Of Truth and Beasts

Again, someone had to survive to tell of this place. No matter Wynn’s reason for coming here, or what she sought, the guild had to know of the seatt’s existence and of a monster in its depths.

Something had to come from all that this had cost.

The creature’s head whipped back toward Chuillyon, and he peered around the coffin’s base. Its maw opened once again, spittle dripping from its jaws to the floor.

Ghassan gained his feet and took a stumbling step as he began to chant.

“No!” Chuillyon shouted.

Ghassan froze in silence.

“Go!” Chuillyon shouted. “Tell our own of this place. Go ... now!”

Ghassan’s brow furrowed as either anger or frustration passed across his caramel features. But Ghassan was so close to the open portal. He could escape this hall.

“Get ready to run!” Chuillyon called. “I’ll distract it.”

He steeled himself, hoping that when he died, it would be quick, if not painless. But he saw no choice. Ghassan was the only sage here with a chance.

Before Chuillyon could move, Ghassan bolted.

Chuillyon saw the Suman run straight for the wide breach from which the creature had emerged—and not for the exit out of this place. Chuillyon was stricken cold as he watched Ghassan launch himself into that opening and fall from sight down the shaft.

Chuillyon could not breathe. His mind went numb as any frail hope withered, thinking that all this would die with him. Why would Ghassan kill himself in such a futile manner? Did he fear the creature would pursue him, and he preferred another death?

Chuillyon was alone as he heard claws upon the hall’s floor.

The creature rushed him, and all he could do was retreat to the wall between the coffins. The reptile came too rapidly for him to dart along the wall, and its head thrust in at him only an arm’s length away.

A sadness like no other crushed everything inside of Chuillyon.

Ghassan’s self-destructive act, Hannâschi’s helplessness, and Shâodh’s burned bones overwhelmed all other thoughts as he looked in the creature’s black glistening eyes.

He could not bear any more sadness and loss. All he had left was a moment to pray.

Chârmun ... fill me with your absolute nature ... in my sorrow of failure. 

“Nothing matters but the orb!”

Chane heard Wynn’s shout on the edge of his awareness, but it brought only a ripping sense of denial. Hunger, fury, and his love for this woman tangled, becoming one and the same. Then he heard her chanting softly and saw her thrust out the staff’s uncovered crystal.

Chane lashed out at the winged creature’s tail with both blades, trying to make it turn on him.

“Chane, don’t!” Wynn cried. “Go!”

No searing light filled the tunnel.

He halted, looking to her. Why had the sun crystal not ignited? Wynn raised her shocked eyes to the end of the staff. Something had gone wrong. Chane would have screamed if he had a true voice.

But the creature did not spit fire again.

Shade snarled and weaved, trying to stay between it and Wynn. The scaled beast raised its head out of reach, but its attention was fixed on Shade.

Wynn bolted forward. She tried to slip by, but the creature’s neck snaked down and cut her off. It would not allow her to pass. She locked eyes with Chane, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

The desperation on her face knifed Chane in the chest. She grew still, looking at him, and her voice was frighteningly calm.

“If you care anything for me,” she called, “you will listen. What matters to me here is who I am ... and it matters more than even what I mean to you. Go after Sau’ilahk. Get to the orb first.”

Chane took another step.

Wynn shook her head, and this time her voice was barely audible.

“If you love me, then go ... for me.”

Chane shuddered.

Those words stung him more than if she had simply told him to leave her and never return. To deny what she asked and save her, or to do as she asked and lose her, was crueler than any choice she had ever forced on him.

He let out a hiss of anger and panic. The feral thing at the core of his nature struggled beneath the violet concoction that had kept him awake since they had first headed under the mountains. He could not take his eyes off Wynn, even as she turned to face the creature hovering just beyond Shade’s bared teeth.

The creature was poised in stillness, but for how long?

If you love me, then go ... for me.

Chane cringed in anguish as Wynn’s plea kept rolling through this mind. How could he deny what she claimed by not doing what she asked?

All he could do was turn and run down the tunnel.

Ore-Locks had barely regained his feet. As Chane rushed by the dwarf, he snarled.

“With me—now!” 

Ghassan kept falling down the shaft, out of control, still dazed by the backlash of his failed sorcery on the creature. Chuillyon’s demand that he flee still left him shocked, but there was much more at stake here than just revealing the discovery of Bäalâle Seatt. Chuillyon had not seen the frightening hints in the translated poem.