Chapter 8: Emily and the Spellbreaker

The air of the cavern was damp and humid, and Emily could hear the faint echoes of dripping water. Veins of quartz and other minerals sparkled in the light from the flame in her hand as she proceeded deeper into the tunnel. She realized that she had no way of knowing where the tunnel led, or how much longer it would be traversable. And though she strained her ears, hoping that the cries of her companions might give her some direction, she heard nothing more than the sound of water dripping.

But there seemed no better course than continuing to follow the tunnel. She did so, until it came to a dead end. Then she returned to the main cavern and found another to follow, listening all the while for the faintest sound of her friends. She marked each tunnel she’d already explored with piles of lose stones.

I am not trapped in this place, she assured herself. She was perfectly capable of launching herself from the cavern all the way back up to the surface with Stoneshell fire, just as she had done during the duel with Richard. Though it did seem that she had fallen quite a distance. But in any case, it was no good returning to the surface without her friends. And finding them, she told herself, was just a matter of methodically exploring this dark, damp, enormous cave complex.

Of course there was the possibility that she would encounter Elara before her friends. The thought made Emily shiver.

Though there remained no sight or sound of her friends—or enemy—one particular tunnel brought her closed to source of the dripping water. She followed a winding passage to a narrow opening which she was just able to squeeze through, brushing one shoulder against the rough stone.

Emily found herself in a small, almost circular cavern. Water dripped down from stalactites on the ceiling, splashing into a crystal-clear pool which occupied the center of the cavern, surrounded by dark walls. Staring at her reflection in the water, she felt almost as though she had been transported back to the surface of the Labyrinthine Pool. A vivid memory came to her, of standing over that watery surface, staring at her reflection as she readied herself to begin her adventure.

Her present reflection and the one from her memory seemed to fade between each other. She was better adorned now—barely—but alone, without Aria or Brom at her sides. Her hair was longer, and its natural orange undertones had become more pronounced, blending with the flame in her palm. Her face had a harder expression, and her skin was slightly darker, stretched over more visible muscles, and speckled with small scars. Against her chest, the Stoneshell glowed.

Glowed? Emily looked up from her reflection and looked around the cavern with fresh eyes. She’d had a vague sense, upon entering, of the darkness of the walls—a uniform blackness unlike the grays and browns of the stone she had become accustomed to. But while she had been staring into the pool, the blackness had started to change, a bright orange spreading through it. The walls of the cavern were coated in a thick moss, which appeared to be changing color before her eyes.

Facing the nearest wall, Emily reached out and touched a spot of still-black moss. At her touch, it turned orange, and the color rippled out from her hand. It was soft, warm, and felt ... alive! The moss squirmed beneath her fingers like an animal. With a cry of shock, Emily pulled her hand from the wall.

“Careful, miss,” said a deep voice behind her. “There’s powerful magic here.”

Still reeling, Emily spun around to see a man standing in front of the tunnel she had come through. Her gaze met a pair of piercing blue eyes beneath a wild mane of brown hair. He was tall, dressed in tattered brown robes, with a sharp jawline covered in a few days of beard growth and an expression that was curious, but guarded.

“Have—have you been following me?” Emily asked. The intensity of the man’s gaze reminded her of the inadequacy of her current outfit, which certainly hadn’t escaped his notice.

“Not for long,” said the man. “And with no ill intent. I assume from the flame you carry that you are no stranger to self defense.”

Emily glanced at the flame in her hand, willed it a little bigger, and then looked back at the man. “What are you doing here?”

“I might ask you the same question,” he replied, holding her gaze and showing no signs of fear. “Down here, we’re both cut off from the dominion of man. I assume that you’re human. If not—if one of my enemies has sent a succubus to tempt me, know that it will not work.”

“What?! I—no, what, ugh!” Emily blushed and stammered at the accusation. “Of course I’m human!” She waved both arms in the air and punctuated her statement with blasts of fire from both palms.

The man raised an eyebrow. “A half-naked woman, wandering alone in the Deep Realm, conjuring fire from her palms.”

“I’m not alone! Or at least, I wasn’t. My friends are here as well, somewhere. I just got separated from them.” Emily glanced down at the blue scarf tied in a cross-shape over her body, full appreciating how much of her it didn’t cover. “And I don’t normally dress like this. It’s ... a long story.”

“What is your name?” asked the man, his tone softening. Perhaps something in Emily’s words or tone of voice had sparked some sympathy in him, or perhaps he was also coming to appreciate how much of Emily was not covered by the scarf.

“Emily.”

“My name is Dorian,” the man replied, stepping closer and reaching out a hand. “Dorian Blackwood, spellbreaker, at your service.” He bowed, and Emily noticed for the first time that he carried a large sword on his back.

Emily felt Dorian’s fingers against hers, and then the light press of his lips to her hand. His beard bristles tickled her fingers, but there was something else ... a slight tingle.

Dorian looked up into Emily’s eyes. “I believe you speak the truth, Miss Emily. An apparition would have dissolved at the merest touch, and a succubus would now be burning from the press of my lips.” He produced a small blue vial from one of the folds of his cloak. “Holy water.”

“That must mean something different around here,” Emily said. At the confused look on Dorian’s face, she added, “Uh, never mind.” She didn’t need to tell him everything.

Dorian stood up to his full height, briefly startling Emily. He was standing very close to her now, and had an intense look in his eyes. She flickered a few small flames around her fingertips and felt reassured.

“There is powerful magic all around us. But a great part of it, I now see, comes from you.” Dorian turned his gaze to Emily’s chest. “That necklace is an immensely powerful artifact. The band on your arm, less so.”

“I know.”

“The walls of this chamber are also filthy with magic. This black moss—I have encountered much of it in this part of the Deep. It is called nightmoss. When you touched the wall, it turned orange. Look behind you—even now, it remains faintly discolored.”

Emily craned her neck to see that Dorian was correct. The spot of moss that had moved beneath her touch was a deep orange color, in contrast with the pitch blackness of the moss around it. “It ... moved. When I touched it, I mean.”

Dorian nodded. “Yes. Nightmoss is responsive to magic. Though I have not seen it change color before.”

“Is it dangerous?” asked Emily.

“Usually not,” Dorian said. “You must be tired. Hungry, perhaps? Do you have food or supplies?”

Emily blushed and shrugged, holding empty hands out to her side. “I’ve only got the, uh, clothes on my back.” She winced at this admission, even though this was more than she could have said for much of her adventure so far. “My, uh, my friends are carrying all the supplies.” This was true enough.

Dorian’s eyes widened. “Then you are fortunate I came along. I’ve set up a camp not far from here. There you may rest and eat.”

Emily still didn’t quite trust Dorian, but had to admit his offer sounded enticing. On the other hand, she didn’t know what he was capable of. He had called himself a spellbreaker—did that mean he had some way of neutralizing her fire? And that was a very large sword on his back...

“That’s very kind of you, but...”

“I also have a spare tunic you can borrow, if you’re getting cold.”

Emily decided that she would take her chances. If the Stoneshell could save her from Elara and Richard, it could surely keep her safe from this guy. At least for long enough to get her hands on some more clothing.

“Thank you!” Emily said enthusiastically. “Lead the way!”

Dorian smiled, raising an arm to bade Emily out of the chamber. “I had a feeling that might do the trick,” he said. “You remind me of a warrior I used to undertake the occasional job with. She once spent a large amount of gold, and many of her possessions, on a set of armor, enchanted with powerful protective wards. It was sold to her by a shifty traveling merchant, who boasted that she would never find such powerful protective magic at such a low price from anywhere else. But of course, there was a catch.”

Dorian laughed to himself. “The armor had to be worn against the skin for the magic to work, and it was nary more than a couple of plates of mail and twists of wire about the hips and breast. The worst part was she’d sold all her old things to pay for it, and the merchant refused to allow a return. Needless to say, she completed that job in my cloak.”

Emily bit her lip with secondhand embarrassment, even though the armor described was much more substantial than what she’d been wearing when she arrived in Thessolan. At least she wasn’t the only one in this world to suffer these sorts of indignities.

Dorian’s camp site was set up in an alcove a short way down one of the tunnels out of the large central cavern Emily had started in. The site had a tent, some bags with food and other supplies, and the remains of a fire in the middle. Dorian deposited a few fresh logs on the fire pit, and Emily lit it.

“Very useful,” said Dorian, taking a seat on a smooth rock on one side of the fire and offering Emily a stick of cured meat.

Emily sat down on the other side of the fire and chewed while Dorian rummaged through a bag of supplies. “Aha!” he said at last. “Here it is.” He held up a large, shapeless piece of rough brown fabric—the promised tunic.

Emily received the tunic gratefully. While it didn’t look or feel as good as the outfits she’d tried on in the dress shop earlier, it did appear to be big, sturdy and complete enough to cover most of her body. This was something she was learning not to take for granted in the outfits she had been afforded since her arrival in Thessolan.

Motioning towards the tent, Emily asked, “May I...?”

“Why, yes, of course,” Dorian said, looking a little embarrassed. “I’ll stand guard.”

Emily smiled and slipped inside the tent, tunic in hand. Dorian, she noticed, was staring resolutely down the tunnel, but his eyes flickered briefly towards her form as she disappeared behind the flap. He probably thought he was being discreet.

Inside the tent was a bedroll, a curious array of instruments—a salt mill, a short length of multicolored rope, a pewter dish, a handheld mirror and some scattered cloth bags and vials of clear liquid. Next to the bedroll’s pillow, Emily spied an old book with a battered brown cover. Curious, she peaked inside at the title page, which read, “On the Nullification of Arcane Magicks and the Disenchantment of Artifacts: A Compendium for the Journeyman Spellbreaker.”

Her curiosity piqued, Emily wanted nothing more than to sit down and read this book. Aria had occasionally made reference to spellbreaking and disenchantment in their lessons, but had admitted it was a subject she knew little about. Perhaps something in this book could help lift the curse on Aria and the other statues, or even help Emily to reverse the spell that had brought her to Thessolan in the first place.

But Dorian remained stationed just outside the tent, and would certainly say something if Emily spent too long inside, lost in a book. He probably wouldn’t appreciate her rummaging through his things like that either. And, if he proved to be trustworthy, perhaps she could enlist his help directly. It wouldn’t do to start things off on the wrong foot.

Emily quickly untied the knot between her shoulder blades that held her scarf in place and pulled it off. She pushed her head through the top of the tunic and her arms through its sleeves. It came down past her knees and gave the effect of a brown bag. Emily frowned at her reflection in the handheld mirror on the floor—the bag look was perhaps better than nudity, but not by much.

To give the outfit a bit of shape, Emily tied her blue scarf around the waist. Looking at herself in the handheld mirror, Emily judged this to be basically acceptable. She wished, not for the first time, that she did not have to go commando, but it seemed highly unlikely that Dorian would have any ladies’ underwear to hand.

After checking her appearance one more time, taking a moment to smooth her hair down, Emily exited the tent. Being more properly dressed made her feel a bit calmer, more rational. And much less likely to be called a succubus! Though a small voice at the back of her head told her that she was giving up some level of power over Dorian.

Dorian glanced up from his place by the fire, his gaze quickly flickering over her before he offered a small, approving nod. “I wish I had something better to offer you, but you make that ratty old thing look quite beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Emily said, blushing very slightly as she sat, ladylike, down on her side of the fire.

Dorian offered her another stick of cured meat. “You mentioned that you were separated from your companions. I have not come across anyone but goblins since I left the surface. They’re not the friendliest of peoples, so I assume that your companions are surface dwellers, like us. Am I correct? How many were you traveling with?”

“Two others,” said Emily, deciding not to get into the subject of Elara. “A human and a wood elf. Their names are Aria and Talyndra.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “And why did you travel down here? The Deep Realms are uncomfortable enough for humans, but for a wood elf the lack of trees and foliage must be pure torture. You must have some great purpose for being here.”

Emily looked away from Dorian’s gaze. “Well ... it was kind of an accident, actually. We were in Port Turon earlier today.”

“An accident? I have traveled for months to get this far into the Deep Realm! How can anyone possibly arrive here accidentally?” Dorian looked like someone had slapped him in the face. He scrambled to his bags and dug out a map. “I suppose Port Turon would be somewhere above us, but there’s no known route from there to here! Certainly nothing that would get you here so quickly!”

“It was magic,” Emily said, holding up the Stoneshell pendant. It looked as though she was about to tell Dorian everything. “The Stoneshell was protecting me from someone who wished me harm—it did so by bringing me here. This armband was involved too.” She rolled up her left sleeve to show the Bronzeband. “It grants the wearer power over stone.”

Dorian stared intently at the Stoneshell. “I can believe it, from that. The smell of it is overpowering.”

“Smell?” Emily asked, sniffing at the air, then at the Stoneshell, and then at herself. Was he saying she stunk?

“You wouldn’t be able to detect it,” Dorian replied. “I was born with a sensitivity to magic, a sensitivity that I’ve enhanced through years of Spellbreaker training. I can detect its presence with all of my senses, but smell is the most potent.”

Emily let out a sigh of relief.

“When I look at that necklace,” Dorian continued, “it appears to shimmer faintly, as if shifting between plains. If I listen closely, it makes the sound of ocean waves. The smell is a mixture of sea salt and a most intoxicating perfume.” Dorian then motioned towards the Bronzeband. “That is a less powerful artifact. It smells of fresh earth. But it has a touch of the necklace’s shimmer about it as well.”

“Yes, I noticed a new carving on it shortly after I arrived here.” Emily turned the Bronzeband so that the seashell carving was visible to Dorian. It exactly resembled the Stoneshell.

Dorian examined the Bronzeband carefully. “An artifact that controls other artifacts. Fascinating! May I touch it?”

Emily moved her arm forward, and Dorian knelt before her and ran his fingers across the seashell carving. “Warm to the touch, as I expected. The pendant should feel the same.”

“Feels cold to me,” Emily replied, as she was still holding the Stoneshell in her right hand.

Dorian placed the fingers of his other hand on the Stoneshell, lightly brushing Emily’s. His face was right against hers now. “It is warm to my fingers,” he said, speaking very softly. “A deep, magical warmth, that suffuses the body, creating a feeling of safety and comfort.”

“I think I know what you mean,” Emily whispered. “I’ve felt that, from the Stoneshell, when times were tough.”

“The Stoneshell,” Dorian repeated. He held her gaze for a moment, his piercing blue eyes seeming to penetrate her soul. Then he withdrew. “And what do you call the band?”

“It is the Bronzeband.”

“Simple names, I like them. Many enchanters like to give their artifacts elaborate, pompous titles that oversell their powers. I have a Black Shroud of Eternal Darkness in one of these bags, and it is insufficient even as a curtain.”

“Is that because you disenchanted it?” asked Emily.

Dorian scoffed. “It is hardly worth the energy for something that was barely enchanted in the first place.”

“But you can disenchant things? And break curses? I ... saw the book inside your tent.”

Dorian nodded gravely. “I have been a spellbreaker for five years. But if you are afraid that I will disenchant your Stoneshell or Bronzeband while you sleep, rest easy. It is not a simple process, and all but the paltriest artifacts will fight disenchantment.”

Emily frowned. “Well, actually, I was kind of hoping you could help me disenchant the Stoneshell.”

Dorian gasped.

“Partially, I mean,” Emily followed up. “If that’s possible. You see, this necklace has several enchantments on it. I’ve already broken one, which kept some people trapped inside a castle. There’s another one, or maybe it’s another part of the first one, you’d probably know better, that turned those same people into living statues. And the worst part is, they become regular, immobile statues if I ever take the Stoneshell off. Does, uh, any of that make sense?”

Dorian nodded, fixing his eyes on the Stoneshell again. “Multiple enchantments. Of course. It is no wonder, then, that the Stoneshell’s smell so overpowered me.”

“Yes, and I want to remove that part of the enchantment. To make my friends human again, and not dependent on my wearing this necklace all the time. Just that bit—I’d prefer to keep the fire magic and the ability to breath underwater and all the other good stuff the Stoneshell does for me. One of my traveling companions, Aria, is one of the living statues.”

“And you’re sure these represent multiple enchantments?” asked Dorian.

“Quite sure. I have a book all about it—it’s with my companions at the moment, but I can show it to you when we find them. That is, if you think you can help?”

Dorian was silent for a full minute, deep in contemplation. “It is an intriguing challenge. Let me think about it.”

“I can offer payment!” Emily said brightly, remembering that her party finally had some money. “Again, it’s with the others.”

“I could see you didn’t have anything on you.”

Emily blushed lightly, hugging herself to feel the coarse fabric around her. “Thank you again for the tunic.”

“It was the least I could do for a lost and underdressed lady,” said Dorian. “Though I have seen adventurers go around in less. Just about naked, some of them.”

Emily laughed uncomfortably. If only a few more people she’d met in Thessolan had been like Dorian. And if he could help her break the curse that still linked the Stoneshell to Aria and the other statues, there would be no need to visit Paja Abbey. Ever since Aria had mentioned that the mage who cursed them in the first place, Arctulus, had studied there, Emily had felt a knot in her stomach contemplating what might await them there.

The two talked for hours, eating cured meat, dried fruit and biscuits and watching the fire. Emily and Dorian swapped stories of their adventures, though Emily left out a few embarrassing details. Dorian told her of previous quests he’d undertaken, of past companions and of many different parts of Thessolan she was unfamiliar with.

Eventually, when yawns overtook words, Dorian offered Emily the tent and bedroll, making himself comfortable with a few blankets by the now extinguished fire. After exchanging goodnights, Emily entered the tent. She pulled off her boots and undid the knot in her scarf. Then, deciding she would prefer not to spoil her only outfit by sleeping in it, she pulled off the tunic and laid it by the rest of her things, before crawling under the bedroll’s blanket and falling asleep.

Emily awoke fully rested. The bedroll had been surprisingly comfortable, almost as much as the captain’s bed aboard the Sea Serpent, and she stretched luxuriously before sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The tent’s flap was slightly ajar, allowing a sliver of light to filter through. She dressed quickly in the tunic and scarf, then laced up her boots before stepping outside.

Dorian was already awake, crouched by the now extinguished fire and nibbling on a piece of dried fruit. An oil lantern sat by his feet, its flame flickering slightly. He looked up as Emily emerged from the tent, offering her a smile. “Good morning, Emily. Did you sleep well?”

“Very well, thank you,” she replied, returning his smile.

Emily took a seat beside Dorian and accepted the piece of dried fruit he offered her. As she chewed, her thoughts turned to their conversation from the previous night. “Have you given any more thought to helping me disenchant the Stoneshell?” she asked.

Dorian looked thoughtful, his eyes narrowing slightly. “It won’t be easy,” he said. “We’ll need to find your companions first, though. And I need to go through that book you mentioned, and see the effect of the curse on your statue friend for myself.”

Emily felt a surge of hope. “Thank you, Dorian. I’ve read the book cover to cover—I think I told you about Zephyr, the author, last night. She reckoned that the curse could be lifted by performing some sort of ritual at a place called Paja Abbey. Aria said that’s where the mage responsible for the whole thing studied.”

“I have visited Paja Abbey. It’s not far from the cave I used to enter the Deep Realm. I’ll accompany you there. But now let us pack up and look for your friends.”

Emily pursed her lips. “That’s very kind of you to offer, but I would hate to put you so much out of your way. Surely you have unfinished business down here? I ... don’t believe you’ve actually mentioned why you’re down here, actually, even after giving me the third degree about it!”

“What is this ‘third degree’ you speak of?” Dorian asked, the words unfamiliar on his tongue.

“Uh, interrogating me, I mean!” Emily said. “So many questions!”

Dorian smiled, moving to fold up the tent. “You have a peculiar manner of speech, Miss Emily. Though I’ve traveled all across Thessolan, I’ve never heard anything quite like it. Where did you grow up?”

Emily pouted. “You’re doing it again! Answer my question first, and then I’ll consider revealing that little tidbit.”

“If you insist,” Dorian replied. “I was tasked by the potions master at the very Paja Abbey you speak of to gather some ingredients which are difficult to come by on the surface. One of them being nightmoss, the black growth on the walls of the cavern where we met. I have gathered the requested ingredients now, and am ready to return to my client. So it only makes sense that we travel together—so long as my company is welcome, of course.”

Emily wrinkled her brow in thought. Dorian appeared perfectly sincere, but it was a surprising coincidence. But perhaps this had been why the Stoneshell had brought her here in the first place. She was fast coming to appreciate that it held a much deeper magic than the ability to summon fire. As if in response to her rumination, she felt a comforting warmth against her chest, where the Stoneshell pendant rested.

“It is welcome, of course,” she told Dorian. “I hope you will find your payment adequate.”

Dorian had packed the tent up and put all of his supplies together in a large bag which he now slung onto his back. His large sword was tied to the back of it. Following a final inspection of the erstwhile campsite, he began trudging further down the tunnel, oil lamp held in front of him, motioning for Emily to follow. “For the first installment, I will accept payment in information,” he said, winking. “I am very curious to know about your hometown, or village. Does everyone there use these strange expressions, like ‘third degree’?”

“I grew up in a town called Greenville,” Emily said, quite truthfully, as she caught up to him. “It’s very far away from here—not in Thessolan at all, really.”

Dorian’s eyes widened. “Outside of Thessolan? Across the Illian Sea? Or on the other side of Rath’s Desert? I admit I have not heard of this Greenville—perhaps it is on the surface of the Near Moon.” There was a hint of mockery in his tone.

“It’s not in any of those places—I don’t think,” Emily said. “You can’t get from there to here except by magic. Or at least, that’s how I got here. How I ended up in Castle Elid, which had been closed to the world of Thessolan by the curse I broke through taking up the Stoneshell.”

“I had wondered about that,” said Dorian, flatly. “This is all quite extraordinary, though, you must admit.”

“Imagine how I felt! In my world, we don’t have magic! It’s the stuff of fairy tales and superstition! Or so I used to think, anyway.”

“No magic...” Dorian repeated. “What a strange and dull place that must be.”

“It has its charm. I’d like to go back there again, I think, once I’ve helped the statues. My friends and family must be worried sick. I just don’t know how. Aria told me when we met that we could find help in Lirethel, from the mages and scholars there.”

Dorian nodded. “If anyone will know how to travel between worlds, it’ll be someone there. You can find anything in Lirethel, they say.”

“That’s encouraging.”

Dorian and Emily walked a little further in silence before Dorian spoke up again. “I hope that your companion are staying in one place—it will be much more difficult to find them if they’re moving around. Unless ... do you have any personal effects of either of them with you? I know a few simple locating spells we might be able to use.”

Emily was about to remind Dorian that he’d found her with little more than a scarf and a pair of boots to her name when she had another thought. “The Stoneshell,” she said. “Whenever I remove the Stoneshell, Aria becomes a real statue, unable to move. That implies a connection, doesn’t it? Do you think we could locate her with a spell on the Stoneshell?”

Dorian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “That may work. Let me find my location ring.” He removed the large pack from his back and started rummaging through it, eventually producing a small silver ring, which he slid the onto the middle finger of his right hand.

“Now Emily,” he began gravely, looking Emily in the eyes with a singular intensity. “Locating spells like this are usually cast on mundane items—an item of clothing, a prized possession, a lock of hair. To cast one on a magical artifact is a more fraught process. Not only because of the artifact’s own magic, but because of the increased complexity of its relationship to the located party. There is bound to interference, but you can minimize it. I am going to touch this ring to the Stoneshell. I need you to command it not to react. Use your channel of influence over the artifact to make it inert, if only for a second.”

Emily took a deep breath as she pulled the Stoneshell pendant out from under her tunic. “I’ll try,” she said, closing her eyes tightly.

She focused her mind on calming thoughts. In her mind’s eye, she saw small waves lapping on the shore of a beach, a gentle breeze fluttering the leaves of an old oak tree. She saw her childhood bedroom, complete with the pink cat nightlight. She willed her breath to deepen and her heartbeats to slow, something she’d often practised with Aria. The Stoneshell felt cool against her chest, and she gave Dorian a thumbs-up.