by Ben Hale
“We have the greater force—even against Serak and Draeken—so why does it feel like we’re caught in the jaws of a trap?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t wait until dawn,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “What are you suggesting?”
“Tonight,” Lira said.
“There’s no way we can get the kings to agree to such an assault.”
“Not all of them,” she said. “But a smaller group. Rynda, Dothlore, Erisay, the Bladed, they would all be willing.”
Water liked the suggestion. It posed a risk, but the goal was simple. Destroy the Dark Gate. If they could breach the fortifications unseen, and infiltrate the fortress, they might be able to destroy, or at the very least, delay Serak’s plans.
“Let’s see what Rynda has to say.”
They dropped from the escarpment and made their way down the slope. Outer sentries had been posted, and thousands were still erecting fortifications, tents, and war machines. A notable separation kept the various commands distinct, a fifty-foot gap where no tent or soldier lingered.
Water and Lira passed through a contingent of Talinorian cavalry and then crossed one such gap on their way to the Griffin infantry. The soldiers laughed and talked as they had the previous week, but the talk had gained a noticeable current of tension. Seeing Draeken and Serak astride twin red dragons, one of which was the largest they had ever seen, had left them shaken. They’d thought this would be a quick campaign, crush the Order of Ancients and be back in a week.
“The men sense a reason to fear,” Lira murmured.
Water watched a pair of sentries speak in low tones, the subject that of how to kill a dragon, and how to hide if it landed in their midst. They hoped to be stationed near the river that coursed through the valley, where the water would give them a place to escape from dragon fire.
The river cut through the valley, descending from the northern foothills near the escarpment where Water and Lira had surveyed the advance, and continuing through the valley to a small lake. Creeks from the southern hills entered the lake, which emptied into the river winding west, where it culminated near Terros.
At thirty feet across, the river was not overly large or swift, its lazy current easy to cross with the various temporary bridges the men had placed. Half the human forces had placed their camp on the west side of the river, as had the elves.
Water strode to the surface and hardened the liquid, allowing them to cross to the opposite bank and avoid the heavily trafficked bridges. Talinorian cavalry, rock trolls, gnomes, orcs, and the rest of the human camps were sprawled across the remainder of the valley, flattening the indigenous brush.
On a small rise near the center, Queen Rynda leaned against the single tree. Water and Lira picked their way through the camps to reach her, arriving as Fire appeared as well. Fire grinned as they approached at the same time, and Fire’s plate of food revealed where he’d gone.
“I’m not used to being so hungry,” Fire said as they ascended the small rise.
“You get used to it,” Rynda said, turning to greet them.
“Is your camp set?” Water asked.
Rynda nodded. “Twenty thousand rock trolls.”
“Can you kill the dragons?”
“We’ve killed more dragons than the other races combined,” Rynda said. “It’s Draeken and Serak that give me pause.”
The statement spoke volumes. As long as Water had known the formidable rock troll queen, she’d never expressed fear or doubt. After dismissing a battle against two of the mightiest creatures on Lumineia, it was their riders that made her question her strength.
“It doesn’t help that our army is on the brink of infighting.” Fire used a fork to point to the camp.
Rynda cursed under her breath. “This was a bad idea from the start. It’s clear Serak wanted us here, and even though all outward signs point to a quick victory, we are not fighting a normal foe.”
“Lira has an idea,” Water motioned to her.
Lira pointed to Xshaltheria. “I think we should attack tonight.”
“All of us?” Fire snorted in disagreement. “They’ve just set up camp and I cannot see King Justin putting on his armor to attack when its dark, and especially not when it looks like we have such an overwhelming advantage.”
“No,” Rynda said, nodding in thought. “Lira is right. A small force could breach the fortifications and reach the Dark Gate. Destroy it before he has a chance to open it.”
Fire looked between them. “Are we seriously talking about planning a high risk attack against a weaker foe—when we have the superior force?”
“Yes,” Water said firmly. “It’s our best chance to stop Serak and Draeken. What fool would ignore their superior strength for such a dangerous gambit?”
“Smart tactics are never foolish,” Rynda said, stepping away from the tree. “Erisay will want to be part of this, but Dothlore is meeting with King Justin. We’ll have to do this without him.”
“How many do you think we should take with us?” Lira asked.
“Two dozen,” Rynda said. “No more.”
“This is madness,” Fire said. “Fortunately, I like this type of madness.”
Rynda grinned and turned away before casting over her shoulder. “Meet me at the edge of my camp at midnight.”
“She seems excited,” Lira drawled.
“Of course she is.” Fire took a bite of his bread and spoke through a full mouth. “She gets to abandon all the soldiers she thinks are useless, and strike at Serak in a way that could destroy him for good.”
“You make it sound like it’s easy,” Water said.
“Not easy. Just exciting. I’ll see you guys there.”
“Where are you going?”
He looked at them like they were daft. “I’d rather be stabbed in the leg than watch the two of you sneak kisses.”
Water flushed and Lira grinned. Fire had finished his plate and departed in search of more. When he was gone Lira took Rynda’s place on the small rise and pointed to the fortress of Xshaltheria.
“You think we can do this?”
“Would Ero let me be an Eternal?”
She swiveled to face him, clearly surprised by the change in subject. “Why do you ask?”
“My whole life I’ve thought I was preparing to become Draeken. Now that future is obliterated. When I look forward there’s . . .,” he struggled for the right word and then shrugged helplessly, “. . . nothing.”
“You want to be an Eternal because of me?”
Her lips twitched and he smiled in turn. “I want something to look forward to.”
“Assuming we win this war.”
He chuckled at that. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about not becoming Draeken.”
“And now you worry that you still have a piece of him inside you.”
Unable to meet her gaze, he looked to the campfires of the alliance. “I see what he is doing, what he intends to do now, and I cannot help but wonder. I’m the only fragment left with a piece of Draeken. What does that mean?”
“It means you can stop him,” she said.
“Or it means I could turn on my brothers.”
It was painful to voice the fear he’d felt since the moment he’d learned that Draeken was alive. Lira approached and reached up to his cheek, turning his head. From inches away her eyes reflected the fires in the valley.
“You would never turn on your brothers,” she said.
“How can you be certain?” he asked. “Draeken was ready to kill the fragments to rise to power.”
“You and your brothers rejected Draeken,” Lira said. “You proved that you were stronger. He may be the fragment of Power, but you and your brothers are superior.”
Unable to withstand her conviction, he smiled and wrapped his arms around her back. “What would I do without you?”
“Be sad and miserable,” she said with an impish laugh.
“True,” he replied.
&nbs
p; “And yes,” she said. “I believe Ero would permit you to join the Eternals.”
“Assuming we survive,” he replied.
“When we survive,” she said, and leaned up to kiss him.
There was an audible groan and both looked up to find Fire turning away. He had a bag of supplies in one hand, a jug of ale in the other, and a look of disgust on his features. He dropped the food and retreated.
“This is what I get for thinking you might be hungry.”
“Thanks, Fire!” Water called.
“I’ll be back when you’re done kissing,” Fire growled.
“That’s not going to happen anytime soon,” Lira said.
Fire groaned loudly as he strode away, and Water chuckled. Despite what they faced, he believed Lira’s words. They would survive, not because they had more power, but because they had something to live for. And now, Water had a future he desired. Draeken and Serak may have been powerful, but they lacked the very thing Elenyr had built. A family.
Chapter 15: The Melting
Shadow trudged through the dark tunnels, yearning for a bed. His feet hurt, his legs ached, and his stomach grumbled. Four days of walking through underground caverns and tunnels had left him annoyed and irritable.
Glowing vines covered the walls, illuminating the Deep caverns in iridescent blue, green, purple, and white. Mushrooms grew in neat stalks, and rivers flowed through channels cut by time. They passed small lakes, and narrow crevasses, the trail leading through a labyrinth of plunging ravines and rocky caves.
Shadow had always loved the Deep for the surge of magic, but after hiking for days, he wished for his bed at home. Of course, Serak had destroyed Cloudy Vale, so his bed was probably a pile of ash.
“Why can’t Rune just teleport us there?” he asked.
Rune sighed in irritation. “The Unnamed cannot go where she has not been.”
Shadow groaned at the response. “Are we there yet?”
“Ask that again and I might have to cut you,” Lorica said.
“It’s just around the corner,” Elenyr said.
“That’s what you said ten minutes ago,” Shadow said.
“That was a lie,” Elenyr replied.
“And this isn’t?” Shadow asked.
“Not this time,” Elenyr said as they turned a corner and the dark elf prison came into view.
Shadow forgot about his fatigue and irritation, his eyes rising to the large cavern. He’d expected a castle or fortress, for the rumors of the prison were too varied to believe. For the first time, the rumors did not do justice to the truth.
A thousand feet across, the cavern was large and open, with a curving road clinging to the left wall, where it connected to a small fort embedded in the side of the cavern. But the prisoners were not in the fort. Instead of locking their greatest criminals in walls of stone and steel, they had turned the entire cavern into a prison.
Hundreds of cages hung from the ceiling, each cage containing a single person. Channels of steel crisscrossed the ceiling, allowing the cages to be moved throughout the rail system. At the center of the prison, a platform extended upward like an island from what lay below the cells.
A lake of acid.
Heated from below, the green liquid spat and popped, casting the entire cavern in a green hue. Built by a dark elf named Werindel, the prison carried his name, but the criminals of the Deep called it by another name. The Melting.
“Don’t touch the acid,” Elenyr warned, leaning over the edge of the road. “It’s strong enough to disintegrate steel, let alone flesh.”
Men and women in the cages called out to them, clamoring for attention as the five advanced up the curving road that bordered the inside wall. The path was narrow, forcing them to walk single file, and Shadow noticed the holes at his side. Noticing his gaze, Sentara motioned to the holes.
“Acid traps,” she said. “If the guards think we are a threat, they can open the pipes and we’ll be washed into the lake of acid.”
“Lovely,” Shadow breathed, his smile widening.
Rune shuddered. “This is the worst prison on Lumineia.”
“On that, we can agree,” Elenyr said. “Werindel Prison contains the worst offenders of the dark elves, as well as a handful from the other races. The surface kingdoms pay a handsome sum for the dark elves to house their more violent offenders. It is said Ero himself even put a criminal here.”
“Jeric?” Shadow asked, surprised. “Who did he put here?”
“No idea,” Elenyr said with a shrug. “But rumor says he’s another krey, one using Lumineia to hide from the Empire.”
“Really?” Shadow asked.
Elenyr smiled. “Like I said, it’s just a rumor.”
“Anyone ever escape?” Rune eyed the acid lake, her features tight with worry.
“Some got close,” Elenyr said. “But none made it out alive.” She pointed to the guard station they were approaching. “That controls the movement of the cages, and the acid traps. They can also seal the entrance we came in, preventing entry from without, or escape from within.”
“Aren’t you a pretty one,” a criminal called to Lorica, whistling in her direction.
Shadow’s eyes widened. “Do you have any idea who that is? That’s the Thresher, a man known to kill his victims and rip them apart. And that’s the Devil of Dorinvale, a dwarf said to have robbed every major vault in every kingdom. And that’s the Red Elf, who spilled so much blood they say his hands will never be clean.”
“Why do you sound so excited?” Lorica asked.
“I put them here,” Shadow said, smiling at the memories. “I wonder if they remember me.”
“The fragment of Shadow,” the Red Elf called from his hanging cage. “Did you come for a visit?”
The elf wore a grimy uniform, grey with orange accents. He stood at the edge of his cage, leaning against the bars as he picked dirt from under his fingernails. The green glow of the acid made him seem more sinister.
“You do remember,” Shadow said, pleased.
“How can I forget the one that put me in this hole,” the Red Elf said.
“Is that the fragment of Shadow?” a gnome asked, rising and stepping to the edge of his cage. “Who would have thought he would come here.”
“Siphon!” Shadow exclaimed. “I thought you were dead!”
“Who’s Siphon?” Rune asked.
“The worst of the lot,” Elenyr replied. “He used to create horrending daggers for the gnomes, and he is quite gifted with anti-magic. He decided to use the daggers he was making to steal the magic of other mages, claiming he could sell the magic and place it in someone else.”
“Can you do that?” Lorica asked.
“Of course not,” Sentara said. “But he managed to steal and kill his way through several kingdoms and several bounties.”
“Until we caught up to him,” Shadow said, waving at the gnome.
The gnome did not return the gesture. He merely regarded Shadow from beneath bushy eyebrows, his black eyes reflecting green from the acid. Shadow noticed he had an additional shackle about his ankle, the attachment preventing him from using his magic.
“You should visit more often,” Siphon called.
“I’ve been busy,” Shadow said. “Next time.”
“Stop goading them, Shadow,” Elenyr said. “You can’t come spend time with them.”
“Why not?” Shadow protested. “They could clearly use the distraction.”
“For you it’s a distraction,” she replied. “For them it’s a game of who can murder the fragment.”
They approached the guard station, which was built into the wall of the cavern. Massive windows allowed for an unbroken view of the prison, and Shadow spotted a long desk of levers and controls, presumably to move the cells on their ceiling tracks.
The path led to a portcullis and guard house manned by two dark elves. The two stood behind the closed gate, playing dice on a small barrel set between them. The courtyard beyond connected
to the viewing and control room, also blocked by a second portcullis. Against the cavern wall, a doorway led to a set of stairs headed into the wall, probably to the guard’s quarters.
“We’re an hour outside of Elsurund,” Elenyr said. “The only people that come here are either prisoners or soldiers.”
About the size of a small fort, the structure contained a tower at the road, a small courtyard, and the control room. Shadow peered into the courtyard and spotted a door set against the stone, presumably leading to the barracks. The elves obviously relied heavily on the defenses of the prison, and did not station very many guards at the Melting.
“Let me do the talking,” Sentara said, advancing to the guard house.
Elenyr frowned, but made no move to intervene as the aged woman tapped the portcullis with her knuckles. The guards looked up and then went back to their dice, laughing as they rolled sixes.
“What do you want?” one asked.
“We need to speak to a prisoner,” Sentara said.
“These prisoners don’t often get visitors,” the second said, a touch of suspicion lighting his eyes. “Least of all from an old woman.” His eyes flicked to the others in the group, a man, two woman, a young girl. No dark elves.
“We have word from Queen Erisay herself,” Sentara said.
Elenyr extended a roll of parchment through the portcullis. A guard scowled in annoyance as he stepped away from the dice and accepted the parchment. He unrolled and read the missive, his frown deepening as he noted the mark on the bottom, the seal of Queen Erisay.
“Wait here,” he said.
He turned and crossed the courtyard, calling to the guards in the control chamber. Someone inside pulled a lever and the second portcullis rose upward, permitting the guard inside. Shadow craned his neck and caught a glimpse of the controls. The seconds passed and his irritation returned, so he cast a thread of shadow through the portcullis, tipping the dice as the remaining soldiers sought to continue their game. The loser cursed.
“These dice are rigged,” he growled. “There’s no way they roll so low every time—and only on my turn.”
“Just your luck,” the second said with a laugh, and rolled a six and a five. He grinned as he dragged the small pile of coins into his hands.
