Revelation Read online

  Slow and steady the broken cliffs of the Shattered Hills rose up in front of them like the mangled teeth of some wild beast. The four companions continued to follow the edge of the forest, trudging through the frozen land. Aaron pointed out what appeared to be some sort of campsite in the distance, the remnants of the Third Order.

  “That’s the last resting place for the regiment,” Lorik said, his voice choked with grief. Shredded tents flapped in the afternoon breeze while the scent of death hung heavy in the air.

  They entered the frayed remains of the circle of tents and saw to their horror the evidence of troll activity. No bodies remained intact, only the decaying bits of torn flesh. The tents were thoroughly scavenged, not even a tinder box or flint stick remained. Aaron walked around the camp, knuckles white as he gripped the hilt of his sword, horrified at the scene that surrounded him. He had no time to mourn, though his gut wrenched in anguish. Aaron knew they needed to get to the cave; he turned to his sergeant. “Lorik,” he asked as his voice cracked with anger, “where do we go from here?”

  Lorik, his eyes downcast as he moved through the scene, was slow to answer his captain. “East,” he returned, “we must move east into the hills. There is a ravine that leads directly to the entrance. It is about a half-day’s ride. We didn’t ride swift, so I don’t think that it will be much more than that on foot… if we step up the pace.”

  Anger coursed through Aaron’s veins with each beat of his heart. He set his eyes eastward and turned his back on the devastation around him. The other three followed, each one having to hurry to catch up with the captain.

  Quickly the old camp was lost in the hazy distance behind them as they entered the high razor rocks of the Shattered Hills. The corridor that Lorik had traveled before now stood in front of them. Apprehension filled their small group, and the anxiety of finding trolls waiting for them in the distance dominated Aaron’s thoughts. Taking a deep breath, he led the men into the Shattered Hills and along the stony path.

  Daylight lingered as they strode up through the ravine. Though try as it might, the sun could do nothing to warm the region. Aaron hoped they would arrive at the entrance to the underground passage before nightfall, before any trolls would venture out into the open air. Lorik walked with Aaron and guided them through the canyon, ignoring smaller passages that trailed off into unknown directions, and kept to the main path that wound its way into the heart of the Shattered Hills. Garam and Braden walked close behind them. Aaron kept pace with his sergeant and could only hope their passage through the maze would go unnoticed.

  They arrived at a round, broad area just as the sun touched the tips of the western mountains. Large, beautiful rays of red and purple ignited the sky and illuminated the clouds with their brilliant colors. A gentle snow began falling, and lit their surroundings with thousands of flickering lamps as each flake reflected the last light of the setting sun. Before them, like a gaping maw, stood the entrance to the underground passage. Littered all about the small dead end lay the tell-tale signs of the soldier’s encampment, an urgent reminder of the danger that lurked in the shadows. Strips of canvas from several tents remained scattered along the ground and the blood of the soldiers and trolls still stained the rock floor. Very little else was left to indicate the presence of the guardsmen, only a lone cloak half buried in snow.

  Aaron peered into the cave. In the fading dusk he could see steep, narrow stairs leading down into the waiting darkness. Without any light he knew that they could do nothing more than fumble along in the dark underground corridors and try to find their way through. It was a prospect that chilled him more than the cold, winter air.

  “Garam,” Aaron whispered, “could you use your power to light some branches? We will be lost in the darkness of these ancient catacombs without it.” The dwarf nodded in response and each man quickly found a large branch to be used as a makeshift torch.

  The sun continued its descent behind the Shadow Mountains, darkness filling the small cul-de-sac. In the shadows just beyond them, a low, rumbling growl was heard, menacing and growing louder. Somewhere to the west a response came, this time very loud and near, rumbling up from the canyon that brought them to the cave. Braden quickly drew his axe, wary of a surprise attack in the growing darkness. Garam was busy trying to ignite a flame from a branch of wood that he had uncovered, and was unaware of a large shadowy figure that loomed up behind him.

  Without warning the creature roared with such ferocity that Garam was paralyzed with fear. Rising up behind the dwarf, the large, hairy figure lifted a massive club ready to crush Garam’s head. Swiftly, Braden leapt to his companion’s aid, swinging his axe with lightning quickness. He severed the arm off the creature, which howled in raging pain. Then Braden grabbed Garam, pulling him out of the reach of the troll, and rushed headlong for the cave’s entrance. Lorik and Aaron fended off another, striking the creature as it tried to bash Lorik with its knobby club. Lorik reached in with one thrust and ran the troll through the chest, dropping the creature with a single strike.

  In the darkness, the ravenous howls of the trolls echoed as more of the vile beasts drew near the party. “Hurry!” shouted Aaron as he thrust each member of the group into the dark cave. No one asked any questions as each one rushed through the entrance and into the dark passage beyond.

  2

  Into the Shattered Hills

  The cold, stone tunnel immediately engulfed the party in frigid darkness. The walls and stairs were slick with moisture, making it difficult to navigate the ancient path, but there was no going back. At the entrance to the ancient catacombs the cries and howls of the trolls reverberated through the air with the ferocity of hungry beasts. A low ceiling forced Aaron and Lorik to take extreme caution. Lorik found out the hard way as he struck his head against the top of the cave, collapsing to his knees and nearly tumbling down the stairs. Outside, the sun had dipped beyond the horizon leaving the passageway in utter darkness. Groping along the cold, damp wall, the four companions stopped several yards below the entrance needing a chance to regroup.

  “What now, Captain?” Braden asked, his voice trembling.

  Aaron looked around but could see nothing, not even the faces of his companions though he could reach out and touch each one of them. The cold, damp rock of the cave left Aaron chilled to the bone as he spoke into the darkness, “Garam, you said that we should take this path and now we’re here. We’ve got to keep moving but we can’t do it in the dark, groping along like four blind rats.” Garam huffed in acknowledgment and Aaron continued. “Can you cast a light on our situation?”

  “Not without something to burn. I can’t just burn air.” Garam’s voice was strained with anxiety.

  “Captain!” Braden exclaimed, “we’ve got to get out of here!”

  “Let’s not begin to panic.” Aaron tried to keep his voice calm, matter-of-fact. “Let’s try to find something we can use… an old torch or some broken wood, anything that will give us some light.”

  “These tunnels were used hundreds of years ago,” Garam replied. “I can’t imagine that we will find anything.”

  Aaron, frustrated and wanting to get moving, replied, “There might be an old torch still hanging on these walls.” In the dark blackness of the cold tunnel the other three voiced their agreement. Aaron, himself, was reluctant, but forced by necessity he crawled along the wall to try and find something to light their path.

  He felt along the cold stone, creeping down the stairs with no light. The dwarves stepped with care, more adept to seeing in the dark hall, but Aaron and Lorik groped on hands and knees like blind men in the dismal cavern. Slowly they searched, and even the dwarves with their keen eyesight grumbled about the darkness and difficulty of the stairs. Anxiety grew and Aaron sensed a deepening dread growing in his companions. He listened to the shuffling sounds as they searched along the stairwell.

  ****

  Lorik pressed his hands against the cold, damp wall as he inched his way deeper into the catacomb. A
chill gust of wind whistled through the cavernous ruins adding its eerie voice to the already dreadful experience. It sent a chill up his spine as the breath of wind seemed to carry the whisper of a spectral voice. He fumbled along on his hands and knees, panic welling up inside, his fingers desperately searching for a torch on the cold wall. His knees ached as he crawled along, not wanting to slip in the dark and be lost in the murky blackness. The thought of traveling through the deserted halls as well as the fear of what unseen evil lurked in the shadows began to overwhelm him. He thought he heard the sound of whispering voices, calling to one another in the depths beyond. Shaking his head, and mustering the remnants of his courage, he continued feeling along the walls in a frantic search for some item to use as a light.

  Braden was nearby, having descended the stairs just behind the sergeant. Though the dwarf was no more than ten feet away, Lorik could not see him for the consuming darkness. He could hear Braden’s breathing, shallow and rapid, and was concerned for his companion. “Braden?” Barely more than a whisper, Lorik’s voice resonated off the stone walls, amplifying the sound.

  Braden was glad to hear the sergeant’s voice. “I’m here,” he said. “I’m all right.”

  “Keep calm,” Lorik whispered, “we’ll find our way out of this mess.”

  ****

  Garam sat trembling in the dark. He had moved his way farther up the passage, closer to the entrance in the hope that there would be some light filtering in. Somewhere below, in the pitch-black of the cavern, he could hear the muffled voices of Lorik and Braden.

  When Garam reached the entrance, the sound of trolls growling just outside warned him of the dangers of venturing too far. His hope for some light was snuffed out as clouds had rolled in off the mountains, shrouding the stars and moon with their thick canopy. Like a hammer in his chest, Garam could feel the pounding of his own heart. From somewhere deep in the cavern, carried on the air like the whisper of a wind, Garam thought he could hear another, breathy voice in the cold, damp air. It chilled his blood and froze his bones. His purpose forced him to take the road through the Desolation of Charis, he had no choice. His only hope, now, was to trust to his luck and his companions who were somewhere in the abyss with him.

  Sitting there, Garam recalled the conversation he had with Lord Dunstan. He was sent to regain the Book of Aleth and bring it back to Brekken Dahl; but despite the dwarf-lord’s command, the counselor had other ideas. Garam hated the race of men for driving his people into hiding. He wanted to use the Book of Aleth to crush the vaunted emperor of Celedon once and for all, perhaps even putting a dwarf on the throne—maybe even himself! He would use his companions and cast them aside when the Book of Aleth was finally his. Though he feared what lurked in the shadows of the ancient catacombs, he had to travel through them to get to his prize. Garam only hoped that he and his companions would go unnoticed.

  ****

  Without warning, Aaron gripped Garam’s shoulder. Frightened, the dwarf jumped and struck his head against the low ceiling. Aaron, stooping in the confined space, stepped back, “Whoa, there! I didn’t mean to startle you.” He steadied himself against the cold stone wall and continued, “I wanted to tell you that I have found two old torches.” He felt for Garam’s hand and placed one of the firebrands into the dwarf’s palm.

  “Sorry, Captain,” Garam replied, “I guess I am quite jumpy in these dark halls, what with the whispers in the corridor below.”

  “Whispers?” questioned Aaron. “All I hear is the sound of the other two still stumbling below us somewhere.”

  “You don’t hear what sounds like murmuring coming up from the depths?”

  Aaron paused to listen, but all he heard, deeper in the cavern, was the sound of Lorik and Braden searching along the walls. “Try and light one of these torches,” Aaron requested, “this darkness has made us all a little anxious.”

  Garam turned to his assigned task, cupping the head of the torch into the palm of his hands. He softly spoke the words that would bring the torch alive with fire. As Garam did, the air carried a hint of warmth as a small flame issued from his palms and leapt onto the waiting brand. It burst into flame in a flash and shattered the darkness with its light. Aaron had to cover his eyes from the initial brightness, having grown used to the dark. Garam heaved a rather large sigh of relief as the torch came to life, its beacon illuminating the stairwell and bringing to light the two others some twenty yards down the tunnel. Lorik cheered, and Braden raised his hands in appreciation.

  Aaron didn’t want to dismiss Garam’s fear, but was doubtful that the aged dwarf heard any voice from the darkness. He looked at the anxious dwarf. “Do you hear anything, any whispers?”

  Garam listened. “No,” he said, “but I’m sure there was a voice—a voice other than ours.” He took a deep breath, stood and lifted the torch to light the path. They ventured downward, descending into the bowels of the Shattered Hills, taking their first steps through the ruins of the catacombs.

  Aaron cautiously urged them onward. Torchlight glistened off damp, cold stones, illuminating the passage with a kaleidoscope of flickering reflections. Pale-green growth, like a slimy moss, grew along the walls and steps, making the stairwell slick and dangerous to traverse. The cramped tunnel delved deep into the earth, winding and turning through the rock. Cold, damp air drew up from below them with the stale, musty smell of an ancient tomb. Aaron kept them in a tight group so that each remained in the circle of torchlight as they moved downward into the ancient ruins.

  It felt as if an age had passed when they finally reached the base of the stairwell which opened into a vast, cavernous hall. Aaron peered into the darkness, with Lorik by his side.

  How far down do you think we came, Captain?” Lorik asked.

  “We’ve descended a long way, several hundred feet, I suspect,” Aaron said, his voice echoing in the large, empty room. Their torch blazed with light, reflecting off various objects nearby but unable to illuminate the entirety of the massive hall. Large, broken statues littered the floor along with many fractured remnants of the vast ceiling. “Let’s split up to search for the exit,” the captain said. “We need to find our way through these tunnels as quickly as possible.”

  Garam tapped Aaron on the back. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to their left. They could see two small lights glowing faintly somewhere in the far reaches of the great hall. From their right came a gentle breath of air which caused the torch to flicker and made shadows dance on the walls.

  Aaron stared intently at the two glowing orbs. “I…” he paused. “I have no idea what those two lights might be. They seem low to the ground, and they’re not moving.” Though he whispered, his voice still echoed in the vacuous chamber. Aaron brought the sight to Lorik’s attention.

  The sergeant stared at the two crimson lights. “Braden,” he whispered, “what can you see?”

  “Not much from this distance. I’ll need to get closer to check it out.” With that, Braden handed all he was carrying to Garam and silently disappeared into the shadows. As the other three were watching, without hearing a sound, one light went out then the other. Minutes later Braden returned from out of the darkness into the glow of the torchlight, a sly smile crossing his features.

  “Well,” asked Lorik, “what did you find?”

  Reaching into his tunic, Braden pulled out two small, crimson orbs, glowing brightly in his hands. “Only these,” he said with a hint of self-approval. “I found them near two men who seemed to have been killed some time ago.”

  “Those are illumine stones!” Garam exclaimed. However, the dwarf was visibly agitated. “Two men were killed down here? Who were they? Could you tell what killed them?”

  “No. One had his head separated from his neck; the other looked as if he was run through the chest. By their clothing I would guess that they were both mages, wizards perhaps,” Braden said. “They’ve been dead for quite some time; their bodies have decayed almost beyond recognition.”

  “
So that’s what that smell is,” Lorik remarked. “Did you see anything else?”

  “No, nothing,” Braden said.

  “All right, we’ve been fortunate. Now that we have a continual source of light, we need to discover the passage through these halls,” Aaron said. “Lorik, you and Braden go left… Garam and I will explore to the right. Whoever finds the exit, give a signal.”

  Lorik and Braden stepped off together, with Braden holding up one of the small glowing stones. They disappeared into the damp, cold darkness of the hall. Aaron watched as the two vanished from his sight, only the bobbing and weaving of the stone gave an indication where they were. Garam stood next to Aaron still holding the torch. They began exploring to the right of the stairwell. With the bright, glowing stone in his hand, Aaron led the way through the hall. He looked down at his shorter companion and noticed a hesitation in the dwarf’s eyes.

  “What is it, Garam?” Aaron asked.

  “Captain,” Garam’s voice trembled as he spoke. “Can’t you feel it? There is something watching us.” His eyes darted back and forth under his heavy brow.

  Aaron looked around, but all he could see was the light of the other two searching the opposite end of the hall. Aaron watched as the distant light winked on and off as the two passed behind various pillars and other stone objects but he could sense no other presence. “There are only the four of us down here.” Aaron attempted to keep his voice calm and confident, eager to reassure his companion. “I don’t see anything that would make me think there is something or someone else with us.”

  “Captain, think,” Garam retorted. “What could have killed two wizards? There must be something alive down here… a hidden evil. Legends speak of a guardian who dwells in the ancient ruins of Charis. The old stories speak of a creature that exists only in shadows and remains veiled until it attacks its prey. I didn’t believe it at first, but those two dead bodies speak a strong warning in my heart. Some call it a wraith—a creature of darkness that uses its ability to blend in with the shadows to catch its victims unaware.”