Into the Madness

by Richard H. Stephens

  His ire rose. His father had died an ignoble death at the hands of the sorcerer who now compelled him, the new Kraidic emperor, to do his bidding. To hunt down and kill a wizard who had never done anything against the Kraidic Empire.

  He acknowledged his people’s long-standing hatred of magic users, but if that were the case, should they not abhor Helleden, regardless of the spoils he promised?

  Lying buried in the snow awaiting a slow, suffering death, the only spoils he would realize was that of his decaying body.

  He seethed. He should’ve buried his axe in Helleden’s face that first day in his father’s tent…

  Something pulled him from his thoughts. Was that scratching he heard?

  His left ear itched dreadfully with the ice melting inside it and there was nothing he could do to get at it. Every time he rubbed his head against the snow, more ice slipped into his upper ear.

  Something struck his left boot. At least it felt like his left boot. It was hard to tell—his extremities had gone numb.

  Something scrabbled up his leg to his waist, the pressure on his lower body had lessened noticeably. Two sets of hands grabbed his belt and pulled him clear of the snow.

  Concussed in the original fall, he was vaguely aware of sliding across and down a pile of snow, landing heavily on the stone floor and rolling over. The long-haired man who wanted nothing more than to kill him stood over him. A blonde-haired woman crossed into his vision. The witch!

  His mind roiled with the ramifications. The people he had been sent to kill had saved him. But why? At once his thoughts focused on the only real friend he had in the world, a man who probably hated him outside of his role as his personal aide.

  “T-T-Tygra?” he croaked through quivering, blue lips.

  The witch and the swordsman left his dimming vision. Shivering uncontrollably, his world went dark.

  Melody’s staff discharged a steady blast of flames against the pile of rock she and Silurian had collected from the snowfall at the base of the exit shaft. The rocks glowed orange, exuding heat into the small cavern.

  After pulling the Kraidic warriors from the snow, she set to work on Silurian’s leg. Considering the state the men were in, they weren’t leaving the cavern anytime soon so she decided to expend the little energy she had left.

  Not wanting to cause him excruciating pain, she pulled a potion from her bottomless satchel and dispensed a couple of drops onto a piece of wizard’s bread. It wasn’t long before the effects knocked Silurian out.

  A great yawn split her grimy features. Though three men lay around the rock pile, she sat alone with her thoughts for several hours, afraid to fall asleep herself lest they freeze to death.

  Silurian, Keen and Tygra slept restlessly. Silurian’s mangled shin appeared much better, but she feared for the man named Tygra.

  She yawned so deeply that her eyes watered. She had expended more energy than she thought herself capable of in an effort to heal the others. She had no choice. If they didn’t escape this ice cave soon, it would become their tomb.

  She forced her eyes open wide, trying to shake her gathering lethargy. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d slept. Her eyelids grew heavier each time she blinked and remained closed longer each time. She was certain she dozed more than once only to be awakened by the ever-creeping cold. She fretted over the ramifications of being asleep when one of the Kraidics awoke but she was so tired.

  She also dreaded Silurian waking first. He had changed drastically. He was no longer the virtuous, carefree, loving soul he’d been before Phazarus stole her away.

  She had never known a more caring person than her brother had been once upon a time. He had the knack of finding the good in even the direst of situations. Her mind drifted back to their time on Mount Cinder—outwitting Hairy the troll and eluding the evil Thonk. Through all the hardships they endured during those scary, hopeless days, Silurian had been the epitome of optimism.

  Reflecting on it now, his insatiable, happy spirit had been the sole reason they survived long enough to save the prince.

  She shivered. Her brother’s words and actions no longer exhibited his old zest for life. Cynicism and hatred had taken the sparkle from his eyes. Sadness enveloped her. She drifted. Peacefulness settled in…

  She opened her eyes in terror. She’d fallen asleep. The cave was cold and dark except for the faint light filtering in from above. Silurian and Tygra lay by the cold pile of rocks, their sleeping forms noticeably shivering.

  Keen was nowhere to be seen.

  She swallowed and looked behind her, expecting to see a battle-axe chopping down, but there was no one else in the cave.

  She had no idea how long she’d slept, but the wooliness in her brain had lifted.

  Her staff!

  In a panic, she slapped the ground until her fingers wrapped around the comforting wooden staff.

  She was never more thankful for its touch as a scratching noise and creak of leather armour sounded from within the shaft that led to the cavern below.

  A chunk of what appeared to be frozen meat shot out of the chute, followed by another.

  Keen poked his head out of the top of the chute, his green eyes finding hers. “About time you woke up. I’ve gathered us food.” He indicated with his chin a pile of frozen fish chunks he’d amassed against the back wall of the cave. His battle-axe sat propped against the wall next to the pile.

  She blinked several times, trying to come to terms with the whole ordeal. The lake lay two caverns below. Judging by the amount of meat he’d amassed she must’ve slept for a long time. “How long have I been out?”

  Keen pulled himself from the chute and stood. “Beats me. You were snoring when I awoke.”

  Melody tensed when he grabbed his weapon, but he slid it into the keepers across his back.

  He picked up two chunks of meat and strode toward her. “You think you can cook these? Tygra and I have hardly eaten in days.”

  Her stomach twisted with pains of her own as she watched him approach. Keen didn’t appear threatening, but according to Silurian, one could never tell with a Kraidic warrior.

  She wasn’t sure she had recovered enough to generate enough ability to power her staff. Fearing to admit her magic was weak, she said, “Sure. Make a spot on top of the rocks and I’ll heat them up.”

  Keen arranged the top of the pile to accommodate the two pieces. Making a half-hearted attempt to scrape the dirt from the stones, he backed away.

  Melody swallowed her unease. There was a very good chance she might render herself unconscious.

  A trickle of power leapt from the staff into the rocks. It didn’t feel as bad as she thought it might. She focused an increasing stream of magical flames into the midst of the pile. It wasn’t long before heat infused the cave.

  “Ah, so that’s why the cave was warm before. You know, you witches…” he gave her a strange look and nodded, correcting himself, “wizards, have your uses after all.”

  Keen’s words startled her, severing her fire stream. She wondered what he was playing at. He and Tygra had tried to kill them a couple of times now for reasons unknown to her beyond the inbred hatred Kraidic people had for magic users.

  Perhaps the Kraidic Empire had a good reason for their beliefs once upon a time. That type of thinking always left her cold—speculating on how past transgressions by generations many times removed were able to live on to cast their descendants in the same ugly light.

  Regardless of his supposed new attitude, she kept an eye on him as he walked around Silurian to check on Tygra; her deep-rooted fear proved that those prejudices ran deep within her as well.

  “Tygra. Wake up. Tygra.” Keen bent low and gently shook his companion’s shoulder.

  A nasty purple welt dominated the left side of Tygra’s face. Melody assumed a good-sized rock had struck him in the head before the snow buried him.

  Tygra didn’t stir and Keen gave up. He joined Melody near the rock pile, checking on the rapidly thawing
fish sizzling and popping atop the heated rocks.

  “Ironic, eh? The beast in the lake tried to eat us and now we’re eating him. Whoa!” He jumped back as Melody infused the rocks with more heat.

  “Sorry. I should’ve warned you. Don’t worry, I’m fairly accurate when fire casting.”

  Keen rubbed his chin through his red beard. “Fairly, hmm?”

  Melody smiled despite her unease at being alone with the brute.

  An uncomfortable silence filled the cave. The soft snores and moans escaping Silurian and Tygra rose above the distant wind blowing across the upper tunnel’s opening. The aroma of cooking fish soon had her mouth watering, reminding her how hungry she was.

  Keen made to approach the make-shift hearth, but he stopped with his hands spread wide.

  “Heh. It’s okay,” she replied.

  The sound and sight of a wicked looking dagger sliding out of a sheath at his waist caused her staff to flare up.

  Keen held up his hands, gesturing toward the cooking food.

  “Sorry,” she said, eyeing the dagger. “Just a natural reaction. Go ahead.”

  Keen waited a few moments before he sliced off a small piece of fish and tasted it, nodding with a grimace.

  “That good, huh?”

  He raised his eyebrows and sliced off another piece. Leaning toward her, he dangled it from filthy fingers.

  Under any other circumstances, there was no way she would’ve accepted the proffered food, but at the moment, she didn’t care. She needed to eat.

  She nodded her thanks as he placed it on her upturned palm, noting absently that her hands were no cleaner than Keen’s.

  Sniffing the fish, she took a bite. After witnessing Keen’s reaction, she expected it to taste much worse. It tasted good enough to want more.

  “Ya?” Keen asked.

  “Not bad.”

  Keen sliced a larger piece off and walked it to her. “Mind yourself, it’s hot.”

  Together the Wizard of the North and a Kraidic warrior ate both chunks, washing it down with snowmelt.

  Chewing her last mouthful, she eyed the red-bearded hulk. She wasn’t naïve. There was more to Keen than he let on. For him to be searching for her, especially when no one should have known she’d left Dragon’s Tooth, was more than a coincidence.

  Her mind drifted back to the wards Silurian had set off at Wizard’s Gibbet and the wraith he claimed to have seen. Phazarus had taught her many things about the Kraidic Empire but she didn’t recall him mentioning spirits and magic where they were concerned.

  The only magic users she knew of were herself, Phazarus, Helleden, her brother so to speak, and the Voil wizard Silurian had told her about, Wendglow. Oh yes, she couldn’t forget the Aberrator, but surely the necromancer had nothing to do with any of this. Saros was dead, and if her instincts were true, so too, was the Grimward. She mulled the memory of the spectre over in her thoughts—he’d never been alive in the first place.

  That was it as far as people went. Of course, there was the Lurker way up north, and whatever magical creatures called the Wilds home, but as far as people in possession of magical ability, she wondered who had informed Keen and Tygra of their whereabouts?

  She wiped her lips on a voluminous cuff and stood up to check on Silurian. His leg appeared much better. The skin had mended considerably after her lengthy ministrations. Time would tell whether he got the full use of it back.

  She moved on to Tygra, conscious of Keen’s eyes following her every movement.

  “What do you think? Will they be okay?”

  She straightened up. “Silurian is doing good. As for him,” she glanced down at Tygra, “it’s tough to say. That’s a nasty bruise. We won’t know until he wakes up.”

  The red-bearded brute looked away, his reddened eyes moist.

  Melody was taken aback. She’d never seen that kind of emotion in a Kraidic warrior before—not that she’d met many or spent a great deal of time with them. Her perceptions of the nation were fostered by the tales she’d been told, mostly by Phazarus or Silurian—neither one of them staunch supporters of the Kraidic way of life.

  Keen paced to the back of the cave and stared at the hole leading to the lower levels. When he made his way back, Melody had infused the hearth stones again.

  He rubbed his hands together. “Why’d you do it?”

  Melody stiffened, her breath caught in her throat. She turned to see him staring at her. She swallowed. His words felt like an accusation. “Do what?”

  “Save us. Me and him.”

  “No reason really. You were in trouble. I did what any decent person would.”

  “But we tried to kill you.”

  She had no response to the straightforwardness of his confession.

  Keen kept staring, as if sizing her up. Something was on his mind, that much was obvious.

  She couldn’t take his scrutiny any longer. She tilted her head, careful not to let her guard down. “What is it?”

  Keen pursed his lips, about to speak, and then threw his hands up and paced around. Finally, he stopped beside her. “I want to tell you something, but I need you to promise you won’t fry me.”

  Melody frowned and stepped away to create space between them. “Why would I do that?”

  He raised his thick eyebrows. “Promise?”

  “Sure, I guess.”

  “As Wizard of the North?”

  She laughed, partly due to the rising tension. “Yes. You have my promise as Wizard of the North.”

  Keen nodded and made to walk away, but stopped, his gaze intense. “I haven’t been totally honest with you.”

  “There’s a shock.”

  “Ha ha. Ya, well, how about this? That man lying there is the real Keen. Tygra Keen.”

  He went silent as his words settled over her. It came as no surprise that they hadn’t been truthful with her and Silurian. Why would they if they were bent on killing them? “Okay. And you are...?”

  “Promise?” His eyes fell on her staff.

  She nodded.

  “I am Karvus Kraken.”

  The name threw her. She ran it through her mind a couple of times until it shook her to the core. “That makes you…” She had to think back to Phazarus’ lessons. A look of wonder crossed her face. “The son of Krakus Kraken, the emperor of…”

  Karvus nodded and echoed her last words, “The Kraidic Empire.”

  Melody stepped backward, stunned. Her staff’s light dimmed instead of growing brighter. If not for the red-hot hearth, she would have stumbled into the wall.

  Karvus grasped her by the arms and pulled her free of the rock pile. She ended up in his embrace for a moment before he held her at arm’s length and searched her cloak, frowning.

  Melody’s cheeks flushed but she recovered enough to realize his consternation. “Wizard’s robes. Impervious to fire.”

  Karvus nodded several times and released her. “Nice. So, where does that leave us now?”

  She said slowly, “I don’t know. I guess that depends. What would make the emperor’s son travel through dangerous lands trying to kill the Wizard of the North?”

  “My father’s dead.”

  Melody almost staggered again.

  “I’m the Kraidic Emperor.”

  Her eyes grew wider still.

  Karvus must have thought her reaction was a result of his disclosure. He never saw Silurian leap from the ground with Soulbiter in hand and wrap an arm around his neck.

  “Kraidic Emperor?” Silurian shouted, his dagger drawing blood across Karvus’ throat. “You dirty whoreson! I’ll slit you from ear to ear!”

  Haunting

  Pollard ducked as a cold wind blasted him from the darkness above. His eclectic group of friends had taken to walking along what appeared to be a long, stone bridge bisecting the cavernous passage in the base of the mountain. In the limited light provided by Alhena’s staff, they couldn’t see the ceiling, walls, or even the bottom of the enormous cavern—the bridge a roughly h
ewn length of granite stretching before them into the darkness ahead. How it remained aloft, not even Alhena knew.

  At one point, Alhena made the mistake of informing everyone the cold drafts were actually ghosts zipping through the air.

  Olmar uttered an unmanly shriek and fell to his knees, his leather sailor’s cap falling to the ground in front of him. He scrambled around with his eyes closed until he located his mischievous cap and jammed it back on his balding head.

  Larina shot Alhena a disgusted look and grabbed Olmar by the upper arm. “Get up, Lunkhead. You’re worse than a wee child.”

  “Pfft!” Sadyra chided, her hands full keeping Pollard moving. “Between the two of them, I’ll be surprised if we ever make it out of here.”

  Pollard stopped in an effort to be brave beside his cowering friend but Alhena, and more importantly, his light, moved away, leaving them behind. That was enough to propel Pollard after the wizard and Rook. The wizard and the bowman had come to a mutual understanding after their confrontation.

  Rook promised not to kill Alhena as long as Alhena filled him in on everything Melody had experienced since she was taken from him. From that point on, they walked close together, exchanging tales, crying and laughing—oblivious to the hardships Larina and Sadyra put up with to keep the giants’ moving.

  The dwindling glow of Alhena’s staff set Olmar’s feet in motion. He nearly bumped Sadyra off the bridge’s rounded edge in his haste to catch up to the wizard.

  “Hey!” Sadyra shouted after him, dropping to her hands and a knee to keep from tumbling into the abyss.

  Larina slowed her own run to pull Sadyra to her feet, rolling her eyes and taking off after the crazed man. “Slow down, Lunkhead, you’re going to kill someone!”

  Pollard felt his cheeks flame. He should’ve been the one assisting Sadyra, but it was all he could do to keep himself from quivering on the ground. He felt silly. He dwarfed everyone except Olmar in height and muscle. If anyone should be strong, it should be him, not an old man or the two women, and yet, he couldn’t stop the permeating fear that had taken hold of him. He couldn’t prevent his mind from jumping from one superstitious fear to another—ghosts and goblins, ghouls and undead. All the monsters instilled in him as a child had become a whirling dervish within his usual calm and composed psyche. He knew all this but he was powerless to alleviate his deep-rooted fears. He fled after Alhena, not bothering to wait for Sadyra. He couldn’t bear to be the last in line.