The Paladins of Naretia

Chapter 16

  The night was spent feasting on spit-roasted boars and chunks of heavy dwarven bread, all washed down with many tankards of heavily spiced ale. Ol?rin had delighted in seeing Aramus forced to dance by the undaunted dwarven children. Of course, he had convinced Aramus that he simply must dance, telling him that the dwarfs would be insulted if he didn't. But that wasn't even nearly true. The dwarven children, having too much fun to notice Aramus hiding in the corner, would never have asked him to dance if it weren't for Ol?rin suggesting that they do. But to see the formidable son of Dantet dancing the chicken dance with the children, his arms flapping wildly and carrying a permanent scowl across his face, was worth whatever recrimination might follow.

  The old wizard laughed heartily as the children climbed onto Aramus's back and ordered him to fly around the room. One by one, Aramus delighted the children as he swooped around the tall palace feasting room, over the long tables of merry dwarfs, beneath the glistening chandeliers, and around the large fire pit in the centre; beside which the king drank deeply from the bottle of whiskey. At one point Ol?rin was positive that he saw Aramus smile at the children's delighted shrieks, and it did his heart good to see the young man having fun, probably for the first time in his life.

  It wasn't until late at night, when the children were all shooed off to bed by their bearded mothers, that Aramus found his seat beside Ol?rin again. But instead of trying to melt into the shadows, he sat with an air of confidence now.

  "Enjoyed that, did we?" Ol?rin asked, teetering slightly in his chair.

  "It was the most humiliating torment I've ever endured," Aramus replied, giving Ol?rin a crooked smile.

  "Good. I daresay that the children will not forget this night in a hurry either."

  Aramus gave a small laugh and looked on, with an uncharacteristic broad smile, as the dwarfs continued to dance, clank tankards, fall over, and indulge in all manners of culinary debauchery. But Aramus's smile didn't last. His expression became more melancholic as he absorbed the sights around him greedily.

  "Is this what it's like to be normal?" he asked Ol?rin. "To not have people run in fear of you, to be? liked?"

  "It is," Ol?rin replied, his heart aching for the young man.

  "Then I like it," Aramus said, taking in a deep, satisfied breath.

  Without warning, Aramus was grabbed by his arm and whisked back onto the dancefloor by an elderly bearded lady. Even from so far away, Ol?rin could hear her "insist" on teaching Aramus how to dance properly. According to his kidnapper, he simply couldn't dance the chicken dance with a reputable lady. Ol?rin laughed, and Aramus reluctantly learned to dance, only occasionally stepping on the woman's rather large feet.

  The merriment soon melded into a fitful slumber. How Ol?rin had come to find a bed was beyond him, but when he woke he was met by the steely blue eyes of Angus, and a pounding headache.

  "Time tae be up now," Angus said slightly louder than Ol?rin would have liked. "After thinking about it fer the night, King Thrais has agreed tae give ye the Valefire."

  Ol?rin jumped up from the small wooden bed, rather more quickly than his head would have liked. It wasn't a difficult task because his legs, too long for the dwarven furniture, had already spent the night on the cold floor. The golden room spun around him in two different directions. For a moment, he was sure that his eyes must have followed his bifurcated brain, independently of each other.

  "Here, drink thas," Angus said, handing Ol?rin a tankard of green liquid.

  Ol?rin didn't argue, his head wouldn't have tolerated the noise or provided him the coherency to, even if he tried. He took a large swig of whatever was in the cup and instantly his throat was set alight. It burned through to his stomach, and snapped his brain back together in a moment of sheer terror and pain.

  "What in the name? hooo? of the good Goddess? heeeee? was that?"

  "The cure," Angus replied flatly. "Dinnae worry, the burning will stop soon enough."

  True to his word the intense heat that scorched Ol?rin's throat soon eased, helped along by three more tankards of water. In no time at all he felt as though he had not touched a drop of ale all night. It was disappointing really. Ol?rin quite enjoyed having the excuse to lounge around in bed for the day, because it so very rarely happened. But today was not the day for lounging. Angus had announced that the king had agreed to give them the Valefire, and Ol?rin was surprised that it hadn't taken longer. He wondered if Angus hadn't been whispering in the king's ear all night, or if the bottle of whiskey was indeed the ideal bribe needed. If that was the case, then he would have to return to the Trithonian and thank them.

  "Come, yer friend Aramus is already up," Angus said, handing Ol?rin his hat. "I dinnae understand how he go' off so lightly after drinking nearly twice as much as you did last night."

  "Ah, well, you see?" Ol?rin began before being waved off by the dwarf.

  "Och, I dinnae wana know. Is no' my business. I'm just here tae see ye tae the vault."

  "Right," Ol?rin said, finding his feet and following the dwarf out of the small golden room, having to duck his head under the door frame as they went.

  Aramus was waiting outside the door, wearing a contented smile. It was the happiest Ol?rin had ever seen the young man, and reaffirmed in his heart that the path they were taking was, indeed, the right one.

  The two companions followed Angus down a grand golden staircase, one that Ol?rin had no memory of climbing, and out of the palace grounds. Once outside, the oppressive heat returned to wrap its sticky hands over Ol?rin's face. After the bright lights of the king's palace, he had to lay a hand on Aramus's shoulder to guide himself whilst his eyes readjusted to the dark obsidian vista.

  Angus didn't wait for them. He made his way past the two saluting guards who had refused them entry the day before, and took a path that appeared to lead deep into the noisy city. Ol?rin and Aramus hurried to keep up with him, Ol?rin waving pleasantly at the grumbling guards as he passed. But by the looks of their thunderous expressions, he expected that the two guards did not receive a reward for letting them in, and would love nothing better than to return his greeting with a rude gesture of their own. But they daren't with Angus nearby.

  "Why does King Thrais call you his right arm?" Aramus asked Angus as they caught up with him.

  "Because it is his right arm that wields his sword, his right arm that stays the unrest of his people," Angus replied. "I am his most loyal servant, an extension of himself, and therefore, the only one he can trust wih'out question."

  "A most noble position to hold," Ol?rin said, feeling the weight of the heavy air as he struggled to keep up with the two young men. "One of great responsibility."

  "Aye," Angus replied, giving Aramus a warning look, "and one that I dinnae take lightly."

  Soon the three travellers came to a large stone building in the centre of the city. Its walls were constructed out of perfectly smooth obsidian bricks. There were no windows. Only a tall, black funnel on top of the roof marred the perfectly square building. Miners, dressed in dusty overalls and dinged metal hats with candles on the front, went two by two through the walls as though it were made of air. More miners came out the other side and, although they didn't appear to be spectres, Ol?rin couldn't fathom how else they could walk through something so solid.

  "Come on, the king's waiting," Angus said, waving them on and walking through the wall himself.

  With a quick glance at one another, Ol?rin and Aramus followed. They were both equally surprised to find that the wall was not solid at all, it was only enchanted to appear so. It was a guise to fool outsiders into thinking there was no way down into the dwarven mines. Passing through it felt like walking through a waterfall of tepid water that neither relived the heat nor wet them.

  Inside the room there was a large, metal box attached to a multitude of pullies and ropes. It dangled from the tall funnel Ol?rin had seen outside, and looked about as secure as a vine dangling from a rotten tree branch. The dwarf
s ahead of them entered the box, slamming shut the metal gate behind them. A great rumbling sound signified their descent. Simultaneously, another metal box appeared from beneath the ground, and the tired looking passengers disembarked on the other side of the room.

  "What magic is this?" Ol?rin said open mouthed.

  "There's no magic here, wizard," Angus replied with a small laugh. "Just engineering. We call them lifters, and ye had better get in the next one before another round of miners take it. Where we go, they cannae follow."

  Ol?rin and Aramus dutifully followed Angus into one of the lifters. Several miners tried to join them, but they were quickly stopped by Angus's raised hand. Sliding closed the flimsy mesh doors, the dwarf pressed the only red button on a side panel, and the box jerked. Ol?rin took in a deep breath and steadied himself on the nearby railings as they descended underground. The metal box passed levels where Ol?rin could see hundreds of miners shoving metal carts on wheels.

  The carts, which were as tall as the dwarfs themselves and twice as wide. They were filled with mounds of dirt and various coloured stones. Dumped onto enormous sifting trays, which could have carried twenty wizards, the rubble was sifted over and back by burly dwarfs who grunted with the rhythm of the large mesh tray as it swung. Each level exhaled hotter air then the last, and, like the bones of a giant beast, a scaffolding of obsidian held back the dirt and rocks within.

  During their descent, which seemed far too long for Ol?rin's liking, Aramus suddenly grunted and clutched at his chest. He bent forward and rested his other hand against the metal wall of the lifter, and Ol?rin could see him grimace in pain.

  "Aramus, are you all right?"

  Aramus didn't answer. He breathed rapidly through his clenched teeth, and gripped so tightly onto his tunic that his knuckles turned white. His jaw muscles tensed and he turned a deathly shade of pale. With a sudden sharp gasp, Aramus fell to one knee.

  In a blind moment of panic, Ol?rin let go of the railings, forgetting his fear, and bent down to the young man. He rested his hand between Aramus's large black wings and was surprised to notice an intense heat emanating from him. Despite the heat, however, and the obvious pain Aramus was in, the young man's brow still had not broken a sweat.

  "Aramus, what is the matter?" Ol?rin begged.

  The sound of metal sliding on metal alerted Ol?rin to the fact that Angus had drawn his sword.

  "Is he all right?" Angus asked, keeping his sword at the ready. "Is he sick?"

  "Put that away, there's no need," Ol?rin snapped. "Aramus, please answer me."

  "I'm? I'm fine, old man," he replied between gasps of breath. "Probably just a bout of indigestion from all that? heavy dwarven bread last night."

  Aramus, still gripping his chest, tried to stand, but collapsed back onto the grated floor of the lifter again. He stifled a cry of agony. The hand that had propped him up, slid from the wall and clutched at his stomach instead. Ol?rin's eyes widened. Left on the wall was a perfectly formed imprint of Aramus's hand that had melted into the metal.

  Aramus's pain seemed to get worse the further underground they went, presumably the closer to Dantet's world that they came. Ol?rin had seen what was coming, what Aramus was capable of, and if he didn't do something about it now he feared that they would all be incinerated in an inferno. He had to cut Dantet's hold over the young man.

  "Stop this blasted contraption," Ol?rin shouted at Angus. "Bring us to the surface at once."

  "I cannae," Angus said, raising his sword. "Whot's the matter wih' him?"

  "It's the change," Ol?rin replied, kneeling in front of Aramus. "It's not supposed to happen yet, not until his eighteenth birthday. It's too soon. Aramus, Aramus, hear me."

  Ol?rin placed his right hand on Aramus's burning temple, and all around them the noises faded away; the grinding of the colossal gears, evaporated, the shouts of Angus telling Ol?rin to stand away from him, gone, and Aramus's cries of pain, now silent. It all melted into a nothingness, like they had been submerged beneath a vast ocean and the water had filled their ears.

  "Aramus, hear me," Ol?rin said, his voice, willowy and only audible in their two minds. "You must control this. If you do not, it will consume us all. Breathe. Find that inner quietness to calm the storm."

  Aramus looked up at Ol?rin, his amber eyes were alight with the same fire that the Goddess Edwina had predicted. The young man gasped small, desperate breathes through his teeth, and his handsome face contorted with the pain. A heavy weight landed itself squarely in Ol?rin's stomach, and a cold sense of dread chilled his body in spite of the heat.

  "I, can, not," Aramus answered, his voice laced with agony. "It hurts, too much."

  "Yes, you can Aramus. Think of a time in your life, any time, where you felt protected, safe, loved. Surely there has to be at least one. Let that feeling wash over you, like a wave quelling the fire."

  Aramus smothered another cry of pain and shut his eyes tightly. Ol?rin dropped his hand and the quiet that had surrounded them was murdered by the churning gears, rattling metal, and Angus shouting to whomever was below them to clear the area.

  Ol?rin watched as Aramus fought the pain, his every muscle straining with the effort, and wondered if there was such a memory inside the young man. A weakness filled Ol?rin then, the likes of which he had never felt before. Normally he could connect with another person's mind for long periods of time, but whatever was effecting Aramus seemed to have taken its toll on him too.

  The lifter came to a sudden, jerky halt, and Angus flung open the doors. Taking Ol?rin under his arms, he dragged him out of the lifter. Ol?rin objected, wanting to stay next to Aramus, who was still doubled over in pain. Unable to stand under his own strength, Ol?rin watched in horror as the young man's leather clothes began to smoulder.

  Angus stood between Ol?rin and Aramus, and ordered the surrounding dwarfs to hide, his broadsword at the ready. Cautiously, he edged his way behind the young man and rested the point of his blade between his two wings.

  "What are you doing?" Ol?rin demanded. "Do not kill him. He has done nothing wrong."

  "Yet," Angus replied, some of the fiery hair of his beard singeing with the heat that Aramus was giving off. "But I cannae sacrifice the lives of the dwarfs down here, or of the king, for him. If he cannae control himself, I will have no choice, wizard."

  Ol?rin whipped off his hat and brandished the staff he kept in there. He took aim at Angus and, in a desperate bid to save Aramus, a long silvery streak of light shot out of the staff and hit the dwarf squarely in his chest. But Angus did not fly into the air as Ol?rin had expected, he didn't even flinch.

  "Etherium," Angus said, gesturing to his blue tinted armour. "Yer magic is no good on me."

  Aramus interrupted them with a long rasping gasp, arching his back and splaying his arms wide, before collapsing onto the floor of the lifter, unconscious. With what little energy he had regained, Ol?rin got to his feet and rushed over to his friend. Using his staff, he knocked Angus's sword away before flipping Aramus onto his back. After a moment or two of Ol?rin gently tapping his face, Aramus slowly opened his eyes. An eerie fire still burned within the amber colour, but other than that he seemed to have returned to his old self again; no longer radiating any heat at all.

  "I'm not dead, old man, so stop looking so worried," Aramus said weakly.

  Ol?rin felt the sting of tears at the back of his eyes, and breathed a weighted sigh of relief. With a broad smile, he grabbed the young man by his shoulder and helped him to sit up. Aramus grimaced in pain with the movement, but after a short time seemed to recover from his ordeal.

  "What was that?" Aramus asked.

  "I'm afraid it was another attribute of your father's," Ol?rin replied.

  "Will it happen again?"

  Ol?rin nodded solemnly, and Aramus knitted his brow.

  "What was it that you remembered?" he asked.

  "What do you mean?"

  "The memory that helped you bring it under control." r />
  Aramus smiled at Ol?rin.

  "It was you! The day that we first met when you saved me from those men. Even though I had killed most of them, you defended me when all others would have killed me. I know that I wouldn't have walked away alive if it weren't for you."

  Ol?rin felt his heart swell with pride and love. 'And I would do it again, my son.'

  It took some considerable amount of persuading to convince Angus that Aramus's "affliction" was now under control, and he posed no risk to the king, or his riches. Ol?rin wasn't sure that it was the truth, but the sooner they could reach the vaults and were done with the whole affair, the sooner they could return to the surface. Only above ground, could they put some distance between them and Dantet's influence, and Ol?rin didn't want to let Aramus out of his sight until then. Angus, however, was unconvinced and kept his sword drawn as he led them onwards.

  Not far from the lifters, they passed a large creature attached to an enormous, stone drive-wheel. Its bulbous body was clad in a spikey, overlapping exoskeleton, and it towered over them at least three times Ol?rin's height. It had no eyes, nose, or lips to speak of. Its facial features consisted of nothing more than a jaw, permeated with of rows of sharp undulating teeth that disappeared down its crimson throat. Six tree-trunk sized legs pounded into the obsidian ground as it turned the drive-wheel around and around, sending the lifter back up to the surface.

  A juvenile dwarf was the sole operator of the Beastie. He sat on its back, controlling it with heavy metal chains that had been driven into its thick jaw, like some kind of gruesome horse's bridle. Although Angus had told them that the creature was only a small female, Ol?rin couldn't have fathomed one larger than that.

  Aramus walked with a powerful stride now, and his eyes still burned with the fire Ol?rin had hoped would disappear. His whole physique oozed an internal power, something Ol?rin was severely lacking at that moment. He had never felt so old and drained of energy in all of his life, and the hot air threatened to suffocate him at every step.

  "What is that noise?" Aramus asked.

  "What noise?" Ol?rin replied, straining to hear over the unrelenting echoes of mining from the levels above them.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Ol?rin saw Angus's grip on his sword tighten.

  "Never mind," Aramus said, after a short hesitation. "Must be the miners."

  Occasionally throwing weary looks at the young man, Angus led them past a series of armed guards and into a tunnel that ended in a gargantuan golden door. Resting resolutely across the circular hatchway, was a large dragon claw of the same metal. Its sharp talons dug into the surrounding obsidian rock, holding the door firmly closed. Ten guards in polished silver armour stood to attention outside the vault. Each one of them carried a broadsword and a menacing expression.

  "Halt, ye'll come no farther," one of the guards shouted.

  "We are expected," Angus yelled back. "The king's right arm brings his guests', as ordered."

  "The king has asked that his right arm hold his visitors here while he rummages."

  "So shall it be then."

  Angus gestured for Ol?rin and Aramus to wait, and then sheathed his sword with some reluctance. Seeing his guests arrive at the point of a sword would undoubtedly raise concerns for the king. But Aramus paid no attention to the half-man's misgivings toward him. Instead, his fiery eyes stared down a darkened corridor to the left, like he was trying to see the shadows within the darkness.

  The tunnel appeared, to Ol?rin, to be completely abandoned. There were no miners milling in and out of the corridor, like there had been in other ones along the way. There were no torches lighting its path, nor any signs of life whatsoever. The only thing Ol?rin could detect from the tunnel was a stiflingly hot breeze that could have easily been the source of all the heat in Balbuldor. But Ol?rin also knew that Aramus's eyes saw through the darkness, as though it were day; another trait of his father's.

  "What do you see?" he asked Aramus.

  Before Aramus could answer, the massive dragon claw began to rumble and drew Ol?rin's attention back. Its scaly gold digits arched upwards, dragging its talons along the obsidian rock, until they rested well within the circumference of the vault door. A deep, reverberating groan filled the mines as the vault swung slowly open. From inside, a light, so intense that it stung Ol?rin's eyes, burst into the dark tunnel.

  Ol?rin only caught a glimpse of the ocean of riches in the golden chamber before the rotund figure of King Thrais, and his spikey crown, emerged. He carried with him a small, brown pouch weighed down by an even smaller round object inside. As soon as he cleared the doorway the dragon claw slammed the vault shut, at a speed which belied its size, sending a deafening echo through the mines. Its talons stretched out to find their resting place in the obsidian wall again, and dug its claws back into the rock, before becoming still once more.

  The king, surrounded by his ten guards, walked purposefully toward their party.

  "I hope you understand, wizard, that I cannae entrust such a precious and powerful gift tae ye wih'out some reassurances that it will be returned," he said. "Therefore, my right arm will carry my treasure until such time as you need it. Once ye have completed yer quest, my right arm will return it tae me."

  Ol?rin sighed audibly and gave silent thanks to the Goddess for the king's wisdom. Even now, although it was secure within a pouch, he could feel a warm tingling in his chest and a voice in his head, which he did not recognise, telling him that Dantet wouldn't stand a chance against him with this talisman. Resistance and fortitude were a talent best left to the dwarfs'. Angus's mouth, however, opened and his bushy, red eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

  "Wih' respect, Your Highness, my duty is tae my king," he said. "How can I protect you if I am no' here?"

  "By ensuring that the son of Dantet does no' fulfil his prophecy, you are protecting me, Angus. You are protecting all of us," the king replied. It was the first time the king had referred to his right arm by name, and it seemed, by Angus's expression, to hold some gravity with him. "Besides, your Etherium armour will make you immune to mortal magic should the wizard try to betray me. And your skill wih' the sword will best anyone who tries tae take the Valefire. I have enough soldiers' tae protect me until yer return, but I only have one soldier that I trust as much as I do you."

  The king held out the small pouch and, after a moment of vacillation, Angus accepted it. Using its long leather strings, he wore the pouch around his neck and tucked it firmly under his chest plate.

  "You must also choose a second, as is customary wih' all missions of thas gravity," the king said. "So that he might complete yer task should you no' be able to. Whot warrior say you?"

  "My brother, Bernard," Angus replied without hesitation.

  "Bernard? Him? Are you sure?" Thrais asked, his eyes widening and his face reddening. "I have had more cause to exile that bumbling, opportunistic catastrophe than any other subject. Surely ye can choose a comrade more fitting?"

  "Bernard maybe short-sighted and always in need, but he is my brother and I trust him above all others," Angus replied. "If he swears you his word, then he will be true to it until his dying day."

  Ol?rin remembered the stout dwarf at the top of the stairs and, although they shared the same blue eyes and fiery hair, the two couldn't have been more opposite in nature and in build.

  "Very well, I will trust me right arm's decision."

  King Thrais gestured for one of his guards to go fetch Bernard, and as soon as he was out of sight he turned to Ol?rin.

  "Tell me, whot help will the Valefire provide, exactly?"

  "Just as it separates the mortal world from Dantet's, so will it separate Aramus's human side from his father's. I have, in my knowledge, the ingredients for a godly potion, one that was given to me by Edwina herself. The potion is capable of splitting a man's soul, and the Valefire will keep the dark side from the light. It is my belief, and the Goddess's too, that Dantet's affliction, and therefore his
hold over the young man, will be broken. After which, only the light of Edwina will reside within him, even if it is only half of her light."

  "Interesting, but speaking of splitting souls," the king said, looking behind Ol?rin. "Where, pray tell, has yer peculiar friend gotten to?"

  Ol?rin spun around, only half as quickly as Angus, to find that Aramus was no longer standing behind him. He hadn't heard him wander away, and that same cold feeling of dread he had had in the lifter, now filled his entire body.

  "Aramus?" Ol?rin yelled.

  A distant and primordial cry of pain responded from down the forlorn tunnel Aramus had been examining earlier. Angus's eyes widened, and the king took in a sharp breath when they heard where the noise came from.

  "In the name of the Goddess, I pray he has no' gone down there," the king said in alarm.

  "Why, what is down there?" Ol?rin demanded.

  "That is where the Etherium seal to Dantet's world lies. I'd wager all my riches that his father's will has, somehow, enticed him there. Even while no' on mortal soil, Dantet's reach is still far."

  Before the king could finish his last word, Ol?rin had spun on his heels and bolted down the darkened tunnel. Behind him, he heard Angus's voice ordering the soldiers to bring the king to safety, before the clang, clang, clang, sound of his armoured boots followed. The tunnel was dark and Ol?rin couldn't find his way, but panic prevented him from thinking sensibly. It wasn't until he went careening into an obsidian wall, and falling rather painfully onto his rear end, that he thought of using his staff.

  "Illuminous!"

  A flood of silver light burned through the passageway. It revealed a labyrinth of other tunnels crisscrossing in front of him, each one as dark and as forsaken as the next.

  "Aramus?" he roared again.

  The tunnels were silent. Ol?rin was lost, and hopelessness began to set in. Angus came to a skidding halt behind him and lifted him to his feet again.

  "If he's been drawn tae Dantet, then he'll be down thas one tae the right," Angus said, leading the way.

  Ol?rin followed after the half-man, keeping his staff raised to light their path. The distant sound of many more iron-clad footfalls following them, told Ol?rin that the king had dismissed Angus's advice to be brought to safety.

  The deeper into the labyrinth they went, the louder Ol?rin could hear Aramus's gasps of pain. Heat, which had been so suffocating before, scorched his face now. The obsidian rock around them had succumbed to it; its surfaces becoming fluid and slick. In a deft movement, that even Ol?rin was surprised he could do, he whipped off his hat, dug out the pink tea cozies, and slipped them onto his burning feet, all whilst running and holding his staff at the same time. It wasn't a graceful movement, but a necessary one to prevent the hot rock burning a hole through his wizard shoes. Unlike the iron-clad feet of the dwarfs, the soft leather wouldn't hold up to much.

  After what seemed like an impossibly long time, the pair came upon an opening to a cavern twice the size of the city of Balbuldor. Dotted along its melting black walls were the many ancient carcasses of Beasties and dwarfs alike. They were frozen in action, some trying to shield themselves while others wielded ancient swords. But they were all cemented in individual tombs of obsidian, and it spoke of a terrible battle that had once happened.

  A blue tinted metal disk took up nearly the entirety of the cavern floor. Etched on its surface were markings that Ol?rin was only too familiar with; runes which were used to fortify cells and entrap Dark Ones. To his horror, he saw Aramus in the centre of the disk, bent double with pain and on all fours. The flames, which he had witnessed in Darzithal, now flashed and sputtered beneath the young man's palms, like a candle trying to remain alight in a stiff breeze. Aramus's dark wings smoked with the threat of a sudden blaze, while his whole body smouldered. His black leather clothes had peeled away in places, yielding to the heat.

  "Aramus!" Ol?rin cried, taking a step into the cavern.

  He was stopped by Angus's powerful arm blocking his path.

  "You cannae go in. It's too hot."

  It was at this point that the king, and his polished guards, joined Ol?rin and Angus.

  "Whot witchery is thas?" he demanded. "I wasnae told that the demon had powers. If I had known that, I wouldnae have brought him down here, nor would he have remained in the city. Have you been hiding thas from me wizard?"

  "No, I swear it to you, Your Highness," Ol?rin lied, feeling an overwhelming panic electrify his innards. "I believe Dantet has felt the presence of his son and has lured him down here in order to melt the seal, or worse, kill him. We must concentrate now on getting him out of here, and quickly."

  Aramus cried out in pain. He raised himself onto his knees and arched his back. The flame that had flickered around his hands now sparked a chain reaction around him and within seconds, his whole body was alight.

  "Aramus!" Ol?rin yelled.