Brian Kittrell - The Immortals of Myrdwyer

“What now?” Marac whispered.

“We have to find a way past them.”

“Through that?” Valyrie asked, crouching beside them. “Far too many of them to sneak past.”

Brice pointed toward the ceiling. “What about using those to get across?”

Gazing upward, Laedron noticed the supports leading from the floor to the ceiling. Struts had been secured to them, likely to add extra support for the cave from all the excavation. The network of beams reminded Laedron of scaffolding he’d seen erected for builders on huge construction projects in the various cities they’d visited. “It’s worth a shot. Go get Tavin, Marac.”

“We can’t fly across?” Marac asked, glancing at Laedron’s scepter.

Laedron shook his head. “They would hear the chanting. We’ll have to be stealthy.”

“Hear? Have you seen ears on them?”

“We can’t take the chance.”

* * *

Returning with Marac a few moments later, Tavin bent beside Laedron. “You’ve found a way through?”

“Yes, and without fighting.” Laedron gestured at the supports. “Up and across, as quiet as mice. Then, onward to Kareth.”

Tavin nodded. “Until you’re a ways ahead, I’ll wait. I can’t be seen here, and if you’re spotted, well… you’ll have to do whatever you can without me.”

“Why? You’re the best sorcerer. We’ll need you with us if we’re discovered.”

“Like I said before, I cannot. You’ll know why in time, but for now, you’ll have to accept that.” Tavin sighed. “Best get going.”

Does he fear these things? We all do, but to keep himself out of the fight now is ludicrous. At the time we need him most-apart from dealing with Kareth, if we find him-he sits it out. “Very well. Marac, you’re our strongest, so you’ll go first. We’ll need you to help the rest of us up.”

“Wait,” Brice said, reaching into his pack. “Before we go, we ought to tie off with one another. If we fall, we won’t go all the way down.”

“Yeah, but if someone falls, they could take the rest of us with them, Thimble.”

“What do you think, Lae?” Brice asked, frowning at Marac.

“I think it’s a good idea.”

Marac gave Laedron a cross look. “And risk all of us at once?”

“We go forward together, remember? All or nothing. The execution needs a little work, though.” Laedron gazed at the beams. “They’re not very thick. Perhaps we could slip the rope around the girders before tying it to each person.”

“Good thought. We’d better wrap it twice to be sure we won’t take the rest if we should fall.” Marac took the rope and tied it around his waist. “Easier to climb if I don’t have to hold it. Wait until I’m all the way up.” He returned his sword to the sheath, stepped out onto the metal beam, then climbed to the top by way of screws and handholds at intervals along the girder. Once Marac reached the top, Brice gestured at Laedron to go up, and Laedron scaled the support. Valyrie followed, and Brice joined them in the rafters last.

Not long into their crawl, Laedron felt dull aches in his knees and hands. The thin layers of skin and fat between the metal and his bones provided little cushion. He sighed. We’ve only gone ten feet? Inch by hellish inch he crept, and the aches grew into shooting pains. He looked past the beam to the cave floor and hoped he would meet his end from the impact if he should fall to the bottom rather than the slow death of being picked apart by crystal mandibles.

Each time they reached a vertical beam, they had to undertake a tedious process of rope handling because they couldn’t pass where two supports were joined. Laedron was thankful for the breaks, but his patience was stretched to the limits when they had to stop for such a long time. Marac had to untie the rope around his waist, unwrap it from the beam, retie, climb to the other side of the vertical support, sit, untie, coil the rope around the next horizontal beam, and tie himself again. Then, the next person would go, repeating the same process, until all of them were on the same beam and ready to crawl again.

Halfway he mused, glancing back at Tavin, then forward at the apparent exit. What does he have to hide from us? Will he turn us over as some sort of offering, a tribute of four fresh souls in exchange for the tome? Perhaps Harridan told him a secret that none of us can know. The pain in his hands had become a piercing sting, and he left bloody handprints as he crawled. He tapped Valyrie on the bottom of her shoe. When she looked back, he signaled for them to stop, and she gestured at Marac.

Laedron sat and let his feet dangle off the side of the beam, then searched for something to wrap around his hands. Brice apparently knew what Laedron wanted because he handed over some lengths of cloth, then held up his hands to show strips tied around his own palms. Looks like I’m not the only one, Laedron thought, covering the cuts and tying the ends. Either that or he was smart enough to think of it before getting this far. Valyrie took a few strips and did the same, but Marac shook his head and held up his hand, a thick leather glove covering it.

With a nod, Laedron got on his hands and knees, then they started again. Should’ve done the same to my knees while I was at it. Ah, we’re nearing the end. Only a few more moments of suffering to bear. And one more of those damned vertical struts.

When he reached the support, Marac untied the rope from the beam, then tied it around his waist. He stood, hugged the brace, and stepped around it, then sat, untied, wrapped, and retied. Valyrie went next, and when she finished securing the line, Laedron crawled toward the post. Just one more time. He undid the rope from the support behind him. Standing, he lost his footing and grabbed for the vertical brace. He felt the sudden pull of gravity trying to yank him off the beam.

Valyrie extended her hand and whispered, “It’s okay. Step around.”

He took her hand, but getting to the other support didn’t ease the churning in his stomach. He knew that he wouldn’t have fallen far, but he still trembled from the near miss. Valyrie held him by the shoulders until he was done, and he nodded at Brice.

Brice grasped the beam, then put his foot around and searched for solid footing. Laedron had noticed Valyrie having the same issue when she had tried, and since the support only joined two braces on opposite sides, all of them had taken longer to cross that joint than any of the others. When Brice stretched out his leg, his hand slipped from the post, and he plummeted toward the ground.

Laedron felt a jerk at his waist when the rope drew taut. He clawed at the brace to keep from falling. He lost his grip, but he heard the rope tighten around the support. The sudden stop jarred his extremities and, most of all, his back. Had he been anywhere else, he would have cried out, but dangling above innumerable enemies, he had to bite his lip and suffer silently. Covering his mouth, he clenched his other hand on the knot at his belly and prayed that he had tied it well.

Laedron saw Marac taking off the rope and shook his head, but he couldn’t risk speaking. No, damned fool. Don’t do it. It’s too dangerous. He wanted to say all of those things, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. In his state, he wouldn’t be able to control his pitch or volume.

Marac climbed around Valyrie, then sat on the beam. Laedron looked back over his shoulder, both to avoid seeing Marac fall if it happened and to find out if Brice was still on the end of the rope. Laedron breathed a sigh of relief. It held. He could see the fear in Brice’s eyes, but Brice hadn’t plunged to the bottom. He looked up when he heard a hiss. Marac was reaching toward him. He stretched his arm as far as it would go, and Marac took hold of his hand.