The Swordmage Trilogy: Volume 02 - The Darkest Hour (26 page)

“Here!” he called to the warriors triumphantly. “We dig here!” Without wai
ting for the rest of the war party to heed his cry, Zarfensis unsheathed his claws and began chipping away at the ice. The source of the light appeared to be only a few feet down. With the help of the others, they should have the relic uncovered before the vermin could catch up.

The excavation was furious. Each of the warriors moved out of the others way so they didn’t risk cutting each other with their razor sharp claws. This allowed them to uncover several large patches, all converging into a center area where Zarfensis had been digging. Zarfensis plunged his claws into the ice and was surprised when they broke through a thin shell of ice into a pocket of air beyond.

The air space under the ice allowed them to get a better grasp and they began pulling up large chunks of the stuff, tossing it away. A moment later, a Xarundi size hole was broken into the hollow chamber and Zarfensis could gaze with equal parts reverence and horror on the relic they had just uncovered.

The relic was ancient and powerful indeed. So powerful that Zarfensis knew they had no hope of controlling it, but rather asking it to acknowledge that the Xarundi were the ones responsible for freeing it from its icy prison.

“
I know.
” The voice echoed loudly from inside his head.

Zarfensis looked down at the violet eye, the size of a small buckler, as the slit lengthened and turned its intense stare on the High Priest. A rush of air swept past the war-party and the ground under them trembled. The warriors stepped back and Zarfensis followed.

As the massive dragon took air into its lungs for the first time in who knew how many hundreds of years, the thick neck expanded with the support of the breath. The ice around it exploded outward, carving a channel down toward where the massive body lie immobilized. There was an explosion of shards and the Xarundi shielded themselves from the projectiles. As the massive lungs filled, the chest expanded, sending large fissures racing in all directions across the surface of the island. For a moment, the entire surface of the bowl seemed to explode upward, then settled.

Slowly, the beast’s neck, long and thick as the tallest ironwood tree, freed itself from the ice. The head followed, the violet eyes blazing in the mist. The body came next, swaying to and fro on unsteady legs as the dragon found itself upright on limbs that hadn’
t been used in centuries. Finding its footing, it spread its snow-white wings, blocking out the light from the broken ceiling above. It turned its pinions, flexing the wings to their full extension before folding them across its back.

It reared its head, looking skyward through the ceiling and took another deep breath. The brassy roar that exploded from the dragon shook the island to its foundati
on and forced the Xarundi to their knees. The head swung down again, one huge violet eye fixing its gaze on Zarfensis.

“
You seek to control me, dog?
”

Zarfensis tried to find words to reply and found that he couldn’t form any. He had thought that the relic would be an object of power, something to be wielded in battle against the hordes of vermin. A dragon! They couldn’t hope to control a dragon.

“
No, mongrel, you will not,
” the dragon said, responding to the frightened Xarundi’s thoughts. “
However, you freed me from my prison. That is an act to be repaid in kind. Therefore, you will have your lives and your freedom. Leave this place. Leave it and spread the word that the threat of your feeble empire is nothing compared to my might and power.
”

Suddenly the massive head whipped upright, peering into the mist. A moment later it had opened its titanic jaws, allowing a miniature bolt of
lightning to steak across the cavern. There was an explosion of ice and Zarfensis heard the terrorized bleating of the vermin. If nothing else, at least the dragon had done them that favor.

“
That is the last such boon you will receive, mongrel. Remember.
”

The dragon spread its wings and leapt into the air. It seemed for a moment that the huge wings weren’t strong enough to hold the creature aloft, but it lurched upward on the
down stroke, the rush of air wafting away the mist so that everyone in the cavern could see its awesome size. It flew up to the jagged hole in the ceiling, crashed through its rough edges, and was gone.

* * *

Tiadaria and Wynn lay sprawled on the ice. The lightning strike hadn’t been near enough to singe them, but it had knocked them flat and left them with the purple afterimage of flash blindness. Though neither one of them could make out detail, they saw enough to know that the dragon that the Xarundi had freed was enormous and not to be trifled with.

Though they hadn’t been able to hear the Xarundi’s side of the conversation, the dragons had reverberated in their heads. It seemed not to care whose minds it touched, or what information it conveyed while it was there. At least they had the satisfaction of knowing that the Xarundi, for all their speed and maneuvering in getting to the relic first, had ultimately failed. They had no weapon with which to battle humanity. At best they had gained nothing. At worst, they had gained an incredibly powerful and cunning foe.

Tia managed to sit up and saw the Xarundi racing toward them. They weren’t out of the woods yet. In fact, the woods threatened to swallow them whole.

“Wynn, get up. Get up! We’re in trouble.”

“What else is new?” he asked, struggling to his feet and picking up his staff. He spun the weapon experimentally, fire sprang from the ends. “Come on, then.”

The battle was joined in the center of the cavern. Tiadaria’s blades flashed and rang as steel struck claw. Wynn fired spell after spell into their attackers, cackling with delight when his weapons made contact with their enemies. W
hen one of the Xarundi in healer’s robes burst into flames by his hand, he crowed with such uncharacteristic glee that Tiadaria whirled to look at him.

Wynn’s eye
was as red as the deadly fire he commanded. The uncertain boy was gone. In his place was a raging maniac, channeling the force of the sphere as fast and as furiously as he could. Tiadaria knew from painful experience that that sort of wanton destruction came at a terrible price. No sooner had the thought passed through her mind than Wynn cried out and doubled over, clutching his chest.

Tiadaria tried to reach him, but she was beset on all sides by Xarundi warriors. Th
rough her sphere enhanced reflexes, she was able to keep them at bay, but gaining the upper hand was proving to be almost impossible. She watched in helpless horror as the Xarundi with the metal leg, the High Priest, descended on the helpless Wynn.

Zarfensis grabbed Wynn around the throat with his powerful hand, digging his claws into the young man’s neck. Surprised by the sudden
assault from a different quarter, Wynn cried out and tried to struggle free. The massive Xarundi hefted him off the ground, squeezing his neck ever tighter.

Wynn gasped for breath. His vision
was going gray and he knew that he had only moments to act or be lost forever. Summoning the last of his reserves, he summoned a small ball of magical flames. It coalesced in his hand, bathing him with no more warmth than a hot bath but singing the unprotected hair of the High Priest. He turned his hand over and shoved it into the Xarundi’s face, directly into his left eye.

The young apprentice heard the sizzle of burning flesh and smelled the
burning fur. The Xarundi screeched in pain, dropping the mage and attempting to put out the flames with his hands. When he finally succeeded, the side of his face was a ruin of charred flesh. The eye had melted in its socket, oozing down over the ravaged skin.

Zarfensis took a step forward, intent on killing the mage, and Wynn summoned another ball of flame.
They stood that way, eyes locked on each other for what seemed like an eternity, then Zarfensis broke and ran. Not satisfied to leave well enough alone, Wynn threw the summoned flame at the Xarundi’s leg. A smile crept over his face as the projectile struck the contraption, melting the thick rubber cords and shattering its tiny crystal window. A small quantity of feebly flickering runedust spilled out onto the floor of the cavern. The mechanical leg completely immobilized, the High Priest teetered clumsily and fell over.

The Xa
rundi war party was losing its cohesion. Their High Priest was wounded and immobilized. Tiadaria had dealt two of them deep wounds that bled freely and made the ice under their feet treacherous to fight on. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the mage was descending on them, his staff blazing.

I
n the end, the Xarundi tucked their tails between their legs and ran. They scampered up over one of the bridges, ignoring the shattering ice and disappeared into the tunnels beyond.

“We should go after them,” Wynn said, preparing to suit words to actions.

“Let them go, Wynn. We’ve bloodied them enough for one day. Plus, we have a prisoner.”

They turned to look at Zarfensis just as the Xarundi began to intone the words of a spell. Wynn crossed the ice in long strides and brought his staff around quickly, connecting the end of the weapon to the base of the Xarundi’s skull and knocking him unconscious. He slumped to the ground and Wynn prodded him experimentally before returning to Tiadaria.

“Alright,” Wynn said. “But what are we going to do with him?”

Tiadaria shrugged. She hadn’t figured that part out yet. The two of them stood there for quite some time trying to figure out what to do next. Fortunately, the opening in the center of the cavern let in some of the outside air, so it wasn’t as cold as it had been during their descent. Neither of them had any magic that could help them. Tiadaria’s abilities extended only as far as her combat skills, and Wynn wouldn’t be of much help if they didn’t need to set anything on fire. He knew lots of
theory, but very little in the way of practical application. He lacked the years of practice and trial and error that endowed most apprentices with a well-rounded education.

The Xarundi was starting to stir and Tia was worried about what the long term effects would be if they kept him subdued by whacking him in the back of the head with the end of Wynn’s staff. Fortunately, she didn’t have to worry about it for long.

“Tiadaria? Wynn?” A deep bass rumble boomed out of the mists at the edge of the island. “Is anyone out there?”

Tia recognized that voice. Grabbing Wynn by the hand, she rushed to the edge of the precipice and looked across. Torus Winterborne, flanked on either side by
quintessentialists in the cream-colored robes of the Order of the Ivory Flame, stood peering into the mist.

“Torus! Over here!” Tia waved both arms above her head, getting the attention of the massive soldier from Dragonfell. “We need you over here, quickly. We have a prisoner and he’s about to wake up.”

“Tia! Look out!” The panic in her old friend’s voice sent icy fingers of dread curling around her spine. She whirled just as the razor sharp claws of the Xarundi slashed across her shoulder and down the front of her armor. She felt the witchmetal rings part, watching in fascinated horror as they fell and bounced off the ice. Ribbons of agony spread from her shoulder to her ribs. Looking down, she saw the lacerations and blood spreading across the armor that Captain had given her.

That armor had saved her life. The clawing was long, but shallow. Her armor hung in tatters. Her breast band showed under the torn fabric, offering her very little in the way of protection from a second attack. The linen was rapidly soaking through with blood. She stumbled back, her arms cartwheeling to maintain her balance. She felt a hand in the small of her back and she was suddenly shoved away from the edge of the crevasse and past the raging Xarundi.

The quintessentialists across the chamber were shouting for Wynn to move out of the way. They couldn’t cast at Zarfensis while Wynn was between them. The Xarundi was taking advantage of the opportunity to cast spells of his own. Wynn spun his staff in a circle, calling on the power of the sphere to deflect Zarfensis’s magic.

Growling in frustration, the Xarundi turned to his other weapons and tried to claw Wynn from head to foot. The apprentice was ready for him, catching the powerful claws on the end of his
staff and forcing them away from his body. As the motion left him vulnerable the Xarundi dashed forward. Wynn spun, thrusting the staff out behind him like a spear. Unable to check his forward momentum, Zarfensis slammed into the staff. There was a muffed crack, like someone stepping on a twig under rain-soaked leaves and the Xarundi stumbled back, holding his chest

Wynn was certain something had
broken. Leaping on the advantage, the young mage pressed his attack, calling the magic fire to dance along the length of the staff and sweeping it back and forth in front of the wounded Xarundi. Zarfensis backed away from the flaming weapon. As he backed away, he gave the other quints the opening they needed. Gleaming white projectiles streaked across the cavern, lighting up the mist. They slammed into the Xarundi, knocking him to the floor and spinning him across the ice. For a moment, Tia was afraid he was going to slide right off the opposite end of the island, but he came to rest in a crumpled heap just short of that terrible drop.