The Quest (The Hidden Realm Book 5) (11 page)

“At this rate it will take weeks just to reach the border of Nefandus,” he thought hopelessly to himself. “From there, it will take days more to reach Tyranus. By then Torquatus will have cut Anthea to pieces.” Fearing that his desperate thoughts would madden him again, Elerian began to examine the passageway around him instead, hoping to distract his fevered mind. Never averaging less than ten or twelve feet in height and width, the tunnel took many twists and turns, presenting blind corners that had to be approached with caution lest they concealed some hidden danger. To Elerian’s eyes, the passageway appeared to have been created entirely by natural forces, for its walls and floor looked to have been smoothed by the flow of water over a period of many years. Its surface was by no means uniform, however. In many places, the walls had been fractured by movements of the earth, the source, no doubt, of the numerous boulders of varying sizes that littered the floor of the tunnel. Gradually, the sensation grew again in Elerian’s mind that something lurked in the murk ahead of the company, retreating before their lights as they advanced down the passageway.

“It may only be the spadix I saw earlier or more likely my overwrought imagination playing tricks on me because of the evil reputation of this tunnel,” he thought to himself in an effort to explain away the disconcerting feeling that troubled him. “I will be the first to admit that I am uncomfortable deep beneath the earth,” he acknowledged to himself. “Passageways like this one, filled with cold, barren stone and stale air, are places that only a Dwarf could feel comfortable in,” he thought sardonically to himself, noting that the three Dwarves ahead of him seemed entirely untroubled by their stony surroundings.

Trying his best to ignore the persistent feeling that they were not alone in the tunnel, Elerian followed his companions for what seemed like hours, until the company suddenly came to a place where a cavern began, so large that the walls and ceiling were out of sight even for Elerian’s night-wise eyes. When Ascilius called a halt so that his companions might rest for a bit, Elerian pulled Dacien aside from the small circle into which the others had gathered, deciding to finally to speak to someone about the feeling of being watched.

“Have you sensed anything in the darkness ahead of us?” he whispered to Dacien, for he did not wish the rest of the company, especially Ascilius, to overhear him.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” replied Dacien quietly, “but to tell the truth, I have been too much occupied with my own thoughts to pay much attention to our surroundings. Ascilius seems both confident and unafraid,” he observed reassuringly to Elerian, for he knew from past experience that his companion was uneasy below ground.

“I have detected nothing living around us,” said Ascilius who had approached the pair unobserved, curious to hear what they were discussing. “The dark can easily play tricks on one’s mind if you allow your imagination free rein,” Ascilius could not help adding in a slightly condescending voice that immediately irritated Elerian.

“At least I have an imagination,” he replied sharply before stalking away to join the others who were now sitting either on small boulders or the stony floor of the cavern as they ate bread and cheese from their packs.

“He is very high-strung, you know,” said Ascilius rather loudly to Dacien. “I have always had to keep an eye on him when we have gone underground,” he added dryly. Sitting a little apart from the others, Elerian ignored Ascilius. Taking a flask of wine from his pack, he moodily drank from the container.

“I will speak no more warnings,” he promised himself. “It is obvious that even Dacien thinks this passageway has unnerved me.”

“Let us be on our way,” said Ascilius when everyone had eaten and rested a bit. After the members of the company arranged themselves into a column again, they resumed their trek, walking in a pool of dim light bounded by thick darkness. How far away the walls of the chamber were from them, no one of them could say because of the impenetrable murk that surrounded them, but the spirits of everyone except those of Elerian rose a bit, for the air around the company now had a freer feel to it, and cold draughts blew against their faces from time to time, as if there were hidden exits nearby.

“This is no more dangerous than walking through the mines of Ennodius,” said Cordus to his brother in a rather disappointed voice. “It would seem that ennui is the worst danger that we will face down here,” replied Cyricus, sounding bored.

“Consider yourself fortunate then,” advised Ascilius sternly from the head of the column, but like his cousins, he had begun to wonder if the dangers of the passageway had not been somewhat exaggerated. “At this rate we will reach the exit in no time at all,” he thought to himself. Glancing back at his companions, he noticed that Elerian alone seemed ill at ease and felt again an enjoyable sense of amusement at his obvious discomfort at being deep beneath the earth. “In happier times, I would take full advantage of his unease,” thought Ascilius regretfully to himself.

As the company advanced deeper into the cavern, the damp smell of water filled the air, and the slow plop of moisture dripping from the ceiling broke the silence. Around the six companions, smooth, tapering shafts of stone of varying sizes rose up from the floor or hung from the ceiling overhead, formed by the ceaseless drip of water over countless years.

Untroubled by the darkness and the vastness of the cavern, Ascilius, guided by the innate sense of direction possessed by all Dwarves underground, never hesitated as he led the way across the chamber.

“He is in his element here as I never will be,” Elerian grudgingly admitted to himself as he watched his resolute companion from the back of the company. “Irritating and disagreeable he may be, but only death will keep him from trying to rescue Anthea.” His musings on the more admirable qualities of Ascilius’s nature ended abruptly when he saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his right eye from between two tall shafts of stone. A faint rustling sound, like folds of cloth briefly rubbing against each other, came to his ears, but when he opened his third eye, his mage sight revealed not the least trace of a shade in  the darkness.

“Surely I did not imagine that I saw and heard something,” thought Elerian uneasily to himself. Glancing one by one at the rest of the company, he noted that neither Ascilius nor any of his companions had sensed anything unusual, and he began again to wonder again whether his mind was playing tricks on him. As he debated with himself, it gradually dawned on him that it was suddenly becoming more and more difficult both to breathe and to walk, as if the air had become thicker and his feet heavier. He glanced again at his companions and saw that their steps had also slowed. Their labored breathing also came clearly to his ears, all of them panting as if they had run for miles.

“We must have fallen victim to some enchantment,” thought Elerian to himself, almost welcoming the magical assault, for it proved that his imagination was not deceiving him after all. Someone or something was following them through the cavern. “I shall soon set this to rights,” Elerian thought confidently to himself as, raising his right hand slightly, he cast a shield spell. A small golden sphere of light flew from his fingertips, expanding suddenly so that he was covered in a golden mantle of light, but he gained no relief from it, for his breathing and footsteps remaining as labored as before. Elerian soon gave up the effort to maintain his spell as it was nothing more than a useless drain on his strength.

“Whatever is out there in the dark speaks directly to my intellect,” he thought to himself, “bending all the power of its will to slowing my steps and breathing. Throwing up a barrier in his mind as he had so long ago when he battled the changeling, Drusus, Elerian felt the baleful influence that slowed him recede, but the cost of keeping it at bay took such a heavy toll of his powers that he soon gave up the effort. “Better to expend my physical strength so that I may keep my mind alert and my powers intact,” he reluctantly decided. At that moment Ascilius stopped and turned to face the company, breathing deeply as if he had just run a long race.

“Are you all afflicted as I am?” he asked grimly of his companions. “The air feels thick as mud and my feet heavy as lead.”

“Are you certain it is not just your imagination?” Elerian could not help asking, despite the gravity of the situation. His eyes gleamed wickedly when Ascilius frowned at the jibe. Before the Dwarf could make any reply, however, Triarus spoke up in a frightened voice.

“I feel the same way. Someone or something must have cast a spell on us that weighs down our feet and makes it difficult to breathe!”

“I do not think so,” said Elerian, becoming serious once more. “I have already cast a counter spell to no avail. Some hidden enemy slows us with his will alone. His strength, however, is such that I can do nothing to thwart him even were I to expend every bit of my power in the attempt.”

“Then we will never reach the end of the passageway,” said Dacien worriedly. “I am already weary, as if I had walked for days without an hour’s rest.” Grim faced, the rest of the company nodded their agreement, their earlier good spirits having evaporated like mist under the heat of the morning sun.

“Perhaps we should risk more light, cousin,” ventured Cyricus nervously to Ascilius. “It is always our best defense against the creatures of the dark.” 

“A brighter light will blind us for a time, leaving us helpless if darkness suddenly returns,” replied Ascilius. “I would rather wait until we have no other choice.”

Ascilius’s cautiousness proved to be well warranted, for his mage light and that of Elerian were both suddenly extinguished in the same moment, plunging the small company into total darkness. Instantly a confusion of shouts, screams, and angry yells filled the air, followed by the ring of steel on steel. Opening his magical eye, Elerian saw another flicker of movement, this time on his left, and felt what could only be claw points pressing with tremendous force against the links of the mail which covered his left bicep.

THE STRANGER

Despite the viselike grip on his arm, Elerian saw no shade of any kind standing beside him when he opened his third eye.

“How is the creature holding me hiding itself?” was his perplexed thought as he drew Rasor from his belt with his right hand. The knife’s ridged hilt and the intricate lines of argentum inlaid in its blade shone with a silver light as he thrust strongly but blindly to his left. His knifepoint immediately struck something hard, the impact jarring his wrist and arm. At first Elerian thought that he had struck one of the stone shafts rising from the cave floor, but his blade continued to slide deeper into whatever stood beside him, drawing so heavily of his power that he swayed on his feet, weakened by the sudden outflow. Fortunately the hand or paw that had seized his arm suddenly released its hold. As Rasor slid free, Elerian saw a flicker of motion as something scuttled away to his left, darting behind the stalagmites that covered the floor of the cavern before he could he could discern what it was. Breathing deeply to steady himself, Elerian now turned his attention to the melee that had broken out behind him. To his ears, it sounded like a small battle was taking place only a few feet away from him. With his magical eye, he could see the golden shades of his companions thrashing about but saw no sign of their attackers.

Fearing that they were being set upon by the same type of creature that he had just frightened off, Elerian was about to join the fray when a burst of intense light suddenly smote his eyes almost like a physical blow. In the same moment, he heard Ascilius roar out a command in his deep voice.

“Hold still!” shouted the Dwarf. “Everyone stop where you are right now!”

Narrowing his eyes to slits, Elerian froze in place until his vision adjusted to the golden rays of a fist-sized mage light that now hung near the ceiling of the cavern above his head, illuminating the cavern around him for hundreds of feet in all directions. The scene which met his eyes was comical but also alarming. On his right, Cordus was lying full length on the ground with Cyricus crouched over him. The two brothers had their hands around each other’s throats, frozen in the act of trying to throttle each other. Dacien, the veteran of many battles in the dark, was standing behind them, his sword held ready in his right hand, and his back pressed up against a stalagmite. To Elerian’s left stood Ascilius, face dark as a thundercloud. He had his steel cap in his hands and was fingering a dent in the crown while he glared at Triarus. The little man’s face was red with embarrassment and his eyes were filled with dismay as he guiltily held his sword behind his back.

“Only luck and Ascilius’s quick thinking saved us from a serious injury,” thought Elerian soberly to himself, as Cyricus and Cordus sheepishly let go their hold on each other and climbed back to their feet.

“A fine lot of warriors you three are,” roared Ascilius, addressing both Triarus and his cousins. “I have half a mind to take all of your weapons right now before you injure someone!”

“But there was something there in the dark my lord,” quavered Triarus. “I felt its evil presence.”

“He is right Ascilius,” said Elerian quietly. He held out Rasor, and all the company saw the dark blood on the tip of the bright blade. The viscous liquid steamed slightly in the cool air of the cavern, and when a thick drop fell to the ground, there was a loud hiss as it bubbled on the stone floor of the cavern. “Something attacked me, but when I stabbed it, it ran off,” continued Elerian. “It felt hard as stone and seems to be hot blooded like a Troll, but I do not think it was of any great size. I think Corbulo’s warning about a hag may have some truth to it after all. There appears to be some other creature down here besides the monster described by Dardanus.”

“Could it have been a young Troll?” wondered Dacien aloud. “Such a creature would fit the description you gave, Elerian.”

“It did not smell like a Troll,” replied Elerian doubtfully. “All of the members of that race that I have met in the past were easily recognizable by the rank aroma that clung to them.” Before Elerian or anyone else could say anything more, Ascilius’s mage light suddenly winked out, plunging the company into unexpected darkness for the second time.

“Stay where you are,” ordered Ascilius at once, fearing a second outbreak of violence between the members of the company. Swiftly exchanging his knife for his sword, Elerian scrutinized the wall of darkness around him with his third eye, but there was no sign of their attacker.

“Perhaps the wound I gave it has convinced the creature to limit itself to mischief for now,” he thought grimly to himself. The soft clink of glass against metal turned his attention to Ascilius. With his mage sight, Elerian saw that the Dwarf’s golden shade was bent over something on the ground. He heard a sharp rasp and a sulfur match blossomed into flame in Ascilius’s right hand. Closing his third eye, Elerian watched as the Dwarf applied the burning match head to the wick of a small lantern made of polished brass and clear glass that he must have taken from his pack. After trimming the wick so that the flame burning in the lantern's glass chimney cast a yellow pool of light around the company, Ascilius returned a bottle filled with lamp oil to his pack before standing up, his lantern held high in his left hand.

“Sometimes magic fails,” he said gravely to his companions, “and more ordinary methods must suffice. Stay close together,” he warned everyone before setting off across the cavern again. Reassured by Ascilius’s light, which was immune to a magical attack, the company followed him in single file. Dacien and Triarus welcomed the warm yellow flame burning in Ascilius’s lantern, for they could now see far better than they had when Ascilius’s dim mage light illuminated their path, but the lantern’s rays were less welcome to the Dwarves and Elerian, for they greatly reduced how far each of them could see. None of the four could now discern anything but an impenetrable gloom beyond the edge of the small pool of light cast by Ascilius’s light.

“I no longer feel anything holding me back,” said Dacien to his companions after taking only a few steps.

“Perhaps the wound that Elerian gave our attacker frightened it off,” replied Cordus hopefully.

“Let us hope so,” said Ascilius, but Elerian thought there was no great optimism in his voice.

“He believes as I do that the creature is still lurking out of sight in the darkness around us,” thought Elerian pessimistically to himself. He kept his thoughts to himself, however, not wishing to discourage the others.

To the disappointment of all the company, the heaviness that had slowed their movements earlier returned in full force before they had progressed much farther into the cavern. Elerian felt that his limbs had turned to stone and that the pack on his back had become an enormous burden. With each step that he took, his leaden feet pressed heavily against the stone floor of the cavern, a heavy burden for one who was used to moving effortlessly across the ground. His companions were no better off as they all stubbornly followed Ascilius, shuffling their heavy feet and pushing through air that seemed to have grown thick as mud. By the time the six companions finally reached the far side of the cavern, each of them was drawing in great gulps of air and sweating heavily, as if they had run many miles with a great burden on their backs.

“We are doomed,” groaned Triarus despairingly when Ascilius’s lantern revealed a blank wall of stone in front of them. “We shall wander in circles through this cavern until we are too weak to resist the creature that afflicts us with its malicious will.”

“What have we gotten ourselves into?” muttered Cyricus to his brother. The exhausting trek through pitch darkness had sapped their earlier confidence, bringing home to them for the first time how dangerous was the quest they had so nonchalantly embarked on.

“The exit cannot be far,” Ascilius said reassuringly to Triarus and his cousins. “I have lost my bearings a bit in the darkness is all. Rest a little and try to regain some your strength while I continue to search for an exit.”

“We will need another light if Ascilius leaves,” thought Elerian to himself. Reaching into his pack, he found another lantern which he quickly filled and lit. As his companions gathered into a circle around Elerian’s lantern, sitting or lying on the cave floor to gain what rest they could, Ascilius laboriously searched along the wall of the cavern, angling off to the right of the company. At his sudden shouted summons his companions climbed heavily to their feet and shuffled to his side. Several hundred feet to the right of their original line of travel, the persistent Dwarf had discovered an exit to the cavern.

When the company followed Ascilius down the passageway that he had found, the heaviness suddenly left their limbs, but their relief at being able to walk normally was short-lived. This new tunnel, which varied from ten to thirty feet in width, quickly presented them with a new threat, for Ascilius’s and Elerian’s lanterns now revealed many holes, some of them quite large, in the irregular stone walls of the passageway. Ascilius was forced to approach each dark opening with great care, lest the creature which had attacked Elerian earlier spring out at them to either assail the company or to drag one of their number away.

Nerves on edge, the six companions plodded stubbornly on, only to face a new affliction. Clutching Fulmen tightly in his right hand, the lines of argentum inlaid in the steel hammer head gleaming brightly, Ascilius suddenly stopped, certain that he glimpsed the fanged maw of a water horse ready to snap at him from an opening on his left. Behind him Dacien started when he saw the bestial form of a savage mutare ready to spring out at him from the same opening. Cordus and Cyricus raised their weapons, certain that they saw the coarse face of a Troll leering at them from the darkness behind them as it reached out its massive hands to seize them. Triarus saw gloating Goblin faces in the dark and Elerian saw once again the half-human, half-bestial form of Drusus ready to spring on him from an opening on his right. As the daunting visions faded, a series of menacing sounds issued from the dark recesses of the passageway. The dry rustle of scales, the click of claws on stone, and the drawing of heavy breaths, all seemed to portend an imminent attack, further fraying the nerves of the six companions. Elerian gripped his weapons as tightly as the rest, but when he opened his third eye and looked all around him, he failed to see the telltale light of a single shade.  

“What I saw must have been a phantasm, for Drusus died many years ago,” he reminded himself. “Our hidden enemy must have drawn the image from my mind.” Looking about at his companions, all of them standing tensely with drawn weapons, Elerian guessed that they had seen apparitions of their own that were equally troubling to them, for Ascilius was grim faced and next to him, Triarus was sweating freely, shaking all the while as if he had a fever. Cordus and Cyricus were pressed against each other for comfort and even Dacien, who was as fearless as any man could be, had a haggard look on his face.

“Bless Ascilius and his foresight in bringing the lanterns,” thought Elerian grudgingly to himself. “Who knows what would have happened if we had endured this assault on our minds in the dark? The visions each of us has seen are difficult enough to endure even in the light.”

“The things that you have seen are not real,” said Elerian reassuringly to his companions. Sheathing his sword he walked lightly to the front of the company. The illusion concealing him fell away, revealing features fair beyond mortal kind. From his youth, Elerian had habitually masked his voice as well as his face and form lest it give him away to his enemies, but he began to sing quietly now, a simple, sprightly song from his youth sung to mark the advent of spring. The clear, silvery notes that he raised exerted a powerful influence on the minds of his companions. The darkness seemed to recede and it seemed to each of them that a warm breeze blew through the passageway, chasing away the clammy scent of cold stone and filling it, instead, with the scent of green growing things. Their hearts and their limbs both lightened, the members of the company followed him fearlessly down the passageway.

It was difficult to mark the passage of time or distance in the dark, but Elerian thought they had covered almost a quarter mile when he began to see discarded gear on the floor of the tunnel, gear that Dardanus’s people must have abandoned in their flight from the Trolls. Eventually, the passageway came to an end, bringing the company to the brink of another great open space. Elerian ceased to sing then and turned to Ascilius.

“You must lead the way now. I will lose my way in this great open place,” he said quietly to the Dwarf. Ascilius made no answer, for it seemed to him that any time he and Elerian spoke the hostilities between them were renewed. Nodding his head in agreement, he took Elerian’s place at the head of the company. His upraised lantern revealed a tangle of bones of various sizes and shapes on the floor of the cavern ahead of them as well as the rusted remains of armor and various weapons of war. Ascilius examined the detritus of battle carefully.

“This must be where my uncles fought their last battle against the Trolls,” he proclaimed to his companions. “It means that we are drawing close to the exit to the passageway.” Turning to his cousins he said quietly, “If any of us return to Iulius, an expedition must be sent here to recover the bones of our people and to give them a proper burial.”

“We will all three of us return here together, cousin, to accomplish that noble task,” Cyricus assured Ascilius, his courage restored by Elerian’s singing and the thought that they were nearing the end of the passageway. Elerian, however, was not as confident as Cyricus that they would see daylight again.