Therin didn’t know how naked he felt without a weapon on him until he watched the other two men toy idly with their new acquisitions. Roshan, fluidly graceful, swung the new curved blade almost without thought, as though he wished to make his body intimately familiar with the heft and balance of his new weapon. It was impressive to watch, as they entered the next cavern, and Therin reminded himself how deadly the small, leanly muscled man was.
Noran, still blinded, kept his hand on his sheathed dagger, his head cocked and occasionally turning as he listened to their surroundings. His long, pale fingers played across the hilt of the strange looking weapon, the pale green gemstones flickering in the light that followed them.
The cavern was dim and even with the witch’s lighting following Noran, the room was gloomy. The floor was uneven, an indication that this room was perhaps natural, though it was sand and dirt and not stone like the passageways. Dotted around the wide, low cave were piles of seemingly random things covered in a thick layer of dust and sand. Some of the piles, Therin noted as they passed, had chests bound in chains. Most of the piles had thickly shrouded, lumpy parcels. The entire room smelled dry and desiccated and as they traversed, Therin’s sweaty skin accumulated a thin coating of grimy dust.
“Does it talk to you?” Therin asked abruptly as Noran’s fingers played across his new Knife. “The dagger.”
“Yes,” Noran said distractedly. “In a way. I’m not its master but there’s something familiar about it.”
“Why don’t you become its master?”
“I can’t,” he said, showing Therin his branded palm. “I’ve got a claimed blade.”
“And that stops you from claiming others?”
“Well,” Noran said thoughtfully, dropping his hand back to the blade at his hip. “I’m a kind of special circumstance, truthfully.”
“Because you’re male.” Therin agreed and he took his brother’s arm to direct him around an uneven section of the cavern floor.
“Yes, and how I was made into a witch was…unconventional. For many years, it was often just infants or small children that were initiated. They have malleable souls and are easily paired with spirits to grant them power. But when a witch wishes to make an apprentice who is already older, the process isn’t simple anymore. You have to fight preconceived ideas and you have to open a closed mind.”
Noran put a pale hand on Therin’s arm and dug his nails into his skin, halting them both.
“What?” Therin asked, his head whipping to face his brother.
“I thought I heard–” He was cut off by a skeletal hand that shot out from a dusty pile, sand spraying, the bones clicking wildly. It grasped at his bare leg, scrabbling against his flesh, finding no purchase. With a startled yelp, Therin yanked the witch out of the reach of the skeletal hand only to find that a garden of boney hands had sprang up all around them.
“These are burials!” Therin gasped, whirling, surveying the chamber.
“Something set off the wards,” Noran whispered, drawing the blade at his waist. “Did you–”
“No,” Therin barked. He dragged Noran behind him as he made his way across the chamber to Roshan. “I’m going to go grab a weapon from that last room,” he said and flung Noran into Roshan’s arms.
He sprinted down the dark tunnel, the light that Noran summoned staying behind. His boots rang loudly on the stone and changed to a sharp tinkling as he found himself in the crystalline chamber. With no light, it was impossible to see and he cursed himself for the impulsivity of his flight.
He found a wall and traced a hand across it, hoping to run into something useful. After only a few seconds, a shout from the next room hurried him and he whispered, letting the Light slither down his arm into a ball. He lifted his hand above his head and noted that he had passed two different weapons on the wall, narrowly avoiding dragging his hand along the sharpened edge of a long, thin blade. He slipped it from the iron peg and as he did, the crystal around him rang. The deep echoing peal vibrated through his legs from the floor, wending itself into his chest in a bizarre way.
The ball of Light in his hand sputtered and he fed it more power. The walls around him rang again, as though they had been struck by something. He spun, searching for the source of the noise but he was alone.
He twisted back to the wall, frowning. He swelled his Light and heard the deep tone again, as though the room was groaning, reacting to his Light. The green hue of the crystal paired with its aversion to his Light reminded him of something and he wracked his tired, overwrought brain for what it could be. The rumble of the walls stopped and he heard a light footstep behind him.
He brandished the sword, light enough to wield in one hand, and let the Light course down him, filling him with a bright fire that illuminated the crystalline room in fantastical brilliance. Across the room, a shadowy figure crouched, darkness swirling around them ominously.
“Come no closer,” he growled and the figure slunk closer in response. As it did, it seemed to clear the shadows around it just enough to become recognisable as human, or human-like. Two daggers slipped from the shadows and Therin gasped.
“Alira!” He called and nearly dropped his weapon in his rush forward. The shadows around the now-familiar shape dropped for a second and he saw a warning in her pale face, bringing him up short.
“How did you get here?” Her voice was tight and clipped, suspicion lacing her words.
“Portals,” he said succinctly and she remained still, thinking over his answer. “Not far from Devan’s estate. They’re destroyed now.” He added lamely and a single nod of understanding came from her.
A shout from down the passage startled them both and Therin moved to turn away but she was on him in an instant.
“Who else is with you?” Her voice was deeper somehow, laced with a dangerous power he had never felt from her and the dagger she aimed at his throat glimmered bright purple.
“My brother, Noran,” he said and her eyes narrowed.
“The witch,” she whispered and for a brief glimmer, Therin saw Alira again, as she was before the changes.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“And a Blademaster, Roshan.” A frown creased her face before the shadows hid her features again. “He was looking for your spirit friend.”
“Why?” She demanded and he shrugged. “Where is he?” She asked and he knew that she meant Hrulinar.
“I’m not sure,” he said and she pressed forward even closer. He could smell her damp sweat and feel the heat of her. “Roshan might know more.”
“I need your Light,” she said suddenly and before he could comprehend what she was saying, she had grasped his hand, pushed back the mail that covered half his arm and sliced into his forearm, deep enough to expose muscle. With a roar, he pulled his arm back and poured the Light into the cut, trying to mend the wound. Where his blood dripped onto the floor, cracks formed in the crystal as though each drop weighed the same as a boulder. The sound of the fractures was loud and deep, vibrating through the room.
She grabbed at his hand again but he yanked away, pulling her closer to him. As she stumbled into his arms, he headbutted the ball of shadows that was her head and met very little resistance. She slithered out of his grasp and was behind him, her daggers both against the chainmail at his back.
“I need your Light,” she said again with gritted teeth. “Or my father’s mace.” When he stilled she pressed the tips of the daggers into his back, sticking them into the mail. He had no doubt that they would not be hampered by the cheap mail shirt.
“It’s back where the portals are,” he said evasively.
“You left it?” She gasped and he used her shock to his advantage, spinning away out of her reach.
“I had no choice,” he said, raising his blade to her. “I had no choice.”
“Then use your Light,” she said and he caught the desperation in her voice. “Please, it’s too much to bear.”
“What is?” he asked, the sword dipping in his hand as he eyed her.
“This pain,” she choked and he noticed the subtle shake that travelled down the blades grasped in her small hands. “His pain.”
“Hrulinar?” He asked, confused even more. She nodded and let the shadows around her fade a little. She gestured to the room around them and he suddenly understood, something clicking inside his mind.
The green crystals held a vast store of Hrulinar’s power.
“How?” He asked. She shrugged, letting the darkness slip around her again and he turned his back to her, looking around the room again. His head dipped and he saw that underneath him, not just where his blood had dropped, deep cracks were appearing in the floor. He knelt and touched his hand to the crystal, letting Light flow slowly. The deep peal from before became a booming rumble and he lifted his hand quickly.
A shout from the next chamber again pulled him back and he stood. Something alerted Alira and her shadow-laden head whipped around, her long braid swinging. Without waiting to explain, Therin shoved past her, returning to the pair he had left behind. Her following footsteps told him that she followed. Glad of the potential of her help, he pushed himself into a faster run and burst into the dusty chamber. He nearly fell as he pulled up short in horror.
Both men were pressed against a wall across the room, Roshan crackling with Light and Noran shaking as his dagger glowed purple. The Blademaster, his body in front of the blinded witch, was braced for combat. Several desiccated figures had clambered from their graves, the air suddenly filled with the musty scent of the long-dead.
A short distance from the two was a heap of bones, the dried flesh flayed and hanging in strips as the skeleton tried to put itself back together. Roshan’s pant leg was torn as though a hand had gasped and had rent the cloth with inhuman strength.
“How many?” Noran gasped from behind the Blademaster, who did not deign to answer. The male witch clutched his head and bent double, a strangled cry of pain escaping from him.
Panic filled Therin but he washed it away with a fresh wave of Light, letting the warmth spread down him and taking away the numbed fear that had gripped him. He watched his brother crouch, his face in his hands and he sprung into action.
Gripping the unfamiliar sword in his hand, Therin charged forward, swinging deftly at the first shambling corpse that he came upon. It fell with ease but as he pushed the Light down his arm into the weapon it became unbearably hot and he dropped the blade with a startled cry. He retrieved the sword and pulled the Light from his sword hand, instead coalescing it into a ball in his other hand, slamming his Light-infused fist into the face of a dried corpse as it turned toward him. It dropped and lay still.
Alira brushed past him, the shadows that seemed to coat her skin fading and suddenly she was blindingly bright, her daggers flickering from purple to gold. She pounced first on one corpse then another, dispatching them with quick efficiency, letting the Light slither down her arms and touch the animated flesh of their foes. Therin, distracted by her incredible speed and grace couldn’t help but stare, his mouth agape.
“Who is that?” Roshan muttered as he danced forward and beheaded a skeleton, its teeth gnashing at him, rattling as it rolled away.
“A friend,” Therin grunted, kicking aside the crumpled heap that had fallen as he touched it with the Light and the last of the reanimated dead settled, the room suddenly ominously quiet. The air was thick with dust and as Alira ran back toward the tunnel, her boots threw up sand behind her.
Noran stood, gasping, his blindfold wet with tears. Therin finally made his way to this brother’s side and took his arm, pulling him toward the entrance to the crystalline chamber. “Roshan!” He called and the Blademaster sprinted after them.
Once together in the otherworldly crystal chamber, Therin took in the room once more. Alira stood beside the table, her hand hovering over the daggers. A pained expression was on her ruined face and her body language was that of a wary animal, uncomfortable and on the lookout for danger.
“What do we need to do?” Therin asked her as he came alongside her. “Tell me what to do to help you. To help him.”
“I was told that this is a syphon. It collects power but was specially made to collect Hrulinar’s power. The crystals…” She touched a dagger and it immediately flared purple, the gemstones in the hilt appearing to be lit from within.
“The Light,” Therin suggested and pulsed the Light down his arm one again, careful to keep it from touching the sword in his hand. Alira nodded and followed his suit, her own Light dim next to his. He grinned at her, impressed. He took her hand and fed his Light into her flesh but she shook him off shaking her head. He dipped his head in apology and walked to the far wall of the chamber.
Sword held aloft, he pressed his Light infused hand to the crystal wall. At first, it seemed as though nothing would happen but suddenly Alira was beside him, her daggers sheathed and her strange Light flickering. She pressed her hands to the wall beside him and the deep tone echoed around again, a crack forming under their hands. Appearing at Therin’s right was Roshan, his own curved blade tucked into his belt. His wide, dark eyes met Therin’s and then he let the wild Light he possessed crackle down his arms and he too touched the wall, both palms flat to the crystal.
The resulting crack was deafening, the wall suddenly a spiderweb beneath a fine layer of uninterrupted crystal. The green hue that tinted the crystal seeped out, almost liquid, and poured into Alira, up her arm, into her body. A deep rumble shook the room, causing Therin to stumble, his hand losing contact with the wall. Instantly, the liquid green power seemed to lessen to a trickle and as the broad man pressed his hand to the wall again, he watched in awe as the trickle returned to a rushing stream.
He looked to Alira and cried in alarm. Her face was no longer a pale imitation of the dark goddess that had entered the world through her skin. She was restored, the colour slipping back into her hair and flesh, her closed eyes suddenly as he remembered them. As Hrulinar’s stolen power flowed into the woman, she seemed to fill in a little, her too-thin cheeks plumping and her clothes no longer hanging off her emaciated body.
She suddenly bared her teeth and pushed more Light from herself into the wall and he followed suit, watching the cracks widen and spread across the entire wall. He heard them echo behind them and beneath their feet and knew that the entire room was shattering. Alira opened her eyes at the sound. A cry from Noran behind them made Therin turn and he saw that his brother had taken the blindfold off, tears streaming down his face, as he stared with awe at Alira.