Resurgent Shadows (Successive Harmony Book 1) (16 page)

“What did you say?”

“What is the brother to the King and a Ferreiro doing in a mining Enclave? Why does someone of your rank and stature follow lesser dvergers?” She repeated.

“Who are you?” Sigvid asked. “You wear the amulet of one of Faerin’s clerics, but speak as if you know far more then you let on. I would have the truth of it.” He kept his voice hard.

“I am CeNira,” she said with a slight inclination of her head, “and I am here to help that boy, as are you it would seem.”

“How do you know about me, woman?” Sigvid’s skin crawled as the woman drew closer. All dvergers distrusted magic, but especially Faerin’s clerics.

“Faerin sent me to find him,” CeNira said. “I think I can help him. Her words spoke of a dethroned King who would help him as well. I can only assume she meant you.”

“What can you do for him?” Sigvid asked, genuinely curious now, though one hand strayed close to his forge hammer, just in case.

“Faerin sent me to find him,” she said again softly, clutching at the amulet around her neck. “She spoke of prophecies, sent warning of danger, and promised protection until the task was completed.”

Sigvid snorted. “Faerin’s clerics all sound the same. She speaks in riddles, as do her children, the aylfin. What empty warning did she give you this time?”

CeNira’s expression would have split stone when she looked up from the amulet about her neck. “The Dragonlords are preparing a wicked blow that will make the Breaking look like a mild thunderstorm. The boy will need a weapon if he is to fulfill his destiny—a creation worthy of the Ferreiro you are. The boy shall be an instrument in the hands of Order against the agents of Chaos.”

Sigvid stared at her incredulously. “How is that, cleric?” Sigvid asked with a deep, soft laugh. “The fervor only comes to a Ferreiro once in his lifetime. Only one Elithalma was in use when the Breaking came, flawed as it may have been, but it was lost when our kingdom fell.”

CeNira reached into the satchel at her waist and pulled out a small leather pouch. She tugged it open and withdrew a handful of glistening white powder that she threw into the air. It hung there, suspended in the air, glittering in the light of the forge. She fell to her knees and wrapped her thin, white fingers around the amulet at her neck, which began to glow softly.

“I will help you,” she said “All is not as bleak as you might think. You are not so alone in this world.” She began to sing.

Sigvid recognized the haunting, echoing melody, though it was a distant memory. He hadn’t heard it since the last time he had fallen into the Ferreiro’s trance. His blood began to race and his mind shut out all thought except for the song he had been taught as an apprentice. As the music swelled and CeNira tossed another handful of the glittering powder into the air, Sigvid lifted his own voice. His melody rose in jarring dissonance to hers, but broke into a stunning harmony that forced Sigvid to move, his body young and strong once more.

He pulled a long, thin bar of star-ore from his stock as if he had been saving it for just this occasion and laid it in the forge. Where the cold metal met searing heat, a shower of sparks rose into the air, a rainbow of white, gold, and bronze that danced above the coals. He grabbed the handle of the bellows and pulled in time with the song, heating the metal to the point of white hot malleability. A handful of diamond powder from the sack by the anvil joined the sparks in the air over the heated star-iron. There was a flash of white and silver light as the smith pulled the bar from the forge and placed it on the anvil with a pair of tongs. He already knew the weapon would be a bow—the image of the completed Elithalma secured in a small corner of his consciousness. He chose a heavy hammer and began to flatten the metal, his strokes as steady and strong as they had been in his distant youth. He smiled and soon lost himself in the metal and the song.

*              *              *              *

CeNira sat down on the anvil hours later as Sigvid slumped to the ground, his strength completely spent in the crafting of the bow that now rested in her hands. She had watched in approval as they had completed the song for the ninth time and the powder she had sprinkled into the air had been pulled into the weapon. It drained them both of energy and strength and sealed it within the bow.

The Elithalma was one long, powerful piece of metal, twisting back in two long curves that strained against the star-iron embedded bowstring. If she stood it upright it would come up to at least eye-level on Caleb. A ring of nine stars shone on the back of each of the curves and again on the leather guard that covered the bow’s grip. Just beneath the grip, fused onto the metal yet hidden by the leather guard, CeNira had guided Sigvid to place the amulet she had worn around her neck, as she’d been instructed. It marked the weapon as the Mother-Goddess’s and, according to Her, granted it a calming power that Caleb was sure to need in the coming days of battle and confusion. Next to her lay a leather quiver that she had also made and blessed, a matching ring of nine stars etched onto the side. Two dozen arrows made of an alloy of aluminum and star-iron bristled in the quiver, imbued with the same power that flowed within the bow.

She smiled in weary satisfaction. She had nearly completed all the tasks appointed to her and was growing tired. Not just the tired of physical exhaustion, but the tiredness that came with coming to the end of her appointed hour here. She didn’t want to be in this place any longer than she had to be. Though she was a devout follower of her Mother-Goddess, her faith had been severely tested when she’d been captured by the patrol and strung up by the trulgo. Her fear then had almost completely engulfed her faith. But then Caleb had come, just as Faerin had said he would. Her faith had been renewed and had given her the strength to confront not only Caleb himself, but the dverger as well.

With a sigh she placed the bow back onto the anvil and got slowly to her feet. Her knees threatened to give as she walked over to where Sigvid lay slumped on the floor. He wasn’t bad, though she disliked most dvergers on principle. The Bands of Garik. Really?

She knelt and placed a hand on Sigvid’s forehead, pulling on her one last remaining power to make him forget her part in the forging of the Elithalma.

“You will not remember this day when you awake,” she whispered. “But remember what I said when the time comes. The Dragonlords are the key. They will hunt you and you will hunt them. Help the boy.”

She stood again and then repeated the process with Caleb after slowly walking over to where he slept. He would remember her words, but only as part of a dream. Hopefully, it would be a good one, though she knew, deep down inside herself, it wouldn’t be. The dream would become a nightmare. She regretted that, and having had to use her powers to make herself more alluring to the man, but had faith that Balance would right itself. Each measure of pain she forced upon Caleb and this small band of dvergers would be balanced by an equal amount of joy eventually. They would thank her when their lives crossed again on the Path of Souls. At least, that is what her faith and hope told her.

She slipped out of the Enclave a few minutes later, stopping only once as she left the valley to make sure her tracks were clearly visible and that the sack she dragged behind her had left enough dverger scent to lure the wyrms. Satisfied, she tossed it aside and glanced back at the cave opening.

Not all the dvergers would live through the attack, but that was the way of things—death was a natural part of life. It was not an end, but a new beginning.

She turned, and in the blink of an eye, she was gone.

Caleb tossed and turned in his sleep, tangling himself in the blankets and furs that cocooned him. He cried out incoherently, but did not wake.

A voice whispered in the darkness, so faint that it was indistinguishable from the sound of a mild breeze. Except there was no wind. Not even a breath of it.

He strained to make out words. He stood rooted in place, unable to move a muscle.

Another voice cut through the darkness, loud and strong. “It is the Dragonlords at the heart of Chaos. Listen to your dreams and they will guide you.”

The darkness crashed back in around him in the wake of the voice, crushing the air from his lungs. It wrapped him in a cold blanket of despair and blocked the voice that still whispered.

Fear raced through him, colder even than the touch of the darkness against his skin.

Despite the fear, the whispering voice called to him. It compelled him to listen even as he struggled to breathe and fight against the darkness that held him bound. He knew if he could only make out the words being said, he would be safe. The voice was freedom.

The voice whispered near him, just outside his reach. It was so close that Caleb thought that he could reach right out and touch it if only he could free himself from the clutches of the gloom. He tensed every muscle against the force that held him bound, exerting all his strength to hear the words.

Something gave. The whispered words hit him with the force of a blow.

“Find me, Caleb!”

It was Rachel’s voice.

Caleb bolted upright with a gurgled shout, writhing against the dark embrace that had swarmed back around him. He twisted and kicked, and suddenly the furs and blankets that had been tangled around him broke free and flew into the air. Sitting up, he gasped for breath in great gulps.

Just a dream.

Still, icy sweat made his undershirt shirt cling to his chest beneath his mail and his muscles felt weak, as if he had just sprinted a mile in the middle of summer. One shaky hand reached up and wrapped around the ring that still dangled from its chain around his neck. The clenched fist was the only spot of warmth on his frozen chest, even through the mail.

It took him a moment to realize that Sigvid stood over him, hand outstretched as if he had been about to shake him awake but had decided against it at the last moment and had frozen in place where he stood.

“It was Rachel,” Caleb said, turning to the dverger and holding his gaze. “She spoke to me, in my dream. She said something about the Dragonlords and that I need to follow my dreams.”

“There’s no time for dreams and fantasy now, boy,” Sigvid said, though his face betrayed a momentary look of confusion beneath his beard. “Can’t you hear that?”

At that moment, a reverberating echo of a distant horn sounded through the stone, ringing throughout the chamber with a deep, resonating rumble. Caleb sucked in a breath. He had been so caught up in a surreal mixture of terror and joy from his jumbled dream that he hadn’t noticed the first brazen notes.

“What is that?” Caleb leapt to his feet and kicked aside the remaining blankets.

“It means the Enclave has fallen!”

Before Caleb could ask any more questions, Sigvid produced a beautiful metal bow and quiver of silver arrows and thrust them into his hands. As his hand closed over the bow’s leather guard, Caleb felt an icy tingle form on his hand and work its way up his arm. It spread over his entire body in the space of a single breath then vanished as he shivered.

A focused expression crossed Sigvid’s face and his brow furrowed.

Caleb paused for a moment, puzzled by what had just happened to him—electricity, a static buildup in the metal perhaps—and the dverger’s reaction, but it was gone in a moment, blasted away by another thunderous note from the brazen horn.

“We must flee!” Sigvid shouted over the noise.

As if to accentuate the dverger’s words, a cacophonous crash sounded from the oaken doors that led into the main chamber. The horn sounded again, destroying the echo as surely as a thunderclap obliterated the crackling hiss of the preceding bolt of lightning. The horn abruptly cut off, leaving a pregnant silence in its wake.

Sigvid dashed into the main chamber and Caleb hurried out after him, clutching the bow in his left hand and the quiver of arrows in his right.

Something heavy crashed into the large doors. They rocked in their frame and something wooden splintered.

“Follow me!” Sigvid said, turning on his heels and dashing toward the forge. The dverger only paused for a moment to snatch up his twin axes before rushing over to the large furnace.

Caleb obeyed, blinking away the remnants of sleep and forcing himself to focus on what was going on around him.

Sigvid slid behind the large furnace and pushed the bellows to one side. Setting down his axes, he put both palms flat against the rock and muttered something under his breath. Another crashing echo boomed from the doorway behind, wood popping and splintering at the blow. Sigvid gave a slight shove and an entire section of the stone wall swung outward, revealing a dverger-sized tunnel beyond.

Caleb smiled and gave a small laugh.

“Let’s go!” Sigvid shouted and leapt into the darkness.

Caleb moved to follow, but then spun back around on sudden inspiration. He raced toward the tables of munitions Sigvid had gathered from the various raids. Caleb had organized them into their respective uses and he ran now toward the table piled high with explosives.

Something crashed against the door again and, though the crossbar held, the wood split near the top. Yellow golgent eyes glowed through the crack from the darkened hallway beyond. They were wide with rage and the delight of murderous lust. Caleb stared into those cat-like eyes for a moment, memory flitting through his mind.

An arrow screamed through the opening, missing him by inches, passing so close that he felt the air spinning off it as it flew past. It was enough to cut through memory and force his mind back to the events at hand. He switched the quiver to his left hand, gripping it awkwardly together with the bow. His right found one of the grenades on the table and brought it up to his mouth so he could pull the pin with his teeth. Without looking back, Caleb spun on his heels and ran back toward the hidden door by the furnace, the bow and quiver in his left hand making his gait ungainly. Just before he reached the open doorway he turned and tossed the grenade across the floor, releasing the safety lever. It bumped along the ground for a few moments and then came to rest beneath one of the tables of munitions.

The wooden door burst open with a spray of splintered wood. Caleb bolted for the hidden tunnel. He crashed into Sigvid just inside the entrance, probably on his way back to see what was taking Caleb so long. The pair of them went down in a heap.

Caleb scrambled to his feet, clutching the bow and quiver, and heaved on the heavy stone slab with all his might. It swung shut on silent, frictionless hinges, but closed with a note of resounding finality. Dust filled his nose and mouth, making him cough.

“Come on, Sigvid!” Caleb pulled the dverger to his feet, grunting at the weight, and dragged him away from the doorway. The tunnel was dark and shallow, which forced him to run in an awkward crouched position, pulling Sigvid along by one arm.

“Let go of me!” Sigvid said, tugging his arm free and pushing past him to take the lead. Caleb grabbed for him, knowing what was about to come, but missed.

The ground heaved. It lurched sideways, then down, then back to the side all in a few seconds. A wall of sound and pressure hurtled into them and knocked Caleb to the shaking ground. The sound hammered against his ears, deafening them. He bounced and bumped against the ground, sliding against stone and tearing skin and clothing. It was all he could do to hang onto the bow and its arrows in his hand. Dust and rock fell through the air, tossed about with enough force to be a danger to anything not covered by armor. Dozens of smaller explosions sounded, though the tremors lessened slowly and, after what seemed like an eternity, stilled.

“What in the name of Úndin’s gray beard was that?” Sigvid shouted. Caleb felt the dverger’s hand hesitantly touch his leg then, with much more surety, find his arm and help him to his feet.

“Grenades!” Caleb yelled back. He wriggled a finger in his ear, but the ringing didn’t stop. If anything it got louder.

The dverger laughed, a muffled sort of sound, but tugged on Caleb’s arm to get him moving again. Caleb didn’t object. They needed to put some distance behind them.

“Do all the rooms have escape tunnels like this one?” Caleb asked as they shuffled through the darkness. Though he spoke in a muffled whisper, his voice seemed to reverberate off the tunnel walls like pealing thunder.

“All the personal rooms,” Sigvid hissed. “Now be quiet. Sound does strange things beneath the earth. It carries in ways that it doesn’t in more open spaces.”

Caleb swallowed his next question before it escaped his lips.

They hurried onward in absolute darkness. Occasionally Sigvid would reach back and lay a hand on Caleb’s arm to steer him away from something that loomed in the darkness. Caleb felt more then saw them as they passed—giant pillars of stone that reared up along the walls of the cavern. Stalactites or stalagmites, Caleb assumed. Each time that Sigvid reached out to him, Caleb jumped, expecting a cold, clammy golgent hand to wrap around his arm, or worse.

The darkness swirled around them, creeping like shadows across his visage. Once, dripping water echoed through the chamber. Caleb felt wet spray on his face and wiped it away with his fingers. He wondered if they were traveling next to an underground waterfall. At the same time, he hoped they weren’t passing by an underground lake, blanketed in the disguising embrace of black. He wiped his brow again, and this time his hand came away dripping with more than just water.

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly in the shroud of darkness that covered his eyes. The shadows hugged him, wrapping him in loving tendrils of mist and gloom that seeped into his bones. Caleb found himself beginning to breathe more heavily. He wondered where the sides of the passages were. Were they closer than they had been before? He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t see them. Sweat beaded on his forehead and dripped into his eyes. He cursed softly, drawing a hiss from Sigvid that made Caleb reach for his gun before realizing that Sigvid had made the sound. He dropped his hand in chagrin before it even reached his belt.

The air shifted. One moment the air had been cloying and hot and the next, a cool breeze crossed his face and calmed the fear that had clawed its way into the corners of his mind.

“We’ll wait here for a few minutes,” Sigvid whispered, the unexpected voice near his ear making Caleb jump. “All the other tunnels meet up here. We’ll join up with some of the others.”

Caleb shuffled to a stop, edging as close to Sigvid as he could get. The minutes stretched onward. Time passed irresolutely. It seemed to Caleb that only moments had passed since they had entered the small escape tunnel, but at the same time the impenetrable gloom that pressed in around him made him feel as if he had been within its encroaching grasp for an eternity. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, though even then, it was only enough to make out vague shapes of slightly darker patches of shadow. He shivered despite the warmth.

How had the golgent gotten into the Enclave? Caleb ran his fingers through his hair and adjusted the grip on his bow. The monsters were always there, constantly dogging his steps wherever he went. They were like a plague of locusts, sweeping across the land and destroying everything in their path. Thomas had been fond of saying that. It was true though. There was no escaping them, there was only postponing the final meeting.

Caleb’s grip hardened on the bow. They always found you again. Or you found them.

“Come on,” Sigvid said, his words piercing Caleb’s thoughts.

He felt Sigvid start forward again and Caleb followed. He could make out the outline of the dverger’s broad shoulders in the darkness. It was a faint outline to be sure, but it gave him something upon which he could focus.

They ran and Caleb lost all sense of direction and time. Sigvid’s blurred outline consumed his entire vision. It was his anchor in the sea of black. Cloying, omnipresent haze threatened to strangle him wherever he turned.

“Hold!” The word was a shout to Caleb’s strained ears, though Sigvid breathed the word so softly that ordinarily Caleb would have missed it.

Caleb froze where he was, but felt more than saw Sigvid move away from him. There was a soft scrape of metal against metal and then the darkness shrank back from a rasping whine of rusty hinges being forced open.

Caleb shifted nervously and arrows clicked together within the quiver in his left hand. With a start, he realized he was still holding the bow and quiver in a tight-fisted grip. What was the point of carrying the weapon if he wasn’t going to use it? He’d used a bow before, back in various youth camps many years ago, but it had never been in a situation where his life depended in it. Still, any weapon was better than none. If fighting got to close quarters, he could always use the arrows like knives.

He slung the quiver over his shoulder on its thick leather baldric and cinched up the strap so that it fit snugly against his back, silently laughing at himself for not having done it sooner. He raised the bow and drew an arrow, fitting the nock to the string and drawing it back partway to feel the draw. It was surprisingly light. Tension eased as he slackened his grip, letting the arrow rest against the string, pinned to the bow by his grip on the bow itself. A surge of confidence washed through him, like a breath of fresh air brought in on radiant morning rays after a foggy night. Caleb always felt better when he was armed these days.