Corinna opened her magical bag of holding and retrieved the horses. Much to Ace's relief, they weren't any worse for wear. They were understandably a bit shaky, but after rubbing them down for a while, they were fresh and more than ready for a ride. Misty nuzzled Gerrod affectionately. Thunder, used to such handling within the bag, stood stoically while Ace found himself fending off Spade's nasty bites.
"It's not my fault, you old nag," Ace pleaded. "Weren't my idea to put that old bag over you. Besides, you wouldn't have liked what we went through, either."
Amanda's horse was a calm dapple gray she had named Smokey. Allison had cleverly named her huge warhorse Fire. Fire had a blazing red coat that lived up to its name. Standing tall and wide, he made for an impressive beast. Both horses were well natured, neither horse complaining much. They both seemed to fair well from their experience in the magical bag.
Allison offered to ride Dak'gnu on Fire. When the dark elf clumsily climbed atop the massive beast, it bore both their weights easily. While Dak'gnu hadn't ever ridden a horse before, he easily equated it to his own subterranean version. Fire provided a smooth gait, but Allison invited the muscular elf to hang onto her tightly any way. When she heeled the steed into motion, Dak'gnu was more than happy to comply.
Dak'gnu hid in what little protection his dark hooded cloak offered him, but he still found the bright rays of sun extremely painful to his eyes. He clung to Allison tightly, and refused to talk much. If it wasn't for their need to hurry, they would have waited to travel at night. But Dak'gnu said he understood, and refused to be the cause of any delay in stopping Rai'dley.
Corinna's cottage was wedged in the bottom of a protected little vale. Two steep mountain cliffs sprang up to either side, forming close rock cuts. The air was crisp and quite a bit colder than it was before they entered the Thraxton Mines so long ago. Corinna provided them with heavier furs and blankets from her stores at the cottage, and they dressed for the cold. It seemed that winter had arrived.
They followed a narrow, twisting path that ran along the bottom of the ravine. A light dusting of snow coated the ground to either side of the path, burying the plants that had passed onto their winter sleep. The trees away from Corinna's cottage and magical wards of protection had lost their leaves, and the other plants were dressed in their dreary browns. The towering gray rock faces added to the suffocating feeling of being closed in. Before long, the sun even headed under a layer of clouds, blocking what heat it had promised to provide them. A winter-chilled wind ran the course of the path, hurrying them along as if they were unwelcome visitors being shown the way out the door.
A half hour later, the narrow trail opened up to a wide expanse, exploding from the rock cut into a panoramic vista. From this observation point, they could see the surrounding mountains and wilderness for miles around. This was normally a fantastic view, but that day it provided only horror to the members of Wefpub. For as far as they could see, there was nothing but complete devastation.
The thick forests of pines, maples, oaks, and elms lay in a web of tangled trunks, all torn from the ground and tossed about. Not a tree was left standing as far as they could see. The land itself was destroyed. Gerrod couldn't imagine what force could have done such a thing, and it was terrible to think of. There were no signs of animal life left, having either fled this disaster or been destroyed in its wrath. To finish off the desolate look completely, a thick coating of snow covered everything, suffocating what might have remained. Even Dak'gnu, who dared a look out from under his dark hood when he heard the gasps of his new friends, knew this wasn't right.
"By the gods!" Ace whispered, for he didn't dare speak out loud.
"Gerrod?" Corinna asked, searching for some explanation, "What? How?"
Tears formed in Gerrod's eyes and his stomach began to churn inside. He couldn't form any words, but just shook his head in disbelief.
Allison and Amanda held their holy symbols and voiced a desperate prayer to their god. What ever this was, it didn't bode well.
They made their way in silence down the steep mountainside to where the King's Highway ran across. The usual trail they would have followed was gone, buried under wasted tree trunks. Gerrod carefully picked his way through the rubble. The low rumbling vibrations of the earth itself shook them. Misty braced herself the best she could on the precarious hillside. The earthquakes varied in intensity. They needed to wait until they were over before they were able to be on their way again. They were all thankful to reach the relatively safer plane of the paved roadway. But fallen tree limbs and trunks littered even this normally cleared venue. In many places it too proved impassable, and they had to detour around the best they could. It seemed there would be no easy ride into Crystal Meir.
They stopped and rested the horses often, finding them streams or fountains to water them in. This part of the King's Highway was amply supplied with fountains, only half of which still worked. Many people built these roadside conveniences as a means of penance to their gods. They provided cool water to the road-weary travelers.
They stopped at a shrine dedicated to Hardric Nekin, god of magic. When Dak'gnu attempted to dip his canteen into the well of pure water like the rest of the party did, Corinna abruptly stopped him.
"What's the problem?" Ace asked.
"I'm sorry, Dak'gnu," Corinna explained, "but I can't let you drink from this fountain. This is a shrine to all things magic, and for me, all things holy. I can't allow anyone to drink from here that has so little respect for magic. I've seen you toss magic around as if it were nothing, with no respect; no honor."
"M'lady," Dak'gnu stuttered, shocked, "I don't believe you understand." Corinna began to object, but Dak'gnu stopped her with a patient finger. "I cast spells much as you do. While it is true that I have some abilities that are natural to me that you would consider magical, I must work just as hard for the others as you do."
"But I've seen you -- in the hallways. You didn't even put away your dagger before you unleashed that blast that leveled those men," she argued vehemently. "And you wear this armor, shaped as a robe as it may be. By what means do you do such things if you respect magic?"
"It is true that armor is too bulky and restricting to cast spells in, and this heavy robe is no exception. That is why I must remove it before casting any spells. But that wasn't me casting that Artic Blast spell in the corridor. It was my dagger."
"A magical weapon?" Amanda asked.
"A weapon that casts spells?" Ace asked doubtfully.
"Well," Dak'gnu explained as he brandished the weapon from nowhere. "It can't just cast spells on its own of course. But it does allow me to store spells and cast them through it. That way, when I'm in the midst of battle, I can release the power of the spell as easily as I can direct my dagger."
"I've heard of such things," Allison replied, captivated with respect and awe. "In ages of old, there were once warlocks who could do that."
"That's what we call it, Warlock. They may no longer exist on the surface-world, but the art still thrives in the Underworld."
"Can I see that dagger?" Ace's mouth watered.
"Certainly, but beware -- it has a sharper edge than you might be used to." Dak'gnu handed the blade over, hilt first.
The dwarf, always an admirer of fine weaponry, held the short dagger by the handle and spun it easily on the tip of his finger. "Excellent balance!" he exclaimed, truly impressed. It took a lot for a weapon to impress Ace.
The blade was crafted of the bluish steel Dak'gnu called adamantane. It was a special metal alloy, exclusive to the drow Underworld. The blade was flame-shaped, and split open on the end in a "Y" to form two different blades. The outer edges of the blades were rounded like the blade of a scimitar. The round handle would have been quite ordinary, if it wasn't covered in intricate designs of magical runes. The symbols were so perfectly carved and so small and tightly packed, they looked like the bark of a tree.
&nb
sp; Mounted on the end of the hilt was a large red jewel. It was dark in color and Ace was at a lost for its origin. Dak'gnu explained that it was a blood crystal, and had been colored by his own blood. He called the weapon a Soul Dagger, and claimed that it possessed his soul. Through ancient rituals, he had cast a part of his soul into the dagger. Through this extravagant arcane ritual, the dagger was bonded to him. To prove his point, he threw the weapon with marked precision. It landed with a loud "thunk" as it buried itself into a nearby dead tree trunk. In the wink of an eye, the dagger magically reappeared in Dak'gnu's outstretched hand. It left a deep slice in the wood as proof to where it had been.
Ace wasn't as impressed by Dak'gnu's mystical story as he was by the perfection of the weapon's craftsmanship. He placed the tip of the blade on the end of his finger and spun it for balance. It suddenly started to burrow into him!
"Hey! Ow!" Ace yelled, dropping the dagger to fall where it may. A thin line of blood flowed freely from the wound at the tip of his finger. Before the weapon hit the ground, however, it instantly returned to Dak'gnu's hand. He quickly sheathed the dangerous blade. After looking at the wound, he insisted that either Amanda or Allison heal it immediately.
"Awe, ain't but a scratch," Ace explained, shrugging off the healing.
"If it isn't healed immediately," Dak'gnu warned, "it will only get worse. It's the nature of the blade." Under Allison's guidance, the cut sealed shut and appeared as if nothing had ever happened. Ace bore a grumpy scowl. "I warned you to be mindful of the blade," Dak'gnu reminded him in answer to his curses.
"So how does the blade return to you?" Gerrod asked.
"Again, it's through the bond that I have with the dagger that it returns instantly at my very thought."
"If you have such powers as these, then why didn't you escape from your prison long ago? Why submit yourself to their torture?" Corinna asked skeptically.
"I may have some powers that seem truly wondrous to you, but I'm still just a male drow."
"So?" Gerrod asked, missing the point.
"So, in Mezzo'Dakmania, a male is nothing. I would have never been allowed to get out alive. Neither would any of you, if they hadn't let us go," he offered.
"What do you mean, 'let us go?'" Ace chuckled.
"It's the only explanation for such an easy escape," the drow reasoned seriously.
"That was easy?" Amanda asked.
"From Mezzo'Dakmania?" Dak'gnu raised his doubting eyebrows at her. "Very."
"But why would they have done such a thing?" Corinna asked.
"For the only reason my people do anything," Dak'gnu answered. "It was Lolth's wish."
"But why would your goddess care about us?" Allison chimed in.
Dak'gnu had to search a moment for an answer. "Maybe Lolth knows we can stop Rai'dley." As they pondered the idea, Dak'gnu brought them back to where they started. "So you see, Corinna, I have to study my spells from a book and cast them into my Soul Dagger before I can use them. I fear that most of my components won't be available on the surface. I may need your help in finding suitable alternatives."
"Oh, well of course," Corinna agreed, humbled for her attack. "I'm sorry about the fountain. It's just that magic is very important to me."
"I know," Dak'gnu answered in a gentle voice. It seemed he really did understand.
The sky grew cloudier that afternoon, and Dak'gnu drew back his dark hood. He braved his face to the shadows they found. Even that dimmed light burned and etched into his skin, but he bore it stoically.
The busy King's Highway was unnervingly quiet, and they found no company on the barren landscape.
All the rest of the day, Allison paid particularly keen attention as Dak'gnu carefully explained many facets of his life in Mezzo'Dakmania as a warlock.
It ended up taking several long, hard days of riding, and it was still nightfall before they reached the top of the northern ridge of the crater that held Crystal Meir Lake. The devastation traveled with them, and they found no relief. Several harsh storms kicked up, blowing freezing snow and sleet onto them. Lightning threatened to start the fallen timbers on fire, and in several places the earthquakes had split the King's Highway asunder with wide rifts that demanded they detour around. There was little doubt as to why they hadn't come across any other travelers.
It was with great relief that they spied the many lights of civilization. The myriad of lamplight flickering at the lake surface below reassured them that all had not been destroyed. At least in the darkness, the city had a comforting look of normalcy to it.
Crystal Meir had developed into the religious center of Carrona. The heads of all the major religions gathered there to co-operate in a powerful theocracy. In Crystal Meir, city politics, religion, and people all got along.
The most notable landmark in the capital city was the High Crystal Tower. Atop this spiraling marble tower was the Crystar, a clear crystal the size of a house. The surface of the mammoth crystal ball was cut with a million smooth facets. It was lit from below by a series of lanterns, and the many facets sent the light off in every direction. This sight lit up the entire region in an eerie glow. This was the first thing that Allison pointed out to Dak'gnu as she beamed with pride at her home. Allison and Amanda were home again.
"At last!" Algernon rejoiced as he passed through the magical gate in the subterranean tunnels. It marked the last length of the long return trip to Rai'dley's castle. Even with the help of the magical portals, the army of undead beasts they led moved agonizingly slow for the anxious young dragon.
Rai'dley's newest acquisition, the legion of zombie warriors, made the nervous dragon's hide crawl. While Rai'dley assured her powerful black mount that she had commanded the foul creatures not to harm him, Algernon couldn't help but notice the way they looked at him with death-lust in their eyes.
Beyond their being unbelievably slow and wanting to suck the life out of him, Algernon had no way of protecting himself from their foul odor. Even though the bodies of the King's Guard were animated, they were in no way preserved. The stench of their rotting flesh nauseated even the sturdy dragon.
Still, Algernon considered wistfully, they were almost home. It had been the first hopeful thought he'd had since they had left the comforts of the castle. Rai'dley held the unholy sceptre high on a pole. All the monsters behind could see its lavender light. They silently made their way through the darkness to follow that glow. For all of his complaining, Algernon realized that they moved no slower than a normal army might have under the same, lightless conditions. By not having to stop for either rest or food, they set a pace the healthy dragon was hard pressed to lead.
Rai'dley was talking with one of the zombies, and it seemed to actually be arguing back. Algernon had never known a zombie that was capable of such dangerous displays of will. Rai'dley had called this one LaBairne. Algernon could tell by the lively gestures that LaBairne made that he had an idea to go down another side passage.
"Yes, I know there are many lives that way," Rai'dley conceded. "Too many, trust me," she insisted. "In time, yes, but not yet. We'll need a larger army first. Now come this way."
Rai'dley climbed back on the ivory chariot and gave Algernon the signal to continue. She was too busy, lost in her own thoughts, to notice that LaBairne had somehow silently dispatched three of the last zombies in the army down that side passageway. Algernon noticed them as he rounded a curve in the bending pathway, but he didn't bother bringing it to Rai'dley's attention. She was in too good a mood for thinking she had gotten her way.
"After all," Algernon reminded himself, "we're almost home again."
The members of Wefpub slipped into the city under the cover of darkness. They were surprised to find an army sentry post on the road into the city. The wall to either side of the post was obviously quickly assembled and shoddily built. The guard post showed similar signs of haste and poor construction. It would provide little resistan
ce to any organized force that might not honor its intentions. The sleepy guard wore no uniform, as there had never been any need for a formal policing agency in Crystal Meir before. As he wiped the remnants of sleep from his weary eyes, he had the look of someone who had recently been appointed the undesired post. Regardless of his current rank, Amanda and he knew each other, and they entered into conversation.
"Biz'zart!" Amanda greeted him as they rode up. The man shifted to his feet and ran his hands down to press out the wrinkles in his clothing. He was surprised to find anyone approaching his sentry, and embarrassed to have been so obviously caught off guard. Amanda paid this no attention, though. "What has happened here? Are you guarding this entrance to the city?"
"Why yes, Your Excellency!" he responded stiffly. He recognized Amanda and tried to offer her the respect of her position, though he found it awkward to do so. "At least, that is my attention, Ma'am."
"No need to be so formal, Biz'zart -- is there? I meant, why does this road need guarding?"
"You've been gone such a long time, Amanda, but certainly other parts of Carrona have suffered the same destruction; have they not? With all that has gone on, the city has been under Martial Law since Corellium. The board of Governors decided it might be best, given the Transgression. After all, we've received so many threats. . . ."
"I have been gone a long time, on a most wondrous journey," she simplified for the man. "On our way, we lost track of the days. You say this all happened last spring? What date is it today?"
"With the Ever-Winter, who could blame you for losing track of the days or even the months? Today is the seventeenth of Yondium, but the trouble really started last fall. Once that terrible early winter came, people spoke of bad omens, but no one ever could have guessed this. Once those chill winds of winter blew in, they never left. It's like the death of Carrona: winter comes, has no end. Some sages say that Nature's fury has been unleashed at last, and there is no power to balance evil's cast."
The members of Wefpub shared concerned looks. Besides this not looking at all like the middle of summer, Biz'zart had just quoted a section from Cy'nan's oracle. "Well, thank you, Biz'zart," Amanda excused them through the gate of the sentry house. "You've been very helpful," she assured him.
Dak'gnu kept his head hidden deep in his hood as he passed through. Biz'zart, still busy with Amanda, paid him no mind. "Oh, one last thing if I may, Biz'zart: what's the Transgression?"
"No one's been able to figure that out. Don't know how we'll ever do penance when we don't even know the sin!" the man shouted out as they slid off into the darkness.
No one questioned the dark figures moving along the near-vacant streets. With the glory of all the gods to protect them, Crystal Meir had never before built a wall around the city or a gate to screen visitors. All were welcome here, and pity those that meant any harm in the City of Light.
As they walked the silenced streets of the city, it was clear that the destruction that had ravaged the open countryside hadn't spared the populations either. The harsh cold winds had taken their toll on the people, and they bundled the shutters against the windows as best they could. The earthquakes had also hit the city buildings hard, reducing many of the homes and businesses to rubble, while cutting many others down to single-story dwellings where proud towers once stood. There were few buildings that escaped the destructive effects completely. It was a wonder that, through it all, the Crystar had remained tall. It was as if the very will of the people had been brought down by the unstoppable forces of nature itself.
They shuddered as the cold winds blew through them. This was supposed to have been the end of summer! It was hard for any of them to believe that they had been away so long. And then, to come back to be greeted by this, it was almost as if they had been sleeping for years.
All of the inns were filled with refugees from the shattered homes of their own citizens. The churches provided the food and other things people needed. They soon found out that there had been no trade with the other cities in months. Simple survival had become a thing to be worked for and appreciated, no longer expected.
Responding to a recommendation from a friend of Allison's, the party finally checked into a small inn after stabling and grooming their horses. Under that cover of darkness, no one noticed Dak'gnu's dark skin. After paying for the rooms, they slipped the dark elf in with Gerrod and Ace.
While the inn was quaint and small, the rooms were large and comfortable. They planned on getting a good night's sleep, which they could all use, and then wait while Amanda and Allison approached the church's High Priest in the morning. The long ride had exhausted them all, and the bright sunlight had drained Dak'gnu even more than he was willing to admit. They all found sleep easily that night, even despite Ace's loud snoring.
The zombies didn't require comfort, and Rai'dley's castle provided none. Obediently, they filed into a couple of large rooms where they were "stored" standing up. Rai'dley knew they couldn't tire of standing, but would stay there until she needed them.
LaBairne, on the other hand, required a measure of consideration. While he didn't need any comforts either, he demanded them. He had always lived a life of riches, and even now he demanded similar treatment. He did require sustenance, unlike his undead troops.
Rai'dley had ordered him to leave the ancient corpses they passed on their way alone. They were of her people that died in the same battle that had claimed her life centuries before. Even though they were little more than dry bones and dust, she proclaimed them sacred. She found within herself a loyalty. Rai'dley had thoughtfully left Do'Sol there to guard over the site. She was pleased to find him still on the job exactly where she had left him, and still alert as he could be.
Rai'dley sent some of her minions out to find fresh victims to satisfy LaBairne's requests. They had been warned that if they didn't return with something suitable, they would become LaBairne's meal. They quickly returned with several goblins. LaBairne enjoyed killing and sucking the life out of their still-warm corpses.
Rai'dley was surprised when she returned to the castle to find that even more terrible monsters had gathered there, drawn to the power of the Orb. Most often, they were the children's children of the great-grandchildren of those that had been given birth by the power of the Orb. As that ancient blood still burned in their veins, so they heard the mighty call of their birth relic.
The lich-mage wielded the power of the Orb, and so it was Rai'dley they would follow. They too hungered for her guidance, and would follow her command. As long as she held the Orb, she was their goddess. While she was impressed by how easily their loyalty came, she knew the civilized worlds wouldn't be nearly as willing to follow her.
Sated by the feast of goblins, LaBairne concentrated on his other concerns. From the privacy of his own chambers, he reached out with his mind, searching to contact the three zombies he had sent down that other corridor. He felt his mind expanding like ripples in a lake, searching to connect with his spies. Then, in the far reaches, he felt something. While he couldn't exactly tell what it was, he knew that it was something.
Using that feeling as a point of reference, he forced the energy of the ripples to swing around into the direction of his concentration. As more of the energy converged, he could feel the strong mental connection solidify into something real, concrete, and strong. It was just as Rai'dley told him it would be. That connection formed a bridge between himself and his three minions, and he tentatively stepped out across that bridge.
As his mind closed in on its target, an image came into focus. He knew that he was seeing through the glowing red eyes of his zombie soldier.
The three silent undead men, still dressed in the remnants of their golden armor of the King's Guard, hid in the shadows. LaBairne looked around the corner of the building they leaned against, and into the lantern light of city streets. This wasn't Oswegonia, for LaBairne knew every part of his own beloved city.
As if he was that soldier himself, LaBairne turned his head to look around. At the other end of that mental bridge, the soldier did the same, giving LaBairne the view he wanted.
LaBairne scanned all around, identifying the scenario. He knew where his other soldiers were, and their relationship to their surroundings. There were many tall buildings, and he looked down a long, sloping hill. As he scanned for a familiar landmark, he found the one thing that would clinch the city's identity. Towering above all the other structures was a single, slender spiraled tower. Atop its form sat a large, glowing crystal ball. "The Crystar," he thought to himself. "It must be."
LaBairne had never seen the mystical structure before, but its story was known far and wide. He took a moment to behold the structure, awesome in its beauty, even at night. "So we're near Crystal Meir," he smiled, thinking of the implications. No wonder Rai'dley didn't want him to go there. She had warned him of the dangers clerics held for him and his army. They were the only ones in all of Carrona that might be able to pose a formidable threat. Even the least trained of these priests, from any of the good-aligned religions, had the ability to destroy the zombies. Their blessed holy symbols could simply drive them away. A city where holy water ran in streams wasn't a good place for an army of zombies.
The zombie lord heard voices through his distant ears, and issued a command to his automatons. Remarkably limber, even in their bulky armor, the zombies turned to the wall behind them. They found the soft mortar easy to sink their long, sharp finger bones into. They climbed the vertical surface easily. Hidden in the darkness, and clinging to the mason wall ten feet above the street below, LaBairne watched as two men walked below. They were unaware of the horror that hung just above them. The two priests walked and talked, secure that they were alone in the dark.
Chapter 25
The Terror Above