The Shard of Fire (The Chronicles of Gilgamesh Row Book 1) Page 11
“But why here, why the cave, why now?” Carmine questioned softly.
“I don’t know why, its just … a feeling I have. Like this was all meant to happen. I don’t think it’s just chance, that I took the shard, that I came here and met the three of you, that Tarr found the cave, that Sela saw the door, that you taught me the spell to open it, that we are all here, now, after the seeing Amas written in water, twice, this was meant to happen, right?” Sela and Tarr nodded in agreement, Carmine shrugged, uncertain. He knew, more than any of them, that nothing ever happened by chance, not ever.
“And the shard … can I see it?” Carmine asked. Gil stared at him for a long while then removed the stone from around his neck and handed it to Carmine. “This is how you killed the Mallock then?”
Gil opened his mouth for a second then shut it. He hadn’t thought about it before, but it made sense. The power he had felt surging through him, the fire, the raw energy, it was like nothing he had ever known. “I don’t know, maybe. I tried to do the spell the old mage did on me, I thought it would transport me to the other side of the wall, it didn’t. I didn’t know it would kill the creature …” Gil wondered if what he said was true. Had he known? Something about the shard felt different when he used it, he, felt different. “I don’t really know anything about it, actually …" Gil laughed nervously, as Carmine handed the pendant back.
“I doubt many do …” Carmine mused. “Not anything more than legend and rumor anyways. A stone from the heavens. Fae magic. An amulet of power … we all know them … but I don’t think anyone ever expected a scrawny little kid like you to be the one to take it, am I right?” Carmine grinned mischievously.
“I could still kick your ass …" Gil grinned back.
“Probably so, but who’d keep you from doing stupid things than?” Carmine chuckled.
“Not me …" Tarr smiled.
“Nor me …” Sela added.
“Out voted as always …" Carmine sighed, amused. “Well, shall we get on with this?” the others nodded. “Oh … and by the way does anyone know how to raise the dead?”
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Aldrin tore through the castle with a devastating rush. Wind whipped behind him, knocking over a dozen statues, urns and planters, tearing branches from trees and shattering windows at every corner. The archmage dashed down the narrow staircase of the butte, knocking over a dozen or more students returning from late night fun in Mendoc. Several nearly fell off the cliff, one may have, but Aldrin didn’t stop to look if they were ok. A few dead students would be the least of their worries if he didn’t get there in time. A few minutes later Valik ran by the same frighten students stumbling to their feet. Valik shouted commands at them to return to the Keep, immediately, and prepare for battle. Most stood motionless, confused and concerned. Most of them had never seen a battle, and the Keep hadn’t been attacked in a thousand years. Soon after, Cassandra ran passed the same students, still standing where they had before, still confused. She didn’t bother saying anything to them, it wouldn’t do any good anyways.
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“Push!” Tarr shouted. All four leaned again the heavy coffin lid, pushing with all their might to open it, yet it wouldn’t budge. They tried to push it, to pull it, to lift it and bend it and break it, yet nothing seemed to work. Carmine had even tried an opening spell, they all had, yet still, the coffin was sealed tight. The irony and similarity to the statue in Astal wasn’t lost on Gil, and he doubted it was just coincidence.
“Try using the shard,” Sela suggested. Gil shrugged and pulled the pendant from under his shirt, he closed his eyes, wrapped the fingers of his right hand around the stone, and extended his left towards the coffin. The others quieted, watching as Gil’s hand trembled, as his muscles tensed, and strained, and sweat gather at his brow. The others held their breath and for a moment it seemed as if the coffin’s lid vibrated ever so slightly, but then, Gil dropped his hand. Carmine laughed.
“What?” Gil snapped.
“Nothing its just … well did you think that was going to work?” Carmine wiped tears from his eyes and Gil shrugged again. Carmine sighed, “How did you make it work last time, with the Mallock?”
Gil paused for a moment. Until now he hadn’t really given it any thought. Thinking back, he could feel it. The fire inside him, the power, the untapped impossible energy of the shard, exploding like a thousand thousand stars, scratching at the surface, scratching at him. “My parents. My friends. The village. Even the others who died during the test, all of them dead. I was scared for my life … and angry, at them, at myself. I felt … I was just angry at it all and wanted to fight back …” Gil’s voice trailed off.
“OK, so do it again. Picture them. Think back, remember them dying, how they suffered, their pain, they died because of you, remember it, feel it, do it again, find the anger, use the shard, use its power,” Carmine snapped. Both Sela and Tarr exchanged a look of concern at how callous Carmine was about all this. Gil paused for a moment then shut his eyes.
“It’s not working,” Gil said, his eyes still shut, thinking back to Astal, watching his friends being murdered, thinking back to the testing field and the bodies scattered about, “I can see them all clearly, but its not worki— Ah!!!” Gil cried out as Carmine slammed a torch into his back, knocking him down. Sela and Tarr dashed forward to stop Carmine from attacking Gil again, as he raised the branch for a second blow, but it was too late. Gil stood up, his eyes and the shard glowed, burning with fire.
“Stop!” Gil’s raised a hand at the druids as his voice boomed through the cavern, dark and deep. Gil turned and walked to the coffin, placing both hands on its lid, he breathed in, and pushed. The sound of glass breaking echoed around the cavern, splintering into a thousand tiny trembling voices crying in the dark. Gil leaning with all his might into the lid, pushing as his arms trembled, pushing and grinding and scraping into the cavern floor, pushing as the lid moved only the smallest possible amount. “Help me …” Gil commanded as the others jumped forward and slammed into the lid pushing with all the had. The stone was hot, burning hot, but still they pushed, and the lid began to slide. It was grinding, vibrating, sliding and slipping and nudging tiny fractions of distance at a time, with each movement the walls of the cavern shook and dust fell from ledges and cups and cracks all around them, shaking, crusting them in a thousand year of dirt and stillness, stone breaking stone, darkness into light, and as they pushed one last time, the glow from Gil’s eyes fading, weakening, they pushed, and finally, desperately, the lid fell off.
Gil stumbled to the ground, coughing, choking, spitting up mouthfuls of blood and bile and clumps of lung and stomach and heart. Sela went to his side, gently laying a hand on his back as he continued to vomit. Carmine and Tarr stood silent for a very long time, they stared at their hands, symbols were burnt in their palms, and in Selas. Runes, older than time, were now theirs, and they were all, scared.
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Aldrin’s spell wore off several yards from the rusted iron gate. He collapsed spitting up blood, but quickly stood a moment later, swirling several symbols in the air to recharge his magics. Staring up, Aldrin looked towards the gate, and above, at the skull, which had crumbled to dust.
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Gil eventually got to his feet, with Sela’s help, though he was pale and clammy.
“Was it like that before?” Tarr asked hesitantly, glancing between Gil and the coffin.
“No,” Gil managed, and wiped his mouth, staring at his already bloody sleeve.
“And these?” Carmine extended his palms towards Gil showing him the two symbols burnt into his skin.
“I don’t know,” Gil said softly. Sela looked at her own palms for the first time. The four stood silent, thinking, wondering at what they had done. No one had bothered to look in the coffin, yet.
“I … I don’t think we should have done that …" Sela whispered still staring at her hands. Gil shrugged, again, and tried to smile, though it made them all feel much
much worse. The four stood a few moments longer until Gil turned and walked to the coffin.
It was empty.
CHAPTER 12: CHANCE
As the four stood, staring at the empty coffin, the sounds of footsteps began to fill the cavern from somewhere far off. Though it was impossible to tell where they came from, there seemed to be two sets, heavy steps, quick and frantic, as if running, or being chased, which echoed on the walls. The steps seemed to be nearing, as if running towards the cavern, down the tunnel, closer, then stopping. All four turned and glanced at the entrance to the passageway. For a split second Gil thought he saw two men who looked familiar, standing at the opening and pointing, but when he shook his head they were gone. A long silence passed and no spoke, for the cavern was oddly silent. A chill ran across Sela’s skin, and, as she turned around to face the others, she screamed. Next to her, next to the coffin, stood an old mage dressed in a brown robe.
Sela jolted back, frightened, dashing closer towards her brother and Carmine. The old mage massaged his neck, as if stiff, stretching, then smiled gently and glanced between the four friends standing in the cavern. Eventually, yawning, he landed his eyes on Gil, who stood motionless and confused. Gil knew the old mage, he had met him before, in Astal.
“You’re alive …” the old mage smiled, nodding his head in approval. Sela thought she could hear surprise, or perhaps disappointment in his voice, as she glanced at Tarr, and Carmine, who seemed to think the same from their own expressions.
“I … I don’t understand?” Gil managed to eek out.
“You're safe boy, you survived, and I see you made it to the castle … I’m glad … but who are these three?” The old mage motioned to the others, smiling, though his eyes were angry and full of hate.
“My friends … they helped me find … I don’t understand? Where is Master Amas? What’s going on?”
The old mage walked around the coffin, tracing a finger along its edge, smiling as dust covered his hand, happy at the feel of the dirt between his fingers, amused at its gritty grimy thickness. The old mage paused, glancing into the hollow stone casket, “I told you not to make friends … not to tell anyone … to do this alone." The old mage was still smiling, though something in his voice sent a shiver down Gil’s spine. “Ah … but don’t worry, I’m glad you were able to find friends you could trust, it’s good to have those you can trust, those that will help you, like them, like me, I helped you when I could …” The old mage smiled again, a bit softer this time, kinder, and edged another step closer to Gil. “My dear boy, you’ve done marvelous, getting this far, but … oh gods … you’re still in terrible danger! They’ve come to kill you! Do you hear that?!”
Gil squinted his face, confused. Carmine was about to speak when the sound of footsteps could be heard once again. These were different, a single set, soft, and quiet, much slower, and most definitely coming towards them from the passageway. A moment later, a tall man in a dark coat entered the cavern, moving forward, it was Archmage Aldrin.
“All of you step away from that man … do it now,” His voice was deep, hostile and angry. It was a command not a request. Sela, Tarr, and Carmine took a few steps back and moved towards Aldrin. Gil hadn’t moved yet and the old mage took another large step towards him when the boy turned to look at the archmage. Gil turned back, at the old mage in the brown robe, who now stood just on the other side of the coffin. The old mage glanced rapidly between Gil and Aldrin.
“Boy! quickly! give me the shard! The archmage wants it for himself! He’s followed you here to kill you! And to take it! Quickly! Toss to me and I will defeat him!” The old mage yelled out with such terror and panic in his voice that Gil suddenly clutched the pendant and nearly pulled it from his neck to throw it across the coffin.
“DO NOT give him the Shard!” Aldrin screamed at Gil. Gil glanced between Aldrin, the old mage, and his friends, who were shaking their heads, their faces worried, panicked, and afraid.
Gil stood motionless clutching the pendant, “I don’t … understand …”
“Lincoln, step away … the creature before you is not a man, it is a demon …” Aldrin stepped forward, slowly, towards the coffin, his hands swirling in the air, glowing, building with energy. Gil glanced once more between Aldrin and the old mage who still stood with his hand outstretched, waiting for the shard.
“I …” Gil glanced at his friends, “I … don’t understand …” and he didn’t, for the next moment was a blur. In an instant Aldrin leapt twenty feet across the room, soaring through the air, his hands glowing with sparkling yellow energy, leaping towards the coffin. Gil, afraid, raised his arms thinking Aldrin was attacking him and turned towards the old mage looking for help. The old mage leapt across the coffin lunging at Gil, his face twisted and stretched, long white fangs protruded from his lips, snarling, and claws like razor sharp knifes appeared at his fingers. Gil stumbled backward, falling, his arms flailing, screaming, his heart racing, as Aldrin and the demon collided. A ribbon of energy hammered through the cavern, rattling walls and roof and stone. Aldrin was impossibly fast. Gil watched as if time had slowed again, as the archmage landed next to him shielding them both with a large disk of glowing yellow energy. In the next moment as Gil fell backwards, Aldrin reached forward and grabbed Gil’s sword from its sheath letting the boy fall over. Aldrin spun around and slashed at the demon but it was too late. As fast as Aldrin was, the demon was faster. Ten times faster. A hundred. In a blink it had jumped back, vaulting across the room, avoiding the slash.
“Too slow … archmage …” the demon laughed.
“All of you! Here! Now!” Aldrin shouted as he stepped backward near Gil who still lay on the ground. Tarr, Sela and Carmine dashed forward just behind the archmage. The demon darted around the room, laughing. Aldrin tossed the sword to Carmine, who caught it and pivoting to face the demon. Aldrin slapped his hands together, chanting as a large yellow energy bubble surrounded the group. The demon slammed against the bubble several times, laughing and retreating each time before Carmine could even turn towards the attack.
“Foolish wizard … how long do you think that will last? Hmmmm? You’ve already spent so much energy … don’t you feel tired? Don’t you feel sleepy?" the demon laughed and laughed as its voice rattled with a melodic hum. And suddenly they felt it. Tarr, Carmine, Sela, and Gil, even Aldrin, they all felt it, their eyes drooped, their thoughts clouded, and they felt like sleeping, all of them. If they fell asleep, if the energy bubble dropped, but it didn’t. Sela’s hands glowed softly with green energy as she reached out, placing one hand on Aldrin’s shoulder, and the other on her brother’s. Tarr lifted his arms, and touched both Carmine and Gil, linking them to Sela. Druid magic. Healing energy. It was a rare gift, even among druids. Sela’s energy flowed through them like ebbing waves counteracting the demon’s spell. The demon crouched atop the coffin like a cat, smiling.
“Very good little girl, but you're even weaker than him? How long do you think you can go on? Hmmm?” the demon laughed again, still smiling, still humming and waiting. Sela knew he was right. She wouldn’t be able to sustain her powers much longer.
“Long enough," a voice shouted. It was Cassandra, and Valik. Aldrin smiled. The demon glanced between the archmages, no longer grinning, no longer humming. Cassandra stood blocking the passageway as Valik moved along the far wall behind the demon.
“Boy, throw her the sword …” Aldrin spoke to Carmine, not daring to take his eyes off the demon. Carmine paused for a moment, glancing at Aldrin, at the sword, then tossed it across the cavern. The sword spun through the air as the demon’s gaze followed its arc. The demon didn’t move, or try to knock the sword away, or do anything other then grumble under its breath. Cassandra caught the sword with one hand and swished it through the air several times, each time the blade glowing brighter with luminous white light. Shimmering, Cassandra grabbed the sword’s pommel with both hands, and pulled it apart, holding two identical swords, one in each hand, and each with a gl
owing white blade.
“Now that’s not fair …” the demon huffed wryly. In the next moment Cassandra dashed forward, slicing the first sword through the air at the demon. On the attack, she was even faster than Aldrin, yet still missed by several seconds as the demon jumped backward avoiding the sword. It dodge as easily as if a child had swung it, vaulting over the archmage, as Cassandra spun around and slashed the second sword at the creature, still missing. The demon laughed and landed near the back wall.
Cassandra scowled, cursing, and moved towards the demon again. As she did, Aldrin’s energy bubble faded, his magics spent. The demon glanced up at Gil, and grinned, horribly, then crouched, tensing its body like a spring preparing to jump at the boy. In the next instant a dozen sharp thorny vines shot up from the ground reaching for the demon. Valik stood along the wall, his hands raised, controlling the vines. Each vine curled and twisted like a snare, like fingers reaching for a victim. Yet each missed. The Demon sensed them or heard them and jumped out of the way of each as easily as hopping over a puddle. At the same moment Cassandra leapt forward swinging both blades at the demon, missing, striking the wall instead. Again and again Valik and Cassandra attacked, each time the demon avoided the blades and the vines, moving with impossible, unnatural speed. Though the demon easily leapt out of the way of each attack, its own energy was wearing down, and the two archmages managed to corner it against a wall, seemingly having the upper hand. Cassandra raised her swords once more and swung with all her speed.