Victim of Fate Page 23

  He let loose the breath he’d been holding and felt his muscles loosen. Now he just had to find the lava Thork assured him was down in these caves somewhere, drop the potion in it, and then find his way back up and out before it brought the mountain down on top of him.

  His muscles tightened back up at the thought of the quest before him. "Won’t get done if I don’t start doing it," Alto reasoned aloud. He started towards the tunnel with his shield held out to light his way.

  It was obvious after a few moments why the troll had recommended the passage to him. It opened into the side of a narrow chimney that stretched both above and below him. He peered as far down as the light from his shield would let him see but he couldn’t see the bottom. The walls of the chimney were wet and cold, giving him hope that perhaps if he could find a way to climb it he might find a way out higher on the mountain.

  Alto climbed down, using fissures in the rock, narrow ledges, and even other rocks that had broken and become lodged along the way. At times, he had to risk sliding and dropping several feet, ruining his hopes of climbing back up the chimney to escape. He’d committed to his course, even if it took him to the bowels of the underworld.

  Alto’s downward progress was halted by rubble. Broken rock had fallen in the uneven shaft and become lodged, preventing him from further descent. A fresh activation of his shield revealed a small gap in the walls of the chimney that he could crawl through.

  Alto inched along, pushing his shield ahead of him in the tiny passage, until it opened up ahead of him. He could smell something that reminded him of some of the strange ingredients Kar needed for his spells. Something sulfurous. He pushed forward again, unable to see beyond his shield and then saw his source of protection and guidance dip forward and slide away from him. Alto threw his arm forward but only managed to push the escaping shield away from him faster.

  He pulled himself forward and nearly followed the shield over the lip of a ledge. A dozen feet below, his shield rested on the rocks beside a small pond of bubbling mud. The lip he rested on was a little more than a foot wide, making it nearly impossible for him to pull himself free of the tiny cave without falling into the boiling mud himself.

  Alto looked for an easier way down but saw that the ledge ended in a wall to his left and faded away as it rose to his right until it merged with the ceiling. He scowled and leaned over the edge. Twelve feet wasn’t so far, he supposed. The light from his shield began to dim, reminding him that he’d spent a lot of time crawling already. Twelve feet suddenly felt like it would be a lot farther in the dark.

  Alto sat on the edge and scooted forward until he slipped off and plummeted to the ground below. His feet hit the mud and it sucked his boots in nearly to his ankles. He windmilled his arms and threw himself back until he felt the rock wall holding him up. The heat from the mud started to seep through his boots, warming his feet and alarming him.

  He leaned over and grabbed his shield just as the light finally died away. He summoned it back with a touch and looked more closely at his new surroundings. If water could be boiled down into mud, that meant there was heat nearby. His feet were growing hot and even the air around him felt warmer. Was there lava nearby? He pulled one boot and then the other out, making sure he hadn’t doomed himself to be sucked into the mud like quicksand.

  He moved along the thick material to his right, climbing up and out of the mud pit and finding the ground turned firmer. He held the shield up to light his way and search for where to go next when he heard a squelching sound behind him.

  Alto spun and saw the mud was bubbling up farther out in the middle of the pit. He was about to turn away when he realized that rather than bursting, the mound of mud kept growing until it resembled a column or pillar more than a bubble. Appendages grew out to the sides, looking like arms, and a darker opening appeared near the top of it. Alto stared, at a loss to explain what he saw. It moved across the surface of the mud, absorbing the earthy material into its body and leaving behind the steaming mud it had once possessed.

  "What are you?" Alto gasped. He grabbed his sword and drew it, and then managed to stagger back a step.

  The mud creature swung one of its arm-like appendages around and forward. A ball of mud the size of a large melon flew through the air at Alto. Stunned as he was, his instincts kicked in and he lifted his new shield to block the strange missile. The mud ball slammed into his shield and knocked his shield into his chest. Alto fell back, amazed at the force of the creature. He scrambled to his feet and risked a glance over his shoulder, hoping he could see a way to escape.

  When Alto looked back at his adversary, he found it was nearly upon him. The arms were swinging again and reaching for him. He dodged away, knowing that another block would send him flying. He had no idea how to fight the mud man but his battle-tested reflexes took over. He hacked at the arm, his blade doing little more than striking wetly into the mud.

  The creature recoiled from him, pulling its arm back even as Alto yanked hard to retrieve his sword from where it had mired in the mud. The blade came loose but he had to throw his shield up to deflect the other arm from slapping him in the head. Rather than knock the elemental’s arm away, his shield pushed him down and under the ponderous assault.

  Alto jammed his blade into the central mass of the mud man and then yanked it back before it was sucked in. It was more work retrieving his weapon than it was striking with it. He danced away before the creature could try to crush him again.

  Alto struck again and again but he found he was tiring. The mud creature seemed no worse for the battle, even though it acted as if Alto’s strikes were hurting it. He learned to dodge the slow attacks but narrow misses or forced blocks reminded him that a single mistake could spell the end for him.

  "This is impossible," Alto despaired aloud after he staggered away from a glancing blow to his shoulder. "I can’t kill you, so let’s see if you run as fast as you fight."

  Alto turned away and ran, leaving the massive mud puddle behind. He ran down the hall as it narrowed until it resembled a room less and a tunnel more. He had to duck as the ceiling sloped down, improving his hopes that the blob of mud behind him wouldn’t be able to follow him. His smile faded when he realized that if the tunnel was a dead end it wouldn’t matter how slow the mud man behind him was.

  Alto turned enough to shine his shield behind him and saw the mud man still pursued him, though he’d gotten far enough away it was in the shadows at the edge of his light. Alto spun back and pushed ahead until he found a fissure in the rocks ahead of him. It rose up, reminding him of a narrow ravine in the wilderness except this one had a ceiling that wouldn’t allow him to stand to his full height.

  Alto climbed up the juncture between the walls of the ravine, scrambling over the occasional loose rock that he kicked down. He wiped sweat out of his eyes when he reached the top and found a small room with smooth black walls that glinted with shiny facets and trapped minerals in them. A few arches in the wall to his left let him see a reddish glow on a rock wall several feet away over what looked like a chasm. The smell of sulfur was much stronger here, enough to make him wrinkle his nose as though he’d just stumbled across a wolf foolish enough to attack a skunk.

  He turned and glanced back down the rock ladder and saw the mud creature had caught up to him. It was finding it far easier to climb than he did and the limited height wasn’t a problem for the monster.

  Alto turned back and hurried across the room so he could stick his head through the arch in the wall. He had to pull back due to the heat that washed over him. It dried his eyes out and sucked the air from his lungs. Alto was reminded of the merchant’s house that had caught fire.

  Peering through slits, he looked through the arch and pushed himself as close as he dared. He reached out to touch the rock and hissed as he heard and felt his fingers sizzle. Was the red glow from the rock itself?

  He could make out a shelf extending out to a small promontory of rock that towered far over a narrow chasm. I
t had once been a rock bridge but the center span had collapsed long before Alto had arrived. Waves of heat distorted the air, making it hard for him to see across the chasm. It looked like there was another ledge on the far side, but with the distortion he couldn’t tell if it was a leap of three feet or twenty.

  Alto turned back and saw the upper edge of the elemental climbing out of the passage. He clenched his teeth and turned back. It was hot. Too hot. But something that hot had to be hot enough to melt rock. Hot enough to be lava. Alto reached down and untied the sack tied at his belt. All he had to do was toss the box in the lava and he’d be finished. He’d like to escape, but it was more important that he stopped Sarya’s forces.

  Alto grabbed the box and felt his hand brush against something else in the sack. He felt the other object and remembered the first potion Thork had made for him. He said Alto needed to drink it when he was at the lava flows.

  Alto uncorked the potion and poured it down his throat, swallowing rapidly to keep from tasting it. He turned and watched as the mud man swelled into the room and resumed its amorphous humanoid shape.

  A chill swept through Alto, racing up his spine and spreading out to encompass his entire body. The heat was gone but in its place he wondered if he’d ever feel warmth again. He turned and reached out, brushing his fingers against the stone to see what happened. He touched it again, feeling the rock but not feeling the heat it had absorbed.

  Alto opened his mouth to cry out in triumph when the elemental’s arm slammed into him. He flew out of the arch and across the chasm. He felt the air rising around him, but there was no heat. He reached out and managed to grab onto the ledge at the far side as his body smashed into the wall. He gasped for breath and looked around, desperate for something else to hold on to. His shield took up most of his hand, giving him little purchase with the fingers of his left hand. His right hand was fine but he knew it wouldn’t last forever.

  A fresh aroma joined the mix, alerting him to something burning. He looked around and saw smoke rising from his boots and pants. Below them, he spotted the source of the infernal red glow. A stream of lava moved slowly beneath him. It was close, less than ten feet.

  Alto twisted and looked back to see the mud man in the archway. It tried to retreat but seemed stuck. After a second attempt, it broke away and left behind a dried lip of dirt and rock that crumbled and fell over the edge and into the lava. The mud monster retreated, disappearing from Alto’s view as it returned to its puddle.

  Gasping for breath now and fearing that he’d be burned alive even if he couldn’t feel it, Alto struggled to climb up. He tried to find purchase for his feet on the wall but the wall had been smoothed by the molten rock. He hung there, the strength in his fingers waning, and grasped desperately for anything that might help him.

  At a loss and admitting defeat, Alto let go with his right hand and hung from the edge by his fingertips. He yanked on the sack at his side until it finished coming free from his belt, and then he let it drop into the lava. At least he’d help stop Sarya. It was more than he’d expected to accomplish when he’d taken Beck into the underground river with him.

  The sack burst into flames before it hit the surface of the lava. Within seconds, the dwarven chest was exposed and it caused a small but violent reaction in the liquefied rock. The blast splattered lava against the walls and sent Alto flying into the air and landed him on the ledge he’d been clinging to.

  Alto rolled and gasped for breath, astounded at the change of events. He sat up and saw his boots were splattered with lava and on fire, even though he couldn’t feel them. He scrambled to untie them and kick them off, launching one over the edge in his haste and sending it into the river of lava. He swatted out the remaining flames on his pants and then stood and peered over the edge.

  He could feel the hot air rising as soon as he cleared the edge. It dried his eyes and made him blink in order to see the dwarven chest sink beneath the fiery surface of the lava downstream from him. Alto fell back and let himself succumb to his exhaustion. His toes warmed and he could breathe in the warm air, even if it still reeked of sulfur.

  "Hot!" Alto gasped. He sat up and then jumped to his feet. He could feel the heat under his feet now. It wasn’t uncomfortable, yet, but he knew it would be soon. Thork’s potion was wearing off.

  He turned and rushed along the ledge until he found a crack in the wall that promised escape. He ducked into it and followed it up and away from the river of lava. His feet complained of sharp rocks and being jammed and stubbed into crevices but he ignored them. He had to get away from the lava. Thork had told him he had a few hours or more, but the troll didn’t act like he was certain.

  Alto kept going, randomly choosing passages that looked like they’d climb up towards the surface. He had to go back twice when he encountered dead ends, but the heat had long since faded and he found himself chilled again, though this time from natural causes. Exhaustion continued to dull his senses but he forced himself on. Hours passed but how many or in what quantity he couldn’t begin to guess. All that mattered was trying to find a way out.

  The only constants in the tunnels were the light that he had to summon forth in his shield every fifteen minutes and the pain in his feet. Without his boots, his feet were cut, aching, and frozen from the occasional puddle he had to stumble through. He was grateful that they still hurt, now that he had a better understanding of what frozen hands and feet was like.

  He stopped when the cave he was in emptied into a cross tunnel that was wider and seemed less natural. He looked down into the new passage and studied it, wondering whether it was dwarven or something else. The walls and floor were far from uniform, but at times a few rocks showed signs of having been broken and worked to widen the passage. He was about to drop down into it when he heard noises to his right.

  Alto waited, crouching in the shadows of the side tunnel until he recognized the harsh language of goblins. Another moment passed and then he saw six goblins pass underneath him. He waited a count of three and, after seeing no one else, he dropped down behind them as quietly as he could.

  He landed with a dull thud and a grunt, but the goblins continued on. He drew his blade and leapt at them, cutting two down with a single swipe before the others turned and shrieked. He finished a third as it drew a club and a fourth after smashing its crude sword aside. The final two goblins provided no more challenge to him; they were shaken by his sudden appearance and had no real skill with their swords to begin with.

  Alto stood tall and looked at the butchered bodies surrounding him. He looked up the passage in the direction they’d been headed and then turned to look back down the tunnel. His eyes widened as he saw an ogre swinging its club at him.

  Alto bounced off the wall of the passage, spinning with the impact and wondering if he’d ever be able to find air enough to fill his lungs again. He was pretty sure he’d heard ribs crack or break from the strike, but he knew he’d have to worry about that later. He tripped on a goblin’s corpse and fell, his head cushioned by the soggy mass of another dead goblin.

  The ogre towered over him, club raised to deliver the killing blow. Alto’s sword had been dropped but he still had his shield. He raised it up and deflected the ogre’s downward swing even as it made his shoulder throb. Alto grabbed for the dagger Thork had given him and yanked it free with time enough to slam it down into the ogre’s foot.

  The ogre howled and leapt back. Alto stared in shock; he still held onto the dagger that had been impaled in the creature’s foot. The dagger’s blade was buried several inches into the stone floor of the tunnel! The ogre spun and grabbed at its foot where blood was pouring out. Alto saw all of one and part of a second toe on the floor next to his hand.

  He pulled the dagger out and rose to his feet, and then slapped his shield with his forearm to blast the ogre with light. It continued to scream and shout in its harsh language at him. Alto slammed into the massive creature, shield first. He knocked the off-balance ogre to the ground and
thrust the dagger into its side. The knife kept going, slicing so easily through his flesh that it wasn’t until Alto’s hand was buried in the slippery insides of the ogre that he realized it was dead.

  He pulled the dagger out and stared at it. Blood dripped free as though the knife was just too sharp for the fluid to cling to. Alto shook his head and wiped the knife clean on the ogre’s shirt, and then put it back in the sheath.

  He gathered up his broadsword and prepared to leave when he realized his feet were still bare. Alto glanced at the six small goblins and then at the large ogre. With a frown, he moved and started cutting the shirts off the goblins and began to wrap them around his feet to protect them.

  He had finished with one and more than halfway through the second when he felt the ground rumble beneath him. He looked up, worried, and finished tying the second set of rags about his foot.

  Another rumble shook the mountain, followed by a distant crash. He felt wind at his back, from deeper in the passage. The wind was faint, but it promised disaster. Alto turned towards the direction the goblins had been going. They’d been headed up, at least. He nodded and rose up, and then started to walk. The pain in his side stopped him, causing him to gasp. He pulled up the chain and looked at his side to see the jagged edges of three ribs pushing his skin out.

  Alto reached around for his belt pouch and dug into it. The last time he’d met Thork, when they’d been trying to find and kill Barador, the troll had given him some potions he’d said would heal him. Alto had drunk one already. It saved him after Barador had all but killed him and allowed him to defeat the man. Now it looked like he needed the troll’s help again.

  Alto drained the foul-tasting liquid, forcing it down his throat in spite of how much it reminded him of what his father smelled like after he’d returned from a hunting trip to the swamp. He gasped, fighting against the urge to vomit, and focused instead of memories of the times he’d gone with his dad on those hunting trips and the bonding they’d done.