Golden Tide (Song of the Aura, Book Four) (11 page)

The room beyond the doors was wide and high-ceilinged, cut from stone in an exact circle, filled with stone pillars at odd points that threw strange shadows in crisscrossing shapes across the floor. Something, blocked at the moment by the forest of pillars, was casting that green light stronger than ever from the center of the chamber. It all seemed so familiar, and yet so alien, that Lauro had been brought halfway to the center before he realized where he was.

This is the M’tant Shrine! Or… or it used to be.
He saw now where the statues of the eleven Aura had been defaced or thrown down around the open dais in the middle of the Shrine. There was no altar there now… only a large stone ball, cracked in several places, leaking brilliant emerald light out everywhere. The prince thought fear would freeze him in his tracks, obliterate him… but it did not. He kept on walking in a numb sort of daze, the
Segrethe
on either side of him, ensuring he did not break loose.

Before he even realized it, Lauro was muttering frantic prayers to the Creator under his breath, too low for his captors to hear over the vibrating hum that throbbed throughout the once-Shrine, emanating from the broken stone orb at its center. The prayers caught in Lauro’s throat as he neared it.

He had seen such a thing before, in the ground beneath the Swaying Willow Inn… and in the aftermath of Gribly’s battle with the Sea Demon attacking Mythigrad. Could this be one of the strange things Traveller had told him about? A sort of physical core, rooting a Spirit being to the world of flesh? Was there a demon in Mortenhine?

No,
a voice seemed to whisper in his head,
but the taint of the evil thing once here lives on, corrupting this place and everyone in it who has not the strength of will to resist.

Traveller! That had been the Gray Aura’s voice, he was sure! What in Vast was going to happen?

The
Segrethe
to his right began to speak in a hoarse, rasping voice.
“You who have trespassed, fear the vengeance of the Understone!”

The one on his left answered in like:
“For it is the Understone that protects us, and the Understone that brings down our oppressors.”

Then the right:
“The gods have died, and walk the Sceptre no more.”

And the left:
“Death to the Aura, and Death to the Legion. The M’tant follow none but themselves.”

“
Death follows us, as we cast out shadow across the world.”

“
The M’tant shall rule them all!”

“
No,” said Lauro, closing his eyes, “You will not.”

The
Segrethe
turned towards him. One gripped him by the neck and forced him to his knees in front of the broken orb- the Understone. The other backed up, raising his scythe. Leaning close, the first whispered in his ear with the harsh syllables of one not accustomed to the tongue of men.

“
As you fall, so shall all our foes.”

“
No,” said Lauro again, but it was barely a whisper this time. His head felt soggy and his knees felt glued to the stone.

He knelt, and waited.

And waited.

Finally he looked up, wondering why his death had not been dealt, and saw the first nymph still with his weapon raised. Yet the stroke never fell, and as Lauro watched, the
Segrethe
swayed backwards, then forwards, then toppled over sideways, scythe clattering down the steps of the dais.

A slim dart like a shard of glass had punctured the nymph’s tunic at the neck.

Only partially understanding, only half-awake, Lauro smiled slowly. It felt as if a humungous weight had been lifted off his lungs, allowing him to breathe again. There was a stuffiness inside him- not the whole obstacle was gone, then- but he was growing stronger with every second.

An animal hiss escaped the remaining
Segrethe
’s mouth, and he leaped forward to cut Lauro down-

-but the prince was rolling away, still unable to Stride as he wished, but no longer unable to move freely. Lauro snatched at the scythe left by his fallen captor, hefting it threateningly and preparing to do battle with the other.

“
Drop, you fool!”
hissed a voice somewhere behind him. Lauro’s head was still foggy, but he remembered one thing: he had to trust that voice.

Lauro threw himself to the ground, just as the second
Segrethe
swung his blade through the space where he had been, and the whistling
fweet
of another dart struck the nymph right in the dark recess of his hood. With a strangled gasp, the black-robed executioner fell to his knees, clutching at his face for a moment before submitting and keeling over.

Immediately, the rest of the weight in Lauro’s mind was lifted, and he felt the last of his tiredness fall from him. The very
air
enlivened him and gave him strength now.

He was free! And his mind was back to normal.

“
Took you long enough,” he muttered to the empty air.

“
I had to wait,” sniffed Avarine’s voice. Lauro almost jumped out of his skin- she was
right behind him
, so close he could have… well, he stepped away quick enough.

“
Stop… doing that,” he grunted, a little unsteadily. She looked even more dangerous in the eerie play of shadows and emerald light… and even more beautiful. His anger rose at the mere weakness of the thought. There she stood, just
looking
at him, an enigmatic twist on her lips. “Why
did
you wait so long, Avarine?!?” he demanded.

The nymph girl smiled a tiny bit wider. “Here, they thought they were safe. Here, they would not be able to sense me as well as elsewhere, because of the Understone’s power. Here, I had the most chance of besting them… and saving
you
. Do you need more of an answer, Lauro Vale?”

“
No,” he admitted grudgingly, “But I wish…” he trailed off, realizing he had no room to argue. “Well. We’ve knocked out two of them… what next?”

“
We?”

“
All right…
You.
You’ve done what you said, so far. What is the rest of your plan? Or can’t you tell me?”

Avarine smiled again, wickedly. “First…”

She walked straight up to the Understone, and had stuck an arm inside before Lauro could stop her. “What… what are you doing?” he snapped worriedly. The air seemed to crackle and spark all around in his Sky Strider vision, foreshadowing a tension unlike any he’d experienced in his life, even amidst one of his many battles.

Suddenly the room went black. Totally black. The green glow was gone, and Lauro felt inexplicably
cold
, as if… as if the caves and tunnels were a body, and the heart had just stopped.

“
Now we flee,” said Avarine, once again too close for comfort. Before Lauro could protest, she had a hand twined in his and was pulling him along at a breakneck pace through the dark. He uttered a few choice curses, realizing his life depended on her once again.

“
You’d better know what you’re doing,” he whispered hoarsely, and Avarine chuckled up ahead.

“
Oh, I do.”

“
Ow!
You just steered me into a pillar, Girl!”

“
Quiet, Lauro Vale. They’ll hear you.”

~

But they did not hear him, and they did not see him either. After leaving the dark chamber of the Understone, Avarine hid him, cloaking him with Spirit, and leaving herself vulnerable. Several tense minutes passed, as she meandered through the tunnels of Mortenhine, trying as hard as they could to avoid the frantic beehive of activity the underground fortress-city had become, now that the Understone was no longer working properly. Lauro wondered often what she had done to it, but he had no chance to ask. Even a whisper might give him away and tip one of the M’tant off to the fact that the Tannarch’s daughter was not alone.

Then they were through a door and out into the open air of the forest, Avarine leading an invisible Lauro along one of the tangled pathways down the small mountain housing Mortenhine. Stars twinkled here and there through breaks in the heavy dome of clouds that blocked out the night sky. Lauro found that the chill he had sensed immediately after the Understone’s demise had been no illusion: a light snow lay on the ground, and his breath blew mist in the air as he walked. Frost.

“
Winter has come in the night,” Avarine whispered, seemingly to herself. “It will be a hard season for travelers.”

Indeed
. Lauro tried to hold in his breath as much as possible, breathing only in small spurts. Perhaps Avarine’s talent worked for breaths… and perhaps not. He couldn’t risk asking her, and on and on they tramped, meeting many rushing soldiers on the road, all of whom kept a wide berth from the red-haired girl.

Her curse is my blessing,
Lauro thought, trying and failing to feel guilty about it. The other nymphs’ dislike for Avarine was helping them escape, after all! Hours of cold and careful walking numbed his body, but escape seemed closer to his grasp every minute. He longed to simply Stride the Sky and make his getaway immediately… but something told him Avarine would eventually be suspected, and he could not leave her here to deal with the consequences. Not now. Not after all she had done.

Then came trouble.

The pair, seen and unseen, had walked a good portion of the night away, and not seen any other M’tant for some time. They had just made it to the bottom of the Mortenhine slope, where one of the tower paths met the main Blackwood road, when Avarine stiffened and motioned frantically for Lauro to stop.

“
Someone is coming,” she said in a low voice. Lauro blinked, surprised that she had broken her own rule of silence.

“
And…” he whispered back. “Do the same as always, and ignore them.”

“
No,” she grimaced, “This is different. I… We must wait and see. That is all. Do not speak.”

“
Fine.”

So they waited in the cold night air, unprepared and without a plan. Lauro almost ground his teeth before he realized the kind of sound it would make, and slunk off to the opposite side of the road. Something in his gut agreed: this
was
different. Worse.

At last Lauro could hear what resembled the
clop-clop
of a horse’s hooves- but broken in a way he couldn’t pinpoint, and far too silent for the large shape that loomed up suddenly in the shadows. He bit his lip to keep from snarling.

It was another of the
Segrethe
, riding what looked like a horse, except for the too-narrow face and cloven hooves.

The black-robed menace hissed at Avarine in the guttural dialect of the nymphtongue Lauro had heard most of the M’tant use. Avarine answered back stubbornly in slightly more cultured tones, shaking her head. Her words were firm but her face looked paler than the wan moonlight could account for. The
Segrethe
was not pleased. It began talking- if the sounds it made could be called that- faster and faster, gesturing threateningly with its scythe.

Lauro was just coming to the realization that Avarine had probably used up most of her strength shielding him from unfriendly eyes, and was probably too weak to defend herself, when the
Segrethe
suddenly spat in the snow, snarling a curse. Lauro thought he caught the words
Lekor Veele
just before the black nymph struck Avarine across the face with the back of his hand. She reeled, blood staining the side of her face, and Lauro let out an involuntary sound of rage.

The
Segrethe
wheeled his strange mount around, scythe swinging, only to be met by a bolt of pure Sky Energy that blasted his mount’s flesh in an explosion of smoking flesh and black blood that steamed as it hit the snow.

The nymph was quick; Lauro gave him that. Tumbling away from the demise of his steed, he landed in a crouch and stabbed the blade of his scythe into the hard-packed earth. The trees on either side of the path suddenly sprouted unnaturally long spear-like branches that stabbed at random angles into the open: a last-ditch attack meant to skewer the
Segrethe
’s unseen enemy.