by Ben Hale
With a dull clank the portal opened, and Shadow strode into the storage room. Elenyr rose from the floor and entered the room as well. Shadow shut the door but left it ajar in case they needed a quick escape.
Stacks of barrels and crates were piled to the ceiling of the small room, a plentiful reserve in case of assault, even though Serak had been the sole person who came to Blackwell Keep. Shadow passed them by, pausing at a barrel of dwarven magma ale.
“Do you have any idea how much that costs?” he whispered.
“We aren’t here to drink,” she said.
“Maybe on the way out?”
“Shadow,” she warned.
He groaned and fell into step behind her. Elenyr crept up the stairs into the fortress, and Shadow listened for any sign of presence. Serak and Draeken, as well as two of their generals, had been present five days ago. Shadow doubted they were here now, but Elenyr’s caution was prudent.
The chamber at the top of the stairs contained an assortment of weapons, swords, staffblades, and shields. The small armory sat adjacent to the main hall where the fragments had ejected Draeken. The armory had another door at the back which led to a wide, double staircase.
“I’ll search above,” Elenyr said. “You explore the rest of the basement.”
Shadow agreed and retreated back the way they had come. Pausing at the cask of magma ale, he conjured a dagger from darkness and thrust it into the wood. Withdrawing it, he morphed the dagger into a mug. He filled the mug and then sealed the breach. No need to waste the ale.
Sipping the expensive ale, he savored the burning flavor as he began to search the series of rooms beneath the fortress, all connected to a central hallway. He casually strolled between them, peeking into the rarely used chambers.
He didn’t expect to find anything, and was not disappointed. Serak was cautious, but only a zealot would protect his stores of food when they were already locked inside a secret fortress and protected by an army of golems.
He sipped his mug until he found a stash of tableware. Pouring the liquid into an actual mug, he continued to enjoy the exorbitantly expensive drink as he explored. When he found nothing, he made his way up the stairs.
Dim light glowed from a handful of orbs, and he was grateful he had swapped his shadow mug for a real one. The first floor above the great hall was empty, just a spacious receiving room and a collection of maps on a large table.
He ascended to the one above, and then into one of the towers. He guessed the place was empty. Serak had built the refuge in order to trap Draeken, so why would he remain once he had Draeken as his master?
He climbed the last tower, where he found Elenyr peering into the window of a small chamber. The crackle of energy indicated the room was bound by lightning. Elenyr whirled at his entrance, her sword coming free.
He retreated, avoiding losing his mug and protesting loudly. She glared at him and hissed for quiet, at which he advanced and joined her to peer into the small chamber. Elenyr pointed at the mug.
“Really?”
He took a sip. “Really.”
She snorted and motioned to the room. “This chamber is the only room outside of the great hall that’s protected by lightning. I suspect what we desire lies within. Think you can open the door?”
He morphed his finger into a key. “The challenge is doing it without spilling my ale.”
One handed, he pushed shadows into the key hole while Elenyr covered the nearest orb on the wall. With the increased solidity of the magic, he managed to rotate the door and ease it open, without spilling his mug. He grinned in triumph.
“Will you please get focused?” Elenyr asked, exasperated.
Shadow smirked and slipped into the chamber, which proved to be rather small. Containing a cabinet on one side and a desk on the other, the room contained much of interest. Shadow stepped to the cabinet while Elenyr examined the table.
“There’s a memory orb here,” he said. “And four containers.”
“For what?”
“If I knew, I would not have called them containers.”
She opened the tome on the desk and scanned the contents. “This is a private office,” she murmured. “Here he’s writing about his plans for Draeken.” She flipped to the end of the archive. “The final entry is after Draeken’s separation. It says he’s taking the final two vials.”
She rotated and looked to Shadow, who pointed to the four strange reservoirs in the cabinet. Each resembled the claws of a beast. Carved out of obsidian, the claws were pointed upward, as if they were intended to hold an object.
“One for each general?” Shadow asked.
“But what was in them?” she asked.
She bent and examined the book, searching the text. Shadow joined her, almost spilling his ale when he bent to read the final words. Elenyr cursed when she read them, and Shadow took her place, reading aloud.
“The vials of the Dark must not be broken, for they are the only way each general’s will can be leashed to my master . . .”
“That’s how he’s doing it,” Elenyr whispered. “He’s using the Dark to control the generals.”
Shadow sipped his drink, delighted with the turn of events. “This is the best war we’ve ever had.”
“I hope you’re enjoying it,” she said. “Because if we’re not careful, it’s going to be our last.”
He raised his mug as if to toast the event. “Then here’s to the final war.”
Chapter 6: An Old Friend
Shadow settled into the seat and put his feet on the desk as he listened to Elenyr. She opened the cabinet and took one of the claw shaped holders, murmuring to herself, a habit she’d had since Shadow’s youth.
“No magic can rob a man of his will,” she said, “but the Dark is not magic, and it alters the flesh of those it touches, turning them into extensions of itself. Serak must have trapped some of the Dark from his first attempt to open the Dark Gate.”
He drank his mug of magma ale, wondering if he had time to return to the basement for a refill. The mug was running low and it had been ages since he’d managed to get his hands on such expensive stock. The dwarves tended to keep such priceless liquid under heavy lock and key.
“But why is this here?” Elenyr asked aloud.
She collected the memory orb from inside the top of the cabinet. It too, sat on a matching clawed pedestal, and she examined it with a frown. Shadow began rifling through the drawers of the desk, wondering what else he might find from a man of such expensive tastes.
“The memory is locked,” she said. “We’ll need to find a mind mage to unlock it.”
“Can I see it?”
She shrugged and handed him the orb, but he moved his hand at the last moment, causing it to fall. It shattered in a tinkling of glass, the memory floating up from inside. Elenyr threw him a scathing look.
“Why would you do that?”
“I thought you wanted to see the memory.”
“I wanted to keep it as evidence.”
“Too late,” he replied.
The memory was of the sea, the water rising and falling in shallow swells. But the liquid seemed off, more reflective, solid even. The image of the waves filled the room, making them feel like they were on the seas, the walls and ceiling obscured by the memory.
“Where are we?” he asked.
The sea swelled up and morphed into the shape of a man. Gendor. At his side, the water rose up and turned into Bartoth. As the third took shape into the Raven, Elenyr sucked in her breath, her features wide in recognition.
“This is an oracle’s memory.”
“Senia?” Shadow asked.
“Or her grandmother,” Elenyr said. “They are the only ones I know whose farsight was the sea.”
“One of them foresaw the creation of the generals?” He was out of magma ale, and he rose from his seat and stepped to the door.
She caught his elbow and held him fast. “This is Senia’s memory,” Elenyr said as the final one took sha
pe. “Serak must have manipulated her and then used his memory mages to strip the memory so she wouldn’t know.”
“But who is the last general?” Shadow asked.
The final figure took shape. The woman’s slight frame was that of a dark elf. Her body was slim and appeared frail, her features mottled and diseased. Shadow blinked in surprise as he recognized the woman.
“Is that Mimic?”
“First of the Queen’s Hand,” Elenyr nodded in understanding. “Her magic would make her an ideal candidate for becoming Draeken’s general.”
“And she’s really cruel,” Shadow said.
“I didn’t know you’d met.”
She turned and noticed he stood with his hand on the door, his mug empty. She frowned at his posture and he shrugged sheepishly. Just as he took his hand off the door, the knob began to turn. On instinct he retreated into the shadows next to the cabinet. Elenyr followed his lead and turned ethereal before leaping into the cabinet, both disappearing from sight just as the door swung open.
The cloaked figure of Gendor stood framed in the opening, his scythe pulsing with power, his skeletal hands clenched on the wood. His eyes burned like coals as he surveyed the room and settled on the mug resting on the desk. The memory had faded, but the mug marked the presence of an intruder.
“My apologies,” he said, and then slashed through the cabinet.
Elenyr cried out as the scythe cut through the wood, slicing across her side. Shadow leapt from his hide and picked up the mug, which he smashed on Gendor’s head. The man whirled with inhuman speed, his scythe cutting high.
Shadow ducked, the scythe scraping his hair as it passed above his head. Shadow leapt into the stairwell and hurtled down the stairs to avoid the spinning weapon. The man gave pursuit, much faster, and far more deadly.
The scythe cut Shadow’s cloak from his shoulders, the fabric settling on the steps as Shadow turned to dark form and leapt to the ceiling. Gendor kicked off one wall and then another, bringing himself to the top of the hall, his weapon reaching for Shadow. Giving up on escaping on the ceiling, Shadow dropped to the floor, narrowly avoiding losing his hand as he landed on the steps.
“I thought you were on our side,” Shadow called over his shoulder.
“I didn’t choose this,” Gendor snapped. “He holds my will. I am to kill the intruder.”
“What if I’m not an intruder?” he shot back.
“What else would I call you?” Gendor demanded.
Shadow reached the basement stairwell and ducked into the armory. He caught a sword from the wall and then picked up a shield. He sent it spinning into the hallway, clipping Gendor on the shoulder as he entered. Shadow raised his sword and parried the man’s scythe but the weapon was too fast, and Gendor drove him back into a storeroom.
Shadow was used to being faster than anyone except Light, but Gendor’s sheer speed took his breath away. Shadow ducked and twisted, avoiding the scythe by a hairsbreadth as he retreated to the next stairwell and into the final storeroom. Just as he passed the barrel containing the magma ale, he yanked the plug from the hole and spun, slashing the dagger and sword against each other.
The spark ignited the ale in a burst of fire that poured from the barrel. Shadow had hoped it would explode, but the flow of liquid created a current of flames that streaked across the room and splashed across the opposite wall.
Gendor slid to a halt on the other side of the firewall, and across the barrier the two combatants regarded each other. Shadow smirked at Gendor’s reserve, and the assassin passed his scythe into the fire, the metal burning bright.
“Very clever,” Gendor said. “I cannot disobey my orders, but neither can I die for them.”
Elenyr dropped through the ceiling and groaned when she landed on her feet. She had her hand on her side, where a line cut through her tunic. She straightened and caught Shadow on the shoulder, dragging him towards the exit.
“Let’s go.”
“You cannot stop them,” Gendor called.
“Then who will?” Elenyr snapped.
“My blade is poisoned with the Dark,” Gendor said. “If you do not clean the wound in the next few minutes, it will take root and you will be dead soon.”
“Why would you help us?” Elenyr asked.
“I didn’t ask for this,” Gendor snapped. “I didn’t ask to become a butcher.”
“Then be smarter,” Shadow said.
“That’s easy for you to say,” Gendor growled. “I’m a specter of death, and my entire future has been taken. When this fire gives out I will pursue and kill you, and neither you nor I can stop that.”
The current of fire began to diminish, the flames falling. Elenyr caught Shadow’s arm and pulled him toward the exit, but Shadow shook himself free and returned to the flames. Gendor began to pace on the opposite side, as if fighting the urge to leap through the flames.
“You must kill intruders?”
“I am compelled,” Gendor said. “The moment your presence was known, I found a Gate and returned.”
“What if we’re not intruders?”
Gendor slowed. “What are you suggesting?”
“That we are an assassin’s old friends,” Shadow said with a smile. “Here to reminisce over an expensive barrel of magma ale, which unfortunately ignited. A sad and expensive mistake, I must say.”
His words brought Gendor to a halt. Elenyr had opened the door, but she spun to face Shadow, her features writ in surprise. Shadow gestured to the barrel of magma ale, which had begun to sputter.
“You think we’re friends?” Gendor asked, his tone incredulous.
“Doesn’t matter what I think,” Shadow said. “Only matters what you think. Are we intruders? Or are we friends?”
The fire sputtered and the liquid died. Gendor did not advance. He stood in the doorway, his scythe low to the ground, the metal still red from being plunged into the fire. Shadow smirked at his reserve.
“I see no intruders here,” Gendor said.
“Exactly,” Shadow said.
Elenyr did not lower her sword. “What is Serak’s weakness?”
“There is one that can defeat Draeken,” he said.
“One of us?” Shadow asked.
“No,” Gendor replied. “Serak manipulated a prophecy out of Senia, and then took her memory of the vision.”
“We saw it,” Elenyr said. “It’s how Serak knew they would need four generals.”
“The same.” Gendor twitched as if he were struggling to keep himself in check. “But you did not see the rest of the vision. Senia foresaw one born of three bloodlines, human, elf, and dwarf. He’s the only one capable of destroying Draeken, and Serak’s greatest fear.”
“Why not kill Senia?” Elenyr asked.
“Serak fears her power,” Gendor said. “But he also needs her.”
The scythe came up a few inches, and Shadow realized the gambit would not endure forever. Gendor hated them, for the fragments had almost destroyed his mind, taken his future before Serak had done the same.
“Do you know their name?” Shadow asked.
“No,” he said. “But I know he’s in Talinor. Now go, before I reconsider your presence.”
“You can stop Serak and Draeken,” Elenyr said. “You can be your own master, again.”
“No,” Gendor’s red eyes flared. “My fate is sealed, but I will have revenge against those who call me servant. I swear on the edge of my blade, Draeken and Serak will fall.”
“What are you going to do?” Shadow asked. “Your will is bound.”
Gendor’s voice hardened. “But my mind is free.”
Elenyr pulled Shadow into the stairwell and this time Shadow did not resist. As they departed through the secret entrance, Shadow stifled a laugh, pleased with how the morning had turned out. Then Elenyr stumbled and he recalled her injury.
They exited through the base of the fortress and Shadow flew them up to where Lorica, Rune, and Sentara were hidden. As he deposited Elenyr in the
mouth of the cave, Rune leapt forward and knelt at her side.
“You were in there a lot longer than we planned,” the girl said. “What happened?”
“We found a friend,” Shadow said.
“Did your friend slice Elenyr?” Sentara asked.
“It must be cleaned or it will kill me,” Elenyr said.
“It stays with you even in ethereal form?” Rune asked.
Elenyr nodded, her features tight with pain. “Only weapon to ever do that unless it had lightning.”
Rune stepped forward and knelt. “The Unnamed knows what to do.”
She placed her hand on Elenyr’s waist—and white fire burst from Elenyr’s skin. Elenyr arched her back and screamed, the sound of agony echoing in the cavern of Blackwell Keep. Rune stumbled backward and the light died, revealing a searing callous over the wound, but no trace of the Dark.
“Sorry,” Rune said. “I didn’t know that was going to happen.”
“I’m okay,” Elenyr said, sucking in her breath. “I can feel it. The poison is gone.”
“What happened in there?” Sentara asked.
“We enjoyed a lovely drink with an old friend,” Shadow asked.
“Not the time to be you,” Elenyr groaned and accepted Lorica’s hand to rise. “We met Gendor, and he told us of a memory Serak stole from Senia. Apparently she discovered the greatest threat to Draeken, and then erased the memory.”
Lorica shook her head. “Is that possible?”
“We saw part of the memory,” Shadow said. “It’s certainly possible.”
“What happened in this memory?” Rune asked.
“Senia learned that one person can destroy Draeken. He is born of human, elf, and dwarven blood,” Elenyr said.
Lorica regarded them with doubt in her expression, but Elenyr’s scream had brought the golems out of the fortress, forcing them back up the tunnel. As Shadow took the lead, he chuckled to himself.
“It appears our path just shifted.”
Chapter 7: A New Mount
Draeken surveyed the devastated home, a frown creasing his features. The once beautiful estate in Keese lay broken, beams poking skyward, flames leaping into the sky as if they wanted to devour the clouds. The handful of survivors moaned as Gendor and Bartoth dispatched them.
