Wary now, Darwin gripped Malkor by a shoulder and then covered his mouth with his free hand as soon as his two carriers withdrew. His manservant nodded, signaling his understanding.
Satisfied he would maintain silence for the duration of the climb, Darwin wasted little time setting out for the deeper shadows of the stair. Unseen, the dark presence paced them, a dark stain of malice against a shadowy background.
Narrow and steep—nearly a ladder—the ancient stairway climbed a vertical thirty stories, which took well over a bell to reach the first landing. From the start, Darwin found it prudent to maintain a grip on the stair above though it made for a slow awkward climb with the spear scraping against the granite now and then. A fall would be fatal for both of them.
Darwin released his hold on the top stair and crawled upon the first ledge, his breath burning in his lungs.
Flickering with darkness deeper than shadows, the large black spot of malice slipped up the cliffside beside the stairs. Pausing on the ledge, it waited and watched. The rage the dark thing exuded bombarded Darwin’s senses along with the intimations of what its baser instincts were—it wanted to control, to rend, and to tear. But the false auras powered by the Shimmer Spear kept it at bay, made it uneasy. The dark thing could not have mastery over them.
For ages, the alien intelligence had skirted the dark power under the rock mountain, a natural evil born of this world. Now, such power invaded its realm, breaking the eons-unspoken truce born from the respect of equal supremacy. The dark thing now considered testing the strength it had so long avoided.
Alarmed by the revelation, Darwin drew from the Spear intending to shore up his façade, make them appear even stronger, but the reserves had depleted within it, drained by the necessity of maintaining two auras as he struggled with the climb. A glance upward raised his alarm to something bordering fear. A full day of ascension lay ahead.
The malice grew noticeably greater. The large flickering spot of blackness shifted closer.
Malkor gripped his shoulder. “Do not let your fear rise,” he whispered.
The darkness paused, the flickers of darkness slowing.
“It is uncertain. We attack now, if we are to survive,” Darwin said quietly though he had little hope the two of them would prevail—even if they had twenty of the most powerful Dark Users at their disposal. The creature’s power was beyond any he had experienced. With every word, the flickering inside the shadow slowed, increasing as soon as he stopped talking.
Malkor’s grip grew painfully tight on his shoulder as he whispered in his ear. The bony index finger of his free hand jabbed toward a dark opening in the cliff wall behind the flickering blackness. “No, Master, we cannot win, but we may surprise it enough to make it to that cave.”
Seeing little choice, Darwin drew deeply upon the Flow, filling the spear and his reserves with the radiant glow of blackness surrounding the light of the catalyst. Malkor followed his example, drawing likewise. Instinctively, he knew their combined might would fall short, but if they were to die—or worse, become some sort of monster—he wanted the thing to feel their sting. “Stay close,” Darwin whispered.
Striding forward with a boldness he wished he truly had inside his traitorous gut and weak knees, Darwin held the Spear out before him, brightening the way with thoughts of luminosity. Surrounding the blackness of the Flow filling the Spear to the tips on each end, a brilliant white radiance lit the way forward, this time.
The blackness recoiled.
Darwin strode ahead. The blackness moved away, skittering to the side, dropping back as he passed. Keeping the Shimmer Spear pointed at it, Darwin twisted around, walking backward, the cave not far away.
Darwin froze. Malkor hadn’t moved. Flickering faster, like a sputtering candle, the creature slipped up on his servant. “Malkor,” Darwin croaked, his mouth suddenly dry.
The darkness enveloped his friend; Malkor’s form flickered inside, seeming to rise inches from the ground. Then, incredibly, Malkor flew from within, running toward him as fast as his ruined leg allowed. “Make for the cave, Master! Run!” Malkor shouted, running past him.
Darwin ran.
.
HIGHER POWER
Using the Flow to lift the heavy circular stone cap from the ancient well, Darwin exposed the shaft glowing redly underneath, an inch at a time. A burst of hot air arose, spreading outward, heating his beard, and breaking his concentration. The carven lid of stone ceased its scraping crawl along the raised lip. Releasing the Flow, he wiped his brow with his good right hand.
Three and a half days descending partially collapsed tunnels and crude, crumbled staircases after escaping the dark thing at the Stair had led to this seemingly insurmountable barrier—even with the added benefit of the Spear.
Darwin could not allow it to end here. He would not. If he had to, he would command Malkor to cease maintaining the firewall that blocked the underground denizens from gobbling them up for their evening meal, as a last resort. The blasted ingrots had stalked them for bells with a determination unheard of before.
Drawing on the Flow, Darwin redoubled his efforts. Grinding chunks of stone from the lip, the heavy lid swung slowly open, widening the gap by several inches. Perspiration beaded on his brow again, but he had no hand free to clear the sting from his eyes when they dripped.
Darwin’s mangled hand clutched the Spear, and his good hand held the dark glow of the Flow as he lifted and pushed. Leaning forward, he tilted his head downward and let the rivulets fall. The Shimmer Spear grew hot in his hand.
Scraping a protest, the lip cracked and popped, releasing a final plume of white dust. Drained, he released the flow. The lid ground to a halt, wide enough for him to squeeze through, much to his relief.
Darwin checked on his manservant. “Contain the blasted toadies until I stand at the shaft’s bottom. Set your flame to burning the first few rows then follow with haste. The granite walls of the shaft are too smooth for them to climb down, yet drawn by the promise of a meal, some of the baser ones may try anyway and cause you to fall as they would.”
“I hear your commands.”
“A brass ring resides atop the lid. I am going to tie the rope to it and drop it down the shaft. We shall use it until it gives out.”
“Are you certain this is wise? How are we to make the return ascent? I’m not certain our combined strength will lift even one of us far.”
Darwin wondered why the man was loyal to him, following him so blindly with complete trust. If the man could not figure it out on his own, then he would keep him in the dark. A place he preferred for his manservant anyway. “I am certain of many things. One of which is that we shall not come this way again, if we survive.”
Keeping his brown eyes on the wall of flame, Malkor untied his red robes with only two fingers.
Darwin stopped him as he reached for the ropes tied around his slender waist. “Keep your flame burning, do not let them through. I shall untie the rope.” Tugging the knots loose from the rope with his one good hand and using his mangled hand to hold it in place was awkward, putting him too close to his manservant, but he managed. Soon he had most of the rope coiled in a circle on the ground. The end he kept a hold of he wrapped through the ring, securing it with a square knot.
Sitting on the lip of the well, he wrapped the rope under him. Thankfully, his left hand still had the strength of a good grip, unlike the useless arm attached to his shattered elbow. Gripping the rope with his good right hand, he swung out into the well’s center, straddling the cord on the arches of both feet, the Shimmer Spear tucked under his robe’s sash. “Once I have reached the bottom, I shall cast a small Flow of light to the top. Follow as quickly as you can.”
The air warmed around him. Darwin was soon perspiring heavily from the exertion of supporting his weight and that of the half-spear. Perhaps he should have left his black robe with Malkor, but he did not savor the thought of roaming around underground caverns in his un
derclothes. The caves could turn frigid from one chamber to the next.
Darwin went relentlessly down, trying his best to ignore his moist, itching skin, though he was glad for the light of the red glow. One less detail to handle to reach his goal.
Darwin could see the bottom when the rope ran out, though it was more than halfway down from where he hung. Using the Flow, he created an updraft strong enough to almost support his weight and descended at a controlled rate.
The concentration to perform the task was enormous, but his feet finally fell upon level ground a half bell later. Darwin barely had the strength left to send a small burst of light through the tiny opening of the well’s lid so far above.
Darwin sat down, drank some water from his flask, and waited until he had the strength to stand and rise. Above, Malkor descended at a quick rate. His manservant fell much faster than he had, excessively fast. At the last moment, Darwin had the presence of mind to string a black web of the Flow across the well without its usual stickiness.
As it was, Malkor’s backside nearly touched the floor when the webbing stretched from the weight of his body. Then the dark web flung his manservant upward as it tightened. Malkor flapped his arms and legs attempting to right himself from his horizontal position. Darwin let him bounce once before dissolving the web on his second stretch. Malkor thumped to the ground, landing on his bottom.
At any other time, Darwin might have laughed. “Are you injured?”
“No, Master, only my pride. I had not the strength nor concentration to control my fall; I am again in your debt.”
“Nonsense, I would expect you do the same had our circumstances been reversed.”
Climbing to his feet, Malkor gave a quick bow. “Truly, Master.”
A sense of a vast open chamber ahead drew Darwin past his servant, through a narrow door, and out into a carven hallway hewn from black granite a long time ago.
From there, they traversed a series of crumbly narrow ledges. The heat that rose with each step forward required two additional stops to splash water into parched throats. Cracked white marble columns carved with the forms of nude or scantily clad beautiful women stood out starkly against the black stone, lining an ancient roadway going the same direction that tugged at Darwin deep inside.
For bells, they followed the columned road, shuffling along in silence as they wound around and climbed over the rubble of statues fallen. The roadway ended at a great cavern he had somehow known he would find the moment they slipped into the tunnels beneath the Dark Citadel after escaping the Stair.
A pit of molten rock swelled at the far edges of a great plateau of dark granite. A blast of shockingly cold air dried his sweat, chilling him as soon as he stepped onto the enormous rock.
Their destination was easy to see as it made up a wide circle around the underground plateau’s center. As lovely as it was alien to the cavern, immense, glossy pillars of black granite ringed a polished silver dais. Standing high and resolute in the silence of the cavern, the dais shone with intricate engravings of a crowned skeleton raising a short spear at a mass of prostrating people. In place of eyes, flame engulfed the skeleton’s eye sockets.
Other images, as sharp as the first, filled Darwin with awe the closer they came. Immense funnel cones tore about inside a vast sphere in the center of the magnificent chamber, sucking earth, water, and clouds into a spinning twisting fury.
In one image, the flaming-eyed skeleton stood at cliff’s edge on a high and enormous dais with a half-spear raised like the one in his hand, the tip pointed to the great sphere. A pulsating pillar of power radiated upward from the spear. Prominent at the base of the dais, the Flow wound below. Darwin sensed the black tint of darkness, the dark flame of the Flow, roiling within its frothy curls.
Silver steps cut into one side of the dais rose to the top. Darwin climbed them, his stomach churning with the first fluttering of anxiety as the magnitude of what he was about to do cascaded throughout him.
Malkor followed in silence behind, something Darwin could not fault. What was there to talk about anyway? He intended to prostrate himself before the Dark Master, the Great Spirit to some, to some the Undying Darkness. Such a bold endeavor was not something even the most powerful could take lightly.
An irregular-shaped rock lay centered on the dais. Stark in its simplicity, the piece of granite sat rounded on one side and flat on the other, as if a great sword had hewn it in half. The flat side gleamed darkly with stains darker than the gray stone.
Darwin performed a slow circuit of the dais, uncertain what to do. Then a thought struck him; perhaps he had to make himself known. “Dark Master, I have come to speak with you!” he shouted. His voice seemed shallow, swallowed by the immensity of the cavern.
A thick stillness settled over the whole area. Nothing moved. Silence reigned supreme.
Darwin’s excitement faded. He sat on the rock. Looking about, seeing nothing useful, he knew dejection. Did I come all this way only to fail?
Darwin’s fingers brushed a smoothed indent on the rock, and suddenly, he knew what he must do. Twisting to lay on his back, he placed his neck in the boulder’s impression, extending his head over the edge, looking upward.
An immense presence descended upon the dais blotting all light on one side. A voice, ancient and raspy, boomed throughout the cavern, vibrating the rock with a power long contained. “At last! Someone comes with a mote of intelligence!” the voice said, gaining strength and volume with each word. “You supplicate before the incarnation of the true shadow on this world. What do you seek?”
Malkor wailed. “Master! Why have we come here? We are nothing, nothing!”
The cries of his manservant came from his right and behind. Darwin ignored them. “I humbly offer my speck of intelligence as the Great Shadow’s world travel vessel.”
The Great Shadow paused for a time. Then, a silhouette of a double-headed axe appeared, held by a hand too dark to see as it rose.
Darwin tried, but failed, to see the dark shape of the Dark King’s crown that the scroll After the Third World War, Before the Dark Empire had hinted at. He could not raise his head high enough without losing his balance.
High above, the great axe paused. “You would offer your head to the greatest power your world has ever known? You would offer your head to ME?”
The last word boomed and thundered throughout the cavern fading slowly, stark and final.
Darwin gripped his resolve. The time for a change of heart had long past. “I come offering my head to eternal darkness.”
Again, there came a pause. “You have a temporary vassal?”
“The vassal awaits within this chamber.”
“Master?” Malkor asked.
His manservant’s query came as a plaintive whimper, drifting forlorn and alone past his hearing. Again, he ignored it.
The great axe rose higher. “You would offer your thoughts, your life, and your soul freely without reservation? You would give yourself completely to the higher power, the majestic darkness?”
“I would.”
The great axe descended.
DIRE NEED
Trenton stood dumbfounded. A wide hallway cut from dark stone spread out before him. Dark-armored soldiers stood nearby or spoke with robed or leather-clad men and women. His mind stumbled with grasping his surroundings. After climbing out of the window of the Quench Quarters, Sabella had assured him the topaz ascension gate within the Old Town Coliseum would send him back to Terra. He’d paid her two silver rectangles and a bell of… time with him for the marker that allowed him to use the gate. Trenton put aside the cost of the gate, preferring to not think on it yet. Sabella had had a large and varied appetite.
Trenton looked around for the strange little girl Atoi who had followed him to the Coliseum, but she was nowhere in sight. Where was this place?
Two helmed soldiers grabbed Trenton by the shoulders, dragging him a few yards from the gateway.
A bee-like helm turned toward him, on his right. “Are you daft? Loitering in front of a travel gateway, particularly one of the greater ones, could get you killed,” a feminine voice said, sounding metallic coming out from the headpiece.
A masculine metal chuckle came from the helm on his right. “Or worse, you could merge with a woman and spend the rest of your life not knowing whether to sit or stand in relief rooms,” the voice said.
“Your humor is as degraded as your mind, Deit Sa,” the woman said.
Deit Sa laughed. “The very reason you are helpless to stop thinking of me, Rinn.
“Hardly,” Rinn declared.
Trenton squirmed, but their holds were strong. “Let me go. What is this place?” he asked.
“I will answer that,” a new voice said.
A man strode toward Trenton, a horned helm upon his head. Like the bee-like helm, the helm covered his face.
The two soldiers, whose grip kept him in place, stiffened, the laughter dying quickly. “I greet you, Lord General Tsan,” the soldiers said, one after the other.
Lord General Tsan ignored the salutations, his horned helm leaning toward Trenton. “Or rather, I shall ask the questions. State your business, what do you wish with the Dark Citadel? How did you get through the gate?” he asked.
“I had a marker, a medallion depicting a hooded man. The guard on the other side took it as he let me through.”
Lord Tsan laughed. “I do enjoy her little ruse. That medallion marks you as captive. You have delivered yourself to us by your own admission.”
Trenton could scarcely believe what he heard. “There is a mistake! I paid well, a steep price to travel to my world!”
His three captors laughed.
Beyond the Dark Gate Page 39
