[Womb of the Dark Mage]

Chapter 29 / 09

The Foetus of Mother's Mourning

Lamet stopped pacing. Those branching tunnels had taken their toll on them all, but Dorshemet could cast Heal, so he was not done yet. If he could not be made to see reason, she would have to kill him at least one more time. Her lip curled with contempt. It was unlikely she could return to her grandmother with good news.

She cast Scour into the floor, and it revealed where Dorshemet had gone. The black stone was nearly as thick as she could Bound with her companions, but there was a cave on the other side. The stone crippled the range of her spell and she could not see much of the cave below. That deeply concerned her.

“You all right, Lamet?” Geoff turned off his light and tucked it away; there was no need for it with two Illuminates.

“I have been considering our next course of action,” she replied. She walked back to the group. Sparlyset and Richard were done kissing, but she remained on her disc. Now that Lamet saw her from close, and well lit, she really was covered in obsidian sipping serpent blood. She told herself she would not ask and let the Lightweaver have her lie… but she could not resist. “How did you kill nine sipping serpents, Sparlyset?”

Sparlyset predictably crossed her arms and pouted, putting on a show of indignation as she prepared to defend her tale. “A pertinent inquiry,” she said. “You know I cannot slay a sipping serpent. It was Barker's invaluable machine that slew the majority.” She held up her palm to show where it had been bleeding. “Their blood and mine invigorated a riteseed unlike any I have seen, and it grew to monstrous proportions. The monster seed devoured the remaining serpents, and when I Banished the vile thing the passage cleared.”

Lamet just stared at her for a moment. “Resourceful,” was the only reply she gave on the matter. “Get on Richard’s back. We cannot take your disc where we are going.”

Sparlyset kept surprising her, but now the turret was spent, and she had little else she could use to defend herself. She was resourceful, but she was not strong enough yet. “You have certainly proven yourself worthy of a chance at the Rite of Sharing,” she said, feeling dazed. For some reason, she wanted the girl to know she had done well, and feel good about herself. “When we are through with this tomb,” she added.

As Richard tightened the straps to secure Sparlyset on his back, the Lightweaver grinned at Lamet over his shoulder.

“All right, ready to go,” Richard said as he stood from his crouch. “Where are we headed?”

“I must Bound us down, beneath the floor. I do not know what is there, but I expect we will fall.”

“Sounds safe,” Geoff said sarcastically.

A look of surprise, or perhaps realisation suddenly took over Sparlyset’s face.

“What is it, Sparlyset?” Lamet flicked her tail to communicate her impatience.

“The apparition of the woman who first haunted our view as we approached the ruin,” she began, with her finger pointing all around. “She made repeated appearances before me, and while I did not witness aught of use, she spoke a few words that suddenly return to my mind as I ponder the purpose of the tablet and this awesome stone.”

“Go on,” Lamet flicked her tail again.

“She spoke these words as though viewing the world through a lens of antiquity, with no acknowledgement of my presence: ‘The Heart of Shadow should not remain here, it should have been left beneath the Seal’.”

Lamet sighed. “So you believe that tablet is the Heart of Shadow, and this black floor is the Seal mentioned? That only confirms we should expect much worse horrors below. Perhaps the true Tomb of the Newborn.” She turned her palm down. “I will keep the spirit’s words in my mind and consider them as we continue, but we must continue. Everyone hold on to me, tightly,”

She attempted to hide a shudder. Anyone less competent than her, or less reckless than Dorshemet, would believe this a dead end and never see the true depths of the Tomb. Even though the spirit’s words implied the tablet was dangerous on its own, the ancients had left it here to convince any who survived this far that the only purpose of the place was to guard that featureless stone.

Thus whatever lay below would remain undisturbed.

With Geoff’s arms wrapped uncomfortably tightly around her torso, and Richard doing the same to him, she Bound them down.

They appeared in the air, the black seal close enough to brush against Richard’s hair. They began to fall. The tunnel was natural grey stone that slanted sharply just out of range of Illuminate’s glow. The tunnel itself was another trap; they would smash the jagged stones and be ground to meat before they reached the bottom.

New scales grew over her arms as she cast Flight. She had not even finished shedding the last layer, and they nearly distracted her with their incredible itchiness as they moulted. Their velocity slowed as their weights became one and the spell laboured to make them light. She used her hand to guide them, but she could not stop them completely, only slow them and affect their direction.

Sparlyset hissed in surprise as they glided close to the pointed rocks and their curved descent carried them through the slanted tunnel.

“I get the feeling you haven’t done this before,” Richard said.

Lamet grunted as Geoff adjusted his grip on her. In any other situation she would pummel him for squashing her breasts so painfully. “You cannot fly with a passenger!” she choked. “It is more like a Featherweight spell.” She meant to say something else about Featherweight, but there was too much pressure on her chest.

The cave branched. If she knew these ancients, one path would be certain death. If not both. She tossed the Illuminate orb and it seemed to tumble down forever until it was lost to her view. She carried them after it, and there was no need for her to attempt to hurry. However quickly they fell, it was too fast for her taste.

They grazed the sharp stone walls as she swung them around corner after corner. More than a few times Geoff and Richard were forced to kick off the wall to keep them from smashing into it.

The path brightened ahead, and raised Lamet’s hopes that they were nearly out. She guided them through a tight bend, where sharp stones reached out for them on all sides. The path branched again, and the orb of light lay caught in a nest of spikes down the closest one. Her heart sank. They glided past it, and she felt the deep roots of fear take hold again.

Two openings came into view at the border of the light’s reach. Lamet drew a circle in the air and poked her finger through to cast Firelamp, and shot the burning orb down the left path. The orb cast a ring of light as it descended, then broke against a solid surface and the tunnel was again consumed by shadow. She held her hand out towards the other path to guide them that way. As the spiky wall of stalagmites began to obscure their vision of the left path, Lamet caught a glimpse of reflected light. She knew what it was. An eye.

“Geoff,” she whispered, “We may require your weapon.”

The tunnels shook from the scraping of claws against stone. The horrific sound was unimpeded by the walls. “Daring trespassers!” echoed a tremendous voice over the wall.

Lamet landed them on a small ledge and jammed her arm through the harness so she was holding onto Sparlyset with one arm, and grabbed Geoff with the other. The cleft dragon clambered over the wall as she pushed them off.

The Dragon’s head was a boulder of immense size, with grooves where his eyes glowed with curious light.

“Leave us to pass through your domain, Dragon, or we will regretfully defend ourselves.”

He crawled forward, dragging his serpentine body of stone across the rocks. He gave no care for the boulders torn loose by his movement as they crashed down the tunnel. Each step of his rocky legs quaked the tunnels. His grey claws were as long as Lamet was tall, and were sharp enough to tear through stone like dirt.

“You should not have come here, wyrmlings.” He growled, pursuing them with casual amusement.

Lamet divided her attention between the slowly encroaching Dragon and the winding tunnel through which she carefully guided their descent. Her Flight spell would not last much longer. It was anyone’s guess what would earn the pleasure of taking their lives.

When the path branched again, she let go of Geoff, allowing herself to hang from Sparlyset, and cast her final Scour. Both tunnels were deep beyond the suppressed range of her spell, but the left was clear and the right was a web of spikes and jagged protrusions. Her instincts told her the more dangerous path was the correct one.

The cleft dragon leaped past them and smashed the wall dividing the tunnels. “Where do you think you are going?” he asked as shattered stone rained below, knocking stalagmites down the tunnel. “What do you hope to find in the mountain’s depths?”

As they drifted before his face, he showed his rows of teeth. Teeth he would not even need to devour them if he chose.

“Leave us, Dragon!” Lamet repeated. “We must prevent the temple from being disturbed!”

“Ah, you pursue the other. The quiet one.” The Dragon made a sound like stones rubbing together. He remained close behind them, every heavy step a trembling reminder of his proximity, but he did not bite them. Not yet.

Lamet returned her attention to the path ahead, using her hand to steer them. She was grateful for the nearly weightless nature of their descent, reducing the strain on her arm wedged tightly in Sparlyset’s harness, but the strap digging into her elbow was still distracting as she weaved them between the rocks.

The jagged ridges of broken stone were tight, spiralling downward in a narrow formation. She had to swing her arm in a wide arc to spin them around the blades of rock and weave them through a narrow gap that nearly shaved the flesh off her back as they brushed the craggy walls on their way through.

“Good luck finding your way back…” the Dragon teased with a snort of flame, “… Do not allow that place to become the womb of a new dark mage.” When its flame died, nothing remained for them to see.

She stretched as much as she could to try and see around her companions. To see anything, but there was only emptiness. The orb’s light showed only themselves.

A distraught voice echoed through their cavernous surroundings. “This should not be our legacy…”

Lamet’s eyes grew wide and she twisted around trying to find the source. Every direction was empty shadow.

“There!” Sparlyset called. She pointed by holding up the orb towards it. The apparition from before stood staring roughly in their direction. As Lamet looked, she turned and vanished.

She cast Bound, taking them higher and closer. If she did not remember exactly where the spirit stood… she could crash them into the stone. She cast Bound again, aiming almost horizontally from their position. Nothing.

Flight ended, and they plummeted. A stone surface appeared in Sparlyset’s light and met them with an agonising thud and a collection of pained exclamations. Lamet was pinned under Geoff until he rolled off with a groan. Richard still crushed her on the other side, and she considered herself lucky the fall had not snapped her arm. As she wiggled out she pulled her arm free and lay on her side, breathing deep breaths of relief alongside shudders of pain.

She fought the pain in her shoulder to reach for the Illuminate orb that had rolled out of Sparlyset’s grip. Holding it as high as she could without standing, she peered at their new environs. A cave tunnel one way, nothing the other.

“I’m starting to think coming here was a mistake,” Richard said. He pushed himself to his feet, but he had to labour to do so. “We’re lucky that monster didn’t eat us. We’re lucky… we’re lucky about a lot of things today.”

“Would you kill someone for crossing through your garden if they did not even disturb it?” Lamet said defensively, “That cleft dragon is no monster. We are the trespassers here, and you are right that we should not have come. I see now that whatever Dorshemet does, we should have waited and dealt with it from the outside.” She was angry with herself for ignoring her instinct to avoid this place. All to save her fool brother.

Richard sighed and squeezed her shoulder as she stood. “Don’t worry about it, Lamet. This is all pretty messed up, but we’ll get your brother and we’ll get out.”

“I appreciate your confidence,” she said. Someone had to be confident in them. Hers was failing.

Once Geoff was on his feet—still fiercely gripping his weapon—she walked into the cave. It went on for only a short while before they came to a perfectly circular doorway in the stone, already rolled open. The door was as thick as her arm was long, and was carved from the same black stone they’d seen above. She was relieved, at least, that they had not ended up trapped in some nowhere cave in the depths.

Dorshemet’s boot prints were clear in the old dust, but she did not point them out. She was tired and scared, and feared the conversation the subject might bring. She would mention it if she saw any cause for concern.

As they travelled deeper, the air grew colder. Sparlyset’s Warmth spell was like the embrace of a blanket over her shoulders on a winter’s night. Her Warmth shielded them all, except herself. Perhaps instead of criticising Sparlyset’s weakness she should have spent time with her to guide her towards strength.

There would be time when they made it out.

Lamet held up the orb as the natural stone was interrupted by carved statues flanking the path. They were made from the light-absorbing stone, but by holding the orb close she could identify the bulbous, leafy texture of riteseeds atop tall pedestals. With beady eyes in their centres.

“The vile seeds!” Sparlyset exclaimed. “These statues depict what I fought! Riteseeds that crave not only blood, but flesh as well!”

“I envisioned something larger,” Lamet said. She leaned close to take in every detail, but squinting at the dark thing was beginning to hurt, and there was no way she was going to put her hands on it.

“It was!” Sparlyset insisted. “It was alike to these before I graced it with my blood, but then it quickly swelled to occupy the entire chamber!”

“Well I pray we do not encounter any more.” Lamet walked away from the statues.

“What even are riteseeds?” Geoff asked. “Knowing that might shine some light on what these ones are.”

Her tail twitched. The village lore said the practice of growing riteseeds was a secret only for the elder Lorekeeper. Every village across the mountains from Flange to the highlands kept the secret. It was common knowledge now, though.

“They grow where blood drops across the beds of the dead,” Lamet explained. “It feels wrong to tell you, but it is a poorly kept secret. By all accounts, no one was particularly disturbed to find out.”

Sparlyset chimed in, “I believe it represents a form of reincarnation. An offering of blood identifies us to our ancestors and they bless us with their ancient knowledge and power.”

Lamet could not know what was true, but she did suspect there was more to it than was remembered. There was no reason to keep such a benign thing secret for so long, unless they lacked a crucial detail. “Is that what the Lightweaver lore says?”

“Well,” Sparlyset said, “The Lightweaver lore exposits the importance of the Rites in defeating Warbinger, and the role of the mountain people in keeping those Rites, as descendants of those who made them.”

Lamet smirked. Her ancestors must be proud of her for learning them.

“What is the importance of them?” Richard asked Sparlyset.

“Warbinger has many facets and forms. It necessitates a variety of powers to contest him effectively. The Rites therefore grant boons, but also the knowledge of the ancient spells that may guide us towards the requisite power.”

“Huh,” Geoff said, “So if I understand it… they’re like messages left behind to remind the future of lost magic?”

“Yes, I suppose.” Lamet held out her hand for them to stop. Ahead, the tunnel opened into a cave. A faint light could be seen obscured by the ground. “It looks like a cliff ahead, and something emitting light at the bottom.”

At Lamet’s word, Sparlyset tucked the orb of light in her bag to cloak them in shadow and they kept low to the ground as they passed through another round gate. And another pair of riteseed statues.

She crawled carefully to the edge of the cliff.

Below sprawled a city in a wreath of shadow, with only a few faint lights to reveal it in the shelter of the deep cavern. The few structures she could see matched the old Alacanan styles depicted in records; squarish buildings of stone with flat roofs. If anything they had seen on their journey was a vestige of the past, it was this. The city was a foetus of ancient civilization, frozen in time.

Excitement and fear welled within her.