by David Adams
“I must be getting jumpy in my old age,” he mumbled to himself, using the goblin language. Despite his own dismissive words, he remained tense during the remainder of his watch.
He woke Corson when his watch was through, hesitated a moment, and then said, “Thought I saw shape in trees. Not there when looked. Saw and heard nothing.”
“Might have been a trick of the light from the fire. And we’ve been through a lot. Get some sleep.”
“Be careful.”
“I will,” Corson answered, stifling a yawn. He laughed at himself and at the scowl the yawn drew from Lucien. “I will keep a good watch.”
He was as good as his word, and even though Corson saw nothing, he warned Demetrius in the same way. When morning came they discussed what had taken place, and Lucien felt led to apologize for a false warning.
“It is better to be cautious and alert,” said Tala, even as the others started to tease the goblin in a good-natured way. “The Dark One has many servants.”
“Did you see something as well?” Rowan asked her.
“No. I slept soundly. And if something was there, there is little we can do about it now. Lucien, how big was the shadow?”
“Size of goblin or man, but not like either. Not see well enough to say more.”
Tala pondered this for a time. “We should all stay on our guard. If anyone thinks they see anything, day or night, let me know.”
“What do you think it might be?” Rowan asked.
“I’d rather not say unless we see something again. It might be nothing.”
The day was gray, clouds rolling in from the west and bringing a hint of snow. As the group rode east the Trawnor Mountains seemed to loom up out of the misty distance, and as the two ranges between which they traveled drew closer together, it gave them the unsettling sensation that they were moving toward a dead end.
While the Garden Valley was mostly open fields, the mountain foothills were often wooded. They kept near the trees as much as they could, for the added shelter from the wind as well as for concealment. Occasionally they saw farmers or peddlers in the distance, but mostly they passed through the Valley alone and unseen.
They were crossing through a more dense section of forested land when a gruff voice demanded that they halt. Ahead of them a rugged-looking dwarf stepped into their path. “You have leave to pass through Meldros’ realm?” he asked, his tone all challenge.
“We do,” said Rowan. “I have a letter here with the king’s mark.” He unrolled it and held it up, written side toward the dwarf.
The dwarf squinted at it. “Can’t see it from here. Don’t know why Meldros would allow such a crew as what I see to pass…elf, goblin, Lorgrasian.”
Rowan dismounted, holding the letter before him like an offering. “The king has heard our reasons for being together, and of our quest. His approval has been granted. I did not know his subjects freely challenged his decisions.”
“Who said anything about that?” barked the dwarf. “I just need to see the letter. Keep your hands away from your weapons and your horses still. Those white creatures of yours can outrun me, but not the bolts in our crossbows.” At these words at least a half-dozen dwarves revealed themselves in part, behind rocks and trees, crossbows trained on the strangers to their land.
“We wish only to pass in peace,” Rowan said as he delivered the letter to the leader.
The dwarf read the letter from top to bottom three times, as if looking for a loophole, then finally returned it to Rowan with a harsh glare. “It seems to be in order, though with what’s happening elsewhere I’m surprised that King Meldros would want such as you here. It can only bode ill.”
“I hope it is not so, for your sake as well as ours.” Rowan remounted and waited patiently for the dwarf to step aside.
“Take care while you are in the realm. King’s orders or no, I’ve been instructed to keep the peace here, and I have leave to do so as I see fit.”
“We will cause you no trouble, that much I can promise.”
Unable to come up with any reason to delay them further, the dwarf finally moved from their path and waved them on. “Make sure that’s the case. I will be watching.”
They moved at a casual pace until they were well away from the dwarves, and even then only urged their horses to a gentle trot. Lucien slid up next to Rowan.
“How you swallow the arrogance of small creature?”
“It is their land, and we are their guests.”
“Claim on land weak. We risk our lives for them just as for our people.”
“We risk what we must. Fighting them for wounded pride would not help us, even if only their blood stained the ground. And they do fight well.”
“I face worse.”
“No doubt,” Rowan said with a smile. “As we all have on this journey. Still, a well-placed bolt or two can do much damage.”
Lucien snorted, wanting to press the argument but knowing it was pointless. “Good you speak for us. I be silent. Not speak well to little men.”
“Closer to little goblins,” Corson shouted toward them. “All they need is green skin and a shave.”
“Still be ugly like you,” Lucien shot back, although the jest seemed to lighten his mood. He fell back in line and did not speak of the dwarves again.
They were restless that evening, even though they traveled well past sunset, but eventually sleep came for all but the one on watch. In the deep of night Corson awoke to take his turn. He stirred the fire while Lucien settled in for rest, and then started a slow circuit around the camp.
The clouds had begun to thin, and the moon peeked out from time to time, casting its dull blue-white glow on the landscape below. Corson glanced up, his eyes adjusting for a moment to the new light, then busied himself again with his patrol.
Sensing something he slowed to a stop. He caught a glimpse of a shadow thirty feet ahead in the trees, and was sure at once that it was the same shape Lucien had seen the night before. He fought against his instincts, avoiding looking directly at it. He took up his patrol again, trying so hard to appear casual that he was certain he failed at it. As he circled he moved away from the shadowy form, and then it started to move as well, staying to a wider course further away from the fire.
Corson had no sense that it was stalking him or intending harm to him or his sleeping companions. Continuing on his circular route, he nonchalantly picked up a stick which had fallen from one of the trees, tapping it now and again on tree trunks or the ground in no particular pattern.
He had completed a lap around the camp, and could see the thing was still there, nearly back at the place where he had first spotted it. He continued on at a leisurely pace, but slowly spiraled closer to the fire. Taking a whack at the nearest tree with the stick, he followed through with the motion, striking Tala on the shoulder and proceeding on with his rounds.
Tala’s eyes snapped open, but she otherwise did not move. She gauged her surroundings, seeing Corson moving away while waving a stick, which he brandished like a swashbuckling pirate.
Her elven eyes adjusted quickly and she scanned the area without moving her head. The shadow came into view, flitting between trees. Tala moved in one concentrated burst of energy, grabbing her bow and letting an arrow fly in one seamless motion, but quick as she was, the arrow found no mark.
Everyone stirred at the sound of the bow, reaching for weapons by instinct.
“Be at ease,” Tala said, still studying the trees. “It is gone.”
“What is gone?” Rowan asked.
“The shadow Lucien saw. It was real and it returned.”
“Do you know what it is?”
“I fear I do. It is a Mist. Others call them Shadows. A soul bound to the Dark One that still haunts this plane. Like dark ghosts they appear, always shifting and changing, seen and then gone.”
“Is it following us?” Demetrius asked.
“It appears to be. I had hoped that Lucien had indeed seen nothing, just a trick of tired ey
es, perhaps. There is a chance this Mist simply inhabits this region, and watches us as strangers to this land.”
“But you don’t really believe that,” Demetrius said. “It is pursuing us for a reason.”
Tala nodded. “The creatures that guard the pieces of the Soul Sphere are close to the Dark One, some of his most trusted servants. When we struck them down, they left this mortal plane and returned to the pit from which they were spawned, or at least that is what those learned in such things say should happen. I think these guardians were so closely bound to the Dark One that they have become Mists—and are now acting as agents to help recover the shards we have taken.”
“How can you be sure of this?” asked Alexis.
“I cannot. But it has been a concern of mine from the beginning of our journey, and all that has taken place points to it being so. Even if I am wrong, the Mists serve nothing but evil. Solek may not be aware of who we are, but it is likely he knows someone is after the pieces of the Sphere.”
“Then he will be determined to stop us,” Alexis said.
“How can we hope to stand against his armies when entire cities have fallen?” Corson asked.
“We cannot,” said Tala. “We must keep to our own task and avoid his forces as best we can. Remember one other thing: the Dark One is powerful, but there is a limit to his power. Raising the Dead Legion in several places at one time, over great distances, drains him just as casting my small spells drains me. He already has powerful guardians in place around the Sphere pieces. He may set other defenses, but an entire army raised to stop us would probably ease the pressure on one of the kingdoms.”
“Then our task may do some good even if we fail,” said Corson.
“But if we fail, the good will only be temporary,” Rowan said. “We must succeed at all costs.”
“None of us will forsake the quest,” said Demetrius, “as we have already shown. We must, however, be wary of traps. If Solek knows where we go, he might set his snares along the path.”
“Then we go now,” said Lucien. “No more sleep tonight.”
“And if we hurry we might get in and out before Solek’s friend lets him know where we are,” said Corson.
They set a brisk pace, and after the morning sun peeked over the mountains they pushed the horses hard. Always now the mountains closed in, and Demetrius’ warning about snares made them realize how easily they could be trapped where the mountains finally came together—their apparent destination.
They ate the noon meal in the saddle, Tala telling them they were drawing close, that if they kept on as they were that they would arrive before dark.
By mid-afternoon they reached the place where the foothills of the Aetos touched the banks of the Wandering River, and they were forced to pick their way more carefully. Constantly their eyes surveyed the horizon, the rocks, the trees, looking for spies or worse.
There was no discussion about supper when the time arrived—no one wanted to slow, and no one had the stomach for food. Even if they reached their destination unhindered, they would then face another unknown, powerful enemy. Alexis knew it perhaps best of all, as her thoughts strayed often to her lost companions.
The mountains boxed them in now right, left, and forward. Seeing they would soon need to begin ascending the rugged hills and the jagged heights beyond, Tala paused to get her bearings. “We are near,” she announced. “There is a cave somewhere ahead.”
“Not another pit demon,” Corson moaned.
“It is not a large chamber. I just see a small cave.”
“I lead,” Lucien said, glancing at Tala. She pointed the way and he set out.
The trees started to thin as the ground became more rock than soil, and they decided to leave the horses and continue on foot. Alexis whispered a few words to one of the white mounts, and assured the others that the horses would be there when they returned. They went on only a few hundred yards when Tala called them to a halt.
“It is right in front of us, it has to be.” She calmed herself and used a quick spell. “It is just ahead.” She pointed at a sheer face of gray rock. “There.”
“Perhaps the entrance is elsewhere and the main cave here,” Demetrius offered.
“No,” Tala replied. “The entrance is here as well. It is hidden by magic.”
“That does not bode well,” said Rowan, “for what might lie beyond.”
“Better pit demon than tricks of mage,” grumbled Lucien. “No insult, Tala.”
“I am not offended. I might even agree with you.” She stepped forward and took a moment to study the wall of rock. Picking up a handful of pebbles, she flung them forward. They clattered against the stone and fell to the ground.
“Do we need a spell to open it?” Alexis asked.
“I don’t see any sign of…” Tala’s voice trailed off as she leaned forward, her eyes never straying from the mountain’s face. Carefully she reached a hand out as if to gently caress the rock, but where there appeared to be stone her fingers found nothing. Her hand vanished into the rock for an instant before she pulled it back. She studied her fingers as she flexed them. “Well, it seems we can pass inside, but only because we know the entrance is here. I do not think our horses would be able to pass, nor would any wild creature.”
“What if we are not as certain as you?” asked Corson.
“You’ll stub your toe then. The larger question is do we all go. If it is magic we face, then I—”
“I go,” said Lucien.
“We succeed or fail together,” said Demetrius. “We probably need your magic, but you might need our weapons.”
“The sun will soon set,” said Alexis. “Let’s see what awaits us.”
Tala asked for a torch, lit it, then thrust it into the rock for a moment before pulling it back. It remained ablaze. “Let’s go,” she said.
They passed through the magical wall of rock one after another, Tala first, then Lucien, Rowan, Demetrius, Alexis, and finally with a grimace, as if he expected to be knocked onto the seat of his pants when he stepped forward, Corson.
As soon as Tala entered the cave, she could see she would not need the torch, as the walls emitted a soft blue glow. The cave was not large, only twenty feet across and thirty deep. A small wooden table stood toward the rear of the chamber, and upon it, under a dome of glass, was the piece of the Soul Sphere they sought.
Tala stood frozen in place. Surely the magic that hid the entrance could not be the only defense set for the shard. She studied the floor, the walls, the ceiling, seeing nothing other than rock but knowing her eyes could not be trusted. The room felt close despite its emptiness. Realizing a time had passed, she turned, expecting Lucien or one of the others to be right behind her. She touched the wall that had been to her back, and her hand passed through, as she expected. Wondering why the others hesitated, she stepped back outside.
The world was as she had left it, the sun setting, the horses nibbling at the sparse grass, the Wandering River starting its long journey to the sea. But of her friends there was no sign. “I should have gone alone,” she muttered to herself. She called out three times, but received no answer. Steeling herself, she passed again into the cave.
Like the outside world, the cave remained unchanged. It was also unpopulated. “Then this is for me only. So be it.”
She was sure she had spoken the words, not just thought them, but the sound did not reach her ears. She clapped her hands together sharply, but again all was silent.
* * *
Lucien passed through the stone wall and stepped into almost utter darkness. He allowed his eyes a moment to adjust, shuffling to the side so whoever followed him would not run into his back. He could not sense Tala in any way, and when he spoke her name, the sound vanished, as if the blackness swallowed sound as well as light. He started to wonder what had become of the torch Tala held, when his eyes caught a faint glow some twenty feet above the cave’s floor.
Suspended magically in mid-air was the piece of the Sphere
they sought. Lucien paused to ponder how it might be retrieved.
* * *
Rowan had expected to see the cave lit dimly by Tala’s torch, but instead was greeted by the sight of two pillars of fire that stretched from floor to ceiling. The cave otherwise appeared empty—the pillars cast enough light for him to see the full interior of the place, and Tala and Lucien were not there.
The pillars were close, just to his right and left, and although he could feel no heat from them, he noticed they burned in silence, and he determined to keep his distance. He edged to the right, pressing against the wall as he slid within a few feet of the flame. Once clear he turned and saw that the pillars had multiplied, a third and a fourth having appeared, then a fifth, forming just where he had entered. The pillars moved from time to time, slowly, but if there was any sentience to them—or guiding them—they did not appear driven to approach him directly. One of the flames near the hidden entrance flickered out, but a moment later was replaced by a new pillar of fire.
* * *
Demetrius wondered at the description Tala had given to this place—“a small cave,” she had said. Perhaps up ahead and out of sight he would find something matching that description, but what was before him now was a long corridor hewn in the rock, similar to the pathway that led to the lair of the pit demon. Torches lit the way here as if in welcome. He already had a hand on the hilt of his sword, but now he drew it while taking a few uncertain steps forward. He could not understand why those before him would race down the hall—perhaps there had been something that had compelled them to rush forward. Caution caused him to beat down the urge welling up inside him to call out to the others.
He turned, wondering what was keeping Alexis and Corson.
* * *
Alexis had her spear at the ready even as she stepped into the cave, yet she still started at what she saw.
The room was bathed in soft yellow light, which glinted in the eyes of the large arachnids that were arrayed around her. Their black bodies were marked with red circles and stood to her knee, the hairy, jointed legs nearly as high as her waist. Cruel mandibles flexed in preparation for use, while their myriad black eyes studied her with brooding malice.