Tavin nodded. “Until you’re a ways ahead, I’ll wait. I can’t be seen here, and if you’re spotted, well… you’ll have to do whatever you can without me.”
“Why? You’re the best sorcerer. We’ll need you with us if we’re discovered.”
“Like I said before, I cannot. You’ll know why in time, but for now, you’ll have to accept that.” Tavin sighed. “Best get going.”
Does he fear these things? We all do, but to keep himself out of the fight now is ludicrous. At the time we need him most—apart from dealing with Kareth, if we find him—he sits it out. “Very well. Marac, you’re our strongest, so you’ll go first. We’ll need you to help the rest of us up.”
“Wait,” Brice said, reaching into his pack. “Before we go, we ought to tie off with one another. If we fall, we won’t go all the way down.”
“Yeah, but if someone falls, they could take the rest of us with them, Thimble.”
“What do you think, Lae?” Brice asked, frowning at Marac.
“I think it’s a good idea.”
Marac gave Laedron a cross look. “And risk all of us at once?”
“We go forward together, remember? All or nothing. The execution needs a little work, though.” Laedron gazed at the beams. “They’re not very thick. Perhaps we could slip the rope around the girders before tying it to each person.”
“Good thought. We’d better wrap it twice to be sure we won’t take the rest if we should fall.” Marac took the rope and tied it around his waist. “Easier to climb if I don’t have to hold it. Wait until I’m all the way up.” He returned his sword to the sheath, stepped out onto the metal beam, then climbed to the top by way of screws and handholds at intervals along the girder. Once Marac reached the top, Brice gestured at Laedron to go up, and Laedron scaled the support. Valyrie followed, and Brice joined them in the rafters last.
Not long into their crawl, Laedron felt dull aches in his knees and hands. The thin layers of skin and fat between the metal and his bones provided little cushion. He sighed. We’ve only gone ten feet? Inch by hellish inch he crept, and the aches grew into shooting pains. He looked past the beam to the cave floor and hoped he would meet his end from the impact if he should fall to the bottom rather than the slow death of being picked apart by crystal mandibles.
Each time they reached a vertical beam, they had to undertake a tedious process of rope handling because they couldn’t pass where two supports were joined. Laedron was thankful for the breaks, but his patience was stretched to the limits when they had to stop for such a long time. Marac had to untie the rope around his waist, unwrap it from the beam, retie, climb to the other side of the vertical support, sit, untie, coil the rope around the next horizontal beam, and tie himself again. Then, the next person would go, repeating the same process, until all of them were on the same beam and ready to crawl again.
Halfway he mused, glancing back at Tavin, then forward at the apparent exit. What does he have to hide from us? Will he turn us over as some sort of offering, a tribute of four fresh souls in exchange for the tome? Perhaps Harridan told him a secret that none of us can know. The pain in his hands had become a piercing sting, and he left bloody handprints as he crawled. He tapped Valyrie on the bottom of her shoe. When she looked back, he signaled for them to stop, and she gestured at Marac.
Laedron sat and let his feet dangle off the side of the beam, then searched for something to wrap around his hands. Brice apparently knew what Laedron wanted because he handed over some lengths of cloth, then held up his hands to show strips tied around his own palms. Looks like I’m not the only one, Laedron thought, covering the cuts and tying the ends. Either that or he was smart enough to think of it before getting this far. Valyrie took a few strips and did the same, but Marac shook his head and held up his hand, a thick leather glove covering it.
With a nod, Laedron got on his hands and knees, then they started again. Should’ve done the same to my knees while I was at it. Ah, we’re nearing the end. Only a few more moments of suffering to bear. And one more of those damned vertical struts.
When he reached the support, Marac untied the rope from the beam, then tied it around his waist. He stood, hugged the brace, and stepped around it, then sat, untied, wrapped, and retied. Valyrie went next, and when she finished securing the line, Laedron crawled toward the post. Just one more time. He undid the rope from the support behind him. Standing, he lost his footing and grabbed for the vertical brace. He felt the sudden pull of gravity trying to yank him off the beam.
Valyrie extended her hand and whispered, “It’s okay. Step around.”
He took her hand, but getting to the other support didn’t ease the churning in his stomach. He knew that he wouldn’t have fallen far, but he still trembled from the near miss. Valyrie held him by the shoulders until he was done, and he nodded at Brice.
Brice grasped the beam, then put his foot around and searched for solid footing. Laedron had noticed Valyrie having the same issue when she had tried, and since the support only joined two braces on opposite sides, all of them had taken longer to cross that joint than any of the others. When Brice stretched out his leg, his hand slipped from the post, and he plummeted toward the ground.
Laedron felt a jerk at his waist when the rope drew taut. He clawed at the brace to keep from falling. He lost his grip, but he heard the rope tighten around the support. The sudden stop jarred his extremities and, most of all, his back. Had he been anywhere else, he would have cried out, but dangling above innumerable enemies, he had to bite his lip and suffer silently. Covering his mouth, he clenched his other hand on the knot at his belly and prayed that he had tied it well.
Laedron saw Marac taking off the rope and shook his head, but he couldn’t risk speaking. No, damned fool. Don’t do it. It’s too dangerous. He wanted to say all of those things, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. In his state, he wouldn’t be able to control his pitch or volume.
Marac climbed around Valyrie, then sat on the beam. Laedron looked back over his shoulder, both to avoid seeing Marac fall if it happened and to find out if Brice was still on the end of the rope. Laedron breathed a sigh of relief. It held. He could see the fear in Brice’s eyes, but Brice hadn’t plunged to the bottom. He looked up when he heard a hiss. Marac was reaching toward him. He stretched his arm as far as it would go, and Marac took hold of his hand.
Once he got within range, Laedron grabbed the support. Valyrie helped him climb up while Marac took hold of the rope leading to Brice. The veins and muscles protruded from Marac’s arms, and despite the cool environs, sweat dripped like rain. Laedron scrambled to help, and by a handful of rope at a time, they hoisted Brice to them. When Brice came into reach, Laedron pulled him onto the beam.
“What happened?” Laedron whispered.
Brice rubbed his hands together. “It was slippery. I lost my grip.”
“Lost your grip?” Marac asked.
“The beams are soaking wet.”
“Sorry,” Laedron said. “That was my fault.”
“Everyone’s safe.” Marac waved his hand. “That’s all that matters. Let’s get moving.”
* * *
Nearing the end, Laedron looked back to see Tavin stepping out onto the beam. Is he mad? Tavin was walking fast. Has he done this before? Or is he merely skilled at keeping his balance?
Marac crouched, untied his rope, and unwrapped it from the brace. “I could live the rest of my life without tying another knot.”
Laedron smiled. “You can say that again.”
Marac climbed down the vertical post using whatever handholds he could find. Valyrie went next, and Laedron followed. Once Brice joined them, Laedron took a quick look around. Fortunately, they had ended up near an exit from the chamber and out of sight of the harvesters.
Marac gasped. “Lae—”
Turning, Laedron saw one of the harvesters approaching from inside the adjoining tunnel. He grabbed Marac and shot behind a boulder; Brice and Valyrie ducked in behind him. Seemin
g not to notice them, the creature crawled past and entered the crystal chamber.
Laedron let out a sigh of relief, then noticed the walls around him lighting up with red light. Looking over his shoulder, he saw another harvester with a hunk of crystal in its mandibles. It glowed crimson, as if it had located its prey. “We’ve been spotted.” He glanced at the rafters. Tavin was hiding behind a beam.
Laedron drew his scepter. A quake spell. Think quickly! Laedron waved the rod in a circle before him and chanted. Valyrie, pulled her bowstring taut and searched for a target, while Brice and Marac unsheathed their swords. If I summon a tremor, will it bring the place down on us like Tavin’s spell almost did? Will it draw the rest of them upon us? Should I—
Something whizzed past his ear. He turned and saw an arrow imbedded in the side of the harvester. The force enchantment cracked the crystal and severed the limbs on its right side. It dropped the shard it had been carrying and jerked like a wounded beast, obviously unable to lift itself from the ground.
Like a wave passing through the cavern, the red glow spread and encompassed the harvesters in small groups until the entire place seemed alerted to the threat.
“Hide, hide. The others may not have seen us,” Laedron said, returning to his place behind the boulders. Hearing a crackling noise, he peeked around the rock and saw a swirling energy on the far side of the cavern. He looked for Tavin. The sorcerer was aiming his wand in that direction. Genius. A distraction. By the Creator, let it work! With his free hand, Tavin gestured at the harvester Valyrie had shot.
“What does he want us to do?” Brice asked.
Sneaking to the edge of the boulder, Laedron looked at the crystal beast still writhing on the ground, as if frustrated by its inability to stand. “We’ll have to finish it off.”
Marac slinked to Laedron’s side. “And how do we do that?”
Laedron, searching for a solution, recalled what Tavin had said about the creatures. Kareth’s creations are built from crystal and the essence of the living. Then, he thought about the battle with Andolis and how he’d nearly lost his life to the Zyvdredi master and his spell. If they’re instilled with essence to exist, it can be pulled out.
He stepped out, his scepter in hand, despite Marac and Brice hissing at him to return. He closed his eyes, recited Andolis’s spell, and pointed the rod at the harvester. When the dark violet light appeared, he produced one of the black onyx gems that had been depleted from refilling his scepter and trapped the essence within it. The red light fading from its body, the creature slumped to the ground, depleted.
Holding the gem, Laedron gazed at the other harvesters. A few were not distracted by Tavin’s display. How many souls would it take to create so many of these things? To keep them working for decades on end?
Tavin crept backward along the girder, maintaining the spell until he had reached the end. Apparently unable to find any menaces, the harvesters’ red glows eventually faded, and their bodies resumed the green coloring. Before he reached the bottom, Tavin stopped, and Laedron heard the familiar chatter of crystal against stone.
Back to work, it would seem. Wait… Laedron looked over the top of the boulder and saw a pair of harvesters inspecting the one Valyrie had slain. For a moment, he wondered if the creatures had any ability to reason because they seemed to look at each other with suspicion. As if giving up on trying to figure out what happened, the harvesters used their thick crystal mandibles to dismantle their fallen comrade. They made a neat pile out of the parts, then returned to the chamber to continue working.
Amazing. Do they have any intelligence? Could something made entirely of crystal be capable of reasoning or of original thought? Or is it more a matter of simple instructions from the master?
Tavin dropped from the rafter and, without a word, led the way into the tunnel.
I can only speculate what awaits us farther down. An army of these things? Legions of Trappers? Given decades without pause or interruption, what sort of horrors could I create for any potential intruders?
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Kareth’s Workshop
Approaching the opening at the end of the passage, Laedron detected a faint echo, which sounded like the clanking of metal. The others must have heard it, too, because they slowed and put their backs against the walls. Tavin, at the front, crouched near the entrance and peered inside the chamber past the tunnel.
Laedron crept up behind him. Two Trappers stood in metal stands. One was only partly constructed and the other nearly finished. A few harvesters walked between them and some piles of crystal, shaping the pieces, and fusing them to the Trappers’ bodies. Beyond the stands sat chunks of a shiny metal in heaping piles that Laedron thought could be silver or purified iron, and the whole place stank of stagnant water. This place is larger than the Vicariate Palace! Staring into the distance, Laedron reckoned that the cave might have been the single biggest room he had ever seen, and the smoothness of the walls indicated that it hadn’t been formed naturally.
What purpose has Kareth for making so many of these Trappers? A crystal mine, a workshop to build them in, and countless harvesters laboring, all to what end? He followed Tavin through the shadows. He could tell that the Uxidin was nervous by the sheen of sweat on the man’s face and neck, despite the coolness of the caverns. Why does the man who taught me how to defeat a Trapper seem so unsure of himself now? He could undoubtedly fell both of them with a single spell should they come to life and ambush us.
“Do you see any other passages?” Tavin whispered, stopping behind some shelves.
Laedron scanned the room. “There’s a path through the piles of metal. Perhaps there lies the way?”
“We have no choice, then. We’ll have to destroy the harvesters. You get the one on the right, and I’ll take care of the other. Do you know the prefix of silence?”
“Prefix of silence? No, I can’t say that I do.”
Tavin uttered a few magic words. “Add those before your chant to quiet the spell. Never add them to a spell which harnesses noises or voice, for it will negate your own magic.”
“Then, I shouldn’t use a blast of sound?”
“No, not this time. We can’t risk it this far in. Use something else.”
“Any suggestions?”
“A bolt of lightning, perhaps. That’s what I intend to use.”
Drawing his scepter, Laedron eyed the crab-like harvester, thinking of which spell to use and where to aim. Once Tavin had given the countdown on his fingers, they cast simultaneously. Bolts of lightning lashed out at the harvesters and split each in half. The only sounds Laedron heard were shattering glass and crystal hitting the ground.
“I thought you said it would be silent,” Laedron said.
“The spell was, young man, but things affected by spells will still follow the rules of reality. Crystal makes a sound when it breaks, but don’t worry. It should have been quiet enough not to alert the rest of the—”
Hearing a chain snap, Laedron turned, then froze in horror. One of the Trappers, the one mostly finished, had sprung to life. He tried to fight his feeling of dread, but he couldn’t put aside his memory of the scene in the forest, the wolf dying at the merciless hands of the Trapper, its soul sucked clean from its body.
Ducking behind some nearby shelves, Tavin said, “You must deal with it.”
Marac and Brice, swords in hand, loosened their stances and teetered on anxious feet. Valyrie drew the string of her bow taut, an arrow nocked and aimed at the monster.
“You’ll not help?” Laedron pointed his finger in Tavin’s direction. “When we need you the most?”
“I cannot. I cannot risk dying here.”
“Cannot? Get out here and fight!”
Tavin didn’t move, and Laedron decided he didn’t have time to argue further. The Trapper charged, its long legs somehow limber despite their crystalline construction. Marac rolled forward when the monster neared, bare
ly passing beneath its massive arm, then struck its leg with his blade. The enchantment on his sword must have helped because the sword penetrated the leg, though not enough to sever it.
Valyrie released her arrow as the beast staggered, striking it in the shoulder. When the force spell erupted, the Trapper lost its balance. The creature slammed into Valyrie and sent her flying into the cavern wall.
Laedron lost focus on his spell. “Val!”
The Trapper rocked back and forth a few times before rising to its knees, and Laedron swore he heard a grumbling sound come from it, as if it indeed had some emotion or felt some measure of pain. “Don’t let that bastard get up again!” Laedron yelled to Marac and Brice.
Marac lunged at the Trapper, striking it with his sword and the blasting enchantment. When the smoke cleared, Brice and Marac stood over the Trapper’s body, the upper half of its torso whittled down to a nub, the remains of its head and arms almost indistinguishable from the other chunks of crystal littering the ground.
“So much for stealth,” Tavin said, emerging from his hiding spot. “Perhaps the racket didn’t carry far.”
“So much for stealth?” Laedron rushed over and grabbed the sorcerer by the shirt. “That’s all you can say?” He gave Tavin a hard shake, then ran to where Valyrie lay limp on the ground.
Tiptoeing to his side, Brice asked, “Is she okay?”
Laedron wanted to know the same thing and had some difficulty in determining her condition. He had to muster all of his restraint not to reach out and touch her. If I move her, I could worsen her injuries. What will happen if I do nothing, though? She could die here, and it would be without my telling her how much of a fool I was, without my telling her what she meant to me and how deep my love for her had become. I’ll bring her back if needed, consequences be damned. “Val!” Please answer me. Come back to me, please! “Val, can you hear me?” Damn it all. He put his hand under her head and pulled her close. A large bruise had formed on her forehead. “Val, please, if you can hear me, say something.”
The Immortals of Myrdwyer Page 15