Tides of Blood and Steel (4 page)

“It’s not much further,” Skuld whispered at his side. The youth knew the streets impeccably, never dithering or hesitating when it came to a turn.

Good, Argis thought.
I cannot bear to see my people suffer so. I wonder if Badron knows how poorly these wretches live, or if he even cares
. Instead he asked, “How do you know so much about these streets?”

Skuld tried not to laugh in his face. “You high born wouldn’t understand. This is the real Chadra. I was born here and live here while you sit in your fancy keep sipping expensive wine and laughing at petty fears. Look around you, Argis. People are starving out here. More than before. This is what your kingdom is really like. But you wouldn’t know that, would you? I’ve spent most of my life on the streets. There are plenty of bigger people out here so I had to learn the secret places. I’d be dead by now if I weren’t good at it.”

“Fair enough,” Argis mumbled a bit shamefully.

The street thief scoffed but kept his mouth shut. He was silently grateful that Argis didn’t ask the obvious question of what happened to his parents. That forgotten spark of normalcy was as alien to him as the hot wind blowing across the desert. The thoughts were disturbing, serving only to distract him from the cold realty his life had denigrated to. Life was hard. Survival was the only important piece and was ever changing. Skuld spent his days wondering when his time was going to come.

He shivered and forced the memories away. Death needn’t come sooner. Skuld pointed at a random stack of crates and broken barrels. “Here, this is the entrance to the tunnels.”

Argis tilted his head back slightly, deciding to hold his tongue rather than question the youth again. His feeling they’d be stuck with each other much longer than either wanted demanded prudence. Maybe there’d be a time to reconcile later.

“How did these tunnels come about?” Anienam asked as both he and Argis stepped aside to let the sell swords clear the opening. He purposefully ignored his own earlier supposition that the tunnels were once part of the ancient temple, now long fallen into disuse. Experience showed him that letting the others get as involved as possible not only enhanced the possibility of success, but allowed him greater leeway in doing what he
knew
needed doing.

This current group, the latest out of several over the course of his life, had potential but stood on the edge of a very sharp precipice. Many were either too self-conscious or lacked esteem. Bahr and Boen were too old to properly handle what was coming, but Anienam needed both. The sell swords were better suited as comedians. Only Rekka Jel held his trust. After all, he’d been the one to summon her to the north. He sighed. They were wasting time.

“No one knows,” Argis replied. “There are rumors that this part of the kingdom was once buried under a mountain, long before the days when your precious Mage council led Malweir to war. Still, if what Skuld says is correct, we should be able to find the temple. If it still exists.”

“Much was lost during the war, not least of which the desire for higher learning. I cannot foresee any reasons why it shouldn’t be there.”

Anienam Keiss ignored the barb about the Mages. He hadn’t even been thought of when Sidian the Silver Mage created a schism amongst the Mages. It was that war that led to a new age of conflicts spanning Malweir. Those conflicts ended, for the most part, after his father Dakeb led a small band of heroes into the foul kingdom of Gren to kill Sidian once and for all. The cracked crystal of Tol Shere was destroyed forever and sent into the dimensional prison with the dark gods. With the crystal lost, there shouldn’t be any way for them to return, making all of this quite confusing. There were too many questions lacking answers.

Life had gone very wrong for the Mages with the creation of the crystal of Tol Shere. Designed to be a vehicle to store and measure the vast wealth of knowledge from all races, the crystal became corrupted under the subtle influences of the dark gods and their Dae’shan puppets. Sidian fell easily, for he was ever the arrogant one. He used his newfound powers to bring the Mage council at Ipn Shal to its knees. The war that followed spanned generations. Tens of thousands were lost in the most gruesome struggle in history before the crystal was broken into four shards. The dark gods remained banished in their nether realm and Sidian went into hiding, biding his time until he could release his new masters. The order of Mages was ultimately destroyed; less than a handful survived and most of them refused to practice magic again. Their anonymity took hold with the majority of the populace, but not with Sidian. The Silver Mage sent his agents to hunt down and murder the few remaining Mages until only Dakeb remained. So far as he knew, Anienam Keiss was all that remained.

The hatch to the tunnels groaned open as they worked together to pull the heavy, rusted iron and mass of wood. Clearly it had been abandoned for much longer than even Anienam guessed. Ages’ worth of dust billowed out, choking them. Cobwebs hung limp, the spiders long dead and shriveled to husks. A rat lurched out of the pile of molded leaves brushed into one corner. Skuld shifted through the rubble to produce a handful of torches. Passing a furtive glance around to ensure no one was spying on them, the street thief ushered them inside. The last thing they needed was uninvited guests following them down. Long swords were of no use in the confined space, making it easy for thieves to come upon them in the dark and use their favored short knives.

“Hurry,” Skuld whispered.

Argis and the wizard went first. Maleela went next and was followed by Dorl and Nothol. Dorl Theed cast a backwards glance before slowly pulling the door close. Reservations soured his face. Trusting a half-mad crony and a street rat didn’t sit well with him no matter how many different angles he tried to rationalize through. He had doubts about what lay ahead, but it was too late to turn back. Darkness choked at him, beaten back only by the thin slivers of torchlight already pushing deeper ahead.

The tiny group pressed on. Soon only Skuld was able to move without difficulty. The tunnel network constricted at an alarming rate, inviting paranoia and the creeping fingers of claustrophobia reaching in. A thin coat of slime and mold coated the otherwise smooth walls. The floor was covered with dirt and the bones of several small creatures. More than once a whisper of shadow crawled across the ceiling only to disappear the moment torchlight searched for it. Time meant nothing here. They carried on with the hopes that the answers they needed were hidden away in the ruins of a place long forgotten.

“It’s not far now, just around the corner,” Skuld told them.

They managed a few more meters and halted. He kicked a pair of large rats away. The cramped tunnel gave way to a round chamber large enough for them to stand straight again. Dust trickled from the ceiling like the tender kiss of the first spring rain. The air was damp, humid. They found it difficult to breathe. And there was something else: raw power sat unbridled just ahead. The air hummed with electricity. Skuld’s face drained an ashen white. Even in the flickering darkness Anienam recognized the look.
Interesting
.
The boy might have the latent ability to tap into the energies in the air. He might make a powerful wizard someday.
Anienam decided to watch the boy closely. Perhaps the line of Mages was meant to survive after all.

Argis looked around. His mouth had fallen open. “How is this possible?”

“There are many wonders in the world. Not all are explainable. This might be one of them,” Anienam offered.

“Doesn’t look like much of a temple,” Dorl said. His voice was thick with sarcasm.

The building was a ruin. Three empty windows gaped at them in a twisted mockery of a human face. Most of the structure was buried under the countless centuries of rock and dirt. Pieces from a broken pillar lay shattered around them. Half of a broken face leered up at them from its resting place. Its twin remained upright on the opposite side of the doorway. Artisans had intricately carved a great serpent into the alabaster marble. The quality of work was impressive even after centuries lost to obscurity.

“This was once a grand building in a more elegant time,” Anienam replied.

Dorl Theed brushed it off. “What treasures could possibly be here? This place is a ruin. Looters would have picked it clean before we were born.”

“It is not treasure we seek, sell sword. What we need is knowledge and if the secret we need remains, it will be buried here.”

Anienam stepped past Skuld, pausing to grip his shoulder lightly. “You did well. Escort me inside if you please.”

He stopped Argis from following. “No. I cannot do my task with everyone. Wait here and defend the perimeter.”

Argis held out his hands to the eerily noiseless surroundings. “Defend against what?”

“There are powerful magics here. Such a place is bound to have guardians. They might be hidden, but rest assured they are here. We might need your sword before this ends.”

His words carried a haunting tone. The sell swords drew their swords in anticipation of the horrors to come. Wizardry spooked them. The use of magic had been considered a bane to existence
ever since the Mages lost control and warred with each other. Dorl and Nothol exchanged uneasy looks and established a perimeter. Dorl Theed motioned the wizard on. The quicker the old man finished his task, the sooner they could head back to the surface.

Their clothes clung to them from sweat. The air was stale, a musty smell to it. Only the faint glow of torches offered any respite from the oppressive darkness. Danger whispered from the shadows. Echoes of wind blew down the tunnels in an almost exuberant sigh from being liberated after so long. New life had come, deceitful and intoxicating. The ancient temple stirred.

Argis looked over his shoulder as the last glimpse of the wizard disappeared. “Do you think there is truth to his words?”

“I have no desire to find out,” Nothol answered.

The back of his neck itched. Darkness crept closer and it was all he could do to maintain his courage. Some things shouldn’t be disturbed.

Anienam Keiss whispered a few words and the inside of the temple sprang to light under a pale blue glow. Together he and Skuld wormed their way around the piles of broken rock and marble that littered the floor. Past rows of near-petrified benches and broken tables. Small books long turned to dust. Effigies of once important men leered from their eternal monuments to the forgotten.

“What do you know of magic, young Skuld?”

The street thief was taken off guard. Truth be told, he never bothered to think about it. Magic was another of those things in life that didn’t matter. “Nothing, sir. I don’t see what this has to do with anything though.”

Anienam smiled. “Consider it an old man’s fancy.”

“Folks in Delranan don’t talk about magic. We don’t believe in what we can’t see,” Skuld explained, quietly hoping to end the conversation. He felt like he was being watched and didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention.

“You northerners are a superstitious lot,” Anienam replied. “Wise, to be sure, but wisdom often leads to ignorance.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

A thick eyebrow arched. “Doesn’t it? Those who consider themselves wise often close their minds, thinking they know enough or too much already. They lose receptivity to new concepts or otherwise strange information. Magic fell from favor long ago, thanks to the Mages, but it still exists and is one of the most powerful energy forms among the races. Don’t be so quick to discount what you lack knowledge of.”

They continued on. Anienam was impressed with the scope of the building. At one point it must have been the largest building in the north. Ages’ old cobwebs hung from every corner. The air was more stale here than in the outer chamber. Skuld found his breathing grow harder with each step forward. A loud snap stole his attention, forcing him to look down. Two skeletons lay stretched out. Tatters of dark robes clung in strips to the dust-covered bones. The street thief wanted nothing more than to leave this house of death. He was no stranger to the tunnels, but this went beyond the depths of his courage.

“How will we know what we’re looking for?” he asked. His voice was desperate to take his mind off of the present.

“Patience, my young friend. The way will be shown to us.”

Skuld stared at the old man’s back. He couldn’t begin to fathom the sarcasm his elders constantly displayed. He shook his head and continued on. The sooner they finished the better.

“Please hurry,” he whispered. The walls closed in on him.

Anienam offered a compassionate glance. “We are almost done. A few more moments and we can leave.”

Casting another spell, Anienam focused his attention on the far end of the ruin. It took a moment for anything to happen. Then the air heated, grew damper. A steady thumping noise haunted the shadows. It reminded Skuld of a heartbeat. The farther the duo went the louder the sound became. Skuld struggled to maintain what little courage remained.

“What is that?”

The answer drained the warmth from him.

“I don’t know.” Anienam gathered his power, just in case. “Keep a sharp eye. We are looking for a bright green light.”

The thief did as he was told, hoping and praying to find the key to unlock the next stage of their journey. The ruins groaned. He felt tired eyes watching him, but no matter where he looked they remained just out of reach. Shadows transformed into eerie hands creeping forward to snatch him away to some distant catacomb, never to be heard from again. His heart weakened and only found strength when Anienam spied the faint trim of green light.