Now the trouble really starts
NB: Once again, this is a narrative based on my memories of the session – at least, those relevant to the story. Which means you will miss out on some excellent table-talk laughs, but such is life. Liberties have been taken with some facts, for the sake of a story that makes sense to outside readers.
Also, this narrative will contain a “bonus” track – a conversation between Seraph and Malak that happened during the time period covered by this session, but was actually carried out over email afterward. ~ FemmeLegion
They looked at the enormous hill in front of them. It stretched up further than Malak’s light could reach. Morgaine asked Red to shine her lantern up to the top. The lantern’s light played off the wings of millions of bats, and just barely glinted off a rope suspended from a hole in the ceiling of the cave.
“Is this…bat shit?” Abbadon repeated his question regarding the hill.
“This whole thing’s batshit,” someone muttered behind him.
“Prince Florin went up there,” Morgaine said very matter-of-factly, pointing to the top.
“Well, then,” Malak said, “take one of the other lanterns and skitter on up there so we have something to aim at as we run.”
“I can’t,” Morgaine said, almost whining. “There’s too much life on it.” She gestured to the carpet of roaches. “I pass through life – I can’t walk on top of it.”
“But you know Florin went up that way?” Azis’s eyes narrowed, and he shook his head slightly.
“Well, yeah.” Morgaine gestured helplessly up toward the rope.
“Well, I don’t. I’m going to take a look on the other side of this shitheap.” Circumnavigation still meant climbing up about fifty meters where the dung met the right-hand wall, but Azis set off anyway. About halfway up, the rest of the party heard him cry out, and then heard a solid THUMP that could only mean he had just punched something. A few moments later there was a second THUMP, and a curled-up centipede the size of a young goat rolled down to the bottom of the dunghill. A few cockroaches crawled up to it and then skittered away.
Abbadon began moving toward Azis, climbing the hill, and Gorlon stared after him. Only at the last moment was Seraph aware of a large cockroach crawling along the wall toward Gorlon’s head. Seraph drew his scimitar, lunged, and sliced the insect in half – much to Gorlon’s fright, as the blade passed uncomfortably close to his ear.
“At least THAT thing didn’t bleed on me,” he said, watching the insects swarm over the ichorous corpse. Morgaine had undoubtedly done him a favor by gutting the snake which had ensnared him, but it had bloodied half his body in the process.
Startled but definitely alert now, Malak asked Seraph for one of his daggers, and began watching for any other danger. Only moments later, a large lump of dung near the bottom of the hill began moving on its own. The cave was filled with a blast of salty but much sweeter-smelling air, and Malak found there was a large crab hunkered down underneath the dung. It was easily the size of a yearling horse, and as the wind faded it slowly rose to its feet again, walking toward her.
“Wait!” Seraph said as Malak readied to strike. “Its claws aren’t out.” She stayed her hand then, and watched dismayed as the crab sidled up to her, repeatedly bumping into her leg.
“What?! What do you want?! You are not my species!” Malak tried in vain to walk away from the crab, flailing at it with her hands. Seraph, still not wanting to attack what didn’t truly seem to be a threat, leaped onto the crab’s back in hopes of scaring it away. It squeaked and crouched down, but after a few moments returned to its feet, Seraph still atop it. Seraph laughed, hanging on with one hand and waving his sword with the other.
That’s one way to get him up the hill, Malak thought, and began making the climb herself, the crab close behind. About ten meters up, her leg sank up to her knee in the muck. Annoyed, she turned and reached out a hand for Seraph to pull her out – then shrieked as she felt something slither up and around her leg, poking out of the dung at about her waist. Two more tendrils shot up from under the dunghill, and all three of them opened up tiny malevolent eyes perched at the very ends. Malak began hacking at the tendril with her dagger, but might as well have been chopping down a palm tree. She then screamed as she felt a hundred little stings like teeth burying into her flesh, and a cold fire spreading throughout her body.
“Leave me!” she croaked to Seraph, and succumbed.
Azis crested the side of the dunghill and looked around. Up was the rope, down was more dark cave punctuated with cracks, and along the wall up here were thousands of tiny white half-moons jutting out from the wall. If he squinted, he could make out more of them on the ceiling, though eventually they were obscured by bats.
“Looks like we’ve got handholds here?” he called out to no one in particular.
Red squealed delightedly, and a few seconds later a grappling hook whizzed by Azis’s head to land in one with a delicate crunching sound. The rope went taut, and shortly after that Red had shimmied up to his level.
“They look like birds’ nests,” she said, looking up. “But they’ll hold me just fine, it seems. And we can probably get all the way over to the rope on them if we need to.”
“Let’s see if we do,” Azis said, crouching down. He whispered, and the two snakes emerged from his sleeves. He sent one of them swiftly down the hill to the far side, and after a little convincing was able to send the second one up the hill toward the rope. He then unfocused his eyes to see through theirs.
The upward-bound snake was very uncomfortable slithering over and around so many millions of cockroaches, but made it to the top…and found the surface…bouncy. The downward bound snake noticed several large cracks in the far wall, one possibly large enough for people to pass. As Azis directed it toward that fissure, though, it saw a flash of grey teeth, and then nothing more.
Azis recovered from his sudden disorientation in just enough time to see thin white tentacles lash out at him. He ducked and dodged, slowly working his way past it and up the hill, but shortly before he was completely clear, one of the tendrils nicked him on the wrist. His arm began to feel very warm, and then he realized that he could no longer move it. Nor his leg. Nor his other limbs. Azis fell backward, his head pointing downhill and his body completely rigid.
Gorlon, who had dawdled hoping someone would find the easiest path, watched Azis fall and sighed. He reached into his pack for the silver flask Princess Chance had given him and began scrambling up the hill toward the Zinyini. He hoped the stuff inside was as good as she said it was.
Nothing leaped out to attack Gorlon, but his foot caught on something when he was about five meters away from where Azis lay. He was able to keep hold of the flask, but it meant he landed very badly, planting his face into a layer of bugs and feeling more of them swarm over him, beginning to bite and sting.
Then he caught a brief whiff of something that smelled like burning whisky, and felt somebody yank him to his feet.
“No time to chat!” Gorlon’s eyes were squeezed shut against the muck that covered them, but he recognized Abbadon’s voice. “I’m on my way up!” Gorlon wiped one eye clean enough to feel comfortable opening it, and saw that the Azer was charging up the dunghill, glowing in a blue fire that was sustained by the guano’s fumes. Shaking his head, Gorlon resumed his trek toward Azis with the flask.
Seraph saw that the tendril creature was beginning to drag Malak below the surface, and decided to ignore her last request. He began hacking at the tendrils with his scimitar, also finding them as tough and resilient as a palm trunk. His second swipe seemed to do more good, but then he saw the spreading glow and realized the soft part he’d hit had been his grandmother’s leg.
He began trying to stab for the thing’s eye, hoping to convince it to let her go, and he gave a joyful whoop to see that the crab had carefully set its claws into Malak’s caftan and was also trying to pull her free. Then with a sickening noise, Malak’s leg came away from her body, and her light went out. Moments later, there was another burst of salt air as the spirit warrior vanished.
The crab, apparently still heedless of the Zinyini atop it, turned and began to climb back down the hill. Seraph crouched and leaped off its back, landing just out of reach of the tentacles, and started heading toward the top where he could barely see Abbadon’s glowing form.
Wait! came Morgaine’s voice in his head. Think at me.
Seraph was briefly puzzled, but focused a glance downward. About five seconds later, he felt a thump across his shoulders as something landed on them.
“Angle up that way,” Morgaine said, passing her finger in front of his eyes and then off to the left.
“I thought you passed through life,” Seraph said.
“Cloth’s dead,” Morgaine said, thumping his cloak. Seraph sighed, but heeded her directions, and soon found himself at the top of the hill next to Abbadon, who was crouched down brushing away filth and bugs.
“It’s a … it’s a bleedin’ flying carpet!” the Azer said, shaking his head.
“Gorlon!” Red’s voice came to him from overhead just as he was about to pour some of the flask down Azis’s throat.
“What?!” Gorlon immediately started looking around in case Red had spotted another immediate danger.
“Grab on!” Shortly after, a rope and grappling hook fell to dangle just above the dunghill.
“Just a second!” Gorlon had no intention of wrangling the rope or hook around a rigid Azis. Very thankful that the Zinyini had frozen with his mouth slightly open, Gorlon tipped the flask and poured a small amount down Azis’s throat.
Azis’s limbs soon began to loosen, and he got to his feet.
“What is that stuff?!” he said, shuddering.
Gorlon shrugged. “Effective.”
Azis rolled his eyes and looked up the length of the rope. “So you’re gonna, what, haul us up the hill there, Red?” he called.
“Pretty much!”
“Girl’s gone batshit from all the bat shit.” Still, Azis willingly grabbed the rope and shoved a foot into a curve of the grappling hook. Gorlon followed suit, and then both of them felt themselves being hauled up the ground as Red took the rope in one hand and began curling it around her elbow to shorten it.
“That can’t be possible,” Gorlon murmured to himself, but kept his hold.
“Okay, hang on!” Red called down. “I’m going to find another handhold.” She gamely moved three of her limbs to new nests, but when it came time to move the hand holding the rope and the two men, she began struggling too much for their comfort.
“Stop!” Gorlon said. “If you can hold still, Azis and I can probably start swinging the rope and get close enough to the top that way.”
Red obligingly paused, and the two men began kicking their legs back and forth to move the rope in a wide arc. Gorlon, facing toward the hill, jumped off first and scrambled out of the way. A few swings later, Azis landed, nearly crashing into Abbadon, who was still staring at the carpet.
Gorlon looked around. “Where’s Malak?”
“She…” Seraph paused. Died would not be the correct word, since she was technically already dead. ”...went poof. She’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Wait,” Azis said to Red, who had scrambled all the way over and was winding up to throw the grappling hook up the hole. “Let me see what’s up there first.” He whispered to his surviving snake, lifted it up to the already-hanging rope, and set it loose. He closed his eyes and began to slow his breathing.
“Nothing living,” he said tentatively. “Looks like the remains of a camp. Possibly a river up there, too.”
“Anything’s better than down here,” Gorlon said. He reached for the hanging rope, and Red stopped him.
“The bugs have been all over that one. I don’t trust it to hold weight anymore.” She resumed her windup.
“Well, wait again,” Abbadon said, pointing at the carpet. “If we can get this thing going, we may not need the rope.” And indeed, the carpet seemed small enough that it would pass through the hole.
“Are we sure we can? I mean, it’s full of holes,” Seraph said.
“It’s floating right now. When I got to the top, I ended up bouncing on it by mistake.” Abbadon grabbed a short edge of the carpet and pulled. Under where it had been, the rest could see a divot in the dunghill about ten centimeters deep. Abbadon gave the rug a shake away from everyone else and set it back down away from the divot. It floated about ten centimeters off the ground.
Azis bravely sat down on the carpet. “Up!” he said firmly. The carpet did not respond. He tried again with other commands and names and words, but all in vain.
“Still, no saying we can’t get it to work eventually,” he said, climbing off. He began to roll it up. The carpet fell slack to the ground as soon as it was no longer fully unfurled.
“Give it here,” said Red once it was all rolled up. She hoisted it under one arm, and with her other limbs shimmied up the rope she had just launched. In minutes, everyone else had either climbed up or been hauled up the hole, and stood brushing bugs off of themselves. Gorlon found to his dismay that every spot of his clothing which had been splashed with snake blood had now been eaten away.
Just as Azis’s snake had seen, there were the remains of a camp some three meters away from the hole. They saw a ring of stones that had obviously held fire, a wooden chair that looked like it could collapse for traveling, and a strange chest half-filled with water so cold that pieces of ice were floating in it. The chest also held a few apples, a wax-covered round of cheese, and two bottles with tiny bits of milky residue remaining in the bottom. From some twenty meters beyond, the travelers also heard the chuckling of a swift-flowing river. A wooden piling had been driven into a crack in the rock by the water, and what looked like a pair of oars lay near it.
“There’s still ice in there,” Red mused, pointing at the chest. “They can’t have left that long ago.”
“I don’t suppose we could re-use that fire ring?” Abbadon said, almost plaintive. “Whisky burns hot enough for cockroaches, but not for me. And we both need to clean up a bit.”
“Just a moment,” Gorlon said, hitching up the tattered remains of his tunic and bending down to inspect the ashes. After a couple minutes’ pause, he spoke. “Whoever built this knew what they were doing. It would have been a very hot fire with very little smoke.” He was silent for a while longer, then nodded. “Probably no more than two days old.”
Red and Morgaine fidgeted. Finally Red looked to the Valite and said, “They’ll move faster if they’re not miserable.” She began unpacking kindling, and shooed off the Zinyini to begin bathing themselves in the river.
Seraph dipped his hand in the water and sniffed. “This is drinkable water.” He began shucking clothes. “It feels so wrong to wash in drinkable water.” Such an act would have been unthinkable out in the desert, even if they had only been a tenth as filthy.
“Well, there’s definitely no shortage of it,” Azis said, nodding. He stuck his bare foot in the river and immediately yanked it back out. “Fuck, that’s cold!” Still, a few seconds later he steeled himself to wade out calf-deep into the middle of the river, rubbing folds of his robe against themselves to loose the muck from them.
Azis had taken the carpet, to clean it as well, and the men soon noticed it exhibited a curious behavior. When the carpet was unfurled and floating, it could be pulled from one place to another, but it could not be pushed, and it held perfectly still even when floating above the moving water. But all Azis had to do was fold enough of the carpet back upon itself and it would fall down.
Their dry clothes clung to their wet skin, but they didn’t mind. Seraph and Azis rejoined the group, glad to be clean and glad for the fire which the Azer had themselves “bathed” in. After a few minutes, Azis walked a short distance away from the others, unrolled the flying carpet, lay his prayer mat on top of it, and began his devotionals.
“Einac,” the voice came deep and strong from just outside the god’s chambers. Einac untangled his arms from around Malak and rolled to his back, not caring if he was covered or not.
“T’Cidien. What brings you over here?” Einac nodded respectfully and pushed himself to a sitting position.
“Malak, after a fashion.” The war-god’s eyes settled on her as he entered. They were not cruel eyes, but definitely cold from the aeons of battle he had witnessed. Malak was only able to meet his gaze for a moment or two. “You’ve asked her to guard your Seraph, yes?”
“Yes,” Einac said evenly. “What is the matter?”
T’Cidien twisted his mouth into what for him was a smile. “It is not a ‘matter’ per se. Seraph’s half-brother Azis…he is one of my devoted. And this evening, as part of his prayers, he requested that Malak be returned to them more quickly.”
Einac quirked an eyebrow. “But that can’t be done. Perhaps Father Ni’krowd could have defied time like that, a thousand years ago, but not any of us. Especially not anymore.”
“This is true.” T’Cidien nodded. “However, his prayers ended only minutes ago, and I also find that sundown is only minutes away. It was the least I could do for my devoted to ensure that Malak would not be…detained from her return.”
Malak blushed, and hurriedly rolled out of the bed to scoop up new clothes and straighten her hair. Einac chuckled, but not at her. “And since Malak said they’re all underground, he probably doesn’t know where the sun is, and he might actually think you were able to do that for him. Isn’t it great when things work out like that?”
“I do not approve of false hope,” T’Cidien said grimly. “It makes one careless.” The war-god beckoned for Malak to come closer, and whispered something in her ear. Then the earth beneath her feet rumbled with the roar of a million marching soldiers, and she was swept away once again.
Azis had convinced everyone to help him experiment with the flying carpet, and right then all of them stood crowded atop it to test its strength. It showed no sign of bowing under their weight, but then Red squeaked as one of the bug-chewed holes near her feet started to tear further.
“That’s enough of that!” she said, hopping off. “Dinner’s probably ready now anyway.” Soon Azis alone remained on it, and he kept trying to think of new commands or words of power that might activate it. Then he noticed a small glowing light swirling between him and the fire. It grew larger, and began to coalesce into a human shape. Everyone saw the spirit warrior return, but Azis was the first to speak.
“Welcome back,” he said simply. Malak smiled dazedly at him for a moment, T’Cidien’s whisper still ringing in her ear. She then nodded in return and began turning slowly, looking for Seraph.
“Ah, just in time,” said Red, proffering a bowl. Malak politely refused.
“It’ll be hours before I’m hungry again.” Malak walked over to her grandson. “How are you feeling?”
Seraph found it hard to speak for a moment, until Red walked up offering him dinner. “Maybe later, thanks.” He looked to Malak again. “Please, Reverend Mother, walk with me for a moment.”
Malak pursed her lips at the honorific, but nodded and followed him. Seraph paused about two meters from the river and turned to face her squarely.
“I am sorry that I was unable to save you, and I apologize for causing you to…uh…poof.” Seraph punctuated the word apologize by kneeling in front of Malak, and touched his head to the ground as he had so often done in ritual prayer.
It had not been there long before two glowing fingers slipped under his chin and began to tug him upright. Malak was also kneeling now, and looking at him lovingly. Seraph tried to look away, but her hand held his chin fast.
“Habbibi…” Malak said, then shook her head. “No. Seraph.” She smiled. “For you truly are a man and not a child. I’m not upset with you for trying to save me. I’m sure it is what your father and grandfather raised you to do, and you honor them well in that. And I’m not upset that you…couldn’t, because that thing, and nearly everything else we’ve had to face so far, is like nothing we would have ever seen in the desert. But I am upset” – she tugged Seraph forward slightly for emphasis – “that you put yourself into needless danger to do it, when the very reason that our god asked me to be here is to help keep you safe from danger.”
Malak stroked Seraph’s cheek with her thumb, looking at him intently, then sighed. “Sometimes I forget. I forget how long I’ve been dead…how long ago it was that the demons invaded and the Empress took away the Spirit Warriors. Perhaps you were not even born then. But still, I know that you at least know about Spirit Warriors, and what we are and what we do. And I know Azis does too.” She glanced toward the camp and smiled, then looked back to Seraph. “And you need to not forget. I told you to leave me because I was certain once that…thing had me, it would have no need to take you, and you could leave unharmed. I will sacrifice myself like that when I need to, because I can. It’s part of the vow I made to Einac to protect you. But if you then turn around and all but throw yourself into the thing’s mouth trying to rescue me, then it was all for nothing.” She looked solemnly at Seraph for a second or two, then grinned, indicating her body with her other hand. “I know I don’t look like it, but I was forty-one years old when I died. You’ll have to trust that every once in a while I’ll know better than you.”
Malak leaned to kiss Seraph’s forehead, finally letting go of his chin. “You would not have pulled me aside for something as simple as an apology, though. What else is there, Habbibi?”
Seraph shifted from kneeling to sitting. He gestured to the ground in front of him invitingly, and Malak moved to sit near him.
“Back at the Castle,” he said, “you asked about my dreams and why the Valites might be interested in me. To be frank, I doubt it is really me they are interested in. Somehow they know about my Oracle in my dreams. She started appearing to me about 5 years ago when she guided me to water and then back to the camp after I went out to complete the trial of manhood. I’ve never seen her face nor been gifted with her name, but it seems that was for the best after being captured by these Valites.
“I don’t always dream of her, but when I want or need something strongly enough, she comes to me and offers guidance. Most often I pass through a…shifting city of sand and waterfalls before going to her room where she waits.” Seraph sighed. Malak saw his face soften for a moment, almost wistful, then the grim determination returned like iron walls to lock away such tenderness.
“I’m afraid there’s not much more that I can tell you, unless you have specific questions. I will tell you this, though.” Seraph clenched his fists for a moment. “I will protect her from the Valites however I can. They may have forced this vow on me now, but she is important to me.”
Malak looked pensive and a little sad for a few moments after Seraph was done speaking. She sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t help with that as easily. Your hand in the castle” – she mimicked cutting herself with a knife – “is proof of that. But I will pray with you, and for you, that you might be strong enough.”
Malak curled her legs underneath herself and gracefully pushed herself upright, reaching out a hand to help Seraph stand. “Is this something you think I can entrust to Einac? I would seek his advice on such an enigma, but believe it or not, I can keep things from him if you feel I ought.”
Seraph took the hand, but stood under his own strength. “I would be glad of the gods’ counseling in this matter. Is there…” Seraph hesitated a moment, “anything I can do to better serve Einac?”
Malak smiled and embraced Seraph. She held him at arm’s length for a moment, then let go, still smiling.
“Live.”
Malak brushed her hair out of her eyes. “It really is that simple. And I know sometimes the simple answers are the hardest to believe, but it’s true. I tried to tell Azis that the night before we left on this trip. He has no problem believing that he gets his strength from T’Cidien, but for some reason it’s harder for him to fathom that T’Cidien in turn gets his strength from Azis.” She hitched up the shoulder on her caftan. “But that’s really how it goes. Because Azis has faith in T’Cidien, and because he acts in accord with that faith, T’Cidien’s presence is increased in the world, and so he becomes stronger. And he can then bless his devout worshipers, knowing that those blessings will also be used in accord with their faith, increasing his presence even further.
“It’s the same for you, or for anyone else. Even me. I’ve seen the gods. I’ve touched them, and even made love with them. But when I’m a spirit removed from this world, it does nothing. It’s that bond between the living and the gods – that beautiful circling dance of devotion and blessing! That’s what keeps them alive and strong for us even as the Valites would try to reason them out of existence.”
Malak paused for a moment, looking giddy, then reached out to smooth a stray lock of Seraph’s hair. “Believe. Be mindful. Be respectful. That’s all the gods can ask of anyone.”
Malak tilted her head toward the camp, and she and Seraph walked back to find Azis talking to Gorlon and Abbadon, and Red unfolding three large bundles of what looked like shiny cloth. At first, Malak thought they were tents, but then Red took hold of one’s corner, placed it to her mouth, and began blowing.
“Um, what’s this?” Seraph asked, pointing to the bundles.
“These are boats,” said Morgaine. “Or rather, they will be once we get enough air in them.”
Malak looked at Seraph, then looked at Morgaine, then smiled modestly. “Might I try?” Morgaine shrugged and gestured to an unattended bundle.
“Um, guys,” Malak called to the rest of them, “I don’t suppose some of you would mind sitting on this to weigh it down, would you? I’m not exactly sure this will work and I don’t want to send it into the water early.”
“Wait, you’re going to…?” Morgaine scrambled to rearrange the pile of cloth and point out exactly where Gorlon and Abbadon could or could not sit. Malak picked up the corner of the boat, found the valve where the air would go, placed her finger against it, and prayed. With a WHUMP!, the cloth sprang into shape almost instantly, and the two Azer were snugly nestled inside the boat. Laughing, Malak went over to the third boat to repeat her efforts.
“Okay, note to self,” Gorlon said as he deliberately fell out of the boat and lurched to his feet. A stone disc on a heavy chain came out from under his tunic, and he tucked it back in. “I will not be riding in the same boat as Abbadon.”
“Well, no,” said Red, leaving off blowing for a moment. “I wouldn’t expect either of you knows how to steer one of these things. Morgaine and I do.” She frowned then, visibly upset with herself for something. “So who is our third pilot going to be?”
Seraph waited for the second WHUMP!, then shrugged. “It can’t be that much worse than a camel, can it?”
Red looked askance at him, but told him to go ahead and sit in one of the inflated boats. She handed him a pair of oars and attempted to quickly teach him how to maneuver. After about a minute, she asked for the oars back and looked at Morgaine.
“So…I guess we can tie the third boat to yours, Morgaine?”
Seraph looked offended, and Azis looked dubious.
“Well, it looked like boats were only going to hold two people each anyway, and there’s seven of us if we need the ghost-girl to steer. If we’re going to get tied to a boat, I say we use the carpet. We know it can be pulled, and I also know the three of us” – he indicated himself, Seraph and Malak – “will fit just fine, unlike in one of those.”
To nearly everyone’s surprise, Red thought this was a fine idea, and began squeezing air out of the partially inflated boat. Halfway through, she reached in to retrieve a pair of oars from inside the bundle, handing them to Azis.
“You may still need those, and Abbadon insisted on burning the ones Florin left.”
“I was cold! I still am, too!” Abbadon stalked back over to the fire ring.
After Red had stashed the third boat, she began organizing boats and the carpet in the water. After some agonizing confusion, the group were eventually on their way.
It was a miserable ride for everyone other than Red and Morgaine – the latter being incorporeal, and Red having done this many times before. Abbadon and Gorlon were repeatedly splashed with the bone-chilling water from the river as the boats bounced up and down in the rapids, and the Zinyini had to cling with all their strength to the edges of the carpet and to each other, lest they fall off and be swept away.
“Can you please explain to me again why we’re doing this?” Azis snarled. “Those Amazon bitches had us dead to rights, and every man in that raiding party knew any given raid could be their last. We should be dead by now. We should be off in the city in the clouds, serving the gods directly.”
“Those men were – are – my responsibility,” Seraph shouted over the current. “I was given a chance to keep them from dying, and I took it.” His half-brother’s attitude irked him, and he tightened his grip on the carpet. “Princess Germain said that Malak would also be a witness to the vow I made. So I suppose that if we were to find a point where you could leave, you’d be free to do so.”
“That’s not what I meant!” Azis shook his head, frustrated. “But you know, us off on this wild goose chase for some demigod baby, and maybe the rest of the raiding group hitting a couple more caravans…I really don’t understand how this serves the gods’ best interest.”
“You’re alive!” Malak leaned forward to interject herself. “I tried to tell you that two nights ago, and you didn’t believe me then either. But it’s still true. You’re worth more to the gods than I am.”
Their conversation was cut short by Red yelling backward to Morgaine, “Here it comes!” Everyone else heard the grumbling roar, and it seemed sort of familiar to them, but being desert-dwellers all, they were still taken completely by surprise by the twelve-foot waterfall.
Azis heard Gorlon scream, then felt the front edge of the carpet being tugged downward dramatically, and he lunged to slice open the knot. The carpet righted itself, and floated gently down to hover once again six inches above the water. It still refused to go forward, though, and the three were now getting thoroughly drenched by spray off the falls.
“Grab the oars!” he shouted to Seraph and Malak. “I’ll keep hold of you.”
After some awkward fits and starts, they discovered the best way to move forward was to simply leave both paddles in the water and hold them still, letting the current pull them along. A few boulders in mid-stream also forced them to learn how to steer.
They went on for several minutes that felt much longer, and suddenly Azis hollered, nodding his head to their left. The two other boats were just up ahead, tied off to another piling, and if he was hearing things correctly there was yet another waterfall ahead if they weren’t careful. Seraph and Malak tentatively steered the carpet to the bank, and Gorlon pulled on the carpet until it hovered over the dark sand.
As the Zinyini crawled or tumbled off the carpet, they noticed theirs were not the only watercraft here. A very shiny blue tube sat on the sand, tapered shut at each end with a hole in the top perhaps big enough to seat one man. The name “Florin” was etched across the side in large gold letters. Red was inspecting it closely.
“This is a really nice kayak,” she mused.
The Zinyini looked at each other, and Seraph said “So can you tell anything from it, like how long ago it got here?”
“Not from the boat itse – HEY!” Red was nearly knocked over as Seraph and Malak each grabbed an end and heaved the thing into the water, where it promptly disappeared from sight.
“You didn’t actually inconvenience him any, you know,” she sniffed.
“Yeah, well, it made me feel better,” said Malak. “Let’s go.”
The narrow passage led to a large limestone cavern. The stone seemed to form itself into large curtains that flowed down the walls, and the ceiling was covered in menacing stalactites. A large lake took up most of the floor, and slender hollow tubes sprung up around it like stone rushes.
Azis halted everyone just before they left the passage. He looked around, then pointed to where some of the tubes had been broken. “Something went that way,” he said. “Need to take it single file.” He strode into the cavern, obviously placing himself in the lead.
“You’ll need a light behind you,” said Malak, and stepped in.
Seraph waved around at the others. “I’ll take up the rear.”
“I wish you wouldn’t…” Malak began. Azis whirled on her.
“Good gods, woman! In case you hadn’t noticed, Seraph is a grown man! He has actually done pretty well for himself without a woman hanging off his neck like a bat!”
Azis began to stalk forward. Malak glanced once more at Seraph, then turned away and began to follow. Seraph quietly waved everyone else ahead of him while she wasn’t looking.
Forward progress was slow, because Azis had to keep looking for signs of someone else’s passage. It was very quiet except for the sounds of their breathing, and the occasional crunch of stone underfoot. They had just skirted one “corner” of the lake when a louder crunch sounded from the ceiling, and Seraph yelped. Everyone turned, and saw that a stalactite had fallen and buried itself in his shoulder.
Malak, knowing she was too far away to do anything else useful, immediately began looking up, in case something had thrown it at them and planned to do so again. She then noticed that all the stalactites were moving. Worse, they were all very deliberately moving toward them.
“MOVE!” she yelled, gesturing wildly in front of her and launching herself toward the lake so people could get ahead of her. She hadn’t quite expected the water to only be a few inches deep, so she stumbled and landed ignominiously on her side, but that didn’t matter. For all she knew, that made her an even more attractive target.
To her surprise, Azis actually began to hustle more quickly along the water’s edge, and by the time Malak had regained her feet, she was able to slip back into ‘line’ right behind Seraph.
“Pull it out!” said Red, who was just in front of Seraph. Malak considered arguing, but didn’t have time. Seraph pulled the stone from his shoulder with Red’s help, and a split second after it came out, a fangy mouth opened on the narrow end. Red threw the stone into the lake, and Seraph jammed a fold of his cloak into the wound with his other hand.
The cave expanded away from the lake at the far corner, and Azis paused. The stone tubes were fewer here, which meant it was harder to tell where someone might have walked. Especially now that Malak wasn’t right behind him anymore.
“Left!” Seraph called out as he continued to hurry forward. By a strange trick of chance and light, he saw faint scrapings on the ground leading toward the cave wall. Azis chose to hold still then, instead waving everyone else in front of him. He looked upward intently, and another stalactite threatened to fall on him, but he smoothly stepped back and knocked it away as it came down. He continued to do this for several minutes.
Meanwhile, the others huddled up against the cave wall. Gorlon pulled the flask out from his pocket and made Seraph take a small sip. The wound closed, but it was then Seraph realized just how hard it was to move the injured arm.
Gorlon frowned worriedly. “Hm. Well, let’s see if this does something before we use up more of the flask.” He pulled the stone disc out from under his tunic and touched it to Seraph’s shoulder. Gingerly, Seraph moved his arm in a small circle, then nodded.
“I won’t be fighting with this arm anytime soon, but at least it moves now. Thanks.”
“Now that you’re done with that,” Malak said grimly, “are you going to tell me we have to go through that?” She was pointing at a very small aperture in the rock, about waist-high on her, and less than a meter wide in any given direction. When she looked through, it appeared to be a passage about two meters long.
Seraph sighed. “Unfortunately, yes.” He gestured to the scrapes on the stone, which were easier to see from this angle. “And I know we haven’t even tried to look on the other side of the lake, but…” He sighed again. “I just know.”
Abbadon unslung his axe. “Well, if we’re doing this, I think I’ll have the least trouble out of any of us.” He began pushing the axe into the tunnel. “And then I can help pull people through.”
“Can you leave that here, actually?” Red asked. “I was thinking everyone should leave their packs, and I can use that to push them through at the end.”
Abbadon looked wary. Seraph fumbled with his scabbard buckle for a few seconds, then gestured for Malak to help him, hoping Azis wouldn’t notice.
“You can use this, Red,” he said as Malak handed over the scimitar. “I won’t be for a while.”
Abbadon nodded, doffed his pack, and began clambering through the passage. A short while later, they heard him grousing about wet feet. Morgaine moved forward.
“I’ll go next. We know he won’t need to pull me through.”
“You’ll go after-next,” Malak said firmly. “So someone else can keep an eye on you if Abbadon needs to pull the rest of us through.” She nodded to Gorlon, who hurriedly shucked his gear and all but dove in. He grunted and cursed a few times, but was able to make it through unaided.
Morgaine disappeared effortlessly through the passage, and Malak glanced over at Azis, who was still easily dodging the falling tooth-filled rocks. She then looked to Seraph.
“How about you go next?”
Seraph shrugged with his good shoulder, dropped his pack, then crawled in, making sure to keep his injured arm by his side so Abbadon wouldn’t pull on the wrong one if needed. About halfway through, he felt his sash catch on something. He struggled, but with only one arm to propel himself, he found himself stuck fast. His fingers were, maddeningly, only a few inches from where he could grab down and possibly pull himself.
“Y’need some help, lad?” Abbadon’s hand closed over Seraph’s before the Zinyini even had a chance to answer, and the Azer was pulling firmly. Seraph opened his mouth to suggest that perhaps he should back out and then try again without his sash tied, but he was interrupted by two very loud SNAPs. One was from whatever had snagged his sash. The other was from his collarbone. Seraph yelped as he felt a searing pain, and then he fell into blackness.
Malak heard the Azer and Morgaine talking in worried voices, and she crawled into the passage without even asking Red. Cursing her figure a few times, she was able to pull herself through, landing on smooth round rocks that apparently made up the entire floor of this chamber.
Seraph was laid out about two meters away, and Gorlon was turning a flask in his hands uncertainly. Malak flew to Seraph’s side, kneeling down.
“His collarbone,” Abbadon said simply.
“The flask helped with the other shoulder,” Gorlon offered, “but with a broken bone…I’d be afraid it would heal his arm into that position permanently.”
“Sssh. Let me,” Malak said, gently loosening Seraph’s robe. She slipped her fingers underneath the cloth, probing gently to find where the bone had broken, and feeling grateful that twenty years of being dead hadn’t dulled her memory. After a while, she slipped her other arm under Seraph’s, twisting her body to carefully lift his head so his jaw would drop.
“Okay, I’ve got the pieces together,” she said softly. “If you’re very careful, you should be able to pour it down the side of his throat and he won’t choke on it.”
Gorlon slowly poured a dose of the flask into Seraph’s mouth, and Malak could feel the bone knitting together under her fingers. She nodded to Gorlon and began to lower Seraph back down when Azis’s voice stopped her.
“No! Wait! Gzgh!” Azis came around to Seraph’s feet, and nodded to something behind Malak. Craning her neck, she saw that the carpet had already been unrolled and was patiently hovering. “Let’s get him out of the damned water.”
In truth, the tops of the rocks were still dry, but Malak didn’t argue. She gently lifted, and the two of them set Seraph on the hovering carpet. Red had already begun unfolding tarps, and Morgaine was helping her lay them out. Not certain she could be useful in any other way, Malak folded her hands and bowed her head. Gorlon touched the stone disc to Seraph’s shoulder, and then to the old wound just in case, and then again to the broken shoulder just in case, then thumbed it nervously before putting it away again.
Azis and Abbadon promptly took up watch. Looking around, they saw that water flowed down from several points along the walls, and little flat fish clung to the stone where it flowed, their oversized fins looking like wings. The water pooled on the floor beneath the smooth stones on which they stood. The room was vaguely circular, but they could make out a fairly large fissure in one wall that was most likely where they would need to go next.
“Morgaine,” said Red, “I’m pretty sure we’re going to be staying here for a while. Why don’t you go wake up, take care of your bodily needs, and we’ll see you again in a few hours.”
Morgaine had walked over to stand by Seraph, much to Malak’s disgust, and she stroked his hair a couple of times before vanishing.
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