Upon This World of Stone (The Paladin Trilogy Book 2) (4 page)

“My Lord,” asked Joshua in shock, “do you no fear for her?”

“Yes, Joshua,” he answered, still smiling. “More than I have ever feared for myself. But I see in this the hand of Mirna, sending my daughter after me with a message I already had. In my heart I feel while she walks that road, no harm shall befall her, whatever the perils.”

His eyes went again to Argus who was now staring darkly at him, and despite his faith, his heart again fluttered. He could only wonder where Shannon’s road would lead her.

CHAPTER 2

Llan Praetor

Adella ran her fingers lightly over the arcane tracings on the floor of the entrance hall of Llan Praetor, studying the pattern carefully. The design was not just traced but actually carved into the floor, a marvelous labor to get every line to the exact same depth in the swirling, intricate motif, and Bloodseeker (which was also supplying light) was detecting a vague magic, too faint to determine its nature or purpose. Some residual power from the original carving of the floor, perhaps, or maybe just a minor, mundane enchantment such as eliminating dust or mud. The only other possibility was that the entire floor was some sort of gigantic magical device, and that was a little too staggering to accept.

Llan Praetor, the invincible mountaintop fortress, that legendary horde of magic and treasures from a time before the advent of men which Adella had so often dreamed of exploring. My first encounter with one of its’ vaunted mysteries, she thought ruefully, and I can’t even make a guess.

“What is it?” asked Shannon, almost looking over her shoulder.

Adella glanced up at the girl’s eager, attentive expression, while Jhan, standing close behind her, wore his standard half-frown. Shannon’s enthusiasm brought a smile to Adella’s lips, and she was almost willing to forgive the girl her likeness to her Father. Jhan, of course, was clearly going to be a chronic pain.

“Flame me if I know,” she answered with a shrug. “If it’s an incantation, it’s the strangest I’ve ever seen. The runes all seem to refer to various constellations, but they’re drawn so close together that they actually overlap, as if the stars themselves are colliding. It makes no sense to me. And yet it seems an incredible waste if it’s only intended to decorate the floor.”

“Could it have anything to do with the mural on the walls?” Jhan suggested, indicating the beautiful painting of the peaks which surrounded them.

“I don’t think so,” Adella said with a shake of her head. “Though the mural, too, is magical. It’s the real doorway of Llan Praetor. Or at least, one of them.”

“The mural is a doorway?” Shannon repeated in surprise, staring at the peaks.

Adella nodded, walking over to the painting. She pulled out her dagger, studied the picture for a moment, then struck the peak hard with the ball at the base of the dagger’s handle. Immediately, there was a frigid rush of air and a burst of morning sunshine, and they found themselves staring out at a wind-swept glacier leading up to a rocky summit, the wall having vanished. The next instant, Adella withdrew the dagger, and the apparition disappeared, leaving them staring only at a painting of the glacier.

“That was Thundertop, one of the highest mountains in the range,” she said. “To my knowledge, nobody’s ever climbed it.”

“The Demon take me…” breathed Jhan, and Shannon looked as if she were incapable of saying even that much.

“It’s a way out, but I’m not sure it’s a way in,” Adella said. “Looks to me like Malcolm hasn’t been able to figure it out either, for he must have been the one who put in that outside door.”

“It’s astounding,” Shannon said softly, finally finding her voice. Then she looked at the woman and her face broke into a huge smile. “It’s fantastic! Who could have created such a wonder?”

“Somebody a lot more powerful than us,” Adella answered, though she smiled again. “Legend says that Llan Praetor was built by giants ages ago, and certainly the size of the place seems to bear that out.”

“What happened to them?” asked Jhan.

Adella shrugged. “It is said the giants fell into decline after their defeat at the ancient battle of Baramalon. They left or died out about the time when men began to settle the Southlands, leaving Llan Praetor as their only relic. Now come along. Stay a few paces behind, and watch me closely. If I tell you to freeze, I don’t want a single muscle moved. Understand?”

They both nodded solemnly, and Adella turned and headed down the corridor, studying the ceiling, the walls, and especially the floor for possible traps. Her sense of the castle told her this would be a place for living guards, the traffic making intricate traps undesirable, and she doubted if Malcolm would waste his time setting any snares here. Still, it’s the unexpected trap that catches the thief, Adella reminded herself grimly, continuing to watch closely.

A few paces further one, and she realized why traps were unnecessary here. The light walked up on two huge gargoyle statues which stood sleepless watch over the only doors out, and she didn’t need the warning throb of Bloodseeker to tell her they were both filled with a potent magic, just waiting for release.

“And the damn things don’t have a drop of blood between them,” Adella muttered softly to herself.

“Beg pardon?”

“Nothing,” she said, turning to look at her two young charges. Getting through the doors herself would be relatively easy, but it was going to be something of a challenge to get them all through without one of them ending up underneath one of those rampaging statues. Then she almost shrugged. This might be an ideal chance to rid herself of Jhan’s sour face.

“All right,” she said resolutely, “we can only give it a try. Shannon, you stand over by this wall, Jhan, you opposite by that one. And whatever happens, don’t make any move until I tell you. Mark that! You don’t move, whatever happens. When I yell, run to the door and get through it just as quickly as you can, and pull it shut behind you.”

“But what about you?” Shannon asked.

“Don’t worry about that. You just get through that door and swing it close, fast! Understand?”

Again, they both nodded, going to their assigned posts, like children obeying a parent. Adella felt an odd twinge of conscience at their trusting expressions, neither even thinking to ask why they were being separated. Then she mentally shrugged. This isn’t a schoolyard, she reminded herself. In Llan Praetor, only the strong survive.

Holding Bloodseeker, she boldly walked directly up to the doors, looking warily at the two statues, and grabbed the central handle. She leaped backward the instant the first statue began to move, rolling once and coming immediately back to her feet.

“Come, you bumbling pair of rock-heads,” she muttered to herself. “Come and play.”

Both statues were moving, lunging for her with surprising speed, their quickness clear proof of the power of the magic which animated them. Adella darted to the side and rolled backward again, starting to retreat down the hall, striking at first one and then the other of the statues, though even Bloodseeker could do no more than scratch these horrors. She stayed as close to the middle as possible, keeping the attention of the monsters away from the walls, but as they drew level with the two immobile youths, Adella could tell immediately that the things were at least vaguely aware of their presence. The one to her right paused, turning its sightless eyes towards Shannon. Adella jumped forward, slashing out with Bloodseeker to leave a long, bloodless gash in the gargoyle’s heel.

It immediately turned back towards its assailant.

“Shannon, go!” she cried, and the girl bolted like a flying deer, heading for the door while the gargoyle looked away, not realizing that her speed was buying Jhan a chance for life. The second gargoyle had likewise sensed an alien presence and had turned to investigate, though as she had hoped, it clearly could not see its prey. If the boy would just stay frozen, there was a chance she might be able to distract the second monster before it crushed him.

The gargoyle, however, could sense a living body somewhere near and lunged forward, its huge feet coming down alarmingly close, trying to flush its prey. And it succeeded. Jhan jerked back instinctively, and a flash of light in the statue’s eyes showed it had spotted the intruder. The thing’s claws flashed down, striking hard, and Jhan actually managed to dodge the first, but he was wide open for a crushing blow from the second.

“No!” screamed Shannon as she stopped at the sight of Jhan’s peril and flung a dagger across the corridor to bounce harmlessly off the stone back of the statue. The unexpected attack, however, distracted the monster for just an instant, giving Jhan his one chance. He flung himself forward, literally diving between the gargoyle’s legs and escaping from the trap. For the moment.

Damn! Adella cursed to herself. A moment before, the boy was dead and they were both as good as through the doors. Now, they were all in jeopardy again, and Shannon had done no more than buy the boy another moment of life. Jhan was sprawled on the floor, trying to scramble to his feet while his gargoyle spun to the attack. Shannon, rather than fleeing to the door, was actually rushing to the boy’s aid, heedless of the second gargoyle bearing down upon her. She would reach him just in time for a final touch before the statues crushed them both.

Despite her anger, Adella’s eyes sparked, spotting an opportunity in the situation, and she charged forward again, leaping in between the two gargoyles.

“Yaaaah, Rock-head!” she cried, slashing Bloodseeker against the leg of Jhan’s gargoyle. The sword cut a deep gouge in the stone, still no worse than a surface wound, but the thing turned to face this new attacker. Adella froze in place for just an instant, both of the monsters now rushing down upon her, and then took two steps back as the first gargoyle launched a murderous swing at her. For a terrible second, Adella waited, letting the blow come until no force could possibly stop it, and then she flung herself wildly off to the side.

The deadly punch just missed her and continued on for a short distance to crash into the leg of the second on-rushing monster. There was a deafening crash of breaking stone as the power of Llan Praetor was used against its own magical rock, and the entire leg of the second gargoyle shattered at the thigh, toppling the thing to the floor. Jhan was struggling to his feet, and Shannon managed to pull him just enough to get them both out of the way as the great statue fell, shattering into a dozen pieces as it struck the floor.

Adella was already at the doors, pulling them open, while Shannon and Jhan ran at full speed for the portal. The first gargoyle was struggling over the body of its fallen brother and then rushed in pursuit, its huge legs gobbling up the distance between them. Adella began closing the doors even before the two youngsters were through them, and they slammed shut just as the monster was reaching forward.

Adella turned and looked at the two gasping young people spread out on the floor in front of her and smiled.

“Not quite the plan I had in mind,” she said. “But at least we didn’t leave any of our parts behind.”

They all three paused to look around at the circular room they had entered with its three additional doors and the star mosaic on the ceiling. Adella moved slowly across the room, noting that the tracings on the floor had spread themselves into distinct patterns, though they were no more comprehensible than before. The walls were a plain gray with a few tiny glimmers in them as if the rock from which they had been hewed contained a few flakes of gold within it. The room itself was completely empty. There was nothing that might distinguish one door from the other.

“Which way do we go from here?” Adella muttered, not liking any of the choices.

Jhan had been staring up at the star-studded ceiling, studying it thoughtfully. Now he said, “You mentioned before that the runes on the floor refer to constellations. Do they tell you anything about this ceiling?”

Adella stared up at the stars, her eyes narrowing at the idea. “I wonder…”

She knelt down on the floor, studying the pattern again, but now glancing up to compare it to the star pattern on the ceiling. The Constellation of the Wolf, the Warrior, the Milkmaid, she muttered silently to herself, slowly tracing the route, feeling her excitement growing as she crawled slowly across the floor.

“Boy, you may have earned your keep for the month,” she said softly, coming to a stop.

“I don’t understand,” Shannon asked curiously. “How can the stars help you?”

“By showing me what doesn’t belong in the pattern,” she answered shortly, tapping a symbol on the floor. “Here! Here’s the first key.”

She looked intently at the circle inscribed within a triangle, the only glyph she had found so far which wasn’t reflected in the star pattern, and she grinned when she noticed the tiniest of nicks in the center of the circle, hardly more than a scuff mark. The symbol and its particular location would tell what lay beyond to anyone who could read the pattern, but Adella simply didn’t care: water closet or treasure horde, it was no more than a first stop.

“Put your hands on my shoulders,” she ordered them as she produced her dagger again. “We’re going for a little trip.”

They did as they were bid, and Adella struck down hard with the ball of the dagger, hitting the little scuff mark. Instantly, they found themselves in a completely different room, a long hall with brightly colored pillars and a mosaic of twisting, intertwining dragons on the walls. A low dais at the end of the hall had half a dozen gigantic candelabras without candles all standing in line, their purpose unclear. The astrological design was still etched in this floor.

Adella laughed out loud.

“Well, children,” she said to her two startled companions. “Shall we do some exploring?”

CHAPTER 3

The Dragon Warrens

Malcolm the Magnificent, Arch-Mage and Master of Llan Praetor Castle, floated above the Mountains of the Winds and forced himself to look down. There was a sense of motion and the sound of wind whistling past, but Malcolm felt neither the bitter cold nor the tug of that fierce wind on his robes, almost as if he still stood in the Grand Hall of Llan Praetor and all this was no more than an illusion projected around him. He had long ago mastered the difficult art of ethereal travel, entering this half-dimension that co-existed with the real world, but he had never been able to adjust to the eerie feeling of looking down and seeing empty space beneath his feet, like that horrible moment when momentum ends and a body just begins to fall.

Malcolm grinned at the thought of how the Paladin, Darius, must be faring in the grips of an identical spell as he flew westward to where the Council of Lords was met. The man must feel as if he were slipping down the Demon Hole into Pandemonium.

Below him, his eyes struggled with the all-too familiar distortion that came with traveling ethereally. The mountain peaks looked fuzzy and indistinct, all color missing as if washed away by some titanic artist displeased with his tapestry, but the view was made far worse by the smoke that billowed and swirled directly beneath him. He could easily make out the distinctive sharp shape of Spearhead and the formidable pyramid peak of the Hammarberg, and he began to descend slowly, peering into the gaps between the great mountains. There it was: lower than its neighbors and broader and darker, with no gleaming patches of glaciers, lurking like an assassin in the constant shadow of the surrounding peaks, Caraluthax, the Mountain of Death, the only active volcano in the Mountains of the Winds. Even now with the morning sun moving towards its zenith, Malcolm couldn’t quite see the mountain clearly, for smoke was issuing from a dozen fissures down the sides, the haze hanging above it like a dark cloud.

As he slowly descended towards that smoking cone, a tremble of fear coursed through him, that same tremble from childhood which touched him every time danger threatened, and it came now from the memory of what lay ahead. He mastered it as he always did, his mind controlling the emotion as every wizard must, and it served to keep him sharp. This would be his third invasion of the dragon warren, and far from giving him confidence, those two previous incursions only served to stress the folly of what he was about to do. He was descending into a live volcano inhabited by an unknown number of ingenious and overpowering creatures, the smallest of which could destroy dozens of men with a single breath. More, he was not seeking to elude the monsters but rather to seek out and confront the grandfather of all dragons: Mraxdavar the Great whose linage ran directly back to the Leviathan of the Ancient Ones and who had lived at least a thousand human lifetimes.

Malcolm swallowed hard and summoned his courage. If dragons were truly the greater race, he told himself, it would be they who ruled the world and we who sheltered in mountain caves.

Armored with that thought, he took a deep breath and launched himself towards the fissure, rushing down now with all the speed of the ethereal wind, for he knew he dared not loiter here. Flying upon the ether made him virtually invisible to mortal eyes, but the sight of dragons was far keener, seeing even into the realm of magic and illusion. And dangerous as it would be to face a dragon in the steaming, twisting tunnels of Caraluthax, it was far worse to encounter one in the open air where it could bring all its power to bear.

He pierced the cloud of smoke and streaked lower, not lessening his speed at all. One, two, three darker voids in the mountain’s black rock were visible below the central crack, the openings of massive tunnels, but Malcolm ignored them, making instead for a smaller crevice a short way down from the cone. Entering an active fissure was a risky matter, but it was much less dangerous than the other, more obvious routes.

Once he was within the walls of the cleft, Malcolm immediately slowed himself, the smoke making even a cautious descent hazardous. A gesture with his staff brought him fully back into the real world, for there were dangers passing through solid rock and far worse through the active rock of the live volcano. The stench of sulfur and brimstone made him cough a moment as his lungs drew real air again, but he eyes continued to scan the area around him, knowing he was now in mortal danger.

A smaller fissure gaped on the side of the chasm like a wound in the rock, an opening just big enough for a man, and Malcolm could detect no sign of smoke coming from it. He slipped through the crack into utter darkness, and he paused to touch the head of his staff to both of his eyes, concentrating hard for a moment and fighting off the instinctive flinch as he felt power dancing lightly all over his eyeballs. He blinked, blinked again, and suddenly he could see the interior of the cave almost as clearly as if it were fully lit. Infravision that could detect degrees of heat was just as valuable as a light source in a volcano; and decidedly less conspicuous. He studied the cave carefully, and as he had hoped, the fissure expanded rather than contracted inside, though the shattered rock was still far too rough and jagged on which to walk.

He flew on, letting the staff guide him towards the habitable tunnels. The heat within the fissure was considerable, bringing beads of sweat to Malcolm’s forehead, and the stench of sulfur and brimstone was even stronger here, almost as if he had stumbled upon a direct road to the Nether Regions themselves. He moved quickly, for there was little chance of encountering a dragon here, and he knew there was always a danger of a wave of lava bursting up out of the depths of the fissure.

He had gone only a short distance, however, when the tingling within his staff told him he was leaving the path to the inner caves. He paused, staring at the bare rock wall that barred his way, and he tried moving in different directions, hoping the staff would sense some alternate path. It was no good. This was the closest that the fissure approached the habitable tunnels. Malcolm sighed, realizing he had no choice.

Placing the staff between the palms of his hands, he thrust his arms forward, feeling the power going out, sensing the trembling response in the rock before him. Then he slowly drew his hands apart, and with a low rumble, a crack began to appear in the rock before him. Malcolm kept his mind focused, moving his hands only slowly, trying to keep the crack as small as possible, and watched to make sure that the ceiling of the fissure did not begin to give way. When the crack was wide enough, he relaxed with a grunt of weariness and paused to let his breathing return to normal, his heart pounding both from the exertion and the fear of what lay beyond that crack. With luck, the inhabitants of the tunnels who sensed the shift might think it no more than the natural violence of the volcano, but far more likely, he had proclaimed his presence as surely as ringing the front bell. He shrugged resolutely, then flew carefully through the newly formed opening.

The crack opened on a smooth tunnel of uniform size, nearly three times his height tall and wide enough for a dozen men, the floor bowed in the middle as if recording the passing of many heavy, curved bodies. The reek of sulfur and ash from the volcano were still strong here, but beneath them was a still more powerful smell, permeating every part of the corridor, a sour, pungent, reptilian odor that made every human throat wretch and gag: the dragon stench. Malcolm stood quietly for a moment, making his lungs accept the tainted air, and when he could breathe normally again, he closed his eyes and concentrated.

Slowly, he began to picture three small glowing shapes, and he focused on them, making them real in his mind, giving them form, color, and movement, letting some small part of his power enter them. Then he opened his eyes to include the cavern again, pushing the three forms forth from his mind like a woman giving birth, and suddenly, there were three small birds flying directly before him, a robin, a sparrow, and a wren.

“Go, my little friends,” he said with a smile. “Go and probe the darkness.”

Obediently, the robin flew down the corridor behind him, while the wren and sparrow headed in the direction he intended to go. The magical birds had only limited sight here, barely enough to avoid the cavern walls, but that was still sufficient to give them (and him) some warning of the approach of an enemy. Malcolm watched them go and took a firmer grip on his staff, feeling comfort in the familiar tingling within the wood. It would have been both quicker and easier if he had simply used the staff to conjure these scouts, but he had learned long ago to husband the staff’s power, knowing he might well need all the magic it contained in the minutes ahead. Then he began to walk steadily down the tunnel.

The walls of the caves sparkled with glints of gold, as if veins of pure ore lay just beneath the surface, a fortune awaiting only a pick and willing hand. Fool’s gold, thought Malcolm grimly as he kept his eyes warily on the tunnels ahead. He knew a close inspection would soon show that the specks were not ore at all but rather the embedded scales of gold dragons as they had slithered past against the walls. But by the time a greedy prospector had pulled his eyes away from those specks, he could easily find himself facing the terrible source of that gold.

He passed a side tunnel, then another, then two more, the proliferation lessening the effectiveness of his scouts as they tried to cover more and more area. He knew he was still far from the vital sections of the dragons’ lair, the treasure hordes, the sleeping chambers, the breeding den and the hatchery, and it was highly unlikely he would get any closer this time than he had in the past. Despite the danger of approaching such sensitive areas, Malcolm let the staff lead him towards them, knowing it was the best way to force his opponent to show himself. If he simply waited here, he would yield the initiative and the advantage to Mraxdavar.

The wren and the sparrow were nervously hesitating in the darkness ahead, the sound of a heavy body moving along the rock corridor getting steadily closer to them, and Malcolm quickly sent the wren ahead to investigate. A moment later and a faint red-gold radiance gave him his answer. A dragon was twisting steadily down the corridor, its wings folded, its heavy taloned claws dragging it along, the dim light coming from the dragon itself, a sign of the great heat pulsing within its body. Yet despite the size and fierceness of the beast, Malcolm recognized it was only a young dragon, hardly more than one of Mraxdavar’s grandchildren.

A single thought brought the wren flitting back down the corridor, while Malcolm concentrated on the dragon, his mind moving along the corridor, touching the rock and the rock again, until it finally found the active, hungry intelligence of the monster. Concentrating hard, he began gesturing constantly to the left with his fingers, focusing in that direction, frowning, wondering, luring. Far ahead in the darkness, he could sense the dragon hesitating, alert to something though it wasn’t sure what. An older, more experienced dragon would be instantly aware of the influence, might even be able to focus back on its source, but this creature was still far too young and impulsive. Its head turned to the side as if listening, and it quickly slipped down an intersecting corridor, moving out of Malcolm’s way.

If only all the encounters could be that simple, he thought.

Another distant sound attracted the attention of the robin in the corridors behind him, and Malcolm concentrated, trying to identify it. He sent the robin flying back to investigate, but the little bird had gone only the shortest distance before it simply popped out of existence. Malcolm frowned, the nervousness rising sharply within him. The spell should have lasted for at least another hour, and while there were many things that could have disrupted the magic, the most likely explanation was that the spell had simply been cancelled by another caster.

A dragon. And one with magic to augment all his other powers.

Then, an instant later, both the wren and the sparrow vanished as well, the magic destroyed. The nervousness turned to real fear, and Malcolm moved quickly forward, knowing the short distance between himself and where the birds had been would still be safe for a few moments. He reached an intersecting corridor and immediately ducked down it, but while his mind assured him this was a wise move, some sixth sense warned him. He slowed, moving cautiously, as if walking the rim of a trap, waiting for the first sign of the spring.

A distant sound, like wind sweeping through a narrow tunnel, and with a thrill of terror, Malcolm knew his death was upon him. With only an instant in which to act, he desperately spun and held up the ebony staff, sending forth his power blindly, and in that same moment, he was enveloped in a blazing inferno that filled all the corridor, a deluge of fire that seemed to incinerate the entire world, the flame deflected around him only by his thin shield of power. For endless seconds, he endured that conflagration, the sheer heat penetrating his shield, singeing his skin and hair, slowly cooking him within his own protections, the shield itself beginning to give way, for nothing could endure long in the midst of such power. Just as he was beginning to stagger beneath the onslaught, the fire vanished as abruptly as it had begun, leaving him staring at the long neck and fierce face of a huge red-gold dragon. Even as he blinked, Malcolm could see the beast was slowly drawing in more air to replace the fiery breath he had just unleashed, readying another attack.

“Farla Car Alen!”
Malcolm cried, thrusting forth his staff and sending the invisible shield which had saved him flying forward. The force smashed into the dragon like a monstrous fist, sending him reeling backwards, and Malcolm gave him no chance to recover.

“Farla Carn Abu Senta Len!”
he roared, and the invisible shield smashed down on the dragon’s head, pinning him to the floor of the cave. The creature thrashed wildly, his tail striking the walls and making the entire cave tremble, but Malcolm held his staff steady, knowing the dragon was powerless.