Chapter 5

  The night sky was ablaze. An eerie crimson glow had swallowed the stars, and thick columns of smoke coiled upwards like twisting tendrils choking out the moon's light.

  They were still far off, still had hours to march, but the dull, unrelenting roar of their voices raised in song, the thunder of their boots trampling the earth before them, and the scrapes and clangs of thousands upon thousands of blades already filled the city. It was inescapable. They would be here by midnight.

  “It will be all right, Fia.”

  She looked up, searching Sophie’s face. It was set in stone, tense and motionless, waiting. They were up on the roof, staring out over Orent.

  “Even if they break through, they won’t come this way. They’ll go straight to the palace.” She wrapped her arms around Fia and pulled her in close.

  “Do you think the city will fall? “

  Her sister gripped her tightly, stroking her hair. “They’ll go straight to the palace, Fia,” she whispered again.

  “Fia! Fia!”

  She groaned, opening her eyes as the room blurred in and out of focus.

  “Fia, wake up!”

  Eike was shaking her desperately, his shoulder drenched in blood.

  “Don’t get your blood on me,” she murmured.

  “Gods, Fia! You had me worried!” He sank back, leaning against his arms, breath ragged.

  “That frog gone?”

  “Took off screaming. What was that?”

  “An illusion,” she replied, struggling to her feet. “I don’t… have much experience with offensive magic.”

  “Well, it worked like a charm! Thanks for… coming after me; I thought I was done for.”

  “I couldn’t let you go out like that, not while I still owed you for saving me! But don’t get used to it; now we’re even.” She held out her hand.

  Laughing, he took it, gingerly pulling himself up.

  “Your shoulder?”

  “Actually, not bad, something in that frog’s spittle, I think.”

  It was only now that she noticed how much of him was soaked in a disgusting slime.

  “It seems to be preserving to me; not many adventurers get this far, so he was probably planning to ration me out. Could you?”

  “Oh, of course.” Warmth surrounded them, and after a few moments, Eike was back to his normal self.

  “Amazing,” he muttered to himself, “I could get used to that.”

  “We better get going.”

  Returning to the path, they continued on more cautiously than before, but there was no sign of the beast. Soon, they came to the path's end, and through an open door, light.

  “So, it was just a cave with a frog,” sighed Eike.

  “A big frog.”

  “I suppose…”

  “You almost died.”

  “That would have been embarrassing…”

  “Come on, I’m sure there will be something way more exciting in this next room.”

  He perked up, “You’re right! A chance to finally use this,” he gestured at the enormous blade on his back.

  “Could have used it against the frog though…”

  “Well, I” —he spluttered, searching for a retort— “Just wait!” he took off down the hallway towards the light.

  When she had finally caught up to him, he was standing, back turned to her, looking out into a wide chamber.

  “I think we’re at the end of the dungeon.”

  She came up beside him, reaching into her pocket. The charm was on fire. She jerked her hand back, stifling a yelp. Looking down at it, she saw the circular rings and foreign runes burned into her palm.

  “This is it,” she whispered.

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  The treasury. It was vast, its far edges lost in a golden glow, the sparkling of precious stones and fine jewelry. Rows of shelves, stacked high with leather-bound tomes and filled with ancient relics. From the ceiling hung great braziers burning with endless fires illuminating the hall.

  “Look over there!” shouted Eike, pointing excitedly.

  Lining the walls near the entrance were dazzling suits of armor, polished and pure.

  “One of those would do me nicely. I’ll need one that matches my blade!” He rushed over to them and began to search.

  Fia surveyed the chamber. Timor had said the treasure would be obvious, but it could be anywhere; the room was massive. She could hear the rattling of Eike trying on different pieces, followed by small squeals and shouts of exhilaration. At least he had found what he needed.

  At the heart of the chamber, on a raised platform, stood a great marble dais. Tangled around its base were coils of massive stone. They arched and twisted unnervingly, some curling protectively around the platform while others extended outward, forming massive walls that funneled any who dared approach onto one path. Timor had been right.

  “What do you think?”

  Eike sauntered up, beaming. His new armor was beautiful; its polished plate sparkled in the firelight, looking freshly forged. It was a deep crimson red, the color of freshly spilt wine, and ivory inlays ran along its edges, pure like the driven snow. He looked like a true warrior, elegant and bold.

  “It’s even got a place for a sword in the back!”

  “Not your sword.”

  “Well, no, but it looks good, doesn’t it?”

  “It does.” She pointed towards the dais. “I need to get up there.”

  “Looks simple enough.”

  “Somehow, I think it won’t be.”

  “Let’s hope.”

  They made toward the center. Growing closer, Fia began to see large shapes looming over them. Weathered claystone statues fused with thin veins of a dark metal. They were old, their surfaces rough and cracked, and yet the intricate carvings of long-forgotten glyphs betrayed a dormant vitality. They made her nervous.

  “Those look familiar,” pondered Eike. “They had statues like them in the mountains. Wizards used them to build their towers. Chisel a few magic words into them, and they’d spring to life. Very useful— what were they called again?”

  “Golems.” The name came to her from a distant memory. An unpleasant one with a not-so-happy ending.

  ‘Yea! That was it! Just carve 'em up, and then all you need is a trigger, a scroll, or a—”

  —There was a grating screech as Eike’s foot sank into the floor. He looked confused, but as the glyphs began to glow, realization dawned on his face. A pressure stone.

  From above, the statues groaned to life. Their limbs snapped and scraped into place, sending clay and stone debris crashing down around them. They were surrounded. Two in front, guarding the dais, and two behind blocking their escape.

  “Do you think that could have been avoided?” asked Eike sheepishly.

  She sighed. “Probably not, but still, you could have been more careful. The golems were closing in on them. “Do you know how to destroy one?”

  Eike shrugged, “Monsters all die the same, right?” and then he charged toward them.

  “Wait! You have to destroy the glyphs!” but he was too far gone.

  He was fast, even in his heavy plate, the Golems could not keep pace with him. He glided through their outstretched arms and smashing fists, ducking and weaving in a graceful, mesmerizing dance. His feet never stopped, and as he grew close, he effortlessly lifted the great sword from off his back and, in one fluid motion, swung it, hurtling it into the leg of a Golem. And the sword shattered.

  “Some sword!”

  “Not to worry,” he shouted back, diving in between wild swings, “I still have half a sword!”

  “They’re powered by the carvings,” she shouted, then turned to face the second pair.

  The Golems were made of claystone. Water would return them to clay, soft and malleable. The glyphs would not be able to hold their form in the mud. She closed her eyes, drifting into memory. A warm summer’s eve. Too tired to fetch water but too hot to neglect a bath. A cool stream of fresh water spilling from Sophie’s staff, splashing into a tub. There it was, the grimoire, one from the Academy. Softly bound and smelling of fresh leather. It was the first she had seen that wasn’t old and tattered. The Academy had been for the very best, and they had provided her sister with the finest tools in the land. She opened it, and the water poured out.

  It hit the Golems in waves, a wild current knocking them to their knees. They pushed back, fighting to break through, but it was all in vain. The water seeped in, filling the cracks and slaking over the dry clay. It began to peel off in mounds as they marched forward, determined to fulfill their purpose. It did not take long, and finally, they collapsed, sinking into themselves and returning to lifeless mud. But from their remains rose a silvery mist, and it flew towards the dais, and as it reached the center, the coils began to crack.

  She turned back to Eike. He was on the back of a Golem, hacking at the carvings with the jagged remnants of his family’s sword. The second one was in the midst of crumbling to dust, and Fia saw the same mist rising up and flying towards the writhing stone. It was a trap.

  “Eike, don’t destroy it!”

  He lifted his head. “The glyphs! Yea! Thanks, I'm almost done!”

  “No, don’t destroy it!”

  “Sorry it's taking so long! Only half a sword!” He held up the blade apologetically, then swung himself over its shoulder, slashing into the Golem’s heart and destroying the final glyph. Then he sprang from it, landing deftly on his feet as it, too, returned to the earth.

  “You— what have you done?”

  “No need to be so upset. It barely took me any longer than you took,” he cried indignantly.

  The roar that followed chilled the air and pierced the mind. It was a shrill alien scream like the scraping of talons upon rock. It surrounded Fia and cut through her, shaking her to the core.

  The last pieces of stone fell and, in their place, remained thick black hide, rubbery and oozing. A hundred arms sprang to life, thrashing wildly, seeking out the beings that had dared disturb its peace. And from behind the dais, a shadow formed. A beast with countless, lidless eyes. It had no mouth, just a gaping hole. A pit from which no light could escape nor pierce. It did not look of this world, and it seemed that to be in this world was a great agony to it, for its shrieks were that of a child, lost and in pain, though it did not look like it could have ever been one.

  “That can’t be good!” he exclaimed as Fia flew by him. She caught his hand, dragging him towards the altar.

  “Are you sure we want to be going that way!” he cried.

  But she had to. They were so close. The beast continued to whip its arms in a frenzy. It did not seem to notice them scrambling up the steps. Not that it mattered. The flailing limbs reached the ceiling, pulling and smashing at it.

  “This place is going to collapse!”

  “Almost there!”

  Seated on the dais was a massive tome. It was bound in aged animal skins with splashes of a deep red hue, like dried blood. In its center, scratched into the ink, was a burning sun.

  Fia reached out, snatching the book with her free hand. This had to be it! She reached into her pocket to check the charm, but as she touched it, the world went dark.

  And suddenly, they were back in the glade. The moon was high in the sky, and all was quiet. She looked down at the book; it called to her, whispering in her mind. So, she opened it.

  Cycle: Timor 1-2