CHAPTER 19: SORCERY’S KISS

Stepping gingerly forward, Falinor glanced about the interior of the cavern as each of his footfalls echoed across the walls.

From deeper within the wind howled through the naturally formed flutes, while providing subtle bars of light. Dust motes whirled silently as they fell to the floors.

“It is as you said,” remarked Orvin as he glanced about. He turned around. “Princess, it is much larger inside.”

“All right,” she said from outside, and she bent onto her arms and knees and peered inside, her brown pigtails falling to the sides of her neck. The entrance had been quite small—small enough even for Falinor, who had to lower his head to get inside.

The giantess grunted in feminine tones as she scrabbled over the rocks on her hands and knees. Thankfully her knees were quite protected by her high boots which were laced along the back of her calves up to her lower thighs.

“Wow,” said she, glancing about as she got back to her feet with Falinor’s assistance of an offered hand. “Thank you. You were right, Falinor.”

Regarding the giantess, he glanced about the cavern.

“It is quite majestic,” said Orvin.

“I know,” exclaimed Harrkania, a little too loudly. Her voice carried down the corridors and through the wind flutes, echoing and splitting as if there were ten of her. She covered her mouth with her hand, then murmured an apology.

“Let us be careful,” said Falinor, reinforcing his warning from before. “We do not know what lies in wait for us.”

“It is quit still,” said Orvin as he touched the wall of rock with his hand. “Perhaps these caverns are completely dead.”

“I hope to the gods that is true—and similar for the temple as well.” He did not wish to alarm them, but Falinor thought it prudent not to lessen the possible threat by assuming things.

“It might be,” said Harrkania with a nod. “I think one would have to be quite brave to travel all the way up here to the temple.” She shivered. “Even if they did have to do battle with sorcerers hiding in the hills.”

“Are you cold?” asked Orvin.

She shook her head, though there was an evident change in temperature in the cavern. Despite the silence and belief of a deadness throughout, they carried an eerie quality about them that even made the hairs stand up on the back of Falinor’s neck.

“I wish we had time to stay,” said Orvin. “I would very much like to sketch these spaces… err—for remembrance and study.”

“Hmm,” mused Harrkania.

“Perhaps in another life, Master Orvin.” With those words Falinor turned and led the way. He stepped past loose rocks and scree that had collected on the smooth surface of the floor that was covered with a thin layer of ash dust.

The place was a marvel, the striations of the rocks traveling in similar directions to one another in curves and bends, the rocks undulating before them down the cavern like the water flow of a river. He understood why Orvin wanted to sketch this place.

As he moved down farther, the cavern had a slight drop. The swordsman used the palm of his hand to lessen the impact of his sandaled feet at the bottom. When Orvin moved to do the same, he seemed to realize he was far too short and would land quite in a way that would be ungainly, and perhaps jarring.

“Teacher,” said Harrkania.

The small man glanced back and accepted the giantess’ hand, who lowered him down. With a nod, he thanked his pupil and turned to Falinor. The swordsman watched the giantess lower herself down simply by bending her knee on the risen part. For her, it was as though she had descended an overly large step—but she did not have to crawl, slide or use her hands to navigate it. Perhaps these caverns were made for the giants, thought Falinor.

*

As she lowered herself down, Harrkania could not stop from thinking that Falinor was watching her. But why was he watching her?

Like before?

She had felt insulted the first time, but let it go due to the drugs in his body. Drugs forced upon him by her cousin.

Now he watched her—and there were no drugs within his body.

Is he looking at me the way… the way a man looks at a woman?

If that was so, she no longer found his gaze one of offense. Did that mean…

Not now, thought Harrkania. It is not the time to be thinking on such things!

*

As Falinor continued down the corridors, the wind howled in the distance through the flutes like the tones of whaling ghosts. The swordsman kept his gaze alert for any signs of activity, though through the layer of ash dust on the floor, he saw no disturbances—no footprints or tracks of any kind.

He bent, regarded that layer of ash dust more closely, and turned his head. The long hair upon his back reaching down to that dusty ground at his feet. It mattered not—through the ash fall from the sky, his hair and skin was already dry and dusty.

Seeing no disturbance, new or old, Falinor rose back to his full height.

Ahead, lay a natural arch of a kind, the smooth rock of the cavern caked and covered by a lighter mineral deposit that appeared bubbly and uneven. That rock formation narrowed into oozing stalactites that appeared to Falinor like great teeth. A foreboding sight, indeed. But what truly caught the eye, was the luminous glitter within.

“That is quite remarkable,” said Orvin as he glanced up at it.

“Oh! It is beautiful,” added Harrkania. “Orvin?”

“Mm?”

“What do you suppose gives them that glittering beauty?”

The small man shrugged. “Perhaps mineral deposits carried by decades of water flow, Princess.”

Falinor nodded and moved through the arch and down a bend that darkened. He hoped these caverns did not remain dark, or become very much darker, otherwise they would not be able to navigate this place without torches, of which Orvin only had one in his bag where he kept the water jugs along with a coil of rope.

“It is dark,” breathed Harrkania, her heavier footfalls echoing ahead of them.

“Stay close,” said Falinor as he rested his hand over the protruding hilt of his longsword.

When they turned another bend, jagged light shone upon them, caused by more stalactites at the end of the cavern, which seemed to open up into a flat space ahead. Falinor stalked into the light and his eyes widened, the marvel of what he saw as he stepped onto the level terrain a thing that stole his breath away.

Behind him, the mentor and the giantess marveled in tones of awe, their mouths slack and their eyes wide. There was far more light in here than in any previous part of the corridors they had seen, and not because the area was exposed to the sky, but rather because of the reflection and refraction of light that found its way into this space.

Bars of luminosity shot this way and that, creating a general coalescence in the center of the majestic space, the massive crystals that Falinor could not reach around with both arms had he tried, falling through the cavern like massive arrow shafts of the gods puncturing the smooth, pallid rocks.

“My gods,” said Orvin as he turned on his heels. “May we stay?”

Harrkania nodded, but Falinor put an end to it immediately, as he quickly said, “No.” They looked at him and he shook his head. “It is a wonder,” he continued. “Would that we could stay, but do not forget our quest. We do not know what lies in wait for us.”

“Oh,” whined Harrkania. “You are right Falinor.”

“Indeed,” said Orvin sorrowfully. “But should we not encounter any resistance, I should like to come back to this spot.”

“Perhaps,” offered Falinor, “but you forget, Master Orvin that Orchan’Da may be in pursuit of us even now.”

The small man seemed to remember that fact and he nodded somberly. “Then let us not waste any more time in this place, for it draws my natural curiosity and want to study.”

“Me too,” said Harrkania. “I could look upon these crystals and lights for days, I feel.”

Blinking, Falinor thought the same. In fact, he thought he felt so drawn to the light and to these crystals as to be unnatural—the way he had been drawn to Orchan’Da. The swordsman had been under no illusions of the sorceress’ attractive qualities—and had he met the giantess under different circumstances, perhaps he would have pursued her beauty—but not as a captive—as a slave.

That had been… unnatural—and as it had happened, he knew, in his mind, of the unnatural draw to her, but could do little to resist that draw.

“I do not like this place,” he muttered.

“What?” Harrkania asked in surprise. “How can you simply change your mind? Look at it.” She gestured. “The beauty… it is so…”

“Captivating,” said Orvin almost sounding dazed.

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Narrowing his eyes, something on the edge of the open space caught his eye as he glanced about curiously, and what he realized, was the skeleton lying on the floor. The skeleton of a giant, the skin desiccated and the eyes sunken pits. The giant’s clothes, battle ready and adventure ready, a rumpled heap of torn and rotting leather.

Beside the giant lay another skeleton of a warrior with a sword in his hand, the blade cracked and broken—his skin much the same. Among these skeletons, there were no signs of battle—no signs of a violent death.

Only death.

Sorcery…

The crystals!

This place was a sorcerer’s trap!

“Enough!” he called.

But giantess and Orvin only continued to marvel and Falinor’s focus was beginning to dim. He could feel it—like when he had been drugged, though this was different. He felt, bleary-eyed.

“Harrkania!” he called, taking her by the wrist.

She jerked to attention and put a hand to her breast. “Falinor! You scared me. What is it?”

“We must go.”

“But why?”

The swordsman pointed to Orvin in alarm. He was standing, unmoving, simply looking up at the crystal.

“Or…van?” she asked uncertainly.

“He is bewitched, Princess!”

“No,” she said. “No-no.” She shook her head as if trying to loosen spider webs. “Falinor—we should stay—“

Shit!

His alarm was increasing by degree, his heart beating faster inside his chest. If he did not do something soon, would they all be trapped in this cavern—more skeletons added to the pile that was already here?

“Harrkania!”

She ignored him.

“Harrkania—listen to me.”

She glanced at him and smiled. She had not been as taken as Orvin, but still, she was succumbing to the effects of the crystals, far more so than Falinor, who recognized the effects almost immediately.

What was he to do?

He needed to snap the giantess out of her unnatural awe of this place. If she could become as lucid as himself, they could haul Orvin out of the chamber if need be, but not the other way around. She was far too heavy to force anywhere if not completely unconscious, and the swordsman did not revel in the idea of hitting her in the head.

Taking her by the hand, he thought he would guide her away from the crystals. But what Harrkania did surprised him. She shook herself loose and without turning to look at him, pushed him away.

The swordsman had expert footing, and stumbled, but he did not fall. Had he been someone else—Orvin perhaps—he would have been sprawled across the floor.

Gritting his teeth, Falinor growled in frustration. Soon, even he would fall to this sorcery’s kiss!

And then an idea came to him.

Falinor stepped in front of Harrkania and hoped that this would sufficiently surprise her as to break her away from the draw of this sorcery.

“Harrkania!” he snapped.

She looked at him, and as her green eyes connected with his, he reached up and took her by the face and pulled her down to him. When he kissed her, she looked into his eyes, her pupils a swirl of unseeing focus. But then she blinked. And blinked again.

Suddenly she pulled away, her eyes going wide as she put a hand to her breast. “Falinor?!” she called in alarm. “What are you—“ She glanced about confusedly.

“Princess!” he said in way of explanation.

“What… what is happening?”

“It is the magic! It is drawing us to it. You must resist!”

She blinked several more times, her fingers coming up to touch her lips in confusion as her cheeks took on a pink hue She made eye contact with him before quickly averting her gaze.

“Princess…”

Finally, she nodded. “Yes, you are right.”

“Come!” he exclaimed. “We must leave here.”

Nodding firmly once again as if she were convincing herself of something she did not entirely believe, the giantess turned and grabbed Orvin by the wrist, pulling him with them. He stumbled as if asleep, but stumble he did as Falinor led them away from the crystals—away from the lights and the sorcerous trap that was this cavern and through another series of arches and corridors where there were no crystals—no majestic lights.

Breathing heavily, they took a moment as Harrkania fussed over Orvin, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

“Orvin!”

“Princess?” he asked, as if she had just woken him from a deep sleep after a night of much wine. “What is—what is happening?”

The small, learned man, glanced about curiously.

“Orvin!” she exclaimed, and embraced him. “You are all right!”

“What… what happened?”

“The crystals,” said Falinor. “They are a sorcerer’s trap. They nearly ensnared us.”

His eyes widened. “Truly?”

“Yes!” said Harrkania, her face half lit in the darkness. “Thankfully Falinor was able to”—she looked at him, then back to her mentor—“he was able to bring me to, and we got out.”

“I see,” he said, as if he did not quite believe what he was hearing. “Thank you, Falinor,” he finally said, nodding. “I knew it would not be a mistake to choose you.”

The swordsman and minor mage did not know what to make of that, but despite his curiosity at the words that assumed a kind of “grooming” for this role, he did not ask farther, as they needed to continue on.

“We have narrowly missed a trap,” he said soberly. “We must be more careful from now on.”

“You are right, Falinor,” said Harrkania. “We will do as you say.”

“Yes,” Orvin said, nodding once again. “Yes we will.”

They waited for a short time to make certain that none of them still suffered from the effects of the sorcerous crystals, and then once it was clear that they were all within their correct states of mind, continued on.

Harrkania glanced toward Falinor, and he looked at her, before they both averted their eyes.

The tunnel began to darken and steepen, and steepen more. The swordsman was having trouble seeing ahead as he inched down the incline. Small scree underneath his sandals gritted loudly as he spread his arms for balance.

“What is the matter?” asked Orvin quickly. “Is something wrong?”

“This incline,” said Falinor. “I am about to slip.”

“Orvin!” exclaimed Harrkania, her voice carrying down the corridor into the darkness. “Give Falinor your rope!”

“That’s right,” he said quickly, and took off his pack. The water jugs thumped against the stone floor as he set it down.

“And light that torch you have, sir,” added Falinor.

Orvin tossed him the rope, and handing the other end to Harrkania, he bent again and took out the torch. He struck at the wad of fibers nestled into the fresh torch with his flint and dagger and it breathed to life in a crackly of warmth and orange-yellow light.

“I almost wish we could stop and make a fire,” sighed Harrkania regretfully. “It is cold down here.”

Ignoring her comments about the cold, Falinor reached up gingerly as Ovan handed him the torch. As soon as he had it in his hand, he reached out, holding onto the rope. Glancing back, he looked into Harrkania’s green eyes and she nodded. “I got you.”

The space that led down was not overly far, perhaps ten paces. But for Falinor, the slide would eventually lead him into a role, or perhaps a sudden stop at the bottom, from where he could easily be injured.

“It is steep,” said he, glancing back. “But nothing we cannot navigate—nothing you cannot handle on your own, Princess.”

Holding Falinor with one arm, and quite easily, she raised her free hand to her mouth uncertainly. “Are you certain, Falinor?”

“I am certain, Princess.”

“Oh—okay.”

With a nod, he kept the torch in one hand and lessening his grip on the course hempen rope, allowed himself to slide down, his sandals gritting against the dust and scree of the incline as he went down.

Once he reached the bottom, he stumbled partially from the minor drop and his sandals slapped the floor, echoing further down the dark corridors.

“Master Orvin!” said Falinor in a tone that carried, but just enough so that the small man could hear him and without echoing throughout the caverns.

He had his hood up now as he too was cold, clearly. Harrkania held the rope as he slid down, his movements ungainly.

“Be careful,” said Falinor, indicating the subtle drop at the bottom with the torch. “There is a steeper—“

Orvin stumbled suddenly and cried out, slamming his legs forward as fast as he could to keep balance as he ran into Falinor. The swordsman caught him and was almost bowled over.

“Are you all right?!”

Harrkania’s sudden alarm echoed through the caverns quite loudly, traveling within the many flutes and corridors once again. Falinor groaned inwardly, but decided it could not have been helped.

“We are fine, Princess,” he said. “Now can you fasten the rope to something?”

*

“Umm,” Harrkania said uncertainly as she glanced about, her pigtails smacking across her neck. She spied a heavy stalagmite traveling up from the floor toward the rough ceiling. “Yes—I found something.”

Once the rope was fastened, she glanced down to the others, where Falinor held the torch. From here, she could just make out his features, remembering the warmth of his lips on her own. She almost reached up then to unthinkingly touch her mouth, but awkwardly moved her arm down where she took up the rope.

.

Butterflies whirled in her stomach as she closed her eyes in frustration. She was being silly and now was not the time to dwell on this!

But she was so happy, she wanted to smile like a fool.

“Princess?” called Orvin. “Are you well?”

“What—yes! Sorry.”

*

Frowning, Falinor and Orvin looked at one another, but then Harrkania finally dropped the rope and slid down the incline, her boots scraping loudly as she leaned back, using her hands for balance against the rock slope until she reached the bottom.

Orvin moved closer to her. “Are you certain you are well, Princess?”

She nodded. “Mm. I was just making certain that the rope was securely fastened. I would prefer not to have to throw you back up there, Orvin.” She almost laughed then.

“Perhaps we should all be giants,” said Falinor in amusement.

Harrkania smiled in the firelight of their torch before quickly schooling her features.

Was she still thinking about that kiss? wondered Falinor—because he was, dammit.

Up head from where they had come, the corridor let in some small measure of light, enough to see by should they need to get back up without the the torch.

Noting this fact, Falinor glanced down the darkened corridor as he held the torch before him. The space was quite large, enough so that the giantess did not need to crouch or lower her head in any way—not even to dodge the many glittering stalactites above them, which did well to reflect the light of the torch.

When more natural light appeared at the end of the corridor, Falinor decided to smother the torch. They could light it again if they must, but he wanted to save as much of it as possible should darkness envelope them again. That they did not carry more torches was more dangerous than Orvin or Harrkania knew—but to turn back, for lack of torches.... Had they more time, the swordsman would have suggested just that.

Even though he could summon some small flames at will, eventually his low and pathetic reserves of magical essence would run empty. They could not rely on his failed magical learning—not here.

Falinor would save his strength in this regard, for if and when they absolutely could not escape this place without it, then they would have one final measure to fall back upon.

He came out into the light into a large undulating shaft with wind flutes and crystals. These crystals were smaller than the last, but even so, Falinor stopped suddenly, whirled on his heel and said, “Stop.”

“What is it?” asked Harrkania.

“There are more crystals,” said Falinor.

Orvin’s eyes widened. “Oh-no…”

Raising a hand, Falinor said, “They are smaller than the ones from the cavern of before. And… there are steps. I believe they may just be crystals.”

They looked at him.

“What should we do?” the giantess asked.

“I will gaze upon the crystals, and if you see that I act strangely, I want you to pull me back. Do you understand?” He looked at them both, and they nodded together. “Very well,” he said.

Turning, he stepped forward and gazed upon the crystals.

He stood here for a time, feeling no ill effects.

“Are you all right?” asked the giantess. “Falinor?”

“I am fine, Princess. In fact, I feel none of the awe like before.”

“That is good.”

“Indeed,” said Orvin carefully.

He stood there for many more moment, waiting to see if he felt the effects of the crystals—but after a long time, he thought that these were simply crystals without any sorcerous trappings.

“I think it is safe,” said he, finally.

“Are you certain?” asked Orvin.

Falinor paused for a moment, glancing about. Finally he nodded. “I am.” They came forward and glanced about.

“Are those… stairs?” asked Harrkania.

“It seems so,” said Falinor, and he thought had it not been for the stairs, they would have needed a team of adventurers and carpenters to continue with ropes.

“But stairs?” asked Harrkania with even more curiosity.

“This is the path to the temple after all,” added Orvin. “It makes sense that there would be stairs or some unnatural formation to help guide those up and down.”

“Yes,” said Falinor with a nod. “This place has not always been dead.”

“If it is dead at all.”

“Then let’s climb these stairs and get into the temple,” said Harrkania with conviction. “I am ready to be done of this place.”

“My thoughts are the same,” Falinor said, and as he uttered those words, a muffled vibration came to them from below, the sound of something that had knocked against the stones somewhere deep in caverns. It had clearly echoing among the many corridors and wind flutes, until eventually reaching them in the manner that it had.

“Did you hear that?” asked Orvin, the alarm in his voice, though mostly suppressed, evident to Falinor.

“I heard it, too,” said Harrkania.

Falinor hushed them with a look, then he glanced down the stairs which wound down to places unseen by any of them. “Someone may be here,” he murmured. “No speaking from now on.”

Regarding the others, they both nodded their understanding and agreement. Falinor grasped the hilt of his sword and slowly pulled the blade from its scabbard, the hiss of metal on lacquered leather smooth and crisp and quiet while he freed his cold and deadly steel.