In Siege of Daylight

by Gregory S Close

  “If you aren’t subsumed, first,” Kassakan argued, but Osrith could see she was already being swayed by the possibility.

  “There’s no point discussing it. The decision is mine alone.”

  “If you want to play host to this damn thing, we can’t stop you,” Osrith conceded with a shrug. He didn’t want to leave Two-Moons here, but they couldn’t stand around arguing about it much longer. It was clear that reason wasn’t going to get through to him, no matter what they said, so he decided a purely emotional appeal was worth a quick try. “But what about her?”

  Two-Moons looked down at Symmlrey’s sleeping form, his mouth tight and down-turned. “She’ll have to make her own way.” Two-Moons touched her cheek with a gentle, fatherly touch, and then put his palm to her forehead, muttering something under his breath. “Wake, child,” he whispered after a moment, and her eyelids fluttered open.

  She focused slowly, reaching up to rub the injury at her temple before settling on her shoulder. “Two-Moons?” she said, her speech still somewhat shaky. “Thank Ingryst. What happened? Where are we?”

  “I’ll explain it as we go,” he soothed. “We don’t have much time.”

  Captain Sul Vaujn wiped his broad sword on the dringli carcass and examined its edge to check for damage from the melee. The ruddy steel was keen and straight, with no sign of chip or fracture, and he smiled to himself. This sword had been good to him over the years, and he was pleased they had come out of one more battle together, both none the worse for wear.

  “All accounted for, Captain,” reported Sergeant Mueszner, returning from his survey of the trail downstream. “Sending the lead boat over the falls got their attention, all right. They never knew what hit ‘em.”

  Vaujn clapped his friend and subordinate on the shoulder and grinned. “I thought it might. Good work, one and all, that was.”

  And he meant it, too. He’d been worried his squad might be rusty when it came to combat after their little hiatus at Outpost Number Nine, but the ambush had gone without a hitch. More than twice their number in dringli cut down without more than a scratch or two to show for their trouble. Not that it had been a fair fight, but Vaujn didn’t care much about fair when it came to war. He wanted to come out of it with his squad intact and their goal complete, and he wasn’t too particular about the details in between. If Mother Chloe could scry out enemy positions from halfway upstream, then, by Rondainaken, they’d take advantage of it. “How about the boats? Are we ready to make the portage down the Great Stair?”

  “Any click now, sir,” assured the sergeant.

  “Good, let me know when we’re ready to get started. I’m going to consult with Chloe one more time, see if she’s found anything out yet.”

  Mueszner nodded and went back to the rest of the squad, who were still hard at work rearranging the boats and supplies for their trek down to the base of Mordigul’s Plunge. Vaujn walked in the opposite direction, toward the back of the dringli lair. It was just a shallow cave in the rock face, scattered with hides and pelts and lightly provisioned. That meant their main base of operations was nearby, but Vaujn didn’t plan on staying nearby for long. Chloe was in the back of the room, as far removed from the commotion and the river as she could be, peering down at her stone basin with a frown.

  “Any luck?” he asked her.

  “Something is blocking me out,” she said, stirring the water in the bowl with her finger. “I can’t even tell what.”

  “Damn place is still chock full of andu’ai magic, is all,” reassured Vaujn with the casual confidence of complete ignorance. He wanted to keep moving and put the Sunken City and all its mythical dangers behind them.

  “I don’t think so,” she contradicted. “It’s an active effort to shield – wait, it’s clearing up a little.”

  Vaujn remained quiet and still while she concentrated on the pool. A series of indistinct forms were swimming about, but he couldn’t make anything out clearly. His wife continued staring for several clicks, heedless of his impatience to be on their way. He thought she was beautiful when she concentrated like that, the way her brow would knit and her left eye would squint more than the right. He squelched the sudden desire to stroke her braids.

  “Not good,” she said simply, looking up from her work.

  “What?”

  “It’s not too clear. The interference is still there. It just seems… distracted. All I can tell is that there are shadowborn on the south bank and a horde of cave-manti on the north, along with whoever or whatever likes its privacy. And –” she looked up with an unhappy glower “– our Shaddach Chi and his friends are in the city, too.”

  Vaujn rolled his eyes. “What? Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure,” she confirmed. “Maybe their boat sank and stranded them here, or the dringli injured them and they were forced to rest. Whatever the reason, I saw them.”

  Vaujn pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t good news. There was probably nothing they could do for Osrith and his companions, but he was bound by oath to help him in any way he could. And if that meant a doomed rescue attempt, it wouldn’t be the first in kin history.

  “Can you read the stones?” he asked.

  “Not from here. We’ll have to get down closer to the city. Once we’re there, no amount of interference can keep me from communing with the mountain directly.”

  “Once we’re there, that interference might be the least of our worries.”

  The Great Stair was a figurative term, Vaujn finally decided, carefully picking his way across another gaping crack in the granite. It wasn’t an artificial construct, as he had always thought, but a slippery tumble of rocks that made a slightly less dangerous descent than the waterfall it paralleled. There were four kin to each of the two remaining boats, and four, including himself, Chloe and Mueszner, who were scouting ahead and keeping watch for hostiles.

  “I think I see the end of it up ahead!” yelled out Sturng Darrow, the last of the four on guard and the furthest in front. “About a hundred hetahrs!”

  Vaujn caught his breath and peered down past Darrow, and he, too, thought he saw the crumbling path smooth out into more stable ground. They were making good time down the treacherous expanse of rocks, but fatigue could wreak havoc even on the most sure-footed kin.

  “Boats down!” he commanded. “We rest five counts, and then we finish it off. Rotate crews!”

  The squad responded crisply, placing the boats perpendicular to the steep slope before stretching their tired muscles. Vaujn regretted the circumstances of their journey because, in all reality, this was a very beautiful place. The Dolset rushed over the cliff and splashed over the rocks in a furious abandon. It was a sight wasted on the likes of dringli, but the churning waters stirred his soul as they carved out their passage in the deep rock of this ancient mountain. Water was a sculptor that ran wild and free over its medium. Some thought it a battle between elements, but Vaujn liked to think it was more like a lover’s caress that stroked and smoothed the roughness from the rock.

  “Reminds me of Kabuhl Falls,” Mueszner said from behind him.

  “Wilder,” Vaujn commented. “Freer.”

  “I’ll be glad when we put it behind us,” the sergeant added.

  “Me too.”

  The respite was needed, but to the impatient kin it passed slower than they would have liked. The crews rotated, all but Mother Chloe, who couldn’t carry a boat and concentrate on her divinations simultaneously. Vaujn took his turn, though, shouldering his portion of the burden without complaint. They ported the boats upside down with one stout set of shoulders to each of the crossbeams. Vaujn liked hard work. He always thought clearer when he sweated.

  The rest of the unit was no slower than he to the task, and they were off again down the slope without delay. Vaujn was particularly pleased with the lack of protest from the squad. He’d thought they would revolt and throw him to the rockfishers when he first told them where Osrith had gone, and where they must follow. The le
gends spoke dread things of this place, and it was not a trifling matter to ignore such tales. But they had taken up the challenge with the stoic determination of true champions, deciding to look fate in its eye and face it down rather than balk at the possible dangers. Not that the Guhddan-kinne stalking them didn’t provide some incentive.

  “Watch your step,” someone shouted from ahead of him, cutting through the roar of the falls.

  Vaujn shifted his concentration from where they’d been to where he was walking. The footing had indeed become more treacherous. The rocks, more smoothed by the pummeling that the Dolset meted out at the base of the falls, were therefore slicker and more rounded, inviting a careless foot to wedge between them and crack. He felt his boots slip on more than one occasion as they struggled with the boats over the last bit of the Stair.

  “Hold ‘em up, sir,” the same warning voice shouted as they reached more level ground.

  Vaujn peeked out from under the boat frame to see which of his unit was addressing them, then gave the order when he recognized her. “All halt!” he barked. “What is it, Läzch?”

  The young woman who had taken Sturng’s place on point knelt with her crossbow readied, staring off to her left at the rock face. Her face shield was down, and only the wispy fringes of her blonde hair were visible from behind the helm’s snarling caricature of her face. She was his youngest squad member, but his best in tracking and marksmanship. Sturng was capable enough, but Vaujn found himself grateful that the rotation had worked out the way it had.

  “Cave-mantis,” she said, tracking some spot high up on the wall with her weapon. “Just one. Up there.”

  Vaujn tried to follow her finger to the point on the wall where he imagined the thing was clinging, but mostly all he saw was the side of the boat. “What’s it doing?”

  “I think it’s watching us, sir,” she said. “I can put a bolt in it.”

  “Wait!” He ducked his head back under the boat, then out the other side, “Chloe?”

  “What?”

  “Can you hold it there? I don’t want to kill it and get the whole horde after us, but we can’t just let it go either. It might be close to feeding time.”

  A dozen kin feet shifted and scraped on the rock.

  Mother Chloe didn’t answer, but closed her eyes and knelt with one hand splayed on the ground. She beseeched the mountain with words mouthed rather than spoken, and reached her free hand up toward the watching mantis. The spirits within the rock awakened slowly to her call, for they had grown sluggish over the many years spent at the edge of the Sunken City’s dire wards. But awaken they did, and the rock encircled the mantis in a solid and unbreakable embrace. Chloe continued her silent chant until the stone had seeped between the creature’s mandibles, effectively silencing it, and then she took a deep breath and stood.

  “An hour maybe,” she warned, “but no more.”

  “What about the city? Can you scry anything yet?”

  Chloe shot her husband an irritated glance. “Not without stopping, I can’t. Besides, the closer we get, the clearer it will be.”

  “Let’s move on,” he ordered. He didn’t much like the idea of being on top of whatever it was before they discovered its identity, but he knew Chloe well, and if she didn’t think it was worth her time yet, it wasn’t. “We’ll stop up there where the ruins start in earnest. Keep a sharp eye, Läzch, no telling what’s in there.”

  “Can’t we just float the boats?” Darrow asked. “Why go through the city if we don’t have to?”

  Vaujn blew air noisily through his lips. He knew he’d have to tell them at some point; he was just hoping the time wouldn’t come so soon. “We came down here to find Osrith,” he said, “and that’s where he’s at.”

  “This just gets worse and worse,” mumbled the corporal, almost under his breath. “Damn Shaddach Chi.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  THE WELLSPRING

  TWO-MOONS led them out of the Fourteen Halls and down a wide and mostly intact staircase of an unknown green and black stone, once again following a glowing orb of Kassakan’s crafting. Even so, most of the Sunken City was still in shadow.

  “So you’re saying this Jir’aatu was one of the good andu’ai? One of Jiliath’s rebel mages?” Osrith’s tone was doubtful. If Two-Moons and Kassakan were correct, and this qal was one of the nicer specimens of his race, he was alternately relieved and worried. “Doesn’t seem real friendly.”

  “As I explained – he’s quite mad,” Two-Moons said. “When the city was destroyed, his physical form was destroyed also. Seoughal cursed him with a non-corporeal existence, and such has he lived for centuries.”

  Osrith shrugged. “Non-what?”

  “He is in spirit form,” explained Kassakan, “and must abide in the bodies of others. And his choice of accommodations here is obviously limited. I doubt any mortal could have withstood such an existence.”

  Osrith scowled over at the wilhorwhyr. “And he’s in you now. I’m sorry. I don’t like it.”

  “I’m not asking you to like it,” returned Two-Moons, fixing Osrith with a glare of his own. “We all do what we must.”

  “If you fought him, you could free yourself,” suggested Symmlrey. She walked by her own strength now, somewhat unsteady but unwilling to accept assistance. She, like Osrith, was not pleased with Two-Moons’ plan. “I don’t understand why you must do this at all.”

  Two-Moons’ face softened as he looked to his young Initiate, but his resolve remained strong. “If the worst were to happen to me, and I ceased to be anything but a shell for the Old One, at least you would be in Dwynleigsh and our mission would not be foiled. And there is the prospect of so much more, my child. If I can help restore the sanity to Jir’aatu’s mind, he will be a great ally for our cause.” He reached for her shoulder then, and spoke to her with the love and firmness of a proud father to his child. “It is time for you to follow your own course, now – to go where Ingryst guides you. I release you from your training, and beseech you to continue in the wisdom of your own judgment. If I do not see you hence, know that you will always be in my heart and memory.”

  Symmlrey tightened her jaw and placed her hand over his. Her voice carried only a hint of her warring emotions. “And you, mine,” she said.

  Osrith looked away, irritated that one by one Two-Moons was gaining their blessing for his absurd strategy. They turned down a once-grand passageway lined with murals of exacting detail and vibrant color. The main figures were all andu’ai, but beyond that, Osrith didn’t waste any time absorbing the details of the work. After what he estimated was two hundred feet or more, they passed under an archway into the room beyond.

  It was an oval courtyard, about a hundred feet in length and fifty across at its widest point. In the center steamed a pool of shimmering water, lit from within by a deep blue light. The perimeter was a series of massive alternating gold and silver arches spanning the gaps between slender copper pillars. The apex of each fluted column was crowned with twisting characters from an alphabet Osrith didn’t recognize, but assumed were andu’ai. Each was distinct from the others, but all were of the same bloodshot black stone. Their confiscated weapons and supplies already awaited them, stacked neatly just inside the doorway. Osrith started sorting through the pile immediately, easing his discomfort by degrees with each weapon he recovered.

  “The Wellspring,” said Two-Moons with an indicative wave. “We must wait a short while.” He groaned and wavered on his feet. “Before I send… you….”

  Symmlrey had his arm in an instant, steadying him. “Are you all right?”

  “Jir’aatu,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

  Osrith stepped over to Two-Moons and grabbed his face roughly in his hands. “You fight him, old man!” he ordered. “Fight him!”

  “Yes,” nodded the wilhorwhyr, “safe for now. Only a little longer.”

  Symmlrey herded Osrith away protectively, wiping a tear or bead of sweat from Two-Moons’ pasty cheek. “Tell u
s about the Wellspring,” she said gently. “Where will it bring us?”

  Two-Moons made a weak effort at a smile. “Meyr ga’Glyleyn,” he said. “King’s Keep. There are a number of ley lines still intact from here, but that one should be most convenient for our purpose. The bonds are weak from disuse and the aftershocks of the Fall, so Jir’aatu thinks it best to wait until his iiyir tides are at their height.”

  “And how long will that be?” Osrith said, folding his arms across his chest.

  “An hour, possibly more.”

  Osrith didn’t much like the sound of that. “You sure he just doesn’t want to wait until you’re asleep again?”

  “I don’t think we have much choice,” Kassakan said. “Two-Moons cannot open or control the Wellspring. For that, we will need Jir’aatu.”

  “Wonderful,” Osrith grumbled. “Does this make anyone else nervous?”

  “As I said, we haven’t much choice,” replied Kassakan, “but I suspect Two-Moons still retains enough control to ensure our safety, even when Qal Jir’aatu has use of his body.”

  “Yes,” Two-Moons assured them, lowering himself to sit by the edge of the Wellspring. He looked across the water, eyes glazed, as if concentrating on something unseen on the opposite, artificial shore of the glowing water.

  Osrith wondered if it were his imagination or paranoia that detected an unnatural yellowish gleam in that gaze. Symmlrey also stared away into the distance, but Osrith at least suspected the content of her silent thoughts. In an hour, she would leave behind more than simply a companion, and she would take on more than a simple burden. He couldn’t guess at her age from her appearance – the fae didn’t age much physically – but from her manner he judged she was young by their standards. He didn’t envy her the responsibility she had inherited. He counted himself fortunate that within a day he would most likely be paid in full and drinking away his pains at the Gimpy Wyrm. That thought brought a slight smile to his face.