The Spear of Stars

by Edward W. Robertson

  "Found it!" He clapped his hands, silencing the birds above them. "It's further than I hoped. But it's within reach. We'll be there no later than tomorrow."

  Keeping one damselfly circling over the deep and silent lake and the island in its center, he sent the other two scouts back to double-check the route to it, one flying high, the other racing along beneath the canopy. He continued to map the way as they went. Occasionally, his eye was drawn by the bounding of a bighorn sheep among the crags, or the lithe movements of the canopy-dwelling creatures leaping through the branches.

  Then his heart began to beat hard. He ordered the fly in the trees to land on a branch and go still.

  "It's Adaine," Dante said. "We didn't kill him after all. And he's less than three miles from the Cavern of Talassa."

  26

  The priest strode beneath the cover of the trees, tattered robes streaming from his body, a shabby shadow of their former bearing. Yet the man who wore them looked undaunted, his gray-streaked hair swept back from his brow, beaming with the placid smile of a man who is right with his gods.

  "So he survived the encounter in the mountains," Gladdic said. "Our worst suspicions were correct. When he found he could not kill us, he staged his own death, and used its cover to flee to his next objective."

  Dante stood, walking under the willowy tree in aimless agitation. "For all our haste, he's got at least ten miles on us. Maybe twelve. He'll beat us to the caverns by hours."

  "Is the Eiden Rane in position to open the portal once Adaine arrives?"

  "His army is headed toward Nak as we speak. That implies he has to get closer to put the doorways to use. But I don't think he has far to go. In Bressel, he was able to open doorways spanning fifteen miles."

  "Then we still have a chance to reach the caverns and put an end to Adaine before the lich is ready to make use of him."

  "Yeah. A chance about as slim as a starving Tanarian."

  Blays stood, knocking leaves from his trousers. "Well, it could be worse."

  "How so?" Dante said. "Like if the great bear finds us, but he's already had breakfast, so he decides to take us for his brides instead?"

  "Yes, that would be much worse. But I was going to say that at least we were right to go to Talassa."

  It nearly drove him insane, but Dante waited for his damselflies to complete their flight, and he his map, before he and the others got back on their way. They ran wherever it was safe to do so, only slowing when they neared the edge of a cliff. Dante was so intent on keeping his footing that he had no focus left over for his scouts. They broke his hold or dropped dead, taken by the unstable sorcery of the Realm—or perhaps by the land Elenna had insisted was alive.

  This left him with no eyes on Adaine. But it hardly mattered. There was no question where the enemy was heading. Dante ran on, skidding on slopes of bare earth, not bothering to heal the scratches and scrapes he endured along the way. Gladdic lasted for the better part of an hour before he lapsed into a walk. Dante was tempted to leave him behind to catch up as he could, but it would gain he and Blays no more than an hour, and his instincts told him they'd need every ounce of strength the three of them could bring to bear.

  After a respite, Dante flushed their systems with nether and they jogged once more, following the game trails through the crevice-riddled forest. The sun climbed to noon. Plenty of time for Adaine to have reached the cavern. Nausea grew in Dante's belly as he waited for the loon from Nak telling them that the portal was open and it was too late.

  By afternoon, they came to two tall blades of rock with a dry stream bed between them. Dante had marked this spot as past the halfway point to the lake, and they paused to rest. He seized the moment to reanimate a pair of damselflies and send them speeding ahead. They came to the round lake without catching sight of Adaine, but on the island in its center, a raft lay on its shore, its forward portion drying in the sun.

  The cavern was raised from the island like a mouth without a face. He sent both flies inside. Yet all sunlight died just beyond the entrance, and they banged into unseen walls, blundering for a way forward. One snapped off, killed by the impact—or by a predator. With nothing else to gain by it, Dante got to his feet, letting the second damselfly drop as he jogged on into the woods.

  They managed another three miles before slowing to a walk. Once Dante caught his breath, he looned Nak. "Any changes with the lich?"

  "I suppose that's a matter of perspective," Nak said. "Has there been any change in his pace or course? No. He continues to march. But has there been any change in his location? Certainly. He and his troop are now past what the locals call Pike's Bend."

  "How far is that from you?"

  "Thirty miles. We're moving as fast as we can, but there are many common folk with us."

  "Cut them loose."

  "Cut them loose? They'll never be able to defend themselves."

  "You can't defend yourselves. That isn't your job anymore. Right now, your job is to delay."

  "If we abandon the civilians, they will die. The enemy has more than enough Blighted to hunt them down while still marching on us."

  "Then you can console yourself with the fact it wasn't your call. Do as I say, Nak."

  The afternoon drew on, summery and long. At last, the sun dipped beyond the western heights. Its retreat and the cooling of the air lent them a second wind. With the sky purpling around them and the light quenched to dusk, they came to the edge of a low cliff and looked down on the lake.

  It was circular, perhaps two miles across. The waters were dark and Dante had the impression they were very deep. In the middle stood an island the size of a small farm. And in the center of this, a rounded red rock stood like a domed cathedral, a black hole gaping from its base.

  They descended to the shoreline. The water lapped lightly, smelling clean and cold.

  Blays looked up and down the banks. "So how did Adaine get across?"

  "He had a raft," Dante said. "Which he left on the shore of the island."

  "What a prick. How are we going to get across?"

  "You start swimming. I'll try magic. We'll see which one of us gets there first."

  He had intended to harvest a canoe from a nearby tree, but Gladdic was already conjuring one from ice, as he'd once done outside the palace in Dara Bode. Dante harvested them a pair of paddles instead. They climbed aboard, he and Blays paddling while Gladdic kept watch.

  There was no wind and the surface was as dark and smooth as shadowcut glass. They skimmed across it. The last light drained from the west as they landed in the grass next to Adaine's raft.

  Blays bounded toward the cave, but Dante called him back.

  "My mistake," Blays said. "I thought we came here to hunt down Adaine."

  "If this is the same cavern Sabel went into, it's huge. We'll need some way to hunt our mark."

  He crossed to the raft, activating his torchstone. He checked the handle of the paddle Adaine had used for blood, hoping the priest had had a blister or a splinter, but found nothing. He climbed onto the raft on hands and knees to hunt for a stray hair. As he searched log by log, Gladdic cast ether over the grassy ground, attempting to turn up the disturbance of Adaine's tracks, but it had been hours since the other priest had entered the cave and Gladdic found nothing.

  Dante wasn't having any better luck. Growing hopeless, he spread shadows across the surface of the raft to try to turn up anything out of place.

  He cursed and got to his feet. "There's nothing here. Unless Adaine left some trace of himself inside the cavern, we'll be hunting blind."

  "But that sounds like a recipe for failure," Blays said.

  "I'm afraid it will be."

  "Then it's a good thing you've got me." He tossed a pale cylinder at Dante's chest.

  It bounced from Dante's breastbone. He bobbled it, then caught it, then almost cast it aside in disgust. "Your old apple core?"

  "It's not mine. So unless the cave bears around here are very finicky about eating the seeds, I'
m guessing it's Adaine's."

  "And he'll have left some of his spit on it." Dante sent the nether into the core. Soon, not one but two points of pressure bloomed in his head. "I've got a signal. Two of them, actually. But unless Adaine turned around and ran miles into the woods, I'm guessing that one's the tree this apple came from. And the other's deep below."

  They crossed the sward to the cave. The entrance smelled damp, but not unpleasant. Dante scratched his arm with his knife, drawing a ball of shadow to his hand. Gladdic had found a staff—probably not a bad idea, if the terrain in the cave was at all rough—and lit its tip with ether. They crossed into the mouth of the cavern.

  Small creatures fled the advance of the light. Stumps and spikes of stone rose from the floor and hung from the ceiling, which started low and then climbed beyond the reach of the ether's glow. The ground sloped gently downward. Putting his hand on his sword, Dante stalked forward. They were barely inside, but the air was already damp and temperate, smelling musty and also of a faint sour tang suggestive of bats.

  The entry receded behind them, but remained visible with the stars shining on the water behind it. It was a comforting sight. Yet Dante knew they were about to leave it behind, possibly for a very long time.

  "What's that?" Blays stooped and picked up an object the size of his fist, shaking it to clear it of debris. It was a tarnished metal cup with a small handle. "Is this silver?"

  Gladdic shook his head. "Tin."

  "Bah." Blays tossed it aside.

  A few feet further, the ether played across a few coins half-submerged in old muck. Past those, a drinking flask rusted away in the gloom.

  "I can only think of two reasons for all this stuff to be scattered about here," Blays said. "So I'm going to pretend it was left as offerings to the cave-gods."

  They wound their way through a little forest of stalagmites. The ether glinted from a pair of large eyes, causing Dante's arm to jerk toward his sword, but the eyes were attached to an otherwise average-sized rat, or something much like one. They saw a few more on their way to the back of the cavern, along with a few spiders, beetles, and other bugs so bizarre-looking that Blays was disgusted and Dante was fascinated.

  The back wall appeared before them. There was a round hole through it, the only such exit they'd seen so far. Approaching, they found it ringed by six plaques. Each was carved with a different language, including one reasonably close to Mallish and a second that might long long ago have shared its heritage with Gaskan. Dante could only read the one of them, but he was certain they all bore the same message: "ENTER FURTHER, AND YOU FEED THESE CAVERNS WITH YOUR MEAT AND WITH YOUR BONES."

  "Well that's something," Blays said. "I don't think I've ever been threatened by a cave before."

  Dante wove the shadows between his fingers. "Keep watch for guardians."

  "If these sites are full of stalwart defenders, why do you suppose they're not going for Adaine? Because he's already dead?"

  "Maybe. Or maybe the lich forged him a charm of some kind. But it could be that he knows something about these places that we don't."

  "Having traveled with you for some time now," Gladdic said, "I would submit the latter is extremely plausible."

  The passage forward was about the size of an average hallway, snaking steeply downhill. Most of the floor was rugged, but water trickled down its center, and there it was preternaturally smooth. The slope leveled out and straightened. Gladdic made a sound deep in his throat and thumped his staff against the ground.

  Human skulls and thighs and ribs lay on the rock, studded with smaller bones. Although "lay" was not quite the right term: for they seemed to be partially sunken into it, as if the stone had grown around them. The remains climbed the walls and ceilings, too, forming discrete rings like the ribs of a snake.

  Blays tilted back his head. "It looks like we've been swallowed."

  Dante grunted. "When Elenna said the land was alive, you don't suppose she meant alive, do you?"

  "Not long ago, you suggested there were gods here," Gladdic said. "If the gods are here, then anything is possible."

  They advanced cautiously, watching the ceiling and the walls. The pressure in Dante's head had grown since entering Talassa, but remained dim. He suspected part of that was the weakness of the link—there hadn't been much nether in Adaine's saliva, much less than blood—but that it also portended they had a ways to go yet. At least they seemed to be catching up.

  The tunnel made no effort to assault or eat them. They emerged from it onto a narrow shelf of stone. A twelve-foot gap separated them from the other side. Gladdic lowered his staff to illuminate the pit, but the light couldn't reach the bottom.

  Blays nudged a pebble. "I am very tempted to drop this down there."

  "Don't," Gladdic said.

  There was no bridge or sign of gear, suggesting Adaine had leaped across it, but that wouldn't do for Gladdic. Dante reached into the rock. It felt sticky for a moment, then extended a generous plank to the other side. Blays skimmed across, Gladdic following. Dante was last. As he came to the end of the plank, he yelped and jumped to the solid rock beyond.

  "What's the matter?" Blays said. "Suddenly remembered what you were doing?"

  "It twitched."

  "What, the rock? Or your courage?"

  "Definitely the rock."

  "Well, maybe you didn't make it right."

  "I made it just fine. But it felt like it was about to throw me off it."

  Blays rubbed his chin. "In that case, maybe you should go stand on it a while longer to try to puzzle this mystery out."

  The passage contracted, taking them downward, deeper yet into the caves. Blue light glowed at the end of the tunnel. Dante reached for his sword. But when he saw what lay ahead, his hand fell from his hilt and he gasped.

  The cavern was like something out of a children's story. Huge crystals and gemstones glowed soft turquoise and blue. Pale mushrooms sprouted next to dark pools, some taller than a man, others with caps broad enough to sit on. Quiet streams crisscrossed the floor. There were gems embedded in the ceiling, too, although less densely, scattered like stars, providing just enough light to make out the upper heights.

  "I did not expect to find beauty here," Gladdic said. "Yet of all the things I have gazed on, I have never felt such wonder."

  Blays kneeled and tapped a hexagonal crystal. "How much of this do you suppose I could take without getting into some kind of trouble?"

  "None," Dante said.

  "Really? Because I was thinking at least five pounds. Maybe ten." He gave the crystal a regretful look and stood.

  "Maybe on our way back," Dante said. "And some of the mushrooms, too. For study."

  "Yes. Study."

  Dante wanted very badly to explore the scene about them, but forced himself to walk on, careful not to brush himself against the fungus. Delicate, milk-white insects stood on the caps, waving their thread-like antennae. White and eyeless fish drifted in the little streams. Within the blue light, Blays and Gladdic looked more like spirits than mortal men.

  A few small dark shapes flitted about the ceiling. Bats or something like them, although the space didn't smell any bit as bad as that would imply, possibly due to heroic cleansing efforts of the giant mushrooms. Dante climbed a low rise of rock to his right and scanned the cavern walls until he found a black spot likely marking an exit. He adjusted course, using the constellations of gems in the ceiling to navigate his way through the forest of looming mushrooms.

  Halfway across the yawning room, the hiss of rain sounded behind them.

  Blays swiveled his head. "What's going on? Are we getting flooded?"

  "By what?" Dante said.

  "I don't know, the giant lake we're underneath?"

  Dante scrambled onto a chest-high shelf of rock. He stilled his thoughts, intending to draw up more light, but Gladdic was already shedding it across the ground behind them. Forty feet away, a black blanket swept toward them.

  "That's not water,"
Dante decided. "What—?"

  The leading edge of the dark wave coursed over a crop of toadstools. Ether shined from black carapaces and spiked legs. The insects looked like beetles, but each one was two feet long if it was an inch, and their mouths were broad and powerful pincers.

  "Suppose they're coming for us?" Dante said.

  Gladdic scoffed. "For the parts of us that can be devoured."

  "Then it's time to start stomping."

  The beetles were almost upon them. Dante thrust out his hand, delving into the damp stone. He lifted the earth, meaning to repeatedly slam it down on the vermin, but as soon as he'd converted it into a pliable, semi-liquid form, it slipped from his grasp like a writhing trout. He grabbed for it, but the rock flowed past his effort, surging toward them.

  "That's not good," he said stupidly.

  Blays' swords sprung into his hands. Ether glared from Gladdic's hand, painfully bright. The first of the beetles launched themselves forward, flying on ponderous wings. Gladdic ripped into the closest ones with the ether, showering all three of them with green ichor.

  "What are you doing?" Blays said. "Smash the bugs!"

  "I can't!" Dante said. "The stone's turned on me!"

  Blays lashed out with his blades, sending two halved beetles tumbling to the ground. "Then turn it back around before I turn on you!"

  Dante reached forward, nether pouring from his hands to the rock. It ignored his efforts completely—and extended itself in a stony lance, stabbing straight for his heart.

  Dante yelled out and threw himself to the side. The lance grazed his ribs and he fell into a spongy mass of mushrooms. Spores poofed up like dust. He coughed spasmodically; the spores felt stuck inside him, thick as sap, and no matter how hard he gasped or hacked he couldn't seem to catch his air. Before the panic of suffocation could overtake him completely, he flushed the nether down into his lungs. With a mighty racking cough, he blew green sludge across the cavern floor.

  The spear of rock was coming for him again. He scrabbled back over the ground, gripping the nether like a sledge and slamming it into the incoming tip of the living stone. The spear shattered into hundreds of pieces, scattering like an upended bag of marbles.