Shadow of the Void

by Nathan Garrison

  “Insufferable girl. This is not the time to debate philosophies.”

  “Is that really why you’re opposed? Or do you simply think I can’t do it? Lack of faith in your pupil, after all, equates to lack of faith in your own teaching.”

  Vashodia gave her an exasperated look.

  Jasside leaned into her mistress, pulling the small figure close. “You’re the one who said how important it is that Chase be a king to his ­people. Look at him! He’s a mess. How can he lead properly when there’s a chance he might still save his brother, and he doesn’t take it?”

  The mierothi’s face turned utterly blank.

  Jasside sighed. “I know you don’t understand how strong the bonds of blood can be, but I do. If you ever trusted me, even in the slightest, you’ll listen to me on this.”

  It was three full breaths before Vashodia responded. “Fine. But I will be the one to try to find him.”

  “You?”

  “Yes. I need you for something else. Something more suited to your . . . moral afflictions.”

  “Oh, please. I—­”

  Vashodia held up a hand, cutting her off, and locked her crimson eyes on Chase. “I’m going to take out the war engines. If Daye is alive—­”

  “Thank—­” Chase said.

  “If he’s alive,” Vashodia continued. “And if it’s not too much of a hassle, I will see about setting him free.”

  “Thank you,” he finished. “Even for the effort, you’ll have the eternal gratitude of me and my nation.”

  “Right. Whatever. Does that set your mind at ease enough for you to actually lead your ­people?”

  Chase looked around, as if seeing the carnage and chaos for the first time. He gritted his teeth. “Yes,” he said. “Yes it does.”

  “Good. Come along then, apprentice.”

  Jasside chased after her sprinting mistress as the shouted commands of the Sceptrine king faded into the distance. Before she had time to register where they were headed, they broke free of the foremost advancing ranks.

  Vashodia only accelerated.

  Out of breath by the time she caught up, Jasside belatedly realized how quiet it had become. They were exactly halfway between the opposing armies. Alone. A land in which no one would ever want to find himself.

  “What are we doing here?” Jasside asked between heaves of her lungs.

  “Hmmm? Oh, I’m just resting a spell. Gathering my energy, so to speak.”

  No ‘so to speak’ about it. Vashodia loosed a sphere from her hand, releasing a buzzing cloud of darkwisps. The mierothi energized, pulling from the latent power of the hovering, snapping creatures. In moments, she held more than any being should be allowed to possess.

  “Is that really necessary?” Jasside said, trying not to cringe before the display.

  “Probably not,” Vashodia said. “But there are too many unknown powers opposing us today. I’d rather not take the risk.”

  “What am I supposed to be doing?”

  Vashodia pointed to the coalition front lines. “See them?”

  “Yes?”

  The mierothi pointed back towards the Sceptrines. “And you see them?”

  “Of course. What is—­?”

  “Stop them from killing each other.”

  Jasside jerked her head back. “How am I supposed to do that?”

  “Use your imagination. I have faith in my teaching, after all. You care so much about human life? Prove it. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

  Leaving only the afterimage of a sharp-­toothed smile, Vashodia shadow-­dashed towards the Panisian lines, disappearing into the dust.

  Jasside scratched her head. “How the abyss am I going to keep them from fighting?”

  She didn’t have the strength to literally hold them back. Erecting a wall large enough to span the massive front lines would take everything she had and would only last a few marks at best. Less, if the coalition casters started battering away at it with their own spells.

  I need something simple yet effective. What could make them hesitate to advance?

  The answer, when it came to her a moment later, seemed so obvious she berated herself for not seeing it sooner. ­People always shy away from the things they fear, and all men remember a time when they were afraid of the dark.

  Arivana felt her eyes go wide as a cloud as black as midnight erupted between the armies. Roiling like flameless smoke, it rose a thousand paces into the sky. Sparks of energy arced within it, sucking the very light out of the air with each snapping strike. She had seen awesome displays of sorcery before but never anything like this.

  “What is that?” she asked of no one in particular.

  “Our friends,” said the captured prince. “The ones who made your invasion turn tail and run.”

  She glanced down at him. Bound hand and foot, secured to a post and surrounded by half a dozen guards with bared steel, the prince still appeared defiant. Even a little bit hopeful. He was either foolishly brave, or his friends were a threat to be reckoned with.

  She couldn’t help but think it was probably both.

  “Good,” Tior said. “I had hoped they would join our little party. I wanted to see the faces of those responsible for giving us so much trouble. Before I kill them, that is.”

  “You’ll regret those words before the day is out,” the prince said.

  Tior let loose a throaty, rasping chuckle. “My good prince, do you not realize the scale of our response?” He pointed south. “See what measure your friends have called down upon their heads and yours.”

  Arivana looked back over her shoulder. A gasp seized her at the sight.

  An army hundreds wide and thousands deep marched across the flat desert plain. The cloud of dust kicked up at their advance was enough to rival a hurricane. Yet it was not they who drew her eye the most.

  Suspended by magical energies in the air above the host floated half a dozen ships. Ship, however, didn’t seem quite the right term. They were gargantuan monoliths, vertical in design. Six immense towers flying through the sky. Each one was painted in the unique crest of the house to which it belonged.

  The great families of Panisahldron had come to war.

  “Accounts never quite agreed,” Tior said, “but even the most generous estimate puts the number of your friends at around fifty. Tell me, can they contend with three thousand casters, each near to the strength of a full valynkar?”

  The prince laughed. “Fifty? You honestly thought there were fifty?”

  “As I said, reports varied. How many were there in truth? One hundred?”

  “Two.”

  “Two hundred? That is surprising, but not—­”

  “No, you fool. Not two hundred. Just two.”

  Arivana felt indefinable joy at seeing the shock that crossed Tior’s face.

  He spun away and raced to the crest of a hill twenty paces away, where a command center of sorts had been established. All the prime councilors were there, along with their usual aides, and the valynkar consul as well. Arivana left the prince behind and sauntered over. She didn’t want to miss whatever would be said. Flumere plodded along behind her, still silent, the fading bruises from her failed attack on Tior marring any expression. The four guards set over them stayed content to simply herd them.

  The other five family heads gathered close to Tior, but before he could start giving instructions, the explosions began.

  Arivana whirled as a series of concussive blasts tore across the battlefield. She looked up, squinting through the dust, and realized whence they had originated. Smoke billowed on the horizon as dark flames consumed every last one of her army’s war engines.

  Tior growled, then ripped his gaze away from the sight. The other councilors seemed to wilt as his attention turned to them. “Get your families into position and start full
-­scale harmonization at once.” A series of quick nods was all the response he received. Tior shot a glance at the consul. “We need you to stall them, Ulayenos. Can we count on your aid?”

  “I don’t know,” the grey-­haired valynkar said.

  “What! Need I remind you again of our agreement? About the ser­vices and protections we provide?”

  “No. But I received word that a member of our high council paid a visit to the consulate last night, and two I left behind have now passed onto the abyss. Our secrets are laid bare. Can you protect us against the full fury of valynkar self-­righ­teous­ness?”

  Tior shook his head. “We can still fix this. But I can’t do it without your help.”

  “You misunderstand,” Ulayenos said. “I am not withdrawing from your side. But the enemy arrayed against you today is none other than that ancient enemy of the valynkar. The mierothi have returned to the world.”

  Tior paled. “I thought they were just a myth?”

  “I was there, Tior, nearly two thousand years ago. I fought them. My ­people still carry the scars of that war on their hearts. My consular personnel must defeat them here. Alone. If we do that, the high council may yet forgive our . . . indiscretions.”

  Without another word, he unfurled his pale, steely wings and launched himself into the air. Arivana watched as he was joined by scores of other valynkar, darting skyward from across the battlefield, and, as a single formation, dove towards the last place whence the dark sorcery had come.

  It was strange enough clinging to her uncle’s back. Stranger still doing it while half a league up in the air. But strangest of all were his golden wings, flapping straight through her body as they flew. She’d always known valynkar wings were ethereal, not quite anchored in the physical realm, but she’d never had quite so potent a demonstration as this.

  “Are you all right back there?” Gilshamed asked, shouting over the wind of their passing.

  “Fine. Thanks,” Tassariel yelled back. “How much longer?”

  “A toll at least. Maybe more. Can’t you feel the energies at work?”

  “You forget, Uncle. Most of us aren’t nearly as strong as you. Frankly, it scares me a bit that you can sense anything when we can’t even see the battlefield yet.”

  “Yes. Speaking of which, are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

  “Abyss if I know all the forces at play. The only thing that concerns me is Arivana.”

  “The Panisian queen?”

  “The one and only. I took her under my wing, so to speak, and I’ve come to care about her a great deal. She’s in danger right now because of me. Because I wasn’t careful enough. I have to get her to safety. It’s the only way to make things right.”

  “I understand completely.” Gilshamed turned his head, and she could see the broad smile he cast over his shoulder. “Let’s go rescue a queen!”

  Jasside remembered the first time she had ever seen a valynkar. Her half brother had introduced her to Gilshamed on a dreary autumn day, but the light ever around him made it seem like spring. For years, the sight of wings brought forth an instinctive response of hope and joy.

  Today, however, as nearly a hundred valynkar swooped towards her mistress, all she felt was a niggling worm of fear.

  The cloud of darkness she’d conjured had done its work, as both armies remained hesitant to march through it. And with the war engines out of commission, a pall of peace had settled like dust over what otherwise would be a blood-­drenched battlefield.

  Which meant she could go help her mistress.

  She looked towards the smoking ruins of the Panisian war engines. Winged figures began assaulting the ground around the shattered weapons with spells of scorching light. The burnt husks splintered under the assault, shards flying in a shower of sharp wood, and the space around the scene quickly cleared of soldiers. The attack raged on as more valynkar banked down, raking across the line.

  No return attack came from below, but Jasside could still taste Vashodia’s unique energy trace dashing sideways along the ground and springing clear of the coalition formation. She sighed. Yes, I really should help.

  Still, her feet remained anchored. Part of her didn’t want to help, hinging on the excuse that she would only get in the way, that her mistress would berate her for even trying. Even though she hated herself for contemplating it, the thought would not go away.

  A moment later, it ceased to matter.

  Jasside spun as a fresh wave of power rushed onto the scene. New to the battle, but familiar to her, over six hundred black-­clad figures dashed past the Sceptrine flank into the open desert, converging on Vashodia’s position.

  The mierothi nation had finally arrived.

  Just in time, too.

  She watched the distant clash as countless tendrils of darkness arced through the sky to meet the flying light. Suddenly outnumbered, the valynkar wisely elected retreat. They formed shields like glowing bubbles about themselves, many of which popped before the valynkar could get out of reach of the lashing darkness.

  With all the commotion, it didn’t seem likely that anyone would be paying much attention to prisoners thought secure in the rear of a well-­fortified position. Now was the best chance she’d likely find to rescue Daye. She had to operate on the notion that he’d been captured and not killed outright. She’d lost too much already to believe otherwise.

  One more dead soul on my conscience—­one more person I cared about lost because I couldn’t save him—­I’m pretty sure that would break me.

  She spared only one half-­regretful glance in the direction of her mistress before cloaking herself in shadow and shadow-­dashing the other way.

  Arivana squinted up at the sky overhead. “It’s going to be a slaughter, Flumere. What can we do?”

  The six great ships were rolling up the backside of the rearmost dunes and would soon be in position to strike anywhere on the battlefield. Even with no sensitivities of her own, Arivana could still feel the magic thrumming inside each one, as entire houses of casters linked their power together.

  “I’m sorry,” Flumere said at last, her voice raw and cracked. “I’m afraid it is too late for me to do anything to help. Too late for us all.”

  “You can’t blame yourself. I pulled you into this mess. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me.”

  Flumere slowly shook her head. The chains around her wrists and ankles clanked softly with the motion. “You do not understand. I gave you my aid freely, honestly, and against my . . . better judgment. I will not ever regret that I tried. But now, all this pain is coming to a head—­pain I am responsible for—­and I won’t get the chance to explain why—­”

  A figure crashed to the ground just paces away, and Arivana jumped, gasping. The smell of sweat and burnt cloth clogged her nose as the valynkar dismissed his wings and rose shakily to his feet.

  “What now, Ulayenos?” Tior said. “Couldn’t handle two little girls?”

  “We only saw one, at first,” Ulayenos replied, huffing for air. “But she is the most devious mierothi to ever live.”

  “So? You still had her outnumbered a hundred to one. She can’t be that dangerous.”

  “She led us into a trap, don’t you see? Six hundred more of her abyss-­taken kin showed up, just as we had her in our grasp.”

  “Six hundred?”

  “Yes. This must be all that’s left of their entire species.”

  Tior gritted his teeth. Arivana saw the cold calculation in his eyes, naked with ambition and deviousness. “We’ve no quarrel with them. They must only be here because of you.”

  “Perhaps. Either way, you must kill them all.”

  “You presume to give me orders?’

  Ulayenos bowed his head. “Forgive me. I spoke out of place. But their destruction is the only way I can see to ensure our continued . . . cooperation.
”

  “In that, my friend, you are wrong.”

  “What?” the consul asked, clearly confused.

  “You and I have grown used to a certain lifestyle, my friend. One predicated on the assurance of no outside influence. The only way to ensure it continues is to permanently end the threat of chastisement.”

  Ulayenos paled. “You cannot be serious.”

  “The looming presence of you valynkar has long been a thorn in humanity’s side. A thorn that may need to be plucked out, sooner or later. If you’d like to survive the fire that’s to come, you’ll do exactly as I say.”

  “Abyss take you, Tior. I’ll do nothing of the sort.”

  “Very well, then. I guess I’ll have to have a nice long chat with these mierothi. Given time, and proper incentive, I’m sure we can come to some understanding. Or even an alliance.”

  “You would dare ally yourself with them? To those who live in darkness?”

  The minister shrugged. “Darkness has many uses.”

  Arivana watched the consul of the valynkar as defiance slowly morphed into resignation on his face. She found her gaze being drawn past him to something that couldn’t possibly exist.

  A shadow that moved. A shadow belonging to nothing.

  She watched, horror and fascination mixing like addiction, as the living blot of darkness darted towards the two men.

  “You help me annihilate my ancient foe,” Ulayenos said, with all the enthusiasm of a corpse, “and I’ll do anything you say.”

  “Agreed,” Tior said. “Now, with all your experience, I’m sure you’ll be able to answer this next question.”

  “Ask it.”

  “What’s the best way to kill a mierothi?”

  “As the only one present who has done so,” interrupted a new voice, female and confident, “perhaps you’d best include me in the discussion?”

  Arivana could scarce contain her laughter as the shadow resolved into the form of a woman dressed in black, with blond hair and tanned skin. Both Tior and Ulayenos staggered back a step in shock.

  “Seize her!” Tior shouted, pointing a shaky finger at the intruder. Arivana’s guards, the only soldiers in the area, leapt towards the woman.