The Bonding (The Song and the Rhythm)

by Brian C. Hager

  Vaun didn’t even try to engage the men, despite the call of the Song, but instead took off down the hallway the cook had indicated as leading to Elak. His Purpose demanded nothing else.

  Seeing his young friend sprint down the side passage, Merdel called, “Swordsman, no! You can’t fight him alone!” But it was useless. There was no turning a Swordsman aside from surrendering to what many tales suggested was his madness.

  The bearded mage threw his hands up in exasperation. “Fire incinerate him! He has no idea what he’s up against.” Merdel pivoted toward Thorne, who wiped blood off his hammer. “Follow him, my friend. Help him if you can. If not, at least bring back what little remains of him after Elak finishes with him.”

  Thorne nodded and took off at a trot after Vaun, calling out a warning to be cautious over his shoulder.

  Merdel didn’t bother to respond as he gathered his remaining companions and headed toward the abandoned tower. The unmistakable sounds of an alarm rang throughout the fortress, telling all who heard it that trouble visited the Master’s house.

  22

  THORNE QUICKENED HIS PACE when he saw a flash of grey disappear behind a closing door. He followed doggedly behind Vaun, knowing he could never catch up to him. The youth ran too fast. The dwarf did hope he could get to his companion in time to save him from Elak, though, because Vaun had no idea what he faced. But he’d have to be close enough to tell him, and that was the hard part, although the seven guards lying dead in the hallways so far had slowed Vaun up enough to allow Thorne to at least come within sight of him.

  Thorne decided he could become accustomed to following behind the youth, since it didn’t seem he’d meet any live opponents. That first group of four had looked fairly tough, consisting of burly men bearing lots of weapons. Unfortunately for them, the youth charging down the hall was a Swordsman, so they’d been dispatched with relative ease. At least that’s what the surprise and consternation on their dead faces told Thorne; that and the fact only one of them had managed to draw a weapon. This made Thorne glad he was on Vaun’s side. It seemed the Swordsman’s shoulder didn’t bother him much anymore, either.

  The next three bodies were scattered farther apart, one of them lying half out of a door that opened into a square courtyard. From the signs, this group had put up a slightly better fight, or Vaun had led them on a chase before turning to slay them. Not one of the guards had blood on his sword, so Vaun hadn’t been injured yet. After finally reaching the five-sided courtyard, Thorne saw one mercenary lying face-down in his own blood in the middle of it while the other headlessly kicked out his last death throes in front of the door Vaun had taken.

  Upon rounding the first right turn, Thorne saw Vaun’s entire body as he sprinted down the hall. The dwarf called out to him as he doubled his pace after leaping over the latest victims of the Swordsman’s passion. Thorne didn’t know what drove the young man, but it was obviously very strong, as Vaun continued down the hallway without acknowledging the dwarf’s calls.

  As Vaun disappeared around the last right turn, an explosion rocked the keep. The floor lurched under the dwarf’s feet, and roof stones began crashing down. Thorne dodged and ran, trying to keep up with Vaun without being squashed under a big rock.

  Just then four mercenaries stepped out of a side passage. Bellowing a harsh dwarven battle cry, Thorne hefted his hammer and leapt into his foes’ midst.

  * * *

  It was a long, hard fight to the abandoned tower. Patrols of no less than five mercenaries kept appearing, summoned from their search in the canyons by the alarms that still rang throughout the fortress. It was all the four companions could do to keep themselves alive. Dart was down to his last two arrows, and his shoulder ached from drawing his bow so many times in so short a span. His head throbbed painfully, and his vision kept blurring.

  Blood covered Rush, though most of it was his opponents’. The blond elf firmly believed in close fighting, which allowed him to use his smaller size and weaponry to better advantage but also left him wearing the blood that spurted out of the wounds he made.

  Drath had been cut three times, all of them thankfully shallow. He’d dealt death to almost half a dozen mercenaries, and he groaned when he saw five others exit a door across the courtyard and charge eagerly toward them. He could see the barricaded door and the tower.

  At sight of the guards, Merdel, like his friends, wondered if they’d ever reach their goal alive. It angered him that they’d come so far through so many different hazards only to be held back by sword-wielding idiots who, for a few pieces of gold, could as easily be fighting with them as against them. Fury giving him added strength, Merdel cast a vicious spell, sending a wall of razor-sharp spikes toward the approaching guards.

  Men screamed and died as eight-inch-long steel spikes hurtled into their faces. One guard fell dead without a sound, transfixed by over half a dozen of the magical spikes. Two others cried out as the steel edges flying by them gashed their arms and legs. A fourth guard stumbled to the ground, one of the spell-thrown shards embedded deep in his knee.

  Immediately behind Merdel’s deadly missiles came Dart’s last two arrows. The guard who’d stumbled died with one of the feathered shafts stuck in his left eye. The other arrow severely wounded the one mercenary who’d miraculously escaped the wall of spikes. Clutching at the blood fountaining from the slice in his neck, the guard dropped his sword and collapsed, his screams gurgling in his throat. The remaining guardsmen were so disoriented from the bearded wizard’s spell that they fell easily to Rush’s daggers and Drath’s longsword.

  For now, the courtyard was empty save for the bodies of the dead.

  Merdel hurried to the tower, his magically attuned eyes ignoring the decrepit state of the structure and instead concentrating on the wards placed on the door. Stones from the tower were scattered nearby, having fallen as it slowly degenerated beyond repair. The top of the tower showed boarded-up windows and ruined crenellations, while cracked masonry and unhealthy-looking moss grew all along its unstable expanse. It even listed slightly to one side. Just from its outward appearance the tower was uninviting, and the wards on the door only discouraged him further.

  Merdel scanned for weaknesses in the protection spells but couldn’t find any immediately. Probing deeper with spells also told him nothing, and the wards counteracted one of his spells violently, causing him to wince in pain. The Mahalian wizard let out a frustrated breath and cursed Elak for his thoroughness.

  Drath and the two elves moved protectively to either side of Merdel, ready to aid him if he asked or defend him if more soldiers appeared. Drath’s head whipped continuously from side to side, his eyes scanning the doors leading into the courtyard in search of any potential threat.

  Dart had his eyes closed, his ears straining to hear the sounds that would warn him of approaching danger long before his eyes would. He heard the tramp of many booted feet, but none of them were nearby or came their way.

  Rush toyed idly with two of his daggers, nervousness causing him to distractedly utilize his chameleon talent. His body continuously flickered in and out of focus, making Drath queasy every time he looked at the elf.

  After several tense moments, Merdel cried out and snapped his fingers. Stepping close to the stout oak door, the bearded mage placed his palms flat against its rough surface. As steam hissed from around his hands, two words popped out of Merdel’s mouth with a shout. Drath said he could smell burned flesh but resisted the urge to pull Merdel away from the door. As the last syllable left the mage’s mouth, Merdel pushed gently against the door.

  With a strong inrush of air the door guarding Elak’s most prized possession exploded off its hinges. It flew inward and crashed into the opposite wall, splintering into a thousand shards. From somewhere deep within the fortress, someone screamed. It sounded torn from the man’s soul and brought chill bumps to all who heard it.

  Merdel staggered back from the now-open portal, dazed by the power it had taken to overcome Elak
’s wards. “What an idiot.” He breathed deeply of the cold air. “He connected the wards to his own life-force.” The mage chuckled. “He probably passed out when they were broken. Elak always was arrogant enough to think he could withstand anything.” After a few more minutes of deep breathing while Drath held him up, Merdel straightened and led the way into the forbidden tower.

  All light vanished once the companions stepped inside the tiny room at the base of the tower. Merdel commented that Elak had created the pitch blackness himself in order to disorient anyone foolish enough to intrude but said he could overcome it easily.

  Merdel snapped his fingers and created a light that hung just above his hands. The light wasn’t quite as bright as he’d hoped, but it did penetrate the magical darkness enough for them to see what lay before them. What they saw made them grimace with uncertainty.

  The inside of the tower was in worse condition than the outside. The dark green moss had somehow found a way into the protected tower and covered almost every exposed surface. This close, they could tell the moss grew from thick vines crisscrossing the room. The staircase at the opposite end of the room looked as if it should’ve collapsed years ago. The banister had long since disintegrated, only the iron strappings left to rust showed one had even existed. Stones from the walls and ceiling lay everywhere, with moss and the remains of the door covering them.

  The stone steps leading up into the blackness of the tower showed deep gashes and pits, as if they had once been attacked by axes and clubs. The air felt bitterly cold, even more so than outside. Strangely, however, their breath didn’t steam in the air as it should have. Powerful magic resided here, and they all felt as foolish as Merdel had said an invader would have to be. Not a bit of the early afternoon daylight showed through any of the spaces in the walls, further emphasizing the Dark Wizard’s presence in this place.

  The stairway groaned and shook when Merdel placed a foot on it, and as he took two hesitant steps up it swayed. Swallowing nausea and fear, Merdel announced that this was the only way, so they had no choice but to risk it. Commenting that the mage should say that more to himself than to them, Drath and the two elf cousins stepped over cords of the green, mossy vines and followed Merdel up toward their goal.

  Rocks and a small section of moss plummeted to the floor nearly a hundred feet below as the step under Dart’s foot collapsed. Had it not been for Drath’s quick reflexes, the elf would have fallen to his death. Fortunately, Rush didn’t try to dash past the tall man to help save his cousin, an action which had nearly sent all three of them tumbling to a grisly doom the last time the elven archer had almost fallen. That was the sixth time one of them had nearly died because of the unstable staircase, and none of them doubted it would be the last. Quick reflexes, agility, and plenty of luck had kept all of them alive so far, and they wondered how much longer they could go on depending on such things for their safety. Rush and Dart continuously mumbled prayers for their safekeeping.

  The stairway wound lazily around the wall of the cylindrical tower and seemed to have been carved out of the wall itself. That may be why it hadn’t collapsed completely, for the wooden struts exposed by gaps in the stone were rotted beyond any hope of giving the support they once had. Either that, or the mossy vines spider-webbing the walls and the floor held the stairway up. The narrow windows and arrow slits spaced evenly along the tower wall were boarded up and sealed, admitting no light. Merdel commented on more than one occasion that, with the magical protections surrounding the structure, he doubted any light came through even at noontime.

  Merdel’s light, hanging above his head now, still provided enough illumination to see by, but gave little hint as to what was more than ten feet in front of them. Not even Dart’s sensitive eyes could penetrate the magical darkness, which was why the wizard led. Though they glowed faintly green, the vines revealed only themselves with their uncanny light. Only Merdel’s magical flame had the power to probe the shrouded tower, though not quite enough to keep him from almost stepping into a hole like the one that appeared suddenly under his feet.

  “Fire!” The bearded mage stumbled to a halt. His right foot hung mere inches from the edge of another of the stairway’s many gaps. This one covered perhaps ten steps.

  Dart bumped into the wizard from behind, causing Merdel to lurch dangerously forward. The elven archer choked on his apology as he realized Merdel’s predicament and hurriedly grasped the swaying magician’s arm and helped steady him.

  Merdel turned a sour face on the brown-haired elf. “Those eyes of yours should be able to notice when someone stops, you wind-blinded fool. If I fall, none of you will make it out of here alive.”

  Dart nodded sheepishly, acknowledging his mistake. “Aye, Great One. You are right. Your vast powers are the only things which keep us meager mortals alive. I so humbly apologize for my mistake, and I beg your divine forgiveness. That is, if your many years don’t keep you from forgetting what that mistake was.”

  Merdel frowned but said nothing, deciding to save his breath for more important matters than trading insults with Dart. Instead, he called down to Rush standing behind Drath and asked if anyone followed them.

  The blond elf didn’t even bother to turn his head. “Not that I can see.” Of course, even if he’d looked, his answer would’ve been the same. The darkness was so total that Rush could barely even see Merdel less than ten steps in front of him.

  Merdel nodded satisfactorily, as if thinking that Rush had just performed a thorough inspection of the pathway below. He hoped the unsteadiness of the tower, or Elak’s orders, kept the mercenaries from chasing after them. Neither one, however, would keep the guards from forming a cordon around the place while they explored inside. That would make escape nigh to impossible, but he couldn’t worry about that right now. At the moment, he was concerned that Elak hadn’t appeared to stop them. Surely he’d recovered from the destruction of his wards by now. Merdel swallowed his apprehension as he determined once more to succeed no matter what stood in his way.

  Maneuvering around the hole by creeping along the tiny, vine-covered ridge of stone left by the fallen steps alongside the wall, Merdel led his companions the rest of the way up. It wasn’t much farther to the top, and when they finally reached the door sealing the chamber they all sighed wearily. Strangely, the vines, prevalent throughout the tower, stopped about twelve steps from the door, though they still climbed high up the walls to the ceiling overhead. Each of the four party members could see their faint, effervescent glow.

  Merdel saw the wards guarding the door nearly twenty steps before he reached it. These were far stronger and more complex than the ones on the other door, and the magical glow they created inside the blackness was downright creepy. Only Merdel could see the shadows cast by his companions dance wickedly on the dark walls. They seemed almost to have a life of their own. Merdel shivered under rising dread, trying to focus on removing the wards.

  It took the mage several minutes of hard concentration and many strong probing spells before he found the means to unlock it. He chuckled softly. “He’s connected to these wards, too. With luck, he’ll die when they’re broken.” He glanced behind him into the gloom. “Rush! Come up here. I need your help.”

  “My help?” The elven thief sounded unenthusiastic as he stepped around Drath and his cousin. “I can’t pick a magic lock.”

  Exasperated, Merdel flung at him, “Just see if you can pick the lock.”

  Looking uncertain but obeying nonetheless, the blond elf had to wipe sweaty palms on his breeches several times before he could grip his picks tight enough to use them. Breathing shallowly with nervousness, Rush felt around inside the lock, searching for the right tumblers to manipulate and muttering about some spell placed on the panel that would burn him to cinders.

  Merdel chanted under his breath all during Rush’s attempts to breach the lock. At one point, the picks flashed with a bright blue light followed by a loud pop, causing the elf to cry out and jump backward. Merde
l had to cease his spell casting for the five minutes it took to coax Rush back to the job. Even then, the elf had few nice things to say to the wizard who seemed determined to get him killed in what would probably be a very nasty way.

  Finally, after over a quarter of an hour, the wards disappeared with a pop and a crackle of blue lightning as the lock sprung. Rush stumbled backward clutching burned fingers, and Dart and Drath had to save him from a fall down the steps. Cursing Merdel in elvish, Rush threw his melted lock picks to the ground as the tower door swung open with a loud groaning of hinges.

  At that moment, the eerie green glow from the moss-covered vines brightened. The stairway was suddenly lit by a sickly green haze that pulsated with a disturbingly heartbeat-like rhythm. A low hissing issued from all around them, sounding as if it came from the very walls. They all heard stretching and crumbling sounds from behind them, and though they were afraid to do so, they each turned to see what caused the noise. What they saw froze them open-mouthed in place.

  The stairway had come alive. Ten steps below them, what had previously looked like harmless vines now writhed up and down the walls and steps. Tendrils breaking away from the stone they’d formerly rested on tore out chunks the size of Drath’s fist. The hissing increased as more vines began to move, and as it did the green-glowing vines reached out toward the companions standing dumbfounded at the top of the staircase.

  Merdel’s eyes widened at sight of the aura surrounding the vines. Dormant until the wards on the door were broken, it now shined brighter than the one that had surrounded Vaun during their trek through the sewage tunnels. He could feel the power of the creature, a power given it by its creator.

  Drath clamped his mouth shut as a mossy arm lunged for him. Drawing his longsword, he swiped at it, succeeding only in slapping it aside with the flat of his blade. He backed hastily up the steps, one hand reaching behind for support and the other sweeping his weapon side to side to keep the vines at bay.