Sea of Death: Blade of the Flame - Book 3 (30 page)

The companions set off toward the forest in single file. Ghaji took the lead, with Diran right behind him. Asenka came next, with Tresslar after that, periodically holding up the revealer to
check for the presence of the dragonwand. Thokk and Onu were next in line, the dwarf muttering to himself as walked, the garrulous captain commenting on anything and everything he saw that took his fancy. Leontis followed those two, and though Diran would’ve preferred to keep his fellow priest closer to him, and had suggested as much, Leontis insisted it made more sense for him to take a position in the middle of the line, where he would be free to loose his arrows in any direction an attack might come from. Though Diran agreed with Leontis’s reasoning, he didn’t like it. Yvka and Hinto came after Leontis, and Solus brought up the rear, using his psychic powers to scan the surrounding area for threats.

During the journey from Kolbyr, Tresslar had told them all about his previous voyage to Trebaz Sinara in the company of Erdis Cai. So Diran knew what to expect from this portion of the island, but experiencing it for himself was a different matter. As they entered the forest and began making their way northwest between mismatched varieties of trees, Diran was struck by how still and stale the air was, and after only a few minutes, it began to feel as if some unseen force was weighing them down, its pressure increasing with each step they took. Though it was yet daylight, the treecover blocked out the sun, and the forest gloom only added to the oppressive atmosphere. The forest should’ve been home to all manner of insects, birds, and animals, but the only sounds they heard were their own footfalls and breathing—well, that along with Onu’s incessant chattering. Thokk had managed, with no little effort, to get the man to keep his voice to a near-whisper, but no amount of urging could get Onu to be silent. If Diran hadn’t already known about the eerie silence of the forest from Tresslar’s account, he would’ve thought Onu had scared off all the life in the area.

Solus’s psionic powers confirmed the absence of anything living nearby except foliage.

“I cannot sense even a trace of thought beyond our own,” the psiforged said. “It is as if the entire island is devoid of life.”

Since they knew that was not the case, Solus’s words were far from reassuring. Indeed, they made things worse, for
something
had to be blocking the construct’s psychic abilities. But what?

The quiescence soon became maddening. At first, it seemed preferable to hearing the roaring of fierce beasts close by or the rustling of underbrush as something large and hungry stalked them. But the silence grated on the nerves and eroded the spirit, preying on the mind, if not the flesh. As Diran and the others continued trudging through the forest, the minutes stacking up and becoming hours, the companions became increasingly on edge, and even Onu finally fell quiet. The forest gloom deepened as night came to Trebaz Sinara, and though they seemed to be completely alone in the forest, Diran deemed it was too risky to use any illumination, and so the humans in the party had to rely on the night vision of the nonhuman members to guide them.

Since making landfall, they’d been traveling without rest to take advantage of the daylight left to them, but now that night had fallen, Diran thought it high time they took a break. But just as he was about to broach the subject, light flashed in the darkness behind him, and the priest whirled about, prepared to hurl his daggers.

Diran saw Tresslar’s grinning face lit by a yellow glow emanating from his revealer.

“I’ve detected the Amahau!” Tresslar said, his voice rising in excitement. “That means we’re close!”

Diran smiled, all thought of rest forgotten. “How close?”

“No more than a few miles.”

“Let’s keep moving,” Diran said. “We—”

Diran’s words were cut off as the darkness surrounding them came alive.

N
athifa, Haaken, and Skarm stood at the base of a rocky hill. Night had fallen, cloaking the land in shadow.

“We’ve arrived.” The lich pointed a dead-white finger at a cave opening halfway up the sloping hillside.

“Doesn’t look like much,” Haaken said, sounding almost disappointed. “I have to say that so far Trebaz Sinara has failed to live up to its reputation.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Skarm said. “Our journey here was uneventful only because our mistress used her magic to shield us from the island’s dangers.”

Haaken shrugged.

Normally, Nathifa would’ve punished the sea raider for his insolence, but she’d envisioned this moment for many long decades, and now that she finally stood here, she was too excited to care about Haaken and his doubts. She glanced up at the sky and judged that it had been night long enough.

“You can come out now,” the lich said.

A feminine hand emerged from the rippling black substance that served as Nathifa’s robe, and Makala stepped forth from the undead sorceress, detaching herself from the living darkness with some effort.

Once she was free, the vampire shuddered as if caught in the icy winds of an arctic blast. “That was … less than pleasant.”

“Perhaps, but traveling within me protected you from the rays of the sun. Enough talk: we have work to do, so let’s be about it.”

Makala smiled. “Well, if you’re in a hurry …” The vampire’s form blurred, shrank, and reformed into the shape of a black bat. Wings flapping furiously, Makala circled around Nathifa’s head once before breaking off and soaring up to the cave entrance.

“No!” After all these years, the sorceress wasn’t about to permit a lowly servant to enter the cave ahead of her. She pointed at Makala and an ebon bolt of necromantic energy lanced forth from her fingertip, streaked through the air, and struck the vampire precisely on the spot where her bat wings emerged from her shoulder blades. Makala veered wildly for a moment, then dipped toward the hillside and slammed into its rocky surface with a satisfyingly meaty thud. She lay there, only halfway to the cave, stunned and unmoving as her body slowly returned to human form.

“Stupid bitch,” Nathifa muttered, and headed up the hill’s slope, gliding with eerie liquidity. Haaken and Skarm followed, both having witnessed Makala being chastened by their mistress, and wisely not commenting on it.

The hillside’s slope was gradual enough that their ascent proved no difficulty, especially as the three of them possessed unnatural strength and agility to draw upon. Makala had staggered to her feet by the time Nathifa reached her, and the vampire glared at the lich, murderous hate blazing in her crimson-flame eyes. For an instant, Nathifa felt certain Makala was finally going to attack her, but the vampire instead stepped back, bowed, and made a sweeping gesture toward the cave.

“After you,” she said, her tone giving an entirely different meaning to the words.

Nathifa smiled. “As it should be,” she said, and glided past Makala toward the cave entrance. It had taken a great effort for Makala to restrain herself, and Nathifa knew the next time the woman became angry she wouldn’t hold back. The lich was looking forward to it. If Vol’s intention in sending the vampire to serve Nathifa was to force
the sorceress to prove her ultimate worth, then she welcomed the chance to do so and would not fail. If, on the other hand, Vol wished for Makala to supplant Nathifa for some reason, then she would just have to accept it—but only after doing everything in her fell power to destroy the whore first.

A ledge jutted out from the cave entrance, and they reached it without difficulty. Nathifa paused for a moment, reaching out with her mind, probing the tunnel within to check for any threats. She sensed none, but nevertheless she turned to Skarm and said, “You shall lead the way in your natural form.”

Skarm’s orange-skinned goblin face paled. “I, Mistress?”

Nathifa frowned. It was unlike the barghest to question her commands. It seemed Makala and Haaken’s attitudes had begun to rub off on Skarm. “Your barghest senses are sharp and will alert us to any danger.” The lich gave her servant a cold smile. “And, should something happen to you, it will be no great loss.”

Skarm nodded, looking miserable, shifted into his lupine-goblinoid form, and padded into the cave. The lich followed, not bothering to give Makala or Haaken any orders. They knew they were expected to come along as well.

They proceeded through the darkness, none of them needing any light to see. The tunnel was wide and the ceiling high and they were able to make their way without difficulty. Naturally enough, Nathifa thought, as this had once been the lair of a green dragon. The tunnel would need to be large enough to allow the beast to enter and exit. The tunnel angled downward and curved to the right, and Nathifa—who’d inhabited her own cavern for a hundred years—sensed they were descending beneath ground level now. Skarm’s ears were pricked up the whole way, and he moved with a tentativeness that made Nathifa want to kick him in the rump to hurry him along, but she reminded herself to be patient. Now that she was this close to her goal, she didn’t want to make a mistake in her haste to reach the dragon’s resting place.

A soft green glow became visible as they approached a bend in the tunnel. They rounded the bend and found themselves standing at the entrance to a large cavern. The source of the green light
became instantly apparent: a luminescent substance—moss or mold, Nathifa guessed—covered the cavern’s stalactites and stalagmites. The illumination was dim, but it provided more than enough light for the monstrous quartet’s night vision, and the cavern seemed nearly as bright as day to them. So much so, that Makala narrowed her eyes to a squint and let out a soft hiss of displeasure. Nathifa ignored the vampire, her attention focused entirely on the skeleton lying in the middle of the cavern’s floor: a dragon’s skeleton.

“Is that what we’ve come all this way for?” Haaken asked. “To gaze upon a collection of old bones?”

“Hardly,” Nathifa said. “What you see before you are the remains of the green dragon Paganus. Those bones rest in the same spot where the great beast lay for close to three thousand years, guarding the Amahau.” The dragonwand lay nestled within Nathifa’s interior, swaddled in the same darkness in which the lich had carried Makala during the daylight hours. She thought she felt the Amahau grow warmer inside her as she spoke its name, as if the mystic object was stirring in excitement, joyful to return home after forty years away.

“Until Erdis Cai and Tresslar came along and stole it,” Makala said.

“Indeed,” Nathifa said. But that was all part of Vol’s grand design, she thought. Espial had whispered the story to her many times over the years, and the lich knew it so well, it was almost as if she’d lived it herself.

The Amahau originally belonged to Vol, but a device of such mystic power as the Gatherer was coveted by many. One of those was Paganus. He wanted the Amahau for himself, and he believed he was strong enough to take it. Paganus came up with a cunning plan to steal the Gatherer and, while the dragon succeeded in obtaining the artifact, he did not escape unscathed. Vol discovered Paganus and the two fought a great battle. In the end Paganus—though mortally wounded—managed to flee the palace of ice and bone. He did not possess the strength to heal himself, but he cast a spell so that the Amahau would feed on his innate magical energy and, in return, preserve his body as it was, wounds and all, so that it was as if time did not pass for the dragon. He would not heal, but neither would
his wounds cause his death. In excruciating agony, and barely able to fly, Paganus returned to his lair here on Trebaz Sinara. He remained in this cavern for two millennia, hiding from Vol while he attempted to find a way to use the Amahau to heal his injuries.

Vol continued to search for the Gatherer throughout the centuries, and eventually after much effort, she located Paganus’s lair. She then set in motion a series of events designed to reclaim what was rightfully hers … beginning with Erdis Cai obtaining a map to Trebaz Sinara. Unable to resist adventure of any sort, Cai came to this island and followed the map’s route to this cavern. Here he took the Amahau from Paganus and, once the dragon was separated from the Gatherer’s protective magic, time began to affect his wounds once more, and the dragon died from injuries sustained two millennia earlier. It was Vol’s intention that Erdis Cai travel to her palace in the Fingerbone Mountains and deliver the Amahau unto her and, after some time and various subtle manipulations on Vol’s part, the explorer and his crew at last began to sail northward. But something unforeseen occurred. Tresslar, the ship’s young artificer, had his doubts about the
Sea Star’s
latest journey, and the coward deserted his captain, stole a longboat, and fled southward.

When Cai and his crew arrived at Vol’s palace without the Amahau, Vol—never one to waste a tool if it might one day prove useful—transformed Cai and his first mate Onkar into vampires, and the rest of the crew into ghouls. She gifted the newly reborn vampires with obsidian sarcophagi so that they could withstand the effects of sea travel, and then charged them with finding Tresslar and the Amahau. While that search went on, Vol also tasked Cai with resurrecting an undead army of goblinoid warriors in Grimwall, the ancient subterranean city on Orgalos that Cai used as his base of operations.