by Ben Hale
“You want these armies to go to war?” Water asked.
“You have to admit it would be fun to watch,” Fire said. “A thousand rock trolls against a hundred thousand men. I’d say the odds were about even.”
“War is never amusing to watch,” Lira said softly.
Fire grunted in irritation as his chair was jostled. The tavern was packed with soldiers enjoying a last night before the march. Men laughed and drank, boasting about crushing what had been described as a large group of bandits.
“They think their foe insignificant,” Water said.
“Rynda said Serak has less than five thousand at Xshaltheria,” Fire said. “The alliance would crush them, and there are enough mages to destroy even Serak and Draeken. If the Dark Gate isn’t opened, the battle won’t last the day.”
“And if the Dark Gate is opened?” Lira asked.
“Then it will be the alliance that is crushed,” Water said.
He looked at the men in the room, at their smiles and laughter. Most were in uniform, their mugs full, the heat from the fire on their faces. They thought the alliance an overreaction, and their comments were dismissive, as if the battle was merely a formality to victory. How many would die if the Dark Gate were opened?
He imagined the men with blood on their armor, shock on their faces, their friends dead at their feet as they fled a horde of fiends. Draeken and Serak stood at the head of their foes, where none could touch them.
Fire’s chair was jostled again. The soldier guffawed loudly, ignoring Fire’s glare as he slammed a mug down on a table where other soldiers had been boasting. Wiping the ale from his beard, he pointed to the mug.
“Five copper says I can smuggle this mug from here into battle and not spill a drop.”
Others laughed and cheered as he held it up. Water noticed Fire pointing to the floor, and fire appeared on his fingers, the flames shaping into a bee, one the size of a mouse. It buzzed through the crowded tavern and landed on the man’s backside, the stinger hovering over his rump.
“Fire,” Water warned. “Is that necessary?”
“Absolutely,” Fire said.
The bee stung the man, who whelped and tossed the mug into the air. Ale spilled down his face, wetting his beard and tunic before the mug shattered on his shoulder. He ignored it as he furiously rubbed his posterior. The other soldiers laughed themselves to choking, while Fire dismissed the bee.
Lira hid a smile, while Water glared at his brother. Fire made no effort to hide his laughter as the man stumbled about, still rubbing the bee sting. It would probably leave a welt, and if he were a rider, would hurt for the entire march the following day. But Water could not deny the amusement, and a glance at Lira struggling to contain her laughter cracked his irritation. Fire noticed his expression and stabbed a finger at his smile.
“Ha!”
“What?” Water asked, clenching his lips to erase the smile.
“Too late,” Fire said.
Water spared the man a glance and found him attempting to show his companions the bee sting. Laughter bubbled out of him at the sight of a grown man attempting to display his injury to a group of soldiers, all of whom protested loudly.
“See?” Fire said. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
The barmaid threaded by, dropping three bowls of stew on the table and was gone before they’d stopped rocking. Fire picked up his bowl of stew and frowned at the chill. He held it in his palm. Heat glowed on his flesh and the stew began to bubble. Lira slid her bowl to him and he did the same to her meal.
Water watched the exchange, and noted Fire’s attitude. He was much like the soldiers in the room, without fear or care of the war with Draeken. The momentary levity faded and Water realized his brother did not share his concern for the battle. He smiled and laughed, his expression the same as it had been shortly before he’d died on the Stormdial.
Water shuddered and looked away, abruptly cold. Fire had been fortunate before, but Mind would not be able to bring him back a second time. If he died in the conflict with Draeken, he would not return.
“There’s something we need to do,” Water said suddenly.
“Now?” Fire eyed the server, trying to get the girl’s attention, but she was busy talking to a knot of soldiers. “I haven’t even gotten my bread.”
“There’s something we need to do,” Water insisted.
He rose to his feet and Fire raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”
“Trust me,” Water said. “Please.”
Fire held his gaze and then reluctantly nodded. Fire stood, and Water turned to Lira. “I’ll need your help.”
“But our food,” Fire protested.
“We can get more,” Water said.
Lira glanced between them and stood. Other soldiers were quick to claim their table as Water vacated the tavern and passed into the night. Fire asked Water what he intended but he didn’t speak, the battlefield he’d imagined too fresh in his thoughts. There was one other thing he’d imagined, his brother among the dead.
Water guided them into the trees, threading his way out of the war camps and into the forest. The sounds of raucous taverns and soldiers grew dim, replaced by the faint whistle of the wind. They came to a clearing flanked by two towering oak trees, where Water turned and gathered magic into his hands.
“Lira,” he said, “at my side.”
“Water?” Fire drawled, his eyes on the staffblade forming in Water’s palm. “What are you doing?”
Lira, her expression uncertain, joined Water, and he pointed to Fire. “You still talk like you have the power you once had, and I’m not losing my brother again. If we’re going into battle, you need to know your new limits.”
“I’m still the fragment of fire,” Fire said, irritation on his features. “I’ve always been stronger than you.”
“Prove it.” Water raised his weapon.
Fire scowled. “Are you doubting my power? Or have you grown arrogant in yours?”
“Water is right,” Lira said. “You’re weaker than you were. You need to know—”
“Of course you’d side with him,” Fire snapped. “We all know you love my brother. That doesn’t mean you can talk to me like that.”
Water took a step forward. “Hit me,” he said. “Please.”
“I’m not doing this,” Fire growled. “I have nothing to prove, and you’re just afraid.”
“Of course I am,” Water yelled. “I lost you before, and I’m not losing you again.”
“I’m not playing your game,” Fire said.
Water raised his staffblade and hurled it at Fire, who ducked, the weapon striking the tree behind him. As Fire rounded on him, Water cast another staffblade, the weapon bright in the moonlight.
Flames blossomed on Fire’s fist as he glared, and Water braced himself for the fight. Fire would be angry and would try to punish Water for his impudence. It wouldn’t be sparring. It would be a fight. Fire clenched his fist and the flames extinguished. As smoke curled up his arm, Fire growled his anger.
“I thought of anyone, my brother would trust me.”
Fire spun and stomped away, leaving Water and Lira in the clearing. Water took a step to follow but Lira caught his arm, holding him in check. Water grimaced as the darkness swallowed his brother.
“Fire!” he called.
There was no response, and Water turned on Lira. “Why did you stop me?”
“He’s afraid,” Lira said.
“Afraid to fight me?”
“Afraid you are right,” Lira murmured.
Water grimaced at the truth to her words, and he wished his brother were not so stubborn. They were headed into the greatest conflict of their lives, and all four of his brothers were vulnerable.
“I don’t know how to protect him,” Water said.
“You can’t,” she replied. “You need to trust him.”
“Are you saying he was right?” Water rounded on her.
She gave a wry smile. “People d
on’t like to be told they’re weak.”
“But this war could kill him.”
“It could kill any of us,” Lira said. “It’s the risk we take every time we step into a fight, every time we draw a sword, every time we face a foe.”
He shifted to face her. The moonlight cast her blonde hair into silvery light, softening her expression, and illuminating her slim form. He’d seen her fight with a strength charm active, decimating foes, but right now she looked small, even fragile.
“I’ve spent my whole life fighting beside my brothers,” he said. “And I never really thought any of them could die.”
“Until Wylyn killed Fire.”
He released a sigh, his breath a swirl of white in the chill. “If what Elenyr said is true, my brothers have lost what made them ageless, and if we survive this war, I’m likely to witness all of them die.”
“I’ve watched friends and family perish,” she said, her tone distant.
He recalled the world of Morena, where she’d lived with a husband and family, ultimately losing them all when the krey had invaded. But the way she spoke implied a deeper loss, of others she’d seen perish, other friends, other family. She’d been born in the Dawn of Magic, making her thirty thousand years old, a fraction compared to Tardoq or Ero, yet several times Water’s own life span. How many deaths had she witnessed?
“How do you press forward, when you know everyone around you could perish?”
“I am not defined by those I’ve lost,” she replied. “I’m defined by the legacy they have left upon me.”
He smiled and kissed her forehead, suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude. “I love you.”
She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I know, and right now, that’s what I’m fighting for.”
“Oh?” he asked.
“You still have a piece of the fragment of Power,” she said. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of what that means.”
It meant he could still be an Eternal, and journey with Lira to other worlds, fighting to protect Lumineia from otherworldly threats. The prospect seemed more real than it had before, the bond between him and his brothers now absent.
“You think the Eternals would want me?” he asked. “As you said, I still have a fragment of Draeken.”
“All of us have a fragment of darkness in our souls,” she replied. “What matters is that you resist yours.”
“What’s your fragment of darkness?”
She shook her head and kissed him. “You expect me to just share it? You’ll have to discover it for yourself.”
He grinned and then caught her hand, leading her back into the trees. Although he hadn’t been able to help Fire, the impending conflict did not carry the weight it had before. Because he had Lira at his side, and he had a future worth fighting for.
Chapter 5: Return to Blackwell Keep
Shadow advanced into the network of mineshafts, caves, and tunnels, relishing the sense of darkness and solitude. This was his domain, his home. He needed no light, no torch, no source of illumination. The darkness was his refuge.
The walls were as visible to him as if it were broad daylight. Every contour and crack, every knob and vein, all were visible in the Deep. At his side, Elenyr did not have the magic of shadow, but she too did not need the light, her ethereal eyes granting her the chance to see into the very walls.
“How’s your vision without the fragment of Power?” Elenyr asked.
“Same as before.” Shadow shrugged at the question.
Shadow turned ethereal, his body fading to the black smoke of shadows. He reached to the walls and glided along the length, the sensation different, requiring more effort. It lacked the effortless ease he’d previously savored. He frowned in irritation and returned to flesh, falling into step at Elenyr’s side.
“You’re weaker,” Elenyr said.
“But still a guardian,” he replied. “And I was always the weakest of the fragments. This is no different.”
“Is that what you thought?” Elenyr asked. “That you were weaker than the others?”
“Shadow magic is the weakest of all the magics,” Shadow said. “And I’m made of shadow.”
“No you’re not.”
He released a bark of laughter and raised his hand, turning it to shadows, his fingers fading and swirling like smoke. The action would be invisible to anyone else except Elenyr, who could see the changing density of his fingers.
“You’re a brother and a son,” Elenyr said. “You protect and tease, inspire laughter and anger, even compassion. You have a friend that you would die for, and a family that loves you. A shadow can’t do that.”
“You’re a mom,” he said. “You’re required to say that.”
“I didn’t sign a contract,” she said.
He grinned. “Are you certain?”
“It was several pages long,” she admitted. “And it required a blood stamp.”
He laughed and pointed ahead. “We’re almost there. What’s your plan?”
“Get in and find out everything we can about Serak’s generals,” she said. “There are lightning wards, so I can’t get through all the walls. But we both know lightning has no effect on you. Between the two of us, we should be able to explore the fortress.”
They came to a halt at the end of the corridor, where it connected with a vast cavern. It had only been five days since they’d left the cavern behind, and he should have felt a chill, but instead it was anticipation in his chest. A slow smile spread on his face as he surveyed the citadel where the fragment of Power had been ripped from him and his brothers.
Blackwell Keep.
The fortress rested on a pedestal of stone that rose from an abyss, its walls and towers overlooking the well of darkness. Light orbs hung on the exterior, illuminating the bridges that connected to the citadel. Golems that had survived the previous conflict dotted the battlements, the statues scarred and chipped, but still lethal.
“Are you nervous?” she asked.
He snorted in amusement. “Last time I was dragged into this fortress unconscious. This time I get to sneak in and discover his secrets. It’s like my birthday.”
“Don’t get arrogant,” Elenyr said, and pointed across the cavern, where another entrance was visible as a dark spot on the wall. “Lorica, Sentara, and Rune are ready to attack if either of us gets discovered.”
Shadow caught a glimpse of the three women at the opening across the cavern. The assassin was just visible, while Sentara seemed to be eating an apple as she leaned against the wall. Rune crouched in the opening, staring intently at the fortress.
Be careful, the voice of the Unnamed spoke into Shadow’s mind. I cannot determine if anyone is inside.
“I won’t get discovered,” he said to both.
Elenyr held his gaze and he sensed her worry. But in this, he was not concerned. Blackwell Keep was a fortress hovering above a sea of shadows, a veritable mountain of his magic. He enjoyed the surface, but he loved the Deep.
“The doors have lightning embedded in the material,” Shadow said. “Probably left by Numen before he was killed. How are you going to get inside?”
“We need to find an entrance that isn’t protected,” she said.
He squinted into the depths beneath the fortress, at the giant pillar holding the castle aloft. Far beneath, a length of stone extended from the exterior wall and connected to the pillar. Without light orb or other illumination, it was invisible in the darkness. A secret entrance.
“There’s another way in,” he said, pointing to the hidden bridge. “I wager it leads to an entrance you can use.”
“I’ll meet you there,” she said.
Her ethereal form descended into the stone floor of the corridor, disappearing from sight. He stepped to the platform and dropped off the edge, turning to shadow form as he plummeted into the abyss. The wind passed through his body as the lights dimmed, and his smile widened.
He reached outward and cast wings, the shadows forming a
round his body and allowing him to bank out of the fall. He swerved up and curved around the giant pedestal of stone, relishing the cool air against his body.
The hidden bridge arched between the central pedestal and the outer wall of the cavern, a hundred-foot span that was hardly more than a few feet across. Underneath the fortress, an arched opening had been cut into a recess, invisible from any point above. He flew toward it and alighted on the stone, dismissing his wings and striding to the door. A faint clicking sounded and the door swung open, with Elenyr framed in the opening.
“Don’t get arrogant,” he admonished.
She grinned, the expression visible beneath her cowl, and led him up the curving stairs. “Embedded lightning charms are difficult to cast,” she whispered. “I doubt he has more than the great hall and the main entrances warded.”
“Any guards?” Shadow asked.
“Not yet,” she replied.
Together, they advanced up the stone stairwell. With the scent of dust, it was obvious the secret entrance had not been used since its creation. As they ascended, a faint glow came from above, and Elenyr’s hand shot out, catching him in the shoulder. Without a word, she pointed to the ceiling, and withdrew into the wall.
Shadow turned to darkness and leapt. Rebounding off a curve in the wall, he clung to the darkness on the ceiling. Just as he did, the wall began to shift, and a golem pressed into view. It stepped free of the wall as another appeared, and then another. The trio of guards lumbered down the steps. Hidden in the shadows of the ceiling, he waited for them to grow quiet, and then crawled up the curving ceiling.
He noticed faint indentations on the walls, a curve of a finger here, the protrusion of a nose there. The walls were filled with embedded golems, ready to strike any intruder attempting to gain access. Elenyr passed right through them, and Shadow did what he did best.
They advanced up the remainder of the staircase, which culminated in an ironbound door. The spark of energy in the portal suggested it had been warded, so Shadow dropped to his feet and morphed a finger into a shadow key. Pressing it into the lock, he filled the mechanism with shadows and then rotated.
