Book 8: Chapter 9: Phantom threats
One disaster at a time. Martel hurried over to support Atreus, sitting on the ground but precariously swaying back and forth. “I’ll be fine,” the spellbreaker breathed. “A phantom wound. Normally, it would keep bleeding, but with the caster slain, it should stop. I just need time.”
Martel dug into his belt and pulled out a small flacon, courtesy of his Sindhian alchemy. While not as potent as a healing elixir brewed by Rana, it could still help. Atreus accepted it and emptied its contents without question.
Eleanor, meanwhile, had gone over to the collapsed tunnel from where they had entered. “Hard to tell how significant it is. Maybe the blockage is limited.” She began pulling rubble away, stone by stone. As she did, a rumbling announced more rocks falling down somewhere, and she immediately stopped. “Alright, that is perhaps not the best idea.”
“Is there anything else we can do?” As he had on occasions before, Martel wished he were an earthmage. With those skills, he would be able to tell what might be safe to move and use magic to simply create a path for them as needed. In this underground chamber, fire would not save them.
“How did you escape the first time?” Eleanor asked wisely, looking at Atreus. “It cannot have been the way we came. It would be an impossible climb, especially for a cursed man lacking magic.”
“True,” he wheezed. “There must be another way out.”
Both Martel and Eleanor went to the only other obvious possibility; the other collapsed tunnel, from where the spellbreakers had originally entered the chamber to do battle with the maleficars. Eleanor holding a lightstone and Martel summoning his flame, they examined the debris carefully.
“I think there is an opening here!” Eleanor exclaimed, and the excitement in her voice was infectious. Martel joined her and let his flame float through to illuminate a larger space beyond.
“It’s a tight fit, but it looks like we can get through.”
“That makes sense,” Atreus mumbled. “That’s connected to the underground levels. I can’t remember what I did after I woke, but there’s no other way out I could have taken.” “We should move once you feel up for it,” Martel suggested. The chamber had begun to feel like a tomb, and the sooner they could leave, the better. Especially with the battle over, the sensation of evil magic had returned, and it made his skin crawl.
“Let us rest just a little while,” Atreus suggested. “We can’t know what else we might encounter before we make our escape.”
Martel sighed, but he saw the wisdom. He had spent most of his spellpower, and he still felt weak after being struck by several spells. “Alright.” He sat down and began looking for rations in his belt. “A little while.”
They rested long enough to shake off the worst of the fight, sharing their meagre supplies. Martel hoped the path out would be short; they did not have provisions to stay for days, as the remainder of their food was at their camp outside the city. “How long is the way out?”
“It shouldn’t be long,” Atreus replied. His breathing had improved, and he looked hale again. “As I remember traversing them, it did not take that long. A few hours at most.”
“Assuming we do not get lost,” Eleanor added. “It is a labyrinth, is it not?”
“Only to the uninitiated. They are built on certain principles that make them easy to navigate,” Atreus claimed. “The usual path is closed to us – we tried that already. The room with the sigils, after the obelisk.”
Martel remembered; it had been blocked, and they had been forced to descend down the hole in the dining hall instead. “What is the other path?”
Atreus rubbed his forehead. “The central chamber contains a secondary entrance accessible only to the masters of a tower. In this case, high-ranking members of the Conclave.”
“There was another way out in Nordmark like that,” Eleanor said. “The shaft that led above ground, which Rolf had used to enter.”
Atreus nodded. “I imagine the same holds true here, allowing those of the Conclave to enter without requiring others to stand on the sigils.”
“Related to that – what kind of monsters should we expect?” Martel levelled an accusatory glance at Atreus. “In Nordmark, it was a vampire. What kind of abomination did your fellows see fit to have running around this place?”
“Look, that was never my idea. I’m a spellbreaker, I kill such creatures.” Atreus cleared his throat. “I do see the usefulness. Traps and wards may fade or break, but an undead guardian never tires. Archen had secrets to hide, and nothing less would suffice.”
“A good lock might have done the trick,” Martel suggested.
“A guard dog that would turn on its master at first opportunity seems a poor choice,” Eleanor added.
Atreus shrugged. “To a proper Archean mage, such creatures pose no danger. A thief might get his hands on keys and enchantments to open locks and break spells, they might learn every turn of our labyrinths, but they would never survive the threat that roams those tunnels.”
“You never answered my first question. What sort of monster was chosen to guard Archen?” Martel reiterated.
“None. It was assumed that having the entire Conclave above would be sufficient, and I don’t believe artefacts were stored below for safekeeping either. Instead, the underground levels were used for dangerous experiments with magic, keeping others safe. If something prowled these tunnels, I’d never have survived getting out.”
Martel had to admit that made sense, and he felt a little better about their prospects, assuming every way out did not lie buried under a mountain of rubble. “Well, are we ready?”
Eleanor nodded. “Let us get going.” Already on her feet, she extended a hand to each of her companions and pulled them up to stand. Together, they walked over to the narrow opening that led deeper into the underground complex. Martel ignited a flame and sent it ahead. His fellow travellers went first. As the last, Martel took a deep breath and squeezed through, stooping low, and entered the labyrinth under Archen.