The Deepcombers

Chapter Fifty Two

Hastegus was perplexed. This wasn't the result he'd expected. It surprised Lon too. Val giggled from behind and Mel and Saeya also smiled at the comedy. They weren't cowed by this newcomer and his motley crew.

"Minat!" Hastegus shouted forcefully as if to inject more power. The same laceration snapped forward again at Lon. It struck him a second time and once again it rolled harmlessly away. These yellow tablets protected him, just as the red ones had done. Lon and his three friends laughed at the frustrated amateur who faced them.

The five wildkin grunts who supported Hastegus hoisted their blades and skewers. They didn't like being ridiculed. They stepped past the shafeigors with a thirst for mayhem. The soldiers raised their machetes to strike the young masters but Melcart was ready for them.

"Geishef," the rogue spoke calmly, and Lon heard the word snap and he felt the pulse. The sound concussed across the entire cliff side. The rogue kept the glyph alive to push the air in front of them directly at the wildkin. The sudden gust blew the five bandits back into Hastegus and into his two orange-robed companions. The occultist fell to his knees to try and withstand the breeze, but the hairy brutes behind fell to their deaths. The newly made mystic managed to hold the ivy which pulled free of the rocks all the way down. This could have dampened his fall. Lon heard the vine being ripped from the side all the way down and he saw the dark hole in the treetops.

The white-haired lad looked back to his friends and shared a smile with Melcart. He'd done it again. With just one sign he'd eliminated the entire threat. The Varget solution he'd made was both quick and effective. The rogue thought so too; he raised his arms in silent triumph. Saeya and Valari grinned, no doubt relieved. They relaxed whatever they'd charged-up in their minds.

"Was that the same wretch we saw yesterday?" Saeya asked. "Was he the cripple in their camp?"

"The very. Same." Lon nodded. "Do you. Think He. Survived?" Lon pointed down at the hole in the canopy seventy feet below; they listened. There was no sound but the waterfall.

"Maybe he cannot easily die?" Val suggested.

"Groundsmilked and half in the grave..." Melcart diagnosed.

Valari nodded in agreement and faced Lon, "Zed would say you have Nemesis."

As the four young masters watched the landscape below for any sign of life, they suddenly beheld torchlight and a soft glow the other side of the monolith. Everyone drew the same conclusion; more visitors were on their way up.

"Goodbye Lon. Go now. Before it's too late." Saeya came to physically push him across the stone bridge. She set down her sack filled with ashes so she could hug him again.

"It's already too late," a powerful voice pierced the darkness beyond the ledge. Footsteps on stone could be heard; someone had come up the narrow stairs under the wolf's belly. "Stay right there Sea Drover." The voice made Lon cringe with revulsion and he fought the compulsion to drop the tablets and fight. All four turned to look, but they all knew just who it was that'd spoken.

Lon, Saeya, Valari and Melcart paced across the wolf's shoulder to peer down the narrow stairs. They saw a lantern, followed by four dark figures on their way up to meet them. Hooded inquisitors, these four aspirants came-up two by two on the narrow steps with the waterfall aglow behind them. The righthand inquisitor held a lantern outstretched before their party and Lon was suddenly paralyzed with indecision. The crushing weight of the stones returned as his brain processed his vision.

Grand High Minister Surilus Horne stood just ten steps down on the slender rock face. The path was very hazardous and yet he stood closest to the edge, fearlessly. He was accompanied by three swarthy Alocerian inquisitors, the same goons from the boat, the Nunceos. He carried the copper cylinder with the dimpled side and prayer chains were tied above and draped around their necks.