Dark Magic (14 page)

Brand argued in whispers with her. He had no intention of allowing his lady to slip down an ancient hole to face an ancient evil alone.

In time, he lost the argument. She was the best of them for the task. There would not have to be any more digging. What was more, she was the quietest among them, certainly more agile than any of the stomping Kindred.

He made her promise him she would spring back out of there if there was any hint of danger. She answered with a kiss, then slid down the rope the Kindred miners had slipped down into the small black hole at the bottom of a crumbling pit.

Brand watched her vanish into it, and his heart squeezed painfully in his chest.

* * *

Telyn inched into the hole, moving delicately and quietly. She tried to let as little of the sharp-edged black crumbling material fall down into the hole as possible. She thought about going headfirst, but decided to go down feet-first instead. As soon as the opening widened out and she could maneuver in the tunnel on the other side of the plug, she reversed herself to look around.

She had put a brave face on it with Brand and the miners, but of course she was terrified. She had no idea what might be down here, waiting with open jaws to snap her up after a thousand years of hunger. Finding nothing but a tunnel that turned from vertical to horizontal and widened out did help her nerves, but only slightly.

She let go of the rope, which she left behind in a shaft of light from those who anxiously watched from above. The blackness was utter as she stole quietly down the tunnel. There was only one way to go. With each step her heart pounded, seemingly so loud in her chest that any survivors in this dank hole must hear it.

It wasn’t until she rounded a turn that she decided she had to have more light. She was down on her hands and knees now, feeling her way. At any moment she thought she might over-balance at the edge of some unseen cliff or crack away a thin shell of stone that sent her dropping into an abyss. She willed her lightstone to life, allowing it only to glimmer dimly and underneath her leathers. She still wore the charred heat-resistant gear that the Kindred had given her in above in the Earthlight, and now it served to warm her in this dark place, even as it had served to cool her when the lava had been close.

She came to a spot where the tunnel forked in three directions: right, left, and downward. The greatest stink came from the downward tunnel, so she crept that way. She extinguished her gleaming light as she went, willing the lightstone to dim and fade to nothing.

Every time her foot dislodged a stone, she froze, listening until the rattling fall of it stopped. Such sounds were not uncommon here, but she didn’t want to cause a noise repetitively, marking her as what she was: a thief skulking into someone’s home.

She came to a chamber that was wider than the rest. Much wider. In fact, the cavern was huge, an open area that glowed with a red warmth. She felt as much as saw the space of it. Big enough to have echoes, dark pools and breezes of its own, the cavern stretched an unknowable distance away and upward. Her first thought was that perhaps Modi was right. Perhaps this place did allow an exit to the upper chambers by which they could escape.

She peered into the darkness at length trying to calculate what was the source of the dark red glow. The glow wasn’t from the cavern in general, but from the region closest to her, within a hundred paces. Squinting, she managed to identify three large formations. These stood on end like columns of rounded stone and were the source of the dark red glow. These columns generated their own internal heat. She wondered what they could be. Was there lava inside them? Were they attached beneath to some bubbling mass of magma that might erupt and launch fire into the room like the magma chamber she had seen before?

Concerned, she attached the facemask and tucked away her hair beneath the heat suit. It might not help if these columns were to spew fire, but it could not hurt.

She crept only another pace into the chamber before her hands found something. Something that was not rock or sand or ash. She released a single finger from her gloves and ran it over the surface in front of her, as it was far too dark to see what it was.

It was smooth, metallic—flat. Something artificially built. Nothing naturally formed like that down here, she was sure of that. It was something built by people, and she was sure if she brought it back to the Kindred they might know something of what they faced.

Her heart was full of dread now, and somehow she felt that she had pushed her luck too far in this place. But she had wanted to impress the Kindred, and most of all Brand. She had not wanted anyone to say she lacked for bravery or skill as a scout.

She thought of using her light, but dared not. She did not want whatever was in this place to be alerted to her presence. So, delicately, she attempted to lift the object from the floor of the cavern without knowing what it was. When it finally did move, it rasped. It was a tiny sound, but it made her freeze and breathe several long, deep breaths, listening. Her hands ached as she held the thing, partly lifted from the floor. When nothing seemed amiss, she pulled the object closer.

Something tugged back. She almost screamed and dropped it, but she contained herself. It wasn’t the feeling of a living thing tugging in the darkness at the far end of her find, she assured her racing mind. That wasn’t how it felt. Instead, it seemed as if the object was attached to a tether of some kind and she had reached its limit.

She considered letting the object go and replacing it. But she did not. She knew that going back and reporting what she had seen and heard was reasonable. But she wanted more than that now, she wanted to impress them all. She wanted to bring back an artifact. Hard evidence of her adventure.

Slowly, gently as possible, she tugged harder. The tether held firm. She ran her hand around the edge of it, trying to find what had hung it up. She found something. Something like a collection of sticks that clung to the object, which she now suspected was a metal shield.

She gave a final firm tug and whatever it was that held the other end gave way with an audible
click
.

She grabbed it up and held it to her chest, feeling now that she was right about it, the thing was a metal kite-shaped shield. She slipped away back up the passage toward the entrance. The shield had a strap and she slid it onto her back.

Up ahead, she saw a flickering light. It was the light of a lantern. She paused, her heart in her mouth.

“Telyn?” came a harsh whisper.

Brand. The big fool had come down after her.

And then another sound came up from behind her. A sucking, drawing sound like a bellows in a great furnace that drew air for a powerful blast. Her first instinct was to look back, but she followed her second thought instead and scrambled through the tunnel, seeking the first bend in it.

Flame gushed out and chased her. The flame followed the tunnel walls, and in the sudden burst of light she could see the walls were well-burnt and charred. Earth and stone had formed slag like dirty glass on the roof of it.

The dragonfire licked over her legs, then circled the shield on her back.

She ran as fast and as hard as she ever had in her life. She felt pain and searing heat. Her leather smoked and all the things that could melt, melted.

Chapter Fourteen

Dragonfire

“TELYN!” cried Brand, rushing forward. He slammed his forehead into a projection of rock, spun around but did not fall. He kept staggering forward, bent over. All he saw was a great gush of light. A whooshing sound came with the flames and he rounded a bend and saw Telyn racing toward him, outlined as a thin black figure wreathed in fire.

To him, what was happening was clear. Some kind of lava chamber had been reached and a gush of fire had ignited in the tunnel. There were gases down here. No doubt the very source of the odd stink they’d smelled. Once afire, those gases could kill in a rush.

He hoped she would not be too badly burned. Behind him in the tunnel came a group of the Kindred, Modi in the lead.

“The time to drive close is now,” Modi was saying, “before it can draw in another breath. They can’t spit fire with every exhalation. They must build up to it.”

Brand was so concerned about Telyn that the warrior’s words meant nothing to him. His head bled down into his left eye and he blinked at the stinging sensation.

The flame retreated, and he could see that Telyn still ran, meaning she had not been overwhelmed. But he knew that badly burnt people still continued on at times, staggering away with the last of their strength.

She fell into his arms and he burned his fingers and cheek on her smoking leathers, but did not care.

“Wrap yourself,” she hissed out, coughing between the words. “Wrap yourself, Brand before it breathes again. It’s following, I’m certain.”

Brand did not immediately gather her meaning. “Breathes? Does something follow you?”

Modi grabbed his arm with a rock-like fist. He dug into his arm and shook him, like a sergeant shaking awake a recruit. His eyes were huge and wet. They reflected the lantern-light like gemstones.

“Are you daft, Brand? It’s a dragon. A great wurm of the Everdark. Get out your axe and prepare to die well.”

Die well?
thought Brand. Could they not simply turn back and run?

But then he did as Modi asked and he touched the haft of his axe. And his mind turned as hot as the flames that had so nearly consumed his love. His right hand gripped the axe, which flared with amber light, and his left gripped Telyn’s smoking leathers with fingers that made her gasp.

She was busy, he realized, fastening his facemask and stuffing his hair back into the thick hood which she had drawn over his head and cinched tightly. She pressed something large into his hand, it was a shield of silvery metal. Fine gold leaf had been hammered around the edges. A griffon of gold relief gleamed on the front curve of it, blackened with soot though it was.

“Take this shield. If the dragon breathes, cover your face, love,” said Telyn.

“Are you all right?”

“I’ve got a few burns, and my hair will take a year to grow back,” she said. “But I’ll live.”

Brand noticed as he tried to put his arms through the straps that the previous owner’s burnt finger bones still gripped the shield. They were the very things Telyn had felt tugging at the shield when she had first tried to remove it. He ripped the network of bones loose and tossed them down to rattle on the floor of the tunnel.

“Look at that shield! By a King’s beard, that’s a treasure by itself!” shouted Modi, rallying his miners. Fully half of them stood around them, staring in every direction with crossbows ready. Brand wondered what crossbows, picks, or even his axe could do against a real fire-breathing dragon.

But then the axe took further hold of him, erasing all fear and worry. His lady lived and he would make sure she stayed alive and unburnt. He began marching down the tunnel, not even kissing Telyn good-bye, nor calling the Kindred to follow.

“A dragon’s hoard awaits us, Kindred!” shouted Modi, urging them to follow, “forward, we march to fame and glory.”

Brand did not look to see if they followed him. He merely willed the axe to shine and bathe the tunnel with the light of courage. Kindred hearts flared when they saw it. Even easier to urge into a frenzied charge than humans, they not only followed, they rushed forward. They pushed and jostled to run down the tunnel after Brand, who was now sprinting.

A huge grin split Brand’s face underneath the heavy leather mask and he sang out words he did not know. They were rough words that caused his throat pain at their passage. He suspected they were words of Dragonspeech, words that troubled men when they heard them and gave even other wurms pause. He wondered, with some deep part of his mind that remained fully sane, if the axe was calling out through his voice to the other dragon, issuing an ancient challenge. Did it perhaps feel joy to meet another of its own kind in battle? He suspected it, as the axe seemed to surge in his hands. He had never felt it quiver so much with anticipation, not even when he’d faced the giant Twrog.

Brand ran in the lead, with Modi and the rest of the Kindred trotting behind.

He reached the three-way fork, where one path led left, one right, and one went down into the cavern full of wurm-stench. A light flared down in the center tunnel. It was the light of the dragon’s mouth, Brand knew in a second. He could see the outline of it, that long mouth full of white teeth that formed a cone of ridged blue leather. The eyes too, shone above the mouth. Each orb was impossibly huge and glowed green like the eyes of a cat caught in lantern light in a pitch-black barn.

Brand’s axe bade him to do something it never had before. He listened, almost without thought, and dodged down the right side tunnel. Modi, closest behind him and charging with equal abandon, listened to whatever sense his veteran’s mind still had and dodged into the left tunnel.

But the vanguard of eager Kindred miners, with their picks flashing reflections of Brand’s flaring axe and the looming puffs of dragonflame, were caught by surprise. Up from the central tunnel, the one full of the stench of dragon and brimstone, came a gush of fire. Orange with a central cone of hottest blue, the flames consumed them. They barely were able to cry out, such was the suddenness with which they were overcome. The flame shot into their faces and crisped away their beards in a single moment. It licked down into their very lungs as they sucked it in, surprised and shocked.

Blinded, dead on their feet, but still having the last vitality of the Kindred in their flesh and ensorcelled with the will of Brand and his axe, the miners waded into the flames. Their bodies melted to slag as they staggered forward, picks rising and falling.

Some few blows were struck, punching a hole in the Sigrid’s great snout and leaving a bloody hole in her shoulder. Then they fell, one by one, dying without screams as their throats and lungs were already charred to black ash.

The moment the gushing flame ceased fountaining and burning down the last of the miners, Brand and Modi came out of their twin refuges and charged, bent upon nothing other than vengeance. Some part of Brand repeated Modi’s words about wurms not being able to breathe continuous fire. This was the moment. This was the time to strike before the wurm could stoke up another deadly blast. He would not have hesitated in any case, such was his lust for battle at that point.

He lay into Sigrid, cutting great swaths through the air. He held his new shield high, over his face and head, while he cut horizontally below, aiming at the legs, thick as tree trunks. Modi was at his side, no less eager, his pick flashing out to meet the dragon’s flesh with more power behind each stroke than any of the miners could ever have hoped to muster.

The dragon, Brand was glad to see, backed up before their assault. In his heart he exulted. Before it could breathe again, they would be upon it, slashing away its wings and shearing its legs from beneath it.

But the great leathery wings had started to pump. Air blasted into his face and still the thing backed up. He stumbled over what he vaguely saw were the charred bodies of the Kindred he’d led down here to their deaths.

Brand commanded the axe to blink, and Ambros flashed its golden eye, filling the vast chamber with light as if lightning somehow had been released a mile beneath the skies. The dragon’s great mouth, dripping with liquid flame but not yet ready to gush it, snapped down upon his shield. He was struck off his feet. Blood and fire ran hotly over his cheek and he might have been screaming, but he could not be sure. He struggled to his feet, keeping his shield aimed at the wurm.

Modi took that moment to strike. He had gotten in close to Sigrid’s flank. His pick rose and fell with a great chunking sound, punching through the armored hide and between two of the foot-wide ribs. The head of the pick all but vanished in the meat of the dragon’s flank and stuck there.

Sigrid whirled with a roaring cry of hurt and hate. She snapped her jaws down. Modi had no shield, so he shoved an elbow into the flame-dripping jaws. His great arm was fully in the thing’s mouth, a hundred teeth like long curved daggers punctured every inch of his flesh.

Modi howled, but had out his dagger. He stabbed at the eyes, but they were too distant. Brand had his feet again and charged, but it was too late.

The great wings, which had been pumping all the while, now lifted the beast, Modi still in its jaws, into the upward shaft of the cavern.

“NO!” shouted Brand, and he willed the axe to flash. A great beam of heat and light struck the dragon’s hindquarters, but did little, as dragons do not fear any heat save that of the Sun or the Earth’s core.

Brand gave chase, stumbling over the floor of the cavern, but knew not what to do. The dragon took Modi higher still, a hundred paces or more. Brand could see the warrior, who still shouted and stabbed with his blade, sinking it into the beast’s snout in a dozen places.

Telyn was standing near now, firing arrows one after another up at the dragon. Most bounced harmlessly from its hide. A few found a spot soft enough to penetrate.

Then Sigrid simply opened her great jaws and dropped Modi.

The warrior crashed down between the two River Folk, who bent and saw immediately his wounds were fatal. He was broken, as surely as might be a clay pot dashed upon a stone floor.

Still, he lived and he raved. His dagger, still in his hand, he brandished with his one arm which functioned.

“Brand!” he roared. His face was all blood and curled black whiskers that clung to seared cheeks. Brand saw that he was blind, but still lived, as was the fate of Kindred in bad moments such as this.

“Brand!”

“I’m here.”

“Slay its children. Do not let it escape. Take the head and make a gift of it to my father.”

“Its children?” asked Brand aloud. He looked and saw no other dragons. “What children, Modi?”

But Modi lay dead.

He looked up and saw the dragon was high above them now. No doubt, it worked up a great blaze in its mouth to finish them with. He looked at Telyn.

“Do you know where its children are?”

Telyn’s face was streaked with tears. She was beyond speech, such was her sorrow at seeing so many dead. But her eyes slid to the three columns of stone that stood around them, encircling them.

Brand’s eyes fell upon them, and he knew. They were not stones.

“Dragon!” he roared up at the circling beast, “you have slain ours and now I slay yours in return!”

So saying, he lay into the nearest of the eggs and cut it open. Inside, a fledgling reptile squirmed and cried and he slew it with a single stroke.

The dragon, far above, gave a great cry of pain as if she herself had been struck.

“No, Brand, stop!” cried Telyn, “it’s not right.”

But Brand was in the grip of the axe and his fury was not to be quenched. He strode to the second egg and slashed it open.

“Brand!”
screamed Telyn, and vaguely he was aware of her fleeing.

A great sound filled his senses as the dragon stooped and dropped like a falcon falling upon a rabbit. The screeching roar filled the cavern with a palpable rage that struck through Brand’s red haze.

At the last moment he fell and rolled away, keeping close to the last whole egg. The dragon’s strike failed to crush the life out of him. It jaws dripped flame, and it turned to burn him.

He charged toward the dripping jaws and cut high with the axe. The head was severed in a single tremendous stroke.

Sigrid was dead.

Brand still raved over Modi’s corpse, and would have destroyed the last of her eggs, but Telyn laid a gentle hand upon him and he held himself back.

The battle was over.

* * *

Many leagues away to the south, a distance measured in rock, magma, seas of oil and pools of black brine, Fafnir’s head lifted. His head was massive, twice again the size of Sigrid’s. His green scales were black in that distant chamber, as there was no light in that place other than the umber radiance that emanated from the superheated rocks nearby.

Fafnir was far to the south of the battle between Sigrid and Brand, far southward and
deepward
. Still, he heard his mate’s deathcry in his mind, although he’d not met her for a dozen centuries. He knew Sigrid gave her final curse, something she would only have done for one reason. Their young were threatened. He knew in his massive, twelve-chambered heart that her death had been foully worked upon her.