Paul Collins - Swords Of Quentaris

Panic-stricken, he almost left Vindon, but before he struck for the surface, he clutched his foe by the hair and dragged him up. He broke the surface, drew in a huge breath and ducked again.

Securing a firm grip on the now struggling Vindon, he swam for shore.

'Don't fight!' Rad screamed. He ducked a

frenzied fist. Then Vindon took in another mouth-ful of water and went limp.

The current wouldn't let go. Rad thrashed his free hand more savagely, drove his legs harder. He knew he wasn't going to make it, not with Vindon in tow. Sink or swim? He could easily have let go of the dead weight, but some inner reasoning wouldn't allow it. He took in more water. On the verge of collapse, he remembered the advice he was going to offer Vindon.

He allowed the current to take them around a craggy outcrop, where they gathered speed. At one point an undertow tugged at their legs.

'Kick!' Rad screamed.

Vindon shook his head, his eyes like glazed marbles. But Rad could feel his feet paddling.

Slowly they drew back from the undercurrent.

Tributaries opened up in fissures and much of the water seemed to disappear into their mouths.

Travelling fast, Rad realised he would only have seconds to align himself with the island. If they swept past it, he knew he would be unable to make the distance again. The next moment the

island swung into view. Rad struck toward it.

Despite the current's pull, he managed to reach out and grab a rock. Almost lifeless, Vindon was drawn back into the torrent but Rad's grip was firm. Sodden, he clung to the rock until he had the strength to pull Vindon to shore.

Vindon's face was deathly pale but he was still alive. He flopped on to his back and lay there like a beached whale. It wasn't until he gagged water that Rad dragged himself up and went to the pedestal.

He approached it almost reverently but warily

— there was no telling what magicked evil would spring from such an unusual piece of rock!

He stared at it before attempting to open the glass casing. Was this a test — or had he just passed the test? It was hard to tell. Cautiously he placed his palms on the glass ball. When it moved he jumped back. Hamilian magic! He had never seen a glass ball disappear into grooves before.

A key lay exposed on a once-plush bed of red velvet. Time had ravaged the fabric but the key seemed untarnished. It was unlike any key Rad had ever seen. Thin and oddly shaped, it looked

too fragile to open any door that he knew of. But a key it was — of that he was sure.

He swung around a moment too late. Vindon had snatched the key from its resting place.

'You can't have it!' Rad said, swiping at it.

Vindon struck him in the chest. Rad flailed backwards and fell.

'Says who?' panted Vindon.

Rad struggled to his feet. He barely had the energy to stand, much less fight someone twice his size. 'Don't make me wish I hadn't saved you.'

'Huh! That's a good one, Rad de La'rel. I've a good mind to toss you back in and hold you down like the water rat you are.' Vindon tucked the key into his tunic, then nodded toward the far bank. 'It'll be easier going back—just go with the flow.'

Rad seethed as Vindon dived in and began to swim toward the far cave mouth with powerful strokes. The map was over there, and their clothes. Rad cursed mentally. Vindon had been feigning exhaustion! If he'd been thinking half straight, he would have beaten Vindon back there and at least taken the map. Despondently

he dived in and let the current take him back.

Vindon had already dried himself with Rad's undergarments by the time Rad pulled himself up to the ledge. He had also thrown Rad's sword belt over his shoulder. While he dressed, Vindon studied the map. 'My mind is set,' Vindon said.

'The map's quite specific. You first — that way.'

I'll need my sword,' Rad said.

'Nice try, dolt. I'll protect you.' He pulled Rad's sword from its scabbard and struck the walls as he had seen Rad do earlier. 'Now move!'

Rad narrowly avoided Vindon's savage kick and followed his directions.

It was when the sword's scraping sound on the rock face changed to a screech that they stopped. 'It's here,' Vindon said, squinting to decipher some writing on a small section of steel frame. Gingerly he touched the metal surface.

Never before had either of them seen such work-manship. The metal plate was the size of a door

— larger in fact, almost twice as wide but the same height.

Vindon began chipping away at the rock around the door. It suddenly occurred to him

that two work faster than one, and he grudg-ingly gave Rad his sword back. 'One wrong move, street rat, and I'll cleave your ugly head from your shoulders!'

Rad had no doubt that he would keep his word.

The sandstone crumbled as they dug at it with their swords. Soon entire slabs of rock had peeled away from their bedding. They worked with speed, hoping that the door would magically open at their insistence. Eventually, when they had cleared a sizeable portion of rock, Rad rubbed the dust from the pitted metal.

The writing was in an old script — most likely a language studied by some disreputable scholars and necromancers — but not one of the more popular languages.

The words AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY

emblazoned in red were barely legible. They both stood back, still marvelling at the smooth-ness of the door. When Vindon spied the glass gems lined up to the right of the doorway, his heart leapt. He sheathed his sword and began digging at the row of coloured gems with his dirk.

Rad stood back. He had seen the folly of stealing Scar gems.

'There's a slot here,' Vindon said. He delved in his pocket and withdrew the thin key. Beneath Rad's stare, he gingerly placed the key in the slot and stood dumbfounded as a gem sparked green.

A sibilant sound spat the air and Vindon jumped back. The wall itself began rumbling and at once they readied themselves for flight.

Instead, the doors parted in such a way that they slid into the hidden wall cavity.

'By all that is holy,' Vindon whispered. Inside the wall was a dimly lit room — a room as un-familiar to them as a smithy is to a child. Lights shone where no flames lit them; boxes with un-blinking eyes viewing other worlds were fixed to walls; intermittent humming and hissing filled the air like swarms of alarmed insects.

Rad kept a wary eye on the doorway in case it decided to lock them in as they took another step into the room. Vindon leapt forward and touched benchtops and dusty chairs with his sword, test-ing whether they were real.

Most of all, Rad was mesmerised by the eyes.

Through them he could see the tunnels that he and Tulcia had been traversing, although they mostly looked indistinguishable from one another.

Some, he noted wide-eyed, looked down upon Quentaris. He reached out a tentative hand and touched an eye, thinking, perhaps, that he could reach through and touch the city. He pushed his splayed hand around the magic window. Then he rushed from window to window, hoping to reach through at least one of them.

Finally he stopped. Movement on one window distracted him. Tulcia! He quickly looked at Vindon, who was preoccupied with digging gems from the steel-like panels.

Again Rad pushed at the window, but to no avail. What was the use of a window if it wouldn't open? He thumped the black and sil-very panelling in a futile attempt to attract Tulcia's attention. Was it possible that some demon had trapped her inside a glass cage?

Without doubt she was trying to escape. Tulcia turned and stared at the cavern roof and Rad felt like screaming her name. Could she see him?

It was while Rad was pondering his next move

that he saw three shadowy figures sneaking up behind her. He turned urgently to Vindon. No help there. And he didn't want Vindon to see Tulcia trapped within the glass.