Kraalek trailed off, his gaze lost in the dancing fire beneath him.
After a long moment, SmibSmob broke the silence. “General?” he asked. His voice sounded hollow in the overbearing darkness.
“Ah, right,” Kraalek said, snapping out of his trance. Clearing his throat, he continued his story. “Some fifty years ago, after the Fall of the Moon, Mariah ushered the prophecy, and renewed hope within the Flame. She told of a Beacon that would rise, defeat the Shadow, and bring the Light back to the lands of Ansalon. And how we rallied. We all thought we would see the end of the Shadow. But it wasn’t enough. Ten years ago, Mariah vanished, alongside the supposed Beacon. The Flame collapsed. Even with the guidance of Saber, it has been hopeless. Many have abandoned the cause of the Flame, turning themselves to the Shadow. Others refused to fight, while others … others took their own lives.”
The General’s voice softened, and he gazed upon the companions, his eyes raging with a simmering fire deep within. “But, if what you say is true, and Mariah has returned, then perhaps there is still hope.”
The companions sat quietly for a long moment, their eyes glimmering in the hypnotic dance of the fire, and their thoughts slowly absorbing the General’s words. SmibSmob was dumbfounded, and even Nalgene seemed to forget his hostility. Fasto stared at Kraalek with wide eyes, saliva falling from his open mouth in slobbery drops. Andromeda’s eyes gleamed with thought, and Ro’s face darkened, his expression unreadable. Margaret was staring at the General with a surprising look of interest, all previous signs of apathy erased from sight.
But something did not make sense. Something was nagging at SmibSmob’s mind, clawing open a chasm of intrigue. In a soft, meek voice, he broke the grim silence. “Why are you telling us this?”
Kraalek chuckled softly.
“Oh, pray tell,” he said mysteriously, reaching into the pouch bulging at his side. “Why indeed? It’s curious, isn’t it? You should already know what I’ve said, but from the look on your faces, I can tell that you have no idea. Now, tell me, little fellow, are you feeling lucky today?”
Kraalek held out his frail hand to SmibSmob, the brown, wooden die resting snugly in the General’s palm. Not waiting for the gnome’s response, Kraalek cast the die away, letting it fall to the ground and ricochet across the cold stone streets of the square to land at the gnome’s feet.
Glancing down, SmibSmob studied the strange die, his mind muddled by confusion. There weren’t any marks on the die — just blank, polished faces, shining with an orange glow from the nearby fire. He looked back up at Kraalek, his face a mask of wonder.
“I don’t understand.”
The General shrugged his shoulders and gave the gnome an apologetic look. Chuckling, he leaped off the edge of the marble fountain, landing softly on his nimble feet. Stalking over to SmibSmob, he reached down, his pale hand snatching up the wooden die.
“Sorry,” he whispered, while giving the gnome a sly glance. “You lost, isn’t that right?”
Whirling around, his crimson robe flowing around him in a scarlet swirl, Kraalek skipped away from the bewildered SmibSmob. Chuckling, the General called back over his shoulder. “Alas, I must be on my way,” he said. “Osann will lead you to the Flame and guide you through this black Shadow. There, perhaps, we shall meet again. Until then …”
Reaching into another of his many pouches, Kraalek pulled out a shining, orange gem that sparkled like a miniature star in the dim light of the burning fire. Suddenly, a swirling vortex of flame shot out of the small gem, embracing the General in a billowing fire. As quickly as it came, the blazing maelstrom disappeared, leaving not a trace of the sly General. SmibSmob shook his head, still dumbfounded by the earlier exchange.
Beside SmibSmob, Nalgene muttered to himself in a gruff voice. “Eh, pullin’ us like puppets, I’ll be durned …”
The companions sat in silence for a moment longer, the edges of night creeping in as the fire slowly smoldered. Looking around, SmibSmob found his companions lost in their own thoughts. Andromeda still lay alone, her gaze locked onto Captain Osann. Ro sat quietly next to Margaret; a frown apparent on his draconian face. The female orc was once again lost in the alluring dance of the flames. Fasto kneeled on the ground, his eyes wide with a newfound wonder, as if he were praising the now-gone General.
Clearing his throat, the Captain broke the overbearing silence with his deep, knowing voice. “Get some rest. It seems that there is a bedroll already set for each of you. I’ll keep watch.”
Shaking his head, Captain Osann grabbed his mighty greatsword and stalked over to the edge of the fire’s dim light. He sat down, alone his grim vigil, and his back turned to the companions.
The companions slowly got up, each claiming their own respective bedroll. As SmibSmob lay on the cold, hard streets of the fallen Calinad, his mind swirled in torment, thoughts of their journey crashing through his mind. The prison. Mariah. Captain Osann. His mind rocked about as if caught in a violent storm. Mariah. Nalgene. The others. The woman. Kraalek. Black butterflies. The Beacon. And overwhelming it all, his dark power clawed and ripped at his mind more ferociously than he could ever remember, trying to corrupt his being and twist him into madness.
Sighing in frustration, SmibSmob closed his eyes, letting the cool, soothing embrace of exhaustion fall across him.
Chapter 4
Nalgene awoke to the soft drumming of rain falling in the cool, morning air. He felt refreshed, reinvigorated from yesterday’s troubles, as if the comforting rain was washing away all his sorrows. Even though his blue cloak sagged with dampness, his eyes sparkled with a renewed life.
Aye, this what I be needin'. Haven't felt the rain on me skin for over two years, ever since … since what?
He could not remember. Like the others, his memories from before the prison had fallen from the recesses of his mind. Shaking his head, Nalgene arose from the hard ground, throwing his bedroll to the side. His gaze wandered across the carcass of the city, absorbing its broken grandeur in the pale, morning light. Cold rays of sunlight were just starting to shine through the cracks of the ruined buildings, basking the clearing in an eerie glow.
Looking around, Nalgene found his companions still wallowing deep within the trenches of slumber. Ro and Margaret lay side-by-side, their breath even and steady. Fasto lay peacefully nearby, yet his mouth ran rampant, telling a silent tale of forgotten dreams. Andromeda rolled about furiously, her tail slashing back and forth in frustration. And finally, there was SmibSmob, his brother, who lay still upon the hard ground.
Ah, me brother, I know o’ the dark power that burns deep within ye, and I fear what it’ll do to ye.
Not wanting to press the thought, Nalgene tore his eyes away from his brother, only to find them resting upon the smooth, marble fountain standing strong before the fallen cathedral.
The fountain’s elegant beauty seemed misplaced in such wanton destruction, yet still, it seemed right to the gnome. Its pure, blue water cascading over its white lip, only to land splashing in a shimmering pool of harmony. Something tugged at the back of Nalgene’s mind, some thought, some memory, but he could not place it. It was as if he had seen the marvelous fountain before in a long-forgotten life. He studied the fountain for a moment longer, trying to unravel its forgotten mysteries, but to no avail.
Durned fountain.
Turning away, Nalgene cast another glance around the camp. The once billowing fire had been reduced to charred ashes, beaten down by the constant pounding of the rain. He smiled. He knew the power of the rain.
Chuckling softly to himself, Nalgene moved over to wake his brother. But before he could awaken the slumbering gnome, a faint sound echoed out from the edge of the empty square, begging for his attention.
Straightening himself, he looked over to where the sound had originated. Nothing seemed out of place, yet an uneasy sense of dread was slowly boiling inside of him. Taking one, final look around the area, Nalgene narrowed his eyes in trepidation.
&nbs
p; I’ll be durned, I’ll bet ye a dwarf's hairy arse it’s that bloody Osann.
The sound came again, a little clearer this time. Straining his ears, the gnome was just able to make out the deep, rumbling voice of Captain Osann drifting through the square.
Ah, what did I say!
Stomping his feet in triumph, Nalgene marched toward the source of the Captain’s voice.
As Nalgene neared, he began to hear another voice — not a deep, knowing voice like Captain Osann’s, but a softer, more dangerous voice, a voice that cut deep into Nalgene’s very being and filled him with a harrowing sense of fear. Suppressing his anxiety, Nalgene pressed forward with deliberate caution. The rain masked his footsteps, drowning him out in its constant drumming. He crept to the edge of the square, the voices steadily growing louder and clearer. As Nalgene neared, he began to piece together the wispy strands of sentences flowing out into the wind.
“You don’t … couldn’t …”
“… is that so?”
Who in the bloody hell is that durned Osann talkin' to, and what about?
Slowly, Nalgene made his way about the fallen buildings, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. He had left the square far behind, and was moving through the winding streets of Calinad, following the two voices. With every turn he expected to come face-to-face with the Captain, but the gnome had no such luck.
“Listen! … I know.”
“… Oh, I don’t think you do …”
“Trust me … received my orders.”
Where in this blasted city are they?
Nalgene could not understand how he was able hear the voices, seeing how far from the square he had come. The pale sun was starting to cast its bleak rays of light over top the buildings. Anxious, Nalgene moved through the streets with a vigorous determination. Any thought of stealth had all but left his mind. The voices grew louder, yet he still could not find the Captain. A rage started to simmer deep within him, but just as fast as it grew the cool rain pattered down and extinguished it.
“No … anything but that.”
“Then you better remember …”
“Yes, but I promised them. I took an oath!”
“Break it.”
Nalgene turned a final corner and stumbled upon what he sought. The Captain was at the far end of the street, his head bowed and his once strong form sagging like a broken man. But that’s not what caught Nalgene’s eye. Standing over the defeated Captain like a shadowy tyrant was a dark, cloaked figure. Patterns of skulls and other markings of death swirled around the inky robe. At the being’s side hung a ghastly, black dagger, sharpened to razor perfection. The being’s face was masked by a draping cowl. And shining out where the being’s eyes should have been were two, billowing purple flames of despair, penetrating even the heartiest of person’s resolve.
Nalgene froze. All thoughts of Captain Osann and the conversation he was having with the shadowy figure vanished from his mind. His simmering sense of dread and rage boiled over in an explosive fury. Unconsciously, he brought his hands out in front of him, a vortex of water already forming in their midst. This was it. He knew that Captain Osann could not be trusted, and this was all the proof he needed. Growling, he focused on the cloaked figure, preparing to send it to oblivion. His power seemed stronger somehow, as if it were being enhanced and redoubled by his fury.
And still the rain came down.
But before Nalgene could unleash his devastating blast of water, the shadowy figure’s raging eyes shot over to him, pinning him in place with their accusing, hateful stare. The two purple chasms flared with anger, and the being raised its hand, casting a shadowy bolt of energy to obliterate the stunned gnome. Alarmed, Nalgene fell back in fear, his mind racing with terror.
Bloody hell! Yer daft, ye beardless dwarf!
Without hesitation, without even looking back, Nalgene rushed down the winding streets, back toward the square.
The shells of buildings flew past Nalgene in a wild blur, but he dared not slow. His lungs burned with the effort, and his small legs strained in exhaustion, yet he did not feel tired. He only felt the rain beating upon his rough face, and it pushed him ever onward. He rushed left, and then right, and then left again, his mind whirling about in fury.
Osann! That durned bloody awful excuse fer a good man!
Nalgene tore into the square, his breath coming in short gasps. Reaching his companions, he froze in shock. He found Captain Osann already there, waking the others from their slumber. Noticing Nalgene’s abrupt arrival, the Captain gave him a curt nod in greeting, before collecting up his bedroll as if nothing was amiss.
Captain Osann did not meet Nalgene’s eyes.
Nalgene’s rage burned hot, and the gnome felt as if he were about to erupt into violence. His eyes shot blades of ice at the Captain, and his mind whirled about in a frenzy. How dare Captain Osann lie to him. He gave his oath and yet he’s throwing it all away to some dark, cloaked figure. And for what? Bloody hell, how dare the Captain lie to him. He made his promise, told them that he would guide them and protect them, and yet he’s deceiving them while their backs are turned.
Swirling water formed within Nalgene’s fists, and a growl escaped his lips. How dare Osann lie to him. But as much as he wanted to unleash on the pathetic traitor, the soft rain quenched his brash emotions.
Ah, ye dolt, ye can’t be makin' a scene. Durned dragon will never listen. Just watch him, make sure he don’t do anythin'. Especially around me brother. One wrong move and he’s gone, I’ll be sure o’ it.
Shaking his thoughts away, Nalgene stalked over to his belongings and picked up the glass bottle than Mariah had bestowed upon him. He turned it over in his rough hands, admiring its elegant beauty and the shimmering water trapped within the crystal cage. He shot another icy glare at the Captain and turned his gaze back to the miraculous bottle.
Nah, that’d be no good.
Chuckling softly to himself, he tucked the sparkling bottle away, and stood there helplessly, trying to fend off against the overwhelming tide of events.
The other companions had since awoken and were busy preparing to venture out of the ruined city. Margaret made a snide remark about the unpleasant weather, but none cared to listen, not even the great and chivalrous Ro. Noticing his brother’s distress, SmibSmob warily made his way over to Nalgene, worry shadowing his face.
“You alright there, brother?” SmibSmob started. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but you’re not looking too good.”
“Well,” Nalgene said, his voice low. “That bloody Osann’s a traitor, I saw it with me own two eyes.”
SmibSmob’s mouth opened in shock, and he shot a quick glance to the Captain. “A traitor?” he asked. “Are you sure? What did you see?”
“Well I was walkin’ through the streets, when I be stumblin’ into that bloody Osann,” Nalgene growled. “He was talkin’ with some cloaked freak, but when I —”
“When you what?” Captain Osann interrupted, appearing by Nalgene’s side. He loomed over the gnome like a giant.
Nalgene jumped in alarm and whirled about to face the traitor. “Bah,” he spat at the Captain. “Ye be knowin’ what happened.”
He raised his hands, and two, menacing orbs of water formed over his fists. His rage boiled over once more, and he charged at the Captain, his fists swinging wildly. How dare Osann lie to him. He gave his oath.
“Nalgene!” SmibSmob shouted, rushing forward to stop his brother. Fighting would not solve anything. Even if the Captain was a traitor, they needed him, at least for now.
Immediately Nalgene skidded to a halt, and his fists lowered to his side, the swirling water disappearing. He glared at the traitor, and he opened his mouth, but the rain silenced his words and quenched his burning fury.
Captain Osann had not moved, or even reacted to Nalgene’s charge. It was as if he wanted to be beat for his sins. Frowning, he stared at Nalgene, his face a mask of disappointment. “Pack your stuff,” he grumbled. “We leave at once.”
Shaking his head, he walked away without saying another word.
Nalgene turned to SmibSmob. “Why did ye stop me, me brother?” he asked, desperately wanting to obliterate the Captain. If only it was not raining.
SmibSmob stared at him for a long moment, trying to find his words. “We need him,” he finally said. “I don’t know what you saw, but we can’t rush around trying to kill our only guide.”
“Yer right,” Nalgene grumbled, quite ashamed. He could not meet SmibSmob’s piercing eyes. Shaking his head, Nalgene turned away, doubt clouding his mind.
Bloody rain. Bloody Osann.
As the companions finished gathering their varied belongings, Nalgene found himself gazing upon the marvelous fountain. Once again, he felt a prick at the back of his mind, as if something were attempting to break through an impenetrable barrier.
What are yer mysteries?
His dark eyes pored over the fountain, reevaluating even the smallest of details. The pure, white marble, not a single scratch upon its ethereal surface, and the graceful, flowing water, oblivious to the desolation surrounding it.
Nalgene felt the rain fall upon his open face.
C'mon, ye bloody hunk o’ rock, what are ye?
The prick gnawing at the back of his mind grew into a deadly spear, jabbing into his every thought.
Agh, ye bloody fountain, why am I so drawn to ye?
He let out a feral growl, and his rough hands curled into iron fists.
Bloody hell, what are ye?
The masterful engravings etched into the roots of the stone, and the sculpted figures of enchanting white holding up the fragile foundations.
Ye durned glorified stone, tell me yer secrets!
Nalgene felt the rain weave down his body.
TELL ME!
The mighty spear in his mind rose into a roaring inferno, crashing down with a terrible power. His vision grew blurry, and he grew unsteady on his feet.
YE BLOODY ROCK!
The rain enveloped his mind, washing over him with a cool embrace, and his vision went black.
A Land in Shadow Page 8
