They continued on, reaching the end of the gloomy hall and entering a wide antechamber with a sloping ceiling. The source of light was a series of weeping red candles set all about on the floor. No inhabitants greeted them as they entered, though it was clear that this was some sort of gathering chamber. Strange runes marred the walls, matching the ones the red priest had drawn with the blood of the man he’d killed.
Jasper led them through the room without hesitation, coming up to a flight of stairs leading down. “This way,” he muttered, walking into the stairwell with a hand held firmly on the hilt of one of his blades.
They continued on, delving deeper into the ruined temple and searching everywhere for hidden traps or enemies. None seemed to materialize, though, which only put Camdyn more on edge.
I don’t like this one bit, he thought to himself, feeling a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck. I wasn’t built for this sort of thing. I was made for battle, not sneaking around!
The stairs let out into another long hall, this one lined with candles and branching off into a dozen different directions. At the end of the hall, a pair of heavy iron doors were set into the stone, their pocked surface marred by rust and the passage of time. No guards watched these doors, but Camdyn still felt that they were somehow being watched.
“This looks promising,” Jasper noted, slinking forward like a cat.
Razja and Camdyn glanced at each other nervously before begrudgingly following him.
“This doesn’t feel right,” the sorceress said softly. “Where are all the people?”
“They’re downstairs in the main room, bathing in the blood of their human sacrifice,” Jasper replied irreverently. “Or have you forgotten?”
“No,” she snapped. “I just find it odd that there are no sentries roaming the halls. If the Tears were here, don’t you think they’d have someone guarding them?”
“Never thought much of cultists,” Jasper answered with a half-shrug. “If they’re stupid enough to believe in some god, then they’re stupid enough to leave their treasure unguarded.”
That didn’t seem to sit well with her, but she did not argue. She merely glared at the back of his head and continued forward, dark eyes reflecting the light of the candles.
As they approached the doors, the assassin stopped them again and pointed to one of the stones on the floor ahead of them. At first glance, it did not look different from any of the other stones underfoot, but upon closer inspection, Camdyn could see that it was slightly raised.
“Pressure plate,” Jasper explained. Then, after glancing about, he pointed to some holes in the nearby wall. “Probably sets off a trap on the other side of that wall. Poisoned darts would be my guess. Try not to step on it.” With that, he stepped over the pressure plate and right up to the doors.
There did not appear to be any latch or lock on the portal, just a faded relief depicting some sort of battle. The assassin looked over the doors, even prodded them lightly with his fingers, and then concluded that there was nothing dangerous about them.
Shrugging, he drew his blades and then slowly pushed the doors open.
They glided inward without so much as a squeak, revealing a large, square room beyond. This, too, was lit by red candles and contained only an alter set against the far wall. It was made from a solid slab of stone and was covered by a strip of cloth that looked to be red velvet. Upon the altar rested two glossy shapes, one long and tear-shaped and one like a closed fist.
The Tears of Eternity.
“That’s them!” Razja hissed as they walked into the room. “Quick! Let’s take them and leave!”
Jasper crept forward, head swiveling as he searched for traps. When he reached the edge of the altar, he slid one of his blades into its sheath and tentatively reached forward to take one of the gemstones.
As his fingers closed in, there was a flash of crimson light and a sound like a lightning strike. Jasper yelped in pain and pulled his hand back, revealing a magical shield encapsulating the top of the altar. At the same time, a loud, shrieking alarm seemed to go off, piercing their ears and shaking the very walls of the ruins.
“Damn,” Camdyn cursed, yanking his sword out of his scabbard.
“They were warded!” Razja said, pulling up her sleeves and revealing her bracers.
“I can see that,” Jasper remarked sourly as he shook his hand. “It bloody stings!”
Camdyn looked back at the red-lined hall. “We need to get out of here – now. The whole camp probably knows we’re here.”
The alarm continued to wail, its high-pitched whine piercing Camdyn’s ears and driving deep into his skull. However, as they tried to escape the room, they found their way blocked by a near-transparent magical force field.
“It’s like an invisible wall of steel!” Jasper complained, kicking the barrier and grimacing from the pain. “Razja, isn’t there anything you can do?”
“I can try,” she replied doubtfully as she crossed her arms in front of her. Her copper bracers began to glow, and within seconds she was casting a spell, murmuring cryptic words in a language Camdyn did not understand. When she was done, white missiles of pure light leapt from her fingertips and assaulted the barrier. They exploded in brilliant flashes, but after the brightness faded, the force field remained unbroken.
Her spell was ineffective.
“Shit,” Jasper cursed, his face contorted in rage. “I knew this was all folly. We should have never have come here. I should have gotten on a ship and sailed for the south. Gods, I’m such an idiot.”
“Shut up,” Camdyn growled, his patience wearing thin. “Quit complaining and help me figure out a way out of here!”
The assassin turned on him. “Don’t tell me to shut up, sellsword,” he snarled, raising his blades as if to attack him. “You’re as much to blame as this woman for us being here!”
“How am I to blame?”
Razja stepped between them. “Enough!” she shouted. “We need to stop fighting and work together! It’s our only hope!”
Camdyn knew that it was futile. Even now, over the noise of the alarm, he could hear the sounds of footsteps echoing off the stone. The dragon’s cultists were coming for them, and there was nothing they could do about it.
No reason not to try, he thought to himself, turning away from the angry assassin to inspect the rest of the room.
The walls were all stone and crumbling mortar. Enough force could probably break one of them down.
He ran up to one of the walls and began banging the hilt of his sword against it, trying desperately to break through the ancient masonry. He rammed his shoulder into it and kicked until he felt his toes might break. Nothing. Jasper joined in, but they only managed to chip away at the ancient stones and cover themselves in dust.
It was no use. They were trapped.
By the time he turned around, the outer hall was filled with people – a combination of warriors and sycophants wearing humble wool spun robes. At their head was the dragon priest, a bearded man with a robe the color of blood. He smiled as he looked at them from the other side of the force field, an evil look in his black eyes.
“Welcome, children, to the Temple of the Ancients. I am so pleased to have you as our honored guests.”
Chapter Fourteen
As soon as the force field went down, the cultists were on them.
There was no point in fighting. There were far too many of them. Jasper made a show of warding off the mob with his blades, but Razja and Camdyn held up their hands in defeat, relinquishing their weapons almost immediately. The assassin surrendered soon after, though not without a long and colorful string of profanity.
The bearded priest watched them intently as they were bound by the wrists with heavy manacles, a disturbing grin on his blood-smeared face. His hands were still red from the human sacrifice from before, and his crimson robes seemed to drink in the light of the candles.
“We have a special place for guests in the Temple of the Ancients,”
he said, his voice carrying over the movement of his followers. “Unfortunately, it is not very comfortable.”
One of the armed men pulled the satchel from around Razja’s neck. She tried to stop him, but that only earned her a hard slap on the face.
“What do we have here?” the priest asked as the guard handed the satchel over to him. He opened it, and his smile only broadened. Reaching inside, he pulled out the sapphire and held it aloft, prompting everyone around him to gasp in astonishment. “The final Tear of Eternity,” he declared triumphantly. “The prophecies were true. The third stone was delivered to our very doorstep – thanks to our new friends.”
“No!” Razja struggled against the men holding her, but they were too strong. Without her bracers, she was powerless to do anything.
The priest clucked at her chidingly. “I’m afraid you failed at whatever your mission was. I can’t say I’m disappointed. You are at odds with a power greater than anything on this world. Your quest was doomed from the very start.”
“What do you want us to do with them, your holiness?” one of the sycophants asked.
The red priest answered without hesitation. “Take them to the cells below. I’ll deal with them eventually. In the meantime, I need to examine this,” he tapped the sapphire with a long, slender finger.
“As you wish,” the man replied, grabbing Camdyn’s manacles and dragging him along. He and a handful of other guards led them into the bowels of the ruins, handling them roughly like they were the vilest of criminals as they left the presence of the jewels and their new zealous owner.
MORE THAN AN HOUR PASSED in total darkness.
Camdyn hung against the wall, his arms spread out to either side of him with heavy manacles binding his wrists. Every time he moved, the chains binding them rattled, filling the air with the grating sound of metal on metal. Already his muscles were beginning to cramp. A leather strap held a gag in his mouth, preventing him from speaking, and judging by the silent rattling he heard next to him, he guessed that the others were in a similar predicament.
Five campaigns, two wars, and more than twenty years as a soldier, and I’ve never had to spend any time as a prisoner, he thought to himself glumly. Can’t say I enjoy it.
As he hung there, chains preventing him from sitting down, he thought about the events that led him here and what he could have done differently to prevent his fate. He felt equal parts angry and tired, but more than anything he wished he had done more since leaving the army. He still needed to right the wrongs that haunted his past.
Don’t see how we’re going to get out of this one, he mused, letting his head droop down to his chest. Damn, I never thought this is how it would end, locked up like a gutter rat.
He was starting to fall into a lucid sleep when the sounds of footsteps echoed down the hall. The door to the prison squealed open, revealing blinding torchlight and the silhouettes of men coming to visit them.
Camdyn blinked against the sudden brightness, suddenly aware.
Are they coming to execute us?
Three figures strode into the cell, followed by a fourth who carried himself with an air of dignity. When his eyes adjusted, Camdyn recognized him as the dragon priest, his red robes looking almost black in the gloom.
“I pray you forgive the delay,” the priest said with a smirk. “We have been... preoccupied. This has been a busy time for us, especially now that we have all three Tears of Eternity.” He paused as if waiting for a response, then clicked his tongue in sudden realization. “But of course, you are gagged. Mort, Kael, unbind their mouths. I would have a conversation with our guests.”
Two of the figures flanking the priests strode forward and roughly removed the leather straps attached to their faces. As the gag fell free from Camdyn’s mouth, a deluge of spit fell past his lips.
“That’s better,” the priest cooed as Camdyn worked his jaw. “Now, tell me, who sent you to steal the gemstones from us?”
None of them immediately answered, but the bearded man seemed unperturbed by the silence.
Finally, Jasper spat at their feet, his lips curled back in a vicious snarl. “You think I’m scared of you lot? I killed harder men than you when I was fifteen years old. I’ll not stand here and exchange words with a bunch of eunuch charlatans–”
The air was suddenly blasted out of his lungs as one of the men strode forward and delivered a punch right into his gut.
“Try to remain civil,” the priest scolded. “The Great One Draxxes will not abide the mockery of his chosen followers. Now, I ask again, who sent you to steal the Tears?”
There was no point in resisting. They were completely and utterly at the mercy of their captors.
“We do not know his name,” Camdyn answered, prompting all eyes in the room to turn to him. “He was an old blind man, a magic user who called himself The Wanderer.”
The dragon priest walked up to him, turning his black-eyed gaze to stare at him up and down. “You’re a big one, aren’t you?” he sneered. Then, he seemed to consider his words. “I know the man you speak of. There are few – if any – in this world who do know his name. He has been a thorn in our brotherhood’s side for years... it was a pleasure to drive my knife into his belly.” He pulled out the knife he had used to commit the human sacrifice and stroked the hilt lovingly.
“Evil,” Razja muttered to Camdyn’s side.
The dragon priest glanced over at her, a look of amusement crossing his face. “There is no such thing as evil, girl. There is only power. This Wanderer was powerful, but he was a flea compared to the might of Draxxes the Defiant. When the Great Dragon returns to this world, he will carry fire and fury in his wings and bring judgment upon the souls of men.” He glanced about, looking at each of them in turn, then chuckled lightly to himself. “I suppose you’re wondering what I’m going to do with you.”
Jasper grunted, then said in an insolent tone, “I’ll admit, it’s crossed my mind.”
The guard who hit him before made as if he was going to strike him again, but the priest held up a hand, stopping him.
“Like the stones of this temple, our magic is ancient. We do not require bracers to power our spells,” he gave Razja a pointed look. “No, our magic requires only one thing – fresh human blood. Come sunrise, we will take you out into the light of day and bleed your bodies dry. When we are done, your life force will help us release Draxxes from his eternal prison and usher in a new age on Thel’Varden. You should consider yourselves honored.”
With that, he turned and strode from the prison cell, his retinue following behind. Before the door closed, he spoke to one of his men. “We ride for the Dragon Pit at once. When you have completed the dawn’s blood ritual, follow us east. We will await your arrival.”
When the door finally closed, the three of them were shrouded in darkness once more.
It seemed that hope had fled with the light of the torches.
MINUTES CRAWLED BY like hours in the darkness of the cell, time passing slowly along with the steady drip, drip, drip of distant water. There were no windows beneath the ruins, no lights of any source, but somehow, Camdyn found that comforting. He did not have to look upon their desperate circumstances with his eyes, did not have to behold the shame of being captured.
He could pretend that he was already dead.
His companions still hung from the wall next to him, he knew, but he did not speak to them. They passed these last few hours in silence, each person alone with their own thoughts.
It’s better this way, he reflected, trying to ignore the burning pain in his arms and shoulders. The three of us don’t have anything in common. We don’t even like each other. It’s better for us to hang here quietly rather than fight amongst ourselves.
Still, Camdyn could not help but feel a powerful sense of despair settle in the pit of his stomach. He did not want to die, but more than anything, he was angry that he had failed. The guilt was almost overwhelming. Because of his failure, the entire world would burn, a
nd thousands upon thousands of innocents would die, scorched by dragon fire. It sickened him. It made the prospect of a morning execution almost merciful.
At least I won’t be around to witness the end of the world.
After what felt like an eternity, Camdyn heard chains rattle somewhere off to his left. He opened his eyes, even though he could not see anything.
“I’m sorry,” a quivering voice said, almost too softly to hear. He recognized it as Razja’s. “I’m sorry that I was unable to break the shield. It is my fault that we were trapped. If... if I had known the counter spell, we could have escaped.”
Jasper said nothing, but Camdyn cleared his throat in reply.
“It’s not your fault,” he answered as consolingly as possible. “We all knew the risks in coming here. We knew that it was dangerous. There was no way...” his voice trailed off. He was not sure what he should say.
Razja sniffed, and it became obvious that she was quietly weeping.
There was a long, uncomfortable pause, and then Jasper spoke up. “I am such an idiot. I should have known that they’d trap the stones. I’ve been breaking into places for years, and not once have I blundered as badly as this. Thrice curse me for a bloody fool.”
Strange, Camdyn thought, frowning to himself. But Jasper actually sounded contrite, there.
He straightened and turned in the direction of the assassin’s voice. “You did a hell of a job getting us in here, though,” he said. “The way you move in the shadows... I’ve never seen anything like that. It was... amazing.”
Jasper hesitated in his response. “I can’t tell if your mocking me or not.”
Camdyn smiled. “I’m not, honest. You proved yourself worthy of your reputation, Blade of Valæcia. It was an honor to work with you.”
“Well... thank you,” Jasper responded with a grunt. “For what it’s worth, you’re a formidable warrior yourself. Better than most of the mercenaries I’ve seen.”
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