Wayfarer (The Empyrean Chronicle)

by Siana, Patrick

  Elias lined up his throw with a quick appeal to the One and tossed his sword over. Teah caught it with ease. She gripped it in two hands along the scabbard and studied the markings embossed into its crimson and black face. A faraway look crept over her features, and she arched a delicate eyebrow. “Enchanted, indeed,” she said.

  She focused on it and then frowned. “I can sense the magic trapped in it, but I can’t touch it.” She closed her eyes, as if probing the sword with her mind. Elias guessed that was exactly what she was doing. “You and this sword are connected, bonded in a way.”

  “Yes,” said Elias. “I told you about the runes.”

  “I do remember,” she said. Her eyes opened. “Perhaps you need to do something to let me access its power.”

  Elias chuckled. “Like what, give you my permission.”

  Teah tilted her head to a side. “Why not?”

  “Well, whatever you’re going to do, be on about it,” said Malak. “I feel like a fish in a barrel exposed up here.”

  Elias thought of when instinct had led him to give the blade to Nyla. He held out a hand and reached out to his sword with his mind. The runes branded into his forearm warmed. “Release your power to this woman.”

  Teah stood straight, and at once she looked less fatigued. She eased the sword loose of the scabbard an inch, to reveal steel glowing with a bright cerulean light. A beam of it shot toward Elias and transfixed him. Before he could process what was happening he found himself soaring over the fissure and to the other side. He came to rest gently before Teah.

  Teah gazed into the steel for a beat before sheathing the blade fully. She stroked the glossy surface of the scabbard almost affectionately. “It is a most elegant weapon, isn’t it? And useful.” She handed it back to Elias who couldn’t help but agree.

  They wended down the stairs for an indeterminable amount of time, which Elias had to conceded was likely less than a half an hour but felt a great deal longer, until he felt his hands numb, and his resolve weaken. With the desire to call a halt to their solemn and treacherous march down the sheer cliff face mounting with every passing moment, Teah at long last came to a stop. Elias sensed her alarm at once and reached for his sword. “What is it?”

  “Someone has come before us and discovered this entrance. They’ve blown the door clean away.”

  “Magic then.”

  “And not artfully wrought,” Malak said, his pregnant fear replaced with curiosity.

  “Agreed,” said Teah. “The residual magic is faint, for the working was done some time ago, but I can still sense the arcanist’s signature.” She grew silent, studying the rubble around the secret passage. She shook her head. “This was not done by a fey.”

  A smirk found Elias’s lips despite himself. “And yet you say arcane lore has been lost to humans.”

  “Indeed,” said Teah after a couple of beats. “Yet here we are.” She turned her head to look up at Elias who could not fit on the spare landing before the open doorway. “Still, this display shows raw power, rather than art. Not unlike another human I know.”

  The rare twinkle in her eyes took the sting out of the jibe, and Elias found his spirits strangely bolstered by the atypical display of jocularity from the usually reserved Teah. “Lead on, master shaper.”

  Once they entered the tunnel, they all crouched around their knapsacks, taking a much needed respite. Elias drew Leosis’s cloak tight about him, for though they were out of the biting wind of the open plateau, now that they were sedentary, a chill sank into him. He swallowed a bite of hard cheese and said, “At the least now we know what we’re up against, in part.”

  “You mean the Wilder?” asked Malak.

  He nodded. “We can at least expect to encounter some in the tunnels.”

  “This might well be good news,” said Teah.

  Malak snorted. “I can hardly see how.”

  “Long have we known that the Dark occasionally foray down here to seek treasure from the great battles and the ruins of Peidra. We also know that many lowborn creatures summoned by the Darkin or their fell pets wander the catacombs. Perhaps these three groups have skirmished and reduced each other’s numbers.”

  Elias gave her a wolfish smile. “Or else they’ve had cause to grow more hostile, to perfect the art of war.”

  Malak scowled. “I’m supposed to be the pessimistic one here, right?”

  Elias took a breath. “Alright then. It’s time we discuss strategy, in the event that we do find ourselves faced with hostiles.”

  Teah favored him with a bemused look. “And I suppose you have some suggestions.”

  Elias grinned at her. “As it were, yes. Now, you two have no mean measure of power between you, but you are unused to combat. I am not. As such I think I should take point in a fight. Malak, you can use your magic to shield me from harm, or to create barriers to funnel the enemy. Teah, perhaps you can focus on support of Malak and healing our wounds as they occur. Are you able to heal while we’re engaged? If we are outnumbered we may not have the luxury of waiting until the battle is finished.”

  Teah hesitated. “I can, but it is more difficult by magnitudes to heal over a distance. The physical touch makes it much easier. The life-force energy is subtle and diffuses rapidly outside of a channeling host.”

  “Understood,” said Elias. “Still?”

  “I will do my best,” she promised.

  “And for your part, Malak,” asked Elias, “What do you think?”

  The young Enkilder nodded. “It is a sound plan, but I must confess I am more apt with the dynamistic arts.”

  Elias looked to Teah, who said, “What he means is that he is better suited to manipulating raw forces, not unlike yourself. Wind, fire, psychokinesis—dynamic forces.”

  “Ah,” said Elias. “His powers tend more toward...well, more toward offense.” When Malak flushed, Elias was quick to add, “Not that I think you are predisposed toward violence, but that kind of Arcanum is what is used to counterstrike enemies on the field.”

  Malak gave a single, curt nod. “No offense intended, and none received.”

  Elias thought back to the courtroom and the ease with which Malak cast a sphere of angry, dense fire. “Still, if you find us in a tight bind, and your conscience allows it, let fly.”

  Malak began packing up his gear and nodded, though he kept his eyes fast on his task.

  “It is a sound stratagem, Wayfarer,” said Teah. “However, as my senses are a little more developed at this time, I think I should—what is it you say, take point—until combat finds us.”

  “Agreed,” said Elias. “We ready?”

  Malak’s voice was hoarse when he gave his assent. Elias took him by the shoulder, glad that the Enkilder no longer flinched under the familiar gesture. “Malak, I’m glad to have you. Our task would prove much more difficult without a person of your guile and strength.”

  Malak returned the gesture, albeit stiffly. “Thank you for that, Elias.”

  The corners of Teah’s lips flirted with a smile. “Onward, then.”

  The air turned warm soon enough as they snaked their way deep into the plateau under the ruins of Peidra. Teah produced an oil lantern, fearing that even such a simple working as a light spell might alert anyone sensitive to magic to their presence. Elias kept a close pace at her heels, making sure that the hilt of his sword was free from his cloak.

  “How long have we been at it?” Elias asked. “It’s hard to keep time down here.”

  Malak withdrew a pocket watch and clicked it open. “Six past noon.”

  “Good,” said Teah. “Shall we break for dinner, and then press on until it’s time to make camp?”

  Elias, and his tired feet, were all too eager to agree. They dragged out the meal, none of them eager to set out into the darkened corridors once more. As they were packing up Elias stiffened and reached for his sword.

  “What is it?” asked Malak who gingerly set down his pack and pressed his back against the wall.


  Elias didn’t answer him for a couple of beats. “I thought I heard something.”

  Malak glanced at Teah who said, “I heard nothing.” She closed her eyes and her breathing deepened. “I don’t sense anything.”

  Elias buckled on his sword. “Ears must be playing tricks on me.” Still, he made a silent oath to be prepared for the worst.

  The rest of the evening passed without incidence and they decided to make camp as Malak’s pocket watch pointed toward midnight. “I’ll take the first watch,” said Elias, unbuckling his sword and resting it on his lap.

  “Are you certain?” asked Teah. “We Enkilder require less rest than you.”

  “Which is why I would prefer to avoid the middle watch. It is the most difficult. Besides, I don’t think sleep will find me easily.”

  “Remind me to teach you a trick to overcome that,” Teah replied. “When we’ve more time, and better accommodations.”

  Elias settled against a wall. “You’ve a deal.” Teah and Malak settled down on their spare sleeping rolls. They closed their eyes, and at once their breathing became the slow and rhythmic cadence of the deeply slumbering. “A trick I could put to good use indeed,” he said to himself as he gazed off into the stygian darkness.

  A feeling of anxiety grew in him with each passing moment, but the hours trickled by without so much as the skitter of a rat. Elias passed his time with polishing his sword, which never did seem to dull or nick. He traced his finger along the exotic symbols etched into the base of the blade. He wondered if the secrets of the runes and their purpose would forever remain a mystery to him.

  In good time, a voice answered out of the darkness.

  Elias shook his head and rose into a combat crouch. He reached out with his senses, the technique which had once required so much concentration coming to him as easily as breath, born from an instinct that no longer stirred with reticence like a sleeper awakening from a deep and dreamless slumber, but one which rose arrow-fast into the air like a hunting hawk with his blinders torn off.

  He was certain something was out there, disembodied voices aside. Slowly, surreptitiously he unclasped his cloak, letting it fall to the ground, and stood. He focused his energy into a cocoon around him, as Teah had taught him and wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword, preparing to slide it free.

  “There are five arrows drawn on you,” a female voice said from the darkness. “Pull that sword, and it will be the last thing you ever do.”

  Chapter 33

  The Wilder

  “That didn’t take long,” Elias observed.

  “I will arrow you in your guts. You’ll die slow.”

  Still, Elias hesitated. He took his hand from the hilt and held his sword by the scabbard, letting it rest against his leg. “You sound human,” he said, taking a chance. The silence he met with, told him he had guessed correctly. “Come into the light, and let us talk. We are the same, you and I.”

  “The same? No. I don’t think so.”

  But Elias heard the soft scrape of slippered feet and sensed a presence draw closer. “We have not come to invade your home, but to pass through.”

  “There are worse things down here than us.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” said Elias.

  “Put down your weapon.”

  “But, as you say, there are worse things down here than you. I would hate to be defenseless.”

  “You talk good, but you won’t trick me.”

  “I don’t seek to. Come into the light, and let us speak.”

  Hushed whispers and a strange clicking sound came from the darkness. “Fine,” said a voice at last. “I’ll talk with you. If he tries anything arrow him first, then his friends.”

  A lean silhouette materialized at the edge of the lantern light. She wore deerskin trousers and a piecemeal vest of darker animal skins. She crept close on leather slippered feet, her bow nocked and held low. She eyed the two supine forms of Teah and Malak.

  Elias followed her gaze. “They are weaponless.”

  “Weapon less?”

  Elias’s mind worked. “They are not warriors, or hunters.”

  The Wilder nodded. “Wise Women?”

  “Something like that.” Elias hesitated for a beat. “Teah, Malak, you might as well get up, but move slowly.” The two who had played the slumbering pair stirred. The Wilder stiffened. Elias held up a hand. “They are no threat to you. Be at peace.”

  The woman snorted. “Peace. Not a word my tribe has had much use for. Or much hope for.”

  “Fair enough,” Elias said. “Here, I’ll lay down my sword and you lay down your bow, and we’ll sit and talk.”

  The woman nodded. “This is good.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Enra.”

  “I am called Elias. This here is Teah, and Malak.”

  With careful, deliberate movements Teah and Malak rose to sit cross-legged.

  Enra shot the Enkilder a flat look, but beneath her expression Elias sensed a wealth of emotion. “What do you want in our tunnels?”

  “We seek passage to the catacombs beneath Peidra,” said Teah.

  Enra grunted. “Treasure hunters.”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Teah said, “but we don’t seek golden baubles but knowledge.”

  Enra’s dark eyes glittered. “What kind of knowledge?”

  Teah locked eyes with the Wilder. “The kind that may heal this land.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “That’s what you say,” Teah returned, “yet I can see that we want the same thing.”

  “It is not a great secret that my people would like to live under the sun, but the dark ones rule.”

  “We mean to see the dark ones reign ended.”

  Enra smiled. “I like what you say more. But it remains to see if you speak truth. The Medicine Woman will decide. You will come with us.”

  Elias returned Enra’s grin. “I expect it is better than the alternative.”

  She laughed, a short bright sound. “You expect right, Outsider.” She made a hand signal and four archers stepped into the wan lamplight. “Two in front, two in back.” She returned her attention to Elias, who she had decided was the de facto leader, or at least whom she preferred to address. “Don’t give me reason to regret not arrowing you.”

  Elias brought a knuckled fist to his heart. “I swear that you won’t.”

  Enra titled her head and peered at him quizzically before mimicking the gesture. “This is good.” Without a further word Enra stood and began walking down the corridor leaving Elias’s party to hurriedly gather their possessions and scurry after her.

  They walked wordlessly down a series of passages through the dark. The Wilder seemed to require little light to see and for illumination used only sticks slicked with some kind of luminescent slime, which shed an eerie diffuse green glow some few feet ahead of them. Elias made an effort to try to remember their route, but the dim light gave him a headache and they moved so quickly that he soon lost account of their passage.

  After some quarter of an hour at this pace, Elias was arrested by a quick burning on his forearm. The runes etched into his flesh had cried out in warning. He faltered in his step.

  “Wayfarer, what is it?” asked Teah, before falling against him, as the Wilder behind her didn’t see fit to break stride.

  Elias’s hand went to his sword. At once the sound of four bowstrings drawing whined in the silent caves. Elias snatched his hand from the hilt of his blade and held up his hands. “Peace.”

  Enra turned about to stand at his toes. “What is this?”

  Elias peered past her into the darkened passage. “I sense something. Danger awaits us ahead.”

  Enra blinked. “You are a seer? But you’re a man.”

  Teah shifted against his back. “I think you’re right. I feel something out there, but it’s small.”

  “Size means little down here,” Enra said dryly. She peered down the corridor. She sniffed and then crept forwa
rd on her slippered toes and sniffed again. She spat a curse, a word unknown to Elias. “A dragoon. I can smell its breath.”

  “Dragoon?” asked Teah. “Do you mean a wurm?”

  “If you mean flying lizard that can breathe poison, then yes,” said Enra as she drew her bow.

  “What,” said Elias, “like a little dragon?”

  “You could say that,” said Teah, “though I’ve never met with a dragon. Thing is, they usually travel in packs.”

  “Ducky,” said Malak with a shrill laugh.

  “Do they breathe fire?” asked Elias as he drew his sword. Enra eyed the blade but said nothing.

  “Or acid, or poison,” said Teah.

  “If that’s the case then we should try to find a more open area, so that they can’t take us all down with one strike.”

  Enra wasted no time agreeing. “Quickly, to the right. There’s an opening where three passageways meet. Let’s hope we can make it. Once they have a scent there’s no choice but to fight.” Without waiting for reply or acknowledgement she set out to the right at an easy run.

  After a couple of minutes Enra cried, “We’re almost there!”

  Elias’s arm began to burn anew. “They’re on top of us!”

  “Arrows!” screamed Enra and the Wilder in the back rank who yet had arrows nocked, turned and let fly even as they jogged backward. Enra and the archer at her side followed suit, lobbing arrows over the others’ heads.

  “Sprint!” Enra screamed, and each member of the rag tag party was all too eager to comply.

  They gained the small opening, which was fifteen feet wide if that, just as the high pitched keening of the wurm filled the narrow tunnel behind them. The Wilder scattered to the far wall and spread out, having drawn and nocked fresh arrows. Teah and Malak took up position far to one side by the entrance of another passageway. “Elias, over here!” Teah cried.

  Elias sprinted to her side, his lungs burning and brow slick with sweat. He raised his sword into a high guard even as Teah erected a shimmering shield around the trio. Malak cast off his pack and pushed back his sleeves.

  The three winged creatures were all sharp angles from their triangular wings to their reptilian heads and barbed tails. Even their screech was sharp, and cut the thick subterranean air like shards of glass. The Wilder let fly as one, two of the four arrows fired finding the wurm in the lead. It went down, impaled in its underbelly, but the remaining two wurm opened wide their maws before their fellow hit the ground, and showered the Wilder with a black and viscous fluid. Enra dove forward, under the trajectory of the reeking spray, and rolled into an easy somersault. Of the other three Wilder, two managed to largely avoid the attack to either side, while the center most caught a blast of the tar full on his back. He fell face-down with a scream a twin to that of the wurm’s.