Endira spoke up for the first time. “You all know that this may be an impossible quest, don’t you? Legend has it that the Machine was first built by The Architect and—”
“The Engineer,” Nera interrupted. “Aye, he’s spoken to me in my dreams.”
They all looked at Nera as if she had suddenly sprouted another horn from her forehead.
“I told you! This is why Sol guided us to you!” Athyzon exclaimed.
“How long have you had such dreams, Nera?” Endira asked with concern. “The Engineer was reputed to have turned to evil and made war against his brother—the Planar War took an untold number of lives.”
“And this damned Engineer was thrown into the Abyss in retribution!” Waresh looked dumbfounded. “Surely ye all aren’t foolish enough to consider venturing there!” He took a long draught of ale, spilling some down his chest.
Arron held up his hands. “Oi! Let’s keep it down. The whole city doesn’t need to know what we are about.”
Nera glanced around and saw that all discussion had died out in the tavern. The few patrons there all seemed to be taking an interest in their discussion. When Nera challenged a few with a glare, they quickly looked away.
“Arron speaks wisely,” Endira said. “We should finish this discussion elsewhere.”
“Since you all leave it up to me, I haven’t made a decision yet other than finding Malek. Tag along if you will, but it’s best we leave this place. Right now.” Nera finished her ale and slid out of her chair. Her nerves were on edge from the undue interest of the other patrons in their careless conversation. Wouldn’t surprise me if those bloody Magehunters managed to tail Arron somehow. She half expected them to barge through the door and arrest them all at any moment.
The half-elf tilted back his tankard and drained it. “So what are we waiting on? If, as you all suspect, I am being tracked, then the quicker we are away from here, the better, no?”
“Aye, point taken,” Waresh agreed. He finished his tankard and slammed it down on the table. “I’m itching to be away from here, meself.”
“Right. Let’s get to the staging point we agreed on…” Nera suddenly wobbled on her feet.
The room stretched out before her as if viewed through a dark tunnel, and her friends watched her with concern.
“I’m not feeling so well…”
Nera collapsed, the floor rushing up toward her face. Someone’s arms caught her, but by that point, she was elsewhere.
***
Nera was in the temple of the night once again. She stood alone, facing the ebon altar. Meteors blazed fiery trails through the night sky above, and she knew that whole worlds were burning. The Second Planar War had begun, the legions of the Abyss set free to destroy and consume unsuspecting worlds.
Her friends and fellow citizens were even now dying in Nexus, cut off from food, water, and fresh air. The old, infirm, and very young had already perished. Thousands upon thousands of corpses littered the streets. Vermin feasted on the carrion, and disease spread. Those that had survived thus far by stockpiling food and water gasped for breath as the air turned stale and poisonous. Very soon, they would suffocate, and Nexus would be naught more than a necropolis.
“You know what must be done to prevent this.” The voice boomed from the void.
Atop the altar was a chalice. Silvery light gleamed from within, illuminating Nera’s face as she stepped onto the dais and leaned closer. The chalice was filled with quicksilver.
“Take and drink. Put on the mantle of your destiny.”
Nera’s arms moved of their own accord, and she reached out and clutched the chalice. It was deceptively heavy and took both hands to lift. She gripped it tightly and raised it up to her lips, slowly tilting it back.
***
“Oi, what are you doing!” The voice suddenly choked off.
Nera’s eyelids snapped open. She saw her own hands tightened around Arron’s neck, throttling her brother. She gasped in shock and released him immediately.
“Gods, I’m sorry! I don’t know what’s happening to me.”
Arron backed away, regarding her warily. “What madness stole your wits? You were mumbling something about your destiny a moment ago.”
Nera realized she was lying on a bench at the rear of the Zombie’s common room. The table had been dragged aside, and her companions were looking down at her with worry.
Idrimel placed her hands on Nera’s temples and whispered a prayer. Renewed vitality flowed into her, and her head cleared.
“How is she?” Endira leaned over Idrimel’s shoulder, peering at her face worriedly.
“I could find nothing wrong other than fatigue. I gave her a blessing that should restore her strength for a time, but she requires rest to regain her vigor.”
“I’m fine. Let me up.” Nera sat up, and the women stepped back. “I’ll rest when we’re off plane.”
“Too much ale for ye?” Waresh chuckled. “A scrawny thing like yerself should watch how much ye imbibe!”
“Nay, it wasn’t that. I can hold my ale with the best of ʼem, dwarf. This was something else.”
“Nera, has this happened before?” Endira asked. “You mentioned dreams earlier… pretty powerful ones, but such things shouldn’t occur during your waking state.”
“It was another vision, dream, whatever you want to call it. But it wasn’t of the Engineer this time. Something different.” She shrugged. “Not important right now. How long was I out?”
“Only a few minutes,” the elf replied.
Nera stood up, almost expecting to feel dizzy again, but she felt refreshed from Idrimel’s spell. Her companions watched her with a mix of worry, apprehension, and amusement.
“Enough lollygagging about, you louts,” she said. “Let’s get our gear and be on our way. Time runs short.”
Athyzon shoved the table back into position, and Yosrick and Idrimel replaced the chairs. Arron spoke to Sven briefly and tossed some coins on the countertop. The companions donned cloaks and packs and followed Nera out the door. Arron fell in beside her as they set a quick pace down the street.
“So, all better now? Was it the ale?”
She shook her head. “Those damned visions, dreams, nightmares… whatever they are. I just want to be out of here and find Malek before something happens.”
“Aye, we’ll get Malek and be on our way.” He slapped her on the back.
Nera eyed him askance, thinking it odd he hadn’t asked how Malek had ended up in the Gray Lands. One of the others must have mentioned it while I was out, she decided. The sooner we’re out of Nexus, the better. Hopefully, some fresh air and a sense of renewed purpose will clear my mind.
Chapter 12
Darkness shrouded the warehouse the companions had picked as a staging point. Faint Nexus twilight illuminated the room through the open windows in the loft above, but the group was able to see well enough. The warehouse would provide the privacy needed to open a portal without drawing the unfriendly eyes of the Magehunters or worse.
Nera noticed the others had kept a close watch on Arron and their surroundings during their brief trip from the Zombie to the warehouse, as if expecting him to lead them into an ambush. The half-elf was obviously well aware of the scrutiny, as evidenced by his hand resting on the hilt of his short sword. She thought he seemed somehow off since leaving the Zombie, more reserved and not his jovial self, but supposed his imprisonment and questioning, likely torture, had put him on edge.
Likely nothing a prodigious amount of ale and some time spent in his favorite whorehouse can’t cure. Too bad for him there won’t be any of that where we’re going. Just hope the raw nerves don’t start any battles within our group—plenty of that to be found elsewhere, I’m sure.
Glancing around the warehouse, Nera was reminded of several days past, when she and Malek had been ambushed and bound by Waresh. Fortunately, Endira had come to their rescue. She tried not to think of Malek as she opened her pouch carrying the Bracer of Fellraven.
We’ll be there soon—just hold on, Malek.
“Place brings back fond memories, eh?” Waresh grinned through his beard at Nera. He turned and spat on the floor.
She snorted but didn’t respond to the dwarf’s taunt. The Bracer of Fellraven was cool in her hand as she pulled it free of the pouch. It was more a gauntlet than a bracer, an ugly device fashioned from cold iron and consisting of thick bands designed to encircle the wrist and the palm. Small, finely crafted chains connected to clawlike sheaths into which the tips of the fingers were inserted. Elaborate runes were inscribed across the bands and claws of the bracer. Nera’s nose itched from the strong enchantment.
“No dwarven craftsman would’ve forged such a crude device,” Waresh grumbled. “Hope this ugly damned thing works and doesn’t get us lost in the void somewhere.”
“Yet it is imbued with powerful magic, indeed. By the Sage’s beard!” Yosrick exclaimed. “Remember, it may not get us to the Gray Lands. According to lore, that land is dead of all magic. My belief is an artifact such as this or even a teleportation spell would need to latch onto the earth magic to enable it to function.”
The rest of the group curiously glanced at the bracer as she listened to the gnome.
“Aye, no point in delaying further—might as well find out,” Nera said.
To her knowledge, in order to activate the bracer, one merely had to have a mental picture of the destination and speak its name along with the command words the Engineer had spoken to her in the dream. She wasn’t sure how she knew how to activate it—likely, some element of the dream had given her the insight.
Nera slid her hand through the large wristband and placed the second smaller band across the palm of her hand. The bracer was deceptively light but extremely clumsy, threatening to fall off if she didn’t keep her hand elevated. The chains were too long for her fingers, but she placed each pointed sheath snugly onto a different fingertip.
She started when the bracer suddenly turned warm against her hand, glowing bright orange as if it had turned molten. She squinted her eyes against the sudden brightness. When the glare dimmed, she saw the device had resized until it fit comfortably around her hand as if custom crafted just for her.
Nera glanced around at her companions apprehensively. Idrimel and Athyzon watched impassively, eyes focused on the bracer. Waresh wore his usual unimpressed scowl while Yosrick regarded the device with interest. Endira seemed as nervous at the prospect as Nera felt, but the elf gave her an encouraging smile when their eyes met. Arron had an intent expression as he stared at the bracer. When their eyes met, he nodded solemnly, content to follow her into whatever trouble she might lead them into.
As usual, I’m leading him into another messy situation. Except this time, it’s more than just the two of us—I’ve got this whole crew to look out for. Hope I don’t get everyone killed on this fool’s quest.
She tried to picture the Gray Lands in her mind but realized she knew nothing of the place. Instead, she thought of Malek—his deep blue eyes and wavy brown hair, his strong jaw…
Realizing she was getting sidetracked, she cleared her throat nervously, annoyed at feeling her cheeks going red. She was well aware of the eyes watching her and fought to keep her composure.
Balor’s Balls—relax, you fool! She fought to contain any nagging stray thoughts of what unpleasant fate might await them if the device malfunctioned. Sabyl, please let this work so we get there in one piece.
Taking a deep breath, she spoke the command words. She had no idea how she’d remembered them, but they came to mind easily when needed, for which she was thankful. “Azi'ahur i'ars si'ahu—Gray Lands.”
The bracer’s runes glowed, and the artifact grew warm for a moment then subsided, turning dark once more. She tried three more times with the same result before cursing in frustration, her language colorful enough to make Idrimel blanch. Somewhere deep inside, a nasty, petty part of her took pleasure in the priestess’s discomfort.
“You were right,” she told Yosrick disgustedly. “It can’t fully activate—could be also since I can’t form a mental image of these thrice-damned Gray Lands.”
The gnome nodded sagely. “Let us try for Grimdark, then. We knew it likely wouldn’t be so simple.”
Nothing is damned simple anymore—ever since I was fool enough to try to steal from Malek in the first place.
Nera focused on a mental picture of the town of Grimdark this time. She and Arron had once accompanied Zita to the infamous smugglers’ haven on guild business. Grimdark was similar to Nexus as a trading hub, save for its location among the dangerous outer planes, and the rule of law, if it could be termed such, was nonexistent. Rules were in place, which maintained an uneasy truce, enforced by a criminal syndicate. According to Yosrick, an alternate crossroads providing portals to different planes existed somewhere outside Grimdark, in the extensive cavern system known as the Deep Roads.
“Azi’ahur i'ars si'ahu—Grimdark.” The words slid off her tongue as if coated in oil. The runes on the bracer’s bands blazed with molten fire as she focused on the mental picture. This time, the magic held.
She took a step away from the group and extended her hand wearing the bracer. With a sharp slashing motion, she tore into the air. A rush of power washed over her with a deep reverberating hum, and the fabric of reality was rent apart. Five gashes of void limned in a deep-blue light hung in midair. Nera extended her hand again and spread her fingers. The gashes rapidly spread, bleeding into each other, and expanded until an oval portal hung in the air before her. The glowing blue nimbus surrounding the portal crackled like flames. Bitter cold from the void blasted Nera, and goose bumps rose on her skin.
“I don’t know how long this will stay open, so it’s best I go through last.” She gestured for the others to enter while inwardly thrilled that she had succeeded.
Without hesitation, Athyzon and Idrimel walked side by side through the portal. Their figures distorted and disappeared into the pitch of the void. Endira squeezed Nera’s shoulder reassuringly and stepped through. Yosrick and Waresh followed.
Arron stopped at the threshold of the portal as if hoping his gaze could pierce the blackness in front of him. The tips of his boots turned white with frost. After a moment, he looked over his shoulder at Nera and shrugged.
“Hope this works, Sister.” He gave her a nervous smile and stepped through.
“So do I,” she replied.
With a deep breath and closed eyes, she followed them through.
***
Idrimel was blasted with a cold wind so bitter that it felt as if shards of ice were cutting into her exposed skin. She grimaced and pulled her thick cloak tight about her. Everything around her was pure whiteness, the landscape bled of any color or definition anywhere in sight. Blowing snow stung her face like hurled grains of sand.
“Where did that plane-cursed woman send us?” Athyzon growled from beside her. He held his cloak tightly around himself also, squinting into the blizzard. “This doesn’t look like these Deep Roads they spoke of.”
“No, Brother, it does not. Perhaps the device was damaged during the fight with that vampyre.” She had to shout to make herself heard over the wailing wind. She squinted into the blizzard but could see nothing. Turning her back to the wind, she saw a slightly darker shade of whiteness in the distance, possibly hills or mountains. The ground beneath her feet was smooth and hard, and she realized they were standing atop a frozen body of water. Snow blew across the ice in random patterns from the swirling wind.
The portal crackled nearby. It distorted briefly before Endira came through, followed shortly thereafter by Yosrick and Waresh. The three of them immediately sought to shield themselves from the bitter cold in their cloaks. The dwarf uttered a stream of startled curses.
By the time Nera came through last, just a minute or so after Idrimel had stepped through, the priestess could already feel her flesh going numb from the cold.
“This cold is deadly—we won’t last for m
ore than a few minutes exposed here!” she cried to Athyzon.
“Indeed. Ask almighty Sol to grant us protection.”
Idrimel nodded. She invoked a quick prayer to Sol. When the final words left her lips, her body began to warm immediately as her god granted her spell. She spread her hands wide, and a dome of protection from the cold and wind spread around her for approximately five paces in diameter, giving off a warm amber illumination.
“Balor’s balls! Where are we?” Nera cried. “Something went wrong with the damned portal!” The rogue looked by far the worst off from the effects of the cold, despite having only stepped through the portal a moment earlier. She huddled in her cloak, but her skin was already pale, and she was shivering violently.
“Everyone gather here! Sol’s warm light will protect us from the cold!” Idrimel called.
The portal snapped shut with a sharp crack. Endira and Arron each took one of Nera’s arms and half dragged her toward Idrimel’s aura of warmth. All the companions huddled close for a few moments, recovering from the shocking cold.
Waresh turned on Nera with a glare. “Where in the Abyss did ye send us, fiendling?”
Nera looked shocked. “I… I know not. The bracer must be malfunctioning.”
“Open another portal,” the dwarf demanded. “We’ll die out here.”
“You sure you want to risk that?” Athyzon asked. “If it truly is damaged, we might end up in the depths of an ocean or perhaps floating in the airless void between planes.”
“Or we could end up near a nice warm hearth and a cask of ale,” Waresh snapped, but he looked doubtful.
“Calm down, everyone,” Endira pleaded. “For now, we are safe, but we must figure out where we are.”
Doors of the Dark Page 11
