Storm of Spells by Remi Black

Author:Remi Black
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sword and sorcery, elves and fae, desert citadel, fantasy with mystery, shapeshifters
Publisher: Writers Ink Books
Published: 2023-09-25T00:00:00+00:00

~ 7 ~ Dungeons of the Archais ~

His missing men and the wyres’ lair, those were Rhodren’s focus as he led the troop into the passages below the buildings. Inkeri had magicked a blue fire for the torches, and the eerie light was steady and stronger than flames.

The shadows cast by the blue light looked bruised and strange, but not a man of his hesitated to enter the lower lanes. He wondered how much of their bravery came from Inkeri’s claim that sorcery couldn’t spot those elemental blue flames.

His thoughts meandered as much as their search of the deeps did. Pride swelled as he recalled the past week. Mundane and magicked enemies had attacked, snakes and lizards, black birds and golden panthers, and a chisoone as unnatural as all the others. Armed only with blades and arrows, his men fought with the determined persistence that had won accolades from the Argent king once the war ended. Now they faced shapeshifting wyres and a sorcerer.

Did Captain Walsing and his men face similar foes? Enemies that attacked while they crossed the desert? More enemies once they entered the Archais?

Did Baron Verte’s troop stand strong? Or had they wavered? In the late war, Verte’s troops hadn’t won guerdons from the king. Rhodren’s troops had. He could depend on their standing to fight, no matter the enemy.

He knew little of Frost Clime, the force of sorcerers and their wolfen, only the little snippets of news brought into the Argent realm. Rumor claimed the sorcerers wanted a return of the dragons that had been banished to the Wastes after Dragon Dark. Frost Clime attacked the Fae and wizards at Chanerro Pass and Iscleft Citadel, trying to gain a foothold into the vast vale between the thin-bordered Shining Lands and the Wastes beyond. Thus far, Frost Clime had lost.

Do the sorcerers not understand how dangerous the dragons are? Rhodren understood, and he had only ancient tomes and legends for evidence. The great dragons had fire, gouts of it that incinerated people and their structures. The bite of the lesser wyverns injected venom while their fire burned but could be extinguished. The flightless lindworms had no fire but spat an acidic venom.

Only a fool would crave the return of the dragons.

Maybe the sorcerers were fools, desperate fools who lied to themselves in order to destroy their enemies.

Through these lower passages, deep and deeper beneath the citadel, Inkeri walked beside him. He wanted to ask her about dragons and Frost Clime, but he’d imposed silence. A search into the unknown meant hearing was as important as sight.

Rhodren stepped off the twisting stairs and advanced to Hessel and Timote at the juncture of three passageways. The cavern walls oozed moisture. Niter crusted the walls. The salty deposits reflected the blue torchlight, gleaming purple on the walls.

“Look you,” the wiry archer husked. He pointed with his crossbow at the iron bars across narrow cells. “We’ve reached the dungeons.”

Old fear had coated the cells with a fetid sweat and iron tang of blood.

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