(49) If You Wish
Tara trudged forward, her breathing becoming labored. The path had ceased being lined with stalagmites, the walls closing in around her instead. The cavern walls surrounded the path, now around five feet wide, and they ran with small streams of water, as if the earth were weeping.
All this water gathered and ran down the path in a small river that currently occupied the right-most portion of the path, though it was inconsistent. The small river twisted and turned, this way and that, sometimes on the left, sometimes in the middle, and even sometimes occupying the path in its entirety, forcing Tara to splash through the tunnel, practically calling out to any creatures that a tasty morsel was nearby.
The path had acquired a gradual incline over the past hour, and now it was nearly forty-five degrees, by her estimation. The climb was made even more difficult by the water, which made each step she took calculated and precise, lest she slide—or worse, tumble—backward.
Finally, when she was nearing the point of needing a rest, the ground leveled out, the cavern widening a bit on the right. Stepping over the trickle of water, Tara was greeted by a small space, perhaps ten feet wide from water to wall. It was tiny, realistically, yet it was to the side of the path, which lent it a restful quality in her mind, as if a natural waystation.
She sat down with a huff, leaning her back against the wall gratefully. She removed her coat, noting that the air was not nearly as cold as the exterior had been, and fished around in her pack for a few seconds. She froze, her hand buried up to her elbow in her pack, as she recognized the sound of breathing once again.
This was breathing that a person might make, rather than a monster, though Tara was unsure if that was fortunate or unfortunate. She shifted slowly, turning her head so that not even her hair against the stone wall made a sound, and beheld the curled form of a woman in the opposite corner of what she had dubbed the ‘rest area’.
The woman was curled about herself, facing away from Tara, but she could see a distinct blue hair scattered across the ground behind her. She wore a white robe that looked far too thin and did not cover nearly enough skin—it was not as cold as outside, but it was certainly not warm.
She wore sandals of animal hide that left most of her feet exposed, and Tara could see her shivering even from several feet away. Despite the cold, she had somehow managed to fall deeply asleep, as while she took care to step softly, Tara did not hold any illusions that she had approached stealthily.
What should she do? Who was the girl? She appeared older than Tara, but only slightly—perhaps fifteen or sixteen. Why was she here? She must have made it past the ogre, at the very least.
Did that make her a danger?
Tara’s hand went instinctively to the dagger at her waist, gripping its handle with white knuckles.
She forced herself to breathe, consciously loosening her grip on the knife. Images of the ogre child leaning against its dead parent flashed through her mind. Murdering what appeared to be a normal girl in cold blood was too much, too hasty, even for her.
Well, what, then?
She could easily get up and move past, continue on her way. She could stop to catch her breath further on. Sure, resting on an incline was not ideal, but it was doable. There was no reason she needed to risk anything with or for this girl. They did not know each other. She could be…an assassin or something, for all she knew!
Tara sighed.
She scooted over to the girl, sliding her backside across the smooth stone until she sat next to her shaking form. She laid the coat over her, positioning it to cover as much of her body as she could manage. The glow of a shield that Tara recognized as having previously covered her own body leaped around the girl, and her shivering stopped almost immediately.
Satisfied, Tara scooted a couple of feet away, once again fishing around in her pack. She withdrew her water skin and drank deeply. It was strange how thirsty she was…or, not really. She had done a great deal of physical labor over the past few hours, yet it felt strange to be so thirsty, even though she was surrounded by water.
She put the skin back and withdrew a small bag of wrapped meat. Halla and Willem had given her a little treat last night, knowing she would be out training all day. The meat was simply smoked, and there was a large roll accompanying it—nothing fancy, but her mouth watered looking at it now.
This meat would be especially good if she split the roll in half and ate it all at once like a sandwich—
Tara glanced over, feeling more than seeing the girl's eyes. She sat up straight now, staring at Tara’s food with unrestrained desire. Tara had suspected, by her pale gray skin, that she was a nuarch, but the ears poking through her hair, which spilled over her shoulders and framed striking blue eyes, confirmed it.
“You’re hungry?” Tara asked.
The girl shook when addressed, her cheeks coloring noticeably, as if she had been unaware how intensely she was staring.
“I’m…go ahead! Sorry for staring. I didn’t mean to interrupt…” she said, scooting against the wall and hugging her knees to her chest.
“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” Tara asked, breaking the roll in half and stuffing the smoked meat inside.
“Only a few days,” the girl answered, her voice soft.
Tara sighed.
“Here,” she said, tossing the sandwich to the girl, who caught it in surprise.
“The whole—no, please! I can’t take it, especially after…” she trailed off, rubbing the edge of the coat with her fingers.
“I had a big breakfast. I’ll be fine,” Tara reassured, trying not to stare at the girl’s ankle, which almost glowed a fiery red.
“I—” the girl started.
“Just eat it. I don’t have the energy to argue. Let me rest for a while, please,” Tara ordered.
The girl looked at the sandwich for several long seconds, but she could only restrain herself for so long, eventually tearing into it like a ravenous animal. Tara almost chuckled. It was not often she met someone who could give her own lack of manners a run for its money.
“I’m Tara. What’s your name?” Tara asked, leaning her head against the wall and closing her eyes.
“Myra. Are you here to train with the master, too?” the girl asked between bites, her speech barely comprehensible around her full cheeks.
“Yeah, I suppose I am. You’ve been at it for a few days, then? How did you make it past the ogre?” Tara inquired, suddenly turning her head and affixing the girl with an intense stare.
“I…went around it. Why, what did you do?” Myra asked, obviously confused.
Tara grimaced, leaning her head back again and saying no more.
The cavern was silent for long minutes, the stillness broken only by the sound of Myra wolfing the sandwich down and, eventually, crouching over the running water to drink. She sighed in satisfaction, scooting close to Tara—carefully maneuvering her right ankle, Tara noted—and leaned her head against the wall.
“Thanks, that was delicious. I was pretty sure I was going to starve to death here. I was actually debating whether I should even drink the water. Surely, if I were going to die, it would be faster to die from dehydration,” Myra mused.
Tara found the way she referenced dark subject matter casually refreshing. It reminded her of her own life. How was she supposed to talk about her past, if not irreverently? She couldn’t be dour and miserable all the time.
“No problem. How did you hurt your ankle?” Tara replied without opening her eyes.
“Oh, I…uh…” she stammered, eventually sighing, “I fell. Tripped on the wet incline and rolled it. I don’t know how damaged it is, just that it gives out when I put my weight on it.”
Tara did not voice the fact that Myra had not mentioned the pain, which was undoubtedly severe, if she could not so much as put weight on it. The girl was tough, obviously.
The two sat in what Tara thought was companionable silence for probably fifteen minutes before Tara opened her eyes and stood.
“Right, let’s get going. No sense falling asleep and wasting time. We can sleep at the top,” she said, offering Myra a hand.
Myra stared at her hand for a moment before looking Tara in the eye.
“I cannot. Here, take the coat,” she said, removing it and offering it back. “I will only drag you down. I can make my own way. I’ll be fine.”
Tara sighed, leaning down as if to take the coat and instead grabbing Myra’s arm. She hoisted it over her shoulder before lifting Myra off the ground. She yipped a little, her feet scrambling as she found her balance.
The two moved up the incline slowly, far slower than Tara would have liked, but she could not deny the relief a nearby friendly presence brought. It was slower, but much more comforting progress.
Myra did not speak, though she seemed on the edge of coming up with an excuse for Tara to leave her behind constantly. Tara also did not speak. She did not want to argue about the issue, and placing the burden of starting the conversation on Myra seemed to keep it at bay. She was fine with that.
Eventually, the two crested the incline and found themselves in an archway overlooking an enormous hole. It looked like a great worm had burrowed straight down through the mountain. The walls were completely smooth, defying any natural formation.
A path just as wide as the one they were on spiraled upward around the rim of the hole, though there was no railing or safeguards to prevent a lethal fall.
“Guess it’s still up for us,” Tara deadpanned, and the two started up the path.
The angle was slightly sharper, but the lack of running water made the climb much easier. She was grateful for any concessions, especially carrying Myra as she was. This path had been as challenging as any of Nephthys’ training thus far.
“How do you think this passage formed?” Myra mused.
“Who knows? Maybe the master himself—” Tara started, but her blood froze in her veins.
She stopped dead in her tracks, the unmistakable feel of a predator’s eyes on her sending chills down her spine. She turned toward the wall, noticing that the pair had just stepped in front of a junction. A path much like the one they had come from joined the hole here.
And there were two massive eyes staring at them from its depths.
Tara had time only to curse her inattention before she threw herself and Myra forward, clearing the mouth of the tunnel just as a barbed tongue the size of her chest smashed the path behind them. Tara somersaulted, gaining her feet in a crouch and immediately glancing back to find Myra.
She had, thankfully, slammed her back against the wall rather than plummeting over the opposite edge.
Tara’s gratitude lasted only moments, as she saw the tongue retract and a head larger than her entire body emerge from the tunnel. A great serpent turned its titanic head and locked its eyes on hers. Its scales glistened a mute gray in the light from her spell, and its yellow eyes were wide, pupils dilated, as it stared at its next meal.
No time, Tara thought, her panic receding as her survival instincts took over, tightening her entire body like a coiled spring.
Her tattoos flashed a bright blue, fur covering her body, her muscles thickening, and her body growing. She dashed to Myra and unceremoniously tossed her over her shoulder.
“Hold on tight!” she shouted.
Ouch, she thought, as Myra’s fingers dug through her fur and into her flesh. At least she won’t fall off.
Tara dashed forward on all four limbs, bounding up the path with all the strength her transformation could muster. The serpent slithered fully through the hole and slid after them. Its speed was immediately alarming. It moved as if oiled, propelling its meaty body along the path at a speed even Tara’s transformation could not match.
It gained ground in only seconds, and with a glance behind, Tara confirmed its head tilting, likely lining up a shot with its tongue.
No time to consider. It was time for a risk.
“Leave me behind! I can at least distract it!” Myra called over Tara’s shoulder, but she did not even entertain such an idiotic idea.
She pumped as much mana through her body as she could manage, strengthening herself so much that her body screamed in pain, and with a final check to make sure Myra was secured, she leaped off the path. She soared across the hole as a smash echoed behind her—the tongue impacting the ground where she had just stood, no doubt.
She spread her arms and legs wide, fanning her claws out as she sailed. Her upward momentum gave way, and she began to plummet. She had jumped perhaps a hundred feet, but that was only about halfway across the colossal hole. She struck the far wall with a thump that rattled her bones, and her claws dug into the smooth stone, tearing into it and halting her downward plunge.
She glanced back, but she could not see the snake. The fall had taken them far below the path they were on, but she knew she had bought only moments. With a grunt, she pumped her muscles, jumping along the wall before smashing her claws into it again.
She scaled the wall in leaping strides, passing even the level they were on in seconds. Now, she could see the serpent gliding across the path, speeding to meet them where their ascent would inevitably intersect with the spiraling path.
Tara winced as a claw on one of her toes failed to dislodge from the wall when she jumped, blood pouring from her toe and making her grip with that foot slick and unstable.
There was no time to mourn lost claws.
She leaped and bounded, moving tens of feet up the wall with each jump, but it was not enough. She could tell that the serpent would reach the interdiction point before them. She prepared herself to do the only thing she could think of.
The snake stuck its massive head over the side of the path and launched its tongue down. Tara released the wall and spread her limbs to the side, flattening her body into a plane parallel to the wall. The tongue passed beneath her, and she gripped the wall once again. She chomped down on the tongue with all the strength she could muster and yanked.
The tongue detached in a fountain of foul blood. Tara tossed it aside, down the hole, and leaped up once again as the serpent recoiled in pain.
She jumped to the path and buried her claws into its head. They dug only inches deep, the scales disturbingly strong. She used what grip she had to propel herself into the air, directly over its head, which was still suspended over the void.
She channeled all her mana into her legs, and when her momentum brought her back down, she slammed her heels into the top of the snake’s head.
With a cry, its head plunged into the abyss below, its body following with a crash. Tara did not look to confirm it had fallen. She simply gripped the wall and, wincing as pain from her heels informed her something was likely broken down there, continued her climb.
Whether the snake could recover and pursue them, she did not know. She merely climbed with all her strength and speed, as if it were on her tail at all times. The cavern began to taper, the walls of the great hole coming together like the top of a bottle.
She burst onto a landing and threw herself through an archway that she was positive the snake would not fit through, rolling and slamming against the far wall. There was light shining in, so contrasting to the darkness she had grown accustomed to that she was briefly blinded.
She lay curled in a mess against the wall as her transformation regressed, unable to do more than pant, trying desperately to catch her breath.
“Are you—ha, ha—okay?” she called into the room, still blinded by the light.
When no response came, she blinked the blurriness away, shielding her eyes with an arm, and saw that Myra was not there.
In her place stood a giant, a man at least eight feet tall. He had pale blue skin, his bald head was ringed by short horns that curled upward, and his two eyes were a striking blue that seemed to gaze into her soul within his black sclera.
“Who…are you?” she stammered.
“Welcome to my mountain, young Tara. I am Myrazandias,” he said.
He then looked her directly in the eyes, and a small smile crept across his lips.
“You may continue calling me Myra, if you wish.”