Fireblood
Page 47
“Well, well,” Erasmus muttered, smiling with chagrin. He approached and waved his hand beneath the stone, through the empty air. “I suppose that explains why it never opened for me.”
Annon stared into the black depths, his eyes widening. “It will hover here for a time and then it will close. It will not open again until the next dawn.”
“What is it?” Hettie asked, looking at his face. “You look worried.”
Annon wiped his mouth, his eyes intent. “It is speaking to me.”
“Another spirit?” Paedrin asked, scoffing.
“Yes. There is one trapped down there. I can hear it.”
“What is it saying?” Hettie asked intensely.
Annon looked at her, his eyes widening. “It whispers that I must kill you all.”
“I have great respect for the cunning of the Paracelsus order. I was tempted to join it myself, but I lack the willpower it demands in addition to the physical capacities. Complete abstinence is easier than perfect moderation. While the Archivists record the lessons of the present to be useful to future generations, the Paracelsus order rediscovers the wisdom of the past to be used in the present. These are cunning men. They spend their time feasting on the runes and symbols that have long been forgotten, and they uncover various magics which are useful to mankind. There is a great deal of study regarding heat, power, energy, force, and the properties of various gemstones. They protect their craft with elegant and sophisticated traps. Some Paracelsus have been known to unlock secrets of power that they should not have. It is wise that the order is kept under the close scrutiny of the Arch-Rike of Kenatos.”
– Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
Paedrin snorted. “A friendly spirit you’ve found. How touching. Well, I suppose we should get started.” He approached the lip of the hole, peering down into darkness. He quickly sucked in some breath, feeling himself start to float like the stone itself. Then he stepped over the hole and slowly let his breath out, descending gradually, floating down like a speck of gossamer web.
There was a shaft of light coming from the gaping hole, revealing a depth to the chamber as he descended. It was a cave, nature-made, probably three times as tall as his full height. It expanded away in every direction, making the hole the apex of the chamber. Paedrin floated downward, searching the gloom for signs of disturbance. Much was hidden in the shadows. He was expecting a Paracelsus study, but there were no tables or flasks or cauldrons. No aging books. The floor was made from stone tiles, each one cut and fashioned into a grid-like surface. Beyond the dusty haze of light, he could see very little.
“Some torches would be helpful,” he called up as his feet touched down on the ground.
As if in answer to his suggestion, three lights appeared in the chamber. There were three glass orbs mounted into the walls, and they sparked to life instantly, causing a reddish glare to fill the dark void. They were on opposite sides from one another, as if he stood in the midst of a triangle, with one in front and two in the rear behind him.
“Actually, there is light,” Paedrin said, testing the sturdiness of the floor, for it had begun to tremble. He glanced around the room quickly, trying to adjust his vision. The floor trembled, shuddering, sending little pricks of worry into his stomach. He was as tense as a bowstring, listening, waiting, sensing each breath in his body, each rapid, fluttering heartbeat. The tremors increased.
Turning around quickly, he saw it.
It was a massive hulking shape, made from solid stone. It was easily half as tall as the chamber, vaguely man-shaped with huge, hammer-like arms and enormous trunk legs. It did not walk so much as shift its weight, and it was the shifting that caused the tremors in the floor. It came at him directly. No creature of speech, just a faceless mass of stone, shuddering the entire cave as it moved.
Paedrin did not wait to guess its intention. He darted to the creature’s left and whipped his staff around as hard as he could, gripping one end with both hands to increase the force.
The staff collided with the creature, causing a loud whip-crack sound as the wood struck at its vague, leg-like structures. The power of his blow went all the way back up the shaft and jolted his arms. It was like striking a mountainside.
The creature shifted immediately toward him and continued its lumbering advance.
Paedrin came at it again, whistle-fast, striking it six times in moments. The staff clattered and clacked, but no amount of force he used could even slow the creature. A massive arm wheeled at him, and he ducked it easily, but it made his mouth dry thinking what would happen if it managed to catch him only once.
Annon stared into the black depths, his eyes widening. “It will hover here for a time and then it will close. It will not open again until the next dawn.”
“What is it?” Hettie asked, looking at his face. “You look worried.”
Annon wiped his mouth, his eyes intent. “It is speaking to me.”
“Another spirit?” Paedrin asked, scoffing.
“Yes. There is one trapped down there. I can hear it.”
“What is it saying?” Hettie asked intensely.
Annon looked at her, his eyes widening. “It whispers that I must kill you all.”
“I have great respect for the cunning of the Paracelsus order. I was tempted to join it myself, but I lack the willpower it demands in addition to the physical capacities. Complete abstinence is easier than perfect moderation. While the Archivists record the lessons of the present to be useful to future generations, the Paracelsus order rediscovers the wisdom of the past to be used in the present. These are cunning men. They spend their time feasting on the runes and symbols that have long been forgotten, and they uncover various magics which are useful to mankind. There is a great deal of study regarding heat, power, energy, force, and the properties of various gemstones. They protect their craft with elegant and sophisticated traps. Some Paracelsus have been known to unlock secrets of power that they should not have. It is wise that the order is kept under the close scrutiny of the Arch-Rike of Kenatos.”
– Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
Paedrin snorted. “A friendly spirit you’ve found. How touching. Well, I suppose we should get started.” He approached the lip of the hole, peering down into darkness. He quickly sucked in some breath, feeling himself start to float like the stone itself. Then he stepped over the hole and slowly let his breath out, descending gradually, floating down like a speck of gossamer web.
There was a shaft of light coming from the gaping hole, revealing a depth to the chamber as he descended. It was a cave, nature-made, probably three times as tall as his full height. It expanded away in every direction, making the hole the apex of the chamber. Paedrin floated downward, searching the gloom for signs of disturbance. Much was hidden in the shadows. He was expecting a Paracelsus study, but there were no tables or flasks or cauldrons. No aging books. The floor was made from stone tiles, each one cut and fashioned into a grid-like surface. Beyond the dusty haze of light, he could see very little.
“Some torches would be helpful,” he called up as his feet touched down on the ground.
As if in answer to his suggestion, three lights appeared in the chamber. There were three glass orbs mounted into the walls, and they sparked to life instantly, causing a reddish glare to fill the dark void. They were on opposite sides from one another, as if he stood in the midst of a triangle, with one in front and two in the rear behind him.
“Actually, there is light,” Paedrin said, testing the sturdiness of the floor, for it had begun to tremble. He glanced around the room quickly, trying to adjust his vision. The floor trembled, shuddering, sending little pricks of worry into his stomach. He was as tense as a bowstring, listening, waiting, sensing each breath in his body, each rapid, fluttering heartbeat. The tremors increased.
Turning around quickly, he saw it.
It was a massive hulking shape, made from solid stone. It was easily half as tall as the chamber, vaguely man-shaped with huge, hammer-like arms and enormous trunk legs. It did not walk so much as shift its weight, and it was the shifting that caused the tremors in the floor. It came at him directly. No creature of speech, just a faceless mass of stone, shuddering the entire cave as it moved.
Paedrin did not wait to guess its intention. He darted to the creature’s left and whipped his staff around as hard as he could, gripping one end with both hands to increase the force.
The staff collided with the creature, causing a loud whip-crack sound as the wood struck at its vague, leg-like structures. The power of his blow went all the way back up the shaft and jolted his arms. It was like striking a mountainside.
The creature shifted immediately toward him and continued its lumbering advance.
Paedrin came at it again, whistle-fast, striking it six times in moments. The staff clattered and clacked, but no amount of force he used could even slow the creature. A massive arm wheeled at him, and he ducked it easily, but it made his mouth dry thinking what would happen if it managed to catch him only once.
