Shades of Death

by Ramy Vance

  “So, you could serve the Dark One for three years and not have to talk to someone in charge?”

  Persephone’s eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t serving the Dark One. I was under mind control.”

  Abby instantly regretted her phrasing. Persephone recoiled from the monitor, her movement noticeable despite such a small screen. “That’s not what I meant… I just didn’t know what else to call it. Sorry.”

  Persephone cast a glance over her shoulder. “No, no, I know what you’re trying to say. I’m just on edge from the interviews. Every day, six hours or so. It starts to wear you down. But, yeah, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Drow society is much more forgiving than most. Actually forgiving. Forgive and forget. But that’s because we need a lot of it. Plus, I think everyone sees how hard I’m trying to fix everything, and they might be cutting me more slack than usual.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Persephone raised her hand. Her fingers exploded outward, tentacles flowing from her arm. “This whole thing.”

  “Is there something wrong?”

  Persephone cracked up, deep guffaws that made Abby giggle. “You know having tentacles isn’t a normal thing, right?”

  Abby shook her head, feeling stupid for not knowing anything about drow physiology. “Can’t say I do.”

  “Well, this is definitely not a normal thing. That’s mostly what everyone has been concerned about. No one cares about the Dark One. The drow are protected against whatever he wants to throw their way. But the tentacles have everyone a little bit worried.”

  “How’d you get them?”

  Persephone squirmed in her seat. “Uh, it’s kinda a long story.”

  “I haven’t talked to you in almost a month. It can be as long as you want.”

  Persephone sighed, hanging her head a little bit. “Okay, but it’s not a fun long story.”

  “When I was a kid, my birth parents sold me off. I never met them. But that’s what my guardians told me. Still don’t know how true it is. And I call them my guardians because that’s what they were. Not parents. I was sold into…I guess you could call it a cult.

  “When I was fourteen or so, I was offered up as a sacrifice. I didn’t really know what it all entailed at the time, obviously. No one told me it was a sacrifice, just a birthday party. I was taken to a shaman, one of the oldest in my realm. Which is saying a lot because a healthy drow can live to be a couple thousand years old. No one knew how old this guy was. Other than ancient.”

  Abby had no idea that anyone could live that long other than Myrddin. But now that she’d thought about it, she’d heard Anabelle and Roy both reference the elf’s age. Abby had always thought it was a joke between the two of them, but now it was starting to make sense.

  “You’re kinda like elves, right?” Abby asked.

  “We are elves. Dark elves. Not dark like evil. We’re just darker. But we’re still elves. But, anyways, the shaman was…he wasn’t like a regular drow shaman. He did something to me, brought something from the Netherverse and put it inside me. I don’t think they understood what it was that they were doing. They couldn’t have. A lot of people died, and that was when the Dark One found me.”

  Persephone was quiet for a while, looking down at her hand.

  Abby wished she could hold Persephone, whisper to her that everything was going to be okay. But they were realms away from each other. All she could do was watch Persephone hurting. “What did they put in you?”

  “Something ancient. The elders have been trying to figure out exactly what, but there’s nothing concrete. They think it’s older than the Dark One. An Old One. I’m praying that’s not true, though. I can’t imagine what it would take to get rid of that if it’s even possible.”

  Abby had heard of the Old Ones. A few weeks ago, she’d received a message from Alex, the leader of Boundless, a Dragon Rider team. It had been a hectic, confusing message. Something about aliens and telepathy. The most succinct part of the message had been concerning the Old Ones. Apparently, Alex had discovered a weapon infused with the power of these things.

  “What are the Old Ones?”

  Persephone shook her head slowly as she tried to put her fears into words. “It’s hard to explain, mostly because we don’t know what they are. I guess you could say that they’re kinda like gods. But not really. They were the first beings. Immensely powerful monsters that defy our understanding. They don’t care about us. We’re like ants to them. But some crazy people pray to them, offer them sacrifices…all for the sake of power.”

  “Sounds like the Dark One to me.”

  “There are a lot of drow who think the Dark One is an Old One. They believe that’s where he draws all his power. No one knows for sure, but there are rumors that he’s trying to tap into the Netherverse and bring back whatever is there to serve him.”

  Abby wanted to change the subject. She could see that Persephone was obviously upset. “When are you going to come visit me? Shouldn’t be too hard if you know where I am all the time.”

  Persephone laughed, a pleasant break from the tone of the conversation so far. “I don’t! But hopefully soon. My reintegration should be over in a few days. And then I can come and go as I please. I’m not sure whether or not I’ll be allowed back onto your realm, though.”

  “Why would they keep you from coming here?”

  “Oh, it’s not them. Myrddin seems to have final say over who can come and go between the military bases of the realms. But if he has a problem with me visiting you at the base, I can get to Earth or Middang3ard. You might just have to do some sneaking.”

  Abby didn’t have a problem with sneaking, though she found it hard to believe Myrddin would keep Persephone from seeing her. The drow had helped out with the battle in the arena to save Terra, so what other proof of her loyalty would the old man need?

  “I miss you,” Persephone said softly.

  Her words caught Abby off-guard, and she jumped in surprise. “I miss you too.”

  “That’s good to know. I’ve been thinking about you a lot. Probably too much.”

  Abby’s heart swam up to her throat. She’d been thinking about Persephone a lot as well. They hadn’t spoken since their short “field trip” in Japan. Since then, Abby had been wondering why Persephone hadn’t been returning her comms. Now she knew the reason, and she wished she could have been there for Persephone during all of this.

  “I been thinking about you too,” was all Abby could manage.

  “I don’t know when I’ll be able to talk to you next, but it’ll be soon. Take care.”

  The television cut out unceremoniously.

  Abby sat in the dark of the barn, watching the screen, hoping Persephone would come back. She didn’t.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Anabelle stormed into Myrddin’s study. There was probably a better way to handle this, but she didn’t care. The old man had to know what was on her mind.

  Myrddin didn’t appear disturbed by the disruption. “Can I help you with something?”

  Anabelle was almost vibrating out of her skin with anger. “You better fucking be able to. What the hell was that at the show? Two gates opening up without even a little bit of warning from you? Do you know how many lives were put in danger from that?”

  Myrddin sighed, looking tired and defeated. “Do you believe I would not have informed you had I been aware of incoming Dark Gates?”

  Anabelle thought it over for a second.

  It didn’t make a whole lot of sense for Myrddin to keep that information from her.

  The whole point of her squad was to eliminate the gates. If they weren’t given the intel, they were pretty much useless. “Okay. Then what happened?”

  Myrddin appeared beyond tired.

  For the first time, Anabelle could see the sag of his skin, as though hundreds of years were threatening to catch up with the wizard. Even the way he moved seemed slower. “This is a different game now. Rasputina and Grok are something beyond what I’ve been plannin
g for. They…they are anomalies.”

  Anabelle sat across from Myrddin, trying to hold her anger in check. “How so? They’re just more generals. Nothing we haven’t seen before.”

  Myrddin shook his head and waved his hand over his desk, conjuring a glass of wine. Another glass appeared in front of Anabelle. “No. They are different. I’m assuming you retrieved the file on Grok.”

  Anabelle sipped the wine as she nodded. “Glanced at it. There wasn’t anything particularly useful. An orc who studied the Old Ways of combat. Has a vendetta against elves. But, honestly, who doesn’t? Didn’t see anything that I thought would make you lose your cool.”

  “I was not being dramatic when I spoke to the DGA about Rasputina. She is a game-changer. And Rasputina, coupled with Grok, is a disconcerting turn of events.”

  “Are you going to tell me what the deal with the orc is or keep tap-dancing around it?”

  Myrddin looked wounded but recovered quickly. “She’s first-generation from the schism between your two people. That’s not in the file. No one knows how long she’s managed to stay alive. But years ago, she dedicated herself to the extinction of the Travelers. Grok is the reason that you are the last of them.”

  Anabelle wouldn’t have thought such information would hit her hard. But it did. Even if she wasn’t certain of how she felt about relearning the ways of the Path, she was still floored by the idea that one orc had destroyed over five thousand years of knowledge. “Okay, are you saying she and a couple of other—”

  “No, I am saying that she did it. Only her.”

  Anabelle was beginning to understand the hatred that burned in Grok’s eyes every time the orc looked at her. This was beyond Anabelle, she was merely an extremity in the situation. “What’s she been doing in the meantime? Her file is obviously lacking some pertinent information.”

  “We don’t know. She showed up with the Dark One about five years ago. Everything before that is a mystery. I’ve done everything I can to dig into her past, but haven’t found anything.”

  “And the lich?”

  Myrddin recoiled at the word as though he’d been slapped. “I’ve told you all everything that I know about Rasputina.”

  “Then why do you seem so uncomfortable?”

  Myrddin’s face reddened, and the room pulsed around him as if he were pushing it outward with his mind. “What more do you want to know? Specific details of the time she spent torturing me before we were able to lock her up?”

  Anabelle remembered the tale of torture that Myrddin had laid on them last time. Even with the revelation, Myrddin’s response was uncharacteristic. The wizard never became angry about anything. What else had happened?

  “I want information that will keep me from ending up dead. And it feels like you’re hiding something from me. What aren’t you telling me?”

  Myrddin shook his head. “I’m not keeping anything from you—”

  “Why did Terra have so many soldiers with her for the interview? It was almost like you were expecting an attack.”

  The room grew hotter as small sparks of electricity snapped across Myrddin’s face. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

  “That you knew about this, and you let it happen.”

  “I am constantly expecting attacks. I assumed that the Dark One would take the chance to strike out at my two toughest lieutenants. That does not mean I allowed anything to happen, merely that I’m not stupid. There is no time for slip-ups. Not at all. Grok is proving to be a bigger threat than I imagined. And the introduction of the lich…I don’t have time for petty arguments like this.”

  Anabelle wasn’t ready to pull back from Myrddin. “You could have warned us what to expect. Or at least given Terra a heads up. Do you know how upset she is? She thinks people’s lives were put in danger because of her.”

  “Do you seriously walk around at any point in the day and not assume the Dark One is coming to kill us all? The only person who should need this kind of babying is Abby. Frankly, I’m disappointed that this is so upsetting to you.”

  “You need to start letting us know everything, Myrddin. It’s beginning to feel like you don’t trust us.”

  Myrddin stood, electricity still coming off his body. “I expect you to do your job, and I will continue doing mine. There are gates still opening. You will have to take care of these ones by yourself. Terra has another interview.”

  “Give her some time to recover from the last one.”

  The holoscreen on Myrddin’s desk beeped with an incoming comm. “Time is something we do not have much of. Dismissed.”

  The conversation was over. Myrddin looked like he could have killed Anabelle, but the elf felt the same way.

  She stormed out of Myrddin’s office.

  Back in her room, Anabelle mulled over her conversation with Myrddin. She wasn’t certain Myrddin had been unaware of the attack, despite his assurances.

  Roy would give her the information, but she didn’t want to drag him into the situation.

  Since they’d started dating, Anabelle had discovered that Roy had been kept in the dark as much as she was. It appeared Myrddin was not straightforward with anyone anymore.

  A few of his recent decisions had made Anabelle question whether or not Myrddin was the best person to lead this war. She wished she could talk to someone about her concerns, but there was no one. Her team didn’t need the burden of this worry either.

  I need to get out of my head, Anabelle thought. She sat with her folder on Grok, reading through as much as she could about the orc. Still, nothing struck her as overly important.

  Anabelle thought back to her last encounter with Grok. Fighting alongside Terra had slightly increased their chances of defeating the orc. What unsettled her more was Grok’s enjoyment of it.

  The Dark One’s two new lieutenants were a frightening combination. Anabelle had never come up against an agent of the Dark One who relished causing pain so much. To willingly side with the Dark One seemed like such an insane thing to do: he was trying to enslave all of existence!

  Maybe some people don’t need to care.

  Anabelle sat on her rug and crossed her legs. She closed her eyes and entered into a deep meditation. She was trying to access more of her lost memories, lessons from her training. She might not find an answer to her problems there, but it would at least occupy her time.

  She sank further into the blackness of her mind, experiencing emotions about events she’d long forgotten. There was a lot of anger there today. As Anabelle meditated, she understood she was angry at everything.

  The war.

  Myrddin.

  She was also pissed at Terra, and she didn’t know why.

  An image flashed into Anabelle’s mind. She was an elfling at the Traveler’s temple. There was another elf the same age as her. They were fighting each other as their teacher observed. Anabelle watched herself getting her ass kicked.

  She surged to her feet, breaking her concentration. “Ugh, I’m not getting anywhere tonight.” She flopped onto her bed and turned on the news.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sarah and Kravis returned to base camp during the night. The encampment was one of the newer gatherings of the resistance. For months now, the gnomish homeworld had been under siege by the Dark One. The gnomes were fighting a losing battle. The most they could do was strike back in these small guerilla cells.

  Myrddin had ordered Sarah to help the gnomish world with her espionage skills, but since there was no government or real organization, she and Kravis had spent the majority of their time organizing attacks across the cells. The two had become the unspoken heroes of the resistance.

  Some gnomes didn’t see it that way, though. They believed Myrddin had less than scrupulous reasons for helping, pointing out that the wizard hadn’t been invested in the gnomish cause until the war had toppled the world.

  Sarah and Kravis had done everything they could to reverse that opinion. They were all fighting against the Dark One. If one wor
ld fell, all the realms would suffer.

  The human and gnome took care of their first duty upon returning: debriefing the gnomish squad, explaining what had happened on the mission. Then they found the friends of the two gnomes who had fallen in battle. They provided them with their friend’s personal effects and anything that was recovered from the dunes. Once that was taken care of, Sarah returned to her tent while Kravis went to attend to his own business.

  The last thing Sarah had to do was personal. She took out a notebook and recorded the names of the two gnomes who had died. The notebook was full of other names. Everyone Sarah had served with, she detailed as much as she could.

  The nature of Sarah’s position didn’t allow her to create close friendships. She was always moving, going wherever she was assigned. Her last few months on the gnomish world had been the longest she could remember having remained in one place. The notebook was the closest thing she had to a friend.

  Her records were her way to remain grounded. Of all Myrddin’s operatives, Sarah’s job was perhaps the hardest. She and Kravis were given assignments that were murky, to say the least—one of the reasons some gnomes didn’t trust Sarah.

  As an assassin, Sarah rarely had the luxury of feeling like one of the good guys. She got the job done by whatever means necessary—even if those methods consisted of actions she would rather forget. And there were many of them. Most nights, Sarah was kept awake by memories of past missions. She often felt like a monster; there was more blood on her hands than anyone she knew.

  At least the notebook helped to ease some of that.

  Once Sarah was finished honoring the dead, she pulled out her HUD communicator and scanned for any urgent messages. There was only one—a message from Anabelle, thanking her for providing information on Grok.