Into Forbidden Lands

Malco and Scald reached for the oars.

“No need for those, hoist the sail instead,” Azulya instructed.

Scald frowned, looking out at the perfect mirror of water that surrounded them.

“What use is that when there is no wind?” he protested, but did as she asked.

The sail hung limply in the still air.

Azulya positioned herself at the rudder, inhaled deeply and breathed into the sail.

The lines snapped taut as the sail filled out.

The boat leapt forward. It picked up speed rapidly and was soon gliding across the unruffled waters, racing towards their goal.

Illiom found herself wondering if she would ever see Tarmel again. She faced Igollianath’s cloud with stoic determination, even as tears traced rivulets down her cheeks.

The boat continued to glide silently over the calm sea, while ahead the cloud grew nearer.

Illiom eventually closed her eyes and focused on the feelings that were arising within her. Fear, wondering, determination and sadness were all present, but there was also an underlying certainty that their journey was coming to an end.

“Undina!”

Elan’s cry shook Illiom out of her reverie.

The Pelonui was leaning over the side of the boat, fingers trailing through the water, enraptured by whatever it was she saw within its depths. Her eyes were lustrous with longing.

Illiom peered over the side and immediately saw what had captivated the tribal girl.

The inky waters parted occasionally to give tantalising glimpses of a luminous land, lit as if by the morning sun. They passed over tall spires of burnished gold and copper, and colourful banners trailing languidly in the currents. Schools of iridescent fish darted between the ornate structures.

Illiom watched fascinated as a school of fish swam up towards them, but as they rose she realised that they were actually human forms. Supple young men and women, draped in loose, flowing garments, swam gracefully up to meet them.

A choir of melodious voices filled her heart and mind.

Come weary travellers, sang the folk of light and water. Come to Sterecklahomn, the jewel of the Western Kingdoms. Come and rest with us for a while…

The call tugged at Illiom irresistibly. It took a great effort of will to wrench her attention away, for this was clearly what the Keeper had warned them against.

She turned to see Undina climbing over the gunwale to join the alluring folk below. With a cry Illiom lunged, but Scald quickly pounced on the girl and, aided by Azulya and Malco, the three dragged a struggling Undina away from the brink.

The beautiful creatures below the waves continued to reach up towards them.

Come! they implored. Come! Do not fear…

Their voices continued to seduce, but the hands that reached out of the water to clutch at the gunwale were the decomposing, skeletal remains of bodies ravaged by death and time.

The boat lurched under the sudden weight.

Scald and Malco still held onto a weeping Undina.

Azulya pointed at the skulls and the rot that they encased.

“Look, Undina! Look!”

The tribal girl gasped in horror, shocked by the betrayal of her senses.

As more of the ancient corpses latched onto the gunwale, the boat began to list to one side.

Sereth used an oar to beat off the dead and after a moment the rest joined him in the gruesome task. Soon nothing hindered their forward motion and Azulya’s magical wind sped the boat towards their destination once more.

The song of the dead continued for a time but gradually grew fainter, until it ceased altogether.

Up ahead, beneath the cloud, the sea’s surface churned furiously.

The cloud appeared immense. A thousand spans above the sea, it was a dark mass, torn by flashes of green lightning and battered by a continuous rumble of explosions.

When the boat’s prow first touched the turbulence it was lifted into the air and violently slammed back down. Nevertheless, Azulya kept the sail billowing as she steered them in the direction they needed to maintain.

The world fell into premature darkness, robbing the party of the ability to see what lay ahead. When a dark mass of rock loomed before them, it took every ounce of Azulya’s determination to prevent them from crashing against it.

“We are doing this all wrong!” Azulya screamed. “We need to meld! We need to work together!”

She was right. How could they have forgotten? They could only survive this onslaught by merging their combined skills.

Deprived of Azulya’s attention, the sail succumbed to the buffeting winds, flapping frantically this way and that.

But the meld had already begun.

Illiom felt Undina still the waters around them until they floated in a pool of tranquillity, while the Bloodrobes’ storm lashed harmlessly around them. Azulya summoned a wind that cleared the cloud from the immediate vicinity, and Illiom’s light glowed like a miniature sun, illuminating their way once more. Sereth and Malco worked together to keep the lightning from incinerating their craft.

They passed beneath the shadows of two stone isles before the unmistakable peak of Mount Igol rose suddenly before them. It seemed to Illiom as if the forbidding mountain had just emerged from the waters of the cursed sea. Black as night, drenched in spray, it jutted upwards to plunge into the cloud that shrouded its summit.

They steered the boat around the mountain-isle to find the fissure that marked its entry, just as Illiom had seen in her Muliahan induced vision.

They approached cautiously, dwarfed by the staggering height of the opening, and were soon swallowed up by the cavernous dark space beyond.

Illiom’s light flared with renewed fire. Even so, it was insufficient to illuminate the vast cavern. Someone, or something, had carved the walls of this water-hall with all manner of demonic figures which revealed themselves as the travellers journeyed further in.

The deeper they went the calmer the waters grew, and the din of the storm thrashing the outside world receded until it was no more than a murmur. Finally, the dark waters lapped up against a sheer wall and the boat slowed to a crawl.

“Now what?” Sereth asked.

Illiom moved her light in the darkness as the group peered around.

“Stair that is?” asked Undina, indicating a section half in shadow.

They turned the boat in that direction.

It was indeed a stairway, almost invisible until they drew close. It hugged the sheer wall and climbed into the dark reaches beyond the range of Illiom’s light.

The boat’s timbers groaned as they brought the vessel alongside it.

Malco leapt the narrow gap and was soon followed by Sereth and Illiom. Together the three held the boat fast while the others disembarked.

“It also goes down,” Malco observed, nodding to where the steps vanished into the water.

As there was no way of tethering the boat, they abandoned it and began the long climb up the steep stairway.

“I do not understand,” Elan murmured. “We should be heading down, not up, only we cannot…”

Scald turned at her comment.

“Why down?”

“One of the Fragments states that Sudra placed the Orb within the roots of the mountain.”

Scald glanced down at the water with raised eyebrows.

“All we can do is follow the path that is open to us,” Azulya remarked. “And for now we can only go up.”

They reached a landing with an opening leading deeper into the mountain. The stairway continued to ascend, but they were all of one mind – that they should explore this entry.

The passage spilled them into a tunnel. Its left branch descended and they decided to investigate this one first, but had to turn back when they found it flooded.

“If this keeps happening we may have to learn to breathe water,” Sereth mused.

”Maybe we should send Undina down to explore?” Malco suggested.

Azulya shook her head.

“We are staying together.”

They doubled back and followed the tunnel’s upward branch. The tedious climb was interrupted by occasional side passages which, at first, they explored to ensure they were not missing anything important. However, as these all led to empty chambers without exits, they continued on upwards.

The tunnel finally ended at a circular balcony surrounding a broad vertical shaft.

“This just keeps getting better and better,” Sereth said sarcastically as he stepped up to the stone balustrade and looked down into the pit. Both below and above the balcony, the shaft vanished into darkness.

Several openings, identical to the one they had just emerged from, yawned darkly around the balcony.

“Twenty-seven doorways,” counted Malco. “No lack of choice.”

Each entrance was marked with a different glyph, carved on the stone lintel above it, but the symbols were meaningless to them, so they ignored them. Scald, however, walked from doorway to doorway, carefully studying each mark.

“What are you doing?” Elan asked.

“I am memorising them,” Scald replied.

“How can you possibly remember them all?”

Scald turned and beamed at the priestess.

“You forget that I am an artist. I have a good memory for shape and form.”

When Scald was done they chose a passage at random and followed it to a large circular hall, lined with dozens of entryways.

It is so quiet. We have not come across a single living creature, Illiom thought. She realised that although no one had mentioned this, the others must also be aware of it.

This lack of opposition disturbed her. It seemed far too easy.

“I want us to meld,” she said suddenly.

They all agreed that it was worth the attempt.

Illiom allowed the now familiar feeling of union to wash through her. In this, there was no need for language or thought. It was enough to be present.

At first nothing happened. The sense of oneness was all there was. That was compelling enough and completely absorbing. Illiom melted into the experience and knew that the others were doing the same.

Then suddenly, without any striving, the path they were meant to follow revealed itself. Not in a visual sense, but as a deep knowing. Some of the openings around them felt right – the rest felt wrong.

The party pressed on and although they were no longer melded, their new-found discernment remained.

A short time later they came across the first human remains.

At first they were not sure what the chalky white sediment was, but eventually they found a skeleton that had not been entirely reduced to dust.

As they continued on they discovered more remains of those who once lived in the mountain. Some still lay in their beds, caught by death whilst asleep; others were scattered through the silent passages.

They passed laboratories whose doors had long since rotted, exposing a clutter of unidentifiable rods, spheres and other strange, heavily tarnished instruments. In one chamber, shards of pale blue glass lay strewn across the floor amidst the splatter of ancient stains that had corroded the smooth pavement, leaving a mark for all time.

Exhaustion gradually set in and they opted to rest as soon as they reached an empty chamber. By then, Illiom had lost all track of time and had no idea if it was day or night.

They had been climbing through the mountain’s core for what seemed an eternity and had not passed a single opening to the outside world; yet, throughout the climb, Illiom had felt the brush of air upon her cheek.

They ate before settling down to sleep. Malco, being the only one with Ward training, offered to take first watch, but he needed Illiom’s light in order to see.

“Will this suffice?” asked Sereth, as a flame as tall as he materialised in the centre of the room.

As the light danced across their astonished faces, he grinned.

“I need the practice.”

“Where in Hel did you learn to do that?” Scald exclaimed, outraged.

Sereth’s grin widened.

“Remember on the Diamantine, when the sails of that Kroeni ship burst into flames?”

“And you never said anything until now?”

“Oh? And what about you, Scald? What is your little secret?”

The other scowled and turned away.

Despite Illiom’s tiredness, sleep was a reluctant visitor. When she finally did succumb, it seemed only moments before Malco awakened her. She groaned and was about to rise, when he brought a finger to his lips.

“Listen,” he whispered.

Illiom was instantly awake, senses straining.

After a few moments she heard it: a deep, distant rhythmic sound, not much louder than her own heartbeat. She felt its pulse through the stone beneath her.

“What is it?” she asked.

Malco shook his head.

“I have no idea,” he admitted softly. “It has only just begun, but I need to rest. If anything happens, wake me immediately.”

Malco lay down upon the stone floor and closed his eyes.

Illiom’s thoughts were filled with Tarmel. She stretched her senses out to him.

He is safe, she thought. He is with friends, with Argolan and that Keeper. They are safer than we.

These things she told herself, but her need to connect with him pushed her further.

She closed her eyes and remembered the cliff and the cave, the eerily still waters of the Onceland Sea, Irrsche’s glow contesting Sudra’s in the sky.

As she envisioned these things something else seemed to take control of what she was seeing. She had imagined night, but day forced itself upon her vision.

The sea was no longer still. Huge breakers smashed against the cliffs. Irrsche and Iod were both in the sky, and the air was tarnished with a dull miasma, a bloodied fog that crept over the waves and clung to the face of the cliffs.

Illiom made her way towards the cave where they had found their boat. Moving like a wraith she slipped into the darkness within and there they were, some asleep whilst the others kept a silent vigil.

Tarmel sat apart, jaw clenched, eyes riveted to the cavern’s entrance.

She reached for him.

He pulled back startled when she touched his face.

He brought his hand up to his cheek and then looked at his fingers in astonishment.

She clamped down on her longing to speak, to let him know that she was there with him. There was no point, it would not help him.

Her heart full of sadness, Illiom let the vision fade.

Being apart from Tarmel felt unbearable, but she forced herself back to the situation at hand, steeling herself against her traitorous mind.

Azulya was the first to stir.

She sat up, her face creased in a puzzled frown. It took Illiom a moment to understand why.

She had grown so used to the rhythmic sound pulsing around her that it had become inaudible, but Azulya was hearing it for the first time.

Illiom shrugged and shook her head to show her ignorance.

Within a short time, they were once more on the move. They travelled up through the mountain, accompanied by the subliminal pulse of the mountain’s heartbeat.

Time became meaningless.

Three more times they stopped to rest and snatch a measure of sleep before continuing. When change finally came, it fell upon them like a predator.

They heard it first – a whistling sound that rose and fell erratically. Soon afterwards, the long broad passage they had been following seemed to suddenly end.

Illiom’s werelight illumined nothing beyond.

They slowed their advance, moving cautiously forward.

A cold blast of air stung Illiom’s face and she clasped her cloak around her.

The passage opened onto the side of the mountain and beyond it was the blackness of night itself. She could see nothing. Shrouded both by night and the miasmic cloud, Illiom’s werelight could barely illumine the cloud’s drifting vapours, swirling around them like wraiths.

Outside, the path continued, splitting in two: the right descending and the left ascending.

They did not pause, but followed the left branch, continuing their climb.

What a daunting walkway this was! It reminded Illiom of the Serp – the road that led to the top of Varadon’s Keep – the only differences being that this was about half as wide and had no barrier between the walkers and the void. There were no hand holds, just a smooth wall of stone on one side and a bottomless chasm on the other.

A gusty wind tugged at the climbers, as though intent on casting them over the precipice’s edge. Their rate of progress slowed to a crawl.

Occasionally their passage tunnelled through a spur of natural rock that might otherwise have barred the way. At these times, they rested and drank from their dwindling supply of water before pressing on.

With no outside light or landmarks, it was impossible to discern how far they had to go or the height that they had reached. Eventually, however, the spiralling path burrowed back into the mountain’s interior. Its incline grew steeper until it gave way to steps and thus they began to trudge up endless stairways interspersed with broad landings.

The passages acquired a grand scale. The steps became increasingly ornate, each riser carved with whimsical motifs. Stairs and passages interwove into a maze.

Massive pillars took the form of kings and warriors and wise men and women. One stairway rested on the back of an enormous mountain lion, frozen in the act of leaping towards a youth whose long dagger was mere moments away from plunging into its heart.

Yet much of the beauty had been despoiled. Signs of ancient conflagrations grew in frequency the further they progressed. Blasts of power had obliterated the stone in parts, and vast tracts of rubble had fallen from above, making the climb harder. Occasionally entire sections of steps had been demolished, challenging the climbers to find alternative ways up.

We are being led, Malco’s sending rang ominously in Illiom’s mind. As we do not need to speak aloud, I would prefer that we communicate silently.

Sereth cackled quietly.

I agree. Though I must say that I find the sound of voices quite comforting.

What concerns me is that we have not been challenged at all, Elan said. Why not?

For the same reason that Crelor allowed me to live, Illiom replied. They hope that we will lead them to the Adepts.

Scald turned to look at Illiom with incredulity.

Here? We are in the heart of their domain!

Illiom shrugged.

I am not sure, but I feel that their curiosity is holding them back.

They reached a new tier of what they now believed to be the College and even their silent inner chatter fell away. Level after level of wide, high-ceilinged halls followed. These were as broad as the mountain was wide and here, at last, arched windows opened onto the outside world, fully revealing the cloud that surrounded the mountain’s summit.

The signs of ancient battle were everywhere.

Most of the remains they came across were not human and Illiom was unable to identify them. The stone walls, floors and ceilings had been blasted with a monstrous power that had melted parts of the rock, fusing it into solid streams of lava.

Although many stairways had been obliterated, the party always found a way up, reaching ever higher into this apocalyptic edifice.

Dawn began to filter past the cloud and through the vaulted openings around them. Illiom allowed her werelight to wink out as soon as the day had enough hold over the dark.

An hour or so later they reached as far as they could go. The space was easily thirty spans in height and its apex was entirely covered by a dome of stone with a large circular opening at its very centre. The dome was supported by great pillars. The entire hall was completely exposed to the elements.

This was the peak of Mount Igol. This was the last level and the climb ended here. Outside, a snow storm was building itself into a frenzy. The icy wind had caused snowdrifts to bank against the pillars.

Seven stone structures arose symmetrically around a circular pit that dominated the floor space between them.

Illiom thought they looked like thrones.

She glanced at the other Chosen as they gingerly approached the pit.

There is nowhere else to go, Azulya noted. We are at the top.

Illiom peered into the pit. Its red walls fell into utter darkness.

She drew back.

Looking up through the circular opening, she found herself staring directly into Irrsche’s eye.

Look, she said, and they all turned their gaze to the Illstar, transforming their faces into masks of blood.

The heartbeat that had accompanied them all the way through the mountain was now much louder.

Suddenly the sound of feet pounding on stone, and of wings fragmenting the air, was everywhere.

Creatures poured in from the outside and quickly blocked all possible exits.

Overhead, several of the two-headed winged creatures alighted onto the dome and hissed at the intruders.

They were surrounded.

Chosen…

The disembodied voice boomed, coming from all directions at once.

This is your journey’s end.

With a chilling start, Illiom realised that the thrones were now occupied by stunning creatures. Long-limbed and exquisitely proportioned, their skin glowed with youth and sensual radiance, and their perfect faces and bright eyes were turned towards the Chosen. Their expressions brimmed with amusement and curiosity.

We have been watching you, certain that you would lead us to the enemy’s lair. Yet here you stand, empty-handed…

One leaned forward menacingly.

Heed well. This is your last chance to live. Where do they hide?

Who are they? Illiom asked, reaching for her companions.

Silence.

Surely these cannot be… Elan started.

The Adepts? Malco asked. Impossible…

Undina shook her head.

Draca Menalor said only through Orb we would them find.

She was right! These had to be…

So you have no answer?

“Who are you?” Scald demanded.

The beings laughed.

First no offerings and no answers, and now questions?

Illiom’s gaze came to rest upon one who stared fixedly at her.

She felt devoured by it. It made her skin crawl.

And suddenly Illiom saw it.

Not as the creature wished to be seen, but as it truly was.

Black skin, and eyes like pools of green filth, filled with an insatiable hunger, an unappeasable lust for complete possession.

The creature’s face was long and thin and it grinned to show an incredible array of teeth. Behind it rose leathery wings, equipped with talons and barbed hooks. Illiom recalled the creature that had slain Draca Sconder.

The Bloodrobes.

Her sending warned the others, but she could see that they already knew. She took a step back.

The creature laughed.

You balk at my appearance, little Illiom? I had hoped that my true form would please you more than that Crelor thing. I had to discard it you know, for its tongue festered in its head and eventually I could no longer make it speak.

Illiom could not breathe and her heart thrashed like a caged bird. This was the Bloodrobe who had violated her.

The World of Mirrors, Sudra whispered in her heart, and Illiom instantly calmed.

Illiom?

Azulya’s voice bloomed inside her, concern and protection present in equal measure.

What is it, Illiom?

Before Illiom could respond another Bloodrobe, in the form of a ravishing woman, threw her head back and laughed.

So, this is the mortal who has charmed the great Balgor?

With terrifying speed, the demon-woman leapt from her throne to land on all fours before Illiom, abandoning her beautiful mask. It screamed into Illiom’s face, teeth gleaming like metal, breath stinking of raw meat and iron.

It will please me to devour her...

I forbid, roared Balgor, eyes blazing like reflections of the Illstar. She bears my seed and I intend to see it born. Afterwards you can do with her as you please.

The monster hissed in frustration and swiped at Illiom, sending her flying across the floor.

Azulya rushed to her side. The Chosen called her name but Illiom could not hear her. The whole side of her head throbbed in agony.

The blow had landed her at the very edge of the pit and she now looked down into those incomprehensible depths.

Its hungry void and the void of despair inside her overlapped in that moment.

The World of Mirrors.

She heard Sudra’s voice again, repeating words that she had not understood until now…

…when the only escape lies in a dire fall towards death itself,

then, my sweetest Child, open thine arms and fall…

Illiom stared into the darkness of the pit.

We have to leap, she realised.

What!? the others gasped.

The Bloodrobes rose to their feet.

Balgor pointed at the Chosen.

Seize them! he bellowed, and the creatures that surrounded them rushed forward.

Illiom faced her companions.

Now!

She threw herself into the void.