Dusk Falling (Book 1) (52 page)

It was on the second day when the effects began to realize. It was subtle, a blurring of vision at the apex of the Sphere above, shadows moving out of the corners of eyes yet would disappear when focused on directly and dreams were shady and nonsensical. Nerves were set on edge, tempers raw. Genlo insisted that magic usage to be dampened, that using something as simple as a light spell while here could prove disastrous. The two mage-talents still had use of their own mental barriers which would assist in staving off the lands madness however Serrtin had no such luxury. When the giant warrior began mumbling nonsense to herself and thumbing the hilt of her sword without any visible provocation, Aya began to worry. “We cannot remain out here for much longer.”

Genlo did not stop walking but followed her dark eyes to the Yarcka. He gave a nod.

They crested yet another hill, this one looking the same as the last twenty. Noontime was nearing, the GoldenSphere attempted to pierce through the sky’s miasma. A few more steps and Genlo paused with a sigh, rubbing at his eyes. “Let’s wait for the Sphere to pass. Here.” He pointed to a jumble of rock that would provide shelter somewhat from the wind.

Aya had to call to Serrtin twice before getting the warriors attention. The Yarcka blank as if coming out of a deep sleep. The Godling had remained like a silent shadow through their trek. They ate little and sipped sparingly at their water.

“Are we… nearing…?” Serrtin questioned, waving her hand in generalization for she wasn’t even sure what precisely they were heading to. A fortress? A castle? Out here in the wastelands of Thabinthira?

Genlo nodded, staring off, taking in their location. It all looked the same to them but not for him.

“Are you sure? It’s been as you said many years.”

“It’s not likely I will forget.” He replied, temper rising in his tone.

A few moments passed. “Now would sure be a good time for one of those ‘hunches’…” The warrior said innocuously. Genlo paused in taking a drink from a waterskin, reflecting that he had none had one in quite some time. Since…

“I figured you no longer required to be guided as such.” Came the flat tone of Avarice’s voice.

The Jrahda-trethen whirled on the Godling. “What do you mean by that?
You
put those images in my head? All those years of…” Sudden realization made his amber eyes widen. “You bastard. You Gods-be-damned snake-spawn of a bastard. Why did you let me see him die, knowing I couldn’t save him? What could that have possibly served? I would have been happy thinking he still lived on in peace, there. I could have done without the guilt that has plagued me.”

“I had hoped the visions would serve to keep you from ending your foolish life.” Came the reply from within the depths of his hood. “However Sight is a fickle thing. The… individual… I had asked to help me keep you from trouble could not always provide you with what you needed to see. The incident with the Bren mage was… unfortunate.”

“Vile worm, don’t you da-” Genlo’s voice was rising as well as his color. Aya placed a hand on his arm, in sympathy as well as warning.

“For what it is worth,” Avarice said softly. “I would have preferred if things had been different.” It was not much but coming from him, it was an apology, a recognition of a wrong done.

~ ~ ~

There was something strange about the seemingly innocuous cave. Aya couldn’t quite put a finger on it. It tickled the back of her mind as if to say ‘you should know this’.

The walls looked old; though aged and covered in a layer of red dirt, it was obvious stone. A few filthy ribbons of spiderweb took up resident where they could. No plantlife thrived within. The cave itself was little more than a chance hole in the side of a hill- easily passed over if one didn’t know what to look for. This, was where Genlo directed them. The trethen hung back, eyeing the cave with consternation.

“Are we to stand here and will our fate to befall us?” Avarice remarked with arms crossed. “Or are we to step forward?” As the boy started in, boots crunching the rock bits beneath his feet, the feeling Aya had intensified. It buzzed in her mind like a hundred wasps, making it hard for her to concentrate. Pebbles skittered across the stone walk leading in to the chamber. Avarice didn’t pause.

Five steps in. Four.

The wasps in Aya’s mind began to swarm. Then, like an arrow of light shot through the dark, Aya suddenly recognized what it was. Deceptive and very different than her own, but it was definitely magic. She gasped and was running forward even before she could even consider what may happen. “Avarice!” She shouted, slipping on the loose stones.

The boy paid her no heed. Three steps. Two.

The Bren could feel the magical trap loosen the moment her feet touched the stone floor of the interior chamber. It was slamming shut even though she couldn’t see it.

One step.

She seized the small figure of Avarice, throwing her arms around him tightly, skinning her knees in her attempt to keep from entering the trap.

And the entire left wall crumbled in a cascade of stone and dust as spear after spear shot out from their hidden shafts and buried themselves deep in the opposing wall. There had to be fifty spears in total, in the dim glow
from outside a malignant shine adored the metal tips. As the last of the broken stones fell and the loosened dirt began to settle, Avarice found he still could not blink. The quavering sound of the spear directly two inches from his face drew his eyes. A new sound drew his attention. A dripping. He looked down.

Aya gripped him still, tightly enough to impair his breathing. One of her arms was sliced from elbow to thumb, blood trickled off in rivulets to fall on the floor. Comprehension hit him then as he could feel the mage’s erratic breathing against his back. She had saved him. Saved his life at the potential risk of her own. Even though she knew who he truly was- what he was. That shocked him more than the spears. “Wh-why did you…?”

The girl could only shake her head. She released him from her deathgrip and fell back into the rubble as she sought to calm her nerves. Avarice turned to face her, his face so childlike she almost laughed.

“Aya!” Serrtin called out as she and Genlo ran to them. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. We’re both fine. I sensed something.”

“A trap? Isn’t that your field of expertise?” The Yarcka rounded on Genlo.

“What kind of idiot just traipses in like that? Traps should be expected here!” He ran a finger of the pointed edge of a spear. Through his glove he could feel its sharpness but with his heart, he knew the magic that controlled it. His lips thinned and he turned away.

“You could have let my construct die. You know what I am and my motivations yet…”

“I do know,” Aya stated back, drawing herself up. “And I don’t have to like your motivations. But through this, you are our companion and as long as you choose to respect our lives, we will do the same for you.” She went to dust off her seat and only then came to see the long gash. “Oh!” She winced as the pain finally registered.

The Godling reached over and covered the wound with his small unlined hands. She felt nothing. When he removed his hands, the wound including the blood and the viscous fluid the spears were tipped in, were all gone. Without a word, the boy turned, stepped around the spears and paced down the hall beyond the spears where the chamber enlarged.

The team was quiet for a span of four breaths, watching the Godling pace off ahead. Having a brush with his constructs mortality only fazed him for so long. Serrtin shook her head. “So he won’t use his magic to save his own life but he’ll use it to heal a scratch on Aya?”

“Hey that was more than a scratch.” The mage responded.

“Uh-huh.”

With Genlo not having interjected a single unhelpful line in a matter of minutes, he was bound to become conspicuous, staring silently at the dirt as he was. “Look what you did you selfless brat, you ruined Genlo’s plan for offing our divine helper.”

“What? I had nothing to do with that. The patterns are nothing like mine and-” He stopped himself short. “Let’s get going.”

The Yarcka grabbed his arm before he could retreat. “Wait, you knew there was a trap?

He did not attempt to extricate his limb from Serrtin’s large clawed hand. “I recognized the aura of the spell- the signature of it. It was cast by a Jrahda which is probably why it took the girl… Aya… longer than it should have to see it as a trap spell. Dark Elf magics truest designs are arcane, adept at the unseen. I wasn’t sure of the spell nor its purpose till it was too late for me to counter. Even if I could. One more thing.” He licked his lips anxiously, shadowed eyes looking off down the hall. “I recognize the caster. It is my mother.”

Quiet reigned. “Your… mother? She is here, do you think?”

“There is a good chance. I can’t imagine her leaving unless she got what she wanted.”

“What exactly does she want?” Serrtin asked, inciting a humorless smile from the trethen.

“What do you think?” He responded “Let’s go.”

The cavern was not large, nor was it smoothed from use. Cobwebs and dirt could be seen in the dim light. The passage was not meant for frequent travel, it was actually one of few ventilation chambers for the Verca lair was not top side but underground. It was also one of the passages for disposing of the bodies of slaves that has ceased to be useful. Genlo explained why they chose to locate their headquarters beneath the ground; that the tainted magic’s effects could be controlled the further down one went. True it did soak down- roots of plantlife and burrowing creatures were not impervious- but if one went deep enough, they may not be as susceptible to its madness.

The passageway grew darker they further they walked and sound seemed amplified. A rat of some sort chittered evilly at being disturbed. Ducking their heads at a low section of ceiling, the tunnel then split in to two directions. Without pause Genlo headed to the right. When questioned, he responded that the other way was guarded.

“And this way isn’t?”

“Not exactly.” He replied cryptically. “This is the way I took.”

They had no choice but to follow. In the distance a light could be seen. When they got close enough, the team found the end of the gradually sloping tunnel consisted of nothing more than a hole in the ground. The light they saw was emanating from there. The trethen gestured for them all to wait as he snuck forward and carefully peered down to the chamber below them. “It is clear. This will be a bit of a drop.”

“What,” Serrtin asked, “can we expect? Exactly.”

Genlo remained on one knee at the side of the drop. “This is near the dungeons. There won’t be many guards since the only beings they ever keep down here are demonics. We’ll avoid the arena area, the personal chambers, and head toward the High Priest’s quarters. He keeps his rooms separated from everything else- even the narassu. If he’s not there, he will be in the esulchar.”

“What’s that?”

“The ceremony room.”

“So we just need to find this High priest?”

“Serethar. Without him, there would be no Verca cas Nemun Ulrask. It ends with his life.”

Serrtin peered over the edge. “That drop is a lot more than “a bit”, Elf.”

“I can cast-” Aya began but was cut short.

“No spells. Remember where you are.” Genlo said sternly. “We are surrounded by malefactors who’ve practiced magic all their lives. They excel at sniffing out its traces and snuffing it out. Any spell you cast will immediately alert them to our presence. Magic, now, must be an absolute last resort..”

“That drop is more than a dozen feet.” Serrtin grumbled.

“A drop? This is what you bulk at? Not the demons lair but the entrance?” Genlo snorted ironically. “I’ll leave Avarice to you, Lizard.”

“What’s that supposed to mea-”

The Jrahda-trethen quickly hefted Aya and stepped off the edge. The Yarcka cursed. Looking down, she saw the pair perfectly unharmed. She looked at Avarice and cursed again. “I’m not a damn-blasted Elf so don’t expect this to be a show of grace.”

The Godling was frowning and continued to frown when the giant warrior took him up in her arms and followed suit. When she landed on the hard ground, she dove into a roll to take some of the impact from her legs.
Avarice was uninjured but Serrtin came up growling over the pain in her shoulder. Her complaints over those of Elven blood were silenced when she began to take in their new surroundings.

The large cavernous chamber was lit by torch and by fire-pit, sending chilling shadows scrawling over the rough stone of the walls. Cages upon cages were sat haphazardly around- huge metal confines, smaller ones hung from the ceiling by thick chain links, broken discarded tangles strewn in the corners. Vague movement proved that not all the cages were empty. The room smelled of smoke and a residual odor that could only be described as charred flesh. The warrior’s eyes were drawn to a table with thick leather straps for holding down prisoners. Even from the distance she was at, semi-dried blood was visible. A smaller table sat nearby, the instruments on top made the Yarcka recoil back and look away. “This place disgusts me.”

“Imagine it from the viewpoint behind those bars.” Genlo commented quietly as he stepped past, giving the table no attention. He studied the cages, the inhabitants, as if looking for something. Or someone. A look of consternation came over him and just as quickly replaced. The trethen’s ears perked. “Move! Hide!”

The four scrambled to find cover behind the refuse. Shuffling footsteps preceded a bent, drained-looking individual. Dirty rags wrapped him almost head to foot. He was mumbling nonsensically as he sloshed water from a pail onto the ground at the foot of the horrible table as proceeded to drag an equally filthy cloth through the mess. Aya and Serrtin looked to Genlo. “One of the slaves. Disgusting broken creatures. They have no will of their own.”

“Slaves? Then they are on our side. Perhaps they can help.” Before he could stop her, Aya was on her feet and stepped out from their hiding spot.

The gibbering slave did not notice her right away or at least he didn’t notice she did not belong there. When she got closer, his dull eyes picked up. The torch light reflected off a string of drool hanging from his open mouth. He made more sounds, revealing in fact his tongue had been cut from his mouth. “We’re here to help. Shh.”