David Farland - The Lair of Bones

But she had miles to go.

She raced to a pair of howlers, huge yellow spidery creatures that were lugging stone buckets of ore down to the mines. The monsters discarded their buckets and trumpeted an eerie warning as Averan raced past.

Even the big howlers were more afraid of Averan than she was of them.

A dozen miles she ran, meeting no reavers. In Waymaker’s memory, these tunnels had always been bustling. For the first time Averan began to understand how many reavers the One True Master must have sent to attack Carris.

She had emptied the Underworld.

Averan was panting from thirst when she reached a side tunnel that sloped down a hundred yards and then leveled out again as it emptied into the Lair of Bones.

Here, the ground burned hot. Even with endowments of stamina, no human could survive long.

Averan sprinted into the chamber. The Lair of Bones was vast, part of a cavern that had existed for millennia. Dripstone hung from the roof, covered with feathery grasses and roots that slowly stirred the air. Reaver bones littered the floor—ancient skulls with gaping crystalline jaws, serrated teeth as long as Averan’s arm, and huge leg bones as thick as logs. Dried claws groped the air like scythes, while everywhere lay piles of horny carapace plates so exotic that humans and other surface creatures had nothing to compare them to. The bones were as clear as crystal. Some were so old that they were as dull red as amber, others were the citrine hues of the newly dead.

The bones climbed upon the ground to a depth of four dozen yards in places, forming small hills, and the reavers had cleared a path between them. Averan trod through a valley of bones.

These were the vanquished foes of the One True Master, left as trophies so that other reavers might be properly humbled as they sought audience before her.

Until Averan saw the aged skeletons, she had not truly understood how old the One True Master might be, how hoary her malevolence.

She knew that the monster had subjugated all of the other reaver hives. But she hadn’t guessed how many queens had been destroyed in the process.

The dead numbered in the thousands.

Averan slowed as she wound through the vale.

There should be more reavers here, she thought, at least some of the queen’s Shadow Guard.

But the vast chamber lay silent.

That means they must have gone to the surface, Averan thought. They’ll be leading her troops.

Still, Averan’s gut warned that she wouldn’t be able to reach the Chamber of the Seals without passing some guards.

She wouldn’t smell them. The reavers could hide their scents, make themselves smell like rocks and plants. Nor would she see them if they chose to hide.

She cleared her mind, reached out with her senses, and felt him there, the Consort of Shadows.

He was up the trail, waiting patiently. He’d suspected that someone might try to make it here.

“It’s me,” Averan whispered to the creature’s mind. She timidly ambled forward. “I had to come. I have to destroy the Seals.”

Faintly, almost as if against its will, she heard the Consort of Shadows answer. “I smelled you. I knew you were coming.”

“Let me pass,” Averan said.

Ahead lay a great hill of bones that rose seventy feet into the air, so that they almost scraped against the ceiling. At the very top lay the skulls of giant reavers, noses pointed outward like the petals surrounding a daisy, their open mouths gaping in every direction.

They formed a nest. The staves of mighty sorceresses were thrust between the skulls, sticking up like a crown. This was the great throne of the One True Master, the seat of power from which she peered down upon her servants. Above the nest, enormous stalactites hung like teeth.

“The scent of command is upon me,” the Consort of Shadows replied. “I must guard this place.”

Some bones beneath the throne suddenly shifted, and the Consort of Shadows scrambled up, looming above Averan. In one clawed hand he held a great blade, a weapon unlike any that Averan had ever seen. The metal was cold and black, and the blade rippled in waves. She could smell runes written in scents by powerful reaver mages along the length of it. In the other claw he held a black net woven of reaver hide.

He was huge, and Averan now recognized the scent of hundreds of runes upon him, and could see their pale blue light flickering like a low flame along the lengths of his arms and on the bony ridge of his enormous head.

He moved with tremendous speed and grace, and Averan dared not fight him.

“Your ancestor ate the brains of an Earth Warden,” Averan reminded him. “You know what he knew. I don’t come to destroy your people but to help them.”

The monster lunged.

Averan raised her staff and imagined a rune on the ceiling above, a rune of stone breaking. Instantly the stone bubbled and the rune took shape.

The roof of the chamber began to collapse. Massive stalactites sheared away under their own weight.

The Consort of Shadows darted to the side to avoid the first of them. Averan sprang back, running as fast as she could.

Stalactites lanced down while slabs of rock flaked from the roof. Above her the Lair of Bone was collapsing.

Averan ran for her life, racing through the valley of bones. She dodged just as a boulder crashed in her path.

Raining stone pummeled ancient piles of reaver bone. It thundered, and the floor shook beneath her.

Averan sprinted toward the mouth of the chamber, fearing that the Consort of Shadows would leap on her at any moment. Rubble pounded the floor. A choking cloud of dust as black as night roiled out from the mess, filling the cave, so that the light of her opal pin was almost worthless. Averan could see no more.

She threw herself beneath a reaver skull. Stone roared down around her and chunks of rock bounced from the path and slapped her ankles. Blinding dust rushed over her as Averan threw her hands in front of her eyes for protection. Thick dust worked its way into her ears, settled down the back of her throat, clogged her nose. There was nothing to do for it. She waited a long moment for the cave-in to finish.

She opened her senses, reached out with her mind, and sought the Consort of the Shadows.

The huge reaver lord was in pain. Rocks by the ton weighed down upon his back, slowly crushing the air from him. His right arm was pinned, and with his left he tried to dig his way out. But even with his incredible strength he did not seem to have a hope of escape. He was not a hundred yards behind her.

I’m sorry, Averan sent the thought to him. I didn’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt anyone.

The sound of falling stone tapered away. Only a few rocks clanked down from the ceiling and bounced as they settled among the debris.

Averan climbed up from under the overhanging skull and tried to peer around. The dust was so thick that it blinded her, and it would hang in the air for long hours, hours that she dared not waste.

She sprang up and picked a path over broken stones, hurrying toward the Chamber of the Seals. Tons of stone and rubble covered the Lair of Bones. Large rocks shifted each time she stepped on them, and she had to wend her way around massive boulders. Averan peered up to the great throne, but the reaver skulls were crushed beneath the tonnage. Averan squinted painfully as she fought through the dust.

She climbed to the stones where the Consort of Shadows lay buried, worried that at any instant his massive paw might reach up and crush her.

She peered into his mind, felt rage and frustration. He struggled to free himself, unaware of how close she might be. Gingerly, she climbed onto a large stone, fearing that the monster might sense her added weight.