[Womb of the Dark Mage]

Chapter 24 / 04

Implantation of Ideas

The entrance to Blistered Cleft was a crack in the mountain. The stone of the opening was smooth and rippled inwards as if it had been melted, but the blackness of any char had mostly been worn away by weather as the years passed. The wind tugged at them as they approached the entrance, pulling them towards it.

Sparlyset tapped Richard and whispered into his ear. “I have heard of this. A town that took refuge in stone to escape a dragon’s wrath.”

“Aren’t you a dragon?” Richard asked her.

She tapped his chest once. “Certainly, but these bear the moniker ‘True’ and wield flames like breath!”

“Do you call yourselves ‘apes’, Richard, or ‘humans’?” Lamet said sarcastically to intrude upon their conversation.

“I get it,” he said defensively.

“I have only been here a few times,” Lamet told them. “My name does not carry weight in this place, as it does in Mount Flange or Nook Valley.” She stopped at the base of the cleft and ran her fingers across the wall. The opening was parted around her like massive curtains of smooth stone. Then she suddenly looked at Sparlyset with a demanding stare. “Can you cast your Illuminate spell for us?” she asked, her ears twitching with excitement.

Sparlyset knew that the only reason Lamet entertained the thought of teaching her the Rite of Sharing was so that she could wield the powers of Light herself. She coveted rare magic more than anything else.

“Take it,” Sparlyset said. She held out her hand, and in her raised palm she concentrated the power of Light into a shining orb that bathed them all in a pure glow. Lamet reached for it, her desire to hold the spell as clear as the path it would illuminate. It would not do to only tease the Riteweaver and keep her ire burning hot. A little time playing with a spell she sought would soothe her emotions enough that she could rouse another pique from her later on. So she let the Riteweaver take the orb.

Surprisingly, Lamet stopped gawking at the orb and met her eyes. “Thank you, Sparlyset,” she said before picking it up. “I appreciate the indulgence.”

The blue woman held the orb before her with a child-like glee as she entered the cleft, and the deep cracks and winding paths lit up as though the sun reached them. Richard followed closely behind her with Geoff at the rear. The wind rustled the round pillow of tight curls on Richard’s head.

“The air current shows the way,” Lamet explained.

Whenever they reached a branching path, Sparlyset tried to feel which path it took. She could not always find it before Lamet led the way, but when she did, it was always the path the Riteweaver took. Every turn looked the same. If someone told her they were travelling in circles she would believe them.

The one change she noticed was that the tunnel was very gradually narrowing. Or at least she thought it was. A growing fear nagged at the back of her mind the farther they went, that she could become stuck in the cracks and never find her way out. Only the occasional reassuring word from Richard kept her from descending into a panic.

Sparlyset was unable to keep track of how many branches they had gone through. The pull of the wind grew fainter until she could no longer tell where it came from or where it went.

Lamet stopped and turned around. “Good, we are all still here.”

“Is something wrong?” Geoff asked from behind them.

A prideful grin crossed Lamet’s face. “Would you like to guess, Sparlyset?”

Sparlyset rolled her eyes. Another test from Lamet. “It is only by the wind’s guidance that the way forward is revealed to us, so we would be foolish to enter the cleft without the ability to read and control it.”

Lamet’s hand, holding the brilliant orb, bobbed in the air as she attempted a palm-up with the same hand. “Unlike you, I have performed the Rite of Air, so we will have no issues as the current thins in these deeper crevasses, but it is an important detail that you should remember.”

“You mean that we should think about what we’re walking into before we walk into it?” Richard asked with a hint of vexation in his tone.

“No need to take offence, Richard,” she said. “The lesson is for Sparlyset, who is not used to adventure. I know you Pillars have seen your share of adversity. Sparlyset may have a decent head on her but I would rather find the gaps in her wisdom by test than by death.”

Sparlyset frowned. She was not fond of being tested, but she could agree to the reasoning. She watched Lamet as she swung her arm around in the air and the wind suddenly picked up. In the bolstered breeze the path was once again clear, and they followed the labyrinthine passages forward.

The walls pressed tightly against them as they grew narrower, and she was beginning to think that Richard would have to kneel and crawl. The wrong kind of curve might wedge them in, and they would be trapped inside the stone forever. Every corner reduced the range of the orb of light. When Lamet was obscured, only a thin bar of illumination on the wall revealed where she had gone.

She kept her head low as the ceiling began to brush the tops of their hair. Her hands were clammy as she squeezed Richard’s shirt and her heart beat with such force that Richard could probably feel it through the cushion of her chest.

“I know it’s tight,” Richard said calmly, “but there’s no way we get stuck in here.” Somehow the words did nothing to reassure her this time. He must be hearing her ragged, fearful breaths, because he continued speaking. “The worst that can happen is Lamet has to go out and rest until tomorrow. Then she could Horizon Bound us free, right? So even in the worst case scenario we’ll be all right.”

He bent his knees to fit around the next corner, and was careful of her legs as always, Her elbow scraped the edge of the wall and she let out an involuntary cry. Lamet’s light disappeared ahead, and Richard could move no farther with her on his back.

“I’m still with you, Rick,” Geoff said. His light clicked on behind them. He flashed it a few times before leaving it off. It was black as a starless sky without it.

“I’m coming,” came Lamet’s voice. “Hold on to each other.”

Richard wiggled his arm back, fighting the constriction of the walls to reach out to Geoff. His friend took his hand as Lamet’s light reappeared in the tunnel ahead and soon she squeezed out before them.

“We are close enough for me to Bound us free.” She reached out and as her finger brushed Richard’s head the spell lifted them slightly, pressing her head painfully against the stone ceiling.

Then they stood on a ledge overlooking a well-illuminated cave. Richard could not balance with her on his back and plummeted towards a pool of water below. As he spun in the air she saw Geoff lose his footing and tumble down after them. Cold water splashed her in the face, shooting up her nostrils as they struck the surface. It quickly engulfed them both and she held her breath. The scales on her arms grew out to insulate her from the chill.

Her nose stung and she lost any sense of orientation until Richard pulled himself onto the edge of the pond. Geoff floated to the edge on his back, and stopped when his smooth head bumped the side.

“You dead Rick?” Geoff asked.

“Pretty much,” Richard answered.

Sparlyset blew water from her nose.

Lamet stood at the edge of the pond looking down at them with her arms crossed.

“Thanks Lamet.” Geoff chuckled half-heartedly and hauled himself out of the water. He held his arm down and Richard took it. The smaller man was more than strong enough to pull both of them easily from the water.

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As Richard rose to his feet, an entire squad of yellow purens appeared in the air and landed quietly around them.

A man in the centre of their formation stepped forward and regarded the humans with curiosity. Sparlyset was struck by a moment of confusion as she realised she could not approximate the man’s age. He was older than Lamet, clearly, by the lines of scales under his eyes, but he was not as aged as the elders.

The missing generations were not missing here.

“I am Yurishen, of Blistered Cleft. Who are you?” he demanded. Sparlyset did not recognise their uniforms or the insignias that emblazoned them, but he must be a captain of sorts. The man posed another question without waiting for a response to the first. “And what are these creatures?” His tail flicked towards Richard.

Lamet offered an upward palm, and the rest of their group followed her example. “I am Lamet the Riteweaver of Mount Flange. The other is Sparlyset the Lightweaver, and Warbinger’s bane, also of Mount Flange. The two brown-skinned men are ‘humans’ from the world that has appeared in the sky. I trust someone has left town long enough to spot it?”

“We have seen the pale blue orb in the sky,” the captain said. “And we have heard whispers of this ‘Warbinger’, but there are no Lightweavers in this town; we do not observe the lore here.”

“He has been stalled,” Lamet explained. “No one seeks any commitment from you in this regard, but should the worst happen and he reappear upon Oval you will be forced to defend yourselves.”

“Very well.” The man finally offered a palm-up and continued his interrogation. “And these ‘humans’ are creatures our people should trust? Outsiders among outsiders in our village?” He cocked his head at them.

“They are not as alien as you might think; they are apes, advanced beyond their cousins just as we are above the common drakes. They are Richard and Geoff, of Earth.”

“Very well,” the captain said again. “Your presence here suggests that you have been to Blistered Cleft before, but I do not remember you. That speaks well for your behaviour. What is your purpose here?”

Lamet gestured at the pools of water. “The last time I was here I was permitted to stay, but was bid to remain by the pools. I stayed only long enough to rest and informed you when I departed. I would beg a similar favour again today. We aim to reach the Tomb of the Newborn to prevent another from defiling the ruins, but cannot reach it quickly without another night’s rest.”

The captain’s eyes narrowed. “None would dare. Who is this interloper?”

The Riteweaver was taken by an uncharacteristic moment of hesitation. “His name is Dorshemet,” she finally said.

“Another ‘Met? A relative of yours?”

“My brother. He seeks power,” she said, the shame clear in her voice.

His tail curled nervously. “No one would dare enter the Tomb, it is too fearsome.”

“I do not question your wisdom on matters of the Tomb, but I must still pursue him.”

Yurishen eyed Richard and Geoff again, seemingly pondering over unasked questions flitting through his mind. “Fine, I will grant you the same favour you were granted last time. Remain near the pools and mind your own business. Let someone from Blistered Cleft witness your departure.”

Lamet turned her palm up and the man lifted off the ground and vanished. The others followed in unison.

Geoff bobbed his head. “You knew exactly what that guy wanted to hear.”

Lamet held out the Illuminate spell to Sparlyset and she touched it to release the magic and put it out. There was enough light from town that they could see what they were doing. “They are not bad people, but they do not like outsiders. It was definitely more difficult the last time I was here.” She reached into her bag and withdrew a bundle of sticks.

“That wood is an artefact?” Richard asked.

She opened her hand and let it tumble off her fingertips. It bounced and rolled, and the moment it came to a stop it erupted into a warming bonfire.

“A Burning Bonfire?” Richard guessed.

Lamet turned her palm down as she lowered herself by the crackling fire. “Sizzling Sticks. It will warm us, make our sleep comfortable even upon rough ground, and dry your sopping clothes quicker than non-magical fire.”

Richard unfastened her straps and lowered her to the ground where she had a view of the town. It was far into the deep cave, and lit by bright fires. Their homes were built around wide stalagmites, with the largest of the stones even bearing structures on top. A stream trickled through the centre and ended in a lake at the far edge of the town’s light. It was a marvel to see others living their lives in such a wondrous place. She had never seen beyond the spinewood forest through the mountain path. Or her singular journey down the valley.

She was not fond of the damp air of the cave, though.

Geoff sat between Richard and Lamet. “Bearing Bag, Grasping Glove, Sizzling Sticks, I’m starting to get the impression you named all these things, Lamet.”

“I do not know what gives you the impression that I chose them. The fact that they are excellently named, perhaps?” She tried unsuccessfully to hide a prideful grin at the edge of her lips.

“I guess if you find them you can name them whatever you want.” Richard added.

“Just so.”

The most difficult part of the day for Sparlyset was the waiting. There was nothing for them to do as they waited but talk, so they educated Geoff and Richard on the basics of Rites and spells and how one allowed the casting of the other. Geoff was particularly eager to learn spells and perform more Rites, but they could not risk them being incapacitated or weakened by Rites when there was so much to do tomorrow.

It was a shame to waste the time. Sparlyset had hoped the delay would offer time for her Rite of Sharing, but Lamet would not even tell her about it. She turned her attention to the Rite of Dragons instead. Only partly to tease Lamet. Without knowing how the Rite was performed, she clutched the divine riteseed tightly in her hands and meditated while stimulating it with a tiny amount of her magic.

The process brought vague images to her mind. She focused on them to try and discern their meaning. If she pieced them together she could discover the method to perform the Rite.

First a flash of pink scales. She was unsure what they meant on their own; she already had pink scales under her breasts. One image was of a common red noran drake. The last vision was of two drops of blood, one red and one silver. That seemed obvious enough; she could ask Richard to aid her in initiating the Rite, but what confused her was the pool of silver blood the drops fell into. Was it meant to be hers? No matter how much she meditated with the riteseed, the images were never clearer, and she wasted hours of the day pondering them.

Not that there was anything more productive for her to do.

“Are you done with that seed?” Lamet asked her as her eyes blinked open.

“I have learned much,” she lied. Eventually, she would rely on Lamet’s wisdom to aid her in piecing together what she needed to do, but for now she would tease the Riteweaver.

Richard took hold of her waist and lifted her into his lap. She blushed as he wrapped his arms around her. Lamet and Geoff were both watching.

“Well,” Geoff said, “while you were meditating, Lamet told us about the Rite of Exploration. Eat one of those nasty bloodsucking seeds, trip our brains out, and get lost. Simple enough. It’s a shame we can’t do it here.”

“Walk six hours through the nightmarish hellscape the riteseed torments you with,” Lamete corrected, “and return to where you began before the magic wears out. Only then does the Rite bless you with a supernatural sense of orientation.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Goeff said, shaking his head. “Rick’ll do it no problem but it might take me a couple tries.”

“The difference from the other Rites,” Lamet continued, “Is that—”

“You’re walking in the real world, it’s not all in your head with this one. I told you, I got it.”

Lamet sighed. “I think you underestimate the Rite.” She looked at Sparlyset and her expression changed to one of curiosity. She knew what the Riteweaver was about to ask. “I never did get to ask how you managed to complete the Rite of Exploration, Sparlyset. There is no way to cheat the Rite by crawling a few paces away, waiting six hours and then rolling over to reach where you started.”

Finally she asked about her Rite of Exploration! Now Lamet the Riteweaver would have to be impressed with her ingenuity.

“I was challenged, unsurprisingly, with the issue of my locomotion,” Sparlyset said with a note of excitement in her voice she did not bother trying to hide. “But tightly bound in well-oiled leather, I slid without friction over the ground. Comparatively.”

“Ingenious,” Lamet said sarcastically.

Sparlyset was not perturbed by her lack of enthusiasm though. “I borrowed butcher’s hooks for leverage. After ingesting the seed the mountains twisted into chaotic visions and I hauled myself with the vigour of a True Dragon from the river bank to Mount Flange. As I wormed—or I should say wyrmed—-my way up the gnashing hills the screaming red sun travelled from the low berth of the early morn to the high precipice of dusk.”

Lamet narrowed her eyes. “You crawled for twelve hours?”

She grinned, her excitement overflowing. “Thirteen, for there is nothing within the Rite that says you cannot travel more than six to meet the nebulous distance requirement! Once I reached Mount Flange, I hurled my body from the slopes and tumbled like a sack of carrots to the bottom. It was perhaps an hour from there to locate the Bolting Bar I placed to flag my origin point.”

“You left the Bolting Bar at the river bank?” Lamet asked with a perturbed sneer.

“I retrieved it,” Sparlyset said. “You should be impressed that I completed the Rite of Exploration on my own! And broke only three ribs!”

Richard squeezed her as though checking if she were well. She gripped his arms.

Lamet held her hands to the warmth of the flames. “Had you asked, I would have said there was no way you would ever complete the Rite of Exploration. So I suppose I am a little impressed, yes. I would be more impressed if you did not risk losing my artefacts to do it, though.”

“Understand then why I insist against your greater wisdom that I will succeed at the Rite of Sharing!”

Lamet turned her palm down. “Sparlyset, you have surprised me at every chance, but Sharing is different. I apologise, but there is simply no way.”

Sparlyset returned her palm-down. She was going to show them all how strong she was.