The team chosen to venture inside had immediately included Sethra and him because they were familiar with the Burrow, but Laeshiro admitted they were also excellent choices because they specialized in close and mid-range combat and the tunnels wouldn’t hinder them too much. Fane was the true specialist though, being all raw power with little else outside of an ascended being’s natural defenses.
Kamil and Oyrivia would remain outside with Laeshiro and aid the Guard as needed. Their plan was simple, but Roun shared Laeshiro’s belief that those were often the most effective.
“Everyone is ready,” Laeshiro’s spider said. “Go ahead.”
Breathe. Roun forced all other thoughts from his mind, crossed the grassy field between the Guardsmen formations and the Burrow’s hill, and stepped into the night. Fane and Sethra followed close behind.
“This is terrible,” Fane muttered.
The three of them had lanterns and their élanic weapons, but the Burrow’s night not only cut them off from the Throne, but also drew in élan. Apparently, not even lanterns could shield the others from the effect.
Fane shook his head. “Like I’m wading through cold, cloudy water, even with Farsight.” He looked over at Roun. “You really don’t feel anything?”
“Nothing,” Roun replied. He shrugged and gestured ahead. “The tunnel we used most often should be here, near the foot of the hill.”
The other two nodded and followed him towards the massive hill, but stopped just inside the tunnel. Roun probed out with Farsight and combed deep into the Burrow. He found wraiths and a hoard aspirant or two. They immediately winked out.
“Two hoard aspirants,” he muttered. “I’m going to search deeper.”
He licked his lips and empowered his Farsight, allowing it to guzzle an enormous amount of élan in the process. More and more hoard aspirants winked out; there were still a surprising number of them left in the Burrow. He passed the warning on while he probed deeper and easily found the hoard queen’s spirit; the chimera appeared brighter to his Farsight, and staring at it gave him a sense that the liquid light was also somehow denser.
He pushed his cantrip further, his gaze thorough as it picked through a thick mass of wraiths and even more hoard aspirants, then his breath caught.
“I think I found Adan,” Roun announced. Vess had given them her son’s name and description while they had been preparing. “Near the hoard queen, but not next to it.”
Sethra and Fane held their breaths with him. Farsight couldn’t tell him whether the boy was hurt; after all, it wouldn’t be hard for a chimera to dismember or crush a mortal human by mistake. He’d be happier once they had him in their care.
“Go through a different tunnel,” Laeshiro’s spider said. “I’ll tell the Guard to set out decoy flares to lure some of the hoard aspirants outside.”
Roun nodded and retraced their steps. He already had his bloodhawk axe in his right hand and his left arm had already transformed. Sethra held her bō at the ready, and the interconnected, gently moving patterns of Fane’s arte covered his body. They broke out into the cold air, then sprinted up the hill while following its curve westward, away from the southern slope and passed several entrances before entering another tunnel Roun knew fairly well from his prior forays.
They maintained their sprint as they entered and hurried down the passageway. Roun now probed ahead of him with Farsight, using the cantrip to push his perception beyond what his physical senses allowed. The night fought back, and there was nothing but a solid wall of darkness beyond a certain point, but he could at least sense beyond the all-too-close edge of the light cast by their lanterns.
“There’s a bunch of offshoots up ahead,” Roun said. “Rightmost one curves downward.”
“Rightmost one it is,” Sethra said. Fane grunted in agreement.
They quickly ran into wraiths, but stormed into them without hesitation. Roun clubbed the unsettling creatures away as they pounced and crushed those that dropped from the ceiling within his pincer. Meanwhile, his axe swung without pause, cleaving through the swarm and dispersing wraith after wraith. Sethra kept up with him, her bō twirling and windmilling and bursting wraiths apart like bubbles with every blow.
Fane followed their lead, but at a more measured pace. Roun knew the other Grimoire had been practicing a variety of complex stances and unarmed styles, but he strode among the wraiths like a simple bear. Every punch brought with it an explosive flash of gold that jerked his arm back a little and all but shattered not only the wraith he had hit, but those just behind and to the sides of it as well.
Even Roun could feel the force in his bones, and the weird purplish wax along the walls and floor chipped and cracked with every use of Fane’s arte.
The wraiths, on the other hand, were too stupid to be afraid; they rushed forward without concern for themselves, making the swarm denser and denser. They also seemed far more vicious to Roun, though he wasn’t sure whether he was imagining it in the heat of battle.
The three of them continued moving down the tunnel against the flow of wraiths until it became so thick that it forced them to a standstill; there were so many that they clambered over each other like ants, and Roun was now certain they were also frenzied in a way he’d never seen before. Bites and claw marks soon covered him, each dripping ichor and burning with the furious pain from the venom or arte wraiths used, but he kept himself from screaming by instead focusing all his attention on fighting.
“Get behind me,” Fane called out.
Sethra and Roun didn’t argue, and as they fought while retreating, Roun noticed an intricate, writhing pattern spreading across the floor—Fane’s arte.
Roun stared as the boy stomped down on a portion. A flare of honey-gold light traced the pattern, then erupted. Rather than a natural explosion though, the blast surged weirdly away from them and moved farther down the tunnel. Stones and sharp bits of the wax-stuff eradicated whatever the raw élanic force didn’t, leaving the tunnel clear for a respectful distance.
Roun raised his eyebrows from behind his mask while Sethra whooped and clapped Fane on the shoulder.
Fane let out a satisfied grunt while they all caught their breaths. “Oyrivia’s idea. She was teasing me about how our titles share a plant theme, then came up with this out of nowhere after being inspired by her own arte.” He gave them a sheepish look. “I couldn’t see how it would be useful at first. My arte moves slowly through anything that’s not my body and I can’t use the patterns unless they’re connected back to me.”
“Like roots or branches. Very fitting for the Grimoire of the Shining Seed,” Roun mused.
To his surprise, Fane gave him an honest laugh. “Oyrivia said the same thing.” Fane tapped the heel of his boot against the ground. “It is pretty clever though, isn’t it?”
“Well,” Sethra said as she glanced down the tunnel. “Keep being clever, because there’ll probably be even more wraiths as we get closer.”
“Speaking of which, is it just me, or are they especially vicious today?” Roun asked.
Fane frowned. “They’re not usually like this?”
“Not even close,” Sethra said. She considered for a moment, then shrugged. “It’s more than you and me now, so maybe the hoard queen genuinely feels threatened this time.”
None of them said anything in response; there wasn’t anything to say, really, and it wasn't like they could do anything about it. They took a moment to report to Laeshiro’s spider and continued on through the Burrow.
Captain Noban worked his jaw while his sergeants passed along the order to deploy the decoy flares along, then watched as they threw the spheres out to draw the Burrow’s chimeras southward.
Noban turned to regard Laeshiro, who was suspended in the air by what he assumed were strands of spidersilk. Noban couldn’t see them himself, but it was likely another one of those things beyond mortals like him.
He whirled back towards the Burrow when the first ripple of motion spilled out from its edge. Countless wraiths sc
uttled into sight, but their numbers were nowhere near some of the heart-stopping swarms he’d seen before. Hoard aspirants lorded over them here and there and approached at a slower pace.
Noban held his halberd upright with both hands and gave his orders. Archers began firing arrows with glowing tips at wraiths and not the true chimeras. A well-placed arrow, or a few landing in succession, might slay a wraith, but they were little more than an inconvenience to chimeras—partial immortality prevented the shafts from doing anything to vitals and the wounds themselves were small.
Noban’s warriors were veterans, however, and knew the value of clawing after every advantage, no matter how small; archers calmly released volleys at the command of their sergeants, while those on the front line held their halberds at the ready, their expressions filled with steel. If Fate was kind, the Grimoires would make quick work of the chimeras and Noban and his Guardsmen would hold as long as possible against the wraiths.
The thought prompted Noban to turn once more towards Laeshiro as their eternal foe closed the distance, then down to the girl waiting behind his web. Oyrivia, the one with the oversized longbow. Now that might make a difference, but it was the kind of weapon only a Grimoire could use.
Laeshiro said something to her through one of his spiders. The girl nodded and nocked an arrow.
Noban didn’t know what to think of her. She made him uncomfortable because she reminded him of Roun, back from when they had first met years ago. He shook his head. Her raiments were loose on her and even from a distance it was obvious she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a while, and he didn’t like the look that sometimes came into her eyes at all.
Blue bits of light sprayed out from Oyrivia’s skin and danced into the surrounding air. They reminded Noban of petals from azure cherry blossoms, though these swirled around her as if carried by a phantom wind. The petals froze—and she fired an arrow. Then another, and a third, all in different directions.
The arrows froze in place too, then the nearest petals slowly came back to life and spiraled around the shafts. More and more petals shifted back into movement and joined the first few, while those already there spun faster and faster. Noban didn’t know what it meant, but saw that it had forced Oyrivia into deep concentration.
She didn’t angle the bow, Noban mused. Well, it didn’t matter. The only hole in their line was the space beneath Laeshiro’s web, and it was in front of there that the decoys burned. She had a clear shot without risking his warriors, and the thick throng of wraiths drawn towards the decoys would be hard to miss. There were even a few chimeras approaching—
The petals scattered as if blown away by an explosion of wind. Noban saw and heard nothing, yet somehow felt the snap of some intense power.
The arrows sprang out so quickly he couldn’t see them, but his instinct was to look towards the Burrow. One arrow cut through the swarm as if it were nothing, bursting apart a wide line of wraiths. It even sent nearby wraiths tumbling in its wake, but it was the chimera at the back that got the worst of it. The arrow slammed into its chest—and punched through.
Noban stared as amber cracks spread from the small hole and the hoard aspirant dropped to the ground. Ichor oozed free while the arrow crashed somewhere behind it and sent up a plume of dirt and debris.
Oyrivia’s other two projectiles had also dropped chimeras with a single shot.
He glanced over at the girl, who now had a satisfied smile on her face, but he also noticed the sudden fatigue there too, as well as the beads of sweat now coursing down her temple while she caught her breath. She still began nocking another arrow.
Noban nodded at her, proud in the simple way all folk were of their Grimoires. He hefted his halberd and turned back towards his warriors to watch them brace against the wraiths. They slaughtered the scurrying little beasts without breaking formation, but the swarm swelled as more and more wraiths poured out from the Burrow.
A few climbed over their fellows and pounced far into their formations; sergeants cried out warnings, as did Noban, but it was too late. The careless swipes of a single wraith dismembered men and women with sickening ease while another wraith’s tumbled landing left its claws deep within the torso of an armored Guardswoman. Warriors swiftly dealt with the monsters, but that brief dark stroke of Fate had still left lovers and children alone in the world.
Noban grunted as he locked away his heart with deliberate care and joined the battle.
29
Roun’s weapon was the only one left sweeping without pause. Sethra and Fane gasped for breath behind them, their faces glistening with sweat. Shielding themselves from the Burrow’s leeching of élan was apparently burdening them more than they had expected, and the ridiculous number of wraiths made things worse by making them cycle élan to empower and heal themselves.
For Roun, on the other hand, the swarm was as much a feast as a threat; he radiated a cold, whitish glow as he stood among the wraiths, his axe chopping through them, his pincer-arm alternating between crushing and bludgeoning. Not even the bites and long gashes covering his body slowed him by much, because both his raiments and body restored themselves through the deaths of his opponents, making for a twisted equilibrium.
Sethra and Fane had quickly left him the bulk of the wraiths because of this, and instead focused on preventing him from being overwhelmed. They also watched for hoard aspirant ambushes, all of which seemed to now be hunting Roun.
The Copper chimeras were an even match for any of them now, so they faced any that approached without hesitation. It helped that the tunnels limited how many could ambush them at once, and Roun’s Farsight also gave him the impression that the hoard queen only considered the three of them a small part of a much larger threat; he didn’t doubt things would have been far worse if the queen had been focusing on them.
They eventually halted to catch their breaths after clearing the tunnels again.
“How,” Sethra huffed, “is she making so many?”
Roun shrugged while he watched them wipe their faces with their sleeves. He wasn’t sure where his sweat went, but the fused border between his flesh and his raiments seemed to wick it away. “Some chimeras are better at making them than others.”
“Do you think we’re close?” Fane asked.
Roun nodded and glanced around. The dark-violet wax-stuff now covered the ceiling and most of the walls in addition to the floor. His Farsight also told him the spiraling pattern of the tunnels was bringing them closer and closer to the hoard queen’s spirit, which he had been using as a waypoint.
Fane exhaled and glanced over at the spider perched on his shoulder. “We’re almost at the hoard, Laeshiro. How are things going up there?”
There was silence for a moment before the spider echoed their friend’s voice. “The Guardsmen are managing. I think they’ll be able to hold with no problems.”
Fane nodded. “Good. We’ll let you know if anything changes down here.”
“Be careful, my friends.”
The spider fell dormant after that, leaving them once again alone in the tunnel's silence. Roun had given his own spider to Sethra after she had withdrawn behind him to conserve her élan; it was a spare, just in case, but luckily, both had survived so far.
The three of them exchanged looks, wordlessly conveyed their readiness, and continued forward.
Roun’s mental map suggested that all the tunnels circled around the heart of the hill without ever going through it, so they took whatever paths angled downward as they made their way through the maze of passageways. Eventually, their tunnel straightened out towards the center before widening into an opening caked with smooth layers of wax.
The wraiths stopped assaulting them at this point and instead shuffled backwards through the opening. There were so many of them that they clambered over each other and formed oily clumps that reminded him of ants on a bit of food.
Sethra, Fane, and Roun cautiously followed, then froze. The hoard queen’s lair was a cylinder chamber lined by
a flawless coat of wax. Their élanic weapons and lanterns couldn’t reach the ceiling, but that was partially because the Burrow’s night was also thickest here; their light fled from the gloom, shrinking and dimming their protective bubble.
The harsh contrast created a border between two worlds, one bathed in gold and the other shrouded in black.
“I can’t sense the queen,” Sethra whispered.
Roun frowned at that from behind his mask, realizing it had vanished from his Farsight as well, but found himself distracted by the horrific landscape illuminated around them.
Besides coins, family heirlooms, paintings, statues, and countless other treasures, the hoard also contained a distressing number of corpses. Most were horses or other animals, but he spotted humans as well, and they were all covered in a thin layer of translucent wax—which didn’t explain how they were preserved so well, but he was confident that was a mystery he didn’t care to solve.
What was most unsettling, however, was the arrangement of the hoard. Roun shuddered; it was like they had walked into a macabre palace.
In some places, coins formed intricate patterns around heirlooms that had been pressed and anchored into the waxy walls. At others, the queen had embedded human bodies in a way that resembled frescoes, themselves sometimes decorated or holding some other object between them. Along the floor, pedestals of wax displayed larger trinkets, furniture, and even more corpses. Roun frowned as he eyed a young woman in a festival dress frozen as if mid-dance, her skirts flared out.
The raw, artistic beauty of the displays warred with the realization of what had been used to make them.
Sethra and Fane seemed just as horrified, their faces pale, but then all three of them whirled in the same direction as the hoard queen’s spirit emerged from hiding and it stepped into the edge of their light.
Roun’s breath caught as the chimera regarded them, its wraiths gathered like a building wave at its feet and all along the walls. The chimera looked similar to a hoard aspirant, which was to say it looked like a bulbous mantis, but the queen was twice as large and its abdomen far more so.
Awakening Arte (The Eldest Throne Book 1) Page 24