by Lyndon Hardy
Rendrac looked at the soft background lighting, back to Alodar’s torch, and then extinguished his own. He tied shut the third small pouch crammed to overflowing at his waist. With a grin, he snapped open a large sack that hung to the floor. Picking the jewels from the walls and dropping them inside, he continued onward.
They drew nearer the glowing redness until it filled the tunnel with its light Alodar extinguished his own torch and let it hang at his side, no longer needing it to show his way. With a dull realization, he saw that the glow came from a pond of molten rock lapping the floor some hundred yards ahead. The liquid nearest them was placid, but farther on Alodar squinted into a violent frothing of reds and yellows that shot brilliant sprays to the very top of the cavern, melting rock where it struck and tumbling giant stones into its midst. Further back, the tunnel roof glowed amber as it blended into the level of the lava. They could advance no further.
“The biggest prizes yet,” Rendrac called out, panting down to the very lip of the lake of lava. There in a crystalized border around the pool, like the icing on a cake, massive gems sparkled in the glow. The smaller stones were the size of cherries and the largest as big as a man’s fist. Rendrac lowered his pouch to the ground with its mouth gaping open and shoveled the jewels inside. Like a garden keeper removing autumn leaves, he methodically moved around the edge of the lake, raking in the treasure.
He finished stuffing his sack and bound it shut as Alodar came closer, wobbling on each step, his eyes glazed into an unblinking stare. Rendrac opened a second bag; holding it low to the ground, he tried batting the larger gems into the folds with his gloved fingers. His eyes raced over the jewels strewn about, disdaining those which were less than a baron’s ransom. He looked out over the pool, stopped his collection, and hesitated.
“It will be enough,” he said. “I need not test the ointment that far.” Returning to the first sack, he wrapped the drawstrings around his wrist and then slowly pulled it over his shoulder. He staggered slightly as the heavy weight thumped against his back, grasped the second bag firmly, and started to return in Alodar’s direction.
This would be his chance, Alodar thought dumbly. With painful slowness he forced his hand down to the scabbard at his side and winced as he tightened his grip on the hilt.
Rendrac saw the motion and laughed. Without a word, he stopped, slowly balancing his weight on one foot and then kicking out with the other at Alodar’s stomach. Alodar saw the boot rising but his reactions were too dulled to respond. With his sword only six inches from the scabbard, he felt the blow strike home. As he crashed to the tunnel floor, Rendrac swept by, leaving him to regain his breath and scramble to his feet alone.
Alodar sloughed aside the effects of the kick, but his palms and the soles of his feet felt burned, and the rest of his body ached with protest from the heat. He tried to lick the roof of his mouth with his tongue, but it lay flaccid and no moisture would come. He should have been disappointed that Rendrac was gone, but the heat dulled his will to care. He looked dimly forward to where the large jewels had been and saw no more. Only the smaller gems that the warrior had left lay scattered about the edge of the undulating pool of lava.
Like an enchanted harvester, he stiffly lumbered forward and dropped a dozen small stones into the pouch at his side. He looked uncomprehendingly at the wealth at his feet, back up the passageway, and then across the sea of molten rock.
As he scanned the bright red liquid, he saw what Rendrac had chosen not to investigate, a small dark speck bobbing in the fiery waves. He squinted his eyes against the light to see what it was.
“A chest,” he gasped. “Much smaller than the largest of the jewels, but a chest nonetheless.” He hesitated as he watched the small box bob on the slowly rolling surface, trying to remember why he was there.
He looked again at the chest. It might be the means for his freedom—and the treasure for the fair lady. The quests were still intertwined.
He hesitated for another moment, trying to anticipate the shock of contact, but his thoughts fused together in a sludge. He shrugged his shoulders and took a first step towards the very edge of the pool and then another.
The pain coursed through his palms and he felt the burning sensation creep down the nape of his neck and onto his back. He tried to shut his mind to the protests of his body and plod on to the edge. He concentrated only on raising one foot and extending it in front of the other. His supporting leg trembled with each step. His gait became a simple shuffle, each pace bringing him only inches closer to his goal. Finally he stood by the edge of the pool, feeling the angry waves of heat rise and bake his chest and thighs. He hesitated and then reached down into the lava to retrieve the small container from where it floated.
His hand screamed anew, not only skin but muscle and bone feeling the energy penetrate deep. Waves of heat pulsated up his arm and into his body. His flesh seemed to sear and his vital fluids boil as the feeling ripped through him. Alodar somehow ignored the pain and, clasping the small box as firmly as he could, he rose to stand erect.
The pain throbbed for several minutes more, and then was replaced by a deep numbness that ran the length of his arm. There was nothing left to stay for, he thought finally, and he turned and started to climb the tunnel to safety.
With great effort, he placed one foot up the incline and then followed with the other. Far more slowly than he had descended, he struggled upward. His consciousness slid nearly away as visions of Iron Fist, Saxton’s shop, Cedric’s courtyard, Aeriel and the angry red walls hallucinated before him. To the small amount of reason that remained, it seemed that retreating from the heat should bring relief, but nothing seemed to change.
On and on he staggered, focusing only on the floor, not knowing if each step would be his last, and dimly not even caring. One weaving stride followed another up the passageway, and Alodar could not think clearly enough to recognize any of the natural features he had passed on the way down. After a countless number of steps, he began to realize that his torch was again of use and the fiery lava no longer lighted his way.
Some time later the pain lessened as he climbed, but he could not take heart, so weary were his limbs and lungs from the punishment they had received. His breath was forced, and every muscle throbbed from its abuse. Eventually the slope became less steep, but Alodar did not notice as he continued to plod onward. He saw the light flickering along the wall and he followed the guide-posts upward. Finally he looked forward and blinked at a large patch of rosy blue directly ahead, beckoning to him with whiffs of fresh air.
Alodar threw one leg over the lip of the opening and pulled himself out of the tunnel. Sliding down the outside of the slope, he tumbled into an exhausted heap in the midst of Basil’s camp.
He looked slowly about and saw Basil on his knees in front of two large chests with their lids thrown open. The apothecary brought his hands upwards, filled with gems, and then let the jewels spill through his fingers. About ten paces behind, Rendrac stood, holding a large pole horizontally across his chest and pushing back the excited miners straining for a glimpse of the treasure.
“You return,” Basil said looking up from his play. “By the laws, you return.” He looked quickly about the camp and then to the horizon. He turned back to Alodar with a smile. “Yes, you return,” he said, “just in time to begin your lifetime of service.”
Alodar sighed wearily and looked up into the first rays reaching over the horizon. “My contract is not yet completed,” he said as he set the small chest aside and fumbled into the pouch at his waist. He grabbed a few of the small stones and flung them across the ground. “With these gems, you are more than paid in full.” He looked down at the chest and reached into the bag again. “And a fee for the rest since it is by your tunnels I obtained the treasure that is totally mine.”
Basil looked at the small jewels scattered at his feet and then down at Alodar’s side. “Well said, novice,” he replied. “You as well as your master Saxton have a spirit I would lo
ve to break. But I am not a man for grudges. Give me that interesting item you extracted from the depths and you leave a free man, with whatever remains in your pouch, as well.”
“You have already been paid,” Alodar said. “You have no just claim to anything more.”
Basil looked quickly about the camp. “Perhaps I do not,” he admitted, “but then Rendrac is not so principled as I. His impulses cannot always be controlled, although when he apologizes to me with small gifts such as these, all is forgiven.” He again ran his hands through the chests and motioned Rendrac forward with a wave. “Take the small chest,” he ordered. “The treasure from the depths. I want it all.”
“Well enough,” Rendrac growled, stepping forward. “Let us see what this novice can do without a protector standing at his side.” With a frown of irritation, he wiggled both arms stiffly in a shimmer of opalescence in the rays of the rising sun. He grimaced and reached up to pull at his cheek, frowning with the effort.
Alodar struggled to his feet and tried to force his senses alert. He looked at the giant striding forward and he sighed with his fatigue. “Cedric says that you will not win unless you think that you can,” he muttered, but other thoughts brushed his concentration aside. For months he had received less than a good night’s sleep, and in the past day none at all. Whatever energy he had left seemed boiled away in the depths of the mountain. His arms and legs were no more than dead limbs on a burnt-out tree, hollowed to the core. And Rendrac had pummeled him into the corner of Saxton’s shop with ease when he was fresh and alert. What chance had he now? But it was for vengeance he had come, and it must be seen through to the end.
Alodar drew his sword and tensed, ready as he could be. He breathed the sweet air deeply, trying to force life back into his tired limbs as Rendrac unsheathed his blade and slowly swung his arm back for the initial blow.
Alodar dully watched the tip of the sword as it cut through the air in the backward swing and then reversed direction to begin its journey forward. He turned to the side and presented his own sword as guard, wincing in anticipation of the shock of contact. He blinked once, but the blow did not come.
In disbelief, Alodar looked to Rendrac’s face and then back to the weapon still in midswing. As Alodar watched, it slowed to a crawl and then stopped motionless.
Almost simultaneously, the big man uttered a weak yelp, and his free hand slowly rose with a spasm of effort from his waist to a mouth held rigidly open under eyes filled with fear. For a second, nothing happened and then, like a silver statue, Rendrac toppled to the ground with a loud clang.
Alodar moved to the prostrate form, its limbs still in the rigid position they had held when erect. He reached out and touched the hand that held the blade and felt a deep coldness, rock-hard and smooth, Alodar struck down with his own sword, pommel first, onto an outstretched rigid arm. The now inert form rang from the contact.
“The ointment,” Alodar murmured. “It was meant to be used sparingly and burnt off. Rendrac was too greedy and applied too much. And now it has degraded with age and entrapped him.”
Basil’s jaw dropped in stunned disbelief, but he recovered and turned to the miners cautiously pressing closer behind. “After him,” the apothecary shouted. “His blade can touch but one or two, and we will have his treasure to add to our own as well.”
The miners hesitated, and Alodar saw his opportunity. With his last burst of energy, he sprinted forward and tipped over the chests at Basil’s feet, sending a cascade of brilliant jewels rolling down the hillside.
The advancing miners paused, then spun around in pursuit of the treasure as it tumbled by. In a moment, they were racing pell-mell after the speeding stones as they fell. Basil hesitated a moment more, eyeing first Alodar and then the gems cascading away.
“Stop, you wretches!” he yelled at last. “Unhand what is rightly the property of Basil the apothecary.” The men paid him no heed and raced onward, stooping and picking up the gems as they went.
“Stop, I say!” Basil called out as he pursued, pulling the magic dagger from his belt and waving it high in the air. With a vicious swing, he whacked at the neck of the slowest moving henchman as he stooped, and kicked out at another as he halted to consider which path downward to follow.
In an instant Alodar was alone, with only dim shouts and an occasional cry to break the stillness. He sat wearily down at last to collect his thoughts and decide what to do next.
The sounds grew fainter, and he decided that Basil and the others would not soon return to bother him. He looked about and retrieved from the hillside the small chest he had found and gently cradled it in his hands.
The deeper he went, the bigger had been the gemstones; and this was the deepest of all. Jewels for a royal diadem had been strewn about the cavern floor. What greater treasure must be resting within the confines of this small box? Visions of perfectly cut diamonds bigger than oranges danced in his mind. With a wrench of his knife, he popped open the lid.
He peered inside, and his heart sank in disappointment. Instead of breathtaking jewels, he saw instead two black spheres of volcanic basalt. Six months of effort, back-breaking labor and great risk to his life from the hazards of the formula, the snares of Basil’s factories, and finally the furnaces in the center of the mountain; and what did he have to show for it? A few jewels in his pouch and two machined hunks of common rock.
He had pictured himself questing for the fair lady like a hero from the sagas. His deed of daring was to win great treasure and sweep him in front of all others that sought her hand!
He sighed and set the chest to the ground. With his chin slumped he sat inert and unmoving and let the sun climb silently into the sky.
The inn room door creaked open to Alodar’s knock, and he looked into the face of Periac, the master thaumaturge.
“Alodar, you have returned,” Periac exclaimed. “Come in, come in. You are just in time for an evening’s instruction. We will continue from where we left off on the hills that bordered Iron Fist.”
Alodar looked wearily around the small bare room and headed for the stool in the corner. “A meal and a night’s rest first, master, for which I will fairly pay,” he said. “And it is not for knowledge of thaumaturgy that I seek you out.”
As Alodar slumped down, Periac reached out to brush the dust off the table with a sweep of his arm. “But I fare quite well in the city,” he said. “There is much pot mending and cistern excavation to be done and word of an honest craftsman soon gets around. I can well use a journeyman and you would find your stomach far better filled than when we worked the outlands. I doubt your start with alchemy has fared as well.”
Alodar reached for the pouch at his side and placed it on the table. “I have learned a few of the simpler activations and formulas,” he replied. “Saxton was most trusting with his craft when we had a rare idle moment together. It is true that I still know more of thaumaturgy. But as for the fruits of my effort, what do you think of these?”
With a flourish, he tipped the sack. A sapphire, a tourmaline, and two rubies clattered onto the table.
Periac’s eyes widened and he stroked his goatee in thought. “In truth,” he said at last, “you have always impressed me as a clever lad. Perhaps your skill does better reside with another craft.”
Alodar waved his hand over the table. “It may well be impressive,” he said, “but not enough to turn the head of the fair lady. Here, take one ruby. It is yours for the favors I ask of you. Seek out the shop of the alchemist and use the second to see that he has a decent burial. The sapphire I would have you carry to Cedric the warmaster, in compensation for my not continuing instruction at his hand.”
He glanced down at the table and put the tourmaline back into the pouch. “The last I will save,” he said, “for I suppose tomorrow I must eat as well. But the true reason for why I am here, master, is because of your knowledge of other than the craft of which you are master.” Without waiting for reply, Alodar reached again to his waist and brought for
th the small chest. He flipped back the lid and held it forward for Periac’s inspection, his eyebrows rising in expectation.
“They are magic,” the thaumaturge said without hesitation. “Magic spheres of fine construction.”
“Magic,” Alodar echoed, squinting at the container. Gingerly he grasped one of the spheres with his gloved hand and found that he could not extract it, so smooth was its surface polish. He removed his glove and tried again with his bare hand. An electric tingling suddenly pulsed through his fingers, and immediately he was reminded of the feeling when he handled Aeriel’s dagger. Exerting all the force he could muster to prevent it from slipping away, he slowly pried out one of the orbs and turned it quickly over to gaze at it in his palm.
It was black, totally black, the deepest black Alodar had ever seen. In an indescribable way, it sang of perfection, a sphere of such precision that no mere lathesman could ever hope to duplicate it. His hand vibrated from holding the orb, and somehow he was acutely aware that it contained great power.
Alodar returned the sphere to its resting place and examined its companion in the same way. It was identical to the first, except that a thin line neatly circumscribed it, dividing it into two perfectly equal hemispheres.
Alodar had never seen such handicraft in his life, but there could be no doubt. “Magic,” he mumbled as his spirits returned. “Magic spheres somehow placed in a pool of molten lava.
“But what more of them can you tell?” he continued. “Of what use can they be? Surely they have more utility than ornamentation.”
“They are incompletely formed,” Periac said. “The ritual that has created them is not yet complete. And when it is finished, I cannot fathom what will be their virtue, but to their possessor they will convey great power indeed.”