Slithering Maze 32: Taking the High Road

Medilus 1, 1278: Maybe midnight. Temple of the Slithering Sun. When almost everything went pretty wrong, but a little bit went just right.

Author’s Note: Kingdom of the Slithering Maze is a serialized fiction story that is a part of a collection called the Windtracer Tales. It follows the adventures of Tela Kioni and her crew dealing with expeditions in and around the world of Awldor. There they hunt down lost, and possibly lethal, relics of the Ancient Order, a near-mythical kingdom lost to the centuries old cataclysm, the Great Collapse.

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Previously: Tela, Kiyosi and Skarri eased into the main temple chamber—a giant cathedral of a room—dominated by three, massive Sunfate Sister statues and a giant skeleton on a throne. Around that lay dozens of normal skeletons… the past victims lost to time. After a closer look, and hints from an old journal, Tela devises a plan to defeat a trap triggered if light beams are broken. Sliding metal in place to reflect the light so it isn’t touching the Iraxi bracers, they realize too late that maybe there was more than one trap…

Medilus 1, 1278: Maybe midnight. Temple of the Slithering Sun. When almost everything went pretty wrong, but a little bit went just right.

The temple bucked like a mad bull.

I swapped a horrified glance with Skarri, then glared at the giant skeleton on the throne beside us. Light reflected off the bucklers strapped to its shoulders, hitting the statue’s crystal discs as planned. The mechanism didn’t care.

Previously concealed levers pushed the giant skeleton’s arms up, reaching for the sky. I stared at them wide-eyed.

“The Iraxi bracers were counterweights for a pair of levers. Run!” I yelled, waving an arm toward the archway out.

We leaped off the black granite throne, Iraxi bracers in hand. I hit the gritty floor in a roll, old bruises greeting new ones, as Skarri landed beside me. Cracks split the tiles behind us into jagged, spider-webbed patterns. We’d barely landed when ear-bruising pops of stone grabbed my attention. I glanced back like an idiot, abruptly wishing I hadn’t.

“Oh, by the Lady Deep’s rocky teeth and nails…” I breathed hard.

Around the pool, all three marble Sunfate Sister statues blazed to brilliant life. Their eyes burned like bonfires, smoke curling up along their flawless faces. They hadn’t just turned their head—their entire bodies moved. With a cascade of brittle, broken snaps, they yanked themselves free of their platforms. Stone chewed stone as they slithered out into the room.

The Hungered Sister—the muscled crone of the three—hurled her crystal lens at us like a discus. I tackled Skarri in a leap, as the thin, polished lens sliced overhead, cutting the air like a headman’s axe. It slammed into the left side of the temple’s exit, embedding itself partway into the bricks.

At the same time, the Sunbound Sister raised her arms in a beckoning gesture. Sunlight glowed over almost everything in the temple but us. Dozens of skeletons on the floor jerked to nightmarish life. They staggered upright. Arms and jaws dangled as their metal armor rang like a thousand tiny death bells.

Skarri yanked at my arm as we climbed to our feet.

“Don’t stop! Keep moving!” She raced ahead, saber in one hand, one of the Iraxi bracers in the other.

Behind us, the three giant statues advanced, stone tails kicking up ragged clouds of orange sandstone dust, black soot, and gray powdered bone. Around them and us, the small army of skeletons drew weapons or snapped off an arm as a club, then ran right for us.

“I hate necromancy,” Skarri yelled, slicing through the spine of one skeleton before slamming another in the chest with her tail. The first fell like a discarded puppet, as the second exploded in a clatter of cracked bones, bouncing away over the gritty stone floor.

“Here!” I yelled, tossing Kiyosi the other Iraxi bracer. “Stuff it in your bag!”

“Got it,” he said, catching it with one hand. Yanking the Ancient Order hip pouch open, he stuffed the bracer inside. It fit—barely. “This bag better hold,” he added.

I yanked my whip from my belt, then lashed out with it at the closest threat. The popper tangled the ankle of a skeleton ahead of us with a rusty-looking saber. I yanked hard. It fell. I jumped over to smash both heels into its skull, turning it to powder.

“The bag will hold. It’s Ancient Order weave,” I replied, wiping sweat off my face with a hand, then coiling my whip. “Run for the hallway… the Sisters are two stories tall. They won’t fit.”

Skarri shattered the next nearby skeleton, then beheaded another with the wild fury of a woman possessed.

“What about the skeletons?” she panted.

“One problem at a time!” I sputtered, running like a madwoman for the hallway with the others.

Kiyosi ducked under the large, crystal-clear disc half-embedded in the doorframe. The horrified look on his face melted into a wicked gleam as he narrowed his eyes at the lens.

“Oh, so we’re playing with light today, are we?” he murmured with a grin.

I darted past him into the hallway, Skarri slithering close beside me. Bitter stone and bone dust billowed around us in a gritty shroud.

Standing next to the sun-styled crystal lens, Kiyosi didn’t pinch the air—he grabbed it with both hands and yanked. Most of the time, when he pulled magic threads from nearby light, it was a few threads at best. This time, it was practically a tapestry.

Golden magic threads streamed from his clenched fists. Kiyosi rolled them all into a messy ball of glittery yarn, then ripped it in half. With a snarl, he slapped one ball, then the other, against the large crystal disc.

The ancient lens flashed twice like a sunburst with each hit; thick, amplified golden threads erupting out the other side. Instantly, the enlarged magic threads shredded into a web of sunlight. It fanned out, latching onto the running skeletons. Strands threaded cracked ribs and joints, gluing the horrific mob to the cracked floor.

“How long will that last?” I asked him.

Kiyosi shook his hands as if they stung.

“Not nearly long enough,” he panted.

We had just turned for the hallway when the third Sister—Storm-shed—clenched a fist. Liquid sunlight bled from between her fingers, and a sharp clang of metal answered from deeper in the temple. The stench of rotten eggs rolled over us in nauseating waves. I peered inside the room for the noise, then wished I hadn’t.

An heavy paw, half the size of my head, reached up out of the nearest flaming brazier, grasping the edge. It pulled, tipping the whole thing over. Burning coals rolled across the ancient, ruined floor, tumbling away from the thing crawling out behind them.

My mouth went dry the moment I got a good look at it.

A slime-wet, serpentine body spilled out of the crackling flames. The creature was the size of a pony, with mottled red and black skin, a thick, dexterous tail, and six muscled legs. Burning amber reptile eyes studied me like today’s lunch before it opened a blunt snout with a hungry yawn.

Worse still—a second one scampered out of another brazier with the same murderous glee.

“By the Lady Deep… fire salamanders,” I breathed, scurrying back a half-step into the hallway.

The molten creatures bolted right for us, crunching over the skeletons in a frantic, clawed stampede. Flame-broiled sandstone smoked behind them as they ran.

I bounced anxiously on the balls of my feet.

“Fire salamanders!” I yelled to the others. “Run for the moving rooms!”

We bolted down the hallway as the fire salamanders blazed across the temple floor. The Sunfate statues slithered behind them in a devilish hiss of marble chewing sandstone.

Skeletons to either side of us struggled to their feet as we ran—soldiers and stonemasons responding to a murderous siren’s song. We hacked and slashed blades at anything too close that wasn’t us. Ahead, a block of rooms rotated into place with a heavy thud.

All at once, air exploded in a wave of sickly heat that hammered us in the back—the salamanders had arrived. They tore along the hallway, shattering skeletons to pieces, leaving burning bones and scorched bricks in their wake. At the wide temple archway behind the beasts, the trio of Sunfate Sister statues—too large to get through—punched and clawed at the bricks, shaking the ruins.

“We’re not going to make it!” Kiyosi yelled, eyeing the salamanders behind us, then the door ahead.

“No! We have to!” Skarri snapped, slithering beside him.

I glanced over my shoulder at the salamanders, then ahead at the sole doorway out. An idea sprang to mind—a really stupid one.

“Aile Shavat!” I swore, skidding on loose grit as I turned to face the salamanders.

Kiyosi and Skarri swapped an alarmed look. I cut my eyes over at them, shaking my head.

“Don’t stop! Get the Iraxi bracers out of here. I’m right behind you.”

Then I turned to face the salamanders and committed to my bad idea.

“It worked with the centaurs…” I muttered, uncoiling my whip.

Time condensed into a thick syrup as the salamanders charged down the hallway. I stood my ground, watching them slap, crush, and shatter animated skeletons in their path.

“Come on. Just a little closer. Come to mama,” I intoned, licking my lips as I slowly fiddled with my whip handle.

Both creatures darted in fast, low to the floor—just burning hunger in a dead run. I tensed. Raw brimstone and sharp heat scrubbed my skin like hot sparks. It tried to steal my breath, but I held onto it.

One beast stopped, then the other, both lashing out with impossibly long, sticky tongues. It was exactly the moment I wanted. I side-stepped to the right, avoiding the first tongue, then kicked a forgotten piece of Ancient Order bronze armor in the way of the other. Both tongues snapped back, one getting a mouth of rock dust and the other slapped in the snout by a brass shoulder plate.

No sooner had the brass plate clanged, I stepped forward, lashing out with my whip twice, once for each salamander. The popper cracked the air in front of the blunt, burnt-red snouts; sound hitting them like a slap.

Both salamanders jerked away from the noise, letting loose with a spitting, hot hiss mixed with brimstone smoke. Two more whip cracks startled them back again, and right into the skeletons they’d battered down. The salamanders tripped over the loose bones.

“Tela!” Skarri yelled from down the hall.

“This would be fantastic if I knew what I was doing,” I muttered, half-skipping away from the salamanders to dash down the hall.

I was ten paces from the door before the salamanders stampeded after me, trailing fire in their wake. A dull thump vibrated through my boots.

Kiyosi stood in the doorway with an alarmed look at the ceiling.

“Hurry!” He waved a hand at me. “The rooms are shifting!”

I sprinted forward, chest burning as I gulped down air.

Claws clattered over the floor behind me, a chaotic ballad of death ticking a mad tune that made me question my life choices. A tongue lashed out, narrowly missing my ankle by a finger. I stumbled sideways as the wall—really the entire hallway—shuddered again; bits of rock from the ceiling dusted me like burnt cinnamon on bread. Back down the hall, I saw the Sunfate statues slowly tearing the walls open.

The room holding Kiyosi and Skarri lifted up, already rotating away. I saw the new block of rooms moving down to replace it.

“Not today,” I snarled. “Not dying today!”

In a burst of manic speed, I shoved off the wall, vaulting another greedy salamander tongue. Five paces later I leaped for the retreating doorway. Kiyosi and Skarri threw themselves flat, arms outstretched in my direction.

I grabbed their arms, and they grabbed mine. A hard yank pulled me up and inside as the room lifted away. I lay on the dirt-smeared floor, panting, joints and bruises a choir of complaints.

With a grunt, I pushed to my feet. The all-too-familiar muffled scrabble of claws against stone made me yelp. I spun around to see Kiyosi glaring out the doorway we’d come through.

“The maze rotations are too slow.” He shook his head, giving me a worried look. “Those fire salamanders will rush through these rooms faster than we can.”

Skarri drew a long breath.

“A barrier? Maybe if we can find a table, we break it loose and shove it against a doorway?”

I frowned, my mind running over a dozen ideas—all bad. Then I got a glimpse through the door opposite the direction of the salamanders. The soft blue glow from the underground river cast the massive gears and dozens of moving temple platforms on mysterious black ropes in ghostly shadows.

Like before, each platform was engraved on the outside with the face of a Sunfate Sister. It was the hidden guide we followed to get in and needed to follow to leave.

An idea took shape. I gave the others a lopsided grin.

“Through? Who said we’re running through the rooms? We’re taking the high road and going over. Come on!”

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Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

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