Lost Legacies Slayer's Sorrow

Chapter Three

Descent into Darkness

A small orange bird swooped down and landed next to Daylinn. It had one black stripe down its back, and it began digging at the ground with its beak. Daylinn lay so still, that the bird did not even acknowledge her presence. Her legs were stretched in the grass, and she lay with her head resting at the foot of an Elm, the chained chest laid at her side. It was not that she was being purposefully still, she had intended to only lay down for a moment, but she had once again let her thoughts wander in the process of resting her legs. She had been lost in thought for nearly an hour without realizing it.

Guilt and anger swirled around her mind in equal strengths. Two great torrents winding, twisting, one would surface and then the other. First her thoughts would be filled with what would become of her family and village because of her actions, then they would be filled with anger regarding the weakness of her family and village. She was angry that they would give her over to the dragons to save their skins. Did they not realize that once they turned on each other to serve the dragons, it would be only a matter of time before the dragons asked such sacrifices on a regular basis. They delighted in toying with humans and exercising their control over them. A slight breeze rushed through the leaves above her. The small orange bird stopped its digging and looked up for a moment, but then continued diligently searching for food. The wind stopped as soon as it had begun. She was not sure if that had been connected to her increase in anger or not. The winds had followed her as she walked, leaving Symone unconscious, but they slowly quieted, calmed, and dispersed as the morning had gone on. She tried to summon them back as a test to see if they would obey, but they did not. She had felt a strong connection with them. They seemed to be an outward reflection of her inward turmoil but try as she might she could not revive them.

Another question came to her mind. Where could she go? She still didn’t know. She had the map and the lodestone, but thus far she had barely given her destination a thought. She knew where she was of course. She was near the edge of the valley heading the opposite direction from which she had been being delivered. She knew she was near the edge of the outer wood and Dark Forest. She knew for sure she would not want to wander too far in that direction. The Dark Forest, or the Dark Wood, as some had called it, was very dangerous. She kept near its edge only to avoid other villages or villagers who were travelling to the ceremony. There was nothing she could do about it, she had to leave the valley, but she would make the long trip to leave from a safer route. The whole valley would eventually be looking for her. Symone may already be doing so, that is, if he was conscious and able.

A few thuds sounded, a twig snapped, and something burst around the corner down the way she had come. The small bird took flight and Daylinn jumped to her feet with catlike reflexes, drawing Averyll from its sheath. It was only a deer. A pitifully tiny one. Not a fawn, but certainly a runt. It had been running from something or someone, it darted around the bend, and when it seen Daylinn, it bolted off the path in the opposite direction scampering into the woods. She was breathing heavily now, and her heart was racing. She had found an animal trail and followed it. It had taken her near the edge of Dark Wood, but it veered away shortly after. It had made travel much easier, and she was quite sore from the previous night. She much preferred to walk on a generally smooth path, rather than climbing over, ducking under, and cutting through the thick parts of the wood. It was an easier path, but also a predictable one. She had been worried that Symone would somehow recover quickly and catch her before she could get too far away. She had tried not to leave a trail, but she knew Symone to be a good huntsman.

She kept Averyll at the ready but thought about grabbing her bow instead. She listened to see if whatever had spooked the deer, was coming this way. She did not hear a sound, though the silence seemed to be almost too quiet, the sound that follows something very evil. She was filled with a sudden sinking feeling of fear, and she felt as if a thick ominous tension filled the air. She did not see or hear anything, yet she was so afraid that she did not even swallow, for fear of drawing the ire of whatever was producing this ominous gloom. At first there seemed to be no culprit, but then she watched as a tendril of fog or mist peeked through the trees nearby. It looked like a great serpent teasing its way forward looking for prey. At least three other tendrils of fog, no doubt connected to the other one, peeked through in various spots along the trees. With great difficulty, Daylinn broke the hold of fear that had been set upon her. She returned Averyll to her side and picked up the chained chest as quickly as she could. She then turned and ran as fast as she was able down the path in the opposite direction of the awful mist. Whatever it was, it felt as if it were filled with bloodlust, and she wanted no part of it. If it continued at the speed it was creeping, she would find herself far away from it in no time. It was unlike anything she had ever seen in the valley before, and she was not eager to become familiar with it now. Perhaps it was some atrocity wafting past the borders of the Dark Forest.

She ran and ran along the trail. She didn’t want to leave it. However, she was forced to head into the thicker wood in order to avoid a sharp turn in the path leading toward Dark Wood. She leapt over fallen trees and dodged branches of various sorts. She went on a hurried pace for nearly an hour, stopping every so often to check her direction with the lodestone. She knew how easy it was to get turned around in the woods. Every time she did, she was forced to readjust her direction. She tried as she might to go straight, but whenever she would stop to check the lodestone indicated that she had strayed. It was always in the same direction that she would stray, but she once again corrected her course and went on her way, leaving the ominous fog far behind her.

She ran until her sides were splitting. She stopped then to catch her breath. She was now very far from any past dangers. She lay again upon the ground under a tree when she remembered her uncle. Her uncle had left Athyorn valley long ago, in search of escaping the dragons’ radar. He too, did not care to deal with dragons and so left to a location in the wilderness in order to live on his own terms. Her uncle was a spell-worker of sorts and so was able to make his own way apart from any civilized community. How had she not thought of him before? If she could get to her uncle’s house before any word from her family reached him, she would have a chance of explaining herself and asking for aid. She had only been to his new home twice and both times were when she was quite young. She knew he lived on the edge of two fiefdoms. Each belonging to a Dragon Lord. One being Kaltez and the other Verboryn. He lived in the Olde Wood. A part of the Great Forest that was not touched by the darkness of the Dark wood. It also bordered the Fire Forged mountains and the caves of Croth. The mountains had long ago been the home to Dwarves. They operated great forges all throughout the mountain range for the benefit of all. Dwarves were now long extinct. Daylinn was not even sure whether she believed they had ever existed. She only knew of them from the stories her grandfather had told her long ago. Those were very foggy in her memory now. The caves of Croth were ruled by none, or so legend said. The caves were rulers of themselves and they were thought by many to be alive.

She finally caught her breath and pulled out her map. The map was not so broad as to show the Great Forest or the caves, but she knew their general location and could discern which direction she had to go. The fastest course would involve a day’s journey at least through the Dark Wood. She really didn’t like the idea of that. The slower route would add on far too much time to her journey. Both options involved crossing Mali-dine, one of the Three Rivers. Mali-dine was its old elven name, and it flowed through the center of the valley from North to South. The nearest bridge shown on the map would take her back two days in the opposite direction, two days back, and take three days longer than going through the Dark Wood and crossing the bridge there. Her only other option was to cross the river without the aid of a bridge. That would be extremely dangerous. The river was very fierce on this end of the valley. It was near where the river came flowing through the mountains out of Eden Moor and the river was fierce and littered with sharp and jagged stones near here. The river calmed as it twisted and turned throughout the valley providing life and vigor to the villages. Daylinn’s village, like many of the other ones, were located very near the edge of the Mali-dine in its calmer regions. She decided to first make her way to the river before she would make up her mind if she would try to cross it or follow it along the Dark wood until she came across a bridge.

She rolled up the map and packed it carefully away. She decided to try and make the transport of the chest a bit easier. She used rope and some rags to secure the chest tight against her pack. She placed it upon her back. It wasn’t half bad. It was much better than carrying it under one arm or in both. She couldn’t fully abate the ominous feeling she had, and she still didn’t know if Symone was hot on her trail. She shuddered at the thought of her brother running into that awful fog. She still had love for her family, though there was certainly a great chasm fixed between them now within her heart. She quickly began to dwell upon what they had conspired to do against her, and her worry and remorse turned into heated rage. At that moment she thought she heard the spell-worked winds begin to blow above her head once again and she swore that some of the branches swayed above her as a result, but that was all. There was no other sign of their return. She dismissed the thought of it and began her journey toward the Mali-dine river, the chained chest strapped securely to her back.

Her stomach began to growl ferociously as she walked. It had been quite a while since she had eaten. She took to her waterskin in order to curb her hunger and not have to take the time to dig into her pack for some of the food she had brought. Shortly after finishing off the contents of her waterskin, she came across a large patch of wild berries. She sat her pack down and began gathering as many as she could reach and that were ripe for the eating, while avoiding the many thorns that covered their vinelike branches. Daylinn was so hungry that she ate fistful after fistful. She gathered a small pile, which she would pack up and carry with her on the road. Normally she would not be so quick at devouring wild berries without thorough examination, but the blood red lotus berries looked so much alike to those she had grown up eating near her home and she was so hungry from running and not sparing time to stop and unpack a decent meal that she missed the distinguishing marks of the blood red lotus. Other than a slightly sweeter taste and a slightly more enticing scent, the leaves of the lotus had red veins running through them. The leaves being exceedingly small on the vine and the ripe clusters of berries being so enticingly plump and juicy, she easily missed this detail. Also, Daylinn was neither skilled nor experienced enough to have heard of this rare plant and so as she continued to gorge herself relentlessly on the delicious berries, she began to grow very tired. So tired in fact that it was inevitable but that she would nestle herself into a much more comfortable position.

“That’s better,” she said aloud as she laid her head on her pack. “Just a quick rest and then back on my way.” She nestled down and snuggled into the soft grass. It felt so welcoming, it was more comfortable than even her bed at home. She thought she would never find so nice a place to rest again, and then she slept.

* * * * * * * *

Daylinn awoke with a start to the sound of loud howling in the distance. She reached for Averyll instinctively, but the sword was not at her side. It was dark, but not because the sun had left the sky. She was lying flat on her back in a very awkward and uncomfortable position. Fear filled her as she felt the ominous feeling she had felt before at an even greater intensity. All around her was the thick fog that had pursued her earlier that day, at least as far as she knew it was the same day. It burned her skin in every place that it touched. She could see the abrasive marks it made upon her exposed flesh. She immediately began to hold her breath, as her lungs were burning as well with an intense pain from breathing in the fog. She must not have been in the fog for very long. Again, she heard howling in the distance, though this time it sounded much nearer. She groped around in the fog for her pack and the chest, but they too were nowhere to be found.

Daylinn couldn’t imagine a way that things could get any worse. She cursed herself for being so careless in eating those berries. She didn’t know what came over her. She did not know of their enticing effect. She searched the area a little more broadly for her pack, her sword, and the chained chest, but found none of them. She could barely see an arms-length in front of her face. The pain from the fog was growing more and more intense. She was on the verge of tears. She did the only thing she could think of. She ran. She ran blindly through the fog, seeking some end to its painful touch. She felt like a piece of meat being slowly dissolved inside the stomach of a large beast. She wondered in fact if the fog itself was sentient. Was she the target of the appetite of some large gaseous entity? And who was it that had taken all her belongings? Surely it was not the fog. Her head was pounding, and she found herself desiring to go back and eat some more of the delicious berries. She of course resisted. She wanted to look more for her things. She resisted that urge as well. She ran to seek relief from the pain inflicted by the biting fog and she ran because of the intense fear that plagued the fog as well. Howling came from close behind her. It sounded loudly in her ears. All her senses were strained and flustered by the multitude and complexity of synapses and emotions. There was something right behind her. She ran and ran, and then her foot fell and found no ground.

Daylinn toppled downward, down great stone steps. She was able to prevent herself from falling very far, which could have easily been fatal. Great stone steps led far down into the earth. There was no warning from the surface, only a large hole in the ground that led to the stairs. The stairs were well crafted; they were no natural construction. Daylinn was a good ten feet below the surface of the ground. She realized that the fog had not descended below the surface. She was safe from the burning effects of the fog, at least temporarily.

She looked around, which was difficult because of the great darkness that surrounded her. She had two choices. She could sit and wait or go down the steps. Neither sounded pleasant, but both sounded better than going back up. She had never encountered anything like these stone steps that led deep into the earth. She could see no end to them. She really did not like that she did not have Averyll. Her sword at least would have provided her with some level of comfort.

Her curiosity wanted to find out what lay at the bottom of the steps. This desire was strengthened when she heard the howling of wild beasts once again, this time coming from very close to the opening. She shivered. She did not want to encounter any wild beasts having nothing but her bare hands to defend herself. She slowly backed down a few steps, groping the moist stone that lined the walls and ceilings and looking intently toward the entrance. Five sets of red eyes appeared, gleaming at her from the fog. They were surrounded by dark shadowy shapes that she could not fully make out. She dared not even to breathe, but though she was sure that the eyes could see her, the creatures seemed unable to pursue her down the steps. They stayed shrouded behind a thick vail of fog snarling and snapping their shadowed jaws in her direction. She sighed and began to descend slowly down the steps, glancing back up occasionally to see if the eyes continued to follow her. After a few times of looking back, she could no longer see the entrance or the beasts piercing eyes. She strengthened her resolve and pressed on.

As Daylinn descended down the steps, to which she could perceive no end, the air began to grow cold, and the already pale darkness grew darker still. She had no way of making light and she could not help feeling that her curiosity was putting her in more and more danger as she continued downward. She had no other choice except to wait at the top with the creatures of the mist, hoping the devouring fog would pass, so she went down the stone steps one at a time. Thoughts about who could have made these steps and what she would find at the bottom filled her mind.

Hours seemed to pass and Daylinn was driven near to despair. The combination of darkness and seemingly endless steps played tricks on her wearied mind. She nearly decided to turn back and face the fog, if it had not dispersed, or to collapse on the stone steps and try to sleep, when all of a sudden, a dim light could be seen from what she assumed to be a passage at the bottom of the stairs. It was faint and far off, but it raised in her such hope that she nearly ran down the remaining steps. The thought of seeing anything other than darkness was like a fresh breath of air to her now.

She covered the distance quickly and came to a large doorless portal. She walked cautiously through into the passage beyond it. As she drew near to the light source, her hopes were confirmed. Upon the wall was a single torch. Its flame burned in a strange color that she had never seen before. The light it gave off was a pale purple. The flames flickered and cracked. She drew her hand near to it but felt no heat. A very strange phenomenon indeed. She could see a little way down the passage thanks to the dim purple glow, but it was then consumed once again by darkness.

She began to feel afraid again. This passage belonged to someone or something that could spell-work strange fire. She also realized the presence of such fire, meant this passage was most likely still in use, though spell-worked fires were rumored to be able to burn for a great while without going out.

She could not perceive the end of the passage. It appeared to remain roughly ten feet abreast as far as she could see. She could did not see any side passages or turns either. She had a sudden thought. She examined the torch again trying to remove it from its place on the wall so that she could take a light along with her as she went. The bronze rod from which the flame emanated slid easily out of the sconce that held it. As soon as she removed the rod, the flame was extinguished. She immediately put the rod back in its place and to her astonishment the flame returned as if it had never ceased. As she looked at the sconce more closely, she noticed small decorative markings upon the sconce and upon the rod forming a circle around it near the bottom. Daylinn did not know much about spell-working or any other writings, foreign or ancient, but she suspected that these markings played some part in the maintaining of the spell-work.

The only thought that kept Daylinn moving forward was the hope of recovering her belongings. She was beginning to think that whatever or whoever had taken her things might inhabit this underground chamber. Of course, she knew that her things could be lost somewhere on the surface in that wretched fog, or they could have been carried off anywhere by some bandit or vagrant.

A loud clanking and the sound of moving stone echoed through the passage sending chills up Daylinn’s spine. She moved toward the sound slowly, seeking to reach the shadows in order to not be so easily seen. She moved forward in the darkness feeling her way along the wall. When she had travelled a short way her hand that was pressed against the stone as she went came to an area where the stone stopped. She reached her hand around and found that there was another passage running to her left. She went a short way forward feeling to see if the passage went on straight as well. She went only about eight feet before she found the other side of the side passage and that the main passage did indeed continue straight.

She did not have much time to think before she heard the sound of moving stone again. It was coming from right beside her. The passage to her left was closing. She had only a second to make her choice and she chose to jump through the opening as it was shutting. She could feel the stone wall sliding closed. It was over three feet thick of stone sliding and making contact with the other side of the wall. She slipped past it just in time to avoid being crushed. This was some kind of hidden passage. The sound that she heard before must have been this passage being opened, but by who? Or was it something she had done or was there some other spell-work behind it. She did not know, but if it was a person, they may very well have her things. She was determined to get back her grandfather’s chest.

Far down the slightly smaller passage was another lit torch and sconce. She could see no shadows cast by any figures between her and the light so she proceeded a little more quickly toward it. When she arrived at it, she could see that the path began to go downward at a decent slope. Another light was lit far off in the distance. Her eyes were beginning to be able to see better by these dim lights, but still they were far from being sufficient. She continued on and found a right turn shortly after the torch. She followed it deeper down into the crazy network of underground passages. She followed it down to another doorless portal and as she approached it and peeked into the room beyond, she could not believe her eyes.

This room was very large and had a number of torches strewn across the walls. The light was still dim, but it was multiplied because it was reflected off of large piles of gold, gems, and precious stones. Piles of gold coins and gems separated by size and color littered the floors. Piles of different kinds of ore, copper, silver, and gold were piled as well in the more shadowed regions. Weapons of various sorts and sizes also littered the floors.

She found herself stepping forward before she could help herself. After only a few steps her foot went to step, but was stuck in place. She fell over unexpectedly and threw her hands in front of her instinctively to cushion the fall. Her hands made contact with stone tiles and she noticed right away that they were covered in the same tiny markings that were upon the sconces and torches. She tried to lift her hands, but they too were stuck. There was no foreign substance to bind her foot and hands, only the strange runes, but try as she might, she could not budge them in the slightest.

The sound of sliding rock echoed once again from behind her. This room appeared to have no other exits and Daylinn realized that she had not heard someone entering this secret chamber, but exiting it. And whoever it was, was now coming back.

A deep raspy voice came from behind her. She tried to turn her head to see who or what was speaking to her. “Du kon-da se-kur und unda buste” he said with a cold calmness.

She replied, trembling, “I cannot understand you. I did not mean to…”

“Garosh!” the voice yelled, interrupting her explanation.

A rather short man appeared within sight. He wore finely crafted metal armor. A full set of plate mail. Daylinn recognized the great quality of it right away. Armor such as that was worth more money than Daylinn had ever seen in her life, before today that is. The man’s muscles bulged and though he appeared to be over a foot shorter than her, he was a monster of a man. Beneath his iron helm was a long thick black beard that passed below his waist line. He held in one hand a fine shield made of brass and white iron, in the other, a finely crafted axe.

“Dallod bonduhr kairn notul buste,” the man said forcefully as he neared Daylinn raising his axe to strike.

Daylinn began to panic. What an awful idea it was to come down these steps. She could not move her hands and even if she could, she had no way to defend herself against this man. His axe came down swiftly upon her, aimed to split her skull. It would have succeeded but a great blast of wind forced the man off balance. A look of surprise showed plainly on his face. He was forced to abandon his strike in order to keep his balance. He raised his shield as the winds circled around to strike him again. On the shield were markings like those that were on the floor. One large marking encircled by a great number of smaller ones. As the winds blew to strike the man, he lifted his shield in resistance. Daylinn did not expect the shield to help much against the brute force of the winds after she had seen what they had done to Symone, but as they made contact with the shield they rebounded as if they had been pushed back with great force. The winds collected above Daylinn, circling menacingly.

The man stared at her for a long moment, but then he straightened himself up, turned around, and casually walked back down the passage out of sight toward the sliding stone door, leaving Daylinn alone in the chamber with her thoughts. She heard the sound of the stone sliding once again into place. The winds had returned to help her and they had saved her life. The chest that she thought may have been the source of their power was nowhere in sight, so somehow these winds were attached to her and not only her grandfather’s chest.

A long time passed and nothing happened except that Daylinn was now in a great deal of pain from being stuck in the same position. The winds had slowly died away, leaving her completely alone in the silence of the treasure filled chamber. The silence was broken as the stone door once again opened far behind her. This time the man returned, but he was followed by four others dressed in similar mail. They were all close to the first man in height and build. The most distinguishing characteristics between them was the shape, length, color, and styling of their beards. They spoke amongst themselves for a short while in the same guttural language the man had spoke before. Then one of them who had no weapons and a large grey beard slowly approached Daylinn with his hands stretched open to show her that he meant her no harm. When he came near, he pulled out a sack and drew from within a silver gorget. The gorget had upon it those same symbols that had caused her so much trouble. She flailed and resisted to no avail as he fastened the silver gorget around her neck. A warm shooting pain shot through every part of her body, and then it stopped.

“Wasn’ so bad as ye were thinkin now, was it?” The Grey bearded man asked. Daylinn began to reply and then her jaw dropped. She could understand what the man had said. It was as if the man were speaking in her own tongue.

A dark bearded man came forward, his axe raised in anger. He spoke with a gruff voice, “how did ye get down here and what was ya schemin wit’ our treasure?” Before she could speak to her own defense, she was once again interrupted. The man who had first found her pushed past the others and addressed Daylinn. “More important,” he said, “how is it ye come workin such magics as can only be worked by those long dead?”

“What?” Daylinn asked, utterly confused.

He got low, as she was still stuck to the floor. He looked into her eyes. His voice was calm and curious, “Slayer magic!”