The Cerulean Storm

by Denning, Troy

  “Whatever that liquid is, it’s not blood,” hissed Caelum, staring at his hand.

  The dwarf’s palm was covered with the black ooze, which now bubbled and spewed as though on fire. More grotesquely, the bones beneath Caelum’s flesh seemed to be writhing about like worms.

  “Get that off my husband!” Neeva screamed.

  Rikus grabbed the dwarf’s hand and used the back of the Scourge’s broken blade to scrape Caelum’s palm clean. The black fluid hit the floor with a splat. It gathered itself into a bead and joined the largest glob.

  “By the sun!” gasped Caelum. “What’s happening to me?”

  The mul looked back to the dwarf’s hand and saw the cause of Caelum’s alarm. Thick, pointed scales had sprouted along the outside edges of the palm. In the center gaped a fang-lined maw, with bright red lips and a forked tongue that rose up from the abysslike depths of its ebony throat.

  “Release me.” Black wisps of shadow slipped from between the mouth’s lips. “Come and free me.”

  Caelum closed his hand. He grew very pale and said nothing.

  “What is it?” Neeva demanded. She pulled them all away from the blob on the floor.

  Rikus studied his broken blade for a moment then shuddered. “It must have something to do with the Scourge’s magic,” he said, slipping the broken blade into his scabbard with the tip. “Sadira will know more—I hope.”

  “Come out!” yelled Patch’s voice.

  Rikus looked toward the entrance. The giant was lying on his stomach and looking into the tunnel with his one good eye. He peered into the darkness for a moment then pulled away.

  “Then you can stay in there, cowards!” he bellowed.

  A moment later, a huge boulder came careening down the passage. It bounced off the walls a few times, and finally came to rest twenty or thirty paces inside the portal. The huge stone filled the tunnel so completely that Rikus could not see even a sliver of pale moonlight shining around its edges.

  “I guess we won’t be leaving that way,” Rikus said.

  The mul turned around and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dearth of light. Within a few moments, he was viewing the tunnel in a dozen radiant hues: the dwarves and Neeva in luminous red, thick veils of broken spiderwebs in shining green or yellow, the cold stone of the tunnel walls in shimmering blue.

  “So how are we going to leave?” asked Neeva, peering around blindly. As the only full human in the group, she was the only person present who could not see in the dark.

  “It won’t take us long to find another exit,” Caelum said. With his good hand, the dwarf grasped his wife’s arm and began to lead her deeper into the inky depths. “That’s true, isn’t it, Rikus?”

  “There are hundreds of ways out,” the mul assured Caelum. “I suggest we divide the militia into three groups. Two of the companies should find exits as quickly as possible then attack Patch or any other giant they see. We don’t want them to go for a kill. Just let them know we’re still alive, then retreat and try it again from another portal.”

  “What about the other company?” Neeva asked.

  Rikus could see that she was gripping Caelum’s arm tightly and had squeezed her ineffective eyes shut so that her mind would not automatically strain to see what it could not and would be more open to her other senses. The technique was one that he had taught her long ago, while they were training for a special match of blindfolded gladiators.

  “We’ll take the rest of your warriors and try to reach the mines opening into the mouth of the gorge,” Rikus said. “With a little luck, maybe we can find our way through in time to help Sult and his Granite Company.”

  “That shouldn’t be difficult,” said Caelum. He touched his fingers to his sun tattoo. “I’ve just the magic to lead us through this warren.”

  SEVEN

  THE BANSHEES

  RIKUS GNASHED HIS TEETH, TRYING TO BE PATIENT and not succeeding very well. He stood at a tangled intersection of mine tunnels, holding his hand out in front of him. A single tongue of scarlet flame flickered in his palm, scorching his flesh and rising straight up into the gloomy air. The tiny fire cast just enough heat to wash out his dwarven vision, and its small sphere of scarlet light was barely large enough to illuminate the black maws of a dozen passages gaping at him from all directions. Beyond that, he was as blind in this murk as Neeva.

  At last, Rikus looked to Caelum, who was standing at his side. “The flame’s not pointing anywhere,” he growled. “Your spell isn’t doing anything except burning my hand.”

  “I’m sorry you find my fire-beacon uncomfortable,” said Caelum. He raised his own hand. “I would have held it in my own palm, but …” He opened his fingers, revealing the scales and red lips that had formed there when he had tried to heal the Scourge.

  Rikus looked away. “Good enough,” he said. “But which way now? The flame’s not pointing toward any tunnel.”

  “Isn’t it?” Caelum asked, looking up.

  Rikus tipped his head back and saw a circle of blackness.

  “Wonderful,” he grumbled, raising his hand over his head. The flame’s light revealed a man-sized cavity, roughly circular in shape, rising straight up. “How am I going to climb that without smothering the fire-beacon?”

  The mul said nothing about the sporadic dizziness he had been suffering earlier, for it had all but disappeared during the long walk. Occasionally, he would feel lightheaded for a moment or two, but the sensation no longer caused him to stumble or fall.

  “You’re not going to climb anything, Rikus,” Neeva said. She turned to the dwarves at their back. “Brul Siderite, present yourself with a rope.”

  A young man promptly came forward with a coil of rope. Compared to the boulderlike shape of most dwarves, Brul was rather gaunt and lean, with gangling arms and bowed legs. Neeva had him remove his armor and sling the rope over his shoulder, then boosted him into the shaft. The warrior began to climb, his long arms and bowed legs flickering over the rough-hewn walls in search of secure holds.

  Rikus waited in the musty darkness with the others, the mine’s humid air forming cool beads of water on his bald head. Every time a groan or scrape sounded from above, he cringed, fearing Brul was about to come crashing back down.

  Though Rikus recognized Neeva’s wisdom in sending the dwarf up first, that did not make waiting any easier. Even with Caelum’s fire-beacon guiding them through the maze of mine tunnels, he feared that it was taking their group too long to work their way back to the mouth of the valley. The Iron Company had not gotten lost once, but it had encountered many obstacles that delayed its march. Several times, the dwarves had crawled on their bellies through long spans of partially collapsed tunnel. Once, after the fire-beacon had directed them into a passage filled with foul-smelling air they could not breathe, they had found it necessary to backtrack and find a different route. Neeva had even been forced to ferry the entire company of dwarves across a stretch of flooded cavern, wading back and forth through fifty paces of muddy water as deep as her chin.

  At last, Brul’s panting voice echoed down from the top of the shaft. “Rope!”

  As soon as the end of the line dropped into the tunnel, Neeva tied it around Rikus’s chest. “Haul away!” she said.

  The coarse rope bit into the mul’s chest, and he felt his feet leave the ground. Brul hauled him up in a steady cadence of long pulls. The shaft was small enough that the fire-beacon lit it completely, revealing rough-hewn walls cut from red rock. Once, Rikus got stuck in a narrow section and could not free himself until he had taken off his scabbard belt—no easy feat with one hand.

  Near the top of the shaft, Rikus felt an arid breeze blowing across his skin, sapping the dew that had collected on him in the lower, more humid depths of the mine. He resisted the urge to cheer, knowing there were a hundred portals in the valley. Just because he felt an outside breeze did not mean they had reached one of the exits overlooking the gorge where the Granite Company was trapped. The mul glanced at the
fire-beacon in his hand but did not find the answer to his question there. The flame was flickering, but it still pointed upward.

  A moment later, Brul pulled Rikus into a small passage so cramped that the mul’s broad shoulders barely fit between the walls. Rikus scrambled onto the ledge. He did not even try to stand, for the ceiling was so low that it scraped his back even when he rested on his hands and knees.

  “Is this the way?” asked the dwarf, shielding his eyes from the fire-beacon. “I think there’s an exit here, but the shaft also continues up for at least another hundred feet.”

  Rikus looked at his hand and saw the flame pointing straight down the side passage.

  “This is it,” the mul reported. He pressed his palm to the wall and sighed in relief.

  Once Rikus had smothered the fire-beacon, he saw a square of moonlit night at the other end of the tunnel, about a hundred paces distant. He untied the rope around his waist and squeezed past Brul, anxious to see what had become of Sult, the Granite Company, and the giants.

  There was no need to wait. Patch’s muffled voice sounded from the other end of the tunnel. “Nasty dwarves! I’ll kill you like you killed Galt!”

  Rikus heard a distant crash. A muted rumble rolled through passage, shaking dust and loose stones from the ceiling.

  “It sounds like the Granite Company killed one giant,” the mul said, turning to Brul. “Have Neeva bring me an axe, and we’ll see if we can’t get another.”

  While the dwarf lowered his rope back into the shaft and relayed Rikus’s request, the mul strapped on his scabbard belt. By the time he finished, Brul was heaving on the rope again. With the fire-beacon gone, the mul’s dwarven vision had returned, and he saw a halo of rosy light appear as Neeva’s head rose out of the shaft. She carried a pair of battle-axes in her arms and an extra rope over her shoulder.

  Rikus reached past Brul and grasped the weapons. “Over here.”

  The mul pulled the axes past the dwarf, then took one and started up the passage. Neeva followed close behind. As they crawled, Patch’s voice continued to rumble down the passage, punctuated by muffled crashes and distant booms. The noises did not seem to grow much louder as they neared the exit, which made Rikus fear the battle had already moved farther down the canyon.

  Rikus finally reached the end of the tunnel. Directly ahead lay the moonlit crags of the gorge’s opposite wall. He looked to one side. He and Neeva had come out as intended, where the narrow canyon opened into the valley. In the other direction, the gorge ran for only a short distance before kinking sharply. Had he not known better, the mul would have sworn the chasm ended there. He saw no sign of Patch in either direction.

  “Make room,” said Neeva, crawling alongside Rikus.

  As her flank pressed against his, the mul could not help smiling at the warmth of her soft flesh. It reminded him of times past, when they had lain pressed together all night, too tense to sleep or talk, knowing the next morning they would leave the arena as they were then, victorious or dead, but together still. Rikus had never thought he would miss anything about being a gladiator, but now, with Neeva pressed against his side, he realized he did miss one thing.

  The crack of a shattering stone sounded from somewhere below, reminding Rikus that dwelling on his past with Neeva would do him no more good than wishing the Scourge’s blade had not been snapped. The mul looked down and saw that they had come out much higher than he had hoped, as he could tell by the sight of a tangled nest of giant braids far below.

  Rikus squinted, trying to see what was happening more clearly. The moonlight reflecting off the gorge’s walls washed out his dwarven vision, so even after careful study, he could distinguish little more than a hulking pair of shoulders filling the canyon from wall to wall. Nevertheless, it appeared that Sult and the Granite Company were giving the giant a good fight. Patch’s head was tilted forward to look at the ground, and he seemed oblivious to anything but stomping and cursing the dwarves at his feet.

  “Rikus, didn’t you see that?” Neeva asked, a note of urgency in her voice.

  “What?” the mul asked. He scoured the gorge’s shadows for something he had missed.

  “Up there,” Neeva corrected.

  She pointed into the sky, where a crimson sphere hung just above the opposite rim of the gorge. The ball was flickering and sputtering, like a torch that had burned all its oil, and was so faint it barely stood out from the night.

  “What’s that?” Rikus asked.

  “Rkard’s sun-spell.” Her voice cracked as she spoke. “He’s in trouble.”

  “It’s about to go out,” Rikus observed. “How long does it last?”

  “A quarter hour,” Neeva replied. She looked at Rikus then asked, “Do you think there’s any chance Sadira’s awake yet?”

  “If she were awake, there would be no need for Rkard to cast his spell,” the mul replied.

  Neeva started to back down the tunnel. “We’ve got to help him!”

  Rikus grabbed her shoulder. “It’ll take too long to return,” he said. “But I know a faster way.”

  Neeva allowed herself to be pulled up the passage. “How?”

  Rikus took the rope off her shoulder. He began tying it around himself, looping it first between his legs, then around his hips, over his shoulders, and beneath his arms so it would spread the impact of a long fall over the strongest points of his body.

  “Leave about ten arms of rope between us,” Rikus said, finishing his harness off with a secure knot. “Fasten yourself into the other end of the line like I have. Then come up here next to me.”

  By the time they finished, Caelum was crawling up the tunnel toward them. “What’s wrong?” he asked, eyeing the rope strung between his wife and Rikus.

  “Your son’s in trouble,” the mul answered.

  Rikus checked Neeva’s harness then twisted himself around so that he sat at the mouth of the tunnel, his legs dangling over the edge. Neeva passed him his battle-axe and sat next to him, cradling her own weapon in her arms.

  “Wait!” Caelum cried. “That rope isn’t tied off. You’ll fall—”

  “Not now, husband,” Neeva snapped. Without looking back at the dwarf, she peered down at Patch’s shoulder, which was just a little bit ahead of their perch. “I know what to do.”

  “Just like old times,” Rikus answered, smiling. “Go!”

  Gripping his axe with both hands, he slipped out of the tunnel. He pushed off the gorge wall with his legs, driving himself to the side so that he would fall in front of Patch’s body. In the same instant, Neeva also slipped from her perch, though she launched herself straight ahead so she would come down behind the giant. The rope stretched out between her and Rikus, keeping them connected as they plummeted into the shadows.

  Rikus heard Caelum cry out, then the roar of the wind filled his ears and drowned out the dwarf. The mul felt his own voice vibrating inside his skull and knew he was screaming, but he simply ignored the panicked part of his mind and focused his thoughts on one simple task: clutching his battle-axe.

  Rikus plunged past a tangle of hair braids, and Neeva passed out of sight behind Patch’s massive collarbone. The mul hit feet-first, then glanced off the giant’s breast and bounced away. The rope caught him an instant later, his makeshift harness biting deep beneath his legs and arms as the cord stretched with the force of the fall. It squeezed tight around his ribs, filling his chest with a terrible ache and driving the air from his lungs in an involuntary groan. He heard a similar grunt from Neeva’s side of the shoulder, then felt himself arcing back toward the titan’s chest. As painful as the stop was, Rikus knew that it would have been much worse—possibly even snapping his back or breaking his ribs—had he not taken the time to tie himself into the line as he had.

  Patch roared in surprise and wrenched around to see what had fallen on him. The motion sent Rikus swinging toward the gorge wall, and the rope skipped as his weight hit the end. Fearing the line would slip off the huge shoulder, he swung his axe
as hard as he could. The steel head drove deep into the titan’s breast, instantly stopping the mul’s flight and drawing a pained howl from the giant.

  Releasing his weapon, Rikus grabbed a fold of the giant’s smelly sheepskin tunic and pulled himself forward. Patch’s hand slapped down behind him. The back edge of the double-bladed axe sank deep into the titan’s palm, and the giant bellowed in anger. While the titan plucked the battle-axe from his palm, the mul climbed for the opposite shoulder. He saw Patch raise a hand to claw at him, then the giant abruptly stopped as a flurry of dull thumps sounded at his feet.

  “Stomp the Granite Company, will you!” cried a dwarf’s angry voice. “We’ll chop you off at the ankles, you lout!”

  Patch hopped from one foot to the other. Each time he changed legs, a dwarf cried out in pain, and the sound of folding steel echoed up from the dark gorge. Determined to make the most of the diversion, Rikus continued his climb and soon pulled himself over the giant’s shoulder. He met Neeva coming from the other side. Like Rikus, she remained harnessed into the rope.

  “Everything okay?” Rikus asked.

  “It will be, when we choke this giant,” Neeva replied.

  The warrior scrambled away, crossing in front of the titan’s throat. The mul jumped over the back of the shoulder. Patch did not attempt to stop them, his attention fixed on the dwarven axes hacking at his ankles. Rikus waited until he saw Neeva appear behind the giant’s other shoulder, then braced his feet and pulled. She did the same. The rope, now looped around the huge throat like a garotte, tightened.

  Patch forgot the dwarves and tried to pull the rope away. His efforts were to no avail. Rikus and Neeva had pulled the cord so tight that it bit deep into his flesh, and the titan could not slip his fingers beneath the taut line. A deep gurgle rumbled from the brute’s throat.

  Patch stumbled around, turning his back toward the cliff. Anticipating the giant’s next move, Rikus called, “Cross and