CHAPTER FIVE
"It feels strange walking on solid ground." Lyrica asked as they moved between the first of the crumbling stone buildings. "I've gotten so used to the swaying of the water, that I feel awkward and clumsy. I suppose it's no different for you."
"I feel great. I feel like I could kill those dragons barehanded. I suppose I'm just excited about finally reaching this place. Imagine, once this was a beautiful and bustling city, filled with thousands of people, families who lived and died here. I wonder if they were like us or somehow different?" he asked as he touched one of the exterior walls. Its surface had become fragile and crumbled like chalk as he ran his palm across it.
The streets of Old Embremere were now overgrown with weeds and littered with fallen blocks of stone. They carefully made their way between buildings, their eyes searching the dark alleyways to either side. The farther inward they traveled, the more the buildings seemed intact and not as weathered as near the lakeshore. Grivvin felt a growing sadness as he moved into the dead city, the original home of the Wychan. It was here that their power had grown and flourished, where they had commanded respect, where they were treated as important. All of those years ago his order had honor, now they were discarded as useless and weak.
They passed the remnants of a shipbuilder’s warehouse, the decayed skeletons of the vessels still standing tall, propped up by thick timbers. Evidently, when the decision was made to move Embremere on to the water, some had stayed and continued their business. Eventually, the ancient city was abandoned by its residents and left to rot just as these ships had.
When the lightning flashed, it left an eerie feeling inside, the dark shapes of homes and other structures illuminated momentarily like ghosts in their vision. The wind whipping down the old streets produced a frightening sound, like the howling of-
Wolves.
Grivvin and Lyrica could suddenly see several pairs of eyes reflecting the pale light, unmoving, watching them from the shelter of a ruined cottage across the street. Just as they noticed them, a low growl could be heard, growing in intensity.
"What are they, Grivvin?" she asked, he sword now in her hand.
"Wolves. I've read about them. They hunt in packs and are savage killers. You've seen dogs before, right?"
"Of course. Some of the wealthier Underdwellers keep them as pets."
"These are like large, vicious dogs," he explained, never taking his eyes off of them.
She threw him her knife.
"Here. Since you lost my other sword in the whirlpool, that'll have to do."
"Just walk slowly down the street, no sudden movement. Hopefully we can find a secure building to hide from them."
The eyes followed them as they walked, the growling a constant reminder of their presence. Once they had passed three rows of houses, the wolves moved out into the street and began to follow them silently. The rain began to pour, the wind picking up and it became difficult to see very far ahead of them. The wolves were slowly growing closer and Grivvin sensed that, at any time, they would suddenly attack. There was a small hole in the ground, unbeknownst to him and as he stepped into it, his ankle turned and buckled under him, sending him headlong into the mud. Lyrica quickly helped him to his feet, her eyes always on the animals. To their right was a building that still seemed structurally sound, but had no door. Along its western wall, however, was a flight of stairs that led to the roof. Grivvin decided to make their last stand there and pulled Lyrica along after him.
At the foot of the stairs, Grivvin pushed her up ahead of him and began to climb them backwards. Quickly, the eyes of the wolves came into view and then their entire shadowy forms. These were no ordinary wolves. Their bodies seemed to shift as if made from vapor or smoke. The nearest one howled, an eerie and echoing sound and Grivvin could see the orange glow of fire in its throat. Thick reddish liquid dripped from its gums as it closed its jaws, steaming as it hit the ground.
"Grivvin, come on!" Lyrica screamed from the roof. He quickened his pace, knife held out in front of him. He was halfway to the top, when the first wolf began to climb after him, its claws clicking on the stone surface. The rest of the pack immediately joined it, growling and slobbering as they came.
Grivvin could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, his hands growing clammy. Sweat ran into his eyes and as he wiped it away, he saw flashes of color for an instant. He blinked several times, unsure of the cause and tried to focus on the approaching beasts. Again, the flashes came, but this time a strange feeling came through his body. Electricity or fire would be the only way to describe it, slowly working its way up from his feet. Inside, he began to feel an unbelievable pressure as if something were trying to burst out through his chest.
Just then, the first wolf reached the rooftop, his eyes trained on him, its fangs revealed as its rage increased. Grivvin and Lyrica backed away, moving close to the edge of the building.
"Lyrica, I'm sorry I got you into this," he called out over his shoulder.
"What are you talking about? I brought you to Mucker. He's the one that told you about this place. I am the one who should be sorry."
"I want you to climb down the other side. Jump down and run," he said.
"No, Grivvin."
"But, if I fall-"
"If you fall, then we die together," she shouted. "Besides, I can see from here. There are wolves everywhere."
His vision became strange again, the images of the wolves blinking in and out of focus as he shook his head. He felt short of breath, his hands tingling.
The first wolf leapt at him, its fangs aiming for his throat, paws extended. Its full weight hit him as he threw one arm up to deflect the creature as it took him to the ground. He thrust upward with the knife, stabbing the wolf in the ribs repeatedly. It seemed to have little effect, the snapping jaws inches from his face. The lava-like fluid dripped from its mouth and wherever it fell, on Grivvin's chest and shoulders, it burned.
This was it. It was over. There was no hope. He would die at the fangs of these demon wolves and then they would take Lyrica. He could not let that happen. Never.
"No!" he screamed and his left arm lit up like white fire, an explosion sending the wolf into the air and off of the rooftop, burning.
The other animals backed away a few steps at the sight, unsure. Grivvin jumped to his feet, staring at his left hand, still glowing with magic.
"I feel it. Lyrica, I feel the Spiral! I'm inside of it!"
"Grivvin, look out!"
He turned and six of the wolves had launched themselves at him. He defensively threw his hand out in front of him and somehow they stopped, suspended in the air as if hung there by wires, their limbs kicking frantically as they fought to break free. Grivvin stood stunned for a moment, his newfound power coursing through his veins and with a wave of his hand, sent them all flying through the air, smashing to the ground below.
The other wolves hesitated, then turned tail and fled, some whining and whimpering as they ran. For a short time, Grivvin watched them scurry down the street, weaving in and out of the rubble, then he simply stared at his hands in disbelief.
Did I do that? Is this what Wychan magic is supposed to be?
Something had awakened in him, something powerful. He turned to Lyrica and saw that she stared at him in fear, her hand over her mouth.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I-I don't know...it's just frightening. I've never seen anything like that," she said, her voice quivering with terror. "You killed them with such ease."
"Don't be afraid. I would never hurt you."
"You didn't see what I saw, Grivvin. When you turned to me, your eyes..." She let her voice trail off. "It seemed as if the magic was in control."
Grivvin thought for a moment, trying to relive the event in his head.
"I'm not sure...the magic protected us. Does it really matter?" he said and suddenly noticed his arms. In the cool rain, his skin steamed, small wisps
rising into the air. He began to feel somewhat frightened himself . It was all new to him, this power, and he was uncertain as to how far it would go. Was that the extent of it or would he grow stronger in the future? He could not imagine possessing more energy than that which he had just released. Was he in control? Did the magic have a mind of its own? He stared at her with concern. If he could not control it, anyone near him would be in danger, including her. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.
"You don't have to worry. I am on your side," he said with a smile, walking up and taking her hand. He pulled her to him and held her tight. Eventually, she relaxed, her head upon his chest.
"I don't think the wolves will bother us again," she said and they both broke out in laughter.
"Let's get off of this building and find shelter," he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Once they had returned to the street, it did not take long to find a suitable place to rest and dry off. Lyrica still had her pack and produced flint and steel from inside. Broken furniture and timbers were plentiful and soon a small fire crackled in the center of the room, its warmth comforting to the weary travelers. For a long time, they did not speak, simply holding one another in the fire's orange glow until they drifted off to sleep.
A loud crashing sound woke them with a start, both sitting straight up, searching the room with their eyes.
They were surrounded.
Perhaps a dozen people, dressed in rags and bearing weapons glared at them where they sat. A wiry young lad, his dirty hair in a ponytail, stepped forward in a threatening manner and spoke in a whining voice.
"What's this, eh? Squattin' in the land o' the Exiles? Who are you? You from the eastern side? You Blinders? Speak up, damn you!"
They quickly got to their feet, the blades of spears and swords in their faces.
"I thought this city was deserted, Grivvin," Lyrica whispered.
"What's that you say, woman?" the lad asked as their weapons were taken. "Deserted? What are you talking about? Wait- you're from out there!" he pointed in the direction of Lake Embremere.
He began to laugh and was soon joined by the others in his company.
"Been some time since we had visitors from that city of devils. Don't you worry now, you'll get the same hospitality that was given to your friends," he said with a grin. He then drew the blunt edge of his knife across his throat with a grimace. The others cheered in a bloodthirsty manner.
"You plan to kill us? Why?" Lyrica asked.
"Isn't it obvious? You're from that accursed city. You are demons and we deal with demons in one way." They grabbed Grivvin and Lyrica by their arms and led them roughly out of the building.
“You’ve had other visitors?” Grivvin asked as he was shoved down the street.
“Not that often, but yes. Once in a great while, someone makes it past that wall. They usually don’t last as long as the two of you, though. The wolves always get ‘em. How did you avoid the wolves anyway?” the wiry lad asked.
Lyrica began to explain, but Grivvin interrupted her with a glare.
“I suppose we were just lucky. We never ran into any wolves,” he lied. Lyrica held her tongue, realizing Grivvin’s plan to keep his abilities a secret.
“Heh! Good for you. You’d be dead now if you had. Those wicked beasts would tear the two of you limb from limb. Soft dwellers of the demon city would be no match for them. You know nothing of hardship or struggle. Everything is handed to you, living in luxury out there upon the water. We see your sparkling towers. We see your tall sailing ships.”
Lyrica could feel her anger rise. She had known nothing but struggle her entire life. Luxury? She had never experienced such a thing.
It seemed that hours went by as they walked deeper and deeper into the ruins of Old Embremere. They saw no other people on their way and never encountered the wolves again, although they heard their distant howls. Here, many of the dwellings looked to be in better shape than those near the coast. Evidently, the winds and water from the lake weathered the buildings there. Here, they were much more sheltered and some still appeared new.
They turned to the south at the end of the street and came abruptly to a large wall built from tall timbers. Along one side, there were rungs hammered into place and the leader of their captors began to climb. The others prodded Grivvin and Lyrica up the ladder as well. Coming over the top of the wall, Grivvin saw a thriving community spread out before him, all separated from the ruins by immense walls. Hundreds of people milled about, moving from building to building and a small marketplace could be seen at the far end of the street.
Once they were over the wall and on the ground again, their wrists were tied and they were led down the street to the curses of the crowd. Some threw handfuls of dirt and small rocks at them as they passed. They were brought into a windowless building full of empty iron cells and thrown inside the nearest, the heavy door locked behind them. The place seemed unused and covered in dust.
"Why haven't you used the magic to free us?" Lyrica whispered once they were alone. "They're going to kill us. You're aware of that, aren't you?"
"I need to learn as much as I can about this place. This is where my order began. I want to know what really happened here," he explained.
"It looks to me as if everyone has lost their minds. Somehow, people still live here, but they're obviously insane," Lyrica began, sitting on a low bench that had been placed against the wall. "Could they truly be the descendants of the original residents, living here for generations? How did they get here? If I remember history correctly, once the city had been moved onto the lake, Old Embremere was emptied, the royals made sure of it."
"So it is written," Grivvin said. "Living on the water was a sign of wealth and success. No one wanted to remain on land and they left the old city behind."
"Could they be what is left of the foreigners?" she asked.
“I suppose that is possible.”
Several hours later, the glare of many torches filled the room, as the door was thrown open and a group of people rushed in, with a crazed look in their eyes. Their cell was unlocked and they were dragged from the building toward the southern end of the street. A flight of wooden steps had been constructed to reach the top of the wall and they were forced to climb them. At the summit, an odd ritual had begun, fire and chanting greeting them like a slap in the face. Evidently, the entire population had gathered to witness the event, their faces wild with excitement.
“What is going on, Grivvin? They’re all insane,” Lyrica said as they stood atop a large platform in front of the crowd. Tiers of seats had been fashioned there to allow the spectators to view the proceedings.
“Lyrica, I feel strange. The power that I felt earlier, when I fought off the wolves, it seems to have faded,” he responded. “I don’t understand it.”
“Gods! Are you saying you can’t defend us?”
“Silence!” shouted an old man, his hair long and white as he stepped out in front of the audience. He wore a long black robe, tattered and filthy where it drug the floor, and leaned upon a crooked cane. He quieted the gathered throng, his gnarled right hand in the air, palm forward.
“Friends. Brothers and sisters,” he began in a calm, smooth voice. “Once more, we have found interlopers in our city. As is our custom, they can be dealt with in only one way. Do not feel for them, they deserve no pity. Their forefathers imprisoned us here on this now-lifeless rock, while they enjoyed the bounty of the water. We are the forgotten, my children. We are the Exiles.”
The crowd burst forth in cheers and applause, many rising from their seats, fists in the air.
“Now, I realize that the Blinders,” he started and the crowd hissed upon his mention of the name. “they would accept these demons as a part of their flock, take them in, treat them as e
quals. Why? Do they deserve it?”
“No!” shouted the crowd in unison.
“I could never reward such a crime,” he said motioning to those that had brought Grivvin and Lyrica to the platform. They roughly grabbed them by the arms and led them forward to the edge, overlooking the ruined buildings outside of the wall. Another set of wooden steps had been built there, a heavy iron gate securing it against intruders. The gate was unlocked and they were pushed down until they had reached the cobble-stoned street below.
There was a clearing there, as if it had been a gathering place in the past, a wide circular area with thick wooden stakes driven into the ground between stones. Hanging from each stake was a chain and manacle and at its base, the telltale signs of bloodletting. They were both led to stakes next to one another, their wrists encircled and the restraints secured.
"And just so we can make a sport of it and give you a fighting chance, you can have your weapons back, little good they will do you," the old man said from the top of the wall. A man tossed Lyrica's swords within reach and they snatched them up.
"Grivvin, do something! Call upon your magic again. Get us out of here," she insisted.
"Something is wrong," he answered. "I cannot feel the Spiral now, no matter how I try. The power seems to have left me."
"This is not a good time for that to happen," Lyrica shouted. "Concentrate!"
Try as he might, the magic would not return. He clenched his fists in anger, eyes closed, trying to reach out with his mind and find the Spiral. How had he touched it before? What was different now?
Distant growls reached them suddenly and they raised their blades in defense. The wolves had returned. Soon the streets and alleyways began to echo with their calls, howling like long-dead spirits in the ruins.
"No," Lyrica said, pulling hard against the chain. Luckily, the posts were close enough for them to stand back to back and they did just that. The glowing points of the beast's eyes appeared as they entered the clearing.
As the wolves approached, it soon became apparent that those in the forefront were nearly twice as large as those that they had previously encountered. Whatever strange sorcery they possessed, it seemed to be much stronger in these creatures. Their shifting forms played tricks on the eyes. One could never truly be sure where their physical bodies were, many stuttering images appearing and flashing about as the creatures drew closer.
The beast that led the others stood as tall as Grivvin at the shoulder and was heavily muscled. The fiery magma dripped from its jaws as it slowly padded toward them, head low and ears pinned back against its wide head. It stopped a stone's throw away and stared at Grivvin, its eyes solid red and glowing in their sockets. Its upper lip curled as it let forth a deep growl, revealing sharp yellow fangs.
"I'm sorry, Lyrica. The Spiral is beyond my reach. I can't summon the magic," Grivvin explained as he stared at the animals. They were getting dangerously close, the thirst for blood evident in their predatory posture, bodies poised to strike. Quickly they were surrounded, the animal's jaws snapping within inches of them as they shoved their blades out to keep them at bay. How much longer did they have before they attacked?
The giant alpha wolf shot forward, its jaws set to bite Grivvin's throat as its immense body came down on him. He spun to the side, deflecting most of the weight and digging into its ribs with his dagger. It did not seem to phase the wolf. It spun, salivating red droplets upon the steaming ground, preparing for a second attack. At the same time, the creatures threw themselves at Lyrica, who fended them off with her sword.
"Dammit! My first time on land and I'm going to die like this?" she screamed, her blade flashing like a blur through the air, her back against his.
"Lyrica, if we die..I just want to say..." Grivvin started. "I've never met anyone like you. I- I like being with you very much. Thank you for helping me when you did."
"Those are the nicest last words that anyone has ever said to me," she said with a laugh. "I like you, too, Grivvin. Very much."
The wolves came at them hard, teeth chomping and claws tearing at them. It was only a matter of time before one of their strikes hit home and Grivvin was the first victim. One of the lesser wolves managed to get his jaws around Grivvin's left wrist as he fought off one of its kin. The creature was so strong. Try as he might, he could not wrench his hand free, the fangs tearing into his skin. He screamed out in pain, kicking the other wolves away and jabbing it in the eye with his dagger. He tore his hand away, his entire glove coming off into the creature's mouth. Blood ran down his hand and dripped from his fingers, staining the stones at his feet. He heard Lyrica cry out behind him and spun around to help her. One of the beasts pulled at her trouser leg, now dark with blood. Grivvin kicked it hard in the snout and as it released her, shoved his knife into its throat. It fell lifeless to the ground. He sensed danger and looked over his shoulder, but too late. The full weight of a wolf brought him face down to the cobblestones, claws scraping the skin of his back through his jacket.
I don't want to die like this. There are too many of them. Where is the Wychan magic now? Father, I've failed you.
A loud trumpet sounded in the distance and all went suddenly silent, the wolves frozen as it echoed down the streets of Old Embremere. He felt the weight come off of his back as the wolf there stepped away. Rolling to his side, he saw all of the animals turning to face the sound of the horn as it blared out once more.
"No!" he heard people shouting from the wall. "The Blinders! They have no right!"
From where the wolves had come, entered a procession of robed figures, each bearing a long staff that glowed at its tip. Grivvin stared curiously at them as the wolves began to back away and one by one, flee into the city, when something caught his eye. Upon the front of each robe, was painted the same symbol that marked his palm, the symbol of the Wychan.
Could there truly be so many of his order left in Old Embremere?
He struggled to his feet, turning to be sure of Lyrica's safety. Other than scrapes and bruises, she appeared unharmed. He smiled and raised his hand toward the approaching group, but the blood loss hit him suddenly and his head spun, bringing him to his knees. Lyrica spoke to him, but her voice was muffled as if she spoke from underwater. His heavy eyes saw the robed ones run to him, but then a curtain of darkness fell over him as he lost consciousness.
"Grivvin? Grivvin, my boy, I know you're in there," came an old man's voice from very close. Grivvin heard him, felt the gentle shaking of his body, but had trouble waking, his head feeling stuffed with cotton. He rolled his head from side to side, his eyes fluttering open enough to see the shadowy forms that stood around him and the vibrant pink shape that stood out in contrast among them. He smiled as he came around, realizing that Lyrica was there, his vision and mind becoming clearer as she moved to his side.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, smiling with tears in her eyes. "I thought you had died. I remembered what you had said about a Wychan's heartbeat, but when it was still for so long..."
He reached up and stroked her hair.
"Grivvin..."
"I know, Lyrica. I know and I feel the same," he said. She put her head on his chest and hugged him tightly.
"Don't leave me like that again."
Over her shoulders, he could make out the apparent leader of the group, the Wychan glyph standing out in gold upon his chest.
"Master Grivvin. It is good to have you back. We are honored with your presence, holy one," he said proudly.
Holy one?
"We have waited many long years for your return, Archmage and we have followed the teachings to the letter, as you will see. I think you will find everything in order, Master."
Grivvin stared, open-mouthed for a moment. He was in a rather stately bedroom, delicate curtains hanging from the large windows, overstuffed mattress beneath him.
"I'm sorry, you'll have t
o explain this...uh, who are you?"
"I apologize, Master. How inconsiderate of me. I am Chan Gedwin, Elder of the Minders. You are safe within Fainen Flats, our sacred home. When you are able, we would love to show you the fruits of our labors."
Grivvin nodded in agreement, completely confused by the man's explanation.
"We will be serving a meal soon, if you feel up to joining us. Otherwise, I will have someone bring it to you here," the old man said with a deep bow and backed out of the room, leaving he and Lyrica alone.
He looked at her, one eyebrow raised.
"What is going on? Have they all lost their minds? Who do they think I am?" he asked as he sat up against the headboard.
"They've seen the mark on your hand. They know you are Wychan and apparently you are like a god to them. They all seem very excited that you are here. I heard the elder talking about prophecies and how one of your order would come to bring the city back from the dead. They worship you, Grivvin."
"This entire city is a madhouse. To think, everyone out on the water believes it to be empty. To one side, I am hated and would have been killed. To the other side, I am divine. Do they realize that I have very little power? I am not like the Wychan of old," he remarked, examining the bandages wrapped around his left arm and hand. There was a burning stiffness there as he moved it and flexed his fingers.
"The saliva from those demons had gotten into the wound. It looked horrible when we arrived here, but they had some sort of salve that they applied to it. It began to heal immediately and the bleeding stopped. I believe that just as some people in the Under use magic items that have been left by your order, it is the same here. Their staves seem to be lit by the same glowing crystals as Mucker's home and it is the only explanation for their amazing medicine. I've never seen a wound heal that quickly."
He rose from the bed, rubbing the back of his neck and stretched his back. He shoved his feet in his boots and wrapped one arm around Lyrica's shoulders.
"Well, shall get something to eat? We are gods after all," he said with a grin.
"Hey, you're the one who's a god, not I."
"If I'm a god, then you must be my goddess, right?"
"If you say so."
They stepped out into the hall, a long and rather luxurious corridor, trimmed above and below in dark wood, intricate tapestries upon the walls. The warm glow of lamplight could be seen to their left so they headed in that direction. Soon, voices could be heard and the clatter of eating utensils, immediately joined by the delicious smell of a meal. They rounded the corner and were greeted by cheers and applause from the several score people that sat at the large table.
"Come, Master Grivvin! We've saved a seat for you and your friend. Yours, at the head of the table, of course," announced the elder. Taking their seats, they saw before them a veritable feast, meat and vegetables, fruit and bread. A young boy brought platters around to them and served them a portion of each. There was also a multitude of wine to go around and tankards of ale.
Grivvin found himself surprised at the plentiful victuals, the feast seeming improbable in the crumbling ruins of Old Embremere. Where their captors had seemed poverty-stricken, the Minders seemed to be thriving within the abandoned city.
All of those gathered around the table could not keep their eyes off of Grivvin, staring at him uncomfortably as he and Lyrica ate. Their faces were bright and hopeful, their mood exuberant as they talked among themselves. Finally, a middle-aged man could contain himself no longer and spoke to Grivvin from a few seats down the table.
"Master Grivvin? May I be so bold as to ask what your first order of business will be? What would you have us do? We know that your visit to us means the return of Embremere's glory. What is the first step in your plan, holy one?" asked the man, sheepishly.
He could not bring himself to destroy the man's beliefs, could not shove the truth in his face. He thought for a moment and decided it best to humor them.
"There are many things that must be done," he said with mock authority. "Many of these things must remain secret until they are set into place. The first thing that I must do, now that I have come, is to visit the temple."
Shocked faces appeared all around the table, the Minders frozen with disbelief. Gedwin, the elder, stood with a grin.
"The master is toying with us, trying to be funny and lighten the mood," he said and the others relaxed somewhat and began to laugh and chuckle amongst themselves.
"It is not a joke. I will go to the Wychan temple as soon as possible. It is the only way," Grivvin explained in all seriousness.
All was silent again.
"Master...it is forbidden. The commandments of all Wychan lore state that no one is to set foot near the temple. It is to be avoided at all costs. We cannot allow such foolishness," Gedwin said in a near-whisper.
"That place is cursed," another Minder began. "There are shades there, spirits. In recent years, ghostly lights can be seen to move within that place. Even the animals avoid it. No bird lights under its eaves, no rat scurries along its foundation."
"I have no choice in this matter," said Grivvin. "Lyrica and I will travel to the Wychan temple. There are things lost that must be found and they lie within that place. Now, you can either help us or you can stand by and do nothing, but those that sit on their hands...I will remember you."
Lyrica was impressed by his commanding voice. She almost believed the things he said, his speech was so powerful.
"Very well, holy one," said Gedwin, his eyes cast downward. "Upon the morrow, we will take you as close as we dare. Your quest is our quest, master."
"Thank you, all of you. Believe me, if we want to return the city to its once glorious state, this has to be done."
Grivvin smiled at Lyrica and began to devour the food in front of him.