Third Power

by Robert Childs

  “Are those the five thousand trouble makers you were talking about?” Steve asked of the assassin running beside him.

  Kamarine glanced over his shoulder as he ran. “The very same,” he replied.

  Maxwell Don raised his hand and lances dropped to the ready position. Five hundred yards away the first line of Azinon’s defense, thousands of slavering Shangee, closed fast on the first wave of the Resistance army.

  Maxwell’s arm dropped like an ax blow. “Now!” he cried.

  A thousand knights spurred their warhorses into a charge and the thunder of their hooves resounded across the moonlighted battlefield. The inhuman screams of the Shangee reached a fevered pitch as they met the lances of the charging horsemen in a bloody carnage. Hundreds of the half-breed reptiles died as the knights plowed through them like wheat threshers, then regrouped with practiced expertise to charge back through their mass in the opposite direction.

  Maxwell didn’t like it. This is all too easy, he thought nervously. What is that sorcerer playing at?

  “Can you see him?” Steve shouted amidst the roar of the crowd. Everywhere was chaos, bodies moving around him like ants upon a hill in a maddened frenzy. Were it not for Kayliss he was sure the multitudes would have already closed on him from all sides and swept him away with their mass. Kamarine stayed close by the great cat as well and jostled people aside as he searched for the other members of their party.

  “I cannot see a damned thing!” he returned. “I should have known this would happen!”

  “There!” Steve cried pointing. “Come on!”

  In the center of the square, Haldorum stood perched on the back of a huge stone centaur, waving his hands in the air and shouting in a futile effort against the noise of the crowd.

  It took a great deal of shoving, and a few muttered curses on Kamarine’s part, but the three managed to push their way through to their companions.

  “I feared we had lost you,” General Corbett said to them.

  Haldorum hopped down from the back of the centaur to the marble dais, and then once more to land next to the rest of the group. “Is everybody ready?” he asked.

  Lurin turned and asked, “Ready for wha—?”

  The eruption of blue light around the party cut him off and all nine dropped through the street to a chorus of startled shouts. Their freefall ended a moment later with a splashdown in the waist deep water of the drainage tunnel below. Steve came up sputtering and wiped the water from his face just as the portal closed above and cast them all into pitch darkness. Another blue light, this time from Haldorum’s staff, pierced the dark and illuminated their surroundings.

  Kayliss regarded Steve from the catwalk built into the side of the tunnel just above the water, completely dry.

  “Figures,” Steve said sourly, and just a bit nauseated, as he climbed out of the channel and onto the catwalk himself.

  Haze, Lojur and Rabal hauled themselves out as well, not pleased at all their armor had gotten wet.

  Kamarine slicked his hair back disgustedly with one hand. “Haldorum, do you have any idea what kind of slime leaks out of this city?”

  General Corbett hopped up dripping wet onto the catwalk right after Lurin. He shook the water from his hair once and said, “Come now, Lieutenant. Surely, if I can handle a little dirty work, so can you.”

  Steve took a whiff of his sleeve and made a face. “I’m with Kamarine,” he said turning his nose away. “I don’t remember sewer swimming being in my job description.” He reached up and unfastened the clasp about his neck and let the filthy, waterlogged cloak drop at his feet.”

  General Corbett only smiled as he took the lead. “Come on,” he said. “We still have some ways to go yet. Let us not forget men are fighting and dying while we dawdle.”

  Unfortunately for Steve, no matter how hard he wished it, the stench did not lessen the further they walked. He took solace, however, in the general’s confidence of their path, which meant less chance of aimless wandering. The young man dreaded the thought of spending any more time in these stinking tunnels than he had to.

  The tunnel curved to the right and then back again to the left, feeling eerily as though they were walking along the coils of some monstrous subterranean snake. They passed a score of intersecting tunnels and smaller passageways along the way, some of which the general took, others he passed, sometimes jumping intersecting channels, other times wading through shallow catch basins to move into new tunnels entirely. In fact, the old soldier seemed so sure of their route Steve felt compelled to question him.

  “General Corbett, it’s not that I doubt your memory or anything, but how is it you can still remember the way after almost twenty years?”

  A grin creased the General’s lips. “Because, my boy, when Azinon overran our armies and invaded the palace I had come to believe mistakenly my Emperor was dead. I took as many people with me as I could and fled along the one route through the catacombs I knew.” He chuckled sadly. “It was the only one any of us knew. You see, it had been meant originally to see the Imperial Princess to safety, but she vanished from the company of her escorts long before even reaching these upper sewer tunnels.”

  “And when you got out?”

  The General’s shoulders rose and fell. “We fled to the Granar. At first, we did little more than struggle to survive, but even then I knew I would one day exact my revenge. I was well aware I would probably not step foot on the imperial grounds again for many years, so I wrote down everything I could about the layout of the palace.” He motioned in a gesture meant to encompass the corridor. “This escape route was the first thing I put to parchment.”

  Steve nodded impressed. Now this is a man who knows how to plan long term.

  They moved on as quickly as the wizard’s eerie light and the slippery paths would allow. After a time, Rabal tapped Lojur on the shoulder and said to him, “I see it, too.”

  “See what?” Lurin asked behind them.

  “The sewage,” Rabal replied, his voice a deep rumble in his chest.

  The woodsman looked down to the river of vile smelling filth. Even in the ill light, they could all see it was flowing faster than before. In the deceptive shadows, Steve had missed it until now, but it was gaining speed the farther they walked, and another half an hour’s walking gave the reason.

  General Corbett brought them to a halt at the top of a descending set of stone steps, crudely chiseled out of the rock, which disappeared into the enveloping darkness below. The channel beside them angled downward forty-five degrees and followed the steps out of sight. The old soldier gazed unmoving, the thousand yard stare he effected told Steve he was lost to some memory long past.

  Haldorum moved to stand beside his old friend and then placed a hand on his shoulder briefly. To Steve that simple gesture seemed to convey understanding and empathy all at once. Holding his staff aloft, the wizard pressed on, seemingly breaking General Corbett’s trance and reminding him there was a mission to accomplish.

  The air around grew chill as they descended into the lower reaches, their breathing now appearing as vaporous clouds in the blue light. In this place, the darkness seemed to take on a semblance of life all its own, pressing in around them like the cold hand of death, held at bay only by the bright luminescent light of Haldorum’s staff. A sickly green ooze glazed the walls here, broken only by an occasional stretch of fungus Steve did not even want to guess at. The stench of the sewer and the sight of the slime made him glad it had been several hours since his last meal. Just then he noticed the tiny wisp of white light and heard the eerie song of the crystal as it came to life. Like a silk shadow, he felt the presence of that other being enter his mind.

  Who are you? Steve thought. He cast his concentration inward but could not locate the being, only feel it.

  A friend.

  The voice was calm but resonated with power; at once awesome and yet familiar.

  I am one who knows your past, the voice continued, and cares about your future. I am
here to warn and to guide. Know this, the crystal you bear is naught to you. The essence of daemonkind flows through your veins and a part of your very soul. This is the true wellspring from which your powers come.

  Steve listened both confused and shocked by the revelation. How could it be? Before the crystal was given to him he had no power at all. Only with his connection to it could he access the mystical energies that fed his abilities. Without it he remained as powerless as any other man.

  No! Heed my words. The crystal reacts to the presence of strong magics, but will do no more. You are the wellspring, your soul the strength.

  Steve felt the presence departing as slowly as it had come. In desperation he called out with his thoughts. How do you know this? Why are you telling me now?

  To prepare you. The great wheels of destiny are turning; the trial of the Third is soon to begin.

  And then it was gone, the light of the crystal dying away as the last traces of the presence faded from his mind.

  Steve walked on, his body moving robotically but his mind far away. He played the conversation over again, reviewing every word from a being that could seemingly walk in and out of his head at will. Was it true? he asked himself. Could it be all this time the crystal was only reacting to magic he possessed all along? How was it even possible? If the crystal was not the source of his power then why had it been given to him at all? He shook his head at the irony of answers only begetting more questions.

  Lurin shifted his quiver as he glanced about the dark tunnel. “How far down?” he asked of no one in particular.

  Haldorum looked up as though he were somehow gazing beyond the stone and earth to the surface above. After a moment he looked forward again saying, “Around fifteen hundred feet, give or take.”

  “I never thought even the gates of hell could be found this far down,” Haze muttered.

  The warrior’s remark made Steve smile. For a while he was beginning to wonder if he were the only nervous one in the bunch.

  “Not hell,” General Corbett said as he, at last, walked off the final step. “But I will wager this place ranks a close second.”

  Before them an arched gateway blocked their path, supported on either side by intricately carved stone pillars. The tunnel beyond the gate, unlike the rough-hewn steps, continued onward as a perfect square passageway ten feet wide and ten feet tall with no visible flaws in its walls, ceiling, or floor.

  “At least we have one thing going for us,” Kamarine offered. He gave a final good riddance glance to the sewer channel that altered its path to the left to become lost around another bend. “At least we leave that behind.”

  There was a heavy rattling of metal, and Haze released the gate with a sour look of displeasure. “She is rusted tight,” he spat. “I hate to tax your strength, Haldorum, but you will have to portal us through.”

  A wry grin creased Haldorum’s thin lips and he turned to the young wizard saying, “As I recall, you are rather skilled at opening doors.”

  “Say no more,” Steve replied hiking up his sleeves. He stepped to the front of the party and then motioned everyone back.

  “It would be wise to get well back,” Haldorum advised them all.

  “Oh, real funny, wizard,” Steve replied good-naturedly. With amazing swiftness, he then turned and applied his will against the gate with the strength of a charging killer whale. The iron barrier bent in half across three seconds with a spine-chilling, metallic screech, ripping its hinges from the stone pillars. He then turned his right hand inward to place his palms together and the gate folded in half again from right to left.

  Steve strolled up to the arch and admired his work with a self-satisfied smile, running his finger along what was left of one of the mangled hinges. To Haldorum he commented, “You said something about a tree, right?”

  “Show off,” Haldorum snubbed.

  The Jalkoras’ bloodlust echoed across the battlefield as a combined scream that chilled the blood. Soon after, the first of them charged out of the darkness of night, moving through the dead bodies of Shangee with startling speed. Standing a full seven feet, and some taller still, the creatures waved their four arms through the air as they raced across the land, their deadly sharp pincers snapping at the air in anticipation of battle.

  Maxwell Don raised his hand into the air and once again lances dropped to the ready. The moonlight glinted off the twisted, nightmarish faces of the creatures as they ran, their chitinous, armor-like skin appearing pale blue in the night.

  The lieutenant dropped his hand and the full thousand horsemen, augmented by another thousand reserves, charged forward with a sound like rolling thunder. At first Maxwell Don found himself unable to judge the distance to the Jalkora in the ill light, but when the first sparks flew as the lances of the knights found the hides of the hellbeasts there was no longer any doubt. One Jalkora went to his death screaming as a lance pierced a weak point in its chest plate, ripping the weapon from the warrior’s hand as it fell, while others beasts hit the ground under the force of the blows only to rise back up as battle hungry as ever.

  One knight lost his horse to a screaming monster’s pincer slash and rolled clear as the mount went down. He came to his feet with sword in hand and raised his shield just in time to fend off a pincer swipe toward his shoulder. He hacked low with his sword but the fourth arm of the creature blocked the strike with a flash of sparks. The knight did not see the second Jalkora come at him from behind, however, and lost his head to a horizontal slash. Elsewhere more warriors fell, their fighting skills proving insufficient against the savagery and brute strength of their multi-limbed foes.

  “How is Azinon able to control such monsters?” Maxwell Don hissed. “Sound the withdrawal! Send a messenger on horseback to the main body, and tell them to prepare. We will lure these bastards to the forest and hit them there!”

  He turned his eyes back to the battle and shook his head sadly. “Haldorum,” he mumbled beneath his breath, “I pray you are faring better.”

  The only sound in the belly of the catacombs came by way of echoing boot heels on the smooth stone floor of the corridor. Within this place a single wrong turn among so many twisting and intersecting passages, up one slope or down another, would leave a man lost for hours just to backtrack to a familiar bend in the path. Steve thought it a miracle anyone could possibly memorize the way out and still know the way through the sewers on top of that! Although, despite the complexity of this subterranean maze, he had the distinct impression their band was now moving steadily upward. Surely, the dungeons of the imperial palace could not be far away.

  “Be careful of that,” General Corbett said pointing to a spot on the floor, high-stepping a thin wire that entered through one wall and exited the other.

  “What is it for?” Rabal asked.

  “My guess, a trap,” Lurin replied. “And probably a nasty one.”

  General Corbett nodded. “My thoughts exactly.” He shrugged then adding, “But who knows? I have not laid eyes on it in eighteen years, and it has been there for centuries before that. It could be it doesn’t work anymore, and the wire would just crumble to dust if you touched it.”

  “Tell that to Indiana Jones,” Steve muttered aloud. The confined spaces and potential booby traps, however, only served to exacerbate the nagging point of fear eating away at him as well. He could sense Azinon’s presence as Haldorum said he would eventually learn to do, and this new awareness of the sorcerer unsettled him, given their first encounter.

  But that was different, he told himself. Before he had had no idea of the magic he possessed. Next time will be different. Somehow, though, that thought didn’t make him feel any less anxious. Afraid of psyching himself out, he turned his thoughts instead to the mission at hand.

  Higher and higher through the catacombs they trekked, following the footsteps of their General who himself did not falter or show the slightest uncertainty of their path. When they turned the next corner and found a brick wall, however, Steve’s he
artbeat pounded in his ears at the sudden dread they had become lost.

  General Corbett faced them and lowered his voice barely above a whisper. “Behind this wall is the lowest of three levels of dungeons. The Emperor could be on any one of them, so we do not have time to dally. We get in, we find him, and then Haldorum gets us out. Understand?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Questions?”

  None.

  Steve followed the example of the others and drew his sword as General Corbett approached the wall. He then reached left to the sconce situated there and pulled it once to no effect, then again with greater effort until it tilted suddenly forward. The sound of grinding stone and a vibration in the floor followed as a section of the brick wall before them slowly turned on a vertical axis like a revolving door. Haldorum put a hand on Steve’s shoulder and held him back as Haze, Lojur, Rabal, Lurin and Kamarine filed rapidly through with weapons drawn. They met no guards on the other side, however, and the scene they entered explained why.

  A single aisle, twenty feet wide, extended the length of this dungeon wing, splitting two rows of rusted iron cages each the size of a small apartment on the left and right. Within each cage rotted the corpses of those dead of the plague, the bodies stacked as high as a man’s knee. This horrific display visibly sickened everyone, including Steve; but then his blood went cold with the realization some were still alive. Most of these crawled blindly amid the masses of decomposing flesh, their eyes already rotted away in their skulls and the skin hanging so loosely on their skeletons it appeared to be melting away. One such person—a man or woman he could no longer tell—picked at the large open sores covering its body, gibbering in madness with lips pulled taut over decaying teeth.

  General Corbett ran into the room as the hidden door in the brick wall slid back into place. He stopped abruptly, his breath catching in his throat at the unspeakable horror.

  “Azinon’s work,” Haldorum said, anger and disgust intermingling in his voice. “No one else in all of Mithal could be so evil.”