Dusk Falling (Book 1) (38 page)

Her dark eyes softened with loss but her small smile was proud. A droplet of rain ran down her cheek from her wet hair. Snuggling down deeper into the blanket, the mage tried to gain enough comfort to try and sleep.

Genlo watched her fall asleep through the gloom. Half of the blanket was in between them, an unspoken gesture. Telling himself he was a little cold and that that could cause problems should he get sick from it, he reached out a tentative hand toward the edge of the blanket. He scooted over just a bit. “I
am
a fool.”

Chapter 28

The Ensai were no longer dogging their path, their sharp watchful eyes gone from the cypress branches. The rain had slacked off and the occasional patch of sun warmed their bodies and raised their spirits. There was no sign of the Hrilpe and only snakes and greobes were further threat. SkyRift headed them in the correct direction. It was not long till they came to
it
around the timeframe the Elf had given them.

There was no doubt what they looked upon was the Sigilarian Stairwell. How it could possibly reach the Sigil Island that floated so high into the air that it was hidden by the clouds was an enigma. The Stairwell was tall and slender, tubular in shape and stretched several stories but it did have a visual end. Constructed of simple gray stone, it looked reminiscent of a castle tower with the exception of no boltholes or windows. Ivy and moss took footholds where they could in between the gray stones. No trees grew in the Stairwell’s vicinity.

Despite portentous rumors, the Sigilarian Stairwell was neither foreboding nor frightening. It simply looked old and forgotten. Sitting in relatively good repair in the light of day, the team found it easy to misjudge what had been said.

To the right of the yawning doorwell, cut into the stone was writing not even Agemeer could decipher. SkyRift could only tell them it was written in a language far older than he, quite possibly in the tongue of the Serrhnafae for the Divinari themselves never held any form of written language. What was written in the stone could have been a warning or simply a statement of what the pillar was but they were not to know as they boldly entered the first of the Stairwell’s floors.

Inside, there was much more room than one would guess judging from outside appearances, more than what was physically possible. It was no optical illusion; it truly was larger. A great magical power was at work within the Stairwell’s stone walls, traces of it fluttered and disappeared before Aya could get a good look at what it was. Beside her, Genlo was staring at the ground but he was ‘looking’ with his other senses, senses much stronger than his eyes. Mimicking him, the mage shut her own eyes and released her senses just a little. At first she was only aware of the lifeforces of her companions but with patience, she began to feel a quiet thrumming from the walls. It reminded her of a purring cat. A very large very old cat and she briefly wondered if the cat’s eyes were open yet and if the cat would bare its claws if it knew its home was guest to unknown visitors. Opening her eyes once again, Aya
unexpectedly saw Genlo regarding her. He brushed past but Aya swore she saw the semblance of a smile on his face.

A rounded doorway lay across the room; stairs could be seen leading up. Serrtin halted the Jrahda-trethen’s path. “Hey, aren’t you worried about traps? We have to move carefully. You can’t just stroll on in like that.”

“There are no traps in this room. This is merely the starting point.”

“How can you be so sure? If the dragons wanted to keep people out, here would be the place to start!”

“Suit yourself. You look for traps. I’ll be taking the stairs.” Genlo moved on, turning his back to the warrior.

Grumbling, Serrtin followed, not feeling comforted but at least
he’d
be the one springing the trap if there were any…

Genlo put boot to step, pausing only for a second to run a quick mental eye over the well. The stairs curved up and around, another inconsistency between the interior and the ulterior appearance. He reached the top at the same time Serrtin the bottom. The stone before the threshold was badly scarred. Upon closer inspection, it was revealed to be writing not scars that had been chipped into the gray floor. He dusted it off with gloved fingers, recognizing the script to be of a different language than the eld writing they had read prior to entering the Stairwell even though he could not read it. Reading was not something the Verca needed their Yashvre to learn so he waited with barely-kept patience.

“Foremost… be the least. Flame will light… the path..?” Aya read, having enacted her nightvision spell when the shadows grew too great to see clearly.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Serrtin asked, glaring at the words.

“Perhaps it is a puzzle phrase? I believe it may be part of our ‘gaining worth’.” Agemeer said.

“Ridiculous waste of time.” Genlo announced before striding forward into the unlit room.

“Hey, wa-” He couldn’t quite hear the saurian’s call as a wave of dizziness struck him, threatening to drown him. It was magic but far too strong and too complex for him to counter. The spell grabbed him, wrapped him tight and sent him plummeting to oblivion.

~ ~ ~

“Genlo!” Aya cried out as the Jrahda-trethen pitched forward. The sound of his body colliding with the stone floor echoed through the darkness. She ran forward without even thinking that what had happened to him could very well happen to her. But nothing affected her as she pulled Genlo onto his back and sighed in unspoken relief to see his chest rise and fall in steady rhythm. The peaceful look could only be one thing. “He… he’s asleep…”

“Asleep? Of all the… Hey, get up! You can’t just take a nap wherever you damn well feel like it!” Serrtin shouted down at his still form.

“Serrtin, I don’t think he just
fell asleep
.”

“What else could it be? That idiot says he doesn’t need to sleep every night, so doesn’t and now look at him. I’ve never heard of such a creature that doesn’t need to sleep every night.” The Yarcka groused, ready to kick the trethen’s prone form.

“And how much exactly do you know of Youkai physiology?” Agemeer asked kindly but none-too-discreetly in meaning.

“What I had meant was,” Aya said, gathering up Genlo’s hands and placing them on his midriff. “He’s spellbound.”

“Spellbound?” Serrtin echoed, not at all liking the sound of that.

Agemeer’s sensitive ears picked up something in the distance. Padding forward, he stared off. Nothing moved.

“Whatever spell was cast, it was too fast and overwhelming.”

“I told him not to go running off alone like that.” Serrtin said, expression softened.

Another sound, this one in a different location twitched Agemeer’s ears. Still he could not see the source.

SkyRift had not yet crossed the threshold. He loitered at the top of the steps, staring down with utmost seriousness at the writing, trying to make sense of the baffling meaning. They were not written in the eld language, so it was placed there by a different person, possibly someone else who attempted the Sigilarian Stairwell. But who and for what end?

The Yierhna moved passed the door well and into the chamber. The moment his body had completely passed, he felt a spell become enacted. SkyRift’s spine stiffened. “Serrtin! Aya! Grab the boy! We must hurry!”

Startled glances were exchanged.

Agemeer paced a few more steps into the darkness. His hackles began to rise in apprehension then realization. “It is too late.”

Serrtin pulled her sword from across her back. She was a seasoned warrior, fought her way through many battles, little had come to shock her but as the dead began to rise before her very eyes, Serrtin was reminded this was only the first of many many floors…

Undead life was breathed into the scattered remains throughout the chamber, beings that had lost their lives in the trials of the Stairwell. Skeletal bones kept together by strips of dried ligament, by shredded decayed clothing and armor, gathered their feet under them and as one began to shamble toward the intruders in a terrible parody of the living. Wicked glowing swords appeared in their grips, brought there by the same dire magic that bade them rise once more.

There were roughly twenty in number.

Hardly enough to worry a Yarcka such as Serrtin. She snorted in contempt. “Is this all the fabled Stairwell has to offer for a welcome? Aya, stay here and try to wake that Elf up. We’ll handle this.”

Aya mumbled an affirmative, taking heart in Serrtin’s confidence. Agemeer flanked the saurian as they headed to meet the ‘welcoming party’. SkyRift hung back. The Elf had no weapon, had only an Elf’s strength while in such a form but he was ready to shift back into his Kiyomouri state the moment he was needed. The room was large enough to contain him. He was not much of a fighter in either form but he would not sit by idle and let his companions be hurt.

Serrtin met the skeletal wave with an arcing blade, sending bits of bone and metal flying in all directions. The sounds were eerily loud in the chamber, echoes amplified in their ears.

To all their utter dismay, the skeletons the saurian had batted away righted themselves almost immediately and those that took their vacated places were each faster than the last. The skeletons had no muscle to dictate their strength, they were reinforced by magic and each hit scored on Serrtin’s flamberge had the power of three. Tables turned suddenly and she went on the defensive. It took all she had to keep her balance as she was forced back step by hard-won step.

Agemeer’s greater agility kept him out of harms way. The Wulf took every opportunity to knock down their attackers though the scattered remains would simply rise to their feet once more.

A flash of golden light momentarily blinded the team, sending them skittering back in retreat. Help came forthwith in the form of giant rending claws and a snapping sweeping tail. SkyRift charged, knowing he would not be able to stop the magically-animated creatures anymore than Serrtin or Agemeer but perhaps he could at least buy them some time.

Aya stayed with Genlo, eyes wide with fear for her comrades. She could see the connecting lines of energy that ran over the long-since dead bones of the skeletal horde; they were powerfully wrought, her magic alone couldn’t break them. “Genlo, why did you have to go in first…” The girl thought, “If it had been me then you would be here and I know you’d think of something…”

“Aya!” Came a call from SkyRift. “We are going to try to carve a path. You need to get yourself and Genlo through. We will follow once you make it to the next door.”

“Hurry!” Yelled Serrtin, dodging back as a blade came whizzing by inches from her brow.

The mage did not argue. She scrambled to her feet and, after a struggle that seemed longer due to her frantic nerves, managed to pull the unconscious trethen’s arm over her shoulder with one arm around his waist. He was heavier than she could support but she told herself she would pull through. She shouted out her readiness to her team.

Serrtin plowed forward, giving the dragon room. SkyRift pivoted and threw his body weight against the undead masses, sweeping them aside and opening a way through. Aya did not wait to see if the skeletons got back up. With Serrtin on one side and SkyRift on the other, Aya half-drug half-carried Genlo as fast as she could. She focused solely on getting to the opposite end of the room, blocking out all sound and movement. Gritting her teeth, the mage reached the center without fault.

“
Foremost be the last. Flame will light the path
.” Aya whispered, repeating the words written on the room’s entrance floor. She stood before an old rod iron sconce, a single tallow candle sat upon it. Breathing labored, she stared at it, so out of place… yet…

“Aya! Get moving!” Serrtin shouted, voice strained from exertion. She kicked out the knee of one of her attackers and sent its head flying with a chop of her sword.

“…flame…” It was worth a shot. Holding a hand over the candle, the mage turned concentration into a small flame, barely hearing her name being cried out in alarm.

The fire took and the candle burned brightly.

Over her shoulder, the skeleton poised to kill her fell to a pile of dust and lifeless bones. As did all the others and the room was suddenly quiet, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The guests of the Stairwell however…

Aya gasped to see how close she had come to being killed, her friends all too far away to have been able to get there in time. Slowly, comprehension caught up to her and she slid to the ground. Genlo went with her.

The spell keeping the Jrahda-trethen asleep wore off and he began to stir. Realization brought about a flurry of movement when he woke with no clue to where he was and what had happened. Eyes huge, he glanced around as if expecting… well, something along the lines of what had just occurred while he was slumbering. Seeing as to how close he was to Aya, and how it almost looked as if he had been lying in her lap, he quickly opted to scoot away. “What the hell happened?”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Elf, not-,” Serrtin paced over, sword limp in her right hand. The other hand was stopping up the blood dripping from a wound across her midsection. “-to run off ahead.”

Winded and scored in multiple places as they all were, it was the Kiyomouri who fared the worst. He had not considered the repercussions of his actions when pitting his bulk against the armor and weaponry of the undead horde; his golden scales were colored crimson to the point where one individual cut was indistinguishable from another along one side of his body. Dragonscale was renowned for its fortitude but the swords were of a magic nature, able to cut soundly anything put before them.

Bravely, SkyRift stood with joints locked, not willing to move incase his legs gave out. Apologetically, he hung his head and told them he would not be able to accompany them further.

“But why?” Aya exclaimed, coming to her feet.

“Are you badly injured? Will you…” Agemeer asked, worriedly.

SkyRift gave a small laugh. “No, I will live.” He said. “But I will only do so if I stay in this form. As a Yierhnafae, with these wounds, I would bleed to death. As it is, I cannot make it up the next set of stairs, let alone face what may lay there, even should I be able to fit…”