Sci Fi & Fantasy / Shadow of Chea'Laern: Chapter 12 - Searchlight (Analysis)
Chapter 12
Searchlight
They passed all the signs of Rahmina’s battle; broken, bloodied and burnt arrows amongst the patches of burnt grass. They were relieved to see there was no human corpses littering the ground, yet at the same time were worried that there were no corpses at all. It was obvious whoever fought the creatures didn’t know what they were up against, and were forced to flee. Secile decided they couldn’t afford to stop for a break, so they reached Tuntiload shortly after dark due to the enchanted horseshoes. They planned to exchange horses in the small town so the poor overworked beasts could rest and heal, then they, too, would rest themselves for a short spell before heading right out to the valley.
They weren’t surprised to see the town portcullis closed, and guards lining the walls. When the pair neared, the guards dipped their arrow-tips to flame and drew back the bowstrings, preparing to defend their home.
“Hold!” called Secile as loud as she could. “We are friends!”
“Dowse the flames! Drop your bows!” Called the captain. He was relieved to see the familiar face, and elated that she was not tainted. “Is that Lady Secile?” he continued when they were close enough, just to confirm his observation.
“Well met Captain Laurdien, good to see you again!”
“For the hundredth time, Lady Secile, it is Sash!” he beamed.
“If I were already a Master, you would refuse to call me simply Secile, would you not?” she countered as she and Daxe dismounted.
The portcullis raised enough for the pair and their horses to enter.
“Good point,” conceded the captain.
Their moods dropped like the rain as the direness of the situation sank in.
“Dark times these are,” commented Sash with a sigh.
“We followed their trail,” nodded Secile. “Who was attacked?”
“General Rahmina of Chea’Laern and her entourage. Luckily none were killed, and they only stopped by to warn us of the danger before rushing off to give warning to the settlements in the valley to the northeast. We saw the evil that chased them,” he continued, his expression grave and grim. “Some of them were on fire from the soldiers’ flaming arrows. And when they fell, when the abominations surrendered to the flame, it wasn’t long before they picked up and resumed the chase!”
Both Secile and Daxe nodded knowingly. “Fire will only slow them,” said the mage. “It is the element of water that destroys them. How long ago did they pass?”
“Not long before sunset.”
“What are those creatures?” Baurdi had to ask, walking with them to the stables next to his captain. The portcullis slammed down in the distance behind them.
“They are corpses of men, reanimated and controlled by an artifact of great evil I must destroy,” explained Secile somberly.
“Does whatever control them know about the rain?” asked the captain curiously. “Why would it lead the beasts across the lands and risk certain death to its army?”
A good question, everyone save for Secile felt unintelligent for not thinking of it. The mage wasn’t surprised Laurdien was the one to ask the question—he earned his title as Captain—but she’d thought of it before and found an answer.
“Because they are worthless pawns to the leader,” she said, breaking the awesome silence. “It would expend little effort in creating one hundred more.”
The others suddenly realized what the region was up against, and they wondered why they hadn’t yet fled across the seas.
Immediately after exchanging horses, Secile sent out another spellbird to check on the general and the villagers in the valley. But the valley appeared empty. The cabins were all intact, and no corpses littered the ground. But the only movement seen through her bird’s eye view was that of the forest critters.
“We must leave for the valley immediately,” she told Daxe anxiously.
“They in trouble?”
“I don’t know. Couldn’t find them.”
Daxe sighed; disappointed they could not rest longer, but wasn’t about to contest their urgency.
*
Something dropped to the stone next to her and began to sizzle. She looked to the spot curiously, casually at first, and then jumped to her feet and moved away from the stalagmite. She could have died just then had the drop of acidic saliva been six inches to the left.
The creature hissed at her, its elongated snout opening and closing hungrily. Its eyes saw a fine meal, but saw, too, the dangerous flame of the torch in its quarry’s possession. It hesitated, another drop of death drool hitting the stone and sinking down an inch.
But Neeka didn’t hesitate. She lunged forward, but not with her sword because she knew the blade would be destroyed if the metal contacted the beast’s blood. She lunged with her torch. The flame licked at its maw for a quick moment before the creature could react to her hasty movement, and it screeched in agony and scampered off.
“Damn Tazirs,” she muttered distastefully. Gurandi had informed them all of the dangerous beasts long before his death, having learned the creatures’ name in Nimbdell—Tazir stemming from the ancient name “Taze-siir” which translated roughly to “acid spitter.”
The shadows cackled at her in that same spine-chilling voice. “You are getting close, my dear. Close to me and close to death.”
Neeka shuddered. If anyone were with her she would’ve fled the caves immediately. But she selfishly thought she had nothing to lose, and naively believed she could handle this alone. And to top it all off, this mysterious man stole something from her that she meant to get back. “Tell me where you are, you coward!”
The shadows cackled again. “So you want to serve me for eternity,” replied the voice. “Very well.”
A series of images flashed through Neeka’s mind, pounding painfully into her brain to the point she felt her head would explode. She wouldn’t scream, though. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Finally the phantasmagoria stopped. And she knew exactly where to go.
When she opened her eyes, she realized the series of images that violated her mind were not mere images at all. She had actually traveled the many passages in the vision within seconds, and now stood in a giant chasm deep within the mountain. The stone about her was so natural, so obviously formed by water and not a man’s tool, that the image reminded her of floated at the bottom of a rocky riverbed. And indeed she was floating. Worse, she was naked! She tried to cover herself, tried to scream. But she could do neither. She couldn’t move or even blink. She was completely paralyzed. But she could see, and hear, and she could think; the only three freedoms her new master would allow. After the first moments of desperate shock, she realized her only chance was to calm herself. She imagined herself going through one of her sparring exercises, and was surprised at how well it worked. Finally she had the presence of mind to observe the details of her surroundings even if she thought the information would be useless. Gurandi always said, “You never know when useless information could become useful.”
It was then she realized the impossibility of her situation. There was no light source in the cavern whatsoever, yet she could see everything as though it were bathed in starlight, with the exception of one wall concealed in shadows. Then she noticed the extremely thin silvery shimmering lines stretching from the top of her vision to the floor in front of her. It appeared as a prison made of intangible, nearly unnoticeably bars. The observations only confused her more.
Then he emerged from the shadow wall.
“Hello, dear. So nice of you to join me,” he said ominously.
Like I had a choice, she thought to herself.
“Oh but you did have a choice,” he replied to her thoughts. “I gave you the choice to stay away from here. And you chose to disobey me.” Almost as an afterthought he added, “And you do not appear naked from my perspective. You see yourself that way because that is how you feel.”
Burkae cackled in amusement at the stream of indecipherable, confused and frightened thoughts flowing from her head. “All is well, dear Neeka. Soon you will understand everything. But for now, you will sleep.”
She saw him wave his hand, and then everything went dark.
The wait wasn’t long before Rahmina’s entourage joined the villagers at the lake. The general was bombarded with hysteric questions and protests that she could neither answer nor quall.
Brinney was the only calm one.
“Why are we milling about in the open?” asked Rahmina, responding to their many questions with one of her own. “There are hardly any trees to cover us should our enemies come this way.”
All eyes, and even a few pointing fingers, shot to Creole and his daughter, the others unwilling to claim credit for the possibly disastrous idea.
Creole sighed, slightly embarrassed, but drew strength from his daughter’s serene smile. He draped his arm about her shoulders and pulled her close.
“She’s never led me astray before,” he replied in her defense. “I’d have not left my sick wife at home if I doubted Brin’s abilities in the least. She says we’re safe here, and so we are.”
Rahmina smiled at him and nodded. “Indeed,” she agreed.
“You’re risking all our lives on the word of a girl?” protested a lonesome villager who’d usually kept to himself.
“You followed her here, didn’t you?” Rahmina argued. “You made the choice; nobody forced you to come. Besides, she warned us specifically of the danger we found in the caves hours before we found it. She knew these…creatures…would come to this valley when we last left you. Why shouldn’t we believe her?”
“She probably knew because she is a part of it,” mumbled the villager to himself. No one else showed any sign of agreement to that comment. And that was the end of any protests.
For the most part everyone settled down. The minutes passed and no danger showed itself. The children even decided to go for a night swim. The adults sat around talking amongst themselves, feeling much better since whatever attacked Rahmina’s band didn’t follow them to the waterhole. The soldiers mingled with the villagers both for entertainment to pass the time and to smooth out any misinformed prejudices between them.
Kainis and Randal talked mostly with Creole about the strange prophecies of his daughter while Rahmina kept Vansea company. Creole overheard Vansea talking about Neeka and jumped up, suddenly realizing the independent woman had been gone for too long.
“Neeka hasn’t returned, yet?” he asked the young woman.
Vansea shook her head, blond hair whipping about like the vines of a seeping willow tree.
“Where did she go?” asked Rahmina casually.
Creole glanced up to the northern mountains. “Probably the same place those creatures went. Our caves are suddenly popular lately.”
“Let us hope she did not meet them. Even fire doesn’t stop the hideous beasts,” shuddered the general.
“So what are they exactly?”
Rahmina frowned at Creole and shrugged, shaking her head helplessly. “I don’t know. Decomposing men, I guess.”
“Diseased?” he asked in disgust.
“Dead,” she corrected, still frowning.
Creole shuddered. “Brin was right.”
Hours passed and the villagers grew restless. The protests began anew.
“Where are these creatures?” demanded the lonely man.
“Be happy they have not shown themselves,” replied Randal, growing impatient with the grumpy old villager.
“When can we go home?” asked another, though not in a tone of complaint.
“Yeah, why are we still here if they have not come?” added the petulant loner.
“Because this is the safest place,” interjected a female voice from the sparse trees behind them. “Water is their bane.”
The gathering turned in unison to the owner of the voice, to see a woman in a fine black robe with silver designs and purple trim accompanied by a scraggly-haired dirty rogue male wearing typical traveling gear.
“Greetings all. I am Secile of Nimbdell, and my companion’s name is Daxe. We have followed the creatures you battled from Chea’Laern to your valley and are very glad and relieved to see you all safe.”
“See-see!” exclaimed Brinney, rushing out to the mage excitedly. “Where brother and Kaia?”
“Ah, young lady Duunlare,” greeted the mage. “I’m honored you remember me. Your brother and Kaia-mei are safe. Where is your mother and…”
“I am Creole, Brinney’s father,” he introduced, stepping up next to his daughter. “Do we know you?”
A hush befell the area, everyone listening intently to their conversation, especially the children.
“I met your wife and Brinney when I came for Master Preiza’s daughter,” explained the mage, and then she added with a bow, “well met.”
“So Kaia-mei and Caize left with you to meet Kaia-mei’s real father, and you return here with him,” said Creole suspiciously, nodding at the mercenary. “You can’t have made it to Nimbdell and back already…”
“She is a trickster witch,” joked Daxe. “She can do anything.”
Secile laughed, but no one joined in the mirth. “Sir Duunlare is right, though. Due to more urgent matters, we handed them off to a trusted friend who is with them as we speak. My Headmistress informed me this morning that they are safe and close to Nimbdell.”
Creole sighed with relief.
“So where is the lovely wife?” inquired the mage.
“She sick,” blurted Brinney with uncharacteristic fervor. “Lishy watching her.”
Secile looked to Creole in hopes of a more detailed explanation, but he only shrugged.
“T’was Brin’s idea to hide out here, but she said her mother would be safe in the cabin. Guess this ‘Lishy’ person only shows up when my daughter is alone…” he trailed off.
“Lishy is not of your village?”
Creole looked around at the gathering, everyone shrugging or shaking their heads. “Nobody we’ve ever met.”
“Can you help mommy?” asked Brinney, her big teal eyes completing the desperate expression.
Creole leaned in, the mage’s answer just as important to him.
“I’ll do what I can, but no promises. We’ll go see her when the threat has passed.”
The mage knelt before Brinney and ruffled her hair. “Good work, hun. You probably saved all their lives,” she praised, indicating the gathering with a sweeping hand.
The grumpy old villager snorted and walked away. Secile kept her curiosities for Brinney’s potential abilities to herself.
A small group of three of Burkae’s army of fodder set out from the caves for the village almost immediately after their arrival. They reached the village to find it abandoned, but still they scavenged for humans to add to their army, as was commanded by their master. One of them sensed a weak source of life toward the east side of the village and called for the others. But when they reached the cabin they were sorely disappointed.
A large cloud hovered over the cabin, all shades of gray and dumping huge drops of rain all over it. The rain even wet the ground two feet out from the structure in every direction.
Sholee was well protected.
The creatures cringed and hissed and shied away from the cabin. They sensed a much larger quantity of life forms further east, but sensed a much larger source of the dangerous element as well. From back in the caves their master sent a telepathic command to stay far away from the east side. And so they moved their search to the west. They found nothing at first and were about to head back to the caves when Burkae’s scrying discovered a score of men heading toward the valley’s western entrance.
It was Rahmina’s band of wayward soldiers coming to exact their misplaced revenge on the villagers. Instead they found only death. They fought bravely against the three creatures after the initial shock of surprise, but they knew not the only effective weapon to use against the strange humanoids. A score of trained soldiers fell to three of Burkae’s minions within minutes.
Burkae earned his first group of personal armed guards.
When they reached the cabin where Sholee rested, the young ones were exhausted and beyond ready for sleep. Most villagers stared in awe at the rain cloud drenching the area of the cabin, basking in the uncommon sight, while a few others eyed Creole and Brinney suspiciously in fear of the strange cloud.
“Who did that?” asked Secile, impressed.
None could answer, except Brinney. “Lishy did!”
Suddenly it all made sense in the mage’s mind. She recalled Brinney mentioning the “wings” when first they met, and then Brinney’s knowledgeable advisor protecting them from the creatures by sending them to the lake, and finally this fine display of magic. “The fairies,” she breathed. “It can’t be. Have they emerged once again?” She was talking to herself and under her breath, but those close enough to hear grew curious and leaned in. Creole couldn’t wait, however. He braved the mysterious rain and burst into his cabin to be with his wife.
Instead of continuing her thoughts aloud, she knelt before the girl with hopeful eyes to acquire more information. “Does Lishy have wings?” asked the mage. “And is she really small?”
Brinney was slightly intimidated by Secile’s eagerness and remembered the fairy’s request to be conspicuous. “Mommy,” she said meekly, and then ran to their cabin door. She glanced quickly back at Secile with a slight, telling smile before entering the cabin.
Secile decided to place wards along the village’s northern perimeter so she would know if evil neared the village. She knew it was only a matter of time. The possible involvement of fairies could mean only one thing.
Danger.
The marketplace settled down with the setting sun. Some merchants kept their tents up to tend to the occasional stragglers, the night owls, as was daily routine in Chea’Laern. But most of the activity moved to the well-lit taverns for the duration of the night. The patrons were well behaved for the most part, unlike Tuntiload, for every tavern was equipped with half a dozen castle guards as soon as the sun went down. This night, however, was bound to restless behavior, whether the full moon’s position affected the water or something contaminated the air.
Horsetooth Tavern was the main attraction for such behavior. A seasoned traveler with long, thin salt and pepper colored hair, a clean shaven face, toned muscles and tanned, weathered skin, who’d put up his saddlebag years ago and settled in the southern kingdom, stood his full six foot height atop a three foot table, gathering the attention of all in attendance with a shameless display of woe. Those sitting with the drunken old traveler grew sick of his ramblings and moved away. Enraged, he figured his best chance at reaching anyone with his news was to address the entire gathering.
“They wouldn’ le’ me in!” he roared. Earlier in the day he’d gone to the castle to retrieve his new assignment from one of the king’s attendants, for he’d finished the last project ahead of schedule.
“Ev’n shtanding outshide the gatesh,” he slurred, “I could feel the evil brew’n inshide the cashtle! Woe that placshe! It hash been corrup’ed!”
The guards glanced to each other nervously, but relaxed seconds later when the patrons were not impressed by the drunken traveler’s speech. Especially the word ‘evil’ was strewn out an extra couple syllables due to a hiccup.
“Aww, poor Talik can’t finish his gardening duties to the king,” one patron said bravely.
The entire tavern burst into roaring laughter.
Talik leapt from the table with a growl and buried the antagonist beneath his heavier frame, smashing the patron’s chair to pieces and punching him twice in the face before they hit the ground. The teasing patron was out cold, bleeding from the many splinters in his rump and lower back and from his nose, so Talik managed to sublimate his anger and let him be.
But the nearby guards snuck up and bound his arms behind his back to escort him out of the building. Talik growled and struggled to get free, but the guards drew their swords to hold him in check. They were glad for the excuse to arrest him, for his words could’ve ruined everything for the captain. The retired traveler was stronger than his aged body appeared, but they managed to subdue him. Luckily for them, he was drunk and exhausted.
Since no one was allowed in the castle, the captain set up a large tent in the courtyard for his quarters. All else appeared normal, except for the group of five mages adorned in Nimbdell’s signature robes huddling in front of the tent, waiting for their sixth, Master Keftal, to finish with the captain.
And those robes glimmering in the torchlight were the first thing Talik noticed when the guards hauled him up to the castle gates. He calmed and quieted immediately, the drink seemingly evaporated from his veins. Earlier it was just a feeling, but now that he saw proof that there really was something going on behind the castle walls, and he was sobered. Instead of wanting to reveal the king’s secret, he realized they might need his help. He thought the evil he had sensed was the King’s doing. But the presence of a group from Nimbdell opened a whole new door. He’d met very few people on this continent who’d traveled overseas like he had. And even those who made the journey to other lands and back likely didn’t take the initiative to absorb the knowledge of those lands, as he did. He deduced by the presence of the mages that whatever danger found Chea’Laern was unusual or foreign.
A guard on the inside of the gates disappeared through the tent flap, emerging a few moments later. “Captain’s orders to take him to an abandoned house and guard him until otherwise instructed,” he told Talik’s captors.
“Please,” begged the prisoner. “Let me speak with the captain or one of the mages. I can help.”
The guards ignored his request and even began to drag him away. But Talik wasn’t passive, and rarely submitted to commands of others unless there was something to gain by obedience, or he was in a half-conscious drunken stupor.
“I know there is evil behind those walls!” he yelled with all the might in his lungs to make sure the mages, at least, heard him.
“Halt!” called one of the mages. “Release him.”
The guards holding him looked to each other, frowning, and hesitated. But when the mage repeated the command, they had no choice. They threw him to the ground before the gates and searched him for weapons.
“Don’t you think it wiser to take one’s weapons the moment you arrest them?” smirked Talik.
“Behave, scumbag,” retorted one of his captors, winding up for a kick to his gut.
A stern voice made him hesitate. “The ruffian is right. You fools should’ve checked him for weapons before bringing him to me,” barked the captain, who’d walked from the tent with Master Keftal when they heard the ruckus. “Now return to your posts at the tavern, we will handle this here.”
The gates opened and two guards rushed out, unbinding Talik’s wrists but keeping hold of his arms until the captain was certain he would not be trouble.
“What do you know of the evil you mentioned?” asked Master Keftal, a tall and stringy man with dark brown hair and eyes full of wisdom and a color to match his hair.
“Nothing,” Talik admitted. “I just know it’s there. I can feel it.”
“That is no help to us, take him…”
“But I have traveled overseas to many different lands and have heard hundreds of tales and acquired much knowledge. Possibly more than you, cooped up behind your walls in Nimbdell,” Talik interjected, unable to resist adding the last sentence against his better judgment.
The Master raised a bushy brown eyebrow, and then glanced to the others. They all nodded their accord, and he turned back to Talik with a grave expression.
“You may help, if you are able. But be forewarned, at the first sign of trickery we will not play nice.”
Talik nodded. He held no ill intentions toward them, and decided to hold his tongue instead of mentioning that he had fought a mage before, and he had won. He knew no good would come of boasting about that. He was not proud of that memory anyway.
The tent was large enough to hold the six mages, the captain, and Talik quite comfortably. Talik was surprised, for it didn’t seem that big from the outside. He noted curiously that the captain had brought all his political possessions out to the tent, a good indication the castle was off limits. The only reason he could think of that they would bring everything out was because they planned to be outside the castle for a long period of time.
“So far we know the castle is emptied and smells of death,” the Master recapped for the newcomer. He eyed the traveler as he added, “and that some form of evil is involved.”
Talik squinted his eyes suspiciously. He suspected the mages knew more than they let on, and the vibrations of their auras confirmed his conjecture.
“You were wise to wait for our arrival before retrieving your duty necessities from the castle, good captain.” Master Keftal bowed his head as he spoke to show respect.
“So you mentioned going back in when we were interrupted?” prompted the captain.
“The eight of us will scour the castle to be sure our good friend Secile didn’t miss anything, then we will draw our plans from any discoveries, or lack thereof.”
“Shouldn’t we bring some of my men?” asked the captain.
Master Keftal shook his head. “No need to endanger their lives. In a situation like this, a small group is best. And Talik,” he said with a direly serious tone. “You will obey the captain on this expedition as if he were the king.”
“Yes, master,” agreed the traveler, cleverly hiding his disdainful sarcasm beneath the fact that the man truly held the title of “Master.”
*
“I advise you to wait until morning,” warned Secile.
“She might not last that long,” replied Creole, determination showing clearly on his face.
Neeka had been gone all day. Creole asked Rahmina and her two best soldiers to join him in the search, and they agreed. They were preparing for the hike when Secile discovered where they meant to go.
“Are those things stronger at night?” asked Rahmina, preferring to gather information before jumping into danger’s jaws.
Secile shook her head. “Other than being able to see in the dark without a light source.”
“Then we’ll be fine. We’re all bringing our water sacks.” Randal brought the nozzle of his sack up to his mouth and squirted a stream down his throat to accentuate his point.
“Well if you insist on going tonight, I’ve no choice but to join you.”
None of them would dispute having a powerful mage on their side.
“The five of us, then.” Creole smiled despite his nervousness. “Let me just say goodbye to Brin and thank Maelchi for watching her.”
They encountered no problems on the way up to the caves, and silence followed them the whole way up. Creole took the lead, for he knew the caves better than the others. Rahmina and Secile followed, and Kainis and Randal took up the rear. Once inside, Creole realized he had no idea where to look for her. His concern for Neeka distracted him from clear and logical thought, and he jumped to action without formulating a plan. He knew she searched for the strange man who allegedly stole her memory, and that she didn’t know where he was. How could Creole know where she would be if she didn’t even know where she was going?
As if she read his mind, Secile offered her skills. “I can try a location spell, but the chances of accuracy are limited in this situation.”
“What’s that mean?” asked Creole. The others evidently shared his confusion, for they looked to Secile for an explanation.
“If I had a sentimental object belonging to your friend, success would be guaranteed. But since I’ve never met her and have nothing connected to her, I can only cast the spell in search of humans in general. So if your friend is not the only human down here, the spell will either locate all of them and confuse me, or it will locate the closest one clearly. Rather unpredictable magic is, unless you’re able to be specific in your focus.”
Creole shrugged. “Either result is better than what we know now.”
Rahmina nodded in agreement.
“If it helps, she has dark blue eyes and reddish hair that barely hangs below her shoulders. She’s toned and not as pale-skinned as we are,” added Creole.
“Very well, then. I will try.”
Secile closed her eyes and created a rhythm with her breathing. Having practiced this meditation for years allowed her to progress through the normally tedious process quickly. She kept her focus as her rhythm slowed until she could hear and feel the symphony of energy within her soul. A beginning student at Nimbdell would spend many minutes trying to achieve the state of mind Secile reached in seconds. Most beginners would get distracted or lose focus and have to start over several times. In some cases, the simple meditation exercise took hours.
Secile found the yellow pool of her energy and focused on a sonic tone to accompany the color, much like bats use sonar waves to find their flight path. She visualized Creole’s description to complete the spell, and then uttered the trigger words to send her energy out. She saw only darkness for a few moments. When an image finally came to her, she was elated. The picture was not clear, nor was the location, but she saw a human form curled up on the ground next to a stalagmite. Then she was confused, for she realized the vision wasn’t out of focus because of inaccuracy, but because two images overlapped each other. Along with the stalagmite was a faded picture of an empty cavern, save for a hovering cloud of energy.
Then the vision was gone.
“Strange,” said the mage as she opened her eyes.
“What did you see?” Rahmina asked anxiously.
“Wasn’t too clear, but I’m almost certain it was your friend. She was curled up on the ground next to a stalagmite. And there was another image of an empty cavern, which is strangely unassociated with my focus and the spell’s purpose.” She left out the cloud of energy because she didn’t know what to make of it, and wasn’t sure how to explain it to them. Even trying might misdirect their thoughts. The stalagmite was most important, but she would keep the other picture in the back of her mind.
“There are probably hundreds of stalagmites down here,” complained Rahmina.
Creole was about to comment that there were many more tunnels, alcoves, and caverns than stalagmites, and at least their search was narrowed, but his last conversation with Neeka before she left for the caves interrupted that thought. He remembered her saying the strange man confronted her in the caves on the mountain’s northern slope. More importantly he remembered a stalagmite formed not but half a mile in from that entrance.
“I know where she is,” blurted Creole.
“How…?” Rahmina started to ask, but decided it didn’t matter because it was the only lead they had, and Creole would likely know better than any of them.
The tunnels were eerily quiet the entire march to the stalagmite the villagers often used as a landmark in their explorations. The natural anomaly was the light beacon at the end of their long, dark expedition through the mountain, signaling freedom was not far off.
“Neeka!” cried Creole when they reached the stalagmite. He rushed to her crumpled form and checked for signs of vitality. He pulled his hand away from her neck and shook his head in disbelief, tears forming in his eyes.
“Let me take a look,” suggested Secile in a comforting tone.
She examined the body first for signs of battle: there were no holes in her clothes and no wounds, not a single visible bruise. Secile felt her neck as Creole did, but found no pulse.
“Interesting,” she said.
“What is it?” asked Creole, eager for her professional opinion.
“You are right, she has no pulse and is not breathing. Yet there are no signs of struggle, no wounds, and her clothes are intact. It seems as though her heart just gave up, which is highly unlikely for one her age.”
Rahmina analyzed the layout of Neeka’s scattered possessions. She’d performed a lot of investigative work for the king during her tenure, where she would determine what occurred during a battle nearly to exact detail by examining the aftermath. More often than not her skills were summoned because the criminal who was responsible for the destruction has not yet been brought to justice. She found the perpetrators nine out of ten times.
The ex-general noted the torch was still burning when Neeka fell and had expired on its own, for the rock around the torch was scorched. She also found food crumbs on the ground near the stalagmite, yet the woman’s pack was closed with everything inside.
“She stopped here to eat,” Rahmina began. “When she finished, she packed everything up and intended to leave.” Then she noticed the hole in the ground, which could only have been from a drop of acid.
“But an acid-spitter appeared,” she continued, feeling the depth and smoothness of the hole with her finger. “She must’ve scared it away, since she has no wounds and her clothes have no holes.”
“And her sword and knife are still whole,” added Randal.
Creole nodded, not surprised. “They are afraid of fire, and Neeka knew that. She held a torch. The creature was not the cause for her death.”
They all looked to Secile curiously as the mage began chanting. She sprinkled a form of sparkly dust over Neeka’s body as she finished. Rahmina and a few others gasped as a faint silvery glow outlined the prone form. “Of course! But how…?” Secile muttered, obviously confused by the results.
“What does it mean?” asked Creole urgently.
“It means we are in trouble. The leader is here,” she continued, turning to Daxe as she spoke, “though the leader should not have found this level of power, this strong of a connection with the artifact, so soon.”
They stared unblinking at Secile as if she spoke a different language.
“When the dagger drains its victim of their lifeblood, it leaves a drop of its essence in their dead heart, which reanimates the corpse, creating a powerful creature. Over time the creature’s power grows as the artifact’s essence feeds on the rotting flesh. As the drop of essence becomes a pool, the connection between creature and artifact grows stronger. Thus, so does the creature’s power, until the artifact’s essence inevitably consumes the creature’s body and rides the connection home, adding to the artifact’s power. That process can take hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of years. This time, though…” Secile just shook her head, unable to explain. Perhaps their research and theories were wrong.
“Wow…” was all Creole could say.
“What does that have to do with Neeka?” asked Rahmina.
“The leader took Neeka’s soul and is holding her prisoner, a feat that the artifact’s minions can’t usually perform this early. Vaulinqulitaya must be hungry. It is possible the artifact increased the rate at which its essence feeds. But that is just a guess, I cannot be certain.”
“Can we bring her back?” asked Creole hopefully.
“I cannot. If there is a way, I don’t know about it.”
“Brin might know. Maybe her ‘Lishy’ friend can help. Let’s take Neeka’s body back to the village.”
Creole insisted on carrying her.
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Another exciting chapter with new developments to keep the reader wondering. Nice job! Great ending too, leaving them in the cave with the leader. I am still wonder what role Brinney has yet to play, I am guessing something significant.
“Secile decided they couldn’t afford to stop for a break, so they reached Tuntiload shortly after dark due to the enchanted horseshoes.” This is a little awkward. You probably don’t need to add the part about the enchanted horseshoes because they’ve been mentioned enough the reader knows about them.
“explained Secile somberly.” I think we already know the mood is somber.
“The others suddenly realized what the region was up against, and they wondered why they hadn’t yet fled across the seas.” Try to avoid making point blank statements that encompass the thoughts of a whole group of people at once unless it’s common knowledge to everyone what the people are thinking. You can show this by startled looks, gasps, a line or two of dialogue.
“she told Daxe anxiously.” Show this in her body posture, expressions, tone of voice. An adverb is the easy way out.
“Daxe sighed; disappointed” pov shift
“If anyone were with her she would’ve fled” inconsistent verb tenses. ‘If anyone were with her she would flee….’ Or ‘If any had been with her she would’ve fled….”
“her of floated at the bottom” floating
“answer nor quall.” quell.
“Brinney was the only calm one.” I think this would sound a little better this way, ‘Brinney was the only one who remained calm.
“lonely man, grumpy old villager, “the petulant loner.” This getting to be a bit much. If you’re going to refer to him so many times give him a name or stick to one label to refer to him.
“to see a woman in a fine black robe with silver designs and purple trim accompanied by a scraggly-haired dirty rogue male wearing typical traveling gear.” This would be more personal if you describe Secile and Daxe from a specific person’s pov. When you use general observations it distances the reader. We become on lookers instead of part of the action.
“I am Creole, Brinney’s father,” he introduced, stepping up next to his daughter. “Do we know you?” Suggestion: ‘Creole stepped up next to his daughter. “I’m Creole, Binney’s father. Do we know you?”
everyone listening intently to their conversation, especially the children. Not really needed. ‘A hush befell the area,’ says it all.
“said Creole suspiciously,” Again you do a great job with getting the meaning across with the dialogue, making the adverb unnecessary.
“Can you help mommy?” asked Brinney, her big teal eyes completing the desperate expression. This whole section so far seems to be from no one’s point of view.
“Secile kept
her curiosities for Brinney’s potential abilities to herself.” This is kind of awkward because suddenly we’re in Secile’s head, but up until now she’s been described as an outsider.
“A small group of three of Burkae’s army of fodder set out from the caves for the village almost immediately after their arrival.” The three ‘ofs’ make this a little awkward reading. Also consider replacing ‘almost immediately’ with ‘soon.’
“as was commanded by their master.” I don’t think this is needed. You’ve done such a great job describing these creatures that we know that they only do what their master commands. They have no thoughts but what their master gives them.
“Sholee was well protected.” Since the creatures don’t know her name I would say the life source was well protected. The reader will still know it’s Sholee.
“They fought bravely against the three creatures after the initial shock of surprise,” Have you considered turning this fight into a scene? Could make a great one.
“Burkae earned his first group” I’m sure about using the word ‘earned.’ Seems like it came too easily. Perhaps ‘gained?’
“The possible involvement of fairies could mean only one thing.
Danger.” I like this. It really makes the reader wonder about what kind of danger fairies can bring.
“The marketplace settled down” This whole section appears to be by no one’s pov. Even the with omnipotent pov, there needs to be a point of view. This would be much more interesting if seen through someone’s eyes.
“He calmed and quieted immediately,” Suddenly now we’re in Talik’s pov. I would either make it all in his pov or start with one of the guards and then switch.
“Don’t you think it wiser to take one’s weapons the moment you arrest them?” smirked Talik.” Start the sentence with, ‘Talik smirked. “Don’t you think….”
“and he had won.” Take out ‘he.’
“all his political possessions” like what?
“More often than not” not,
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