while we still can. We…”
He stepped towards the dais, intending to cut her free.
“Stop!” said Rhyannis. “Don’t come any closer!”
Ridmark froze. “You are guarded by a spell?”
“No,” said Rhyannis. “Something worse. One of the Warden’s fell creatures.”
“Ridmark,” said Lancelus. “Look. There. Around the top of the dais.”
Ridmark stopped, frowning. He saw a faint blur, a ripple, around the top step of the dais, and he wondered if an urvaalg waited there. But the blur was too long and too slender for an urvaalg. It wrapped around the entirety of the round step. A magical trap? Heartwarden might have the power to pierce it. Ridmark moved to the side, hoping to get a better look…
And then, all at once, he saw it.
A massive serpent lay coiled around the top step of the dais, its scales blurring and rippling to match its surroundings. The thing was as thick as Ridmark’s thigh, and as motionless as one of the undead orcs. He saw its unblinking yellow eyes watching him.
“What is it?” said Ridmark.
“The creature is called a sthanos,” said Rhyannis. “The dark elves brought them to this world long ago. Most were wiped out in the war with my kindred, but some of the creatures yet remain, and the Warden keeps a few as pets. The serpent’s bite turns its victims into stone.”
“Hence all of this,” said Ridmark, waving at the gray statues.
“Yes,” said Rhyannis. “Sometimes when men and women of the lesser kindreds dare to enter Urd Morlemoch, the Warden amuses himself by having his sthanos turn the trespassers to stone.” She looked at one of the statues and shuddered. “And the Warden has dwelled within Urd Morlemoch for a very long time.”
“Then let us slay the serpent,” said Ridmark, lifting Heartwarden, “and be on our way.”
“No!” said Lancelus and Rhyannis in unison.
Ridmark frowned.
“Do not,” said Rhyannis. “I beg of you, do not. The creature is faster than you can imagine, faster that you can move. Only a single scratch from its fangs is enough to turn you to stone.”
“Then why has it not already struck?” said Ridmark.
“Because it does not think for itself,” said Rhyannis.
“Like the undead orcs,” said Lancelus.
“Aye, sir knight, you say it true,” said Rhyannis. “The sthanos is a mindless beast, and acts only as the Warden’s spells compel it. If you try to free me, it will strike. If you attack it with a drawn weapon, it will strike.” She shook her head. “Do you have any magic? Other than in the swords you carry?”
“None,” said Ridmark. “We are not Magistri.”
“Then you cannot free me,” said Rhyannis. “Go, quickly, before the Warden discovers you are here.”
“No,” said Ridmark.
“Perhaps she speaks sense,” said Lancelus. “We cannot free her. Better that we escape than that all three of us die here.”
“Heed your elder’s wisdom, I beg of you,” said Rhyannis. “Let my folly bring punishment upon my own head. Do not compound it by staining my hands with your blood.”
“If we die, the blood will be upon the hands of the Warden, not you,” said Ridmark. He stepped away from the dais, trying to think. “And I will not leave anyone in this foul place. Not when I can still save them.”
“But you cannot save me,” said Rhyannis.
She had a point.
But to have come so far, to have defeated so many obstacles, only to turn back within sight of the woman he had come to rescue? Ridmark could not allow that.
Lancelus laughed again, high and wild, and Rhyannis gave him an odd look.
“What now?” said Ridmark.
“You truly are inexorable, Sir Ridmark,” said Lancelus. “You set your mind to free this woman, and you will not turn from your course, though all the hosts of hell should bar the way.”
“I am a Knight of the Order of the Soulblade,” said Ridmark, “and I told Ardrhythain that I would rescue Rhyannis from Urd Morlemoch or learn of her fate. A Swordbearer should
He stepped towards the dais, intending to cut her free.
“Stop!” said Rhyannis. “Don’t come any closer!”
Ridmark froze. “You are guarded by a spell?”
“No,” said Rhyannis. “Something worse. One of the Warden’s fell creatures.”
“Ridmark,” said Lancelus. “Look. There. Around the top of the dais.”
Ridmark stopped, frowning. He saw a faint blur, a ripple, around the top step of the dais, and he wondered if an urvaalg waited there. But the blur was too long and too slender for an urvaalg. It wrapped around the entirety of the round step. A magical trap? Heartwarden might have the power to pierce it. Ridmark moved to the side, hoping to get a better look…
And then, all at once, he saw it.
A massive serpent lay coiled around the top step of the dais, its scales blurring and rippling to match its surroundings. The thing was as thick as Ridmark’s thigh, and as motionless as one of the undead orcs. He saw its unblinking yellow eyes watching him.
“What is it?” said Ridmark.
“The creature is called a sthanos,” said Rhyannis. “The dark elves brought them to this world long ago. Most were wiped out in the war with my kindred, but some of the creatures yet remain, and the Warden keeps a few as pets. The serpent’s bite turns its victims into stone.”
“Hence all of this,” said Ridmark, waving at the gray statues.
“Yes,” said Rhyannis. “Sometimes when men and women of the lesser kindreds dare to enter Urd Morlemoch, the Warden amuses himself by having his sthanos turn the trespassers to stone.” She looked at one of the statues and shuddered. “And the Warden has dwelled within Urd Morlemoch for a very long time.”
“Then let us slay the serpent,” said Ridmark, lifting Heartwarden, “and be on our way.”
“No!” said Lancelus and Rhyannis in unison.
Ridmark frowned.
“Do not,” said Rhyannis. “I beg of you, do not. The creature is faster than you can imagine, faster that you can move. Only a single scratch from its fangs is enough to turn you to stone.”
“Then why has it not already struck?” said Ridmark.
“Because it does not think for itself,” said Rhyannis.
“Like the undead orcs,” said Lancelus.
“Aye, sir knight, you say it true,” said Rhyannis. “The sthanos is a mindless beast, and acts only as the Warden’s spells compel it. If you try to free me, it will strike. If you attack it with a drawn weapon, it will strike.” She shook her head. “Do you have any magic? Other than in the swords you carry?”
“None,” said Ridmark. “We are not Magistri.”
“Then you cannot free me,” said Rhyannis. “Go, quickly, before the Warden discovers you are here.”
“No,” said Ridmark.
“Perhaps she speaks sense,” said Lancelus. “We cannot free her. Better that we escape than that all three of us die here.”
“Heed your elder’s wisdom, I beg of you,” said Rhyannis. “Let my folly bring punishment upon my own head. Do not compound it by staining my hands with your blood.”
“If we die, the blood will be upon the hands of the Warden, not you,” said Ridmark. He stepped away from the dais, trying to think. “And I will not leave anyone in this foul place. Not when I can still save them.”
“But you cannot save me,” said Rhyannis.
She had a point.
But to have come so far, to have defeated so many obstacles, only to turn back within sight of the woman he had come to rescue? Ridmark could not allow that.
Lancelus laughed again, high and wild, and Rhyannis gave him an odd look.
“What now?” said Ridmark.
“You truly are inexorable, Sir Ridmark,” said Lancelus. “You set your mind to free this woman, and you will not turn from your course, though all the hosts of hell should bar the way.”
“I am a Knight of the Order of the Soulblade,” said Ridmark, “and I told Ardrhythain that I would rescue Rhyannis from Urd Morlemoch or learn of her fate. A Swordbearer should
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