Chapter 24
Melelea
We follow Granite and the others out of the village and down a new tunnel.
The star lichen becomes less dense the further we move from the central cavern.
When we find ourselves at a dead end, the golem presses another stone, and the wall in front of us proves to be another secret door, opening into total darkness, a billow of cold air coming into the passageway.
“You can use your lumen crystal again until we reach the surface,” rumbles Granite.
I pull out the lumen fragment, tapping it with a finger and lighting it.
As it begins to gently glow, the star lichen’s light fades around us, looking like plain moss.
I will miss its beauty, but I must confess that I will be glad to get out of the mountain.
The oppressive darkness of the mines and the constant fear of danger are not things I will miss.
Not that the mines will not have their share of good memories too.
I smile secretly, thinking of my interlude with Wodred at the hot spring.
I felt beautiful and wanton and alive then.
He has awakened feelings in me that I considered long dead, but they have roared to life with a vengeance.
I am hungry for his touch, hungry for his praise.
Though we are on the edge of danger and in the middle of a perilous quest, I cannot regret what we have done together.
Perhaps there is no better time for passion than before one must face death. Later could be too late.
As we walk quietly through the tunnels, the air getting colder and colder as we ascend, I can’t help but worry about Wodred.
I still have our only heat charm hanging around my neck, and when we exit the mine, we will be close to the mountain’s peak, where the air is thinner and colder. Will his cloak be enough?
“Are you all right?” I ask him quietly. However, since no one else is speaking, my words echo like I shouted them. “Cold?”
“I am fine,” Wodred says. “I have trained in harsh winter conditions, and my cloak and boots are thick. I can withstand a little cold.”
I’m dubious of his claims, but don’t argue with him.
The only other choice we have is for him to carry me, but he can’t fight like that, and we are about to head into hostile territory.
He needs to be able to use his weapon. I suppose I could give back the heat charm, but I know he would balk at the suggestion.
I know that he could be dying of the cold, and he would insist I keep it.
So I stay silent on that front and just turn back to Granite, who walks a little ahead of me.
“Thank you,” I say softly, “for all your help. We would have been lost underground if it weren’t for you.”
“You are deserving of our help,” the golem replies evenly. “We could feel it in your magic.”
“My magic?” I query. “What do you mean?”
“Since golems are made of magic and stone, we do not see as flesh races do. Instead, we can feel others through kinds of magics in all things,” Granite explains without emotion.
“The type and source. It’s how we knew there was a demon and that his magic and malice are bleeding into the mountain.
Your magic is gentle, kind. Its source is from goodness and is not in conflict with nature.
It’s how we knew you were to be trusted. ”
I am speechless at his explanation. I knew that golems that are left active for long stretches can gain intelligence and consciousness, but the ability to sense magic is a power I did not know that they had.
“Not all of your villagers trusted us,” I point out.
“Most of them have never seen a flesh creature before,” Granite says. “You are new to them. And most of the stories that they have heard of your kind, or at least the humans, are from Dacite, and he has no love for flesh creatures.”
“Why?” I ask. “What happened to him?”
The golem is silent for a long stretch, but just when I think he won’t answer me, he replies, “The four of us, Dacite, Basalt, Shale, and I worked for the humans. We were created by them. They were not kind to us. Even as we began to be aware, they did not care and treated us with callous cruelty. Then, one day, we were separated from the company by a cave-in. We were not destroyed, and waited to be dug out . . . but they never did. We were abandoned.”
Abandoned. I feel a well of sympathy for the golems. What must it be like to be cruelly treated by those who created you, only to be left behind?
He continues, “We wandered through the tunnels, trying to find a way out. We still had our pickaxes and could still mine, so we did that. We thought we would just try to get out until the magic animating us faded.”
Realization strikes me, “But you found the star lichen, didn’t you?”
The golem nods. “The magic in the lichen could keep us animated for thousands of years, if not longer. We have already been down there for ten years and are stronger, more alive than ever. It is our lifeblood and the lifeblood of the mountain.”
How lucky, I think, that Grazrath is on top of the mountain, unaware that all the magic he could ever want is right underneath him.
If he had found the star lichen, he could have opened a portal to the Nether long ago.
It is probably only through the kindness of Fate itself that the golems have been here protecting it and hiding it away from the world.
“It’s with the star lichen that you created the other golems, isn’t it?” I ask.
“Dacite figured out that if we took a stone from our own bodies and used it to build another golem, the star lichen would animate the figure, and a new golem would be born,” Granite says. “The new golems are like our children in that way.”
“Then I must thank you even more that you would risk bringing us to your village, to your family, in that case,” I tell him, and I mean it. They risked much to help us.
“Your magic and heart are pure, and you swore you would not reveal us to the outside world,” Granite says simply. “Our secret is safe with you.”
As he finishes speaking, we come around a corner and I see a pinprick of light in the distance.
“This is where we leave you,” the golem says. “Your companions are not far from this exit, and we will not risk the others seeing us. Remember your Oath.”
“We will remember,” Wodred says from behind me. “I echo Lady Melelea’s sentiments. I thank you for your help.”
“Thank us by ridding the mountain of the demon,” Shale says, to our right. “His magic is affecting the stones, and that affects the star lichen.”
“This day will end with my blade through his chest,” Wodred vows, and the golems nod.
“May the gods guide your steps,” Granite says, and then three golems fade back into the darkness, walking through the tunnels with no light. As they vanish from sight, Wodred moves forward so that he is in the front.
“Stay behind me, Melelea,” he says, his voice firm. “We don’t know what waits for us out there. Grazrath must have the mountain crawling with imps looking for you.”
“All right,” I agree, not arguing. I know that I am the liability in this situation. If Grazrath gets me, he will be able to awaken the magic in the dragon bones, and then all of Anar’i will suffer.
We move through the mine shaft up toward the light at the end of the tunnel. As the light gets bigger, Wodred sniffs the air.
“Gunag is close, and I can smell my warbeast, Claw.”
“We must hurry to intercept them,” I say.
“But we need to be careful,” Wodred says. “They will be on high alert and will likely attack if we come out of nowhere before they realize who we are. Let me signal Gunag.”
We get to the mouth of the mine and pause.
I look down in the low light of the setting sun and see two warbeasts several lengths down the mountain.
Thank the gods that it is no longer storming and we can see clearly.
Wodred put his fingers to his lips, pressing on his tusks, and gives a shrill whistle in three short bursts.
The effect is immediate. One of the figures on warbeastback swivels their head, and then the two riders are galloping up toward us. As they get closer, it is clear to see that it is Gunag and Dame Zera. We exit the mine and stand under the setting sunlight to meet them.
“Wodred! Lady Melelea!” Gunag exclaims. “You’re alive!”
“As are you,” Wodred returns evenly.
“How did you find us?” asks Dame Zera, a hint of suspicion in her voice. “And your way out of the mountain?”
“My runes,” I say, giving a half-truth, as I know that Gunag will be able to smell outright lies. “We used them to find our way through the tunnels when we weren’t sure where to go.”
Gunag and Zera seem to accept that answer readily enough. They have no reason to suspect there are helpful golems in the dark, after all.
“How did you survive?” I ask. “The runes said that Gunag was hurt.”
Gunag scoffs at that. “I merely twisted my ankle. I’ll be fine.”
“It’s worse than that,” Zera says. “It’s likely sprained. If we didn’t have the warbeasts, we would not have been able to travel. If you would just use your healing magic—”
“I have no healing magic,” snaps Gunag. “I am no elf.”
I barely keep myself from rolling my eyes at their bickering.
That was something I definitely did not miss while we were apart.
However, I suspect that Gunag is lying. Those of elven blood almost always have at least a weak healing gift.
But Gunag famously hates his elvish side, blaming his mother’s abandonment for his father’s death.
He considers himself an orphan, even though his mother is likely still alive.
“Stubborn orc,” Dame Zera snaps back. “This is no time for pride. We need to be in top condition if we are to still slay Grazrath.”
“I’m fine,” Gunag emphasizes. “An orc is not going to be felled by an ankle injury.”
“Enough, Gunag," Wodred says. “Dame Zera is right. If you can heal yourself, you should do so. The foe we face is not your average enemy. Lady Melelea has had visions of him on the mountain’s peak. He has access to the dragon’s bones like we thought, but he doesn’t have the power to use them yet.
He is in the weakest position he can be, and it is our time to strike. I can’t have you be a liability.”
“Are you ordering me to heal myself?” Gunag glares.
“If that’s what it takes, yes,” Wodred says evenly.
Gunag grumbles, but he pulls off a glove and reaches down to touch his ankle. There’s the buzz of magic in the air, a slight golden glow, and then he rips his hand away like the act had burned him.
“Happy?” Gunag says, his tone bitter.
“You are such a fool,” Dame Zera says derisively. “Why could you not have done that yesterday?”
“No more arguing,” Wodred says. “Let us act like warriors and work together. You can bicker all you want when the demon is dead.”
Dame Zera looks chastened by Wodred’s words, but Gunag, as always, appears unrepentant.
“What next then, general?” Gunag asks. “What is the plan?”
“We climb to the peak on our warbeasts and trap Grazrath inside the cave. But we will leave Lady Melelea here.”
“What?” I ask, not sure I heard him right. “But you need me to find the dragon’s cave.”
“No, I have been there before,” Wodred says. “When we slayed Wyrmin after his rampage five years ago. I’m sure I can find my way back without your help. We must keep you out of Grazrath’s clutches at all costs.”
His words have merit. I sigh. “You are right,” I say. “I’ll hide back in the mine until you come to get me.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Wodred says. Then he steps forward and, in front of Gunag and Dame Zera, kisses me breathless. I hear Dame Zera make a strangled, startled sound, but can’t bring myself to care with Wodred’s lips on mine.
The orc pulls back, his eyes full of a wealth of feeling. “I will return to you. I remember my Oath.”
His Oath that we will live through this. My face warms at the thought. I smile and say, “Then I will wait—”
My words break off as cruel talons suddenly grasp my shoulders and lift me off the ground.
I hear Wodred’s shout from beneath me, but it is getting farther away.
I look up to see an imp flying above me, holding me tight in its claws.
It must have found us and waited to strike when we were distracted.
Then I hear Gunag shout, “Don’t throw your javelin, you could hit Lady Melelea!”
There is no rescue for me. The imp flies up into the sky, keening out an aberrant, triumphant cry, carrying me away from Wodred and towards my doom.
Grazrath awaits.