Firebrand

Chapter 507: On the Threshold

On the Threshold

Moving through the sewers alongside the small stream of fetid water, they had to walk like pearls on a string. Atreus had taken the lead with Martel second, Eleanor third, and Maximilian bringing up the rear.

"What if she's not in the catacombs?" Martel asked, voicing the fear that had plagued him ever since they stepped into the sewers. He had made the claim that she would seek refuge in the catacombs; if they wasted their time down here while she hid elsewhere, allowing her to make her escape, it would be his fault.

"If she's not, I'll have to work hard to pick up her trail again." Atreus looked over his shoulder to give a reassuring smile. "Your reasoning is sound, friend. A maleficar like her is an accomplished necromancer, so hiding out among the dead, who can be conscripted to protect her while she is asleep and defenceless, makes excellent sense. And should she have gone elsewhere, the chances I would discover where always seemed slim. This is as good a place to search for her as any."

"The last time you faced her… How did your fight go? Before everything went awry."

"We never got that far. I went straight to disrupt a ritual, and that was the end."

"But you know what kind of spells she possesses?"

"I have fought other maleficars, and leechcraft works much the same." He glanced over his shoulder again. "Make sure to keep your distance. It is better that you flee than risk becoming a victim." From the rear, Maximilian made a manner of disgruntled noise.

"How does it work? Although we had lessons on this, our teacher knew precious little."

"As I've never practised it, my knowledge is also limited," Atreus admitted. "Magic can connect people for good or ill. Healing is such a bond, raw power passing from one person to another. Leechcraft is the reverse, though it can be resisted – and spellbreakers have our own secret ways to deal with it. It requires touch, hence why you must all keep away from her."

"How much further?" came Maximilian's voice. "The amount of miles I have walked in these sewers because of you, Nordmark, would astound Sol himself."

"Max, you've been to the catacombs before," Martel pointed out. "You know how far it is."

"You think I have marked my time spent here?"

"It is nearby," Eleanor interjected. "The entrance is up there."

She was right; the doorway loomed to the side of the tunnel. Furthermore, broken boards lay on the ground. "Someone else came this way," Atreus remarked. "From here on out, we should be careful."

"I have chalk to mark our route," Martel said. "It's a labyrinth in there."

"How will we even find this witch?" Maximilian growled.

"We won't. But she'll have brought the jinni back to watch over her, I'm sure. We just have to find that," Atreus declared. With those words, he crossed the threshold to enter the catacombs.

They kept the same formation as before. On the walls, the ancient Archean letters greeted them, creating a barrier that kept the undead from leaving their subterranean resting place. None of them noticed that new letters had been added.

***

They did not speak as they walked. Martel had summoned two flames to illuminate the path ahead and behind; whenever he glanced to the side, the flickering light showed him the alcoves filled with the dead.

Each time the path forked, Atreus would stop for a moment before choosing one or the other path. Behind him, Martel would mark their route with his chalk, and their progress could continue. They did not question the spellbreaker's choices; to the young wizards, one trail seemed as good as the other.

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Martel kept his senses strained for any sign of enemies, though it was of limited use. In the dark, he could not see much beyond the small area illuminated by his flames. All he heard was the constant jangling made by the armour worn by the two mageknights behind him. As for his nose, the whole place reeked, which did not tell him much. The only sense that might be useful was that born of magic; every now and then, he reached out to feel for any sources of heat far ahead, whether coming from a witch or a jinni.

Suddenly, Atreus stopped. They were in the middle of the tunnel with no other parts, and the others looked at him in confusion. "I sense something," he muttered, closing his eyes.

Martel extended his magic, but he felt no heat other than that of his companions. As for the mageknights, Maximilian raised his hammer while Eleanor pulled the golden dagger from her belt. "Bad place to fight," he growled. "No room to manoeuvre."

"If it is that spirit he senses, I'm sure it will happily come to us," Eleanor muttered.

A start went through Martel as he felt something cold grip his wrist. Looking down, he saw a skeleton move up from its resting place in the alcove, reaching out its other hand as well. All around them, the undead began to rise.

***

Martel released a fire bolt into the skull of his attacker. It did not deter the undead creature, who used its other hand like claws to slice Martel's arm open. Another fire bolt into the rib cage finally broke the dark magic reanimating the skeleton, and the bones fell back to the ground.

There was no time to feel elated; from every alcove around them, the undead appeared. Martel's companions had their own struggles; Eleanor wielded the golden dagger to some effect, though their assailants pressed her on all sides. Maximilian had better luck; his hammer crushed bone with ease. One skeleton only got its skull out of the alcove before a blow turned it into dust.

On Martel's other side, Atreus had picked up a femur and wielded it like a club. Trusting the mageknights to fight side-by-side, Martel turned to stand back to back with the spellbreaker. He released a ray of fire into the nearest alcove, burning everything inside. "Well done!" Atreus complimented him, though Martel wondered how he knew with his back turned. contemporary romance

As swiftly as it had begun, the skirmish was over. Another fire spell, a handful of blows, and all the undead creatures resumed their eternal rest. Martel breathed heavily, surprised at how easily it had gone. While he and Eleanor had received some scratches, nobody had been seriously injured. "Was that her? Did she do this?" Martel looked at Atreus.

The spellbreaker shook his head. "She would not have relented so easily, or she would have taken advantage of the confusion to make her own assault. No, we simply happened to disturb the slumber of these long-dead souls, resting uneasily. We should continue."

"I rather enjoyed that," Maximilian confessed. Eleanor gave him a disapproving look. "What? Their skulls make a satisfying sound when you smash them."

***

They continued down the twisting corridors, all of them quiet and alert. The deeper they went in, the more nervous Martel felt. He knew the fight that lay ahead would be far more dangerous than the quick brawl they had just endured. The jinni alone was a formidable foe, and from how Atreus described her, the witch was worse. Some part of him knew that if their search ended in vain, he would secretly be relieved; the rest of him felt ashamed thinking this.

"There it is again." Atreus halted in his tracks, closing his eyes.

The others looked around at any sign of moving bones.

"Not the undead. No, this is more sinister magic. Chains upon a spirit, turning it to fury and despair." He opened his eyes again. "Martel, extinguish your light. Our enemy is near. From here on, we move in silence. And when we have sight of our adversary, remember to stay back. I shall engage her alone."

The others nodded; Martel allowed his flames to dissipate, plunging the tunnels back in the aeon-old darkness they usually knew. He extended his magic to feel the heat of his companions instead now that his sight had been blinded; in front of him, Atreus began walking once more.

They seemed to have reached an arm of the underground complex; the tunnel no longer twisted and turned, nor did it branch into several directions. They walked slowly and carefully, one hand extended against the stone wall to guide them.

Focusing on the shape of Atreus ahead of him, Martel did not notice it at first. But at length, he caught the flicker of something in the distance. He placed a hand on Atreus' shoulder to alert the spellbreaker and saw the outline of his head nod in recognition.

Closing his magical eye, Martel looked with his ordinary vision to see the light of torches or lamps. More than one, and spread out to suggest a much larger room.

Atreus gestured for them all to stop. The mageknights stepped as close as they could, standing behind Martel. The spellbreaker reached out to touch the hilt of their weapons, indicating to keep them ready. He touched Martel's shoulder as the last, giving it a squeeze before he turned around. Silently and slowly, they continued; the mageknights tread as cautiously as they could, minimising any sound from their armour.

The tunnel opened up to reveal a large burial chamber with the expected alcoves along the walls; in the far end stood a sarcophagus on a dais. Near it, the jinni hovered in the air. On the ground in front of it, a woman sat, mumbling chants while bent over strange symbols scratched into the stone floor. Softly, they glowed with yellow light.