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Stone and Wolf (Part 8)

Lyke's heart was filled with rage. His foot-paws beat against the cold stone of the spiral stair case, propelling him downward. His sword was held in front of him in preparation to fight. It was unlikely this demon would let him into its lair without testing his mettle at least once more. It didn't matter what happened now.

The stair case finally ended in another wooden door. Lyke stopped just long enough to tear it open before sprinting forward again. He found himself in a level hallway. Torches lined the walls and extended in either direction. The stone was carved into intricate patterns and figures. To his right, there was another door. To his left, the hall continued for a ways before turning right. This change in scenery caused him pause. With a sharp growl, he clutched the amber amulet around his neck.

"Are you still watching, demon!? If you want me to come to you, lead me to you and we can get this over with, for better or worse!" The breeze picked up once again and rushed though the hallway. Its source was his left, and left he went. He ran against the wind, his head bent, his stance low, his sword held by his side. He knew the demon could lead him in any direction it wanted in this manner, but that was of no concern to him anymore. Lyke reached the turn in the hall and rounded it close to the inner wall. The hall continued for just a short ways more before ending in another door. Two stone-clad, bipedal creatures stood blocking the way. What showed through the armor was furless, emaciated, and sickly grey. Their masks reminded Lyke of a spine-snake with a flattened face. One held a long metal spear. The other drew a metal-mold bow to its shoulder with a throaty chitter.

"Your speed has been tested... What about skill?" The deep voice of the ancient demon spoke seemingly from behind the door beyond. Lyke whipped his body back around the corner in time to dodge the incoming arrow. The shaft splintered into hundreds of fragments against the back wall. It had moved in the blink of an eye due to the workmanship of the bow. Lyke could not imagine having the strength to pull it. However, his ears caught the sound of the creature knocking another arrow. The demon was right: Skill would be needed here, not strength. Lyke regarded his old straight sword in his right paw. It had several nicks and scrapes from fighting the stone beasts pervious. He drew the ancient blade at his other side. Its slivery sheen put his sword to shame. It was time to see if it was enchanted. He didn't count on it, but it would be a welcome surprise.

He spun around the corner, flicking his old sword around in his right paw. At the end of his turn, he let the sword fly like the bullet of a sling at the archer. Before the sword struck its target, Lyke was running for the spearman, the ancient sword in both paws. The straight sword hit the bow broadside. At that moment, the creature released its arrow. The sound of metal on metal was immediately followed by the snap of the bowstring. Lyke barley glanced at the archer however. He had made his move. He could only drive forward and hope he could best the spearman quickly.

Only when their weapons clashed did he realize he had not been shot. He slid his sword down the shaft of the spear, sending sparks flying. In this manner, he got inside the range of the creature's weapon. Lyke didn't expect to deal a blow so easily. He was prepared for, in fact counting on the thing countering him. He was relieved when his momentum was diverted by a skillful parry downwards. Lyke dodged to the left, putting the spearman in between himself and the archer. Then, following the weight of his steps, he brought the slivery blade around and down onto the creature's throat. The area he struck was protected by about an inch of stone. However, the cut was clean, and the thing's head rolled from its shoulders. With a glance at the archer, he saw another arrow was already being aimed at him. Lyke moved quickly to catch the body of the spearman before it fell. This he did and hid as best he could behind it. To his great surprise, the body was struggling with weak spasms. Its stone-clad fingers clutched at the fur on his sides, trying to throw him off. The archer's aim snapped from one opening to another, waiting for the right time to fire. Lyke kept his legs moving, and his head ducked down below the spearman's shoulder blades. In this manner, he made his way to the door. Once there, he moved the body ever so slightly to the right so the archer could get a line of sight to his flank. Lyke waited for the creature to notice. This didn't take long. Lyke watched its fingers on the string. At the first twitch of movement, he shrank back, letting the arrow bury itself into the wood of the door. Now he had about three seconds to open the door before another arrow was readied. The creature gave a frustrated, high pitched roar as its hand whipped back to its quiver. Lyke pushed the living corpse at the archer, then grasped the handle of the door. He wrenched it open, and spun his body around it in time to hear the thud of the shot that followed him at what he thought was eye level.

Once the door was slammed shut he regretted losing his old sword. He promised himself he would return for it if all went well. The room he found himself in was some sort of study. Carved wooden lecterns, tables and desks had been set in cluttered arrangements. Scrolls and sheets of parchment covered in runes littered every surface. There seemed to be no other exit from the room.

"Demon!?" Lyke barked at the silence of the heavy stone. "I believe I have passed your test of skill... What new test is this?" Wind filled the room and whipped at his fur, but it did not stir the parchment. He couldn't discern where the source was this time. The voice returned from all around, vibrating off the walls making it hard to focus on.

"You leave one opponent alive... Yet you consider the test resolved... Very well. You show spine, animal. You may proceed. This is the test of the scholar. Your mate showed much promise here. Will you?" Lyke's eyes flashed in anger.

"Ilisha played your games too?!" There was no answer. The wind died. "Answer! What have you to fear?!" He took a few steps into the room and looked around in desperation. "At least tell me where to begin this test of the scholar!" Only the deaf weight of stone greeted him. There was a dull thud behind him through the door. Holding the ancient sword close, he approached the panel of wood and placed his left paw on the handle. With the flat of the sword facing outward to guard himself, he opened the door ajar to peek out at the source of the noise. The archer had collapsed to the floor, motionless. Its metal-mold bow was still clutched in its pale, sickly hand. Lyke recoiled in shock as the door slammed shut of its own accord.

"You wish to return to the test of skill?" The demons voice reverberated over the walls once more.

"Er... No. Just curious... and I wouldn't mind retrieving my old sword and that bow..." The wind picked up once more.

"If you do this, I will be forced to send more guardians to test you." Lyke backed away from the door. A glimmer of dread flickered in his chest. For the first time, he felt genuinely at his opponents mercy.

"So be it. I will return to the test of the scholar... whatever that entails..." The demon laughed. It was the soft laugh of one who has no fear, and knows his victory is assured.

"Given how well your mate did, there is nothing to challenge you here, I'm sure. Once you are finished, you will gain the privilege of beholding me. I only hope your animal mind is prepared for our encounter." Just like before, the demons presence left the room. Lyke couldn't help but feel alone, even though he knew he was being watched constantly. The the box of stone he was in seemed to crush the air inside it.

After several minutes of pacing about the small chamber, Lyke chose one of three stools that stood in front of three desks and set to rummaging through the pages of parchment. He was not looking for any magical secrets, or runes he recognized. Instead, after thoroughly scanning its contents, he stopped to smell each page for traces of Ilisha's scent. He chose this stool because it smelt most of her, even though it appeared she had used them all. He could only imagine what the demon thought of his methods.

Many of the pages only contained runes, but some had clusters of lines running across horizontally. Dots and symbols hung on these lines. As Lyke gathered these sheets, he noticed that most held a trace of Ilisha's scent, where many of the others didn't.

"What where you doing, Ilisha...? I'm not as smart as you are, my little moon..." Lyke's mind went back to the note she had left herself in the upper chamber. Could she have taken any notes in their language here? He started another revision of the sheets, organizing them by type: Rune scrolls, Rune sheets, Bar sheets, even a few diagrams of various subjects. One such diagram caught Lyke's attention. The drawing on the parchment resembled a string instrument designed to be played without a bow, but otherwise much like his violin. The make was different, it was larger, longer, and it had two more strings on it, but the idea the same. In fact, many of the diagrams where of instruments: An ocarina, a stone flute, and a particularly fascination one that seemed to get sound out of vibrating perfectly cut crescent gems. By the looks of the runes, it was most likely played magically.

Lyke reached back and took his violin out of its strap. He sat on the ancient stool like a performer in the village square. His bow rested on the strings without a sound. He was surprised to find his paws where shaking. He had grown weary after constant conflict and lack of rest. After a deep breath, he played the first note of his and Ilisha's song. It was a slow, pulsing melody that rose and fell in hasty slopes, but with an almost nostalgic effect. The first note hung dead in the static air. Lyke hardly dared move to the next, but did so regardless. He nearly dropped his instrument when the sound resonated clear and piercing from its belly. After he recovered from his surprise, he started the song again. Once more, the first note fell flat in the acoustics of the small chamber. The second rang straight through the walls, and seemed to echo back from one wall in particular. It was the right hand wall if one was standing in the doorway. Lyke faced it as he sat at the desk. Then, as the note died, Ilisha's words came back to him. An auditory key... Lyke returned to the sheets with bars on them after setting his violin on the upper shelf of the desk. His claws peeled back page after page, searching for any sign of Ilisha's writing. After around twenty pages in, he found one with a scribble in the bottom right corner. It looked vaguely like her writing, but it was so hastily penned, it was hard to say. It read: Number 13. Several others had similar scribbles in the same place. Lyke gathered as many as he could find, but was still missing some, by the numbering. He moved to the other desks, pulling out little drawers and spreading their contents over the floor.

His brain buzzed, and a knot of frustration was pulling tight in his chest, but there before him laid a stack of thirty six pages of bars. In the Southlands, most songs were passed down orally and through apprenticeship. However, in larger settlements such as the one he and Ilisha came from, some songs where written down in a manner similar to this. All he needed to do was learn what each symbol meant by trial and error. It was fortunate that whatever magic on the seal responded so openly to sound.

Lyke took up his violin once again and held it against his shoulder. The pads of his fingers found the correct frets of the first note and his bow slid the note out of the instrument. It resonated with the seal. Lyke was surprised how similar this was to their own music. As he played, he found a few differences that required a moments study, but it did little to deter him. He took it one note at a time for the first few sheets, but by the fifth, he felt as if he was actually playing a song. Lyke found the song haunting now that he could play without interruption. It was written to be an inspirational, fervent tune and its bounces and slides filled Lyke with a glimmer of hope. It was ironic that this was the song that opened the gate to his final confrontation with the ancient demon. He stood facing the right wall next to the stool, looking down at the sheets of music on the now cleared and uncluttered desk. His playing became more deliberate and skillful as he learned how the music was written.

At last he came to the final note. The entire song had, off and on, been resonated with the wall. As his bow left the strings, the wall shimmered with magic energy. The presence of it made his fur stand up and a shiver ran down his spine. Then the shimmer faded, the wall was unchanged. A single rune shone in the air over the wall. It was one he knew from observing Ilisha's studies. It was the rune for: Closed. Lyke thought to himself: What went wrong? The seal reacted. There was magic in the air... After a moment of hesitation, he turned back to the beginning of the song. This time, he would play the song all the way though just like it was intended to be played. His bow worked the strings and produced the opening of the song with strong, confident strokes. Lyke was actually warming up to it. The song was strong, and it's feeling powerful. The pads of his foot-paws tapped on the stone. He felt like moving to the music... Not necessarily dance. The song called for action, but action of purpose and consequence, not frivolous enjoyment. He resorted to using his tongue to turn the pages. He knew the song well enough now that he could play from memory in between them.

As he came upon the final page, and the notes became faster and stronger, the magic returned. With every stroke of the bow, the shimmer grew more translucent. The form of a door frame appeared. Lyke slid the bow off the strings with a final, spirited pull, and the resonance shattered the barrier. Another door now stood on the wall.

Lyke smiled to himself as he put his violin back in its strap. He thought about calling out to the demon once more, but decided against it. There was no reason for it now. He re-drew the ancient sword and approached the door. As his left paw rested on the handle, he hesitated for a moment, taking stock of his situation. He was tired. His sword arm ached, his calves where stiff, and his eyes where heavy. My body is nothing! He thought to himself, shaking his head to clear it. Pain and other such limitations of the physical were of no concern. Lyke took a deep breath, grasping the handle tight in his paw.

"Step... inside... my chamber." The wind of the demons voice brushed passed his ears in gentle wisps. Lyke's body responded. He threw open the door and took a running start into the next room. Pure shock stopped him dead. The chamber he found himself in was enormous with a vaulted ceiling, elaborately carved into thousands of runes. Two sets of stairs ran up to a higher balcony level. The level bridged across at least fifty feet up. Ten feet under this was the top of a gigantic stone beasts head. It looked like an oversized Minotaur under its heavy plating. Its mask was wickedly bladed and curved into a demonic face. It held a twenty foot long stone sword in its hand. Lyke's gaze was called down between the beasts legs across the room. Another two legged creature stood there dressed in a regal purple, red, and black robe. Its skin was furless. The thing spoke, and its voice reverberated through the chamber. Lyke immediately recognized it as the ancient demon.

"Welcome, animal! You now have had the honor of beholding me! For this, you cannot be allowed to live!" He raised a hand in the air and the great Minotaur shifted its blade up to its shoulder with both hands. "I've seen you fight several times, self-proclaimed beast slayer. This is your profession. Therefore, I expect you to win this battle. Follow me down stairs when you're through. You mate has literally been dying to see you again. Ha!" He chuckled to himself as he turned on the spot and descended a set of stairs behind him. Then, after a loud snapping noise, the Minotaur adopted a fighting stance.