Keys of Awakening

Illiom was immobilised by the horror of what she was witnessing, but finally managed to tear her gaze away from the unfolding tragedy.

Undina and Azulya were also staring down at the bridge. The tribal girl sobbed in distress and her eyes filled with grief and impotent rage. Azulya’s lips were a thin, grim line.

Behind them, Elan turned away and looked longingly towards the daylight, still visible in the west. Sereth just stood, blinking, shaking his head.

“We are trapped,” Scald announced.

Malco nodded.

“Yes, we have failed …” The matter-of-fact tone of his voice did not reflect the immensity of what his words implied.

Illiom’s mind groped for an answer, for a way out.

On the one hand, she wanted to turn away from this latest in a long line of catastrophes; and on the other, she desperately wanted to find a way for them to move forward again. She refused to accept that Scald and Malco might be right: that they were now trapped on the besieged Keep, powerless, with nothing to do but witness the fall of Albradan, the destruction of Theregon.

“No.”

Argolan’s voice spun Illiom around.

“No,” the Shieldarm repeated, shaking her head. “We are not trapped.”

She commanded their attention, forcing them to look away from the tragedy below.

“Listen to me, we are not trapped. There is another way out of Varadon’s Keep.

“Another way?” Scald asked, incredulous. “But everyone said …”

“Only a few know about this,” Argolan interrupted. “It has purposely been kept secret. There are many caves within the Keep. Most are commonly known, but there is one that is not, and it leads all the way down to the plains below. It has only one usable exit, which is well hidden amid a pile of boulders and a deep wood, on the southern slope of the Keep …”

“I have never heard of this either,” Malco said, with a note of recrimination in his voice. “Does this mean that the Keep has a vulnerability?”

“No, Malco, it does not. The passage is narrow, and in parts quite steep; easily defensible by whomever holds the high ground. If worst comes to worst, the water from the lake can be used to flood it, flushing out and drowning anyone trapped inside.”

“So we can still leave …” Elan concluded. The priestess’ eyes, still awash with fear, began to lighten with this new tendril of hope.

“What about the horses?” Tarmel asked. “Can we take them?”

The Shieldarm nodded.

“We will have to descend very carefully, but it can be done.”

Sereth nodded firmly.

“If this is the only way out, then we have no choice but to take it,” he stated, and turned back to look at what was happening at the Gate. It was as if he could not wrest his eyes away from that terrible unfolding.

Illiom refused to look again.

If more people were falling to their deaths, she did not need to see it. She had seen more than enough death in the last two moons to last a lifetime.

“Very well,” Scald said. “This is good news. But once we get down there how are we going to get past Ollord’s horde?”

“We will have to face that when the time comes,” Argolan said, her tone admitting no argument. “I personally doubt that the invaders will waste time and resources surrounding Varadon’s Keep. Ollord - or rather, the one who controls him – will probably have a number of objectives in mind at the onset of this war.” She shook her head with firm certainty.

“Surrounding the Keep is not likely to be one of them …”

“How long will it take us to get down?” asked Azulya.

Argolan scowled in response.

“That, I cannot really say,” she replied. “Last time it took me the better part of a day, but I was unencumbered, on foot, and I was not trying to lead a horse … we will just have to …”

A chorus of shouts from the direction of Saryam’s Gate cut her off in mid-sentence. Illiom looked in that direction with dread, wondering what new disaster was unfolding there.

Upon the battlements of the Gate, she saw warriors pointing skyward.

“There!”

Grifor also cried out, causing them all to turn. The Rider was pointing at the underside of the cloud directly overhead.

Illiom followed her gaze and it seemed to her that objects were falling out of the cloud, until it dawned on her that these were in fact creatures with wings - but not birds - and they were diving in full attack, heading for the plateau below.

“Krodh’s venom!” spat Malco. “Now what?!”

Illiom found herself remembering the Vurls, the giant vultures of Iol. But these creatures were not Vurls; they were much bigger. Instead of feathers, she saw glistening scales. The leathery wings reminded her of bats, only these wings were as large as the Diamantine’s sails.

As the monsters drew closer she saw that each had two heads, perched on long necks. The heads were hideous and identical, each crowned with three great horns. Their chins also ended in three barbed spikes, similar to those jutting from their wing joints. Their feet had claws with talons big enough to seize a horse.

And upon each creature a human figure perched, much as a rider might sit upon a winged horse.

Illiom saw dozens of golden spheres drifting downwards in their wake. Slow and dreamlike, they descended towards the Keep. They seemed almost weightless and translucent, the light from the west reflecting off their glasslike surfaces.

“I really do not like the look of that.”

Mist’s comment voiced Illiom’s thoughts exactly.

Yet no one moved as they watched the spheres floating slowly down towards the ribbon of people trudging along King’s Parade. They did not immediately see what effect the spheres had upon striking the ground, for the first ones landed on the far side of a low hill. What they did see was the reaction of the refugees coming up behind them: they scattered off-road in all directions in an obvious attempt to distance themselves from the spheres.

Some that had landed alongside the road near the Gate burst upon impact, releasing a green cloud of vapour that spread languidly across the ground.

Those too slow in getting out of the way were enveloped by the fog. They fell writhing to the ground before becoming deathly still.

Illiom looked up, scanning the cloud’s underbelly. She saw more creatures diving out of the cloud. These broke up into three different groups: one made for the Gate, another veered towards Kuon, while the third flew west.

Illiom’s gaze followed this last group as it passed, relatively close by.

She saw more spheres being dropped, but could not see who these were aimed at.

The band attacking the Gate had already made one pass. As the creatures arced around for a second attack, one of them flew so close that Illiom was able to see its rider. She saw him retrieve a sphere from a basket which hung from the side of the mount’s neck, and prepare to release it over the side.

Illiom clenched her jaw. In the next instant she dashed towards Black Lightning. She grabbed her bow and quiver, nocked an arrow and aimed. The moment she heard her bowsong, she released and watched the shaft speed towards its target. The rider simply slid from the mount and fell to his death upon the rocks below.

With a terrifying screech, the riderless creature turned in mid-air, its two heads turning to face their party, and then flew directly towards them.

Illiom grabbed a second arrow from her quiver, but it slipped from her fingers. She cursed, retrieved the arrow, and quickly nocked it again; but when she drew the bow and brought the shaft in line with the creature, she could not fire.

The familiar and magical hum was missing.

The beast was nearing, its eyes smouldering like lava. The venomous hatred that burned in the monster’s double set of eyes was unnerving.

And still no hum.

Panic fogged her mind, time slowed, and those few moments seemed an eternity.

She released her arrow. It sped towards the creature and struck one of the heads, but nothing happened. The creature was not hurt and it loomed perilously close now.

Shaking, Illiom scrambled for yet another arrow and brought it up to aim and … nothing.

No sound.

No hum.

I am about to die.

The winged serpent opened one of its mouths to reveal a cavity filled with teeth that glimmered like blades. The creature screeched its promise of death and, in that moment, her bow sang out.

The second arrow flew straight into the beast’s open maw. Its death-screech was silenced, and the winged monstrosity banked sharply to one side as the neck supporting the wounded head thrashed about. The hale head screamed at them and seemed to be struggling to stay in the air. It flailed and the creature crashed to the ground, less than twenty spans from where they stood.

Heart hammering, Illiom was about to draw another arrow when Argolan put a hand on her arm.

“No time, Illiom,” she said. “We cannot risk being discovered and we cannot delay any longer. We must go, now!”

“The entrance to the caves is within Nostum Wood,” Argolan informed them as they prepared to move out. “We need to get back onto Garrison Road, but with everything that is now happening we must avoid going back to Saryam’s Gate or King’s Parade. So we will make our way off-road, this way, until we intercept the road.”

They looked in the direction she indicated.

“Looks very dark,” Malco said.

The Blade was right. Despite the band of daylight still visible in the distance, that end of Varadon’s Keep was steeped in darkest shadow.

“We should light some torches …” Scald suggested, but the Riders were quick to shake their heads.

“Only if we want to attract those things,” Malco said, nodding towards the creatures circling overhead.

“What about you Kassargan, can you scry the way for us?” Argolan asked.

“I wish that I could, but all the scrying for Prince Vardail has depleted my Kai and I will not be able to scry for at least a few days.”

The Shieldarm turned to the conjurer.

“What about you, Keilon Var? Can you do anything for us?”

The Iolan shook his head regretfully.

“Nothing I am sorry to say.”

“Then we have no choice but to travel in darkness,” Argolan concluded. Pulling her mount by the reins, she set off in the direction of Nostum Wood.

Illiom glanced back towards the capital of Albradan and felt her heart sink. Dozens of creatures were making low passes over the city. The situation atop Varadon’s Keep was already becoming desperate.

I may never see Kuon again.

It had not been a sending but maybe, in the intensity of the moment, she had cast it out in that way.

I can help, Illiom, came the immediate response.

Who’s reply came from somewhere out of the darkness ahead and Illiom found his presence incredibly reassuring.

You can see in the dark ahead?

Well enough.

Who’s response was at once heartening and disturbing. If he could see them, then others might also: others with less friendly intent.

In that moment she felt a hand settle upon her shoulder.

“Illiom.”

She turned to face Argolan.

“Can you help?”

It was as though the Shieldarm had been aware of her silent conversation with the owl. Illiom sensed that all the others were listening to this exchange.

“I was just trying to work that out …”

“And?”

“I can lead us.”

“Good,” Argolan said, her voice matter of fact. “Then come to the front and lead the way.”

When Illiom complied, the Shieldarm instructed her.

“We need to make our way to Garrison Rd. From there we will follow the road until we reach Nostum Wood. There is a narrow trail that leads from the road towards the middle of the forest where there is a hill, strewn with boulders.”

I know the boulder place.

Who’s comment pushed itself into Illiom’s mind.

You know this place?

Where do you think I go when you are in the palace?

She had not given it any thought, but it made sense. Where else would an owl go, given a choice? She nodded towards Argolan.

“Fine, we can find it. Let us go,” she said, stepping forward.

“Link up,” the Shieldarm instructed those behind her. “Keep close to each other.”

Argolan accompanied Illiom, and the others fell in behind her.

At first, Illiom found the task challenging in the extreme.

Who’s sending, coupled with her own dim vision, overlapped in a disorienting way. In the end, she closed her eyes and surrendered to his guidance alone. Through his keen sight, she was able to see herself, the surrounding party, and the path they needed to follow, much more clearly.

It was unsettling, this trudging through the darkness in silence, but surprisingly no one commented on it.

She welcomed the silence and, relying on what Who was showing her, she gave clear and simple instructions.

Despite their supposed keen night-sight, even the Surmur horses were unsettled and skittish. This made the journey even more surreal and frightening, and yet they reached Garrison Road without incident.

Once on the road, they were able to mount and ride, albeit slowly. The road was a few shades paler than the surrounding scrubland and for a time they followed it without too much difficulty.

Then Illiom felt a shiver that was not her own.

Illiom …

What is wrong? she asked.

There was a brief silence.

There is death ahead ... you will need to brace yourself for this.

Then she saw them through his eyes: the road ahead was dotted with bodies. Illiom recognized them only by their shape: humans and horses. The carcasses oozed a pale green, malodorous sap that pooled beneath them, and a noxious fungal growth sprouted from mouths, eyes, and ears.

“There are dead upon the road ahead,” she warned her companions. “Do not touch them ... something terrible has happened here …”

There were a few frightened murmurs, but Argolan bid them silent. They passed the bodies and, to Illiom’s intense relief, gained the edge of Nostum Wood without any further mishap.

As they neared the forest of giant trees, a loud retort drew their attention to the west. Flashes of green malachite illumined the underbelly of the storm cloud and the lands beneath it.

They were coming from the direction of Akta.

The distant ruins were out of sight, but Illiom saw dozens of creatures and their riders flying overhead, diving and cartwheeling; and everywhere the golden orbs fell, floating down onto the surrounding lands.

Illiom’s heart sank, for she knew exactly what was happening there: the forces stationed around the ruins were under attack.

She made herself turn away, to focus on the task at hand. But fear, her companion of old, now began to creep back in.

How could they prevail against such powers? What hope did Vardail, and all who had sought refuge on Varadon’s Keep, have of surviving these interminable waves of disaster …?

Illiom …

Grateful for his call, she turned her attention back to the owl.

He had found the track easily enough: a narrow, but well maintained path that under normal circumstances would have been easy to follow.

As they stepped beneath the canopy of the giant trees, an even deeper darkness enveloped them. To make matters more hazardous, the path became uneven, meandering around barriers and obstacles that were all but impossible to see.

By the time they reached the rocky hill, Illiom’s senses were frayed with strain and exhaustion.

“We might have to risk lighting a few torches to help us find our way in,” Argolan suggested.

“No,” Illiom answered. “I have a better idea.”

And with that, she sparked her werelight into a soft glow.

No one questioned this new marvel, yet Illiom’s throat suddenly went dry. She knew that soon she would have quite a lot of explaining to do.

Now I see that you are truly changing, Illiom.

The owl’s sending was filled with surprise.

I will wait for you down below, he promised, and she felt him fly away through the dark of the forest.

Argolan moved up to take the lead now.

The Shieldarm led the way forward into a narrow gully that meandered past stone boulders and the great trunks of giant trees.

Fearful of being seen by the winged creatures, Illiom kept the werelight’s glow as weak as she could. They descended further, into an even deeper pool of darkness that followed the gully’s uneven floor. Suddenly the path came to an end against a tumble of giant stones, and here they pressed their way past the boulders and through a tangle of roots.

They dismounted at last and, beneath the upward thrust of two green giants, entered a black fissure in the earth and were finally admitted inside Varadon’s Keep.

The opening soon widened, but it remained barely high enough for the horses to clear. Both humans and animals had to duck in order to progress deeper.

Illiom asked Argolan to light some torches and, only when the Riders each bore a flaming brand, did she allow her werelight to fade and wink out.

The musty passage did not stay level for long, but soon narrowed and made a few sporadic dips downwards. Eventually, after almost doubling back on itself, the plunge downwards began.

Here, Illiom was relieved to see that broad steps had been carved into the stone floor, or else the descent would have been almost impossible. Even so, there were tracts so treacherous that they were forced to lead their horses down one at a time, until they were able to proceed as a group once more. This happened with increasing frequency, impeding their progress and slowing their journey further.

The caves around them and the terrain they traversed varied wildly. At times, the ceiling and the walls on either side withdrew, swallowed up by a great and menacing emptiness. When this occurred, Illiom felt exposed and vulnerable; she peered into the empty void as her mind conjured up malevolent eyes spying upon the group’s progress.

Eventually the yawning vastness closed in on them and once more became an irregular tunnel that forced them to progress in single file, ever mindful of the many stalactites and rocky protrusions that threatened injury.

They supported one other with occasional words of encouragement, but these echoed hollow in this dark underworld. From time to time, Illiom turned to glance at Black Lightning, but the steed seemed unperturbed.

On and on the descent continued, a seemingly endless ordeal that demanded complete attentiveness as the price for safe passage.

In this way, they eventually reached a broad, but low-ceilinged chamber, from which trickling water converged to form a stream that ran across the cavern floor.

Here, Argolan called a stop.

“I remember this place,” she said. “We must be about halfway down. We should rest and snatch some sleep before continuing.”

Illiom could not have said how long they had been trudging through the dark, but she was grateful to sit and rest for a while. The Riders secured their torches against nooks and crannies in the walls, and here they shared cold food and drank from the clear waters.

Illiom looked around at the others. What a sorry lot they were. Torn away from their lives to embark on a quest they did not understand, they were now fleeing for their lives, while the world they knew disintegrated around them, with everyone and everything they loved threatened.

They deserve better, she thought. If nothing else, they deserved some answers.

“I led us through the darkness ... guided by an owl,” she said, without looking at anyone in particular.

Silence descended, all except for the sound of the water.

She could feel them looking at her but could not meet their eyes, for fear that her resolve might fail.

She meticulously and methodically shared the story of her relationship with Who, and from there moved on to explain the mystery of her werelight. Here, try as she may, she could not speak of the lethal power that lurked behind the seemingly harmless glow.

Afterwards, she lay down on a patch of sand and tried to wrest some sleep from her preoccupied mind. It was a fitful sleep, full of flying monstrosities and descending orbs, and of desperate folk ravaged by monsters or leaping to their deaths.

She tossed and turned and awoke in a blind panic, covered in sweat and trembling with the horror of her still-fading nightmare.

She felt awash with relief when they resumed their journey into the bowels of the earth.

The descent, although no longer steep, became treacherously slippery, continuing to hamper their progress.

It was difficult to see the floor clearly in the flicker of torchlight, yet Illiom was reluctant to use her werelight, still squirming about her earlier avoidance of the subject.

Fed by invisible tributaries, the stream soon gathered substance and rushed past their feet, making it difficult to distinguish between safe, dry stones and slimy, submerged ones. Sereth lost his footing, falling heavily on his back, but he picked himself up without any assistance and brushed at his now wet clothes, his pride the only thing that might have sustained any damage.

As she picked her way down with the rest, Illiom – still grappling with the aftermath of her dream – tried to focus on the positive. They were making their way towards freedom, and at least the darkness of these caverns did not have the same menacing quality of the cloud that covered the Keep in a blanket of dread. She had never been fond of caves, but at least she felt no real evil lurking in these convoluted passages.

The subterranean landscape continued to shift and change, to twist and turn, to expand and contract. Time passed like the trickle of the water that dripped from the stalactites: unhurried and interminable. She could no longer say, with any certainty, how long ago they had first set foot inside these caves. Was it one day or two?

These were meaningless musings, she realised. The passage of time was rendered immeasurable by the absence of light, with no sunset or moonrise, or the slow, wheeling motion of stars overhead to mark day or night.

She trudged on, surrendered to this world of darkness, when the first hint of change revealed itself. They were clambering over a pile of loose rubble that must have collapsed eons earlier, when she felt the touch of cool air brushing lightly against her cheek, subtle yet unmistakable.

Though unaccompanied by any glimpse of daylight ahead, it was like a balm, warming her heart and spurring her on. The demons of eternal night inside the Keep, and the much more real ones that haunted the plateau above, both receded before the touch of this gentle breeze.

She realised then that they had succeeded. They had managed to escape, and would soon be emerging from the chain of caves to be out in the open once more.

Yet the exit continued to elude them. The tunnel continued its steady and uneven descent, as the stream that accompanied them widened and became tumultuous in a way that mirrored Illiom’s impatience. She envied the waters when they suddenly plummeted determinedly into a dark fissure, seeking a quicker and more direct exit.

Yet, before long, the party emerged into the open. The transition was abrupt, without warning, and so for a few moments Illiom was not sure what had happened. They were passing through a narrow space when suddenly she saw tree trunks ahead instead of stone. Rotting leaf litter covered the ground.

She glanced back at the opening that they had just stepped from. From the outside, it appeared no more than a shadow between two spurs of stone, and even that shadow quickly disappeared behind a dense thicket of trees.

Despite the dark cloud hanging over the world, and the throng of trees that screened the exit, the small amount of light that filtered down to reach them from the world felt heart-warming, even bright, after the complete and impenetrable darkness.

While the Riders extinguished their torches, Illiom sent out a call.

Who?

The answer came within a few heartbeats.

I am here.

What time of day is it?

It is after dawn and before noon.

She frowned at this. It did not seem feasible that their journey had been so quick.

How long were we inside?

A night, a day, and another night.

The darkness that covered the world was broken to the south. There, at least, daylight could be glimpsed, bright and tantalising, playing upon the distant reaches.

They walked the horses, picking their way down a gentle slope that eased away from the looming mass of the Keep. The group moved as quietly as possible between the low hills and did not speak until they reached an expanse of sparsely wooded country.

Illiom then looked back towards the bastion behind them. It stood as impervious as the first time she had seen it. Nothing could be seen of what was happening up on the plateau: there was no sign of people, or of the winged creatures and their golden orbs. It was as though all of her recent experiences had been no more than a bad dream.

“We will travel directly south for a time,” Argolan said, as they climbed into their saddles. “After that we will veer west, cross Middle Road, and travel until we are a good distance away from the road. Only then will we turn towards the north and travel cross-country until we reach Altra. We will stop at no settlements or towns. From here on we must be ever vigilant, so keep your senses alert and your eyes peeled. Remember, eyes to the sky as well as the land.”

Argolan looked over her shoulder at them.

“Let us do this,” she said, and spurred her mount forward.

Illiom rode Black Lightning out from the cover of the woods, to follow the Shieldarm’s lead.