City Under the Sand by Jeff Mariotte

Author:Jeff Mariotte [Mariotte, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Dark Sun, Fiction
ISBN: 9780786956234
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast
Published: 2010-10-05T07:00:00+00:00

2

Aric jerked into a sitting position. “Are you hurt, Aric?” Amoni asked. “You fell, and then you were … dreaming, perhaps …”

Aric closed his eyes, gripping the broadsword with both hands to draw as much strength from the steel as he could. He sensed all the other metal nearby, on the cavern floor—rods and posts and columns and bars of it, gold, lead, iron, steel, silver, copper, bronze—and he reached out with his psionic abilities and touched that, and for an instant the vision of a bygone time almost returned, but he fought it off. He needed to concentrate, to focus on summoning what energy he could from the steel and on blocking the unknown incursion into his mind. The cold, solid bulk of steel comforted him, made him strong.

He turned his attention inward, where it seemed he could see several slimy tentacles oozing through cracks in his mental defenses. He took each in turn, pinching it off until the tentacle itself retreated, then disposed of the segments in an infinitely deep pit he imagined.

Finally, the thing’s efforts ended. Aric was himself again, weakened by the experience, soaked with sweat that chilled him in these subterranean depths. But himself, just the same.

“I’m fine,” he said. “But … that was strange.”

“What happened?” Ruhm asked. “You were lost.”

“Yes … wait, where’s Damaric?”

“He went on ahead,” Amoni said.

“By himself?”

“I hope so. I don’t think there’s anyone else down here.”

“Do you … feel anything strange? In your heads?”

“Nothing in mine,” Ruhm said.

“I don’t,” Amoni said. “What are you talking about, Aric?”

Aric got to his feet. His head still swam, and the ground beneath him seemed unstable, shifting moment by moment. But an overpowering urge to get down the stairs filled him, to get to that metal. “Come on,” he said. He hoisted the broadsword and started down the steps.

With every spiral of the staircase he grew stronger. The metal no longer sang to him the way it had, and the visions had already faded, like memories of some event that had happened to him years before.

The cavern’s floor was uneven, but a path had been worn smooth between the bottom of the staircase and the great mass of metal. Before the metal, his hands resting against it, stood Damaric.

Aric reached the bottom first and ran toward the looming bulk. He heard Amoni and Ruhm close behind.

“Damaric!” Aric called.

The soldier didn’t respond. Damaric just stood there, looking at the mound of piled steel. Aric shouted his name again, once again earning no response.

In the gentle glow of the rock walls, the steel gleamed, its varied tints and hues reflecting colored light back at the observer. As he neared it, Aric felt a strange sense of familiarity, as if seeing home after a long absence.

Damaric still hadn’t turned. Aric put a hand on his shoulder. “Damaric?”

Now Damaric whirled about, his face a twisted mask of rage. He lashed out with a clenched fist. Aric, taken by surprise, raised no defense, and the fist caught him on the cheek.

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