[Womb of the Dark Mage]

Chapter 26 / 06

Veins of the Tomb

The black tunnel echoed with the newborn’s cry and the Tomb trembled in response. The slope was so worryingly steep that Sparlyset was glad she could not see it. Mould’s sickly scent assaulted her nostrils. Fed up with the piercing chill of the dank air that scorned her scales she rubbed Richard’s chest and cast Warmth upon him. The spell excited his spirit and caused him to generate an embracing heat that soothed them both as long as she remained close.

“What is that?” Richard asked her. He craned his head to look at her.

“Does it soothe you? The Warmth spell is a caressing envelope to isolate you from cold and dread,” she explained with a tap on his chest.

The tomb rumbled again. Lamet looked up and watched the ceiling as she spoke. “A spell you would expect from Sparlyset, who always cares more for comfort than practicality. The spell is so useless I cannot even call that a wasteful cast.”

Sparlyset snarled at Lamet’s condescension. She held her hand out to the woman and Lamet rolled her eyes. With more than a little reluctance she took her hand and Sparlyset cast Warmth upon her. Geoff looked at the ceiling as the rumbling intensified, like a rushing above them, and he nearly missed her offered hand as he reached for it.

“Does it soothe you?” She asked sternly.

“Of course it does,” Lamet admitted. “I feel much better, and you do not need me to tell you to know that. But imagine if you had spent the time learning Bound, Barrier, or any other Fire spell?”

“You mock me, but repelling the deathly chill of this evil tomb is the most effective use one could have for Warmth!”

“That is my point,” Lamet said curtly.

As Sparlyset opened her mouth again to speak, Lamet held out her hand for quiet. But it was not from impoliteness this time. Her gaze ran along the black ceiling as stone grated above them and her ears angled to follow the sound.

“Water,” Lamet said, moments before a trickling stream poured past them, glittering in the orb’s light. They heard the torrent break into the tunnel behind them. Geoff flattened himself against the wall, but Richard could not with her on his back. Rushing water rose to their shins and Lamet swung her arm, pulling spray across the tunnel where it froze solid and diverted around her.

Geoff dove across to Lamet’s side and ducked beneath the icy shelter. The spiny tips of the ice broke free as the torrent battered it and Richard was forced to raise his arm defensively. He lost his balance, and the water seized them both. They were dragged beneath the thrashing waves. She heard Geoff call out. She felt his fingers grab for her wrist but they slipped.

As her head rose above the water for a brief moment, she saw Lamet standing securely under her wall of ice, watching calmly as they were swept away.

Sparlyset was forced to hold her breath. She felt that they were tumbling as the torrent poured them out somewhere but without the Illuminate orb that Lamet held she could not see anything. She shut her eyes again, just in time to be resubmerged. They were still rolling as water raged around them. At the edge of her endurance, when she thought she would lose her mind unless she perished first, the raging flow calmed.

Richard floated beneath her, face-down in the water. She splashed around for something to hold, somewhere to pull them out. Her head was spinning and her hands shook madly. She should not have come, she realised. Her weight would drown Richard, and she would die strapped to his back. She should have remained in Mount Flange…

But… she did not have to remain on his back. A bit of clarity pierced her panic and she cast Illuminate in the air. The chamber flooded with light, but her focus was on Richard. The straps were tight, and her shaking fingers struggled to loosen them.

The binding around one of her legs finally came loose and she spared a glance for the room around them as her fingers found the next buckle. The walls were grey, comforting after the eerie black of the stone above. A misty figure of a woman stood on solid ground that squared off the water to one corner of the room. There were two tunnels leading into darkness.

Sparlyset pulled at the buckle as she watched the ghostly woman from the corner of her eye. She just stood there, watching. Her face was blank, but there was still a sadness about her slumped posture that even the wispyness of her incorporeal body could not hide. She is a spirit, Sparlyset thought, she cannot harm us.

Richard floated into the side of the pool. She unclicked the strap around her waist and tumbled into the water. Her fingers found the edge of cold stone and she hauled herself free, laying only a moment on her back before reaching for Richard. The spirit of the woman watched with what Sparlyset thought must be curiosity.

She tugged his arm, but he was too heavy. She could not drag him out. Her Floating Disc could not stay atop deep water with his weight on it. Her Flick of Flame was good for little else but starting fires… she was useless. She was nothing. There was nothing she could think of that would save him. She gripped him by his shoulders and rolled over to flip him face-up. His eyes were closed and he did not seem to be breathing.

The spirit moved in her peripherals and she turned to look. The misty woman was watching one of the dark tunnels. A faint tapping of boots echoed towards them. They were ominously calm steps.

Dorshemet stepped into the light. He paused to look over them, and the spirit dissipated. His confident steps made her shudder with each echoing tap. Tap. Tap. His black robe barely swayed as he moved.

“Dorshemet!” she cried, “Please, aid him. Please!” She liked Dorshemet even less than his sister, but she would not hesitate to save Richard, whatever it took. She would not let her light go out.

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He stopped beside her and reached down for Richard. Though he was not as large, he was able to pull him out onto the stone with whatever help her desperate tugging provided.

“I am glad you are here,” Dorshemet said flatly. “Well not you so much. But you brought him here, and his mantira. A power I desperately crave.” He pinched his fingers above Richard’s lips and as he pulled his hand away, water was drawn from his body.

She could not even think about mantira or whatever Dorshemet wanted. He was saving Richard. Her heart raced even as she shivered with relief.

Dorshemet took a step back and aimed his hand down. A Lightning Arc blasted from his fingertips, shocking her partner. His body gave a few sharp twitches before he coughed, and his head rolled on its side. She pulled herself close to kiss his cheek but Dorshemet’s foot struck her in the side and knocked her into the water.

Sparlyset swung her arms, grabbing for the edge as she spat water. Dorshemet looked down on her with a look of such contempt as she had never seen. He spoke no words as he cast a Floating Disc beneath Richard and guided it out of the room the same way he had come.

“Dorshemet!” she screamed. “Dorshemet you villain, return him!” She scrambled at the edge of the water, only pulling herself out as he crossed the threshold into the darkness of the hall. “Dorshemet!” she cried. A rumbling, grating sound shook the tunnel, punctuated by the crash of stone against stone.

She cast her own Floating Disc. It shimmered into being beneath her and elevated her above the ground. A flick of her finger brought Illuminate from high in the air down into her lap and she willed the disc forward. She zipped down the corridor. It was bright compared to the light-devouring black of the ruins above.

Her disc slowed to a halt as she saw the stone wall before her. There was no path; Dorshemet had sealed the way. She clenched her fists. Lamet would not be impeded by a stone wall. The Riteweaver was right about her. She was pathetically weak. A burden to those around her.

Tears welled up in her eyes and she spun the disc around. She looked over the room to ensure she had not missed anything—a dropped item or a switch, anything that might restore her hope—but it was plain and empty besides the square pool of water in one corner. She turned away from the pool to face the exit, and the misty spirit of the woman was watching her.

“If you do this, he will no longer be human,” the woman said.

Sparlyset was not even doing anything. The woman’s cryptic words made no sense, and she did not have the time nor the patience to puzzle them out. She rode her disc around the woman and sped down the corridor.

“Death should not be challenged!” the spirit shouted. “This is unnatural!”

Sparlyset shivered, but not from the chill of being soaked. Lamet had not mentioned spirits speaking.

Could she even trust Lamet? The woman had shielded herself and watched as they fell right into her brother’s clutches. Lamet and Dorshemet, the covetous siblings who loved only power. Lamet the Riteweaver, who was mysteriously absent the day their village hidden in the mountains was invaded.

Sparlyset had always thought there was something off about the woman. She had recently begun to believe she was just shy and curious, feeling at home in solitude and finding fulfilment in discovery, but now she was not so sure. She may have to face them both to rescue Richard.

Her disc carried her into another chamber. She sent her orb of light into the air to illuminate the room. It was a much larger chamber than the previous one, and the corners remained dim, but she could see. The first place she looked was to her left, the direction she had to travel to find Richard and Dorshemet. There was a door there, just a square outline in the wall the exact size of the corridors. There were no other exits that she could see.

The room had two levels, and she was already on the higher one. A balcony near the exit hung over the lower floor. There were four square indentations in the ground, deep pits about the size of the doorways. She cocked her head. Was this another ancient test? It was difficult to see the depths of the pits, even leaning as much as she felt safe over the edge. They were not of equal depth, and green stones rimmed the inside of the holes at equal distances. In fact, she noticed the same green stone rings all the way up the walls with the last above the doorway.

There were six levels of green rings that she could see, but there must be more she could not. She sighed. It would not matter until she had some idea of what to do. She moved to the balcony. There was a large stone with a slanted face upon it. Four dials were labelled with faded dots of green paint.

If she could stand, she would likely be able to see over the stone and count the rings in the deepest pits, but she could not. There was nothing else to do but turn a dial and pray there was no punishment or trap for mistakes.

Sparlyset reached up to the first dial, labelled like the second with two dots. She twisted it to the left and it turned only an eighth of the way before stopping. It sprang back to its original position when she released it. She frowned, leaning around the stone to try and see into the lower level. Her disc prevented her from getting close enough. As far as she could tell, nothing happened. There were no sounds, rumbles, or feedback of any kind.

She rubbed the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand and twisted the dial the other way. There was a loud thunking sound, and the familiar vibrations of rushing water made her flinch.

Then it was quiet. When she left the balcony to peer over the side, one of the shallower pits was now filled with water. If the numbers on the dials matched the pits… then the one she could not see the depths of was five, and there were nine levels of green stone, whatever they were.

Two, two, five, three…

She turned the other ‘two’ dial and water rose to fill the second ‘two’ pit. Nothing else happened. ‘Three’ next. The ‘three’ pit filled with water, but the water continued to rise. It overflowed until the ‘five’ pit was filled, and the entire lower floor became a flooding basin. Her Illumination reflected the rippling water across the walls.

She panicked as the pool splashed over the upper edge and kept rising, but as she reached for the dial her disc was pushed away and she bumped the wall behind her. As she turned to look, the doorway spun up into the ceiling, briefly revealing a passage before more solid stone rose up to block it anew. Her disc sank as the water level reached the eighth green ring of stone.

Sparlyset allowed herself to sink as well. She was beginning to understand. The correct level of water would hold the door open. She was not a good swimmer, but she was able to fumble her way to the stone tablet.

The ‘three’ turned back with a frantic yank of her hand and the flood receded. Eight? With both ‘twos’ and the ‘three’ she had made eight. So, she thought as she held her breath and waited for the water to go down, she was adding whatever dials she used to ‘one’, and required… As the water sank below the level of the upper platform she watched the rotating door slam back down. Seven. She sighed. She wished she had learned Bound after all, instead of silly spells she never used. She could have Bounded through… she could have just followed Dorshemet in the first place.

She cradled her face in her hands. It was too late for that. This stupid puzzle was her only way through now. But no combination of these numbers and ‘one’ made seven.

Sparlyset thumbed her sopping hair out of her face. She frowned at the dials, and reset them all. ‘Three’ first. The rumbling of rushing water was beginning to annoy her. If she added the ‘five’, she would have the full nine, but the door would be sealed.

She reached up with both hands and gripped both a ‘two’ and the ‘five’ somewhat awkwardly from her seat on the ground. A sharp twist of the ‘five’ to the right activated it. She took a deep, sniffling breath. If she could subtract… she twisted the ‘two’ to the left, and this time it stayed as she put it.

Sparlyset breathed a sigh of relief when the water stopped level with the upper floor, and the door swung up to reveal a passage. Now she merely had to find where her disc had floated off to. As she turned her back to the passage, the newborn’s cry echoed through and defensive scales grew down her spine.