The Fabled Beast of Elddon (6 page)

She
had come to the boundary of the lighted part of the city when she heard a
sound, the echo of booted feet on stone, distant, but drawing nearer. Ryia
froze, gripping the staff with both hands. She was reminded again of how alone
she was, and that she was surrounded by foes. She listened, ears straining.
Someone was coming. No, many someones. More than one at least.

She
looked around, trying to find somewhere to hide. She ran to the side of the
passage, to a closed door, beneath a stone arch. She pulled on the ring, but
the door would not open. Ryia flattened her back against the wood, trying to
press her body into the shadows. It wasn’t much of a hiding place, but it was
all she had. She would kill whoever was coming, even Sir Egan. She didn’t want
to, but would do whatever she had to do to escape.

It
was well past midnight when the three companions reached Ibridion. They slowed
their horses to a walk, passing through the cleft in single file, and emerged
into a landscape of dust and broken rocks. The night was mostly clear with only
a few high clouds. A full moon hung in the velvet sky, lighting their way.

At
the edge of the courtyard, they dismounted, tethering their mounts in the
shadow of one of the monolithic stone pillars that surrounded the place. Ander
drew his sword, the blade glinting in the moonlight. Tristan did the same and Loth
unslung his bow, fitting an arrow to the string. The three crept forward to the
thick wooden post in the center.

“She
was here,” Loth said, stooping to examine the area around the base of the pole.
“There are marks in the dirt, small sandaled feet.”

“How
can you possibly see that?” Tristan asked.

“With
this moon I can see as well as you do in daylight.” Loth glanced up at the round,
white face hanging in the sky above them. “The elluen existed before the sun
and moon. We see well, even on the darkest night. There are other tracks here.
Some were made by men. Others...” he frowned. “These look like...”

“The
beast,” Tristan said, unable to contain his anxiety. “The beast has her!”

“I
don’t think so. It appears as if she was bound to this pole, probably from that
hook up there, but somehow managed to free herself and ran away.”

“Aye,”
Ander said, “the girl’s got spirit. Well then, if you can make out her tracks,
which way did she go?”

“This
way,” Loth said, rising. They followed Ryia’s footsteps into the rocks,
wandering through the maze of pillars to the point of Ryia’s capture. Here Loth
paused again, examining the ground for a long time.

“There
was a struggle,” Loth said. “The girl was subdued and dragged...”

“The
beast--” Tristan said.

“No,
not the beast. Something else. Someone else. Two persons in fact. These tracks were
not made by men. They are more like...“ Loth scanned the darkness. “These are
kerram tracks.”

“Kerram?”
Ander said. “What in Onar’s name are they doing here?”

“I
don’t know, but it was kerram that took her, without a doubt. They bore her
away, back toward the city.”

“That’s
almost good news,” Ander said.

“How
is that good?” Tristan shot back, clearly agitated.

“If
the beast of Elddon had come for her, she would most likely be dead now.”
Tristan grimaced at this and Ander laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “But
if the kerram have her, then she may still be alive. We can still save her.”

The
three made their way back to the courtyard, moving quickly over the stones to
the entrance of the city. They paused outside the great double doors,
listening, but no sound came from within. The night remained still and quiet. Ander
placed his hands on the doors and heaved them open. The doors swung inward, moving
easily on well oiled hinges, revealing a large hall shrouded in darkness.

“Since
I’m the only one who can see, I’ll take the lead,” Loth said, gesturing for Ander
and Tristan to follow. “Stay close.”

Crossing
the threshold, they entered an immense hall. Massive stone pillars were set
into the walls at regular intervals, with carvings of heroic figures, some
wearing robes, others armored and holding raised swords, occupying the spaces
in between. The floor was made of massive slabs of granite, fit together so
carefully that the seams were barely visible.

 
“This is strange,” Loth said, moving across
the hall. Here there were barrels of pitch and piles of green branches and leaves,
along with a dozen or more clay bowls as big around as wagon wheels. An acrid
odor hung in the air, as if something had been recently burned. There were musical
instruments as well; huge drums as big as beer barrels and a six-foot long horn
fitted with a copper mouth piece at one end.

Ander
appeared beside him. He used flint and steel to ignite a bit of bracken in one
of the bowls, then fished out a branch from the pile and coated the end of it with
pitch. He stabbed the branch into the fire, turning it as the end caught and
raising it up. A warm glow spread out across the floor around them.

“What’s
all this, then?” Ander said, examining the horn.

“The
kerram have a great love for machines and devices. Perhaps they are musical as
well.” Loth tapped a finger experimentally on one of the drums, producing a
deep rumbling sound.

“Let’s
just find Ryia,” Tristan said, glancing about nervously. “There is an
unwholesome feel about this place.”

They
continued across the hall and entered a passage on the far side. It went back a
long way, past portals to other chambers and halls. A short time later they
emerged onto a terrace, the front portion of which had fallen away. Across from
where they stood, on the other side of a deep chasm, was another opening, a
doorway much like the one they had just passed through. Loth scanned the rock
face, seeing other doors and windows directly across from them. A long walkway
ran along the cliff edge, just above eye level, disappearing into the gloom on
either side.

“Look,
down there,” Ander said, pointing.

Loth
looked and saw several bridges, all of them broken, but there was one that
still remained intact.

“We
can cross there,” Loth said. “We passed a landing with a stair several yards back.
That should take us where we need to go.”

They
retraced their steps, taking one of the side doors and descending a narrow
staircase. The stairs let out into another passage parallel to the one above.
At the end of it they came out onto a second terrace, much like the one they
had just left. Here a solid bridge spanned the chasm between the two cliff
faces. Loth started across the bridge, with Ander and Tristan close behind.
They moved swiftly, scanning the wall in front of them, alert for any sign of
movement or attack, but nothing stirred in the long dead city.

On
the far side of the bridge, they entered through another door and continued
down a long hallway. Before long they came to an area that appeared in use and
was lighted by oil lamps. There they paused, lingering at the edge of the darkness
and exchanging wary glances. Loth could hear a distant rumbling sound and smell
a faint animal odor. Ibridion was not so dead after all. There was life here
and there was danger.

“Wait
a moment,” Ander said. “I hear something.”

The
Northman handed Tristan the torch, then unslung his shield and raised his sword,
moving forward into the lamp light. He had only gone a few paces when a small figure,
a faint, ghostly apparition, slid from the shadows of a doorway. The figure
gripped a staff of some sort and aimed it at Ander’s chest, twisting the end of
it. Ander tried to bring the shield up, but not fast enough. A ball of flame struck
the Northman high on the right side of his chest. The force of the blast lifted
him off his feet and he came down hard on the stone.

“Ryia!”
Tristan said, dropping the torch and launching himself at the girl.

Ryia,
for her part, stood frozen, eyes wide and staring. “Oh no!” she cried. “I am so
sorry. What have I done?”

Ander
heard the voices as a distant echo, as if hearing them through layers of
cotton. His mind was consumed by the pain in his chest and back. His groping
fingers reached up to touch the chain mail where it had been melted, the metal
still hot to the touch.

“Onar
and Iden,” he croaked. He could smell something burning, something rank and
overcooked, and realized it was his own flesh. He groaned and tried to raise
himself but the pain was too great. He let his head thump against the stone and
hoped that he would lose consciousness soon.

A
moment later Loth was kneeling beside him. The elluen laid a hand on the
Northman’s scorched chest, whispering words in a language Ander could not
comprehend. He felt a coolness spreading through his limbs, like ice water in
his veins, and the pain began to ease. He let out a grateful sigh.

Tristan
and Loth took hold of him by the arms, helping him to a sitting position. Ander
lowered his head, examining the wound and probing it with his fingers. A
portion of his hauberk and tunic had been burned away and the skin beneath was pink
and tender to the touch, but the burning sensation was receding. He took a deep
breath and let it out slowly. Despite all evidence to the contrary, he appeared
to be whole.

“What
in seven worlds is that thing?” He nodded at the staff.

“I’m
so sorry,” Ryia said. “I took it from one of the guards who... when I saw you,
I thought... I, well, it just sort of--”

“Oh,
Ryia,” Tristan said, releasing Ander’s arm. “I thought I would never see you again.
I thought--” Tristan abandoned Ander entirely, rising to meet the woman he loved.

“Tristan!”
Ryia flung her arms around the youth’s neck and crushed him to her. He plunged
his fingers into her dark hair, gripping her tightly. The girl’s hands found
his face and their mouths met. There were tears in their eyes and they clung to
each other as if they were drowning.

“Don’t
mind us,” Ander said, offering Loth a wry smile. The elluen took hold of
Ander’s hand and pulled him to his feet.

“Thanks
for that,” Ander said, touching his shoulder. He rotated his arm, testing its
flexibility, then he collected his fallen sword and adjusted the straps on his
shield. “That’s a good trick to know.”

“I’m
no great healer,” Loth said, “but I know a few useful spells.” He glanced
around. “We shouldn’t linger. Someone is bound to have heard the noise--“

“Wait,”
Ryia said, disentangling herself from Tristan. “There are people here, peasants,
villagers, those believed to have been taken by the beast.”

“They’re
alive?” Tristan said. “All of them?”

“I
don’t know about all, but some at least. The kerram are forcing them to work. There
is a mining operation in a cavern below the city.”

“Glow
rock,” Loth said, scowling and shaking his head. “They’re probably looking for
glow rock. It’s what fuels that staff. The kerram are obsessed with it. They
use it to power their strange devices, but it is a foul substance, deadly if
ingested, and lethal if one is exposed to it for a long period of time. In its
raw state, it is flammable and highly unstable.”

“Sir
Egan is here as well,” Ryia said. “He is working with the kerram!”

“What?”
Ander growled. “Onar’s beard, that traitorous wretch. No wonder he didn’t want
us coming near this place.”

“So,”
Loth said, “the kerram are working with Elddon’s goodly knight, and Baron
Leofrick is none the wiser. He trusts the man over much. I’m beginning to
perceive the baron as something of a blunt arrow. The kerram are here for the
glow rock, that much is certain, but Sir Egan must be getting something out of
it.”

“What
about the beast?” Tristan asked, glancing over his shoulder. “We’ve seen no
sign of it.”

“I
don’t know,” Loth said. “I saw the creature with my own eyes. I know it exists,
but there’s no evidence of it here. Perhaps the kerram have it enslaved and are
hiding it in some hall we’ve not yet seen.”

“It
may have been the kerram,” Ander said, “as woke the beast in the first place--”

“We
have to get her out of here,” Tristan said.

“We
can’t go,” Ryia said. “I was on my way to find help and here you are. We have
to free those people--”

“Were
there children among them?” Loth said, taking the girl by the shoulders. “Were
there three boys, strong young farm boys with golden hair?”

“There
were children, yes, and women as well, but there are more people in the mines
than what I saw, I am certain of it.”

 
“If Sir Egan realizes we are here, he
might put the prisoners to the sword.” Loth said. “I have sworn an oath, and I
will not leave until I find the boys I seek.”

“Shouldn’t
we at least fall back to a safer place?” Tristan suggested. “Come up with a
plan?”

“We
planned for a day and night before our ill-fated rescue attempt,” Ander gave
Ryia a weak smile. “For all the good it did. We don’t know enough about what’s
going on. We don’t know how many kerram there are, and we don’t know where the
beast is hiding. We don’t have enough men, and where would we find them even if
we had the time?” He put a hand on the youth’s shoulder. “I’m afraid, Tris,
that it comes down to us again. We’re here now and if we don’t do something, no
one will.”