Into the Madness

by Richard H. Stephens

  “Ma’am?” Melody’s voice pitched higher than usual. “I’m no ma’am, I assure you of that.”

  Karvus sneered and released Silurian’s support arm.

  Silurian clutched the wrist of the hand Karvus used to pin the hand holding Soulbiter, but even with a free hand he wasn’t able to break Karvus’ iron grip.

  “Truce, tough guy?” Karvus snarled.

  Silurian wanted to spit in the man’s insolent face but thought better of it. There were chivalrous codes a man of valour didn’t break. Silurian rued the day he had taken his vows as a Knight of the Ivory Throne. If he hadn’t respected King Peter’s memory so much, he would’ve broken his vow right here. A dark thought he had hidden for years tried to resurface. Of a time long ago when his former self had done just that—broken that vow. He couldn’t allow himself to go down that path again. Instead, he nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

  Karvus released him and stood, offering him a hand up, but he ignored it—rolling onto his side and getting up himself.

  The two men glared death at each other.

  “If you boys are done wrestling, I suggest you save your strength. Neither one of you is in any shape to be fighting. If we want to get out of here before the aquacats return, we should turn our attention to getting some more rest, hmm?”

  Silurian’s sword hand went to St. Carmichael’s Blade’s pommel. The emperor flinched. Not enough to be seen by a casual observer but enough for Silurian to catch it.

  The Kraidic Emperor was wary of him. That silent confirmation placated Silurian’s anger for the time being. He’d still rather dispense of the Kraidic warriors and not have to worry about them killing him in his sleep, but for some reason, Melody believed they were useful.

  Silurian grudgingly enjoyed the fish Karvus had lugged up from the lake. He couldn’t recall eating anything other than that tooth-shattering wizard’s bread Melody kept pulling out of her magical satchel. One of these days he was going to investigate that bag more closely.

  Tygra had finally awoken. He suffered from an awful headache but claimed he didn’t feel too bad for having fallen down the shaft. The nasty welt on his face was noticeably painful but the emperor’s aide never complained.

  Melody spent a good part of the day healing each of them in turn, resting between each session. There was only so much she could do. She wasn’t a real healer. When she finished tending them, they gathered their gear together.

  Karvus stood at the bottom of the exit tunnel, looking up. “Are we ready?” He tested the strength of the rope.

  Melody forced a smile. “I think we are?”

  Silurian nodded, his leg faring much better.

  “We are,” she said. “We ascend in the same order in case the aquacats are waiting for us or Silurian has trouble.”

  Karvus scowled but stood aside.

  Silurian followed Melody up the rope, brushing away the help Tygra offered. Tygra followed and Karvus brought up the rear.

  Silurian wondered if the rope would hold their combined weight, fearing the spot the Kraidics had tied it off on had been compromised in the avalanche.

  The mood was somber as they climbed. Tygra and Karvus ascended as close to Silurian as possible, obviously expecting subterfuge when they reached the top.

  A considerable gap widened between Melody and Silurian. She went up the rope like she did this every day. Even if Silurian’s leg hadn’t pained him, there was no way he’d climb half as fast. He wondered if this was all she and Phazarus had done atop Dragon’s Tooth.

  She extended her staff into the open air and inspected the tunnel’s rim. “I don’t detect any lingering wards.”

  The light in the shaft brightened as she pulled herself over the lip and disappeared from view. Dirt and snow rained down on the three men still only halfway up the rope.

  Tygra grunted and stopped climbing.

  Silurian looked between his arms. Tygra had taken debris in the eye. Silurian didn’t bother waiting. The sooner he got out of the shaft the better.

  A muffled cry from outside raised Silurian’s fear, so faint it could have been mistaken for the wind. He stopped climbing. “Mel?”

  Not receiving an answer, he risked reaching over his shoulder to grasp the hilt of his sword. He almost fell off the rope, but through his contact with the sword, he detected a presence similar to the one in Wizard’s Gibbet. A wraith!

  Strength flowed through St. Carmichael’s Blade, the earth blood enchantment awakening in the presence of danger. Hand over hand, he distanced himself from the traitorous men below. They had led them into a trap.

  A howling wind whistled across the opening, the sky a pale blue. Silurian popped his head into the sunshine, locating his sister at once.

  A wraith held her—her arms behind her back and a clawed hand wrapped across her mouth.

  She shook her head at him, her eyes full of fear.

  Silurian grasped at the rope above the entrance but he didn’t require any effort to exit the shaft. Clawed hands latched onto his hair and his cloak, yanking him unceremoniously out of the shaft and throwing him onto the snow-covered mountainside, dangerously close to the drop-off.

  He arrested his slide before he slipped over the brink and took in the scene, angry with himself for allowing Karvus and Tygra to fool them.

  A tall wraith draped in grey cloaks held Melody a short way up the slope from the fissure. He glared at the dark demon, upset with himself for not sensing the creature until it was too late.

  “Throw him off the cliff,” the wraith growled from beneath its raised hood.

  Two red-skinned demons clad in furs—short horns curving from their temples—stood around the wraith, one of them holding Melody’s staff.

  “Yes, Dagan,” they said together and started forward but the wraith called them back. “No. You two remain here.”

  Silurian got unsteadily to his feet, the snow under him giving way ever so slowly, drawing him toward the brink, his attention switching to the six demons that had hauled him out of the shaft as they closed in on him.

  Silurian unsheathed his sword, almost losing his footing in the process.

  The demons were either well equipped to traverse the steep slope or didn’t fear slipping to a certain death. They were on him in moments.

  He scrambled away from the edge to intercept them, but for each uncertain step he took, he slid back half the distance he had gained.

  A trident jabbed at his stomach. He knocked it aside, the momentum of his parry causing him to slip and fall to a knee.

  “Watch!” Dagan called out.

  A movement behind the demons caught Silurian’s attention. A black-bearded man exploded into their midst, swinging his warhammer with lethal force.

  A demon’s head exploded beneath the devastating crunch as Tygra’s warhammer drove the creature into the demon beside it. The second demon lost its footing and screeched, its trident flying into the air. It grabbed at the body of its dead companion but couldn’t stop sliding in the loose snow. The demon and the corpse slid over the brink and out of sight.

  Karvus rose out of the shaft, his green eyes surveying the scene. He jumped to his feet, pulled his battle-axe over his shoulder and started up the slope.

  “Emperor Karvus,” Dagan growled. “You keep strange company.”

  “Release her,” Karvus declared, squaring to face the wraith.

  Dagan threw Melody to the ground and held out his free hand, accepting her staff from the claws of the demon next to him. The dark wood came to life, alight with glowing runes. He pointed at Silurian. “Kill Mintaka!”

  Silurian had no choice but to concentrate on the battle at hand as the four remaining demons forced him toward the brink, ignoring Tygra’s advance.

  The earth blood seeped from his sword into his body permeating his body and driving away the residual pain from his injured leg.

  He lashed out, parrying the long thrusts aimed at his head and legs. To his horror, no amount of magic prevented the
snow from sliding out from beneath his feet. The brink loomed closer with each block. The demons didn’t have to get close to finish him—it was only a matter of time.

  Tygra had to act fast. Silurian was being herded off the edge of the mountain. If he didn’t intervene, the swordsman would be lost. Fearing the wizard’s retribution if he allowed that to happen, he attacked the demon line.

  The closest beast turned to stave off his attack.

  Tygra feigned an overhead chop, allowing gravity to pull at his hammer’s weight. He caught the weapon’s momentum with practiced precision near the ground and swung it beneath the next demon’s block—the warhammer smashing the demon’s knee, breaking its leg with a sickening crack, and taking its legs out from beneath it.

  Before the first demon could sidestep the falling body, Tygra’s recovery swing arced the hammerhead high overhead.

  The demon held its trident up with both hands, but the force of Tygra’s swing splintered the trident’s shaft, pulverizing the creature’s shoulder and pounding its body into a grotesque heap of mangled bones.

  Silurian wavered on the edge of the precipice. His rear boot found purchase beneath the snow, but the demons were relentless.

  Tygra roared and jumped at the nearest beast. It spun quicker than he thought possible, bringing its weapon to bear and diving in with a frenzied thrust.

  Tygra staggered sideways, almost teetering over the edge as the trident drove through his leather armour and into his midsection—pain exploding in his abdomen as the barbed tips shredded his innards.

  The demon on the other end of the trident screeched triumphantly.

  Tygra growled defiantly and spun.

  The demon fought to maintain its hold on the trident firmly embedded in Tygra’s stomach and slid in the icy snow—the creature’s weight pulling it toward the brink. By the time it realized its peril, it was too late for both of them.

  A section of snow coating the ledge broke free and crumbled over the cliff’s jagged lip.

  The demon released the trident and flailed its long limbs in great whirlwind strokes but couldn’t stop its slide. An ear-piercing screech rent the mountainside as it disappeared from sight.

  Eyes wide, realizing his fate, Tygra met Silurian’s astonished gaze. He swung out his hammer, its head hooking itself in the last demon’s furs and together they were airborne.

  Tygra watched his demise play out, almost as if his mind had detached itself from his body. The edge of the cliff fell farther and farther away. Snow cascaded after him, mimicking his descent, not getting any closer, but not getting any farther away. The awful screech of the flailing demon beside him grated at his ears.

  The last thing he saw on the receding ledge were the black locks of the man who protected the Wizard of the North—his ice-blue eyes watching him plummet to his death from the safety of the ledge.

  The Summoning Stone

  Stepping around the expanding pool of blood of the minion accompanying Surgat back from the Gulch, Helleden fought hard to control his wrath. It wouldn’t do to kill Surgat as well, though if truth be told, Surgat had disappointed him.

  The elite minion had returned empty handed. Not only did Surgat fail to kill Phazarus, he claimed to have no knowledge of where the wizard had gone. As far as Surgat could ascertain, the wizard had travelled with several companions into the Gulch and disappeared.

  “Perhaps the Aberrator got to them, m’lord.”

  Helleden glowered at the wraith kneeling dutifully on the flagstone floor, the slain demon’s blood congealing around Surgat’s dark cloak. Helleden resisted the urge to slit his throat as well—barely.

  Nothing was going according to plan. First, he had lost touch with the northern wizard, and perhaps more importantly, Silurian Mintaka, and now, Phazarus. His grand scheme threatened to crumble around him. After five hundred years of painstaking patience, he had come so close to realizing his dream. And to what end? That old wizard was going to undermine everything he had achieved.

  The King of Zephyr dead, the Kraidic Emperor dead, the Kraidic army at his disposal, the Zephyr army crushed, and the collapse of the mighty kingdom at hand and yet, his plans were falling apart. As long as the Wizards of the North and Silurian remained at large, he wasn’t assured victory. They could undermine everything he had worked toward. He needed to devise a better way to deal with the wizards.

  Surgat’s words sunk in. Helleden had dismissed them as rhetoric at first. If Phazarus had died, he would know of it. He had measures set in place within this chamber to alert him of the destruction of a major magic source. Other than the earth blood fount and the now destroyed Soul Forge, there wasn’t a greater source of magic than the Wizard of the North—not including himself, of course. He smiled at that. He had become the greatest living magic source…a frown replaced his rare smile. He forgot to include the black wyrm.

  “Bah. I’m stronger than the dragon,” he muttered and paced to the thick tome he’d been leafing through when Surgat and his lackey burst into the chamber.

  “M’lord?”

  Helleden ignored him and studied the ancient book. He had been studying the maps in the tome’s centre, researching possible landing places for Zephyr’s refugees. He carefully flipped through the crackling pages to a closeup of the Gulch region, running a long fingernail up the Oceanway from Ember Breath. He traced the fork leading into the Gulch. The path ran into a large body of water. Splenic Splash. He shook his greasy locks—what a stupid name.

  The roadway veered right, following Splenic Splash’s shoreline until it climbed out of the Gulch and turned into the Nordic Wood Byway. The same path that led to Silurian Mintaka’s front door.

  The irony wasn’t lost on Helleden. He should have killed the troublemaker like he’d done with his pitiful family when he had the chance, but the Soul had forbidden it.

  A rueful smile played at the corners of his lips. If not for Silurian, the Soul would still be alive. It had proven fortuitous to keep the irksome swordsman alive.

  His blood pressure rose. Now that Silurian had served his purpose, it was time to be rid of him.

  He tapped his fingernail on Splenic Splash. What else did he know of the Gulch? He’d never set foot in the region. He never had a reason to. As long as the necromancer kept to his dark sanctuary, occasionally making off with the locals, Helleden couldn’t care less what the lunatic did. But now…He clenched his fist and pounded the centre of the book. The page containing the map ripped, stoking his anger further.

  Appalled he had damaged the ancient tome, Helleden winced. Smoothing out the crumpled sheet, his breath caught in his throat as his fingers rubbed across the words, ‘the Crypt,’ and the corresponding annotation written on the bottom corner of the map: ‘A spiritual passage. A viaduct of bile through The Spine.’

  He frowned and reread it several times. It sounded like an anatomical reference. He almost pushed it from his mind when the implication of the last two words struck him. The Spine. The note didn’t refer to a backbone—it denoted the chain of mountains along Zephyr’s western shore. The Gulch abutted The Spine.

  The significance struck him. Phazarus must’ve known about this passage. That’s where the wizard had gone. He was sure of it. But where did it lead?

  He flipped through the maps until he found one containing the area where The Spine met the Undying Wall. Sure enough, the Gulch lay nestled in its southwestern crook.

  On the far side of The Spine, the Ocean Way traversed the shoreline, climbing into The Spine south of the Gulch and continuing northward to Treacher’s Gorge.

  “Surgat, get over here.”

  “Yes, m’lord.” Surgat reached his side in an instant.

  “What do you know of this region?”

  It took Surgat a few moments to answer. “It’s the western mountains, m’lord. And that is the Gulch, there.” He pointed.

  “Have you heard of the Crypt?”

  Surgat frowned and shook his head. “No, m’lord.”

&nbs
p; “What of the trails in the mountains?”

  Surgat leaned in close. He extended a claw at a couple of routes. “This is the Ocean Way connecting the south to Madrigail Bay. This is the Nordic Wood Bypass that connects the Ocean Way, here, to Redfire Path. There is another path running along the northern peaks of the Undying Wall that leads to The Spine, here.”

  Helleden noted the paths converged. “So, all of the paths cross at this point, Treacher’s Gorge?”

  “Yes, m’lord.”

  “What’s so special about that spot?”

  “Treacher’s Gorge is a bridge connecting the four directions. The only way past this point through the mountains.”

  Helleden studied the indistinct trail markings. “Four directions? I only see north to south on the map.”

  “That’s because the east and west routes are little more than goat paths.”

  “And Phazarus might have taken one of these routes out of the Gulch?”

  Surgat’s heavy brows came together. He shook his head. “Not unless he backtracked down the Ocean Way. Even then it would be useless. The southern span of Treacher’s Gorge fell years ago. No one takes the Ocean Way anymore. The only way to cross the gorge is from above the Undying Wall, here, and then taking the northern span.”

  Helleden frowned. “What about the western span. Where does that go?”

  Surgat stared blankly at the map. “I don’t know, m’lord. It doesn’t connect to the Ocean Way that I know of.”

  Helleden walked back to the southern window and stared out. He rubbed his bottom lip as realization set in. He stormed back to the table and jabbed a fingernail through the brittle parchment, indicating the mountain west of the Gulch.

  “There! That’s where they went.”

  Surgat leaned in close.

  “An underground passageway leads out of the Gulch through a place known as the Crypt. Given everything we know, it’s the only thing that makes sense. That is where the western span leads to.”

  Visions of a surprise attack by Phazarus filled Helleden’s head. He smiled a devious grin.