The Bonding (The Song and the Rhythm) (59 page)

A wall of snow at least seven feet high marked the edge of the forest. Snow from the sides of the mountain had slid down the steep upper slopes and gathered to form a rather effective barrier where the trees began. After trekking perhaps one hundred yards to either side, the adventurers could find no easy way to traverse the wall.

Thorne finally grew impatient and strode directly into the thick pile of snow. His stout body pushed a tunnel through all the way to the other side, though it left him covered in white from head to toe. While the others carefully maneuvered through the passage the belligerent dwarf had made, Thorne set about shaking and brushing off the cold, wet snow, chuckling satisfactorily to himself all the while.

The sun seemed unnaturally bright as it slowly descended behind the mountains to their left, mostly because they’d spent so long in the dimness of the forest. The dark shadow of Travelers’ Bane sat behind the group as they paused to check themselves and their equipment before continuing on. Once they began climbing and drew near to the Dark Wizard’s fortress, there’d be no time to spare for a weapon that needed sharpening or a loose boot strap.

Almost all of the party members found scrapes and other minor abrasions made by the close underbrush of the forest. Snow served to clean everyone’s wounds and staunch any errant trickle of blood. Vaun found a hole the size of his palm in the side of his shirt but couldn’t guess when it had happened. He was mainly glad that whatever had done the job had missed his skin, and when he tucked his shirt in properly his pants covered the hole enough that it didn’t let in too much cold air. Hopefully, his clothing contained no other, larger holes.

It was still bitingly cold and would grow worse as night came. They still felt warmed, however, by at last leaving the dark, forbidding woods. Although they’d met no strange creatures, they retained an odd feeling that they’d been spared, as if the forest and its denizens had known the importance of their mission. The elves were quick to point out the grace extended to them by the Great God in providing them safe passage, something even Drath couldn’t argue against. As the bird and other animal calls drifted eerily from between the dark trees, the group felt sure the forest told them it wouldn’t be quite as nice the next time.

Vaun found that the odd urgency, dulled by the forest, sprang violently to life when he reached open ground. His skin tingled as he put a finer edge to his Vaulka, and he could feel every inch of the weapon more acutely than he ever had before. It seemed his Purpose as a Swordsman finally drew nigh, and the youth became impatient to accomplish it.

Breathing deeply of the crisp air in an effort to calm himself, Vaun tightened his belts as he waited for the others to make themselves ready. His last few practices had been soaked in the music of the Song. Perhaps it had decided not to leave him again.

Dart oiled his longbow and checked the feathers and heads of the crude arrows he’d made in the forest. He also sharpened his curved shortsword and dagger before pronouncing himself able to continue. Rush echoed with his cousin once he’d made sure all of his own daggers—and he had an abundance of them hidden in various places all over his body—could split hair.

Drath checked his longsword, removed a stone from his left boot along with a thick wad of snow, and tightened the straps of the backpack holding what little remained of their provisions. Merdel took out the black handkerchiefs he’d collected throughout their journey and ceremonially burned them, calling Elak, once one of his closest friends, a vast array of unflattering names. He also took out Elak’s communication mirror he’d confiscated from the prisoner in Bordell and smashed it on the rocks at his feet. It had already provided them the information they needed to locate their enemy. Then the wizard and the elf cousins mumbled prayers to the Great God for a safe and successful conclusion to their quest, with Drath listening and nodding but not joining in.

Thorne, muttering snide comments about superstitious nonsense, managed to remove all the snow from his body and out of his clothes, though it left him soaking wet. After he’d made sure his hammer could still crush rocks, which he said were about as hard as his head, the six adventurers started up the mountain.

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“Are you sure it’s the only way in?” Merdel asked Rush for the third time. He wanted the elf to be very sure before they took the route he suggested.

The blond elf nodded. “Aye.” He didn’t look the least bit perturbed at hearing the same question over and over, not blaming Merdel for being hesitant. “I’m positive. There’s no other way in. All the other entrances and exits are too well-guarded. You should know that after what happened yesterday.”

“All right. If you say so. This certainly isn’t going to be any fun.” Nodding grimly to Rush to lead the way, the bearded mage allowed the elf to guide him and the others into the Dark Wizard’s fortress.

As the word passed down, each party member heaped his own bad names on Elak and his domain. They insulted Rush nearly as vehemently, almost accusing him of conspiring with the evil wizard to make their lives as miserable as possible. Despite their complaints, though, the adventurers did succumb to necessity and agreed to use Rush’s entrance, especially after the disaster of the previous day.

A day and a half of climbing steadily upward had brought the companions within sight of their goal. A little over halfway down the opposite wall of a deep chasm sat the fortress Elak had claimed as his own. The roads leading up to it had all but disappeared under centuries of earthquakes, landslides, and the like. One occupying army had obliterated all but two roads into and out of the place, and these could barely be called a game trail. Still, they had led the six to the fortress.

Sculpted out of the living rock, Elak’s mountain stronghold both impressed and intimidated Vaun Tarsus, more so than any other structure the youth had ever seen. Towers, walls, and even the main keep appeared to have been painstakingly carved out of the mountain walls, making them look as solid and powerful as the mountains themselves. Stories told that dwarves had built it long, long ago, but the sheer size of it made Vaun suspect the tales of giant architects might be closer to the truth. Thorne wouldn’t comment on which of the tales was more true, remarking that who built it didn’t matter so long as they left a way for the group to sneak in.

From a distance, the fortress appeared to be suspended in mid-air a few hundred feet down a deep shaft running between two massive walls of stone. After climbing down, the adventurers discovered that the buildings and walls of the keep hid the foundation of rock it sat on, giving it its illusion of floating. The mountains rising on all sides gave the fortress a strongly forbidding aspect, and the thick battlements and strategically placed towers made it seem far less than inviting. First and foremost a mountain stronghold, the fortress still bore castle-like aspects like its immense size. The structure emanated impenetrability and made the Comarch Garrison seem a child’s toy.

The group had come upon the fortress rather suddenly. They had doggedly climbed the mountain opposite the one that held the building when of a sudden they found themselves on the summit. The top of the mountain they stood on was flat, as if some titan had become angry at it and lopped off its head with a gigantic axe. So surprised had the adventurers been that, once they saw the open terrain around them, they all immediately flattened themselves to the ground. When no alarm could be heard, they decided they hadn’t been seen and moved to where they could observe the fortress in concealment.

The drawbridge, which was up, connected the fortress to their side of the canyon, but other than that the two sides never met. The only way in seemed to be the decrepit road leading up to the drawbridge, and from their vantage of several hundred yards they didn’t need Dart’s enhanced vision to see the heavy guard at that entrance. Sunlight glinted off so many swords and suits of armor in that area the bridge seemed made of steel instead of wood. This setback had led them to descend the chasm and climb the other side to find another way in. And that had also almost gotten them all killed.

Rush and Vaun were in the vanguard of their group as they explored a few hundred yards to the southwest of the fortress, which itself faced due south, when they had come upon a possible way in. When Vaun had descended alone to investigate, he’d discovered instead a hidden patrol of Elak’s mercenaries. Actually, the youth had tripped and begun stumbling downhill at an alarmingly rapid pace until he’d finally collided with a large boulder. The Swordsman had bruised two ribs and his left shoulder on impact but was glad he hadn’t fallen another ten feet. The rock path dropped off into the void of the cavern after that.

The sounds of the youth’s fall had drawn the attention of the patrol camped in a nearby cave. Rush had followed Vaun down in an attempt to save him, with the others trailing a good thirty paces behind, but the elf had changed tactics once Vaun hit the boulder and the patrol had revealed itself. Drath, Merdel, Dart, and Thorne had quickly halted their own pursuit and disappeared behind the rocks around them.

Rush had then started climbing silently up again, and had maneuvered directly above the five mean-looking mercenaries descending on Vaun’s position. Kicking small rocks and pushing larger ones, the elf had started a small avalanche that had panicked the soldiers enough to make them disregard what they’d heard.

And so, after several more hours of searching, Rush had at last found an unguarded entrance. The closer they came to the walls of the fortress, the more guards appeared. It seemed they couldn’t take twenty steps without having to hide from another patrol, all in groups of five or more. One group of ten had almost spotted Thorne ducking behind a boulder until Rush, hidden by his chameleon ability, had thrown dirt into their faces. Spitting and cursing, the guards had checked where the dwarf had stood, but found nothing. Rush had given Thorne enough time to find a better hiding place. Merdel had refused to use magic at all during their trek, claiming that such would instantly alert Elak to his presence.

Rush had then suggested he explore alone and had left the others hidden in a cave that was little more than a split in the seam of the mountain. While they waited, the group ate the last of their provisions, deciding they could always hunt for more when they were through and that they needed all the strength they could muster for what lay ahead. None of them mentioned the possibility of not needing food because of failure.

After over an hour of tense waiting, the five adventurers cramped together in the tight wedge of stone had sighed gratefully when Rush returned with good news. That was until he’d told them his way in.

The smell reached them long before they came within sight of the only safe entrance into Elak’s fortress. Vaun had to swallow hard to keep from retching, and Thorne swore rather nastily that even a Septen slave ship smelled like roses compared to this. And Rush expected them to crawl through that? Surely the elf had gone mad!

No matter what anyone said, though, Rush insisted the sewage tunnels were the only unguarded passages. Drath said this was because no sane man would dare venture into such a filthy place willingly, and everyone agreed with him. But they all knew the necessity of getting inside undetected and putting a stop to Elak’s madness, so they ignored the stench as best they could and forced themselves to continue.

After Rush had picked a lock the size of his head and Drath and Thorne lifted aside the heavy iron grating that closed off the tunnel, the six adventurers crept into the Dark’s Wizard’s canyon home.

21

“Stones, this place stinks!”
Despite the number of times he’d already said it, Thorne still received the same grunts of agreement from the rest of the party. Someone coughed and spit into the filth at their feet, and another person nearly vomited at the wet, smacking sound made by the wad of mucus.

“Please don’t do that, Drath.” Vaun could barely hold in what little he’d eaten earlier. “I can barely stand this place just by itself.”

All manner of waste caked the walls or ran in an ankle-deep stream at their feet. Even the air itself seemed heavy with the filth.

Thicker than the horse stench in Landsby and more cloying than a Tarquonese harlot’s perfume, the air in the tunnels kept all the party members breathing shallowly and with their mouths open. Vaun felt sure it would take a week of steady bathing to rid himself of the smell that saturated his skin.

Fortunately, the torch they used to light their way burned fitfully, so the young Swordsman couldn’t get a clear view of what he sloshed through. If he had, he would surely have lost all control and vomited on the spot. The flames from the torch looked dampened by the closeness of the air and even by the stench. The greasy yellow light played sickeningly over the slimy walls, making Vaun glad he still wore his gloves. He’d probably throw them away once this ended, even though they were still in good condition. Losing a good pair of gloves, however, was better than touching the walls with his bare hands. He might have felt compelled to cut off his hands if he had.

He knew he had to either shave his head or wash his hair thoroughly for about a week when he returned home, because the one and only time his head had brushed the low ceiling his hair had pulled away with a disgusting sticky sound. He, like Drath and Merdel, had to walk almost doubled over, which made him almost wish to be as small as an elf or dwarf for a change. At least then he wouldn’t have a slimly spot in his hair.

“Fire and ice!” Vaun clutched Thorne’s brawny forearm as the dwarf saved him from falling on his face. That was the third time he’d slipped since entering the tunnels, and the only satisfaction he felt at having to be rescued yet again was that he’d already kept Drath and Merdel from falling into the filth themselves.

Thorne spat. “This stuff’s slicker’n a Galesian’s head.”