Into the Madness

by Richard H. Stephens

  They approached one of the few forks along the Ocean Way as a spur of The Spine jutted eastward toward the Gulch. The main roadway veered left into the foothills of The Spine while an overgrown path shot off to the right.

  Pollard and Rook reined in their mounts, waiting for everyone to gather around them.

  Rook studied the overgrown path. “Are you sure about this, Alhena?”

  Sadyra didn’t know what they were talking about.

  “If what Avarick and Silurian said is true about Treacher’s Gorge, there’s no other way.”

  “Do you mind telling the rest of us what you’re talking about, Mister Bowman?” Sadyra jockeyed her mount up to Rook, noting where his attention lay. “You aren’t thinking what I’m thinking you’re thinking, are you?”

  Rook grinned. “If you’re thinking I’m thinking the Gulch, then you’re thinking correctly.”

  “Nice. Is this a secret you two have been keeping from the rest of us?”

  She didn’t miss Rook’s quick glance at Pollard.

  “You too?”

  Pollard swallowed his unease.

  “Who else knows about our change of course?” She walked her horse in a tight circle, taking everyone else in. “Well?”

  Olmar averted his gaze to check out the treetops.

  That left Larina. She narrowed her eyes at her best friend.

  Larina blushed. “Nice weather we’re having, eh?”

  Sadyra glared at everyone in turn. “Really? Just me? And you couldn’t confide in me…why?”

  “Come on Sadie, you know how emotional you get about these things,” Larina said. “We didn’t want you worrying about the details.”

  “Details! We’re about to head into the Gulch and you didn’t think I might want to know about it?”

  Larina heeled her mount into motion, guiding him down the overgrown, single track. Passing by Rook, she said, “See? Emotional.”

  Sadyra wanted to grab her by the hair and pull her out of the saddle. No one possessed the ability to rile her up as well as Larina. She wanted to scream.

  Olmar urged his Clydesdale into a trot. “Larina, wait. Let me go first.”

  Sadyra scowled. “Let her go on her own.”

  Pollard poised himself to say something.

  She pointed a finger at him. “Don’t.”

  With a series of quick heels, she hung on tight, galloping down the Gulch trail—dangerously crashing through the charred undergrowth to get ahead of Larina.

  Larina flinched hearing Sadyra’s horse charge through the foliage behind her.

  Sadyra rode recklessly by, jumping a felled tree and racing up the trail.

  Larina called after her, “Sadie, slow down!”

  Hooves thundered from behind as Rook joined Larina. Farther back, Olmar’s mount struggled to carry him at a faster pace than a walk, while Alhena casually walked his grey horse, bringing up the rear.

  The sound of snapping twigs sounded on Larina’s other side—Pollard urging his Clydesdale past her, chasing after Sadyra. It was evident Pollard’s horse wouldn’t be able to carry him at that speed for long.

  Larina slowed to a walk, allowing Olmar to catch up.

  “Come on Rina, they’re gettin’ away.”

  “Pfft. Not to worry. Pollard will calm her down.”

  “I tried to tell ya we shoulda let ‘er know. See what’s ‘appened?”

  “If we told her, we wouldn’t have gotten any peace for the last few days. She’d question this and worry about that. I know her. She’s not afraid of anything, but give her too much time to dwell on something and you never hear the end of it. She’s fine.”

  “If’n ya say so. I’s not the best at figurin’ you dames out.”

  Truer words had never been spoken, Larina thought, smiling to herself. Olmar was probably the worst at figuring out things when it came to women. Especially when it came to her. Oh well. She loved the chase. When he finally mustered the courage, it would be worth it.

  “Hey, you two. We’re losing Alhena,” Rook had stopped to wait for him.

  Pollard disappeared around a bend in the trail far ahead. As long as he stayed with Sadie, her friend would be safe. Short of one of the cliffs on their left falling on Sadyra, there wasn’t much Pollard couldn’t protect her from.

  “Come on Pops! Ya need ol’ Olmar to carry you again?” Olmar’s deep voice penetrated the woods.

  Larina winced. What a lunkhead. Between Sadie and Pollard ripping down the trail, and Olmar’s bellowing, everything they feared they might encounter in the Gulch would be well warned of their approach long before they got there. She thought of shushing him but what was the point? May as well tell the ocean to stop breaking upon the shore.

  She brought her horse to a stop and smiled at the sweat pouring off Olmar’s face.

  Olmar smiled shyly back and glanced over his shoulder. “Come on, Pops! Your beard’ll be back afore we reach the Gulch!”

  Larina shook her head, rolling her eyes at Rook who walked his horse past Olmar and stopped beside her.

  Rook smiled knowingly and scanned the woods.

  Larina did likewise. She had ventured through the region a few years ago with Pollard, leading a group of new recruits from Ember Breath. Pollard decided it would be a good test of the recruits’ mettle. Thankfully, he wasn’t foolish enough to camp anywhere near the Gulch. Just journeying through the region had been enough to wean out the unworthy Splendoor Catacomb Guard wannabes.

  Larina considered the lengthening shadows. “How far until we get there?”

  Rook completed his scan before answering. “The Gulch? Oh, a full day’s ride from the Ocean Way. We won’t get anywhere near it tonight. Tomorrow night should prove interesting.”

  “If’n the Gulch is such a bad place, why are we to be goin’ there?” Olmar doffed his cap and waved it at a swarm of gnats.

  Larina stared at him. Alhena had gone over this. “Because the span at Treacher’s Gorge connecting the Ocean Way is no longer intact. In order to cross the gorge, we have to come at it from the ocean.

  Olmar scratched the top of his head. “That’s not makin’ sense. The ocean is that way.” He pointed over Alhena’s head as the wizard rode his horse up to them.

  “Aye, but if you’d listen, Pops said a tunnel leads from the Gulch beneath The Spine. It’ll take us to the ocean.

  Olmar shook his head, clearly struggling with the concept. He turned to Alhena. “Let me gets this straight. We travel another day east to take a tunnel west?”

  Alhena nodded. “That is correct.”

  “I ain’t the best at me sums and the figurin’ bit, but I knows me direction. That’ll take us at least a couple of days to travel the tunnel.”

  “More or less. Depends on cave-ins and other things.” Alhena’s milky eyes remained on the helmsman.

  “Other things? Like what?’

  Alhena shrugged, his answer sounding elusive, “Many things, really. Runoff, lava flow, cavern creatures.”

  “Sounds like a place to be avoidin’ if’n ya ask me.”

  “It is not my first choice of paths but there are only three ways beyond the Undying Wall and two of them are no longer open to us.”

  “We shoulda sailed with the fleet to Ghost Island. We coulda snuck off with a boat and come ashore. That woulda been quicker or I’m a Kraidic whoreson.”

  An uncomfortable silence fell over the group.

  Larina wanted desperately to say what everyone else thought but she bit her tongue. He’d used that curse before.

  Olmar’s eyes looked skyward as he contemplated what he’d just said. “Well bugger me. I am!”

  Larina shook her head and laughed. “You truly are one of a kind, Lunkhead.”

  She urged her mount into a slow trot. Knowing Sadyra, the impetuous woman would be halfway to the Gulch by now.

  The next day, Pollard led the group over a crest in the trail and descended into the great bowl of land below—the banks of its far side shrouded in f
og many leagues away.

  Alhena insisted he go first. With the aid of his glowing staff, he would be best able to deal with anything untoward waiting for them at the bottom, but Pollard and Olmar vehemently refused. Together the two giants walked their mounts into the mist.

  Sadyra and Larina brought up the rear, their bows strung and their hunter’s instincts piqued.

  Rook rode beside Alhena, listening to him speak of events that had taken place at least a century before anyone else in the group had been born.

  “Even then, runology was outlawed in most kingdoms as the language of evil,” Alhena said conversationally, his eyes scanning the thickening mist. “It’s a shame no one ever taught you the significance of those inscribed on your bow.”

  Rook frowned at the length of dark wood lying across the front of his saddle. “You know what they mean? I thought they were decoration.”

  “Aye, decoration for the uninformed. Valuable to those in the know.”

  “What do they say?”

  “Say? Why nothing, really.”

  “But you can read them?”

  “Heh. Yes and no. I know what each symbol represents but I do not understand how they bind together to unleash their hidden magic.”

  Rook swallowed. “Hidden magic? The bow has its own magic?”

  “Of a certainty. Saros Carmichael would never create just a bow. Or any weapon for that matter.”

  “So, you knew what Wendglow was talking about back in the Under Realm? And you never said anything?”

  Alhena ran his tongue along the inside of his upper lip and tilted his head. “I knew about Saros creating the weapons employed by the Group of Five, but I had no idea his brother still lived. I do not think he knew either, unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  “It might explain why Saros sent us to the Under Realm. Silurian’s sword was our focus but I am beginning to think Saros had an ulterior motive.”

  “To find his brother?”

  “Aye.” Alhena nodded. “Saros lost the capacity to search because of what he had become.”

  “A swamp creature.”

  Alhena laughed. “That is a crude way of stating it, for sure. No, Saros had long since shed the need of his corporeal body, and that, my friend, brings us back to runology. Saros had become adept at reading the symbols and used them to prolong his life. He chose the Innerworld as a place to seclude himself. Using runology, he transformed his, um, soul, I guess you could say, or his spirit. Anyway, I cannot explain it in a way that a nonmagical person might even begin to understand. Suffice it to say, by becoming the spirit within Deneabola, Saros prolonged his tangible existence in our world.”

  Rook shook his head, clearly befuddled. “So, long story short, without the knowledge to tap the runes’ potential, they are exactly what I thought them to be. Decorations. Is there anyone who can read them? What about Wendglow? He said he inscribed them?”

  Alhena wondered how much he dared to reveal. He possessed a knowledge much more profound than the lore of runes but was hesitant to share it with the bowman. Rook’s concentration on the task ahead was critical. Were he to divulge the knowledge Rook sought, the ramifications might create a divide in their working relationship. Still, should they have any chance of defeating Helleden, Rook would benefit from knowing where to seek that knowledge.

  “Not necessarily.”

  Rook frowned. “Not necessarily what?”

  “I spoke privately with Wendglow about this very subject. Yes, he inscribed them, but he did so at Saros’ direction. Wendglow is like me. He can read them, but does not understand how they work. You see, runes are like a foreign language. You can sound out the words, but you have no idea what they mean when they are strung together.”

  “Great. Decorations.”

  Alhena stopped his horse, prompting Rook to do likewise. “There is a person who can not only read them, but can also unlock their secret. The Wizard of the North.”

  “But, that’s you.”

  “No. I was. Okay, technically maybe I still am, but in all practical sense, I abdicated my position.”

  “Don’t you think we’d be better served confronting Helleden if I knew how to unlock the runes?”

  Alhena thought long and hard on that. Sadyra and Larina clopped over the crest and started toward them, talking amongst themselves.

  Alhena nodded. “Aye. You may have a point. My only reservation is the time it would take to get word to Dragon’s Tooth.”

  Sadyra interrupted, “At the rate you two are moving, Larina and I will be old ladies before we hit the bottom of this defile. Get a move on before Lunkhead and the lummox get themselves hopelessly lost in the mist.”

  Rook smiled and prodded his mount into a slow walk, keeping abreast of Alhena. “I’m thinking we’ve got all the time in the world. The surviving people of Zephyr are sailing to safety on Ghost Island. Helleden is rumoured to be building a fleet, but it won’t be ready anytime soon. Zephyr is nothing more than ash. It can’t be harmed much further. What’ve we got to lose? We’re only going to get one shot at him. If we fail, we won’t get another.”

  Alhena saw the merit in Rook’s thinking. It would certainly be advantageous to confront Helleden with as much force as possible. If Melody helped Rook unlock the runes on his bow and combined her formidable magic with his own, they might yet destroy Helleden.

  He mulled over his personal feelings for the wizard. Melody was stronger than she realized. Her problem lay in the fact she’d never used her skills in a real-life situation. He wasn’t convinced she would be up to everything an arcane showdown commanded.

  There was also the added complication of her husband. Alhena doubted Rook would look kindly toward him when he realized who the Wizard of the North was and the role Alhena played in the subterfuge. And yet, this was much bigger than his personal relationship with the bowman.

  “Come on, Pops, I think I see a few grey hairs on Rina’s head already. Won’t be long and she’ll look like you. Well, maybe less the beard…” Sadyra squinted and reached out to stroke Larina’s chin. “Then again.”

  Larina slapped her hand away and forced her horse past Alhena as they descended into the mist enveloping Pollard and Olmar.

  The Gimcrack

  Silurian’s head lolled to the side in a feeble attempt to help his sister carry him down the steepening path; their shoulders scraping against the irregular, narrow walls.

  He sensed something desperately wrong. Every other step, Melody glanced back like she expected to see something. Whatever it might be, his thoughts were too muddled to comprehend their peril. Surely the water monster hadn’t followed them. It was too big. Maybe the horrific aquacats had regrouped and were giving chase. He cringed. The pain in his leg intensified at the thought.

  He wanted to get back to the warmth he enjoyed while in her embrace but for some reason she had forced him back into his wet clothing and physically manhandled him down the passageway.

  The deeper they went, the more it sounded like other people were in the tight passageway with them. Every time he tried to look back, his feet tripped over themselves causing a jarring pain to shoot up his leg. Melody lectured him to concentrate on what he was doing.

  The light of her staff barely illuminated the floor ahead. Twice they hit an intersection. Both times, Melody pulled him down the right-hand tunnel.

  The fog in his brain lifted slowly as they trudged along—for how long, he had no way of knowing. He felt sure that in his current mental state, he hadn’t been aware of much of their progress.

  His leg muscles burned—the wounded shin screaming at him. The only saving grace was the warmth that accompanied the pain of exertion.

  The sound of boots, clearly not their own, thudded behind them. In the muted closeness of the tunnel that could only mean—

  Melody sent him stumbling forward and spun to face a red-bearded hulk carrying a colossal battle-axe. She thrust her fiery staff’s head toward the Kraidic warrior calling himsel
f Keen. “Don’t come any closer. How’d you get down here?”

  In the orangey glow, Keen’s black-bearded companion appeared over his shoulder.

  “Whoa, lady. We’re here to help you.”

  “Ya? Like you helped me in the Serpent’s Nest.”

  “That was a misunderstanding.”

  “Misunderstanding? Your friend tried to mash me with his hammer!”

  Keen shrugged. “It won’t happen again.”

  “I’ll say it won’t. You never answered my question. How’d you get in here? The entrance is warded. Unless you’re the ones who set them.”

  The red beard snorted. “Hardly. We’re Kraidic. We detest magic, remember? We hunted your kind to extinction.”

  “Near extinction. You failed. Regardless, you should be dead. Those wards aren’t deterrents. They’re set to kill anyone passing through them.”

  “Believe me, a lot of bizarre looking, scaly cat creatures died before we came through. Scores of them came flying out of the gap. The first bunch fried to a crisp before they knew what hit them, but there were so many it was like the wards overheated. The resulting blast almost knocked Tygra and me off the mountain.”

  “There was a second ward above the lake. How’d you pass that one?”

  Keen shrugged. “There were lots of fried critters lying about the top of the chute. We never noticed a ward.”

  Tygra nodded his agreement.

  “Then you’ll have no problem getting back out. We don’t want your help.” Her staff flared brighter.

  “Easy girl.”

  “Wizard.”

  “Sorry. Wizard. I’m thinking you need us more than you let on.” His eyes rested on Silurian’s shredded pant leg. “You’re going to have a beast of a time getting snarly boy back down the mountain.”

  “Don’t you worry about me,” Silurian snapped. “I’ll manage just fine.” He took a step toward them and almost collapsed, wincing in pain.

  “Hah! Without blondie, you wouldn’t make it three steps.” Keen turned his attention on Melody. “You need us. We can get Silurian off the mountain when you’re finished. What are you doing down here, anyway?”