At a signal from the elf, Chukshene dismissed his glowing orb. The magical globe melted out of existence with an ethereal sigh.
There was enough light for her to lead him forward, slowly, around a steady knot of twists and turns until they finally found a narrow crack in the wall ahead. As they inched toward the opening, she anticipated a flurry of movement from whatever might be guarding the exit.
But were instead greeted by the sound of silence as sharp a razor blade.
The elf grunted as she noticed it was early evening.
The sky was a dribble of pale pink squirted against the horizon. Clouds, tossed against the star-speckled sky, skirted briskly south as though to escape the freezing wind shivering from the mountains far to the north.
Still, the air was clean and crisp and she felt less smothered now she was out of the oppressive caves and their humid air.
It was too late to travel much further. They'd need a place to bed down, she thought. Maybe build a small fire. She wasn't too keen on staying within the cave.
Nearby, a cluster of crumbling huts formed a circle of jagged stone ruins and offered decent shelter from the wind.
At least, more than the open field beyond.
Flat and almost as smooth as glass, she realised she knew where they were.
This was the top of Rule's Peak.
A mountain whose peak was said to have been sheared off by the sword of the God of Light. Looking at the smooth open surface, it was easy to believe the legend was true.
The crack they'd crawled from was carved into the only rise along the edge of the cliff. Clutches of steel and rotting wood formed a neat line. Each mound of rubble sitting among piles of gigantic boulders similar to the ones which had been tossed below.
Her guess that this was where the catapults had been positioned seemed confirmed.
Perhaps the peak hadn't been cut for no purpose. Maybe that's where the boulders had come from.
Given the height, and the mist playing at the ledge, the view was stunning. In fact, it might have taken her breath away if she'd chanced to look down.
But she hadn't come for the view.
At least, not the one behind. So, she kept her face aimed south and headed toward the small ruins. The warlock scuttled after, blinking at the final blush of sunset.
He blew hard into his hands. "Grim's frozen nuts, it's cold," he complained.
"We're a bit higher up," she reminded him, scratching at her palm.
"I know that," he snapped back. "I'm not completely stupid."
"Maybe not completely," she said. "But could be that I am."
"What's that?"
"Ain't sure," she said obliquely. "Reckon we'll find out soon, though."
The warlock frowned but caught the tightening of her body as her muscles tensed.
She moved more catlike, heading quickly toward the closest ruin. Vaulted through the torn remains of a window.
Roof and floor had rotted away a long time ago. Much of the wall, too, had fallen inward to form a tangled mess of debris. Her first thought was the ground was too uneven to defend easily. And the crumbling walls too low.
But, unless she wanted to head back into the caves, it was the best they were going to get.
She prowled the edges, not really sure what was making her feel anxious. But it felt like she was being watched. Pursing her lips, she paused at the vacant jaws of each window in turn and thrust her head through the openings.
The warlock followed suit, trying to peer through the creeping shadows, but couldn't see anything except the smooth field heading south.
Other than the handful of ruined huts, there wasn't much else to see. He would have mocked her for her paranoia, but in the past few days he'd learnt she never seemed to be wrong when it came to impending violence.
With a shake of her head, she made an irritated face and motioned for him to sit.
"Nothing?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Can't be sure. If there is something out there, it ain't ready to show itself yet."
"That's not very comforting," he grumbled, settling down on a small clump of stones. Then dropped his pack and yawned. "You know, now I sit down, I feel it. At first, I couldn't believe we'd walked all day. It didn't feel like we'd been climbing so long. But now it does. My legs ache. If I ever stand up again, it'll be a miracle. And fuck, it's cold. You want me to make a fire? Plenty of wood around."
"Not yet," she said, her eyes still stabbing at the shadows. "Let's wait and see what happens first."
"You know, if I make it out of here alive, I'm never coming back to the Deadlands as long as I live."
"Reckon that's the smartest thing you ever said, 'lock."
"Fuck you," he said pleasantly. "Want anything to eat?"
She shook her head.
Trusting her gut, she took a spot by one of the windows. Leaned lightly against the stone wall and waited. Thought she saw a twinkle of light but couldn't decide if it was her imagination summoning lights or not.
"See anything?" he asked.
"I'll let you know when to panic, 'lock."
"Yeah, I appreciate that," he said drily.
Watched her closely for a while, then looked down at the grimoire resting on his knees.
Brushed his fingers across the cover. Looked back to stare thoughtfully at her silhouette.
Wondered what she might have looked like if the streets hadn't scarred her so horribly.
He tapped the old spellbook. And before he had time to think, he found himself talking. "Did I tell you how I got this?"
The elf glanced at it. Cocked her head. "No. You didn't."
"Was a bastard to get," he said, looking out through the window. The last smudge of sunset slipped into the dark like the last few drops of blood from a corpse. "Spellbooks like this are rare. Disgustingly rare. Told you, I'm no mage. I'm a warlock. So, I needed a different set of spells. You won't find a book like this in Godsfall, I'll tell you that. I had some of the basics I found in an old tome in a graveyard outside Doom's Reach. It was enough for a year or so. But I needed more. You know how it is. Spellslingers can't be satisfied."
"Power's an addictive thing," she said. "More so for mages, I imagine."
"I won't argue that. Anyway, I started searching. Went through the library of Godsfall from top to fucking cellar. Looking for any kind of clue on where to find one. Found shit. But I heard a rumour. Of all places, from a few friends in a Fighter's Guild in Hatejaw. They knew a guy. A thief who said he'd found a hidden tomb full of treasure. You know the story. Gold. Gems the size of my balls."
"Sounds like bullshit."
"He said he'd managed to loot a handful of coins and a fucking candlestick. I wouldn't have cared. But he'd seen a book. Nothing remarkable about that, really. Lots of books in all kinds of tombs. But this was the tomb of a dark mage. And the local story is he summoned demons to defend his Keep before Rule laid waste to it. Catch was, the Keep was the Broken Tower of Grippike Thin."
"Bad place?"
"Haunted to fuck," Chukshene confirmed with a sigh. "And that thief was the only one I've ever heard of who made it out alive."
"Shouldn't believe everything a goon tell you, 'lock," she said easily, listening to the wind rustle over the cliff's jagged ledge.
"I realise that," he said. "But I had to take a chance. A book like this to me is like all the knives in the world to you. I got all the way in. Burned up a dozen undead and a few not-so-deads. Had to fight a wight. And that wasn't easy to kill. Few possessed goblins. They're why goblins still freak me out. Got to the tomb. Popped it open. Got hold of this here grimoire. Could feel the power in it. Happiest moment of my life until then."
"Worked out in the end, I guess."
"Not right away. Those friends I mentioned? Well, they were thinking about the treasure, too. There was plenty of it in there, for sure. Enough gold to last a lifetime. But they figured my grimoire would be the icing on their cake. Imagine the gold they could get if they could find the right buyer? Well, they took me from behind. Knife in the back. I still have the scar. Hurts in cold weather like a bitch."
The elf felt a few itches on her back where a couple of scars of her own worked to remind her that trust should never be given too quickly. "Reckon you learnt a lesson, then. Keep an eye on your back."
"I did at that," he snorted. "I didn't die of course. I got lucky. Just as they stabbed me, a bunch of undead dropped from hole in the ceiling. I guess everyone thought I was dead. The undead stuck around for a bit, then left. I crawled like a cockroach out of there. And it took me a while, but I got my revenge. It wasn't easy, and it wasn't pretty. Ended up there was more to it than just those bastards. Betrayal's a bitter thing to taste, you know? Sometimes I think the knife in the back was the most painless part of the whole thing."
"Trying to say something, Chukshene?"
"Just that this quest of yours? I understand it. But it won't make you feel better."
"Ain't my first time, neither," she said. A few stars twinkled in the distance. Bitter thoughts poisoned the crooked line of her mouth. "I'm experienced."
"I believe you. But it's the first time you've felt this strong about it. Only happens maybe once in your life. When hate nearly eats you from inside. I know it, Long-ear. I've been there. Just giving you some friendly advice is all. Look out for yourself."
She nodded slowly, eyes on the stars.
"Obliged," she said. "But it's getting a bit late, and we're both tired."
Raising an eyebrow, the warlock nodded. "Is that a subtle way of telling me to shut up?"
Her eyes narrowed to slits.
She no longer had any doubt.
The stars were moving.
"Ain't trying to be subtle, 'lock." The elf slid Controversial to the End from its sheath and gently tossed the blade in her palm. "Just figure it's time to kill the lights."