"There's no time to rest." He looked to Lyra. "We need that door opened."
Gideon Thorn skittishly entered Korkanath's grand library, aware that his current attire would be frowned upon by the librarian. In hopes of tempting Abigail from her studies, Gideon had dressed in his sparring gear- the same clothes Master Vorn had forbidden him from wearing- and placed his shrunken staff in the sheath on his back. His dark, red leather jacket had a collar that dug into his neck, with tarnished gold buttons that fastened up on the right side of his chest. The creaking leather combined with the ruffle of his sandy trousers and tall brown boots made a racket in the silent library. Gideon mouthed the word 'sorry' to the disgruntled students, who looked up from their books to the sound of his heels on the wooden floor.
Gideon turned the corner of one of the towering bookshelves, and saw a dozen floating books rushing into the spaces between the shelves. The mage quickly span on his heel and strode out of the corridor in the knowledge that the floating books preceded the grumpy librarian. Mistress Gurtru rounded the corner, missing the sight of Gideon slinking away, and continued to wave her wand left and right at the parallel bookshelves, tutting as she was forced to rearrange the misplaced books put back by lazy students.
With a sigh of relief, at his close call, Gideon passed further into the never-ending library. It had been enchanted centuries ago to ensure that it had no end, thereby making certain that the mages would never run out of space for their books and research. There were plenty of school legends that students had gotten lost and died in the labyrinth, their ghosts now haunting the deepest recesses of the library.
Never one for taking the chosen path, Gideon climbed the ladders fixed to the bookshelf on his left and used the top shelf to place his boot and push himself over the balcony above. As always, Abigail was sitting in her usual booth, with her head buried in a thick leather-bound book.
Without looking up, she said, "The stairs won't bite you, you know?"
"Come spar with me." Gideon sat on the other side of the table and placed his hands over the pages, stopping her from reading. "I think I've found a way of using the hexes Master Tibit had us use on the grounds. If we set them up around the training hall we can work together to fend off whatever nasties come our way. It’ll be fun!"
Abigail gave him her usual look of derision. Gideon knew it was a more dangerous way to train than usual, but he felt like a challenge today. He pouted and expressed his pleading look to convince her that sparring with him would be better than reading. To his joy, Abigail's mockery slowly turned into a coy smile and she pulled aside her robe to reveal that she too was wearing her sparring clothes.
"You're so predictable, do you know that?" Abigail closed the book and touched the cover with her wand, instructing it in the ancient language to return to its rightful place.
"Yes!" Gideon's glee was dampened by nearby students shushing him. "Sorry..."
Being extra careful to avoid Mistress Gurtru, they left the library and made for the training hall. They hadn't got half way when the commotion from the wall caught their attention. Deciding to investigate, despite the rain, Gideon and Abigail rushed up the spiral staircase and out onto the top of the wall. An entire class of sixth years, journeying between classes, had huddled together at the wall's edge, each of them cramming to see over the side.
"What's going on?" Gideon asked.
Before anyone could answer, a savage roar rippled over the wall, filling the students with dread and excitement. Gideon knew that roar could belong to only one creature. Both Abigail and he dived for the side, craning their torsos over the edge to see the majestic animal. Every jaw dropped at the whipping black tail that plunged into the ocean after its owner. Gideon could barely contain his excitement at seeing even a part of Malliath. The tail had been incredibly long, leading Gideon to rethink his original estimate of how big the dragon was.
"Did you see his tail?" he asked Abigail.
"We saw more than that!" one of the students next to Gideon exclaimed. "He was trying to fit his head inside there. He's massive!" The gangly young boy pointed to the outcropping of a stone archway on the beach. Gideon recognised it immediately as the entrance to the stockrooms for supply ships.
A clap of thunder elicited a cry of panic from the entire class. Everyone crouched or hid behind their friend, while scanning the stormy sky. Gideon and Abigail kept their eyes on the water.
"I can't believe we missed him!" Gideon remained fixed to the wall.
"Why do you think he was on the beach in the first place?" Abigail pointed her wand in the air and the rain immediately curved around both of them, keeping them dry.
"Hunting maybe?" Gideon suggested.
"What could he possibly be hunting on the beach?" Abigail didn’t sound convinced.
Gideon shrugged, disappointed. "I don’t know, but I wouldn’t want to be it..."
part three
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Point of No Return
It had taken several minutes longer than Galanör expected it would, but Lyra finally managed to open the door without setting off the hex. It was testament to the humans' ingenuity and comprehension of magic. They were not to be underestimated, it seemed.
Without instruction, the group split up like a highly trained team of invaders, each heading in a different direction to check the stuffy stockroom. Lit with only torches, the large room was lined with twenty-foot high shelves stacked with food stuffs. The outer walls were hidden behind rows of barrels filled with wines, ales and water. The elves couldn’t hide their sour expressions, forced to inhale the foul combination of the potent human food.
"What is their fascination with cheese?" Adamar was the last to return to the huddled group.
They said nothing of their close encounter with the dragon. Galanör was impressed with the team's ability to carry on, without dwelling on the fact they almost died, only minutes ago.
"Who's got the map?" Galanör asked.
Ailas pulled a rolled up piece of parchment from within his cloak and laid it out on the floor. The group crouched around and placed weights on the corners to keep it flat. The state of the paper suggested it was very old, with yellow and brown stains across the surface. Galanör waved his hand over the blank parchment, magically commanding it to reveal its secrets. Dark lines immediately appeared, outlining Korkanath's walls and rooms throughout the vast grounds. Using mental commands, Galanör poured more magic into the map, changing the dark ink into florescent blue lines that lifted from the parchment, building a more complex and detailed image of Korkanath in three dimensions.
"We're here." Naiveen pointed at the lowest room on the floating map.
Eliön tied his dark hair into a knot. "We have no hope of freeing Malliath without the spell-book that holds his enchantments. Finding it must be our first goal."
"I hate to bring this up again," Ailas said, "but what happens if we free Malliath and he decides he doesn’t want to return to Elandril with us."
"Trust in Galanör, Ailas," Lyra replied softly. "The king himself instructed him on how to speak with Malliath. Once the dragon hears of our proposal, he will surely fly us all home at great speed." Ailas nodded, apologetically.
Galanör kept his own reservations to himself. He feared that they were overestimating the mentality of a dragon, branded, enthralled and imprisoned for nearly a thousand years. There was a very good chance that Malliath would simply fly away, never to be seen again. Or he'd kill them all. Or both.
"So how do we find the book?" Galanör kept his team focused.
"Simple," Adamar had a menacing grin, "we find one of the teachers and ask them."
Galanör knew exactly what the big elf meant. There would be more blood spilled before this mission was over, he thought. They had killed thugs and even innocents to get them this far, but they had never resorted to torture. He looked back at the glowing map that floated between them all; there were too many rooms to check. The book was no doubt guarded as
well, making their task that much harder, and if every locked room was as heavily enchanted as this one, they would be undone in no time.
"Very well." Galanör was sure to hide his disdain for the plan.
They spent the next few minutes plotting their route through the underground network of tunnels. The stockroom had been built well away from the greedy hands of the school's students. Two levels up, they spotted what looked like a classroom or laboratory. They decided to start their hunt for a teacher there.
"Until we are discovered, we must remain as shadows. We can't leave a trail of bodies." Galanör was looking at Adamar. "If the mages rally against us we will perish. Do not underestimate them."
In complete silence, the elves moved swiftly through the torch-lit corridors. Their swords were drawn, with Ailas and Eliön each notching an arrow, as they ran round the curving walls. While ascending a wide set of stairs, the team stopped in their tracks, when the wooden double doors at the top opened. Following Galanör's lead, the group hugged the sides of the stairs and used concealing magic to hide themselves. The portly mage that entered the tunnel continued on down the stairs, oblivious to the six immortals either side of him. To the human's eyes they simply weren't there, since the magic they each employed bent the rays of light around their bodies.
Before the door could close behind him, Eliön held it open to allow the others to pass through unheard. Once the corridor was secured, the elves reappeared, as if from nowhere - they had to be cautious with their use of magic when up against fellow magic-users. Galanör knew that they each wore a crystal with magic stored within, as well as other smaller crystals hidden on their person, but drawing on that power had to be reserved in case of an all-out confrontation.
Using hand signals alone, Galanör led the group through the empty corridors until they reached another set of stairs and arrived on the floor designated on their map. They were forced to hug the wall again before stepping onto the floor, when a class of human children thundered down the corridor. Shouts of joy about the hot lunch coming their way, and hushed whispers about another group sighting Malliath, was all Galanör could hear. As the students bypassed them, the group of elves remained in the shadows of the spiralling staircase, until the rabble disappeared.
"Well we know that teacher’s alone..." Adamar was desperate to draw blood.
"We should wait to make certain no other class takes their place," Galanör cautioned.
Aside from Adamar, the team was content to wait a few minutes before leaving the shadows and entering the classroom. Inside, they found several rows of wooden tables and benches, the room flooded with light from the bank of windows fitted high at the head of the class. Standing with his back to them, a man Galanör guessed to be in his forties, was using his wand to erase information off the chalk board. It appeared the mage was a history teacher, judging by the dates scrawled across the board.
Adamar cleared his throat to get the teacher's attention. Galanör rolled his eyes at the elf's dramatics, always wanting to make an entrance. He shot the big elf a warning glare that instructed Adamar to do only as he was ordered.
A small gasp escaped the mage's lips when he looked upon the unnerving vision of six strangers with swords and bows at the ready, each wearing dark cloaks to match their menacing expressions. Oddly, Galanör thought of the water dripping off every inch of their bodies, leaving a trail. They would have to see to that after acquiring the information about the book.
"Who are you? What do you want?" The mage held his wand defensively in front of him, the tip pointed at Galanör's face. Everything about the history teacher screamed of a weak and pathetic individual that couldn't hold his own against another human, let alone six elves. "How did you even get in here?"
"Naiveen...?" Galanör didn’t take his eyes off the mage.
"No one can hear us," Naiveen coolly replied.
Galanör had hand-picked this particular team because he could rely on them to predict his commands. They could be trusted to think for themselves and perform whatever was required for the mission. Adamar was a different matter however, having been forced upon him by advisors who had the king’s ear. A fact that Galanör could not easily forget.
As she had in their apartment, in Dragorn, Naiveen had already set up a magical barrier around the classroom to keep the inevitable screams from being heard outside.
Galanör hated the thought of what was about to happen, but he didn’t dare show it. "Excellent. Ailas..."
Galanör stepped an inch to the side before the arrow exploded from Ailas's bow, sinking into the mage's wand-hand, up to his wrist. The teacher shrieked in agony and his dropped the wand to the floor, before falling back into the blackboard. Lyra casually kicked the wand away, as the group closed in on the mage from all sides.
Adamar was stopped by Galanör's outstretched arm. "Eliön will retrieve the information we seek." The mage looked up, whimpering and terrified, cradling his wounded hand.
"You doubt my abilities?" Adamar was ready for a fight with anyone.
"I doubt the mage would be able to say anything at all if I let you question him." Galanör dismissed Adamar with a flick of his hand, asserting his dominance, while motioning for Eliön to get to work.
Eliön crouched down to the mage's level. Galanör noticed the human's attention fall on Eliön's pointed ears. For just a moment his fear and pain was replaced with curiosity and awe.
For just a moment.
Eliön gripped the arrow protruding from the mage's hand and tugged it harshly, eliciting another scream.
With a calming tone, Eliön looked intently into the human's watery eyes. "To stop the pain, you will say anything to appease me. Know that when you lie, I will know, and the pain will increase ten-fold." The elf ripped the arrow out of the mage's hand and towered over him. "Let us begin..."
Chapter Twenty-Three
A Day in the Sun
Adilandra concentrated on her breathing and took slow and steady breaths to keep back the tears. Two Darkakin had been called to the Goddess's chamber - where Adilandra had been chained up and forced to watch her rape a drugged Fallön - and dragged roughly by the arms through a series of tunnels under the pyramid. Her first night as a captive had been unbearable; she couldn’t even bring herself to think what Lörvana had been through. Krenorak had claimed her as his prize and taken her back to whatever hell he came from. The thought of the big Darkakin brought back the images of Ederön being thrown from the balcony.
You have to survive...
It was the only thought that kept back the tears and reminded her how important their mission was. Adilandra looked down at her manacled feet, being dragged over the sandy ground, as the two Darkakin pulled her along. The elf had lost track of how far they had come or where they were in relation to the pyramid. She remembered being dragged up a great number of stairs, where she barely noticed the jeers and insults that were hurled her way by stray Darkakin.
Eventually the guards dropped her in a new room with a single tunnel leading off of it. Daylight poured through the tunnel and into the room, exposing an array of weapons and shields on the walls. Almost every weapon was coated in several layers of dried blood, accounting for the room's hideous smell. In the distance, beyond the lighted tunnel, the sound of a thousand voices chanting together in unison could be heard. The Darkakin flipped Adilandra over without warning and laid her flat on her back, where they hurriedly went to work on the chains around her wrists and feet. When they were done, the two guards left the room via the same door and barred it from the other side, leaving Adilandra with only one way to go.
The queen of elves stood up and tentatively massaged her wrists, where the chains had cut into her skin. Why had they left her in a room of weapons? Where was she? The chanting continued, only now Adilandra could hear them above her, where powdered rock began to rain down into the room. The elf started to put it together in her mind; the weapons, the chanting...
She would have to fight if she wanted
to live.
Removing a sword, shaped like a hook, Adilandra readied herself for what was about to happen next. If they wanted to see an elf fight they were going to sorely regret it. She thought of the atrocities they had suffered under the Darkakin for years, and felt her grip on the sword tighten. With what little strength she had left, Adilandra would go out taking as many of them as she could.
You have to survive...
There it was again; the reminder that death wasn’t an option. Valanis would be freed soon, she knew it, and when the dark elf rose back to power, he would bring with him a time of darkness for all the people of Verda, a scourge to dwarf the evil of the Darkakin.
Adilandra blinked away the final tears and strode down the tunnel, into the light. The hot sun beat down on her face and the dry air attempted to steal the breath from her lungs. She wiped the sweat from her brow and the back of her neck, sweeping aside her auburn hair, while she adjusted to the intense light. The sight of her was greeted with a thunderous uproar of chanting from all around. The elf was standing at the edge of a gladiatorial arena, shaped like a massive amphitheatre, with hundreds of rows of blood-thirsty Darkakin. The walls stood unusually high and curving spikes and blades adorned the very top.
Adilandra looked down at her feet, checking the grip of her boots in the sand, heavily stained with old blood. Thinking back to all the stairs she had been dragged up, Adilandra felt confident that the arena had been built high above the ground.
The baying mob was silenced, when the Goddess's cruel voice shouted down at Adilandra from behind. "I promised you that I would grant your wish, fulfilling your futile journey into my lands." The Goddess stood at the top of the high wall, amidst a dozen guards, with her throne situated behind her. The Goddess was given the best view of the carnage. "But first, my people need entertaining!" The entire arena erupted into cheers. "Should you survive today, I will show you the dragons tomorrow." The Goddess wore a headdress made of black bones, shaped around her head to give her the appearance of a cobra.
Rise of the Ranger (Echoes of Fate: Book 1) Page 21