The Deepcombers

Chapter Fifty Seven

A small ball of fire cracked above Lon's wrist and the hissing sound echoed up the dark stairway.  He fed the glowing construct more smilk to keep it alive and found he could govern its size by adjusting the flow. 

The young lad climbed for what seemed like an eternity. The exercise was eerily similar to his ascent to Ephram's shrine except without the heavy weight on his neck. An hour passed and he took no breaks; he plodded steadily upwards and used the stainless steel handrail to climb the perfectly formed stairs.

The lad chuckled when it struck him that he'd gotten everything he wanted from Ephram. He'd asked for the Samardina and the great master had instantly helped him. He'd given him just what he'd requested but had seemingly put no thought into his health or well-being. Once he'd seen that schematic which showed the Secondsun, Lon had figured out how to make fire and ice all by himself. That was a defining moment. Even though he didn't totally understand the grand device he now had fire in his hand. He'd built the sign in his mind and that was the hardest part. Now he had a mighty weapon and useful torch.

Lon saw the top of the stairway loom above; here again was the four kingdom test he'd solved with Melcart. The portal was open, the two doors likely worked in tandem.

The Traveled Path was just as he'd remembered. It was dark and dirty and smelled like death. The alabaster white panel had been reset and was closed. He wouldn't open it. The nightmare returned and he felt his fear increase with every step; he could feel the rat turds and dirt underfoot, this place haunted his dreams. Lon remembered how he'd dreamed of being down here with the others and being so scared that instead of doing battle with the beast they'd run down the stairs! Was that a dream- augury? Maybe he didn't have to kill this creature or even face it; if he could just get to that armory again and close the door he'd be safe. That's what had happened when he'd visited here with Mel. Bah. He'd never get so lucky now by himself.... He knew he'd have to face it. He'd have to kill it. With fire.

This was a stupid idea. He could turn around. I should turn around. I should find another way. He couldn't face this beast alone, with bare hands and feet in the rat infested catacombs. He wasn't ready for this.

But there was no other way. He had to stay and do this, come what may... I have to try. Even if this is where I die.

Stop it! He'd do more than try. He was a monster. Nothing could touch him now and he didn't need a weapon. I am a weapon! He had smilk in his mind and he could make withering balls of fire just like Gladragos. But he'd never done it before in battle, and he was not as strong as his hero, not even close...

The manticor spoke. "Neeeoowgggrr." Lon froze. So much for sneaking past the beast. Its voice curdled his smilk and made him feel sick with fear. The cloying sound echoed down the dark corridor and rippled the stagnant air.

Lon increased the flames and raised his arm to peer into the darkness ahead. He could see nothing lurked and so took another step. His feet sank into the powdery turf and he shivered with fear. The fire burned bright above his hand but he knew he could not throw the blaze like this; once it was aflame there was no attaching the bor sign. To make a projectile he'd have to quench this construct and start over. But he watched the sigil work in his brain to make the sizzling ball of flames and it pacified him.

"Neeeoowggggrrrr," the cat beckoned from the shadows ahead.

Liquid terror coursed through his bloodstream every time the cat meowed. He heard his heartbeat in his ears and realized the fear he felt was not entirely his own. It was the cat's not-so-secret weapon. The creature's most cunning attack came from its voice; its piercing meows were a mutation that painted the worst imaginings in his mind.