Every hair on Calen's body stood on end as he looked through the now-open doorway.
"Vindakur." Korik stepped up beside Calen, pulling a closed fist across his chest, reverence in his eyes.
Through the doorway, Calen saw a city that made even Durakdur look as though it lacked for wealth. It was enormous – as if a section of the mountain had been hollowed out and one of the grandest cities in all of Epheria had been slotted into the space left behind.
Massive luminescent flowers all but covered the vast rock ceiling that sat hundreds of feet above the city, like a sky of incandescent yellow. All the buildings were cut from smooth grey stone, topped with rooves of gold and another whitish metal that reflected the yellow flowerlight in variegated patterns. Swooping archways and shimmering golden domes swept across the cityscape, looking as much like works of art as they did anything else.
"It's incredible," Calen said, stepping forward, Valerys moving beside him, the dragon's head tilting sideways curiously. Before them lay a long stone pathway that joined onto a massive flagstone street that ran straight through the city's centre. A long, raised platform of stone bisected the street. Along the platform, set at evenly spaced intervals, were enormous statues of dwarven soldiers, wrought from shimmering gold, crafted with such skill and meticulous attention it looked as though they would burst to life at any moment. "Korik, do you know if there would be another way out of the city, or a way back to Durakdur?"
"There should be other doorways at the edges of the city, much like this one, and Wind Tunnels as well. They might lead to more tunnels that could bring us back towards the Freehold. But in truth, I'm not sure. Until today, we thought Vindakur lost. The other tunnels and passages may well be destroyed."
"It's our only option," Tarmon said in a flat tone, looking back towards the group of men and dwarves. "We can't keep wandering these tunnels. Hunger and thirst will kill us before anything else does. Surely there will be something to orient us here. Maybe even Wind Runners."
The thought of finding an abandoned Wind Runner gave Calen a sudden jolt of hope.
"The Lord Captain speaks the truth," Vaeril added. "At the very least, there should be a source of water here. The city would not have been built without one."
"It's settled then," Erik said. "We go forward."
There was a moment of awkward silence after Erik spoke, and all eyes were focused on Calen.
Calen looked back over the ramshackle group of survivors that had been thrust together. Twenty-three dwarves, forty-three men, an elf, and a dragon. Beaten, broken, bloody, and tired. They looked to him. None of them sneered or averted their gaze. There was hope in their eyes. And he would not see that hope disappear. Not when so much of it had already been extinguished. Ignoring the dull aches that ran the length of his body, Calen moved forward.
"Let us go first. We don't know what waits for us here," Tarmon said, putting his giant hand across Calen's chest. Calen made to argue, but Tarmon moved ahead. "We should make for that tower," he said, pointing towards an enormous tower that jutted above the other buildings, near the centre of the city. "From the top of that tower, we should be able to see which tunnels are still standing."
Tarmon turned back towards Calen, meeting his gaze. Calen nodded.
With a smile and a short nod in reply, Tarmon moved out along the stone pathway. "Kingsguard, form up. Soldiers of Belduar, on our heels."
Only fourteen Belduaran Kingsguard had survived the Wind Runner crash. But despite everything they had been through since the retreat from Belduar, each of them fell in behind Tarmon without so much as a groan or complaint. They formed up into four lines and started across the pathway. Calen was in awe at how their purple cloaks and burnished plate armour still managed to look resplendent, even under the weight of all that blood and dust.
The surviving Belduaran soldiers – twenty-five in total – followed the Kingsguard across the bridge. The soldiers produced a few grumbles and complaints, but they did not hesitate.
"You next," Korik said, turning to Calen once all the Belduarans were out of the chamber. "We will take up the rear."
Calen took a moment to look over the dwarves who stood behind Korik. Each wore the sharp-cut armour of the dwarven kingdoms, their beards knotted with many rings of bronze, silver, and gold. Some wore the green and silver cloaks of Azmar, some the black of Ozryn or the crimson of Durakdur. Each of them had joined together to come to Belduar's aid. They had answered the call – his call – and now they were here.
"Let's go," Calen said, reluctantly, nodding to Falmin, Erik, and Vaeril. Vaeril's eyes were heavy with exhaustion, and his steps were laboured. Healing Erik, Falmin, and some of the other injured had taken a lot out of him, but he didn't argue or complain. He simply returned the nod and stepped out onto the pathway.
A low rumble rose beside Calen. Valerys was crouched low to the ground, the sound reverberating from his throat as he narrowed his eyes and stepped out in front of Calen as they followed Tarmon and the Kingsguard down the empty street in front of them. The dragon didn't trust this place, and his wariness seeped into the back of Calen's mind, sharpening his senses. Calen reached for the Spark, just to feel it. Just to make sure it was there if he needed. Not that he was sure he had the strength to actually use it.
As they made their way down the stone pathway and out onto the main street, Calen couldn't help but find himself awestruck as the city rose up around him. The buildings on either side of the street varied in height. Some were no bigger than The Gilded Dragon back in The Glade, while others rose a hundred or so feet into the air, their monstrous height still a long way off touching the flower-covered ceiling.
Up close, the intricately carved golden statues atop the street's central platform were even more incredible than they had been from the doorway. Each was unique. Each had a different face and different ornamentation on their armour. The craftsmanship was so detailed that Calen could make out each rivet in the golden coats of mail.
"There was a battle here," Erik whispered, his finger trailing over an aged bloodstain marring the side of a statue. "A long time ago."
"Aye, it's not exactly lookin' in tip-top shape," Falmin said, kicking a small stone across the empty, rubble-strewn street. "But… where are all the bodies?"
A shiver ran down Calen's spine. He had been so captivated by the grandeur of the city, he had not noticed the damage to the buildings. The rubble and debris strewn throughout the streets. There had most definitely been a battle here. But there wasn't a single body in sight. No rotting corpses or dusty skeletons. Nothing. Where are the bodies?
"May their fires never be extinguished and their blades never dull." Sorrow permeated Korik's voice as he and the rest of the dwarves spoke the lament.
"May their fires never be extinguished and their blades never dull," Calen repeated.
Calen's eyes flitted between the various side streets that connected onto the main thoroughfare, becoming acutely aware of the vast silence that hung like a fog over the gargantuan city. The sound of the party's footsteps was the only noise that echoed through the streets, dampened slightly by the blanket of flowers that coated the walls and ceiling of the enormous hollow within the mountain.
As they walked – the Belduarans ahead and the dwarves behind – Calen's eyes were drawn to a small grey building at the side of the street. A large section of the roof and wall had been destroyed, and most of the windows were smashed. Calen would not even have noticed it were it not for a symbol that was engraved just above the door: a triangle, pointing upward, with three smaller triangles set at each of its edges.
"The symbol of The Order," Vaeril said, his eyes following Calen's gaze. "And of the Draleid. The central triangle represents the dragons, and each of the smaller triangles signify the elves, the Jotnar, and the humans."
"The Order…" Calen whispered, almost to himself, his eyes remaining fixed on the symbol that was engraved above the door. "What is it doing here?"
"Before The Fall, The Order had many embassies throughout Epheria. Though, I do believe they were not quite as common in the dwarven cities." Vaeril raised an eyebrow, turning to Korik.
"No," the dwarf replied, eyeing the embassy with a hint of curiosity. "I was not even aware there had ever been an embassy for The Order in the Freehold. There was one in Kolmir, in the North. But the empire destroyed the entire city after The Fall. May their fires never be extinguished and their blades never dull."
The other dwarves echoed Korik's words.
A low rumble emanated from Valerys's chest as the dragon, head raised, stepped in front of Calen. A feeling of loss drifted from Valerys's mind, and the frills on the back of his neck rose. Something inside that building reeked of sorrow.
Valerys moved forward, beating his wings, lifting himself into the air. Each wingbeat echoed through the ghost city, reverberating off the stone as they would the walls of an empty valley. Within moments, the dragon had cleared the distance to the embassy of The Order and flown in through the gaping hole in the wall of the second storey.
"Valerys!" Calen called, his voice echoing eerily. "Dammit. I need to go after him."
Calen darted across the wide-open street after Valerys, not waiting for a response from the others. The heavy brass door of the embassy creaked as Calen leaned his shoulder against it and heaved it open. Whatever it was that Valerys had sensed on the second floor of the building, the dragon had now found it. The feeling of sheer loss that radiated from Valerys's mind almost brought Calen to his knees. I'm coming.
With the door open, Calen ran through the rubble-strewn hallway, bounding up the stairs as quickly as his legs would carry him. The walls of the building were stained crimson, deep furrows raking the stone.
The door at the top of the stairs no longer sat on its hinges. With a deep breath, Calen stepped into the room Valerys had found.
The room itself was deceptively large, at least twice as big as the common room of The Gilded Dragon, but not quite as big as that of The Traveller's Rest back in Camylin. Books, papers, notes, and all sorts of trinkets were strewn about the floor. Most of the furniture – with the exception of a long, stone desk – was shattered, large sections of the roof and walls had been completely destroyed, and piles of stone lay scattered about the floor. If the building had once held the same grandeur as the city itself, that time had long passed.
Calen found Valerys taking up most of the left corner of the room, curled around something on the floor. A wave of sorrow washed into Calen's mind from Valerys's, a soft whine escaping the dragon's throat.
"What is it?" Calen asked as he stepped closer to Valerys, reaching out his hand.
Before Calen's hand touched Valerys's white scales, the dragon pulled back his wing and lifted his head, providing Calen with a clear view of what had caused such sorrow: a shattered wooden chest along with the broken remains of four dragon eggs.
The sight of the broken fragments twisted a knot in Calen's chest and stole the air from his lungs. He dropped to one knee beside Valerys, resting his hand on the cool scales of the dragon's back. The eggs looked exactly as Valerys's had when Calen had first laid eyes on it, except with different colouring and accents along the ridges of the scales.
"I'm sorry," Calen whisper, letting his mind drift into Valerys's, doing all he could to provide the dragon with even the slightest of comforts.
Valerys reached down, touching the broken fragments of shell with the tip of his snout, his nostrils flaring. Calen's hands trembled as the loss Valerys felt tore through their shared soul. It was primal, visceral. It twisted coils of grief in Calen's stomach and swept shivers across his skin. Images flashed through Calen's mind. His mother, his father, Ella, Haem – all gone. That was Valerys's sorrow; the brittle remnants of his family lay before him. Shattered. Broken.
Shifting his body, Valerys stretched his neck into the air and let out a deep, heart-rending roar that rippled through the city like thunder, echoing against the cold stone. It was not a roar of anger or fury but of abject grief. The sound of the cry resonated through Calen's body, setting all his hairs on end. It tore at his heart and brought tears to his eyes. His shoulders slumped, and the strength fled from his muscles.
"What's happening?" Erik shouted as he and Vaeril burst into the room, swords drawn. "You can't just run off like that!"
Calen pulled himself to his feet, cupping his hands around his nose and digging his fingers in around his eyes, wiping away the tears that flowed freely. "Nothing…" Calen let out a heavy sigh as he looked back towards Valerys. The dragon still lay on the ground, his body sprawled protectively around the shattered shells. "Nothing we could have done anything about."
Both Erik and Vaeril must have seen the tears that rolled down Calen's cheeks, as they didn't push him for any further answers.
Avoiding Erik's and Vaeril's gazes, Calen moved over towards the stone desk at the centre of the room. The desk was mostly covered by scattered pieces of paper, dust, and bits of broken stone. But, buried under some sheets of destroyed paper, was a small envelope, sealed with crimson wax.
Brushing aside the dust and sheets of paper, Calen picked up the envelope, examining it. The wax seal held the symbol of The Order, and the envelope felt heavy, as though it held more than a note. Holding it in front of himself for a moment, Calen pulled at the edge of the wax seal. When it wouldn't pull away, he tore the envelope around the seal and tipped its contents out onto the desk. There was a clink as a circular pendant fell from the envelope, along with a letter that was folded over three times.
Reaching down, Calen picked up the pendant, turning it over in his hands. The back of the pendant was wrought from brass, with intricate spiral patterns worked into its surface, while the front was cut from obsidian, with white markings inside the black glass that depicted the symbol of The Order. Holding the pendant in his right hand, Calen picked up the letter and peeled it open.
My dearest Eluna,
I have left more. The pendant is the key.
Always remember, even in the shadow of what was lost, we can find light anew.
Your Archon, and your friend.
Alvira Serris
"Alvira Serris…" Calen whispered, his eyes lingering on the name. The Archon of the Draleid. The one from Therin's stories.
"Calen, we need to keep moving. The others are waiting for us outside."
Letting out a sigh, Calen folded the letter over and slipped it and the pendant into his pocket. "All right. Just give me a moment."
Turning, Calen moved towards Valerys, who still lay curled up around the shattered remains of the eggshells, a low whine emanating from the dragon's throat. The light from the yellow flowers that covered the ceiling shone through the open roof of the embassy, casting a golden hue across Valerys's white scales.
As Calen reached out to Valerys, he heard a click-clack noise, and he saw something out of the corner of his eye. One of the piles of stones had moved; he was sure of it.
"Draleid!"
Calen felt Vaeril reach for the Spark as he shouted. He snapped his head around to find himself staring at a spider-like creature, suspended three feet off the ground with threads of Air. The creature was the size of a hound, a jet-black claw that looked as though it could tear furrows into stone at the end of each of its eight legs. Its entire body was covered in a thin, chitinous armour as grey as stone. Four deep-black eyes were set into its head, and its mouth was framed by two large mandibles that looked as though they could snap bones.
"What in the gods is that?" Erik said, rushing to Calen's side.
"I don't know," Vaeril answered. Calen felt the elf pull on the threads of Air that encased the creature, eliciting a series of snaps and cracks as the stone-spider's shell collapsed inwards, and it fell to the floor, blue blood seeping into the stone. "But we need to go, now."
A warning flashed in the back of Calen's mind. He leapt to the ground, just in time to avoid Valerys's tail as it whipped through the air, colliding with another of the stone spiders. The force of the strike cracked straight through the creature's shell and hammered it against the wall.
Vaeril wasn't so lucky. Another of the stone spiders leapt from the shadows, one of its clawed legs slicing through Vaeril's calf. The elf howled as he dropped to one knee. But before the creature could follow up its initial attack, Vaeril pulled his sword from its scabbard and drove it down through the top of the monstrosity's shell, then pulled it free, letting the creature fall to the floor. As it fell, a repetitive clicking sound drifted on the air, like the sound of heavy rain on steel. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, reverberating through the dead city like rolling thunder.
Valerys stood still, his eyes alert and his head tilted to the side. The frills that ran along the back of the dragon's neck stood up straight and a low rumble resonated in his chest, dropping to a deep growl. Calen felt Valerys tugging at the back of his mind. Urgency. Anger. Fear.
"Kerathlin!" came a cry from the street outside.
"Valerys, go!" Calen turned to Vaeril and Erik as the dragon beat his wings and lifted himself out through the destroyed roof. "Come on," Calen said, reaching down and pulling Vaeril to his feet. "Can you walk?"
The elf nodded through gritted teeth, pushing Calen towards the doorway.
As Calen, Vaeril, and Erik sprinted down the stairs, more piles of stone began to shift where they lay, unfurling long legs tipped with jet-black claws.
"What in the gods did ya do?" Falmin shouted as Calen and the others burst from the doorway of the embassy.
All about the street, the dwarves had formed up in groups of threes and fours, stone-like kerathlin carcasses at their feet. But more than a few dwarven bodies lay still on the ground as well.
"They're everywhere…" Erik said, his voice almost a whisper.
Calen followed Erik's gaze. His heart sank into his stomach and dread flooded his veins with ice. Everywhere he looked, kerathlin awoke from whatever kind of hibernation they had been in. All along the rooftops, in the windows of buildings, along side streets and alleyways. He watched as the creatures shook the dust and rubble from their shells and rose to confront whatever had disturbed their nest.
A flash of grey-streaked across Calen's vision to his left as three kerathlin crashed into a group of dwarves. One dwarf fell, his armour sliced open like parchment, his blood spraying into the air. The other two dwarves fought valiantly until more kerathlin fell on them, washing over them like a river, ripping them to shreds.
"Run!" Korik shouted, pointing towards Tarmon and the Belduaran soldiers, who were a little further ahead. The dwarf's voice was barely audible above the ever-increasing click-clack of the kerathlin claws cracking against stone. Nobody argued. The entire group broke out into a sprint. The muscles in Calen's legs burned as he pushed them to carry him faster. Two hours' sleep had definitely not been enough. He was dropping behind the rest of the group.
As he ran, Calen cast his eyes behind him. He watched as thousands of the creatures spewed forth from doorways and side streets, climbing over each other, swarming into the street like a chitinous wave.
Erik, Falmin, and Vaeril were keeping pace with Calen, though Vaeril was pushing himself to the breaking point, blood streaming from the wound in his calf. A tingle at the back of Calen's mind made him notice the elf was funnelling threads of Spirit into himself. Calen was not sure what the elf was doing, but as long as it kept him on his feet, that was all that mattered.
More cries rang out up ahead as flashes of grey darted from the side streets, colliding with Tarmon and his men in a crash of claw and steel. The creatures were unlike anything Calen had ever seen. They moved like lightning, swarming over their prey.
"We have to help Tarmon and his men!" Calen shouted.
Erik gave a short nod, but his eyes held a sombreness, an acceptance. There was little chance they were leaving this place alive. Calen took a deep breath, letting Valerys's mind seep into his own as he charged. The dragon swooped through the air overhead, readying himself.
Many of the Kingsguard and Belduaran soldiers were already down, and they would not be getting back up.
Screams rose from behind, and Calen knew the kerathlin had caught some of the dwarves. He risked a glance over his shoulder. Only Korik and two others were still with him. But about ten feet behind them was an ocean of kerathlin. Thousands of them. They swept over the street and up the sides of buildings, never stopping.
Calen pushed his legs harder, fuelling them with fear. Erik, Vaeril, and Falmin matched his pace. They had almost reached Tarmon and his men. No more than seven of them still stood.
Fury flooded into the back of Calen's mind as Valerys crashed down on top of the kerathlin that surrounded the Kingsguard. A stab of pain seared through Calen's mind as a thick, black claw gouged a furrow into Valerys's side. The young dragon howled before clamping his jaws down on the creature, cracking its armoured shell, killing it instantly.
Valerys sent swaths of kerathlin crashing into the side of a building with a powerful swipe of his tail, shells snapping, stone shattering. Tarmon and the other Kingsguard rallied around the dragon, their swords drawn, guttural battle cries escaping their throats.
Piercing shrieks rang out as pillars of dragonfire poured forth from Valerys's jaws, roasting the kerathlin in their shells. But with every monster Valerys sent to the void, four more leapt from the ruins of the city. If this place was a kerathlin nest, the nest was waking.
I need to do something.
Calen reached out to the Spark, the drain sapping at him as soon as he did. His hands shook, sweat dripped from his brow, and that familiar pain seared through him, as though wrapping around his soul. He was already weak; he hadn't given himself any time to recover. But he had no choice. He needed to push through it. Once more, Calen reached for the Spark, driving past the pain, leaning into it. Pure energy pulsated through him as the elemental strands came to life in his mind. He pulled on threads of Air, the familiar cool sensation flooding his body.
He spotted a jagged piece of metal about two feet in length amongst the rubble of a ruined building. Calen wrapped the piece of metal with threads of Air and, with all the power he could muster, launched it from the ground, sending it through the air and crashing through the shroud of kerathlin. The monsters hissed and screeched as their shells were shattered and blue blood sprayed across the stone. Calen crashed to his knees, unable to hold his own weight as the drain burned through him, snatching at his soul.
"On your feet, Draleid." Calen recognised Korik's voice as the dwarf grabbed him underneath the arms and heaved him to his feet. He barely managed to stay upright as he stumbled over a pile of rubble, but he felt Valerys at the back of his mind, urging him on. The dragon had lifted himself back into the air and continued to pour dragonfire down over the onrushing kerathlin.
Calen felt Falmin – about five feet in front of him – reach for the Spark, pulling threads of Air into himself. The navigator lifted hundreds of the creatures off the ground, smashing them off the walls of the nearby buildings, clearing a path to Tarmon and the others.
"Keep going!" Erik roared as he reached Tarmon. "There's a bridge up ahead."
Tarmon's eyes flitted between the bodies of his fallen companions. All but four had fallen to the kerathlin, and one carried a heavy limp. With a look of regret, he wrapped the injured soldier's arm around his shoulder and ran.
As Calen and the others rushed towards the bridge, Valerys swooped past them. The pressure built in Calen's mind as the dragon called forth his dragonfire, kicked back his head, and carved a path of fire and fury through the swarm of kerathlin that washed over the street behind them.
"What is that?" Erik called out as they reached the foot of the bridge. On the other side was an island of rock, dominated by a massive mound at its centre. The island was surrounded by a chasm on all sides, with a sheer drop that seemed to descend endlessly to the centre of the world. It was connected to the rest of the city by four bridges set to its north, south, east, and west. The western and northern bridges were collapsed, but the others still stood.
Nobody answered. They kept running, getting over the bridge as fast as their legs could carry them, the click-clack of the kerathlin growing closer with every passing second.
Just as he made it to the other side of the bridge, Calen skidded to a halt. There was nowhere to go. The kerathlin had them trapped.
"Falmin, I need you."
The gangly navigator dashed over to Calen, gasping for breath. "What is it?"
"We need to bring the bridge down behind us, but I'm too weak to do it alone. If I weaken the stone, can you bring it down with Air?"
A grin spread across Falmin's face. "I like the way ya think. Let's be quick 'bout it."
Calen nodded and reached out for the Spark. It sat just out of reach, the twisting strands of light teasing him. He pushed deeper, closing his eyes, embracing the pain, and letting everything fade to black. When he felt the Spark, he pulled desperately on thin threads of Earth. Just enough, no more, no less. He dropped to his knees, the drain sapping at him. His legs were weak, and his mind was fuzzy.
"Draleid, are you all right?" Korik's hand pressed down on Calen's shoulder, a look of concern in his eyes. "They've reached the bridge."
"Aye," Calen said, giving the dwarf a slight nod. A gust of air swept over Calen as Valerys flew overhead, spinning sharply, doubling back. Calen felt a rush overcoming Valerys, the pressure building to a head. The dragon opened his jaws, unleashing a column of dragonfire down on top of the onrushing kerathlin as they swept over the bridge.
With Valerys's fire, a rush of energy surged through Calen's body. It wasn't much, but it was enough. He pushed the palms of his hands against the stone at the foot of the bridge. Focusing his mind, he drew on the Spark and funnelled threads of Earth into the stone. The swarm of kerathlin were halfway across, sweeping over the charred carcasses of their dead.
Calen felt for the bonds in the stone, probing, searching with the threads. He didn't have the strength to crumble them, even with the energy that flowed from Valerys. But if he could just weaken them…
Valerys landed on the ground beside Calen, a deep growl resonating from his throat. Calen felt the stone begin to crack as the threads of Earth weaved through the bridge. "Falmin, now!"
Threads of Air swept around the navigator, like a whirlwind only visible to those who could touch the Spark. Calen watched as the navigator pushed the threads into the air above the bridge, then brought them crashing down like a hammer on an anvil. The bridge shook with the force of the strike and many of the kerathlin were thrown over the edge, screeching as they plummeted into the chasm below. Clouds of dust hung in the air, and the enormous cavern was filled with a momentary silence as the bridge held, and a pang of fear shot through Calen's mind. I didn't do enough.
Then, with a thunderous crack, it collapsed. The deafening sound of cascading stone reverberated up the walls of the chasm, mixing with hissing shrieks as hundreds of the monstrous creatures fell into the abyss below.
"Over here! There's an entrance!" Tarmon shouted from beside the mound of rock at the centre of the small island.
"Draleid." Falmin tugged at Calen's arm. "We need t'go. The other bridge is still standin', and they won' be long in figurin' that out. The others are already gone inside."
The entrance to the mound of rock was a smooth circular tunnel, much like the ones that ran all throughout the mountain. It wasn't long before Calen, Falmin, and Valerys made it through the tunnel and stepped into the circular chamber at the centre of the rock formation.
The others stood at the centre of the chamber in front of a large pedestal, the top of which gleamed with yellow light. Around the edge of the chamber, four stone rings were embedded in the rock face. Each stood about twenty feet in diameter, ornamented with intricate pattern carvings with a glyph marking at the very top. A small set of stone stairs sat in front of each ring, leading up to its inner lip.
"What is this place?" Calen said, stepping up beside Tarmon and Korik, who stood beside the glowing pedestal.
"I…" Korik's words caught in his throat as he gazed around the chamber in awe. "I believe it to be a Portal Heart… but…"
"I don't mean to rush you, Korik, but those kerathlin won't take long to cross the other bridge." Erik shrugged his shoulders as he spoke, but there was a hardness in his voice.
"You're right. I am sorry. It is said that against the wishes of the other gods, The Smith granted the dwarves five Portal Hearts. A means of quick travel across the lands, a consolation for our inability to wield the Spark. But I thought them just legend."
"How do we use it?" Erik asked, an urgency in his voice.
"I… I don't know."
"Fuck!" Erik roared, kicking out at a loose stone on the ground. "We're trapped."
"The glyphs." Falmin stood by the pedestal at the centre of the room. He ran his hand over the source of the glowing yellow light at the top of the pedestal. It looked like a polished crystal, split into four quarters, each with a glyph marking. "Each o' these glyphs. They match the ones carved into the top o' the rings."
"Do you think you can work it out?" Calen asked, stepping closer to Falmin.
"Dunno, let's see." Without hesitating, Falmin placed his hand on top of one of the glyph crystals and pushed down. Calen's heart jumped as the crystal inched downward. But nothing happened. "Hmm… curious, that. Really thought that woulda done somethin'."
Erik stood beside Falmin, a dumbfounded look on his face. "Did you just press on a glowing crystal, in the middle of a dwarven ruin, with no idea what would happen?"
"No… I pressed down on a glowing crystal, in the middle of a dwarven ruin, with no idea nothing would happen."
Erik just stared at Falmin for a moment, then shook his head and walked back towards the entrance.
"Where are you going?" Calen asked, grabbing Erik's shoulder as he walked past.
"If we're going to die. I'm going to do it with my swords in my hands," Erik replied, shrugging off Calen's hand and walking over to stand at the entrance to the tunnel.
"A bit dramatic, isn' he?" Falmin said, shrugging as he pondered over the glyphs on the pedestal.
"Draleid, Erik is not wrong. If those kerathlin get through that entrance before we've figured out how to make the portals work, we will die here." There was a hard look on Tarmon's face.
Calen let out a sigh before nodding. He turned to the rest of the group. They each stared back at him, covered in sweat, dirt, and blood. Despair was etched into their faces, and a resignation sat in their eyes. Calen had brought them here, and now they looked at him as though they expected him to say something to stoke fire in their hearts. But he had no words.
As though reading Calen's mind, Tarmon leaned closer, whispering in his ear. "Words are pretty. But when it comes down to it, men follow actions, not words. We're with you."
Calen turned to look at Tarmon, but the man simply nodded, saying nothing more.
Returning the gesture, Calen pushed his fear down and summoned as confident a voice as he could muster. "Falmin, you keep working on the pedestal. Everyone else, to the entrance. We need to give him as much time as possible."
There were some groans and mumbles, but nobody argued. As each of the survivors made their way towards the entrance, Calen's eyes fell on the injured Kingsguard who Tarmon had helped across the bridge. Blood seeped out from under the man's breastplate, and he heavily favoured his right leg.
"Not you," Calen said, resting his hand on the man's shoulder. "You stay with Falmin."
"I can't just sit around and wait to die, Draleid. I will help."
"Yes, you will help. By making sure if anything gets past us, it doesn't get to Falmin. Understood?"
"Yes, my lord," the Kingsguard replied, not a hint of sarcasm or mockery in his voice. I'm not a damned lord.
"You too," Calen said, turning to Vaeril. "Don't argue about honour. You can't protect me if you're dead."
Vaeril hesitated for a moment before he nodded and limped back over towards Falmin and the injured Kingsguard. Calen could not understand how the elf was still standing at all. It had to be something to do with the threads of Spirit he continued to pull into his body. That was a question that could wait.
Tarmon bumped his shoulder off Calen's as they walked over toward the chamber entrance. "You handled that well." He said with a half-smile on his face before walking over to have a word with the other two Kingsguard.
Shaking his head at Tarmon's words, Calen knelt beside Valerys, running his hand along the dragon's scaled neck. "We won't die down here. I won't let that happen."
A rumble of agreement resonated in the back of Calen's mind as Valerys nuzzled his head into Calen's hand. Calen couldn't get over how much the dragon had grown since he had first emerged from that egg. When standing on all four limbs, Valerys's back was now at least the height of a powerful horse. His snout had elongated, and the horns and spines that framed his face had thickened and grown sharper. The end of his tail had begun to fan outward, small barbs at its edges. He grew stronger with each passing day. Calen leaned forward, resting his forehead against Valerys's. "Draleid n'aldryr."
A growl of agreement resonated in Valerys's chest, while a sensation of pure energy rippled through his mind, spilling into Calen's.
"They're coming!" Erik's call echoed through the stone chamber. The click-clack of kerathlin claws echoed down the tunnel, following Erik's words, slowly rising to a sound that mimicked rolling thunder. The walls of the chamber shook as the swarm washed over the outside of the dome.
Calen turned to Falmin, whose gaze was lost in the yellow glow of the crystal atop the pedestal. "We need you to solve that, or we're all dead."
"No fuckin' pressure!" the navigator shouted, turning back towards the pedestal.
Calen felt every beat of his heart as it thumped against his ribs, pumping the blood through his veins. He stood at the entrance to the tunnel, Erik and Tarmon to his left and the dwarves to his right. Valerys stood behind him, his teeth bared, a deep growl resonating from his chest.
"Stay together," Tarmon shouted. "We need to crowd the entrance, take away their numbers. Hold them off as long as we can—"
"Korik, gimme me a hand!" Falmin's shout cut across Tarmon.
"I'm a little busy here, navigator!"
"No, Korik. I literally need yer hand!"
Korik looked at Calen, who gave a sideways glance to Tarmon before turning back to the dwarf. "Go."
The dwarf groaned as he set off in a sprint towards the pedestal where Falmin stood.
Erik let out a sigh, spinning his swords around in anticipation, an eerie smile on his face. "I never thought this is how I'd die."
"In a cave, a kerathlin claw in your chest?" Tarmon asked, a hint of laughter at the edge of his words that unsettled Calen.
"No. Standing shoulder to shoulder with a Draleid, a dragon, two dwarves, and the Lord Captain of the Kingsguard of Belduar. It's a story, all right. Too bad there'll be nobody left to tell it."
A knot twisted in Calen's stomach. He could see the kerathlin now. The yellow light from the pedestal washed over their smooth stone-like shells as they streamed down the tunnel. Calen's blood froze in his veins as the creatures crashed over each other, hissing and clicking as they charged towards their prey.
Calen reached out to Valerys, letting their minds flood into one another. I'm sorry. I should have done better.
A fierce rage poured into Calen's mind as the dragon let out a roar so visceral it drowned out the thunderous drum of the kerathlin claws. Only one thing radiated from Valerys's mind: defiance. A sheer refusal to lie down and die.
Calen took a deep breath, holding it in his chest as he tightened his grip on his sword. He cast one final glance at the faces of those around him, the people who were prepared to die beside him. The people who had trusted him to lead them out of this labyrinth. Their expressions were grim – as they should be. He had failed them.
Calen stumbled as a deep whooshing noise resounded through the chamber and the ground shook beneath his feet. Plumes of dust burst from cracks in the ceiling above them, small pieces of rock coming loose and dropping to the floor.
"It works!" Falmin roared. "Quick, t'me!"
Calen glanced over his shoulder, terrified to take his eyes off the onrushing kerathlin. His jaw nearly fell to the floor when he saw that one of the rings was now filled with what looked to be an undulating pool of molten gold. A constant ripple moved from the centre of the pool as if a stone had been dropped through its newly formed surface. Calen looked at the ring and then back at the tunnel entrance.
"Come on, come on!" Falmin shouted. The others looked at Calen, waiting for permission to run for their lives.
This was their only chance.
"Run!" Calen roared, turning his feet towards the ring.
Falmin, Korik, Vaeril, and the injured Kingsguard stood on the top step of the gold-filled ring, their arms waving frantically. A massive chunk of rock cracked off the stone two feet to Calen's left. The kerathlin were coming through the dome. Calen kept running. They were only twenty feet from the ring.
He looked to his right. Sweat dripped from Tarmon and Erik as they ran. Their faces twisted in effort.
Fifteen feet.
Another rock fell from the ceiling, but this one knocked one of the Kingsguard onto his back. Calen moved to help the man, but he was too late. Two kerathlin fell through a newly formed hole in the dome above, landing on the man's chest, tearing through his armour with their clawed legs. The sight turned Calen's stomach, but he kept running. Valerys bounded ahead of him, landing next to Falmin.
Ten feet.
"Go through!" Calen shouted. He saw the hesitancy on Falmin's face. There was no point in waiting. It didn't matter where the ring led. They were dead if they stayed here. "Go, Falmin! Go!"
Falmin gave a frantic nod, then shuffled Korik through the shimmering pool of golden liquid that stood suspended within the ring.
Calen risked a look over his shoulder. The rest of the kerathlin had flooded into the chamber, hundreds of grey-shelled, arachnid-like creatures, their clawed legs cracking against the stone, hunger in their shimmering eyes. Calen watched in horror as another Kingsguard was taken by a falling rock, then devoured by the moving swarm.
Calen stopped at the top of the stairs; Falmin, Korik, Vaeril, and the injured Kingsguard had already gone through. "Go, go, go!" he shouted to Erik and Tarmon as he put his hands on their backs and shoved them through the ring. The two other dwarves were next.
"Valerys, go through!" The dragon did not argue, leaping straight through the ring.
The kerathlin had reached the bottom of the steps.
Calen turned his head and jumped through the ring.
Tarmon dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. His teeth chattered as a shiver ran down his spine. Passing through that ring was like jumping into the ocean in high winter. Get off the ground. This isn't the time to be on the ground.Tarmon clenched his jaw, tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, and dragged himself to his feet. The navigator stood to his left, shivering. Righkard, the elf, and the three dwarves stood with him. Erik Virandr was on one knee beside Tarmon, both his swords still held firmly in his hands. The young man was very much his father's son.
All seven of them stared at the shimmering pool of gold that filled the stone ring. It looked identical to the one they had come through only moments before.
The surface of the pool rippled as the dragon burst through from the other side. Its white scales gleamed in the golden light as it tucked its wings in close to its chest and spiralled through the air, alighting on a large stone about five feet in front of the ring. Tarmon took a moment to admire the creature. It had grown fourfold since he had first laid eyes on it. It had seemed almost fragile then. That was no longer the case. Its hind legs were thick and muscular, its chest had grown deeper, and its teeth looked as though they could cut through steel. He saw the way it had attacked the creatures in Vindakur. It had been ferocious. The dragon regarded him with pale, lavender eyes, so striking against its snow-white scales. I'm glad you're on our side.The dragon gave a deep growl as the pool of molten gold rippled again, and this time the Draleid came crashing through.
"Turn it off!" The Draleid tumbled through the gate, rolling as his knees hit the ground at the bottom of the steps. He leapt to his feet, swinging his sword in an arc, slicing through the underbelly of a kerathlin that had leapt through the ring after him.
"Navigator, Korik!" Tarmon roared. "Turn off that damned ring!"
As Tarmon clenched his jaw and charged towards the Draleid, he saw Righkard and Erik doing the same. A second kerathlin came through the ring, and a third. Two quick flashes of steel and they lay lifeless at the bottom of the steps.
Heaving his greatsword through the air, Tarmon caught one of the kerathlin in mid-air, slicing the creature in half before it hit the ground. He spun again, aiming to bring his blade down across another of the spider-like monstrosities, only to watch as the dragon plunged from the air, shattering the creature's shell with one whip of its tail.
Tarmon roared, letting go of his sword as a burning sensation ripped through his leg. He felt something scraping against his bone as the claw was pulled back through the way it had come. Something hard collided with his back, sending him crashing to the stone floor. He rolled over just in time to hold the kerathlin above him, its mandibles crashing together as it attempted to tear him limb from limb. The creature hissed as its clawed leg slammed into the stone beside Tarmon's head.
The hissing stopped as the silvery tip of a blade burst through its belly. A thin stream of bluish-green blood flowed from the wound as the sword was pulled back, and the creature collapsed on top of Tarmon.
Heaving the carcass aside, Tarmon clasped the hand that was extended to him and leveraged it to pull himself to his feet. The golden pool held within the ring was gone, and only stone stood behind it now. Ten kerathlin were broken on the stone floor, their shells split and shattered, leaking bluish-green blood. One of the dwarves lay lifeless in the carnage, his plate shredded and his chest ripped open. Tarmon's heart clenched as his eyes fell on Righkard's lifeless body. The man had been with him since they were both children. May The Mother embrace you.Tarmon turned to look at the man who had helped him up and found himself standing face-to-face with the Draleid. The young man's face was smeared with dark blood, deep purple circles hanging under his eyes. They had all been through a lot since the city had fallen, the Draleid more than most, but his gaze was firm and his hand steady. Tarmon wasn't sure who had changed more, the dragon or the Draleid.
"I owe you my life once more, it seems," Tarmon said, dipping his head in thanks.
"I do not doubt that you will repay the debt tenfold by the time we make it back to Durakdur," the Draleid answered, his mouth a thin, grim line. "I'm sorry about your men, Lord Captain. I will burn his body," the Draleid said, tilting his head towards Righkard, "if that is what you wish. I would not see him lie restless in this cave."
"I would appreciate that very much."
With a nod, the young man walked away to check on Erik Virandr and the dragon before moving on to the navigator and then to the dwarves. Tarmon watched him as he checked each one of them, not moving on until he was sure they were without injury. There was something about the young man. Something Tarmon did not see in many men with his kind of power. Despite the death and despite all the loss and pain, he cared.