Troy Denning: The Obsidian Oracle

“You don’t have to do this,” Agis objected. As he spoke, he carefully tucked the satchel into his sling, knowing that even Mag’r was not a big enough fool to let a prisoner roam free. “I promise-”

“Tie!” Mag’r growled.

Agis did as he was ordered, once again using the Way to animate his broken arm, testing the knot several times to make sure it was secure. When he was finished, a fair length of rope remained.

Mag’r used some of the extra line to bind the noble’s arms to his sides. Once the king was satisfied that his prisoner could not easily slip his bonds, he carried Agis over to the bridge and tied the other end of the rope to the railing, leaving the noble suspended over the pit.

“Now I can watch you while I rescue your friend,” the sachem said, chuckling at his cleverness.

With that, Mag’r returned to the edge of the pit and began his descent, knocking more than one skull off the sharp crystals lining the pit. As Agis waited, his broken arm began to throb, and the ache caused him to sweat more profusely. Every few seconds a few beads of perspiration would roll off his brow and vanish into the abyss below. The noble did not mind, considering a little pain and a few ounces of body water a small price to pay for having discovered the location of the Dark Lens-and probably of Tithian, as well.

When the sachem reached his destination, he grabbed the half-breed’s arm and pulled him roughly off the crystal. Fylo cried out in pain and glanced up at Agis. A thankful smile creased his lips, then he closed his eyes and slumped into Mag’r’s arms. “Stupid giant!” the sachem cursed.

With that, the sachem laboriously ascended the pit again, dragging Fylo’s unconscious body up behind him. The sharp crystals scraped over the half-breed’s gravelly hide, opening tiny scratches that did nothing to rouse him. Once Mag’r reached the top, he pulled the half-breed out of the hole and laid him aside.

“Where’s the Oracle?” he asked, looking up at Agis.

Agis briefly considered trying to talk the giant into letting him borrow the lens for the purpose of killing Borys, but he quickly rejected the idea. Even if Mag’r were disposed to make such an agreement, which seemed doubtful in the first place, the sachem had shown no inclination that he would be willing to trust the noble.

Mag’r rose. “If you break your word, I’ll-”

“I have no intention of breaking my word,” Agis interrupted. “But I didn’t say I knew the Oracle’s location. I promised to tell you what I knew about its connection to the satchel that Beort found,” Agis finished, being careful to remind Mag’r of exactly what he had said. “You’ll have to figure the rest out for yourself.”

Mag’r scowled, then nudged Fylo toward the pit. “Tell me what you know-now!”

“The satchel belongs to my companion, Tithian,” said the noble. “Because of where we found it, we can assume he found the Oracle.”

“Where’d he go?” the giant demanded.

“As I said, you’ll have to figure that out for yourself,” Agis replied. He did not feel honor-bound to give a more direct answer, since he had not known the information when Mag’r had plucked him from the fissure-and certainly would not have agreed to reveal it if he had.

The sachem started to nudge Fylo toward the pit again. “Tell me!”

“Don’t hurt him!” Agis said. “I’m not certain, but I suspect you’ve been closer to the Oracle than you think.”

“Down there?” Mag’r asked, pointing at the pit.

When the noble did not answer, Mag’r knelt at the edge of the pit. “Perhaps Nal had nothing to do with your friend’s injury,” the giant suggested. “Perhaps your friend was trying to hide something when he fell?”

The sachem peered into the darkness for several moments, and at first Agis could not think of what he expected to see in the murk. Then he remembered how, as Beort had come crawling down the mica tunnel, the youthful giant had called out that he could see a red glow coming from the chamber.

Agis waited until a few drops of perspiration had gathered on his brow, then closed his eyes and visualized the beads slowly beginning to glow with a red light. He felt the tingle of spiritual energy rising from deep within himself-and remembered something else about the exchange between Beort and Mag’r. The moment the youthful giant had described the glow as bright, the sachem had realized that something was wrong.

After softening the red glow in his mind, Agis shook his head to release the beads of sweat on his brow. They plunged into the pit, and as they passed into its black depths, they began to flicker with a scarlet light so faint it was almost imperceptible.

Without a word, Mag’r clambered into the pit and began to climb down. Agis waited until the sachem had descended past the narrow neck where Fylo had been impaled, then began twisting his good arm back and forth within its rope bonds. He managed to open up enough space to twist his hand around and grab Tithian’s satchel.

Pausing just long enough to make sure he had a secure grip, Agis pointed the mouth of the sack at one of the crystal shards still protruding from the side of the pit. A faint stream of glimmering energy poured out of the sack. As soon as it touched its target, the milky color faded from the crystal. The shard slowly expanded along the rim of the pit, its limpid edges reaching out to connect with the adjacent pieces.

As the shards connected with each other, the lid seemed to draw more energy from the satchel, and the crystal restored itself at an ever-increasing pace. Still, the process seemed to take forever, and Agis began to worry that Mag’r would discover his error before the pit sealed itself.

At last, the final sections of the lid connected to each other and formed a complete ring around the edge of the pit. About the same time, a muffled roar of rage rumbled out of the hole, and Agis knew that the sachem had reached the bottom. A distant rattle began to echo up from the pit, presumably as Mag’r angrily searched through the ancient bones covering the floor. It was followed a moment later by the vicious shrieks and roars of wild animals, and the giant’s pained howls began to echo up from the depths of the abyss.

Mag’r’s voice began to grow louder, and the noble knew that his captor was climbing up from the depths. Agis watched helplessly as the crystal ring expanded inward, closing the pit’s entrance at the pace of a stone-worm. Soon, the sachem’s curses became intelligible as he swore at the animal spirits pursuing him. The opening to the pit remained large enough for an angry Joorsh to push through, and there seemed no possibility that it would close in time to save Agis.

“You’ll die slow, you little trickster!”

Through the opening below, Agis could see the giant’s plump head weaving its way up through a tangle of crystals just a few yards below the lid. The sachem’s eyes were burning with hatred, and a pale swarm of bones was swirling around his ankles. Mag’r thrust one, then two hands through the opening and tried to pull himself out.

His hands began to pass back through the crystal, much as Agis and his companions had sunk through it earlier. Mag’r cried out in alarm, trying to move his hands so he could renew his grip on a more solid surface. His efforts were in vain, for his fingers were already caught deep inside the crystal.

“Brace your feet, or you’ll fall and end up like Fylo!” Agis called. “Then be patient. One of your warriors is bound to find you sooner or later.”

Mag’r did not take the noble’s advice, choosing to glare up at him instead. “You’ll never leave the island!” he hissed. “My warriors-”

The giant’s hands passed through the bottom side of the cover, bringing an abrupt end to the threat. Mag’r plummeted into the darkness, his screams ringing off the walls of the abyss. A moment later, his voice fell abruptly silent as the crystal lid sealed the opening through which he had tried to climb.