“Ware these words, and watch the nether,
For the binding of Fate doth tether,
He who's eyes blood-red,
A single tear doth shed
And upon finding, the tear will die,
Promises told and kept and yet a lie
Mistress and Fate have much in store
The end shall begin in war
And upon the death of a friend
Arise, arise, the 'walker shall walk again”
Marcius looked to Selene, not knowing why it was that the words had such a profound impact on him, but unable to deny it. Selene scoffed, clicking her tongue in irritation. “Poetry is for those who do not know how to speak plainly.”
“It seems like a prophecy. They went through a lot of work to make sure that it was heard,” he reminded her, gesturing to the stone as the premier example.
Selene shrugged. “Prophecies are a lazy way for those who do not wish to take responsibility for their actions. They were fools to hold such faith in it. Now come, I do not think this is what we were looking for and we tarry too long here.”
Marcius nodded, surprised at the vehemence in her voice. The thought that one was not in control of their future was hard to understand, and even more difficult to accept. As he considered her reaction, and what he knew about her encounter with the heart tree, her reaction made sense.
Personally, he wasn't sure what he made of the words, and they hung heavily in his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was making a mistake.
Still, it did not stop him from looking back wistfully as they continued through the corridor on the other end of the room. Torches flared alive as they walked down the hallway.
“I feel like we're being led somewhere,” Marcius said, voicing his thoughts as yet another set of torches lit.
“Be careful. I don't like this.”
Marcius felt it long before he saw it, a quickening of breath and a slight increase in his pulse. The amulet sang in response, prodding him forward, urging, wanting to close the distance.
It appeared off in the distance, at the end of the hallway, a single pinprick of malevolent red light that drummed with power. Is this what Velynere wanted?
Marcius found his steps quickening, and it was with great irritation that he turned around as Selene pulled on his shoulder. “Careful,” she said, cutting off his protests. “Remember who got us here. Remember what we gave up to be here.” Remember what I gave up for you.
That sobered Marcius immediately. So it was with cautious steps that they entered the chamber at the end. Every second was a test of his self control.
Only a single torch came on as they entered, drowning everything in a dull yellow hue. Marcius would have been disappointed had it not been for the source of the power, the apex which stood in the center.
It stole attention despite the size. Barely wider than the tip of his finger, a single jewel stood in proud defiance of the humility of the room that housed it. It sat on an altar of stone hands, cupped as if presenting the jewel to the two of them.
Marcius couldn't help himself, drawn in by the sheer perfection of it, glittering with a light of its own; a single crimson star that suppressed everything else. Light reflected off every facet, highlighting the edges with a savage beauty.
A hand covered his own. He hadn't even realized he had been reaching for the gem. He looked over and Selene shook her head, giving him a wry, yet contrite, smile. “Careful. I like this not. Let us look around before taking the prize?”
Marcius licked his lips, but nodded. “Do you think this is it?”
“What else could it be? Can you not feel the power it is giving off?”
He could. The gem practically breathed it. A constant stream of overwhelming influence. If his familiar was here, he could only imagine the rippling waves of nether streaming from the jewel.
What was it? He had heard nothing of such an artifact before. Though the amulet was screaming at him to take it, Selene's hand became an anchor, grounding him and providing a safe haven from the tempting song. He took a deep, shaky breath, but nodded to her.
They looked around, but didn't see anything of note. Nothing seemed to stick out beyond the jewel itself and the altar that held it. If Marcius didn't know better, he could have easily confused the altar with a shrine belonging to a rich family or local temple.
After a few long moments, Selene finally agreed. “Aye, take the gem and let us make our way from here. I like it not.”
He didn't need to be told twice, but yet he paused for a second. Why couldn’t he stop his hands from shaking?
The moment his fingers closed around the gem, a surge of electricity shot through his arm, pounding into his chest with immeasurable force. He flew through the air, hitting the floor hard.
“Marcius!” The elf was by his side, helping him up in an instant. It had happened too fast for him to even process it. “Are you alright?” she asked, peering at him with concern.
“Well,” he said, looking up at the elven woman, “I've been better. I feel like I've gotten kicked in the chest by a mule.”
He chuckled. Marcius didn't know why, but he felt giddy; a tingly vibe ran through his body. Selene frowned a bit, but helped him to his feet. She looked at his hand and raised an eyebrow. It was then that he realized that he had a vice grip on the gem still, to the point where it was cutting into the palm of his hand.
Slowly he opened his fist, wincing at the pain. There it sat, glowing but muted, as if the initial shock had taken something from it, though it still gave off an aura of power. There was a flickering of hesitation before he finally gave in, putting the gem in the same pouch which housed the amulet.
“I do not wish to cause concern, but we have other problems,” Selene announced.
When Marcius turned, it was apparent. A heavy stone door had slid down over the entrance, locking them inside. With growing fear, the two of them combed over it, looking for some weakness, some flaw, a way out.
Nothing.
“What do we do now?”
Selene opened her mouth to respond, but stopped. Marcius heard it too, a grating noise like stone against sand. As one they turned behind them, to the altar. The hands were moving! Spreading apart as if welcoming!
There was a click.
“I don't think-” Selene's words died as the ground mimicked the hands, opening up, swallowing them.
Chapter 28
Marcius and Selene tumbled down, a tumultuous mixture of arms and legs in the darkness. They landed with a thud. Marcius groaned. Selene had landed flat on his chest and he could feel her hot breath on his neck.
They both waited a few moments for the pounding of their hearts to quiet. The elf rolled off with a slight grunt and Marcius immediately missed the proximity of her warmth. He shook his head in shock. What a thing to think of now.
“Thank you for softening my landing,” Selene whispered, and despite the darkness, Marcius could feel her smile.
“Anytime,” he said in the most magnanimous tone he could manage, wincing as he righted himself to a sitting position. “Always an honor to serve.”
Marcius couldn't see anything and so he reached into his pouch, pulling out the amulet. Blinking his eyes at the intrusion of light, he looked around. They seemed to be in a hallway of sorts; composed of uneven stone and sand. Marcius flashed the light up to where they had fallen from. Too high.
Was it a trap? It had to be, because they had fallen into it. But the big question was: to what purpose?
He did a quick self-check and was pleasantly surprised that besides a few scrapes and bruises, he was relatively okay.
Flashing the light over to the elf, worry entered his thoughts. The fall hadn't been kind to her broken arm and even her lips had a grayish quality to them that Marcius had not seen before.
Still, the tight smile she flashed him said not to worry. After a few tense moments, Marcius decided to trust the elf. “What should we do about-”
I can’t
protect you down here. My powers are weakened by something. Now would be a good time to start running. . .
The voice was back! And then Marcius heard it, an exhalation of breath, a brief pause in the air, expectation simmering to a light boil. The hairs on his arm tingled and a shiver ran down his back.
Something was here!
Selene must have noticed too, because she became frantic, drawing her knife so quickly that it looked as if it materialized from nothing. Marcius held his breath, trying to calm his racing heart as he strained to hear something, anything above the pounding in his ears.
“Marcius,” Selene whispered slowly, forcibly stressing each syllable, “When I tell you to run, you will run from here, okay?” Marcius opened his mouth to protest. To tell her that he didn't want to leave her by herself, but she cut him off, “No arguments,” she hissed, “You are still my charge. Do. You. Understand?”
He nodded, feeling silly because the elven woman's back was to him. Selene was scanning everything, and Marcius tried to follow suit, yet he still couldn't hear anything. There was only the intense feeling of something watching him. The light from the amulet revealed nothing, just more hallway, half-hidden by shadows.
There was a snarl to his left and Selene shoved him to the side. “Run!” she growled before leaping into the darkness.
It had all happened so fast! The sound of combat echoed through the corridor and Marcius froze, unsure of what to do. “Run!” Selene's voice repeated from the darkness, her obvious desperation finally stirring him to action.
He ran, holding the amulet in front of him, torn between running at a flat out sprint and being careful of where he stepped. He ran aimlessly, taking left and right turns with wild abandon. Things began to blur together; nothing but an endless series of corridors and hallways.
It didn't take long for him to become lost.
Marcius ran until his lungs burned, finally coming to rest against a corner. He covered the amulet as he sat down, fearful of who, or what, might see it. The apprentice wasn't sure how long he waited there, trying to gulp down breaths of air, willing every part of him to calm down, and trying to control his breathing.
There was a shift in the air, and Marcius stood, feeling foolish and blind. Still, he wasn't going to just roll over and die to whatever it was that was in the darkness.
The hand that came down across his mouth scared all sense out of him. “Hush.” Selene's voice whispered harshly in his ear, overriding his protests as she clamped down even harder over his mouth, “You're too loud. I do not want it to find us again.”
He nodded wildly, still thrown off by the elf's sudden appearance. She slowly removed her hand when she was sure he wouldn't make a noise, and then moved her lips close to his ear, her breath tickling him. “How did you avoid the traps?”
“Traps?” he whispered, still expecting some unseen beast to leap out at any moment.
He felt her sigh against his back. “You mean you didn't. . . ? No,” she whispered to herself reproachfully, “You really wouldn't. . . humans and their sight. I forgot. Stay close to me. You've been running blind and only dumb luck has stopped you from getting yourself killed.” Marcius nodded, his mouth dry at her proclamation.
“What about the thing you fought?” he managed to choke out.
“It was close, but I got lucky and accidentally tripped a trap myself,” she admitted. “Avalene was with me though. The beast should be occupied for a while, but that is why we must not tarry here. It will seek me out, and it won't be happy. Now hush and take my hand. We move now.”
He fumbled for her in the dark, surprised when her hand found his instead. Then they were moving, weaving slowly through the dark corridors as silent as possible. Marcius was completely blind in the pitch darkness. It was humbling to depend on someone so fully, as he had to now. Especially when one considered the possibility of traps.
By Avalene herself, it was like one of Jared's adventuring books!
Except it was real. That thing, whatever it was that Selene had battled, was undoubtedly tangible and it was their lives on the line, not some perfect hero with shining armor only outshone by his impeccable personality. He was hardly hero material anyway.
He grinned in the darkness. Trapped towers. Unexplainable monsters. Prophecies. Jared would be the happiest man on Faelon to be here right now. After a few moments, Marcius decided the blonde swordsman could have it.
His hand jerked suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts. Selene had stumbled? That was unlike her. A coppery pungent smell entered his nostrils, and it was then that he realized that his hand was wet, warm with an unknown fluid.
Was this blood?
She stumbled again and it was only her grip on his hand that kept her upright this time. Marcius could hear her labored breathing in the cool dark; a certain exhalation of one trying their hardest to compose themselves despite evidence to the contrary.
“Selene,” he whispered, “are you. . . ”
“I am fine,” she snapped, though her voice trembled. “Let's keep going. This place will be the death of us if we can't find a way out.”
Marcius was about to say that it looked like it might be the death of them if they kept going, but he held his tongue. Now wasn't the time for such comments. A nagging, terrible thought hung in the back of his head. She was in this situation because of him.
A large droplet of the liquid ran off his knuckle and he winced at the sensation. He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost her. The notion surprised him, though deep down, within that tiny part of him that held the darkest of secrets, it didn't really.
He’d go to the Academy and leave this whole thing far behind. . . he'd leave her far behind. So why did it matter? Yes, she was beautiful, but Faelon was full of attractive people. Logically, it didn’t make sense for him to care so much about someone he just met.
But, logic be damned, he did care.
No, she'd be okay. They'd be okay. It had to be so. Everything would be alright. But, he admitted quietly to himself, there was the distinct possibility that he was terribly wrong. In fact, that was the more likely case, given his record so far.
Heedless of his internal struggle, the elven woman continued, fighting through it all, leading the two of them through the dark like an arrow.
Occasionally they stopped or diverted their path, and Marcius suspected it was to both avoid a trap and because the elven woman seemed to barely be hanging on. He wished he could pull out the amulet so he could see what was going on or aid her in some way, instead of being led around like a child.
Then he felt it. The change was subtle. Barely more than a shifting in the air, a brief slant to the darkness His senses were wired. It might as well have been a lightning strike on a still evening night.
“There is something up ahead,” he said softly, voicing his thoughts. His free hand went reflexively to the pouch. Was it something of power, like the gem?
The elf didn't respond, but there was a quickening in pace that marked that she agreed too.
They saw the light off in the distance, extending far off into the hallway like a celestial beacon, calling to them. Marcius wanted to get there quickly, out of the darkness, but Selene resisted. “There are pressure plates. A lot of them,” she whispered, her hand coming up to his chest as to halt any further movement. He felt her kneel, and a few seconds passed before she stood back up, once again grabbing his hand. There was a brief sucking sound as their palms met, the warm liquid squelching. His stomach hurled and the sickening feeling of bile rose in his throat. “Follow me exactly, and stay close.”
They moved with exaggerated caution, and it seemed to take forever as the light came closer and closer. Soon, with no small measure of relief, he could see the ground again, a seeming meandering of sandstone brick covered with a thick layer of dust.
Marcius set his foot down again, feeling confident now that he could see again.
“No! Not there!” Selene yelled as he felt something click beneath his heel
.
The elf pulled hard and he stumbled, falling forward until he sprawled on the ground. There was a grating sound like something being pushed and then they were covered with dust as the rolling of thunder filled the air and just as rapidly disappeared, letting the dirt hang about the silence like an orange witness.
Marcius coughed as he looked back. A massive stone block had slid forth from some facet of the wall, ramming into the opposite wall. Cracks trickled forth like broken spider webs from where the block had impacted.
He looked over with grudging respect for the elf; she had just saved his life.
Again.
And she had the strangest expression on her face. Marcius fully expected to be berated, yelled at, or at least scolded for his ineptitude. Instead she burst into laughter.
He stood, stunned at her reaction. Her eyes twinkled and her laughter was musical. He had never heard her laugh so freely, and the smile she wore made him grin back, feeling completely idiotic as he did so. This of course only threw more wood on the fire and sent her back into yet another fit of gut wrenching laughter.
Marcius laughed with her, not knowing exactly what he was laughing at. Then his mind and eyes caught up to each other and he saw the dark red, almost black, stain on his hand.
Blood.
He looked up at the elf and all laughter died. Thin rivulets of blood, clotted and sticky, ran down her good hand where it occasionally dripped. It ran from somewhere along her collarbone, a horizontal cutting of fabric of her shirt giving the only clue as to where the actual wound was. The warm red liquid pooled along the steep edges of her collarbone, and the sight made Marcius sick to his stomach.
That was the wet feeling he had felt when she had held his hand. Her blood!
His expression must have been terrible, because the elf stopped laughing too. He approached her, fearful of her reaction, yet concerned enough to try anyway. “Selene, we really have to treat you. We need to stop the bleeding.”
A Dead God's Tear (The Netherwalker Trilogy) Page 43