Riverwind

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Not much farther! Not much farther!”

The hole at the top of the lift yawned. Sweat stung the companions' eyes and mixed with the blood on their cut hands, making their grips unsure. Catchflea disappeared into the short shaft at the top of the cavern. Di An followed, and Riverwind brought up the rear.

At the top of the shaft was a large room. Catchflea's last bit of strength went into heaving himself off the chain and onto the cold stone floor. He rolled away from the opening and lay still.

Di An and Riverwind followed suit. All three were soon laid out on the floor, wheezing and trembling.

“Why you come up that way?” asked a voice. Riverwind cracked an eyelid and saw a gang of gully dwarves watching him closely. With his black eye, wounds, and bleeding hands, he was a grim sight. His friends were no more appealing.

The bearded male that had spoken raised his bushy eyebrows. “Our job to fill one pot to raise the other,” he said. “Why you climb chain?”

“We just escaped-from draconians,” Riverwind managed to say.

The male shrugged and tugged at one fat earlobe. He waved to his comrades, and they bustled forward bearing water skins. Riverwind and Di An drank deeply. “Thank you,” Di An said gratefully.

“Not to mention,” said the young male who handled the water skin. “You pretty lady.”

“What you want do about him arrow?” asked the first male, apparently the leader of the lift operators.

Riverwind sat up. “What arrow?”

“Gray beard have arrow in side.” The gully dwarf pointed solemnly. “You see.”

Riverwind went on hands and knees to Catchflea's side. The old man was lying on his back. The stump of a quarrel poked out of his right side. His ragged clothes were soaked with dark blood.

“You're wounded, old man!” Riverwind cried. “Why didn't you say something?”

“What could you do?” Catchflea asked weakly.

Di An knelt beside Catchflea. She tried to probe the wound with her fingers, but it was too painful for the old soothsayer.

“If we can stop the flow of blood…,” she said, dabbing at the edges of the wound with a piece of Catchflea's clothing. The old man caught her arm with his hand. His grasp was already cold.

“Do not trouble yourself,” Catchflea said. “I am done.”

“Don't say that!” she cried.

“It's true. My only regret is that I did not get to see the stars one last time.” He coughed. “As the oracle said…”

Riverwind leaned close. “What did the oracle say?”

“You will find… glory. Defeat great… darkness. That you have done.”

Riverwind looked bitter. “All I did was stay alive.”

“Sleep,” Catchflea said. He closed his eyes. “Sleep, yes.” His hands, which had been holding Di An's and River-wind's, slowly went slack.

Riverwind gazed down at Catchflea for a long minute. The beard, the ragged clothes, the foolish talk. Pictures raced through the plainsman's mind. He saw Catchflea telling him about the heavens when he'd been a boy, Catchflea cooking the first rabbit Riverwind had brought him many years ago, Catchflea finding their first meal on this trip, after Kyanor and his wolf pack had stolen Riverwind's sheep. He should never have brought him along. He should've made him stay in Que-Shu. He should've done so many things. Tears trickled down his cheeks.

“Catchflea was brave,” Di An said softly.

Riverwind stiffened. “Catchstar. His name was Catch-star.”

The plainsman continued to stare at the body of his friend. Di An, wiping away her tears, turned to the assembled gully dwarves. “Are you the leader here?” she asked the bearded one.

“Yes. Me Glip,” he replied.

“What is this place, Glip?”

“This Hall of Ancestors,” Glip said. He looked sadly at Catchflea. “Him dead?” At Di An's nod, he gestured at the crypts and niches that lined the corridor and said, “This burial place. You bury him here?”

“We've no time for burials. Riverwind,” Di An said, touching the grieving warrior's arm. “We must go.”

Riverwind inhaled deeply. “I know. I know.” He brushed his tears away. Gently, he lifted the body of the old man. “I can't leave him lying here.” He bore the body to one of the niches off the southern passage. He laid Catchflea down and composed his hands across his chest.

“Should I say something?” he murmured in the close darkness of the crypt.

“The gods will know him when he arrives,” Di An replied.

As Riverwind and Di An returned to the top of the lift, a massive tremor ran through the temple. The dust of ages cascaded down on them. The gully dwarves scattered with yelps and squeals. Riverwind grabbed Glip by the back of his shirt as the gully dwarf ran by.

“What is it?” he demanded.

“The dragon comes!” the terrified Aghar replied. River-wind let go. In seconds, all the gully dwarves had vanished into previously prepared nooks and “mouse holes.”

The counterweight-an iron pot identical to the one that had fallen-swayed and rolled over into the hole. It bobbled upright, like a cork in the sea.

“Dragon my eye! It's Shanz! He's levitating the pot,” Riverwind said. Di An took his hand and dragged him away. They ran into the south passage again, all the way to the end. The corridor continued to their right. Beautiful and intricate bas-reliefs and frescoes decorated the temple walls.

They reached a large octagonal room just as the quaking stopped. It was suddenly deathly silent and still. Di An and Riverwind froze, listening. The only sound to hear was the musical rattle of chain links paying out as the lift went down.

“Which way?” Di An whispered. To the right, more passages could be seen, but the floor had fallen in, creating a large pit that made progress difficult. On the left was a crumbling spiral staircase leading up. Up was where they wanted to go.

“Come on!” Riverwind said.

They went cautiously. The Hall of Ancestors was structurally more dubious than any other building they'd been in, in Xak Tsaroth. The stone slab steps were loose and in the half-darkness-for there were a few small brands burning here and there in wall brackets-one never knew if the next turn would lead to a quick, fatal plunge. Round and round the steps went. Riverwind's moccasins flapped around his ankles, threatening to trip him. He cast them off.

They reached the top of the huge pillar around which the steps wound and found themselves in a circular room with a high, domed ceiling. A torch burned feebly on the wall. Facing them were double doors covered with ancient gold. The patina on the yellow metal told them that the doors had probably not been disturbed since the Cataclysm.

Riverwind inserted the tip of his sword in the crack of the doors and pushed them apart.

“Get the torch,” he said in a soft voice. Di An lifted the pine knot out of its holder. Riverwind took it in his left hand and slowly walked through the doors. It was a small antechamber, empty, and in front of him was another set of identical golden doors.

“This isn't a temple, it's a maze,” Riverwind said. “When do we ever get outside?” He wedged the second doors open. Cold, white light flooded over them.

Di An drew close. “What is it?”

“It must be the sanctuary,” the plainsman whispered.

Before them was a high pedestal of white stone inlaid with gold. A statue carved in creamy white marble rose, in the form of a slim woman. She leaned on a tall staff that was not marble, but wood. Her long gown trailed in loose folds, as if blown by a strong breeze. Riverwind and Di An circled the statue from opposite sides. The cool light that suffused the chamber had no source, but banished the shadows from every corner of the room.

They came together again facing the statue. “Quenesti Pah,” Di An said reverently. “It is the goddess.”

Riverwind had never heard the name. He gazed at the youthful face, so full of compassion and quiet wisdom. “The goddess of what?” he asked, though reverently.

“The healing arts,” Di An replied solemnly. “She aids those who are ill and seek relief.”

“I've never heard of this Quenesti Pah,” Riverwind said, never taking his eyes from the figure.

A distant clanging of metal shocked them out of their reverie. Riverwind rushed back to the antechamber and closed the first set of golden doors. He shut the second and cast about for something to bar the door with.

“Fetch me that rod,” he said, meaning the staff held in the goddess's hands.

“That is a sacred staff!” Di An protested. “It belongs to the goddess!”

“I need it to block the door!” Riverwind insisted. Di An frowned, but she grasped the staff near the bottom and tugged. The carved marble fingers of the goddess held the wooden rod firmly.

“I can't free it,” she said.

“Never mind! We must get out of here.” The noise beyond the doors was louder. “That way!”

Di An threw open the doors facing the goddess's statue. There was another ceremonial hall beyond, and another set of double golden doors. Riverwind ran to her. A booming filled the ancient temple. Shanz and his draconians were at the first golden doors.

Riverwind fumbled with the latch on the doors. It was old and stiff. The antechamber door burst under Shanz's pounding. “Goldmoon,” he said under his breath, “let all the old gods aid us who can!”

He brought the pommel of the goblin sword down smartly on the reluctant latch. It yielded with a screech, and Riverwind butted the doors apart. A brilliant hot light struck them as they rushed through the open doors of the temple.

The sun!

Di An gave a brief cry and flung an arm over her eyes. Riverwind squinted, groping for the elf girl's hand. Shouts rang in the temple chamber. Riverwind and Di An staggered down the steps of the temple, bumping blindly against the delicate, fluted columns that flanked the entrance.

Sun. Sunlight! It was like fire after so much time beneath the surface. But while it blinded Riverwind, it also warmed him to the core of his being and flowed like new strength into his limbs. The air was fresh and warm, free of the damp moldiness of the caverns. Even as Di An's fingers slipped from his, Riverwind relaxed his contorted eyelids and stood gladly in the blazing light as his pale face warmed.

Di An made feeble protesting sounds as she pressed her face to the ground. Riverwind quickly looked back at the temple portal. The draconians had not emerged. The ever thorough Shanz must be searching the whole building.

“Di An,” the plainsman said, kneeling beside her, “are you all right?” She could make only choking gasps in reply. “What is it?”

“Too much light. Too much air!”

Her mind reeled at the sight of it. A vast openness, no roof, no walls of sturdy, comforting rock. The world was filled with air and light. Just air and light. Di An pushed the heels of her hands against her closed eyes. The darkness didn't comfort her. She knew the emptiness was there, all around her. Pain lanced through her head, and her stomach heaved. She felt as though her feet would leave the ground, as if she would fall up, not down, be swallowed, be drowned, float forever in a sea of endless, boundless, nothing…

She hunched herself into a tight ball and moaned. River-wind tried to untangle her arms and legs, but she held together so firmly he only succeeded in turning her on her side. Sunlight fell across her face despite her shielding hands, and Di An let out a heartrending scream.

“No, please! The draconians will hear-”

Too late. The first armored lizard man appeared at the main door of the temple. He shouted over his shoulder to his comrades. Three more appeared.

Riverwind stepped in front of the stricken elf girl. “Here I am,” he said. “Come see how a Que-Shu man defends his life!”

They knew he was dangerous, having seen him fight the mighty Thouriss, so the draconians entertained no ideas of honor and attacked in unison. Riverwind said, “Di An, run for your life!” She crept away on hands and knees. He advanced to the steps of the temple to meet his enemies.

The four lizard men attacked. Their heavier swords threatened to break the crude goblin blade Riverwind had. He traded glancing slashes with the two middle warriors, while the outside pair tried to work around him. With a skillful feint he laid open the face of one of the draconians. The creature floundered back, dazed and bleeding.

Riverwind ducked as another draconian aimed a cleaving blow at his skull. The thick steel blade gouged a chip out of one of the temple pillars. Riverwind thrust under the lizard man's high attack, skidding off his cuirass but burying his point in the draconian's shoulder. He pushed his blade in and spun forward, whirling the impaled lizard man with him. The draconian dropped his sword and sagged to his knees. Riverwind let go of the goblin blade. The draconian fell forward, driving the blade deeper under his breastplate.

The mortally wounded lizard man shuddered. He raised a wavering hand, the fingers of which were rapidly turning gray. All over the dying draconian, his dark green skin lost its color, becoming dry and hard. Riverwind gaped. The draconian changed from flesh to stone before his eyes. Even his blood, pooled on the temple floor, changed to fine gray ash.

There was no time to celebrate. The wounded warrior and his two comrades closed on the weaponless Riverwind. The plainsman dodged their straight thrusts by backing through the open doors into the temple. He prayed no more draconians were coming.

By the soft white light in the statue chamber, the scaled soldiers turned an especially vivid green. They fanned out, trying to cut Riverwind off from the side chambers and the route back to the Hall of Ancestors. Riverwind found himself backed to the base of the goddess's statue without so much as a knife. His hands slipped over the cool marble and found wood. The staff.

He swung around, keeping the enemy in sight as they drew nearer. With the intention of freeing the staff, or at least breaking off the lower half, Riverwind put all his strength into one great pull. To his surprise, the staff readily came away in his grasp.

A draconian attacked. Riverwind parried with the staff and swung the free end around, rapping the lizard man hard on the elbow. He chopped at the plainsman again, and Riverwind drove the end of the staff into the creature's left knee. It buckled, and down he went. The second draconian intervened, slashing hard at Riverwind's exposed side. He parried and parried, blocking the stout blade with a wooden staff no more than two inches thick. Thus engaged, Riverwind didn't see the crippled draconian rise on his good knee and make a desperate thrust with his blade.

The blow felt as if a hot iron had passed through the plainsman's unprotected back. Riverwind bolted away, swinging the staff like a cudgel. It connected solidly with the crippled draconian's helmet and he pitched forward, out cold.

Blood coursed down Riverwind's hip and leg. The remaining two draconians came at him from two sides. The half-blinded one made a wild swing with his sword that Riverwind knocked aside. The blade continued its wide swath until it stopped in the throat of the other draconian. He was stone before he hit the floor.

The domed chamber swam before Riverwind's eyes. He felt very cold as his life drained from the wound in his back. The last draconian, “with only one good eye himself, came after him. Riverwind's staff connected with the lizard man's chin, snapping his head back. He fell and struggled for a few moments trying to get up. Riverwind found a sword and finished him off.

“Di An!” the plainsman croaked weakly. “Help me…” Leaning on the staff, now stained with his blood, Riverwind wobbled to the open door. Di An was nowhere in sight. There were marks in the soft, peaty soil where she had crawled away. He had to find her.

He swung a leg out to take a step, but collapsed as it crumpled under him. He retained his desperate grip on the staff. Riverwind's eyelids fluttered closed. There was no fight left in him. It was over.