The Verdant Passage

by Denning, Troy

“Perhaps, but Caro’s focus is serving the Asticles family. Do you know what it would mean if he betrayed me?”

  “Eternal damnation seems a high price to pay for betrayal,” Ktandeo agreed. “Still, Athas is full of dwarven banshees, and we have no way of knowing what Tithian may have offered him. I hope you had enough sense not to tell your servant where you are now.”

  Agis nodded. “I sent him home the same day of my meeting with Tithian. He hasn’t seen us since.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Ktandeo answered. He stared at his cane’s pommel. “What you saw in Tithian’s memory is worrisome.” He looked to Sadira. “I owe you an apology, my dear. You were right—nothing is more important than killing Kalak, and as soon as possible.”

  “Why?” Sadira and Agis asked the question simultaneously.

  Ktandeo raised his hand and shook his head. “Let us pray you never learn the answer,” he said, switching his gaze to Agis. “Now, what do you make of Tithian’s proposal? Surely you don’t think the high templar can be trusted?”

  “Only to do what is best for himself,” Agis replied. “But I do think he’s sincere about working with you.”

  “Then you’re a fool,” answered Ktandeo.

  “Perhaps not,” Agis countered. “Kalak has put Tithian in a hopeless situation. He has no choice except to turn to the king’s enemies for help.”

  Sadira added, “At the same time, he warned Agis to watch himself, so—”

  A handful of muffled cries sounded in the plaza outside the wineshop, interrupting Sadira. Though the curtain remained drawn, it was not thick enough to muffle the panicked voices. The half-elf was rising to investigate the noise when the barman stuck his head around the edge of the curtain. In his hand, he held the satchel in which Sadira had been carrying her spellbook when Radurak captured her.

  “Templars!” the barman hissed. He shoved the satchel into her hands and left.

  Sadira turned to Ktandeo. “Where did he get this?” she gasped, slinging it over her shoulder. She was so delighted to have it back that she was hardly concerned about the templars.

  “From Radurak, of course,” the old man answered curtly. “There’s no time to discuss that now. Tithian’s offer was bait, and you two swallowed it!”

  The sorcerer tipped the stone bench onto its side. Beneath it, a cobweb-filled stairway descended into the murky earth at a precariously steep angle. To Sadira’s elven vision, the first few feet of the stone stairs were outlined in blue tones emitted by the cool rock. Beyond that, the passage was as dark to her as it was to her human companions.

  “Where does this go?” Agis demanded.

  Before anyone could answer, the harsh, demanding voice of a templar sounded outside the curtain. Without waiting for Ktandeo’s command, the half-elf took Agis’s hand and led him into the stairwell. As the old sorcerer followed, he pulled the bench back into place, plunging the stairwell into darkness. The red hues of her companions’ warm bodies and the blue hues of the cold stone provided all the illumination Sadira needed, but she knew her human friends would be completely blind in the darkness.

  “I can cast a light spell,” she whispered.

  “Absolutely not!” came the old man’s reply. “Go!” The half-elf started down the stairs, guiding Agis by the hand. Ktandeo followed a step behind, his cane quietly tapping each stair before he stepped on it. As they descended, the silky filaments of the cobwebs slipped over Sadira’s bare shoulders like a gossamer shawl, sending shivers of trepidation down her spine. Several times, imagining that something had crawled beneath her chemise, she had to stifle the urge to slap at her back.

  Worse than the cobwebs was the thick layer of dust covering the stairs. With each step, small puffs billowed up to tickle her nose and throat, vexing her with the urge to sneeze and cough. The dust was so deep that the edges of the stairs were slick and treacherous. Several times, Sadira slipped. Only the strong grip of Agis’s warm hand prevented her from tumbling into the murkiness.

  After many moments of hurried descent, they reached the bottom of the stairwell. Then the passage changed into a corridor, which ended almost immediately at a stone wall. Sadira turned around, conscious of a musty smell and the refreshing coolness of subterranean air.

  “We’re at the bottom,” she whispered. A loud clunk echoed from the upper end of the stairs. Far above, a narrow shaft of light poured into the stairwell. A black-robed templar appeared at the entrance.

  “Go on,” Agis whispered.

  “It’s a dead end,” Sadira replied.

  “Wrong,” Ktandeo hissed. “Be quiet while I take care of our friends.”

  The old man calmly waited as the templars lit torches and began descending the stairs. The heat of the small flames overpowered Sadira’s elven vision with painful white light, but her eyes quickly adjusted back to normal.

  As the first templar reached the halfway point, a crooked smile crossed Ktandeo’s lips. “Cover your ears.”

  The old man pointed the tip of his cane up the stairwell and uttered a single word, “Nok.” A deep red light blossomed in the heart of the glassy pommel.

  Sadira gasped as a strange tingle stirred deep inside her belly. The half-elf clasped her hands over her ears just as Ktandeo whispered, “Ghostfire.”

  A tremendous blast slammed through the corridor. Dust and stone chips showered down on the trio, and the air itself beat against them. A geyser of nebulous light shot up the stairwell. At first it merely washed over the men on the stairs, illuminating their frightened faces in a roiling, ruby-hued stream. For more than a second, the astonished templars remained motionless inside the crimson ray, their mouths gaping open and their hands clutching their short swords.

  The spell began to fade. The skin of those caught within its beam grew ashen and flaky. Flesh poured off their bodies in a fine powder, and screams filled the stairwell. Some men tried to flee up the stairs, and others charged downward. Their efforts did little good, for as the light grew dimmer, their hair, eyes, and even their entrails turned to ash. By the time the stairwell returned to darkness and Sadira was once again relying on her elven vision, all that remained of the templars was a mass of charred bones clattering down the steps.

  “The cane drew its energy through us!” Agis gasped.

  “What kind of magic is that?” Sadira demanded. Ktandeo had never told her it was possible to draw magical energy from animal life.

  Ktandeo let out a fatigued gasp. He reached out for Agis’s shoulder, but could not find it in the darkness. Sadira stepped past the noble and slipped her shoulder under the old man’s arm. To her eyes, the color of his body had faded from deep red to pink. Ktandeo’s magic had apparently drawn most of its energy from the old man himself.

  Supporting himself on Sadira’s shoulder, the sorcerer staggered to the end of the corridor and tapped his cane against a stone. “Push there,” he gasped.

  With her free arm, Sadira guided Agis forward, and he gave the stone a shove. A door-sized slab pivoted open in front of them as more templars stepped into the top of the stairwell. The king’s men descended rapidly, cursing and kicking at the bones of their dead fellows.

  “Take them alive!” yelled a commanding voice.

  Sadira prodded Agis through the door. “We should have killed Caro when we had the chance.”

  “This only proves it wasn’t him,” objected Agis. “He doesn’t know where we are.

  “Quiet!” Ktandeo gasped, pushing Sadira through the doors. Once they were clear, Sadira quickly inspected their dark surroundings while Agis closed the door. Ahead lay a silent cavern smelling of mildew and decay. It was filled with the round, cool-blue shapes of rocky pillars rising more than ten feet ovehead to disappear into a yellowish mass of gauzy filament that hung from the ceiling.

  “Nok,” Ktandeo said again, speaking the word that activated his cane, then named the spell he wished to use. “Forestlight.”

  The pommel of his cane began to glow. Sadira blinked, and then she saw that the obs
idian ball was surrounded by a small circle of eerie violet light. She felt a faint tingle in her gut as the cane drew energy from her.

  Muffled voices began to sound through the stone slab at their backs. Ktandeo led them away, moving at a painfully slow pace. Sadira knew he would never be able to outrun the templars. Fortunately, the trio had already traveled many yards into the pillar forest by the time the hidden door behind them began to scrape open.

  The old sorcerer ran the palm of his hand over his cane’s pommel, and the violet light faded away. Behind them, the torchlit forms of templars began to pour into the cavern.

  “You’re our eyes now,” Ktandeo whispered, pulling Sadira to the front of the party. “I’ll hold your hand. Agis, you hold my cane. Keep an eye on what’s happening behind us.”

  Sadira glanced over her shoulder and saw that the number of templars gathering outside the door had risen to more than a dozen. “Where are we going?”

  Grasping her by the shoulders, Ktandeo oriented her so that she faced exactly the same direction as him. “Straight ahead. Count fifty pillars and stop.”

  The half-elf took her master’s hand and started walking at the fastest pace she judged Ktandeo could endure.

  A templar’s strident voice echoed through the quiet cavern. “They went this way! Ten silver for every man here if we catch them alive. Ten lashes if they escape!”

  “Agis?” Sadira asked, continuing forward. She did not look back, for she did not want her elven vision washed out by the heat of the templars’ torches.

  “They’re following our path,” he reported.

  “Run!” Ktandeo hissed.

  “But—”

  “Do it!” he ordered.

  Holding Ktandeo’s hand, Sadira set off at a jog, her steps falling silently on the cold stone floor. Behind her, the old sorcerer stumbIed and scraped along, his breath coming in unsteady, rasping wheezes. Agis brought up the rear, his footfalls muffled and steady. Though their passage could hardly be called hushed, the half-elf did not worry. Their pursuers were making so much noise that she and her friends could have spoken aloud without concern.

  After Sadira passed the correct number of pillars, she stopped. “This is it,” she said. “How close are they, Agis?”

  “Three city blocks. Maybe less,” he answered. “It’s hard to tell.”

  “How are they following us?” Sadira asked. “Cilops?”

  “I don’t see any sign of handlers or animals,” Agis said, scraping his foot along the rocky floor.

  The old sorcerer hefted his walking stick. “Let’s see if I can’t slow them down a bit.”

  Fearing Ktandeo was too weak to use the cane again, Sadira pushed it down. “Allow me.”

  Kneeling at the base of the pillar, the sorceress fetched a piece of charcoal from the shoulder satchel that held her spellbook, then traced a series of flame-shaped runes at the bottom of the column.

  “We’d better hurry. They’re running hard,” Agis advised. “I can almost see their faces. They must be only a block or two back by now.”

  Sadira pointed at the ceiling and summoned the energy she needed for the spell. To her surprise, a large circle of the gauzy filament overhead shriveled up and turned black. The filament had to be some sort of strange plant. Thankful that Ktandeo could not see what she had done, Sadira spoke her incantation and rose.

  Agis whispered, “They’ll see us soon.”

  “I’m ready,” Sadira answered, also whispering. “Now where, Ktandeo?”

  “Twenty pillars to the right,” the old man gasped.

  “Let’s go.” Agis said.

  Sadira took Ktandeo’s hand and led him away. They had traveled only six pillars when a templar cried out, “I see them!”

  “I hope your spell works,” Ktandeo huffed.

  “You’ll be proud,” Sadira promised, continuing forward.

  A few seconds later, a loud crack echoed behind them. Sadira looked over her shoulders and saw a pillar of golden, fluidlike flame consume the leader of the templar column. The man screamed and whirled in a wild dance of agony, throwing great globes of golden flame all around.

  The commander shouted orders for the rear of the column to circle around and take the lead. As the templars obeyed, more sprays of flame erupted from the base of the pillar, shooting directly for the nearest men. More templars burst into flame. Within moments the cavern was glowing with golden light and echoing with anguished screams. The templars fell into complete disarray.

  “Let’s go,” Agis said. “Their confusion won’t last forever.”

  “Wait a moment,” Sadira replied, motioning her companions to hide behind a pillar.

  She pointed a hand upward and summoned the energy for another spell. Again, a circle of the gauzy flora overhead shriveled and turned black. This time, the small skeleton of some long-dead cavern animal tumbled from the ceiling and landed at Ktandeo’s feet. The thing had a flat, circular skull with four eye sockets and six legs.

  Ktandeo’s eyes went from the skeleton to the ceiling, then the old man gasped. “Look what you did.”

  Sadira cringed at the reprimand, knowing it would eventually result in a long lecture, then cast her spell. A glimmering yellow light, resembling a distant torch, appeared amidst the pillars to the right of the templars. It slowly began to drift away.

  For the next few moments, Sadira held her breath and hoped the simple conjuration would be enough to fool the templars. She had intended to enhance the deception by adding ghostly voices to the phantom torch, but that was out of the question now that Ktandeo had seen how delicate the strange plantlife on the ceiling was.

  At last, a templar noticed the light. “What’s that?” he cried, barely making his voice heard above the general clamor.

  Sadira gestured at the light, and it danced away as if running. The templars followed, screaming orders at each other and leaving their burning companions behind to die.

  “Now we can go,” Sadira said.

  She led her companions forward until she had counted twenty pillars, as Ktandeo had instructed. “Now where?” she asked. The templars were no more than distant voices of turmoil, and Sadira was once again relying on her elven vision to see in the dark.

  “Turn half a step to the left,” Ktandeo panted, barely able to speak.

  “I think we can rest for a minute,” Agis said, supporting the old man. “We seem to have lost them.”

  “What are all these strange columns for?” Sadira asked, inspecting the pillar closest to her. It had a woodlike grain, but the thing felt like solid rock.

  “I assume you’re looking at the pilings,” Agis replied, blindly facing Sadira’s voice. “Those are the foundations of the city. This is UnderTyr.”

  “Tyr is built on pillars?” Sadira asked. “Why?”

  “According to legend, Tyr once sat in the middle of a vast swamp—”

  “That’s more than legend,” Ktandeo said weakly, his voice lacking its customary strength. “But we have more important things to discuss—such as the destruction Sadira’s spellcasting caused.”

  “What was I supposed to do, let them catch us?” she demanded.

  “Yes,” Ktandeo answered, fixing his eyes on the darkness over Sadira’s head. “You must maintain the Balance at all costs. Once you become like the sorcerer-king and his minions, there’s no coming back to our way.”

  “I thought you said killing Kalak was more important than—”

  A pair of fine-featured men with the arched brows and slender features of half-elves jumped from behind the pillar at Ktandeo’s back. Both wore the heavy cassocks of templars. One of them stood nearly as tall as a full elf, and the other had an unusually stocky build.

  “Behind you!” Sadira yelled, grabbing Ktandeo and pulling him toward her. “Templars!”

  The tall half-elf tossed a rope net in her direction. The square mesh settled over her shoulders before she could react. Immediately the templar cinched the drawline, and the bottom of the net cont
racted, pinning her arms against her body.

  Ktandeo activated his cane’s violet light.

  Though she had little chance of freeing herself, Sadira continued to struggle, hoping to keep the tall half-elf busy.

  “Commander!” cried one of the half-elves. “Over here!”

  Ktandeo raised his arms to use his magic, but the stocky templar called the king’s name and pointed a finger at the old sorcerer, casting a spell of his own. Ktandeo’s hands grew stiff, and his incantation came out in a jumble of meaningless phrases. The sorcerer tried to shrug off the templar’s magic, but could do no better than to move at half the speed of everyone else.

  Agis drew his steel dagger. He sent the stocky half-elf reeling with a kick to the stomach, then stepped toward Sadira and slashed the rope holding her prisoner.

  The tall templar dropped the net and backed away before Agis could strike again. The noble whirled on the other ambusher, catching the stocky half-elf just as he was recovering from the first kick and reaching for his sword. Agis drew his dagger across the man’s throat before the man’s weapon left the scabbard.

  The effects of the enchantment upon Ktandeo ended. He took two steps forward and stumbled over the half-elf Agis had just killed. The old man fell to the ground in a heap.

  By the time Agis turned to face the tail half-elf again, the templar had fled into the dark. Instead of attacking, the noble finished cutting the sorceress free.

  “We’d better move,” Ktandeo groaned, slowly returning to his feet. “Look.”

  He pointed back the way they had come. Sadira could already see torches moving in their direction.

  “How are we going to escape?” she asked.

  “Follow me,” Ktandeo said.

  Wheezing and gasping, the old man led the way at a slow run, lighting their path with his glowing cane. The templar commander’s harsh voice echoed behind the trio as he shouted orders to his subordinates. Each time, the voice was louder.

  “Maybe you should darken your cane, Ktandeo,” Sadira suggested. “It’s making us easy to follow.”

  “It’s not my cane they’ve been following so far,” he huffed. The sorcerer braced his hands on his knees and looked ahead, to where the forest of pilings ended. From there the ground sloped down at a steep angle. “Besides, we’re almost safe.”