Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

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Provinces
Bryce Valley
Diamond (April) 26

Malcolm emerged into the light of Bryce Valley with the sun high overhead. The long darkness of the caverns left him unprepared for the blinding brilliance of day; it was all he could do to bow his head, then take a knee – making a smaller target. His eyes struggled to adjust.

His ears told more of the story: The Valley around him seemed utterly desolate—

And yet, there was more than just quiet. There was an absence that put his nerves on edge.

It took only a few seconds to ready himself, his gaze darting as the sun’s glare cleared away. It was not so bright, on second thought, but the feverlew was still soaking into his bones. It felt like it was piercing his eyes from behind. Crimson pinpricks forced him to raise his hand to his brow.

In the end, he stood with only the slightest tremor up his calves, judging the weather and wind by the shadows of unexpected clouds overhead. He knew that if he looked up too soon, he could be sightless for hours – yet, in answer to his silent urging, his double-vision at last fell away.

Looking straight ahead, the massive Sky Gate was centered before him—

Wreathed in angry swirls of grayish cloud as if it stood in the eye of a growing storm.

The bowman felt his breath catch in his chest. Yet, something told him to look back.

As he did, he realized for the first time the sheer size and complexity of the caverns he’d just left behind. Though the mountain was only scarcely higher than the Sky Gate itself, it was riddled with hundreds of nearly-identical passages. Far more than there had been on the entry-side.

Despite his looming uncertainty, Malcolm found himself imagining gigantic ants.

Gazing upward, he spied a smidgen of froth – no more than a few motes of dust – sliding free from one of the high, ragged openings. It was impossible to tell which ones had worn through the rock with the passing of centuries and which had been crafted by artisans.

Perhaps over the same span of time.

A single misstep could have taken him anywhere, he knew now.

Turning toward the Sky Gate again, Malcolm found himself meeting the steely-eyed visage of one great, granite face. What had once no doubt been a mountain nearly the size of the one upon which he now stood had been cut down into a monument to Sindell’s kings—

A testament meant to outlast the kingdom itself

The cavern he had walked out of placed him perfectly to disable it, but as he turned around to appreciate the fact, he all at once took in hundreds of other exits in the rock all around him; only now did he truly appreciate just how large the caverns were, and how one wrong turn could have taken him anywhere.

He looked around to complete silence, to where even the sound of his breathing seemed amplified in his head, as if it threatened to echo down the entire valley. He also knew his first instinct should be to hide, duck down, line up the shot and take it. But he couldn’t. Something in the valley beckoned him; he walked forward, to the edge, staring down to where the road ran along the depths of the terrain, toward the gate.

There was nothing to be seen from up here.

It seemed empty with only a bit of brush and a road that looked neglected and poorly kept, although just by the roughness of the area, it must have looked the same even when the road was well traveled. A quick look to his left and he could see the bend that the convoy would come around as soon as he called them, and before he knew it he was sitting down at the edge, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes and basking in whatever strange energy that seemed to radiate from this valley.
He looked up at the Sky Gate, its surface engraved with the visages of past kings of Sindell and their airships. Despite all the chaos and upheaval the Gate had borne witness to, the monarchs each had piercing, serious eyes, and their craft seemed ready to leap from the steelwork right into the sky above. Malcolm wondered how such a structure had managed to endure, and unconsciously, his hand drifted downward to the feverlew pouch once again, from which he took a pinch of the herb powder and placed it back in his mouth.
He closed his eyes, drawing in a generous breath of the frigid, wild air as he felt his pulse increase and the familiar fire kick through his veins. His eyes opened, his mood elevated and he smiled, standing up slowly, staring down into the valley floor and feeling like he owned it.
Like this valley was his.
As Malcolm took a side step, his boot disturbed some of the rocks that clacked down a sharp incline that ran about sixty yards before flattening out into another narrow ledge where it dropped off completely.
He tapped the sapphire.
“I’m in the valley,” he said, looking once more at the Sky Gate.
“Good news,” Cleo’s voice came back. “Are you okay? What do you see?”
Before Malcolm could answer, Jaden’s voice was heard on the sapphire.
“I think he’s talking to me, sweetie,” the wizardess’ voice came through.
Malcolm smiled. “But I imagine you still wanna know what I see,” he said.
“Well, I wouldn’t complain,” Jaden’s voice came back.
“So far so good. Looks like I’m alone.”
Malcolm walked a few more paces to a small outcropping that jutted out like a vertical axe blade from the imposing rock face, crouching on his knees and leaning his back against it.
“Looks can be deceiving,” Jaden’s voice came back just as Malcolm withdrew an archer’s glove and slid it over his hand.
​“Good advice,” Malcolm said as he flexed the feel of the glove. He reached back for his bow, to where it hung from his quiver, and then lowered it to his side as he had done countless times before.
​Then he assumed a kneeling position, taking cover by instinct, and squinting for a moment up at the Sky Gate. The rope was clearly visible. A tough shot, but hardly the toughest he had ever taken. Another twitch and his quiver loosened. Still concentrating deeply and intensely on the target, his hand drifted to withdraw an arrow and put it in his bow. He took a deep breath, drew back the bowstring to full and his hands steadied. Nothing in his mind, his muscles tight with flawless form as he focused in on the rope while the rest of the world fell into a blur. Slowly, the breath began leaking steadily from his lungs. Now there was only the release of-
“We are in position, stopped and hidden under cover around the bend,” Jaden’s voice said suddenly.
Malcolm flinched and the arrow was released, spinning like a top out into the valley where it disappeared, causing Malcolm to throw up his hands, drop his bow and duck as the finely tuned mechanics of his form unraveled to become a chaotic mess of movement.
“Let us know when you’ve taken the shot,” the wizardess finished.
Malcolm took a moment to regain his bearings, his eyes sweeping back over the valley. He sighed. “Will do,” he said, his polite tone in stark contrast to the annoyed expression on his face.
And the procedure repeated itself. His arm drifted back to the quiver, his bow was loaded, and the concentration was coming back. The breath filled his lungs, it began to leak out. The world became a blur.
And a shrill whistle cut into the silence like a knife, echoing off into the valley from what felt like every angle. The wind currents were out of the ordinary in this valley although he had compensated, his muscle memory was off a bit. While his shot hit the rope, it had not been directly enough to break it.
Malcolm had realized this, but already locked into his target he was reaching back into his quiver and reloading the bow before the first shot even missed the mark. The world was still a blur. All remained silent. He was drawn, the arrow loosed, and this time Malcolm instantly rose to his feet in anticipation.
This time the shrill whistle was immediately proceeded by a grumble, and the inner workings of weights and gear from beyond the massive gate. There was the loud noise of the rope uncoiling and the sound of a bigger one beyond that being ripped.
Then suddenly there was a loud thud and what could only be described as the sound of a tree falling, like a loud groan amplified to near deafening heights as it echoed. The Gateway to the Kingdom of Sindell, the Sky Gate, began to creak open.
Malcolm nodded as he touched the sapphire dangling from him arm. “Mission accomplished. Sky Gate’s opening.”
“Well done, Malcolm Hawkins,” the wizardess’ voice came back amidst the now familiar aqua glow. “You truly are a special talent.”
“Not as difficult as you might think, actually,” Malcolm said, as he reached back to pull the strap that would tighten the arrows in his quiver. “Listen, it might not have been the plan, but I’m gonna stay up here and watch you through.”
“Much appreciated, Malcolm. Your name is one I will not soon forget.”
Malcolm rested the bow around his wrist, where it swayed by the string, and he grabbed for the pouch to take another pinch of the feverlew. He waited for the rush and then went about fastening his bow around his quiver.
He was right in the middle of doing that, when he happened to glance back at the gate’s progress of opening, down to the road it was no longer obstructing.
What he saw brought the rush of a far different nature, and the impact of it almost knocked him back. There was a wizard, dressed in black, walking casually at the head of two minotaurs and a small contingent of hooded figures carrying barbed-wire staffs.
Swallowing hard and closing his eyes, Malcolm reached slowly for the sapphire. “Jaden…” he whispered. “Jaden, it’s a set up, turn back. Turn back now!”
There was no response.
“Jaden, can you hear me?” He touched it again. “Cleo?”
Now Malcolm looked at the precious stone to find what he already dreaded he would. The mystic glow of the stone was gone. A few more times he touched it, even though he knew what was going to happen.
Nothing.
​Then, to make matters worse, he heard someone calling his name. It wasn’t coming from the sapphire, and he knew in that instant that his own life was in as much danger as any one on the convoy. He knew in that instant what had happened to Shane Bevan.
“Maaaaaalllllcooollllm…” came a voice in the tone of a child playing hide-and-seek; out from the very cavern opening Malcolm himself had emerged, and the man looked identical to the one now walking the valley floor.
​Quickly, the bowman took cover on the far side of the outcropping, opposite from where he had taken the shot on the Sky Gate. He had already eluded the wizard and his accompanying entourage down on the road, as they had coasted past his position without so much as an upward glance. The other one, however, the wizard up here with him, was now making his way straight for him. Thankfully, with no entourage of his own.
At first, Malcolm considered loading up his bow and taking a shot, then thought better of it. To do so would betray his whereabouts, and he couldn’t rule out that the wizard’s presence was meant simply to draw him out for someone or something else that was waiting. He turned around, growing desperate, and that’s when he saw the other cavern opening not far off. He might be able to hide in there, and he found himself rising to his feet before remembering the words of Ferris Lang. Before making the connection of the red circle drawn feverishly around this opening on the map. But what other option was there?
Hesitantly, he took a step forward, the outcropping at his back still shielding him from the eyes of the wizard growing closer. The entrance wasn’t twenty feet away now. Maybe he could just step in enough to hide; wait for the wizard to go by. He took another step, and then stopped again. Almost close enough to see inside.
His breath caught in his throat, and somehow, Malcolm got the feeling that the blackness in this cavern was far deeper than what he had endured before. He fixed his gaze, hoping for some clue as to what lie just beyond, but his eyes began to water right away; as soon as they closed, the acrid scent of death wafted over him, and the darkness behind his eyes threatened to flare with a deep purple light, like an afterimage of something he had not yet seen burned into his vision.
He would not go further; he would heed Ferris Lang’s warning and search for some other way.
There was a spot just in front of him that dropped down into a little alcove before giving way completely to a sheer drop off. He crawled over to it, not letting himself think, and then cursed when he realized it was no hiding place at all. Anyone walking by would naturally spare a glance into this crevice, and he thought about loading his bow and taking his chances right then.
Until he noticed the contour of the valley wall beneath him. Until he got an idea.
“Oh, this is just all kinds of bad,” Malcolm said to himself as he lowered his bow against the wall so that it hung over one of the protrusions below. Gingerly, he let himself down so that he hung on his bow, every progression accompanied by the soft uttering of “stupid, stupid, stupid.” His hands gripping tightly to the upper and lower limb of the bow, as close to the center grip as he could manage. His full weight on the weapon, there was nothing left for Malcolm to do but tightly shut his eyes.

And dangle from his bow against the wall.

The wizard who was calling his name was getting closer, and as it turned out, Malcolm had not tried this stunt a moment too soon, as he could hear his enemy’s voice traveling down from directly above.
“Where are you, Malcolm? I’m just a quiet whisper away.”

Malcolm’s eyes remained tight, his forehead touching the rock. The natural adrenaline mixed with the rush of the feverlew preventing him from feeling the strain in his shoulders and arms, which by his craft, were in impeccable shape.

He just hung there, waiting. Had he still been in the alcove just above, he would be staring into the face of the wizard at that very moment.

“There’s no need to evade me, Whistler, I have no desire to harm you.”

Malcolm was sure the wizard knew exactly where he was, merely toying with him now. This was it. It was over.
“Let’s talk, buddy.”

But there was something different about the voice now. The words trailed off, away and in the direction of the Sky Gate.
“Uh oh, you didn’t make the mistake of hiding in here, did you?”
Even more distant now, as the wizard might as well have been giving Malcolm constant updates to where he was going. Any tracker knew you never made a noise you didn’t have to. This guy was a fool.

Arrogant bastard, Malcolm thought, holding his breath when he dared to reach up so that only one hand was on his bow for a second. Even with the knowledge that the wizard had wandered into that cavern entrance Ferris had warned him against, he still half expected a boot to come crushing down on his hand.
But it never came.

Malcolm held the ledge and threw his bow up into the alcove before grabbing the lip of rock with his other hand and pulling himself over the edge. Grinding his teeth, careful not to make even the slightest noise or grunt, he picked up his bow, crawled out of the alcove, and ran full speed back to the cavern entrance he came from. There was nothing in his mind besides that goal, not even the consideration that there could be other enemies within.

The wizard reemerged just in time to see Malcolm take his final, frantic steps before diving back into the caverns. He said nothing, only laughed, while down below the three wagons came rumbling into view.

STATIC

Chapter Eighteen  (E) The Alchemist and Barrister #2190512 by Dan Hiestand