Legend of the Swords: War (31 page)

There was a splash, and cursing. Renek smiled at Hesiod. “We’d better get going,” he whispered, gesturing down the corridor.

Hesiod nodded, and they tiptoed down the hall.

Only a few dozen feet away from the lake, the hallway split. There was a passageway off to the left, slightly smaller than the one they were in. The main hallway continued straight. They were careful to walk as quietly as they could, but Renek frequently grimaced at a wet boot slapping on the ground.

Hesiod nodded to the smaller passage, and they turned left. Renek turned to look back, and noticed that the floor was clearly wet. He touched Hesiod’s arm and gestured at the wet floor.

Renek led them back to the main passageway and walked about twenty feet down the other direction, before turning and walking back. He took off his shoes and winced at the cold of the floor.

Hesiod nodded, and took off his shoes, hissing at the cold. They wrung out their clothes as best as they could while still wearing them, and walked quickly and quietly down the smaller corridor again. They were both shivering uncontrollably.

Holding their boots in one hand their torches in the other, the two men continued walking deeper into the mountain.

A hundred feet down, the corridor became a crossroads, as another pathway came through at right angles. Hesiod shrugged, and looked at Renek, who shrugged back. They turned right.

At least we’re not leaving a trail of water, now.
Renek thought to himself.
Well, there’s still an occasional drop or two, but it’ll be much harder to see.

“How are you holding up?” he whispered.

“Cold,” Hesiod grunted. “But we can’t light a fire.” He stopped, suddenly, Renek almost running into him from behind. “Can you hear anything?” Hesiod asked.

Renek stood as still as he could, then shook his head. “No, I can’t. Do you think we’ve lost them?”

“Well,” Hesiod smiled, speaking a little louder. Torchlight shone redly on his face. “I don’t know about them, but I know
I’m
lost.”

Renek grinned. “Only way to go is forward.”

“Didn’t know you were a philosopher, Renek.” Hesiod snorted softly. “But, regardless, you’re right.” He set his torch and boots on the floor, and rubbed his hands together to warm them a bit.

Renek looked at the torches more closely. “These things are going to go out soon. We shouldn’t be using both of them.”

Hesiod’s eyes widened. “A philosopher, but with practical suggestions?” He shook his head. “I didn’t know such a thing could exist, much less that I’d ever meet someone in my lifetime who fit that description.” He grabbed his torch, upended it, and rubbed it on the floor to extinguish it. “Maybe I will come trust you, after all, Renek!”

Hesiod snorted again. “You know, we might just get out of this alive.”

“If we’re lucky.” Renek’s mouth drew taut. He cocked his head, listening. He could just make out voices.

Hesiod grimaced. “Sounds like James, but it’s hard to tell, in these tunnels, if he’s catching up.”

Renek nodded. “I figured. We haven’t been lucky yet. Why should it change now?”

Battle in the Mountain

After about a half an hour or more of running on tiptoe, Hesiod and Renek were finally warming up. Whenever they came to a branching, they took the way that sloped down more.

“Do you have any idea where we are?” Renek asked, not bothering to keep his voice down.

“No clue,” Hesiod said, smiling. He spoke a bit more quietly than Renek, but he was no longer whispering.

“I hear dripping,” Renek mused. “Maybe we’re close to being under that lake.” He stopped and sat down. “I’m going to put my shoes back on, they’re dry enough.”

Hesiod sat down to do the same.

“Could be we’re under the lake.” Hesiod laughed quietly. “Nobody down here to ask about it though. Can you imagine finding one of those frog things and asking them? ‘Is that dripping from the lake?’”

Renek grinned. “I’d rather ask, ‘Do you know where some swords might be?’”

They turned a sharp corner and entered another cavern. Suddenly, they had to shield their eyes.

The cavern was huge, probably two hundred yards across, and the Sun was shining feebly from above them. As they watched, craning their necks backwards to stare almost directly above them, the light dimmed. Soon, there was only a small lit patch of a tunnel cut into the ceiling of the cavern, a short distance from the doorway that they had come through.

No, that’s not a tunnel.
Renek thought.
That’s a crystal.

“That’s a giant crystal that cuts through the mountain itself,” Hesiod breathed. “It’s hanging out of the ceiling.”

Renek nodded, and looked around the room. It was filled with faceted, crystalline stalactites and stalagmites, some of which had grown so tall that they had fused together. The Sun grew brighter again as it reflected off of a facet of the crystal in the ceiling.

Its ray fractured into a kaleidoscope of colors, which in turn fell onto the towers of crystal, and were split again and again. The room virtually glowed with refracted and reflected light.

They stepped inside of the room, mouths open in wonder. The colors faded away, and only the faceted crystal in the ceiling still glowed.

“Have you ever seen anything like this?” Hesiod said, voice hushed.

“No, sir, I have not,” Renek said. The light above began to grow brighter again. Soon they were walking between the pillars, which seemed to be made entirely of light. Renek raised his arm and pointed to the other side of the room.

“There’s something over there,” Renek said. “Can you see it?” Hesiod nodded. “It’s like the light is … collecting? Over there.” They jogged towards whatever it was.

It was at least a hundred and fifty yards away. Since they had to weave their way through the random crystal stalagmites, it took several cycles of brightening and dimming before they could get near it. There was a large area that was completely clear of crystals. It was oval, similar to the room itself, and the stalagmites were so thick about its border they had to try three times to find a gap large enough to squeeze through into the clearing. About two thirds of the way across it was a large square box, with an opening about two feet wide and two feet tall facing them. There was a huge anvil in front of it—despite resting directly on the ground, the flat part of the anvil looked like it was higher than Renek’s waist.

The light grew brighter as they walked across the clearing towards the box, which they could see was made of bricks that appeared to have been carved out of the same crystal as the stalagmites. Suddenly, there were beams of every color in the air, all driving toward the box. It glowed white, brighter and brighter, until suddenly its inside burst into white flames. The bricks themselves were instantly white-hot. It was too bright to look at.

They were able to get within about ten feet of the light forge before it felt like the air was so hot that it was going to sear their lungs away.

“You know, the oddest part about this is that it’s completely silent,” Hesiod said. “When I was younger, I spent some time around a forge, and there was always a lot of noise.” His eyebrows knitted together thoughtfully. “If it wasn’t the hammer, or the bellows, then there was the noise of the fire.” He gestured at the forge in front of them. “The flames don’t even crackle.”

The light faded, and the forge died. Renek walked up to it and held out his hand. No heat whatsoever came off of the crystal forge. He looked up at the light source.

They heard shouts behind them, and spun around.

“They’ve found us,” Hesiod said. “Is there another way out?”

“There!” Renek pointed at the wall opposite of the one they came in. A doorway led out of the narrow end of the oval. They ran towards it, ducking around the stalagmites.

Behind the door, there were steep stairs, headed down. They threw themselves down the stairs, feet flailing in an attempt to keep them upright.

The stairs went on for quite a while. Finally, the bottom came, and let them into a small, level hallway. They didn’t pause for breath, but ran flat out down the corridor.

It emerged into a medium-sized room. The air was nearly as warm as it had been next to the forge. Molten magma flowed in a broad river across the middle of the floor. The ruins of a bridge sat on the far side of the flow. On the other bank was some sort of mechanical-looking apparatus, similar to a mill on the other side of the molten rock. It had a paddle wheel slowly turning in the flow of magma.

There was a door on the unreachable other side of the room.

Hesiod and Renek looked at each other, then back at the hallway. With a grim frown on his face, Renek drew his sword.

We’re trapped between that lava and James.
He shook his head.
Not a good situation.

A moment later, the three soldiers burst into the room, swords drawn. Renek immediately attacked. He brought his sword down, gleaming redly in the light of the magma, with such force that it clove the man’s metal shoulder guard. He cried out and fell under the force of the blow. Renek kicked the man’s head and pulled his sword out of the lifeless body.

The other two men hesitated, looking at Renek’s dangerous expression. He felt as if he could already feel their swords in his body, and he let the pain show through. It motivated him. He advanced on them.

They glanced back at the room’s opening, looking for James, and Renek attacked into their distraction. They whirled back around, lifting their swords as one, and defended. The force of Renek’s attack drove one of them to his knees.

Hesiod walked around to the side of the battle, pulled his dagger out, and waited for the right moment.

The footman still on his feet attacked Renek, forcing him to defend. It gave the man on his knees enough time to stand up—but he found that he had Hesiod’s dagger in his neck, and slowly sank back down to the ground.

The prince and his mage entered the room. The Singer gestured at the battle, and Renek’s opponent jumped back three feet in shock as his sword burst into flame. Then, grinning, he advanced, swinging his burning sword through the air.

Renek was forced to defend. The burning sword seemed to have more momentum, and he was hard pressed to counter the attacks.

Meanwhile, the prince calmly walked over to Hesiod and held his hand out. Hesiod shrugged, pulled out a dagger that had been hidden under his sleeve, and handed it to James, hilt first. James nodded and held out his hand again. Hesiod pulled a dagger out of his boot and handed it over. James nodded again, and glanced back at the Singer.

Sweat was beginning to break out on the Singer’s face. James bent to pluck the third of Hesiod’s daggers out of the corpse’s neck, and tucked all three into his belt before drawing his sword.

Renek redoubled his efforts. In the past, he had been faster than everyone whom he had fought against. Not so with this man, who was still grinning, his face lit from the flames licking along his blade. Renek fell into an odd state of mind as he defended, backing up towards the magma flow. He found himself concentrating only on his own body, and not the man in front of him.

There was tension in Renek’s shoulders. He relaxed them.

James entered the fray, swinging his sword down at Renek’s head. Renek stepped out of the way of the descending blade, but he didn’t really see it.

There was tension in Renek’s hips. He relaxed them.

Hesiod, weaponless, snuck up behind the Singer, who was now breathing as if he had run a fast mile. He put his arm around the Kind’s neck and pulled tightly.

There was no tension left in Renek’s body when the flames on his opponent’s sword flickered and died. Renek was moving so fast that he slid his sword into the man’s chest three times before he even had the chance to fall.

James’s brows knitted together as he watched Renek’s form blur towards him. He countered Renek’s blade once, twice.

Hesiod fell, unconscious, as the Singer used his magic to pull breath for his own lungs out of Hesiod’s. He turned back to James and yelled, throwing his hands up.

Renek’s sword, plunging in towards the prince’s heart, turned aside. He pulled his arms around and hit the general’s head—but his blade simply bounced off a few inches.

“Your majesty!” The Singer yelled feebly. “I cannot—” he sank to his knees as Renek’s sword bounced off the invisible barrier yet again. “I cannot keep this up!”

James sneered at Renek. He clearly realized what would happen to him without the protection the Singer was giving him. “I don’t know what sorcery you’re using, you demon deserter, but this isn’t finished!” He turned and ran away from the molten rock, through the door and out of sight.

Renek watched the Singer follow James down the hall. He fell to his knees as his consciousness returned to his body.

This room sure is warm.
He thought to himself as he sank to the floor.
I hope that Hesiod’s all right.

Then he was asleep.

*   *   *

Hesiod woke him only a few minutes later. They sat near the river of molten rock and ate some of their remaining food, basking in the red warmth. Hesiod pulled his boots off and set them right on the bank of the river.

As they finished their road biscuits and jerky, Renek laughed out loud.

“What is it?” Hesiod asked, forehead furrowed.

Renek pointed at Hesiod’s shoes. Steam was pouring out of them.

Hesiod grinned. “I’m not putting those back on until they’ve cooled down a bit.” He snatched them away. “Ouch! They’re hot!” He tossed them away from the river as Renek laughed louder.

“What do you think that is?” Hesiod asked, gesturing at the mechanical device across the river.

Renek pondered it for a few moments. The paddle wheel was slowly turning as the magma flowed across the room. He couldn’t tell what material it was made from. The wheel was attached to a shaft that ran into a mess of gears and belts, which went into a squat, wide building.

“No idea,” Renek said. He peered across the river. It seemed that the wheel was scooping the liquid rock up and pouring it out into a trough. It flowed down into the building right above the chaos of gears. “Maybe it’s collecting rock to build something with?” He asked.