Doors of the Dark

by Gregory Mattix

  Goose bumps formed on her arms as she realized they somehow knew without communicating that their prey was nearby. Uncanny how they sense where to go.

  She rejoined Malek, trying not to focus on that thought too much. “I’ve found a place we can hide and rest for a bit. It’s not… Oh gods!” She gasped at the size of the undead crowd below.

  A couple hundred skeletons filled the street, along with the thirty or so which remained trapped in the courtyard. They were largely silent in their vigil. Dark eye sockets stared up at Malek, and their teeth clacked occasionally to go along with the clatter of their feet on the cobblestones and finger bones scraping against the wall. She shivered at the simple wrongness of the undead.

  “They are aware of us. Someone or something guides them,” Malek said grimly. “I fear that we are being herded toward this puppet master.”

  “They are aware of you,” she corrected. “Your ring, remember? I seem to be invisible to them.” She crouched beside him and regarded the undead.

  Malek frowned in thought. “That makes sense,” he admitted after a moment. “The power that rules here gains its awareness by magical means. It generates this life-leeching fog, which brings premature ruin to the city. It should take much longer than a few centuries to crumble such stoneworks to dust, yet already the toll is being taken.” He patted the wall beneath him.

  “Then let us move before we crumble to dust as well.” Nera reached up and began to slide the ring from her horn. “Here, you need it more than I do.”

  “No, don’t!” he said sharply, seizing her hand.

  She froze, the ring loose near the tip of her horn.

  Malek slid the ring back until it was again snug. His voice softened again, “Right now, the only advantage we have is this puppet master is unaware of you. I’d prefer we keep it that way.”

  She looked him in the eye and then slowly nodded. “Aye, good sense in that. We need to leave now before it’s too late. Soon, there will be an army surrounding this wall and clogging the streets.” She grasped Malek’s forearm and pulled him to his feet.

  They retraced the path Nera had taken across the roof and into the second-floor window. The pack of undead shuffled along beside them on the street below, keeping pace but seemingly uninterested in trying to cut them off.

  She led him through the old kitchen and out past the crooked gate. Exhausted as Malek was, he made slow progress but was able to follow without faltering. Once at the edge of the street, they paused so Nera could listen. Focusing her hearing, she listened intently for a few moments. Other than Malek’s heavy breathing, all was silent.

  I sure hope they don’t see us. Perhaps the ring will shield us both if we are touching. She grabbed Malek’s hand firmly and pulled him with her, swiftly crossing the street. She winced as his foot caught a loose stone, which rattled away when kicked. They froze for a few seconds, but nothing stirred. Swiftly, she led him to the scribe’s shop and pushed him inside.

  Malek sighed when he saw the ruin of the shop. “All this knowledge once collected and now turned to dust by time. I wish I could learn more about the fate of Valirial.”

  “Valirial?” She looked at him questioningly while nudging the exhausted mage up the stairs.

  “I found an intact journal entry from a man named Alistor. He spoke of the last days of Valirial, this city or city-state, I would guess. It fell to a corruptor by the name of Stolak. This is the result.” He waved his hand around at the general devastation around them.

  Nera tried to shift the heavy bookcase but needed Malek’s assistance to move it into position to block the door. After they sealed off the entrance, the mage quickly sagged down to the floor, leaning against the wall. She offered him a couple strips of dried, salted meat and a handful of nuts to eat, which he gladly accepted, along with the waterskin.

  “Say, um… about what happened during the battle back in Nexus…” She cleared her throat nervously as Malek glanced up at her. “I wanted to apologize for the dagger…” She gestured to her thigh, indicating the wound she had given him.

  Malek waved her apology off. “Don’t apologize. You were in the right—I’d lost myself in the magic and could’ve brought the whole fortress down on top of our heads.”

  Nera relaxed, seeing that he’d evidently thought long and hard over the events that had transpired. She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Aye. ’Twas the type of decision one never wants to have to face.”

  Malek nodded and looked away. “I think we should exchange stories,” he suggested after a few moments. “What happened after I was banished here?” He bit off another piece of the stringy meat and savored the salty taste before chewing it.

  Nera peered out the windows and then relaxed slightly when she noted no skeletons approaching the shop. “Long story. You go first.”

  ***

  Nera watched Malek as he slept. His drawn face looked peaceful for the first time since she’d found him. Caked blood stained his arms and forehead, but his cuts seemed fairly shallow and had closed. He had obviously lost weight from starvation but looked surprisingly healthy despite having been trapped there for a week. The mage had barely gotten his story out and fallen fast asleep before she could relate her experiences. He lay slumped awkwardly against the wall, neck at an angle she knew would pain him when he awoke.

  Gently, she grasped him beneath the arms and positioned him to one side, laying him flat. She wrapped his cloak around him. He mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep and then lay calm, chest rising and falling regularly.

  She paced nervously, unable to relax with the persistent sense of dread the city engendered. She watched out one window for a time then moved to the next. An occasional skeleton would wander past in the general direction of the large group they had left behind, but there was no sign they were aware of their hiding spot.

  After a time, Nera sat beside Malek, meaning to keep watch until he awoke. Soon, her eyes grew heavy, and she fell fast asleep.

  ***

  “You say you died and awoke here? And you were in the company of the goddess Sabyl?” Malek’s eyes were as wide as if she had been dancing around naked, howling at the unseen moon.

  “Aye, that’s right. You think I’m mad?” She challenged him with her eyes. I’d probably think I was mad too, had I not lived through it.

  Malek smiled and shook his head. “No, of course not. Obviously, Sabyl has some greater plans for you, it would seem—for both of us if she sent you here to aid me.”

  Nera sighed and jostled Malek’s shoulder with her own. “I grow sick and tired of hearing all this madness about duty and expectations everyone else has for me.” She put her head in her hands.

  She had awoken huddled up beside Malek on the floor. Luckily, he was still asleep and didn’t notice, saving her embarrassment. She had resumed her vigil, and he had awoken an hour or so later. They were now sitting side by side, quietly discussing their situation, huddling together and conserving some warmth. Malek’s theory seemed accurate—the cursed fog did appear to leech the warmth and vitality from her body.

  Perhaps it does if these madman corruptors unleashed it on the city, sucking everything dry until naught but dust remains.

  She went on to tell Malek of the dreams or visions—or whatever they were—that had recently plagued her. After she had finished, he was silent.

  “Well?” she asked after a few long moments of silence. “Say something, at least.”

  “I don’t know what to say of all this, other than I’m glad you came to save me although it pains me that you are now trapped as well. The Nera I knew before, although loyal, likely wouldn’t have gone to such effort.”

  Nera looked away from his earnest expression, suddenly uncomfortable. “Aye, the old Nera wouldn’t have gotten involved in such madness. She’d be back in Nexus, drinking ale and watching it burn down around her ears. I told you long ago that I stick with my friends, mageling.” She met his gaze with a fierce look, da
ring him to challenge her.

  He didn’t. Malek just smiled, sadly it seemed. “I was pondering why Sabyl would facilitate you coming here, only so you can be trapped as well. At any rate, it would seem we are in for a great deal more than we bargained for. I guess that old Seer was right—we’re pawns in the games of the gods at this point.”

  “Aye. Do you think this Engineer could really be my father?”

  Malek regarded her. “I cannot say. Certainly, it’s not unthinkable that he would prey on you and try to take some advantage, knowing you’re an orphan and want to learn of your parents more than anything. I never knew my true parents, either, although I grew up to love the people that raised me, and they loved me in return, so it was never an issue.” At her probing look, he suddenly looked uneasy. “I guess I’m trying to say that our backgrounds aren’t quite so different as you may think, is all.”

  Nera studied his face, which was suddenly a bit sheepish. “I never knew that about you,” she replied quietly.

  He shrugged. “I suppose it never really mattered. The people that raised me were my parents, as far as I’m concerned.” He explained further what he had discovered of Alistor’s journal and his thoughts that he was perhaps somehow a descendant of Alistor.

  “This Dark Lady he speaks of could be Sabyl. She seems to have her hands mixed up in a lot of different strands of the Weave of Fate, as Brother Cerador would say.” She wondered what had become of the mysterious monk who had aided her back in Nexus and then promptly disappeared.

  Malek thought a moment. “Yes, seems likely,” he admitted.

  Nera smacked him on the thigh. “At least you had a family, as you said. Doubtless, your father wasn’t some mad bastard that waged war on the entire multiverse against his equally mad brother, only to end up a resident of the Abyss.”

  “There is that, I suppose,” Malek admitted. He stretched his arms overhead, and for a moment, Nera hoped he would settle his arm around her shoulders, but he didn’t.

  Annoyed by the thought, she snorted. At his questioning glance, she asked, “What do you think we should do? After we confront the source of this undead plague?”

  The Seer’s words rang in her head. “The time will come soon when you will stand at a crossroads and make a decision. One path leads to a normal life as you are now—a life with many possibilities, most ending in death and failure, but a few paths could lead to a life of contentment, whatever that may be. If that is what you truly want, child, then by all means choose that path. You only have one life, and who are we, or even the gods, to tell you which life to live?” She almost hoped Malek would want to take the path to the normal life.

  “Assuming we even survive and manage to escape from here?” he asked in amusement.

  “I trust Sabyl wouldn’t strand us here for no reason. We’ll figure something out. Perhaps Endira and the others will find us yet.” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.

  “Indeed, I say we test our luck as far as it’ll take us since we have some powerful benefactors looking out for us, or you do, at least. Why don’t we follow this quest all the way to the Abyss?”

  The words rang in Nera’s ears. Malek seemed serious. “Why don’t we follow it to the Abyss, indeed. That’s what Idrimel and Athyzon wanted, and Athyzon already fell in this mad quest, and we haven’t even gotten close to the Abyss. What’s the worst that can happen? We die there and get imprisoned and tormented for all eternity, chained up at the Wall of Lost Souls beside the Engineer for little bastard fiends to tear out our guts?” She could feel her pulse racing and fought to keep her emotions in check.

  “What if we don’t try?” he answered calmly. “Do we let Nexus fall, let these demons sweep across the multiverse? I know you planned to get off plane somewhere, but mayhap there’ll be nowhere left after this scourge is unleashed.”

  “Stop talking sense,” she grumbled. “I’ll never go back to being me, ya know? Just Nera the Rogue—the one that would’ve cut her losses and saved her own arse rather than come looking for you.”

  “I think that Nera died when Lassiter struck her down.”

  “Perhaps it was before that, when the Magehunters rammed a sword in my belly and you brought me back. Funny how I keep dying and coming back to you.” She stared him in the eyes.

  Malek met her gaze. His hand found hers and he squeezed it. “Seems to be the will of the gods,” he whispered.

  “Forget about the gods—let them wait a bit. If we’re gonna die on this fool’s quest…” Words escaped her, but in that moment, it mattered not. She turned toward him, reached out, and cupped the back of his head with her hand. She pulled him to her and kissed him full on the lips.

  Malek’s eyes widened in surprise before he had the sense to close them. He responded to her kiss, gently stroking her cheek before she pulled away. A smile was on his lips, one that Nera felt mirrored her own.

  “I should be the one thanking you after saving me,” he said with a laugh, searching her eyes.

  “Thank me later… if we somehow survive this.” She kissed him again and smoothly rose to her feet. Grasping his hand, she pulled him up. “The gods are impatient and demanding. We’d best make them happy. Perhaps we’ll earn a peaceful respite before we go to our deaths.”

  Malek groaned and knuckled his back as he straightened although his cheeks were flushed and he looked pleased, she noticed. “I’d look forward to a nice respite, perhaps somewhere with a bit more life—sunshine, trees, and the like.”

  “Aye, let’s go face these undead bastards and get it over with. Sabyl, you’ve led us to this point—please grant us your luck and protection that we don’t fail now.”

  They wrestled the stone shelf away and ventured out onto the deathly streets of Valirial once again to meet their fate.

  Chapter 26

  A commotion broke out around Arron—curses and oaths of astonishment filled the air. His eyes traced the edges of two different swords from the tips pointed at his throat up to their owners, veterans both, grizzled men with steely expressions. They seemed familiar, but he couldn’t immediately put names to their faces.

  “Arron? Balor’s balls, man, is that you?” A familiar voice boomed in the tent, drawing Arron’s gaze to the speaker. “Sheathe those swords. He’s a friend.”

  Wyat loomed over him then, looking down with a mixture of shock and amusement. The big man wore a full beard, speckled with gray, his eyes a clear blue.

  “Uh… Greetings, all,” Arron said, face red from embarrassment. “Apologies for the sudden, um, appearance… and mess.” He held up Wyat’s drinking horn sheepishly.

  The two veterans sheathed their blades, shocked recognition dawning on their faces. He noticed a priest and a female wizard in the background, wide-eyed as well.

  Wyat and his commanders, he realized. This must be the command tent. He sat up and picked up a parchment map from beside him, which was drenched in ale.

  “Where in the Abyss did you come from?” Wyat took the horn and extended his other hand and pulled Arron to his feet. “You sure know how to make an entrance!”

  “Aye, that wasn’t quite as smooth as I’d hoped, I’m afraid.” Two of the men righted the table. Arron put the soggy map on it, smoothing it out as best he could. He realized he was still clutching the second sphere Zar Jurrik had given him, so he slipped it into a pocket.

  “You look a bit unsteady. Here.” Wyat guided Arron to a seat and dragged an extra one over to the table.

  The others made short work tidying up the mess with the quick efficiency of soldiers. After a moment, a tankard of ale was pressed into Arron’s hand, and expectant faces were all staring at him.

  “Have you seen Nera?” he blurted.

  Wyat shook his head. “Nay, I’m afraid not. Haven’t seen her since… must’ve been the last time I saw the two of you. It was a few months after…” His eyes went to Arron’s neck and widened in surprise. “The collars… you don’t have it. Were you released from the sentence? And
what of Nera?” He looked concerned, and Arron remembered the warrior had always had somewhat of an infatuation with his sister although he was always too embarrassed about it to make his interest known. Nera had always treated him like a little brother although the man towered over the two of them in stature and was older in appearance by virtue of his human blood.

  Arron sighed. “That’s a long tale, indeed.” He took a long draught of ale. “I fear she’s in danger. ’Tis unfortunate she hasn’t been here. How goes the campaign?”

  “The concerned parties signed a treaty weeks ago. I was letting the Rage have some well-earned downtime, and wouldn’t you know, once we marched back here to the portal, all set to return home, the damned thing wouldn’t activate. Is there something happening on the Nexus side?”

  “Aye, it’s not good, mate. Nexus is on the verge of falling. The foundry was sabotaged and blown to shite. None of the portals work any longer. Everyone is trapped, food and fresh water are not forthcoming, and the city burns from unrest and rioting.” He looked around at the shocked faces.

  “By the gods, I’d say that’s a mite worse than ‘not good.’” Wyat’s face had grown pale. He fumbled with his refilled drinking horn, sloshing ale on his leg before recovering enough to take a long swig.

  “Aye, perhaps I should start at the beginning…”

  ***

  The road winding through the Dron Reach culminated at a slender stone bridge spanning a wide, deep chasm. On the far side was what appeared to be some manner of temple carved into the rock face, but it was distant and shrouded in darkness.

  “Huh, that’s deep.” Idrimel watched Waresh peer over the side of the chasm from where the party had stopped at the edge of the bridge. The dwarf spat into the darkness and stared downward for a moment. He patted his hand on one of the posts and appraised the span. “This is no dwarven construction—too spindly and weak. Must be elvish—or dark elvish, likely.”