“Lieutenant Garan,” Chetra Dal said, brushing ice from his robes. “You are now the commander of my forces here. Congratulations on your promotion. Get the men together. We are going inside.”
A tall, lanky soldier with dark hair with just a touch of gray in it stepped forward and saluted. “Yes, Master Dal.” He turned to the soldiers under his command. “Form up. We’re going inside. Weapons at the ready.”
Dal nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. Was that the sole guardian for the artifact? If so, he was disappointed in the foresight of the ones who hid Bruqil. He wasn’t sure what guardian there had been for Orum, but Ayim Rasaad had told him of the first guardian, the rock creature watching over Azgo. This ice creature he just destroyed seemed too weak to be the sole guardian. Perhaps the hiders had not counted on someone of his power.
It mattered little. He would go inside and see if there was anything else that confronted him. He was sure he was up to the task. He had seen many things, done many things in his life. Nothing would stop him from achieving the dream he had been pursuing for decades. Nothing would stop him from getting the artifact that would help make that dream a reality.
The new commander directed his soldiers to enter the doorway, equipped with torches and weapons in clenched fists. He would let them go first. He had long ago given up wanting to lead gloriously in battle.
He saw as he entered the tunnel that the torches were not needed. Light—from where exactly, he did not know—suffused the place, a pale blue glow that was more than adequate to see by. He was going to command the torches to be snuffed out, but some of the soldiers carried them as if they were talismans, so he let it go. Let them take comfort in whatever they could.
The stone passageway itself seemed to be water-carved, smooth without marks from cuts by tools. Water-carved, but level as if designed for easy traveling. How was it created, Dal wondered. He felt some echo of power, but could not place it. All the years, all the decades, he had studied the rohw and then the awkum, and in the last few months he had encountered types of energy he had never known existed. Oh, to have just another decade or two of life to try to unlock the secrets of these new powers.
They had only gone a few hundred yards when the tunnel split into three identical passages. The soldiers scouting ahead had stopped to wait for him, wanting to know what they should do. As he stepped up to them, three more of the ice creatures came from one of the tunnels and started cutting through the men and women like they were made of paper.
One of the monsters was particularly brutal. It rammed both its arms through its victims and then ripped the appendages outward, literally tearing its enemy apart. The combination of jagged edges and strength as it rent through flesh was terrible to watch.
Chetra Dal coolly got within range of the beasts and with well-placed pulses of energy, blew them apart as he had with the one they had encountered at the opening. The creature that had been tearing its victims apart resisted his attacks, chunks flying off but not exploding as easily as the others, until the awkum master got close enough almost to touch it, then it shattered with the force of his awkum burst. So, thought Dal, it was not just the one. And that one was not even the strongest.
Twelve more soldiers had been killed. They left the bodies there—as well as those they had carried in from the entrance—and moved on. There would be others, Chetra Dal had no doubt.
He moved up to the front of the soldiers, closed his eyes, and concentrated. He could feel the unique energy of the artifact. More correctly, he could feel the hole in the rohw around the artifact, the camouflage that the hiders had used to keep rohw-sensitive searchers from finding it. The absence of rohw seemed to be coming from the left passageway, the one from which the three creatures had come. He knew that the tunnels probably twisted and turned, but they would follow this one. It was a place to start.
The remaining members of the force moved slowly through the tunnels, Chetra Dal in the lead. They encountered few side passages of insignificant size. Dal felt the artifact somewhere ahead, so perhaps they had chosen the correct branch. Some of the ice monsters chanced upon them occasionally, typically attacking the party from the side passages after the awkum master had already passed. He wondered if it was coincidence, or if the creatures were showing intelligence or cunning. There had been no mass attack, so it could have just been happenstance. They had seen no organized effort to eradicate the intruders.
Dal’s forces were being whittled down, slowly but surely. When the bulk of his soldiers were attacked from the side or the rear, he lost several people before he was able to get to the attackers to eliminate them. Nothing his forces did would harm the icy foes. Even using torches was only a temporary measure. Parts of the creatures would melt, but then the water would flow as if by their own will, refreezing the way it had been seconds before. It was like flies constantly biting at them and gradually wearing them down. By the time Dal realized that their passage was not the correct one—it dead-ended into a solid wall—the soldiers were frazzled and jittery, jumping at every sound or shadow.
The force—less than three hundred strong now because of their losses—had to turn around and go back to the junction with the three split passages. This time, Dal chose the center one. He didn’t have a sense of which of the two would lead to the artifact—how could he when they twisted so—but he chose that one because it was next in line and he had a fifty-fifty chance of being correct. He huffed at wasting so many hours already in search of Bruqil and resented how many lives had been snuffed out in the false passage.
It was more than another hour until Chetra Dal got evidence that the passageway they had taken was the correct one. The tunnel widened out into a circular cavern, more than a hundred feet in diameter with a ceiling too high to be seen in the strange blue glow that permeated the entire cave system. It had been a hard-fought journey to get there. The attacks from the side passages were more frequent, and the numbers of ice creatures greater than in the first tunnel, leading Dal to believe that they were on the right track. By the time they got to the chamber, their number was down to barely two hundred soldiers, and Dal was starting to feel fatigue from rushing to destroy the monsters before they killed even more of his forces.
The chamber was unadorned, no stalagmites thrusting up from the level floor and no stalactites descending from above. The sole feature of the cavern was a pedestal in the center, looking as if it had grown from the floor and was part of it. Resting on it was a glint of metal. When Chetra Dal looked at it more carefully, he saw that it was a tuning fork, half again as long as his hand and half as wide. The cold metal glinted in the subdued blue of the cave’s light. It was Bruqil, the last artifact.
Standing just to the side of the pedestal was the largest of the ice creatures they had seen yet. It was at least fifteen feet tall and its eyes—ice chips that glittered with some kind of internal light—were fixed on Chetra Dal alone, as if all the others were insignificant insects. The awkum master figured that was exactly what they were to this powerful creature. The thirty or so smaller ice monsters, of the same varieties he had been destroying all day, were not so selective in their gazes. Their eyes pointed directly forward as they stood in ranks behind the larger creature, focused on everything and on nothing.
Dal stopped forty feet from the ice king. His forces stopped their march behind him. He could hear muttering, quiet cursing, even a few whispered prayers. The men couldn’t be blamed for that, he figured. They had seen the ease with which these monsters had been killing their fellows all day. He wasn’t sure he would survive this confrontation, let alone be able to protect his remaining soldiers.
There was no discernible signal that Chetra Dal could see or hear, but as one, the smaller creatures rushed to attack. He had to give credit to the new commander and to most of the soldiers. They readied their weapons and stood their ground. Only two dozen or so fled.
The former Zouyim master spun and began to dish out energy pulses as if he was dealing cards in the
card game Glirim. For every creature he destroyed, however, many of his men were killed by those remaining. It would not be long until all his soldiers were dead and he would have to face the remaining ice monsters alone. His mind whirled as he tried to figure out another option, but he could not. Even escape would not be possible without the loss of all his forces and his eventual engulfment by his enemies. So he continued to blast his foes to pieces, hoping he had the strength to persevere until they were all gone.
Then the ice king entered the battle.
Chapter 28
The largest of the ice creatures had been watching, waiting patiently, for a full minute as his minions attacked, killed, and were destroyed. Chetra Dal caught a few glimpses of his adversary during the fight, and he did not like the intelligence he saw in those hard, icy eyes.
When it moved, it was with lightning speed. It did not bother with the soldiers but went straight for Dal himself, recognizing him as the most dangerous foe. Jabbing with its sharp, icy arms, it came at him in a rush, to the exclusion of all else going on around it.
Dal dodged the arms and the legs that swept out to cut his own out from under him. Barely. The creature was so fast, and Dal was so old. One mistake would kill him. He had to battle on his own terms, not the creature’s.
Ignoring the screams of his men and the smaller ice monsters causing them, he aimed both hands at the ice king and blasted it with all the energy he could muster. It was a combination of rohw and awkum, power enough to blow a hole through most castle walls. It pushed the monster back a few inches with no discernible damage. Chetra Dal realized he was in a great amount of trouble.
The creature swiped its massive icy arms at Dal, and the former Zouyim monk evaded the blows, but barely. He was tired from fighting the lesser creatures all day. He wasn’t sure how long he would be able to stay out of reach of those deadly appendages. As he dodged, others were left in the path of the attack. The hardened ice, sharp at the edges, cut cleanly through two soldiers as they were trying to defend themselves against one of the smaller foes. Yes, he would have to think of something quickly, or they would all be destroyed.
Chetra Dal retreated with all the speed he had. Though the ice king had targeted him, it delayed for a few seconds here or there to kill some of Dal’s soldiers unlucky enough to be in its path. That gave the awkum master a few precious seconds to think. He used them well.
What weapons did he have at his disposal? He was no match for his enemy physically. His rohw and awkum powers seemed to barely faze the beast, at least when used as a blunt force weapon. He might be able to pinpoint a strike, put an edge on it, so to speak, to try to cut into the icy body of the monster, but he rejected that idea as soon as it came to him. The lesser ice creatures could heal damage to themselves, so he was sure this one could as well.
He could use his energy to generate heat as well as a powerful thrust. That might damage his foe. To generate that much heat while projecting his energy out for a strike was risky, though. He would be using so much energy that if it didn’t work, he might be too weak or just a little too slow to evade the next attack. That option might work as a last resort, but there had to be a better alternative. Think, Chetra, think, he berated himself.
He dove out of the way of yet another attack by those massive ice arms, rolling to his feet to continue his evasion. As he completed his roll, he felt the awkward shape of his backpack making his roll haphazard and sloppy. He recalled that he had the first two artifacts, Azgo the bell and Orum the drum, secured within.
Of course!
His mind shifted. Within his pack was the artifact that would allow him to teleport instantly to his fortress, or even to the location outside that he had memorized. But what good would that do? Would he come back with more troops? He supposed he could, but he wasn’t sure that would help with the ice king. At least he would be alive to figure something else out, though.
Dal ducked behind one of the few remaining soldiers to escape the larger creature, which had gotten too close to him. He had to do something now, or he would be killed.
Pulling his pack off while retreating farther toward the opening of the room, he reached in for the bell, but the drum was on top of it. It filled the pack to such a degree that he would have to take it out completely to get to Azgo. Cursing under his breath, he extracted it with numb fingers. Fear was starting to set in, causing him to be clumsy. He had to get to that bell…
Instinct alone saved the awkum master as his body moved to the side, just out of reach of a downward strike by the ice king, one that made both ice and stone chips spray from the floor where the collision occurred. The strike was too close. The next one would be Dal’s death.
With no other alternative, a crazy idea came into Chetra Dal’s head. Snatching one of the drum’s strikers from its holder on the side of the cylinder, he focused his mind, held Orum toward his adversary, and struck down hard on the taut surface with the head of the striker. What he saw gave him hope.
A wave of power, almost palpable, shot out from the drum. It caught the huge ice creature up and threw it ten feet to the nearest wall, where its dense body cracked some of the stone there. It shook its head like it was stunned.
That was it, Dal realized. Not the bell, but the drum. Why had he not thought of that?
Despite the battle—actually, it was more of a slaughter—raging around him and the ice king starting to regain its senses and to move away from the wall, Chetra Dal sat on the floor in a cross-legged posture. He rested the drum in his lap and removed the other striker from its holder.
The ice king was coming at him, beginning to show its normal speed. A few of the smaller creatures had noticed him and were heading toward him as well.
Dal fixed in his mind what he planned to accomplish. His body began to glow softly, the intensity growing with each second.
The larger creature and the smaller ones would reach him in a few more seconds. When they did, there was no way he would be able to dodge their attacks. He would be instantly killed. He had to hurry, but he had to remain calm as well.
Dal closed his eyes to the distractions. His heat, his energy, was all encompassing. He was almost ready. Almost.
The monsters were nearly at arm’s reach. They raised their limbs to strike as the ice king cocked its right appendage to deliver a vicious stab. Dal could feel it in his aura.
Almost, Dal was almost ready. He visualized his actions, made a connection between his rohw, his awkum, the heat inherent in the energy itself, and the drum Orum.
The strikes came at him. In another half second, his body would be torn apart from several different directions. His plans, and his life, would be at an end.
With everything in place mentally, Chetra Dal struck down hard with both strikers, contacting the tight leather head of the drum. A hollow but thunderous boom echoed in the cavern as a nearly invisible, red-tinged wave of force exploded outward from the drum in all directions.
The effects were instantaneous and surprising, even to Dal himself. Though the creatures around him were caught in the torrent and dashed to pieces as it projected outwards, it did not seem to affect the few humans left alive or the bodies that were not.
The combination of the heat and the pure concussive force of the drum caused every ice creature within sight to disintegrate into water that was instantly turned to vapor by the energy attack.
Quiet settled over the cavern, broken only by the moans of the few injured soldiers still alive. Most who had been attacked had been killed, so the quiet hung like a pall over everything. Chetra Dal slumped, hands still clutching the drum’s strikers.
Lifting his heavy head, he surveyed the scene. He had maybe thirty soldiers left of the force with which he entered the cavern. Surprisingly, his new commander was one of the living, though he appeared to be injured. Half his left arm had been torn off. By the looks of it, it was caused by a glancing blow from one of the creatures. How he had survived this long was a puzzle, but Dal knew that in battl
es, sometimes pure dumb luck was as important as skill.
The man was already cauterizing the wound with a torch he had picked up. He bit back a scream as his flesh seared. He would need attention, as some of the others would.
The chamber looked to have been submerged in water. Everything in it, including all the living and the dead, were soaking wet. Whatever he had done with Orum had not only disintegrated the ice monsters, but had melted them completely as well. He had no doubt they were well and truly gone.
Getting to his feet with a grunt, Chetra Dal walked slowly to the pedestal. Despite the water, the tuning fork had not moved from its resting place. He stepped up to it, throwing out his senses to detect any traps. He found none. Maybe the hiders of the artifacts believed the creatures to be enough protection. He agreed with them.
The awkum master reached out and picked up Bruqil. As expected, nothing happened.
The artifact was surprisingly light for its appearance. It was probably eight inches long and less than three inches wide at its widest point. The metal gleamed in the blue light of the cavern. He had expected it to feel solid and heavy. It did not. When he picked it up, it hummed softly. Dal had the urge to strike it against its pedestal so he could hear its sound, but resisted. He would have to study the object first, try to understand its power, before using it. An accident with a powerful item could ruin everything.
After taking out the bell Azgo, he slipped the tuning fork into his pack and then pushed Orum on top of it. He had all three artifacts now. The first part of his plans was done. It was time to move onto the next.
“Commander Garan, have your second-in-command get the troops left alive into the center of the room. We will be leaving.”
The man’s pale face looked to Chetra Dal. It had a clammy look and he was sweating profusely. Yes, this one needed a healer quickly or he would die. He nodded and then picked out one of the remaining men and said, weakly, “See to it.” The other man saluted and started chivvying the others to move where directed.
Harmonic Magic Series Boxed Set Page 122