Bright Star Quest II: The Book of Elm
Chapter 3: Tarr, Spell-Caster

Copyright© 2005 by Porlock

Perched on a ledge, high above the floor of a vast cavern, they looked out upon a scene of alien beauty. In the light of Bartan's torch, Tarr saw what appeared to be a ruined city, its farthest reaches lost in darkness. In the center of the ruins a sparkling tower stood, tier on tier of crimson crystal, seemingly untouched by the passing eons.

The ledge sloped down to their left. Perspectives shifted and changed as they followed it down, until they stood on the cavern floor. Suddenly, the cavern was smaller, no more than a couple of hundred paces across, and the ruined buildings came no higher than waist or shoulder.

"City of tiny men," Gwinny breathed.

"Tiny, but not men." Tarr bent to peer into a window slit. "See, the doors are low and round, but the window slits are high and narrow with ledges inside and out. These beings had not the shape of mankind."

"It seems deserted, all right." Darrick nodded, as though satisfied about some obscure point. "Nothing's left of whatever these buildings held."

Bartan jumped back with an oath as he brushed against one of the taller buildings, and a wall crumbled into dust. "Klond's convoluted navel! This place is old!"

"Eons old," Darrick agreed. "Tarr's right, they weren't Men. Look at how the buildings were laid out."

"No streets!" Elm touched the corner of a building with one finger. "Or, none that went anywhere. See, this one just stops against the side of a building. And that one starts up over here, makes a couple of turns, and ends over there. None of them connect up. None of them lead to that castle, either."

"We need to rest," Darrick reminded them. "There looks to be an open space between that central tower and the wall around it."

Bartan led the way, stepping carefully across a low building to a section of street that led in the right direction. After several false starts and wrong turns, they reached the base of the wall.

"Now what?" He shook his head tiredly. "We need to find a gateway."

"To the left?" Tarr suggested. "1 thought I saw an arch."

They edged their way past a collection of rounded towers, finally reaching the foot of a broad ramp. At its head a narrow opening pierced the wall at a place where it was built up to half again the height of a tall man.

"A fat lot of good that gate does us," Elm grumbled. "It's less than waist high, and too narrow to crawl through."

"Once we're on the other side, nothing very big can get to us," Darrick mused, glancing up at the wall. "Can you climb over?"

"Give me a boost. I'II try it."

Bartan and Darrick gave him a hand up, and in a moment he stood atop the wall. "Yeah, it's flat on top, and there's a level courtyard on the other side."

He flipped a rope down to them, fastening the other end to a projecting block of stone. They scrambled to the top of the wall, pulling the rope up after them. They were too tired to do more than just gape at the crystalline tower that loomed above them, its facets collecting the light of their simple torch and casting it back in crimson shards. All they cared about was that the dusty courtyard below was level, and seemed free of menace.

"Nothing can sneak up on us in a hurry, but don't take off your armor," Bartan told them. "We'll grab a bite to eat, then sleep. Elm, you take the first watch. Gwinny can take the second, Tarr the third, and I'll take the fourth one."

"How am I supposed to see anything that tries to sneak up on us?" Elm asked innocently. "Our torches won't last the night, and the way we stink I sure won't smell them coming."

"This ruby tower casts the light of our torch to all parts of the cavern," Tarr added. "It makes a regular beacon. But if we put it out, we can't see at all."

"Klond's Ragged Wings! I don't know! Yes, I do. Gwinny, prop your spear against the outer wall. I'll hang my cloak over it and peg the corners down with our packs. Put the torch between the cloak and the wall, for now. Only a little light will reach the tower. Then, when we've eaten, we'll put out the torch. We'll just have to listen for enemies."

"All right, I guess," Elm grumbled. "But let me climb up on the wall before you put the torch out."


Tarr's eyes ached as she stared into the darkness. Gwinny had wakened her at the end of the second watch, guiding her to where the rope hung down. It was an easy climb to the top of the wall, and she made it with only the faintest of sounds. In the silence, the snores of her companions were too loud, and she moved away from the inner face of the wall. She didn't dare to move about, fearing she might fall, and it was hard to stay awake.

There were no stars, only the thumpa-thumpa-thumpa of her heart to tell time by. Last night had been cloudy, and she had only Bartan's brief glimpse of Hunter without Hound to hint at what was wrong. She wasn't quite the unlettered novice she'd made herself out to be...

At the edge of her vision, was that a tinge of red? The ruby tower, could it be glowing? Ever so faintly, so deep a red that it was hard to see? She couldn't be sure, but there seemed to be no danger for the moment.

The moons controlled one aspect of Magic, affecting the flow of powers that her spells must tap. The patterns were complex, ever-changing. But without Hound they might be simpler, perhaps even stronger. A less complicated accent-pattern, shifting the emphasis from the third to the fifth syllable in the second line...

By the end of her watch, she thought that she had it pretty well figured out. If she was right, her spells would gain in power. She felt carefully for the rope and descended to the courtyard. Waking Bartan, she sought the shelter of her cloak.

Nearby, Elm snored softly.

She smiled as she thought about his compact strength, his obvious interest in her as a woman. Not that she needed him for that. The rush of warmth that came with a spell well cast, the ecstasy of Magical energies channeled to her will, were more than enough to satisfy. With each new spell that she learned, there was less that a merely Human man could give her.

The morning was as black as the night. Gwinny held the flaming torch near to the central tower, while the rest of them stood atop the wall and peered into the gloom. Crimson light roiled and flickered, as the ruby tower caught up the flame of the torch and cast it to the far walls of the cavern.

"I see one entrance," Darrick reported. "And there's another, smaller one."

"The first one's the direction we need to go," she answered. "It could bring us back to the passages we seek."

As soon as Gwinny joined them atop the wall, they scrambled down on the side nearest the tunnel. with Darrick in the lead they threaded their way among crumbling buildings that seldom reached even chest high to the Half-Elf. Once beyond the ruins they resumed their usual marching order, Darrick behind Bartan, she behind Gwinny, two and two with Elm bringing up the rear.

The tower behind them was dark, but still she seemed to see vagrant red glows shifting and changing within its structure. There was something wrong about it, a taint of alien madness built into its lines and angles. She had studied it the best she could in the short time that the torch gave her light. Its interior was honeycombed with rooms and passages, low and wide within the lower tiers, high and narrow in the upper portions of the ruby tower. The blocks that made up its structure were the size of her fist, cemented together with a clear mortar that resisted the point of a dagger. She had noticed Elm picking and prying at them with no success, spurred by dreams of the untold wealth such blocks of gem-stone could bring in The City's sprawling markets.

This passage was broad, and they could go two by two. It turned and twisted, rising and falling as they stumbled along. The floor was rough, littered with chunks of stalactites that had only recently fallen. Bartan's torch did little to light their path. It was nearly done, and they had only one other yet unburned. Then they would be caught by the unending darkness. Darrick's light-spell would only last a short time, and could not soon be renewed. Bartan had good reason to be nervous.

 
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