by Lakshman, V.
The king turned to Malak and said, “You rush the top, let me and my men take Mithras.”
“We stay together,” Malak hissed, appraising at the scene with an expert eye.
“He’ll wade in and separate us. We need a distraction,” the king replied, hoping this man’s strategic mind would parse out the truth in his assessment. He had to remind himself that when it came to fighting Aeris, Malak had more experience than he did.
Even as he thought this, Mithras leapt, smashing his blade down into the group just as the king had warned. The group scattered but left behind three men killed on the steps. Mithras’s blade sang out horizontally in a sweep of fire. One unlucky elf was cut in half.
The golden warrior paused, as if hearing something, then rumbled, “His blood will taste good on your blade, beloved.”
The group scrambled to rejoin but Malak yelled, “To the top! Reform at the gate!”
Every man sprinted up the steps, running for their lives. Those positioned lower did not make if far, pulled back down by the mistfrights that flowed up the steps like black, oily snakes. The king looked at Kalindor and Yevaine, then dashed for Mithras.
The giant man seemed to smile from beneath his helm, and met the king’s charge with a burning downward slash. The king raised his shield, taking the blow that fell off it just as Baalor’s had. Unlike that fight, the king now knew the power of these Aeris Lords and was not taken by surprise at its violence. He did not meet the strike head on but instead held his shield at an angle, where the blade bounced off and cracked the stone stepwith a deepV.
The king spun out of the way. Another elven warrior thrust his lance in, cutting the Aeris Lord across the front of his knee, opening it up with a gout of blood.
Mithras fell forward as his leg buckled, catching himself before he tumbled down the pyramid face.
To Bernal’s surprise the warrior who’d delivered that thrust screamed, his body held in a rictus by some invisible force. In moments he was torn apart, blood splashing the steps of the pyramid and running over the king’s boots. Bernal looked back to the massive figure of Mithras rising, his knee reknitting before his eyes.
“Do not help me with these vermin,” the giant figure of Mithras said to no one in particular.
The blade jumped up again at the king’s neck but Kalindor was there with his spear. He too had faced an Aeris Lord with his queen and did not underestimate their foe. His spear twisted in a circular loop before stabbing out over his head, forcing Mithras to raise his sword arm to defend himself, cutting short his riposte on the king.
Yevaine danced in with Falken, stabbing at the giant Aeris Lord’s leg. Her blade went cleanly through, but the wound did not bleed. She pulled and sliced, her blade sparking off his greaves as she was caught with a backhand that sent her sailing up the steps to land in a heap. She sat up groggily, and the king hoped it was a sign the blow had not hit anything vital.
The king looked up as he ducked under another blade slash and saw Malak and Sparrow had gained the gate, surrounded by twenty or so of their men. So few! He rushed forward again, stabbing once and then turning that stab into a slash aimed at Mithras’s neck.
The Aeris Lord had real skill, Bernal had to concede. Rather than falling back he pivoted in the same direction as the slash, then deflected it upward and cut down at the king’s leg.
Bernal, out of position, knew he wouldn’t get the shield there in time. Then Kalindor’s spear hit the giant Aeris Lord’s helm and the strike, meant to separate the king’s leg from his body, instead cracked another stone step, sending rock shards flying in sharp pieces.
The blue light emanating from the gate at the top turned blood red, bathing the cavern in a crimson glow. Bernal looked up and saw the gate itself had changed, looking like a living wall of blood. Sparrow jumped through, her body causing ripples in the surface with her passing.
At that, Mithras’s voice boomed, “Fall back! It is done!”
Be happy my lord spared you… said a female voice Bernal did not recognize. He spun, looking around for it, but realized it had been in his head. When he turned his attention back to the battle, to his surprise the forces of Mithras were melting down into the rock! They disappeared through the cracks, fading from view. He looked up in confusion, only to be greeted by the Aeris Lord smiling from beneath his radiant helm.
“Do not be so foolish as to believe you have not done everything the Lady has wanted. We thank you, Galadine. Do not worry, if we meet again you’ll dance with Tempest ‘ere long.” He laughed, then also sank down into the stone just as both Kalindor and Yevaine’s weapons struck the empty air where he’d just been.
“What’s going on? Why would he retreat now?” demanded the king.
Kalindor shook his head but pointed up at the gate, “Let’s get up there and refortify. If they come back we’ll need to hold that gate.”
The king nodded and then the three jogged quickly up the steps. The sight that greeted Bernal at the top stunned him speechless. Malak sat on his knees in a widening pool of dark blood. His throat had been cut and his blood flowed directly to the base of the gate, feeding it.
A scout moved forward and looked at the king, “We can only keep the gate open for as long as our blood lasts. Hopefully Sparrow will have the highlord align the other end ‘ere that happens.”
The king looked at these elves, realizing the true depth of their sacrifice. If what this elf said was true, Malak was only the first. They would each in turn do what their firstmark had done to keep this side of the gate aligned. It meant they had all come here expecting to die on the chance that they could save their people. The thought humbled him and also told him something critical, that these elves were a unified people who would readily die for each other. Such a force would be deadly on the battlefield.
Yevaine put a gentle hand in his and said, “We stand with you. Is there nothing more we can do?”
“Pray for Sparrow’s speedy return. As our firstmark said, all we love and hope to save depends upon it.”
“Nay,” said the king softly. “If Sparrow doesn’t return before another of you must be sacrificed, I will go through the gate and speak with the highlord myself. After all, we are family.”
Into the Mountain
It’s good every now and again
to turn and look behind you,
Memorize the foliage and details of the path,
as they will appear upon your return.
This is an easy way to avoid getting lost.
- Keren Dahl, Shornhelm Survivor's Guide
Jesyn wiped her face with her hands, feeling the heat bring a new burst of moisture from her brow. The group had split up some distance back, with Dragor and his team going right at a split and the team led by Sai’ken taking the left passage. They had kept their words to a minimum, though she still had no idea what they were looking for other than a vague objective of “finding Armun.”
To Jesyn, the entire effort seemed ill-conceived, but she could not argue with the fact that if this was the first time they’d had real intelligence on the interior of Dawnlight, a reconnaissance mission to ascertain possible locations of Dazra’s missing people could be justified. As for Armun, she had little faith they’d find any sign of him within this vast mountain space, especially if the mountain corridors moved as Tarin had claimed.
Dragor had been strangely silent, giving her no orders or advice. All he’d done was hug her once before sending her on her way. She understood she was an adept now, but a part of her still wanted his reassurance and calm direction.
“Control yourself,” whispered Sai’ken. “Thy stench can be smelled throughout these corridors and thy breathing is labored. Thou art an Adept of the Way. Is thy body not thine own to command?”
The dragon in girl form moved on, leaving a confused Jesyn behind. Then it occurred to her that with her newfound powers, controlling her temperature should be a relatively easy thing. She concentrated on increasing her blood flow, letting heat
radiate out. She felt cooler, and realized with wonder why the masters seldom sweat. A small chuckle escaped before she knew it, bringing a few curious looks from Tarin and Halp.
“It’s nothing,” she mouthed, looking down past them. Tarin brought up the glowing map, consulting their position and the position of Dazra and his team. If Dragor was detected, Sovereign’s forces would be pulled in their direction. She looked down and expanded the chamber that had been assigned as their destination, then routed the shortest path there.
Jesyn watched, then said, “How will we follow it?”
Tarin smiled, then tapped her forearm.
A blue line appeared in Jesyn’s vision, leading down and to their left. The adept looked at the dwarven healer, her eyes wide with wonder.
Tarin gestured for her to follow and then moved quickly down the path laid out in their vision. Sai’ken had taken a far lead in front, somehow knowing where they needed to go without the benefit of an entat-guided map. Halp brought up the rear, moving silently, his bulk a reassuring presence behind Jesyn.
A voice sounded directly inside Jesyn’s ear. It was Tarin speaking softly to her by some magic of her entats. “Don’t use your flame thing. We tracked you with it earlier. Sovereign’s forces can do the same.”
“How do I talk to you silently like this?” Jesyn whispered.
Tarin stopped, then came over and pressed two fingers into her jawline. “Envision the person you want to communicate with.”
Jesyn tried it. “Halp, can you hear me?”
“Well, because we’re standing next to each other, yes,” replied the warrior matter-of-factly. However, something in his bemused expression told her it had also worked via this new method.
Sai’ken rounded the corner. “I can hear thee prattle like thou art at an inn instead of infiltrating Sovereign’s domain. Be silent!” She spun then and headed away, following the blue line in Jesyn’s vision.
They traveled for quite some time without a word, neither seeing signs of life nor running across any patrols. The only sign that they were in fact in the right place was the evenly spaced torches along the walls, rectangular shaped crystals that shed unwavering white light at regular intervals. Jesyn held a hand up to one and felt no heat. Interesting, and not unlike some of the crystals Dragor used in the vaults below the Isle.
Tarin took time to tell Jesyn via their link how to use her entats to tell direction and to see how dwarven time was kept. More importantly, she showed her the hexagonal imprint on the inside of her wrist.
“Tap this and turn, and you’ll transport to Dawnlight in phase. If that happens, look for a man named, Arcimedis. He’s my teacher.”
Jesyn nodded, appreciating Tarin’s willingness to help. The directional capabilities were welcome, but dwarven time-keeping seemed inordinately complex compared to listening to her own heart.
Breaking the time intervals into sixty pieces made no sense to her. Why not ten intervals to match a person’s fingers, or better one hundred or a thousand to give finer units of measurement? Still, there was a certain symmetry to it that Jesyn could appreciate, and the utility of forward planning for rendezvous seemed particularly useful even if the reason for sixty intervals was not readily obvious. Then it clicked, if she thought about the lines on her fingers equaling twelve. With five fingers that would be sixty… she smiled a bit, for some reason encouraged by her insight.
Tarin came to a stop and held up a hand. “Sai’ken returns.”
Shortly the dragon reappeared, moving silently up to them. She gestured, gathering them closer, and pointed at the ground. Her voice came out clearly in their heads as she used mindspeak.
The first of the chambers lies ahead, with four guards. Sai’ken traced four circles on the corridor floor. She looked up at Jesyn and said, You and Halp take the first two. I will deal with the others. Tarin, thou wait thither.
Sai’ken did not wait for their agreement, just got up and crouched, her form changing into a lean dragon about eight feet in length from nose to tail. She was not overly large for the corridor, but carried with her a sense of lethality that made even Jesyn uncomfortable. The black scaled creature let out a low rumble, as if in anticipation, and then moved forward sinuously along the ground.
Jesyn followed, a little trepidatious about not being able to use her flameskin. She’d fought these dwarves and won, but only with all her powers at her disposal. No flameskin meant no mistakes. She calmed herself, feeling again the comforting embrace of something surrounding her. Her breathing eased and she flowed down the corridor after the black form.
Sai’ken shot forward, a black streak that passed the first two guards in a blur. They both turned, presenting their backs to Jesyn and Halp, neither of whom needed a better invitation.
Jesyn hit her guard hard at the base of his skull with stiffened fingers and felt the bone snap. She didn’t take a chance, and put her hands on either side of the massive guard’s head and twisted quickly. The man’s head spun as the neck broke, and he fell making a gurgling sound. It struck her that because of practice she’d become quite good at killing these dwarves, a fact she took little pride in. Deep within her life was sacred, but the stakes were too high to begin doubting herself.
When she looked at Halp, the dwarven axer was pulling his axe out of the man’s chest. From the angle of the strike Halp had chopped down through the man’s neck and almost to his stomach. Blood pooled all around the dead guard, black tinged with red smears in the dim light.
Jesyn turned her attention to the dragon, not surprised to see her now in girl form, walking toward them. Behind her on the wall were two lurid splashes of blood but no bodies in sight. Whatever had been done to her opponents, it had been violent and quick.
She got a good look at the room they were in. It was unlike any she’d seen before. Large pipes fed into even larger boxes made of what looked to be gray metal. On each were different dials marked with what Jesyn recognized now were dwarven numbers. Either it was Tarin’s instruction or her entats were helping her decipher things she saw.
Sai’ken moved up to one and said, “This facility is one of many that provides clean water to the people hither. Look over yonder and thou wilt see an evacuation map. Touch it and thine map will be much improved.”
Just then an alarm sounded. The strange torch crystals in the room turned red and began pulsating. Tarin looked up and said, “Dazra.”
Jesyn shook her head and said, “More likely Dragor. He’s got a way of attracting attention.”
Sai’ken moved forward then and said, “We art far enough from thine companions to attempt the chambers. With the marker in place, thou can move directly below through the very rock, earth sister.”
Tarin nodded, looking at Jesyn. “She’ll have to be pulled along by one of us and we’ll need to gain entry to a place with air at regular intervals or she’ll suffocate. She can’t breathe the way we can.”
“I leave that to thee and Halp. Mine destiny lies elsewhere,” replied the dragon.
“What?” questioned Jesyn. “You’re leaving?”
The dragon looked at her for a moment, then replied, “I shine like a beacon, a star of the Way brilliant within these very halls. Mine light obscures thee to Sovereign’s eye like the travelling lamp ’ere a candle. Go anon, whilst I draw the builders of Sovereign to me.”
“I thought that was what Dragor was doing,” Jesyn insisted, not understanding. She asked Tarin, “Did you know?”
Sai’ken held up a hand to Tarin, then faced the young adept. “Do not be so naïve to believe the maker of this world will be fooled by thy bawling group, children making noise within his rock. Every moment gained gives thee a slim chance, every distraction a slim hope. This mountain will come alive soon and thou wilt see the true folly in thinking thou had ever more than a thread upon which to grasp for success had I not appeared.”
She turned and laid a hand upon Tarin’s brow like a benediction. The dwarven healer dropped her head in response.
Sai’ken began to walk away but paused, then turned and faced Jesyn again. “Thou never truly expected to find him, did thee? ‘Twas thine own heart that spoke truest.” Then she changed form back into the sinuous dragon sheathed in black armor. Her claws dug into the rock and she said, “Go, others come!”
With that, the dragon shot off, a blur that entered one side passageway and disappeared before Jesyn had time to blink.
“Come on,” Tarin said, holding out her hand. Jesyn looked down at it, and the dwarven woman shook it urgently. “You hold onto me and hold your breath. This will be just like swimming for you.”
“Why do I feel like we were just used?” Jesyn said, looking at the space where the dragon had occupied. Then she turned to Tarin and said, “I can hold my breath for a very long time if I use the Way.”
“Don’t… use your entat to tell me how you’re doing. I’ll angle for corridors that are uninhabited.”
Halp stuck his head into the ground and looked around, then stood. “There’s a T junction about a hundred and fifty meters away.”
“Thanks for testing our phasing. You could have bashed your face into the ground,” Tarin remarked dryly.
Halp looked at her a little sheepishly, and Jesyn got the distinct impression he was not counted on for any brilliant thinking.
“How far is a meter?” she asked, worried now about how far away the next corridor of air would be.
“You’ll see,” Tarin said, grabbing the girl and diving into the stone. Jesyn almost took an involuntary breath at the sudden shock of transition. It wasn’t like water, more like sand filtering through every pore of her body. She could feel it flowing in through her skin, across and inside her lungs, even around her beating heart. It was the kind of feeling never meant to be experienced, unnerving and nauseating at the same time. Even worse, something dragged at her legs, like a weight trying to pull her from Tarin’s arms.