The Quest (The Hidden Realm Book 5) (14 page)

“The vitality of its flesh does not bode well for the creature’s eventual death from the wounds that I gave it,” thought Elerian to himself as he consumed the ear with red mage fire. He imagined that even now the Gargol was watching him with malevolent eyes from behind the boulder which shielded it from his view, injured but still plotting his destruction. “I had best be on my way before it finds its courage and attacks me again,” he decided wearily. Fatigued beyond imagining, he sheathed Acer in his boot before walking over to Ascilius who still lay unmoving on the ground. When he bent low over the Dwarf, Elerian was relieved to find that Ascilius was breathing lightly but strongly. All of his efforts to wake his companion by magic were unsuccessful, however, and he concluded at last that it was not a sleep spell which was keeping the Dwarf insensible. A careful examination of his companion quickly revealed four small tears in the fine chainmail protecting Ascilius’s left shoulder. When Elerian pulled off the armor and the leather shirt and tunic beneath it, he found four wide spaced puncture wounds in Ascilius’s shoulder, two of them surrounded by large, dark bruises. At the sight of the wounds, Elerian thought at once of the long upper fangs of the Gargol and the venom they had splashed onto his cheek. “It may have used a les virulent form of poison on Ascilius,” he thought to himself, “something that paralyzed rather than killed him, keeping him immobile until such time as it chose to wake him for its cruel sport.”

Because a healing trance of any length would have left him vulnerable to the Gargol if still lurked nearby, Elerian decided it would be best to try to carry Ascilius back to the gate before attempting to rouse him. He thought now of the flask of aqua vitae that he carried and took a good draught. New strength flowed through his veins, and the pain from his ravaged face was lessened to a dull ache. After fetching Rasor from where the knife lay on the ground, Elerian lifted the limp, sturdy form of Ascilius onto his shoulders. His ring immediately rendered the Dwarf invisible.

Examining the dark plain around him, Elerian waited for his inner sense of direction to tell him where the portal lay, but that inner sense remained quiescent and unresponsive, leaving him with no idea of how to proceed across a landscape that appeared the same everywhere he looked: flat, barren of life and water, and littered with boulders and stony outcropping.

“The Gargol spoke truly then,” thought Elerian grimly to himself. “Either because of the renewal of its interference or because of the influence of this strange world, my sense of direction is all awry again as it was in the passageway under the Nivalis. I have no idea in which direction I must travel to reach the portal,” he concluded wryly to himself. For a long moment, Elerian stood with bowed head, feeling overwhelmed by the hopelessness of his situation. He was tempted to sink to the ground and struggle no more, but the stubbornness that was as much a part of his nature as his capricious humor refused to allow it.

“What I would not give for a bit of rowan,” Elerian thought to himself and then suddenly gave a shout of joy in his clear voice. Opening his right hand, he called the wooden coin given to him by the Siogai from the place where he kept his small treasures. When it appeared on his palm, he cast a transformation spell over it, flowing the wood into the form of a smooth, polished wooden ring which he set on the index finger of his right hand. He then cast a finding spell on it, watching with his third eye as a flow of golden light sprang from his fingertip and enveloped the small circle of rowan. Picturing in his mind the dark portal that led back to his own world, Elerian at once felt the wooden ring on his finger draw his hand to his right. With a renewed sense of determination and hope, he began to walk, following the pull of the wooden coin. As he made his way across the desolate plain before him, he carefully skirted the larger boulders and rocky outcroppings that rose up in his path even though it added steps he could ill afford to his journey. Such places were large enough to conceal any number of dangerous creatures and were best avoided. Silence reigned around him as he walked except for an eerie whistling that afflicted his ears from time to time, caused by the icy wind that now prowled among the stones around him. Normally indifferent to cold, Elerian felt chilled in a way that he had never experienced before, as if the loneliness of this place had seeped into his bones. Each breath became a torment, for in the course of his exertions, the acrid air of the plain had drawn all the moisture from his throat and mouth. Only the small, infrequent sips of aqua vitae that he took from his flask sustained him as his weary legs carried him across miles of stony ground.

“I should have come to the portal by now,” he thought bleakly to himself after what seemed an endless time. He began to mistrust the bit of rowan that tugged on his hand, wondering if it had been ensorcelled by the Gargol to lead him in circles until his aqua vitae gave out and he collapsed from weariness. Bent low under his heavy burden, he continued to plod on, but without any real conviction that he and Ascilius would ever leave this strange realm alive.

AN UNEXPECTED GUIDE

As Dacien lit the lantern that he had found in his pack a sudden, distant shout caused him to look in the direction where he had last seen his two companions. A moment later a second, faint cry, this one filled with consternation and surprise, came to his ears, and in the distance, Dacien saw flames spring up on the floor of the cavern. At the same moment, Elerian’s mage light disappeared.

“I wonder what can have happened,” Dacien wondered uneasily to himself as straightened up again. He waited hopefully in the deep silence that filled the cavern, but Elerian’s light did not reappear and the flames that had sprung up died down and finally guttered out. When they vanished, the wall of darkness outside the yellow circle of light cast by the lanterns seemed to become thicker and more menacing to Dacien and his companions. Behind him, Triarus nervously held his sword before him like a shield, and Cyricus and Cordus grasped their axes tightly with moist palms. The dark eyes of all three darted nervously here and there, trying to ascertain if anything dangerous was now creeping toward them from where they had observed the fire.

“I fear that we have seen the last of Ascilius and Elerian,” said Triarus in a hushed voice to his companions, as if he feared that he would be overheard. “We will all meet our doom in this dark place.” Setting his sword down with trembling hands, Triarus opened his pack, and after a quick search, found the brass lamp and the bottle of oil that Falco had placed there before they left Iulius. As he filled his lamp with oil, Cordus and Cyricus immediately followed his example, and soon a small circle of lanterns surrounded the four companions, driving back the murk that surrounded them.  

“This is a waste of our fuel, for we may have great need of these lanterns at a later time,” thought Dacien to himself, but he said nothing to the others, unwilling to deny them the feeling of security that the added lights gave them. As more minutes slipped by without sight or sound of either Ascilius or Elerian, Dacien found himself faced with a difficult choice.

“Should I remain here with the others or should I venture out into the cavern?” he wondered to himself. After deliberating for several moments, he made his decision. Turning to his three companions, he announced quietly, “I am going to follow Elerian and Ascilius. They may be in need of my help.”

“Do you think that wise master?” asked Triarus at once in a quavering voice. The sword he had taken up again in his right hand trembled, for he was terrified of what might be hiding in the darkness around him. “They have doubtless been slain already by the creature that they pursued.”

“We do not know that for certain,” replied Dacien sternly. “The only way to discover their fate is to follow them.” After picking up one of the lanterns with his left hand, Dacien addressed all three of his companions. “Remain here and keep the lanterns burning,” he said quietly. “I will need their light to find my way back to you. If for some reason I do not return before the flames consume all their oil, use the lamp in Elerian’s pack to light your way back to the Black Gate. The guards may be able to find a way to open it for you.”

“Let me go with you, Lord, instead of remaining here,” Triarus blurted out suddenly. “You should not go into the darkness alone.” Upon hearing this unexpected request, Dacien turned to look at Triarus. Although the little man was deathly pale from fear, there was determination in his eyes and no regret for the offer that he had extended.

“We will go with you, too, Dacien,” added Cyricus, his mouth so dry with fear that he could hardly form the words. Brave enough in battle with things that he could see, he found that his courage had deserted him in the face of the unknown dangers that haunted the dark chamber around him. His brother nodded in agreement, but could not speak because of the terror which gripped him.

“Courage in the face of fear is the highest form of bravery,” mused Dacien to himself as he warmly regarded his three companions, all of them ready to risk their own lives for him.

“The three of you will serve me better if you remain here to guard the lanterns against my return,” responded Dacien at last. “You must also act as my guides as I journey across the cavern. If I stray to the left or right of where my sword blade points, you must call out and advise me on how to correct my course.”

Reluctantly, Triarus and the Dwarves acceded to Dacien’s wishes, all three of them agreeing to remain behind while he investigated the disappearance of Ascilius and Elerian. With Acris in his right hand and the lantern in his left, Dacien left the circle of light cast by the lamps and began walking cautiously across the cavern in the direction marked by his sword, his upraised lantern casting a warm, yellow pool of light around him. He found that he was able to proceed without difficulty, for the heaviness in his limbs was gone, but he did not take this as a hopeful development.

“The lack of any impediment is likely a sign that the creature that caused the affliction may have left this place, taking Elerian and Ascilius with it,” thought Dacien grimly to himself as he distanced himself from his companions. As he took one cautious step after another, they shouted out corrections to his course, helping him to find his way through the wall of darkness that surrounded him. After an interminable time, his nerves constantly on edge lest something rush out at him from the impenetrable murk that surrounded him, Dacien suddenly saw something ahead of him and to his left that reflected the light from his lamp. When he approached the gleam in the dark, he found Fulmen, Ascilius's hammer, lying on the ground. The silver threads which were embedded in the handle and head of the hammer shone softly in the light of his small lantern. Next to it Dacien saw his companion’s small, round shield and his knapsack, its sturdy straps torn apart by some great force. The sight of the hammer troubled Dacien to no end, for he knew that Ascilius would never have willingly abandoned it.

“Some disaster must have overtaken him,” thought Dacien to himself as he sheathed Acris before picking up Fulmen. At the touch of his hand, the silver threads of argentum inlaid in the head and handle began to shine with their own light. Like Elerian's sword, the hammer felt strangely alive in his hand, but it was heavier than he expected.

“Ascilius must have the strength of two strong men to ply such a heavy weapon as lightly as he does,” thought Dacien wryly to himself as he next picked up the Dwarf’s pack. After tying two of the broken straps together, he slipped it over his left shoulder along with Ascilius’s shield before continuing on through the darkness ahead of him. When he reached the far wall of the cavern without discovering any sign of his companions or the creature that Ascilius had pursued, Dacien stopped, pondering his next course of action.

“Where to now?” he wondered uncertainly to himself as he looked first to the right and then to the left. “I cannot see a thing beyond the lantern light but the left has the better feel to it,” he finally decided. Warily, he began to walk in that direction, following the perimeter of the cavern. When he heard a distant shout from Cordus, Dacien hallooed back to let his companions know that he had strayed from his path on purpose. Before long, his lantern revealed a tunnel entrance in the wall of stone on his right, but a careful examination of its stony floor revealed not the least sign of Elerian or Ascilius and the stranger that he had pursued across the cavern.

“If I decide wrongly, I may doom all of us,” thought Dacien indecisively to himself as the wall of darkness around him seemed to press closer about his inadequate light, a stark reminder that his life now depended on his lantern. A lesser man might have given up then, but Dacien’s steady, quiet courage rose up to sustain him. Making his decision, he entered the tunnel with Fulmen firmly in his right hand, hopeful that his companions had also passed this way.

When he came to a fork in the passageway, Dacien paused again. Unable to decide which branch of the tunnel to follow, he bent low to scrutinize the floor of the passageway. In the left hand opening, he saw a single, small pebble that that appeared to have been recently disturbed, for its surface was free of any dust or detritus.

“Let this be the right choice,” thought Dacien fervently to himself as he straightened once more. Holding his lantern high in his left hand, he cautiously began walking down the passageway until he came to a large opening on his left, a mysterious well of darkness capable of hiding any number of loathsome monsters. He started then, certain that he had heard the scraping of claws in the inky darkness of the passageway. Gripping the handle of Fulmen tightly, his heart pounding, he waited to see if the sound would be repeated. When oppressive silence surrounding him remained unbroken, Dacien was about to go on when he suddenly noticed a glint on the ground inside the opening where something was reflecting the light of his lantern. Bending eagerly down on his right knee, he found that the gleam came from a scattering of drops of some black fluid which he was careful not to touch.

“Either Elerian or Ascilius must have fought some enemy here, for these drops are surely blood of some sort,” Dacien thought excitedly to himself. He made a careful search but found no sign of any blood which might belong to either Elerian or Ascilius which he took as a hopeful sign. With every muscle taut as a bowstring and his heart beating strongly in his chest, Dacien cautiously entered the tunnel before him and soon saw the gleam of more of the strange dark blood on the floor of the passageway. Convinced that he was following the right path, Dacien went more quickly until he came to a chamber with no exit. Scarcely glancing at the riches heaped up near the far wall of the cave, he made a quick search of the cavity but found no further sign of his companions or the stranger that Ascilius had pursued.

“There must be more here than meets the eye,” thought Dacien to himself, for he remained convinced that Elerian and Ascilius had passed this way. Focusing his attention on the walls of the cave, he eventually found, not far from the treasure, a space hanging in the air near one wall which resembled a window looking out into a dark night. The boundaries of the opening appeared fluid to him, contracting and expanding constantly so that one minute the portal was no larger than two clenched fists and the next moment large enough to admit two men walking abreast. Because Dacien did not possess the gift of mage sight, the gleaming line of black light that formed the margin of the opening was not visible to his eyes, but stories which mentioned magical gates were common in the fireside tales of the Middle Realm, and Dacien immediately suspected that he was looking at a portal. His heart sank to think that Ascilius and Elerian had almost certainly passed through the doorway before him, for portals were generally regarded as sinister objects, leading to the abodes of monsters and such like. Determined to follow his companions through the dangerous opening, Dacien set Fulmen and the other gear that he carried on the floor before drawing Acris. When he cautiously pushed the point of the sword through the portal, it advanced half its length without meeting any resistance despite the stone wall only inches behind the opening.

“It is as I expected, then,” thought Dacien to himself as he withdrew Acris. “This gate leads to some unknown place.” Setting his lantern down, he cautiously thrust his left hand through the gate, but he felt only cold air on his skin and empty space as his fingers groped about. Withdrawing his hand, he could not detect any change in it.

“Let me hazard all then,” he muttered to himself as he set aside the two packs that he carried. Taking a deep breath, he waited until the opening before him grew large enough to admit him. Unsure of what would happen next, he stepped through the portal, holding his lantern in his left hand and Acris in his right.

Dacien saw at once that he was no longer underground, for overhead was a dark sky filled with bright stars that did not fall into any of the familiar patterns that he recognized. His lantern did little to illuminate the inky darkness which surrounded him, but Dacien felt that there was a vast, open plain all around him. When he turned his head and looked behind him, he saw the gate hanging in the air an arm’s length away. Turning away from the portal again, Dacien cautiously expelled the air from his lungs and took a shallow breath, finding the air he breathed in unpleasant, for it was dry and had a bitter tang.

Certain, now, that he could survive in this strange place, Dacien raised his lantern high and examined the ground around him, looking for some sign that would show him where Elerian and Ascilius might have gone. When his search took him behind the gate, he happened to look up at it, but his lantern revealed only empty air before him. Fighting down a moment of panic, Dacien circled around the place where he was certain the gate had hung a moment before and saw it reappear again.

“It is only visible from the front,” thought Dacien to himself. “The back of it is only visible from the cave that I left.” Although he felt unsettled by the strange qualities he had observed in the portal, Dacien continued his search for signs of his missing companions but found nothing that would indicate something living had passed across the stony ground that surrounded him.

“What should I do now?” he wondered to himself as he stared perplexedly into the impenetrable darkness that lay beyond the small pool of light cast by his lantern. He started when he suddenly heard the strange roar of some unfamiliar beast in the distance. Tensely, Acris gripped tightly in his right hand, Dacien listened intently for long moments, but the sound was not repeated.

“I have done all that I can,” he decided unhappily. “I cannot walk blindly out into this strange country with only my small light to illuminate my path. I will only lose my way and more than likely my life, too,” he thought to himself, recalling the roar that he had heard. “The wisest course of action would be to rejoin Triarus and the others while I still can. Once my lantern runs out of oil, I will be left in utter darkness with no way to find myself back to the portal.”