by J. K. Barber
Sasha nodded and the corner of her mouth tightened into a grin. “Well, I’ll let you worry about the babies. Right now, however, I am going to go defend the capital,” the redhead chuckled. However, when Katya giggled and turned to pick up her staff, Sasha’s face lost its feigned luster, as she strapped on her sword belt. Her eyebrows briefly knitted in thought, before Katya turned back, and then Sasha was smiling again.
“All set?” Katya asked.
Sasha sheathed her sword and grabbed her shield. “Ready.” The girls walked out of the room together, down the hall, and stopped to knock at the one where they heard familiar voices within.
Sasha knocked and entered when told to do so by her father’s voice. This room was decorated in deep greens. Jared’s gear was set by the mahogany nightstand. The large open room suited him well with his love of the forest. Niko and Chyla were bickering on a polished wooden table, surrounded by four chairs which held their other companions. Sasha was pleased to see Jared sitting with the group for a change.
Mala was as fully dressed for war as Sasha was. Branden wore his usual plain breastplate with his hammer, leaning up against the table beside him. Next to the smith, Talas wore his mace at his hip and a set of mail over his usual hardened leather. The entwined metal armor was on loan from Mala, who had always hated the extra weight, preferring just her padded armor and plate. Talas’ plain, steel rectangular shield leaned up against the wall of the room. A plainly dressed Jared kept glancing at the floor, where Jugger usually sat, flopped over on his feet. He had been sad to part with the dog and the dog with him, but their journey had been a long one and required speed. Sasha was pretty sure they would see the giant mastiff again.
“It is a shimmery vibration,” Chyla argued.
“I am just saying it is chilly too. Shimmery, sure, but darn chilly as well,” Niko countered.
“Niko, you are just picking up on the chill in the catacombs. Vibrations by their very definition are not cold. Vibrations are when things get warmed up and moving,” Chyla replied angrily. “Besides, you just want to be right, you big bully.” With that she stomped hard on Niko’s foot.
“Oooowww, Chyla!” Niko said, as he pulled his foot back and hopped around on his good foot, while he held the smushed one. “Oh you are going to get it now,” he said dropping his foot and coming at Chyla hands ready to grab her.
Five of the humans just stared dumfounded at the two Nhyme, but Talas put his hands together between them and pushed them apart, separating them slowly. Chyla bit Talas’ hand, while Niko kicked the other one. After a short time of this, Talas picked the two of them up, one firmly in each hand, and looked sternly from one to the other.
“Calm down,” Talas said slowly, although there was the slightest hint of anger in his voice. “Both of you.”
They struggled for a little longer in his grasp, but they both finally stopped wiggling and crossed their arms over their chests, trying their best to seem annoyed. Talas set them down and pulled two cubes of cheddar from one of his pouches and handed one to each. The Nhyme’s eyes lit up at the sight of the cheese. Niko sat smelling his while Chyla dug into her cube, eating like she was starved.
Talas looked up at the two girls, who still stood taken aback by the Nhyme feud. “From what we gathered from these two, who have been arguing for over an hour now, something is stirring in the catacombs of the palace.”
“Katya do you sense anything?” Mistress Mala asked the darker sister.
“Let me check,” the sorceress said. With practiced ease, Katya closed her eyes, relaxed her body, and reached out to feel the energies in the palace. Her eyes twitched under her eyelids, as she felt along the energy lines down to the catacombs.
Much like the Sorcerer Tower in Snowhaven, the deteriorating passageways beneath Aeirsga had a palpable power, although this place was older and interlaced with ancient magic that was falling apart like a spider’s web full of holes. Not a minute had passed without something cold seeming to grasp at her there, something that reminded her of the Shadow Walker’s chilly touch… Katya immediately pulled away and back into herself. Her eyes flew wide.
“They are here!” the sorceress said with panic in her voice. She looked around at the confused looks from her companions and clarified to whom she was referring. “The Shadow Walkers are here. I could feel their chill.”
Niko, who had shoved more cheese in his mouth than could possibly fit, managed to say in a muffled voice, “Tolf yah Chwa. Chiwa vibation!” Chyla stuck her tongue out at him.
“We need a plan.” Mala suggested, as she checked her gear, tightening straps and loosening her swords in their sheaths. Jared began to don his leather armor and checked his bow string. He buckled on his sword belt and slung his quiver over his shoulder.
Branden stood and lifted his war hammer to his shoulder. “Here is my plan,” he patted his weapon. “It has never failed me.”
“I am surprised you are still alive then, my friend,” Mala chuckled but stood as well. Talas nodded and rose, picking up his shield. Jared finished his preparations with a quick inspection of his arrows.
“Let’s send that ice bitch and her shadow puppets back to where they belong,” Branden voiced heartily.
Niko hopped up from his seat, a small spear in hand, “Yarr!” He shook the spear menacingly and flew to Talas’ shoulder. Chyla flew to Jared’s shoulder.
“Well, I am glad we can go into this fight on such a serious note,” Mala said sarcastically.
“I might be able to aid us in that regard, Mistress,” Talas said, putting his mace in his shield hand, and lowered his head. “Great Mother...” he began with his free hand over his heart. Everyone else lowered their heads too. “We beseech you to guide our weapons in this battle to come. May they strike swift and true. Please watch over us and guide our hands, so that we may bring light where there is now darkness.” He dropped his hand from his chest and then retrieved his mace, from where he had held it in his shield hand during the prayer. “Shall we?”
Mala nodded and followed Branden out the door. The twins went next after Talas, and Jared brought up the rear.
Chapter 36
The companions followed Branden down a series of hallways, out of the guest wing and into the lower portion of the palace. They went into an old storage room, full of racks of well cared for swords and sets of plate armor resting on carved wooden posts. Branden stopped and looked around the room. His brow knit as if he were confused.
“Are you sure you know where you are going, Branden?” Mala asked.
“Yes, they’ve just rearranged things since last I was here. The entrance to the catacombs is...” Branden looked over a particular portion of the back wall, his fingers following the lines of the stone’s mortar and then pushed a single stone the size of his hand. It depressed into the wall. “Here,” he said with satisfaction. A loud click sounded from the wall next to him, followed by the sound of rock grinding against the floor, as the wall slid aside revealing a small opening, leading to a stairwell that spiraled downward. The smell of wet earth and mildew washed over the group.
Branden grabbed torches from the outer hallway and handed one to Katya. Chyla flittered to Jared’s other shoulder, eyeing the torch in Katya’s hand warily. Turning back to the hidden passage, Talas laid a hand on Branden’s arm.
“Should we not warn someone about what we are doing? Let someone know where we went? If we cannot handle what lies below, the palace will be in danger,” Talas interjected.
“I understand your concern and respect it,” Branden responded, “However, if we were to alert the Palace Guard or the King, they may try to delay us, and then it may be too late. It would take time to assemble a contingent of guards, in addition to the time it would take to convince them of the danger. If we don’t stop her minions from corrupting the crystal as the Administrator described in his warning, we could have all of the Ice Queen’s army to deal with instead of just her Shadow Walkers. We should make haste, friend.”
> Talas hesitated a moment longer, but then nodded and released Branden’s arm. Branden took the lead again, torch in his left hand and his huge hammer in the right. The party followed him down into the dark.
Even with the lit torches in hand, it was difficult to see as they descended the stairway; the dancing flames cast moving shadows that made the stairs look almost mobile beneath their feet. Years of moisture had covered the stairs with a thin slime and made their footing all the more treacherous. Branden knew that the stairwell continued down for perhaps a hundred feet, before opening up into the passageways beneath the palace. Should one of them lose their footing and fall, the speed at which they would plummet down the stairs could prove fatal. If it was someone in the back, then they would all take the same trip. Branden set a slow pace, for safety’s sake, though every instinct in his body urged him to charge down the stairs in the hopes of stopping whatever ritual the Shadow Walkers were performing.
After what seemed a slow eternity, they came to the end of the stairs, and a dark hallway stretched out before them. The same slime that covered the stairs ran over the floor and walls. The ceiling dripped water, moisture that seeped through the ground from the rivers surrounding the inner city. Branden held his torch higher and walked down the hallway, his wary companions in tow. After a short while, the passageway ended, splitting into two halls. Branden turned to the right but was brought up short by Mala’s voice.
“How do you know this is the way to go?” the swordmistress asked.
“The hall to the left leads to a stairwell going down. The chambers below are flooded,” Branden plainly replied, anxious to get moving again.
“But what if they’re performing the ritual below?” Mala inquired, her questions continuing to stall their progress.
“If they are, then there is nothing we can do about it,” Branden tersely answered, his patience waning. “We can’t breathe water, and I don’t think the Empress’ army can either. While her Shadow Walkers may be able to survive while submerged, I doubt that her orcs can breathe water, and the humans she has in her employ definitely can’t.” Seeing the logic in the smith’s words, Mala motioned for Branden to continue.
The former King’s Guard briefly looked back on those that followed him to see how they were holding up. As expected the faces of Mala, Sasha and Talas betrayed nothing. They were soldiering on as they had been trained to do, setting aside their fear for the task at hand. Katya held her torch high as she wrapped her cloak about her against the cold. She had even pulled her hood up to retain as much heat as she could. Branden in his single-minded determination had not even noticed the chill. The armor he wore and the padding beneath helped fend off the cold, more so than his daughter’s robe and cloak. The face he noticed most, mainly for its absence, was Jared’s. Branden turned fully towards the group.
“Where is Jared?” the smith asked. Katya whirled around and took several steps past Talas back down the hallway, lowering her torch so that she could see the floor beneath. Jared came into view, a dozen paces behind, crouching down and starring at something in the dark. Branden followed his daughter and came upon the strange scene. The hunter was hunkered low to the floor and looking intently at what seemed to be nothing. As Branden’s torch added more light to the area, the smith saw a large black rat skitter away into the darkness.
“What is it, Jared?” Branden asked.
Jared did not seem to hear the smith’s resonant voice at first, but Chyla, looking concerned from her perch on the hunter’s shoulder, tugged on Jared’s earlobe, whispering loudly, “Hey! The big guy’s talking to you!”
“Jared?” Branden repeated.
The hunter turned dully towards the sound of the large man’s voice, almost as if he did not see the smith at first. There was a glassy quality to Jared’s eyes, and Branden thought he saw a glimmer of red, before the hunter raised his hand to shield his eyes from the light of the torches.
“Nothing,” Jared replied, his voice distant at first but becoming more coherent as he spoke. “I thought I saw a footprint in the dirt. It turned out of to be one of ours. Let’s move on.” Jared continued to hide his eyes as he stood. Branden queerly looked at the hunter for a moment. Of course, there would be many footprints in the hallway, through which they had just traveled. Under other circumstances the smith would have questioned Jared further, but more important matters demanded his attention. Shaking his head, Branden returned to his place at the front of the party and continued to lead them down the passageway on the right.
As they made their way through thick webs and across slick uneven floors, they passed several rooms on either side of the hall. The remnants of decayed wooden doors littered the openings of each room. After a quick inspection by torchlight, each room, which the former King’s Guard knew were dead ends, was confirmed devoid of enemies. However, what was becoming apparent was that these rooms held the remains of chairs, tables and even the frame of a bed here and there.
“Father?” Sasha asked as they finished the inspection of such a room.
Branden glanced over his shoulder at his daughter as they continued walking, seeing the torchlight glint off of her ivy-engraved breastplate. He knew that he had crafted a sturdy set of armor for his daughter and hoped that it would protect her from the creatures they were expecting to face. “Yes, Sasha, what is it?”
“These rooms that we’re passing…” the young red-haired swordswoman waved her hand to indicate the chamber they were just leaving. “People used to live here, didn’t they? I mean, this used to be part of the palace, didn’t it?”
“Yes and no,” Branden replied. “The palace above is built on the ruins of an older palace. Not much is known about the people who lived here before Aeirsga and Illyander were founded.”
Talas broke in. “We know very little of our predecessors, but what records we could find support the theory that the island was much smaller in the days before the reign of the First King of Illyander.” The veteran turned an eye towards Branden. “It is also said that the Royal Crest, intertwined red and blue dragons, is a derivation of a symbol these people used often.”
The former priest would have continued, but the companions were brought up short by a pair of large, bronze-bound wooden doors. The doors were ornately-carved at one time. However, the ravages of age and humidity had warped the images on the wood to the point of being unrecognizable. Branden had seen these doors before and did not have time to try to puzzle the meaning of the images now. The only new thing he noticed about the doors was that they occasionally dripped water into the cracked stone beneath them. The wood seemed to have swelled considerably. He placed his gauntleted-hand against the left door and tried to push the massive portal open. Branden stumbled forward, as he met much less resistance than he had anticipated. His hand pushed through the rotten wood completely, and the door began to sway unsteadily upon its hinges. Branden took a step back and motioned for the others to do the same. With no support in the middle, the door began to collapse in upon itself. Rotten chunks of wood and empty bronze bindings fell with soggy thumps to the wet stone floor.
“Well, that’s new” Branden said. “The last time I was here those doors were actually functional.” The smith eyed the right door that still stood. Stepping across the collapsed door, Branden said, “Best to leave that other door alone. There’s no telling what kind of shape it’s in.”
They moved into the space beyond, a huge room that bore many similarities to the area, in which they had first met the King. However, where King Morgan’s throne room was bright and clean, this room was shrouded in darkness and decay. Iron bars for hanging tapestries jutted naked from the walls, and piles of unidentifiable mush lay beneath them, the only hint that anything had ever hung there at all. Moldy piles of wood lay scattered about the room, where chairs and tables must have stood long ago. Only a pair of marble thrones remained intact at the far end of the long room, their once alabaster surfaces covered under years of grime and cobwebs.
As
the group spread out around the room, checking the shadows for enemies, Branden said, “This is the last room on this level. The old palace was not as large as the current one, and the rest of it is flooded. I don’t know where else to look.” Branden watched his friends and family, as they scoured the chamber, searching for any other passages. His eyes returned to Jared, who was examining a corner of the room, far from the torchlight. Branden began to cross the room to bring the hunter more light, but he was stopped halfway to his destination by the sound of his daughter’s voice.
“There is something... here,” Katya said, her voice remote and her gaze unfocused. “I sense power beyond that wall.” Katya moved as if in a trance, her feet leading her towards the far end of the room to the wall behind the thrones. As she reached the wall her voice returned to its normal tone. “The Shadow Walkers are close. I can feel them on the other side of this wall.”
The others moved in close and began searching the wall for a trigger of some type. Talas went to the thrones with Branden to look for a lever or mechanism there. However, the wall and the thrones proved to be solid stone under their touch.
After several minutes of staring at the stone, Katya whispered to herself, “I wonder...” The young sorceress murmured a short string of words under her breath, and a soft blue-white radiance collected around her hand. Chyla, who was perched on Jared nearby, watched intently as the sorceress placed her outstretched palm to the wall. The stone beneath her fingers began to shimmer. A moment later, the barricade melted away like morning fog before the dawn. Only a tall archway remained in its place. Perhaps twenty paces ahead lay a tall pillar of soft white illumination. The rest of the room was shrouded in a thick black gloom.
Branden stepped forward through the archway, his huge maul held in his right hand. Holding his torch low, he looked at the floor in front of them. Dust and dirt lay in a thick blanket across the stones; no one had come this way in hundreds of years. The rest of his companions followed him, as he moved farther into the chamber beyond.