Dawnbringer Page 6

  “I should ask the gnome to identify these. I’ve no desire to quaff a potion which I don’t know what it’ll do.”

  She tucked one of each of the potions in a pouch on her belt and stowed the remaining three healing potions back in the pack, along with her bedroll. I’d best get some rations and top off my wine and waterskins, then I’ll find Yosrick, and we’ll be all set.

  ***

  Nera watched as Yosrick chanted a simple spell and studied the three phials she had placed before him on the table. The two were sitting inside Wyat’s command tent, where the gnome could work his spell without being interrupted.

  “Well, what do they do?” Nera asked impatiently. The group was ready to depart in a quarter hour.

  The gnome popped the lid off the pink bottle and sniffed it. “As you guessed, this is a healing potion. And this”—he sniffed the yellow potion—“will increase the alacrity of one’s movements for a brief time.”

  “And the blue one?”

  Yosrick studied the phial with the sword icon etched on the glass. “Why, it makes a mighty warrior even mightier!”

  “You’re a dear—thank you, luv!” She gave the surprised gnome a peck on the cheek before he could react and then bustled off, potions in hand.

  Wyat walked through the tent flap, nearly bowling her over, had she not smoothly sidestepped.

  “Here. You’ll need this, I reckon.” She stuck the blue potion in Wyat’s face.

  “Huh?” asked the surprised warrior. He took the phial and looked at it suspiciously. “What’s it do?”

  “Makes a mighty warrior even mightier,” she said mimicking Yosrick’s voice. She smacked Wyat on the backside and disappeared from the tent before he could reply.

  “Time to be on our way!” Nera called.

  She was pleased to see everyone waiting for her already. Malek was admiring a metal staff with a large purple gem mounted atop it, the old dwarven smith looking on, pleased at his reaction.

  “Use her to smite a few nasty beasties for me, lad,” the dwarf rumbled, thick arms crossed.

  “I shall do so, Belgar. Thank you again!”

  “Don’t mention it. I’d go with ye, but I wouldn’t want to hold anyone up. Me knees aren’t so good anymore. Can’t move quite as quickly. Not that I’d need to, mind ye,” he growled when Lumley muttered something under his breath to one of the other men, who chortled. “Plenty fast enough to put a boot in one of these insolent younguns’ arses—don’t doubt that.”

  Nera grinned, having missed the banter she had enjoyed while campaigning with the Steel Rage—and even the guild, come to think of it. The thought of Nexus quickly sobered her up, however.

  Yosrick and Wyat exited the tent at that moment. The commander quickly took a head count of his men.

  “Is everything in order?” Wyat asked.

  “Aye, Commander,” Lumley replied. “All the men are ready.”

  “Very well.” Wyat turned to Nera and her companions. “Allow me to introduce my men.” He went around and made introductions.

  Nera already knew Sergeant Lumley and tried to remember each of the other men’s names and faces, feeling responsible for everyone’s well-being. Jannik was the priest of Anhur, Rand a tracker and the youngest man. Five men-at-arms accompanied them also: Tomlin, Pollard, Raik, Arvon, and Jakeob.

  “I’ll keep everything in tip-top shape, Commander,” said Delmer, a square-jawed veteran of a score or more of campaigns. As second-in-command, he was charged with taking over the company until Wyat returned. If he didn’t return, then Wyat’s final orders were in a locked chest in the command tent. “We’ll be ready to move upon your return. Best of luck, Commander. And to all the rest of you as well.”

  Wyat clasped hands with Delmer. “Take good care of them, Del. I’ll be back as soon as the gods will it.”

  Everyone said their farewells and then settled into a brief silence.

  “Let’s be at it, then. Daylight is wasting,” Waresh said. “Open the portal, lass.”

  Nera nodded and drew the Bracer of Fellraven from its pouch on her belt. The ugly device was warm to the touch as if anticipating that moment.

  “Nera, perhaps we should do this outside of camp? In case there are any… complications,” Malek suggested.

  The image of some giant flaming demon barging through the portal the moment it opened and setting the entire camp aflame popped into her mind. “Aye, not a bad idea. Come on then, luv.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him along. “We’ll do this on the hill across from the portal,” she called over her shoulder to the others as she headed toward the same knoll she and Arron had been lying on the previous day.

  That memory made her briefly wonder if he’d had any luck sorting his addled brain after seeking out Endira. They hadn’t had time to speak much since then.

  Once she donned the bracer, she forgot all about Arron and Endira. The procession made its way up the knoll across from the dormant portal. A score or so of curious soldiers followed the companions while a great many more loitered at the edge of camp.

  Everyone wants to get their last look at the fools who ventured into the Abyss, following a woman they all trusted but who was, in truth, the biggest fool of them all.

  “Ready to do this?” Malek squeezed her hand reassuringly and stepped back.

  Nera took a deep breath. “Aye. Let’s be at it, then.” She focused on the bracer, hearing murmurs of awe from some of the soldiers as the rune-inscribed bands began to glow with molten fire.

  She pictured in her mind the hellish scene from her vision of the Engineer—the red sky filled with ash and lightning, the blasted ground, and the Wall of Lost Souls, with victims chained to it for eternal torment.

  “Azi'ahur i'ars si'ahu—Achronia, Abyss!”

  The bracer turned hot, and she reached out, tearing through the walls between planes with the finger sheaths of the device. The air rippled around each metal tip, and the frigid blackness of the void bled through the backdrop of green fields and bright sunlight like spreading inkblots. The five gashes widened and coalesced until a large oval portal stood before her.

  Nera shuddered from the chill. Grass and wildflowers nearby withered and died from the extreme cold radiating outward.

  Idrimel stepped up beside Nera, Yosrick beside the priestess. The two exchanged a glance that seemed to strengthen their resolve. The Solite voiced a blessing, her voice admirably strong. “May Sol guide our paths through the darkness that we may emerge victorious!” Then, as one, she and Yosrick stepped through the portal into the Abyss.

  Nera could only envy their courage as she waited for the last of her companions to file past her and through the portal.

  Then she joined them.

  Chapter 7

  Idrimel emerged from the portal and stumbled as her feet immediately caught in sucking muck. Around her, the others cursed and struggled to find footing as they came through. She found herself shin deep in a red pool of frothy liquid. A foul mist seemed to hang over the swamp. Dark, twisted trees and tufts of weedy grass poked up from mounds of earth. Stinking of decay, the air burned her nose and throat as she breathed of it.

  “Ugh, reeks like a sewer.” Yosrick wrinkled his nose, scowling at the liquid, which came up to midthigh on him. He waded toward the nearest mound of earth.

  Idrimel and the others followed as they exited the portal. The mud beneath the water, which she couldn’t help but think of as blood, tugged at her boots as if some fiend was striving to pull her under to a watery death.

  The portal collapsed with a sharp crack, and all was silent save for the exertions of the party wading through the swamp.

  One of Wyat’s men cursed as he slipped on the slick ground and fell to his knees in the water, soaking his breeches. Arron gave him a hand and pulled him up to higher ground.

  A couple paces to Idrimel’s right, the water suddenly bubbled, and a small geyser erupted. She coughed as the acrid stench increased, burning her throat more intensely as a small cl
oud of noxious vapors filled the air.

  “Stay away—” She tried to shout but went into a coughing fit. “Poison!” she gasped, eyes watering until she could barely see.

  Someone grabbed her arm and led her away. After blinking away the tears from her stinging eyes, she saw Endira had a firm grip on her upper arm. They sloshed over to the high ground, where Wyat and Arron extended their hands and helped her up the slick slope.

  “Welcome to the Abyss, my friends,” Nera announced sarcastically. “Where exactly we are, only the gods know.”

  They all took a moment to catch their breath, looking around in disgust. The swamp was like something out of Idrimel’s nightmares. The ground beneath them was slimy and sloughed off beneath her boot heels much like rotted flesh. The frothy, bloody water extended into the mist out of sight in all directions. The twisted trees looked like deformed fiends that might have lurched into motion at any time. Over it all hung the sickly mist, yellowish in color and reeking of rot and decay.

  “This looks like it could be the great swamp of Cymrych, don’t you think, Yosrick?” Malek asked after studying their surroundings.

  The gnome, who was wet and muddy nearly to his waist, being the shortest of the companions, stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Aye, I think you’re right, lad, going off the description in the tome.”

  “Which is where, exactly?” Nera asked.

  Yosrick shrugged. “No one knows exactly how the domains of the Abyss are laid out, for it is a plane of chaos. It is said there are infinite conjoining levels, some easily accessible from those nearest, others completely inaccessible. But judging from the previous use of the bracer, I’d reckon we are near to Achronia. When we went to Yuez’hite, we weren’t too far off from Grimdark.”

  “Aye, but we had a long day’s march to reach the Oblith portal when we returned to that plane,” the thief replied. She grimaced at the slimy muck staining her boots and breeches. “I suppose this filth is a slight improvement over the bloody instant freeze we walked into going to Grimdark. Any guesses which way to go?”

  By way of reply, the gnome drew a black metal egg from a pouch on his belt. “Let’s have our little friend take a look.” He muttered an arcane command, and the egg unfolded and refolded into the shape of a small crow. “Go on, take a look around for us.”

  The crow squawked indignantly, it seemed to Idrimel, obviously not pleased by its surroundings any more than the rest of them were. She smiled at the sight, always amazed at the construct.

  “Be off, you!” Yosrick thrust his hand upward, and the bird took wing reluctantly, climbing up out of sight through the mist.

  The water bubbled a couple paces from their island.

  “Watch out!” Idrimel cried.

  They scrambled to gain some distance from the resulting geyser, coughing from the intensity of the fumes. Waresh slipped on the unstable ground and would’ve fallen into the muck had not Lumley grabbed his arm.

  “There’s a larger island over there.” Arron pointed ahead of them. “Perhaps the ground is more stable.”

  “Aye, let’s wait there until the bird finds something. Wouldn’t do to go traipsing off in the wrong direction.” Yosrick started marching toward the other island. He stepped into the bloody water and promptly disappeared beneath the surface with a choked-off cry and loud splash.

  With a startled oath, Wyat slipped down to the edge. The ground gave way, and he slid farther down until he was immersed to his chest. Malek extended his staff, and Wyat clutched its end with one hand while fishing around in the water with the other. After a moment, he hauled the spluttering gnome free of the water.

  “I… I… blech!” Yosrick vomited the filth out. After he got his breath back, he pointed at the water, finger shaking. “There’s… there’s something moving in there—I felt it under the water!”

  “Snakes? Fish?” inquired Malek.

  “I know not, but I’d rather not find out.”

  Sobered at that thought, the group looked for a way across, but they would have to wade through the water at some point.

  “I could try to create a bridge of force,” Malek offered.

  “Nay, lad. It’s best you conserve your power.” The gnome retched again, his face looking green after his dunking.

  “Isn’t one of your men a tracker?” Nera asked Wyat. “Looks like there’s no way to go forward but to get wet.”

  The youngest man, barely more than a boy, stepped forward. “Commander, how can I help?”

  Rand, his name is, Idrimel recalled. He was a wide-eyed youth, seemingly awed at just being in the presence of the company and eager to help.

  She knelt beside Yosrick to check on him, but he waved her away. “I’m fine, Lady Idrimel. Just give me a moment to recover.” He took a drink from his wineskin. “Got to wash the taste away.”

  “Find us a safe path to that next island, lad.” Wyat clapped Rand on the shoulder. “ʼWare, for there’s likely creatures in the water. Lumley, guard his back. Everyone keep your swords handy—no telling what might come at us from this swamp.”

  The two men set off immediately. Rand probed the water with his unslung longbow while the sergeant kept a steely eye on their surroundings, broadsword in hand. The rest of Wyat’s men stood with nocked arrows and drawn swords, wary for any sign of attack.

  Idrimel noticed Malek gazing intently out over the swamp. Moving up beside him, she saw his eyes were closed.

  “What do you see?” she asked quietly when he opened his eyes.

  “Corruption of earth magic, all around us. It’s infused with negative energy somehow, perhaps due to the very nature of the Abyss. There are some type of fishlike creatures in the water, but they aren’t much larger than your forearm. I doubt they’ll pose much threat.”

  Despite his words, she clutched her holy symbol in hand, watching grimly as the soldiers slowly made their way deeper into the swamp. She tried to focus on the comforting presence of Sol, but he seemed distant, his presence muted by the overwhelming sense of evil and wrongness that was the Abyss.

  Or perhaps it’s my shaken faith which keeps him distant.

  Nera called to them, and they prepared to follow the others along the path Rand had chosen. The other soldiers stood at intervals of several paces, swords bared for any attack from the muck. Endira and Waresh were nearly across already.

  Idrimel smiled at Wyat, accepting his offered hand, and set foot in the bloody water again.

  We are in the Enemy’s demesne here, his evil every bit a match for Sol’s goodness. Best I not underestimate his power. She shuddered and clutched her holy symbol harder.

  ***

  Nera heaved a sigh of relief when her feet were upon solid ground once more. They had encountered no difficulty other than the shifting muck beneath their feet, but her nerves were already on edge. Her nose and throat burned from the poisonous vapors.

  Rand had been good to his word, finding them a safe path across, the water no more than ankle deep. She slapped him on the back and complimented him, making the boy beam.

  The island was about five or six paces across and twice that in length. A ridge of yellowish-white stone rose from the center of the island. Nera kicked it with the toe of her boot. A piece broke off, and she crouched down to inspect it. It was lighter than expected when she hefted it in her hand. She tossed it into the water.

  “Cymrych was once ruled by of one of Shaol’s trusted lieutenants, who later sought to overthrow his master,” Malek said, coming up beside her.

  Nera stood and shushed him. “Say his name not! We don’t want to draw the eye of that one upon us.”

  “I would imagine we cannot hide from a god in his own demesne.” Malek eyed the stony protrusion Nera was toeing nervously. “It is said he smote down his traitorous lieutenant and in his rage unleashed a mighty curse over Cymrych. The lieutenant’s very being was torn apart by the curse, his remains metamorphosing into the land itself, turning it to this filth.”

  “You mean this�
��” Nera stared in horror at the stony ridge beneath her foot. “I thought it felt light for stone.”

  “Bone. And this his flesh and blood.” Malek stomped his foot on the spongy ground for emphasis.

  Nera wrinkled her nose. “The sooner we are free of here, the better. What of your bird?” she called to Yosrick.

  The gnome focused on his magic link with the bird for a moment before shaking his head. “It sees nothing but this dreadful marsh in all directions.”

  Arron came over to join them. “No sense in heading out in this until we get a bearing in mind. Shall we rest and wait here until the gnome finds something?”

  Nera looked around at the others, their faces grim and knuckles white on their weapons. “Aye, I reckon there’s sense in that. This island is as good a spot as any.”

  The group sat down to rest for a bit. The light swiftly bled away, much as if the sun had dropped behind a mountain. A deep twilight fell over the swamp, similar to that of Nexus, illuminated by the sickly greenish hue of the mist. The occasional whoosh and splash of the erupting geysers made Nera start uneasily. She tried to see into the mist, noticing the glow occasionally dimmed, as if something was moving about.

  “I don’t like this one bit,” she told Malek, who was sitting on the bony ridge beside her. “Feels as if something is lurking out there.”

  The mage squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Once we’re on our way, it’ll be better. Sitting here idle lets the mind run wild.”

  He spoke truly. She could see that in the faces of the others. Wyat was running a whetstone down the blade of his sword even though she was sure his longsword had an enchantment which made that unnecessary. Lumley kept fussing at the fletching on his arrows. Idrimel sat clutching her holy symbol, eyes darting around like a caged animal’s.

  Glancing over at Yosrick for what felt like the hundredth time in the past hour, she saw frustration on his face. He had earlier admitted to having trouble with his magic, as if it was interfered with by something in the swamps, frequently losing contact with the crow, and only catching glimpses through its eyes.