Slithering Maze 33: Outrunning the Rising Sun

Medilus 1, 1278: Minutes later, in the Temple of the Slithering Sun—only a few steps ahead of death…

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: Chased by fire salamanders and murderous skeletons, Tela devises a risky plan… don’t run through the shifting maze, but instead over it. But the plan is far from foolproof. The trio still have to leap between stone platforms, risking a fall to the death each time. Along with that, comes a slight miscalculation over the threat chasing them and how fast they move…

Medilus 1, 1278: Minutes later, in the Temple of the Slithering Sun—only a few steps ahead of death…

I took two steps back and ran for the next doorway with a sideways grin. Beyond the opening, another platform of rooms descended, dust curling like a hungry fog. I kicked off the edge, vaulting the ravine.

In the humid, musty air between platforms, the temple’s guts were on display.

The entire complex lay inside a giant cavern. Curved blue-gray walls were worn smooth by centuries of moving stone platforms. Tarry black ropes and pulleys—a nightmarish spiderweb in motion—held it together.

Far below, at a drop so deep I heard my ancestors cackle, the bottom gaped. Diverted sections of the forgotten Bromcour River split the world along ancient, rocky seams. Water turned the metal waterwheels that cranked lime-coated gears, keeping everything in motion.

It was machinery so old, I could taste the rust and history of the thing.

I landed on the flagstones of the other platform with a hard thump. My boots skidded. I pinwheeled my arms, stumbling forward to safer footing. My heart hammered against my ribs like a manic blacksmith as I wiped cavern dust from my mouth.

“Now!” I rasped. “Jump now, before it moves too far!”

Kiyosi’s eyes flicked between me, the platforms, and the near-death gap.

“Are you kidding me?” he yelped.

Skarri didn’t waste a second. The viprin warrior snatched the healer by the shirt, bodily dragging him along.

“No time!” she shouted, propelling Kiyosi into a run.

Skarri coiled her tail under her, then slithered fast for the edge. The glossy tarred ropes groaned as the platform swayed.

She leaped, snake-like body stretching out over the gap toward me. I grabbed her arms as she arrived, keeping her on the right side of a deadly fall.

Kiyosi arrived a second later—subtle as a landslide—shrieking through the jump. But he landed in a tight shoulder roll as if he’d made that jump every day.

“How will we know where to go?” he wheezed, wiping at the smears of black grime on his cobalt cheeks.

“Follow the sun,” I panted, thrusting a finger toward the next platform rising up to meet us. Crudely carved on the outside was the face of the Storm-shed Sister. “Remember the model? We followed the sun’s path from Sister to Sister to get in…”

“Quick, it’s almost here!” Skarri hissed, already slithering to leap for the next platform.

Kiyosi, bruised but wide-eyed and breathing, ran after her with me beside him.

“So we follow the faces to get out. What about the salamanders?” he rasped.

A salamander clawed its way onto the ceiling of the platform we’d left behind. It ripped gray-brown flagstones away, leaving an orange, half-molten maw in its wake. Four skeletons joined it a moment later. The salamander hissed furiously at us. I raised my eyebrows at Kiyosi, tilting my head at our pursuers.

“Unless they fly, they have to wait for the right time to jump,” I said. “We bought ourselves some time.”

My smile faded like dew against the morning sun when the four skeletons leaped with unearthly abandon. They breached the gap, landing on our platform like brutal, bony gazelles with a murderous grudge.

“Make that very little time. Run!” I snapped, sprinting for the next edge like a madwoman.

“I really hate necromancy and the undead!” Skarri snarled, leaping over to the next stone rooftop.

It was a desperate, mad relay race across ancient platforms, wobbling like drunken ships. But my insane plan partly worked. The fire salamanders were too large to quickly leap after us. It made the platforms sway too wildly, scaring the beasts.

The skeletons didn’t harbor any such idea of self-preservation. They landed hard and charged before we could escape.

Kiyosi snagged magic threads from the air, tangling one of the skeletons in a net. It wriggled, tearing at its bonds. Skarri crossed swords with another, as the last two rushed at me, blades gleaming.

I sidestepped wide and snapped my whip at bony ankles. Kiyosi bound the pair in golden threads, and we shoved them over the edge.

A sharp hiss of pain got my attention. I spun around as Skarri snarled, flaring the cobra hood around her head. She bobbed twice, then lashed forward like a snake striking prey. Parrying the skeleton’s blade, she hacked twice at the thing’s bony neck—it collapsed like a broken puppet.

Panting hard, Skarri touched the fresh bruise along her snout and winced. Then she looked back the way we’d come with dismay. I followed her gaze, seeing six more skeletons crawl like deranged spiders up the side of a nearby platform.

“They’re so fast. We can’t fight them all,” she hissed wearily, then stood up straight. “Wait.” She pointed at one of the glossy, leg-thick ropes attached to our platform. “Why not sever most of a rope right before we jump again?”

I shook my head, crushing the skull of the skeleton still with us under my boot.

“Those look like Ancient Order work. It’s some kind of silky thread, not hemp or flax; stuff is hard to cut.”

Three platforms back, one of the fire salamanders leaped forward, claws skittering over the flagstones. It would’ve careened over the side if one of the thick ropes hadn’t stopped it. Instantly, the glossy material turned red, melting slightly. I narrowed my eyes.

“Heat.”

I snatched up a nearby discarded sword—a short Ancient Order saber that wasn’t all that short for me. The brassy metal gleamed like new between dark stains. Lucky for me, the frayed leather on the grip was somehow more or less intact.

“Ki! Can you heat this? I mean, really hot.”

He blinked, eyes flicking between the saber and myself.

“Ah, yes?” he said uneasily. “I think? Not something I’ve done too often outside of heating a skillet.”

A manic, dry tapping against stone got our attention. The six skeletons we saw before had reached the top of their platform, and were heading for us. They leaped, but three missed—spiraling toward the underground river and giant gears below.

The other three breached the wide gap, skidding to a stop, burning orange-yellow orbs sizzling in their eye sockets. Then they charged.

“Aile Shavat!” I tossed the saber to Kiyosi. “Try hard! Imagine you want to burn some bread.”

He caught the saber in mid-air with both hands, stunned.

“What?”

I jabbed a finger at the ancient sword, running off with Skarri to get rid of our new uninvited guests.

“Bread! Burning bread! Really hot!”

He rolled his eyes, snapping his tiefling whip-like tail back and forth—a portrait of pure exasperation.

Skarri and I crashed into our attackers—I went low, Skarri high. On a moving platform against animated skeletons, it was risky, but it worked. A skeleton sliced for my neck, but I dropped under the blow, kicking at its bone-ankles with both heels. It stumbled off balance into Skarri’s waiting claws. She yanked it in front of her as a second skeleton tried to slice her open.

Metal splintered bone as one skeleton hit the other, shattering it. I snatched up a saber, and we set to work. Bruises, cuts, and two broken animated skeletons later, we managed to survive.

“One morning, I’m going to wake up sobbing over the priceless history we keep destroying,” I muttered, scrubbing at the grime on my chin.

“Yes, but you’ll be alive to do that,” Skarri countered wearily.

I grimaced. “That’s a fair point.” I rolled my eyes skyward. “Lady Deep, is it too much to ask to study history without the ‘might get dead’ part?”

Skarri let out a tired chuckle. “I think you’d be bored.”

I snorted, giving her a sideways grin.

“Done!” Kiyosi called out.

We hurried to his side of the platform. Kiyosi, sweat pouring off his face, held the Ancient Order saber in both hands by the hilt. Its blade held a white-hot edge that shimmered in the muggy air. He carefully handed the saber over, avoiding burning either of us.

I studied the nearest black rope holding up our platform, then looked at our pursuers. The fire salamanders were perched on the edge of their stone platform, drooling eagerly—if it was even drool. I didn’t want to know. Six more skeletons on another platform swayed in creepy unison with the infinite patience of the murderous dead.

A sigh tumbled out of me as I met their stern expressions. I didn’t have to explain my plan. They already knew.

“Jump,” I told them, jerking my chin toward an incoming platform. “It’s the next in order. I’ll be right after you.”

“No,” Kiyosi replied flatly.

Skarri shook her head, echoing Kiyosi’s clipped reply. If the lady had feet instead of a snake tail, she would’ve planted them.

I groaned and walked over to the massive black rope. The platform swayed like a ship sailing the air.

“This is not the time…” I protested, but Kiyosi interrupted.

“It is exactly the time,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. “We can talk about this more later, but really? This is one of your ‘make it up as you go’ plans. You can’t do this one alone.”

I glanced back at the other platforms with their passengers of painful death, then gave my friends a ragged sigh.

“It makes sense.” I sliced at the thick black rope. It sizzled, melting strands popping loose with an angry vengeance. “You two can catch me when I jump. I’m smaller and lighter.”

Kiyosi drew the centaur short sword that he, by some miracle, still had with him. Skarri hefted her saber, giving it a careful swing.

“Those skeletons jump farther than the salamanders. They’ll keep you busy while at least one salamander tries the leap. We’ll hold off the skeletons. You cut the rope.”

I winced as one of the black cords snapped with a sharp twang, painfully whipping my upper arm. When I turned to snap at Skarri, Kiyosi fixed me with a hard gaze.

“Like you’ve told me, what? Hundreds of times? We came in here together; we leave together.” He pulled on a thin, warm smile. “Now cut the rope. We’ve got your back. It’s what a crew does.”

Water stung the corner of my eyes, and I wiped it away. Then I sliced all nine watery hells out of that rope. Moments later, the skeletons hurled themselves at our platform. Two missed the edge, but four didn’t.

I focused on the rope, but every clang of metal, grunt, or hiss of pain from Kiyosi or Skarri made me wince. It was the abrupt silence that jerked me away, wide-eyed from my frantic work, brandishing the saber.

Skeletons lay in shattered pieces across the platform. Four against two are lethal odds, but somehow Kiyosi and Skarri turned it into a success—though they came away with fresh bruises and light cuts in the process.

Kiyosi grimaced at a razor-thin cut along his upper arm, then jerked a thumb behind him.

“Tela, the salamander platform is almost here. How’s the rope coming?”

I jammed the overheated blade into the deep, melted gap I’d sawed into the rope. Acrid smoke bubbled up from ruined threads around the blade, flooding the air with the stench of burning beans.

“Good enough, let’s go!”

We leaped for the other platform just before the salamander arrived. As we landed, I turned to stare at the savaged rope, willing it to break.

“Come on… come on…” I muttered.

At first the rope held, smoking like an overcooked dinner—until it didn’t. It popped with a ragged tear and snapped completely. The platform abruptly tilted sideways. Off-balance, the salamander scrambled against the flagstones, then slid off the side. With a long, sharp hiss, it fell to the glowing water below. The other salamander hissed, looking around in confusion at how to reach us.

With a tired sigh, I followed Skarri and Kiyosi across the platform as we ran for the exit—and found a different problem.

Outside the temple, I brushed my fingers over the smoking, char-blasted bricks of the doorframe into Toshriom Ifoon itself.

“More salamanders?” Skarri hissed in a low voice.

“No,” I shook my head. “What little I know is they aren’t this precise.”

Kiyosi frowned at the scorch marks.

“Blood magic,” he said with a facial expression like he’d eaten a rotten pear, worm and all. “I can taste it in the air. Also, more water magic. Someone tried to pry that door open to get in.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tela, we need to get out of here. That other salamander can’t be that far behind, and whoever did this is still nearby. These burns are too fresh.”

“Saint’s Tide and damn toes,” I spat, turning to look at the door, then the ancient dam. “I hate saying this, but split up…”

“No!” Skarri hissed emphatically.

“Absolutely not,” Kiyosi added firmly.

I spun, fixing them with a firm glare.

“Yes! Don’t fight me this time.” My hands clenched into fists. “You two, Mikasi, Atha… all of you mean something to me, damn it! So, quit arguing and just trust me. That dam looks like an ancient groundwater lift, so it’ll have tunnels inside it. Take those. I’ll head over the dam. We meet up above ground with Atha and Mikasi.”

Kiyosi and Skarri tensed with wooden expressions, but they nodded.

After a silent look of farewell, they set out for any way to get into the dam. I took off running over the top. Out in the open, I figured the salamander would chase me, or not, if the underground river scared it off.

I made it to the other side before I realized it wasn’t the salamander I needed to worry about.

A muscled mass of human in leather armor tackled me the moment I left the dam. I kicked, bit, and punched, but my attacker was joined by a second. Clad in gray, they pinned my arms hard behind me.

“Hey! Watch the hands!”

When they turned me around, Rima Nimad cupped my chin in her dead-cold, pale fingers. Her mage, that red-skinned tiefling, gleefully took my shoulder bag and whip.

“Well, good day, my dear. Fancy meeting you here.” The lich’s smile was all splinters and sharp edges, able to curdle milk at ten paces. “So, you and I are going to have a long conversation. I doubt you’ll enjoy it.”

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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.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.