by Ari Marmell
“I’m talking about your cave of treasures!” the Terrirpa raved at him. “I’ve taken you all this way, and it doesn’t even exist!”
Slowly, ignoring the screaming protests from muscles he’d never known he possessed, Corvis rose to his feet and squinted the sleep from his eyes. “Sah-di,” he said, “first off, I’m in a considerable amount of discomfort, and I’m colder than a yeti’s backside, so I’d appreciate that you not add yelling to my list of Things That Are Really Irritating Me Right Now. Second, it makes no difference to you if the cave’s here or not. You agreed to guide me for a set fee, of which I’ve already given you half. So I have not in any way, shape, or form wasted your time.”
“But—”
“And third, what makes you think the cave doesn’t exist?”
“Because I spent all last night searching for it!” Sah-di shouted at him, practically spitting in Corvis’s face. Only after the words left his mouth did he realize that, just maybe, this wasn’t something he should have admitted.
Corvis raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And why would you do that?”
“I … I thought I might scout it for any further dangers or impediments to our progress, good Master.”
“Right. Pull the other one, Sah-di; I’m getting lopsided.”
Sah-di blinked. “You said what?”
“Forget it.” Corvis sighed. “Sah-di, if the cave was easy to find, someone might have stumbled across it years ago. Certain steps were taken to prevent that from happening.”
“Steps?”
“The cave’s hidden, Sah-di.”
“What? How do you hide a cave?”
Bracing himself against the cold, Corvis tightened the furs around him and stepped from the tent. His guide, face twitching in puzzlement, followed.
“There,” Corvis said finally, after a few minutes, just as the Terrirpa began to grumble. He pointed to a solid face of rock, liberally sprinkled with icicles. “The cave is there.”
Sah-di threw up his hands. He’d been right the first time: This man was a full-fledged lunatic. “There is nothing there!” he screeched, once again dropping the boot-licking servant bit. “I know you’re not blind, so I have to assume that you’re either crazy or prodigiously stupid, and I will have nothing more to do with any of this!” And having made his declaration, he retreated swiftly, as though to break camp and begin the treacherous descent just as soon as he possibly could.
Corvis took a deep breath, braced himself just in case he’d misremembered the spot, and walked through the rock wall.
When he reemerged a moment later, Sah-di was staring incredulously at the spot where he’d vanished, hands loosely clasping one of the tent poles. Muttering irritably to himself, Corvis trudged back over to the tent, pushed past the immobile Terrirpa, and then stepped out into the cold once more, this time with his equipment pack. He stopped by the insubstantial stone, dropped the pack, and removed a torch. Flint struck steel, sparks flew, and the brand ignited. Corvis drew Sunder in his right hand, holding the torch aloft in his left.
“So? You coming with me?”
Sah-di approached warily, trying to keep his eyes on Corvis, the wall, and the tent all at once. He lit a torch off his companion’s, clutching a crescent-moon saber in his other hand. Then, though his face blanched as he looked at the rock face that wasn’t there, he nodded once.
Corvis returned the nod, and they stepped through.
The cave was deep, extending an enormous distance back and down into the mountain. The ceiling, however, was a claustrophobic eight inches over Corvis’s head, and it was narrow enough for both side walls to reflect the flickering torches.
“How is this possible?” Sah-di breathed.
“Well,” Corvis began, “when the mountains formed, the rocks shifted and cracked, and that left large gaps in the stone. Over the course of time …” He stopped, doing his best not to smile at his guide’s withering glare. “Or were you referring, perhaps, to the illusionary wall?”
“I might just have been, good Master,” Sah-di said through clenched teeth.
“Ah.” Corvis moved ahead. His boots echoed endlessly, his pace slowed by the need to avoid the stalagmites jutting from the floor. The flickering torchlight danced happily across the walls with the shadows of the two men, moving in a frenetic waltz. Occasionally, a single drip reverberated through the cave.
“The item I seek was placed here magically, Sah-di,” Corvis told him, keeping his voice hushed as most people seem to do in dark and ancient places. “It was essential to protect it. Hence, the illusion.”
“It is truly so valuable?” the guide asked, enough avarice dripping from his voice to eventually congeal into a brand-new stalagmite.
“Sah-di, I can assure you that you’ll never see anything more valuable in your life.”
Only the presence of the torch in one fist and the saber in the other prevented the Terrirpa from literally rubbing his hands together.
Glad to be out of the biting winds, Corvis moved briskly through the cave, dodging the various impediments, and passing side passages with little more than a glance. Sah-di lost any remaining doubt that his employer knew exactly where he was going.
Until they rounded a sharp bend in the passage and were halted by a looming wall of ice.
Solid, impossibly smooth, it radiated a sense of overwhelming age. No simple sheet of frozen water, this, but a remnant of the all-encompassing glaciers that marched across the lands in ancient days, when winter held dominion for ages without end. Unimaginably thick, the sheet before them reflected black in the feeble flickering of the torches.
“By all the gods!” Sah-di whispered reverently. “In all my years, I have never even suspected …” He shook his head slowly. “How is this possible?”
“You’re starting to repeat yourself, Sah-di,” Corvis commented.
“Yes, good Master.”
Corvis smiled tightly. “It is fairly impressive, isn’t it?” He shrugged. “Shall we get started?”
“Started with what, good Master?”
Corvis waved a hand toward the ice. “Where do you think the treasure is hidden?”
“What!”
“Magic, remember?” Then, “Relax, Sah-di. It’s not much more than ten feet in.”
“You expect us to carve our way through ten feet of solid ice?”
“Unless you have a better idea. Our torches wouldn’t melt more than a few drops off this thing, and I doubt there’s enough wood nearby to build a larger fire. And let’s not forget that we’ve got no idea what would happen to the cave if we softened too much of that wall. It probably wouldn’t affect the stability of the surrounding rock, but …”
Sah-di shuddered. “I have picks among my tools, of course,” he told Corvis. “But even if we make our tunnel narrow, such a task could take us weeks! Ice this thick and this old will not easily yield to outside pressures.”
“Surprisingly enough, I’m aware of that. Your job now, Sah-di, is to hold the torches so I can see.” Corvis held his own torch out to the startled guide, who sheathed his blade so he might carry both. The older man then hefted Sunder in both hands.
“No, good Master, you will blunt your weapon. You should use a pick.”
“You might be surprised, Sah-di.”
The Terrirpa shrugged. “It is your axe, good Master. If you wish to turn it into a blunt instrument, that is entirely up to you.”
Corvis just smiled. “I suggest you stand back,” he warned. “Splinters.”
“As you say.”
The cave rang when Sunder bit into the primal ice, quickly followed by a deafening, earth-shaking series of cracks. Shards of ice indeed sprang from the point of impact, ripping a few small holes in Corvis’s furs.
When Sah-di glanced fearfully over the arms he’d rapidly crossed before his face—his hair and coats kept from the burning torches by sheer luck—he observed with amazement that Corvis’s single blow had created a fissure six inches deep. Far from the weeks of har
d labor the task should have demanded, it looked as though his employer would achieve their goal in hours!
“Sah-di,” Corvis suggested, glancing over his shoulder, “I realize it’s cold in here, but I think setting your shoulders on fire might be pushing it a bit.”
The Terrirpa straightened out the torches; he also made a point of stepping as far back from the ice wall as he could without depriving Corvis of the torchlight.
It was a strange thing to contemplate, but as the hours crept by, Corvis noticed that the chips of ice piling up around him exuded the most unusual scent. It was a dry sort of smell, slightly sour, with hints of minerals and dried meats. And it occurred to him, as he worked, that these could be odors and emanations captured hundreds of thousands of years ago, locked for eons in the immortal ice. Corvis found himself awed by the realization, silly as it might seem, that he might be the first human being to smell this particular aroma since before the dawn of civilization.
The demon-forged blade could have finished the job before nightfall, but Corvis needed to take occasional breaks for rest. His arms burned, his back ached, and his fingers cramped. He might have asked Sah-di to take over, but he wasn’t about to hand Sunder over to just anyone—especially considering that, in the Terrirpa’s hands, it probably wouldn’t even be an axe anymore.
By day’s end, Corvis—already past the halfway point—decided to spend the night in the cave and complete the job in the morning. Paranoid about what his supposed employee might attempt now that he knew where the treasure was, Corvis kept his hands wrapped around Sunder’s haft and slept very, very lightly.
The night passed without incident, though, and Corvis doggedly resumed his thankless efforts after a cold breakfast. Sah-di’s own excitement waned under the monotony of watching his companion work, and he was beginning to grow concerned regarding the amount of torchwood remaining.
It was nearing midday, and the Terrirpa was just preparing to voice his concerns when Corvis uttered a cry of triumph. All objections fled from Sah-di’s mind instantly. He was forced to squeeze a bit to get into the icy passage—it was narrow and squat—but he drew near enough to peer over his companion’s shoulder.
There, protruding from the ice, was a dull red crystal, vaguely tear-shaped. It appeared to be attached to a bracelet or armband of some sort, though as most of the bauble remained in the wall, it was impossible to be sure. Sah-di thought he could just barely make out the form of something else in the ice, hidden even deeper than the ornament Corvis had unearthed—something vaguely rectangular.
But if there was something else, Corvis didn’t seem interested in it. “This is it, Sah-di!” he crowed triumphantly. “This is what we came for.”
The Terrirpa’s features twisted skeptically. It looked valuable, yes, but not nearly so much so as he expected from Corvis’s descriptions. “A treasure fit for kings, good Master,” he said, trying to muster a modicum of enthusiasm.
He failed. “You sound less than impressed, my friend,” Corvis told him.
“I must admit that I anticipated something a bit more substantial, good Master.”
“Why don’t you do the honors, then, Sah-di?” Corvis suggested, squeezing past the startled Terrirpa. “It’s not lodged in there very tightly anymore, and my arms hurt from all that hacking.”
Sah-di shrugged once and passed Corvis a torch. He knelt beside his own pouch and removed a hammer, a chisel, and a small pry-bar. Then he stood, staring intently at the crimson gem sitting just below eye level. “Hello, my lovely,” he said softly. “You have indeed made so arduous a journey worthwhile.” Affectionately, he placed two fingers against the facets.
Corvis watched, expressionless, as Sah-di’s mouth gaped in a silent scream. The guide’s ears burst in a shower of blood, his eyes bubbled, and the flesh of his cheeks tore apart as his jaw separated from itself. A faint ripping noise sounded, above and beyond the sound made by shredded flesh, and a red glow leaked from his eyes, his nose, his tattered mouth. With a quiet pop, the man’s skull crumbled, and his body fell to the icy floor. The red glow subsided from his features, only to take up residence elsewhere. Corvis glanced once at the crystal in the wall, now surrounded by a faint aura. He felt no real pity for the man before him, but more than a small amount of apprehension regarding the next step.
“Hello, Khanda,” he said softly, his voice all but lost in its own echoes.
/Well, well, well. Good to see you, Corvis. It’s been a long time./
“Not long enough.”
/And you even brought me breakfast in bed. Uncommonly decent of you. And here I thought you didn’t care anymore. I mean, you never wrote. Would a letter now and then have killed you?/
“Khanda, something’s happened …”
/Well, obviously something’s happened. I figured when you entombed me in the middle of a glacier that you weren’t planning on retrieving me anytime soon./
“I wasn’t planning on retrieving you at all!” Corvis snapped, his patience worn. “I’d hoped you might spend the rest of eternity sealed up in here!”
/No, you didn’t./
“What?”
Khanda chuckled softly. /If you’d wanted me gone permanently, Corvis, there were ways to do it. You could have released me, for one./
“Like hell!”
/Funny. I see you’ve developed a vestigial sense of humor while I’ve been away. But look at your choice of “prisons,” Corvis. You could have sent me to the ocean floor, or the heart of a volcano. You didn’t. You chose an ice-ridden cave in the ass-end of the world because you were pretending I was gone for good. But part of you knew. Part of you knew from the beginning that you’d be back for me. That’s why you chose someplace remote, but not so remote you couldn’t reach it. You knew./
Corvis’s mouth worked in silence. He’d had doubts since he dug his old dusty armor from the closet at home, and a great many more when he’d finally admitted that he needed the terrible sort of aid only Khanda could provide. But he had never, until that very moment, doubted himself.
/So,/ Khanda continued, /you need me for something. You entomb me in ice for seventeen years—although I must admit that it was a nice twist, using my own power to banish me here. Very poetic. You entomb me in ice for nearly two decades, and now that things have gotten too big for you to handle, you come crawling back? Is that pretty much accurate?/
“Do you see me crawling, Khanda?”
/Not yet. Would you be here because of Audriss, by any chance?/
Corvis’s breath froze halfway up his throat. “How do you know about Audriss?”
/Really now, Corvis. You think imprisoning me in this wasteland means I can’t keep an eye on things? I’ve been trapped inside this stupid crystal for close to a millennia and a half; I’ve learned a few things about circumventing my limitations./
“All right, fine,” Corvis said, straightening. “I’ve wasted enough time here. If you can see what’s happening in the world outside, it means I can save myself the bother of explaining it all to you. Let’s get moving. Even with your help, it’s a long way back.”
/My, but we’re presumptuous today. What makes you think I’ll help you at all, after what you did to me?/
Corvis’s jaw clenched. “We’ve danced to this tune already, Khanda. You lost.”
/That was a long time ago, old man. Some things change./
“Fine, if you insist, let’s get this over with.” Two long strides brought Corvis to a stop before the protruding crystal. He gazed deep into its facets, watching the hypnotic glow of the entity pulsing within. Then, snarling, he slapped his palm against the gem.
Time froze in the cave. Above Mount Molleya, winds raged, ice and snow pummeled the mountainside. But deep within, there was no motion of any sort, no sound but the slow, shallow breathing of a man locked in a struggle, not merely for his life, but for his soul.
A ragged gasp shattered the silence, and the mounting tension vanished from the room. Corvis, face flushed and chest heaving,
staggered away from the crystal, his right palm curled as though he’d just burned it on a stove.
“So,” he said, spitting the words between deep gulps of air. “Some things don’t change, do they?”
/No./ Khanda’s “voice” inside his head was strangely subdued. /No, it appears they don’t./
“So now that we’re past our requisite battle of wills, can we move? It’s cold here.”
/Give yourself a decade or so. You’ll get used to it./
“Cute, Khanda.” Corvis reached out again, grasped the jewel, and yanked. It slid easily from the ice, a simple ornament on a plain silver armband.
Corvis frowned. “I’ve taken to using the armor again,” he told the crystal, “at least occasionally. Let’s go ahead and keep the image as it was.”
/Very well./ The red light from the crystal pulsed, and the metal writhed obscenely about Corvis’s hand, embracing him like a living thing. The band lengthened, narrowed, and reshaped itself into a series of tiny links. A moment, no more, and Corvis now held the pendant dangling from the end of a lengthy silver chain. He scowled distastefully at it and then, before he could think twice, slipped it over his head.
“Did the chain used to be this long?” he asked as he glanced down at the pendant now hanging against his chest. “I remember it being shorter.”
/Heh. You may be as stubborn as ever, but I see your memory’s starting to slip./
“Khanda—”
/The chain was always that long, you lackwit. Your neck was thicker./
“Um, right. We need to get back to Ephrel. I’ve left Rascal and some of my equipment there. Then we’ve got to get a move on. I need to rejoin the others by the start of winter.”
/Have you looked outside?/
The warlord sighed. “The start of winter in Imphallion, Khanda.”
/Say what you mean, then./There was a pregnant pause. /Rascal?/
Corvis nodded as he strode toward the cave entrance, casually stepping over the husk that was once Sah-di. “My horse.”
/You don’t need a horse anymore./