Doors of the Dark

by Gregory Mattix

  Waresh sat apart from the others, worrying at a chink in his mail where the half-breed’s sword had opened a gash in his side. His gore-covered axe lay at his feet.

  Endira appeared to be meditating, sitting with legs crossed and arms resting on her thighs. Yosrick had removed his boots and gauntlets to renew his enchantments. He was munching on some rations and looked lost in thought.

  Arron stood staring off into the darkness of the road ahead, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Nera walked over to the corpse of one of the dark-elven archers. His face was locked in a rictus of pain, skin marred from the corruption Bedlam Judge had unleashed.

  She felt uneasy at the thought of how easily she had used the fell weapon’s power. The queasy sensation hadn’t even come over her the last time. She didn’t like the thought of becoming accustomed to the blade but knew she’d use it as much as needed, so long as it helped her get closer to finding Malek.

  “See any more of these bastards lying in wait up there?” She cast a sideways glance at her brother before kneeling down beside the corpse. Her eyes lighted on a pouch on the archer’s belt, and her fingers itched to search him for clink. “Might as well see if they’ve got anything useful on them,” she muttered.

  “None that I can discern,” Arron replied after a long moment. “That was certainly exhilarating, eh Sister? Those dark-elven bastards fought well.” Arron twirled his sword around in hand and fenced with an imaginary enemy as if awaiting another onslaught of dark elves. “And a woman, no less! I’ve not been tested in battle for quite some time like that.”

  Nera paused, fingers an inch from the corpse’s purse. She wasn’t sure what to make of her brother of late. She turned to face Arron, thinking to challenge him about his bizarre behavior, but the half-elf had sidled away from her, sword still in hand, as if replaying his duel with the dark-elven woman. As he neared Athyzon, the paladin glanced at him curiously before turning his attention back to his conversation with Idrimel.

  Perhaps his near-death experience has addled his brains a bit.

  She turned back, again intending to pluck the fallen dark elf’s coin purse when a sudden blur of motion caught her eye. Arron pivoted around on his plant foot and surged forward, driving his short sword deep into the middle of Athyzon’s back.

  Chapter 18

  Athyzon was speaking to Idrimel about their quest when she noticed a flash of movement behind him. Her brother cried out in shock, and a burst of blood spattered Idrimel on the cheek. She watched in horror as the tip of a blade protruded from the center of his chest, slick with blood. The towering paladin staggered and fell forward. Idrimel sought to catch him, but she was off balance, and her brother’s substantial weight dragged her down to her knees as he fell. She was stunned to see Arron standing there, lips curled in a smirk and sword dripping blood onto the ground.

  She was dimly aware of the entire party staring in shock at the half-elf.

  “You bastard! How… how can you betray us so?” Idrimel cried after a moment, voice rising an octave from shock and anguish. Her fist tightened around the haft of her mace.

  Athyzon shuddered and coughed wetly beside her, drawing her attention back to her mortally wounded brother. She eased him flat onto the ground, her hands going to the grievous wound in his chest. Athyzon’s eyes were unfocused, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood poured from the awful wound in his chest, and he coughed up another gout of blood.

  Idrimel remembered in alarm that she had expended her most powerful healing spell on the dwarf. Worried, she began immediately chanting her next-most potent spell, hoping it would be enough to save her brother.

  Focused as she was on her prayer, she didn’t notice Arron’s swift movement until it was too late. Her head exploded with flashes of light as he drove the pommel of his short sword into her temple. She groaned and fell across her brother, the words of her prayer fleeing from her mind, and blackness filled her vision.

  ***

  Nera watched in shock, mouth agape as the priestess crumpled, slumping almost tenderly atop her brother’s chest.

  “What in the Abyss is the meaning of this?” Nera surged to her feet, shocked at her brother's betrayal. “Arron, how could you? Explain yourself!” She was aware of Yosrick and Endira scrambling to their feet, the former without boots, gauntlets, or helm on, and the latter seeming a bit disoriented. Arron just stood over the fallen siblings, black blade dripping blood onto the ground and a chilling smile on his face.

  Waresh strode warily toward Arron, axe raised. “I don't know what ye are playing at, half-elf—”

  “Enough of this charade,” Arron said, but his voice was different, colder. “Stand beside me, dwarf. If you do, I shall have your sentence commuted and your collar removed. Your unauthorized absence will be forgotten, and you can be a free man again—after the rest are defeated.” The half-elf’s fair features melted away to reveal a handsome man with cold blue eyes and long black hair. He drew a long dagger in his left hand, sword still in his right. The illusion concealing Arron’s familiar short sword was gone, revealing the Magehunter’s black blade, which seemed to absorb all light.

  “Don't do it, Waresh,” Endira said. “You are your own man now.” A green aura surrounded her head as her arms lengthened into blades and thick ridges pushed up from her skin, covering her in a form of armor.

  “Lassiter,” Nera breathed. “Why all this deception and charade, you murderous whoreson?”

  “I tire of being dragged throughout the bowels of the multiverse on this fool’s journey. My master wanted to learn your purpose and whether his duplicitous brother set you on this path or not. I’ve seen enough to confirm that is the case. I have no desire to let this quest succeed. I will take you back to Nexus and give my report. If he thinks you are a threat, he will likely have you executed.” He shrugged indifferently, and his cold eyes focused on the rest of the companions drawing arms against him. “Resistance is foolish—all of you surrender immediately or die. My concern is with the plane-cursed. If you surrender to me, no harm will come to you.”

  “So Arron has been dead all along by your murdering hand?” Nera’s paired daggers were in her hands without conscious thought. She circled warily, facing off with the Magehunter commander. The daggers spun in her hands, nervous as she was.

  Waresh stood still as if frozen. After a tense moment, he grumbled something under his breath then spat on the ground and walked over beside Lassiter. “No tricks, or me axe will take yer head, Magehunter.”

  “You know my reputation and that my word is worth its weight in gold.” He glanced at the dwarf and, apparently satisfied with Waresh’s reaction, turned his attention back to Nera, Endira, and Yosrick. “Come, don’t make this difficult. On the contrary, the half-elf is in my dungeon. You are free to join him—just drop your weapons. An extended sentence for the plane-cursed, and a new sentence for the elf for her crimes. I’ll even let you off without punishment, gnome, since you were acting on behalf of your uncle in the interest of Nexus. I’ll allow you to go your own way. You have my word.”

  Yosrick looked over at Athyzon and Idrimel sadly. “I somehow have a tough time believing that. I do believe Nera’s quest is in the right though, while you blindly serve a heartless monster whose city is dying while he does nothing.” He hefted his hammer yet seemed somehow lessened by his missing boots, gauntlets, and helm.

  Nera felt heartened by the gnome’s unexpected support in addition to Endira’s. So it’s three against two, then… I’ll take those odds. The dwarf might cave if we can defeat the Magehunter. She glared daggers at Lassiter and Waresh. “You cowardly dwarven dog. How can you betray us like this? We could’ve left you for dead—nay, we should have!”

  Waresh’s face was filled with shame. “I long to be free of the collar the same as ye, lass. I, too, am but a slave. I’m not liking the long odds of this quest much.”

  She wasn’t liking their chances much either, but she wasn’t about to back down. This betrayal won’
t go unanswered. “As for you—you can shove your word up your arse, doppelgänger.” She cried out and attacked.

  Lightslicer flashed like quicksilver as she struck. Sparks flew as Lassiter parried her strike. Nera twirled the blade, reversing her grip and darted past Lassiter, striking in reverse. She spun and slashed with Bedlam Judge as well, but Lassiter parried Lightslicer again with his sword, the bone dagger with his own dagger. Then he was pressing the attack, forcing Nera back as his sword and dagger worked an intricate attack pattern.

  The grunts and ring of steel briefly drew Nera’s attention to the fact that Endira and Yosrick were fighting Waresh nearby, before defense took up all her concentration. Her paired daggers flowed in her hands, parrying away the nearest strikes, her quick footwork allowing her to dodge and evade all but the nearest attacks.

  “You’ve got some skill for a mere thief,” Lassiter remarked after several moments, seemingly not winded by their exchange. “It’s a pity you chose the path you did. All that talent… wasted.”

  “Save it for someone who gives a shite,” Nera snapped. She conjured another sphere of darkness on Lassiter, resheathed her long daggers, and let fly with four throwing knives, two from each hand. Steel rang as he parried them away. She counted only three. One must have struck him.

  Just as she was about to dive into the darkness, the spell suddenly dissipated.

  “It will take more than minor cantrips to defeat me.” The swordsman emotionlessly plucked one of Nera’s daggers from the meaty part of his thigh. The wound didn’t bleed, however, and it closed up before her eyes.

  How can I defeat one that doesn’t bleed? she wondered, panic starting to bloom.

  When Lassiter locked gazes with her, he had a newfound respect on his face.

  Just as Nera was about to resume the attack, she glimpsed a flash of movement behind her. She instinctively tumbled to the side, but the broad flat of an axe still clipped her on the back of the head. She stumbled awkwardly when she regained her feet. Lassiter leaped at her, sword and dagger driving toward her in unison.

  Nera, still off balance, ducked the sword’s cutting arc and deflected Lassiter’s dagger with Bedlam Judge, knocking it away, where it skittered across the ground. Lassiter hip checked her up against a stalagmite and drove a knee into her side. She grunted in pain as a rib cracked, the sharp pain stealing her breath.

  Lassiter gripped her by a horn and hurled her to the ground. He was standing over her in an instant, his sword raised. He drove it down, attempting to impale Nera. She desperately brought her daggers together in an X, arms fully extended, locking her daggers’ crossguards around the crossguard of the sword.

  Nera knew she was finished. A brief prayer came to mind. Sabyl, preserve me. This is the end.

  Lassiter put both hands on the pommel of his sword and put his full weight behind it. Her lean arms trembled from the strain of holding the blade away from her chest, its tip a mere hairsbreadth away. Ever so slowly, the tip lowered until it was pressing gently between her breasts.

  A desperate glance revealed Endira and Yosrick crumpled on the ground a few paces away. Idrimel and Athyzon remained motionless. Waresh regarded her for a moment before turning away, sensing the inevitable conclusion to the battle. A tortured look briefly crossed his face before he turned his back, perhaps in sadness or self-hatred at his own betrayal.

  There won’t be anyone to help me this time.

  “Just accept it,” Lassiter said softly. His cold eyes betrayed no emotion as he gazed into hers. “It will be easier this way, and you will die free of the collar. Isn’t that what you wish? Let the blade slide home and end your miserable existence, plane-cursed. Your service to the Engineer is misguided and foolish, as are your attempts to rescue the corruptor.”

  Nera didn’t reply. Her concentration was focused on keeping the blade from piercing her breast. Her arms were trembling even harder with the strain, and despite her struggles, the point dug into her leathers, producing a sharp pressure against her breastbone.

  “If I see your corruptor again—which is unlikely, since he is surely dead already, alone and starved to death, but if I do—perhaps I’ll tell him you betrayed him.” He smiled his cold smile when he saw the emotion on her face. “Yes… you have feelings for him. I’ll tell him how you forsook him and begged for your own worthless life at the end.”

  Pain was blazing through Nera’s chest as the sword ground against her breastbone, having penetrated her leathers and broken the skin, on the verge of shattering bone. She gritted her teeth, knowing her life had been reduced to a game of tiles—one in which she had only one move remaining.

  The cost is great to save the one you seek. It is possible you may yet do so, but death requires its toll for any that pass through that dark doorway. Nera remembered the Seer’s cryptic words and finally understood, knowing what she must do.

  “You will tell no such lies, nor will you harm Malek, you whoreson,” she vowed.

  Just as her strength failed her, she gritted her teeth and slid her daggers apart, allowing the blade to plunge into her breast without resistance.

  Lassiter’s eyes widened in surprise in the instant the short sword shattered Nera’s sternum, tearing a path of blazing agony through her body as it pierced her heart and went on to strike the ground beneath her with a soft clink.

  Nera shuddered, almost losing her grip on her daggers as unimaginable pain racked her body. Lassiter’s head had come into range.

  With her last ounce of strength, she drove both daggers into the sides of his neck. Lassiter flinched away at the last instant, and her twin blades sliced shallow grooves through his neck on both sides. Lightslicer left a narrow bleeding gash, but Bedlam Judge only needed a nick, leaving a ragged wound that rapidly turned black at the edges. Lassiter staggered away from her, eyes widened in shock as he clutched at the wound. The blade forged from the bone of an infernal beast left a wound that wouldn’t heal, resisting even the most powerful magics. Lassiter fell to the ground, pale blood leaking from his wounds. Blackened veins spread across his face and stretched down his neck toward his heart.

  “That’s for Arron, you bastard.” Nera coughed weakly as blood filled her lungs. An awful chill stole over her limbs.

  Waresh walked back over, mouth agape as he looked from her to Lassiter.

  “May the gods curse you for choosing the wrong side, dwarf,” Nera whispered.

  Waresh sat down heavily beside her. “Reiktir has already cursed me. I’m a betrayer—it’s in me blood. There is no help for me.” He put his head in his bloody hands before glancing at her sideways. “Ye foolish lass, ye were supposed to surrender, and we’d all be back home instead of traipsing across the planes to the-gods-know-what forsaken place we end up. I could’ve been free of this damned collar and free to live me life—perhaps laying down the axe and becoming a simple stonemason.” He eyed the sword jutting out of Nera’s chest and shook his head. “Damn, if that didn’t take some stones, though. Best make yer peace now with whatever gods ye will.”

  The dwarf’s words had faded, as had Nera’s vision. Darkness fell over her like a gentle veil. Instead of fear, she felt a sense of peace. Sabyl, I’ve tried to do the noble thing by helping the people of Nexus—friends, enemies, strangers alike. Have mercy and maybe spare me a bit of clink to spend in the afterlife. She briefly wondered if she’d see Malek there. That would be something she could look forward to.

  And then Nera breathed her last.

  ***

  Endira looked at the still form of Nera, her heart wracked with sorrow. She gently pulled Lassiter’s ebon blade free of the thief’s chest and tossed it aside, not wishing to touch it. It clattered loudly on the stone, rudely disturbing the solemn moment.

  At least she didn’t suffer long… She must have found her peace, she thought, noting the tranquil look on Nera’s countenance. She bent and gently closed Nera’s eyes. Hopefully, the gods smile on her in the afterlife. “Is there nothing you can do, Idrimel?”
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  The priestess shook her head, tears running freely down her cheeks as she released Nera’s cold hand. Her face was still spattered with her brother’s lifeblood. “I’m sorry… We are too late for her. She is in the hands of the gods now, as is Athyzon.” Her voice caught for a moment before she continued, “Even if Sol would grant me the power to summon the dead back to life, I would hesitate to do so once they’ve crossed that threshold and felt the glory of leaving one’s mortal coil behind.” She sighed and stood up. “They are likely in a better place now. What right do we have to pull them back and deny them their eternal peace?”

  Endira put her head in her hands. “The quest has truly failed, then. Nexus is doomed.”

  “Not yet.” Yosrick stepped out of the darkness and into the aura of Idrimel’s cool light spell. He had a large knot on his head, matching the others’. “Keep heart, my friends. We still have our path before us. The dwarf has gone, fled into the dark with the Bracer of Fellraven. The only consolation is he likely doesn’t know the command words to activate it. We may yet catch him before we reach the crossroads.” He stopped and stood over Lassiter’s corpse.

  The Magehunter’s face was appalling in death. His human features had seemingly melted like soft wax, looking half-formed, like some monstrous stillborn babe. A wicked black wound was carved into his neck, and blackened veins spread outward, covering the spoiled-milk color of his face and neck.

  “Poison?” Yosrick asked curiously.

  “I think not,” Endira replied. She nudged the bone dagger where it lay beside Nera’s corpse. “This dagger has some fell enchantment upon it, one that even the doppelgänger’s magical nature could not resist.”

  Idrimel made a protective symbol in front of her when she examined the dagger, careful not to touch it. “That is a vile blade—forged in the fires of the Abyss. We should leave it here.” She grimaced in disgust.