The Swordmage Trilogy: Volume 02 - The Darkest Hour (25 page)

No sooner had he finished that thought then he saw Tiadaria struggling to her feet. Her face was a bloody mess, but most of the blood seemed to be coming from her nose. She flashed him a thumbs up, just long enough to assure him she was okay,
and waded back into the fray. She seemed disinclined to battle the creatures where their hands could reach, so she snuck up behind them as they advanced on Wynn and sliced out at the legs Wynn had already weakened.

The enraged elemental turned to face the new attacker and swiped ineffectually between its own legs. Tiadaria, her movements a blur between the physical realm and the sphere, easily danced out of the way before ducking in to strike again and again. Shards of ice littered the floor of the cavern. There was a crack like a whip and a deep fissure appeared in the elemental’s leg, racing up into its blocky, angular torso.

              “Wynn,” she yelled. “This one! Now!”

             
The apprentice threw his hand out in front of him, his fingers curled into a claw. He drew essence from the sphere, weaving it, folding it, compressing it into a tight ball of flame different in both character and composition from the one he had summoned with his staff. He hurled it toward the damaged elemental, willing it to find the seam that had opened in the smooth ice skin. The projectile flew straight and true, slamming into the crack and making the elemental glow from within. A moment later, it exploded, pelting them with shards of ice no larger than a fingernail.

Tiadaria let out a whoop and turned to the other elemental, which was getting dangerously close to Wynn. Following the same strategy she had used on the first elemental, she attacked the legs. She had only a stroke or two before the towering giant of ice kicked her legs out from under her. She landed hard on her back, the air rushing out of her lungs. She looked up and saw a huge foot descending toward her. She only barely managed to roll out of the way before it ground into the floor of the cavern, making the floor
quake.

A series of small fireballs pelted the elemental. Barely larger than a snowball, they weren’t enough to cause any real damage, but the incessant assault was enough to draw it away from Tia while she got her bearings. She had to admit, for someone as reluctant to fight as Wynn had been, he certainly had a knack for it.

While he kept it occupied, she approached the elemental from behind and drove her blade deep into its leg. She twisted the hilt and the leg shattered, topping the elemental over on its side. Wynn motioned for her to get clear and then summoned a ring of fire that surrounded the elemental, shrinking in on the rapidly melting form until only a puddle of water remained. A few wisps of steam danced in the air and then they were gone. The water on the floor of the tunnel was already starting to freeze.

As the sphere gave, it also took away. Tiadaria was gripped with a coughing spasm so powerful that it dropped her to her knees. The tears that formed at the corners of her eyes froze on her cheeks while she struggled for breath. She tasted the familiar copper tang of blood on her tongue and knew that the same sickness that had claimed the Captain was already inside her. He’d lived a full and active life, even dealing with the side effects of his condition. She could do the same, although she now had a new respect for the enthusiasm he had exhibited. Especially on the battlefield.

Wynn was crouching next to her, his hand on the small of her back, the link-shock sending a painful jolt into her spine.

“Are you okay?”

Tiadaria still didn’t have her breath yet, so she nodded at him, locking her eyes with his so that he knew she was telling the truth. He nodded and left her kneeling there, making his way back up the tunnel to retrieve the packs they had dropped when the battle began.

When he returned, Wynn took a cloth from his pack and helped her clean the worse of the blood from her face. Her nose wasn’t broken, but she’d be quite colorful for a few days as the bruises healed. She thanked him for his attentiveness and then they set off down the corridor once again.

Neither of them bothered with stealth this time. Whatever was down there, the Xarundi presumably, knew they were there. If they didn’t already know that Tia and Wynn had destroyed their little toys, they would soon enough. Now getting to the relic first was the only thing that mattered. They dug in the spikes on their boots and rushed headlong into the dark.

Zarfensis felt the psychic backlash of the elementals being destroyed at the same time that he and the rest of the war party exited the tunnel into a massive cavern. The distance across was so great that they couldn’t see the other side through the swirling mists. It was much lighter here. Part of the ceiling had long ago given way and left an irregular hole that sloped up away from the opening like a funnel. As a result, a single shaft of light illuminated the center of the chamber.

The feeling of having someone else inside his head had intensified greatly when they entered the cavern. The relic was here. He could feel it. It was calling to him, guiding him. It wanted to be found and set free.

“The relic is here,” Zarfensis announced to the others. “Spread out, find it quickly.”

A deep chasm separated the outer rim of the cavern from the shallow bowl-shaped island in its center. The High Priest was reminded of the bottomless ravine that surrounded the cathedral in the Warrens. The dim light was just enough for him to see the thick central column rising up out of the dark, like a finger pointed skyward. The bowl rested on the tip of that finger.

This was the first time during their journey that the warriors balked at his orders. Surveying the cavern, Zarfensis could understand why. The only paths onto the center island were fragile-looking arches of ice that extended out over the crevasse. The distance was too great to jump, which meant that they would have to cross these unlikely bridges if they were to reach the center of the chamber.

Unwilling to sacrifice his brothers even though he, too, was afraid, Zarfensis went to the first arch and inspected it. It wasn’t nearly as thick as he would have liked. It looked as if it would give way under the full weight of a Xarundi warrior. He worried about the bridge shattering while they were crossing it. Having more than one Xarundi cross the bridge at a time was out of the question. The High Priest was certain that it would collapse and send them all plummeting to their deaths.

There were three arches near enough to use. There were others, but they were so far along the rim that they would be spread dangerously thin. Though they may not be able to cross in numbers, they should at least remain near each other in the event that the Swordmage and her vermin ilk caught up with them. Once they had the relic, it wouldn’t matter. They’d destroy the Swordmage and her friends, then destroy the rest of the human race. Zarfensis would see that no vermin were left alive during the second ascension of the Chosen.

“Over the arches, quickly, but carefully.” Zarfensis suited his words to actions, climbing gingerly up on the bridge nearest to him. The ice creaked under his weight and he moved slowly toward the apex of the arch. To his left and right, warriors were climbing with the same methodical care that he was.

There was a sound like splintering wood and all three of the Xarundi on the arches froze. After a moment, the sound had faded away and it seemed that they were safe to move on. Zarfensis reached the pinnacle of the bridge before the warriors on either side, so he had a clear vantage point as the right-hand bridge gave way.

The Xarundi warrior managed to grab the edge of the platform as the ice gave way beneath him. It was a remarkable feat of strength, but wasted effort, as the ends of the bridge broke from their anchors and tumbled with the warrior into the darkness. Though Zarfensis listened for a long time, he heard nothing. No indication of how deep the bottom might be, or if there was a bottom at all.

The cleric spoke a prayer, urging the warrior’s soul to be absorbed into the Dyr. Zarfensis took a step forward, then another. The progress was agonizing, but it was progress and though the ice groaned and shifted under him, it seemed relatively stable. The warrior on his left was moving forward again also, his arms spread out for balance as he descended the treacherous path.

Almost all of the
party had made it over the bridges when the Swordmage and her companion entered the chamber. The shaman and the cleric were still in the middle of their crossing when the mage began hurling fireballs at the exposed Xarundi. One of the projectiles hit the bridge where the shaman was standing and it exploded into shards of ice. He howled as he fell, the sound becoming distant incredibly quickly and then dying out altogether.

As another fireball slammed into the other bridge, the
cleric made a death-defying leap toward the center bowl. His claws dug into the ice, leaving long furrows as he slid backwards over the edge of the chasm. The other warriors dashed forward, ignoring the flaming projectiles, and hauled their healer up onto the island.

Zarfensis didn’t have time to mourn the loss of his brothers. They needed to find the relic and find it now. Ordering the warriors away from the edge, he commanded them to follow and set off toward the mist shrouded center of the chamber.

* * *

“They’re going to find the relic,” Tiadaria cried as the Xarundi loped away from the fireballs Wynn had thrown at them. “We need to hurry.”

They started around the perimeter of the cavern, watching for the return of the High Priest or any of the others. It wasn’t hard to imagine that they’d like to destroy whatever bridge they crossed and repay the death of their companions in stride.

“I know,” Wynn panted. “If they’re looking for the relic, at least they’re not paying attention to us.”

There was that, Tiadaria thought and she was grateful for the respite. Though she suspected they could cross the bridges far more easily than the heavier Xarundi, she didn’t fancy the idea of having them on the other side trying to kill them while they crossed. Rather than waste time finding another bridge for Wynn to cross, Tia turned to him and laid out a plan.

“I’ll go across first, you follow when I’m on the downslope. We’ll balance each other out that way, even the load. We’ll get across quicker than they did. The sooner we get over there, the sooner we can stop them.”

Wynn nodded, though he wasn’t fond of the idea of walking across the bridge, exposed to anything or anyone that might be lurking in the mist on the other side. Still, he had resolved to follow Tiadaria and see this through to the end. That meant staying by her side, no matter how scared he was of crossing the arch.

Tia climbed up onto the bridge, picking her feet up and carefully laying them down. When she reached the top, she gave Wynn a little wave and started down the other side.

Slipping his staff into its holster, he stepped out onto the ice. Wynn’s first steps were terrifying. His mind kept going back to the sight of the Xarundi falling into the hole and howling all the way down. The apprentice put the thought firmly out of his mind and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

He managed to fixate on that one action so well that he was on his way down the far side of the arch when he realized that Tiadaria was on the island, waiting for him. A few more steps and she was almost near enough to touch. Just as he was about to step onto the island, there was a mighty crack and the ground dropped out from under him. Wynn threw himself forward, slamming his chest into the edge of the bowl, his hands scrabbling for purchase and finding none.

Tiadaria, acting purely on instinct, slipped into sphere sight. Wynn’s fall slowed to a glacial pace. She pulled one of her scimitars free and drove it deep into the ice. She clung to it with one hand, and with the other wrapped her fingers around Wynn’s wrist. Every muscle in her body strained and she called on the power of the sphere to pull him up next to her. They both collapsed, shaking. Tiadaria with exertion, and Wynn in horror.

The deep ache in her chest told Tiadaria that the sphere had once again claimed payment for her remarkable abilities. Her hands burned, as much from the contact with the steel of her sword as with the bitter cold. She managed to push herself to her feet and offer Wynn a hand.

“We need to go.”

“I know.”

Wynn took her hand and struggled to his feet. His staff, fortunately, was still slung in the holster across his back. He pulled it free now, using it to steady his still wobbly legs. Tiadaria shrugged out of her pack and dropped it to the ice. Wynn gave her a puzzled look.

“We won’t need them for the fight, and if we live, we can come back for them.”

He nodded, slipping out of his pack and leaving it next to hers. As they jogged into the thickening mist in the center of the cavern, Wynn paused and looked back over his shoulder. The bags sat abandoned by the base of the ruined arch. He wondered if they’d ever see that place again. Putting the thought out of his head, he followed Tia into the unknown.

The deeper into the chamber they went, the thicker the mist became. They could walk off the edge of the island and never know it until it was too late, Zarfensis thought. The warriors clustered around him, following his lead. It took a moment or two for the High Priest to realize that though the mist was thickest here, there was a subtle violet glow
emanating from below them. He dropped to his knees, brushing a light layer of snow off the ice. The brilliance of the purple light magnified considerably.