trying to sneak in and steal his book was about to be crushed once and for all. Later he would go and find the key in the remains of the Chimaera’s lunch. He silently congratulated himself on his ingenuity in trapping the vampire.
“Once again you have not succeeded,” said a weary female voice.
“What do you mean?” asked the tyrant.
“The vampire lives. They have all escaped the beast.”
Balfour rose from his seat and approached the female. She was a slender, middle-aged woman, but her black hair was showing signs of grey. Her clothes were dirty and looked as if they had not been changed for many days. She was sat uncomfortably on the floor, her wrists bound together around a pillar.
“You lie, the vampire at least must have perished, he would not have been able to resist my trap.”
“What possible advantage would it be to lie about whether he lives or dies?” asked the woman.
“To annoy me, perhaps,” replied Balfour.
A shadow fell over the room. “What is happening?” he asked.
“Beware, my lord,” said the woman. “The friends of the vampire are powerful, indeed. Even the forces of nature obey their commands.”
Balfour went to the balcony and watched as clouds sped across the sky to cover the sun. As the sky darkened and the snow started to fall, he began to feel unsettled. He went in out of the cold, closing the doors behind him.
“What now?” he asked.
Chapter 13
Lucky Shot
The trip back across the river was uneventful, despite Charon standing at the rear of the boat, mumbling about people making up their minds. Even Betty, the river spirit failed to put in an appearance. Dan flew alongside the little vessel to save the fare, which only served to annoy the Ferryman even more.
On the other side, the little old man tied up the boat and helped Lyca out, before stomping back through the snow to his shack. There was the sound of things being thrown about inside before a large puff of white smoke came out of the chimney.
“Well, I guess that’s goodbye then,” said Lyca to the human Dan.
“Miserable old codger,” Dan replied, and they started to walk off in the direction the marching army had gone.
“Oi!” shouted the old man from his doorway.
They stopped and waited as he scurried over to them.
“I know you young-uns think that I’m a senile old beggar, but I’s bin around a bit an’ knows a thing or two,” he said. “I know you and your friends are going to take on that nutter in the monastery, and it’s ’bout time someone found the bottle to ’ave a go.
“If ’e does what ’e intends to do evil will reign in every world in existence, an’ I bin to most on ’em. Once the darkness takes an ’old, we’ll never be rid of it. Death, suffering, slavery will be the norm and that dopy beggar, Balfour thinks ’e’ll be in charge, but ’e won’t. ’E’ll be in chains with the rest.” The old man opened his grubby hand to reveal a silver coin.
“If ye find ye need the services of the old Ferryman to help ye in yer quest, give this obol a rub an’ call me. I might look a bit feeble, but Balfour sent a lot of men after me what ’e never saw again.”
Lyca took the silver coin from the old man and looking into his watery grey eyes, she thanked him.
“Go on,” he said. “Ye won’t do no good hangin’ round ’ere yarnin’, sling yer ’ook.” He turned and shuffled back to his shack.
They waited till he went in, but he did not look back. He never looked back; he didn’t hold with it. He knew a feller once who looked back on his way out of the underworld, and it didn’t do him much good.
“What did you make of that?” Lyca asked.
“I don’t suppose you can live as long as he has without picking up a thing or two along the way,” Dan replied.
“What about this plan of Balfour’s?” she said. “Do you think it’s about him getting hold of Tom’s key and unlocking the secrets in the Tome?”
“It’s probably got something to do with it,” Dan said. “But a book can’t take over and enslave everyone, including Balfour himself. No, there’s mo
re to it than that. I reckon it has something to do with where Cox and his men are off to.”
“Well, we’d better catch up then, before we lose them. Come on!” Lyca broke into a brisk jog, while Dan, unable to sustain the pace, reverted to his fairy form, unfolded his transparent wings and flew off after her.
There was no hiding the direction the horde from the monastery had taken. In their wake lay a river of brown, slushy mud where the snow had been trampled by so many feet. Pathways had been widened to make way for the gig drawn by the mighty gryphon. Bushes were uprooted and cast aside and overhanging branches torn away, either by the powerful beak of the beast or by the gord, the strong but not too bright yellow-skinned creatures. Balfour had convinced them that he was their god, which to their small and underused minds, was a step up from the Giant Thorny Phalenopsis, a plant that grew to seven feet high and had yellow flowers with a red stigma. The simple-minded creatures worshipped the plant because they thought that they had been created in its image. However, it did provide very little in the way of spiritual guidance, hence their willingness to adopt Balfour as their god as he could do many miraculous things, such as speak and move.
Due to the long head start Cox had, it took Lyca and Dan almost two hours of constant running before they were close enough to see the last of them tramping up a narrow path between two high ridges at the rocky north-eastern side of the mountain. They decided to keep as far back as they could so as not to risk being seen. However, they did get close enough to see that not only did the marching troops consist of the gord, but also there were many guardians, or clerics, as they used to be.
“That’s odd,” Dan said.
“What is?” Lyca enquired, her attention still held by the march.
“If they were going off to fight, why take the Guardians? They only go around gathering information and teleporting people back to the dungeons, they’re no use in a battle.”
“Maybe they’re not going into battle,” Lyca said. “That’s why we’re following them, to see where they go and what they are up to. Come on; the last ones have gone through the pass, let’s go.”
The Sorcerer's Tome Page 16